#i feel a lot of guilt but my own well being comes first too

[jakexneytiri]

Hi, idk if ur still taking requests or not, but if u are, could u plz do a Dad Neteyam fic where reader breastfeeds their newborn for the first time in front of him

love ur work btw 💕

lots of breastfeeding requests 👁👄👁 what are you guys trying to say LOL (i’m jk hehe ofc i can. and thank you!! 💞)

⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰

you’re roused awake from the sounds of your son crying, along with a hand shaking your arm. you blink rapidly, as the blobs in front of you come into focus.

mo’at, who is shaking you, along with neytiri, neteyam, and your newborn. you sit up slowly, wincing as the pain in between your legs returns. it’s dull, but enough where you could feel it. neteyam’s ears fold back, guilt pooling in his stomach as he painfully watches.

giving birth hit you like a ton of bricks. it was painful, excruciating, and almost unbearable at times. you fell asleep moments after, exhaustion taking over your body. this is the first you’ve been awake since, neteyam letting you sleep for as long as you needed. he is sitting next to you, your son cradled in his arms ever so carefully.

“it is time, child.” mo’at’s voice is calm, as she motions for neteyam to hand your son off to you.

neteyam gives you an apologetic look, whispering “i’m so sorry, my love. he is hungry, grandmother says he should feed now. i’m so sorry, you can rest again right after.” he kisses your forehead, gently handing your son to you.

his small sobs broke your heart, you wanted-no, needed to help him. and fast.

you push the feathers that cover your nipple aside, exposing your left breast. a cloudy, milky substance is leaking from it, dripping down your chest. the sight takes you by surprise for a moment, it all felt…real. how you were a mother now, producing her own milk. it gave you a sense of pride, being able to provide.

neytiri’s voice snaps you away from your thoughts, as her hand carefully cradles your son’s head. “like this, y/n. hold him here,” she says, shifting your son’s head to rest in the fold of your arm. “and guide him, here.” she motions to your chest, supporting your arm as you bring your son’s head closer to your nipple.

his cries cease, when a droplet of milk falls on his tiny lips. his head turns, trying to find the source. you carefully guide his lips to your nipple, as his small lips wrap around it, immediately suckling.

a surge of concern washes over you, causing your eyes to water. you look up at your mother in law, asking “i-is this right? am i doing it right?”

neytiri smiles down at you, brushing your hair back for you. “yes, my sweet child. just like that.”

neteyam’s hand caresses your back, gently rubbing your shoulder. his eyes are wet, too. the sight was overwhelming for the both of you. officially parents, watching your son feed for the first time.

neytiri guides neteyam’s hand to support the arm cradling your son’s head. you look up at your mate, tears overflowing and spilling onto your cheeks. “he’s- he’s feeding, i’m feeding him!” you whisper, a smile spreading across your cheeks.

neteyam smiles back, leaning in to kiss your tears away. “i know, i know. you’re doing so well, my love. i’m so proud of you.”

#dad neteyam #dad!neteyam #dad! neteyam #daddy neteyam #dilf!neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x you #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully x na’vi!reader #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam sully x you

[nouearth]

blue current.

clark kent x male reader headcanons.

warnings: fluff, co-workers at the daily planet, maws!clark, soft!clark, intern!reader.

a/n: it's been a hot minute since i've written anything! i feel so bad because i've been swamped with school, so hopefully this will hold you guys over until i post my next fic! it's not much, but i've been feeling fluffy as of recent, and clark is the perfect candidate, HAHA. idk, i've been feeing low-key creatively stuck for writing, so hopefully this well get me out of the slump!

gif credits to: fukutomichi!

—clark was smitten from the moment he first laid eyes on you.

—it had only been the fourth month into his internship, but it was no secret that the higher-ups, and even his colleagues, have been impressed by clark's rapid growth.

—it was enough to ensure their trust in clark to train the new intern as the lead journalist had taken a month off for vacation. while he had his doubts if he would do a good job, clark always loved challenging himself.

—his mother had always reminded him: one who feared failure will never achieve greatness.

—sure, you weren't being mentored by the best journalist in the city. though, you had to admit that you felt defeated since miss lane was the only reason why you chose the daily planet over other internships.

—but bitterness turned to throat-drying, cheek-flushing, and hand-flexing sweetness when you came in your first day and met the man who would be training you.

—for clark, it was the drowsiness in your gaze that suddenly brightened when he met your eyes. if he could have seen his own face, clark would reckon that his eyes lit up the same way yours did upon meeting you for the first time.

—he's so... handsome. maybe training him wouldn't be so bad after all...

—his blue eyes sucked you in like heavy ocean current, but instead of fighting back the pull like any sane person would, you allowed him to drown you in the gorgeous wash his gaze doted on you with.

—god, are you toying with me right now? have you finally come around to my reckless behavior back in high school? i knew you always would!

—it began with a handshake. when clark's large hand cupped into yours, a current of sparks flickered from the bone of your knuckles to his own, and you both released with a gasp.

—"sorry! it must be my vest or something—has a lot of... cotton, i think—" clark assured with a laugh, but cursed his lame excuse in between breaths.

—"no, you're fine! i guess your sweater vest knew i was half-asleep, huh?" you laughed with him, and almost as if it was choreographed, you reached back to rub at your nape when he does, and the discomfort left the collective laughter in a fleeting dance.

—"well, lucky for you, our first stop is the break room! i'll show you how to make a poor man's mocha if you get sick of the coffee here!"

—from then on, you two had quickly become close friends.

—where clark would teach you more hacks to spice up an ordinary roast of coffee, you would return the favor by surprising him on random days with lunch that you prepared the night before.

—on nights where you were too tired to function, you simply settled for sandwiches and prepared an extra meal for clark.

—whether he claimed he forgot his lunch, or was too busy to even take a glance at his lunchbox; eating lunch had become a rarity for him.

—unless it was with you.

—even before opening the brown paper bag, clark knew it was going to be delicious.

—you always remembered what ingredients he liked and disliked since the first time you had lunch with him.

—clark smiled to himself as he ate the meal you didn't have to prepare for him in big bites.

—and then laughed when you watched in amazement and mirrored him like a parrot with messy bites.

—somehow, the thought of cared for was more filling than the actual meal.

—in moments where clark suddenly felt guilt for liking you as more than a friend, he sat silently, staring blankly ahead, with the tissue crumpled in his hands.

—and you sat beside him on the bench, compelled by his silence, while the birds watched from their home of oak and birch.

—it had been happening more frequently: clark's sudden mood shift. no matter how much he tried to deny it, how much he attempted to pacify your silent worries with his handsome smile, it was clear that something was bothering him.

—at first, you tried to break him with a joke.

—"geez, was my sandwich that bad?! i guess i shouldn't have used that expired mustard..."

—you've studied clark enough to anticipate a half-hearted chuckle from him; weak, but still had the intention to please. to masquerade his thoughts.

—instead, the birds chirped in his absence, and your frown only deepened as clark maintained a fixed gaze to the pavement.

—"clark?" you nudged him once on the arm, and he immediately dropped his head in between his legs with a heavy sigh.

—"what's wrong?"

—"there'ssomethingigottatellyou..." he muttered into the crook of his elbow, and your brows knitted together in worry, despite your amusement at the fact that he was behaving similarly to a puppy throwing a tantrum.

—"huh? didn't quite catch that when your mouth is full of linen." you gently nudged him once more to vacant the space between his legs, then another with a gentler squeeze to his arm when he doesn't.

—"clark, come on. talk to me." you squeezed harder to the sound of his groans. "people are staring—"

—then another squeeze.

—"there's something..."

—and another.

—"i gotta tell you..."

—and before you could alert him once more, clark returned the pressure into your own palm when he suddenly took your hand into his, and held it as if it was a pirate's lost treasure.

—the warmth of your skin compelled him to sit back up, but he refused to look at you. instead, he gazed every perimeter that didn't involve your eyes.

—the birds again, the sky, the trees, anything to drown out the sight of potential rejection.

—but how you wished he would turn to you right now, because you smiled. wide enough to sting the apple of your cheeks, and as much as you wanted to yell out his name for him to do so, you wanted to let clark do it for himself.

—to take upon the challenge of potentially meeting failure or success.

—heat crept onto his cheeks as he stared at a couple who were charmed by chubby ducks floating on the nearby lake. for a brief moment, he could see you two walking hand-in-hand, while the other free hand threw feed at the eager ducks.

—he was lost in his imagination. a blink turned into a dream, and a dream turned into a desperate paradise.

—it wasn't until the trail of your hand that looped your fingers into his, tightly sharing the warmth of anxiousness with a sticky clamp, that clark opened his eyes again and finally turned to you.

—wet eyes and shaking blues, they told a story that you didn't need to read into.

—silence filled the space between the two of you, then groaned in annoyance when you scooted closer until your knee was pressed to clark's. you folded his hand into yours, still clutching onto him tightly, and laid the joined affection on your lap.

—"i like you too, smallville." your thumb ran several laps over his knuckles to calm the tremors clark had possessed.

—he watched, open-mouthed as if he was about to respond, but the shock trapped the remainder of his words within his throat.

—you lounged back and squinted at the radiance of the sun, the brights of the sky.

—"(m/n)..."

—the sunlight faded into the background as the beauty of your best friend came into frame once again. he absorbed all the color and light of the world until your focus was on him.

—"i really like you."

—the sigh on his lips told a different tale compared to the previous exhales. it curled his lips upwards and finally pacified the shakes that had been bothering clark for months.

—when he pressed his palm back into yours, folding his fingers over your own, you braced for impact as you felt the electrical current from the first day you met him return in stronger pulses. it nipped at your skin, then at clark's, in its desperate escape.

—but clark held tighter, as did you, until the shockwaves melted in his skin, into his veins, then into his blood, and became one with the victorious cheer of his heart.

© nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like! feedback is also much appreciated!

#✰ : nou.fics #✰ : nou.dc #✰ : nou.clarkkent #x male reader #male reader #clark kent x m!reader #clark kent x male reader #clark kent headcanon #clark kent headcanons #superman headcanons #clark kent x reader #clark kent imagine #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent fanfic #clark kent #clark kent x you #clark kent x y/n #superman imagine #superman x reader #superman fanfic #superman fanfiction #superman #superman headcanon #dc x reader #dc comics fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc x male reader #dc comics #dc imagine #dc comics headcanons

[temptaetions]

cinnamon sugar 🌙 k.sm (m)

a/n: the photo above is from seungmin's instagram. i don't own the media, but i sure was blessed to see it. anyway, i think this is my first post with like...actual smut in it. please forgive me, because it is so shitty, i'm so bad at writing it. anyway, uhm, enjoy! my anon ask is now on, if you'd like to send any requests in!

synopsis: her lips taste sweet, like cinnamon sugar...she's such a treat.

genre: best friends to lovers | idiots in love | x fem!reader | smut | fluff | angst

pairing(s): best friend!kim seungmin x virgin!reader

word count: 6k. lowercase intended.

rating: 18+. minors do not fucking interact.

warning(s): swearing, mutual pining, a lot of emotional turmoil from both parties, horribly written smut [between k.sm x reader: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!!), creampie, soft d/s themes, (slight) overuse of pet names (angel, sweetheart) oral (f. receiving), paragraphs of praise, so much kissing, some grinding, the lightest amount of nipple play. riding/missionary, crying during sex, multiple orgasms, reader begs a lot, they stare into each others eyes and hold hands while fucking oh my god]. this is slightly self indulgent but the guilt i feel after writing it, and so badly at that, is overwhelming.

what to listen to: gaze - sweetback | eat it - megan thee stallion | agora hills - doja cat | real love - mary j. blige | whatta man - salt-n-pepa & en vogue

message from: seungmin🧸🤎

[7:32pm] i’m coming to pick u up, i want a cinnabon.

message to: seungmin🧸🤎

[7:33pm] ur paying 🤑

"can i get aux?" you say as you slide into seungmin's car. the leather of the passenger seat was cool to the touch, a sign that nobody had sat in your self-assigned seat. "hello to you too, best friend. how was my day? oh, it was lovely! it's so nice to see you, too!" "oh, shut up, min. you don't give a shit if i ask those questions or not." you chuckle, snatching his aux cable out of the center console. "you know me so well, fuck. i hate small talk. just merge souls with me." you and seungmin had been best friends for over ten years. he knew you inside and out - from your scalp to the bottom of your feet (including the scar from his razor scooter slamming into your ankle at age sixteen.)

you shared a lot of interests, but none as intense as your love of music and cinnamon rolls. he was always at your dance recitals. your biggest fan, really. he cheered, but never showed you more praise than necessary.

"i need you to stay humble, it helps me tolerate you." he murmured into your hair after one recital last year. you just shook your head in amusement, holding it high as you let him march you to his car for dinner.

"oh, i updated our playlist! i have a few new things on here." you said excitedly as you scrolled through the playlists on your homepage. you shared this love language – you had dozens of collaborative playlists with user ksm922, and you giggled at the ugly photos of the two of you he often used for the covers.

"sure." he shrugs, using his pinky to turn the volume dial up. your eyes trail on his slender fingers as they return to the wheel, but you shake it off just as quickly. pressing play, you let the smooth r&b sounds fill the car.

"oh, this is nice. what is this?" seungmin nods his head along to it, and you glance at the screen. "gaze by sweetback. it played on my sade station, and the vibes are just so kim seungmin, yanno?" you close your eyes and fake being a disc-jockey, his hand coming to pinch your arm lightly, a chuckle playing on his lips. "stop that, you'd be a horrible deejay."

"are you sure this isn't about sex? geez, bub, act like you get some." he teases, and you swat his arm. "i do get some!" "oh yeah? from who?" his eyes are trained on the road as he bullies you about your sex life (or lack thereof), allowing you a moment to stare at his ringed fingers. oh, the way they gripped the wheel, they could so easily grip your neck–

shut up, y/n.

"your mom." you huff, crossing your arms with a pout. you hated this conversation, and you often avoided it with him. yes, seungmin was your best friend, but you never wanted to talk about your sex life with him. he had experiences…and you heard from so many people how good it was.

with him, to be specific.

"what are we, thirteen? you wish my mother would breathe in your direction, you fucking virgin." he scoffs, and you force a snicker out. you glance at your phone, a smirk threatening to escape as it started. "oh, this one is good. turn it up!" he obliged, not even giving the screen a second look.

you settle in your seat as megan thee stallion's voice blares through the speakers, muffling a soft laugh behind your hand. seungmin hated the idea of you being a sexual being, and you often used it to bother him. you liked seeing him get red in the face, and squirm. it doesn't mean you understood it, but it was hilarious.

legs shakin', hit it 'til the bed breaking…bed springing, talk to it…

seungmin's mouth is agape, his cheeks firetruck red…

i don't want just one nut, daddy, i need the whole tree, ah…

…before his nimble fingers press skip. 

"are you serious, y/n? in my christian minecraft server?" his eyes are still fixed on the road, his knuckles turning white from his hold on the steering wheel. weird.

"it's megan! i love her, she's the hot girl coach. you don't want me to be a virgin forever, do you?" you joke, and he scrunches his nose. "since when do you listen to music about getting your…ugh, whatever. don't ever bring up sex appeal, you repulse me." you laugh loudly, your hand going to pinch his cheek softly. "you're so cute when you get flustered, min. here, i'll play pretty boy by the neighbourhood in your honor."

he can't stop thinking about it. it's been four hours since you played the song in the car, and it's still stuck in his head. well, what he did hear.

you, inherently, did not come across as a sexual being. you didn't, and that wasn't seungmin being just a platonic, nice friend – you genuinely did not care to be the core of anyone's sexual desire. you wore oversized shirts and loose jeans, the occasional dress paired with black pantyhose and boots. "gotta hide my ankles, minnie. that's how they getcha." but thinking about you…listening to that song? your hips winding down on some other man like he's seen you do on stage? hell, some other man's face when he's right here?

it made him sick.

and you were so beautifully unaware as you swirled your fork in your cinnamon roll, bringing the tines to your lips and sucking the icing clean off them. not a second lick or adjustment, just straight off. he felt his cheeks heat as his cock twitched in his pants, and he almost missed you waving your fingers in his face. "yo, you good? you seem distracted." you have a bit of icing on your lip, and he subconsciously reaches over to wipe it off. your eyes are wide as he does so, and he doesn't know why he can't move his thumb from your lip. he doesn't know why everything feels like it's moving in slow motion, and he just watches as you instinctively suck your lip between your teeth at the loss of contact.

you're so pretty, fuck, you're so pretty.

"i'm good. do you want to go?" he's surprised to hear his own voice, and you nod absently. he was acting weird, he knew he was, but he feels like there's a fog in his brain that he can't shake. maybe it was the way he'd memorized every curve of your body, from watching your fluid dances. maybe it was the way that you smiled so innocently, you were so innocent. your eyes big and pure, your heart full, your mind…naïve.

he didn't understand the sudden urge to ruin you, but he knew he had to get over it, and fast.

"fuck." he groans, and your head whips around to look at him. "you okay?"

he nods quickly, his hand landing on the small of your back to guide you to the car faster. "min, if you have to shit, you can just say that." "ugh, shut up. you always say the most unhinged shit. no wonder you can't get laid." he rolls his eyes, and you just laugh. "trust me, it's not for lack of opportunity." you let him open the door for you, and you wink at him playfully, his fingers flicking your forehead before shutting the door. it was true, multiple of your friends had offered to…deflower you. hyunjin, on your dance team. minho, on your production team. felix, your choreographer. even their friends in the music department had offered, and you simply smiled, shaking your head at them. "i just like to flirt, your dick is your problem."

but much like seungmin, they had all seen the way you moved. how easily you sunk to your knees, how smooth your gyrations were, the way you looked like you enjoyed it. you felt good knowing people were attracted to you, but it never compared to what you believed was seungmin's innocent gaze.

it was weird to want more from him, and it pained you, slightly. he was cute, your best friend. cute, experienced, and he knew you. he knew you so well, what could go wrong? he could reject you, that's what.

you're in your own head when you realize the car has been moving, and rather fast, at that. "min, seriously. are you shitting your pants?" you roll your eyes, and he brings the car to a screeching halt. "bro, your brakes." you cringe, covering your ears as he pulls into his driveway.

"are you going to kill me? no way, jisung always said i'd go out this way. please, tell my mother i love her and make sure i get the best spot in heaven." you feign terror as you unbuckle your seatbelt, not noticing the way seungmin can't even look at you. you feel how hard he slams his door, and you give his car a pitiful look as you slide out, following him to his apartment. he lived on the first floor, what a privilege.

he doesn't look at you as he walks into the apartment, tossing his keys onto the kitchen table. "y/n, i have a question."

"oh? mr. attitude has a question, does he?" you smile sarcastically, crossing your arms over your chest, the cowhide leather of the letterman you stole from him in high school rough against your skin. "alright, let's hear it." "why are you still a virgin?" okay, not what you were expecting. don't let it fluster you. you don't really notice his hardened expression as you try to answer. "well…it's just not on my list of priorities. i'll get fucked when i get fucked, you know?"

you shrug, not thinking much of your answer as he steps closer. "hm, i don't buy it."

raising an eyebrow, you shake your head, unbuttoning the jacket. "you're acting so weird, seungmin. if you wanna fuck me, just say that."

you sound surprisingly confident, and you can feel your heart pounding in your ears as you slide the jacket off, draping it over the couch. you gather your hair forward, spinning to speak to him again. "did you still want to watch the mov-" you're cut off by his lips pressing against yours, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. you can't move, your hands frozen as he works you carefully, lips burning against your own. his movements feel desperate, and you let your body take over as you kiss him back, a soft sigh escaping his lips as your tongue slips between them. the kiss is hungry, his hands are digging into you so deeply you're sure you'll bruise. 

he stops. his fingers let go of your hips, and he pulls away, your lips chasing after his as he does. your lip gloss is glittering on his face, before he covers his eyes. "i'm so sorry, y/n. i have no idea what came over me, i…i'm sorry, please, let me take you home."

you can't speak, your mind still swirling with endorphins. your best friend of ten years just made the biggest move on you, and without a word, you managed to fumble it. no way. absolutely not.

"sorry for what? i'm not understanding." you suddenly feel very vulnerable, your skin littering with goosebumps at the sudden change in the air. "i'm perfectly fine with…whatever you were doing."

seungmin peers back at you through dark eyes. "no, y/n. we can't." he swipes his keys off the table, and you huff. "and why can't we, seungmin? what is so bad about kissing me?" his eyes are wide as you ramble, and it's all word vomit. you can't seem to stop it, but he's drinking every word.

"what is it? am i a bad kisser? is it because i'm a virgin? i don't think it's very fair that you can openly admit to being other girls' firsts but you can't even do that for me. you haven't even offered. i'm not saying you fucking have to, because you're my best friend and you always will be. but holy fuck, seungmin, i'm trying to get some. you said i should, so why not be the one i get it from?" 

you're out of breath, and seungmin just shakes his head as he takes one, two steps back in front of you. "you think i don't want to be your first? you think i don't want you all to myself, to ruin you for anyone else? you think i don't want to fuck you stupid, until all you know is my name? are you hearing yourself right now?"

"you're certainly not acting like it. it doesn't have to mean shit, seungmin. it's just sex." you roll your eyes, leaning on the couch. "it's not just sex, y/n. this is a huge step for you, for us. our friendship is on the line, and i don't want to do something you might regret later." you shake your head, and he hates when you get stubborn like this, you won't listen to reason. "still not seeing the issue here. i lose my virginity and gain some experience for the next guy, you get your dick wet. we go to bed, and we act like it didn't happen in the morning. you take me home, we listen to our playlists on the way there, and we go about our days."

he flings his keys onto the floor, his hands reaching to hold your face. he tucks a few strands behind your ears, fingers lovingly caressing your pierced lobes before he looks you dead in the eyes. "y/n, if i give you what you want tonight, there is no chance in hell you're going to fuck someone else."

you stare back at him silently, your eyes darting to his lips before your tongue peeks out to wet your own. it's not the worst thing in the world, being with seungmin. it could be good…and not just the sex. he knows you, you know him…his lips felt like they were made for you. they always had, since your drunken kiss on christmas eve.

"you say that like it's a threat." you challenge, and he bites back a smile, nodding his head. his hand has traveled to your hip, his other still holding your face when his nose touches yours, his breath hitting your lips. "if you want me to stop at any point, just let me know. understand, sweetheart?"

you nod, leaning forward to connect your lips. he pulls back, shaking his head. "i need to hear you say you understand."

"jeez, seungmin, i understand. i get it, can we please move this along?" you're not the least bit embarrassed as you whine against him, and he lets you kiss him. your lips are eager, your hands carding through his hair as he licks into your mouth. the kiss is all teeth and tongue, a soft moan interrupting it as he gives your clothed breast a gentle squeeze, his thumb working over your pebbled nipple. "min, i…" "what, tell me what you want, sweetheart." his lips trail down your jaw, nipping along your exposed neck carefully. your whines are like heaven to him, "n-need you.." "aw, you need me? need me where?" he's loving this, the way you squirm under his lips, under his nimble fingers. you push your chest into him involuntarily, "h-here. please?"

you grab his wrist, a wave of confidence taking over as you guide his hand under the waistband of your sweatpants. his fingers are cool against your clothed heat, a soft wet patch forming on the fabric. his eyes are wide as he instinctively lets his hand run over the spot, watching as you flinch, lip caught between your teeth. he presses hard against you, a gasp falling from your mouth. "i haven't even touched you, and look at how wet you are for me. a little pathetic, hm?" "'m’ yours, minnie. always, always been yours." you don’t mean that, he thinks. he's letting you grind against his hand, his gaze transfixed on your face. your brows furrowed, eyes screwed shut as you used his hand to get yourself to the edge. his cock twitches at the little pants falling from your lips, when he decides he's had enough. you nearly cry at the loss of contact, his hand escaping the confines of your plush thighs. "minnie-" "if you're gonna cum, it's gonna be on my face. let's go, sweetheart." he tugs you towards his bedroom, your legs weak as you try not to stumble behind him. "bed. on your back."

he's pulling his sweater over his head, and you nearly coo at his messy hair in your fucked out state. he feels a flush coat his cheeks as you lay there, waiting for him to tug your pants off. hooking his fingers in your waistband, you lift your hips to make it easier, and he slides your underwear and sweatpants off in one go. you suddenly feel shy, closing your legs. 

"ah, ah. it's just me, sweetheart. do you want to stop?" his hands move to your knees, the cool metal of his rings sending a soft shock to your spine. "no, i'm…okay. i'm just nervous." "it's okay, angel. i got you, don't worry." he presses a kiss to your forehead, nose…lips. he lingers there a bit, but doesn't let it deepen as he runs his hands down your legs. his fingers dig into your thighs, pulling them apart for him to settle between. you're soaking, the heat of his stare making anxiety bubble in your stomach. "fuck, you're going to be the death of me." his lips press soft, chaste kisses along your inner thigh, nipping carefully as you mewl. "minnie, please..i..please…" you end in a whimper, and who is he to deny you when you beg so nicely? he buries his nose in your pussy, bumping your clit as he lets his tongue drag through your folds, collecting your sweet, sweet arousal on his face. your hand flies to his hair as his lips suck on your clit, thighs threatening to close around his head. he doesn't care, he'd die a happy man right there between your legs.

"f-fuck, seungmin, ah! right there, holy f-fuh.." you're shaking around his head, bucking your hips into his face as gently as you can muster. he loves it, but he can't tell you that as he drowns in the scent of you, the obscene sounds of his tongue against you paired with your pretty whimpers ensuring he'd probably cum in his pants. "oh, b-baby i'm gonna.."

his hand reaches for yours, interlacing your trembling fingers with his, his other hand massaging your thigh in encouragement. he can barely bring himself to talk, a soft moan of his against your clit sending you over the edge, a soft cry of his name echoing in the room. "that's it, good job angel. you did so well for me, hm?" he's still lapping at you, not wanting to miss a single shiver or whimper from your body. "s'always that good? min?" he peers up at you from his spot between your legs, your lips parted as you blink, a tear rolling down the side of your face. he moves up to wipe it away, but you take his hand in yours, kissing his palm softly. "you okay? we can stop." he presses his forehead against yours, not able to process your cute gesture without wanting to bawl. you nod, a lazy smile crossing your lips as you reach to kiss him. "m'all good, minnie. do you…want me to help you?"

you can feel his clothed cock pressing against your leg, practically begging to be set free, and you teasingly buck up against it. he inhales sharply, shaking his head, "i want tonight to be about you. i want to make sure you feel good, okay? are you sure you want to continue?" "yeah, m'all yours." you sigh against his lips, a chaste kiss from you to him. "can i take this off, sweetheart?" he yanks lightly on your shirt, and you nod. you help him tug it over your head, your fingers reaching backwards to unclasp your bra. he feels like all the air is sucked out of the room as you lay beneath him, for him, in all your glory. every curve he's imagined just as gorgeous. "you're staring, it's making me shy." your soft voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "no, no, fuck, you're gorgeous. look at you, oh my god, i.." he trails off, his hands resting on your tummy. "you just went down on me, and you're short-circuiting over my tits, kim?" your teasing is not helping his brain, but the attitude brings him back to reality. "you know that's not all it is, stop it." he rolls his eyes, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. it's soothing, the warmth of your skin radiating against his. he dips his head between your breasts, trailing open mouthed kisses all over your chest and stomach. "you're so beautiful. i'm literally the luckiest person in the entire universe." he's mumbling to himself mostly, but you feel soft tears prick at your eyes. his lips latch around one of your nipples, a gasp from you making him pull off with a pop. "can i…are you sure you want this, y/n? i really, really don't want you to regret this."

you grab his face in your hands, your thumbs lightly padding over his cheeks. "i want you, entirely. in this life, in the next life. okay? i got you, don't worry." you echo his words back to him, and he bites his lip, a hint of something in his eyes as he pulls back to unbuckle his pants. kicking them off quickly, you wait until he straightens to take a peek. 

the rumors were true. he's thick, his tip a soft mauve. your mouth is watering at the sight, when a snap of his fingers catches your attention. "eyes up here, sweetheart. i want you to look at me, can you do that?"

you nod, a shy smile on your lips as he goes to spread your knees again. "no, wait, minnie…" he feels his heart skip a beat at your voice, eyes flickering to yours in concern. "i…can i be on top? i read that…it can be better that way." you swallow thickly, and he feels the tips of ears burn but a smile grazes his features. "you studied for sex?"

any awkwardness is gone. you scoff, a light smack landing on his arm. "forgive me for wanting to be in control."

"you want to be in control? okay. fine, but you won't last long." he shrugs, sliding onto the bed behind you, eyes taking in the curve of your ass before you turn. "lay back, asswipe." "watch the attitude, or i'm shutting this shit down." he says, eyes serious as you feel your cheeks heat. you watch as he gets comfortable on his pillows, and you crawl over to him, your hands brushing against his sides as you straddle him. "we can go as slow as you want, okay?" his words are reassuring as his hands reach for your thighs, and you nod.

you take a deep breath, lightly letting your cunt drag along his length, his tip bumping your clit. you shiver, a buzz going up your legs as he takes your hips in his hands, manually guiding you over his cock. "did you read about this too?"

"shut up." you roll your eyes, his hands holding you in place. he looks…so convincing like this. like everything will go back to normal after this, like everything will be the same. he'll still be your best friend, and you'll still be desperately, hopelessly, stupidly in love with him. it's overwhelming, and you just bite your lip, shaking your head. "you're staring." "your dick is twitching, but i'm not saying shit." scoffing, you take him in your hand gently, lining him up with your aching center. you sink down slowly, the tip barely swiping your entrance when you grimace, a hiss escaping your lips as you screw your eyes shut. "i know, angel. here, let me help you." seungmin pulls you closer, his back against his headboard, careful not to pull out. you watch as his hand snakes between the two of you, his thumb softly circling your clit, your eyes threatening to close. "eyes open." you oblige, feeling a gush of arousal at his command, and you have no room to feel embarrassed when he begins to shallowly fuck into you, matching the pace of his thumb. your eyes are glossy as you move your hands to hold onto the headboard, your chest flush to his face. he kisses your shoulder, your soft whimpers music to his ears. 

"deeper? or stay like this?" he asks, voice shaking slightly, the warmth of your pussy almost staggering. it's humiliating how worked up you have him, but you need to stay humble. it helps him tolerate you. "d-deeper, is okay."

his arms wrap around your waist tightly, slowly pulling you down further, a whine escaping your throat as your hands move to his shoulders, your eyes meeting his. he's trying not to cum from the way your pretty cunt swallowed him so perfectly, taking him so well. made for him, just him. "m'so full, minnie." you clench around him, and it takes all his willpower not to finish. he's not far, he's practically seeing stars…but the way you're looking at him, you're so pretty, so ready to cry over his cock. he needs to drag this out as long as he can.

"y-you can move, if you want. p-please, want to feel you." you're pleading, he knows. he swallows, confidence wavering as he nods, slowly thrusting up into you, the squelch immediately catching his attention, eyes tearing from yours. he watches the way you take him, your body begging to be ruined by him. he moves a little faster, your mind beginning to blur as he falls into a rhythm. 

your nails are digging into his shoulders, your lip caught between your teeth as his hips rock against yours. his eyes flicker back to your face, and you manage a quick wink. he feels his cheeks burn beet red as he looks away. he feels like such a fucking virgin, when he is the one that's your first, not the other way around. pretty girl on his lap and he can't even look at you.

he wishes you had been his first, too, and he wishes you would have asked him sooner. you're so smart, you're so gorgeous, your lips taste like cinnamon sugar. fuck, he loves you. you're his best friend, you feel so good around him and you know him so well. he loves you, so fucking much.

his hips come to a slow, your moan drawing out as he drags his cock against your walls at an agonizing pace. "'still want to be in control, angel?" his lips press to your clavicle, and you nod against his neck. "will you tell me if it's good?"

he pulls you back, hand coming up to caress your face. "how could it not be, when it's you?"

you don't say a word, allowing his lips to meet yours in a chaste kiss. he slumps a bit, and you maneuver so his back is almost flat on the bed, and you try not to moan as the movement makes his cock hit you just right. "whenever you're ready, just use me how you want to." you feel a flutter in your stomach, giving an experimental roll of your hips, your hands flat on his side. raising your hips, your thighs tremble as you start a rhythm, bouncing on him carefully. he's watching you, the way you move so fluidly, like you're dancing. like you're enjoying him, using him, making his brain feel useless. he can't speak, just drinking in this picture of you he's never going to get to see again after tonight, taking in your throaty moans.

"m-minnie?" your eyes are low, your hands moving to his chest, pushing your breasts together. fuck, you are art. "y-yeah?" 

he can't even focus as you whimper, clamping around him like a vice, moving slightly faster. "m'close, i can't..i.." you're still looking at him, and he can't. he can't take it, using his strength to flip you on your back. he interlaces your fingers, pinning your hands above you as he roughly fucks into you, sharp cries falling from your lips.

his head dips, lips dragging along your jaw as he whispers in your ear. "this is where you belong. under me, begging for me. got it?"

you feel chills cover your body as you nod, "y-yes, god, yes." "good girl." he's so unsure of himself, he's so afraid he'll scare off your high but he needs to know. "did you mean what you said earlier?" he's speaking through gritted teeth, his eyes focused on the gloss in your eyes.

"hmm?" your brows furrow, your bitten lips slightly agape as his thrusts become sloppy, and he just shakes his head, opting to kiss you instead. hoping it'll help the knot in his stomach go away, hoping it will help you forget he asked. you can't help but pant into his mouth, feeling him smile against your lips. "you can let go, sweetheart. you did so well for me, yeah? i got you." you don't register how tightly you squeeze his fingers, or how deeply you're kissing him as you feel the white hot sensation rip through you. he's drunk off you, and you can feel him spurting inside you, his cum trickling out of you as his thrusts come to a slow, slow, stop.

but he doesn't, his lips don't. he can't stop kissing you, he doesn't want to talk. he doesn't want to tell you how you made him feel, how he can never see you the same again. he doesn't want to watch you walk out of his apartment tonight and possibly never be able to talk you again. he doesn't want to ever, ever hear about you doing this with some other guy, but he made his bed. 

your thighs are trembling around him, and you tug your fingers out of his grasp, pulling as far away from his mouth as you physically can. he pouts, chasing after them, only stopping when your eyes blink slowly at him.

"you alright?" his voice is soft, almost scared. you nod, swallowing thickly as you look away, tears forming in your eyes. "ah, talk to me, y/n. it's okay." "i meant it. what i said, earlier. i…don't know why i said it, i never planned on saying it. i'm sorry if it's going to make things awkward." you feel a tear escape, your hand quickly pawing it away. "awkward? with you? it’s not possible." he murmurs, and you glance at him, but he's staring at the pillows above your head.

"but you don't feel the same way." you say, almost as if you're trying not to hurt your feelings by letting your own words reject you, instead of him. he shifts, and you realize he's still inside you. he props himself up on his elbows, hands holding his head up as he peers at you. "you think i don't?"

"i know you don't." you laugh coldly, and he smiles. "yeah, miss sex expert? you know everything? did you read that, too?"

"ugh, stop. i'm never telling you anything again." you're becoming increasingly aware of your nudity, and seungmin can feel the hot flame of shame creeping up his back. he shakes his head, hating the way his blushing cheeks burn so bright. "i want you to tell me everything, forever. i love knowing you, i love trusting you. i'm glad you trusted me with this."

you can't look at him. his hand moves to make you look at him, fingers lightly squeezing your jaw. "and i meant what i said, too. you can't fuck anyone else. only i can see you like this, okay?"

his eyes are searching your face, watching you attempt to nod. "and…" he sighs, feeling tears prick at his eyes. "and i love you. i love your smile, and how you laugh when you play sex songs in the car. i love when we split cinnamon rolls, because you always try to take the bigger piece as if i won't just let you have it. i love when you say my name because it rolls so nicely off your tongue. i love how you move so effortlessly, and how you remember every little thing about anyone, ever. i love that you're funny, and you're so passionate. i love that you're so smart, far too smart to think that i wouldn't sell my soul to live an eternity by your side." his voice is trembling, and your eyes are wide and full of tears, full of adoration, of love for the stupid boy hovering above you.

"i love you, please. please say you're mine." his tears spill, and your lips part, a soft sob escaping as you pull him close, the cool metal of his necklace dragging against your damp skin. "i'm yours, always. i'm yours, i'm yours, i'm yours. i love you." you mumble against his lips, your tears mixing with his on your cheeks.

"thank fuck, i was about to end it all thinking about you doing that fucking trick on someone else." he mutters, and you snort as he buries his face. "that wasn't in the article, funnily enough. it just felt like the right thing to do. think if i pierced my clit, it'd feel better for you?" you ponder aloud, and he nips at your skin.

"don't even start, i haven't even pulled out." he groans, and you laugh loudly. "you're so pretty." he pouts, and rolls his eyes as they start filling with tears, your hand quickly wiping the ones that spilled. "is this going to happen every time? i kind of hate it."

"god, i hope so. i love seeing you like this for me." you tease, and he scrunches his nose. "shut up. stay humble, it's the only way i tolerate you." he nuzzles his nose back into your neck, and you let him stay there, carding your fingers through his hair.

"y/n?"

"yes, seungmin?" "i'm yours, you know that?"

"mmm, i do now. just mine?" "just yours. always." he nods as he pulls himself off you, placing a kiss on your temple, before brushing his lips on the shell of your ear. "someone has to fuck the attitude out of you, and i'm so glad it's gonna be me." you feel your skin heat at his words, and you smack him lightly. he gives a playful thrust, making you gasp before slowly pulling out. "you're off the hook for now, my angel. let's get you cleaned up." he doesn't stop kissing your face in the shower, or when he's shampooing your hair. he doesn't stop kissing your shoulders as he towels you dry, or your tummy when he works lotion into your skin. he can't keep his hands off you, even when you say you need to put clothes on. he can't get enough of the burn of your skin against his, and moves as fast as a human possibly can stripping the sheets off his bed and replacing them. 

he can't stop, and he won't stop kissing you, splitting cinnamon rolls with you, or singing sex songs in the car. he can't stop, and he won't stop, supporting you at your recitals and fucking you stupid as a reward. he can't stop, and he won't stop filling your cup until it's overflowing, making you laugh until you cry, and dragging moans of his name from your throat.

he can't stop, and he will never stop, loving you.

temptaetions © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

#kvanity #kdiarynet #cultofdionysusnet #kim seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin fic #kim seungmin imagine #kim seungmin angst #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin fluff #seungmin #seungmin fic #seungmin imagine #seungmin angst #seungmin fluff #seungmin smut #seungmin x reader #stray kids #skz #skz imagine #skz fic #skz fluff #skz angst #skz smut #useraltair: originals🌷

[stxrvel]

the house (2)

hi guys! i felt so inspired that i was able to write part 2 soon and that's a very rare thing for me. thank you so much for all your comments and notes! they made me very happy. see you in the next one!

summary: Azriel wasn't gonna give in so easily with Rhysand, but he had to do everything he could to ensure his mate's well-being pairing: azriel x f!reader words: +3.5k warnings: bad words and fights and angst and a lot of anger. also English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes!

part 1: the cliff

part 3: the court

“... what the fuck is wrong with me? No, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Az, I had no idea-”

“What does that fucking power works for if you're not gonna use it right?”

Cassian stood back from the commotion, with Nesta and Mor on either side of him watching from head to head as words crossed. Azriel was raising his voice and snarling at his own High Lord, and Cassian was almost surprised to see the way Rhys only dropped his shoulders, looking at his brother with sunken eyes as he claimed him. He had no intention of defending himself, Cassian could almost feel how embarrassed and remorseful Rhys was from a distance.

Azriel had a right to be angry, everyone knew that. And no one would stand in the way (unless the situation turned violent) because they understood the lengths you could go to just to safeguard your mate's well-being. Rhys would do it for Feyre. Cassian would do it for Nesta. Cassian always believed that this was how he would see Azriel defend his mate, right when he found her, and he was grateful that Rhys understood that his cries came from beyond rage and anger. There was anguish there, pain, guilt… Cassian had never seen Azriel so upset.

Returning to the Town House was torturous. Azriel wouldn't leave his mate's side and wouldn't allow any of his brothers to get close either, but she wasn't willing to go to a place she didn't know at all either, even if her mate accompanied her. Cassian had to watch his friend be more cautious and careful than ever with someone he never thought he had to be: with himself and Rhys. The sight was bleak as Azriel's shadows swirled around him and his mate, almost as if erecting a wall between the four of them. The looks Azriel sent them were like daggers and just by sharing a glance they knew that this was something the Shadowsinger wasn't going to overcome out of thin air, even if hundreds of years of friendship gave him the confidence to do so.

Azriel had to make a promise with her to convince her to leave, because he wasn't willing to let her disappear from his sight and she wasn't willing to just go with them for the sake of it, when one of the men in front of her was the one who pushed her off the cliff.

Cassian noticed several times Azriel watching the tattoo with crystallized eyes. Beyond everything, the hostile and distrustful context of the whole situation caused him pain.

Arriving at the Town House, they were all assembled. Without wondering too much without Rhys having spoken to Feyre (which he surely had), Cassian ran into the kitchen where Nesta was with her sisters and enveloped his mate in a tight embrace. Within seconds he heard movement around him and knew Rhys had done the same. Neither of them would ever be able to forgive each other for what had happened, if Azriel ever forgave them first.

“Az, I'm truly sorry,” Rhys stood behind his desk, the only thing that allowed him distance from a heated Azriel, besides Feyre's presence which the Shadowsinger respected even within his rage. “I was careless with the inmates. And you're right, it was easier for me to have simply looked inside her head. It had been a long time coming and I think I became confident of the reality of the situation, that whenever I saw inside them I knew what they were. I didn't give her the benefit of the doubt. I'm sorry, brother.”

“Your apologies are worthless,” Azriel spat, his face almost red from the way he was trying to contain his emotions and his hands resting on the table. Rhys lowered his head in front of him, running his hands over his face. “How are you going to fix with your words what for years broke under your nose? How can I come to look at you with respect when my mate is terrified to see you?”

Cassian felt Nesta's hands wrap around his right arm and he lowered to look at her questioningly. She had reserved her comments from the moment Cassian had told the two sisters what had happened. Feyre had escorted Rhys to his office after their effusive hug and Cassian had stayed with Nesta and Elain in the kitchen, talking. With Elain it had been a little easier, her face looked mortified and she had run after Rhys and Feyre barely understood what had happened.

Nesta… she tried not to show what she was thinking, but Cassian knew there was something that made her feel upset and insecure.

Cassian tugged at the bond, trying to get her attention and Nesta had to drag her gaze from Azriel to look at her mate. Cassian felt the air rush out of his chest when he noticed the tears under her eyes. He didn't waste a second in leading her out of the room, moving into the giant living room in complete darkness, despite it being barely noon. The maroon curtains lent a more somber look to the situation.

“What's wrong?”

Nesta closed her eyes as Cassian's hands cradled her face, letting out a pair of tears that furrowed the border with her cheeks. A ragged breath left her and Cassian felt the agony of her nervousness shake his body.

“I had already seen her,” she whispered, her eyelids tightening. Cassian frowned, but didn't interrupt her when she came up for air again. “I once accompanied Rhysand and Feyre to the camp. Feyre had told me that Rhysand had some business to take care of on the mountain. I heard… I heard her voice…”

Cassian pulled his mate closer by the shoulders, pressing her against his chest as her voice broke off.

“I heard her voice begging Rhysand to believe her,” Nesta continued, trying to still the sobs that were born in the ache in her chest. Cassian shared the sentiment, the end of the bond in his chest twisting with his mate's wailing. “She was so scared…”

Nesta wrapped her arms around Cassian's torso, sinking her face into her mate's neck. Cassian moved from side to side, trying to send warm sensations through the bond, trying to calm her down a bit.

Nesta's revelation left Cassian almost frozen. The last time Rhys had gone to the mountain had been ten years ago.

-

Azriel hadn't expected that to be the way he would meet his mate, much less would he have expected her to be terrified to be around his brothers and almost himself and, of course, much, much less had he expected to hold so much resentment against Rhysand.

His mate hadn't left the room Azriel had left her in, as far away from the others' rooms as possible. With the tattoo burning his skin, Azriel had not only promised her that she would be safe in the Town House, but she had also made him promise that her interactions with his brothers would be next to none. With the watchful eyes of his friends from centuries ago upon his back, Azriel agreed. He had to make sure to provide for his mate's physical and mental health, especially when he knew that the time she had spent with the Ilyrian soldiers had to have been traumatizing.

And of course, there was also the issue of the bond.

His mate couldn't or didn't know how to control the flow of emotions that traveled through the bond and Azriel felt it all. At the moment she was relaxed, calm inside the room away from everyone, but Azriel was losing his temper in the living room. His friends were gone, they had left him a moment alone when he had finished yelling at Rhysand, as he tried to control his emotions and those of her mate, who had surely been listening to everything and so was sending distressing sensations through the bond.

But even with all that space to himself he still felt like he couldn't breathe.

He didn't know how things were going to be from now on. The mere thought terrified him to the bone. He didn't know how he would deal with the fact that he wanted and was dying to be near his mate, to hold her, to comfort her, to support her, to protect her just a step away from him, but he couldn't, at least for now. The need consumed him and tormented him. Staying behind had never been an option, especially if it was his mate, but what could he do if that was what she wanted? He would have to get used to the pain, the emptiness he already felt in his life even though it had barely been half a day since he had found her.

Ah, Azriel didn't know how much guilt and pain he could carry until his knees failed.

He closed his eyes for a couple of minutes, laying his head back on the couch, his face settled in the direction of the ceiling. He tried to relax his muscles, stiff from the tension and stress, from the speed with which everything had happened in the last few hours. Maybe then he could get some sleep. He didn't know how it would be now that he had found his mate.

Azriel was beginning to feel his body going numb, the inattention to his senses and the lightness of his limbs, when a pair of light footsteps entered the room. They would've gone unnoticed by anyone, but not him. He lifted his head attending to the sound, finding you on your feet, frozen, all around the entrance to the living room, hands clasped together twitching in nervousness.

Azriel didn't know what to do. His heart skipped a beat at the sight. But he also felt the fear and nervousness coursing through the bond from the other end. He tried to send calm through his end, hoping that and the shadows crowding at her feet, which hadn't left her since they found her, would allow her to relax a bit.

“I'm sorry… for interrupting,” you looked down and Azriel had to stifle the urge that went through his body to get up and go running to your side. His head filled with the memories of his dream, cruelly comparing the happiness that was in them and the sadness that now engulfed you. Your voice was barely a whisper.

“It's okay,” Azriel stood up carefully and quietly, catching your attention. From the way you brought your hands to your chest, still clasped together, Azriel made no attempt to move closer.

“I need to ask you something,” you fought with the words until you finally told him and a current of panic ran through the bond, so strong that Azriel had to hold back the grimace on his face.

“Whatever you need.”

You looked at him again and Azriel felt something in his chest blossom. He sent that feeling through the bond, hoping it would counteract the anxiety on your end, but only received a frown in response.

“I need to contact my parents,” you asked, shifting your feet a little closer and Azriel quickly caught the pleading expression you were trying poorly to hide.

“Sure. Where are they? I can take them a letter, if you want,” Azriel offered, but your reply wasn't welcome as a spasm of pain ran through his chest.

“No… I-I-I don't want that,” you shook your head, lowering your head. The way you moved your intertwined fingers made him question how much courage you'd had to muster to come out of your room and ask him that. You must've wanted it badly. Surely it was all you could think about for all the years you were on the mountain. Azriel moved his hand from side to side across his chest, through the fabrics of his clothing.

“We'll do what you want, then. Tell me where they are.”

“Adriata,” you whispered, eyes glittering.

Azriel choked. Of course, former prisoner of the Summer Court. How would he get across the border if he had a blood ruby in his desk drawer? Rhysand and he were still mortal enemies of the Summer Court.

“And how do you want to contact them?”

“I want to go back.”

“What?” he coughed, his body tensing and the calm evaporating from his body in a second. Surprise narrowly prevented him from noticing your crystallized eyes.

“Azriel,” you implored, taking long strides towards him, frozen in place, electricity coursing through his veins from the way you said his name. “I don't even know how long it's been since I last saw them. Please, please. That was all I've ever wanted since I was captured. I just want to see them and let them know I'm okay. Please.”

Azriel stood there on his feet in front of you, barely acknowledging the fact that you had moved so close to him that from just raising a hand he could run down your cheeks. Your request had torn at his chest and he was sure he hadn't been able to keep some of that emotion from traveling through the bond, because now you looked more disgruntled and nervous than before. Now you wanted to… leave? And you were asking him to let you do it, as if he had any right to keep you here, as if you owed him anything?

The Shadowsinger clasped his hands at his sides, trying to contain his emotions behind the line, trying to keep them from affecting you too much. He had never felt such pain, not even something he could imagine, nothing that had ever hurt him before could compare to the pain of that moment. He hadn't had a moment with her and he had to let her go already.

“You want to go back… to Summer Court,” Azriel murmured, trying to confirm the obvious, as if you repeating it made it more real, as if he needed it to be sure.

“Yes,” you shook your head in assent and Azriel's heart crinkled as he noticed your desperation. Of course that would be the first thing you would want to do, how could he have been so selfish as to not even consider it before? How could he not have suggested it from before?

“You… I don't… I mean-”

“Azriel,” you took another step, hesitant, he could tell by your body language, but trying to keep the assurance on your face. “I need to see them. Please.”

“All right. Just… wait,” Azriel moved to the side, trying to clear his mind and think rationally even though your closeness was suffocating him. “There's something you should know.”

“I know the Night Court and the Summer Court aren't on good terms,” you shook your head, as if to tell Azriel that it was a silly problem that should have no bearing on your return.

“Yes, but that's not all,” moving his hands away from his already sufficiently tousled hair, Azriel looked at you in anguish. “If you go back to Summer Court now, I don't think you'll be able to come back again.”

You frowned at him, tilting your head in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Rhysand has held the Summer spies captive for…. many, many years. Tarquin has tried to negotiate their release, but Rhysand is not open to negotiating with him, or even seeing him again,” Azriel tried to explain, not overlooking the way you flinched when he mentioned the high lord's name. “If you leave now… If your parents declared you missing… Tarquin's not going to let you go out again. And they won't let me in either because the moment they see me they'll try to kill me.”

The silence that followed his words was agonizing. Azriel was terribly frightened. It didn't calm him to know that the doubt in your eyes was minimal; the desire to see your parents again was greater than the possibility of never seeing your mate again. The mere thought made him shudder, but if that was the case, there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing.

“Why… why wouldn't my High Lord let me come back?”

“Fifteen years ago the high lord forbade his people to return to the Night Court. Fifteen years ago no person from the Summer Court has gone beyond the mountains of Day.”

“Fifteen years?” you stammered, an expression of incredulous surprise taking over your face. “I'd been there for more than fifteen years?”

Azriel halted his movements, barely noticing how you succumbed to gravity and plopped down on the couch where he had been a couple of minutes earlier in complete stupefaction.

“Y/N, I'm really sorry-”

“I can't stay here,” you looked at him again, shaking your head in refusal and sending a current of panic through the bond. “I don't want to. I need… I need to see my parents. I want to be with them.”

Azriel shuddered at the desperation he saw in your eyes. He wasn't going to deny you that, ever. But he couldn't deny that he wanted to show resistance because, if you left right then, when would he ever see you again? They wouldn't even have time to talk about the elephant in the room, but, at the same time, it didn't seem like the most important conversation at the moment.

Azriel wanted to cry.

“It's okay. Don't worry. Of course you'll go see them,” he finally spoke, facing the reality he would have to live in from now on.

“Thank you,” you cried and Azriel felt each tear pierce his heart, even though the feeling of relief reached all the way to his chest, your relief, mixed with his hopelessness. “But, you… you won't be able to go.”

“No.”

“We won't be able to see each other.”

“No,” Azriel exhaled sharply and shook his head slightly. “But I'll work it out. Somehow.”

“You can't go near there. Tarquin would hurt you!”

Azriel felt the worry reach from the other end of the bond to his chest and was a little glad to know that you at least cared about him the same way he cared about you.

“I'll make an agreement. Whatever I have to do, I'll do it. I promise.”

You nodded in his direction, convinced of his words, convinced of his shaky assurance and confidence.

“And you… will you accompany me?”

You frowned when he shook his head, but quickly added, thinking he'd be mad and damned if he'd let you spend the return trip all alone after all you'd been through, “I know a faster way to travel.”

“Okay,” you nodded, calm finally ruling in your body. “So when do we leave?”

-

Everyone in the house had gathered to receive Azriel's announcement and things were breaking down just as he expected.

No one had said anything for several minutes after the Shadowsinger announced that he would be going to the Summer Court with you, to return you to where you belonged, to your true home.

“I'll do it,” Mor was the first to speak, to Azriel's right, watching him confidently. She turned to look at Rhysand, who hadn't looked up since his brother finished speaking, deep in thought with a hand on his chin. “I'll request a meeting with him.”

Cassian stirred at Azriel's left side, sweeping his gaze over everyone present. He could almost imagine what was going through his friend's head, helpless at not being able to join him, just as it must've been going through Rhysand's mind. Azriel knew the only reason his High Lord was still thinking was that. If it was risky for the Shadowsinger to go, it would be worse if it was both of them.

“I can go too,” Feyre spoke to Rhysand's right and the aforementioned raised his head in a second, beginning to shake his head in denial.

“For no reason should you ever step near that Court again,” Rhysand stood up, resting his hands on the desk and leaning towards his mate. His face contracted, contrasting with Feyre's warm gaze.

“Rhys, don't you think it's time to get this over with?” Feyre reached up to cradle his mate's face, Rhysand leaning in almost on instinct, betrayed by his senses.

“You want me to overlook so easily what he did to you?” the High Lord frowned, closing his eyes under Feyre's gentle touch.

“Not easily, Rhys. It's been fifty years.”

“You know fifty years is nothing to us,” Rhysand snorted, straightening his back.

The Shadowsinger clicked his tongue.

“It was too much for Y/N.”

No one in the room had to look twice to know that Azriel was tense, hands clasped behind his back. Rhysand turned to see him, his wary look of apology over his friend's stony expression.

“You know I didn't come here to ask your permission, Rhysand,” Azriel almost spat, dragging the words out between his teeth.

Mor shuddered beside him, following Cassian's gaze. In so many centuries, there had obviously been trouble between the Inner Circle for some time, but in this moment it felt different, deeper and more painful. The anger and rancor in Azriel's gaze was unmatched and to earn that facet of the Shadowsinger you really had to be a son of a bitch. Mor hoped she was wrong.

“It could be dangerous for you,” Rhysand warned and Azriel had to stifle a wry chuckle. The way his High Lord's features contorted gave him to understand that he had understood the twitch in his muscles all too well.

“I don't care what you think,” Azriel bellowed, clasping his hands at his sides. “I'll go with her, and since Mor offered I'd greatly appreciate it if she'd accompany us.”

Rhysand didn't respond, settling for sharing a glance with his brother, trying to reach a part of him that was minimally willing to forgive him. Azriel sensed his intrusion and angrily erected a wall of obsidian in his mind, miles away, forcibly pulling Rhysand out of his head. The aforementioned barely staggered to his feet.

“Fine, but I'd like to be kept informed of everything that happens,” Rhysand nodded looking at Mor, who barely returned the gesture and left the office to manage the meeting as soon as possible.

When the doors rattled and the room fell silent again, Rhysand looked at Azriel pleadingly.

“Az-”

“If that's all.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, Azriel turned on his heels and stormed off. Cassian followed close behind, barely sending a glance at his high lord, his brother, saying with his gaze how sorry he was that it had all happened and ended like this.

#azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acotar fanfiction #rhysand acotar #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar series

[thesmutsideblog]

Never Ever? - Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After a you and your long term ex breakup, some truths about your sex life come to light at the BAU and the idea that you've never had an orgasm, does not fly with Spencer Reid.

Reader is AFAB, and the story is using she/her pronouns, mostly because this one is really self indulgent and loosely based on me being pissed off about my ex.

Content warnings: dumbification of Spencer Reid, simp Spencer, shitty ex boyfriend, self indulgent writing, no beta or proof reading, cursing, smut, sexual worship, porn with plot I guess.

I have never written in second person before so I can only apologise for the shit quality of this, I havent written smut since 2018 and it's unedited, there is going to be spelling issues it's the dyslexia I'm sorry xx

GIF by comeandjointhebigboys

Spencer is doing everything in his power to look like he is minding his business, mostly because he really is trying to not eavesdrop. He came over to make a cup of coffee because he got barely any sleep last night and he wants to keep focused. But with no case directly at hand, there was something else the team were paying attention to and it was impossible for Spencer to completely ignore it.

"So he just, broke up with you?" Emily asks, dumbfounded.

"Over the phone," you say tilting your mug towards yourself, choosing to stare down at the small remainder of your coffee rather than to make eye contact with your team members.

"What an asshole," JJ says, lacing her arms together, until she looks like a disapproving mother. "Did he say why?"

"He said, we were going different places, and it would be a disservice to the time we spent together to pretend to be happy and keep lying to eachother," you say, sighing and putting the mug down, choosing to accept this caring interrogation about your breakup as your fate for the next twenty minutes.

"He used those words?" Emily asks, still trying to grapple the concept that your boyfriend, who she had met on a few occasions and had some thoughts she kept to herself about, had broken up with you.

"He used those words but what he really meant was 'I want to start sleeping with my twenty year old coworker and you spend too much time at work, so I'm ending things,' but he won't have the decency to admit that, despite the fact he was sleeping with her before the week was out," you roll your eyes as Emily and JJ continue to voice their disgust, loudly across the bullpen. You catch Spencer's eye for a moment and give him a small sad smile across the room, he nods and then looks away.

The guilt is eating Spencer alive. It's not like he actually had anything to do with the end of your relationship, he actively kept himself far away from it and even discussing it with you as possible. But the facts still remained the same, he likes you. He has liked you since your first day at the BAU and his feelings have never faltered. But you have always been in that relationship since long before he met you, and he knew that he didn't stand a chance, and he wouldn't want to mess around with that anyway. But he was unable to disagree with Prentiss, his own feelings for you aside, the simple fact of the matter was you have always been well out of your exes league. You are beautiful, and intelligent and charismatic, and your ex thought he was those things but more often than not fell short.

It's not like he even wished that your relationship would end and could blame it on the unlikely event of magical intervention. But the sheer fact that he was undeniably happier that you were no longer dating a man you were once very much in love with, that was enough to have him feeling guilty. Which is one of the many reasons he is really trying to not get involved in this conversation. One of the many reasons he is trying to keep a distance.

"How long were you two together again, like three years?" JJ asks. You shake your head.

"High school sweethearts," you correct her, "it's been a lot longer than three years."

"And he broke up with you over the phone, for a co-worker?" Emily emphasis each word in the sentence as she slowly sounds them out.

"He denies the last part but, yes," you nod.

"What are you beautiful ladies being so loud about?" Derek asks, approaching the three of you with some files in hand.

"The fact that men never fail to both disappoint and astound me," Emily states looking up at Derek from her seat, "no offence."

"None taken, but a little context wouldn't go a miss," he says looking at each of you in turn.

"My ex is a pig," you explain as nonchalantly as you can manage. You're trying really hard to be very collected about this. You've had a few days to process the breakup and you knew it was coming, even if you won't admit that to yourself. But being broken up with hurts, whether you see it coming or not. He was the only person you ever really dated, and having spent so much of your life with him this was a big adjustment. But deep down you weren't exactly mad about the situation, as much as it made you feel a lot better to complain about it. Things had not been right between the two of you for quite some time, and you find yourself almost relieved that it's over. But that still gave him no right to be as much of an asshole about it all as he has been.

"So he is the only guy you've ever really dated then, huh?" Emily asks. You give her a look as the thought crosses through her mind. "Wait, does that mean?"

"We started dating when we were barely more than kids Emily," you defend.

"So it's just been that guy, that guy?" Emily is struggling to be even the smallest part composed. "What is wrong with men?"

"You need some strange," Derek says casually.

"Morgan," JJ scolds him but Emily is slowly nodding her head. "Emily..."

"Best way to get over someone," Emily points out.

"Wow, I am not getting under anyone," you state, holding up your hands.

"Look, I understand the appeal of someone you've been with for a long time, they know you, they know what you like," Derek leans back on the table, "so new is risky, and some people really don't have a clue what they're doing I'll admit," he chuckles, "but trust me the longer you leave it-" Derek knows he isn't crossing a boundary, you and him have had plenty of conversations, but as soon as you give him the look to stop talking, he stops.

"I appreciate your concern but sex, is really not at the top of my priority list," you say.

"Please don't let a guy like that ruin it for you," Emily is staring up at the ceiling all types of distressed at the idea of your ex and his general existence.

"I don't think you need to worry about him ruining anything for me, more like just wasting my time," you say before realising that may be revealing too much. All three of them look at you instantly. "Do not read into that."

"Disinterest," Emily states looking you up and down. "And no immediate desire to release that usually comes with a breakup."

"We're not really doing this, are we?" JJ asks looking between the two profilers concerned.

"She's been distant the last few months, talking less and less about him, so the breakup wasn't unexpected, which means the sexlife probably wasn't up to scratch at the time," Derek adds.

"Oh you guys are doing this," JJ gives you an apologetic look as they start rattling off assumptions.

You try your best to ignore them until Derek says something which does tiptoe over the line- by a mile. "Pretty boy, what are the statistics on post breakup sex?" He is half joking but it pulls Spencer directly into a conversation he had been trying to avoid.

Spencer knows the answer, and that's obvious, but answering will only encourage them to get him involved in the conversation. But not answering is suspicious and could cause worse problems. He pushes his thumb into the centre of his palm as he speaks. "27% of adults report having sex with an ex within a two-year period," Spencer states knowing that's not what Derek meant but hoping he could get away with it.

"No, I mean rebound sex," Derek corrects.

"Studies show that thirty-five percent of those who are broken up with have sex to get over their ex, and twenty-five percent as a form of revenge," Spencer says giving in and stepping closer to the group.

"Look sixty five percent of rebound relationships fail within six months," you say. That's a safe thing to say you believe, as you know the team would likely assign that research as an attempt to make an educated guess how long the fling with the coworker would last. But Spencer knows better. He cannot help but wonder if that's what has been making you act differently the last few months. If you saw the end in sight and wondered what that means for you when it's over.

"You're not looking for a relationship though, you're just looking for some fun," JJ points out.

"You do remember how to have fun, don't you beautiful," Derek asks giving you a wink.

"Yeah," you say brushing him off.

"Do you?" Derek asks, unconvinced.

"I told you, I'm not interested in going out and getting laid, it's not worth the energy," you say.

"When was the last time you had an orgasm?" Emily asks. Spencer chokes on his coffee.

"Emily!" JJ chastises her.

"Someone had to ask," Emily says.

"No one had to," you tell her.

"Come on, six months?" Emily asks. "A year?"

"Emily," JJ warns.

"Shit..." Derek whispers and you feel his gaze on you intensifying. He has you all figured out.

"What?" Spencer asks, not meaning to.

Derek is keeping his eyes on you and you cannot meet his eye. "Tell me I'm wrong pretty girl," Derek says, wanting himself to be wrong.

"I... I don't know... You're a profiler, how am I supposed to lie to you?" You huff.

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks.

"Derek you're not helping," you state.

"Sorry," he says, "I just don't understand how that can be the case."

"You said it yourself, some people really don't have a clue what they're doing," you say.

"So you've never?" Emily asks cottoning on.

"Can we please stop talking about this," you say.

Spencer's brain is ticking over trying to read between the lines and when it clicks he is struck with a similar dumbfounding as Morgan. How? How?

He cannot help but have one clear thought scrambling around his brain at a million miles per hour. If he had ever had the chance, he wouldn't have wanted anything more than to make sure you felt good. To know he had made you feel good.

How inconsiderate could your ex be? How little attention must he have been playing to not even notice that you were not getting what he was out of it? How had he never cared to make that better?

And why did you not feel cheated by that fact?

"I'm not eavesdropping," Garcia defends bringing Spencer out of his head and back into the room.

"Okay why don't we just fax everyone the stats on my sex life," you groan, resting your head in your hands.

"I'm just saying," Garcia tries.

"I appreciate all of the unnecessary concern," you say, "but my sex life isn't a BAU case." Emily smiles as she goes to speak but you catch her thought right before she opens her mouth. "And it's no ones problem to solve either."

"It's a little tragic," JJ confesses.

"JJ," you're surprised, JJ is normally the one you can count on to get the others back on track but she just shrugs.

"Let's leave it be, Garcia do we have a case," Spencer is talking with his hands even more than normal and you cannot help but notice. He is trying to come to your rescue and you appreciate that. You appreciate everything Spencer does.

"Maybe," Garcia explains, waving her tablet at the group. "Hotch wants us in the conference room, five minutes ago."

You're quick to get out of your seat and away from the grilling you are receiving from the team and everyone else is quick behind you. Hotch and Rossi are at the desk when you all enter.

Hotch frowns. "You took a while," he notes.

"Discussing the breakup?" Rossi asks, looking you up and down.

"I dont even want to know what has given that away," you admit taking a seat. Hotch nods a half apology which you silently shrug off in return.

You were trying your best to pay attention, giving Hotch the respect he deserves, but the case he was talking about didnt feel like it required the BAU's involvement and Emily is quick to voice that opinion. You managed to register a few words about consulting and favours, but nothing is really sinking in, not when you can feel Spencer's gaze on you as hot as a fever.

You raise your eyes to meet his and they dart away. You think back, and it occurs to you that maybe conversations about your sex life or anyone of the teams sex lives for that matter wasnt exactly what Spencer signed up for. You feel a little guilty, knowing you kind of indulged the others and let him get pulled into the conversation even if that wasnt your intention.

You catch him looking at you again but he doesnt see you looking back, it's like he is trapped in a thought, and in this moment you've never seen Spencer look so without a clue.

"Reid?" Hotch asks, repeating the question.

Spencer looks to Hotch, and he buffers. You know he knows the answer to the question, you know he always knows, but his brain seems to have frozen up on him. "I... sorry what?"

"This is statistics kid," Derek says, "are you sick or something?"

Emily gently pokes Spencers shoulder. "Maybe he is getting a software update," she jokes.

You lean forward and give Hotch the answer he is looking for, remembering from a conversation you and Spencer had a few weeks back about Ohio. Hotch gives a side eye to Rossi before continuing.

You look back at Spencer and he is watching you again, you offer him a small smile and he returns it. You've always been better at reading Spencer than most members of the team but you don't recognize this behaviour at all.

"Are you okay?" You ask him as you both make your way down the steps of the BAU.

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"You blanked back there, Spence, pretty hard," you say as gently as you can, "I havent seen you like that since..."

"Since when?" Spencer looks curious, and softer somehow.

"Since we worked that case in Illinois, with the models, you took one look at that girl Annie Grant was it, and your IQ dropped like a hundred points," you laugh gently.

"She was pretty," Spencer confesses.

"I think Morgan got her number," you recall.

"He did," Spencer agrees.

"So, what is it? Because it's not a pretty girl in lounge wear," you say.

"You dont know that for sure," you can tell he is trying to joke around the subject, and normally youd find that cute. Cute in the kind of way you havent been able to admit to yourself before. Because having a crush on a coworker is not convenient at the best of times.

"Okay, Dr Reid, keep your secrets," you give him gentle shove and his smile is disarming, soft and so happy to just be involved. "Got any fun evening plans?"

"There's this new study into cognitive dissonance in specific trauma patterns I have been meaning to read," he offers. You bite back a chuckle.

"You've got a date with science," you nod to yourself, "of course you do."

He looks around, thinking for a moment. "Are you going to walk?" He asks.

"I usually do," you admit, "it's only a few blocks after all."

"Can I," he pauses, "can I walk you?"

"You want to walk me home?" You ask, a little suprised at the offer.

"If that's okay, the study can wait," he says. There is a look in his eyes you can't quite pinpoint, somewhere between pleading and hopeful. You nod.

"I'd love that Spence."

The distance to your apartment door had never felt so short, and you hadn't realised until now quite how much you enjoyed the moments when you were with Spencer, and no one else was watching. Maybe because he paid less attention to making sure no one noticed him watching you, and he just keeps watching.

Spencer looks at his feet as you fumble with your keys, he has no idea what he is doing. He didn't think any of this through, he just kept thinking about you, and what you deserved and what you should've always been given and now he is stood at the doorstep of your place with no plan, no idea of what compelled him to think any of this was a good idea and no idea of what to do next.

You smile at him, and bite your lower lip just a small bit, the look is so demure that Spencer wonders if he imagined the entire conversation in the bullpen, wondering if maybe he was really so wrapped up in these months of conflicted feelings for you that he managed to lapse from reality so badly that he got himself here.

"Do you want to come in for coffee?" You offer and his heart damn near stops in his chest.

"Coffee is never coffee kid," Derek's voice rings in his head. "It's an invitation."

"Got decaf?" Spencer asks, and you laugh.

"Like anyone who works at the BAU knows what decaf is," you open the door wide and walk through. "You coming?"

He doesn't answer but follows you, closing the door behind him. Your apartment isn't a mess but it's clear things have been moved around since your breakup, there is clear empty spaces where things once collected dust, like so many things once filled a place and vanished. You weren't dwelling on the relationship, because there wasn't a point. You had loved and you had lost, and you knew it went like that sometimes.

"You better not be profiling me Dr Reid," you quip as you catch him looking around.

"I wouldn't dare," he says.

"So, are you going to explain why you're being so sheepish?" You ask, reaching for a mug, to actually make coffee.

"I'm being sheepish?" he asks. He had hoped he was hiding it better.

"Nervous at the very least," you say putting the kettle on. He says nothing and you sigh. "Did we make you uncomfortable earlier?"

"What?" Spencer asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Talking about my ex," you offer up. "I know that sort of gossip isn't exactly for everyone-,"

"No," he is quick to defend, "that's not what's bothering me."

You smirk and he sees the trap you laid for him that he walked right into. "So something is bothering you pretty boy," Morgan's nickname for him falls from your lips and it sounds so different. It burns every nerve ending, each fibre of his being and he forgets how to speak for a moment too long. "Spence?"

"I," he brings himself back.

"I don't mean to pry, you don't have to tell me anything," you explain quickly.

"How was your ex such an idiot?" he asks outright. You laugh, it's short and shallow because you're not expecting anything close to that from Spencer.

"What?" It's your turn to feel dumb now as you spiral trying to process what Spencer is suggesting. That the conversation had gotten to him, but not in the way you'd thought. His problem hadn't been with the topic but the content, the confession. The kettle brings itself to a boil but you're interest is elsewhere now.

"I don't mean to speak out of place here, but if I were him there are so many things I would've done differently," he fidgets with his tie but doesn't stop. This confession is coming out now or not at all and he wants it finished. He needs it finished. He does not want blurred lines. Not between the two of you. "Not even touching the subject of how your relationship ended. I wouldn't have left you in the rain last October, I wouldn't have held all the things I knew about you when we met as reasons to run years after I agreed to love you regardless. I wouldn't have let you go to work angry all those times. I wouldn't have lied about plans. I wouldn't have let you go to sleep sad or angry, and be gone in the morning. I wouldn't have left you wanting, for anything. Because if I was him I would understand what a beautiful rarity it is to find someone who does what you do, with your compassion and determination and dedication and is still kind, still hopeful, even when things are dark. There are not a lot of things I don't know much about, and maybe relationships, and romance and sex are in that limited list, and maybe he would argue that hypotheticals hold no ground when your experience is as limited as mine, but I frankly don't care what his opinion would be. Because he didn't see you for what you are and that means his thoughts are of no value to me. I don't tell you this because I am expecting you to say anything, it's just burning me up that you weren't treated, hell worshiped, in the way you deserved and I had to tell you that I can't think of anything more wrong." He steps back and you're still catching your breath. "I, I am sorry I shouldn't have... I will see you at work."

He turns and strides to the door, and your breath heaves in and out of your chest and you wonder if you can find your voice before his hand finds purchase on your doors lock. "Spencer," you breathe out. He pauses, hand hovering over the door handle.

"Yes?" his voice is so quiet, and he doesn't turn to look at you.

"Please don't leave," the request falls from your lips and Spencer has never felt more of a need to do something than to do anything you ask of him in this moment. But his doubt still hangs gently in the space between the two of you.

"What?" he asks again, searching in the word to find something to hold onto, looking for some guidance or instructions he missed. He didn't have a plan, and he doesn't know what to do with this.

"Please," you say again, voice sturdier now as you start to close the distance between the two of you, "Spence," his breath hitches as you place a hand gently on his shoulder, encouraging him to turn back to you, and he does, "don't leave."

His eyes stare into yours and you swear you feel all the months of unsaid things, of quiet wanting, of stolen thoughts in weak moments, bursting at the seams. You had told yourself in another world, another life time, had you met Spencer Reid and the timing had been different, if you had been different, he would've been everything. You told yourself from that first day that those brown eyes may plead into you with every moment you meet them but it was never going to be the right time.

His eyes stare into yours and he feels the weight of all the things he long tired to bury, crawling their way up from the depths and pushing against his skin, desperate to get out. Desperate to be known. Desperate to correct the wrongs and do right by you. Desperate.

His hand hovers touch's length away, scared to close the distance, scared to make the move, to change everything. You both know in this moment, that all it takes is one touch and you're going over the cliff.

This is a road you do not turn back from.

You whisper one last time, like a prayer, "Spence," and in a blink gravity turns back on, and everything blooms in bright technicolour.

It unfolds in a rush, his hand to your waist, pulling you that much closer, both of your hands gripping to the fabric of his shirt as he pulls you up to him, other hand moving gently under your chin to guide the tilt of your head. His lips crash onto yours and there's a hunger you've never seen in him, and a hunger you've never known inside yourself.

There's a gentleness, a caution in his desperation, in his need, one that you don't have in your own. He keeps kissing you and you back up, footing not very careful as you tighten your grip on his shirt. Your back finds support against the edge of your counter and you find yourself letting on of the hands slip from the fabric of his button down to tug at his tie, to keep him closer at first, and then in an attempt to remove it entirely.

He pulls back for a moment, not to catch breath as either of you would be happy to drown in this moment, but his eyes are scanning you, like he is looking for something else, something missing.

You pause, slowly tugging the tie from his collar and letting it fall to your floor. "Spencer?" you ask.

He looks lost as he breathes in. "I don't know what I am doing," he says.

"You're doing great is what you're doing," you say, not looking away.

"Is this okay?" he finally asks. Your heart starts running away from you as you try to remember to breathe.

"This is more than okay," you assure him, "please Spencer, don't stop kissing me."

That's all he needs to hear and his lips are back on yours and the kisses are feverish and starved and he presses his hands into your hips and the gentle moan that leaves your lips sends Spencer's mind spinning.

He pulls his lips from yours and starts kissing a trail down to your neck, you lean more into the support of the counter top and let a hand find it's way into a tangle of his brown hair.

His tongue against your skin, the gentle brush of teeth on that spot that makes the sound from before seem like a draft of a masterpiece. Spencer knows that now he has heard you, voice like honey, moan trembling from your lips, nails dug into his scalp gently tugging on his hair, barely able to keep your eyes open yet again your breathing steady, no sound will ever compare.

In the the times he had let himself think about you, imagine all the things, let his fantasies and dreams run away with him, he had never come close to this moment. How your fingers shake as you start to unbutton his shirt, needing to do something, needing something.

Needing him.

And you can feel his need in return, in the way he holds onto you, on the way he is listening to your body, hearing every response, feeling every movement, determined to do this right.

He feels the way you press your tights together, tight against the counter, the need for something more radiating off of you, and you don't give time for the doubt to creep in. "We should," you breathe out as you feel the blood rushing through you, knowing that there will be marks from where he is kissing you that you won't be able to hide tomorrow, not that you want to, "move this to the bedroom."

"Is now a bad time to point out that I have mostly just a conceptual understanding of what we are about to do?" Spencer asks between kisses.

"I think you're worrying too much, because if you're basing this on theory," you take his hand leading him towards your room, "so far you're giving nothing but hard evidence."

You let your own innuendo slide as you both fall back onto your bed, he looks down as he leans over you, and there's a softness, a patience in this moment, as he needs to soak it all in.

You reach up and continue to undo the buttons on his shirt until they are completely undone, and he watches you as you do, you give the fabric a gentle tug and he catches on, slipping the rest of the shirt and the jacket off and letting it fall back somewhere out of mind. You trace a hand gently up his arm and he leans down to kiss you again, your lips, your jaw, your neck.

He runs a thumb over the deep red mark he has left and you feel the fever rising again. You need out of these clothes, you need more.

You start to undo your own shirt buttons and as each button comes undone Spencer follows the trail of exposed skin and leaves hot kisses on each new place.

You can feel the hard outline of his cock against your thigh as you reach to unzip the side of your skirt. The nervousness is still fluttering in Spencer's face as he helps you slip out of it. His fingertips brushing over exposed skin, his hand creeping up the inside of your thigh and you buck up gently at the touch.

His lips trace kisses up your torso to your chest and like this, each kiss so intoxicating, each touch so electrifying, his hand inching further and further up your thigh, as his lips dance over the skin around the fabric of your bra there is nothing he could ask of you that you would not do.

Sex may never have been perfect before, but you'd always thought it was at least decent, passing, respectable. But this build up with Spencer, his hands on your skin, his lips leaving evidence on your body that he has been here, this was more than you'd ever felt. And he hadn't even really touched you yet.

You reach to undo his trousers, eager to get him in less clothing but he pulls back, out of your reach. "Not yet," he whispers against your skin, "you start doing that and this will be over way too soon." He brings his lips to yours again, stealing a deep kiss as he unclasps your bra. "And this is about you, all about you," he is mumbling again, almost incoherent against you. He is determined, his mind is focused on you and your pleasure and what you deserve.

You don't think you've ever wanted anything as much as you want this.

His thumb brushes against the your clothed skin, and sparks shoot through your body, nails digging into his shoulder as you gasp at the contact.

He nudges closer, his forehead pressed to yours, and you look at him. Spencer, your colleague, your friend. Spencer who never forgets your coffee order. Spencer who stayed all night to help with paperwork because you lost a bet. Spencer who has accompanied you to every movie you've ever asked him to. Spencer who bought an extra ticket to every convention just in case you would want to come.

"Please," you plead, like you need to, as if it was possible that he wouldn't do anything for you in this moment. As if you even needed to ask.

He kisses you, pulling you up and towards him, breathing you in as his hand finds its way between the elastic of your underwear and your skin.

Your nerves are as quick to respond to his touch as fire to a accelerant. Every movement makes you wonder if Spencer was given some map of your body that you didn't know existed, a guide to movement and pressure and timing that couldn't be more perfect.

You are nodding at his movements, keening at every increase of pace, every finger curl, every swipe of his thumb. Your body shuddering in anticipation and a pleasure you never knew courses through you.

Spencer is leaving compliments with every kiss across your body, so eager to please, so desperate to worship. When he hits the spot, your body gives you away at alarming speed, you buck, moving your arms to prop yourself up on elbows, leaning into him, into the movements, rutting against him. "Fuck," you manage in the haze.

Spencer responds to this approval with dedication and vigour and then you feel it, that hot white coil of pleasure pulling at you, like a tight chord. "Shit," you start breathing heavier, faster, "shit, shit."

"You're so incredibly beautiful," you hear Spencer whisper. You can't keep your eyes open as your knees begin to shake.

"Spencer," you whimper, not for any reason but to say his name. The need to say his name over and over, and over as the chord pulls tight and finally snaps.

The pleasure explodes through you, every nerve tingling, like fireworks cascading through you. You shake, riding the high through and fall back onto the bed, slumped with a laboured breath.

Spencer moves back up to be level with you, gently brushes some stray hairs from your face and he smiles down at you. "That is what it's supposed to feel like?" You ask.

If this was all he could have for the rest of his life, Spencer would be a happy man. He plants a kiss on your forehead, and that look of devotion has not left his eyes.

But he has been filled with a new sense of purpose, like he was made for this. For you.

He doesn't have time to debate internally if your ex was purely just that poor at what he did or if it feeling so easy, coming so naturally to him was something else entirely. He didn't really care which it was, maybe both. Right now all he cared about was making up for lost time, lost opportunities, all your disappointment.

He kisses you again and the force of it is more knowing, more sure, it's hot and messy and every moment it feels like you need to be closer, deeper, more entwined. The whole time he keeps his hand in your underwear, thumb running in soft, intensely accurate circles as his fingers do most of the work.

It crosses your mind that maybe it should be almost embarrassing that he is making it so easy. It should be embarrassing that Spencer barely needed any time to bring that second orgasm to precipice. It should be embarrassing that you're convinced this man could make you come by the way he kisses you alone, but you're not embarrassed. Not because you've never felt the pleasure like this before, not because you think pleasure it never something to be embarrassed about and not because after everything you deserve this. But because it's Spencer Reid, and everything with him has always felt like it is exactly as it should be, and him making you feel this way, is no exception.

He holds you in the kiss as your second orgasm pulses through you, just as intense as the first one, he feels you shake as it floods you. A moan escaping into the kiss, from your mouth to his and he groans against your lips.

He is so focused on you that he isn't paying any attention to how this is effecting him, how hard he is against you. How desperate he is for you. His need for your pleasure overtaking any need of his own.

You know if left to his own devices Spencer would stay as the two of you are, skin pressed to skin, lips on yours, trying to write years worth of wrongs in one night. But you do not want to give into exhaustion before you have let him ruin your expectations in all the ways you know.

He moves from your lips to your neck and before you can process much of his plans you feel the kisses trailing your hipbone, and with the third orgasm approaching you can see where his mind has wondered to. You lean forward, gasping in pleasure, but determined to get his attention, you place a hand on the side of his face, tilting up his chin to meet your eyes. "Wait," is all you manage to moan out before the pleasure tears into you, your head falls back and you grab a fistful of sheet, trying to keep yourself up through the pleasure.

Spencer does as you ask and waits until you manage to gather your words, eyes on you. "Please," you try. He runs his eyes over your body trying to understand your request.

You reach down, pulling once again at the edge of his trousers, fumbling to undo them, to get him out of them. You've never known Spencer to be so slow to catch on, but he is practically drunk on you.

"Oh," he manages. "Oh."

Before he can start to explain all the reasons he doesn't think that's important right now you look up at him with those eyes so pleading. "Please," you whisper again.

And he is putty in your hand, happy to do anything you ask of him, he nods and you finish undoing his trousers and push them down, he finishes discarding them.

Now it's your fingertips against his skin and he holds his breath as you move for his boxers. "Is this okay?" you ask quietly.

"You're everything I have ever wanted," the honey leaves his lips and you kiss him, his lips focused on you as you help him out of his boxers and pull him down and close.

"I need you," you whisper. "Right now, I need you."

"I am yours," he responds.

You keep your fingers threaded in his hair, and you tug a little harder as you become overwhelmed with him. "Fuck," Spencer's voice shudders in pleasure and you understand his desperation to please you instantly, because you want nothing more than to give him everything.

Everything becomes a mixture of moans and names, lips pressed to skin, and fabric scrunched with every thrust. You kiss Spencer's neck, finding his sweet spot with a similar precision to which he found yours. Leaving a collection of marks on his neck before her buries his face into yours, repeating your name over and over, becoming more and more wanting. His neediness matching your own and as he digs his fingers into your hips that now familiar feeling starts to rush you.

"Spencer, I am going to cum again," you whisper. Spencer cannot form words, he just keeps kissing, sucking, digging at your skin, even now he isn't close enough to you. "Fuck!" You scream out and the pleasure of your orgasm is almost too much for Spencer.

"Fuck, I," Spencer's brain is doing flips trying to figure out what to do, what he is supposed to do. "I am going to."

"Please," you beg in his ear.

"I should, I haven't," he is trying to piece the words together but they're not coming. You know what is trying to say, what is cannot find the words to ask.

"Please stay with me," you say, nudging his nose with your own, "please."

Your gentle request is his breaking point and he crashes his lips back onto yours as his own orgasm comes to fruition.

He collapses down next to you, both catching your breath. "Fuck," you repeat, for what might be the millionth time, as you long lost count.

You cannot help it, you let out a little laugh and Spencer glances at you, a smile breaking out on his face. "For the record, I hadn't planned that," he says.

"For the record, I really planned on drinking my coffee."

"I can make you a coffee," Spencer offers, turning to his side.

"We should, get cleaned up first," you smile.

"Then coffee?"

"Then coffee."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid smut #smut #smut fanfic #no beta we die like jason gideon #reader x spencer reid #bau fanfic #bau smut #matthew gray gubler #fanfic #x reader #bau #criminal minds fic

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

(short continuation to the prompt I wrote, which is linked below. I thought I was done with this, but then @victoria-has-no-secret and @bluerosefox had some ideas to incorporate into it. Screenshots of said ideas are also below but are sprinkled throughout the post too.)

(*) = Me building off of other ideas

TW: mentions of animal death

← previous

✦

After the whole fiasco with the Justice League, Danny gets an idea. Not very many people actually know about Laika, at least from what he could see of the majority of the Justice League who had never learned about her. Although, to be fair, a lot of them come from different planets. Either way, it gives Danny the idea to create a YouTube channel starring Laika to teach the people of Earth about the pup.

The channel immediately garners attention from all around the world, and even winds up on a couple of news stations too! It grows so much that Danny decides to expand further than just Laika, but to the other things that were sent into space in the quest for knowledge: The space rovers as well as many other animals.

Laika even leads Danny to them as he ventures further into space with a specially made camera that can withstand traversing space and the differing atmosphereic conditions of other planets. He manages to find every single one of them, discovering that maybe Laika hadn't been as alone as he'd first thought as he watches and records her playing with the spirits (imprints?) of the rovers, chimps, mice, and many other animals haunting the endless void of the cosmos.

People back on earth are going wild with the knowledge that their hopes, thoughts, and feelings helped to give life to beings that had long been dead/stopped working. They have no idea what to feel about this new information except an amalgamation of pure awe, curiosity, joy, guilt, and sadness. They still mourned the loss of Laika, the rovers, and everyone before and after them, but knowing that their existence wasn't completely lost soothed an ache many didn't know they carried with them when they were there to witness the beginning of such astronomical leaps in technology.

To also know that out of the many stars shooting across the sky, one of them might be Laika happily racing amongst the stars with her friends brought many to tears. At every opportunity, they wished for the sweet pup's happiness and the continuing health of their own furry companions down on Earth with them. They also wished that upon the eventuality that they have to part with their companions that maybe a few of them would join Laika and her friends in stars to keep them company for many years to come.

Although many of these wishes were heard by Desiree, she refused to touch such hopeful and well-meaning wishes for fear of twisting them in unseemly ways, allowing them to form on their own. The other ghosts among Danny's rouges even made a deal with each other to not interfere or attack the town when Danny was recording his videos out in space.

It was beyond bad manners to interfere with another ghost's obsession, after all.

✦

I'm gonna go cry some more. I've learned more about the progress of space exploration in the past couple hours than I probably should. This is the last thing I'm adding onto this prompt. If any of y'all wanna continue it, be my guest!

Notes:

(*) One more thing to add. Where are the ghost hunters/Guys in White during all of this? If they start making a fuss over Phantom and all the ghost animals, do they get a bunch of civilians raiding their government facilities and causing them bodily harm? What's happening with the Justice League? Are they sitting back and eating popcorn while all this goes down? Who knows. :)

#dp x dc #dc x dp #danny accidentally finds the watchtower #danny goes to space to play with laika the space dog #laika became a ghost #as well as all the other animals and machines that were sent to space #she gets lonely sometimes #but likes to visit the others when she can #once the justice league becomes aware of her they invite her into the watchtower to play sometimes #until the watchtower gradually becomes her new home and she helps guard it from intruders #she has playdates with cujo and krypto #what if she had a youtube channel dedicated to her? and the world collectively lose their minds and control of their tear ducts? #danny phantom crossover #dp crossover #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #angst prompt #hurt/comfort prompt #writing prompt #prompt #writer is not okay #sleepy-writes-stuff

[astroph1les]

this love [h.c] | chapter four

summary: after the events of last night, you’re living in bliss with hazel: sharing secret kisses and gentle touches. you and hazel try a few new things. when isabel catches the two of you, an unsettling realization comes into play.

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: a lot of affection, blushy adorable sapphics, smut — fingering (r! receiving), discussions about homophobia, inexperienced! reader, knight! hazel is forever going to be the death of me.

word count: 6.1K

a/n: first post of the new year! i’m so incredibly sorry for the delay for this guys. life has been so insanely weird lately and i missed writing my sweet girls <3 new year’s resolution to try and post a lot more for yall. enjoy my loves ♥︎

‘this love’ masterlist

Time is sacred.

You never paid attention to time until Hazel. It either froze or went by entirely too fast when you were with her. Especially now that your relationship with her was anything but professional. Yes, of course, you were both extremely careful with how you acted towards one another when Isabel or any of the guards were around. Keeping your distance but stealing longing glances until you rounded a corner where there wasn’t a soul in sight and kissed until you couldn’t breathe.

The first week of being with her like this was indescribable. You never knew you could experience this amount of happiness within yourself. Though it took a few days for you both to become comfortable with yourselves.

The first day was on edge. You awoke that next morning to Hazel’s perfectly sculpted face pressed into your velvety pillows to match your title as royalty. As you stared at her cupid's bow, an uncomfortable amount of guilt settled within you.

What would your mother think? What would Isabel think? What would the kingdom think if they found out the princess was in fact more different than they thought. That was you were a sapphic and would not want to be wed to a prince, but instead a woman that was a knight.

You were afraid. Heart-aching, soul-crushing, overwhelmingly afraid for the future.

But the moment Hazel opened her eyes and sent you a tired smile in your direction, you felt a wave of relief flush over you.

“Morning, princess,” Hazel spoke through a stretch and a yawn.

“Morning,” you reply shyly as you brushed your tousled hair out of your face.

“Are you okay?” Hazel hesitantly raised a hand to caress your puffy cheeks from your well-rested slumber.

You can’t help but lean your cheek into her warm yet slightly calloused palm.

“Yeah. I’m just thinking.” You respond truthfully to her question.

Hazel caressed the apple of your cheeks, watching as the beam from the windows highlighted the back of your head to reveal your frizzy hairs. A bright angelic halo of sorts.

“About last night?”

You nod as it was true but there was so much more. Your half-truths were weighing on your chest uncomfortably.

“What happens now?” You question as you’ve never experienced anything of the sort.

Hazel shakes her head as she continues to caress the side of your cheek.

“Let’s just stay in the moment. It’s gentle here with you, princess.” Hazel whispers with nothing but kindness in her voice.

You simply smile tiredly and inch yourself more into her if that was even possible. You could feel her abdomen pressing into your own through the thin material of her shirt. Your arms are close to your chest as she continues to caress your face with delicacy.

A beat passed before you heard a soft knock at your bedroom door. You sat up with a jolt at the noise, practically snapping your neck to look at Hazel who, too, had a panicked expression on her face.

“Who is it?” You call out as you run a hand over your frizzy bed hair.

“Isabel! Remember? You wanted to talk about Hazel this morning.?” Isabel’s confused and muffled voice flowed through the door.

No. You, in fact, had not remembered. You were too busy kissing and snuggling Hazel.

Hazel mouthed to you with a cocky smile on her face; “me?”

You silently shush her with a playful shove to her shoulder as you shake your head. Hazel placed a kiss on your shoulder as she chuckled quietly at your embarrassed flushed cheeks.

“Isabel, can you meet me in the dining room? I’m not… presentable at the moment.” You nervously laugh, fiddling with a loose strand on your elegant covers.

Another beat of deafening silence.

“Alright. How long will you be?” Isabel sounded extremely hesitant from behind the door.

Guilt settled in your gut. You were going to tell her eventually. Maybe. You weren't sure if it was worth the risk. Yes, Isabel had never once showed you any sort of aggression or hatred towards anything but you never knew how someone could be when you revealed that you were, in fact, a sapphic.

“Only ten minutes. I promise.” You assure her, glancing at Hazel who seemed a bit weary.

“I'll be in the dining room then,” Isabel borderline mumbles through the door.

Once you heard her footsteps recede past your bedroom and down the lengthy hallway, you let out a sigh of relief. One of your hands pressed over your rapid-beating heart to try and relax your anxious thoughts. Hazel was about to tease you about how you were going to be talking about her with Isabel but as soon as she noticed your shaking hands, it was no longer amusing.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hazel’s voice whispers as she notices how hard your breathing became. Her hand gently caresses at the side of your face.

“I-I don’t know what I’m going to tell her, Hazel. She’d—“

“You don’t have to tell her anything if you don’t want to. She is not obligated to know, princess.” Hazel assured you.

You shook your head before replying; “she’s my friend. I trust her.”

“I understand. If you wish to tell her, that is okay with me but,” Hazel licked her lips as she paused her words to try and find the right ones. “Are you going to be okay with it? With any sort of reaction that could happen after you tell her; bad or good?”

Yes, for the good. No; for the bad. Your mind was flipping back and forth. You were about ninety percent certain that Isabel would be okay with you and you and Hazel’s relationship. That small percentage of the gut-wrenching possibility that she could despise you forever was holding you back from saying ‘yes’.

“I won't tell her. Yet, at least.” You said simply.

“And that’s okay.” Hazel’s gentle tone reassured your buzzing anxiety.

You nod slowly, a smile spreading onto your face. Hazel’s lips curled as well, leaning forward to kiss your cheek softly.

After reluctantly getting out of the bed, though Hazel’s lips were a painful temptation, you met up with Isabel in the dining room for breakfast. Linda and Nina cooked you and Isabel eggs with slices of bread on the side with a few choices of homemade jams from the fruits growing in the garden.

Hazel had to have been in the knights quarters by now as you kissed her goodbye before making your way to lie to your only friend. Isabel had already begun spreading the blueberry jam onto the wheat bread with an excited look on her face.

“What happened in the garden?” Isabel questioned.

“Um, well,” you start as you pick at your over-easy eggs to try and remember what you and Hazel had come up with, “we kind of got into an argument about why she was upset with me. We talked it out and now we’re all good. I think we’re closer now because of it.”

Yeah, her tongue in your mouth ‘close’.

Isabel nodded along before tilting her head with furrowed brows. “What exactly did you two talk about?”

“It was nothing really. We’re okay now is all that matters.” You emphasized to the honey haired beauty.

Isabel seemed to not really believe what you were saying and you were internally panicking and hoped that she would move on. Thankfully, she just nodded and continued to eat brunch with you. She moved on to tell you that she enjoyed seeing her family so much that she was hoping to be able to leave the palace on her own to stay with them for a few more days.

“Bel, oh my god. Of course,” your eyes soften at her beaming eyes.

God, it was eating at you how you could lie to someone as incredibly sweet as she was.

“Okay,” she said through giddy laughter as she took a bite of her slice of bread, “I’ll pack clothing for the trip after breakfast. Thank you so much.”

“What did I tell you about the ‘thank you’s?” You raised your eyebrows at her, pointing at her with a fork.

“I know, I know. I just…” Isabel sighed as she looked like she was stuck on her words. Her eyes were following all across your features and it caused you to mess with your flyaway hairs subconsciously.

“What?” You let out a soft chuckle, avoiding her eyes.

“You seem brighter today.” Isabel admits with a sweet smile.

Another stab to the heart. This really wasn’t going to be easy on you, was it?

A few days followed and you grew more and more comfortable with being this intimate with the charming knight. The kisses were heavier and the touches lingered for longer.

This beautiful morning, you forced yourself to get up from the safe space of the soft bed and got ready for the day. Hazel strangely enough kept her distance from you as you got ready on your own. Isabel was still in town with her family so the palace was eerily empty; other than the knights, of course.

You brushed it off as this was probably just as new to her as it was to you. Two women being intimate like this wasn’t unheard of but it was drastically shamed upon. The thought of the two of you being exposed to the public struck an inexplicable amount of fear through you.

As you slipped on the dress, you watched her through the mirror as she stood up from the bed. You tensed up as her hands reached out to carefully tug on the ropes of the corset in the back. You sucked in a deep breath Hazel’s fingers grazed against the bare skin of your back.

“Is this okay?” Hazel’s whispers.

You simply nod, a very obvious blush on your cheeks as she ties the corset portion off to secure the fabric onto your body. Hazel traces the stitching before retracting her hands to smile at you through the mirror.

“You are beautiful, princess.” Her tone was genuine as her eyes fell to the sage green material of your corset portion of your dress.

“You are a charmer, Hazel,” you reply, trying to hide how much that lifted your spirit.

Hazel chuckled at your deflection of her compliment as she already knew how you were.

“And you are stubborn.” Hazel leaned forward to place a feather-soft kiss onto the crook of your neck.

The gesture caused the faintest of gasps to leave your lips before turning around to face her fully. You were met with her deep blue eyes staring into your own, a glint that was unrecognizable in hers.

“Would you teach me how to fight?” You change the subject, somehow suddenly remembering that she was a trained knight.

Hazel’s eyes narrowed for a moment in thought as you lean forward to scrunch up your nose in her face. Hazel copied your actions which caused you to smile adoringly at her.

“I think you could already put up a good fight so…” Hazel cleared her throat and jerked her head towards your bedroom doors. “Let’s go and test that theory, princess.”

You couldn’t believe she agreed so quickly. You had no experience whatsoever in any other kind of combat. The only thing you knew how to expertly do was disassociate when your parents scolded you.

“Wait, really? You’ll teach me?” You beamed excitedly at her words.

“Of course. Whatever my princess wants,” her tone deepened ever so slightly that caused shivers to run down your spine.

Hazel motioned towards the bedroom doors with a small smile as you hadn’t responded to her comment. All you could do was reciprocate the smile as you followed behind Hazel as she tugged open the door for you. She stood to the side with perfect posture as you walked past her, a soft ‘thank you’ leaving your lips.

You haven’t gotten any new news on how your parents were doing or if they had even arrived in the new country yet. You didn't care as much as you should but there wasn’t an ounce of guilt within you. You haven’t enjoyed yourself in such a long time and it was all thanks to Hazel. Oh, and of course your parents' obsession with giving you away to some random prince.

“What do you want to learn first?” Hazel questions as she walks side by side with you as you make your way to the back of the palace. “There’s sword fighting, hand-to-hand, archery— well that’s considered hunting more than anything but a skill nonetheless.”

“Well, what do you think I could be good at?” You ask curiously.

Sometimes you hated how you couldn't be inside of Hazel’s mind to see what she thought of you. When she looked at you, it seemed a lot more gentle than saying your parents were too. It intrigued you more than anything.

Hazel looked over at you with a smug smile before shaking her head. Damn her private thoughts.

“What?” You press with her a confused chuckle.

“How about we start with hand to hand combat, princess, yeah?” She completely dodged your question.

You would’ve minded a lot more but the way she tilted her head when she spoke to you made your head cloud with desire. You blush and nod at her suggestion. You followed her to the training area designated for the knights just outside of their quarters, eyeing the wooden set up of the swords.

There were a few bow and arrows and targets that were carved into wooden boards. Bow and arrows were more for hunting as you were told by your mother and father.

“How do we start?” You question as you stare out at the open area of grass.

“Before we start, we have to discuss the one ground rule.” Hazel cleared her throat, turning to you with a more serious expression. “The second you feel any sort of uncomfort or fear, you tell me immediately. Do not hesitate. I mean it, princess. It’s my job to protect you and make sure you’re okay.”

“I thought the job my father gave you was to keep me in line because I’m ‘stubborn’.” You quip with a cheeky grin.

“Well, he hasn’t been wrong about that, has he?” Hazel’s eyebrows rose at you.

You remained silent as you knew she got you there. Your stubbornness was evident in this very moment.

“Now, tell me you’ll say if you don’t want to do this anymore. Even if it's mid-fight, you tell me.” Hazel’s eyes bore into your own, your face heating up from the intensity of her deep blue gaze.

You nod, biting back your cheeky attitude to show you were serious about this as well.

“No. Words, princess.” Hazel shook her head.

“Yes, I will tell you.” You suck in a deep breath as you straighten your back.

“Good.”

Was it normal to be aroused by a voice? You asked yourself as she gently yet sternly spoke to you. You felt like you were going insane by wanting to have her instruct you how to do anything and everything.

Now being early summer, beads of sweat were forming at your hairline. Your hair was already into a singular ponytail, being held back by a piece of ribbon that was the same color as your corset portion of your dress. Your everyday dress clung tightly to your body, the flowy sleeves sending a breeze to up your arms with every movement. Hazel had half of her short hair tied up, the look suiting her quite well. You were afraid you would be distracted and get accidentally punched in the face.

“Now, when in combat, a lot of the time your opponent will try to throw you off guard but it's usually some form of punch,” Hazel explained as she slowly circled you.

“Okay, how do I do that?” You turn your head to follow her body.

“Do what?” Hazel blinked.

“Throw a proper punch.” Your eyes are wide with curiosity.

Hazel stopped her circling right in front of you with a soft smile.

“Hold your fists up for me, princess. Like this.”

Hazel demonstrated what your stance should be. You imitate her position, holding your fists straight outwards. She shook her head at you before reaching forward to adjust your arms so that your elbows were bent.

“There we go.” Her voice is calm before she holds up her palms. “Now take a hit at my hand. I need to see how hard you—“

You throw your fist forward to her palm with all the strength you can muster as she is still talking to you. Hazel stops talking to wince at your blow, shaking her hand out to ease the sting that followed throughout her palm and wrist.

You gasp and cover your mouth with both of your hands, muttering out soft apologies quickly. Your own knuckles burned slightly but all you could think about was how you hurt Hazel.

Hazel then chuckled as she shook her head as well, still shaking her hand. “That was good, princess. You are a lot stronger than you look. Hit me again.”

You froze as you noticed her pale cheeks were now slightly flushed as her smile grew. You take position once again as you throw the punch again to her other open palm. Hazel was tense as she urged you to throw the punch again and again and again.

Each blow felt… like a relief. All the pent-up annoyance and anger that was towards your parents for the past 20 years were being let out at the moment.

“You know, you could’ve been a knight if not a princess,” Hazel spoke up as she was finally giving her palms a rest from your slight aggression.

Your chest was panting softly as you too needed a small break, tilting your head at Hazel. A proud smile settled on Hazel’s face which caused you to reciprocate with a tight-lipped grin.

“Really?” You shut one eye as the sun’s rays beamed onto your heated skin, slightly blinding you.

“With your strength, princess, absolutely.” Hazel leaned closer to you, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

Your initial reaction was to look around for anyone but you were still within your own walls of the palace. Just you and her able to enjoy each other's touch. Once this realization settled in, you carefully placed your lips onto hers; a ghost of a kiss even. You tested the waters to see if she even wanted to kiss you when you were all sweaty and out in broad daylight.

Hazel chased yours when you tried to pull away, her hands settling on your waist. It was a careless idea. You wanted to be careless as long as you could feel her lips on you.

“What are you doing to me?” Hazel pulls away to ghost her nose over yours.

Her words were desperate, begging for you.

“Distracting my opponent.” You reply as you allow your palms to rest on hers that were on your waist. They slid up her arms to her biceps to grab onto the muscle lightly.

“You're a vixen, princess.” Hazel lets out a pained sigh before grabbing onto your waist tighter to lock her lips with yours.

The word echoed in your mind. You had only heard it a few times within the literature you read. A vixen was a fierce and sexually attractive woman. Hazel had just admitted that she had thought about you in a sexual manner.

You had merely read about arousing actions. It was rare to find intense and erotic scenes in the fiction you read but when you stumbled upon a few pages of it, you felt ashamed to be absorbing something like that. All of it was centered around a man and a woman.

“Do you want to go to the library?” You hum as you back up slowly from Hazel.

Her brows furrow at your suggestion, having not expected you to say ‘library’ of all places. Her demeanor switched as she knew the library was one of your favorite places in the palace; next to the garden and your bedroom.

“Are we done with practicing for the day?” Hazel questioned but she was taking gradual steps towards your backing away figure.

“I just want a little more… privacy, if that’s okay?”

Which had been code for ‘I want to devour you with no one around’. Hazel’s eyes eyed you up and down with only desire and admiration. Your panting chest and cheeky smile caused her to follow you without a doubt in her mind.

After all, you are her princess.

“You’re a little minx, you know that?” Hazel shook her head as she pointed at you with a smile just as giddy as your own.

You didn't deny her words but instead only continued to back away until you were speed-walking towards the library’s outside doors. Hazel was hot on your feet, a smitten chuckle leaving your lips as her hands chased after your waist. You let out soft giggles at her grip as you tug one of the door handles open to reveal the shelves of dusting books.

There in the far right, away from any big windows of sorts was a red velvet couch with gold lining. You eyed it curiously, waiting patiently for your knight. Hazel shut the door behind you as she peered out the window at the open field to make sure there was no one in the surrounding areas.

Once she made sure the two of you were okay, she turned to you who was already sitting on the couch waiting for her. You were sitting upright, staring up at her with wanting eyes.

“Can I ask you something, princess?” Hazel hummed as she traced a few spines of the books.

“Uh, yes?” You were confused but tilted your head to look at her side profile.

“Have you ever read erotica before?”

The question stunned you. Your eyes darted across the shelves in a panic as you in fact had read some hot erotica before. It had completely caught you by surprise the dirty words inked on the pages of some unknown romance novel. Yes, it was between a man and woman but the feeling it had given you ached in your lower regions.

“Only a few times, yes, but not many,” you admitted shyly.

“Is it arousing for you?” Hazel asked.

What is she leading up to?

Your nose scrunches up at the memory before replying with: “Not always. I feel the man gets a majority of the pleasure in most of them.”

Hazel merely hummed and nodded as you weren't wrong. However, it was painfully obvious as the ones who had read were in fact written by men. The pages were etched with descriptions of a man's ‘throbbing shaft’ and ‘reddening tip’ that had made your body cower in disgust.

“See, that’s the problem. There aren't many novels targeted for women.” Hazel now was inching over to you. You nod in agreement, still looking up at her with curious eyes. “The men usually treat the women like they’re nothing but a pretty face and something to control.”

”I’m pretty sure that’s most men in real life as well.” You add on, shaking your head.

Hazel now stood right in front of you, reaching a hand out to cup at your jaw gently. The motion made you freeze but allowed the touch with caution. Hazel’s rough thumb grazed over your lower lip, your breath hitching at the feeling.

“Will you let me make you feel good, princess?” Hazel’s voice was barely above a whisper, eyes locking with yours. “Show you what that should feel like?”

You almost responded with, ‘You already make me feel good’, but then you realized she meant like in the erotica: sexually.

“Yes.” You muttered in a trance, tilting your jaw up in hopes she would capture your lips in a kiss.

Just as you had hoped, she leaned downward to kiss you softly, both of her hands cupping the sides of your warmed face. Your palms slid down her arms as you allowed her to use her thumb to dig into your cheeks causing your mouth to open a bit. Her tongue swiped over your bottom one hungrily. The kisses only grew heavier as Hazel was now kneeling down to where you now had to lean yourself to chase her addicting lips.

Hazel pulled away for a moment to stare at your flushed face before attaching her lips to the underside of your jaw. You jump a little in surprise but the feeling of her sucking and tugging at your skin makes goosebumps rise and a wave of arousal flow through you. Your cunt pulsed needily in a way that’s never happened before.

“Hazel,” you whimpered as your hands were sliding up into the lower part of her makeshift half-up hair-do.

“You sound prettier than I ever could imagine, princess,” she mutters on the wet spot on your jaw, excitement rushing through her veins.

This caused you to smile shyly at the compliment, cheeks warming up. Hazel pulls away from the length of your jaw to admire how beautiful you are when you’re so desperate.

“How did you plan on making me feel good, my knight?” You question with a cheeky grin, using one of your hands to trace around her hairline.

But you never failed to make her just as desperate.

“Do you trust me?” Hazel took said hand into her own grasp, raising your hand to place ever so gentle kisses on your sore knuckles.

In a dazed, lust-driven state, you nod eagerly.

“Yes,” you whimpered out.

Hazel let go of your gentle hands to guide her own to the bottom of the skirt portion of your dress. You watch the charming knight with eager eyes to see what she is going to do. Her palms were pressing into the plush of your thighs underneath the skirt, the mystery of what she was planning on doing was driving you insane.

“You’ll tell me if you want me to stop and I will, okay?” Hazel’s warm palms were massaging the skin sensually, leaning down to kiss at your exposed knee.

“I don’t think I’ll want you to,” you admit with a soft chuckle as she kisses just a bit higher past your knee.

Hazel too chuckled but she shook her head: “Even so, you change your mind and you let me know immediately, princess. Okay?”

You nod and mutter an ‘okay’ back. Hazel sucked in a deep breath before inching her hands up to the waistband of the undergarments of your dress. Your breathing grew rapid as she began to tug the material down your thick thighs. Hazel watched your face for any sort of discomfort but you only appeared excited for what was to come.

You lifted your feet to allow her to remove them completely. It was an arousing thought to know you were bare for her underneath the skirt of the dress. You’d only ever worn them with your day-to-day dresses as you found them restricting but didn't want to risk accidentally revealing your bottom to the palace staff.

One of her hands tossed the white cotton shorts to the side as the other was at the crevice of your hip and thigh. Your eyes fluttered as her fingers teased on the outside of your aching lips. Your mouth fell open as she gently parted your legs, a breeze brushing past your wet pussy.

“Can I touch you here?” Hazel’s hands brushed past your pubic bone, just above where you were hoping she would touch the most.

“Please,” you breathed out, adjusting yourself to where you were more towards the edge of the couch.

Hazel hummed as she carefully dragged a single finger through your folds. You were practically dripping with arousal, the noise sending shivers down your spine. Hazel muttered a curse under her breath at the feeling of how warm you were. She switched to two fingers just teasing at your cunt. The obscene sound made her feel like she was the luckiest woman to exist to be touching you like this.

Hazel did something that almost made you moan out loud. She suddenly removed that hand from underneath your dress to take her glistening fingers into her mouth. The knight didn't hold back a moan at the taste, needing more of you. The moan causes your ego to boost to the highest extent and you whine at the loss of her attention.

“I could taste you forever,” Hazel groaned before leaning forward to kiss you passionately.

You whimper against her mouth as you get a hint of your arousal on her lips. It wasn’t as good as Hazel was making it out to be but it only made you wetter at the fact that she audibly moaned at the taste of your cunt.

Hazel’s hands pushed the clothing up your legs to rest right on your upper thighs to sneak one hand underneath the skirt. That same hand made its way to your aching core to slip her middle finger into you. You gasp softly, clenching down on her hand. The feeling was foreign but you strangely couldn't get enough of it.

“Does that feel okay, princess?” Hazel questions.

You hum to confirm with a nod of your head.

“Okay. I’m going to move now and you tell me if you want me to stop,” the blue-eyed knight informs you before placing a kiss on your cheek.

You can’t really focus on speaking at the moment. Hazel’s finger begins to pump slowly in and out of your pussy, the motion sending shocks right to your aching clit. This time the moan that leaves your mouth is loud, followed by a whine that you can’t even begin to describe as other than feral.

As Hazel’s arm began to move forward and back, you were gripping onto her toned shoulders as leverage. There was slight sweat forming at the base of your neck and spine. Before you knew it, your hips were rolling down onto the finger. Hazel encouraged you with soft kisses to your cheeks and jaw.

Hazel then slipped in her ring finger next to the middle inside of your warm walls, watching as your face contorted in pleasure. Your brows were furrowed and your jaw hadn’t picked up since she first touched your hip.

“How’s my princess doing?” Hazel pecked your lips.

“Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Hazel grinned at you.

You nod, too focused on how amazing her fingers are working into you to smartly comment like you usually would. They curl against a spot inside of you that erupts the loudest moan you’ve ever made to echo inside the library’s walls. Hazel presses her lips to yours eagerly; to both quiet you and kiss you.

Your abdomen was tightening up as her pace quickened. It felt like you had to pee. Were you going to pee on her?

“Hazel, it feels tight right here.” You place a hand over your stomach, panting as you try to explain the strange feeling.

“It’s okay. I got you, princess. Let go and it’s going to feel so good. Just like I said I would make you feel,” Hazel rushed out as her free hand was now rubbing circles across your untouched clit.

You trusted her so you listened to her words and continued to enjoy the intense feeling. The sound of Hazel’s discreet moans only drew you on. You arched your back into her as your head grew fuzzy as an overwhelming amount of pleasure rushed from your lower back to the tips of your toes.

Hazel’s voice was all you could hear, pressing gentle kisses onto every piece of exposed skin. Your chest heaved up and down slowly as you rode your orgasm out. Her words were not clear yet as you were trying to process what had just happened.

“Princess, can you talk to me, please?” Hazel’s hands were sliding your undergarments up your legs for you as you were coming back down from your high.

“You— What was that?” You chuckle as you shake your head, gradually sitting yourself upright.

“A little trick we learned in knight training,” Hazel joked as she kissed your quivering thighs.

You weakly pushed her shoulder but then tugged at the fabric as a silent ‘come here’. Hazel got the hint and leaned down to take your plush lips onto hers. You slowly kissed her with gentle hands caressing at her neck.

Her hands were resting at your hips, humming in a state of bliss with you.

The door opened causing you and Hazel to remove your lips from one another quickly. You attempted to appear as casual as possible but it was no use. You heard a gasp that left from someone’s lips causing you to look up to see Isabel with eyes wide in shock.

“I’m back from… seeing my family. I’ll leave you be, princess.” Isabel tried to back out of the room but you were quick to call out for her.

She never calls you princess. You're more than just the ‘princess’ to her.

“Bel, wait, please don’t go.” You take a step forward, urgency in your voice.

Isabel held her head down and pretended to not hear you, briskly walking out of your bedroom and allowing the door to shut behind her. You looked over at Hazel in a panic, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“I have to go after her, Hazel.” You give her an apologetic look as you rush out of the room before you can even hear her response.

Isabel wasn’t down the hall as you expected but in fact, right outside the library’s door. She was nervously picking at her fingernails. Her eyes caught your own, widening at the sight of your nervous figure.

Neither of you spoke for a beat, eyes locked one another. You were frozen, afraid if you moved she would take off in a sprint to tell someone about what she saw you and Hazel were doing. The silence was deafening.

“So I guess that’s what you meant by closer,” Isabel finally spoke softly, clearing her throat as she tucked a flyaway back behind her ear.

Her words caused your brows to furrow until you looked at her to see her lips pursed into a smile.

“What?”: is all you’re able to reply with as you’re in shock.

“I always thought you had a liking towards her but definitely not that much of a liking,” Isabel joked once again.

Now, you were extremely confused. She was acting so normal about this. No snarky comments about how what you two were doing was unnatural or disgusting.

All you can do is reach forward to pull her into a hug. Isabel accepted the embrace with open arms as she allowed you to let out a soft cry against her shoulder. It’s been a while since you’ve shed genuine tears, especially around people. It was something that you had forced yourself to repress due to your fear of being seen as pathetic by your parents.

Every shout, every degrading comment, every lecture, every poke at you pricked at your tear ducts every time but you had forced yourself to hold back any sort of weakness. It would only lead to even more ridiculing.

“You don’t hate me?” You question through the sobs.

“You’re happy now. I could tell that day I left how much brighter you looked. That’s all I want for you,” Isabel pulled away to grab onto your hands lovingly, “she does make you happy, right?”

You let out a wet laugh, wiping your hot and damp cheeks with one hand.

“A scary amount.”

Isabel let out a soft laugh as well. Her face twisted into a serious expression, her face softening in a way that you’ve never seen before: fear.

“I am afraid for you two. If anyone in the palace finds out about your relationship, I can almost guarantee they will not be kind.” Isabel’s worried voice tells you and winces as she tells you something that shatters your heart: “I’m sorry to tell you this, too, but your parents are also coming home a month early. They should be here in two weeks. One of the knights that patrols the gates heard from a messenger. He informed me when I arrived back.”

You stare at Isabel not knowing what to say. You weren’t ecstatic. Why would you be? You and Hazel have barely shared a week together and now what could’ve been three months had shrunk to one.

Time is fleeting. Time is a new found enemy.

tag-list: @toritea @echo-ethe @em-la-femme @pascalrry @piperlivingdeliberately @elsblunt @bellaramseylover @princessmars @ignepatron @idkwhatimdoingherelmao @guzzlingplastic111 @akila-twt @teenagedramaqueenlisa @vster0769 @moonbyune @silentliesblog @kali-q @0jaylene0 @lovecomesfrmwithin @thewinterlunarhalo @jamespotterloveslilies @writerinloves-blog @uraesthete @spencerreidswhore187 @piapiaweee3 @liv012 @astrologybitch04 @strawberryyivy

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #wlw #sapphic #lgbtq community #this love #knight hazel #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan fic

[fandomxpreferences]

You're Good For Me

Masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x female!reader

TW: 18+, soft Rafe has my heart, drug use, insecurities, mentions of vomiting, angst, fluff, drinking, I think thats it

Summary: You're a goody two shoes compared to Rafe and your insecurities lead you to make a reckless decision.

Word Count:2.7k

Despite Rafe's best efforts to snuff them out, you still have burning insecurities when it comes to your relationship with him. You don't consider yourself as beautiful as his past flings - though he tells you constantly that you're the most stunning and ethereal woman he's ever laid eyes on- you don't come from a family as wealthy as his, and you're not a partier. 

You've always wondered if it bothers Rafe that you can't seem to keep up with his lifestyle. You've never done anything more than drink or smoke weed, and it's no secret he's into party drugs. So when he told you he was throwing a party tonight, you made a decision. 

As soon as you step foot in the house, you're greeted by your smiling boyfriend. 

"Hey, angel. I was wondering when you were gonna show up. You want a drink?"

You return his grin and nod your head, melting into him when he bends down to give you a sweet kiss. You watch as he waltzes off toward the kitchen and immediately start looking around for his usual crowd. 

You spot them sitting around a table and push down your anxiety while making your way over. Topper spots you first and stands to give you a short hug. 

"Well if it isn't the kook king's queen. Where's Rafe?" 

Your hands wring together as you give a timid smile and nod toward the kitchen. 

"He's getting me a drink." 

You turn when you hear Kelce speak up and he pats the spot next to him. 

"Well come join us until he gets back. We haven't seen a lot of you lately." 

You fall into a comfortable conversation and try to find a way to weasel in the question without being too forward. Luckily, the opportunity presents itself when Topper pulls out a baggie and starts making lines. 

You eye the white powder while gnawing on your lip and he seems to notice, looking from the table, to you, and back again. 

"You want to do some?" He offers and you hesitate before agreeing. This is why you came over here; this is what Rafe wants. 

You watch as a couple people go ahead of you, snorting up the powder with a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill and swallow thickly. They do it all the time, how bad can it be?

"Top, I don't think that's a good idea." Kelce protests, eyes darting around to try and find Rafe. 

"Oh come on. She's a big girl. She can make her own decisions, right?" He retorts, shooting you a wink. 

"Besides, I'm sure she does this shit with Rafe all the time."

Rafe is caught up in a conversation that he got pulled into when his eyes start drifting away to find you. His lips quirk up when he sees you laughing with his friends. He's always loved how you get along with them so well, it's like his own little found family. 

His smirk quickly drops when he sees Topper pull out an all too familiar dime bag and dump it on the table. He's no stranger to doing bumps, but he knows you've never been around it before. He's just about to excuse himself when he sees Topper ask you a question that you answer with a nod. 

His heart stops and suddenly he feels sick to his stomach. No, surely not. There's no way that his friends would offer you drugs, and there's definitely no way you would accept. 

He watches in horror as time seems to go in slow motion, his feet carrying him toward you as soon as he sees you take the bill and drop to your knees. He's plowing through the crowd ruthlessly, ignoring the complaints as he knocks people off balance and drinks slosh out onto the hardwood floor. 

He's a few seconds too late and his mind goes into overdrive when your head lifts up with white powder around your nose. 

"What the fuck?" He bellows, and you look up at him with eyes wide as saucers. 

He didn't mean to scare you, and guilt eats at him for a second before he remembers the situation at hand. He isn't mad at you, he could never feel anything but love and adoration for the woman that holds his heart. 

Topper is already gone, his body buzzing as he fails to read the room. 

"Rafe, buddy! Why don't you join us?" He asks, and your boyfriend's eyes narrow into slits.

"Did you just give my girlfriend fucking coke?" He seethes, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear his friend admit it. 

Topper scoffs lightly and leans back on the couch.

"Yeah, so? You used to do this shit all the time, I didn't think it was a big deal." 

Rafe can feel the familiar sensation of rage clawing at his chest, intensifying in the way it does right before he loses control. He takes a deep breath to calm down, not wanting to let that ugly side of him out. You've never seen him like that, and being coked out when it happens will only make it worse. 

"Yeah, asshole. Used to. You ever wonder why I stopped? It's because I don't want her around this shit!" 

Kelce stands in between the men, already seeing where this is going to go. 

"Rafe calm down, okay? He didn't know." 

Your boyfriend is just about to argue when he feels your small hand on his forearm. His head turns to look down at you, and his features soften instantly. Your smile is beaming and he can tell it's starting to hit you. 

His eyes meet yours and he suppresses the urge to throw up when he sees how blown out your pupils are. Your usually bright eyes are now glossed over and your irises are barely visible around the black in the center. 

"Rafey, I'm fine. I'm one of you guys now!" 

He hates how excited you sound; as if being one of them is a good thing. His hearing gets fuzzy as a loud ringing starts in his ears when your words sink in. 

'I'm one of you guys now.'

Is this what you think he wants? Had he said or done something to make you believe that you need to participate in this bullshit for him to love you? His head spins as the thoughts race through his mind and bile rises in his throat as puts the pieces together.

Is this his fault?

The rest of the world melts away as he laser focuses on you. Your cheeks have an unusual red tint to them and there's the faintest bit of sweat beading on your hairline. Suddenly, all he can think of is getting you out of here. 

You've never had anything close to this in your system, and he wants to be there for every second in case something goes wrong. 

"Hey, pretty girl. Let's go outside, yeah?" 

You nod eagerly as he sends his friend one last death glare before pulling you out back by the pool. A few people are lingering, but it's significantly quieter than inside and it puts him at ease a bit. 

His head whips around when your hand leaves his and he frowns as you kick off your shoes. 

"What are you doing?"

You don't answer; instead, you stick your tongue out and jump into the pool fully clothed. Any other time he would laugh and probably even join you, but right now all he can think about is you drowning as he scrambles to the pool edge. 

"Baby, get out of the pool."

His voice is calm as he tries desperately to hide just how close he is to losing it. Your laugh rings out into the night sky as you start floating on your back and he sighs. 

"Come on, don't be such a party pooper!" 

He remembers the first time he did blow. The way he felt like he was invincible and on top of the world. It was fun; until it wasn't. He resigns to his fate, pulling off his own shoes and shirt before climbing in with you. 

He knows there's no getting through to you, and if you won't cooperate then the least he can do is make sure you're safe. He can't help but smile as you dive under the water and start swimming like a mermaid, clearly enjoying yourself.

The damage is already done, he might as well let you enjoy the high while it lasts. He's intimately familiar with the god-awful crash you're going to have in a couple hours. 

He'd been surprised to find out the high only lasts about a half hour, followed by a couple hours of coming down before the real pain starts. 

It can't hurt to let you feel a little euphoric before you feel like you've been run over by a truck multiple times. His heart clenches at the idea of seeing you like that, and he feels dread course through his veins. 

He swims around with you for a bit, the two of you giggling like kids and having splash fights. Though he never wants you to do this again, he can't help but bask in the beauty of how happy you look. You're the most bubbly person he knows, and still, he's never seen you this giddy. 

He's not sure how long it's been, but concern washes over him when he starts to notice your behavior change. Your movements are slowed as the substance leaves your system and you look like you haven't slept in days. 

You're not laughing and smiling anymore; in fact, you look like you're seconds from bursting into tears. He swims over to you slowly and pulls you into his arms as gently as he can. 

"You okay, sweet girl?" 

He knows you're starting to feel like shit, he can sense it in the way you cling to him like a lifeline and respond quietly. 

"My head hurts." 

Your voice is barely above a whisper and he squeezes his eyes shut. He knew this was coming, yet part of him hoped that you could just surpass this part. 

"I know, baby. Why don't we go inside and get dried off? I'll get you some water and we can cuddle." 

He feels you nod weakly into his neck and realizes he's going to have to carry you when you don't relinquish your grip. He carefully climbs up the pool steps and holds you against his chest tightly as he supports your weight with ease. 

You're both sopping wet and dripping water as he makes the trek inside, but he doesn't care in the slightest. His only worry right now is making sure you're okay. 

He passes Sarah on the way and she frowns as she takes in your state. 

"What happened to her? Is she okay?"

Rafe just continues on his path, biting out a response in passing. 

"Why don't you ask your boyfriend?"

Confusion washes over her and she turns to find him in the room. He's still doing lines with his friends and realization washes over her. 

She follows her brother, well aware of what this is going to entail from her own experiences of taking care of Topper. 

Rafe sits you on his bed and places your favorite hoodie of his on your shivering body after towel-drying you the best he can. Every little sound is amplified and it's like a jackhammer on the inside of your skull.

You lean into your boyfriend's touch as he runs his hands through your hair and try to focus on the smell of his cologne. You wince when you hear a soft knock on the door and Rafe tenses. He's really not in the mood to deal with anyone's shit right now. 

The door creaks open and Sarah stands in the doorway, concern etched on her features. 

"I thought I'd see if there's anything I can do to help."

Rafe looks back at you for a second before responding. 

"Can you keep an eye on her while I get some water and food?" 

Sarah nods but Rafe stops when your hand shoots out to grab him. 

"No! Please don't leave me."

His heart breaks at the way your voice wobbles and he notices your bottom lip quivering. He shoots Sarah a look and she nods before leaving the room. She comes back a few minutes later with a glass of water and some protein bars and sits on the bed next to you. 

Once you seem to calm down a bit, Rafe stands and your head throbs when you jerk to look at him. 

"I'm just going to go kick everybody out. I'll be right back, stay here with Sarah." 

The younger girl gives you a kind smile and you watch reluctantly as Rafe turns his back and walks out. He gets back a couple minutes later, panic rising when you're not where he left you. It's quickly replaced with concern when he hears retching coming from his bathroom. 

He peeks his head in and feels tears sting his eyes at the sight of Sarah holding your hair back as you lean over the toilet. He hates this. 

Sarah gives him a sympathetic smile when he walks over and takes your hair from her. She pats him on the back and lets herself out, knowing the two of you want privacy. 

You vaguely register Rafe putting your hair in a ponytail before his hands come down to rub soothing circles on your back. 

"I've got you. I'm right here, sweet girl."

This goes on for a few more minutes before you plop down on the marble floor with an exhausted huff. You reach up and flush the toilet, trying to hide your face in your hands. Rafe pulls them away and turns you to look at him. 

Your throat closes up when you see the pure adoration in his eyes, and before you realize what's happening sobs are wracking your body. Rafe shushes you as he picks you up and carries you back into the bedroom. 

He tucks you into the covers and climbs in, his arms instantly pulling you into him. He reaches across to the nightstand and holds the straw to your mouth as you take giant gulps. 

"Slow down, you'll make yourself sick again."

He places the cup back down and you turn to lay your head on his chest. 

"This feels like shit. I don't even know why I'm crying." You choke and he brushes a stray piece of hair out of your face. 

"It's the dopamine crash. It'll pass, I promise."

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you and you're almost asleep when you hear Rafe's voice in your ear. 

"Why did you do that?"

He sounds on the verge of tears and guilt washes over you.

"I want to be good enough for you. I felt bad that you stopped having fun because of me, so I thought if I did it maybe I wouldn't hold you back anymore." 

Rafe tenses as his worst fear is confirmed. Your confession swirls around his head for a minute before he finds the strength to reply. He swallows the lump in his throat and wills himself to keep it together.

"Angel, I didn't stop having fun because of you. This shit is not fun. Getting to love you and live life with you, that's fun. That's what makes me happy. I was miserable and spiraling before I met you. Please, don't ever do that again. You're good for me, and that's one of the reasons I love you so much." 

You feel a fresh round of tears fall as they seep into his shirt and he squeezes you tighter. 

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head and presses a soft kiss to your temple. 

"I'm not upset with you. Just please be safe, and never do something like that because of me, okay?" 

You sniffle and nod, suddenly feeling stupid. 

"Hey, I can practically hear those thoughts of yours. You're okay, we're okay, everything is okay. Let's get some sleep and I'll take you to breakfast in the morning. You're going to be starving."

Almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, he breathes a sigh of relief as your soft snores fill the room. Everything is right again as his girl is safe in his arms, far away from the life he once lived.

#Rafe Cameron #Rafe Cameron imagine #Rafe Cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks angst #outer banks fluff #outerbanks #outerbanks angst #outerbanks fic

[ace-sher-bi-john]

While I absolutely love both BBC Sherlock and Sherlock & Co, Sherlock & Co definitely depicts a more healthy relationship between Sherlock and John.

For starters, on BBC Sherlock, Sherlock and John are both co-dependent on each other. John was implied to be suicidal before he met Sherlock. Sherlock relapses without John by his side. Even with Mary to substitute the void in his heart and help him find purpose again, John would never move on from Sherlock. If anything happened to John, it wouldn't end well for anyone, especially Sherlock.

On Sherlock & Co, one of John's only problems after returning home from Ukraine was that he couldn't afford a flat on his own. He seemed to be very excited about life, going on dates, couldn't wait to start his podcast. He was genuinely happy to see Mike.

Sherlock could easily manage on his own without John. He doesn't need to be reminded to eat, he doesn't need an assistant for cases, he doesn't need someone to take care of him. His only problem is that he needs a flatmate.

Although John and Sherlock both need each other to afford rent, they don't need each other for anything else. They want each other's company, they don't need it. They aren't two halves of a whole, they are two wholes coming together. That's how it should be with all healthy relationships, platonic, romantic, queerplatonic, or otherwise.

It also helps a lot that Sherlock isn't a complete jerk on Sherlock & Co. He genuinely treats John and everyone else with a kindness that while I believe BBC Sherlock is capable of it, he rarely showed it. When John's PTSD is triggered, Sherlock asks John if he'd rather sit out that case. He then asks John if he wants to hold hands and discuss his feelings. In part one of the Blue Carbuncle, Sherlock complimented, actually complimented John. That kind of scene just never happened on BBC Sherlock. John was doing his "That was fantastic! You're amazing!" and Sherlock said, "You flatter me, Watson. But you did awesome too! You should have seen the way you did that! It was brilliant!"

John seems like a much more well rounded happy person in general. Just listen to any of his viewer discretion warnings. "Greetings you handsome devil! This episode will contain a bit of the old swearing, a bit of violence, some drug use. Oh and a bit of duck poo!" I hate to make this comparison, due to how much it will sound like an insult. But he acts like the quirky Disney Princess personality that every Disney Princess from the 2010s has and I mean that in the best possible way. It's my favorite thing about him. He's so adorable.

In the Blue Carbuncle, John has a moment similar to ones that you've seen many times before on BBC Sherlock. John has plans that mean he won't be able to help with the case. He is going to Berlin to spend Christmas with his old army friends. It's going to be his first boys' trip in years. But then he gets so sucked into the case that he's almost late for his plane and decides to just stay with Sherlock anyway because the case is just so fascinating he can't leave. On BBC Sherlock, John has abandoned his plans, his job, his girlfriends, for a case because he couldn't stand to be without Sherlock for so long. Also because Sherlock would often crash is dates, ruin his relationships, just so that John could assist him on cases. On Sherlock & Co, Sherlock was happy for John that he was going out with friends, even though it would mean spending the holidays alone. And Sherlock LOVES Christmas, so it's sad to think that he would have to spend it alone.

Where BBC Sherlock would manipulate or guilt John into staying, Sherlock & Co Sherlock let John go and was genuinely fine with going it alone for a week or two, even if it meant being all alone on Christmas.

I love BBC Sherlock, toxic co-dependent relationships and all, and I always will. But Sherlock & Co gives a little something different and I am happy that my boys are happier.

SH: *laughing* What's so funny Watson? JW: *laughing* It's just hearing you say "bell end" SH: Lovely and jubbly

#sherlock & co #bbc sherlock #i genuinely love both #this isn't me complaining #this is just something i love about sherlock & co #as much as i hate co-dependent relationships and how toxic they are #i love bbc sherlock's johnlock portrayed as one in fanfics #but sherlock & co's johnlock is already so healthy and non-toxic #i love it almost a little bit more #sherlock holmes #john watson #johnlock

[stop-talking]

So I'm stuck on this shithole island, and I can't even have a smoke? (pt. 4)

Derek Danforth x fem reader

Word count: 2.9k

Tags: 18+, Derek x fem reader, no use of y/n, angst, lots of fluff, enemies, enemies to lovers, fluff, (very) slowburn, sass, banter, misogynistic undertones, (Derek is a prick), suggestive themes, mentions of drug use, withdrawals, rehab, masturbating, caught masturbating, overall mature themes.

slight trigger warning for thoughts of death?? (except Derek isn't really suicidal he's just a drama queen)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

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It's been nearly twelve hours since you accidentally walked in on Derek doing the unspeakable, and you're still kicking yourself for it.

In an attempt to make it up to him, you'd spent the morning making a nice breakfast. Unfortunately, it's almost noon now, and he hasn't left his room.

No way in hell are you going to go knocking on his door. Not after last night. The image of him finishing into his own hand while making eye contact with you is still burned into your brain. Fuck, he ended up covered in cum. And that stupid fucking face he made...

Oh god, think of something else. ANYTHING else.

You turn your attention to the breakfast you'd prepared for the two of you. The cold breakfast. Sighing, you scrape the eggs and bacon into a container for later.

Why did you even open the damn door? Obviously he was jerking off. Horny bastard. Of course, when you'd heard the whimpers and moans coming from his room, you'd assumed he wasn't feeling well.

Which was a valid assumption to make, right?? I mean, he sounded absolutely pitiful, what were you supposed to think? You swore up and down he even called out your name once or twice, but fuck, you didn't want to think about the implications of that.

And so, after knocking and saying his name a few times, you had decided to just go for it. How were you supposed to know he was doing... that??

"It's not my fault." You grumble to yourself, blindly shoving the leftovers into the fridge and trying to shrug it off.

Then again, even if the initial situation wasn't your fault, you still owed him an apology. You'd absolutely been staring. Gawking, even. It probably took a good five seconds before you'd come to your senses and slammed the door, but five seconds was enough for him to... oh god. Stop thinking about it.

You try physically shaking your head to dismiss the perverted images plaguing your mind. It works... sort of. As you make your way up the stairs to his bedroom, your stomach knots with guilt.

Just about anything sounds more appealing than knocking on his door right now. Unfortunately, that's what you're about to do.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek's plans for the day only include one thing, really. Rotting in bed and wishing he was dead.

He figures if he locks himself in his room long enough, the three weeks will eventually pass without him having to show his face to you ever again.

Or he'd die first. With the way he felt right now, that would honestly be fine too.

He groans into a pillow, desperate to hear something than the pounding in his head. He's been trembling all morning, a sign he really needed a fix.

The guilt has been eating away at him almost as much as his stupid withdrawals. He replays the scene from last night over in his head for the millionth time, internally screaming at himself for not covering up. Or locking the damn door.

He knows there's nothing he could have done to change what happened. The timing was just too... perfect. Looking at your pretty face while he came was literally a dream come true.

The aftermath, unfortunately, was a nightmare.

There's no way you don't hate him now. Or at least feel completely disgusted. After all, you'd slammed the door and left him.

So this is his fate. Rot in bed until he wastes away. It's all he deserves, really, for being such a fucking pervert.

"Derek? You still alive?"

He nearly falls off the bed in his scramble to make himself look presentable.

"...Yeah." He eventually croaks out, trying to smooth his curls with one hand and pull the blanket over himself with the other.

"Can I come in?"

Derek begrudgingly agrees, sitting up against the headboard in an attempt to look less pathetic.

You slowly swing the door open, looking visibly relieved when he isn't... exposed. Like last time.

Before he can even think about what he's saying, the words roll off his tongue.

"I'm sorry." You both say at the same time.

Wait, that doesn't make sense. What do YOU have to be sorry for? He's the one that fucked up. Derek's brow furrows as you take a seat on the edge of his bed.

"I- I mean it." He stutters. "I really didn't... didn't mean for you to see that."

He avoids your gaze, turning away as you place a hand on his leg. Well, on the comforter covering his legs, but close enough.

"I know." You seem equally uncomfortable, silently looking around and examining his bedroom. And it is HIS room, decorated to suit his tastes. Unlike the other guest rooms in the house, which are all decorated in shades of pastels and beach-themed paraphernalia.

He squirms a bit, starting to get self-conscious of his own design choices. The dark wood furniture with gold accents stand out against the emerald green walls. Under usual circumstances, he'd feel proud of the expensive atmosphere. Right now... It all felt gaudy.

"I love all the animal print." You say, eyeing a pelt hanging on the wall above his dresser.

Derek winces. Yeah, okay, maybe it was a bit much.

"I picked out these decorations, like, 5 years ago. Cut me some slack." He grumbles, crossing his arms and giving you a pouty look.

"It looks nice." You smile, scooting a little closer to him on the bed, your hand trailing further up his covered legs.

"Don't lie."

"..."

"Okay, It looks like you gave a redneck with no prior knowledge of interior design an unlimited budget and a kilo of cocaine, then set him loose and told him to go crazy."

Damn. He'd be pissed at that if you didn't look so... warm. Even with the harsh words, he could tell you were only teasing.

"To be fair, I probably was on cocaine when I picked all this shit out." Derek snorts, gesturing around to the clashing animal prints, gold-rimmed mirrors and paintings, and wood accent pieces.

That little comment seems to make you waver. Shit. Bad joke?

"Not anymore." He tries to assure you, putting his hand on top of yours. You still haven't moved it from his thigh. "I haven't had anything like that since I got here, and it sucks. I feel like shit."

He slumps slightly against the headboard, letting his put-together act fall. Not like it was a very good act, anyways.

"I believe you, just... I feel bad. I'm sorry for last night."

Derek winces as the topic gets turned back to last night's activities. You didn't even have anything to apologize for, as far as he was concerned. He'd let you watch him cum any day. Make a show of it, if that's what you wanted.

Fuck. Stop thinking about it.

Derek struggles to listen as you ramble, instead staring into your pretty eyes and overthinking the way his hand is still on top of yours. You're saying something about how he shouldn't stay in bed all day, how he needs to keep a routine or he'll end up in a slump.

"...so can we just forget about what happened and move on? I don't think I can stand 17 more days of awkwardness." You finish, giving him a pleading look.

Forget about what happened? Derek's heart sinks into his stomach. He doesn't want to forget. Even though he hates himself for it, he loves what happened last night. He'd re-live it over and over again if he could, minus the part where you freak out and slam the door.

"Derek?" You ask again, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Oh. Yeah. Forget about it, please." His face heats up and he finally takes his hand back from yours, nervously running it through his hair instead. He might not what to forget about what happened, but he sure as hell wanted you to forget about it.

"Done." You give him a relieved smile and hop off his bed. "Alright, I'm gonna wait for you downstairs. Come meet me soon or I'll drag you down myself."

Derek does as asked, going through the motions of his normal morning routine. That didn't go as bad as it could have, all things considered.

At least you don't hate him.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

When Derek eventually trudges downstairs, you already have lunch heated up for him. Or... breakfast? It doesn't really matter.

He refuses to eat at first. Stubborn man. He says he feels nauseous, but how does he expect to get better with no food in his stomach?

After practically forcing him to eat, you settle down on the couch with him and try to decide on a movie.

"We are not watching another stupid action movie." You grumble, snuggling up in one corner of the couch while Derek takes a seat on the other end.

"Well I'm not watching some cheesy chick flick."

"Then what do you want to watch?"

Derek shrugs.

"Oh my god, Danforth. Just pick. Comedy or Horror?"

"Comedy."

"Okay, Adam Sandler or Jim Carrey?"

He pauses for a bit, furrowing his brow in a way that you might find adorable if he wasn't being so damn difficult.

"Sandler."

"Okay then, we're watching Billy Madison." You turn your attention back to the television and smile to yourself as you search for the movie.

"I don't think I've seen that one." He starts to shift in his seat as the movie starts, looking restless. What's his problem?

"Do you want to...?" You look over at him, trailing off and patting your lap.

He nods, and immediately lies down on his side, cheek against your thigh.

"Thanks." He mumbles, looking more relaxed by the second as he makes himself comfortable on your lap.

"Mhm." You hum, turning your attention back to the movie.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn't take long for him to start getting restless again. You pretend not to notice the way he occasionally glances up at you, keeping your gaze fixed on the television.

His hand finds yours, slowly tugging it towards his head. You take the hint and run your fingers through his hair, chuckling at how needy he's being.

"Don't laugh." He groans, leaning his head back slightly and melting into your touch. "It feels nice. And I've been feeling like death."

"You'd better not die on me, Danforth. No one would come to pick me up for another two weeks, and I don't think your corpse would fit in the freezer."

"You could chop me up." He offers, shifting so that he's lying on his back, looking up at you with his head across your thighs.

God, that smug look on his face. Why did the bastard have to be so cute?

"Okay, this is getting morbid. Shut up and watch the movie." You do your best to scold him, but it's hard to keep up the façade while gently carding your fingers through his hair.

"Make me."

Without hesitation, you slap your free hand over his mouth. His eyes widen for a moment, the smug look replaced with... something else.

Muffled noises come from his mouth as he attempts to speak through your hand, but you just laugh and continue petting him.

That is, until you feel his tongue on your hand.

"You're lucky you look so pitiful, Danforth, or I'd push you off the couch." You grumble, wiping your hand off on his shirt as he smirks up at you.

"Pitiful?" He scoffs, shoving your hand away from his chest.

"Yeah, sad and pitiful. You're a mess." You taunt him a bit, but your words are just as soft as the gentle touches you've been giving him.

Derek straightens best he can while lying your lap. "I'm not pitiful." He grumbles. "Stop pitying me."

His little act gets another chuckle out of you.

"It'll be easier if you stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"With those puppy eyes."

Derek's brow furrows, and he frowns up at you while you tug at his curls.

"I have puppy eyes?"

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek spends the rest of a movie in a blissed-out state on your lap. Physically, his body is a wreck. He feels weak, shaky, and all-around ill.

But emotionally? He's giddy. The way you've been treating him lately... there's no way you don't like him.

Fuck, no, don't jump to conclusions. Just ask. Yeah. Simple.

As the credits roll, Derek finally works up the courage to speak up.

"Why do you put up with me?" He asks, shifting to look up at you while his head rests against your thigh.

You pause mid-way through stroking his hair, and Derek is scared you might be able to hear how fast his heart is beating. He can sure hear it, at least.

"What do you mean, love?" You finally respond, untangling your fingers from his curls and setting your hand aside.

That makes him groan out loud. See? Exactly that sort of thing. Always calling him love. It drives him crazy.

"You're just so damn nice to me." He sighs, tossing his head back slightly and closing his eyes.

"Oh? Should I be mean?"

"Maybe." He lets out an amused huff, but there's a twinge of bitterness in his voice. It isn't really a joke. You're just too nice. He doesn't deserve it.

You seem to pick up on his shift in attitude, because you start running your fingers through his hair again.

"It's my job to take care of you, you know. At least for the next... 17 days or so."

Right. Your job. Derek can't help but sigh. He finally finds someone who seems to be interested in him for reasons that aren't monetary... but only because his mother is literally paying them.

"Oh, don't be like that." You scold him, and start to nudge him off your lap.

Derek takes the hint, sitting up. Before he can stew over your words further, he feels you pulling him into an embrace.

The angle is slightly awkward, with his back against your chest and his head resting on your shoulder, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

"Stop... you're gonna make me soft." He grumbles, but makes absolutely no effort to stop your arms from wrapping around him. He melts back into your touch, eyes fluttering closed.

From this close, he can smell your perfume. He's caught a whiff of it a few times before, usually when you get up close and personal with him in the kitchen. It's a soft, sweet, floral scent. Extremely different than the expensive, in-your-face scents of most women in his social circle. He's started associating the smell with comfort.

"Maybe that's my plan." You muse, giving him a tight squeeze before finally letting him go.

If only you knew just how well it's working.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"Stop! You're getting sand everywhere!" You swat at Derek as he accidentally kicks sand onto the blanket you've spent nearly ten minutes arranging.

"It's a beach, sweetheart. There's gonna be sand." He scoffs, but carefully brushes off his legs before returning them to the large quilt.

After dinner, you'd realized you accidentally let him go an entire day without going outside. So, you'd dragged him out to go stargazing with nothing more than a blanket and a couple of flashlights.

"There's a difference between lying on top of it and being buried in it." You elbow him as he gets just a little bit too close. There's plenty of room for you to both stretch out, why does he have to be so clingy?

"I'm cold." He whines, grabbing at your arm.

"I told you to bring a jacket."

"I didn't think you were serious?! What kind of a beach is cold?"

You roll your eyes at him. It's not even cold, honestly. Just a bit brisk. There's a soft breeze coming from the ocean, smelling slightly of salt.

"Just cover up with the blanket."

"It's covered in sand."

"And who's fault is that?"

"..."

"Please?"

You finally turn to look at him, and you can feel yourself giving in almost immediately. God damn it. There's no way this man didn't know he had puppy eyes. Fuckin' manipulator.

"Fine. C'mere."

Derek scoots closer and you throw an arm around him, letting him rest his head on you.

You both lay like that for a while, staring up at the sky and listening to the soft crashing of the waves.

The moon is full tonight, illuminating the seemingly endless sand and water. There's a forest made of palms and ferns off to the side, and the leaves all ripple in the breeze.

"It's really pretty." Derek finally sighs, eyes still looking skyward.

"I know. You can actually see all the stars out here. In the city it's harder... light pollution or something." You shrug, making his head bob slightly as it rests on your shoulder.

Derek just hums in agreement. Poor thing. He looks exhausted, even though he slept until midday.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me now. Not sure I could carry you back."

"I won't... promise..." He yawns and scoots a little closer, his arm reaching over and wrapping around your waist.

You should probably push him off, but damnit... he just looks so peaceful.

You rest your free arm on his, keeping him glued to you. It feels nice, all of it. His warmth, the cool breeze, the sound of the ocean, the twinkling stars... fuck. He's really growing on you.

Derek doesn't keep his promise, falling asleep in minutes.

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Author's note: This chapter took FOREVER!! There were just so many different directions I could have taken the story from the last chapter. Hope y'all enjoyed the one I ended up with!! It was mostly fluff, I know... but Derek is just so cute. I can't help it.

Thanks so much for being patient, and for all the kind comments & asks!!! Feel free to send in literally anything, I don't get many messages in my inbox.

Part 5

#josh hutcherson #jhutch #derek danforth #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson x you #the beekeeper #derek danforth x you #joshhutcherson #x reader fic #fem reader #female reader #no use of y/n

[intothegenshinworld]

Fate’s Destiny ~ Chapter 10 || New goals

You somehow, not being able to explain it, had fallen into the Genshin world you know oh-so-well. You were no new player and had explored most of the nooks and crannies of the world. When you first had woken up in Windrise you wondered; it might be a dream, after all, you were behind your screen usually, and now- here? It made no sense, and the world was keen on keeping it that way.

Warnings: Spoilers for main story.

Word count: 3.5k+

Auteurs note: My health is worsening. This chapter has been prewritten and queued in advance because of it. I hope you can enjoy it

↺ PREVIOUS CHAPTER || ↻ NEXT CHAPTER || MASTERLIST

Almost half an hour ago, Ningguang had walked into the room to inform you of Lumine and Paimon’s whereabouts. Thankfully, they hadn’t been in trouble and were still in Liyue harbor, searching for a way to find either a member of the Qixing, Rex Lapis, or you, until they were approached by one of Ningguang’s closest confidantes.

It was also Ningguang who informed you that you were currently in the infamous Jade Chamber, which floated at a nearly impossibly high altitude in the sky. Despite their vow to keep your identity a secret,  you chose to stay hidden from the workers and remained inside. This meant that you hadn’t witnessed the vast distance with your own eyes. However, the safety of the walls surrounding you gave little comfort after Ningguang revealed your location. 

Neither Zhongli's reassurance nor hers would make you feel more at ease during your stay above the clouds.

While awaiting Lumine and Paimon's arrival in the Jade Chamber, Zhongli kept his promise by having you sit down and focus on the stories depicted on the silk tapestries.

Battles and friendships from long ago do not return your memories, but you now know why Zhongli and Xiao validate you so. In the stories, it sounds like you were close friends before you lost your memories. It must be saddening for them to realise that these moments no longer remain with you. 

Ningguang interrupts the comfortable silence once more, “Creator, Rex Lapis.”

When you look up at her, you see your beloved friends by her side. Without a second to waste, you jump out of your chair. You practically stumble forward as you race across the room. 

“Y/n.” Lumine wraps her arms around you once you’re close enough, followed by Paimon wrapping her smaller ones over hers. In this short time, you had become close with both of them. If fate would be kind to you, it’d keep the three of you connected till the end of time.

After a short moment, you remove your hands from Lumine’s back and flash her an apologetic look, saying, “I’m sorry.” You glance away with a feeling of guilt. “I wanted to come back for you but a lot happened. And by the time I could do something, Lady Ningguang had already sent someone to get you up here.”

Lumine’s lips curve upwards, “There’s nothing to forgive, so don’t apologise. Xiao ended up helping us a great deal.”

Paimon nods her head vigorously. “Paimon admits Paimon was scared when Xiao suddenly showed up and told us we were followed. Paimon thought we were going to have to fight another dragon or something, but it ended up being a simple misunderstanding.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Dragon?”

A chair scrapes against the wooden floor. When you look over your shoulder towards the source, you see Zhongli has risen to his full height. His expression is calm and unrevealing of his emotions, as usual. It’s a look that radiates power—yet is devoid of intimidation and threat. 

He takes a step forward. “It is a pleasure to see you again, traveller.”

Lumine nods her head in acknowledgment, but it’s Paimon who responds. “Paimon is really happy too. Maybe after all this walking around, y/n is finally able to return their memories.” She turns to you with an encouraging smile and puts her thumbs up. 

“We… talked quite a lot already,” You point at the silk tapestries hanging from the ceiling. “I haven’t been able to recall anything yet, but I understand my position better after a little history lesson.”

Paimon awes at the pieces of art you pointed out. She floats further into the room without much care of intrusion. “Is that you?” 

You walk up to Paimon with Lumine following from behind. The little pixie had stopped in front of a silk tapestry that depicts Zhongli and some stone frog-dragon-thing that you’ve come to know as ‘Azdaha’. On the tapestry, you hold out your hand to ‘Azdaha’, a golden glow falling onto the skull of the beast and depicting you as a saviour of sorts. Zhongli, or Rex Lapis, or Morax—the names are a lot—is illustrated to stand behind you with his arms crossed. The tapestries aren’t detailed enough to show expressions, but the resemblance is certain. 

Similar to Paimon, Lumine looks at it with interest and curiosity. Her awe is less evident as her eyes glide over the picture, always carefully hiding her emotions. She seems a bit more hesitant for some reason, slowly taking in any detail and new information.

And while you and your companions stand in front of the tapestry, Zhongli seems to have made his way over as well because he stands next to you when he starts to explain the history behind the art, 

“Mortals have always had a fascination with the Creator. This specific tapestry demonstrates a power we used to call; ‘light energy’. It’s unlike any other elemental energy—something only the Creator is capable of.”

You look at the picture with yearning. Could this truly be you? Did you belong in such a timeline once upon a time? 

All of the stories Zhongli had told you were magnificent, almost in a dramatic soap series kind of way. It makes it hard to wrap your head around everything. It’s surreal to have history depict you as such a powerful being, especially when you’re unable to deny nor confirm the facts yourself. 

You catch Paimon staring at you. A nervous laugh escapes your lips. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m also unable to believe that’s me.”

Zhongli follows your laugh with a warm chuckle. “All in due time. For now, let’s take a seat. I would be delighted to answer any inquiries you may have.”

Uncertainty builds up in your stomach as you move in one of the four chairs surrounding the square table which is boldly placed in the middle of the room.  Because of its square shape, it has four equal sides, and thus no head. A design choice for a meeting table, a place where all participants would be equal, you suspect. 

Lumine’s eyes are already fixed on you when you turn to her. She gives you a small nod as she settles in the chair on your left while Paimon takes the one on your right. Zhongli takes the only seat left and comfortably settles across from you.

Once everyone is settled, you clear your mind. The small gnosis groans as if protesting, and you clutch it tightly in the hope of suffocating the reverberating rumbles it releases.

Then, you start, “Up until now, I've worked hard to regain my memories with the gnosis, but without success.” It trembles in your hand. “It isn’t enough. And while I’m eternally grateful for your help and willingness to tell me all of these memories that I should remember, I know I’m running out of time.”

The room falls silent as you finish your story, “—every moment I waste trying to figure out how to unlock my memories with a gnosis that wasn’t meant for me, is another moment where my memories slip from me. I need to know why you thought the gnosis would help me, and why it isn’t.”

Zhongli brings the teacup from the table to his mouth. It’s a calculated action, as if he’s trying to extend this moment, which brings a newfound anxiety for the answer he’s withholding. 

Once he lowers the teacup onto the table, he answers. “The gnoses were gifted by Celestia, but created from you. In its rawest form, the gnoses should be part of your lifeforce—your aura.”

The gnosis in your hands vibrates weakly when you look at it. Aside from the occasional surge of elemental power it seems to release, you haven’t felt a personal connection to the object ever since receiving it.

Why could that be?

“If I may be so bold,” Zhongli folds his hands over each other. “Your memories should have returned by now. The energy should have recognised its Creator. It is a similar concept to the ley lines, if that helps your understanding.”

Lumine frowns. “But…?”

“But if your memories are yet to return, perhaps the problem lies elsewhere.” 

You think about Zhongli’s words. Previously, you had assumed all of your problems to disappear if you were to remember everything. But what if there was another problem? Could you have missed the bigger picture that caused your fading memories? 

While you were more than displeased at this revelation, his statement seemed highly likely. 

“You believe this because of my aura? Since only a few seem to recognise it?” You look from Zhongli, to Lumine and Paimon, over to Xiao—who remains standing upright behind his Archon. 

Zhongli hesitates. “This is a possibility we should consider, yes.”

Xiao clears his throat. “Creator. Perhaps this could be because mortals aren’t able to comprehend weaker amounts of your energy. The traveller is an outlander, maybe they’re more sensitive to it as we are.”

“No.” You reject his idea. “I’ve met ordinary people who have been able to recognise my aura. Even if it was one, it’s unlikely to be an anomaly.”

Paimon puts her hands on her head. “Wait. Paimon is confused. Doesn’t this make the problem much bigger?” 

You look over to the little pixie who is visibly distressed with the new information. The corners of your lips lift despite the gloomy situation. She cares about you—as do the others in this room. 

Your conversation with Kaeya from the day before flashes through your mind.

“Why don’t you ask Rex Lapis himself? After all, he is the best person to seek answers from. As much as I love Mondstadt, I fear our Archon is as free as its people, so I can’t advise you to come back with me onto a journey to find the lost Barbatos.”

Kaeya's eyes had been fixated on the gnosis moments prior. You had wondered why he seemed so uninterested in it. After all, getting to know that gnoses exist and seeing one right in front of him should stir some feelings in him. Regardless of those being positive or negative.  

Perhaps in the grand scheme of things, it no longer seemed as potent as before.

In the past weeks you’ve been trying to unlock your memories through the geo gnosis without prevailing. Then, you spent a few hours listening to—what should be—your memories, without ever recalling them. 

If the geo Archon can’t help you, maybe you should seek an audience with another one.

While it seems like a good next step in your mission to recover your memories, you realise how hard this information will be for Zhongli. He’d been more than willing to spend the next century reciting all of his memories in the hopes of your own returning. Unfortunately, you need more than stories to fix this problem.

“What about the other Archons?” You ask carefully.

Zhongli furrows his eyebrows for a split second. Then he purses his lips, carefully thinking about his next words. “You wish to send a message to the Tsaritsa?”

You blink. Had he assumed you wanted to reach out to the cryo Archon after your prior interaction with La Signora? While you hadn’t been too opposed to it, Lumine and Paimon had warned you about the Fatui. 

Could you trust the cryo Archon?

“I was thinking about someone closer. A neighbouring nation, if preferable. Do you think Sumeru could help us?”

Paimon gasps. Before she can speak, Lumine interjects. “We have met the anemo Archon in the past. We could return to Mondstadt. It’s closer than Sumeru and we’re already acquainted, making it easier to find him.”

With your trusty cloak and the traveller as your aid, you will be able to explore the city without an uproar. In the worst scenario, not only Lumine would have your back, but Kaeya and Albedo too. Surely people would be more trusting of you with them by your side. 

But… 

Why would you cause an uproar?

Paimon continues, “If anyone recognises you, we can simply explain the situation to Acting Head Master Jean. After all, we saved Mondstadt with her. She’ll likely trust us if we tell her what’s been going on.” 

Right. The aura problem. 

What is wrong with you? How could you forget something you were just talking about?

You nod to yourself. “I suppose we now know our next move.”

Slowly, your eyes move up and shift over your companions in the room. Xiao and Lumine keep their emotions hidden behind a mask of neutrality, while Paimon wears hers visible with pride. Zhongli though…

The geo Archon remains silent for a moment longer. Then he speaks in a low voice. “What more can he offer compared to me? Barbatos isn’t—.” His tone shifts, but he quickly regains himself. He looks you directly in the eyes. “I know I would be able to offer more guidance. Liyue might not offer a vast abundance of knowledge on ley lines, but we have more than enough Adepti ready to aid you. Ones with centuries of experience, and centuries of memories with you.”

You look over to Lumine for her advice. 

“In such a short time frame actions are better than stories. If you aren’t able to remember your past life now, who says you will after hearing more? If you feel like you’re running out of time, more Archons on your side might be better.” Lumine turns from you to Zhongli. “And while Liyue seems like a good place to stay, won’t it take a while before the Adepti can find out what is wrong with the Creator’s aura?”

Zhongli eyes her down like a god would to a defiant follower. Greed and envy fill his eyes, and the gnosis seems to groan in response. “And what do you think Barbatos has to offer over me?”

“A new perspective.” Lumine holds her ground. After a moment longer, she turns her head to you, ignoring the Archon in her presence. “In Mondstadt we will meet new possibilities. Maybe the Abyss order is involved like they were with Dvalin. If so, we will find more answers there.” 

Paimon seems to agree with that possibility as she nods her head furiously in response. Xiao keeps his views to himself. The only tell he shows are his pursed lips and the words he keeps locked behind.

Mondstadt, or Liyue. 

Or you’ll be putting your faith into an Archon with nearly no influence over his own lands, or you can test your time by waiting and hoping the Adepti will find an answer. 

Both options sound like too much of a gamble, and yet—

“Can’t we do both?” You look up at your companions. “I mean, there’s no need for me to stay here and wait. I can go to Mondstadt while the Adepti try to help me from a distance.”

No more counterarguments are presented. It is the perfect middle ground for a less-than-perfect situation.

“Okay,” Zhongli answers in a flat tone. He forces a small silence into the room as he formulates a plan in his mind. Then he speaks again, “The Adepti will be gathered, and we will aid you.”

His doubt hides behind under his stiff and business formed composure, yet you’re able to recognise his true feelings without much effort. 

He does not approve of your decision. 

On the other hand, both Paimon and Lumine seem visibly relieved at your choice of heading to Mondstadt. Lumine has a visible smile on her face and her eyes are filled with newfound hope. 

She leans closer to you, making her hair fall in her face when she tilts her head playfully. “Let’s go to Mondstadt.” She gives you her brightest smile. “Together.”Her joy is enough to overshadow Zhongli’s doubt, and so your own eyes start to shimmer with hope—Forgetting the consequences of your choices altogether.

You’re quick at gathering your possessions once you return to the inn. The few belongings you own are all gathered in your hands. You realise you own very little to your name. The book gifted to you by Lumine and Paimon, pyjamas and underwear that had been bought on your travels, and a toothbrush. Everything else you used on a daily basis, was shared with Lumine. 

In an attempt to fill the silence in the room, you ask a question that has been stuck in your mind for a while now, 

“Lumine, Paimon?” Both halt their movements in favour of awaiting what comes next. “I never got to ask this in the Jade Chamber, but what happened after Xiao teleported me away?” 

Paimon is immediately captivated by your question. Her eyes widen as if she’s recalling the events. “Yeah! Remember Childe? He suddenly got really mad at Lumine for no reason!” 

Her tone is a bit too excited for her words to be alarming to you. You await her explanation.

“He started to pick a fight with the traveller, and because she already had her sword out, he immediately attacked. It caused a big commotion in the harbor and Childe only ran away once the Millelith intervened.”

Lumine adds to Paimon’s story while she continues to pack her stuff. “He had been keeping a close eye on me ever since I entered Liyue. No doubt, every meeting with me had been in his favour. But in all honesty, I think the Fatui has been keeping close tabs on me ever since Mondstadt. It didn’t feel like a personal thing.”

You hum. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt.” 

“Pfft? Hurt?” Paimon snickers. “If anyone was hurt, it was Childe.”

Lumine disagrees, “If we weren’t in public, I’m not sure what would’ve happened. As a Harbinger, he has a reputation to uphold. Childe never used his full powers during the fight.”

Lumine continues. “But enough about that.” She puts her hands on her hips and turns to you. “You also mentioned meeting a Harbinger on our way back. I’m curious how your confrontation went.” 

You avert your eyes. “I’d compare it to a forced diplomatic conversation instead of a confrontation—but yes.” 

You cross your arms. It takes no effort to remember your conversation with La Signora. The deal between the geo Archon and the cryo Archon was truly peculiar. If you had chosen to stay in Liyue, you might’ve been able to figure out what this deal was about. 

“There isn’t much to note, except that she was the mediator between the cryo and geo archon for a contract. I’m unsure of whether she felt my aura or not because she saw my face.” You hum, recalling the way she addressed you. “She did not seem to like me but she had no bad intentions either.”

Paimon perks up, “Paimon is just glad Rex Lapis was there to clear up any possible confusion about your identity. If it was Childe he might’ve tried to fight you as well.”

“Mhm,” You nod your head as you look over at the pixie. “And with La Signora returning to the cryo Archon, she might be able to help me. Who knows? Maybe that’s exactly what I needed.” 

Lumine shakes her head, “Not possible.” 

Paimon seems to agree with her. She crosses her arms and huffs once. “Paimon doesn’t trust the Fatui. They only ever fight!”

“Oh?”

“That woman took the gnosis from Venti–” She screeches, “And turned Paimon into an ice cube.” 

Lumine carefully adds, “The Fatui seem to be after the gnoses. What guarantee do you have of the Tsaritsa accepting you in your current form when she won’t try to respect her other Archons?”

You frown. Your lack of information on the cryo Archon and the Fatui was making the situation difficult. Could you be making the wrong choices? And if you were, how could you trust your previous judgement of leaving Liyue?

”Do you truly believe that the Fatui has bad intentions even if Zhongli, the geo Archon, had willingly signed a contract with La Signora?”

”Oh.” Paimon rubs her head. ”Paimon forgot about that.”

”Surely he’d have the right reasons to do this, no?”

Lumine pats her travel bag a few times, making sure it’s secure before she slings it over her shoulder. ”While I understand your confusion and need for answers, I’m not sure if we’ll ever get the truth of that question. Despite Rex Lapis’ willingness to share anything with you, he didn’t seem thrilled to explain certain things in detail. At least, not with us in the room.”

She gestures to Paimon with her head. The pixie seems to visibly deflate. ”Paimon also felt like that.”

”For now,–” Lumine puts a hand on your shoulder in a comforting way, ”–let’s head to Mondstadt. It’s still early, and I’ve got a feeling it’s best to depart as soon as possible.”

You nod and place your belongings in the bag Lumine had prepared for you. ”I’m ready.”

”Paimon is too!” The pixie throws her hand in the air and races outside. ”C’mon! Paimon really wants to stop by some food stalls on the way.” 

Lumine sighs and heads out of the door, trying to stop the small companion from leaving without you. 

Your hand clamps around the gnosis. It is silent for the first time since you received it. No energy, no faint humming, no vibrations. 

…

Nothing.

You pull your cloak over your head and take the first step towards Mondstadt.

If you liked this chapter and think I deserve a comment, please leave one behind! I appreciate it a lot and it'll make me more motivated to write in the future ♡

© intothegenshinworld. Do not copy, repost, translate or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thanks for reading.

#this post has been queued #sagau x reader #lumine x reader #zhongli x reader #sagau #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #sagau isekai #isegau #zhongli #lumine

[gurugirl]

A Balancing Act | Ch. 2*

Series Summary: Harry is a famous, rich, handsome, pop star and he’s been in therapy since his boy band days. When he meets Y/n, a beautiful and successful artist, he cannot take no for an answer when it comes to her. He’s determined to make her his even if he has to bend the rules a little at first.

Chapter Summary: Y/n learns that Harry kissed another woman and decides to move on. Harry crashes Y/n's date to get her to change her mind. But then he makes a shocking discovery.

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut (oral sex sort of), angst

Word Count: 9,739

Commissioned by @cinnamonone (thank you!! xoxo)

A Balancing Act Masterlist

Returning to LA after his tour in Latin America, Harry was sitting with Pat in his lovely house. Matcha tea was served and she started off by asking him how he was feeling emotionally lately. She tended to want to start off their sessions by letting him talk about his emotions and how he was dealing with his busy life, reserving the topic of relationships and love until toward the end. It gave her a good gauge of his overall well-being.

“I miss home. It’s always the hardest when I feel like I’m missing out on so much. Feels like I’m ignoring what’s really important in life and focusing too much on myself. Feels selfish. I know that no one thinks that. My mum is always telling me to not worry but it’s just hard. Especially because I’m closing in on 30 and just feels like I’ve just been playing around for all my life.”

“But this is your work. And you do work hard. You’re just lucky that you’re talented enough that you can delve into this kind of creativity and make a living from it. You’re putting more responsibility on yourself than is necessary. You’re on your own path, Harry. And while from the outside everything looks fun and glamorous, even you know the truth because you live it. It’s hard. So don’t discount yourself by feeling like you’re not doing enough. Your mom is okay. She can take care of herself. Gemma is okay too. She’s doing well. Your friends and all the people that matter in your life support you. Comparing yourself to the 9-5 worker isn’t going to do you any good. You’re a successful artist. An entrepreneur. Just imagine if you weren’t. You’d be in Manchester or London and working some mundane job. Sure you’d be around your family but you wouldn’t be thriving like you are now. I think you’d be miserable and if you’re miserable your family will feel that.”

Harry nodded, “Probably. I guess I can’t imagine myself doing anything else.”

“I can’t either. But it’s more about how you’re dealing with that guilt. I think as you’re getting older your priorities are shifting a little. And that’s okay. It’s good to welcome new awareness. Just be sure to not dwell on it because no one else is.”

Harry sniffed a laugh and smiled. Pat was right of course. He knew all of this. They’d been talking about his guilt a lot more recently and he recognized it was more because there were particular milestones that society set for people. And Harry had met many milestones but the basic ones like love, family, stability, children were all things he’d had yet to really achieve. Of course, he had a family but not his own, with a spouse and kids and a little house in town… but that wasn’t his to have yet. And the little house in town might wind up looking more like a bunch of houses in different parts of the world. He couldn’t deny he was lucky but he also couldn’t ignore that he felt like he’d been shirking his adult responsibilities.

“Okay. I can tell you need to say something. Want to move on from this subject?”

Harry grinned and repositioned himself to face more squarely toward Pat, “I met someone.”

“Oh? What does that mean?”

“I met her in Chicago. She was staying at the hotel I was in but she was there for an art show, she’s this really talented artist. But anyway… we just hit it off. We’ve been talking on the phone almost every night. I really like her.”

Pat nodded and placed her mug down, “That’s great. So, she stayed at the hotel you were in but how did you come to actually meet her?”

Harry described the scene at the bar and then how he invited her to his show the following evening, “I just… I don’t know. She’s not famous or anything but she acted like I was just a normal guy. And we really connected mentally and physically. She really seems to like all the things I like.”

“You mean, in bed? Or have you really gotten to know her on a deeper level?” She smirked and tilted her head. Harry was like this. He could connect with all kinds of people and it made his heart swell and lurch and then as fast as it filled up it all deflated just as quickly.

“Well, not just in bed. But yeah. We just clicked.”

“Look, I think that’s great. Just remember, you are okay as a single man too. Correct? You don’t need to be loved all the time. You are enough. You don’t have to fall in love and get married and have children to be a whole person. Society says you need that but you get to choose your path. But if you really like, this, uh… what’s her name?”

“Y/n. Even her name is pretty.”

“Y/n. Well, if you like her enough just take your time. Get to know her. Long distance is hard and phone calls are good but no substitute for face-to-face time. Do you think she’s as serious about this as you are?”

Harry shrugged and pursed his lips to the side, “I think so. I mean… we’ve talked about a lot and she’s told me so many things about herself. I guess I haven’t asked her to make it official, though.”

“Probably wise to wait to make it official. Jumping into a serious relationship could backfire as you well know. And there is the matter that you’re on the road so often. Did you see anyone else while you were away?”

Harry shook his head, “No. I actually really like Y/n. Didn’t want to do anything to fuck that up.”

Pat sighed, “You do realize you were supposedly spotted leaving a party with a woman people claimed you were kissing. Right? Just a couple of weeks ago. Which would have been after your Chicago shows.”

Harry groaned and nodded. He did know. His PR team told him about the supposed fan sighting and there was even a photo of him with a woman. Who he did kiss, but it wasn’t a kiss that meant anything. It was just a bit of fun and Harry had had a good amount of tequila. He honestly was just flirting and wanted to kiss the woman. But of course, when she wanted to take things further he declined because Y/n had been on his mind.

That was one thing about Harry. He was flirty and he’d kiss people he never intended on sleeping with. He kissed men and women and flirted all the time but usually, it was more friendly than sexual. Sometimes people got the wrong idea but that was just how Harry was. He loved getting close to people and touching. Loved hugs and kisses especially if he knew the person.

Even when he was with his last ex she’d gotten used to him kissing others and holding hands with someone else. But it wasn’t always very well received. Like the time she left one of the parties they were at early because she was tired and then he was filmed making out with a friend on a couch in front of people. He had a lot of explaining to do for that one. She forgave him but it hurt her. She cried. Harry felt bad that he’d done it. He loved how it felt to kiss someone and have them kiss him back, the zip of excitement and the tiniest bit of tension.

“Yes. I’m aware. I don’t know that she’s heard anything just yet. I think the photo only got published like yesterday or day before.”

“Well, it’s probably a good idea to talk to her about it before she sees the photo and reads the salacious headlines. That is if you’re interested in still seeing her.”

He nodded and looked down at his lap.

“Now, let’s talk about how you’re doing with all your new endeavors coming up. The timelines and the travel that will entail.”

.           .           .

Y/n was usually late with getting news or updates on celebrities. She spent a lot of her time painting during the day so unless she took a break and used her free time to peruse social media sites she might not realize things like the fact that the man she was beginning to develop feelings for had kissed another woman while he was away in another country.

Just as on this day. She was blissfully unaware of what he’d done as of yet. That is until Kat, her best friend, called in the middle of her glazing a painting she’d just completed.

She hadn’t told anyone about Harry except for Kat. Kat would keep her mouth shut about everything. Y/n knew she could trust her friend with her new secret. Not that Harry told her to not tell anyone but he did mention it would be better if very few people knew.

“Hello?” She spoke into the receiver as she capped the glaze and wiped her hands on her bibs.

“Hey babe. Did you see the link I sent you?”

“Uh… no. I’ve been working on a piece all morning.”

“Put me on speaker. Take a look.”

Y/n clicked the sound to the speaker and opened up her texts to see the link from Kat.

The moment the Daily Mail website came up with a blurry, dark photo of Harry standing very close to a woman she felt her heart drop.

Reading the caption of the article:

STYLES SPOTTED KISSING MYSTERY WOMAN IN COLOMBIA

“Are you seeing it?” Kat asked.

“Yeah. I am.”

The article mentioned him leaving with the woman after a party and Y/n put the phone back to her ear, not wanting to read more in that moment, “Thank you, Kat. I’m glad you showed me.”

“Of course. I mean… it’s Daily Mail so it might not be anything, but I just wanted you to have that info just in case. You know?”

Y/n nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat, “Yeah. I know. I’m gonna go, though. I need to finish my canvas. But I’ll call you later, okay?”

Letting out a shaky breath she sat down so she could read the whole article, line by line. Obsess over the information and then google to find more websites and gossip pages, supposed first-hand accounts, unnamed sources talking about how he’s been seeing her for a while and he’s excited, other blurry photos of him at the party drinking…

She shook her head and stood up, locking her phone and putting it down on the table near the bottle of glaze. She looked over her canvas and figured she could take a break. It would be good for her to get out and take a walk. Clear her mind and figure out what she wanted to do.

Her walk resulted in her only dwelling on everything. He hadn’t called her in a couple of days but she knew he was traveling back to LA. She felt like he’d probably needed the rest from all the shows, the jetlag, time zone changes… but perhaps it was because he was seeing someone else now.

And that was certainly possible. They didn’t know one another all that well. She hadn’t even told him the whole story about her husband yet. About what had happened to him. And there had been no commitment made. They had sex in his hotel room. A few times. And it was really good. She felt they had a unique connection. Her feelings for him grew a little more quickly than was wise probably and the Facetime calls with all the revelations of things from their past and what they wanted in the future felt like she was talking to someone whom she could see herself with. He’d also given her his personal cellphone number which she knew was sort of a big deal.

But of course, that was ridiculous. This was Harry Styles and even if he did like her (which she was sure he liked her on some level) that didn’t mean they’d end up together. He could choose anyone. It certainly wouldn’t be her.

Later that night as she snacked on dill pickles and popcorn she fell into the hole of the search engine on her laptop.

The night Harry was supposedly seen with the woman was a night he hadn’t called her (she checked her call log). He didn’t call her every night, but it was still noted. Then she found another “source” saying Harry was happier than he’d ever been and that the Colombian woman was spotted in LA with him.

He hadn’t called her again that night either. Closing her laptop she figured it was over. She wouldn’t be calling him to find out what was going on. He didn’t owe her anything and it would look weird and stalkery to be asking him about the other woman. As if she had any claim on him.

Opening up her DMs on Instagram she decided to check back in on Dante. He’d messaged her all that time ago and she’d left him on read once Harry came into the picture. Maybe it was time to find someone closer to being in her own league.

.           .           .

Harry had a little time off and he caught up on much-needed sleep and getting back into a normal routine. He’d planned on calling Y/n that night. He’d been back in LA for a few days and felt like he was back in the right time zone finally. But he wondered why he hadn’t heard from her at all either. Normally she’d send off a little text during the day. A meme or something that would make him laugh. But it was silence from her for almost five whole days. Not that he’d reached out either but still…

He wondered what she was doing. It was a Saturday night and when he realized she was two hours ahead of him he figured he might as well give her a ring to see how she was. It was nearly 9pm her time already.

But the call went to voicemail so he left a message, a smile on his face, “Hey you… haven’t heard from you in a few days figured I’d give you a call to see what’s happening. I’ve been back in LA for a bit and I’m all caught up on rest. Give me a call back when you’ve time!”

She didn’t return his call that evening.

The following day Harry checked his messages and texts but he’d still gotten nothing from her and it was already midday (yes, he’d slept in quite late since he was up late writing a new song he couldn’t get out of his head). It was odd.

Shooting off a text message to her he suddenly had a feeling that perhaps she was avoiding him. Perhaps she’d seen the articles about him with someone else. He hoped that wouldn’t deter her from wanting to see him again. Hoped that she’d at least let him explain.

He needed to do something about it if that was the case. He couldn’t let her slip away without even having had the chance to see where it could go.

.           .           .

She heard the voicemail. In fact, she saw her phone light up with a notification that he was calling her in real time.

But she’d just messaged Dante and they had plans to meet up the following weekend. She’d been lucky that he hadn’t already come to town for the art exhibit. She thought she’d missed her chance when she messaged Dante back and apologized for not responding sooner. But he was polite as ever and they made plans to see one another.

So she was going to move on from Harry. There was unlikely anything good to come of it anyway. She had an amazing night with him and a handful of orgasms she could reminisce on but he was a world-famous pop star and he was single and surely he wanted to play the field for as long as he could. She understood it, but that didn’t make the situation feel any better. Therefore, the only way to get over him and to move on was to stop contact with him and get back out there.

Plus, now that she’d been with a man after her husband she felt like it was time to start dating again. It had been fun with Harry and she could have fun with others too. Maybe she’d sleep around a bit. See what that was like. Sow her wild oats. She’d gotten married so young and had little experience before him… Yeah, it was time to get out and date.

The following day she saw a text from Harry after leaving a meeting with someone who knew an art dealer.

Was just thinking of you. Missed hearing your voice. I’m back in LA now. Call me or text back. 

She sat in her car and locked her phone, putting her head behind her on the headrest. What was he doing? She was kind of confused that he’d called her, left a voicemail, and then today had texted her. She really was trying to just move on. Figured he had too. But she was too curious not to call him. However, she’d keep him waiting until she was at home with a bottle of wine before she reached out. Maybe she’d hear him out. Maybe he wouldn’t bring up the other woman. She wouldn’t be bringing it up unless he did, but he had to know she’d heard about it. Right?

So, she took the long way to her house, stopping to pick up a bottle of wine and Chinese food before getting home.

She drew her curtains and took her clothes off, only wearing her panties and a tank top, and put her hair up in a messy bun on her head (like the real-deal messy buns, not those cute going-out-messy-on-purpose messy buns). Pouring herself a glass of wine and taking a big gulp she looked down at her cell phone as she sat on her couch and re-read his text.

For some reason she was nervous. She wasn’t sure how this conversation would play out but she wanted to find out what the result would be. This could possibly (most definitely) be the end for them. And she’d be okay with that if it were. Bummed, but fine. She still had her date with Dante to look forward to.

She dialed the number and put him on speaker as she leaned back into her couch and covered her face. She didn’t know if he’d pick up or not but she wanted to get this conversation out of the way.

“Hello!” Harry’s voice came over the speaker quickly. He sounded keyed up.

“Hi. It’s Y/n. You called and texted so I wanted to return your call.”

“Oh yeah… well, it’s been a few days. Was wondering how you were. So, yeah… How’ve you been?”

“I’m good. And you?”

Harry paused and noted the way she answered him in a clipped tone, cold. Not her normal friendly disposition.

“I’m well. Is… is everything all right?”

“Sure. Just doing my thing. Is everything all right with you?”

Harry sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, “Yeah. Um… did you read something about me? Is that why you’re upset?”

Y/n laughed and took a sip of her wine. Here we go, she thought to herself.

“Do I sound upset to you, Harry?”

“You actually do. Yes. Look, if you’re pissed about the articles from when I was in Colombia, I just want you to know that all of that is blown out of proportion. Right? So-“

“Oh. Interesting So you’re saying you didn’t make out with a Colombian woman at a party in Bogota?” God, she hated to sound so jealous but he did bring it up first. She cringed as she let her hurt feelings surface, but it was too late to keep her cool like she intended.

Harry sighed loudly, “I just mean that’s all blown out of propor-“

“Yes, you said that. I’m asking if what is being said is true or not.”

“It didn’t mean anything, Y/n. I am a bit of a flirt and I kissed a woman but that was it! I swear. I thought of you the whole time-“

“It’s fine, Harry. You don’t owe me anything. Besides, I’m going on a date next weekend anyway. We’re free to see other people, right? And-“

“A date? Next weekend?”

She laughed, “Yes. A date. Next weekend. It’s not like you and I will get to see one another much anyway. If at all. So there’s no reason to drag this out. We had fun but it’s clearly not something we need to bother ourselves with.”

“Bother… what? I thought we really connected, Y/n. I’m confused. I really like you.”

“But how can you say that when you made out with someone else? I really like you too Harry but you’re seeing other people because you know as well as I do that this, whatever it is between us, was never serious. Right?”

“No. No that’s not true. And I didn’t make out with her! It was like a quick party kiss sort of thing. Damnit! I swear, Y/n. I’m sorry. I had a little too much tequila and I kissed her but I really was thinking about you and she wanted me to come with her to her room but I told her I was seeing someone and that was it! God, I fucked this up didn’t I?”

Y/n sat for a moment. She had to admit she was surprised by all of this. Surprised that he’d contacted her after she didn’t respond the first time, that he seemed upset about possibly having offended her or hurting her, and that he was acting like he really did like her. But she determined that it was best if they parted ways. She realized it would simply be too hard for this to work. And based on the way his fans obsessed over the Colombian woman and were already talking shit about her (when they didn’t even know who it was) she knew she was right. She had to put an end to it before she got her heart broken.

“There was never anything to fuck up, Harry. But, look… let’s be honest here okay? I’m just a regular gal. I’m not your type, not the type that would be able to deal with your fame and all your adoring fans. I had a lot of fun with you and I think you are absolutely amazing. I really do like you but I just can’t see this working. You know?”

Harry shook his head and tried to stay calm. He had to think. He had to make this work. And he needed to not freak out about the fact that she was going on a date. He hated to think of her with anyone else. And yes, he did kiss a woman, but it wasn’t the same thing! Not to him anyway.

“I think you’re wrong. I think it can work. Let me prove it to you. I’ll come see you. Cancel your date next weekend and let me take you out instead.”

Y/n blinked her eyes, taken aback. She was truly shocked that he wanted to see her again and that he wanted to make it work but still…

“Harry…” she sighed, “you can’t expect me to cancel my date. That’s really not fair to me.”

He knew she was right, “Okay. Sorry. I guess I’m overstepping. I just thought we really connected. I was looking forward to seeing you again.”

Pulling her lips into her mouth she sat her glass of wine down. She was looking forward to seeing him again too, until she learned about the kiss. Even if they weren’t serious and even if the kiss meant nothing to him it meant something to her, “Please don’t make this hard. I really did like you, Harry. But it’s obviously not going to work. And that’s okay.”

“No. It’s not okay. I’m coming to see you. You don’t have to cancel your date. I’m not going to boss you around, but I’ll be flying to Chicago on Friday morning. I’m going to prove to you that we have something good here, Y/n. And if you still don’t see that after next weekend then I’ll back off.”

She couldn’t lie and say that she wasn’t beside herself with the idea that he wanted to put in so much effort to see her. And she certainly couldn’t stop him from going to Chicago and she wouldn’t. But she did feel like it was unlikely he’d actually show up.

“I mean… Jesus, Harry.” She shook her head and grinned, her heart pounding, “You’re crazy. I don’t understand why you want to do this. We had a night together-“

“It was more than just a night. Y/n, come on… you know as well as I do that it was more than just that. All the things we talked about on the phone all those nights. Did that mean nothing? I shared so many personal things with you and I know so many things about you too. But I want to know everything. All of you. I might be crazy but I can’t just give up.”

“We’ll see. And I can’t stop you from flying out here but I’m not going to make you any promises either.”

Harry was determined. More than ever. He knew it was special with Y/n. He knew she knew it too. The night he had her in his hotel room was maybe the hottest sex he’d ever had. And of course, hot sex doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re soul mates but the way they connected and were vulnerable with one another was not like anything he’d ever had. Then all their subsequent conversations and things they’d revealed about themselves? No. He wasn’t done and she wasn’t either. He felt it deep down that she wanted him to prove to her that he was serious.

Kissing that woman had been a mistake. And now he was going to prove to her that he was serious. That they could work.

.           .           .

She didn’t know why she told him where she was going to be on her date. She didn’t need to tell him. He could wait to see her until after. She told him as much at first when he called her the moment he landed.

“Where will you be with your date?” He spoke saying the word date like a dirty word.

“Harry… why do you need that information?”

“Because I’m just curious. Maybe I’m looking for restaurant suggestions.”

“I’m sure,” she rolled her eyes to herself, “If I tell you, you better not show up and ruin everything. I kind of like this guy, Harry.”

Harry’s heart fell into his stomach and the smirk on his face faded at that. She liked the guy? She was supposed to only like him.

“I won’t ruin anything. I promise.” He couldn’t actually make that promise. He wouldn’t be held accountable for the methods he used to convince her she was his. That she wanted to be with him only.

.           .           .

The steak house was a typical small-town restaurant that looked cutesy and had a few things on the outside of the building to let you know it was a restaurant but still came off as more of something that looked like a house.

The inside wasn’t much different. The entry into the restaurant started at the bar. Round high-top tables and tall stools scattered along the middle with dining tables with chairs of normal height lined the wall to the right. The bar with various bottles of neatly arranged, half-empty bottles of liquor along the left. Old wood floors, crown molding, high ceilings, an old dusty scent mixed with the smell of stale spilled beer (that smell just doesn’t come out after years of clumsy customers insisting on spilling their ales every night for the past 35 years), food cooking, and meat searing. Beyond the bar was the main dining room with more tables placed around the space and large windows that looked out onto a sizeable terrace with more tables under a large awning.

Harry let his gaze move around the room and walking past the bar he peeked into the main dining room to see if he could spot the woman of his dreams.

“Harry Styles!” A young lady shrieked and as he turned back he saw two other women walking toward him. He knew the look. They were starstruck and hoping for a chance to speak to him and get a photo.

Reluctantly he obliged. Signed a napkin, took a few pictures, and shook their hands with a smile on his face. It tended to be better to just be nice and give them something quickly instead of declining. Sometimes declining or saying he couldn’t resulted in more issues than it was worth.

Not spotting Y/n anywhere either inside or outside he asked the young man stood at the front if there was a reservation under Y/n’s name. He expected that her date would have put it under his name but on the off chance-

“Yes sir. Uh, that reservation for 2 people isn’t for another fifteen minutes. Are you the other party on the reservation?”

Harry grinned and nodded, “Why yes. I am.”

He followed behind the kid to a spot outside on the terrace and ordered a bottle of red wine. He knew he wouldn’t be able to drink the whole thing but figured that once Y/n arrived with her date they could finish it off. He knew that what he was doing was taking it a little too far (maybe a lot too far) but he wanted to properly greet her and get a good look at this date. He’d get up and let them take their seats and then he’d pay the bill of course as an apology for the inconvenience.

Before he’d finished his glass of wine his sight landed on the entry to the terrace where Y/n, a tall man with dark hair (presumably her date), and the young host who seated Harry were walking toward him. There she was. She’d really dressed up too. The low plunge of her dress and the way it hit her hips were mouthwatering. He stood up quickly as he continued to watch her in awe. Her pretty face was set in an unamused frown, “What are you doing Harry?”

Shrugging his shoulders he looked to the guy next to her. He was Harry’s height. Taller even. Annoyingly good-looking in an older, sophisticated yet unbothered kind of way, “I’m Harry,” he jutted his hand out to shake.

The date looked at Y/n and then back to Harry with his hand taking Harry’s in a firm shake, “Yeah, I know who you are. Harry Styles… But why are you sitting at our table?” He asked with a laugh. So she hadn’t told her date about him. Pity.

“Oh, I was just having a sit, drinking a little wine. But I’ll be on my way. Just wanted to make sure my lovely friend here made it safely. Oh! And please! Enjoy the rest of the wine. And I’ve already told them that the tab is on me. So get whatever you like. Go wild.”

The look of anger on Y/n’s face should have deterred Harry from speaking further, but he couldn’t help himself, “And you look… wow. Incredible. You’re stunning, Y/n,” he looked over her frame and then back to her face, “I’ll call you later,” he winked as he turned and sauntered away just as casually as he had mentioned he was paying their bill. As if it were all just a normal occurrence.

Y/n watched the handsome pop star walk away before turning to Dante, “Sorry about that. He was just trying to be funny. Just a friend,” she reassured.

Though, Dante didn’t seem wary of him at all. He was clueless as to what had just happened, “You know Harry Styles?!”

Sitting down and pushing Harry’s nearly empty glass of cabernet to the edge of the table she nodded, “Yeah. Met him a couple of months ago when he was in Chicago for a concert, and I was there for an art show. Just luck.”

She left out the part where he had her in his posh hotel suite one evening and they spent the whole night fucking and talking and laughing. Connecting. And then again in the morning until she had to leave.

Y/n wasn’t sure how to feel about Harry’s little stunt. He seemed like such a genuinely sweet guy that what had just happened felt a little out of character. Though she got some glimpses of his pushy, dominant side in bed, she hadn’t seen any of that persona transfer outside of the bedroom. Not when he first introduced himself, and not in any of their conversations on the phone… But she guessed perhaps there was a part of him that would come out in this way. And she couldn’t lie and say she didn’t enjoy it all deep down.

But still. The nerve of him to sit at the table she and her date would be sharing and drink wine while he waited for them. To look at her the way he had, his eyes blatantly following her shape down to her hips and back up again with that grin… The compliment. And then to have their bill paid for? It was a power move. He was trying to assert dominance over Dante in some way. Even though Dante was annoyingly clueless somehow. She thought for sure he’d be livid about it but he wasn’t.

Dante was a little too nice she decided.

And it’s not like Y/n thought her date should be upset. She didn’t want two men fighting over her or anything. But the part of her that kind of liked what Harry had done, liked that he was trying to stake a claim or send a message- wanted to see what Dante had in him. Wanted maybe just a tiny bit to see him jealous or even insist on paying despite the fact that Harry said he would. Dante didn’t seem threatened at all. She shook her head of those thoughts. How silly for Y/n to even think that he should feel that way. Of course not!

And she couldn’t stop thinking about how good he looked in his suit and his thick dark hair with soft curls as she and her date neared the table he was casually sitting at. The handsome smug look on his face as he watched them. And she tried to refocus and listen as Dante was talking about his recent gallery show but she was now stuck thinking about the night she and the famous man shared together. That was probably part of what he intended as well, showing up like he did. To set the tone for the entire date. He knew what he was doing. And it had worked.

“Excuse me. I need to run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

She took a deep breath as she walked into the restaurant and followed the hanging wooden signs that pointed toward the little hallway where the two bathrooms were. A single toilet room each for women and men.

Flicking the light on and clicking the lock she leaned into the door and closed her eyes. She had to give herself a pep talk.

“You’re here with a perfectly nice and handsome man. Same interests, a level head, funny, humble…” and Dante was all those things. But something was missing. Something was holding her back from truly enjoying his company. And she knew just what it was. It was because he wasn’t Harry. And even if Harry hadn’t made his surprise appearance to discombobulate her completely, interrupting her date, she would have still felt the same.

Just as she pushed herself off the door there was a knock, “Sorry! Be right out!”

Y/n washed her hands and dried them before opening the door. But in a shocking split-second, she was met with the handsome smile of the man she couldn’t stop thinking about as he walked into the bathroom, causing her to step herself backward. Harry closed the door and clicked the lock.

“Harry! What are you doing?!”

Harry smirked and leaned his back into the door, “How’s the date going?”

Crossing her arms over her chest she tried to feign annoyance but she was working hard to hide her own grin, “It’s fine. I like Dante. Why are you still here?”

“I figured I’d see if you were free after. I brought some things with me that I think you might enjoy.”

She paused. He brought some things? What did that mean?

“I can’t believe I told you where my date was,” she shook her head and sighed.

“I’m sure you did it because you hoped for this very outcome.”

“Oh come on, Harry. I actually didn’t think you’d even come here this weekend, to be honest.”

Harry stitched his brows together and pushed himself off the door, taking two long-legged strides toward her, and brought his hands up to her face, “Well I am here. And I want you, Y/n. I don’t care that you’re on a fucking date. That should be me sitting out there getting to take you out,” he jabbed a finger in the air toward the door before returning his palm to her cheek.

Her blood pumped quickly through her veins and her head felt fluttery and light as she watched his mouth and then looked at his eyes as he spoke. His hair was fluffy and soft and his hands on her face felt gentle but she knew what they could do. All the very opposite things of gentle that had awakened some kind of indulgent new requirement. She wanted to put up a good fight. Make him work harder. Make him beg a little even. He’d kissed another woman! For god’s sake, she should make him grovel. But he was there. With her. Looking at her like he did that last morning they were together when they were making plans to keep contact until they could see one another again.

She didn’t know how to respond. If she were responding candidly, she’d tell him that yeah, it should be him out there treating her to dinner and not Dante. That she hadn’t been able to get him off her mind and last night, even though she had this date lined up, it was Harry’s image that she orgasmed to when she masturbated. In fact, it had only been Harry she got off to since she’d had that night with him nearly two months ago.

Harry tilted his head and spoke softly, “Please, Y/n. Do you want me to get on my knees? Beg? Or,” a small devious smirk quirked up on his lips as he licked them and ducked in to speak into her ear, his body pressed into hers, “maybe you want this. You like the chase, don’t you? Is that what you want? Trying to play hardball with me, sweet girl?”

She was a goner the moment his lips brushed over the shell of her ear and he brought his hands down from her face to her hips and pulled her in close. A small warm peck to her lobe, “What is it that you want me to do? I’ll do it.”

Y/n drew her hands up his back to his broad shoulders and moaned as she stretched her neck for him, “You shouldn’t be here. I’m in the middle of a date.”

And despite her words, Harry seemed to figure out what it was she needed and he dragged his mouth down to her jaw and then attached his lips to her neck and lightly peppered kisses and warm licks down the sensitive skin until he lowered enough that he’d made it to her clavicle, drawing a needy little gasp from her lips.

He backed away to look down at her and she had her lips parted and eyes closed, which made him smile.

She was his.

“And this dress,” he smoothed his hands down from her hips to the bottom hem of the material that landed just above her knee. He pulled the fabric upward, his warm fingers sliding up and under the stretchy cloth until he met her inner thighs, squeezed together, “Why did you do this? Wearing this for him? Baby this dress should only be for me.”

Her breaths deepened and her body grew hot with his hands on her. This was such a bad idea but she didn’t have it in her to stop him. She wanted him. When she opened her eyes and looked at Harry she licked her lips before speaking, “I hoped you’d see it. But I didn’t really think you’d come.”

Harry’s palms splayed against her thighs and continued to push the material up as he smiled at her with a cocky grin, “Wanted me to see it. So you wanted me to be jealous. To see you wearing this slutty thing on a date with another man while I watched. Suppose I deserve that. But you know you’re leaving here with me. Yeah? That’s what you wanted. Gonna show you what you deserve for teasing like this.”

Y/n let out a small whimper when he pushed her legs apart and kept his eyes on hers. His light green eyes were slowly disappearing under his dark pupils. His lids were droopy, and his lips parted as he finally moved his face to hers and nudged at her nose with his before putting her out of her misery and kissing her in a hot, desperate embrace.

She tried to resist but she’d already been a goner and the way he kissed her melted her senses and stamped out her resolve.

She was his.

Harry’s hands continued their path upward and she knew what he was doing, as far gone and mushy as her brain was, she understood his intentions. So she parted her thighs more for his access and Harry panted against her lips, “You want me to touch? Need a little something before you go back out there on your date?”

She nodded after faltering for a second. Her date… She wasn’t sure she could face him after this. She only knew she wanted Harry.

He pushed his fingers over her silky panties and grinned as he continued kissing her, her back pressed into the wall, “Fuck, baby girl. You need Daddy don’t you?”

She groaned and popped her eyes open, nodding the tiniest bit as she watched him use his hand on her, rubbing over her cloth-covered clit. Harry hissed and looked at her with sultry eyes, “Soaked for me, baby. You don’t want to go back out there to him. You need to be taken care of. Can you wait til we get back to your place or do you need it now?”

Harry was serious. He was going to leave with Y/n. Dante would be fine. His check was covered after all.

Y/n let out a shaky breath. Here or at hers? Her place was half an hour away and she was already vibrating with desire. Harry’s words and soft touches and his presence somehow pulled from her a need that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. One that she was certain Dante couldn’t affect.  

“This is crazy,” she breathed out.

Harry pushed his mouth to hers and moved his fingers down to the drenched crotch of her panties pushing them to the side and he keened at the feel of how slick she was under the pads of his fingers.

“Remember how good it was, Y/n? How you moaned and came over and over again? The way you took me when I fucked you.”

Harry was hard as rock in his trousers. This woman was doing things to him. He hadn’t been so determined about anyone in a very long time.

“Yes,” she whispered when he stroked up and down through her labia and then pressed into the hood of her clit.

“And how good we are together. We work, Y/n. This works. I know you know it.”

He plunged two fingers inside as he kissed her mouth. She opened her legs further for him and rocked her hips forward into his hand.

Y/n realized suddenly where they were and what they were doing when a knock sounded on the door, “Let’s go. I need to tell Dante that I’m leaving first.”

Harry was directed to stay outside at the front of the restaurant while Y/n went to the terrace and broke the news to Dante. She felt awful. She really did. Dante was nice. He was attractive. But he wasn’t her type in the end and she was slick between her thighs as she sat down and winced at the feel. The empty ache. She was flushed and her panties were chilled against her skin where it was wet, a result of just having been fingered in the bathroom. But her body was guiding her. She was aching and wanted Harry in her bedroom. Wanted Harry inside of her again.

It was probably a mistake. She’d probably regret this but she only knew one thing. And that was that Dante would never have a chance. Not when she was fantasizing about Harry on a date with him. That wasn’t fair to him, to string him along. So she justified that it was better this way.

.           .           .

Y/n had fully expected that Harry would have a driver or something. But to her surprise, he rented a car. A really nice car. A Mercedes Benz wagon.

She did kind of wish he had a driver, though, so they could sit in the back and that there was one of those partitions that separated them from view. But as it was, she was sitting in the passenger side as Harry drove her to her house.

It was kind of wild to her that Harry Styles was driving her to her house and that once there, in her small residential bungalow, they’d probably wind up having sex. Certainly, they’d wind up having sex.

“I’m sorry I did it this way,” Harry paused with a smirk on his face, “but not that sorry. Worked out in my favor.”

Y/n breathed out a laugh and shook her head, “Yeah, I guess you got your way. I imagine you’re used to that.”

“Heey! What’s that supposed to mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“It just means you’re probably not used to not getting exactly what you want.”

Harry nodded shallowly as he kept his eyes on the road in silence. He was just happy it had worked. He wasn’t sure it would. And yes, he was used to getting what he wanted but he didn’t expect to get everything he wanted. Not all the time anyway.

“My place is pretty small. Two bedrooms. One bathroom. A small backyard. So don’t judge, okay?” She was mostly teasing, feeling quite nervous about what was soon to happen. The state of her home was actually the last thing on her mind.

“Don’t be nervous, love. We’re going to have a great time together.”

Y/n gulped the saliva in her throat and looked ahead toward the road. She knew they’d have a great time together if their last time together was any indicator. In fact, she imagined it might be even better. He was visiting for three days and she had nothing to do other than finish the canvas she’d been working on for the past week. So they’d have a lot of time. To explore and to play. To talk.

She recalled a conversation they had one night over the phone when Harry brought up her pretty, plump bottom, his words still making her blush having never enjoyed anyone calling her plump in any way. But somehow, when Harry said it, it felt sexy. He made her feel sexy. Her curves and her extra bits, her tummy and ass and arms and thighs… they only spent the one night together but he made her feel as if all of her was beautiful.

“Such a pretty, plump bottom like yours… and you’ve never had anal sex before, or anything? My finger was the first to poke inside?” He spoke his words with a smile.

She was already lying down in bed and gently rubbing herself to the sound of his voice and he’d been heavily flirting and suggesting what they’d do together the next time they saw one another.

“No. Have never done anything back there,” she laughed breathily.

“We can change that. I can start by licking your pussy and your ass until you’re so wet and creamy that I can just slip my finger inside your little hole and get you ready for more.”

She moaned lightly at the idea.

He continued, “And once you’re shaking and begging to come I’ll slowly fill you up with my cock so you can finally experience what it’s like.”

Y/n laughed and paused her fingers, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

Harry groaned and panted (he was also touching himself), “Oh I would be in heaven to have you any way you wanted. But to be able to be your first experience with that would be amazing. But the question is, Y/n, would you like that?”

She squirmed in the soft black leather seats just thinking about it. She wasn’t sure if he’d want to go that route or not but she figured if he got her loosened up and drippy she probably would very much want that. She felt like he’d make it good. She knew he’d make it good.

Harry noticed the way she shifted and wondered if she was still on edge. He imagined her panties were a mess after what happened in the bathroom. He would have loved to have fucked her then and there but she asked to leave. And he could wait a little longer, though his cock was aching and pushing against the front of his trousers painfully.

Y/n was trying not to eye his crotch. He clearly had an erection. Still. And she knew he was nice and thick and long. Just remembering the way he looked had her thighs clenching together. Yes, she was still very wet in her panties, and knowing that soon he’d be using that thing on her gave her an idea.

She reached her hand over and put her palm on his upper thigh over his pants and Harry quickly glanced down before putting his eyes back on the road. He swallowed thickly. He liked where this was going.

“Gonna help me out a little?”

Y/n smirked and looked up at him as she unbuckled her seatbelt, “Do you want me to?”

Harry scoffed and shot his eyes at her quickly, “Is that a serious question?”

Biting her lip she positioned herself to lean over the leather console and began to undo the leather belt he had on. Harry adjusted his seating and pressed the seat back button to lean back a little to give her more room as she unbuttoned his pants. He parted his lips and let out a labored breath when he felt her palm over him.

He was so warm under her hand, even with the material of his pants covering him. She continued working on opening his pants up when the seatbelt warning dinged.

Harry groaned and rolled his eyes but she continued, not worried at all about the sound. She wanted to pull him out and play with him a little bit.

The road to her house from the restaurant was mostly along a small highway with no stoplights and very little traffic. Which she liked so she could have him out in her hand and no one would pull up next to them and catch a glimpse of what they were doing. Not to mention it was Harry Styles in the car, that would surely get some attention.

When she finally dragged his underwear down enough that she could grasp around him he moaned softly. She loved how he felt in her hand, the way he looked. She pulled from the base of his shaft upward, rolling his foreskin over his frenulum and back down. He was hard and his tip was pink and pretty like his lips.

The ding of the seatbelt warning chimed again as she leaned further over and moved her lips to right above his erect cock. Harry moved his arm away to give her space, before putting his hand on the back of her head. Her hair fell over the exposed skin at the base of his cock before he felt her lick gently over his slit and stroked him slowly as Harry drove down the road toward her home.

It was difficult to put him into her mouth with the console in between them but she had been able to put his tip in past her lips and lick all around him, lapping at his precome as she continued moving her hand in gentle strokes at his shaft.

Harry was panting shallowly and his stomach muscles were contracting. It felt so good to have her mouth and her hand on him. He wished he could look down to see her sucking him off but he had to keep an eye on the road, and with her seatbelt undone (thanks to the reminder every two minutes from the warning chime) he didn’t want to chance anything.

Y/n moaned around his slit and Harry choked out his words, “Fuck, baby. We’re almost there. Gonna give it to you so good when we get to your place.”

And she knew he would too. She wasn’t very experienced. She’d slept with two men before she got married but of all the men who’d fucked her, Harry was far and away the best at it.

Harry pulled into her small driveway, directly behind her Toyota Camry. Tucking himself back into his pants as she adjusted her dress before getting out of his car and plucking her keys from her purse.

“Did he pick you up here at your house?” He pointed toward her car in the driveway. He deduced that if her vehicle was there the date must have come to her home to pick her up.

Y/n paused and it took her a moment to understand what he meant but the realization dawned on her, “Yes. He did.”

Harry nodded, “So he knows where you live? Did you invite him in?”

Sighing she shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. Was he really doing this now? “Yes. He came in, stood in the doorway, and looked around while I grabbed my purse. That was it.”

Harry was standing over her with a small frown, “Were you planning on sleeping with him? After the dinner?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. What is this, Harry?” She pulled her arms upward before dropping them at her sides in frustration, the keys to her house jangling as she did so.

Putting his hands on her upper arms he slowly rubbed upward, “This is just me wondering what you were up to is all. It’s a good thing I got there in time to stop anything from happening.”

A scoff fell from her lips as she looked up at him, stunned, “No. This is you being jealous.”

Harry shook his head with a cocky grin and brought his left hand up to her neck and pulled her into his chest, “I’d be jealous if you left with him. But he’s nowhere to be seen now is he?”

She felt the small squeeze on her neck as he pushed her bottom gently to the front of his car, his hips connected to hers so she could feel him, “S’just you and me here, though. Isn’t it? You’re wet for me. Not for him,” his soft, warm mouth was suddenly pasted over her jaw and she gasped. It was hard for her head to fight its way out of the labyrinth of mush that he seemed to be so good at leading her into. But he knew that. He loved the way she responded to him.

Harry chuckled, his laugh vibrating off her neck as he tenderly kissed the edge of her parted lips before backing away and grasping her hand to pull her to her front door, “Let’s get inside then. Can’t fuck you out here on the hood of the car for all to see can I?”

Everything was rushed and desperate in her brain. She was shaky putting her key into her door to unlock with Harry right behind her, his hands at her hips, his lips on her neck.

The moment the door was closed and locked Harry pulled her into his arms and kissed her again. It was hot and frantic. They were both on edge and very much in need of release. Together. Even though he acted as if he had it totally together and he was in charge, he was feeling desperate too with the way his tip was leaky and his cock throbbed in his pants.

“It’s this way,” she panted breathlessly as she pulled his hand to bring him toward her bedroom.

But Harry paused when he saw a large, framed photo hung on the wall. It was of Y/n with a man. Kissing a man. She was wearing a beautiful wedding dress and the man was in a tuxedo with the backdrop of a lovely garden and flowers all around.  

“Is… this you?”

Y/n was halted when she whipped her head to look at what he’d seen. She realized instantly what he meant.

“Um. Yes.”

“Are you… married?”

Y/n sighed and let go of Harry’s hand.

Talk about a mood killer.

Chapter 3

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[diazsdimples]

What do u say about these supposed hard core fans that are shipping buck Tommy? They gonna make the writers keep that homophobe around 😰

I am entirely the wrong person to ask about this.

Firstly, I ship Bucktommy AND Buddie. And this is possible! You are allowed to see Buck be happy with a man for the first time (how fucking good!!) but also wish upon the nearest star that he ends up with Eddie in the end. I truly believe Buddie is endgame but at the moment, I am more delighted at the fact that Buck is happy, with a man, experiencing a positive queer relationship.

The reason I ship Bucktommy is because look! at! how! happy! this! boy! is!!! I will ship ANY person that makes my little blorbo as happy and blushy and giggly as Evan Buckley is when he's with Tommy Kinard. He is SMITTEN. Do I think they're endgame? Not at the moment, no. Would I be upset if they were? I'd mourn the fuck out of Buddie, but I would be glad that Buck is finally happy and comfortable in a relationship. His happiness is paramount.

For the reasons why Buck's bisexual arc is more important than a ship, please read this post. It talks about the importance of representation in current media, and my own experiences of coming to terms with my bisexuality just before this arc was aired. What we're seeing with Buck's story is revolutionary, really. We haven't seen this kind of thing happen in media much at all and it is so important to show.

For any issues regarding Tommy, please read this post by the lovely @slightlyobsessedwitheverything. They beautifully go through all his appearances and break them down for us and I would urge you to read it with an open mind.

Now, about Eddie. I am an Eddie girlie (gn) through and through. That is my babygirl and I adore him with every fibre of my being. I would love nothing more than to see him go through a queer arc. However, right now, Eddie is not in the place to do so. We saw from the last episode that he's an untapped reservoir of Catholic guilt, and it's gonna take a lot to work through that, before he can have any kind of realisation re: Buck. He's very much in his comphet days but is starting to take some steps towards undoing some of his old habits, like getting Marisol to move out when he realises they're moving too fast.

With this in mind, I think it would be too rushed and too early for Buddie to get together right now. Yeah they've had many seasons of being married and living out of one another's pockets but given the stages of life they are both in, I feel it wouldn't end as well as we'd like it to. Eddie isn't in the right place for it. Buck is exploring his sexuality. They need time to learn and grow and do some serious thinking and realising before they can even begin to contemplate a relationship together.

Regarding the "homophobe", I am assuming this is referring to Edy Ganem and not Lou Ferrigno Jr. I would like it noted for the record that I cannot stand Edy and therefore cannot stand Marisol. If Meddie were to be endgame, I'd fume. They have no chemistry. They do not suit one another. And I don't believe Edy should be given a platform to spread her hateful rhetoric, and I hope the last we see of her is 7x07. I'm a little mad it wasn't 7x05 but there we go.

However, Tommy and Buck's storyline and Eddie and Marisol's storyline are entirely separate. The only thing that links them are Buck and Eddie, and their friendship. I don't believe that Tommy's existence means Marisol is going to stick around and I find it a little odd that you do. Buck can and has had relationships that aren't Eddie. Eddie can and has had relationships that aren't Buck. Buck being in a relationship does not mean Eddie will also be in one. Tommy's existence does not confirm Marisol's continued existence.

My current best case scenario is Eddie being single by the end of 7x07 (please god), and Buck and Tommy continuing their relationship, so Buck has the opportunity to learn and experience same-sex relationships while Eddie has the time to deconstruct his true feelings, get therapy, work through 30+ years of repression, and then they'll be ready.

ALSO I DO NOT WANT BUCK TO CHEAT ON TOMMY WITH EDDIE. WE ARE NOT HERE FOR THAT.

Best case scenario, sometime towards the end of s7 or beginning of s8, Buck and Tommy decide that they both want different things out of life, have an amicable split that doesn't leave either of them hurt, Tommy sticks around as a recurring character because he's ingrained in the 118 again, Eddie's doing his therapy thing and then maybe mid s8 him and Buck can start coming to some realisations with a potential for Buddie moments towards the end of s8. Honestly anything else would seem too rushed.

The final point I'd like to make is that I find it extremely odd that you call people who ship Bucktommy "supposed hardcore fans". Shipping anything other than Buddie doesn't make you any less of a fan. Actually, I'd argue it shows a bit more commitment to the characters as you're willing to be open to them growing as humans and expanding on the personalities that we love. If Buddie is the only reason you watch the show, I feel you should re-evaluate your motivation. This show has so many great ships, such as Bathena, Henren and Madney, as well as Buddie and Bucktommy, and considering this is an ensemble show, we should show all of them as much love as the other. These characters are so intertwined with one another and that's what makes this show so worth watching. Watching for 2 characters and 2 characters only is not getting the full enjoyment out of it.

I hope this answered your questions and gave you something to reflect on. As I say, I'm not the right person to ask about this as I too ship Bucktommy, currently have 2 Bucktommy fics in my drafts and watch them kiss at least 10 times a day. And for future reference, I will be unfollowing/blocking people who throw tantrums about not getting Buddie so far, or who believe you can only ship Buddie and feel superior for doing so. Have a good rest of your day.

#james answers things #james says things #bucktommy #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #fandom discourse I guess? #911 abc #911 season 7 #911 buddie #911 spoilers #anon #asks #this ended up a lot longer than I thought it would #but this question pissed me off a little dskjdsk #thank you for coming to my TED talk

[thedollhousediaries]

The Dollhouse Diaries

Real Life In Plastic Tip #6:

ෆTime Management for Neurodivergent Girly Girls and Boujie Hyperfemmesෆ

This is the pretty girl era of having time management under control. The key is to learn how to live in the moment while also being discipline enough to move on to the next task as needed. I know that sentence was as daunting to read as it was for me to write ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა I guarantee I gotcha *Chaeyoung voice*

First Things First: Go 1 Week At a Time!! (every 3 days if an entire 7 is too much or your schedule is unpredictable, like mine)

Build a simple list of all the things you have to do and that you would like to do. Its much easier to get it all out on the table so you can donate more of your brain power to sorting things, rather than holding things.

Put all of the things listed on a calendar: Most important first things first! This means things like health appointments,work schedule, birthdays, holidays that you celebrate, classes, or anything that involves not only your time but other’s as well. Then after that put the elective things second; Nail appointments, shopping trips, dates with friends, etc. Lastly, put the things you would like to incorporate into your daily routine; We talking skincare, any hobbies you may have like drawing/painting/sculpting/reading/blogging, any form of exercise, etc.

Once the week or however much time you have scheduled out is done on your overall calendar, then its time for marrying it to your life.

Marrying your schedule: Planner apps, Physical Planner, Dry Erase Boards and Bullet Journals

Choosing your medium at keeping up with your schedule is very important. You may have to try them all before you get comfortable with something. I have tried them all and I’ve found that the main one that truly stuck with me was the app/website Notion. I like it because its fully customizable and you can use it at your own pace. Every week or every day may not be super eventful and so it drops the guilt and shameful feeling of not filling up pages every single day.

Here is what all I use and the way I use them:

Notion <3 I use it as my overall journal. I use the apps on my ipad/phone to check if I’m not home and I can use the website on my PC when I’m home and relaxing. I like it because its very versatile. Think of it as a digital journal combined with similar mechanics of tumblr. I use it for literally everything. There are a lot of videos that can show off all of the cool things Notion can be used for but this is the video that personally helped me learn it quickly

Bullet Journals <3 I have about 3 journals and I love them because I get to customize things with cute stickers and it gives very fun scrapbooking vibes. Because I use Notion as a all over planner I can use my BUJO’s for more fun and creative things. I usually use these for all of my cute ideas and things thats in my mind and aesthetic wishlists and such. Its very therapeutic to take time out to be kawaii and glamorous and just put cute thoughts on to paper! I mainly use it for kpop inputs, my fav shows, wishlists, dates and etc.

Dry erase board <3 I use this as a overall daily top important to-do list! Sometimes I dont always open my notion if I dont have anything extremely important coming up but there may be some things I need to keep on my mind to do for that day. The way my neurodivergency is set up I need to keep the most important things always in my face or I could forget everything. So, I put things on there like get a new tire, pick up order from bath & bodyworks, put clothes in the dryer, wash dishes, and etc. Daily tasks like that usually goes on my dry erase board

Remember at the end of the day dont be too hard on yourself and your schedule! Move at your own pace and always set yourself up for success. Scheduling is ideally suppose to calm you and be a tool to improve your life; not stress you out. If at any point you begin to feel overwhelmed just stop and recenter yourself and your life. I felt overwhelmed at first myself and that was because I was trying to keep up with a hyper organized and productive version of myself that I needed to give more patience to develop. Let this come organically to you and not because you are trying to keep up with what u feel everyone else is doing, or to the future self you are going to inevitably become. Happy scheduling, Dollmate!

#dollhouse dairies #doll advice #bimbydoll diaries #nuerodivergent #neurospicy #adhd #advice #pink aesthetic #soft aesthetic #journaling #bujospo #girl blogger #notion #y2k aesthetic

[rottmntsimp]

Donnie x (gn) reader, where the reader is feeling particularly self concious? feeling as tho they don't contribute enough to the team due to not having mystic powers or not knowing how to fight, maybe they feel as tho they get in the way a lot? I know donnie isn't always great with feelings but I feel like he would relate to this problem and would know how to solve it in his own special way?

Much needed reassurance

Donnie x Insecure!Reader

TW: A bit of cursing (projecting cuz it's just smth i do when feeling a strong emotion lmao), using the lord's name in vain ( bro im atheist idk if this is a tw?), uh light jealousy (APRIL MAH QUEEN <33), mentions of stitching up cuts ig, light angst with fluff end <3 Oh and a pretty rushed ending lmao. Plus some slight ADHD projecting?? [Yes I got this req in September. Shh-] Thanks to @sleepytime-fics for title inspiration <3 /p

Donnie

You wince, letting out a hiss, as your cut stung in pain. Peeking out from in between your fingers, you see Donnie’s frown, not processing any of the words he rambled on to you. He let go of your hand, putting down the bandages, before moving onto your face to disinfect the scrapes along the side of your face, making you flinch in pain, listening to him chastise you for how careless you were.

“-I thought I’d told you to stay in corners. They can’t sneak up on you, if your back is against a wall.”

Sinking deeper into the mattress of the bed, you sigh, running a finger over the bandaging on your forearm, only for Donnie to slap your hand away. Rolling your eyes, you let him patch up your face, avoiding eye contact, because you knew as soon as you did, shit would hit the fan.

After what seemed like hours of nonstop admonishing and multiple rolls of bandages (which in all reality was only a few minutes), Donnie finally packs up the first aid kit, having finished patching you up. You stretch a little, before reaching for your phone, which lay on the far end of the mattress. Just as you were about to pick it up, a metal arm suddenly swipes it off of the sheets, holding it up.

“Hey-”

As you go to reach for the phone again, he just brings the phone higher up, farther out of your reach.

“So…” the mutant started, busying himself with putting supplies back into the first aid kit. “Leo informed me you, uh…got jumped-”

“Please, don’t remind me-” you sighed, the memory of being unable to defend yourself flashing behind your closed eyelids. Not only had Leo been struggling to take care of his share of the ninjas, he had to make sure you weren’t getting hurt too.

 Opening your eyes once more, you frown at the floor, listening to Donnie go on.

“Scoff,” Donnie scoffs, voicing his actions, “Well, if you let me finish, you would've heard me say ‘-you got jumped, are you feeling ok?’ It’s unlike you to get taken advantage of like this in combat.”

“Stop it,” You mumble, not wanting to hear about how you were unable to help, frustration rising as Donnie went on, not having heard you.

“I mean, it was just a couple of foot ninjas, and statistically speaking, you’ve done better before-”

“Donnie-” You frown, speaking a bit louder, but your words went unheard as Donnie’s rambling went on.

“I’m just thankful Nardo was there for you, don’t tell him I said that though-”

“Donnie!”

He freezes, facing you as his rambing comes to an abrupt end. Seeing the frown on your face as you shifted in your seat, your head held down, Donnie was riddled with guilt. “Were you,” he clears his throat, “Were you about to say something…?”

Silence.

That’s all he got in return, before soft mumbles could be heard, “It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve told me, it just won’t get in my head alright? I’m not a ninja, I’ve never gotten training-,” you muttered, as Donnie stopped what he was doing, focusing on your words- “Hell, I don’t even have a proper weapon!” you scoff, gesturing to Donnie’s tech bo, which lay messily on his desk, piles of unorganized blueprints and tech scattered around it. “Even April has one! April!” 

“Well, that is an issue can easily be resolved by simply paying a visit to the local sports store-”

Donnie’s words were cut short by the glare you gave him, as you went on. “But that makes perfect sense, since she’s just…so perfect,” you chuckled dryly, jealousy creeping into your voice, or maybe it was just self-pity.

Running a hand through your hair, you pause to take a deep breath, knowing you’ve already said too much; but fuck it, if you were going to get reprimanded for something out of your control, might as well let out some of those pent up feelings…right?

The only noise that could be heard was the soft whirring of the vents filtering air, and the sound of you guys’ breathing. The silence was eating you up from the inside, uneasiness hanging in the air. After a whole two minutes of silent torture, Donnie lets out a sigh, biting his tongue so that he doesn’t say anything he might regret, before finally speaking again.

“Where…where are you going with this?”

“Fucking christ, Donnie-” you snap, your head in your hands, as you let out a strong exhale. Looking up at him, you took a deep breath, trying to stabilize your voice, as a lump formed in your throat.

You mumbled under your breath, trying not to break down as tears of frustration formed in the corners of your eyes, your vision slowly going blurry. Why? The hell if you knew, all you could process was the fact that you were practically useless, and if that wasn’t enough to make you break down…

“I’m not as strong as you guys and I sure as hell don’t have any mystic powers,” you say, as a tear finally falls. One turns to two, and two turns to four, and before you know it, tears streamed silently down your face, as you tried to stop; but you both knew it was pointless.

Panic flashed behind his eyes as he noticed you crying. What was it you do when people cry? Talk to them? No, no, he was pretty sure you give them space.

“I always need at least two people out with me when I join you guys for patrol, and I always get hurt, and end up being more of a burden than a help…” You clear your throat, cursing at yourself as your voice cracks.

Once again, silence.

Looking down at the floor, you sniffled, using the sleeve of your hoodie to wipe your tears away. White floods your vision, looking up, you see one of Donnie’s mechanical spider arms holding a tissue out in front of you, his eyes averted to the side.

Nodding your thanks, you blow your nose, as quiet ensued once more. You both sat there, your minds occupied by your own racing thoughts respectively.

After what seemed like hours, Donnie spoke up, his voice soft, but firm, as though he were deep in thought, “I…apologize, for not realizing how you felt earlier. I should have been more observant, I should have been able to notice how you felt about all of this much earlier on… I’m sorry for being a terrible partner-”

“Donnie-” You just sigh, the adrenaline from earlier wearing off, as a wave of exhaustion washed over you. “I’m not calling you a bad partner, I’m just saying that…maybe I shouldn’t go out on missions with you guys anymore. I’ll just hold you all back, and-” 

“Hold us back?-” Donnie interrupts, his face going from that of understanding and thoughtful to utterly flabbergasted. Standing up from his seat on the mattress, he has a robotic arm shoot out of his battle shell and yank a chair over, as he took a seat across from your place on the mattress. He faced you, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, renewed confusion apparent, “You believe that you’re…holding us back?”

“...Well, yeah-”

“SCOFF! Never have I heard such malarkey- Oh Y/N, you are anything but deadweight!-”

You could only listen as he went on, giving up on trying to get your point across as he never gave you the chance to. Yet despite the affirmations, a nagging feeling stuck in the back of your mind, refusing to leave as he rambled on about your strengths, physically and intellectually.

His voice became nothing but a soft hum in the background, accompanying the buzz of the vents, as you spaced out. Why was he doing this? You aren’t worth the struggle, the effort… He’s always had to help you catch up, get up to speed on things. Homework, fights, hell- even simple things like staying on task, giving you something to do, to think about…

“-And just because you don't have mystic potential, doesn't mean you aren't a valuable asset to our group. There are plenty of other ways you make up for it..."

The nerve of this hypocrite; saying you’re useful while still in doubt of his own abilities.

"I mean," Donnie went on, putting a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to look at him, "It's not like you're the only human in our little posse. April's our friend too, and she's just as important as the rest of us-"

"She doesn't count-" You snap, your voice raising to a higher volume. Donnie flinched, his hand retracting in shock. Wincing, you mumble a quiet apology, feeling a wave of disappointment and regret wash over you before going on.

"April's been training with you guys since she’s met you, she doesn't count…" You mumbled, trying to keep control of how loud you spoke. “She’s been there since the beginning, basically on you guys’ level. She’s known you all since you were young, grew up with you guys, trained with you guys, fights with you guys…all while kicking ass and looking good…all I do is stand in the back and cheer you guys on…”

“Oh my sweet Y/N,” Donnie sighs, looking up at you again. “What will it take for you to understand that moral support is better than no support whatsoever?” The pleading look in his eyes, the desperation in his voice for you to understand just how valuable you are didn’t go overlooked by you, as you just sighed in response.

“I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again, darling. You are as valuable to our bunch as any of us are. Learning to fight takes time, time which you never gave yourself, which I’m gladly willing to change.

“And as for getting hurt…” Donnie put a hand on yours, making you look at him as he let himself smile, “I guess we’ll just have to start training.”

Taglist [ask if you want to be added!]:

@lemme-be-cringe-damnit @sleepytime-fics @ray-of-midnight-storm @hamthepan @charismakat

#simps fics #rottmnt x reader #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #2018 donnie x reader #donnie x reader #tmnt x reader #rise of the tmnt fanfiction #tmnt 2018 x reader #rottmnt #save rottmnt

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Hero had noticed that Villain seemed a little distracted during their fight—not bantering as much as usual, fighting back halfheartedly. Still, they had expected Villain to dodge their attack in time. But when Hero sent out another blast of their ice powers, it hit Villain square in the chest, knocking them into the wall behind them. 

Hero gasped as they watched Villain crumple to the ground, clutching at their chest. “Oh my god.” 

Villain groaned, staring down at the ice spreading across the front of their suit. “Fuck. You got me good, huh?” they forced out. The laugh that followed was on the verge of hysterical. 

“God, Villain, I’m so sorry,” Hero said, rushing to them. They knelt down in front of Villain, pushing their shaking hands out of the way so Hero could inspect the damage. Ice had pierced through their suit, seeping into Villain’s chest. Thanks to their own fire powers, it most likely wouldn’t be fatal—Villain's body heat had already begun counteracting the ice. But it looked like it hurt. 

Villain’s eyes were distant when they looked up at Hero, and their lips were tinged blue. “My fault,” they said, teeth chattering. “Should’ve been paying attention.” 

Hero shook their head. “No, no it’s not your fault. Shit, I'm sorry, I knew you were having an off day and I still…” 

Villain wrapped their arms around themself as shivers wracked their body. “S-so cold. And tired.” 

“You have to stay awake,” Hero instructed, though it came out as more of a plea. “Keep your eyes open, okay?” 

The ice was beginning to melt away already, but the effects would probably last longer. “You’ve g-got your chance to t-turn me in now,” Villain said, forcing themself to keep their eyes on Hero. 

Hero sighed, pushing Villain’s hair back. “Not gonna happen. I’m taking you home where you can have some hot soup and lots of blankets, and then rest. And maybe when you’re feeling better, you can tell me what had you so distracted today.” 

“Why?” Villain asked incredulously. 

“I did this. Now I'm going to fix it.” Hero didn’t tell them about the guilt and the looming fear that always followed them. The constant underlying threat of their powers being too strong. Or that they might lose control, like they had today. One of their worst fears had just come true and it was only by luck, or maybe a miracle, that Hero had hit the one person who couldn’t be killed by their ice powers. 

“If you w-wanted me to c-come home with you, you c-could've just asked,” Villain joked. 

Hero couldn’t help but smile—at least Villain was with it enough to still tease them. “Don’t fool yourself. Once you’re all better, we go back to being enemies.” 

“Yeah. Obviously.” Hero pretended not to notice the way Villain’s smile faltered. “You’d have t-to take me to dinner f-first, anyways. I’m not that easy.” 

“Well,” Hero said, “I can at least make you chicken noodle soup, so hopefully that counts for something. Now, come on, let’s see if you can stand…” 

#hero x villain #writing #whump #whumpblr #villain whumpee #hero whumper #accidental whump #enemies to lovers #hero caretaker #whumper turned caretaker #whump writing #enemies and lovers #cold whump #hypothermia whump #hurt/comfort #requests open #snippet