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angelwithdemonictendencies · 5 months

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he set my house on fire, you lit my heart ablaze; when the smoke cleared, you stayed, coughing up ash with me.

jh86 x reader: the revenge plot doesn't go as planned (ft. ex-fiance am34).

(warnings: blasphemous filth (it's on the tamer side, i think), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), spit and descriptions of bodies and stuff like that, hair pulling (big fan), lots of talk about toxic relationships and being mean and using people and sad moments (we can thank this fictional am34 for that), oh, and slight bullying of tz11). idk just please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: hello, favorites. thank you so, so much for your patience and softness. today i bring you a story that took me so, so long because i worked so, so hard on it (and it's really long! 14k worth). we have checked all the boxes: terrible ex-fiance am34, sweet boy jh86, schemes and plots and the like. no, i don't think any of these characters are like this in real life. no, nobody acts like this, but it's getting colder, so i think a lot of us are craving that gentle domesticity. and yes, i wish someone had shown up with flowers after i finished undergrad midterms. there's probably a ton of plot holes but shh! don't tell anyone. also tried out a new format, the smut is in the middle instead of the end, let me know how you feel about that. anyways, i miss you and i love you and i think of you often and fondly. i hope you and your snakes are doing well and knowing what you deserve and accepting nothing less. let me know what you think, what you want next, etc. go canucks, of course. oh, and no, i do not think it's a coincidence that all the guys i write about are having a great season so far (except the ducks that refuse to play). how could it be? definitely a causal connection. all my love to you. until next time).

since you were a young girl, you had known that your greatest motivation, your deepest truth, perhaps your fatal flaw, was just how deeply you felt.

when you were little, that meant tears came easily, anger festered like weeds in a prized garden, and happiness felt like flying.

it also meant you could read others' emotions almost as clearly as your own.

it made you different, it made you a good friend, it made you the person you were. for much of your life, you had made peace with the fact that your well of emotions went deeper than others. you had loved that part of yourself, even.

but the night you broke off your engagement to auston matthews, you wanted nothing more than for everything you were feeling to disappear, to evaporate into the air as if it had never been.

"you couldn't've at least tried to hide it from me?" you had said, willing your fragile voice not to break.

and he had sat at the kitchen counter, that massive body on the stool that you had carefully selected for the house that you shared, that you thought you would share forever. and he had sighed, sounded almost annoyed. "would that have made it better, angel?"

his indifference coated your bones like lead paint. that name, once one you felt would call you out of a coma, would lead you out of hell like a northern star, now felt like nothing but a condescending, patronizing taunt. silly, stupid angel, the god might as well have said, how could you think you could ever be enough?

understanding settled like ash on your eyelashes. "you think i'll forgive you," you said, little more than a whisper. "you think i won't leave."

he scoffed at that, then. at you. "and go where?" he asked, sounding almost genuine. "where do you have to go?"

how superficially he knew you, it seemed, at that moment. how had you not seen this before?

"you honestly think i could ever look at you the same?" you asked.

he shrugged, his shoulders so imposing, stature so suddenly frightening. a body you knew better than your own, suddenly foreign. a ghost. "maybe differently, but still looking," he said, "your eyes have only ever followed me, angel."

and maybe he was right, but you were done proving him so.

"send my things to my parents' place," you said, cold, devoid of anything. emotion welled up in you like a flood, but you froze it before it could crest through your mouth, come out like some mythical fire-breathing dragon. you slipped off your ring, placed it on the counter.

you didn't feel lighter without it, though. you felt so devastatingly heavy, like cinder blocks were tied to your ankles, like liquid stone filled your head.

"are you kidding?" he asked. to your silence, careful pause, he tilted his head, shook it once. "you're just gonna quit?"

your hands were shaking. you could feel rage rattle through your body, shake your bones. you clenched your fist so tightly you wondered if blood would drip from your palms, stain the light hardwood floor that you had spent so long deciding on. "how dare you," you said, begging your quivering lip to still.

his smirk was cruel. "not like it matters," he mused. "you've never been able to quit me."

you had seen him mean. on the ice, sometimes to journalists, sometimes to fans, sometimes to you, even. but this was past mean. this was past elementary bullying, past joking insults that don't land. he was trying to call your bluff, trying to push you into forgiveness, trying to hurt you.

"watch me," you said, your voice made of ancient rock.

"are you mad because she's hotter than you?" he asked, his brow contorted in false concern. "is that it?"

despite yourself, a small smile pulled at your mouth. a smile that made your eyes glitter. a smile that should have scared him. a warning.

"she is beautiful," you conceded, because she was. what good would it do you to deny that? you approached him, then, in his personal space for what you believed would be the last time. he turned to you, your eyes meeting in a clash, like sword on sword. cruel, brutal arrogance and pure, pretty wrath. you held the side of his face in one palm, the other hand resting on his shoulder. "but when a beautiful person hits on me, auston, i say no."

his eyes flickered down to your mouth, simmering with lust. you laughed at this, at him, raw and true, let pity soak your tone like acid. "i'm not mad at her, auston," you admitted truthfully. "i'm not even mad at you." you patted his cheek, perhaps a little harder than you needed to. "i'm just so disappointed."

that had been weeks ago. you had moved back to the states, so embarrassed on the plane at how you couldn't stop the tears from flowing, until finally you were back with your parents in new jersey. they had welcomed you so warmly, so easily. it had taken a few weeks for the tears to finally slow, for the utter devastation to fade, for your red eyes to brighten again.

at first, it had been hard to remember anything but how his embrace felt like home, how tightly he hugged you after games, how his eyes shone when he laughed, how he had teared up when you had accepted his proposal, how he had gushed about picking the right ring.

but as the sadness faded, as it festered into something much more serious, you remembered less of the fairytale moments, less of his perfect smile, less of the "pretty girl" utterances in his rough bedroom rasp. soon the sadness gave way to steely rage, to an almost bloodthirsty need for revenge. for him to hurt the way he had hurt you.

and no one does bloodthirsty like a group of university-age girls. after catching up with your childhood friends, and getting them caught up on your situation, you looked at your confidants with eager eyes. "what do i do?"

your best friend from high school spoke first, banging her fist on the table. "burn his house down?" she offered. "steal his dog?"

her friend from college put a gentle hand over her fist, "i think for now we try to avoid the federal crimes," she said, then turned to you. "when my ex cheated on me, i got with the lead singer of his favorite band." her eyes shimmered. "and then bought his dream car and wrapped it pink."

you giggled in delight. "oh, you're good."

your childhood friend nodded. "phycological warfare." she looked at you. "who's his idol?"

you thought for a moment, tapped your fingers on the table. "i don't know if idol is what i should be going for," you thought out loud.

"who's someone who would make him uncomfortable? insecure?"

"his dad!" your friend said, making you shake in a laugh.

"his biggest insecurity is the spotlight leaving and not coming back," you told them. you had known that for a long time.

"being forgotten?" your friend asked.

"being replaced," you said, your eyes widening with understanding. "with someone better. more promising." you shared a look with your friends, felt anger solidify into a plan. into hope.

"you look like you have someone in mind."

a memory flashed across your mind like a shooting star, engulfed in flame.

"how was the game, aus?" you had asked when he got home, stirring the pot of soup on the stove.

you heard some kind of grumble as he dropped his things in the mudroom, made his way into the kitchen.

"what's wrong?" you asked when you met his eyes, sensing something wrong like smoke in the air.

"just this young kid," he muttered. "'s nothing, really."

and you knew then that it wasn't just nothing, because he never tried to hide things from you, to diminish his feelings, unless it was really bothering him.

you turned the stove off, approached him, wrapped your arms around his middle and hugged him tight. "who's this new kid?" you asked, muffled by his chest.

his arms pulled your closer, tighter. this had always been where you felt warmest, safest. "some h name," he muttered. "hicks? hughes, maybe?"

you smiled into his chest, knowing him, and knowing he would never have forgotten the name of this kid. knowing auston matthews never forgets people who make him feel like anything other than the world's brightest star.

"whoever he is, probably just had the game of his life," you had said, your voice a comforting lullaby. you had pressed yourself up on your tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "nothing to worry about, yeah?"

he had smiled back at you, but something dark had swirled behind his gaze. something like knowing, like ominous understanding, like an empire, falling. "already forgotten, angel," he had said, but you knew, even then, that he was lying.

the memory fizzed and dissolved like baking soda in vinegar.

you looked at your friends and smiled. "what do you guys know about jack hughes?"

from there it was surprisingly easy to shift from a tangent line outside jack hughes's circle to someone inside of it. you were patient, too, careful not to rush. you wouldn't settle for anything less than perfect, after all, refused to enact any plan that wouldn't end in exactly the revenge you sought.

one of the other wags from toronto, whom you had grown close to, insisted on helping, giving you the numbers of some friends close to the devils.

"i'm honestly so, so proud of you for leaving," she had told you over the phone, her voice nothing but genuine, knowing. "all of us, we all knew you were way too good for him."

"did you?" you asked, maybe a little shocked. having been so completely deceived, so absolutely blind, for so long, it was interesting that others had not been as deluded as you. to hear their perspective, to see what you had not been able to before.

"sweetheart," she said, gently, "everyone who meets you can see that you're good. that you deserve someone good." there was a pause. "and everyone also sees that he was never that."

you let her words settle like glitter on a childhood craft. "thank you," you said. "i miss you."

"we miss you so much. see you soon?"

you agreed, thanked her for her help.

"i hope he's good," were her closing words. "maybe better, at least."

having started classes with your old friends, intent on finishing the degree you had so quickly and thoughtless abandoned for auston, you had ample time to plot.

"feels like we're in a spy movie, or something," your friend had said excitedly.

"we'll be your guys in the chair," the other chimed in. "here the whole way."

the rest of the initial plan came easily, with the help of the people who were on your side, which you quickly learned was a group made up of more people than you thought.

very soon, it was time for step one, and you were in front of your mirror, having just finished getting ready, your friends by your side.

you took a deep breath. "what if this isn't a good idea?" you whispered.

they squeezed at your hands. "no going back now, okay? we'll be there the whole time."

"what if he's not interested?"

"look at yourself," one of them said, "don't be stupid."

"what is he thinks i'm a crazy stalker?"

your oldest friend shrugged, her eyes full of mischief. "what if you are?"

so you found yourself at a dingy, run down bar, the lights low. according to your contacts, this was where the team and their friends came after home games.

when was the last time you had come to a bar looking for something? for someone? it felt distantly familiar, but so strange, like hearing a language you spoke as a child but that hadn't graced your tongue in decades.

you had been with auston for years, after all, having met him when you were 19, him 23. a whirlwind, a tornado, a perfect tempest of pink dust and white teeth. a proposal two years later, a break off a year further.

you were 22 now, and had never felt further from your nineteen-year-old self. a foolish child, a delicate doll, a phantom cloaked in a desperate desire for acceptance, for love.

you didn't know how to flirt in this new body, new being. you didn't even really know to how flirt with anyone but auston - it had been so long since you wanted anyone else. and you didn't even really want jack, at this point. you just wanted justice.

a cluster of motion and noise behind you ripped you from your thoughts. you didn't turn, though, just stirred your drink, let the liquid settle again until you could see yourself in the reflection. until you could make out your eyes, until you could plead with your mouth to tell you what to say.

a game, the beautiful girl mouthed to you, a secret code, it's only a game.

your hazy eyes caught on a pool table in the corner of the bar, vacant, the lamp above it flickering. you smiled to yourself, made your way over, picked out a cue, ran your fingers along the edge of it.

you took a sip of your drink before setting it down, lining yourself up to break. with a swift, even motion, a pleasant cracking noise rung out, colorful balls moving in different directions.

you scrunched up your nose, having sunk none initially, gracefully lining up to go again when you felt a few figures approach.

the first one who spoke, the one right next to you, was not someone you recognized. you didn't even think he was on the team, but he had the build of a hockey player, probably a quick center.

"need a private lesson, there, sugar?" he asked sleazily, his voice the arrogant drawl of a child, almost endearing in its steadiness. he leaned on the table as you looked up at him, straightened, tilted your head to rest against the cue.

"awful kind of you, coach of the year," you teased before nodding to the other person who had joined you, looming across the table like a shadow. "gonna help me beat your friend?"

your new coach scoffed, ran a hand through his long, unruly hair. "trust me, sugar," he said, "you don't need any help beating him."

you locked eyes with the figure across the table, whom you had only seen before on a screen, the one you had heard about in the arms of your ex-fiance. here he was, the soft contours of his face shimmering in the dim light. the mythical and heroic jack hughes, the shaker of the unshakeable auston matthews.

he was shorter than you expected. "not much of a competitor, is he?" you asked the man next to you, talking about jack as if he wasn't right there. as if you hadn't been looking at him the entire time. "doesn't like to play?"

you tilted your head, dared him with your eyes to prove you wrong. the familiar fire of flirtation, of the chase you hadn't engaged with in years flared when he took a step out of the shadows, letting you see him clearly and up close.

during your research, you had seen pictures of him, but they didn't do him even a semblance of justice. he was gorgeous in a fairytale prince sort of way, like he might save the day with a true love's kiss at any moment. his eyes were a striking blue, his nose almost dainty, his jaw angular. your gaze caught on his full mouth before finally landing on his eyes again. he had the kind of complexion and expression you could tell lit up when he smiled. your stomach twisted at the thought. a game, you repeated in your mind. only a game.

"i'll play," he said simply, his voice goofy in a way you weren't used to. not sleazy, like his friend, who was currently behind you while you bent forward, lining up the cue. it wasn't the classic baritone you were used to hearing in auston, but something more cautious, something sweeter.

the game progressed, each of you sinking shots with the tell-tale soft thud. it was his long-haired friend, the one who kept calling you sugar like you were some southern belle, who was much closer to you, who was adjusting your hips and arm placement before each turn, who was flirting with you so openly, his breath hot on your neck, his gaze open and obvious.

even then, a quick exchange of glances with jack felt much more intimate than any innuendo-filled comment and fumbling touch from his friend. whenever jack would sink a ball, his eyes would flutter up to meet yours in a fleeting catch of flame, of promise, of knowing.

with only a few balls still on the green felt of the table, his careful voice broke you from your trance. "what are we playing for?" he asked, eyes alight.

the look you shared was teasing, probing, yet deadly serious. this is everything, the look said. are you ready to give everything?

"how about this?" you began, your tone light and smoky. "if you win, you get my number." his full mouth quirked upwards in the slightest of smirks. "and if i win, i give it to him," you finished, nodding towards his sugar-spewing friend.

jack looked at his friend. "good with you, z?" he asked.

his friend, z, you guessed, let a cocky smirk drape across his face like velvet curtains. "more than good," he said, "as we're gonna win."

with the stakes agreed upon, the game continued until only the eight ball remained. you lined yourself up, your ever-so-involved coach just next to you as you called your pocket.

"have a game, sugar, here we go."

you ignored his friend's voice, lining your cue up perfectly, the smooth wood resting delicately between your fingers, the angle of your arm and neck smooth and sensual. everything about your preparation lent itself to a winning strike, everyone at the table knew it. you could feel it in z's early celebration, see it in the slight quiver of jack's hand.

bent over the table, in the final seconds before your strike, you peered up at jack through dark lashes, all dim light and foggy promise. you gave him a sly smirk as you followed through, the black and white ball missing the pocket by an inch, hitting the side of the table with a soft sound.

jack narrowed his eyes at you with a curious sort of look before quickly calling his pocket and immediately sinking the ball.

his friend sucked on his teeth before throwing up his hands in defeat. "christ, sugar, didn't take you for a choke artist," he said. "unless you're into that." he shot you a wink before heading off to grab a drink.

for the first time, it was just you and jack. you leaned on your cue, let your gaze fall over him lazily, in the same way you knew he was doing to you. he was close now, close enough that you could see how blue his eyes were, how long his lashes, how high and soft his features, how his hair was just a little too long on the sides.

"you let me win," he said, a gentle observation, not anything accusatory.

you smiled. "prove it," you said, to which a matching smile graced his own face.

"must be my lucky night, then," he said as he handed you his phone and you typed your number in.

you laughed. "i don't know," you mused, "you seem like a guy who's used to getting what he wants." and he did seem like that - who could say no to those pretty eyes?

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, a motion you tracked. "'m a guy used to earning what he wants," he corrected, and you hummed. a distinction that auston had never made, even though he worked hard, sure. but he was a natural. what would it be like to be with someone to whom everything didn't come just so, so, easily?

"like to work for it, hm?" you teased.

his gaze dropped to your mouth for a second before returning to your eyes.

you stepped forward, pushed and poked at the imaginary line between the two of you. you looked up at him, gently swiped at his cheekbone with your thumb, felt heat rumble between the two of you, something volcanic. "don't work yourself too hard, yeah?"

without a second glance, you placed your cue against the table, grabbed your bag and made for the door.

on your way out, you overhead the conversation that had erupted in your exit.

"i was the one talking to her the whole time," that long-island-ish drawl said.

"if you think she was into you for even a second, you're an idiot," jack replied.

you swore the door was chuckling as it shut behind you.

everything had gone exactly as you'd hoped, exactly as you'd known it would, so you weren't at all surprised to receive a text the next day asking if you were around that night to get a drink.

so you found yourself at a different bar, this one a bit more upscale, quickly spotting jack as he waited for you outside. you blew out a breath as you approached, as a smile made his face glow. it was still so new to find someone else beautiful. when would you get used to his imperfect teeth, his oceanic eyes, his feminine nose, this greek sculpture opposed to autson's roman one?

you blinked. "hi," you said, suddenly feeling lame.

his mouth quirked. "hey." he opened the door for you, nodded. "after you."

"i'm gonna warn you," you started as you ducked past him and into the building. "i haven't been on a date in a while."

he shoved his hands in his pockets, a juvenile habit that made you blush. "find that hard to believe," he said, his tone playful. "pretty girl like yourself."

you scrunched up your nose at that. pretty girl. auston had called you that so many times, but for the first time you actually thought about its meaning. something flipped in your stomach at jack calling you pretty, but it was the girl part that had you pausing for a moment.

you were a girl, pretty much, you were jack's age, but you hadn't felt like one in so long. maybe it was being with someone a little older, but you felt almost ancient, so tired, so drained. but here you were, on a date, every bit the pretty girl he had deemed you.

you just laughed, taking a seat at the counter, smoothing out your dress against your legs. "real sweet talker, are you?" you joked, turning to him and meeting his eyes.

his mouth quirked like he knew something you didn't. "somethin' like that," he said.

the night went by fast, conversation flowing easily, no sign of pressure or anything of the like. you asked about his career, what he did that day, his family, his friends. he made you laugh, and it came so easily, so fluidly. he asked you about what you liked to do, what you were studying in school, how you were enjoying jersey.

surprisingly, you found yourself wanting to be completely honest with him, even though you couldn't be. you found yourself wanting to tell him everything, to answer any question he asked, to never leave him wishing or wanting even for a second.

you got hung up on the curve of his upper lip, on the slope of his shoulders under his button down, on his girlish laugh, his firefly of a smile.

the night was over too soon. too soon, you had the sinking feeling that you were in over your head, that perhaps you had chosen the wrong person for your revenge plot. you wanted to hurt auston, after all, but not yourself. certainly not this shimmery spark of a boy in front of you.

he walked you out, both of you pausing outside the bar, under the dull streetlight, a theatre spotlight for your praiseworthy performance.

you turned to look at him, and him at you, sinking into each others' gazes like quicksand, the air thick with expectation.

"i don't kiss on the first date," you blurted out, talking to his lips, talking to yourself.

he smiled, his shoulders rumbling in a laugh. "'s okay," he breathed, "like to work for it, remember, baby?"

you shook your head as your cheeks erupted in a delighted rosy flush. "goodnight, jack," you said, your voice every bit the giveaway. he returned the sentiment with a knowing grin.

the next day, you invited your girls over to watch him play. as you all settled on the couch, a homemade cocktail in your hand, you couldn't help but hide your face when the camera lingered on his profile during the anthem.

one of your friends gave a mock-salute. "god bless america," she said, shaking her head as you threw a pillow at her.

"alright," you chastised.

"what?" she asked, raising a brow, "just appreciating the wonderful offerings of our country."

your other friend shook her head. "you don't usually go for guys like him, eh?" she asked. "i mean, ever since we were in middle school you always went for the guys with biceps bigger than my face." she held her hands in front of her face for visualization.

"'s not like he's tiny," you said, almost embarrassed.

"no, no," she amended, "but he's no auston. he's just, i don't know, pretty."

you smiled, knowing exactly what she meant. auston was so masculine in every way, and jack was softer, somehow, pretty in a way you didn't usually go for.

pretty in a way that made you smile at your phone when he texted you the next day, asking if he could cook you dinner later that week.

you were blushing to yourself, the morning of, after he had texted you asking if you had any dietary restrictions.

and you didn't, but wasn't it just the sweetest, most thoughtful thing to ask? would you have even thought to ask?

i want you to be comfortable, his text said, i want you to laugh with your mouth full in my kitchen.

careful, angel, a deep voice called from the back of your mind, from the inside of your teeth. this is about me, remember?

your fingers twitched with the reminder as you stood on his front stoop, waiting for jack to answer the bell. the air had a brisk twinge of a chill to it, a chill that had your nose turning pink and your feet stiffening in your boots.

but he answered the door, and the breath you blew out rose between the two of you like a misty curtain, one you resented, because it distorted your view of him, even just so.

the mist settled, and his smile was left in its wake.

a smile that silenced all the gossiping voices in your head, left the throne of their malevolent king vacant, abandoned.

"you're here," he breathed, almost like he couldn't believe it, like he couldn't believe you.

"and it's your fault," you teased, scrunching up your nose.

he shook his head, laughed at some joke in his mind, stepped aside. "you must be freezing, baby, come in."

the butterflies in your chest soared as he helped you shoulder off your coat, his fingers leaving just a ghost of a touch on your wrist, the back of your neck, leaving scorched skin behind. you shivered, took in his graceful figure hanging your coat up on a hook by the door, let a smile come easily to your face when he turned back to you.

"what?" he said, grinning.

you let out a half-laugh. "nothing," you said, looking around as you kicked your shoes off. anything to avoid the white-hot light of his undivided attention. "i like your place."

and you did like it, truly, it was just so unexpected. homely, not cluttered, but definitely not the modern, futuristic, almost barren aesthetic you can come to associate with successful hockey players.

he flashed you a shy smile as he led you into the kitchen, bowing his head, making his hair fall into his face, almost bashful. "it likes you too," he told you, swinging his hand up to hit the top of the doorframe like a basketball-obsessed middle-schooler. you bit your lip to stop your grin.

what a pleasure it was to get to know all the most intricate and intimate manners of someone new.

"everything's almost done, now," he said, quickly turning off the stovetop and peering through the glass of the oven.

his tone was much more at ease then when you had talked to him before. he was at home here, and you could tell. he wore home like a hand-me-down sweater, too big in the shoulders and worn in the elbows, but lovely and familiar in all of its comfort.

you sat atop a stool at his counter, nervously rubbing the sole of one foot into the top of the other. "thanks for cooking, jack," you said, "you really didn't have to do anything fancy, or anything." suddenly, sitting here in this space, surrounded by the evidence of his effort, you felt guilt settle deeply into your body. unworthiness, perhaps, of the smell of food in the air, of the drink he had poured for you so gently, of the smile he kept throwing your way.

that voice in your head huffed. look at all this, he said, look at the burden you are.

and you were feeling it, so heavily, until jack took a sip of his own drink and waved you off, furrowing his brow as if confused. "'s how a date works, right, baby?" he said. he tilted his head, teasing, "tellin' me no one's ever pulled out all the stops for you?"

and you laughed, shook your head, because you supposed it was, supposed no one really had.

you got to know each other even better over the meal he had cooked, surprising you once again with how easy everything felt between you.

"tell me what you did today," he might say, his voice soft, muffled from chewing.

and you might tell him about your classes, how midterms were coming up, how you were nervous but felt pretty good about most of them.

maybe then you would ask about practice that morning, to which he would tell you some story about his teammates, how they were giving it to him all morning.

"why?" you might ask, to which he would look up at you with that bashful flush.

"'cause they knew you were coming over tonight," he admitted, pushing broccoli around his plate. "kept saying how i was probably gonna make you a box of kraft or something."

you laughed, a genuine rumble from deep in your chest, tilting your head back. when you looked back at him, he was looking at you with something like wonder.

and maybe later, you would ask what his favorite part of his house was, and he would say it was his wall of framed pictures, which would make you melt a little bit, your heart a puddle of feeling.

too soon, you were setting down your fork and knife, crossing and uncrossing your legs in restlessness.

"did you like it?" he would ask, his voice so full of hope it could have killed you.

so full of hope that you reached across the counter to hold his hand in yours, if only for a moment, to squeeze his fingers in meaningful emphasis.

your touch caught him by surprise, hesitant for a moment before locking eyes with you, simmering, then squeezing your hand back in his warm, callused grip.

a grip that said i'm no natural, but i'll work for it. for you.

"it was perfect," you said honestly, because it was. "but please, please let me do the dishes," you pleaded, looking at him through your lashes, just wanting to do something to help.

it would feel so wrong to be doted on for the whole night while giving nothing in return. at the very least, it would feel foreign.

he shook his head playfully, but relented. "you can help," he conceded, "but 'm not letting a pretty girl clean up my mess by herself."

you scoffed with a smile, squeezed his hand a final time before pushing yourself off of your stool, gathering all the plates and glasses in a single go.

"where'd you learn how to do that?" he asked, genuinely, as he followed you to the sink.

you carefully set everything down in a graceful swoop, let your lips quirk upwards in nostalgia. "once a waitress, always a waitress," you explained, referring to your short-lived stint at a busy restaurant in toronto before auston insisted on you staying home.

and at the time, even a little now, it was a sweet gesture, one you had taken as him wanting you to relax, wanting you to have the freedom to do whatever you wanted with your days.

you just secretly wished he had considered that what you wanted to do with your days was working, going to school, doing something for yourself.

jack leaned on the edge of the counter, his lopsided grin like an electric jolt to your heart. "what, did they show you the door 'cause you were making all the tips?" he teased, nevertheless making you blush as you washed the plates with soap. "not fair for everyone else, 's that it?"

you gasped in dramatic accusation, flicking sudsy water from your fingers his direction. "how dare you?" you exclaimed before turning away from him in a huff, feigning sadness. "'s not like i can control this face."

his mouth widened in shock, then took on a scheme-filled smile as soon as the water hit him, a short laugh escaping him. "you didn't," he said, dipping his hand in the soap and flinging some at you.

you squealed, holding your hands up to shield your face as he reached in for more, bubbles filling both of his palms. "wait, jack, i'm sorry!" you laughed. "i swear, i didn't mean to!"

"liar," he cooed, his gaze sparking like a lighter, you swore you could hear the clicking sound. then he was right in front of you, only a breath apart, so close you swore you could feel the beat on his heart in your own chest.

he reached down and gently held your face in his hands, the soap now all along your jaw and cheeks.

you closed your eyes for a second, sighed in defeat, still so aware of him so close, of his touch, feather-light on you skin.

when they opened again, you both had not moved, frozen in place, perhaps willed by the moment, compelled by the growing sensation of rightness, of being exactly where you were supposed to be. when he spoke, he was speaking to your lips, dragging his gaze back up to your eyes like it weighed something stark.

"do you kiss on the second date?" he breathed, and your breath caught, your heart stuttering at his utter politeness, his thoughtfulness, the idea that he remembered things you had told him.

you bit your tongue, because, if you were being honest, you usually didn't - you took the rule of threes very personally. you liked to take your time, savored that lovely period of what could be. besides, you had learned the hard way what happened when you let people in your life too quickly, too hastily. you knew all too well that giving in to a toothy smile and a sleeve of tattoos only led to shrugs met with tears.

but here, now, with jack's soapy hands on your face, in the space he had so warmly accepted you into, you had the feeling this boy in front of you was going to be an exception. that he would be an exception for many things, perhaps the exception.

as if hearing your internal dialogue loud and clear, he dipped his head down until he was impossibly close, so when he spoke you could feel the words on your lips.

"please let me kiss you, baby," he pleaded, his eyes hooded and heavy, his voice a rasp.

deciding he was an exception indeed, you answered him by pressing up on your toes, meeting his mouth with yours in a kiss that bruised.

and later, you would think about how auston had never been a please let me kiss you man, instead he had been a give me a kiss, angel kind of guy.

after, you would think about how it felt so much more personal, so much more sweet to be asked please, can i instead of being ordered give me, give me, give me, like a demanding, red-faced child.

later, you would think about how the previous kisses in your life paled in comparison to the feeling of jack's lips on yours. how before this moment, you were used to kisses that felt like transactions, like the necessary box being checked before the next step, how they felt like being swallowed.

after, you would swoon over all the details and nuances, but, right now, there was nothing but his lips, his hands, the way he melted into you and practically whimpered when you kissed him harder.

kissing him didn't feel like being swallowed, it felt like taking the biggest deep breath of your life after slowly suffocating for years. you forgot you had soap bubbles all over your face, you forgot about auston, you forgot about everything - there was only him, and you, in this moment.

he held your face like you were something precious, moving one hand into your hair as you wrapped your arms around his neck. he tasted like lemon and rosemary, as well as something so deliciously him you could feel yourself become addicted immediately.

his grip in your hair was soft, and when his lips moved against yours it felt like melting snow in the warmth of the morning, pure and sweet and natural and right. kissing him felt like waking up with sunlight streaming through the windows, like laughing while taking your makeup off, like cinnamon and clove and home.

when you pulled away from him, only just slightly, both of you catching your breath heavily, he opened his eyes slowly, almost reluctantly. his eyes were almost glazed over, and you had a feeling yours looked in a similar way, syrupy and hot.

he gently swiped his thumb along your swollen bottom lip as if testing to make sure you were real, not just some shadow, not just a dream.

you traced your nails along his neck, smiled as he brought his hands down to wrap around your middle, resting them on the small of your back.

"god, you're just so fucking pretty, aren't you?" he breathed, like a revelation.

you swore he had your head spinning for days after, days you unfortunately and cruelly had to spend apart due to a week-long road trip for the team.

you told yourself it was a good thing that he was going away for a bit, as it would give you a second to regroup, to revaluate, to familiarize yourself with what your initial goal was for your plan. you reminded yourself over the week apart that jack was a means to an end, that whatever had blossomed between the two you had a finish line, that all of it was meant to make a point, then hopefully leave this whole hockey world behind after the damage had been done.

but then one of your girls would throw on the game, and jack's expressive face would fill the screen, chewing on the fingers of his gloves during warm ups, and your heart would sink at the thought of leaving him behind. and it just about combusted at the idea that you were using him, even though that's exactly what you were doing.

you've only been on two dates with him, only kissed once, you reminded yourself. he's probably seeing other people, anyways, probably with some other girl right now. it's not like you're exclusive. this is probably not a big deal to him.

the thought was comforting but also devastating, a brick in your stomach.

while he was away, midterms came and went. as you walked into your last one, you thought about maybe texting jack after, trying to get together tonight, since he would finally be back.

then your pen hit the paper and time passed in a blur.

you exited the lecture hall in a flurry of relief and pride, happy to have accomplished something so concrete, something that you had truly worked hard on.

walking down the stairs outside of the entrance, your smile stilled, frozen in shock, when you looked up from your feet and saw a familiar, beautiful figure leaning against his car, an excited grin on his face, flowers in his grip as he locked eyes with you, making your breath catch.

"is that jack hughes?" some kid from your class said altogether too loudly to his friend. you had seen that same kid wearing devils gear more than once.

his friend didn't look up from his phone. "who's jack hughes?" he replied.

you couldn't stop your disbelieving laugh, your smile, already making your cheeks sore as you finished descending the stairs, until you were in front of him, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him in for a hug before you even realized what you were doing.

this was so unlike you, really, letting yourself feel as deeply as you could without filtering it, but anything else would have felt so wrong it could have killed you. especially when he brought his arms around you without even a second's hesitation, held you tight and close, so you could feel the petals of the flowers on the back of your neck.

"you're here," you said, breathlessly, still shocked, into his firm chest.

"had to make it back for your last test," he said into your hair, both of you not wanting to let go.

"how did you know?" you murmured, pulling away from him, only slightly.

he loosened his embrace, pulled away to get a look at you, let his eyes run over you carefully, indulgently. he pushed your hair back from your face, his touch gentle, like you were a relic, something worth treasuring. "you said so, last week," he said simply, like it was obvious.

he said it as if, for years of your life, you had wished and yearned so reverently for auston to remember the little things, like your coffee order, like the dates on which your parents were coming to visit, like your anniversary.

he said it as if it didn't mean the entire world that he had listened, that he had remembered.

you only leaned into his chest, looked up at him with something seriously dangerous in your eyes, something that was not supposed to be there. "'d you bring me flowers, jack?" you asked, a playful note in your tone.

he flushed, so lovely, hid his face behind the bouquet, peeking only one deep blue eye out, as if embarrassed. "too much?" he asked, still shielding his face.

you laughed, squeezed his bicep lightheartedly. "just enough," you assured him, your eyes full of meaning, willing him to lower his shield, let you see the face you had been dreaming of all week. "thank you. i missed you."

you would have told him that a thousand times just to see the way his whole face lit up, like he could never hide how happy your words made him. he wore the late afternoon sunshine like a dream, the dewy rays dripping down his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, slow and golden as honey.

he had this way of making you feel like you were first choice, every time, and it was so foreign that you hadn't known you had been craving it until he had laid it at your feet like an offering. every time he texted you to check in, to ask how your day was, to finalize plans, it would send a flurry of butterflies swarming your chest, a rosy flush to the bridge of your nose.

he was so, so beautiful, inside and out, that you effectively forgot what the whole point of your plan was in the first place. you basically had forgotten about it, that day that he dragged you along with some of his friends to pick out a christmas tree.

"do i know any of these friends?" you had asked on the way up, riding shotgun, reaching over periodically to run your nails along his neck, just below his hairline, your way of saying i'm happy you're here. and he would reach over and rest his hand on your thigh, not possessive, just a reminder of your presence. a reminder that made your insides twist with want, nonetheless, that made your gaze simmer.

one of the things you appreciated so genuinely about jack was that he didn't rush you for even a second, so happy to go at whatever pace made you most comfortable, whatever pace would keep you around the longest. it felt almost wrong that his acceptance of a slow pace made you want to speed things up, made you want to know what he felt like in your hands, what sounds he might make if you teased him, what his voice would sound like in your bed.

he let out a rumble of a laugh at your question, shaking you from your daze. "you'll definitely recognize one of them," he said. "though i don't know if he's fully recovered from your last meeting."

"oh no." you paled. "not him." you winced, thinking about how you had probably bruised his inflated ego. not beyond repair, though, you knew. for guys like that, never beyond repair.

jack traced circles on your thigh with his thumb in affirmation. "don't worry, baby," he said, "told 'm to be on best behavior."

when you arrived, you recognized that boisterous voice immediately.

"so good to see you again, sugar," he drawled, his tone especially toying.

you decided to cut any hard feelings immediately, going up to him and giving him a quick hug in greeting. "i think i owe you a thank you, coach of the year," you said, pulling away with a smile.

luckily, he seemed to forgive quickly, even to appreciate your efforts. "i prefer my thank yous in hot chocolate form," he said, and you promised to fulfill his request later. he gave you his name in exchange for yours.

you spent the afternoon leisurely ambling around the grounds, looking at potential trees, but really just enjoying the company of those around you.

most of the time, you spent laughing, tucked into jack's side, finding warmth in the firm feeling of his hip against your waist.

"what about this one?" trevor asked, holding up an especially short and stout one.

the two of you decided jack would need a taller one to better suit the ceiling proportions in his living room.

walking around, it felt like you were in your own dreamy winter wonderland, in a fog of laughter and warmth and a million other beautiful things.

"you leave again tomorrow?" you asked at one point, unable to hide the slight disappointment in your voice. you peered up at him, your eyes warm, your cheeks rosy from the cold.

he met your gaze and nodded, hugged you tighter into his side. "back in a few days," he said.

you couldn't help but pout just a little. jack's roadtrips felt longer and more lonely than auston's ever had.

jack ran his thumb along your bottom lip. "what's that for, baby?" he asked.

you shrugged. "just gonna miss you, 's all," you told him honestly.

something sweet bubbled up in his gaze, but the moment was effectively interrupted by trevor's voice coming from behind you, now shockingly close.

"oh?" he said, dramatic, "what's this? is that - mistletoe?" he emphasized all of his words with dramatic pauses. you briefly thought that maybe, if he hadn't been all in on hockey, he would have made an excellent theater kid.

you both turned to find trevor standing right behind you, holding an alarmingly large branch of something that resembled mistletoe.

"where did you find that?" jack asked his friend.

"never mind that," trevor said, waving him off.

you elbowed jack lightly. "looking for an excuse not to kiss me, are you?"

he shook his head incredulously, as if you had said something funny. you were about to tease him again, but he didn't give you the chance, immediately taking your face in his hands and angling his head down slightly to meet you in a kiss that seared every bit of chill from the air.

would you ever get used to this? would his lips ever not feel like they belonged on yours? would your heartbeat ever not thrum, like some perfect harmony?

the warmth of his hands on your face, the security of yours against the plane of his chest, all of it, everything - it was so perfect you wanted to stay here, just like this, forever. and the thought didn't even scare you as want began to pool inside of you, hot and heavy.

a mixture of a cough and a laugh had the two of you pulling away from each other. one of jack's other friends who had tagged along let out a low whistle, making you blush deeper.

jack just slung a heavy arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

luckily, trevor's attention had already strayed, as he was now holding the branch over his own head and the head of the other friend. "don't fight it!" he was calling out as the friend broke out into a light gait.

"get away from me, you scumbag," the poor kid called out over his shoulder.

your eyes were stuck on jack's face, still hazy from your kiss. he turned to you, his mouth quirking up. "staring, baby?" he said, low enough for only you to hear.

you nodded, shameless. "want you," you told him plainly, barely recognizing the tone of your own voice.

the fire in his own eyes welled up as you placed your hands flat on his chest. "fuck, now, baby?" he asked, looking around to where his friends chased each other around.

you bit your lip, pleaded him with your eyes. "please, jack," you said, "please take me home."

he took your hand in his immediately, tossed some parting words over his shoulder to his friends, who paused, watched the two of you stumble into jack's car with urgency.

as he started the engine and pulled away, you heard a faint the hell are we supposed to do with this tree?

the car ride back felt longer than it really was, both of you practically buzzing with want. you kept a hand in his hair, his palm planted firmly on the inside of your thigh, close but not close enough.

you let out a sigh of relief when he pulled into the driveway, let him pull you into the house, push you up against the closed door, kiss you again with heat and force and somehow, such softness.

it was the softness that filled you with want. his desire was obvious, especially when he pressed his hips up, hard against you, but that didn't mean he wasn't just so gentle with you, so in tune to what you wanted.

you fisted your hands in his hair, pulled until his posture faltered, until his lips parted further and he moaned into your mouth.

you hooked a leg around his hip to bring him closer, relished the way he began to rock against you.

"fuck, baby," he breathed out, strained, stuttering in places, "don't wanna fuck you against the door."

later, you would think about how auston had never had such a problem. he had never cared where you were, how uncomfortable a position had made you. sometimes you had thought he found his own bed boring.

but jack just pulled you into his room, lightly rocked you back onto the bed, pressed soft kisses down your jaw, your neck, your stomach. you both pushed and pulled clothes aside, looking to give the other as much access as possible.

"so fuckin' pretty," he mumbled against your stomach, making you flush all over.

"please, jack," you whined as he slowly dragged his fingers through your folds, making you shiver.

"what do you need, baby?" he asked, pumping himself a few times, up and down, his voice low and rough.

you sat up for a moment, took hold of his hand, peered up at him through your lashes as you spit into it.

he groaned, ran his hand over his cock, now glistening with your spit. desire glowed in your eyes like fireflies. "tell me," he begged.

you laid back on the bed again, the smell of him everywhere. another time, you would insist on feeling him in your mouth, maybe on feeling his mouth on you, but you knew the both of you were far too desperate for that.

"just need you inside me, baby, please," you said, your eyes raking over his figure above you, all gentle slopes and hard lines together.

"ask me so good, baby, so good for me," he said, a careful rasp. he thumbed your clit, making you jolt, dragging his fingers through you again before bringing them to his mouth. "and so ready, hm?"

you nodded feverishly, your mouth falling open as he finally pushed into you, his groan deep.

you whined, the stretch so surreal as you reached forward to grasp at his forearm, anything to ground you.

staying still in the stretch for a second, you waited for the feeling to weaken, but it didn't, not really.

he dropped his head, his exhale coming out shallow, the muscles in his shoulders constrained.

you tightened your grip on his forearm, let your nails dig into him to pull him back to you.

"fuck, baby, i can't," he bit out, "can't, i swear."

you rolled your hips back and forth, trying to will some movement from him. "please, jack, please move," you begged. "please fuck me, baby."

never one to deny you, he began a slow pace, the friction and depth almost unbearable. one of his hands dug into your hip, so hard you could feel bruising, the other beginning to rub careful circles on your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.

"you're so deep," you choked, "faster, baby, need you faster."

he obliged, picking up the pace of his rhythm, moving his hand faster against your clit, making that wave well up within you, forcing moans from your throat.

"fuck, sound so pretty, baby," he said, a glistening sheen now painted across his brow, his collarbones. "so pretty, squeezing me so perfect."

the muscles of his stomach began to contract as you felt yourself dangerously close.

his rhythm continued, bruising in depth and force, so lovely in softness. you tugged his hand from your hip, placed his fingers on your tongue, desperate for something to do with your mouth. you sucked, pulling a guttural moan from him. "don't stand a chance when you do that, baby, swear," he said, "fuck, don't stand a chance with you, hm?"

you felt yourself smile around his hand, your eyes watering, glazed over.

"gonna make me cum, baby," he whined, his motions becoming jerky, his voice little more than a plea. "cum with me, baby, hm? make me feel so good, yeah?"

you fell over the edge at his words, felt his orgasm follow yours almost immediately, the air warm and sticky around you. he collapsed on top of you, his exhales like liquid on your skin, yours like dreamy sighs as he pulled you to him, held you close as you waited for the rise and fall of your chests to settle.

he drew his fingers lazily around the flesh of your thigh, your hip, you pushed his hair back from his face as you both fought sleep, wanting just a few more seconds in the conscious presence of the other.

everything was so lovely you could barely stand it.

you should have known it wouldn't last long.

a day into jack's time away, you received a text from one of your friends in toronto. it was a picture from auston's instagram with the message just thought you should know. we miss you.

something cracked in your chest at the photo of your ex-fiance and this new girl. it wasn't really jealousy, definitely not desire, no, it was harder to pinpoint.

maybe it was the fact that after four years of being together, and after a whole year of being engaged, auston had never once even thought about posting a picture of the two of you.

and you had always chalked it up to the fact that you didn't have any social media, but now, you realized there was something to be said about letting the world know that you were taken.

and you also knew, now, that that was a statement auston had been unable to make your entire relationship.

a voice in the back of your mind, tone watery with tears, wailed. what makes her so special? it pressed. what makes her so much better than me?

it didn't help that she looked absolutely nothing like you. you wondered passingly if you would have preferred a look-a-like to be staring back at you through your screen. you didn't really know, but you did know that her features were sharp to your soft, your eyes are hair completely different in coloring. her face had you questioning if he had ever really found you beautiful, or if you had been the exception to his regular type. the idea weighed heavily on your shoulders like a cape made of cement.

but you knew, at the end of the day, that it was not about her.

and so you decided that as much as your relationship with jack had become genuine, maybe it was time to bring back the plan, just a little.

it can be two things, you told yourself, jack doesn't need to get hurt.

so when jack arrived back from the road, your relationship now teetered on a tightrope, balancing between two things, two motives like a trapeze artist.

still, you tried your best not to let your desire to rip out the heart of your ex-fiance stand in between you and jack. you could be bloodthirsty and gentle at the same time, you told yourself. two things.

the idea became easier when jack began to ask you to come to his games.

at first, you had been skeptical. auston hadn't wanted you there until maybe a year and half into your relationship. you didn't want to push this, press your luck, make yourself a burden, in fear of him abandoning you.

"are you sure you want me there?" you had asked the first time, a little timid, your face resting on your clasped hands, sitting at his kitchen counter, keeping him company as he made something on the stove.

he had turned to you, head tilted, confused. "of course i do, baby," he had said, calmly and clearly. "i want you everywhere i am."

and that had been the end of that.

so you began to become a regular attendee at his games, getting to know the people of his life more closely, becoming a fixture in his life more solidly.

you let him post a picture of the two of you, so touched that he would even ask. he showed you the post when he was done.

you kissed his shoulder in response. "your eyes are closed, jack," you said, half-laughing at the fact that he had chosen this picture, so flawed in nature.

"hm?" he looked at the picture again, then shrugged. "hadn't noticed. no one's gonna be looking at me, anyways."

you shook your head, disbelieving. he was making it hard for this to be two things. he was making it really, really hard to care if your ex-fiance even saw this post. he was making it really hard to care about your ex-fiance at all.

"i don't believe you, sometimes," you mused aloud.

he twirled a lock of your hair, mesmerized. "how?"

you tilted your head back to allow him easier access. "you're pretty perfect, you know that?" you smiled up at him, blissful. "too perfect."

seeing his face go pink with your praise made you make a mental vow to tell him more often.

and he gave you every opportunity to be surprised by his perfection, over and over.

every kiss was something teenage you would have dreamed about, every time he led you into his bedroom was something current you dreamed about. how he seemed to enjoy every moment no matter what you were doing, even how clearly he communicated with you during your first fight, all of it astounded you.

he made all of your friends jealous, but so happy for you. he met them, one time, when he dropped you off to get coffee with them after class.

he was so respectful with them, asked them genuine questions, but never anything that told you that he wasn't in on you one hundred percent.

when auston met your best friend in toronto, he had dropped your hand that he had been holding.

"didn't tell me she was so pretty, angel," he had said, and you had hoped it was just to show you he was putting in an effort to impress the people that were important to you.

when jack said he had to be going, to get to morning skate, he just kissed your cheek. "use my card, yeah, baby?" he called out, waiting for your nod and smile before he drove away.

how had you stumbled into this? was it possible that it wasn't too good to be true?

jack had asked you to come to toronto when the devils headed up north to play the leafs, because he knew you had lived there, because he had lived there, too, and wanted to show you around. and it had reached a point where refusing him when he offered a piece of himself to you seemed cruelly impossible.

you told yourself that it was just another game, just another day. it helped that you honestly didn't feel any attachment to this rink, even to this city. you had watched jack play plenty, now, and you were determined to treat this game just the same as any other, if not rooting for jack with just a little more urgency, a little more emotion.

you loved how easy he was to cheer for. you loved how you could see how much he loved the game, how he smiled after every good play, how he saw things you could have never seen on the ice. you could practically hear his laugh in the rafters, see his imperfect teeth in the glass. he was everywhere, here, are you loved it.

of course, you noticed that your ex-fiance was here, but it honestly wasn't even that bad. if anything, it was confirmation that you were over him, that what you had with jack was real, that you weren't in for revenge anymore. you weren't in this for auston at all.

until he scored, and his goal song echoed through the arena. you knew that this year, the leafs had decided to try out individual goal songs after players scored, songs that they chose before the season started.

you did not know, however, that auston matthews' goal song was the song that, months ago, was set to be the soundtrack to your first dance.

the crowd was eating it up, of course they were, the juxtaposition of auston's dynamic scoring ability with the old-fashioned crooning of you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you.

the song seemed to reverberate off of the walls, into your head, behind your eyes, where it settled like thick fog. it smelled like champagne, waxy makeup, hairspray. your eyes began to water, which made your throat constrict.

like a dream, maybe a hazy memory, your first dance that never was flashed across your mind. an ornate, almost gauche white dress, the beautiful heels you had been practicing to wear. his pressed suit, slicked back hair, stupid designer socks that used to make you laugh. his hand on your waist, your arms around his neck, the two of you lost in each other, swaying, swirling around the floor to this song, surrounded by loved ones, high on laughter and the future and love.

slowly, the image blinked out of your vision as the song faded and the puck dropped, play starting up again.

it blinked out like a dying star, and then it was exactly that. dead.

because as you trained your eyes back on the ice, never once did they stray from 86 in red. never once did anything like regret or nostalgic desire well up in your heart, because you were not the one who lost. you were not the one with something to prove.

finally, you buried that wedding dress, laid it six feet under, let the soil spoil it, knowing one day you would wear a white dress and it would mean something to both parties involved.

in a breath, the game ended, and jack won, and he was truly all you were thinking about.

waiting for him, though, practically bouncing up and down, you were suddenly pulled into a side hallway by a grip you would recognize anywhere.

you were not surprised to look up and see the calculating eyes of auston matthews looking down at you with some lethal combination of heat and arrogance.

"angel," he said, a greeting that made you grind your teeth.

you pulled your arm away from him, shook him off of you, willed strength and stone into your posture and tone. "cool goal song, asshole," you bit out.

"i missed you too," he cooed, not taking you seriously, even now. his frame seemed so imposing now, looming large, too large for someone you didn't trust.

you rolled your eyes. "if you'll excuse me, i'm waiting for someone." you turned to leave the hallway, go back to the exit where jack would surely be walking out of any minute.

auston grabbed at your wrist, and it burned. "what, you mean that kid?" he scoffed, but didn't let go. "c'mon, angel, you know he's nothing to you." he rubbed a circle into your wrist that once, might have been soothing, but now made you feel sick. "you know you're all for me."

and you could have said so many things. like how that kid was your age, actually, so what did that say about him? like how that kid was twice the man he would ever be. like how this would be the last time you ever saw him, the last time he would ever have your attention.

the opening of a door ripped you from your thoughts as both you and auston glanced up to see jack in the doorframe, his bag slung over his shoulder, his face flushed from the game, tired blue eyes caught on auston's hand around your wrist.

time froze for a millisecond as you felt like you were pulled between worlds. it can be two things, you had told yourself once. it was never two things.

you watched as painful realization settled in jack's eyes as he simply turned away, let the door close behind him.

you ripped your arm from auston's grasp. "you've never taken me seriously," you told him then, looking him square in the face, your tone steady and serious as anything. "but if you believe anything i say, let it be that you are nothing to me, and you never will be again."

for the second time, you were the one to leave, this time running towards something worth saving.

you cursed under your breath, looking around for that head of soft brown hair.

you found him in a different hallway, sitting on the ground, his bag slumped next to him, his back leaning against the wall, his feet flat on the ground.

for a single moment, it was so quiet you swore that your exhales echoed against the walls. he didn't turn to face you, but obviously knew you were there.

"so you're with him, then?" he practically whispered, his tone like a cleaver to your chest, so defeated and blindsided, almost like he was talking to himself.

you slowly made your way over to him, sat down next to him, mirrored his position. side by side, but he felt so far away. "i'm not," you said back to him.

he let out some kind of bitter laugh, a sound you hated, a sound you hoped you would never have to hear again. "so that was you making friends?" he picked at a thread on his dress pants. "just meeting new people, 's that it?"

you turned to face him, then, but he still faced forward, as if looking at you would ruin him. "it's not what you think," you said, softly.

"well, what is it?" he paused, looked at you, then, and he wore his sadness like a suit fit for mourning. "be honest with me, please."

you took a shaky breath, knowing that this, very possibly, might be the last time you would ever be so close to him. knowing that your next words, your explanation, it might drive him away from you forever, before you had even really had the chance to have him.

you savored this breath, this liminal space between the truth and the now.

"i was going to marry him," you said, and the confession felt like letting go of every single vengeful thought you had ever had, like all the spite and disdain in your body had evaporated into dust.

"you were going to marry auston matthews," jack murmured, his face blank, his tone confused.

"yes."

"but you're not anymore?" he asked, looking at you, leaning his cheek onto his knees like an impatient elementary school kid waiting for recess.

you shook your head. "no. he cheated on me."

there was a pause, brutal silence, as his brow furrowed in confusion, his fists clenched briefly before letting go. his gaze fell to his hands for a moment, and when he spoke again it was so cautious, so pointed, that your stomach sank. "and then you just happened to start dating me?" he looked so tired. "same job, same goals, pretty much same life." he let out a breath. "you can't tell me that's a coincidence."

you sighed, prayed to whatever god would listen that honesty would count for something. "no, it wasn't a coincidence." your heart felt like it was lulling itself to sleep. "you were never a coincidence."

he dropped his head between his knees, and hurt vibrated through the air like sound waves. you could feel his hurt in your fingertips, could have melted in down, frozen it, wielded it like a weapon. "tell me something, baby," he pleaded, muffled by his legs. "please."

you knew it was unfair, but you laid a gentle hand on his fingers. "let me tell you all of it, please, jack, and then you don't have to see me again if you don't want to."

he took a breath that you felt in your bones, then in an act of mercy you cherished, gave a soft nod.

so you did. you told him the whole story - how you had been so devastated and hurt that you were blinded by a desire to make auston suffer. how you had chosen jack on purpose, because you knew it would cut the deepest. how you had not simply shown up randomly at that bar, all that time ago, how all of it was part of a plan, down to flirting with his friend, down to that first game of pool.

he didn't push your hand away, actually leaned his leg into your arm as you told him the story. the scary part's over, you wanted to say, you can stop hiding under the covers, now.

and so you told him about how he had hijacked your plan entirely. how you never expected to determine how good your day was based on how often you heard his laugh, how no one could have predicted how often you dreamed of his smile, how days when he was away truly felt like a loss.

"if i had known you, i never would have put you through this," you told him, finally, honestly. "i would have left you alone."

he was quiet for a moment, and then he picked his head up and looked at you, genuinely, thoughtfully. "you never would have used me to get back at your ex-fiance?" he asked, but there was not really any bite in his tone.

you tried your luck, reached up, brushed his damp hair from his forehead. "i did use you," you admitted. "and i don't have an excuse." he looked at you with clear eyes. "it was mean, and cruel, and all i can do is say that i'm so, so sorry and i will never hurt you like that again. i promise, that's the truth."

in the silent moments after you finished speaking, you closed your eyes for a brief moment, waiting for his reaction.

when you opened your eyes, he was looking at you. he opened his legs and knees wide, held open his arms, waiting. "i believe you."

it took no convincing for you to settle into the space he had created for you, to lean back against his chest, feel his heartbeat between your shoulder blades, his arms coming around your sides to clasp in front of your middle.

"you believe me?" you said, almost a whisper. you picked up his hand, held it to your chest, shocked that he was letting you. shocked that he was still here, making space for you.

you let the smell of him engulf you. it felt similar to walking into your mother's closet - the evidence of her living, loving, everywhere around you. the evidence of jack was everywhere, now, all over you, growing like some carnivorous plant over your heart.

"you promised," he said simply, into your hair.

and how spectacular it felt for someone to take you seriously, to take your words at face value, to understand that when you promised something, you meant it.

it felt like words were failing you, so you brought his hand to your mouth and pressed your lips to his palm lightly.

he hummed into your hair. "tell me about now," he said, voice steady and patient.

"hm?" you twisted your neck to look him in the eye, leaned back further until the back of your head rested on his chest.

"you told me about before. about him," he said, his eyes swimming with home, with hope. "tell me about us. tell me about now."

you searched for words, wondering how you could convey just how important he was to you, just how deeply you cared.

you could have said that his eyes were the most beautiful ocean you'd ever swam in. you could have said that kissing him felt like swallowing stardust, that listening to him talk about his day was a privilege and honor.

you could have said how you loved his voice after a long day, how he wore his emotions openly, shamelessly, how kind he was to those around him, how he didn't let you leave his house in doubt for even a second about his feelings, how he let laughter come easy, how he was many things but never, ever, indifferent.

you could have said so many things, but sometimes poetry and fancy words are inadequate, just diluting the true meaning, make it taste like watered-down juice, faint and lacking.

you could have said so many things, but you just told him the truth.

"i wake up every morning and i think of you," you said. "every moment you're not with me, i wish you were." you willed every ounce of meaning into your gaze. "you are my first choice, every time, jack. and it's not even close."

there was a silence as he processed what you said, and something like adoration dawned in his gaze like a springtime sunrise.

he tilted his head down, pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that told you he understood.

that no matter how you had gotten here, you were here, now.

"tell me again," he whispered against your mouth, and you smiled into his. that, you could do.

fin.

#hockey #nhl #hockey smut #nhl smut #smut #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #quinn hughes #trevor zegras smut #jack hughes x reader #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews #auston matthews smut #auston matthews imagine #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes imagine #new jersey devils #toronto maple leafs

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toji-bunny-girl · 4 months

Text

𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇’𝐒 𝐁!𝐓𝐂𝐇

CHARACTERS— Grinch!Toji Fushiguro x sexy goddess goofy fem!reader SUMMARY— The thief of Christmas joy, the thief of children's gifts, and this time, the thief of your boyfriend's slutty surprise. WORD COUNT— 3k+ CONTENT WARNING— slight angst, swearing, goofiness, smut, porn with plot, adultery, bondage, size difference, orgasm denial, NTR, spanking, fingering, blowjob, oral sex, no protection, noncon A/N— I wanna get fucked dumb by Toji too (hope yall don’t notice the obvious bias in smut between this and the other two Kinkmas fics 🤭 this man just makes me 100000x hornier)

“You sure you can breathe in there?” Miya questioned your sanity, a frown etched upon her face as she stared at the way you shifted on your knees, tied up with red ropes in a Santa lingerie.

“I mean, there’s a few small holes I made at the back,” you pointed with your eyes, an awkward laugh skipping out of your throat.

“You’re fucking insane, (Y/N),” your best friend sighed, shutting her eyes to take a rest from your ridiculous sight. “All this for what? You’re not even sure if Mr. Vanilla likes kinky aah shit like this.”

“Never back down never what…” you softly mumbled, trying to keep yourself focused on what you’ve prepared for your boyfriend this Christmas. He’d return home from work to find a giant ribboned box on his bed. Inside would be you, all tied up in your new erotic red lingerie.

You’ve managed to convince yourself that this was all a wonderful erotic surprise for Seiji. When in reality it was nothing but a catalyst to excite your sexual relationship with him. The thing is—your boyfriend is the most vanilla partner you’d ever have, while without his knowledge; you were the kinkiest slut your friends had ever known.

Throughout your 9 months of dating, sex was infrequent and soft. To put things truthfully, the act with your boyfriend is boring. You’ve tried encouraging him to be more experimental with you—to lightly chock you or even slap your ass when he’s fucking you. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, and maybe that’s part of the reason you fell for him.

He’s gentle and kind, ever so careful to handle you like you’re a fragile piece of art. Seiji was nothing like your past lovers, with him you learned true romance. With the price of your sexual satisfaction and ardour.

So this Christmas, you thought of a plan to surprise him—his sexy girlfriend all tied up for him to use however he wanted. It’s every man’s dream come true to have a fervid hottie on their bed. But when it comes to Seiji, you could never be sure of it; he’s different than the others but he’s your Seiji.

“What’s the time now,” you raised your eyebrows as Miya peeked at her phone screen.

“6:56.”

“How’s my makeup? How’s my hair?” you dubiously asked, needing everything to be perfect as if you had just popped out of a Playboy magazine.

“Very sexy,” Miya assured under her breath as she brushed a wild strand of hair away from your face. Her eyes scanned your face to spot any smudged makeup, “As always, so pretty.”

“Thank you so much, Miya. Once Seiji fucked the shit out of me and get me pregnant—I’m naming one of my kids after you,” you frivolously said, leaving the girl chuckling at your words.

“Alright, I have to leave before Vanilla Man comes back,” she checked the time once more before grabbing the lid of the giant box. “But I gotta give it to you, this shit is low-key weird but original.”

“Thanks for your compliment,” you grinned at your friend, before feeling the light over your head gone and replaced by darkness.

“Bye, (Y/N). Don’t die in there!” Miya’s voice muffled through the cardboard as she tapped the box goodbye. Silence ensued and soon, you heard the front door slam close.

Seiji had better not be home late if he didn’t want his prurient surprise to turn into a horror documentary on YouTube.

Your joints were starting to ache within a minute of waiting, the kneeling position you chose obviously backfired. Sure, the pose is cute and all—but is it worth the growing pain in your knees? If you’re getting absolutely ravished by tonight; then yes.

By the next few minutes, you began to lament about the choices you had made. Your knees hurt so bad it felt like someone was flaying their whip onto your skin, and you were busy chanting your mantra just to stop your tears from flowing out and ruining your hours-spent makeup.

Never back down never what…?

“Fuck it,” you cried, leaning your weight sideways against the cardboard just to lessen the burden on your joints. But as much as you regretted everything, the box toppled to the side along with your body. “Shit! Oh my god, what the fuck do I do?! Help!”

You tried to wriggle yourself out of the giant box but with your limbs bounded tight, you could do nothing but writhe like a worm. You must’ve looked like a clown.

Then, you heard it. The soft shutting of the door and the floorboard slightly creaked with footsteps. Though, each stride seemed to be a thump—were Seiji’s feet ever so heavy?

But you don’t ruminate over that, you have a bigger problem on your hands right then. Your boyfriend was going to walk in on you awkwardly lying on your side, what seemed to be a lewd surprise became a scene of embarrassment; you looked as if you were kidnapped and tied up, and it wasn’t in any sensual form you desired.

The bedroom door creaked open and your pulse began thumping fast in your ears. You could feel your face scorching into scarlet red, and you squeezed your lips shut, trying not to make a sound. Perhaps you were drunk off the hot embarrassment, you thought perhaps if you were silent enough, he wouldn’t notice the giant Christmas-themed box sitting in the middle of his bed, right?

Then you felt yourself being hoisted up into the air, and confusion struck your being. What was Seiji doing? Did he know about you hiding inside the box? Now was he fooling around with you?

“Seiji…?” you softly mumbled, and you were met with long silence as a reply. What exactly was going on? Feeling yourself put down on the wooden floor, you heard shuffling before you were propelled backwards from a harsh kick. “Hey!”

This wasn’t Seiji. Never was he one to ever act so rashly upon anyone or anything. And your skin began to crawl with a newfound fear. If a burglar were to find you helpless and unable to defend yourself…you were lucid with what could happen to you.

Fuck, man. You internally cursed, God was obviously making fun of your dumb little idea. Fuck the originality, you wanted out more than anything.

“One of ya’ fairies stuck in there?” the stranger spoke gravelly, his voice gruff like the rough bark of trees. Then he let out a deep laugh, slamming a palm atop the box. “You guys should start tellin’ Santa he can’t be throwin’ all the hard jobs to the tiny elves and fairies.”

The lid of the box lifted open and you squeezed your eyes shut from the sudden prickling exposure of bright rays. Slowly, your sight adjusted to the light and you peeked your eyelids open to look at the intruder.

A Christmas suit, and a marked face of animosity—the male squatted over your tied form with a look of uncongenial nonchalance. “Not a fairy…nor an elf. A human?”

“No shit, you crazy bitch. My boyfriend’s coming back any second now, and he’d beat the shit out of you!” you tried to daunt the stranger, though with a single look at him—you knew it was improbable that Seiji could take on this guy.

“You can see me?” he sounded amused, hands slightly waving around his sides.

“What do you mean ‘I can see you’? You’re a ghost or something?”

“Not quite,” he sighed, and you could smell burnt tobacco from his breath. “You ever heard of the Grinch?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well, turns out Christmas isn’t fake,” you stared as he gave you a slight smirk, the dark scar down his lips rising.

“And you’re telling me you’re ‘grinch’?” your eyes narrowed, scepticism in your features.

“Smart girl.”

“When really, you’re breaking into people’s houses and trying to convince them you’re a Christmas character whenever you’re caught red-handed.”

“Mm, yer’ ain’t wrong,” his eyes wandered to the side.

“That makes you a burglar, man.”

“One that no one can see… except for you’,” his eyebrows drew closer into a frown. “How odd.” His features shifted all of a sudden, and he relaxed into a sigh. “Fairy dust?”

“What?”

“This,” he pointed at the glitter on your eyelids.

“Oh, this? I found them on my dressing table so I thought why not,” you shrugged, rendering the hulking male to crack into a chuckle of disbelief.

“These are fairy dusts. The fairies leave them the night before Christmas to spread joy and wonders to people, ya’ get me? Anyone who touches ‘em would be able to see us,” he spoke apathetically. “And my job…” his hand reached out towards you, thumb swiping over your eyelid, “is to steal these.”

“My makeup!” you shouted, trying to wriggle yourself away from him. “I spent 2 hours doing them!”

“Why would ‘cha put random glitter on yer’ eyes anyway,” he retorted, grabbing your much smaller face with his large hand and using the other to wipe the fairy dust off of your skin.

“I hate you, bitch!”

“The name’s Toji, sweetheart,” he purred, the lowest cadence of his voice scratching the itch in your eardrums. Your eyebrows knitted into a glare, trying to mask the dark heat on your cheeks with that lour look of yours.

“You’ve got your stupid ‘fairy dust’ now. Happy?”

“Nope.”

“What more do you want?!”

“I haven’t picked a present to steal yet…” something in his eyes coruscate, a sharp ray of emerald green hared by in volant flash. In that moment, you could feel something stormy, so wild and barbaric in him—something you’ve missed since Seiji.

“I-I’ve got nothing here,” you huffed, stammering over your words as you shifted your gaze away.

“Ain’t you one?” his eyes raked over your figure, cleavage pushed up for view, and soft thighs presented like a toy. You felt naked underneath him; and for for some reason your nipples began to perk against the thin fabric of the scarlet red lingerie, panties beginning to dampen with arousal.

This man looked like a good fuck—and boy did your body needed one. Your lips paused open to say something, but you were simply cut off by a sudden shock when you felt your body lifted into the air once more. Toji was carrying all your weight with a hefty arm, pulling you out of the box and settling you onto the floor.

“Gee, thanks. Shit was starting to feel claustrophobic,” you never knew you were holding so much breath in when the male began to untie the ropes that held you. To be more specific, the ropes around your body except your hands. “Think you missed a spot, buddy.”

“Didn’t miss it,” he stood, watching as your legs wearily crumbled onto the ground. “Never intended to free ya’.”

You raised a brow, tilting your head upwards to look at him. And now from your height, you’d never imagine the male to be this huge. Even through his clothes, you could visibly spot the bulking muscles underneath, and the undeniable bulge in his pants.

Toji let out a low chuckle when he caught your eyes, showing the whites of your orbs as you stared; your tongue wet from salivating what could be under those stupid Christmas pants, a quiet gulp as your clit throbbed.

“Like what ‘cha lookin’ at?” his hot palm rested over your head, slightly messing up your hair but you couldn't care less anymore. His thumb tucked down all the restraint over his cock, and the sight of it made your breath hitched.

Dark tip with a prominent vein running down the bottom of his shaft, your lips almost instinctively opened to fit what you could into your mouth.

“Good girl,” he grinned, feeling the way your saliva coat his cock, tongue flickering and flattening against his throbbing tip. You gently stuffed your mouth with his member, before hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head around his length.

Toji sharply sucked the air through his teeth, one hand fisting your hair and the other pumping the part of his shaft where you couldn’t reach.

“Such a fuckin’ slut,” he groaned under his breath, peering down at the way your eyes closed shut in silent contentment, slowly inching more of him through your lips until his tip was bumping against the wall of your throat.

You threw your head back after gagging a while on his cock, a string of saliva connecting his member with your tongue. Your jaw was getting sore and you had to take a quick breather until you were forced down again by Toji’s palm.

“Didn’t say you could stop,” he spat, thrusting his hips forward and stuffing your throat full of him. He was so big, too much to handle and tears began to well around your eyes; yet you’re moaning to the thought of his size, how it’ll just reach perfectly deep in your hole.

“Mmhp!” you whined, muffled by his member but Toji didn’t pause until after a few long, deep pushes into your swollen throat. Stuffing your mouth full of his cum, leaking out from the edges of your aching lips.

You spat his semen onto the ground before he grabbed you up onto the bed, spreading your thighs open with his breath still unstable from his previous ejaculation. “Fuckin’ whore,” he laughed, a thick thumb rubbing over your pulsing panty-covered clit. “Suckin’ dick got ‘cha wet?”

“Speak for yourself,” you breathed, “staring at my body got you hard?”

“How ‘bout you fill that mouth with my name instead of yer’ smart words?” his eyes were like green gems under shades; dark, sensual emerald. Slipping your panty off, Toji clicked his tongue when his eyes settled upon your glisteningly wet pussy, a smirk riding the edge of his mouth up.

You let in a sharp inhale when he stuffed two thick fingers into your cunt, your essence already coating his digits within a few pumps, the calloused skin of his fingers spurring on tingles in your pussy walls. He was a maven with his hands, fingers ably searching for the spongey spot inside of you, long enough to reach where you couldn’t—nor Seiji.

Seiji. Your mind began to plague with guilt for your poor boyfriend, you didn’t want to do him wrong but fuck—you just couldn’t stop when Toji had your sweet spot; rubbing over your clenching walls with a thumb busy swiping over your swollen clit.

Your pussy tightened around his digits as you cried for release, moans and whines filled the room as you buckled your hips. But as much as you wanted it, Toji refused to lead you through; a raffish smirk on his face as you swore at him.

“I was about to cum, asshole!” you gasped, visibly annoyed with the frown on your face. You raised a leg to facetiously kick him, but he caught your ankle in his grasp before dragging your body closer to him.

“Didn’t catch ‘cha beggin’,” a deep chuckle rumbled out of his lungs as his hands trailed up your thighs.

“I don’t beg for nothing,” you tried to play bratty.

“Oh, yea?” your body jumped up when he slapped the tip of heavy cock against your clit, your eyes seemingly dripping with desperation over your mask of a twisted frown. You wanted him inside of you so bad, and he could see it right through you.

Slipping a few inches his member into your folds, you could feel your cunt burn from the stretch, gripping onto his girth as he slowly forced himself in.

“Shit—” Toji swore under his breath, watching the way your pussy sucked him in, needy for him to fill your insides. You let out an exhale when his cock brushed over your sweet spots, your abdomen tingling when he reached deep.

He placed his arms on both sides of your head, hovering over your body with his, hips thrusting in and out of you. You could feel his warmth radiating towards yours, heating up your cheeks as you blinked up at him. His head dipped down to kiss you, sucking on your lips before sinking his teeth down, a hand slipping up to rest on your throat.

Your face began to turn red as he tightened his grip on your neck, his pace starting to roughen, the bed frame hitting against the wall so hard you doubted it wouldn't leave a mark. Your head was starting to get light, eyes blanking out with each blink and you could see stars popping in your sight.

You clenched your teeth as you shut your eyes, focusing on the pleasure building up in your womb, hugging Toji close with your thighs.

Just a little more, you thought as you peered down at where the two of you connected, his cock disappearing down your pussy and slipping out. Instead of filling your cunt with his length again, he let his hands hugged his girth, jerking himself off in front of you.

“Haah—fuck!” you swore, biting down your lower lip. “I was close, again!”

“What d’ya say?”

“Need your cock, please?” you cried, tired of the second orgasm he refused for you, and you were met with Toji manhandling you onto your knees, glistening cunt for his view as he stuffed a finger into your folds, teasing you with light stimulation.

That was until your phone buzzed with a new notification from your boyfriend, panic set in your being as you stared at your phone.

Sorry I’ll be a little late home, I had a quick meeting with the team :/ Don’t worry tho I just got out of the station. On the way home rn :) Miss you!

“W-Wait! My boyfriend’s coming back…!” you tried to crawl away from him, but it was all in obvious futility as he held your hips, sinking his throbbing cock into your needy pussy.

“Shut yer’ mouth up and cum for me. Would ‘cha, pretty girl?” he groaned into your ear, his fingers sunk into your cheeks as he gripped onto your face, hips fucking deep into your sloppy cunt and fat tip kissing your cervix.

Your nerves were dancing upon fire, and you could do nothing but roll your eyes to the back of your head, your lips pausing open in pleasure as you let out croaked moans. Toji’s hips were positioning harder in and out of your sore pussy, his fingers swiping fast against your clit.

He could feel your walls clenching tighter than ever around him, and he shoved your head into the bedsheets to muffle out your screams, your bounded hands fighting against the restraints, and your back arching down towards the bed.

With his cock brushing over your G-spot and hitting your cervix for the nth time, your essence came squirting out of your core. You were silent for a second, sent to a heaven of pure ecstasy and your body twitched in pleasure you had never felt before.

Toji was still busy chasing his own high, simply using you as a fucktoy to be roughened up however he wanted—disregarding your overstimulated cunt and continuing to shove his cock into you. You could hear his groans starting to grow louder, feel his hips fastened and soon, warm spurts of thick cum filled your womb.

Your thighs shook in overstimulation as your whole weight fell onto the bed; sweat sticking your lingerie onto your skin and the bedsheets dirtied with your makeup. Toji had ruined you as he fucked, yet you’ve never found such contentment in sex.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered, pasting a kiss onto your drooling lips, watching in satisfaction as your eyes blanked out from the fucking. “Tell yer’ lil’ boyfriend I said welcome.”

“(Y/N), I’m home!”

@coolpizzazonkplaid @byhuenii @idkmanimreallysleepy @stainednailpolishremover @jxnyi @peachtreexoxo @yaygurist @lalaloverss @aexlime @naruucore @sathavious @guillermowhatwedointheshadows @mistygrovesarchive @glittercums @altmoo @lollixgoddess @victoriak01 @kimminjulvr @ghostlyluminarycloud @satorminniett @someonewhotendstowrite @buhdussy @ichirasblog @kokomisworld @magiouu @bobbicore @xxshiino @urmommyzhot @jjkwhor3 @erostaeyong @tojisprincesa @edgyficuselastica @clemianna @fromthechaoticmind @idkcoolise @fallinlovewithbeelzebub @sirshitsalot12 @kuraa01 @awyunh @lxvegojo

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utterlyotterlyx · 1 month

Text

Another Love - Alternate Ending

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Based on this ask

Original here

Summary - Azriel knows you'd never leave his side, no matter what, but when his new situationship with Elain takes over his every living moment and he takes advantage of your feelings, you make the only decision you can to save yourself only for him to hurt you in a way you never thought he could.

Warnings - ANGST, fluff, swearing, neglect, abuse of feelings, mentions of death, slight grovelling, lots of sadness, feminine rage

Word Count - 6.5k jeez

The clock ticked away, idly counting the seconds by, seconds that turned to minutes, and minutes that turned to hours, hours that Azriel had seemingly forgotten about the promise he had made to take you to the theatre.

The cobalt blue bow in your hair, that you had chosen to perfectly match him, swayed sadly as you moved about your room with a heavy heart, hanging up the dress you had bought especially for the occasion and changing into something more comfortable to wallow in self-pity.

It had become normal, his lateness, his nightly visits became later and shorter until they had stopped all together, well, that is until he needed something from you, and you would give him whatever he asked for, no matter how much it hurt you.

You had been a part of the Inner Circle for over 500 years, you were one of the originals, growing up in the camps with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel, Rhys' mother protected you fiercely, and you were very close to Selene, your chosen sister. You were the one they turned to for everything, you were wise and brutal, an incredible warrior and tactician, but also soft and kind; you were the blue break in a sky of storm clouds, you were the spring breeze that cut through the edge of winter, you were everything.

A thing Azriel knew all too well.

It didn't surprise you when Azriel had become fond of Elain, like it didn't surprise you when he had pined after Mor for all those years, completely looking over you in the process. Elain was a soft and fragile thing, she was quiet and graceful, and Azriel was completely besotted by her. A fact that made your heart curse your stupidity, cursing the hope you had willed into it that maybe he would finally see you.

It was no secret that you and Azriel were the closest out of all of the members of your growing family, you had shared 500 years of respect and adoration for one another.

Azriel was by your side when Selene had so brutally lost her life, he had held your hand through the depression and brought you back to life. Azriel knew every single thing that you loved and hated, he knew what every facial expression meant, he knew every tick of your body language which silently conveyed how you were feeling. Azriel knew you better than anyone, even better than he knew himself. The map of you laid etched bare on the back of his hand, a map he used to scour daily, but now barely even glanced at.

It wasn't so one sided.

You knew Azriel better than anything, and you knew a lot. 500 years of life pointed to a rich knowledge. You were the one who cleaned him up after a mission, you're the one who mended his broken bones and washed his turmoil away. You were the one who helped him overcome his insecurities with his hands. You were the one his shadows shot to at family dinners. You were the one who sang him to sleep when his demons had become to much. There was nothing you wouldn't do for Azriel, even if it meant standing on the side-lines until he wanted you.

Moonlight streaked along the floor of your bedroom, cascading across the pale blue of your comforter and drifting along the edges of your antique furniture. The dress you had wanted to wear to the theatre hung off the frame of your mirror, rippling softly in the gentle breeze that entered through the slightly ajar window.

It was silly to feel upset, you knew Azriel didn't owe you any of his time, but you had really thought he would pull through, especially after you had told him how much you missed spending time with him.

Interrupting your damaging thoughts, your door opened to reveal Azriel, who looked annoyed and not at all in knowing of his lateness or the promise that now lay in tatters in your chest. From the look on his face, you knew instantly that Elain was the one who plagued his mind, she was the cause of it every time he had come to see you recently.

Huffing, Azriel trudged to your cream living area, propping his feet up on the antique table you had asked him to be careful with far too many times and sinking into the cushions. He hadn't spared you a glance as he entered, he didn't note his colour in the form of a bow in your perfectly styled hair, he didn't see the sadness in your eyes laced with that naïve hope that he may have turned up to apologise for being late. He didn't see you.

"What happened this time?" You inquired, wrapping yourself tighter into your robe and sliding into the seat beside him, tucking your legs underneath you and propping your head in your palm as you stared at him.

Azriel was beautiful, scars and demons and all, the height of his cheekbones, those hazel oceans of a thousand emotions, the golden skin and arched brows, the curve of his muscles under his second skin, everything about him was intoxicating.

"Lucien," Azriel through his head back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose, "I was so close to kissing her, so close, Y/N. And then Lucien walked in, he ruined it."

The revelation had stung, he'd never admitted to you to being close to kissing Elain before, it was always a myriad of stolen glances and ghosting touches, of hushed words laced with a million differing meanings. But never a kiss.

Azriel paid no mind to the hurt that radiated from you, he knew it was there, he always knew it was there but he couldn't focus on it.

Only an idiot could be blind to the clear feelings you had toward Azriel, the way you looked at him was not the way a friend looked at another friend, no matter how close they were. Azriel knew that he could never truly push you away, no matter how much you were hurting you'd never leave, he knew that, he knew you'd always be there for him to fall into.

It was so awfully wrong, but he lapped in serenity you gave him, in that unwavering loyalty, and he had no intention to stop drinking from your fountain of love.

"Lucien is her mate, Az. He's bound to not like whatever it is that's going on between you," your voice was gentle and full of understanding, your hand rested on his shoulder and he felt any anger disappear almost immediately. That's what your touch alone could do to him, bring him immeasurable peace.

"I know," he sighed, opening his eyes and turning his head to the side to look at you, a small smile tugged at his lips when he noticed how pretty you looked, with your hair parted just how he liked it, and with a bow tied neatly at the back, "I still think that the cauldron was wrong," your face faltered when he immediately continued on his weekly rant, "It gets it wrong sometimes, we know that. It's wrong, it has to be."

All you wanted was for Azriel to be happy, he deserved it more than anyone you knew. Rhys had found Feyre, who you adored tremendously. Cassian had found Nesta, who had become a very good friend of yours. So, you couldn't blame Azriel for believing that Elain was fated to be his, three brothers for three sisters. Even you had to admit that it made sense, The Mother moved in mysterious ways.

You plastered a smile on your face, you vision catching the satin of your new dress moving softly against the breeze, "Maybe it is," Azriel hummed at your words before continuing on, listing everything he adored about Elain.

"I wish sometimes that she was you, you know? That her and I could be like this, with no one watching over us, to be able to spend time alone and do whatever we wanted to do and talk about anything," it was like he didn't realise what he exactly he was wishing for.

Azriel wanted you to be Elain, so that he could have the life he dreamed of. Elain. Not you. Elain.

You weren't good enough for him.

"I hope you get to that point one day, Az," your voice was strained from holding in your strangled sobs, "I'm tired, can we talk about this more tomorrow?"

"Sure," Azriel smiled at you, rising from his seat and heading to the door, standing in the doorway and looking back at your form still glued to your spot, "I like your bow, Y/N. Blue suits you, always has," and then he closed the door behind him, you waited a few moments before letting your sobs flow through your lips and ripping that damned bow from your hair.

Azriel would never see you the way you begged to be seen, and you couldn't sit around and be the one he fell back to when life wasn't going his way.

More days had passed, more days of Azriel complaining to you, more days of Azriel wishing that Elain and you had switched paths so that he could finally get what he was owed.

Azriel didn't care for your tear stained skin, he didn't care for your weary eyes whenever you spoke of Elain to you.

It was awful that he knew exactly what he was doing, he was abusing your relationship with him, he knew you'd never walk away from him, he knew you'd never be able to put your foot down and tell him to cut it out.

The idea of a mate had him completely obsessed, obsessed to the point that he became blind to what was right in front of him, what had always been in front of him. That blind faith in your loyalty crumbled in his fingers once Rhys had told him that you had decided to purchase your own home in the city, a home away from them all.

"What?" Azriel had asked from his place at the dinner table, bewildered by the news given to them once he had asked where you were.

Nesta knew the exact reason why you had decided you separate yourself from them, you couldn't handle the rejection anymore, and you couldn't begin to heal from the decades worth of heartbreak under the same roof as Azriel and Elain. Nesta knew you held no ill feeling toward her youngest sister, you were too kind for that, you knew it wasn't her fault that Azriel came to you each time something went wrong in their situationship, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"She left, Az," Mor had cried when Rhys had pulled her to one side that afternoon to tell her that you had decided to move into the home that Rhys had bought you after you had made it clear that you needed your own space, and Rhys had spent an hour trying to convince his cousin that your decision was not impacted by anything any of them did.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Azriel asked his brother who frowned, Feyre grabbed Rhys' hand and squeezed it in hers, "She can't just leave, Rhys."

"She has every right to after everything she's done for all of us, she deserves some peace," Rhys spoke calmly, snapping his fingers and allowing the sentient home to rid the plates and serving dishes from the table.

Azriel was speechless, he felt a frantic pull in his body, one that was poisoned with desperation at the thought of you being anywhere else than under the roof of the River House, the home you had spent a century redecorating and perfecting, paying special attention to each room to make it feel as homely as possible.

He didn't believe it as his chair groaned against the floor and he took off up the stairs toward your room, pushing his way through the doors to find it completely empty. No pictures hanging on the walls, no lines of hooks containing an array of ribbons in different hues, no dresses draped over your mirror, no antique furniture. It was all gone, and the scent of you that was usually so strong that it drowned him was a whisper in the atmosphere.

You had left.

Anger bubbled within him, how could you leave without saying anything? How could you move out of your shared home without a single word? How could you leave him after 500 years at his side?

Azriel flung open the doors to your balcony, a balcony plush with fresh flowers and greenery, he flexed his wings and hurtled himself into the starlit sky, allowing his shadows to peel from his body and search every inch of Velaris until they returned to him reeking of your scent and pulled him down to a small townhouse along the bank of the Sidra.

It was a charming home, pale brickwork, large bay windows, golden light emitting from them, and a large garden full of rich wildlife and botanicals. Your scent flowed from the closed oak door, lavender and honey with a hint of firewood and he found himself following that smell up the winding path until he was knocking on your door.

Golden light flowed from the home as you opened the door. You were dressed in denim overalls that were spatted with cream paint, you hair was loosely bound on the top of your head, and your face was full of uneasy surprise as you looked at him, "Az, what are you doing here?"

Azriel pushed past you and stood in the centre of your hallway, listening to your deep exhale as you closed the door. The space was pretty, it was very you, the walls were half painted cream from their original sage colour that you were obviously painting over, the coving was white and saturated with intricate little sketches of leaves, the carpet was a rich brown and had clearly been laid that day from how interrupted it looked, the only pattern on it being the imprints of your bare feet. Azriel didn't stop his shadows as they extended from him and scoured each part of your new home, nodding with approval and curling around your fingers in understanding adoration.

White sheets were draped over your perfectly placed furniture, to protect it from the paint no doubt, and the same tarp lay at the foot of the walls to protect the carpet. Music drifted softly about the room, and boxes upon boxes of books lay open, with some of them idly placed on shelves to get them out of the way to be sorted properly at a later date.

"It's true? You've really left," he noted the intricately presented kitchen, white cabinets and exposed wooden beams, just like you always wanted.

You rounded him, walking into your new living space, bending down to pick up one of your plant pots before placing it on the window ledge, your back faced him but he could see the pain in your features through the reflection in the window, "Yes, I live here now."

"No. No. You're coming home with me, this is ridiculous," his heart was beating a mile a minute, he couldn't think straight, all that was consuming him was the reality that his fear had come to fruition, that the one person he believed would never leave him had actually walked away.

"I'm not coming back, Azriel," you told him softly, and he saw your shoulders rise and fall with each deep inhale of breath you forced your lungs to take.

Then you turned to him, in the middle of the home that you were trying to make yours, a home away from him, "I thought you'd never leave me. You can't leave me. You're my best friend, I need you."

"No, you don't. You need someone to fall back onto when life isn't going your way, that's all I am to you now," you felt your heart breaking, you felt it shattering in your chest, "I can't be the one you turn to when something becomes between you and Elain. I can't be the one you wish was her. I can't do it anymore, Az. You've taken advantage of me for too long. You promise me the world and show up empty handed. You don't realise I even exist until you need someone to complain to and I just can't do it anymore."

Azriel knew every word you were saying was the truth, he knew he had been using you, but he never expected you to actually walk away from him, you were supposed to love him too much to leave.

Your heart was in the palm of his hands and he knew it, he knew you'd spent hundreds of years falling deeper in love with him each passing day whilst he pined for someone else. The fact of your departure made a bitter monster appear in his mind, he allowed it to tug on the venom in his heart, he allowed it to control him, "Aren't you supposed to be in love with me?"

Azriel watched your eyes widen and a breathless gasp fall from your lips, "You know?"

The Shadowsinger scoffed, "Of course I know. Only a fool wouldn't be able to see it," he saw your face contort into painful sorrow but did nothing to stop himself from saying, "I've known for years. I've known that you'd never leave, you've always been the one that I come to for anything I need and you never complain or tell me to leave. You made it easy to take advantage of you."

A tear slid down your cheek but Azriel made no move to wipe it away, "I want you to leave."

"I'm not leaving without you."

Fire roared in your eyes, "You have no right to command me after what you've knowingly done. I honestly thought that you didn't know, that it was innocent and that you just needed my advice. Now I know that you've willingly abused my kindness, Azriel, you can rot in hell," the tears didn't stop flowing from your eyes, your voice was strained and sore, your chest was so tight that you thought it may stop beating all together, "Get. Out!"

Azriel had left you then, he had left your door wide open and soared into the skies, leaving you in the home that was now tainted by his deceit.

It had been months since Azriel had seen you, Nesta and Feyre had practically forbid him from going anywhere near your home, that being from the land or sky. But that didn't stop him from allowing his shadows to slither under your front door or linger in the streets, he was desperate to know how you were.

Azriel hated himself for what he had said to you, he hated himself for taking advantage of you. In some way he tried to justify it, you were too good for him, he didn't want to ruin you, but it was clear that he already had.

Your absence had left a void that no one could fill, not even Elain despite her efforts, even the thought of her made his stomach drop and sickness swirl to the point where he couldn't bring himself to be around her. All Elain did was remind him of how he failed you.

Azriel had tried writing to you since you wouldn't see him, he gave the letters to Feyre and Nesta, the latter of which still saw your daily, and grew colder toward him with each passing moment. Even Cassian did nothing to hide his disappointment in him, and Rhys had some very telling words to express once Feyre had told him the truth of what had happened in your home that night.

Nothing was working, things with Elain were strained and difficult, the problems between them so raw and everyone's opinions so disapproving that it created a distance between them that was unmanageable.

Then it dawned on him that nothing was working with Elain because it wasn't meant to. The person who was meant to be his had been under his nose for 500 years, and now wanted nothing to do with him.

Cassian had pulled Azriel from his thoughts by stepping through the threshold of his room, "Are you coming to training?"

"Tell me how to fix it," Azriel lifted his head from his hands and turned his head toward Cassian who sighed in reply, moving to the bed to sit beside Azriel, "I need to know how to fix it."

"Only you can figure that out, Az," Cassian spoke to him, throwing his arm over Azriel's shoulder before continuing, "Y/N loves you Az, she has for 500 years. A few months apart won't change that. You're really fucking stupid for this though, she's the only one of us who knew the exact right thing to do and say every time. Y/N deserves more than the basic requirements of respect, she deserves the world in the palm of her hand and a person who loves her more than he loves himself. Don't bother her unless you can do that."

It was the anniversary of Selene's death, and the day hadn't gotten any easier for you to deal with.

Rhys and you had made a habit of doing something together each year, though, Azriel was the one to accompany you when Rhys had gone Under the Mountain. The location was sacred to you, you and Rhys would bundle yourselves up in blankets and watch the sun set over the Sidra, you'd rehash old memories and stories, ones that you both knew the script to by heart, but that never got old.

Your High Lord had tried to convince you to come home, but didn't push you when you had told him no. Your life had began to feel rather empty without the family antics that consumed your day-to-day life.

"I miss her," you had told him sadly, your head rested on his shoulder as the sun tipped her toes into the water in the distance, the sky grew darker each passing minute.

Rhys hummed, holding you closer to his side, "So do I," he replied with equal sadness, you had all grown up together, you basically were his sister by blood, and when you both had lost her, it only made him clutch to you more, "She'd nail Az's balls to the wall for sure."

A laugh passed through your lips before it died in your throat, you had done your best to not think about Azriel despite him owning your soul, you had done your best to heal from what he had done, but even then, you missed him more than anything, "How is he?"

It was the first time you had asked about him since before you had moved to your new home which was now fully decorated and yours, thanks to Rhys, Feyre and Nesta who made it their priority to help you settle, "He's-" Rhys couldn't lie to you, he was never able to even when you were younger, "-Not great. He misses you, he hates himself for what he said to you that night."

"I'd hate myself too," you had hummed, shifting to stand on the stone ledge where you and Rhys had sat, wanting a better view of the sun as it began to disappear against the horizon.

A familiar cold kiss pecked at your ankles and you looked down to see those shadows you had missed so dearly meandering around where you stood. Cedar entered your lungs and you shivered in painful delight as his warmth curled around your back.

"Y/N," his voice was deep and rough, it was pleading, you looked to your side and found that Rhys had vanished. That damn meddler. "Please look at me."

Not able to say no to that voice, you indulged the Shadowsinger and turned on the balls of your feet to peer upward at him. Azriel had his wings neatly tucked behind his back, his hands dangled at his sides, and his head was hung low. He looked terrible.

"Why are you here?"

Azriel clenched his jaw, he didn't expect you to be happy to see him, but it didn't stop the self hatred from growing in every single cell of his body, "I know how hard today is for you, I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"Well I'm fine, so you can go now," you made a move to walk away, to take the path down the edge of the Sidra to your home which had become your haven away from reality.

Though, you didn't get very far, perhaps two steps before Azriel's fingers curled around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks and pulling you back to him, "Y/N, I don't even know how to apologise in the way that you deserve. I don't know how to say sorry and make you feel like I see and hear you."

"What I did was disgusting, I hate myself for it. I never should have taken advantage of you like that, you've done everything to help me the entire time that I've known you and I ruined everything for someone I don't even want. I've always wanted a mate, you know that, and I got so carried away with wanting it that I completely ignored the only person who's ever truly loved me for me despite all of the horrid things I have done. Elain isn't you, Y/N. No one compares to you. No one makes me feel safe like you do, no one makes me feel alive like you do, and no one can make me hope for death by their void like you do."

"I am yours, Y/N. I always have been. I couldn't be the reason you ever got hurt, I couldn't be the one to risk extinguishing that glorious fire in your soul. You are the only one I cannot bear to lose, the thought of losing you terrifies me, it always has, and instead of protecting you, I took advantage of you and pushed you away because I would rather hurt someone else with everything that I am than hurt you with just a a part of it."

"I'm so stupid for ignoring you, I'm a prick for using you as my security blanket rather than let you in, you know me better than I know myself, you love me more than I could ever imagine, and it terrified me because I couldn't let myself love you. I couldn't let myself taint you."

Azriel lifted his hands, cupping your face in his palms and you could see every inch of despair within him, that conflicted flame dancing within his soul, "I'm not asking you to forgive me, I don't think I will ever be able to forgive myself after what I've done to you. I'm not asking for anything from you. I just need you to know that no matter how severe your storm, I promise I won't leave your side, I'll stay with you through the howling winds that whip my cheeks raw and red. I will stay and hold you when the night leaves you shivering and give you space when when your searing heat pushes you into a fiery rage. I will stay and love you in whatever way you crave, whether that be from next to you or from wherever you cast me to."

"Azriel-" tears flowed freely from his eyes and you knew he meant every word he was saying. Every single word was being plucked from the core of his essence.

"I know that you're scared, and that you don't trust me. I'm scared too. But you're the only one I can face love with because I only want to feel it with you. At the end of the day I want it to be you and me, I want your early mornings and late nights, I want you on your good days and bad. I will never stop wanting you. I will never stop needing you filling my lungs like oxygen and giving me life."

Azriel dropped his forehead onto yours, and you felt your own cheeks dampening from your own tears at his words, "I love you, Y/N. I will always love you, even if you don't want me to, even if you decide to walk away from me I will not stop loving you. I am so thankful for you, and I know I haven't shown that, but if you give me one more chance, I will show you exactly the man you have made me into. I will give you the world you have always dreamed of. My soul is yours until you stop loving me. Please. Please."

There was a silence as you contemplated his words, maybe he did mean them, but it still didn't detract from the clear fact that he had knowingly abused your love of him, that he had knowingly taken advantage of you.

"No," Azriel physically winced as you removed yourself from his embrace, his forehead and fingers crying at the loss of your touch, his shadows retracted like they had been burned, withering away before his eyes.

"No?"

"No, Azriel," you wiped your cheeks free of your sadness which had turned into rage, "You can't come here on my hardest of days to confess your love for me after abusing me endlessly, after overlooking me our entire lives for others. I will not be your second, third, or last choice. If I'm not your first choice then I don't want to be a part of it at all. I loved you, Az. I loved you more than my lungs needed air to survive, I would have done anything for you. I did do everything for you. And this is how I'm repaid, by being consciously used to inflate your precious ego?"

"Y/N, no, it wasn't like that," he reached for you and you took a step back, the stars illuminated the sky in their richly elegant glow, and you could feel Selene wrap her heavenly arms around you and tell you to stick it to the man.

"But it was Azriel. It was like that. First it was Mor who you pined after for decades, I could deal with it then, I knew how much you wanted to be loved and cherished, and with Mor, you never came to me and complained, it was like you didn't even want her. But then Elain, you made me so small and insignificant, you had the gall to wish she was me, you knew I loved you and you chose to say that?"

"Y/N, please-"

"Stop fucking talking," you hissed, "I do not live to serve you, the purpose of my life is not to be your maid and mother and nurse so you don't have to lift a finger. I am not your therapist or path to live out your pathetic picket fence dream. I am Y/N, I was your best friend, I would have given you everything and I did even when you gave me nothing and I am done. I am done being the thing you can throw aside and pick up when you want to feel good about yourself. I'm done."

Your body felt ten times lighter, like you had just off loaded all of the rage that had been stacked within your mind and soul directly to the person who deserved to know just how vile they had been to you.

"I never want to talk to you again. I'm not sorry, the only one to blame for everything falling apart is you and your whimsical other-worldly dreams. Grovel your heart out, Az, you're never going to know about my life from here on out. I forbid it."

And then you left, you had left Azriel stood on that rock looking the most broken you had ever seen him, even his shadows had fully retreated into his body, wounded by your words and ashamed of their master. They had just lost their favourite thing in the world.

He had continued to try and get your attention in the weeks that followed, appearing on the streets and trying to speak to you to which you wholly ignored, he had showed up at Rita's and tried corner you, begging you to just listen, but you looked right through him.

Rhys had agreed to give you a different position, one that would mean less opportunity to bump into Azriel. You had become an emissary to the Night Court, Rhys' most trusted one at that, and you travelled Prythian and kept bonds alive and strong between the courts.

The Inner Circle were mostly just polite to Azriel, they respected your decision, some even admired it, and Azriel stood and watched as Elain accepted the bond with Lucien, feeling foolish for ever believing that he was deserving of such a sacred thing.

Every time you had returned home, Azriel would have all manners of gifts delivered, from pastries to fine jewellery and dresses . It had gotten so out of hand that you had to scream into Rhys' mind to get his brother to stop. You had kept your word, you didn't speak to him even when you did see him.

And soon enough he stopped, he didn't linger in the streets or on the bank of the Sidra, his shadows no longer followed you, no more gifts arrived at your home that was bursting with new wonder. Azriel had finally realised that no amount of pleading words or pretty things would bring you back to him. You were gone.

The hope that had filled his heart, that had broken the shadow shrouding his soul, when Rhys had announced that you were joining them for dinner that evening, was enough to bring some happiness to him. Azriel had been a ghost of himself, wallowing in self pity and loathing, completing his missions to a far more gruesome degree before returning home and tending to his own wounds. No one was there to help him anymore.

You were ethereal, you had stepped through the door with a happiness he hadn't seen in your in decades, your skin was glowing and your eyes were bursting with happiness. You were dressed in a ornately stunning forest green dress, one that he had never seen before, and you sat in your usual seat, that one that had laid empty for thirteen months wedged between Feyre and Nesta's chairs, the one they glanced at longingly each day.

Yet again, you avoided Azriel, but not obviously in a sense, you just negated to recognise his presence entirely. The only thing you did recognise were his shadows that pecked your wrists, and he willed you to look at him, instead, you only smiled at the shadows and that was enough to make them feel validated and still loved by you.

Rhys had asked how you'd been and you didn't relent on sharing your tales from your travels across the continent, from the libraries in the Day Court that Helion had given you access to, to learning the healing powers from the top healers in Dawn, you were enriched with knowledge and you were loving every moment.

"I do have some news," you spoke and if Azriel hadn't been listening to your stories, which he certainly was because it made him feel like a part of your life again, he was definitely listening to you now.

Azriel noticed the blush creeping up your cheeks and the bashful look in your eye, he watched your chest rise and fall shakily as you tried to form the words to tell them what you needed to. Azriel knew that look, because that's how you used to look when you were thinking about him.

"I found my mate," you had admitted, and your eyes found him for the first time in over a year, they held sympathy within them, and he felt all of the air rush from his lungs.

Your look only lasted a couple of seconds before Rhys wrapped you up in his arms, laughing joyfully at the news as the rest of the room, even Elain and Lucien, stood to congratulate you, everyone but him.

"Do we know him?" Feyre asked, her blue-grey eyes brimming with happy tears, all they wanted was to you to find your happiness, in whatever way that would be gifted to you.

You nodded, a love-sick smile on your face, "You do, we've already accepted the bond, and I know you may not approve but I need you to, for me? He's coming tonight, I want you all to meet him."

Rhys kissed your forehead and Azriel felt the fire rage within his chest, he'd give anything to have your skin under his lips again, "Of course," the door sounded and Azriel felt as though he was in a fever dream.

You had a mate. His Y/N had found her mate.

You had inhaled deeply and squeezed Feyre's hands in your own before you left the room, the muffled muttering of your voice conversing with your mate sounding to Azriel's left. He knew they were glancing at him, but they didn't say a word, and he didn't meet their gazes, he didn't look up until your scent mixed with another's entered the room. The perfect harmony of lavender and pine, of spiced oranges and honey.

"I believe you all know Eris," he heart dropped to his stomach and Azriel felt the room spin as he looked toward you, toward Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court, who gently laid his hand on your hip and pressed his lips to your temple.

Eris had become an ally after overthrowing Beron, Mor had forgiven him for his past transgressions, Rhys had even considered him a friend. Eris Vanserra was your mate.

The room audibly gasped and rushed to you both, hugging and congratulating you, so unbelievably happy that you had found your person, "The moment I saw her in my court I knew it was her. It snapped for me before she realised it, but I couldn't have anyone else whilst knowing that this beautiful creature was out there fated to be mine," his eyes were full of love, unblemished untainted pure love, and yours twinkled in reply as you unveiled the large sapphire on your ring finger, "Y/N is set to become my High Lady. I promise you all that I will cherish her every moment of every day. I am so irrevocably in love with her and I just know that our souls will find one another in every universe we may wander into. She's my everything and I will always choose her. Always."

Azriel watched you, doing his best to simmer down the fire raging within his heart, he looked at your bright smile and sparkling eyes, he roamed your glowing skin and inhaled your mated scent, and then his gaze fell on the barely there swell of your stomach and he decided in that moment that you were divine and untouchable, and that he would finally let you go if it meant that you'd be happy and breathe the life that you were meant to own.

A life full of the love that no one deserved more than you.

Authors Note

I think I like this version better..

@saltedcoffeescotch @fxckmiup

604 notes · View notes

saetoru · 1 year

Text

[ REACH ] SCARAMOUCHE.

scaramouche is awkward the first time he lays beside you, rigid and hardly relaxed when his body slides under the covers—you’d almost think he doesn’t want to be near you if you didn’t know him any better. you keep a small distance between you both when you see the way he seems to stiffen the closer you get, whispering a soft goodnight before closing your eyes.

what you don’t seem to see, however, is the way his eyes wander to your figure every few seconds, lingering over your face and raking over your features. you don’t see the way his eyes soften when you curl into the sheets for warmth. you don’t see the way his hand reaches out as you sleep, a little shaky at first—hesitant. he brushes a finger against your cheek as if testing the waters—and then he retreats almost immediately.

because you look delicate like this, soft and fragile, too easy to disappear suddenly, like you were never there to begin with. he doesn’t think he should be here beside you—but then you crinkle your nose in your slumber, and despite his better judgement, he smiles a little at the sight. his fingers run over the swell of your cheeks and brush over the bridge of your nose, delicately tracing the skin as he maps your features.

it’s not until you nibble on his fingertip as he traces your bottom lip does he realize you’re now awake.

“what are you—”

“how romantic,” you tease, grinning cheekily as your eyes flutter open, “and here i almost thought you didn’t like me for a bit.”

“that’s because i don’t like you,” he grunts, pushing you away (though gently) as you scoot closer and wriggle your brows.

“if you wanted to cuddle, you could just ask,” you giggle, and he glares.

you’ve always been bold, far bolder than he should let you get away with—but you throw him the bright grin you always do, and somehow he finds himself softening the harsh edges, like the glass is rounded so he doesn’t cut you as you reach your hand out.

“i don’t,” he huffs, “now go to sleep.”

there’s a slight pout on his face—though, you don’t think he realizes as much, and pointing it out would only sour his mood more. so you smile to yourself, taking in the way his hand falls limply onto the mattress beside him.

if he craves to reach for you again, to feel the warmth of your skin press against the tips of his fingers one more time, he makes no indication of it. scaramouche never reaches first—he simply tolerates your back hugs and linked arms, let’s you follow him around and maybe even hold his hand if he’s in a good mood. there’s always a disgruntled protest, however weak it might be, but just like always, he never pulls away.

and something tells you he doesn’t want to—something about the way his expression breaks for a swift moment before it’s hardened again tells you that maybe he needs your touch more than you need his.

so you flick his forehead, make his brows furrow and his chest ache with that smile you shoot him, the same one that soothes over the cracks the world has left in him over the years and fills them until he’s whole. “i would be asleep, if someone didn’t wake me.”

he hates that you’re right—but more than anything, he hates how easily you trust him. he hates how easy it is for his harsh glares to go ignored, how easy it is not to care about his bitter words and cold resolve, how easy it is to give and give when you get nothing in return. and because you never seem to care just how hard it is to love someone like scaramouche, you wrap yourself around his arm, making him stiffen with a scowl.

“hey, get off,” he says—but even as he pokes your shoulder to make a point, he makes no moves to pull away. it tells you enough, you think, it tells you everything you need to know.

please don’t ever let go.

“are you sure you want that, kuni?” you hum, reaching to poke his cheek, “you sure seem to like touching me—”

“i’ve had enough,” he grunts, “you can go sleep in another bed.”

“this is my bed,” you snort.

you’re right again, which only makes him ten times more irritated, but maybe…maybe he’s also ten times more in love. he wonders for a moment—thinks whether or not someday he can really bring himself to admit it.

so for now, he doesn’t pull away—and he hopes that’s enough to make you keep reaching out.

“whatever,” he mutters, and almost too swiftly, as if he wills himself to do it before he can change his mind, his arm tugs you closer against his side, letting your head fall to his chest. “i’d say it’s ours now,” he says quietly.

you grin, reaching a hand out to grab his, squeezing gently as your fingers lace with his.

and when you whisper, “goodnight, kuni,” with a kiss to his chest, he doesn’t pull away.

i’m posting this and running away bc i hate it lmao bye

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 2 months

Text

≡;-꒰ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔

╰┈➤ ❝ caleb x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, yearning, kissing, make up sex, soft sex that turns rough quite quickly, dom!caleb, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise, use of pet names "baby" "pipsqueak", lmk if i missed any tags !!

wc : 4.1k

Perhaps, yearning had a time and a place for everyone. But for the two of you, maybe it had gone on for longer than you could take, the slightest shift in the atmosphere ready to break that fragile little bubble of boundaries.

"If it were that easy to get a license, I wouldn't be here in your bed complaining, you know!" You scoffed, falling upon the soft mattress and dangling your feet off the edge. As Caleb laughed, easing into a spot beside you, you softened.

It had barely been a few days.

You'd get back from your exam, wrestling uncertainty with your results, and he was there—ready to listen, willing to offer a crying shouder if need be. You didn't cry, of course, only complained. But the mere presence of him by your side was enough to lull you out of your negativity, turning your talks into lighthearted moments for you to look back on and smile.

It happened often, with Caleb.

It was so easy to be with him, so easy to relax and just... be yourself, no questions asked, no image to uphold.

Ever since you were children.

It was just the kind of friendship you shared; the mutual trust, the mutual comfort. And you wouldn't have it any other way, except that...

Discreetly, you glanced at the figure beside you, Caleb also having gone silent, the both of you taking to stare outside the window of his room. He looked sentimental like this, almost, and pretty. The steadiness of his broad back... and the way you thought it would be nice, for once, to ruffle his hair instead of the other way around.

All familiar to you, all... cherished, by you.

"So... You'll be leaving again, huh?"

Your voice was casual, or at least—as casual as you could make it be. Yet, a certain apprehension settled into the pit of your stomach, and when he turned his head to face you, violet eyes glowing under the drifting moonlight, you felt yourself swallow thickly.

"Ah, well. You know the drill," he shrugged, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Yet despite the playfulness in his tone, there was a gentleness in his eyes that made your heart churn. "My vacation ends, and I gotta be on my way first thing in the morning... Y'know. The usual."

You wished he wouldn't say it out loud, but you supposed you brought this upon yourself. You were the one that had asked, after all—yet you looked into his eyes, finding that you couldn't even bring yourself to look away, and there was nothing to stop the pout that slowly formed on your face. It was your turn to look away, almost as if refusing to look at him when you were like this.

"When will you be back again?"

He stayed quiet, for a while. If you looked at him, you would have noticed the little tilt of his head, the little smile on his face. But you could feel his eyes on you, and you wouldn't dare turn your head.

Caleb, after all, never missed an opportunity to poke fun at you.

"Aww, pipsqueak, are you that upset?"

You couldn't believe he would even question it.

Huffing, you glanced to the side, already noting the glint of mischief hidden in his eyes. "What, and you're not?" Your voice was sharp, but your retort lacking. Even Caleb knew that you were often more creative with your responses, and he had the audacity to laugh at your expense, almost delighting in the way you would puff your cheeks, indignance written all over you.

"D'you want me to be?" He grinned, leaning down to your height, searching your eyes. Always, you would think that his irrational penchant for being perceptive would be your downfall, and you knew this was no exception.

"...You're always so telling with your gaze."

Caleb shook his head, straightening himself only to reach out and ruffle your hair. It was just as he'd always done since you were children, and the gentle familiarity of it made you bow your head in resignation. "'Course I'm upset, pipsqueak," he sighed. "It's always hard to leave home, isn't it?"

His voice slowed to a pause, almost as if he could have continued, could have added to his words—but he didn't.

This time, it was your turn to be curious. If Caleb knew your reactions and your habits by heart, then you, too, could say the same about him. And sure enough, the more you studied him, even as he chuckled and turned his head away, the more you took note of something in his eyes that you couldn't quite find a name for.

Still, more than your curiosity, was your growing indignance at his words.

"...Is that it?" You mumbled, hands gripping at the fabric of your nightgown. "It's hard to leave... home. So it's not hard to—"

"Leave you? No, it is, pipsqueak. You are home."

His words caught you off-guard.

He wasn't looking at you when he said it—there was no trace of a blush on his cheeks, on his ears, anywhere—It almost made you doubt the seriousness of it, or why he would say something so... direct. Caleb wasn't usually expressive with you in this way; compliments, yes, but he'd never called you... home, before.

The word lingered weighty in the air.

But in the silence between you, and the more you thought of it, you couldn't help but dwell on the unfairness of it all. "Then—then—!" A frown formed on your face, watching as his eyes turned back to you when you spoke. "Then stay..."

It almost hurt you the way his eyes softened, teasing mirth replaced by a knowing gentleness. His hand edged closer to yours, body leaning ever-so-slightly towards you. "C'mon, pipsqueak... Y'know I can't do that..." he mumbled.

In slow, careful movements, his other hand reached to rest gently on your head, making you suddenly hyperaware of the way his fingernails would graze against the skin of your scalp, running through your hair in a sweet, tender stroke. He'd repeat the same motion, another silence weaving between the two of you, before his hand settled on the side of your face—the ghost of a touch, only barely feeling his palm press against your skin.

You held your breath.

"If I could," he said, "If I could. I'd be back here every week, spend every day with you like back when we were kids."

Feeling yourself slowly melt underneath the tenderness in his gaze, your shoulders relaxed, your grip on your clothing easing slightly. But still, your own eyes drifted to the ground.

Despite all your indignance, despite the terrible, terrible thought of having him go away from you again, you knew what he said was true. Caleb had always cared for you as much as you cared for him—it shouldn't come as a surprise to you that his absence hurt him equally as much, and that he would only put up a front for you, if only to be the solid foundation that he had always been for you, all these years up to this very moment.

Tears brimmed at your eyes, Caleb immediately shifting closer to place both of his hands by the side of your face, wiping them away with little swipes.

"Hey, now. Don't cry on me. You know I'll still be back on my next holidays!"

"But when?" You put in every effort to steady your voice, unwilling for it to waver in front of him, unwilling to let any more tears fall in the most obvious display of desperation for him that you've ever had. "How long will you be gone? Only to stay again for another week or so... Sometimes, you stay even less than a week. I've barely managed to have a proper conversation with you this time, and yet— yet—!"

You sniffled as your bleary eyes settled on his features, leaning into the comforting warmth of his hold. "Ugh," you scolded yourself, though there was no weight in the way that you did. "You... you make me feel like a little kid, Caleb. I'm not even supposed to be this selfish with you."

"Hmm. Aren't you? You've always been a little selfish with me, and if I'm honest, this isn't really too surprising." He chuckled again, and the playfulness in his eyes made a temporary return before he dared to step closer, inching towards your face. "But I don't mind, pipsqueak. 'Cause I miss you just as much, everytime I can't see you."

His words were warm. As warm as the way he looked at you, as warm as the way he held you.

As warm as...

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you, too, dared to step another line into something the two of you had never set foot in—almost closing the distance, almost giving in to the thoughts that probed your mind, almost—

You pressed your forehead against his, the both of you taking a moment to peek into new territory that had been brought out in the open. Your lips, now, were close enough to barely touch. You could see deeply into his eyes like this, too—the way golden flecks of light mixed with saturated, purple hues, and for the first time, you thought, you noticed... Caleb was a lot like the sunsets you would see on your way home.

"What's on your mind, pipsqueak?" He murmured softly, the rasp in his voice revealing to you just how much your actions had caught him off-guard, just how much he was straining not to step a toe out of line from whatever you wanted; whatever this was.

The tension in the air was unmistakable.

You could think; imagine, perhaps, his heartbeat was racing in his chest just as fast as yours was. Perhaps, you would be able to feel it for yourself, if his body was pressed up against yours...

You watched as his gaze drifted down towards your lips, and you flushed at the subtlest indication that he might have the same thoughts as you did.

"Caleb..." you whispered, placing your hand over his, tilting your head slightly to the side and holding him closer against your cheek. "When you're away, do you... Think of me?"

Silence; his eyes never strayed from yours, waiting, observing, attentive and careful to note how you would approach this situation.

"The way that you miss me... What is it like?"

A slow inhale, one hand moving to tuck your hair behind your ears.

"Hmm, well... Maybe it's exactly in the way you're thinking of, right now."

"And... What would that be?"

"...Dunno, pipsqueak. What would it be?"

You smiled, seeing the flicker of a challenge in his eyes, but recognizing there to be equal parts of caution, still watching, waiting, waiting for you to make your move.

"Would you stop me?" You said finally, slowly draping your arm over his shoulder. "If I moved a little closer now, and then we'd..."

It was your turn to glance at his lips, so close to you, yet so far, almost blurry and out of focus with your proximity. You could feel his steady breaths against your face, and he didn't answer you. Instead, he took your words as his own confirmation, breaking the boundary, tilting his head as he captured your lips into a soft, gentle kiss.

He moved his lips slowly against yours, hands trailing down your face, down your back, settling on your waist—and then he pulled away, half-lidded eyes examining you closely. One beat, two—Caleb pushed you gently against the sheets, pressing close and flush against your body, his heartbeat racing in time with yours just as you had hoped it to.

"You... mean this, pipsqueak?" He breathed.

"...Do I lie that often to you? The reason I miss you so much, the reason I so badly want you to stay... Did you think it was because of whatever childish attachment I've had to you from the start?"

He nearly scoffed.

"Oh, what. And you're gonna call me oblivious? Like I don't see the way you look at me? Like I don't see the way you melt?"

This time you gasped, and a smirk played at his lips—his lips, ones that had kissed you just seconds prior. "You—! That's—!"

"I've known aaallll along, pipsqueak. But you've never had plans on acting on your feelings, right? So I'm just asking, 'cause... I don't want you to regret what we're doing."

Though feeling the weight of embarrassment begin to swirl in your stomach, your eyes softened.

Ah, you thought, he's always so considerate.

"What..." You searched his eyes, "What are we doing? What is this, then?"

"...You could think of it as me making it up to you..." Caleb spoke slowly. "Well, whatever this is, I could kiss you here for hours—easy."

You felt the heat rise back up to your cheeks—

"—Oorr..." He smiled, tucking another strand of hair behind your ear. "If you want a more detailed memory to keep you company while I'm gone, I could do even more than that. But your call, of course."

Immediately you understood what he was implying, and the mere thought of it turned you completely red in the face, pushing him away with a gasp.

"Caleb!" You cried out, and beside you, he laughed.

"Guess that's a no, then? Ah, well. No biggie, I could wait another few months or so. C'mere, and I'll—"

"N-no! I... I didn't mean it like that."

You cut him off quickly, chewing on the inside of your lip, and he raised an eyebrow.

"No? So what'd you mean, then?" Caleb reached out his hand for you to take, gently tracing his fingers over the skin of your palm.

"I... I'm up for it," you said, after a moment. "I mean... I don't mind. If you... If you wanna—do—what you were—"

You couldn't complete your sentence, and he squeezed your hand, another chuckle escaping his lips. "You would, huh? Have sex with me?"

His blatant admission had you burning, immediately pulling away once more to cover your face. "God, Caleb! Don't just say it like that!"

"Hey! I gotta be sure, don't I? Who knows if we were thinking different things?"

"But—! If you say it out loud, it sounds...! Embarrassing!"

"What, that I want to have sex with you?"

You could hear the infuriating melody of amusement in his voice, clearly pleased at your flustered reaction, clearly enjoying this mental torture on you like he always did.

"Caleb..." You whined at the sound of his laughter, peeking through your fingers just enough to let him see your pout.

"Alright, alright! I'll stop!" He grinned. "...But seriously, though. It doesn't matter too much that I've been waiting, I can wait a little longer if you're not ready yet. 'Cause honestly? I'm just happy enough like this already."

Like... This?

Your mind drifted to his kiss, his soft, plush lips mingling with your own. It had lasted barely a few seconds, but even the mere thought of it made you weak. The mere thought of holding him—doing more—having him love you, tender as always, in ways that he had never before. You'd fantasized about it, sure. Undeniably. Sometimes you would sit in one of his hoodies, flushing at his scent and the way that you could easily reach down to touch yourself in it—

You never did, out of the mere fear that you would never be able to look him in the eyes if you did.

But now, his own feelings, his own desires, lay just within your reach. No matter how scary it was to dive into such a foreign, indiscernible place of your relationship... You've never had him closer to you, and you didn't want to let go of that feeling.

So with a shy gaze, you closed the gap between the both of you once more, kissing at his neck and feeling each shudder of his body zap straight down to your core. "It's okay," you mumbled, "I think... I'd rather not wait, either."

In a flurry of movements, you were back against his pillows, his body above you and arms and legs tangled in a passionate embrace. Unlike earlier, each kiss upon your lips had you gasping your air—almost starved as he mouthed at you, almost desperate to explore every curve of your skin in a way you didn't know he ever could be.

"Unbelievable," he breathed, panting as he pulled away, fingers slowly gliding beneath your nightgown, tracing circles over your stomach. "I'm actually, actually touching you like this."

"Unbelievable?" You scoffed, turning your head to the side. "I should be the one saying that. Having you touch me like this..."

He smiled. And then slowly, his hands traveled up your skin, bunching the silken fabric of your nightwear up and above your breasts. You saw him draw in a shaky breath, a tremble in the way he stroked your skin—"Oh, fuck," he whispered, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "Seriously, it's like a miracle, shit..."

"...Caleb, are you going to just tease?" You frowned, feeling vulnerable in the way he stared. Your body remained mostly exposed, revealed to him in a way that had him frozen with having never seen you so naked before.

But Caleb licked his lips, feeling them dry at the mere sight of you.

"Oh, baby, I wish."

There was a raspiness in his voice as he moved to yank down his sweatpants, chest heaving in the way he tried so hard to control his breaths.

Baby, he called you, and you could have sworn you let out a whine, the new nickname striking a chord inside of you more than you ever expected it to.

"I— shit. I really wanna take my time with you... Give you a whole experience you can think of 'til I get back, but you—"

A sense of urgency overtook him, and his hands were back on you, tracing your thighs, trailing up to press at your panties and nearly groaning at the patch of wetness he could feel.

You drew in a sharp breath.

"...Damn. It looks like I won't be able to keep my composure, not when I've thought about this moment for as long as I can remember."

His hand was pulling your underwear down within seconds, leaving your lower halves bare and exposed. The tip of his cock was wet with pre-cum, the sheer length of it having you momentarily speechless.

"W-wait, you're not—?!" A hint of panic rose in your voice as you sat up against the headboard, but he gently pushed you back down, towering over you.

"It'll fit," he spoke, matter-of-factly, reaching down to swipe at your cunt before bringing his hand up to your face. That smirk was there again, the tease in his eyes ever-present despite his promise not to leave you feeling unfair for too long. "You're crazy wet, pipsqueak. I think I'll slide in just fine."

His words brought a dangerous sting to your cheeks, feeling yourself clench around nothing, eyeing the slick that coated his fingers from a single swipe.

If, you thought, if he had those fingers inside of me, I wonder how deeply he would reach...

He leaned down to kiss you, almost as if reading your thoughts. "Not now," he murmured. "Maybe later. Maybe next time, when I get back."

You frowned. "Don't... don't talk about leaving when we're like this..."

"Baby—"

"No, Caleb. If I'm going to remember this moment, I am not going to think of it as the night before you go away again!"

Amusement flashed through his eyes, and the tip of his cock brushed lightly against your entrance, coating your clit with your wetness.

"Alright, I digress," he grinned. "But it's not an if, right? You will remember—and then you can busy yourself with the feeling of it whenever you need to. It's the whole point."

"...Busy myself?! What do you think you're—"

Your words were lost into a gaping moan, feeling his cock stretch at your walls, heat and pleasure coarsing through your veins in sharp, quick bursts.

"Fuuuuckkkk." He groaned from the throat, your hazy eyes making out the way he grit his teeth, his own eyes shut tightly as he pushed into you, all the way up to your hilt, gripping the headboard in ragged pants. "So..." he breathed, "So damn tight."

"Y-you're just—ngh—so big—"

It was almost as if he were intent on rendering you utterly speechless, barely giving you time to time to adjust before he was snapping his hips into yours. Every movement had him filling you up, thrusting into you balls deep, hips moving quickly, rhythmically, splitting you open with ease.

"W-Wai—iit— a-aahh—" Your back arched in raw pleasure, submitting to every ounce of desire that poured out of him. "Shit!" You cursed, head thrown back into his pillow. "So fast—Y-you're so fast—"

He only let out a hum of a moan in response, eyes finally opening, hands shifting to grab onto yours and pin them right up above your head.

"Oh, fuck— Caleb—!"

"Good," he rasped. "So wet, so tight, so—haah—so good—"

You clamp down tightly around him, greedily sucking his length in with the steady pulse of your cunt, moans breaking, body squirming under his grasp and the lustful heat of his gaze.

"Oh, god—sorry, baby, I can't—" Caleb's pace seemed to stutter with the way you clenched around him, pounding into you more erratically, cockhead hitting the spot that had you jolting. "You're too perfect, you're exactly how i've imagined—"

Whimpers began to fall from your lips as you struggled to wring your hands free from his grasp, desperate to touch him, desperate to feel him closer. And Caleb remained attentive despite his obvious euphoria, releasing your hands and leaning down close to you, grunts with every pump of his cock, almost needy for your heat.

The feeling was too much.

He was fucking you, and you couldn't think straight—you'd opened your mouth, and before you could stop yourself, you were spilling his name in ways you wouldn't have done otherwise.

"I love you, Caleb, I love you, I love you, I love y—nnh—leb— haah— I love you, Caleb—!"

It didn't take long after that for him to twitch in your cunt, and your walls fluttered around him, locking him in place as he stilled, spilling inside of you enough to have you leaking. It was enough to edge out a release of your own, and you trembled in his embrace, bodies locked in perpetual ecstasy.

And he was right, you would remember it.

Every slide of his cock against your walls, you'd remember it—and, with a pang, you realized... you'd long for it.

"...You're so cruel," you whispered as he leaned down to kiss at your jawline, slowly pulling out of you and collapsing beside you with a sigh.

"Hmm, wow. First, an I love you without warning, and now I'm the cruel one?" He laughed softly beside you. "Was I too hard? Sorry, pipsqueak, you're much too—"

"I love you, Caleb." Your mind much clearer after your high, you repeated your words, albeit shy enough to still turn over and snuggle into his chest. "Just... how am I supposed to miss you like this?"

He reached over to put his arm around you, stroking your hair lovingly. "...Miss me...?" he spoke slowly, almost as if choosing his words with care. "It won't be for too long, pipsqueak, swear."

"But you don't even—"

He clicked his tongue, cutting you off. "I mean, that's partly why we fucked, right? It should keep you busy enough while we wait. Now you have something more accurate to touch yourself to, and, hey—I wouldn't stop you!"

You had indeed come to a similar conclusion, but hearing him say it out loud like that had you looking up with a halfhearted glare.

"...Caleb, you're filthy!" You huffed.

But you both knew well that your words didn't amount to much, and he chuckled, poking your temple.

"Okay, okay. How about... Just to make sure you won't be too sad, we can have another round in the morning?"

"Caleb!"

He smiled. "...I love you, too, pipsqueak."

The warmth of his words, blending in with his familiar, most precious nickname for you, had you easily forgetting whatever trepidations you had in your heart. Maybe, you thought, whatever came with this new door in your relationship was worth it—especially if you could be in his arms the way you were now, listening closely to the lull of his heartbeat.

『 I can't decide if it's a choice getting swept away; I hear the sound of my own voice asking you to stay. 』

⁺₊ / an: ouh this req prompt couldve gone soooooo many ways and it was so hard to decide!! the word count proves i love him almost as much as xavier, but i also owe it to caleb x mc being so "treacherous" by taylor swift coded, and i will die on this hill!!!!!!

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

#love and deepspace #love & deepspace #love and deepspace smut #love & deepspace smut #love and deepspace caleb #love & deepspace caleb #love and deepspace x reader #love & deepspace x reader #caleb x reader #caleb x you #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #✿˖°. roxiefic #divider by mikeykuns #divider by cafekitsune #*ੈ♡. rose garden

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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months

Note

Ok so this might be an odd request but I’ve been really sad about the fact that the network vetoed bisexual Reid so I was wondering if you could write boyfriend Spencer coming out to reader and just having it be really sweet and fluffy??

this is the cutest. great minds are bisexual reid truthers. i am honored to do this for the tumblr community and the world at large

warnings/tags: potentially VERY slight internalized homophobia from spencer if u squintttt but he's just nervous that's all!! my boyfriend has never done anything wrong in his life!! fem reader

“My type is you,” you say sweetly, angling your head up to look at your boyfriend. The two of you have been laying on the couch for the better part of an evening, (more accurately, he’s on the couch, you’re on him) talking about nothing and everything. Somehow the conversation has meandered to this—him asking you what your type in men is, of all things.

“What a convenient answer,” Spencer teases, pushing your hair away from your face. You laugh, leaning into the warmth of his touch.

“I mean it! I don’t think I ever really got what all the excitement was about men until I met you.”

He hums, a satisfied little smile on his face. “That’s very flattering.”

“What about you?”

His brows dart up.

“What’s my type in men?”

An inadvertent laugh bubbles from your throat—slowly going stale in the air while you watch as Spencer actually flushes. It dawns on you with a splash of anxiety and a generous helping of guilt that maybe it’s not exactly a joke to him. You attempt to play it off casually, keeping your tone even but receptive.

“Well, I meant in women. But, if you have a type in men, by all means, tell me.”

Hazel eyes dart between yours as his hand continues carding through your hair—and then he’s looking away, studying the wall behind you like there’s more there than faded green paint.

Silences stretches as you chew on the inside of your cheek, worried you’ve somehow said the wrong thing. You wriggle higher up his body and gently grab his wrist, interrupting what you suspect is a self-soothing motion.

“Hey,” you murmur, pulling his hand to your lips and pressing them to his knuckles. “Come back.”

Finally he looks at you again, mildly surprised like you’d tugged him from the very depths of his thoughts. But his eyes are soft, grazing his his fingers over your lips.

“I’m right here.”

“You know what I mean.” The words are gentle. His thumb catches on your bottom lip and you nip at it playfully, trying to lighten his suddenly heavy mood. It’s hard to tell if it works—he continues tracing your lips absentmindedly, biting his own. When he speaks, his voice is quiet and wavers ever so slightly, the way it does in the rare instance that he’s not 100% sure of himself or what he’s talking about.

“I was thinking about your question.” You don’t dare speak for fear opening your mouth will somehow break whatever self-hypnosis is keeping him honest. “I don’t have a specific type. In women. Or… or men.”

His voice is so fragile that you have to run it back in your mind a few times to process what he’d said. Several layers of clothing do nothing to dull the rapid drumming of his heartbeat against your chest. And your poor boyfriend looks so scared during the moment of silence while you’re thinking that it breaks your heart. He needs a sign, something to reassure him that it’s okay, before he backtracks and dissociates entirely. Delicately your hand slides up the side of his neck and jaw. You crane your neck to press a long kiss to his flushed cheek. It’s okay, you’re okay. We’re okay. The world is still turning. His chest rises and falls slowly in a deep, silent sigh.

“I love you,” you remind him once you pull away, wiping away the slight sheen of chapstick your kiss had left. He catches your hand, wrapping it in his larger one. The guarded look in his eye does a poor job of concealing how badly he wants to please you, and everyone, and how scared he is that maybe this was the wrong answer. That maybe this is just another way he is not quite right, and you’ll tell him so, just like everyone else always has.

“You’re not—you don’t have anything to say?”

Gentle fingers brush away invisible tears under his eyes, sweeping over the skin with the utmost care. He’s not crying, but you imagine at one point or another he had, and since you weren’t there to wipe away the tears then, maybe you can make up for it by being here now.

“Is it something you want to talk about?” you ask, fingers still skimming over the angular plane and valley of his cheek. The darting of his eyes between yours, the slight furrow of his brow, the pressed-together lips—he’s profiling you. Trying to extract your thoughts through osmosis.

“I… I’ve never told anyone before.”

Your stomach twists. You hate that there’s any part of him he feels he has to hide—and that he’s done it for so long.

“Well I’m glad you told me, angel.”

His eyes are like warm honey as he looks up at you, dulling that sharp, defensive edge as the endearment slips past your lips. Usually it’s the other way around, and you hope it soothes him even half as much as it always does for you.

A surprised laugh is expelled from your lungs when he pulls you down into a crushing hug. Immediately, gleefully, you reciprocate, pushing your arms under his waist and tangling your legs with his, holding on ferociously and for dear life. His face is buried in the hollow of your neck, so you have to assume that much like you, he’s picked this over oxygen.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he breathes, lips brushing your neck and hair. Muffled, because there’s no space between you. Your eyes sting and tear up almost immediately. A joke forms on the tip of your tongue; low bar? But you bite it back, unsure if you can manage persuasive sarcasm in this moment. “And, for the record, you are the most beautiful human being I have ever met in my life. Nobody else has or will ever come close.”

You laugh tearfully into his collar. “Spencer, I’m not worried about that.”

“I know you’re not,” he says, finally coming up for air. You do the same, laying on his shoulder contentedly and looking into his eyes. “But I’m telling you anyway because it’s true and I want you to hear it.”

A contemplative moment passes, and you wonder how it’s possible to be falling even more in love with him. You’d thought you already loved him as much as any human being had ever been capable of doing. You hope love has no end. You hope you keep falling deeper and deeper forever.

“You should know something,” you say, looking down to toy with the collar of his shirt. He hums.

“What should I know, angel girl?”

“You should know that I’m still going to fight anyone who tries to flirt with you. I don’t care if it’s a six five body builder or a seventy year old woman with a walker. You’re gonna have to hold me back.”

A bemused smile tugs at his lips.

“You would physically fight an elderly woman?”

“Or a six five body builder,” you agree. Spencer faces the ceiling like he’s watching the scene play out.

“Okay,” he snorts. “I don’t love that, but okay.”

“It’s what you signed up for,” you mumble, snuggling back into him. His hand finds the back of your head and tangles comfortably in your hair once more.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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bonny-kookoo · 7 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Wild Love 🔞

A simple taste is not enough.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, dystopian AU, space/Sci-fi/cyberpunk-esque, Enemies to lovers, Smut, Tentacles, Knotting, ridiculous amounts of cum, very messy ordeal, it starts soft but gets a little rougher at some point, unprotected sex but it's not mating season so no babies, implied breeding kink?, biting, he's a growler oop

Length: 2k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

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You and Jungkook love to sleep close, especially now that it's gotten even colder in this part of the galaxy.

He's not put in a proper heating unit simply because he enjoys you seeking his warmth- it makes him feel needed, and he enjoys having you close, especially at night, when he can find a reason to undress down to nothing but undergarments beneath the heavy blankets, to have more skin-on-skin contact and better share some warmth.

He's seeking something else- but he's not quite sure how to tell if you're ready for that, too. At least he wasn't, until now.

It started with normal kissing- something he really likes, but it developed into something a lot more heated now. You're beneath him, his body having changed his position by now, hands next to your face as he licks after your tongue, soft sighs escaping you. He's growing increasingly aroused from this alone, and he doesn't have to wonder if you feel the same. Your smell already fills his entire room, and it's only worsening his growing need to be even closer to you.

He wants to claim you, ruin you, so that you cannot ever even think about anyone else but him.

He wants you for himself, but not with force. He wants you to want him all on your own.

His slightly moving hips stutter the second your fingers find the distinctive two bumps on his skin, your fingers curiously feeling around, before something appears to be growing from the spots. It clearly catches you off guard for a second, especially when those two unfamiliar appendages travel over your thighs, and begin to map out your physique it feels like. "They're harmless." He tells you, having noticed your attention shifting to them. "They.. simply assist." He offers vaguely, and you nod, accepting it fully.

You've never really looked up any of.. well, that, so you're not really sure what to expect. All you do know is that you love him- and that you want him, all of him. You trust him.

So when he rids you of your flimsy top and underwear to discover what's beneath, you're surprisingly calm. This is him, after all- you're safe with him. And he especially gives you exactly that feeling when he leans down to brush his lips over your collarbone, an odd purr accompanying his breathing as he holds onto your body, finally revealing what you've been hiding underneath all those layers of clothing. He wants to see it all- feel it all.

But not in that simple manner, pure lust and nothing else. He doesn't just want to satisfy some urge- he wants to do much more than that.

One of his appendages strays away, moves over your center, and it's clear that you enjoy the feeling of it. He himself enjoys the sight, your eyes barely opened, body relaxed as leave your physical form purely in his hands.

He's seen it before, and yet, it's entirely different now that it's you he's got positioned like this.

He can't be too rough, can he? You're delicate, fragile, he doesn't want to hurt you and yet, you've also proven to be much more than just what you appear to be. Your body is stronger than one might believe, and your mind has even greater strength.

Full of surprises. But right now, he wants you to be full of him.

With himself technically not in mating season, there's no amount of his translucent white that could ever put a child into your womb- and maybe that's for the best. That doesn't mean that he doesn't find the act of it any less appealing however, the thought alone making his painfully erect length jump in anticipation.

That, and the sight of your bare body squirming, small cunt stretched by one of his appendages that's abandoned its natural instinct to hold you close to his pelvis- instead now pushing inside you as far as it goes, bulging up your lower stomach, moving rhythmically to the beat of your heart pumping. Your back arches, spine curving off the bed, and his hands can't help but trace your sides, always seeking you out.

And he watches, mesmerized, how you writhe around like a higher being not meant to be seen by someone like him, while his palms grab at your soft chest, skin warm and inviting, and it feels forbidden.

But you're his, his bite, his marks, his love prove it to everyone, and he'll renew these things over and over again so no one can ever tell him he's not taking you seriously. You're more than a lover, more than a body, more than just a companion.

His second tentacle unravels from your thigh now as well, leaving a trail of arousal behind, before it runs over your clit, uneven texture of it causing your hips to jump and mouth to open. His mind fills with thoughts and fantasies even more obscene than what's happening right now-

But he's got time for that. Maybe one day he'll feel your mouth wrap around him.

Right now, he's growing impatient, he wants more, wants to see your core stretch open on his cock instead, wants to see your body shake with every thrust he delivers. What are you doing to him? This is a simple act of lust, and yet, it doesn't feel like it.

Nothing about this is simple.

He wants to ruin you, exhaust you, fill you up with his seed and let your skin soak up his scent. You deserve the best moment of euphoria he can give you, because your pleasure is his.

He's not like the rest of his kind, after all.

He wants to fuck you stupid until your head is filled with nothing but him, so you'll get a taste of the torture you've put him through. Only if he makes you understand the sheer primal need he's been suffering through these past few days will he finally be able to accept your love to its fullest, only then can he be sure he's really the best fit for you. He's already shown you most of what his love can be-

Can you handle this kind of love as well?

From the sinful dreams you've clearly been having these past few nights right next to him, to the shameless acts of pleasuring yourself underneath the shower, leaving behind only your scent as evidence, never seeking him out until now. Have you wondered how much self control he might have? He's got a lot, but even someone like him has limits.

Your constant affection and confessions of love have made him dizzy, after all.

His hands pull the tentacle out from inside you, leaving you gaping, core aching to be filled again- and of course, he will do just that. When his length enters you, you feel something odd- but you cant question it, as his hips push inside you as far as he goes, growling into your neck as you clench around his cock. "You're truly meant for me, aren't you?" He hums into your skin. "Taking me so well, hm?"

You can't answer. All you can feel is him.

His appendages hold onto your thighs, keeping you connected to him as he thrusts into you. No coherent words exit your mouth any longer, a hand moving from your throat up to have his thumb trace your bottom lip that he's kissed bright red. What he doesn't expect is your lips wrapping around the digit, tongue tracing it in a way that gives him a clear understanding of what you're offering-

and he wonders. Maybe you're not as delicate as he thought you'd be.

Slowly, you move your legs, folding them towards you, his tentacles moving as well to hold them for you, since his body clearly reacts to the new feeling of it all, gaze focused on the slight bulge forming every time he pushes inside you. His palm runs over the spot, eyes burning with desire as he looks down at you. "Tiny cunt can barely take me, hm?" He teases, and it's odd hearing him talk like that for once. "Gonna fill you up till you're full of me." He growls, moving to push his knees into the mattress below, pushing against the backs of your knees to angle himself better, pace picking up in speed.

You don't care anymore about the sounds leaving your lips. Your eyes won't focus on anything, closed in bliss as his ribbed tentacle runs over your core, the other one reaching to circle over one of your bouncing breasts. It's so much at once, and it feels like your entire brain is short-circuiting in the best ways possible.

You're blissfully unaware of your release staining the sheets and his skin, as he becomes erratic, chasing his own release, before he pushes in deep, both of his appendages tightening around your legs to keep you as closely attached to Jungkook's pelvis as comfortably possible.

You feel his cum filling you, so much so that it makes you nervous- because he seems to.. grow inside you?

"You're okay.." He reassures you, leaning over you as he notices your slight distress growing, lips kissing the side of your neck and cheek. "You're doing so good.." He praises, and it makes you relax a bit as you try and even out your breathing, one of his hands between the two of you, toying around with your highly sensitive pearl. He seems to know what he's doing, making you riled up once more as he keeps your mind occupied for the duration that his knot will keep him stuck, cum already seeping out in some spots. He can feel it.

His bites at your skin are more gentle now, not as desperate as he keeps himself inside you, more and more of his release slowly spilling out as he softens, your orgasm leaving you breathless as you become limp beneath him. Like little lovebites, he keeps himself close to you, his extra appendages retracting, his primal urges now satisfied, only thoughts remaining being those of caring for you now that you're so vulnerable.

His arms hold you as he moves around, carrying you towards the bathroom where you're sat in the open shower area, back leaning against the wall. He's careful to clean you up with gentle hands, never letting you out of his sight even way after you're already rolled up in towels like a human burrito, sitting patiently, sleepily, on a chair in his room, watching how he makes the bed once more, new sheets and blankets set out for you both to sleep in comfortably.

He's awfully quiet after the whole ordeal, but you know he's still awake, his hand never stilling as it brushes over the naked skin of your arm, up and down.

"What's wrong?" You wonder quietly, and he sighs, leaning closer to have your head lean against his shoulder, your legs thrown over his underneath the heavy blanket.

"…was that.. okay?" He asks, worries almost. "I got.. a bit lost at some point. I'm sorry for that." He apologizes, fingers tracing the clear bitemarks near your neck.

"It was perfect, don't worry." You giggle, relieved that it's nothing too serious. "I would've told you. Promise." You reassure him, and he nods.

"Please do." He urges softly. "I'd hate hurting you, even just by accident." He confesses, and you lean in to peck his lips.

"Don't worry so much." You tell him. "You'll always keep me safe." You remind him, and he nods, pulling you a little closer before he adjusts the blanket over your body.

"I will." He tells you. "Forever."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook drabble #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine #alien jungkook #alien!jungkook

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suiana · 7 months

Text

in which you left your boyfriend a little bit earlier than expected (various yandere characters x gn reader) (inspired by mr loverman by ricky montgomery) (angstober day 1)

OH WHAT AM I...

"hey- wait, you can't leave me yet- we still haven't done all the things you wanted to do-!"

SUPPOSED TO DO?

"hah, I'm sorry..."

WITHOUT YOU?

"don't apologize! you're gonna be fine..! just- just stay with me! we'll get you to a doctor and we'll be back to being happy with one another! like we promised!"

I'M MR LOVERMAN...

"yeah... that would be nice... forever together... like we promised..."

you smile tenderly at him, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his tear stricken face. your breath is shallow, hands shaking from the cold as you try to stay conscious. huh, was your boyfriend always this beautiful?

"have i ever told you how beautiful you are?"

AND I MISS MY LOVER, MAN...

"you have! you always have! now just shut up and focus on trying to stay alive!"

he sobs, holding your body in his arms as the snow around you stains red. his bloodied arms are shaking fervently as he grips you as though his life depended on it. you can't help but sigh slightly at this. even when you were dying, he just had to grip you like a stress ball.

I'M MR LOVERMAN...

"we both know i won't make it-"

"shut up! you can't leave me too! you'll be fine and- and we'll be back to being happy together!"

he sniffles, eyes red as he tries to keep a positive attitude about this situation. yeah you were dying, how tragic and sad. you both know this fact, but your obsessed lover just had to be delusional and hope for a miracle to happen. he didn't want to loose you after all. you were all he had left.

yet you weren't worried at all. not about the fact that your lovesick boyfriend was trying to delude himself into thinking you were alright. nor about the fact that you would be dying in less than 10 minutes.

...for all you could focus on was how his teary eyes, soft sniffles, the setting sun and the falling snow surrounding you two... made him look much more beautiful than before.

OH, AND I MISS MY LOVER

"you're beautiful."

"shut up! this isn't the time for flirting!"

you couldn't help but let out a chuckle. your boyfriend was just too cute.

I'M MR LOVERMAN...

"can't i flirt a bit with my handsome boyfriend before i die?"

"shut... shut up! you won't die! i won't let you!"

you hummed in response to his statement, smiling softly at his harsh yet loving tone. and it was then that you realised how much you loved him despite all the things he had done wrong.

AND I MISS MY LOVERMAN...

"what's so funny?!"

"nothing... just thinking about how much i love you."

he stares at you, a grim expression on his face as his hold on you increases tenfold. the aura around him changes and something in him seems to snap. maybe it's the realization that you're actually going to leave him?

I'M MR LOVERMAN...

suddenly, he connects the both of your lips, kissing you passionately yet ever so gently, as though you were a fragile flower. his tears stain your cheeks, desperate hands warming your cold body as he continues to kiss you like he was on limited time.

except he actually was, for this would be the last kiss you two shared.

when he had his fill, he pulled away from you, lips swollen as his tears just never seemed to stop falling. he hides his face in the crook of your neck, sobbing into your once warm skin as you mustered up the strength to slowly stroke his soft hair.

"i love you! i love you so much! please don't leave me!"

AND I MISS MY LOVER.

"i love you too."

you smile softly as he continues to sob into your neck. you truly wanted to stay like this with him forever, but the more your hands stroke his head, the more you felt yourself slipping into the comforting touch of death.

"...don't forget about me, okay?"

the male stops sobbing for a second, pulling away from your neck to scold you.

"how could i ever forget about you? dumbass..."

he grumbles, hiding in your neck once more as you laugh weakly, your arm falling onto his head in an attempt to comfort him.

"don't... come over too soon, okay? go and... live your life."

you pause for a bit before continuing.

"I'll always... be here for you."

the male hums in response, not wanting to talk as he feels your hand drop from his head. when you do so, he shivers slightly. ah... has it always been this cold?

"...what an idiot."

he mumbles, staring at your peaceful face as the once neverending tears stop falling from his beautiful eyes.

...you really left him, huh?

"not only did you leave me, but you also took my heart with you too... how cruel."

he just wanted to love you until the both of you had grey hair. so why did you have to be such a fool and slip from his grasp now?

chuuya nakahara, mushitaro oguri, gojo satoru, yuji itadori, danheng, gepard landau, wanderer/scaramouche, kaveh, denji, your faves<3

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hd-junglebook · 10 days

Text

Its Always Been You

Part 2 - Word Count 4932

A.N - Don't hate me for how long this is OR that it's just arguing. I needed thing to move along sue me. And if you are mad, that's why y/n got her feelings hurt. sucks to suck.

Prev - Next

Y/N stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past as Jack navigated the busy Newark streets. The silence seemed to stretch on endlessly, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the distant sounds of traffic, each second feeling heavier than the last. Y/N had not made a peep, her thoughts racing like a freight train through her mind.

Her mind raced with questions, each one more painful than the last. How could Jack have kept something like this from her? How long had he been seeing Daphne, and why had he never mentioned her before?

Y/N had always thought that she and Jack shared everything, that their bond was unbreakable. But now, she couldn't help but wonder if she had been fooling herself all along.

The thought that Jack might have known about her feelings for him made Y/N's stomach twist with humiliation. Had she been too obvious in her affection, too transparent in her longing?

The idea that he might have been pitying her all this time, or worse, laughing at her behind her back, made her want to curl up and disappear.

Y/N's eyes burned with unshed tears, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall.

Instead, she focused on keeping her breathing steady, on maintaining the fragile composure that was all that was keeping her from falling apart. The streetlights flickered past in a blur, casting fleeting shadows that danced across the car's interior.

The glow from the dashboard illuminated Jack's profile, his jaw clenched and his eyes focused on the road ahead, but she could feel the tension radiating off him in waves.

Beside her, Jack gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white with tension. Y/N could feel the weight of his gaze on her, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. She didn't trust herself not to break down if she did, to unleash the torrent of emotions that were swirling inside her like a hurricane.

The silence was now feeling unbearable, a thick fog that clouded her thoughts and stifled her words. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, her fingers twisting and turning in a nervous dance. Her heart felt like it was caught in a vice grip, each beat echoing loudly in her ears.

But still, she said nothing, the words lodged in her throat like shards of glass. What could she say, really? What words could possibly encompass the depth of her pain, the magnitude of her unrequited love?

“Can you please talk to me, Y/N? I don’t get what's the big deal," Jack pleaded.

She risked a glance in his direction. He looked as uncomfortable as she felt, and for a moment, Y/N felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this was all just a misunderstanding, a terrible joke that they could laugh about later.

But then she remembered the way Daphne had looked at Jack, the possessive gleam in her eye and the casual intimacy of her touch. There was no denying the truth of their relationship, no matter how much Y/N wished she could.

As they came to a stop, the soft purr of the engine died down, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Jack pulled into the garage of the apartment building, navigating the narrow road with ease due to the sparse traffic of the late hour, making the drive up seem even longer.

“It’s nothing, Jack. I was just shocked. You never even mentioned her to me,” Y/N began, her voice shaky. Her eyes darted to his, searching for understanding as she bit her lower lip nervously. “We’re supposed to tell each other everything, and you hid a girlfriend from me,” she continued.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Jack's hands tightened on the wheel, his jaw clenching. "Y/N, I..."

Jack's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. "Y/N," he said, his voice hoarse. "I'm sorry. Just let me explain somehow.”

Y/N swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. "Okay. Let’s just get upstairs first."

With that, Y/N pulled her wrist from his grasp, she opened the car door and stepped out into the cool night air, her legs shaking beneath her. She couldn't bear to hear whatever explanation Jack might offer, couldn't stand the thought of listening to him speak of daphne.

They made their way up the steps to their apartment, Y/N's heart felt like it was breaking with every step. She had always thought that loving Jack was the one constant in her life, the one thing she could count on no matter what.

…

As they reached their floor, Y/N fumbled with her keys, her hands shaking so badly that she nearly dropped them. She could feel Jack's eyes on her, could sense his hesitation, but she refused to meet his gaze. She didn't trust herself not to break down completely if she did.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Y/N managed to unlock the door. She stepped inside, the familiar scent of their apartment washing over her.

Behind her, Jack closed the door softly, the click of the latch sounding like a gunshot in the heavy silence. Y/N could hear him take a deep breath, could sense him searching for the right words to say.

"Y/N," Jack said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a step towards her, his hand outstretched. "It's not really what you think. Daphne and I... it's complicated."

Y/N laughed, the sound harsh and bitter. "Complicated? Is that what you call it when you have a girlfriend you never told your supposed best friend about?" She spun around to face him.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out eventually? Did you think you could just keep living this double life and I would never know?"

“I can't lose you, Y/N. You're my best friend, the most important person in my life. I know I screwed up, but I'll do whatever it takes to make it right. I'll spend every day proving to you that you can trust me, that I'll never keep anything from you again."

Y/N's eyes searched his face, looking for any sign of deception or insincerity. But all she saw was honesty and fear, a desperate need for her to believe him. She could feel the tension between them, thick and heavy.

"I know Jack," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m sorry, it’s just been a long night. Let’s just let it go. I mean, for Christ’s sake you’re not even dating."

“Can we just watch a movie or something. Forget about her for tonight.” He suggested.

“Maybe tomorrow jack, I’m just really tired.” Jack looked disappointed but he nodded anyway, sitting himself on the couch as y/n walked to her room.

As she pushed open her door and stepped inside, Y/N finally allowed herself to break, the tears she had been holding back spilling down her cheeks in hot, salty tracks.

She sank to the floor, her back pressed against the door, and let the sobs wrack her body, mourning the loss of a love she had never truly had.

…

Y/N groaned as the shrill sound of her alarm pierced through the fog of sleep, dragging her back to consciousness. She blinked blearily, her eyes adjusting to the soft light filtering through her curtains.

For a moment, she couldn't remember how she had gotten into bed the night before, her memories hazy and fragmented.

The events of the previous evening came rushing back, hitting her like a tidal wave. Daphne’s appearance, the breakdown she had. Y/N threw her hands over her face, huffing out a string of unintelligible words as she tried to process the whirlwind of emotions that swirled inside her.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed off the blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The apartment was eerily quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the city traffic outside her window. Y/N wondered if Jack was still asleep, or if he had already left for practice.

She padded softly to the bathroom, her bare feet cold against the hardwood floor. The thought of a hot shower to soothe her aching head and wash away the remnants of last night's tears sounded like heaven. Y/N turned the water to its highest temperature, steam filling the small room as she stepped inside.

The scalding water cascaded over her skin, turning it pink and raw. Y/N tilted her head back, letting the spray hit her face and wash away the smudged mascara that had dried on her cheeks. She closed her eyes.

A nagging voice in the back of her mind that whispered that she would never be enough, that Jack would always choose someone else over her.

Y/N shook her head, trying to dispel the negative thoughts. She couldn't let herself go down that rabbit hole, couldn't let the pain and insecurity consume her. She needed to be strong, to focus on herself and her own needs, even if that meant putting some distance between herself and Jack.

She was just about to step out when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Curious, she peeked through the sheer curtain, the gauzy material allowing her a glimpse into the hallway beyond, to see Jack standing in the doorway, his hair mussed from sleep and his eyes still heavy with exhaustion.

There, standing in the doorway, was Jack, looking like he had just rolled out of bed. His dark hair was mussed from sleep, sticking up in endearing tufts that made Y/N's fingers itch to smooth them down. His eyes were still heavy with exhaustion.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the tension from the night before still hanging heavy in the air between them.

The early morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over Jack's features and making his blue eyes appear even more vivid than usual. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she drank in the sight of him, her gaze roaming over the strong lines of his jaw and the curve of his lips.

Even disgruntled he still looked beautiful.

Jack caught sight of himself in the mirror. His eyes widened as he took in his disheveled appearance.

Unable to resist, Y/N couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him, her shoulders shaking with mirth as she watched him pout at his reflection. The sound seemed to startle him, and he turned to face her, his lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated frown.

Even as he tried to look offended, Y/N could see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, you think this is funny, do you?" he asked, his voice still rough with sleep. The sound sent a shiver down Y/N's spine.

Y/N nodded, her laughter growing louder as Jack's pout deepened. She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'm sorry," she said tucking herself behind the curtain, not sounding sorry at all.

"But you should see yourself right now. You look like a grumpy puppy who got woken up from a nap."

Jack's eyes narrowed, but the smile he had been trying to suppress finally broke through, lighting up his face and making Y/N's breath catch in her throat. "A puppy, huh?" he said, taking a step towards her. "I'll show you a puppy."

Jack's eyes sparked with mischief as he lunged towards Y/N, his hands outstretched as if to grab her from the shower. Y/N let out a yelp of surprise, her laughter echoing off the tiled walls as she quickly tucked herself behind the shower curtain, the flimsy material serving as a makeshift barrier between them.

"Jack, wait!" she pleaded, her voice breathless with laughter. "You can't hit a guy with glasses!"

Jack paused, his hands still hovering in the air as he raised an eyebrow at her. "You're not wearing glasses," he pointed out, his lips twitching with amusement.

Y/N peeked out from behind the curtain, her eyes wide with mock innocence. "Well, no, but I could be. You never know."

Jack shook his head, a chuckle escaping his lips as he stepped back from the shower, his hands raised in a sign of peace. "Alright, alright, you win. I surrender."

Y/N emerged from behind the curtain, her hair damp and her cheeks flushed from the steam. She was suddenly acutely aware of how close they were standing, the small bathroom feeling even more cramped with Jack's tall frame taking up space. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the clean scent of soap.

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, and all Y/N could focus on was the intensity of Jack's gaze and the way his eyes seemed to darken as they roamed over her face. Her heart raced in her chest, her skin tingling with a sudden, electric awareness of his presence.

But then, the events of the previous night came rushing back, hitting her like a splash of cold water. The hurt, the betrayal, the overwhelming sense of confusion and uncertainty - it all came flooding back, making her throat tighten and her chest ache.

Y/N felt her smile fade, the laughter dying in her throat as she took a small step back, putting some distance between them.

She averted her gaze, suddenly finding the pattern of the shower curtain incredibly interesting as she tried to gather her thoughts.

The sound of the water hitting the tiles seemed to grow louder in the silence, the steady rhythm a stark contrast to the pounding of her heart. Y/N swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry as she struggled to find the right words.

"I'll be out in a minute, then it's all yours," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, couldn't bear to see the hurt or confusion in his eyes.

Jack's hands fell to his sides, his expression growing serious. "Are you still mad at me?” he said softly. “I meant what I said last night, Y/N. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us."

Y/N nodded; her throat tight with emotion. "I know you will, Jack. I’m not mad at you, I’m just not feeling good right now.”

Jack was quiet for a moment. Y/N could hear him shift his weight, could sense the way he was searching for something to say. But in the end, he simply nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly as he took a step back.

"Okay," he said softly, his voice rough with an emotion Y/N couldn't quite place. "I'll just... I'll wait in the living room." And with that, he turned and walked out of the bathroom, the sound of his footsteps fading as he made his way down the hall.

She knew that they couldn't go on like this forever, that they would have to face the hard truths and difficult conversations sooner or later.

But for now, she simply wanted to lose herself in the warmth of the shower, to let the water wash away the pain and confusion and leave her feeling clean and new.

…

After their last awkward encounter, y/n had decided to find someone to talk to. Y/N lay sprawled on her stomach, her feet swinging lazily behind her as she cradled her phone in her hands.

The soft glow of the screen illuminated her face, casting shadows across her features as she poured her heart out to her best friend, Jenn.

"I just don't know what to do," Y/N confessed, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and despair. "I mean, I always knew that Jack and I were just friends, but I guess a part of me always hoped that maybe, someday, he would see me as something more."

Jenn’s face filled the screen, her brows furrowed in sympathy as she listened to Y/N's tale of woe. "Oh, honey," she said softly, her voice tinny through the phone's speakers. "I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine how you must be feeling right now."

Y/N sighed, burying her face in her pillow for a moment before lifting her head to look back at the screen. "It's just... I feel so stupid, you know? Like, how could I not have seen this coming? I really thought moving all this way together would open his eyes."

Jenn shook her head, her expression fierce. "You're not stupid, Y/N. You're human. And sometimes, when we're in love, we see what we want to see, even if it's not really there."

Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them back furiously. "I just don't know what to do now," she said, her voice small and lost.

"I mean, Jack is my best friend, but how can I be around him knowing that he's with someone else? Knowing that he'll never see me the way I see him?"

They were quiet for a moment, Jenn/s face was pensive as she mulled over Y/N's words. "Maybe," she said slowly, her tone cautious. "Maybe it's time for you to start thinking about yourself for a change."

Y/N frowned, not quite wanting to get into her plan. "Not this again, we’re not playing matchmaker."

She leaned forward, her expression earnest. “whatever, but maybe it's time for you to put yourself out there, to start meeting new people and exploring new possibilities. You've been so focused on Jack for so long, but there's a whole world out there waiting for you, Y/N."

Y/N bit her lip, her heart racing at the thought. "I don't know, J. I'm not really the dating type. And besides, who would want to go out with me?"

She could feel the eye roll through the screen. "Are you kidding me? Y/N, you're gorgeous, smart, funny, and kind. Any guy would be lucky to have you." Y/N felt a blush creep up her cheeks at Sarah's words, a small spark of hope igniting in her chest.

Jenn nodded emphatically. “Why don't you download one of those dating apps, like Tinder or Bumble? Just to see what's out there, you know? No pressure, no expectations, just a chance to meet some new people and have some fun."

Y/N let out a surprised laugh, the sound bursting from her lips before she could stop it. "A dating app? Seriously?" The idea both thrilling and terrifying at the same time. She had never been one for casual dating, had always been more of a relationship kind of girl. But maybe Jenn was right.

Maybe it was time for her to step outside her comfort zone, to take a chance on something new. “It could be fun! And who knows, maybe you'll meet someone amazing who will make you forget all about Jack and his stupid secrets."

"Okay," she said slowly, her smile growing wider. "I'll do it. I'll download a dating app and see what happens."

…

The soft beat of y/ns favorite song played softly in the background as she stood in front of her mirror, taking one last look at her reflection, she debated between two pairs of heels when she heard the front door open, and the sound of familiar voices filled the apartment.

Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that Jack was home, and he wasn't alone. She took a deep breath before stepping out of her room.

The black mini dress hugged her curves in all the right places, and the smokey eye makeup gave her a sultry, mysterious air. She had spent the better part of an hour getting ready, determined to make a good impression on her date.

"Hi John," Y/N said, her voice soft and slightly breathless as she caught sight of Jack's teammate standing beside him. She couldn't help but notice the way John's eyes widened as he took in her appearance, his gaze traveling up and down her body appreciatively.

"Wow, Y/N," John said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You look amazing. Got a hot date tonight?"

Y/N felt a blush creep up her cheeks, but she forced herself to maintain eye contact, a coy smile playing on her lips. "Maybe," she said, her voice teasing. "Guess you'll have to wait and see."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jack stiffen, his jaw clenching as he watched the exchange. She tried to ignore the way her heart raced at the sight of him, the way her skin tingled with awareness of his presence.

"Well, whoever the lucky guy is, he's in for a treat," John said, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer before he turned to Jack, a knowing look in his eye. "Don't you think, Jack?" Jack's expression was unreadable, but Y/N could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched at his sides.

"Yeah," he said, his voice tight. "Y/N always looks great."

Y/N felt a thrill of satisfaction at the barely concealed jealousy in his tone, but she forced herself to keep her focus on John. "Thanks, John," she said, her voice warm. "You're too sweet." She took a step closer to him, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

"You know, I've been meaning to ask you something," she said, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Why don’t you come over more often? It would be nice to see you more.”

John's eyes lit up, a grin spreading across his face. "Well jack here is trying to keep you to himself. Just say the word and I'll clear my schedule."

Y/N laughed, the sound light and flirtatious. "I might just take you up on that," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

She could feel Jack's gaze burning into her back, could sense the tension radiating off him in waves. But she refused to let herself be swayed. "Well, I should probably get going," she said, glancing at her watch. "Don't want to keep my date waiting."

She brushed past John, her arm grazing against his as she made her way towards the door. "It was great seeing you, John," she called over her shoulder, her voice sweet.

"Don't be a stranger, okay?" And with that, she was gone, the sound of her heels echoing down the hallway as she made her way out of the apartment. She could feel Jack's eyes on her until the very last moment.

Y/N felt Jack's hand close around her arm, his grip firm but gentle. Before she could protest, he pulled her towards him, spinning her around until she was facing him, her body pressed against his chest.

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him, their faces mere inches apart. “Supposed to tell each other everything, remember? Guess that doesn’t apply to dates or girlfriends,” he snapped, tone dripping with sarcasm. His gaze was icy, challenging him to respond.

They both stood in the dark hallway, a silent standoff. The pale blue moonlight filtered through the narrow window, casting an eerie glow on their faces. y/n finally broke the silence, his voice as cold as the icy blue of a frozen lake. "If you're going to be like this, maybe I should find somewhere else to stay tonight."

Jack's eyes narrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. The once vibrant blue of his eyes had dulled to a stormy gray, reflecting the turmoil within.

"I broke up with her three months ago, okay? You've been avoiding me for a week straight," he shot back, his words tinged with frustration and a hint of desperation.

"I..." He searched for the right words, but they eluded his grasp, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass. The silence stretched between them, as vast and empty as a cloudless blue sky. Jack didn't know what she wanted him to say.

In fact, all he could see was her eyes, two deep pools of blue that threatened to drown him in their depths. He was at a complete loss for words, his mind as blank as a fresh canvas.

"I know you have feelings for me. I never brought it up because if I was wrong then you'd be mad at me, but I've known for years," he finally confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, like a thick blanket of blue smoke.

She felt a lump form in her throat as she listened to his words, each syllable carving a deeper wound in her already battered soul. The revelation was like a bolt of lightning, striking her heart with a searing pain.

She knew. Jack had known all along, yet he had chosen to remain silent, to spare her the pain of rejection. The realization settled over her like a heavy fog, obscuring her thoughts and feelings, leaving her lost and alone in a world devoid of color.

Her hand remained clasped in his, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been. She wanted to hold on, to cling to his warmth and the fleeting hope it offered, like a drowning sailor grasping at a lifeline in the vast ocean of despair.

Her fingers trembled, the icy blue of her veins visible beneath her skin, as if the color had been drained from her very being. And then, like a dagger to the heart, came his final confession.

"And I wish things were different, but there's no good way to say this. I don't like you in that way, but I really hope you find someone that does.

His voice was soft, barely audible above the deafening silence that engulfed them, but he didn't let go of her hand. It stayed there, a lifeline that tethered her to the harsh reality of the moment.

Y/N felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs, her heart shattering into a million pieces at his words. She had always known, deep down, that Jack didn't feel the same way about her, but hearing him say it out loud was like a knife to the chest, the blade twisting with every syllable.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision until all she could see was a hazy blue mist. She blinked them away, unwilling to let them fall in front of him, to show him just how deeply his words had cut her.

Her free hand clenched into a fist at her side, nails digging into her palm, the pain a welcome distraction from the agony that consumed her heart.

She wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him to reconsider, but the words lodged in her throat, as heavy and immovable as a boulder. Instead, she simply nodded, a jerky, mechanical motion that belied the turmoil within.

She forced herself to meet his gaze, her eyes a dull, lifeless blue, like the sky before a storm, void of the sparkle and warmth they once held.

The tears pooled in her eyes, threatening to spill over and reveal the depth of her anguish. "How long have you known?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, a fragile wisp of sound that hung in the air between them.

Jack sighed, his shoulders slumping as he released her wrist, his hand falling limply to his side. The warmth of his touch lingered on her skin, a cruel reminder of the connection they once shared.

"A while," he admitted, his voice heavy with guilt. "I didn't know how to bring it up without hurting you, so I just... didn't."

Y/N nodded, her throat tight with emotion, the lump growing larger with each passing second. She swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the knot of pain that threatened to choke her.

"I see," she said, her voice flat, devoid of the vibrant emotion that once colored her words. "Well, I guess I should thank you for finally being honest with me, even if it is a little late."

She turned to go, her heart heavy with the weight of his rejection, each step a monumental effort as if she were wading through quicksand.

Before she could take more than a few steps, she heard Jack's voice, soft and sad, calling after her, a desperate plea for understanding.

"Y/N, I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking with emotion, the raw honesty of his words cutting through the suffocating silence. "I never meant to hurt you. You're my best friend."

She walked away, her heels clicking on the tiled floor as she made her way to the elevator. Jack's words echoed in her mind like a cruel, endless loop, a haunting melody that played on repeat, taunting her with the knowledge of what could never be.

She had always known that loving him would end in heartbreak, the inevitable conclusion to a story that was doomed from the start.

But somehow, that knowledge did nothing to dull the pain that threatened to consume her, body and soul, leaving her hollow and empty, a mere shell of the person she once was.

As the elevator doors closed behind her, she leaned against the wall, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, the tears she had fought so hard to contain now flowing freely down her cheeks. The fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow on her face, illuminating the tracks of her tears.

She closed her eyes, willing the pain to subside, but it only seemed to grow stronger.

…

the next chapter is going to be put off for a while since I want to get until dawn started. Also do y'all not fw Until Dawn I really think Jack could eat us up in a fic that isn't revolved around hockey. there's only so many variations. But do you guys even want until dawn, please let me know.

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blindaysblogforturtles · 8 months

Text

Everyone's doin it, why shouldn't I? I've got things to say! And unfortunately, Cass cant just draw as if she is a camera looking at them the whole time. So, we still get space for fic!

Hope you like it. It's like, the first time in months I finish a wip. And in record time! You did this, Cass. Thank you so much.

@somerandomdudelmao

It was happening. The red eared slider started small, and grew, and grew, and Donatello tightened his grip on the mug containing what was essentialy his brother's soul. He could allow him to go in, now. Just a little push.

But. What if something went wrong? What if Leo got lost in the way? What if he faded? He was stronger now, but still so fragile.

Raph smiled.

"Trust him, Donnie. He's got this." Raph avoided mentioning Mikey's concerns about the process, things he said only for the sake of confiding into someone else. It wouldn't do any good to make Donnie more anxious.

Donatello sighed and took his hand off the mug, using his ninpo to gently nudge Leo's into his new body. It rebelled, the little flame attached to his field. Scared. I don't want to be alone again, it said. Please. Donnie smiled. You won't. Trust me. He answered back. And after a few seconds of hesitation, the flame complied.

With the source in it, the body grows into the Leo he remembered. Or. Almost. He was healthy, because of course he was, he wasn't about to make a new body just for it to be shitty- but somehow smaller... thinner. Maybe he did something wrong- maybe, maybe Leo's soul didn't have enough energy to become himself-

But then he saw how Casey's eyes stared adoringly at the pod. Casey, who also had more scars and less pounds than he remembered. Donnie hadn't noticed much through his cameras- better yet, he had, but seeing it in person...

Suddently the alarm went off, signalling it was time to take his Lime-o-nardo Pie out of the oven. God, that was awful. Leo would absolutely love it.

With a gentleness only a biological body could muster, Raph lifted Nardo from his pod onto his arms, with a gaze so soft and proud Donnie thought he was about to cry.

They all hovered with warm smiles ready to welcome the leader in blue, barely containing the excitement in being all together again.

Except.

Nothing happened. Casey frowned and before Donnie could say or do anything, gently placed his fingers on his sensei's neck. He gasped.

"What? What happened?!" Raph asked barely below the yelling tone.

"His heartbeat." Casey replied in a whisper. "It's slow. Too slow." He looked at Donnie. "There's something wrong."

Raph quickly set Leo down after a quick nod from Donatello, who put on his goggles and started scanning to find whatever was his brother's ailment. A tense silence followed soon after.

"What... what is the problem?" Asked Casey. He was trembling into Raph's reassuring arms, never once looking away from his sensei. Donnie frowned.

"The good news is, nothing is physically wrong." He answered. "The bad news is, nothing's physically wrong."

There was a pregnant pause.

By Donnie's orders, Raph moved Leo to the place supposed to serve as his bedroom. Donnie tried every possible test he knew, from reflexes to blood test, to little slaps on his face, to begging. Leo's heartbeat was weak and frail. Like his ninpo had been.

This was all his fault. He should've given him more time, should've waited for Mikey to be healed enough to help, should've, should...

He punched Leo's chest, starling Raphael and Casey. They looked flabbergasted as he started doing compressions.

"I'm not letting you go, Nardo. Do you hear me? I'M NOT LETTING YOU GO!" He screamed. Death was not going to take him. He wouldn't let it happen.

So he kept on going, pressing. Forcing Leo's body to intake more air. Up, down, up, down.

Up, down.

But nothing changed in the five minutes it took for him to stop and realize he had been crying. Shit, he was crying in front of Casey. Fuck that, his brother was dying. No. No, no, he wasn't. Donnie could fix it, he could fix anything! There had to be another solution, something to keep him here, something Donnie could do. It didn't matter what, be it joke, scream, reveal his worst secrets, summon a demon with some dark ritual-

-wait. The memory ritual.

"That's it!" He yelled, and barked instructions around. Casey got started with Raph's assistance no questions asked. It was going to work. It had to.

Because he had no idea what to do if it didn't.

With the glowing lights and a final nod of confirmation, they started the ritual.

° ° °

Casey tightened his grip on Leonardo's unresponsive hand. He needed him back. He was 16, he still needed his best friend, his mentor, his sensei.

He felt tears prickle in his eyes. This was all so unfair. Everything was. Why did he have to be strong? Why did he have to see the apocalypse happen? Twice? Why did he have to watch his family die? He was watching him die for the second- the third time!

He had felt so alone here, with strangers wearing the faces of his family. Strangers he loved so dearly but couldn't show or tell. Only, now they could be together again. It was just Leo, now.

"You can't do this to me, sensei. You can't." He breathed. Because he promised to be there to see Casey grow up. He promised to train him until he didn't need him anymore.

But he still did. Now, more than ever. Still needed him as his best friend, as his mentor, teacher, his sensei.

His dad.

"I miss you, dad."

° ° °

It was cold. And surprisingly humid for a mind belonging to someone so heavily associated with fire. His feet touched the watery ground and he looked around.

There wasn't... anything here. Nothing useful, no sign of Leonardo's soul.

He started wandering, ocasionally calling for his brother.

"Leo? Nardo, are you here?" He walked around but saw nothing.

That is, until he looked down. Instead of a reflection, there he was. His twin. Mirrorring his actions and expressions like when they were tots.

"Leo! Leo, can you hear me?" He kneeled and touched the water. It was cool and shallow, but there was a force keeping him from getting in... or getting Leo out. He took notice of Leo mirrorring his expressions and punched the invisible wall. Nothing.

It was as if Leo didn't want to come with him.

"You aren't making things easy, Nardo."

The reflection- Leo just kept mimicking him. Donnie hissed. They had come too far for them to accept being only 3 now. He punched the water wall. They should never be less than 4. He needed. Punch. To get. Punch. His twin.

"Come on, come on, come on, come on!" Punch.

OUT!

The wall broke and without sparing a single second Donatello's hand searched and grabbed the collar of Leonardo's cape.

"Come here, you dumbass!" He pulled and finally - finally! - Leonardo in all his glowing and translucid and barely solid form came out of the water.

His eyes were angry and his face seemed hostile. If it was a mirror for Donnie's own features he didn't know, and it did NOT matter.

"You are coming with me and this is not up for discussion!"

He just snatched him completely from the water, glaring at its lifeless blue glow, barely registering the look of bewilderment and recognition that came across Leo's face.

"FUCK YOU, Death! I'm taking him!"

With his twin - his prize, his other half, his hope - in his arms, Donnie took impulse to leave that place. They were safe, it was going to be okay.

Leo's soul once again rebelled, reaching his armless nub towards the water. Home, his twin senses told him. Leo thought this was home.

"No, you idiot. I am taking you home."

Their eyes met. From the lifeless blue, the soul gripped his arm back and he tightened his hold. He knew that look. Hope. A ninja's greatest weapon, as cheesy as it sounds.

"Trust me, Nardo."

And with no need of words, he heard an answer.

"I do, Tello."

"I'll see you on the other side."

° ° °

Again, I hope you like it. I'm happy with the end result.

#rottmnt #tmnt #cass apocalyptic series #somerandomdudelmao #cas fanfic #cas fan tag #rottmnt fanfic #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

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kingkunigami · 7 months

Note

Just thinking about Kunigami’s big ass hands. They easily span your thighs, can grip a juicy ass cheek no problem. Hell, he do a double cheek grab too, ya know, all the good stuff. But when you ask him to give you a hand necklace, poor baby stutters and doesn’t know what to do. 😩 Gonna have to teach him where else he can put those big hands.

(All over me 🤣🤣💀 I’m so sorry Jo IGNORE ME)

Meggs this took me way too long to post, but I’m genuinely delirious over the thought of this. Just corrupting our sweet, innocent boyfriend until he’s a calculated, soft dom in the bedroom.

Warnings: 18+, choking, premature ejaculation, creampie.

Pairing: Kunigami Rensuke x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.1k.

There’s something about the way that Kunigami handles you— it’s a stark contrast to the way he is out on the field. The power and dominance of his moves as he captures the ball and maintains possession of it, hands spread out to stop his opponents stealing it. Balling his palms into tight fists whenever he scores a goal, a winning goal.

And yet with you, he’s so cautious. Handling you with such care that he’s afraid if he’s too rough you might break into tiny little pieces beyond his repair, cupping you in his palms as though he’s cradling a lost little bird who can’t fly back home. You’re such a delicate, sweet thing to him and you’d never imagine such prudence from a man who’s so domineering outside these four walls.

Not that he’s completely prude— Kunigami knows the effect he has on you, especially when he cups your ass in his firm hands. Fingers splayed out as rough palms grip your cheeks, holding your body against him as he cherishes the pretty sounds he manages to pull from between your pouty lips. You’re irresistible to him, an accolade greater than any trophy he could obtain.

But that’s just it, you’re his greatest prize, his best possession— so of course he’s going to handle you with care.

Your boyfriend has always been more than adequate in the bedroom, satisfying your needs and dutifully cleaning up the mess he made after. Whenever you’d hear your friends complaining about their doomed sexual conquests you could never compare, because Kunigami really was good at pleasuring you.

But you wanted more. You wanted him to test how breakable you were— even fine bone China could brace some impact. You wanted him to taint the perfect, fragile image he has always had of you and to see how far he could take it. Leaving lingering bruises against your skin that would fade in a few days, but continue to throb in the process. A delicious reminder of the time he’d given them to you, waiting for them to fade before replacing them with new memories.

You wanted him to be a little rough with you.

His large hands map out every curve as he holds you against him, fucking into you with no real sense of urgency as he savours you. Cupping your bouncing breasts as he thumbs your taut nipples, groaning low and deep in his chest at the way your body responds to him.

“Ren,” Your clit is pulsing from the sight of his hands on your breasts, a sheer indication of how big and domineering they can be when they sink into the supple skin, “Ren, please.”

“What is it, pretty girl?” He coos, tilting his head to the side as he keeps his steady pace, “Tell me what you want.”

Kunigami would do anything for you, and you’re fully aware of it. But this was nothing you’d ever requested before, and maybe it would be too much of a requisition for your big strong boyfriend.

“Can you choke me?” You almost whisper. The appeal sounds that much more debauched coming from your pretty lips.

“W-what?” His hips stutter at your plea, his large palm braces himself as he presses against your sternum. Feeling your heartbeat throbbing in your chest as he wonders whether he really heard you correctly. The embarrassment evident in his tone, as the pink of his cheeks contrasts brightly against his chestnut hair.

“Please?” You whine, tightening your thighs around his hips as though you’re worried the question will have him pulling out and denying you the sweet relief you crave, “I can take it—”

Such a sweet voice uttering such a depraved request.

You could see him thinking, the same blank expression that was often found on his face. And yet the cogs kept turning inside his mind as he stilled inside you, pondering your request as you leaned down to wrap one of your smaller hands around his wrist.

Moving his hand from your sternum to the base of your neck as you looked up at him with reassuring eyes, an unspoken consent between you as you felt his fingers begin to tighten around the column of your throat. Your eyes almost rolling back into your skull as your cunt clenched around him from the tension, adjusting his grip as he leaned his weight onto his other hand so he didn’t crush your windpipe beneath the sheer weight of him.

“Like this?” He hummed deep and low in his throat, gaging your reaction as he felt you swallow thickly beneath his grip.

“Harder.”

“Oh, fuck.” He growled, his brows furrowing as he began to squeeze harder. Restricting the air flowing into your lungs as you make the most sinful sound he thinks he’s ever heard, your tight cunt clamping down around his still cock.

And the poor man is coming undone, his hips stuttering wildly as he fucks creamy ropes of his release into your convulsing body. The sheer force of his climax wrecks through him in harsh waves, and his chest caves as he sees just how big his palm looks wrapped around your pretty neck.

Now Kunigami isn’t sure whether he can spend another waking minute without seeing you wearing his hand as your own personal necklace. Your pretty cunt still throbs around his spent cock as you blubber and whine beneath him, the sounds muffled by the tightness of his hand around your throat.

He’s unapologetic when he reaches his other hand between your connected bodies, maintaining his grip on your throat as he presses messy figure of eights against your puffy clit. Working you towards your own end as you feel the tightness only increasing the pressure of your desire. The dam inside you close to overflowing as it snaps, your climax surging through you in harsh waves as it crashes down around you. Trying to cry out Kunigami’s name as the sound escapes your lips in a debauched squeal, finding your own intense release.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, pulling his hand away as you stare up at him with glossy eyes. Watching your chest heave as you suck the air back into your chest, the euphoria still surging through your veins as his softening cock begins to twitch back to life at the way your cunt pulses around him, “Can we do that again?”

#kunigami x reader #kunigami smut #rensuke kunigami smut #rensuke kunigami x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #bllk smut #bllk x reader

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euphoricfilter · 1 year

Note

“you cant chew on that, baby” Yoongi. Hybrid, daechwita (wth does tyrant Yoongi call his lover hm. +somehow fit in yandere? It’s ok if you choose not to lol) -🖤

the life of a tyrant:

pairing: yandere tyrant! yoongi x dog hybrid! reader

genre: fluff || daechwita au || yandere au || non-idol au || hybrid au

summary: it’s hard to hide you from the world when you’re on the run.

word count: 1k

tags/ warnings: yandere yoongi who's actually a huge softie, cutie puppy! reader, murder and blood, intentional lowercase

notes: prompt from this drabble game <3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

you hadn't been into the heart of the town since Yoongi had picked you up off the streets years ago; the prettiest little diamond in the dirt. his only treasure, his one true love.

your freedom was that of a wild bird, wings clipped and confined to a cage of precious gold the moment you had taken Yoongi's hand, solidifying your soul with his, your very being belonging to him.

where he promised the world, in his little run down cabin, tattered clothing and the few gold coins in his pocket. holding all the answers to your problems in his rough hands that touched you like you were worth more than any jewel worthy of the king. and eyes that held an oath of the love you so craved, every fibre of his being simply existing for you.

in his eyes, the less the world saw of you, the better; his precious secret.

in all honesty, Yoongi didn't really have a choice when his face was plastered all throughout the country as one of the most sought after criminals.

though that felt like a little lie, an excuse even, when truly he knew the real reason for keeping you locked away in the cabin. you were ever so pretty, hybrid ears soft like the finest silk and face ever so kissable he really couldn't help himself, because as much as he knew it would become a burden lugging around another person, you'd had him wrapped around your precious little finger since the first time meeting.

it hadn't been hard to break you down, rough exterior merely for show, natural selection could really roughen up soft things like you. nothing a little bit of his love couldn't fix. it was cute how you'd tried to act like a big dog when truly he knew how much a puppy you were; who loves to get her ears scratched and laid over his lap of an evening until his fingers would brush through your hair and you'd shiver as he skims over the base of your tail.

Yoongi always been a little greedy, love always a little selfish, always wanting more than he deserved in this life, and maybe that's how he found himself in this position; his head worth more than any flashy piece of gold trickets the king could dream of buying for his may concubine that lay abandoned in his bedroom, a mere show to placate them of his absence.

you'd never been fussy when it came to Yoongi's plethora of rules.

when he isn't home, you never open the door if anyone were to knock, hide in the bedroom if anyone lurks around the forest, and when he takes you out to let off some steam- you never leave his sight, ever.

you never minded, because he made sure to let you run around the cabin three times a day, never once complaining about the sticky loneliness that clung onto your heart when he'd venture into town for food or new clothes. because Yoongi had already done enough for you, and you refused to become any more of a burden.

the life of a tyrant wasn't always quiet mornings with his pup, not always fishing in the river where really you had no qualms about chasing after any fish that caught your attention, nor the wet hugs that would follow as you smiled up at him, always brighter then the morning sun. your kisses warm as a spring breeze would caress both your skin until you were shivering and he'd wrap you in his arms without a care in the world.

the life of a tyrant isn't one that yoongi really wanted you to experience, your body too precious to be travelling so far in such a short amount of time, skin too fragile that the air of any foul man shouldn't ever think to even breath in your direction.

"you can't chew on that, baby" Yoongi pulls the string of the leather pouch from between your teeth, gold coins jingling from the force, "it's yucky"

his nose turns up at the man on the ground, pudgy hand still wrapped around his thick neck in an attempt to stop himself from bleeding out on the floor of his pathetic little fruit shop.

said man's eyes were still wide open in shock, mouth fallen open in what Yoongi can only assume to be excruciating pain, little glint of hope fizzling out, flame reaching the end of the wick as he'd begun to realise that this was the end for him.

it had been pitiful how the sick son a bitch had turned to you for help when him gazing at you had been the sole reason for his untimely death, but Yoongi supposes it had been fun to shove a blade in the back of his neck a second time just for the fun of it. niggling rage of the king's men galloping their way to his little cabin finally escalating; a shame that the poor shop owner had been at the burning end of his anger.

truthfully, Yoongi had been a little surprised you hadn't said anything. wondering if maybe this was the part of your story when you turn on him like the rest of the world, something a little humorous in the way you'd been more worried about his scent now that of the bastard that painted the floor red rather than the fact your Yoongi had killed a man before your very eyes without even a lick of shame.

"you asked me to hold onto it though" you frown, lips tugging down into the most kissable pout.

now, Yoongi was a weak man.

he bends down, pressing a sweet kiss to your pouty lips, "off the floor, pup, you'll get blood on your clothes and i don't have for you to change into right now"

sluggishly you push yourself to stand, "how much longer until we go home?" you whine, arms wrapping around his neck when he bends down, patting his back, ready for you to climb on, "my legs ache"

"just a little longer, puppy. how about you choose a snack for the way? i'll do all the hard bits, all you have to do is be pretty for me, yeah?

🌱 thank you for reading!!

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

#bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi fic #yoongi imagine #bts x female reader #bts hybrid au #bts hybrid fanfic #bts hybrid fic #bts hybrid x reader #bts x reader #bts non idol au #bts au #bts yandere #yandere yoongi #bts smut

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ivyquill · 10 months

Text

only you (peter parker)

pairing: peter parker x reader alternate universe: none pronouns: ambiguous summary: after trying to break up with your boyfriend, he says something that you never would have expected. warnings: fluff parts: one-shot dividers by: firefly-graphics wordcount: 1,071

You hadn’t expected it.

How quickly the words shot from his mouth.

“Then I won’t be Spider-man.”

How, with such ease, he was offering to change the entire trajectory of his life…

For you.

You blink at him, surprise wrapping over the features of your face and strangling your limbs frozen. “What?” Your voice echoes, almost sounding akin to a shout among the silence. Peter doesn’t answer at first. Your blabber-mouth boyfriend is silent. His face is soft and his body is stilling. His tearful gaze slowly rises to meet yours, his fingers twitch as they reach slowly for yours like a kitten testing a mouse but he doesn’t hesitate. You’re not even sure if he’s breathing. “Then I won’t be Spider-man.” You blink–almost flinch. “But you love Spider-man.” His fingers squeeze yours, you barely noticed that he had secured your hand in his already. “But I love you more.” He breathes, face gentle and patient. When you don’t reply, he slides slightly closer to you. “I don’t want to be Spider-man if it means not having you.” Your breath hitches a gasp but he barely reacts, expecting your surprise from your relationship or his senses you aren’t sure. His lips curl into a gentle smile as if he can hear your thoughts. You can feel your pulse in your throat, hear its bellowing begs to calm yourself. He leans in. “Spider-man means nothing if Peter Parker can’t have you.” Your lip tucks between your teeth which all feel too sharp all of a sudden.

You softly shake your head. “But ev-everything that you’ve worked for, everything that you’ve fought for–” He interrupts you by shaking his head and untangling from your hands. His own rise up to cup your face and press your foreheads together. “I love you more.” He repeats. The words make you more light-headed than alcohol ever could but you still lack conviction. “Petey, this is your future.” His eyes stutter closed at the familiar nickname and the warmth it permeates through his insides, toiling and tangling them like Christmas ribbon. “So are you,” He retorts, words smoothly gliding past his tongue. Your lips part but he presses his index to them, they scold you silently. “I want you to understand that I am yours, love. I am yours, no one else’s. I’m not May’s, I’m not Tony’s and I’m not New York’s.” A chuckle can’t help but bubble from his mouth. “I want to give you everything,” He lilts, voice sweet and gentle. “Whether that’s me or a thousand diamonds, I’ll make it happen, okay?” Your eyes flicker over his face in uncertainty but his smile looks so reassuring. Your arms wrap around his waist. “I don’t want to be the reason that you can’t do what you love.” You retort quietly, you want to sound sure and final but your breath trembles. His brows raise and he sidles you onto his lap, coiling your legs onto either side of his own. “Then maybe that can be arranged.” He teases and you hate the giggle that slips out of you. The only way you can describe Peter Parker is warm, gentle and yours…Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing but right now you aren’t sure whether it is right or wrong or misguided.

Peter’s thumb rolls gentle circles beneath your left eye, his nose brushes yours. Never have the both of you ever engaged in such intimate affection. “Peter Parker has the one thing that Spider-man never will and for once that’s more important to me than the whole universe.” His eyes trace over your face with a gentle grace you have never seen. His doe eyes trickle with warmth. You flick your tongue to dampen your dry lips. “What’s that?” You ask in a fragile whisper. His lips twitch up. “Your heart, darling” His eyes flutter shut. “I want to protect that far more than I want to protect Queens.” You can’t help the goofy giddiness that spreads throughout you. “I love you.” You murmur. He rolls his eyes and grins at you. “I know.” Peter teases. You almost push him away but you both know it would take a lot more than your weak-willed hands to twirl out of his grip. As if sensing your internal plots, his hands squish your cheeks. You wrinkle your nose, unimpressed. “It just hurts,” You explain. “Seeing you like this. Seeing you hurt and knowing that there is absolutely nothing that I can do about it but watch and wait.” A sigh flutters from his mouth. “I know, love, I know…” Then his brows cinch. “I don’t even know what I would do with myself if it were you out there instead.”

“This still doesn’t seem fair…” You murmur. He shakes his head and sighs, breath fanning over your lips. “Well lucky for you, it isn’t your decision to make fair.” He replies softly and almost teasing, a familiar playfulness seeping through. Peter’s right-hand fingers dip through the crevices of your hair, diving through the strands like pieces of thread. His touch tingles along your skin, sparks set up camp as if it’s their home. “I love you,” He utters again and it’s against your own hopes that you sigh with a light grin. “I know.” You respond. His lips turn up to tickle against yours. The skin of both your lips jigsaw into place, they brush in perfect tandem and radiate the heat you have been denying. His touch is tender and wanting, the gentleness of affection radiates as warm as a fireplace. Peter’s tongue dips out to line the seam of your lips. He pulls away. “I want a future with you–a future without villains in the way.” His voice lilts through your ears. “I want a real future with you. I-I knew someone once who lost their own you because of…this.” He gestures , perhaps you would giggle if the subject weren’t so somber. His eyes are dimmer now and something almost fearful lies just below his lids. He pecks a gentle kiss back onto your lips but lets it linger. “Well, I’m not going anywhere.” Your gentle assurance whispers in his ear. A shiver passes over him, his eyes flutter closed. His grip tightens. He knows now. He’s made peace with it. He needs you above everything else. Only you.

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utterlyotterlyx · 1 month

Text

Another Love

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Based on this ask

Warnings - ANGST, mega fluff, swearing, neglect, abuse of feelings, mentions of death, slight grovelling (I’m more of an epic admissions girlie you all know this), lots of sadness.

Word Count - 4.9k oops