#//he could probably make a business out of it but he is not good with marketing etc so nope

[ghost-proofbaby]

Okay hear me out, Eddie nervous on your first valentines day together wanting to make it special and only knowing how to valentines from what he's seen at school and he panics and is very eddie about the whole thing 👀

please my heart almost couldn't take this. i swore nothing over 1k but nervous and panicking eddie being all cute?? yeah i couldn't help myself. this isn't edited, sorry in advance. no warnings, just fluff.

wc: 2.2k

He feels stupid.

It's the only thought ringing through his head as he sits at the Munson's dining table, scraps of construction paper strewn over the worn wood, glue stick drying out to the side and scissors digging into his knuckles. 

It had started as a prophetic vision after a few hits from his blunt; it was quickly souring into the most ridiculous thing he’s ever done. 

The high had worn off, Eddie had glued his fingers together thrice now (seriously, how was this glue stick approved for children?), and the end product…. Well, he hated it. 

The card was tacky. The flowers were uneven. He didn’t even have the willpower nor time to make a full bouquet as he had originally wanted to while under the influence. Pink glitter was now overtaking the trailer, and he’s never seen his uncle look so damn entertained. 

“Boy, what on God’s green Earth are you going?” 

Normally, the twang of Wayne’s accent would be comforting. But right now, all Eddie could hear was held back laughter choking up his old man’s throat, and a glint in his eye that felt a lot like a taunt, and he felt the farthest from comforted in a very long time. 

“Mind your business, old man,” Eddie grumbles, tongue sticking out as he tries to reglue a corner of a paper heart he had cut out, needing it to stick down properly. He probably should have purchased glue, in hindsight. 

“Where did you get all this paper?”

“I said mind your business.”

“Is that pink glitter?” 

“Don’t you have work?” Eddie huffs, grabbing at the Valentine card he was attempting to salvage, cheeks blushing more vibrant than any of the arts and crafts supplies spread about. 

He didn’t want to admit how embarrassed he was. He didn’t want to give anyone else the satisfaction. It was his own damn fault, really – he had offered for your nightly diner dates to be on him one too many times this last month, and entirely forgotten to put away any extra cash to get you a proper Valentine. And this was his last resort. 

He’d tried to convince the local florist to discount the flowers missing one too many petals for him, he’d tried to scope out the cheapest cards available at Melvald’s. He’d begged and bartered with every option in town to simply get you something for the day of love, and in the end, he’d simply fallen short.

So now, all he had was a palm full of gritty glitter and homemade items that looked worse for wear. 

One of the kinder ladies that lived two trailers down had been happy to offer Eddie some of her scrapbooking papers, throwing in the glitter for good measure, and he still had an old glue stick from when he’d built one of his custom tabletop maps for a D&D campaign. With five hours and a dream, he was now the not-so-proud creator of three handmade paper roses, and a card hardly large enough to fit in his palm. 

When he took a step back to look at it all, Wayne was right to be snickering on the couch over it all. 

“They’re going to hate it,” Eddie laments, glaring down at his creations, “They’re going to hate it, and I’m going to get dumped on our first Valentine’s day together.”

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, son,” Wayne tries to genuinely comfort Eddie now, leaning forward to get a better look at his last five hours of work, “I’m sure they’re gon’ be happy that you just thought of the-”

“My life is over,” Eddie interrupts, walking over to the couch to collapse dramatically.

Wayne stops him, however, throwing up a hand, “Nope. You’re not gettin’ that damn pink glitter all over my couch. Go mope in your room.”

After a brief stare-off, a whole ten seconds wasted when Eddie could be wallowing in his self-pity, Eddie does exactly that.

He hopes Wayne is right, for all their sakes. There’ll be bigger things to worry about than just glitter if you really do hate Eddie’s attempt at a sincere Valentine. 

—

It takes nearly a full minute of knocking on the Munson’s trailer’s front door before Eddie opens it for you – that’s your first sign that something is terribly wrong. 

Your next sign is when Eddie hardly adds any enthusiasm into your welcome kiss, so reserved, as though he might be in a constant state of cringing; a constant state of preparing for the worst. 

“Is something the matter?” you ask innocently enough, toeing off your shoes and shifting your bag in hand. You’d picked up a few movies for the night, a variety of cheesy rom-coms Eddie expressed a slightest bit of interest in along with a few more up his alley. A horror film that neither of you had seen that looked to have a budget of $10 and a dream, and Labyrinth. 

The latter, you’d both already seen. Neither of you would pass up seeing David Bowie in his full glory, though. 

“It’s fine,” Eddie huffs out, still refusing to meet your gaze, “Want me to put on some popcorn?” 

You can’t help but light up as you follow him in his rush to the kitchen, “God – yes, please. I also got some sour patch kids, your favorite, and-”

You cut off when you catch sight of the dining room table. 

Eddie doesn’t glance back as he reaches up to the cabinet holding the stash of popcorn he keeps around for your movie nights, “And?” 

“Eddie…” you slowly draw out in a questioning tone, looking at the mess before you, “What, uh, happened here?” 

It’s an explosion of quintessential Valentine’s day. Pink paper hearts, strips of deep reds discarded messily. A shimmering glitter covers the table, and you can’t recall any DIY projects of Eddie’s for Hellfire that might involve that. 

“What?” He’s quick to turn around at that, and you watch as all the blood drains from his face, “Oh, fuck, I-” he launches himself back around the kitchen counter frantically, grabbing at any piece of paper he can find, “Shit, I meant to clean this up earlier, I’m sorr-”

“What were you making?” 

Eddie pauses all movement, glancing up at you in fear. 

You’re not even sure what he’s afraid of. All you can do is furrow your brows, twist your lips, scrunch your nose. 

Was it meant to be a surprise of some sort?

He swallows hard, standing up straight as he shifts uncomfortably on his feet, “I….”

When no words follow, you raise a brow, trying to silently encourage him to continue on. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

And oh, he’s such a bad liar. A pretty one, but a terrible one. 

There’s no sign of the stellar poker face you’ve seen him wear during Hellfire sessions, no impeccable cockiness to cover up the obvious. His wringing hands draw your attention to his knuckles, all the drying glue and glitter peeling off bit by bit.  

“You sure about that?” you press, grin slow spreading as you take a step closer to him, eyeing the mess he tries to shift in front of to block from your sights.

“Positive.”

“Has anyone told you you’re an awful liar, Munson?”

“I’m not ly-” 

You scooch around him effortless, dropping your bag in the process and making him yelp out as he tries to catch you. His arms are quick to wrap around your waist as you try to get a clearer view of what he had been so desperate to conceal, but even his best efforts can’t stop you. 

It’s all a bit childish from the outside. Reckless giggles, flailing limbs – even Eddie is smiling in his panic. 

“Let go of me!” 

“Then leave it alone!”

“I wanna see what you made!” 

Each screech between the two of you is overcome with laughter as he pulls you flush to his chest, caging you in and yet failing to cover your eyes. 

You spot what he was trying to hide, and all attempts to escape his hold cease. 

“Are those…” you start, a little breathless as you stare in awe. You swear, you could burn up from the warmth blooming in your chest. When his arms go the slightest bit limp, you have your answer before finishing the question, “Are those for me?” 

A small jar, one that had once held some of Eddie’s pick collection, now holds three handmade paper roses. Mingling petals of two different shades of red, with tightly rolled pieces of green paper servings at their stems. Two even have leaves, cut jagged and true to nature. 

Leaning against the small paper flower display is a card.

It’s a messier ordeal than the flowers, but you’re still prying Eddie’s forearms from your stomach in a rush to grab it. 

“Hold on,” he rushes out, no longer laughing as you get a hold of the card, “Wait, listen, I can explain. I just- I spent most of my money when we went to Benny’s for shakes last week, and I forgot I wouldn’t get any more cash before today, and I just-” he’s stumbling over his words, a mess of flying hands and wide eyes as you turn to face him, “I… I’m sorry, okay? I swear, they’re just placeholders until I get you a real gift for Valentine’s Day.” 

You’re hardly listening to him as you look down at the small paper, folded over fairly impressively to mimic one of the fancy cards from Melvard’s. It’s thinner, sure, but you’re mesmerized as you trace over the heart cut out of the center. It’s filled with pink glitter that clings to your fingertip as it passes, and you can’t help but let out a small laugh. 

And then you open the card. 

The outside was plain white save for the heart, but the inside is gorgeous. Hand drawn vines and flowers fill the empty space inside. Roses, mums, lillies – every flower you can think of is amongst the bunch. All etched out in ink, an ink you recognize from Eddie’s favorite pen, and every gentle line sketched out to make the larger picture sends your heart racing a few beats faster.

Underneath the glitter heart is a large bee, made with a speech bubble. 

“Placeholder?” you laugh breathlessly, biting your lip to stop from smiling like a fool. “You call all this a placeholder?” 

Bee mine? 

It’s so cheesy, it aches. 

Written in makeshift cursive, not quite as neat as it could have been, but clearly a valiant effort from the shy man standing before you. You can’t fathom how he’s embarrassed about this when you look up at him with fluttering lashes and a chest full of fizzling love. 

“I thought you were going to hate them,” he hoarsely whispers as he reaches a hand to the nape of his neck. 

“Hate them?” you repeat in disbelief, turning your attention back to the handmade flowers. “In what fuckin’ world would I hate these?”

You lift one of the roses from the mini jar, and sniff it on instinct. It should only smell like paper and glue, but it doesn’t – Eddie’s obviously spritzed his cologne onto the flowers.

The miniscule detail has your heart bursting. 

He’s still petrified as he stares at you, shrugging hopelessly, “I just know it’s our first Valentine’s together, and people usually go all out-”

“This is going all out, Eddie.”

You can’t imagine being capable of any more love for the boy in front of you. Genuinely – you don’t believe your bones could handle the weight of it, that your heart could take it. You’re filled to the brim with it, buzzing like summertime cicadas beneath your skin from all the vibrant emotions you have for him. For every blemish across his skin and every kink in his curls, for those big brown eyes simply staring at you now. Those knuckles covered in glue and glitter. Those lips that you can’t handle another second not kissing. 

And so you don’t. Not another second is wasted as you fling yourself forward, nearly dropping the paper flower in hand as you grab each side of his face, bringing him to you in a hard kiss. 

You hope he feels all that love. You hope the weight of it presses down on his shoulders, even if just a little, so he gets it. 

“I fucking love it, Eds,” you laugh into the kiss, pressing your forehead, “I- Honestly? I think this is the nicest Valentine I’ve ever gotten.” 

“Really?” his eyes pop open, pulling back from you slightly until you simply won’t allow it. You want him close – you need him pressed against you. “Well, shit. I thought you were going to hate them and break up with me.” 

“Me, breaking up with you? After this?” you parrot back in disbelief, shaking your head, tip of your nose rubbing against his through the action, “God, you’re an idiot, Eddie Munson. My idiot, but still.” 

He finally cracks a smile, and you lose yourself in the dimples that appear as he asks, “Does this mean you’ll be my Valentine?”

“Absolutely.”

[kashverse]

𝒴our first encounter with the 呪術廻戦 men 

⪩⪨ ✶ implied f!reader but can be read otherwise (use of "pretty" in choso's version), strangers to lovers, fluff, featuring ♡ canon! gojo, canon! geto, single dad! toji, modern au! choso, canon! sukuna in a modern au, corporate! nanami ✿ ⪩⪨ tried a new formatting style..! ib my dear @norikuna (∩˃o˂∩)♡

gojo doesn’t see you coming. not because he’s oblivious—though, sure, that’s part of it—but because he’s too busy making himself miserable, listening to some poor bastard on the phone cry about their ex. it’s barely noon, the sun’s out, people are living their lives, and this guy’s talking about how he let “the one” slip through his fingers. “bro, just get another one,” gojo had said, dead-eyed, waiting for the crosswalk light to change. the response was more crying. he sighed, hanging up.

and then he smacked straight into you.

not a polite bump, not even a nudge—full-on body collision, your forehead meeting his chin with a sharp crack. the impact was enough to send you both stumbling, but while gojo’s built like a brick wall, you had all the misfortune of being knocked back a few steps. “ow—what the fuck?!” your voice came first, and then, through the dizzying pain, you saw him. tall, white-haired, stupidly good-looking in an insufferable way, dressed like he was on some model’s off-day. sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose, and even through the slight daze, you could see the sharp glint of his blue eyes peering down at you.

“ah, my bad—”

“your bad?” your voice rose, disbelieving. the pain hadn’t even settled yet, but your temper had. “you nearly took my head off!”

gojo blinked. “well, technically, if i took your head off, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he pointed out. “unless you’re a talking head, which would be—"

“are you serious?” you cut him off, hands flying up in exasperation. “you’re just standing in the middle of the damn sidewalk—”

“crosswalk,” he corrected.

“—like a fucking lamppost,” you barreled on, ignoring him. “and then you hit me. no, actually, you collided with me like a fucking train, and now you’re just standing there?”

you looked ready to kill him. gojo thought you looked radiant. people don’t really yell at him. they get nervous, flustered, awkward. maybe they complain a little, but they don’t yell. not like this—not with this kind of raw, unfiltered rage that was directed solely at him.

and he was loving it.

“ohhh, you’re mad mad,” he said, grinning.

“no shit?” you spat, rubbing your forehead. “you’re huge! why do you walk like you don’t know how to control your own size?”

“i’m huge? that’s a compliment,” he mused. “also, you ran into me.”

“i did not—"

“you did, but it’s okay,” he waved off. “i forgive you.”

your mouth dropped open. your jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard it click. “i don’t need your forgiveness,” you snapped. “i need you to watch where the hell you’re going!” gojo just smiled. “i can do that,” he said. “but only if you tell me your name first.”

you squinted at him. “why?”

“so i know what to say in my apology,” he said smoothly. “y’know, something heartfelt, real personal. ‘i’m so sorry, dear stranger, for running into you with my big, strong, muscular body—’”

your scowl deepened. “forget it,” you turned to leave, shaking your head.

gojo grabbed your wrist. lightly, like he was afraid you’d shake him off (which you probably would). “wait,” he said, less teasing this time, more curious.

you stopped, staring at him warily. “what?”

he grinned. “you’re fun.”

you yanked your arm out of his grip. “you’re annoying.”

but you weren’t yelling anymore. and maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

toji doesn't believe in love—at least, not in the way people like to romanticize it. to him, love has always been transactional. people want things: security, pleasure, a warm body to cling to at night. he provides, they take. simple.

commitment? fuck no. he’s been there, done that, and all it got him was a headache and a kid who looks at him like he’s a walking disappointment. not that he blames megumi—he knows exactly the kind of man he is. relationships, from what he's seen, are just another job. another obligation. more shit to deal with when he's already stretched thin making sure megumi doesn't starve or turn into a little menace. and he's already got enough on his plate. 

raising megumi is work. the kid is sharp, stubborn, and way too perceptive for his own good. keeping up with him is exhausting. fulfilling someone else’s expectations on top of that? hell no.

people ask if he’s lonely. he laughs. lonely? he’s got freedom. no nagging, no obligations, no answering to anyone but himself and, on the worst days, a grumpy eight-year-old who somehow thinks he’s smarter than him. love, in his experience, is just a distraction. and toji fushiguro doesn’t do distractions.

and toji swears he only looked away for a second.

he was just checking the damn price tag on some overpriced brand of instant noodles, and when he looked back, megumi was gone. poof. like a magic trick, except it wasn’t a trick, and the rising panic in his chest was very, very real. “shit,” he muttered, scanning the aisles. nothing. just a bunch of old ladies and college kids looking for cheap meals. no messy black hair, no tiny scowl. he ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep calm. he didn’t want to make a scene. people lost their kids all the time, right? it wasn’t a big deal. he just had to—

and then he saw him.

megumi was at the end of the next aisle, small hands clenched at his sides, his mouth pressed in a thin, stubborn line, like he wasn’t scared, even though he definitely was. and right next to him, crouched down to his level, was you. “you’re really good at this,” you said. megumi blinked up at you. “huh?”

“the whole ‘not panicking’ thing,” you smiled at him. “most kids freak out when they lose their parents. you’re staying calm. that’s cool.” megumi looked away, like he wasn’t sure if that was actually a compliment or not. “i don’t wanna cause trouble,” he muttered.

“aw, but that’s what parents are for,” you teased. “causing them trouble.” megumi almost smiled. almost. toji, still frozen in place, narrowed his eyes. who the hell were you?

“c’mon, let’s go find your dad,” you said, standing up and holding out a hand. megumi didn’t take it, but he followed you anyway, his short legs working hard to keep up with your pace. and toji? well. he wasn’t sure why, but instead of stepping forward, he let you find him.

he let you do the whole thing, watching as you walked with megumi, asking him questions—where he last saw his dad, what his name was, what he looked like.

“he’s really tall,” megumi said. you hummed. “tall, huh? that helps.”

“and he’s got a scar on his mouth,” he added.

“even better. anyone who looks scary is easier to spot.”

megumi frowned a little. “he’s not scary.” you smiled, ruffling his hair. “i bet he isn’t.”

toji snorted under his breath.

by the time you turned the corner and finally spotted him, megumi exhaled in relief. toji pretended not to notice how fast he ran up to him, grabbing the fabric of his shirt like he wasn’t just saying how calm he was. you, on the other hand, stopped a few steps away, hands on your hips. “you must be the scary, not-scary dad,” you said.

toji raised an eyebrow. “and you’re just a random saint, huh?” you shrugged. “not a saint. just someone who doesn’t like seeing kids upset.”

he looked at you, really looked at you. you didn’t seem put out by any of this, like helping some stranger’s kid wasn’t an inconvenience, but just another part of your day. like it was normal. toji let out a breath, then tilted his head down at megumi. “you good, kid?”

megumi nodded, though he still wasn’t letting go of toji’s shirt. toji sighed, glancing back at you. “guess i owe you, huh?”

you waved him off. “don’t worry about it. just keep an eye on him next time.”

toji huffed a laugh. “easier said than done.”

you grinned, giving megumi one last look before turning to leave. and toji? well. maybe being responsible for two people wouldn’t be so bad after all.

nanami never thought much about being single. it wasn’t a matter of pride or principle—just reality. his job was time-consuming, his patience was thin, and the thought of entertaining someone else’s needs after a long workday felt exhausting. he wasn’t lonely, just… fine. indifferent.

until he got sick of his office food.

“this is inedible,” he said flatly, staring at the sad excuse of a meal on his plate. his colleague, barely looking up from his own tray, mumbled, “it’s fine.”

nanami’s eye twitched. it was not fine. rubbery chicken, dry rice, and a soup that tasted more like dishwater than anything edible. this was not a meal—it was a punishment.

so, he made a change.

he found a small business that delivered homemade meals, something personal but convenient. it promised variety, quality ingredients, and, most importantly, flavor.

what he didn’t expect were the notes.

the first one came tucked under the neatly packed meal.

“hope today isn’t too exhausting! eat well!”

nanami stared at it for longer than he should have. then, at the food—real food. properly cooked, properly seasoned, steaming with warmth that no canteen meal could ever replicate. he didn’t think about it much. a kind gesture, that was all. but the notes kept coming.

“long meetings? i packed extra today.”

“rainy day! hope this brings some warmth.”

“rough week? your food will always be good at least.”

and then—

“your order is always so precise. you must be someone who likes routine.”

nanami paused mid-bite. he did like routine. he thrived on it. and yet, this—this unexpected kindness, these little messages—was beginning to throw him off in a way he couldn’t explain. weeks passed, meals came, and nanami found himself looking forward to them—not just for the food, but for the words that came with it. one afternoon, after another insufferable meeting, he opened his meal to find:

“do you ever take breaks? hope you’re not working too hard.”

he let out a breath, something between a sigh and a laugh. he was working too hard. but how did you—someone he’d never met—seem to know that better than the people around him? finally, curiosity got the better of him. he grabbed a pen and, for the first time, wrote back.

“who are you?”

the next day, his meal came with a note, just like always.

“just someone who wants you to eat well. but i wouldn’t mind knowing who you are too.”

and for the first time in a long time, nanami thought—maybe being single wasn’t so fine after all.

geto doesn’t believe in love. not in the way people romanticize it, anyway. he’s known desire—used it, wielded it like a tool, a means to an end. a well-timed smile, a hand grazing a wrist, a whispered promise—all of it was just another step in expanding his cause. people were easy to sway when you made them feel special. and being single? it wasn’t something he mourned. it was efficient. no attachments, no complications, no wasted energy. everything he did, every conversation, every encounter—it all served a purpose.

until you.

“you’ve been talking for a while,” you said, tilting your head at him. geto smiled. “am i boring you?”

“not at all. just wondering if you’re going to get to the point.”

he chuckled, swirling his drink. clever. impatient. interesting.

“what do you think my point is?”

you leaned back, thoughtful. “well, you’re charming, you have that practiced ease of someone who’s very used to getting what they want, and yet…” you narrowed your eyes. “you haven’t tried to get anything from me yet.”

his smile twitched. perceptive too. “maybe i’m just enjoying the conversation.”

“hmm.” you didn’t look convinced. “i doubt you talk to people without a reason.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “you wound me. am i not allowed to simply appreciate good company?”

you smirked. “do you?”

and that was the problem, wasn’t it? he did.

he was supposed to be recruiting you. that was why he approached you in the first place—he had assessed, observed, picked you out for your potential. another piece in his grander vision. but now? now, he was talking to you about books, about philosophy, about things that had nothing to do with his cause.

he liked your sharp tongue, your quick comebacks, the way you saw through people but humored them anyway. and he was enjoying this. more than he should.

“you’re thinking too hard,” you noted.

“am i?”

“yeah. for someone who flirts so easily, you seem oddly distracted.”

he chuckled, shaking his head. you had no idea. for the first time in a long time, geto suguru had forgotten his purpose. and strangely enough, he didn’t mind.

choso doesn’t really get love. it’s not that he doesn’t feel it—he does, deeply, messily, all-consuming in the way only someone who has lived too long without it can. it’s just that he doesn’t understand how it’s supposed to work. his friends talk about relationships like they’re puzzles, like you’re supposed to fit into someone else’s life piece by piece, no gaps, no edges sticking out. but choso? he keeps forcing the wrong pieces together. he’s had his heart broken by so many situationships, and he doesn’t even know what that word means. all he knows is that people like him enough to stay for a while, but not enough to stay forever. and when someone ghosts him? it’s over.

“why would they do that?” he asks yuuji, completely distraught. “i thought we were getting along.” yuuji winces. “yeah, but… sometimes people just disappear, man. it’s not your fault.”

“but why not just say they don’t like me?”

“because people suck.”

choso frowns. love is confusing. people are confusing. nothing makes sense.

until he meets you.

more specifically, until you send a pug flying in his direction. one second, he’s minding his own business, sipping a coffee, staring blankly at nothing. the next—

“watch out!”

and then—THUD.

a very round, very squishy pug collides with his chest, knocking the air out of him. he blinks. looks down. the pug is fine. choso, however, is shaken.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry,” you pant, running up to him, looking horrified. “he’s got the speed of a missile and the weight distribution of a sack of potatoes. are you okay?”

choso is still holding the pug. he has not processed a single thing except that you’re talking to him, and you’re really pretty. you snap your fingers in front of his face.

“hello? earth to guy who just got body slammed by my dog?”

he swallows. “i—i’m okay.”

you sigh in relief. “good. i don’t think my insurance covers ‘pug-related assaults.’”

he stares. then—

he laughs.

it’s an awkward, slightly delayed laugh, but it’s real. it bubbles out of him, because suddenly, everything is just… simple. you’re still talking, apologizing, trying to pry your dog from his grip, and he realizes—love doesn’t have to be this big, complicated thing. it can be a stranger, a runaway pug, and a stupidly perfect moment where he thinks, 'oh. this is it.'

sukuna has never cared for love. love is mortal, fleeting, an indulgence for the weak. he has lived for centuries without it, conquered, destroyed, thrived—all on his own. why bother with attachment? why waste time on something that promises nothing but vulnerability? he’s always been perfectly fine like this.

until the night he meets you at the bar.

he doesn’t even mean to notice you at first—just another human in a crowded room, laughing, talking, lighting up the space with an ease he’s never possessed. 

and then he hears you speak. your voice is smooth, effortless, like you’re meant to be heard. every sentence flows into the next, words never fumbling, never uncertain. you make people laugh, pull them in, keep them hanging on to every syllable. sukuna watches, listens, enthralled, before someone leans in and calls you by name—your full name. followed by—

“aren’t you that talk show host?”

and it clicks. you are. he’s seen your face before, flickering on a television screen, a passing glimpse at a life so far removed from his own.

and now he’s irritated. because you talk so easily with everyone but him. and that won’t do.

so he tries. for the first time in centuries, he tries to talk to someone—like a normal person, like it’s something he’s done before, like it’s as easy as you make it look.

but it’s not. it’s a disaster.

he waits until the crowd around you has thinned, takes the seat next to you, and—

“so.” he clears his throat. “you talk to people for a living.”

you turn, blinking, mildly amused. “i do.”

he nods, confident. good start. then nothing. his mind goes blank. shit.

you raise a brow, waiting. sukuna glares at his drink like it’s betrayed him. “how do you do it?”

you tilt your head. “do what?” he gestures vaguely. “talk. keep people engaged.”

you blink. “are you asking me how to hold a conversation?”

his jaw tenses. “no.”

you laugh. he scowls.

he tries again. “what makes a good interview?”

“oh, that’s easy,” you hum. “you have to be genuinely interested in the other person.”

he deadpans.

you smirk. “which means you have to actually listen to what they’re saying.”

“i listen,” he grumbles.

“really?” you lean in. “then what were we just talking about?”

silence. your smirk widens. “you weren’t listening.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face. this is hell.

but he keeps trying. keeps failing, keeps making an idiot of himself, keeps suffering through every one of your knowing smiles—because for the first time in his miserable, ancient existence, he actually wants to learn.

he wants to talk to you.

and maybe, just maybe, he wants you to talk to him, too.

[shy-writer-999]

How many dreams to say "I love you"? (iii)

Summary: Zoro hasn't been able to stop having dreams about you, his best friend and crewmate. When he goes a few days without one, he thinks he's in the clear. Surely, realizing that he's in love with you is enough to make the dreams stop entirely, right? Right?

Part 3 of 4. ~3.6k words. (read part 1 here!) CW: Equal parts smut and plot. Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Sex! Love-making! Mentions of death, danger, and blood. NSFW content - minors stay away!

Part 3: Scattered polaroids.

Zoro had three whole nights of solace after he realized he was in love with you—three nights of no dreams, three nights of long and restful sleep.

After the third night, he was under the impression that the dreams had ceased entirely. The realization that he loved you was the cure for his sickness, he told himself. Now, he could pine after you from afar during the day and sleep peacefully, minding his business at night.

He did just that. For those three days, during his waking hours, he tried to calculate how to get closer to you. He put together nonsensical equations in his mind over how, why, and for how long he had been in love—he could, and would, keep doing this all day until he returned to his bed, savoring each smile from you.

Evidently, the conversation he overheard between you and Nami was the catalyst for the chain reaction of psychological warfare he had withstood for over a week—the end result was a euphoric crescendo of emotions, his realization that he was capable of romantic love and that his heart had been screaming for attention for months.

But what was there to do about it?

More importantly, did you feel the same?

Zoro needed to find out. He wanted to get to the bottom of everything—the conversation, who you had been talking about, why you were having a hard time being lonely around them, and how you felt about him.

While the swordsman did the mental math of what that discussion may look like between the two of you, he felt sick. He had fought dangerous foes of every kind and been on the verge of death many times before, but nothing ever gave him nerves like this.

If you had feelings for someone, would you tell them? He wondered about you, the sorts of decisions you made, how you would act and feel. If he got to the bottom of this situation and discovered that you had feelings for someone other than him, would he be able to cope with the jealousy?

Jealousy.

The emotion started to seethe when he thought about someone other than himself being with you. It boiled inside when he watched Sanji fawn over you, touch the small of your back, and whisper compliments in your ear. Every bashful smile and flutter of your eyelashes in Sanji’s direction twisted some dial inside of Zoro. Too many twists would prove troublesome. Explosive, even.

He knew that that this emotion, envy, had been there for ages before he recognized how he felt about you. It didn’t feel good, and he knew it was unhealthy. Various images and memories flashed through his mind as he recalled instances in which he felt this same burning envy frequently coupled with a fierce desire to protect you.

Zoro tried to comfort himself with the knowledge of what sort of person you were—if you had a problem with Sanji, or with any other person, you would have said something, no? He was certain that you wouldn’t hesitate to stand your ground.

But that thought was less of a comfort than he initially thought it would be, because you hadn’t ever reprimanded the blonde for his advances (that Zoro knew of), but you did shoo him away sometimes. Your smile felt restrained and reserved whenever it was sent in Sanji’s direction. It looked different than the smiles you gave Zoro.

Well, there was no point in getting himself worked up over the dynamic in question. Nothing would change, probably, unless he did something about it.

It had been a while since you and Zoro last spent time together, one on one. And he thought you had been a bit quieter than usual, recently, so… might as well catch up. Maybe spending some time with you would soothe his heart—it felt like it was aching any time you weren’t around, and when you were around it felt like it was on fire. He didn’t know how to cope other than find ways and excuses to spend time with you.

His solution was… lunch. Practical, at the very least, if not the most effective.

On the morning after his third night of restful sleep, Zoro asked you if you’d like to have lunch with him under one of the trees on the deck of the Sunny. This was nothing too out of the ordinary. He grabbed food, some drinks and some napkins and brought them out to you.

When Zoro handed you your plate, you smiled up at him from where you sat and he felt like he would pass out. He had absolutely no clue how to handle this recently unlocked feeling—the feeling of love—and he was trying to act as normal as possible. He was, all things considered, succeeding. 

He didn’t have much trouble acting ‘normal,’ per say. He was simply hyperaware of how beautiful you were, how fast his heartbeat was, and how blisteringly intense your eye contact was. He had noticed inklings of this before, but he was reminded, strongly. Every moment that your eyes met his, his heart fluttered. He was trying not to blush. It felt very out of character.

“How have you been recently?” Zoro tried to start the conversation casually.

“I’m fine,” you responded with a smile, like usual. “The same as ever. What about you?”

Zoro wondered if that was worth pressing you on, since you seemed a bit sad, or distant, or something along those lines. He decided it was worth it. Ignoring your question to him, he followed up.

“You sure you’re fine? You’ve been a bit quiet recently.”

You tried to brush it off. You had been quieter recently, and for good reason. You thought he didn’t know the reason, but he did. At least, he knew the bare bones of it. Something along the lines of feeling lonely.

“Ah, yeah. I guess I have been a bit down recently.” You responded, trying to hold your smile and pretend like your heart wasn’t crying inside. He studied your face closely, and you could tell.

“Why’s that?”

You had a brief internal battle over whether or not you would be candid with him, but you didn’t have it in you that day and the scenery wasn’t anywhere near private enough. You lied. “No reason, really. I’m not quite sure why.”

“If you ever want to talk about it, let me know.” Zoro smiled sweeter than you had ever seen and then dropped the subject. His smile was uncharacteristically sweet. Heart-stoppingly sweet. Painfully sweet. It was like a dagger.

You told him thanks and the conversation moved on. As a whole, lunch was enjoyable. Afterwards, you both felt significantly more at ease. To spend time together always brought your respective spirits up. It was a great dynamic—no wonder Zoro was in love with you.

Zoro told himself that he should just keep checking on you and go even more out of his way to spend time with you. He’d double down. Maybe it was lunch today, and then tomorrow it could be dinner. And after that, he’d ask you to watch the sunset with him in the crow’s nest. Or would he whisk you away and confess his feelings in his cabin? He was scrambled in the head, confused by that classic paradox of choice, where there are so many options that you’re incapable of choosing one. Was it even the right call to tell you how he felt? Would it screw everything up?

“Oh, Zoro?” Your voice stopped him in his tracks down the hallway after lunch. “Want to have some drinks tomorrow night? It’s been a minute since we caught up. You stood me up last time, remember?”

You were joking, but it was true. Last time Zoro asked you to have some drinks with him after a hard training session he completely forgot and fell asleep. You both laughed about it afterwards, and you used it to poke fun at him sometimes.

He agreed. "Yeah, drinks tomorrow night. I promise."

That was one problem solved.

DREAM 10: Un-solved

That night Zoro dreamed about you. It broke up that momentary peace he had of three nights with no dreams—it seems the internal turmoil of the day was enough to evoke a vivid and striking dream, unlike any others he had before.

Zoro found himself in a dimly lit bedroom lying on a big bed. The sheets and blankets were smooth and plushy. He could hear someone breathing next to him and he knew that you were there.

Turning his head, he saw that you were lying on your side facing away from him, completely nude, hair sitting perfectly on a silk pillowcase. The sheets were pulled down, so he could see your whole silhouette. In the dream, Zoro could feel himself compelled by something, reaching out a hand to pull you closer to him so your bodies were flush.

He smelled your hair, felt how soft your skin was, and ran a rough hand up and down the side of your body, trying to memorize every inch. He ran a palm over your hips and down your thighs, felt your back, shoulders, and waist; he was drinking up every second that his hands wandered over your skin, like your body was an oasis and he was dying of thirst.

You let out an indistinct noise. He couldn’t hear it well enough. It sounded like a sigh. As his hands moved, you stirred, turning your shoulder into his, giving him more access.

The faint sound trickled out of your mouth again, this time audible. Your voice sounded sleepy, sweet and faint. “Zoro.” He could feel his heart trip when his name fell from your lips.

Your hand groped back to grip his thigh and you whispered his name again. “Zoro. More.”

He snuck his hand from your hip to your front, starting to knead and cup your breasts. His fingers elicited another hushed entreaty from your lips. “Zoro. More.”

Suddenly aware of his hard-on pressing on you, his hand lingered on your chest and he began to kiss you. He started with you shoulder blade, marking a trail of kisses up to your neck, taking in deep breaths of your hair and skin. His kisses were soft and loving, coaxing more pleasant sighs from you.

He wanted to taste every inch of you, to draw out those sounds and muffled noises that he was starting to become acquainted with (at least, in his dreams).

Zoro lavished your skin with affection and care for a few moments, and you said his name again. Every time you said his name, it felt like every nerve in his body buzzed.

“Zoro. I need you.”

The dream fogged up and transformed. He was leaning over you from between your legs, missionary style. You were looking up at him, eyes pleading, hair ruffled just right.

Zoro’s erection was positioned right at your entrance, precum beading and pooling around his red, angry tip. The scene was vivid—his mind replicated every facet of what this would look and feel like in real life, down to each atom of detail. It was absurd.

He gawked at you, eyes jumping between your needy face and pouting lips and your glistening core. One of his hands was stroking his shaft leisurely, and the other gripped your waist.

“Please, Zoro.”

As your begging reached his ears, he slowly pressed into you, letting out a hiss of air through his teeth when he bottomed out because it felt so good. You gasped and the sound felt heavenly in his ears.

“Fuuuccckk, Zoro.”

He leaned in to kiss you, bringing a hand to cup your cheek. Your lips were still locked when he started slowly rocking his hips into yours, dragging his cock in and out of you slowly.

You felt amazing, so warm and wet around him, squeezing him perfectly. He sped up, finding the perfect pace. As his hips rolled into yours, you began to moan his name, mewling it into his mouth as he explored yours with his tongue.

Zoro reached a hand and pushed one of your thighs down, allowing for the deepest angle possible. He wanted to hit your g-spot just right; he wanted to make you feel good, wanted to see your eyes roll back in your head and hear his name as many times as possible.

The dreamscape transformed again, just slightly. He was in the same position, but your faces were centimeters away now. You were holding his cheeks in your hands, making eye contact as he thrusted into you, deep and slow.

“Zoro,” you panted. “Feels good, Zoro. You feel so fucking good.”

He could feel your legs wrap around him, could feel you grinding down on his cock, trying to fuck yourself with it deeper.

A moment later, you were holding hands, fingers entwined. You moaned his name and only his name. He could feel himself about to let go. Your eyes were entrancing.

“Zoro,” you keened, arching your back up and squeezing his hands tightly. “Tell me you love me, Zoro.”

His heart stopped again and picked up at a rapid pace; his hips did the same, moving haphazardly, stuttering and shaking. He was seconds away from cumming in you, pleasure building into one massive cliff that he was about to free fall from.

“I—love—you,” he thrusted between each labored breath and grunt. The words tumbled out of his mouth and on the last one he orgasmed. He reeled with ecstasy, convulsing in pleasure as his cum painted the inside of you a hot, milky white.

Zoro collapsed on your chest panting. One of your hands traced circles on his back and the other petted his head, which rested in the crook of your neck. You cooed “good job baby” in his ear and kissed his shoulder.

He woke up, and even though he wasn’t shaking or sweating this time, he felt extremely unwell. It took him a moment to realize that he came all over the inside of his underwear while he was asleep. While his return to consciousness was gentler this time in comparison to his other dreams, he was still disturbed. It was a scarily realistic and wildly intimate dream.

He tried to get his thoughts in order. There was no point in feeling any shame here, he told himself, because you didn’t dream about that on purpose. But really, what the fuck was going on? A wet dream? How long had it been since he had one of these?

The frustration he felt upon waking was agonizing. Three whole days and nights of a clear head. He thought that since he realized he loved you, the dreams had stopped—the realization of his feelings had been the cure to his lovesickness, after all.

Evidently, he was wrong. One intense dream snapped Zoro back into the insanity he had lived in for a week. He felt like he was going to go crazy.

Wasn’t the realization that he loved you enough to make the dreams stop? If that wasn’t enough, then what would be?

Did he have to do something about it?

Fuck.

He really had to do something about it. Perhaps he’d do something about it when he had drinks with you.

But those promised drinks never came.

The next day, the Strawhat crew ran into a hostile pirate group. The skirmish lasted a handful of hours. Lucky for the crew, there were no truly formidable opponents, but it still ended up being a pain in the ass. The crew got separated, and Zoro got lost and left behind—an experience he was well familiar with.

Finally making his way back to where the ship was docked, after hours of wandering around aimlessly on the island and defeating some random mid-tier power user, Zoro returned to the ship. He was met with a startling sight.

The Sunny was ransacked. On first impression, the crew was nowhere to be found. Your absence was starting to agitate him more than usual when he realized the ship was most likely empty. His latent realization of his love was certainly contributing to that.

As the swordsman explored the ship and went room to room, his distress mounted.

There were blood splatters on the walls of some of the hallways—a pattern that looked like someone, gravely injured, was dragging themselves around the ship. In addition, it looked like every inch of the ship had been turned inside out. The kitchen was a mess, pots and pans everywhere, and even the chairs and table were flipped over at odd angles.

In a rising panic, he dragged himself to your room. He was sure it wasn’t you who was injured and struggling, but… what if it was? Might as well check.

As he suspected, your cabin was plundered and empty, too. His heartbeat was through the roof, his vision started to go red in agitation.

Where were you?

In your room, the pirates rifled to their hearts’ content, searching for money, treasure, whatever they could get their greedy hands on.

Your mattress had been ripped off the bed. The drawers on your desk were pulled out and emptied, the sparse contents littered around the floor. Your closet was ravaged, too. Clothes were in piles and tatters on the floor. Your lamp was knocked over, and the bulb was shattered.

Geez, what the fuck were they doing in here? Zoro wondered. He took in the view for a brief second, noting that you weren’t here, and that he needed to move on. If the crew was in a tight spot right now he ought to go help them out instead of dawdling around on the ship in a frenzy searching for you.

Maybe you were with Luffy or the shit cook—maybe you had your snail, maybe he could call you and check if you were okay.

He had only felt this level of panic a couple times in his life so far. A thought cut through his worry—what if I lose her? What if I lose her before I’ve said anything?

He felt like he was sinking. His vision started to tunnel, his hand jumped to rest on one of his swords, getting ready to cut someone down at a moment’s notice. As he turned to leave your room, a lightning bolt of clarity struck him. Scattered across the floor carelessly was a messy tornado of polaroid photos.

Your camera was crushed to bits in a corner, but the photos, which you’d been taking for ages at this point, had been torn from their little box in your closet and thrown everywhere.

Most of the photos, he realized, were of him. His heart panged. He had never seen this many photos of himself in one spot. His memories with the crew slipped through his fingers every day as they happened, but when recorded and hoarded like this he noticed how happy he looked in the photos. Was it because you were taking them?

When did that light start coming into his eyes?

His stomach flipped. You weren’t here. Your room was destroyed. You were in danger.

In a panic, Zoro pocketed a handful of them and darted out of the room. He hurriedly checked the rest of the ship—completely empty, ransacked and pillaged. Luckily, the pirates didn’t find Nami’s stash. But aside from that, almost no corner of the ship was left untouched.

His heart started to feel like it was seizing—if he didn’t find you fast, he was going to snap.

Would the photos you took of him be the only relic of your shared moments of happiness?

He ran onto the deck, out of breath and sweating, and looked at the shore. Time froze.

A wave of relief crashed over Zoro as he took in the sight—the crew was now strewn around the beach. Some were laying on their backs in exhaustion from the battle, others were huddled up, talking, and still, some were injured, getting briefly triaged by Chopper. Nothing looked too serious. His eyes darted around, searching for you.

You were standing next to Luffy, holding your side and wincing. A pool of blood saturated your shirt, radiating outwards from where you pressed your palm to stop the flow of blood.

You were alive. Injured, yes, but alive. He released the tension in his body and a preliminary feeling of relief coursed through him.

It seems like Zoro had forgotten that life on the seas wasn’t just sunshine, lunches on deck, pining, and exploration. Death and danger were key elements of the whole experience.

Not only had he been lacking on his training, but he was lacking on being an attentive and good friend to you, let alone a crew mate that could protect you. In the lapse and haze he had been in for the past couple weeks, he had let his guard down somehow.

Ever hard on himself, Zoro had a ‘come to Jesus’ moment. He needed to sort shit out with you, fast. He didn’t want to have any regrets. He couldn’t lose someone that he loved again.

Taking deep breaths and internally cursing himself out, Zoro made his way down the gangplank and onto the beach. He decided that when the ship was cleaned up, and everyone was bandaged and fed, he would confess.

This love was festering in him. It had festered for far too long before forcing him to acknowledge it. He couldn’t cope anymore. The next chance he got, he would tell you how he felt, no matter what.

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taglist: @riftmage27 @eggrollforyou @imhwajaez @wiyenspanel @xxmysticxxx @moonmaiden1996 @chibinasu @theilluminatidragonqueen @becca-oak @my-name-is-heartache @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @adamwarlockislife-blog

a/n: happy valentine's day, everyone! thanks for your patience waiting for this one :) the next part won't take as long ❤️❤️

[elllisaaa]

OOPS - C. YEONJUN

KINKTOBER DAY 23 - SEXTING

SUMMARY : when your best friend receives a nude from you on a random tuesday, he feels the need to seek some clarification, and maybe that it is his chance to finally fuck you like he's been wanting to for years.

-> pairing : bff!yeonjun x fem!reader

-> words count : 1.6k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : sexting (obviously), sending nudes and videos, masturbation (f. and m.), dirty talk, teasing, begging, praising, phone sex

+ the way i'm depicting yeonjun does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | txt masterlist | kinktober 2024

You had always been a clumsy person, and sending a text to the wrong person had already happened to you countless times, leading sometimes to awkward situations, but never as embarrassing as the one you were in right now. You groaned as you looked down at your phone screen, the chat with your best friend still opened. And there, a picture of you wearing pretty much nothing took centre stage. 

you :  [1 attachement] i could use some company tonight… junnie :  ??? wtf y/n ???

Your cheeks were burning, and all you wanted to do was to bury yourself six feet under but sadly you couldn’t. And you didn’t even know what to say because obviously, you hadn’t sent that to the right person. Truthfully, these nudes were just meant to some guy you met through a common friend. You had gone on a few dates together, and even though he wasn’t exactly your type, nor was he really interesting, you were a woman with needs, and a lonely woman at that. Hence why you were about to send him this mirror photo, with you posing in nothing but black lacy panties and your oversized shirt lifted up to show part of your boobs. 

you :  fuck don’t look at that delete delete delete it wasn’t mean for you junnie :  yeah could’ve guessed who were you going to send that to anyway ? you’re bitchless you :  first of all fuck you i’ve got plenty of bitches second and even though that’s none of your business, i’m seeing someone lately

The way Yeonjun seemed to care that much helped you relax a bit. His first reaction only seemed to be out of surprise, and you would have reacted the same way if you had received a sudden half-naked pic from your best friend too. Though, you would’ve probably not deleted it right away. 

junnie :  you mean that lame guy who couldn’t even pay for his own meal the three times you went out ? he’s an ass you :  well maybe but he’s my only option and i’m in need junnie :  doesn’t matter you can do way better than this jerk you’re too smoking hot to be sending that to him

Your cheeks took an even darker shade of red as you read his compliments, but it was not out of shame this time. It wasn’t unusual for Yeonjun to praise your looks actually, but never in such a bold way. And the fact that he was not referring to your pretty face but most likely to your body made some feelings swirl inside of your stomach - some feelings that shouldn’t even be there in the first place but that you couldn’t stop. 

junnie :  cat got your tongue darling ? you :  no gotta go  junnie :  to send him your nudes ? you :  and so what ? you jealous ? junnie :  maybe bet that loser couldn’t even make you cum anyway you :  and you could ?

This conversation was taking a turn you hadn’t expected, but a turn you liked very much, a turn you maybe liked a bit too much. You bit down on your lips as you waited for Yeonjun’s answer, though nothing could’ve prepared you for what you were about to read. 

junnie :  oh darling i would ruin you if you asked make you cum on my fingers first, until you’re dripping everywhere make you come on my tongue next, until you’re crying out my name and then i’ll give you my cock and i’ll fuck you better than any other guy you had before so, still need that jerk ?

You stayed speechless for a good minute that felt like an hour. There had always been some kind of tension between you and Yeonjun, always had been something underlying feelings that you didn’t want to misinterpret. He always looked at you and talked to you and flirted with you in a way that was way more than friendly, and you had always wanted him too - because let’s be real, who wouldn’t ?

you :  i’d let you do all that [1 attachment]

On the receiving end of your texts, Yeonjun couldn’t believe what was happening, couldn’t believe that this wasn’t just another one of his wet dreams, with you taking the first role and making him crave you and your body even more. He had wanted you for such a long time that it was hard for him to acknowledge that you had sent him another nude, another shot of your now naked tits, and that this time, you had done it while being absolutely conscious of who you were sending it to.

junnie :  fuck, you’re so beautiful darling tell me this isn’t a joke tell me you’re going to let me put my hands on you you :  i’m not one to joke about something like that, you know that are you touching yourself too ? [1 attachment]

His heart was racing in his chest as he opened the next photo - this time, a closer pic of your drenched panties, your fingers pressing against your clit through the material. He had been palming his cock over his sweatpants ever since he had received the first photo from you, and even if you had told him to delete it, he would’ve probably kept it for a while, because he couldn’t just forget about it just like that, because he needed you. And now, he needed you to see how bad he wanted you. He took a quick pic of the obvious bulge deforming his sweats before sending it to you without any shame. 

junnie :  [1 attachment] what do you think ? you :  show me more junnie :  [1 attachment] enough ? you :  shit i knew you were big you would fill me up so good [1 attachment]  wish it was your cock instead of my fingers

Yeonjun’s head was spinning with want, with all the fantasies he ever had about you and the new ones you were stirring inside of him with your little game. Every photo you sent became more and more revealing, and with each new one, his hand only sped up his rhythm. He didn’t care about how late at night it was, he didn’t care if one of the other guys could hear him, he just couldn’t stop when you kept sending him shots of your glistening folds and videos of your fingers covered in slick, spreading it across your hardened nipples.

junnie :  you’re driving me crazy look what you’re doing to me [1 attachment] wish you were here to sit down on my cock i know you would take it so well make the prettiest sounds for me too

The video of Yeonjun quickly getting himself off, paired with his airy moans and low grunts you could hear in the background made you even wetter if that was possible, your own fingers speeding up and rubbing against your g-spot making you feel close to the edge already. Your texts were starting to have more and more typos but you didn’t care, it felt too good to stop now. 

you :  i wpuld  frck junnie i nzed you so bad i’m so clode  [1 attachment]

This last video of you moaning his name was all Yeonjun needed to finally call you. The game had been fun, but he wanted to hear you as you came for him, wanted to hear through the phone how wet you were. Within a second, you answered the call and your needy whimpers immediately ringing through his ears felt like the greatest music he had ever heard. 

“- Fuck darling, you sound so good. 

- Junnie… Need you so bad…

- Me too, shit, you’re making me go crazy.”

Another one of your moans was the only answer he got, but it was more than enough for him to feel the knot in his stomach tightening as well. Your high-pitched voice was heavenly, and with his eyes closed and his imagination working overtime with all the photos you had sent to him, it was easy for Yeonjun to picture you touching yourself, all wet and ready for him.

“- I’m so close Junnie…

- Me too, darling… Cum with me, let me hear you.”

Your sounds of pleasure only elevated as you felt your orgasm wash over you like a hurricane, and Yeonjun let go too, covering his own hand in loads of cum as he moaned your name. For a while, the only sound that either of you could hear was the one of your heavy breathing, trying to regain some sense of consciousness after what had just happened. 

“- Are you still there darling ?”

You hummed absentmindedly, your mind still clouded with the intensity of your release. You rolled over your stomach to take some tissue and wipe your fingers from your slick, and then you took a hold of your phone again. You didn’t really know what to say now, but you didn’t want things to become awkward between the two of you, so you tried to crack a joke to break the ice. 

“- I thought you were a gentleman, but you’re here giving orgasms to girls when you’re not even with them.”

Yeonjun chuckled on the other end of the line, cleaning himself up a little too. 

“- I can be a gentleman. All you have to do is ask Y/N. Say the words and I’ll take you out on a date tomorrow. 

- And if I want you to come over and fuck me ?

- I’ll be there in ten.”

A smirk spread out on your lips as Yeonjun immediately hung up, but you had heard him rushing in the background before he ended the call. Sometimes, sending the wrong text to the wrong person wasn’t such a bad thing.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

txt taglist (fill in this to added) :

@lala-----------lala @bbgnyx @hann1bee @rikiives @lichyuu @foxinnie8 @seomisaho @dylanobr1ens @straytiny127

kinktober taglist (dm or comment to be added) :

@d-dilemma @bath1lda @leeknowinggg @anxiousskylar @mikaelless

[moonstruckme]

Hi! So I have the issue where I’m not able to turn my brain off I guess and I’m having to constantly be aware of everything happening around me and managing everyone because if I don’t do it no one will. It’s so tiring to never have a minute to not be a very aware of every little thing. That being said, could I request a Remus or poly!marauders where reader is able to not be in constant manage mode? I know that’s really weird and if it’s too much just ignore this. Thank you for everything you do on here ❤️

Not weird! Very relatable actually haha. Thank you for requesting angel <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 823 words

“I like my system,” James says as you kneel in front of his suitcase, folding shirts. “My pants go on that side, then shirts in one corner and the rest in the other.” 

“I don’t think it counts as a system if you’re just piling stuff in, Jamie.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“Well, doesn’t it bother you that they’re all wrinkled?” You frown, taking out a balled-up pair of trousers. It bothers you, and they’re not even your clothes. 

“Not really, no. It’s a holiday, lovie, who am I trying to impress?” 

“Um, me?” Sirius shoots a look across the bedroom. He’s busy stuffing things into his own suitcase on the other side of the bed. 

“Oh, always,” James says gamely. “But you love me whether my shirts are wrinkled or not, don’t you?” 

Sirius makes a wishy-washy noise that sees James tossing a pair of socks at his head. He dodges and they bounce to the floor. 

“Did you remember your glasses cleaner?” you ask James, feeling about the pockets of his suitcase. 

“All under control, angel. It’s in my backpack.” 

“Perfect.” You finish neatly folding the last of his things and stand to kiss him. “Thanks.” 

“Thank you. Though you didn’t have to fold my underwear, I could have managed that myself.” 

“It was no problem.” You round the bed to where Sirius is packing, peering down at his suitcase. 

He looks up with a raised brow. “Can I help you?” 

“Are you packing your conditioner?” 

Sirius’ other brow comes up to join the first. “Yes, I am. Do you have a problem with my hair smelling lovely?” 

“No.” You smile, rolling your eyes when he pinches the back of your thigh playfully. “Just remember that it has to be under a hundred milliliters if you’re not checking your bag.” 

“I’ve got it, doll. You worry about your milliliters, and I’ll worry about mine, m’kay?” 

You hum. “And, um…” 

“What?” Sirius’ tone is dry, but it’s all fondness in the tilt of his mouth as he looks up at you. “You gonna fold my underwear, too?” 

“No, just, have you eaten? I don’t know if we’ll have time to eat at the airport.” 

“I think Remus wants you, sweetness.” 

“Hm?” 

Sirius points with his chin, and you turn to find Remus watching you from the doorway to the bedroom. He looks a particular brand of appealing in his travel clothes. The trackies James got him for Christmas probably shouldn’t go so well with his overlarge jumper, but Remus being Remus, of course it works. He beckons you toward him. 

“Oh, okay.” You glance back at Sirius one more time as you go. “Don’t forget to take your lighter out of your bag, security will take it away.” 

“Love you too!” 

“Hi,” you say to Remus, who wordlessly folds you into a hug as soon as you leave the bedroom. “Everything okay?” 

He hums. “Everything’s great, yeah. Are you excited to go?” 

You’re bemused but pleased by his hand running up and down your spine, his freshly shaven jaw pressed to your temple. “I am, yeah.” 

“Mm. Relaxed?” 

“I’m…yeah, sure.” 

Remus chuckles softly. “You seem a bit strung up, lovely. Are you all packed?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good. Me too. Anything else you need to do before we go? Have you eaten?” 

“I ate, yeah.” You glance back towards the bedroom, the movement almost involuntary. “I think I just need to make sure—” 

“You’re all ready then?” 

It’s not like Remus to cut you off, but when you turn back around his expression is all fond patience. 

“I think so,” you say. “At least, my stuff is all done.” 

“Perfect.” He kisses your head, then takes your hand, leading you away from your boyfriends. “Let’s relax for a bit while they finish up, then, yeah?”

You let Remus guide you to the couch. At first sitting, then curling up against his side, your head resting over the steady beat of his heart. His hand runs up and down your arm, and slowly the tension seeps out of you. 

“Sorry,” you say after a while. “Was I being annoying?” 

“No,” Remus reassures you. “Of course not. You’re only helping. You just don’t have to, you know?” 

You cringe at yourself. At the clarity of hindsight. “Nobody asked for my help.” 

“We’re adults,” he agrees. “We don’t need to be managed—or we shouldn’t. If Sirius packs too much conditioner, he can sort it out himself.” 

“Right. Sorry.” 

Remus tuts, kissing the top of your head. “Please don’t be sorry. We all just want you to be able to relax. Give yourself a break, yeah?” 

“Yeah, okay.” You snuggle closer to him, letting the last of the tension sap from your body. “That doesn’t sound so awful.” 

“I’m glad.” The smile is audible in Remus’ voice. He rubs your arm again, encouraging you to relax further. 

“But what if James doesn’t know—” 

“Dove. He’ll figure it out.” 

[lavenders388]

~Valentine's Day Headcannons~

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ Kang Dae Ho, Nam Gyu, Seong Gi Hun, Cho Sang Woo, Hwang Jun Ho⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆Kang Dae Ho

<3 Dae Ho strikes me as the type of boyfriend to have everything planned way ahead! he made your dinner reservations weeks in advance, submitted his order for your flowers! and any gifts he's gotten for you will be hidden somewhere waiting for the big day:)

<3 this man is stressed! (in a cute/excited way) trying to make sure you have the best valentines day ever:) he will wake up at dawn to get everything ready for you!

<3 i could also see him planning a vacation for just the two of you for valentines, like if it falls on a weekend that year he'll book a surprise air bnb or a nice hotel at the beach or something! anything to make you happy:)

<3 he would be delightfully surprised if you got him anything for valentines day; i cant see him expecting it! he is adamant that you didn't have to do anything for him and it was all his pleasure ensuring you had a great day and felt loved, but he is absolutely smitten with you getting him a valentines gift:)

<3 10000% writes a whole essay on how much he loves you on your card!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ Nam Gyu

<3 i personally write for nam gyu as him being a good person and a good partner>:3 he would probably have to work over valentines, the club probably planned a valentines night that he had to promote and attend!! so he would wake up rather early (for him at least!) to ensure you get to have all of your valentines plans before he has to go to work!

<3 since he would be working around dinner time, he plans a nice breakfast for you! well more like brunch; but still! using his connections as a promoter he makes reservations for the two of you at this super trendy new brunch place that has like a year long waitlist!

<3 after brunch, he takes you shopping! i don't see him as being the type to get a ton of gifts, i feel like he'd enjoy following you around as you pick out things you like/need:)

<3 i could see him trying (and failing) to make you special homemade decorations or a card, but you think his scribbly artwork and the effort he put into it is the sweetest thing ever!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ Seong Gi Hun

<3 before the games, he would have #nomoney to take you out somewhere. he would use whatever he had saved up to buy you a small gift and a card, and would try his best to make you the nicest homemade dinner at home!

<3 he would set up whatever candles he had around and would make garlands with little cut up hearts! maybe even asking gae young to help him:)

<3 after the games, he would most likely order food for pick up from a fancy restaurant, not being too interested in a night out:) he would set up decorations throughout the hotel and make you a card as you had a lovely dinner date at home:)

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ Cho Sang Woo

<3 this man is getting you dinner reservations at the nicest and most exclusive place in town!

<3 if his work allows it, he would instead book a few days of vacation for the two of you over valentines day! definitely a resort or super nice hotel.

<3 books you and him a special all-exclusive day at the resort/hotel spa:)

<3 takes you on a lot, i mean A LOT of shopping trips as well as getting you nice gifts like designer items and flowers the day of:) he is really into finding the nicest and most intricate bouquets/flower arrangements!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ Hwang Jun Ho

<3 not super into doing big gifts/decorations. he thinks all the commercialized aspects of valentines day takes away from personalizing gifts for your loved one.

<3 loves writing on cards for you! he sees the day as another chance to be able to express his love and appreciation for you!

<3 likes getting you flowers! he buys them the day of, no matter how busy shops are, so they will last longer for you:)

<3 enjoys going out to dinner but not particularly on valentines day, he would prefer to get take out and do something special and private at home! thinks everywhere is way too busy on valentines day.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

a/n: hope you all are having a lovely valentines day!!! -matcha 🍵

[astrasng]

kisses shared with ateez 𝜗𝜚

→ summary: ateez as type of kisses. they are down bad for you

→ warning: mainly fluff, nothing else

→ a/n: happy valentine's day to everyone ♡ make sure to treat yourself to something delicious and stay hydrated! ♡ ps: probably jongo's my fav from all of these 🤭

here's the masterlist to the event ^^

enjoy!♡

──── ⋆˚࿔ hongjoong || hurried kiss

hongjoong, the busy man he is, often forgets about giving you a kiss before leaving for work. and that often leads to hurried kisses, wanting to give you every single ounce of his love into one messy, i have to leave kiss before finally letting you go. he often can't control his feelings when it comes to you, especially when you are kissing him, your hands in his hair or around his neck, pulling him even closer, meaning that he's deeping the kiss too. starting with a soft kiss, that's what he thougth. it feels so good having your lips on his, so good that he can't let go even though he needs to go to work. and you know that too, but oh well, you're more important, right? because the minute hongjoong pulls away and whispers kiss me more in a hoarse voice tells you that you are more important than anything.

──── ⋆˚࿔ seonghwa || comforting kisses

seonghwa is simply someone who is a comforting person in general. his prescence often makes you calm whenever something stressful is happening in your life. the tone he's talking to you never heard being mean or sour,rather calm and warm. that also goes for his kisses. he often senses you being tired from a long day, only wanting to lay down on your shared bed or couch to sleep a little in seonghwa's arms, which he gladly accepts. whenever that happens, he can't help but press kisses all over your face, your temple, the top of your head or your closed eyelids which only makes you even sleepier. the feeling of his kisses spreads warmth all over your body, snuggling closer into his arms as he keeps his lips pressed on the top of your head. he feels so lucky to have you.

──── ⋆˚࿔ yunho || tingly kiss

the type of kiss that makes you want more and it leaves you feeling all tingly from yunho is just deadly. he always pulls away just before you could kiss him right back intensively, your hands still in his hair as his are steady on your waist. he smiles down at you, and then simply leaves. that's how easy it is for him, the control he has over himself making his ego even bigger when he knows how annoyed you feel at times like these. you can't help but touch your lips like in the movies, feeling your muscle still tingling in the best of the best of terms, literally still feeling his soft lips on yours. how lovingly he can press a kiss on your skin and lips, his body molding into yours to punctuate his unspoken words. in this way, not only his kiss, but his whole prescence makes you tingle with love.

──── ⋆˚࿔ yeosang || surprise kisses

yeosang isn't usually the one initiating the kiss first. he does, from time to time, but it always surprises you when he randomly kisses your temple, or your cheeks, god bless you your lips out of nowhere. even after all these years being together, still feels like it's a surprise feeling him walking up next to you or hopping down on the couch just to give you a kiss. it makes him often realize how rarely he makes the first move. it often makes him angry too, and often all those kisses are originally from him being beaten up on silly things like this. you told him once - don't be silly, i don't mind making the first move! making sure to reassure him that it really doesn't bother you. but still, it makes him want to initiate more things in your relationship, giving you everything you deserve because he loves seeing you being flustered by his sudden actions.

──── ⋆˚࿔ san || the i love yous

whispering i love you between kisses is san's specialty. doesn't matter where you are, or the circumstances. you can either be mad at him for some reason, or be in stupidly in love with him. he doesn't care, because san always wants to let you know how much he loves you. there isn't a time where he doesn't say it, or shows it to you. during cuddling or walking on the street - stopping in midsentence just to kiss you on the lips. deep, and long, feeling his emotions bored into that one single kiss. he whispers i love you when he feels like going in for a second kiss, or saying i love you so fucking much when you are both lost in a heated shared kiss which leads into multiple one.

──── ⋆˚࿔ mingi || kisses from behind

given mingi's height is easy for him to only drop his head lower and press kisses either on your shoulders, or the side of your neck. he grabs the opportunity when he sees you standing with your back to him,either doing something in the kitchen or looking at something at a supermarket. he loves walking up behind you and snaking an arm, maybe both, around your waist to pull himself closer and kiss your skin. it often makes you shiver just from his touch, feeling him behind you and hugging you from behind as he can't seem to stop pecking your exposed skin. sometimes he even murmurs I love your perfume or i missed you so much after a long day of not seeing you.

──── ⋆˚࿔ wooyoung || flustered kiss

wooyoung often sneaks kisses here and there, pressing a quick kiss before leaving on your forehead or cheeks. it doesn't matter, the only thing that matters is that he always gives you a kiss before leaving. but when he's home with you and the air is a little hotter than it should be? woo can't help himself to disattach himself off of you, your perfume pulling him in every time for more kisses and cuddles. and because of this, it often leads him kissing his way up from your wrist all the way up to your collarbones and lastly your lips. he focuses on your lips so much that by the time you two pull away you have to fight for air. he feels proud when he sees your face all flustered and red, ears burning off under his stare as he murmurs cute under his breath.

──── ⋆˚࿔ jongho || palm kisses

he's the romantic type. even if he doesn't necesseraly shows it, he is. he thinks kissing your warm palm of your hand says more i love yous than any other kisses. pressing a long, meaningful kiss in the center of your palm, all the way to your fingertips and to your knuckles feels like he's trying to erupt all the butterflies in your stomach. and he does, because you are left with the deepest shade of red on your face and chest, seeing him smirking under his breath by how cute you are. it's not unusual that he does this, he's a gentleman at heart, but you can't ever get use to him being this flirty and affectionate when it's just the two of you. kudos if he does this little moves of his infront of his friends or family with a wink in your way, you know that you'll marry this man no matter what.

a/n: if you've gotten to this point of my event, thank you so much for reading! i hope everyone had a good time, i tried to go with a more suave feeling for valentine's. ik i had a lot of fun, thank you so much for the notes and reblogs!

taglist: @arunainluv @myraet @peterm4rker @chenlezip

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

[hivemuthur]

Nothing's New - Ch.6.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!

AU modern era, lovers to enemies to lovers, getting back together, angst & smut present

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5.

word count: 8,8K (sorry!)

warnings: angst, unsafe sex, dacryphilia, spanking, d/s undertones

tag: #nothings new

author's note: It's Sunday where I am lol. No real notes, just thank you for coming with me on this journey, it's very weird to bear your soul like this and people reacting well, never happened to me before. Moments like this, I love internet. @rennethen beta read 🖤

Cross-posted on AO3

—

It took a long time for you to part on Sunday evening. You stood in the hallway, arms wrapped around Viktor, his arms wrapped around you, and only the sound of breathing surrounded you both. He pulled away first, placed a hand on your cheek, and said, “Think about everything. And let me know.”

You nodded, and a question—the answer to which you so desperately needed—was resolved before you even mustered the courage to ask.

“Come on Friday. I’ll text in the meantime? Or call?”

“I would like that,” you admitted with a relieved sigh, and Viktor offered you a kiss on the forehead. When you finally stepped out through his door, he lingered in the frame until the lift swallowed you.

The week passed in a diluted blur of working, eating, and sleeping, interrupted by little earthquakes in the form of Viktor’s messages and brief calls. Nothing with significant push or pressure—just simple, casual chats that let you know he hadn’t forgotten you, and made sure you wouldn’t forget either. And each one made your face beam in a way that earned you silly and curious “Who is that?” questions, until you were red-faced with a juvenile blush.

It happened every time your phone buzzed. You’d be in the middle of scanning through data, only half-listening to a coworker’s offhand remark, when you’d catch a glimpse of his name on the screen, and suddenly, the rest of the world blurred at the edges.

I am convinced my students are attempting to end me. I asked one of them to justify their methodology, and they said, “I just had a feeling.”

A barely suppressed laugh slipped out before you could stop it. You masked it with a cough, ignoring the glance your colleague shot you from across the table.

Another time, you’d been elbow-deep in paperwork, eyes dry from staring at the screen too long, when your phone lit up with another text:

I hope your day is going well. Eat something before you get grumpy.

You scoffed but still reached for the protein bar you’d left untouched beside your laptop.

And then there were the messages that made your stomach turn weightless, that left you pressing your lips together to fight off a giddy, ridiculous smile.

I dreamt of you last night. It was... pleasant.

It was impossible to focus after that. You stared at your screen for a full five minutes, rereading the words like they might change or disappear. Your mind whirred with possibilities, until the sound of your name snapped you back to reality and you scrambled to act as if your brain hadn’t just short-circuited.

Not once had he asked what you were thinking. Not once had he pushed beyond a sweet Goodnight call in the evening and a Good morning text when you woke up. It made the days more bearable, but it also made new questions rise. Is this trust already? Or just caution?

You faltered on Wednesday, when there was no message to greet you. And then no message to remind you to drink water.

You told yourself it was fine. That he was probably just busy. That this wasn’t some sort of test. But by lunchtime, the silence had settled too deep, turning over thoughts you didn’t want to examine. What if he’d changed his mind? What if he was waiting for you to make the next move? Or worse—what if this was a quiet way of pulling away? Your sanity was wearing thin.

You weighed your options, over and over. If you texted and he didn’t answer, would calling be too much? If you called first and he didn’t pick up, at least you could still send a text after. But would that make you seem desperate?

It took another ten minutes of pacing before you finally pressed the call button, cringing at the way your heart was thundering in your chest. The dial tone felt impossibly loud. One ring. Two. Three—

“Hello?”

And just like that, the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding slipped out of you. “Hi! Oh, um… why are you whispering?” You blurted out the words in a rush, voice pitched higher than you intended.

There was a pause, followed by Viktor’s voice, low and steady, tinged with quiet amusement. “I’m in the middle of a lecture—”

“Oh shit, Viktor, I’m so sorry!” you gasped and started to whisper yourself, as if the class could hear you. You winced, clasped your hand to your forehead and hoped that Viktor didn’t hear the sound of the slap.

“—but I am happy to hear you,” he continued smoothly, the warmth in his tone easing some of the tension gripping your chest. “Let me call you after?”

And he did. And you talked about nonsense until Jayce caught Viktor twirling his hair, hunched over his desk like he was trying to hide.

This was your week—full of insignificant, annoying events that conglomerated into something called life, interrupted by small Viktor moments. And for Viktor, it was small you moments.

And even though a massive weight had been lifted off your chest during that session of helpless sobbing on the couch, nuzzled into Viktor’s neck, you still feel a pang of guilt each time you replay the events of last weekend in your head. It’s hard to pinpoint where it comes from, but it’s ever-present.

Now that it’s Friday, finally, you write it down on a piece of paper filled with bullet points for later this evening. Absolutely convinced you won’t use it, you still write every single invasive thought down—just in case you gather the courage to tell him.

Before leaving, you make a few critical last-minute decisions—hair up or down, skirt or trousers, or a dress? Makeup or none? Take extra underwear, or not tempt fate to make a joke out of you?

You end up in a dress, with no makeup, your hair gathered into a loose updo, and a wishful-thinking extra pair of knickers stuffed into your purse.

You walk to make yourself less giddy. You stop to buy some food for later, glancing nervously at your watch, only to see that you are, in fact, too early. Sitting on a bench to read is futile—you just end up staring at your phone, willing the time to pass.

And when you finally, finally buzz his door, it’s like last time—you are immediately let in, without him checking the intercom. But this time, you almost run to the elevator, jabbing the button over and over for the doors to close and carry you upward. When you step out, Viktor is already waiting by the entrance to his flat, greeting you with a quiet, sweet, “Hi,” as soon as he sees you.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first, not even the breathless hi yourself you’ve prepared. The week of waiting, of uncertainty, of second-guessing every moment—was it real? Was he real? Or was this just a fragile illusion, something too good to hold? The part of you that has spent too long in doubt tugs at your resolve, asking if you’re just imagining the warmth in his voice, the way he’s looking at you like he wants you here.

But then his fingers brush against yours as he plucks the bag from your hand, and the heat of his touch travels up your arm, quieting the noise in your head. The doubts don’t stand a chance once his hands slide up your thighs, wrapping around your waist, anchoring you to him. Your back thuds lightly against the door as he kisses you. You don’t even get a proper look at him before his mouth is on yours, his hand pulling your updo apart, fingers tangling into your hair.

Your palms clutch at his shirt and slide up his neck, pulling him closer. He muffles a quiet ah against your lips when you tug his hair and nip at his lower lip. His hips press into you, your chests flush together, and he breathes in deeply, catching up with your scent—the one he’s been missing for five days.

When he finally pulls away, he says again, “I said hi.”

“Hi yourself,” you reply, smiling sheepishly against him. You brush your thumbs over his beauty marks, and his eyes flutter closed. Your foreheads touch. Viktor looks relieved.

“I missed you,” he says, feeling stupid for admitting it—five days is nothing compared to the six months you spent apart, yet it still felt like agony. “You smell nice,” he adds, nosing at your neck, his lips curling up at the sensation of goosebumps rising under his touch.

“Thank you,” you whisper, dumbfounded by this unfiltered flood of affection. Viktor chuckles, realizing he’s overwhelming you. He moves away, and you would protest—if not for the fact that he’s still holding your hand. You squeeze it tightly, letting him lead you into the kitchen, where you watch him make tea.

“So,” Viktor starts, setting a cup in front of you before taking the seat opposite. “How was your week?”

“I—” Horrible. A blur. A very long blur. Long. Painful. “Painfully long,” you finally huff out with a chuckle, feeling the warmth of a blush creeping up your neck. You lower your gaze to your fidgeting fingers, and soon, in the periphery of your vision, Viktor’s hands creep in, cradling yours across the table.

“And why would that be?” he asks quietly. You don’t have to look up to know his eyes will be hooded and his mouth quirked into a sweet smile.

With a pained sigh, you pull your hands back, stand up, and in a heartbeat, you’re kneeling between his legs, resting your head on his lap, arms wrapping around his hips.

“And whatever is that for?” Viktor giggles, startled by your clinginess, unaware of the quiet, pathetic truth that you feel safest like this—between his legs, wrapped in his warmth. You breathe in the scent of his clothes and whisper, “You smell nice too. I missed you too.”

He places a hand on your head, fingers threading gently through your hair, and you inch your hands toward his belt. Slowly, his palm comes to rest over yours, halting your movement. When you lift your gaze to meet his, Viktor almost melts into a puddle at the sight of you—kneeling at his feet, eyes pleading—but he has to ask, “What is this about?”

“I just really missed you,” you say quietly, fingers twitching at his fly. “May I?”

He studies you for a moment, swipes his thumb over your lips and says a breathless, “Yes,” reinforced with a nod. And then his eyes glue to your fingers undoing his belt and tugging at his pants to slide them down all the way to his ankles, to finally discard them. And then—

Viktor’s breath hitches, but you cannot help yourself. You press your face to his boxers, breathing in his scent and it’s a gesture so full of adoration, he whimpers despite himself. You unroll his waistband and kiss him softly with your mouth open, leaving a slick trail all the way up from his base to the tip. He is still soft, his skin is warm and silky, and he shudders at each and every one of your pecks.

You slide his underwear down and make your way up, starting by kissing his knee, up his inner thigh, to finally take his balls into your mouth and hum at the contact. Viktor’s fingers curl in your hair, his legs straighten out in front of him, head falls back, and he gives out a deep, long moan.

It’s almost crushing to feel so worshipped. You’re being so gentle with him—it reminds him of your first time together. Back when things were easy, full of possibilities. Now, things are a little harder, but the possibilities keep slipping back in, one by one, with each passing minute.

He sags in the chair, eyes glazed, and cheeks reddened when he looks down to you—rubbing your face against his cock with reverence that makes him want to pull you up and kiss you until you can’t breathe. And you hum, and kiss and lick off his pre-cum for the longest time before you give him as much as an actual proper lick to his underside, tracing the prominent vein with the tip of your tongue. And Viktor twitches and writhes under your touch, his cock resting heavily across your face.

When you finally take him into your mouth he shudders, his legs jolt and he scolds himself for acting like he’s being touched for the first time. But after a second, he decides he feels safe enough—to let you touch him like this, to give you this power over him. And as if you catch that split-second hesitation in the way he tastes, you release him with a quiet pop and ask gently, “Is this alright?”

“More than alright,” Viktor slurs, his thumb sweeping over your lip again. The string of drool connecting his cock to your mouth now clings to his hand. He leaves it. “Please, don’t stop,” he adds, a blush creeping beneath his shirt.

With a smile, and God help him, another hum, you take him back in, placing your hand on whatever you can’t fit into your mouth. Viktor sighs, the sensation of being enveloped in warmth flooding over him, when you do something that nearly makes him come on the spot­—your hand flattens at the base of his cock and you push him past your throat, releasing a fresh wave of spit to drip down his length, while you gag, and the sound makes him go insane. He looks down, and oh, there it is—the first tear you shed today as you disconnect from him to catch a breath and stroke him with a slow movement of your wrist.

It’s a small tear that dries out somewhere in the middle of its journey between the corner of your eye and your chin, but it’s there nevertheless and Viktor commits it to memory. So when you kiss his tip again and open your mouth for him, he cradles your face and gives you one, languid roll of his hips. He stops to ask, “Can I?”

Your eyes flutter open, then closed, then open again. You nod, mumbling a sound as close to yes as you can manage with your mouth full, and you hope Viktor won’t retreat because you don’t want to lose the feeling of his hands cradling you and the feeling of his cock pulsing between your lips.

And, oh God, he takes it as it is. And he gives it back to you, with another thrust, careful and slow, his mouth falls open and eyes are fixed on yours. You see the vein in his neck pulsing, and you take your quick breaths through your nose each time he retreats to push back again. His cock keeps hitting the back of your throat, gently, just a touch, just enough to make your thighs clench and your knuckles go white on his thighs.

And you watch him becoming progressively prettier and prettier as sweat pearls up on his forehead and his mouth loses restraint with all the sounds he is giving you. “My good girl,” he keeps whispering. “Fuck, you are so good,” falls out next. “I love you so much, I missed this so much,” is your favourite one and makes your heart jump all the way up to meet the head of his cock in your throat.

He pants out your name, his grip tightening and the last thing that tips him over is when he sweeps your hair away from your neck to gather it in his fist. And he sees them, his own fingertips already yellowing on your skin, a faint memoir of bruises that were once there, from when he had forced you to look him in the eye while you admitted to still loving him.

“Oh, fuck,” is all Viktor can say as he spasms between your lips and spills himself inside and over, even though he wants to tell you how amazing it feels. How amazing you are, how amazing it is to fuck your mouth. How amazing it is that you shed another tear for him and that you swallowed almost all of his cum, and to convey it, he pulls you up just as he wanted earlier.

And you sit across his lap where he is still warm from your touch. And his mouth is on yours, and oh, it’s almost like the first time. The taste of him still lingers heavily on your tongue and he sucks on it with love and care and gratitude, humming and licking into you, caressing your hair and your shoulders. He kisses you like you are worthy of redemption. Finally his head falls into the crook of your neck, skin clings to skin, as he mutters, “Thank you.”

"You taste just as I remember," you say absently, the words bouncing off the shell of Viktor’s ear. Just when he thinks he cannot possibly come undone any further, you take him apart.

"What have I done to deserve this?" Viktor asks weakly, and you huff a quiet laugh at how dramatic he’s being over a blowjob. You take his face in your hands, guiding his gaze to meet yours.

"There are things I have no idea how to tell you. But you deserve this every day," you whisper, resting your forehead against his.

Viktor sits there, dumbfounded, with you perched over his naked lap, foreheads touching, his pants and underwear crumpled in the middle of the kitchen. And as if your thoughts have seeped from your mind into his, understanding dawns.

"Is this your way of repenting?" he asks, trying to catch your gaze.

You say nothing, only scrunch your nose.

"Hey, look at me, please," Viktor says firmly, his fingers tilting your chin up. The warmth of his touch is steady, grounding, but not forceful. His eyes search yours, full of something unknown. "What are you trying to atone for?"

"For… everything," you sigh, pressing yourself down until you sag against him, your body moulding into his like you could dissolve there. The warmth of his skin on yours should be comforting, but it only makes the ache deeper, and you wince at your inability to express yourself.

"And yet, there is nothing," Viktor replies without hesitation. His fingers remain at your chin, keeping your gaze locked to his, as if he won’t allow you to look away, won’t allow you to slip into this spiral.

"Viktor—"

"I do mean it," he interrupts, his voice unwavering. "I do not want any of this. We start anew, sins not forgotten but cleansed. We learn, and we start over. Nothing to repent for."

"But—"

His other hand tightens around your waist, a small squeeze that grounds. "What do you feel?" he asks, softer now, but still insistent. "You have to tell me."

You hesitate. The words feel thick in your throat, soaked in self-doubt. "I—" You inhale sharply, then admit, "I feel shame. Or guilt. Or both, all the same."

"And whatever for?" Viktor presses, patient, his thumb brushing idly over your skin, a subconscious motion of reassurance.

"For how this went before, Viktor," you say, voice strained. "I see it now, and I just can’t—"

His brows pull together in concern, but he doesn’t let you trail off into silence. "What do you need to get over this?" Ever the problem-solver.

You huff out a mirthless chuckle, the sound brittle. "I don’t know. Punishment?" you say, half-joking, half-serious, but the weight in your chest doesn’t lighten. A punishment seems fitting. The insistent heat of tears pricks at your eyes, and you try to blink them away.

"I don’t think you deserve that," Viktor says immediately, voice firm, as if the thought alone is ridiculous. His hand moves to swipe the tear from beneath your eye while he does his best to remain unaffected.

"Hey—" He moves in by an inch, your stuttering breath fanning over his face. "I really don’t," he murmurs, quieter now, more to himself than to you. His grip tightens, like he needs to keep you close to not break. "We’ve changed, and it’s alright. Oh, God," he exhales, as his thumb swipes the tear from your cheek and his expression shifts from worry to adoration in an instant.

Your brows furrow, confused. "What?"

A flicker of hesitation crosses his face. He swallows. "I have my share of shame in me as well, love."

Your stomach twists at the admission. "What? Why?"

He exhales sharply, pressing his forehead to yours. His voice drops lower, as if he is giving away his best-guarded secret. "I… seem to enjoy it when you cry," he admits. "Not in the sense of enjoying your suffering," he clarifies quickly, "but somehow, being cried for, or in front of, makes me feel… loved."

"Oh, Viktor," you whisper and pull away, your hands moving instinctively to cup his face. His skin is warm beneath your touch, the sharp angles of his cheekbones softening under your fingers. "I am doing a terrible job with love confessions if you have to seek confirmation like this," you mumble, a self-deprecating huff of a laugh dancing under your nose.

Viktor shakes his head, pressing his forehead against yours again, unwilling to let you part. "I disagree. I felt just as loved a minute ago." Then he exhales, long and slow. "I think… it’s just a byproduct of everything," he says carefully. "A change." He pauses, then asks, voice softer, "Does it repulse you?"

"Of course not," you answer instantly, faster than a blink. Your thumbs brush over his cheekbones, gentle, reverent. "You could never repulse me."

His eyes flutter shut for a moment, like he’s soaking in your words, like they’re something sacred. When he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that crushes you completely. "The feeling is mutual," he murmurs.

He studies you for a moment longer before speaking again. "So tell me—what do you need to overcome your shame?"

And you hesitate again. It still lingers. Creeps up to coil somewhere around your throat and you can’t possibly bring yourself to say this, can you? The most obvious stupid cliché. Not because of the act itself, but because of the nature of it. Because of the reason for it. You crave to shed it, to start anew, to get all dressed up in your fresh new skin, old one feeling to tight around your bones. But this is Viktor. And of all people, he’s the one you would ask.

So you lean in to whisper your undisclosed desire straight into his ear. "Spank me."

Viktor stills, his mouth falls open, and he covers it with his hand. Not in shock—just to think. He doesn’t let the moment linger, as his brain works fast. He cups your cheeks and sweeps his thumbs under your eyes. Takes a deep breath.

"This is your wish?"

You nod, lowering your gaze and fixing it on the space between you, but Viktor tsks at you. "I will need you to use your words for this and all the way through. Is this what you want, for sure?"

"Yes," you answer, quietly, but audibly enough for Viktor to accept.

"Alright," he says firmly, then smiles and places a kiss on the corner of your mouth, sweet and lingering. "Will you pass me my pants?"

You huff out a laugh but scramble up from his lap, helping him get roughly dressed—underwear left in the kitchen—when he leads you back to the bedroom. And it’s all so very sweet. He leans on you, just like last time. Kisses your cheek and neck all the way through. You manage not to look at the empty spaces this time.

He leads you to the bed, where he sits down, and you don’t know what to do with yourself. Holding your hand, he guides you to sit beside him. Without question, you do, heart all the way up in your throat.

"Alright, let’s go over this, yes?" Viktor states, as if this is a project. Safety rules, roadmap, scientific approach. He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze and smiles softly. "I will check how you are doing constantly. If you tell me to stop, I stop immediately. If, for whatever reason, you don’t feel like you can tell me, you tap my thigh three times. If you don’t like it, we never do this again. If you do, we will explore. What do you think?"

"You don’t think it’s weird?" Do you think I’m weird is truly what gnaws at you, but you can’t bring yourself to ask it. You just look at him, waiting, excited and scared.

"Of course not. Peculiar, at best," Viktor smiles again and places a flurry of kisses on your face. "Do you wish to continue?"

"Yes," you answer with more confidence now.

"Then lay across my lap, please," he says, leaning back, hands still on you—grounding and reassuring.

Air gets momentarily knocked out of your lungs when your belly presses across Viktor’s thighs. He runs a hand down your spine, finding himself strangely excited about this. The trust he asked you for last week now lay splayed across his knees—he couldn’t help but think. All he has to do is indulge you.

His hand slides down, cradling your ass. He lifts the skirt of your dress, draping it over your lower back, and runs his fingers under the hem of your underwear. Gently, soothing you with soft sounds as he does, he pulls your knickers down to your knees. Your face burns, heat prickling across your skin in goosebumps with every touch—nails grazing over the inside of your knee, up your thighs, stopping at your core. He palms your naked skin and hums once he realises you are wet.

“Good,” he murmurs, playing between your legs for a while. Your mouth parts and eyes close, while you give him quiet gasps. He spreads the wetness onto your ass cheeks and cradles your bum one last time before starting. And then, without warning, the first slap lands—firm, of medium strength—but still, you yelp in surprise.

The sensation is alien—it both hurts and doesn’t. With the mild pain comes something else, something fleeting, but you can’t quite grasp what it is. Warmth spreads across your skin, and you dig your fingers into Viktor’s thigh.

Viktor, however, receives something entirely different. Nothing flees him—something grows. Both between his legs and in his chest. He has to take a second before he asks, “How was that?”

“Good,” you reply immediately.

So he continues. Another slap echoes through the room, and Viktor watches as the imprint of his hand whitens against your skin before dissolving into pink a second later. How pretty it looks. He checks in with you again. And again, you encourage him.

Slowly, slap after slap, each one interrupted by Viktor’s questions, you feel lighter, warmer. A strange feeling of relief washes over you. At some point, your skin begins to sting, and even that is welcome. Your mouth loses restraint, and you moan each time Viktor’s palm connects with your ass. Your back arches, ribs pressing into his legs, and you feel a drop of slick rolling down your inner thigh.

So debauched. So pretty, Viktor thinks.

He can’t help himself and runs his fingers down between your legs. Gasps at the wetness pooling there. “More?” He asks, voice breathy, eyes completely transfixed on your reddened skin and he almost drools at the sight. All his doing. His hand did this. This, and the drenched state of your cunt, it’s all him.

“More,” you say weakly. The burn feels good. You feel the doubt seeping out with the warmth radiating from your skin. With each touch, something inside you feels lighter. Bigger. Like there is more of you and less of whatever had been gnawing at you.

Viktor gives you three more slaps, and when your thighs quiver with the last one, his hand comes to rest at the base of your spine. “How is that?” he asks, admiration seeping into his voice.

“I think it’s enough,” you reply in a small voice. His hand returns to your bum, a gentle caress spreading from the tops of your thighs to your hips. Slowly, you rise from his lap, only to straddle him and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” you breathe into his skin. Viktor pulls you close, inhaling deeply through his nose.

“Thank you,” he murmurs in return. “Please, lie down on your stomach. I’ll be right back.”

You blink in quiet question but obey. Crawling onto the bed, you curl up on your side, fingers ghosting over the heat still lingering beneath your dress. When Viktor returns, the soft tap of his cane against the floor announces him, and you wonder how he got all the way to the kitchen without it.

“I said on your stomach,” he says gently, placing a hand at the small of your back. You roll over, propping your head on your crossed arms.

“Good girl,” he coos before exposing your reddened ass. The mattress dips on each side of your knees and once again you feel Viktor’s hands on you. Soft, gentle. Callouses gliding over your tired skin with care and love. He presses his face against your cheeks, holding them firmly, hums in appreciation, making your toes curl and your back arch, belly pressing into the bed. Then his mouth joins, as he licks you with a flat tongue. Lips grazing over you, the trail of open mouth kisses spreading all the way from the crease of your ass to the small of your back. You press yourself into him and bury your nose in the sheets, trying to muffle your whimpers.

 And then comes the coolness pressing against you, making you wince at the first touch. A cold compress.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Viktor whispers. His free hand comes to thread gently through your hair. You feel safe. Whole. That sense of belonging blooms within you again—stronger this time—and you are so, so glad it’s with Viktor. You sigh and close your eyes.

He lies beside you, his hand running up and down your spine. When you blink, your eyes meet. “How are you feeling?” he asks, and he looks so in love your heart is about to burst.

“Very good,” you say quietly, offering him an honest smile. You turn onto your side to face him, the compress slipping off. “Better. Empty and whole at the same time,” you murmur against his mouth, kissing him with reverence. “You?”

Viktor thinks for a second before answering. "Knowing you trust me enough to let go like this makes me feel irreplaceable," he says finally, and you are left speechless. Because he is. And it feels great that he knows.

“It’s all very new, isn’t it?” you ask finally, and Viktor gazes at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“No,” he murmurs, pulling you closer, your name falling softly from his mouth. “Nothing’s new. It’s still love.”

You nuzzle against his neck and sigh, your eyelashes tickling his skin. The last question gnawing at you slips past your lips before you can catch it.

“Do you hate me less now?”

Viktor scoffs, outright appalled. He pulls you back by the neck, forcing you to look at him, his eyes full of intent as he replies simply, “No.”

Your heart beats only once before stopping entirely. Then Viktor’s expression softens, and he speaks again.

“I never hated you. If anything, I only love you more.”

And your heart resumes beating—hard and erratic. You wrap yourself around him, letting out a shuddering breath. “God, how can this be so good now when we’ve fucked up so badly?”

Viktor picks up what you’ve put down. “Change is inevitable. Sometimes abrupt. Maybe this is where we were supposed to be to get here, miláčku.”

Oh, God. There it is again—dragged up from the pit you were hoping to forget. The one thing that once felt most dear, a treasure Viktor gave freely, only to let it slip into someone else’s hands. Now it’s tarnished, dulled with grime. It doesn’t sound sweet anymore. It tastes bitter, feels wrong. Feels like it doesn’t belong to you.

Your heart drops again. Your voice shrinks to almost nothing as you push him away and plead weakly, “Please, don’t call me that again.” Tears are already pricking at your eyes, and you wonder when you became so quick to cry.

“Wha—Why?” Viktor chuckles, trying to wrap his arms back around you, but you keep your distance, splaying your palms flat against his chest in quiet defiance. And then he sees it.

“Oh, darling. It never happened, I promise you. The note, I—”

“What do you mean?” you ask, as if you don’t already know. Your brows knit together, a tear clinging to your lashes. “It was on the note,” you try again, your voice frail with disbelief. Your lips press into a tight line, and Viktor looks so remorseful that you fear what’s coming next.

“It was on the note,” he says carefully, “because I was fully lying to you.”

It’s so quiet you almost don’t hear him. Your eyes flick between his eyes and his lips, your mouth parting—but nothing comes out. A couple of imaginary pins drop on the floor, the sound echoes in your head.

And then a sob slips through as you blink rapidly, trying to hold back the tears. “No. Viktor, I thought—”

“I’m so sorry.” He tries to cradle you, but you resist. “I knew it was horribly wrong as soon as I saw you that day. I regretted it in an instant, and oh,” he murmurs, pulling you against his chest. He holds you tight through this last, stupid display of jealousy, doing his best to reassure you.

“I would never. I would never call anyone else that. You are the only one, I promise. It’s all yours. Please forgive me. Miláčku, please forgive me,” he pleads, pressing his face into your hair, into the crook of your neck.

You don’t respond—not with words, not yet. Your breath is shaky against his collarbone, your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt like you need something solid to hold onto. His heart hammers against your ear. You know he’s afraid.

Viktor shifts, pressing a kiss to your temple, lingering like he’s willing you to believe him through touch alone. His hand cradles the back of your head, his thumb brushing small, rhythmic circles at your nape.

“Please,” he whispers again, softer now, like he’s running out of words, running out of ways to reach you. “I promise it’s yours. Forever.”

“How do you know it’s forever?” you ask, voice hollowed out. That would be a gift too good to be true. Yet. You dare to have your hopes up.

Viktor winces. Your body grows pliant against him. He hooks his leg over your hip bone and nestles you close, his arm wrapping under your waist, his palm resting between your shoulder blades. His other hand cradles your cheek, his face inching closer. Your noses press together, and when Viktor speaks his quiet truth, your lips brush.

“Because loving you isn’t a feeling that fleets,” he murmurs, pouring the words into you. “It’s a condition. And I will carry it with me always, no matter what happens between us.”

Your breath hitches, and you shudder. You squeeze your eyes shut, searching for something—anything—to say. But instead, you press your salty lips to his, not in a kiss, just a press. Just to steal a breath from him.

“Come back to me,” he coaxes, his knuckles paling against your skin. “Miláčku, come back to me.”

And Viktor doesn’t really believe in any higher form of consciousness controlling the universe. The only thing he believes in is the void, that we scream into like an echo chamber, questions bouncing back to anyone who’s asking. That we only get one life and have to make the very best of it. He doesn’t believe in God, that he has called upon too many times already in the spirit of figurative speech. But if there was one thing he would pray for, it would be this.

To tether himself to you, bind himself to something real, something beyond the desperate loneliness he’s learned to live with before he’s met you. He’s been waiting and waiting for this love to fleet, and it never fucking did, no matter how hard he’s been trying to squeeze it out of himself. So, instead of praying, he offers himself to you, tries to prove in the only way he knows how that he is yours, that he will always be yours—with his needy hands that chased away your shame, with his loving eyes so honest they pierce right through you, with his hot mouth that needs, needs, needs to suck on you so his lungs could expand, and his heart could beat.

And as if gears slowly begin grinding against each other in your head, you give it all back. You kiss him—deep and messy, snot mingling with drool. Viktor sighs in relief, the taste of your tears on his tongue sealing something unspoken between you. He murmurs sweet things between breaths, hands tangling in your hair, legs hooking you closer. And he needs, needs, needs to show you how much he wants you to come back. How nothing else could ever compare. How the thought of anything else is harrowing and empty.

“So we start over,” you slice through his thoughts, stating more to yourself than to him, as if the matter has nestled in your head securely only just now.

Viktor nods brushing his nose against yours and whispers a quiet, “Yes.”

“Yes,” he says again as his shaky fingers begin to unbutton your dress. “Yes,” he breathes when his thumbs brush under your breasts and palms twitch to cup them. “Yes,” comes another murmur when his tongue meets your skin, tits squeezed together so he can lick between them, and then a moan escapes him as you slide your hands to the nape of his neck and tug at the short hair there.

Your back arches, excited and willing when the sensation of his tongue on you mingles with the sounds he makes echoing in your mind, and you breathe out a needy plea, “Do it again.”

Viktor cocks a brow, hums into your skin as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, and asks a playful muffled, “Which one?"

“Oh, God, both,” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut and buck your hips against thin air, Viktor’s knee too far for you to reach. Your fingers pull at the base of his skull, and Viktor chuckles, a flush creeping up his body underneath the layers of clothing when he sinks his mouth into your breast and obeys—letting out a quiet, wrecked, “Oh, fuck,” somewhere around your heart.

His thigh finally, finally, comes to your salvation, sneaking between your legs and pressing on your core with a quiet obscene squelch. The thought of a wet stain he will get to see there makes his cock twitch painfully against the half-assed job you did of buttoning up his trousers earlier on. You breath grows short as you rub yourself on him and when a stuttered whimper escapes your mouth, Viktor huffs, “Please, do it again,” through a sharp exhale.

You tug at his hair, forcing him to look at you. "Give me a reason," you whisper in a strangled breath.

Clearly, you have no idea what you’re asking for. The cry that escapes you when his knee retreats is, to say the least, embarrassing. The sound transforms into a quiet gasp, when his hands leave your chest, one finger slides through your slit and Viktor hums, so, so pleased with you, “Baby, look how wet you are.”

“So wet for me, my girl,” he coos, and he sounds almost too grateful as his lips come back to kiss you, and a gush of cold air fans over your nipples. He palms your sickly heat, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit and you blink rapidly as your eyes roll back in your skull. Your hands fumble blindly to unbutton his shirt in a need press yourself flush against him.

And you do a very poor job, jolting and pulling at his buttons whenever Viktor’s hand parts you and his fingers tease your entrance, so his other hand comes to help you, undoing what you can’t with an ease that has you huffing. It’s annoying that he can do two things at once, while you clearly cannot. Your sulking doesn’t last very long, because as soon as his naked chest is free to be roamed, you leech yourself to his collarbone and suck a red glaring love mark into it.

Yours. All yours.

And Viktor slips, figuratively and literally, as his head instinctively falls back to grant you full access to his neck and his two fingers push inside you, where you are so, so hot it almost burns him. As if the mark on his neck wasn’t red enough, you bite on it, trying to muffle a groan. Viktor has nothing to muffle his groan on, so you can feel it crawling up his throat and vibrating under your lips.

When his fingers push in further, the only gesture you can muster is to hook your hands over the waistband of his trousers, mouth choking on his neck. You pull his pants down and he hisses as the material hooks over his cock before it springs back to slap heavily against his lower abdomen. You try to distract yourself by sliding your palms flat up and down the slope of his sharp hips, but it’s futile once Viktor buries his fingers knuckle deep and curls them brushing the sensitive spot within you. He twitches as you moan. Precum leaks out of his slit. No thoughts cross your head, only impressions. Only want and need.

You can’t decide which one it is—want or need—when your fingers wrap around his length and rub whatever weeps at the tip all over the head. He’s silky and heavy in your hand as you trace your favourite vein with the tip of your finger.

“Oh, God,” Viktor whimpers to the imaginary being again, pumping you with a stuttering rhythm of his wrist. Feeling every crevice of your cunt, he pulls you in for a kiss and you no longer know where he ends, and you begin. Attached by the mouth, his hand deep inside you, your needy wanting hands on him, just drawing gasps and moans from each other.

He has to retreat to pull his pants further down and has an audacity to chuckle when you whine in protest. His hand leaves you drawing a wet sound and your thighs fall back together with a sticky smack. “So impatient,” he hums, while doing a shitty job of undressing himself, kicking off one leg of his pants, while the other still entangles around his calf. He hooks his freed leg over your hip, takes his cock from you and aligns it at your entrance. You are completely wrapped around each other—leg pressing on leg, arms hooked around necks, fingers adding to already damp hair.

“Do you want me?” he asks, pressing his cock against your clit, hard. You tie up into thousands of knots, trying to suck him in by the force of your sheer will when you see the question is honest. He really wants to know. Eyes pensive, hooded, mouth parted. So you kiss this mouth, bite his lips until he hisses and breathe into him, “I want you, fuck, I want you.”

A silent moan rips through him, as he enters you, inch after painful inch until you can feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse of his cock against your walls. At this point you are just clashing mouths and teeth in something that once was a kiss. He fills more of you than was empty as you lose control of the clenching and unclenching of your own muscles. A quiet ah falling from him dies in the sound of a slap as your hips slot together.

He stills for a moment, buried deep, and you swear you can feel his pulse inside you, thrumming in time with your own. Chest to chest, forehead to forehead, he exhales heavily through his nose, his grip on you tightening. And then he moves.

Your mouth falls open so wide your jaw aches, breaths intermingle, brows knit together. Viktor's hands anchor around your ass as he thrusts into you, slow and deep, each movement pounding the shape of his cock into your core. You arch against him, offering yourself, giving him everything you have. Your fingers twist in his hair, and the moment you tug, he groans—a low, breathy sound that coils something filthy at the base of your spine as your skin slaps against his.

And Viktor feels himself melting against your lips, inside you, as your walls squeeze tighter and tighter around him. He loses control of his hands—they just roam, fisting at your dress, kneading the soft flesh of your thighs as he sinks deeper, hitting a spot that has you gasping hiccupped breaths straight into his mouth. He pants, struggling not to be the one who falls first, trying not to look, not to think about your clumped eyelashes, the tears that he is fucking out of you. He tries not to think about how every slap of his hips against yours must echo across your poor ass, how pleasure and pain must be bleeding together inside you.

But it just feels so fucking good for you. Every roll of his hips is a reminder of how his fingers sank into your skin not long ago, heat pouring out of you in waves. You don’t move anymore—it’s only Viktor’s sloppy, determined thrusts guiding you toward the edge. You cross your eyes to focus on his parted lips, the beauty marks dusting his cheek and lip, and when his breath fans over your face, you let your lashes flutter closed, surrendering to it. Letting it build, slow and aching, every deep stroke tightening the coil inside you until you’re cramping around him.

“Fuck,” Viktor pants as you curl into him, whining his name into the crook of his neck, fighting the urge to bite down on his tendon. Your thighs squeeze tight around him, and your cunt grips him like a vice, milking him as you finally break apart. You spasm and clench around him, neck wrenched and jaw tight as you try to catch a breath through your silent shout and it’s almost impossible for Viktor to move in the tightness you’ve created. His sweat drips onto your cheeks, and, at last, he can stop holding back.

He curls his arms around you and rolls you over, pressing you down with his weight. Adding gravity to every snap of his hips, his stomach cramps more and more with each desperate thrust as he fucks you through the aftershocks, chasing his own undoing. His mouth hangs open against yours when he holds you tight enough for his fingertips to whiten, bruises already threatening to bloom where he grips. “I’m so close,” he whispers on a breath, and you thought it impossible, but you clench even tighter at the sound of his strained voice. And when he cums, it’s with a wrenched-out grunt, his head buried in your neck, his body trembling against you.

A few stuttering jolts of his hips, spilling his seed deep inside you, and the sensation of being filled, of being utterly his, has you moaning one last time, spent and breathless. Eyes unseeing, mouth touching mouth when he falls on top of you and just stays.

And then, nothing, for a moment, only your damp stomachs rising and falling against each other.

Until Viktor is the one to move first. He pulls out, his cum spilling from you onto the sheets with a wet spurt, and rolls onto his back, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. A shuddery breath escapes him as he presses a hand to his chest.

“Viktor?” you say softly, gliding an open palm over his stomach.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what—” he croaks, then pulls you in, guiding your head to rest against his chest. His heart pounds beneath your ear, his breath uneven, and when you lift your chin to look at him, you catch the glistening trail of a tear slipping down his cheek, barely visible.

And Viktor has no idea what came over him. He has no idea whether this is a stupid way of paying back his debt to you or is it just a surge of affection that he cannot hold in, but it feels strangely freeing to pour all this fear into a wet breath. Or maybe his fucked out brain just can’t keep up with the bliss, he doesn’t know.

Gently, you tug his arm away from his face, nuzzling into him as you whisper, “It’s okay. You’re okay.” You press a soft kiss to his lips, and he exhales shakily, like he’s been holding something in for far too long. And to come undone like this is completely unlike for Viktor. You are fairly sure you’ve never seen him cry before, though you’ve heard the legends. And now they all come true, before your very eyes and even though you feel nothing close to arousal watching him spill his emotions over, the feeling you do have in your chest is about to make it burst, nevertheless.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, kissing you back through an embarrassed chuckle. “I guess something is new after all.”

“Don’t apologize, please,” you whisper, nuzzling your nose into the hollow of his cheek. “I love this.”

Viktor offers a smile and a squeeze to your neck. Wordlessly, you fall into each other, arms tightening, bodies entwining. The roam of your hands slowly dying to settle on each other’s hollows. The scent of sweat and warmth heavy between you, intermingling, blending—just as you do.

And even though all of this looks hurried and disorganised—your dress half undone, his pants tangled around one leg, brace slid down from his knee, shirt twisted around him, cold compress melting away, dampening his sheets—it feels right. And as you rest against him, your heart slowing in tandem with his, you think of how this is both familiar and new. How you’ve shed the bad and kept the good. How it’s all very fucking new and exciting and frightening, but it’s good, because it’s with Viktor.

At some point, the sun has set as you both drift into sleep. Heavy breaths, calm, bodies still half-clothed. Your dress has rolled all the way up, exposing your lower half, and Viktor, with sleep-ridden hands, pulls it down before throwing a blanket over you both. No dreams interrupt you, only the damp cloister of your shared aftermath.

He’s closed his eyes a second ago, and when he opens them again, the night has turned into a blue morning. No sun yet, but the dark already pales. Carefully, he shuffles from between your legs, pressing the soles of his feet to the wooden floor, blindly reaching for his cane. Then, takes a long breath. His knee is aching—a faint, but present feeling. Slightly annoying. Managable.

He discards his pants to the floor, the outline of the fly buttons pressed into the skin of his calf after clinging to it the whole night. He glances over his shoulder—you, fast asleep, hair clumped into a tangled mess spilling over his pillow. Mouth open, soft breaths coming in and out, the faintest sound nestling in his mind. His hand hovers over your cheek as he dusts away a stray eyelash. Moments pass as he just looks.

Quietly, he stands and expands himself into a slow stretch. Breathes out long and heavy. Then, half-naked, walks toward the kitchen. And there—his underwear on the floor. Two cups resting on the table. He puts his cup in the sink and reaches for yours—half-drunk tea, a once-wet, now dried-out ring left behind. He smiles.

Nothing’s new, comes the thought.

He drinks your cold tea and puts the kettle on.

[the-traveling-poet]

So Clumsy In Love

~ Valentine’s Day Special ~

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎~ As resourceful and observant as Levi is, one thing about his new life above ground still throws him for a loop; how could such a simple concept as romance be so difficult for him to understand? You made him nervous—confused and unfocused. Eventually he grows tired of fearing his own emotions, and finds the perfect excuse to spend time with you; the Valentine’s Day festival downtown.

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉~ Levi Ackerman x GN!Reader, SFW, v-day themes, inexperienced love, language, cannon-verse, Levi being awkward and crass.

𝒜/𝒩~ Just a lil V-Day fic, since I missed out on doing something for Thanksgiving and Christmas :) Happy Valentines lovelies!

I might make this a mini-series eventually?? Lemme know what you think!! See below for more Levi content.

{ 1.9k words }

It had been an honest mistake, hadn't it?

How should he have known your interpretation of his words wouldn't be what he'd intended you to pick up on?

Though, in hindsight, perhaps he'd subconsciously worried you'd mistake his intent all along—he wasn't known for his poetry. He more than anyone knew this as fact.

The intended compliment he quietly uttered your way could have been more carefully thought out, to avoid confusion. The hand-up after a round on the training grounds could have been a bit more delicate, less forceful and rigid. Hell, even the smile he'd flashed your way last week probably looked more like a grimace or a scowl, now that he thought about it.

Levi honestly had tried to find a way to convey what he felt for you, in any way shape or form—but in all honesty, he wasn't good at this.

Humanity's Strongest Soldier...Seemed more fit to label him Humanity's Most Awkward Bachelor.

Life above ground has been more than he anticipated it to be; so many new sights to behold, so many new things to learn... Back in the Underground, things were much more to the point than they were up here. Much more crass, much more invasive, so much more painful...Up here, on the surface, all of that could easily apply: to certain circumstances—yet never quite so harshly as it was below the surface.

At least, that’s how Levi views it, as a fresh Scout within the Survey Corps. Perhaps one day his interpretation would change.

With having to learn how to read the people of the surface, and adapt to their so-called proper way of life, Levi was left feeling adrift. The stark contrast between their social cues and those of the underground was nothing short of overwhelming.

So, to say that romance was uncharted territory for him would be a vast understatement. It was one thing he’d never expected, never even thought on. He'd never had time for it in the past. He'd been busy surviving, and providing. But now? Now...He wasn't so sure that he couldn't carve out some time between his new duties in the Scouts to understand his emotions a bit more.

Especially the ones he'd recently taken notice of regarding you—the ones that made him stutter whenever you were around, and avoid prolonged eye contact when you spoke. The ones that sparked a warm flutter in the pit of his stomach whenever you laughed, or chanced a smile his way.

It was near maddening, in the beginning. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t understand why he felt what he did. Briefly he recalled having been urged to just really think about it, to make up his mind and listen to his own heart. He’d scoffed at them, the damned bespectacled squad leader—always sticking their nose into his business. But maybe they had a point…

So eventually, he’d done just that; he’d sorted his thoughts and his feelings, dwelling heavily over them for quite some time. Eventually, gradually, he’d discovered that the attraction he held towards you was more than just a fleeting admiration for a fellow Scout.

It was so much more than that.

Such a simple notion should have come much easier to him, as self-observant as he was. His own stubborn pride had kept it hidden away from him, though.

Until now, that is.

Now, it was all he could focus on.

Every moment he wasn’t fully focused on a task, his mind would slip back into a pattern of obsession—fond observations he’d made about you over the many long months he’d been enlisted.

He’d watched you, unbeknownst to you.

Not so much in a way that would border on stalking, but merely keeping himself at a distance, silently absorbing every little fact he’d pick up on and store it away for a later time to muse over.

He found himself admiring you, out of sight. Certainly out of mind to you. Even after the revelation he’d made of his feelings, he couldn’t help but continue to keep his distance and simply watch you go about your days.

Stubborn as he had been, he truly was trying to understand himself whenever you were around. It wasn’t like him to be so unsure—so nervous, even. He’d watch you train, clean, socialize; all at a distance. He wouldn’t dare approach you and intervene with your time, worried he might somehow soil the moment for you, more so than for himself. He’d always frowned on obsessive stalkers in the past; he wasn’t about to become one himself. And yet…Here he was. Pining. Wishing, hoping…Pathetically entranced by all that you were.

In the present, he cursed himself. He’d mustered up the courage to face you in a way much softer than he usually preferred, hoping to not startle or offend you in any way this time. And yet, despite his careful planning, he’d managed to make the moment more awkward than endearing. Once again, the silly cycle repeated itself.

“The hell even was that?” he grumbled to himself, quietly so as not to be heard by passerbyers.

“Why the hell didn’t I just say what I initially thought, instead of butchering any chance I could have had?”

Levi sat alone in his newly appointed office now, silently contemplating his actions the day before.

He really had meant it as a compliment—it had not come across this way. Instead of seeing the smile on your face that he was after, he was met with a furrowed brow and a set of pursed lips.

“I don’t suppose you find yourself funny?”

Your quietly spoken words still echoed in his mind.

What had started as a feeble attempt at pursuing a conversation with you after a meeting—in hopes to steer it in a more progressive direction—ended abruptly in narrowed gazes and an awkward silence.

“Idiot, fucking idiot…” he muttered as an afterthought to himself, standing up to pace the small space.

He’d heard tell of an event celebrated amongst the people born and raised above ground—some sort of ‘lovers day’, meant to bring attention to a love one held for another. Initially, he thought it was corny. A little ridiculous, even. Soldiers and civilians alike would participate in this festival of sorts, celebrating ‘romance and unity’.

‘Pointless. Waste of a good coin. Waste of time.’ He’d once proclaimed.

It took him falling in love to understand why any such thing would be celebrated as a ‘holiday’ worth entertaining.

Now that he had fallen for another, however, he suddenly could understand. Even just a little.

He’d pondered over such an idea for months, long before the event would take place. At first he brushed it off as some teenage fantasy, asking the one person he admired from a distance to join him on a night of fresh starts and new experiences—some ridiculous little event to finally express his heart to you.

But after some time, in which he truly began to understand what he felt for you…The idea seemed plausible, at the very least.

Cringy, maybe. Satisfactory, definitely.

Eventually he’d made up his mind, only a couple of days before the dreaded date. He would ask you to celebrate: with him.

He’d hoped to ask you if you would join him for dinner—maybe walk amongst the festivities together, as a way to indulge in the festival being held in the town square. Maybe there he could admit to you, in some way or another, how he favored you above all others. How he wanted to pursue something, anything with you—if you’d let him. Only if you shared his ambition.

But of course, approaching this subject with you only made his clumsiness worse. The attempt he’d made at broaching the subject couldn’t have been more uncomfortable for either of you.

“You people up here tend to celebrate weird shit…You’re alone for this weird ass holiday, right? I don’t imagine you’d have the time for such things, anyways—always caught up in perfecting your shitty strategies and formations.”

That had been the first and last statement he’d made before your remark, regarding him in an almost offended way. Even now, your response still haunts him.

In his mind, he figured this was a compliment; a rough one at best. You were always focused, always concentrated and putting your best foot forward for any task that demanded your full attention. Of course he’d noticed. He always had. Yet…now hadn’t been the time to point that out—much less, in such a demeaning manner.

He hadn’t meant to underline your lack of a romantic life. But he had, and the moment the words left his lips he knew it.

Less than a full day had passed since then, and still he mulled over it, sulking over his inability to take that step forward and just say what he meant. To say what he needed you to hear.

It was evening when he left his office, the sun filtering through his window setting over the walls beyond in crisp oranges and bright pinks. He might have stopped to watch it for a moment, if he weren’t at wit’s end.

He’d kept himself cooped up stewing over his mistakes long enough—It was now or never, wasn’t it?

Finding you hadn't been too difficult. In fact, it had been a little too easy; of course he’d find you chatting happily amongst comrades before turning in for the night.

The difficult part, the one he knew he would inevitably face, was getting you alone for a single moment. Just long enough to grab your attention and say what needed to be said…

To his silent astonishment, he’d managed the task easily enough; a simple demand for a moment of time seemed to do the trick. He’d pretend he didn’t see the hesitance in your eyes, the silent judgment that you never verbally conveyed.

“Listen; I’m shit at words. Especially the weird shit you all say up here on the surface. It’s strange, and it’s stupid. But…The other day, what I’d meant wasn’t what I said. If-If you are alone tomorrow…Well, I suppose I am as well. I’d wondered: what if we grabbed a bite to eat? Avoid the drama these love sick idiots parade around and just…I dunno…Get to know one another a little?”

You’d huffed in amusement, a crooked smirk on your enchanting lips. The earlier hesitance disappeared from your gaze, replaced now by a nearly mischievous look of understanding.

The silence left behind from his proposal was enough to spike his nervousness once again—he was so far out of his element that even he would laugh at himself if he were observing from afar.

Maybe he’s misjudged, made a mistake…

But eventually you shook your head, uncrossing your arms and looking him over head to toe, curiosity beaming in your pretty eyes.

“As it should happen, I’m not busy for Valentine’s tomorrow, and I suppose I could stand to better familiarize myself with my fellow Captains…”

A pause in your voice brought about the stilling of his heart, his chest aching briefly with anticipation. But then you gave your final answer; a few simple words that lifted the anxious weight in his heart and eased the tension in his shoulders. He nearly sighed with visible relief.

“Why not? I’ll go to dinner with you. There’s a new café in Trost; I hope you’ve heard of it?”

~𝑀𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝐿𝑒𝓋𝒾 𝒜𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝐻𝑒𝓇𝑒!~

~𝒟𝒾𝓋𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇~

[pacifymebby]

Modern! Peaky blinders with a reader who really likes stuffed animals like they make them bring them to Build-A-Bear to get new ones. like how would they act if the reader wants to make them put a voice recording in the bear that says I love you in their voice. ☺️

Obsessed with this cause it's adorable!!!!! It has been yearsssss since I was in build a bear ngl so I don't know how accurate this will be!

Tommy

🌿 Thinks you're very sweet and that the fact you're still in touch with your inner child is a good thing. He's very precious about the idea of you keeping your softness and so he is more than happy to let you run riot in build a bear or any other toy store...

🌿 When you say you want to make him a build a bear he humours you with a small smile, pretending not to know what you mean. "I don't need a teddy bear angel, whenever I want a hug I find you..." Which of course makes you giggle as you protest. "No I mean I want to make you as a bear..."

🌿 Tommy's not sure how he feels about that, he's not sure the aesthetics of love, peace and hugs that they have at build a bear are really going to be able to capture him however... You're looking up at him with your big, undeniable eyes and he's not one for saying "No" to his girl over trivial things like this....

🌿 And anyway it's worth saying yes and letting you give it your best shot just for the way you squeal and throw your arms around him, jumping up so that he has to catch you whilst you thank him over and over covering his face in kisses as you promise him his bear is going to be the best you've ever made....

🌿 "Well I don't doubt that for a second love, it seems you're the expert..." He's teasing you on purpose because he loves to see you frown, the cute way your brows crease as you try to work out whether he's being rude to you or not. You all hands on hips like "I am, actually."

🌿 Tommy's a little concerned about being seen in Build a Bear, mostly because it's the kind of cheap shot some daily mail pap will take and plaster all over their website beneath unfortunate headlines about him having gone soft or getting "stuffed." It's not going to get to him on a personal level but it could be bad for business if his rivals see it.

🌿 So he takes you out of town for it, drives you to some nowhere seaside town which has one on the high street, where no one will recognise him and you'll be able to do your bear building in peace. He's really banking on British high street shopping having died out completely and luckily for him the shop is empty but for you and him... Sure he could probably have taken you to a bigger store in London after hours, let you have free reign over the shop, but this is nicer... It feels normal and Tommy revels in any opportunity he gets to feel "normal" with you.

🌿 He's thinks it's all a little bit intense, he doesn't really go for "forced happiness" himself, but Tommy is very much driven by the want to keep you happy and so he takes a breath and holds his tongue as you step inside the store together and you squeeze his hand excitedly.

🌿 You take foreverrrrr to pick out what kind of bear you're going to have, holding different skins up next to Tommy who just has to stand there and take it whilst you compare which one you think is most "him" and then when you finally do choose you gasp and say "wait no, I want you to be surprised, you can't see!"

🌿 Which is inconvenient because it means he'll have to either follow you round blindfolded or miss the rest of your bear building... In the end you send him off to choose clothes for Tommy bear... "Tommy bear?" He raised his brow at you with a smirk but when you double down he just chuckles and says "fine, as you wish love..."

🌿 So he has to wander the clothes section peering quizzically at the little outfits and well as he suspected, none of the clothes on offer really scream "feared and revered organised crime leader..." So instead he has to lean into his creative side, tries to imagine who he would be if he wasn't a violent, murderous criminal. He pictures himself sitting on the back of a vardo, stopped by a babbling brook, peace and quiet, far away from any city...

🌿 When he hears your gleeful, sweet call from across the store asking him to come back he sighs, braces himself for whatever crazy little whim has taken you now...

🌿 "Close your eyes," you instruct him when he gets closer, he was making a song and dance of not looking at your bear anyway but you want to be absolutely certain he isn't peaking. "Need you to do something for me Tommy, pretty please with cherries on top..." He knows from the sweetness of your tone you're about to ask him something he's going to want to refuse... And he knows from the sweet way you've kissed him on the cheek and said it again "really pretty please..." That there's no way he's going to be able to say no. Because you sound so happy, the hint of a giggle in your mischievous voice and there's no way Tommy would ever dream of cutting your fun short...

🌿 So when you ask him to record himself saying "I love you y/n" he just chuckles, if anything he's relieved you're not asking something more difficult for him to give you. Making a little voice recording is easy... "That all eh sweetheart? Had me worried for a second... Thought you were gonna ask me to buy you the whole store..."

🌿 He's also morbidly aware that the bear will probably outlive him... So why shouldn't you have a little voice recording just in case something ever happens...

🌿 So with one hand over his eyes he makes the voice recording, completely serious as he says the words, "I love you y/n" completely unaware of the fact that you're filming him on your phone camera as you do. Now you know you'll get into trouble for that but you also can't resist. You never thought you'd get Tommy through the door let alone this...

🌿 You're ever so sweet to him when he's done, giving him the tightest hug, leaving him with a kiss before you inform him that he's going to have to leave again now or he'll ruin the surprise. So he sighs and teases you for being so bossy, tells you to mind your manners and gives you a little pat on the cheek before he turns away and tries to find something to occupy himself with.

🌿 he sets himself down on a child-size stool and rests with his chin in his hands, gazing up at the stuffing machine. He lets out a sigh and smirks at what a strange scene it must look like for an outsider looking in. A man wanted in some places for murder, perched on a primary coloured stool, gazing up at a cartoonish machine designed for filling teddy bears.

🌿 Honestly though he's weirdly mesmerised by the fluff machine, he could stare at it going round and round all day long... In fact that's where you find him when your bear is all boxed up and waiting to be paid for. Tommy just gazing at the fluff being spun slowly round and round, his wide eyes almost holding a childish kind of innocence.

🌿 You refuse to let him see Tommy bear until you both get home, delighting in coming up with all sort of stupid excuses why you can't just show him the bear... "He's shy Tommy... You're putting too much pressure on him, he's got big shoes to fill you know, it ain't easy being the bear representative for Thomas Shelby..."

🌿 And then when you finally do show him the bear you've built for him he's a little bewildered...

🌿 "Y/n love, why am I am otter..." "I don't know... Vibes, it was a vibes based decision and I decided you give me ottery vibes, or the otter was giving me you vibes... I don't know, isn't he cute though, personally I love him!"

🌿 And he supposes that actually your choice was really rather fitting since after all he'd been sitting in that shop imagining himself by a river in the middle of the woods, enjoying the peace and tranquility of nature... So perhaps an otter really did match his vibe. "Aye love, he's great, I think I quite like him myself... You're a very clever girl."

🌿 You have many many cuddly toys but Tommy has one rule, you're only allowed one of them in the bed. It's a fair enough rule really because if you kept all of them in your bed there'd be no room for you and Tommy... But it does leave you with the really rather tricky decision of whether or not you want to evict your current favourite cuddly toy from the bed in order for Tommy Bear to move in...

🌿 Tommy doesn't find out about that little video you took of him in the shop for awhile, only a little later when he catches you watching it by yourself. He hears you giggling and comes to see whats so funny, when he sees himself on your screen he inwardly cringes though he can't help but chuckle at your mischief. "Tut tut y/n, that wasn't very good of you was it?" He asks and though you can tell you're in trouble you can't keep your smirk off your lips, bursting into a premature giggling before you go to make a run for it...

🌿 Tommy isn't the sort to let you pretend you're faster or stronger than him so he's going to have you trapped in his arms in an instant, only agreeing to release you if you swear on Tommy Bears life that you'll never show anyone that video.

🌿 "But it's so cute!" You try to argue. "And so is Tommy Bear y/n you wouldn't want him to lose an ear now would you?"

Alfie

🐻 "don't see why you want to build the bear yourself ziskiet, there's plenty good bears already been built what about them eh?"

🐻 You're not sure Alfie really understands the concept of Build a Bear... Alfie's pretty honest about his confusion too.

🐻 "Now let me get this straight my little ziskeit... You go into this shop yeah? And you pick the teddy bear you wanna build, and then you stuff it yourself, and you put it's little sound effects in there yourself, and then you dress it yourself?" "You give them a heart too don't forget, that's important..." "A heart? Oh yeah I suppose that is pretty important ain't it ziskeit..." "And then when you're done you give it a name and you get a little birth certificate and..."

🐻 "And then you pay them? For the privelige of having done all the work yourself? That right yeah?" You huffing and sighing and glowering up at him because the glint of amusement in his eyes has just let you know that he's been deliberately "not getting it" on purpose just to tease you.

🐻 "Pleaseeeeeeeee" you say as sweetly as you can, blinking up at him with your most adorable doe eyes. Now of course Alfie was never going to say no to his little ziskeit... He just wanted to hear you beg like that, because he finds it absolutely adorable when you beg him for anything. But this... Begging him to take you teddy bear shopping, well it's just about the cutest thing you've ever done... So of course he says yes.

🐻 He cups your cheek in the palm of his hand and strokes his thumb over your skin, still teasing when he coos at you softly before telling you that you can have anything you want, even a trip to this so called bear building factory.

🐻 "Ziskeit I'm a very wealthy old man yeah, and it was actually my intention yeah that you, my dear, would never have to work a day in your life..."

🐻 Now Alfie is a theatrical, dramatic kind of man, and he has absolutely no qualms about shutting the store down so that you can have free reign over the place. He'll take you to the biggest one in London so that you'll have lots of choices and can truly make the most of your trip.

🐻 He hires the place out for the whole evening and tells you you can spend as much money as you want. If his girls dream in life really is to go to work for one evening in a bear factory, or whatever this place is, then he's going to make sure she gets to do it right...

🐻 He wasn't expecting you to want him by your side every step of the way though... When you get there you actually get a bit overwhelmed at the fact that you've got the whole store to yourself and you can choose whatever you want. All the staff are there purely to serve you and its actually a little bit intimidating... So you snatch Alfie's hand in yours, "you have to help me!"

🐻 He doesn't chastise you for being demanding however because he can tell you've suddenly gotten a bit shy, so instead he chuckles, kisses your head and plays along, "of course ziskeit, there's a lot of big decisions to make, can't expect you to make them all by yourself..."

🐻 But he wants you to choose your bear, since you were so excited to come in the first place, so he refuses to make any decisions for you... Just keeps you tucked under his arm and meanders through all your options with you until your shyness starts to fade.

🐻 "So you like the bunnies and you also like this little fella? What is he anyway, some kinda cat?" "That's a lamb Alfie..." "A lamb, well, yeah I reckon you could make quite a cute little lamb... Then again I reckon you could make a cute little bunny too... You know precious I did say didn't I, that you could spend as much money as you liked... Technically yeah, you don't actually have to choose between the two..."

🐻 But you do have to choose because you want to make one perfect teddy bear, one that will be extra extra special and remind you of this very lovely evening forever... And when you tell Alfie that his heart swells as he is reminded once again what an absolute angel he has found in you.

🐻 Eventually you settle on the bunny and you take it to the stuffing machine which Alfie is really fascinated by, "oh well now this is impressive ain't it Ziskeit, what do they call this then eh?" You delight in telling him all about it, losing your shyness and coming out of your shell completely as you try to show him what to do and get him to help you.

🐻 Alfie definitely puts on a show of being confused and clumsy so that you'll have to keep putting your hands on his hands to help him. "Yeah that's better you help me out darlin, you've got delicate fingers yeah, you're much better at this than me..."

🐻 When you go to pick the heart out to put it inside you pause and bite your lip, really carefully considering which one to pick even though they're all the same, so Alfie gets you to close your eyes and guides your hand to delve in nice and deep, "kismet y'see little one, fate..."

🐻 Then you make him give the heart a little kiss before you tuck it inside your bear. Now he knows he looks daft as anything and soft as hell doing that for you, but you held it up to his lips so sweetly, and it gave him the chance to kiss your fingertips too... So he plays along, if not just to see you blush when he lets his kiss linger on your finger tips and scatters them across the back of your hand too.

🐻 When you tell him what you want the voice recording to be he's stunned, coughs to hide his surprise and then shakes his head. He'll do it... Because he wouldn't dare break your heart with a no, not when you've finally started really enjoying yourself without being nervous at all... But first he clears the store. Sends the staff away because he wants to have a "private moment with my girl if you don't mind yeah... An anyone I catch eavesdropping yeah..." He doesn't really need to make a threat, they all know who he is, they wouldn't dream of disobeying him.

🐻 So when everyone else has gone, he pulls you in very close to him, his hand resting on your lower back, and then he asks you again what it is you'd like him to say... "I love you!" You grin up at him and he can't resist the opportunity to make the obvious joke, "I love you too my dear but what exactly is it you'd like me to put in this message specifically?"

🐻 By the time he actually makes the recording you're blushing furiously from all his terrible teasing and your pink cheeks look utterly adorable. And of course Alfie being Alfie he can't stick to such a simple script, he has to add some embellishments here and there. "I love you little ziskeit, all the way to the moon and sun and stars..."

🐻 If there's a time out on that recording it's probably going to cut him off mid sentence.

🐻 When it's time to stitch your bear up he stands over you at the table admiring the nimble way you move your delicate fingers. It reminds him of all the times you've wound up stitching him up after a meeting with a rival gang has turned sour. Softens him up a bit and makes him feel very grateful to have you for his own.

🐻 You spend a really really really long time looking at all the cute little outfits you could buy for your bunny, you keep hovering in front of fairy dresses and cute little t-shirts, your wide eyes blinking up at the different options, totally overwhelmed and spoilt for choice... And Alfie's there reminding you once again that you don't have to choose just one thing, you can buy as much as you like...

🐻 But in the end the only thing you choose is two pink ribbons for her little ears. Alfie is a bit puzzled by her apparent lack of clothing but you absolutely insist that she's perfect just the way she is and he knows better than to argue with you once you get the stubborn voice out.

Arthur

🍂 No one has ever looked more unnatural in a Build A Bear Workshop than Arthur Shelby... he looks totally out of place. With his frown etched deeply into his face and his low grumbling gruff old voice. The way he stands there looking at the place with this creeped out kind of uncertainty in his expression... he knows he shouldn't be there and he knows everyone else knows he shouldn't be there....

🍂 But then he looks at you and he sees just how happy to be there you are, and he knows he's going to have to go through with this... Because apart from anything else you look like exactly the sort of person who should be in this shop, in fact you look like build a bear was designed specifically for you.

🍂 Makes you laugh when you ask him what's wrong and he tries to pretend that everything's fine, "Arthur you look like you've stepped into a horror movie" you tease him but his answer just makes you laugh, how he blushes when he says it, "Well it's just... Everyone seems so happy and uh... Nah it's just that actually... Just feels weird..." He admits realising how daft he sounds as he says it, making you laugh more when he trails off and gives in.

🍂 You're determined that he's going to get involved and help you make your bear because you know that secretly he's going to end up enjoying it, you just need to prove that to him before he'll admit it.

🍂 And he does enjoy it... After he's moved past how unnerving he finds the boxes full of empty bear skins. You think it's funny how he doesn't really want to even go up to them to have a look, how he's trying to hide that he obviously finds them a bit creepy, because he doesn't want to reveal himself as being scared of a toy shop...

🍂 So you end up picking out which kind of bear he's going to make with you. He swears too much for a build a bear work shop and you have to keep reminding him to mind his language because although you've picked a relatively quiet time to come to the store there's still some little kids about.

🍂 Still, when he sees the fluffer machine he stops dead in his tracks and breaths out the phrase "what the fuck is that..."

🍂 I think you'd spend most of this trip with Arthur giggling at him and his dramatic reactions to everything. The way he genuinely seems disbelieving when you tell him it's a machine for helping you fill the bears. You can tell he's kind of intrigued and on the verge of begging you for a turn, the way he watches you filling your bear up slowly... He's watching you and the machine so carefully his eyes full of fascination but when you turn and offer him a go he's hesitant.

🍂 "I don't know love I wouldn't wanna ruin your bear like..." "Don't be silly Arthur, if you help me it'll be ten times better..." Now he has to try and hide the fact that he's gotten strangely emotional about you wanting him to make your bear with you... He covers it up by teasing you and grumbling about "well alright love anything for you eh... Don't say I didn't warn you though lass..."

🍂 But obviously Arthur does a wonderful job because the whole process is designed do that basically anyone can do it, "see easier than it looks isn't it..." You tease him. But he's too focused on what he's doing to be bothered by your teasing.

🍂 He actually finds the stuffing part pretty therapeutic. You can see him get quite absorbed in the process, trying his best to get it just right. He's really concentrating.

🍂 I think he'd be quietly quite into giving the little bear a heart, I'm thinking like Tin Man complex here.

🍂 When it comes to doing the stitches he gets a bit frustrated because it's more fiddly and he's not exactly the most nimble man...

🍂 Now, he definitely blushes when you ask him to do the voice recording... He sort of gets a stutter on him like he wasn't expecting you to ask him that, and also isn't sure why you want his gruff grumpy voice to come out of such a cute bear... Definitely says something along those lines to you...

🍂 "What do you want me to do that for love?" "Well I'm not gonna ask the bloody shop assistant to do it for me am i..."

🍂 He will do it, but he is going to be a little bit embarrassed about it. Not just because he's supposed to be a tough and scary gangster with a tough and scary reputation to uphold but also because it seems like a very soft and very gooey romantic thing to do and not only does he not view himself as someone capable of being soft and romantic (even though he wishes he could be that way) (and even though you do see the ways in which he can be that way sometimes) but he also knows for a fact that other people don't see him as being capable of those things...

🍂 So he feels ridiculous, like everyone's secretly thinking "what the fucks he doing making a fool of himself, who's he trying to kid we all know he's a monster..."

🍂 That's the real reason he double checks to make sure no one is around that might be listening in, he's so paranoid that other people in the shop are going to laugh at him for even trying to be soft and romantic with you.

🍂 Anyway he does it and he goes bright red like a tomato and you think he looks so so so adorable, and when you say this to him he goes even more red and you can't help but kiss him on the cheek and thank him a million times.

🍂 You want to call the bear Arthur and he's like "but that's my name" and your only argument is "well surely you don't want another man to be telling me he loves me..." Which he can't argue with, even though he knows it's a ridiculous argument that doesn't make any sense.

🍂 Will tell you he's never setting foot in that shop ever again... Will obviously immediately capitulate the next time you ask.

John

🌼 Laughs when you ask him to come with you... He thinks you're joking at first and then when he realises you're being serious he chuckles almost nervously and asks "What really? What do you want me to come with you for, you know you can just take my credit card whenever you want flower..."

🌼 "Well yeah, and I would but... I have an important job for you..." "Oh aye?" He grins. He agrees to come, he loves spending time with you and getting to spoil you, and honestly he thinks this will be a right laugh.

🌼 He will not take it seriously at all, even when you tell him how very serious it is... In fact the more stroppy you get with him about how serious it is, the more funny he's finding it... he does want you to have a good time though so he's not too much of a windup merchant with you.

🌼 It's just that he can't help but giggle when you step inside the shop and it's full of kids and you're there taking it more seriously than the 7 year old whose been dreaming of a build a bear for years.

🌼 When you're struggling to choose which bear you want he keeps reminding you that it's going on his credit card anyway and you don't even have to choose, you can have the whole store if you want... "John!” you whining to him, "be serious!" "Flower I don't joke about Build a Bear, this stuff is serious..." "John! Stop taking the piss out of me..." "Eh don't swear flower, there's kids around!" He really loves hearing you whine his name so this could repeat and repeat for hours...

🌼 Every time you do come close to making a choice he spots a different type of bear that you haven't noticed yet and his "what about this one flower?" Makes you have to start reconsidering your choice all over again.

🌼 He doesn't have the cocentration/patience to do any of the little bear building steps, he's too easily distracted pointing out different things, asking what "this thing" does and pointing at some random part of the shop. "What's that for? Eh give us a go..."

🌼 You have to put the heart in and he's giggling about it and you're like "John come on..." Whining at him to be real for a second, which he thinks is extremely cute but that makes him chuckle more. You kiss the heart before putting it in which he thinks is insane but also extremely cute and of course he teases you for it. "Aw flower ain't you a little sweetheart..." Pinching your cheek and fluffing your hair...

🌼 Definitely not afraid to do the voice recording, isn't sure why you want him to do it but will do it simply because you've asked him to.

🌼"So this is the important job is it flower?" He chuckles when you tell him what you need him to do. "Whats the matter girl I not tell you enough? Feeling neglected or somet? You gonna use him to make me jealous?" He is only teasing of course, just trying to make you blush in the middle of the shop to distract from the fact that he's about to make a voice recording of himself being a soppy git.

🌼 But you said it was an important job so he puts his whole chest into his performance. Makes a show of preparing himself for the moment, really playing up his deep breath, closing his eyes and theatrically crossing his hand slowly down his face to prepare for his line... anything to make you giggle.

🌼 Then he holds eye contact the whole time he's doing the voice recording, deadly serious, actually gives you butterflies for a second there... but the second the recording is off he cracks a laugh and starts pissing himself, making you giggle too because his laughter is very contagious and you do also feel a little silly after watching his oscar winning performance.

🌼 Is absolutely going to be a nightmare when it comes to dressing your bear... Will be making the most ridiculous suggestions, just picking up the funniest items he can find or suggesting the wildest fashion moments for your bear... "What about this, for if he ever fancies attending the met gala... Or this for when he's feelin like Sid vicious... Or what about this for when he's uh... Feeling like a princess?"

🌼 Your head will be spinning with all the suggestions he's making and actually you won't be able to pick just one set of clothes, your bear is going to be coming home with a whole wardrobe.

🌼 He's definitely picking the bear up and like holding it up to his face, putting on a squeaky voice and shaking the bear to make him talk to you... "please y/n I've always wanted to be a pro footballer... And a fire fighter... And a sugar plum fairy and a..."

🌼 You will probably need to lie down in a dark room with some peace and quiet after this experience, you'll definitely question whether you ask him to come too next time... He actually brings up next time, "next time you should go in blindfolded and let me make all the choices... It'll all be a surprise..."

🌼 This is the bear I think you'd end up picking with John, cute and eclectic, she ain't no average bear she's literally an elephant... You let him pick the shoes.

Bonnie

🍀Will have a moment where he questions whether its really a good idea for him to risk being photographed in build a bear workshop... he's a semi famous boxer with a cute little face so the paps do try to follow him sometimes, especially when he's out with you because then there's the added gossip of him having a girlfriend... still, he figures that as long as he stays by your side the whole time so that they can't possibly get a shot of him where it looks like he's there alone... then it will surely be fine.

🍀He definitely feels a little silly but goes along with it to make you happy because you're his girl and he's smitten with you... It's not like the bears for him... Then again I do feel like out of all the guys bonnie is the most likely to engage with his softer side, or his inner child... He's not going to feel imasculated by a teddy bear.

🍀 Especially not when the bear in question is a frog!! He definitely sees the frog in the window and gets genuinely boyishly excited. "You didn't tell me there were frogs y/n! Oh my god look at him! He's class, that's class!"

🍀 He doesn't tell you you have to get the frog, but he also won't stop gazing at it lovingly and so you know you have got to get the frog... And he'll be so happy that you're getting the frog.

🍀 Will make little jokes about his bosses to you, pointing at one bear and saying "here, this one looks like Tommy..." Both of you laughing quietly with eachother, coming up with stupid scenarios about which bear Tommy or Arthur would pick and how they'd dress it.

🍀Definitely secretly a bit of a nerd and kind of loves the fact they do Pokémon build a bear... "Y/N can we get this?" He asks stood next to a giant charizard...

🍀When you ask him to help you he doesn't complain, he rolls his eyes at you and tells you you don't really need his help, but he kisses your cheek and helps you anyway. He's pretty good at the stuffing and stitching but he pretends its much harder than it looks and jokes that you're making him do unpaid labour.

🍀 Definitely blushes a bit when you tell him what you want the voice recording to be. Tries to tease you to play down the fact that it's made him self conscious, "I don't know little dove, I don't speak frog y'see so it won't be Attenborough Documentary standard..."

🍀Is too awkward to ask the shop assistant to leave you be for a bit so he ends up having to do the recording in front of them!! Which he is shy about because what do you mean this random stranger is watching him do this...

🍀 A bit like John when it comes to picking the clothes out, very kid in a candy store just flitting from thought to thought at a million miles an hour, a bit over stimulated... Thinks the shoes are class but also... "He's a frog what does he need shoes for, won't that hinder the jumping?" "To protect his feet from all the shit you leave lying around Bon..."

🍀He also picks the frog up and makes him speak, makes him say really stupid stuff to you about how he's a free frog and he doesn't want to be confined by human standards of decency, "Let me be a frog y/n, let me be free" but in the end you settle on a cute little tshirt.

🍀When you get the frog home Bonnie has more fun with him than you do... He'll leave these frogs around the house set up in different poses doing different activities for you to find each day. Sometimes mirroring whatever he knows you've got to do that day. If you've got a long day of studying or working on your laptop you find your frog sitting using the laptop... usually watching David Attenborough documentaries or weird videos about frogs. You inadvertently learn so much about frogs...

🍀 if Bonnie ever gets you a gift he usually sets it up so it looks like the frog is giving you the gifts... Sometimes this is very cute and sometimes it looks incredibly funny... Like sometimes Frog is sitting on the table with a little box from your local bakery, and then sometimes Frog looks like he's about to down a bottle of red wine indie sleaze style... Depends what kind of week you're having.

🍀You start doing this too, leaving little gifts for bonnie with Frog, sometimes you leave eachother little messages and Frog becomes like this daft little way for you to communicate.

🍀Then one day you find Frog waiting for you with a little jewellery box and a note attached that just reads, "will you marry me?"

🍀Now obviously your heart soars and you can't stop smiling, but you can't put bonnie out of his misery straight away...

🍀"So am I marrying you or the frog?"

Isaiah

🐁If he didn't already know you better he'd be surprised at you asking him this... you don't come across as the kind of girl who should want to go on a Build a Bear date... but he does know you so really hes been bracing himself for the day you ask him this...

🐁 He isn't going to go quietly and he's definitely going to grumble about it a bit. "You do know who you're man is don't you love?" He's going to roll his eyes and be so sulky... "What're you willing to do to make it up to me?" But he's only really teasing, putting on a show of being extra grumpy to preserve his "dangerous gangster" persona.

🐁He knew before you asked him that he'd go to the "hellhole" with you one day.

🐁"Didn't realise you were such a softy babe..." And it's a fair point he's making because you do not give off the vibe that you'd be crazy for cuddly toys... You're a woman who matches Isaiah's sulky and arrogant nature, you give major Scorpio/Capricorn vibes, dark makeup, sharp eyeliner, always dressed to seduce and kill... He thinks that as a couple you're going to look very out of place...

🐁But then he's surprised because you really don't look out of place... You light up the second you're in there, sure you seem to have that effortlessly cool poker face on you as you peruse the rails of bear skins, and you definitely don't meet the high as a kite happy the shop assistants bring to the room... but you do soften up in there, especially once you've chosen your bear...

🐁You look so quietly pleased with yourself when you hold it up to show him which one you're getting and he grins... He's surprised actually, he thought you might go for the little mouse... Afterall, you're still his Little Mouse even if you are a femme fatal...

🐁But he loves this choice too, it's very you... "You are fuckin trouble to be fair love..."

🐁He humours you when you ask if he wants a go, it's not that you need his help you just don't want him to be bored and he's looking around that store with a look of bewilderment on his face so you think perhaps he needs some guidance...

🐁So he has a go on the stuffing machine but only for a moment, "Don't wanna ruin your fun mousy, this is your day like..." You know he just doesn't want to run the risk of looking like he's actually into it and enjoying himself.

🐁"You have to give it a heart?" Him raising his eyebrow when you ask if it should be red or pink, "Do they have any black ones?" "Saiah! What are you trying to say about me?" "Oh don't act innocent mousy you're the coldest woman I know!" He's joking with you, he has this running joke that the first time he offered to buy you a drink you said no... That you're really hard to impress and that you did not make it easy for him to get you... But he loves all that about you... He secretly loves how hard you made him work...

🐁Anyway this triggers you having to explain this whole story to the shop assistant who is honestly just baffled to have a peaky blinder in the shop let alone to be hearing about their love life...

🐁 Definitely protests when you tell him about the voice recording... You spring it on him in the shop so that he doesn't have time to think of a good reason to back out. You've been a little calculated and you can see that he is livid you've managed to trick him again!! You always manage to trick him!

🐁But all it takes from you is one little pout and an "I'll make it worth your while" before he is stepping up to the recorder ready to give the performance of a life time.

🐁Teases you and stalls the recording making out like he's about to and then recording some stupid message instead that has to be erased. Messages like "I do not contain contraband goods" "I have the right to remain silent..." "Y/N made me do it..."

🐁But eventually he records the real message and it's lovely, personalised too because he says "I love you little mouse"

🐁 "Don't be too good with them stitches love, never know when we'll have to undo em..." He whispers to you and you bloody well hope he is joking. "Isaiah!" You hiss back, "my teddy bear is NOT going to be involved in any criminal activity..."

🐁Isaiah is the one who picks out the Too Hot To Handle t-shirt. At first he makes out like he's joking but when you hmm and say "Yes, I see the vision, I love it..." He tries to pretend he was being serious all along.

🐁Obviously makes some sly little comment about you being too hot to handle...

🐁 One day you go to give your bear a little cwtch and you think he feels kind of lumpy and kind of sharp in places... So you investigate the stitches on the back and oh my god you're going to KILL Isaiah.

🐁 You open the bear up to find diamonds though so maybe this is a secret you can keep... For now.

Michael

☘️ "you're fuckin kidding me..."

☘️ Out of all the blinders Michael has the biggest chip on his shoulder when it comes to masculinity... He really frets and worries about his image as a violent, dark and mean criminal. He likes to come off as slick and professional, an elite... But also as cold and dangerous, not to be messed with. Wants to command everyone's respect at all times...

☘️ "How the fuck am I meant to come across as respectable buying teddy bears y/n"

☘️ You just pout back at him all, "I don't know, hire the place out, show everyone how minted you are..." You shrug your shoulders and then refuse to look at him or speak to him until he caves... And if there's another thing that bothers him deeply it's the thought of not being man enough for his girl... So he has to cave... He can't have toxic masculinity literally be the thing making him seem like "less of a man"

☘️ You weren't actually expecting him to hire the store but he does, he shuts the whole place down for one night, makes them open for you when the rest of the mall is closed for the evening so that it's just the two of you in the whole building... That makes you feel extra special and also guarantees that he's safe from the eyes of anyone who might use this to ridicule him.

☘️ And because the place is shut down and because he's given very clear instructions that the staff are to leave you alone until you're ready to leave he is safe in the knowledge that if he wants to be soft and cute to you he can be... So he is... Of course he's still Michael, he's still a little brooding and serious... Still wants to have authority and control... But he shows that authority by being extra generous and spoiling you rotten in there...

☘️ You get to make multiple bears for sure, every time you say you can't choose you just have to turn and pout at him and be a little bit cutesy and he caves and gives you exactly what you want, and it comes with little kisses on the forehead or cheek. Holding your hand or walking round the store with his arms around you.

☘️He helps you with the stuffing but mostly because if he doesn't you'll be there all bloody night, you've got way too many bears to make all by yourself. So you put him on stuffing duty and you get to work putting their little hearts in and stitching them up.

☘️"Wouldn't have brought you here if I'd known how much work we'd have to do love, y'know I was hoping to be in bed before 5am..." He's only teasing you and really deep down he does love to see you so happy. And you are so happy, you're so sweet and content stitching up your little bears...

☘️ Which is funny because you're usually quite a feisty, hard to please woman, you come off as so chic and badass, he definitely isn't used to seeing you so calm and soft... But he likes this look on you and definitely decides he wants to try and bring it out of you more often...

☘️ Now, whilst Michael was busy concentrating on his task, you made sure to hide your favourite bear, which has gone unstitched because you have big plans for it... And big plans for Michael too.

☘️ Which of course absolutely floor him when you reveal them to him. "You want me to what..." He looks at you so deadpan you almost question whether he's going to give you what you want.

☘️ And he definitely puts up the biggest fight... "Fuckin no y/n... I'm not doing that... Imagine if that gets into the hands of my fuckin cousin eh... Family meetings will be unbearable!" He doesn't hear the pun until you start to giggle and he is so unamused by your laughing at him. But you can't help it.

☘️ "come on Michael please" you pout at him, giving him your best puppy eyes... He isn't budging though and you know you may have to go to an extreme... You drop to your knees, wrapping your arms around his legs, nuzzling into his trousers, then you look up at him again and it your darkest, sweetest voice you ask him again, "pretty please Michael..."

☘️ Makes you stay down there begging a little while because he enjoys hearing your voice when you get a little whiny, and he enjoys looking down on you from that angle...

☘️ but he does cave and he does do the recording, "I love you y/n..." He sounds a little grumpy but he does do it and you are happy. You reward him with a big kiss and promises to thank him properly later.

☘️ Michael literally locks this bear in a safe inside a cupboard whenever family visit, there is no way he's ever having one of his cousins find that by accident. "You're so dramatic Michael it's just a teddy bear..." "Y/N I would sooner lock myself in a burning building and slow roast myself than have Tommy find that fuckin bear..."

☘️ And that's good to know because it means you've got an excellent bargaining chip now for future arguments. One little video of that bear and Michael's little message, it would take seconds to post it in the family WhatsApp and he'd just have to deal with the consequences... Now obviously this is not why you made the bear... Definitely not.

Luca

🪽 I shouldn't but I picture modern day Luca as being Sopranos esque... Not like Tony's family but the actual New York mafia and how they're portrayed in the show.

🪽 And whilst I think the peaky blinders would be on like the New Jersey mob tier, Luca is above all that... he has so much power and such a serious reputation that he actually does not need to worry about being seen in a build a bear with his wife...

🪽 No one is going to say anything about him, not without literally losing their balls or something. People are very careful with what they say about Luca Changretta and his wife.

🪽 So when you ask he just smirks affectionaly, beckons you over to him, holds your cheeks in his hands and places a lingering kiss on your lips. "anything for you my little lamb..."

🪽 He has a flare for romance and he's a passionate man so he's going to turn the whole trip into an occasion. He will close the shop down but not so that no one sees him going into build a bear... people are going to know he did it... it's just so you can have free reign and take your time without feeling rushed... he knows if he took you there during opening hours you'd just keep letting little kids skip past you in the line and then you'd be there all day..

🪽 And he wants you to feel like your trip is all about you, no one else... so you get the store to yourself and he reminds you that money is no object... "But space is Piccolina... We don't want to have to build an extension just for your teddy bears..." He's teasing you of course... he probably would do that if he needed to.

🪽 He's very cool about being there, browsing slowly, though he's watching you the whole time rather than paying much attention to the bears, admiring you from every angle as you concentrate on your choices. Every time you turn to ask his advice he simply tells you "Whatever you think is right Angioletto, you know best..."

🪽 And then to your surprise he sends you off on your own for a little while, and whilst you're busy wrapped up in your little tasks, stuffing your bears just right and putting their little hearts in, he's picking a surprise out for you... a teddy you completely missed!

🪽 When he comes to join you at the heart station he's hiding something behind his back... and when he presents it to you you gasp and clap your hands together so touched by it.

🪽 "A little lamb for my little lamb..." he says it very suavely and you can't help but blush and get butterflies. "Now why don't you show me what to do next?" So you tell him about the little hearts and how you have to give the teddy a voice and how you can do the little recordings... you don't outright tell him you want him to record something for you but he knows you well enough to know that you'd just love it if he did...

🪽 So he takes the heart from your hand and holds it to his lips, eyes locked with yours ever the romantic... and then when he does the recording he thinks carefully about what he's going to say...

🪽 "luce dei miei occhi, amore della mia vita, finché morte non ci separi..." (light of my eyes, love of my life, til death do us part)

🪽 And of course he's holding your cheek in his hand as he says it and of course he kisses you passionately the moment he's finished up... and of course he can't keep his hands off you holding you by the waist... almost getting carried away... and youve melted like butter at his beautiful words.

🪽 Honestly for awhile there you probably get a little distracted from the task at hand (shopping for bears) and spend a little too much time being desperately in love with your husband...

🪽 Your little lamb bear does not look like something that should belong to a mob wife... She's so cute, and Luca finds this a little amusing... That his wife, who is always so chic and styles, so...well... Mob wife... Has gone and made herself the most adorable, very pink, little teddy bear...

🪽 When you get to the checkout you have quite the little hall, the bears you made yourself all in a little basket, and your new favourite little lamb clutched tightly in your arms. You've already decided this little lamb is your most treasured possession...

🪽 At home you hardly let it out of your sight, you're so proud of it, and you can't stop listening to Luca's confession of love, he keeps warning you to be careful not to wear the batteries out but you're too giddy and in love to listen...

🪽 Luca doesn't tend to travel anywhere without you, but on the odd occasion that you have to be parted you like to listen to his little recording before you go to sleep, it makes you feel safe and loved.

Aberama

🦔 I guess there's a bit of an age gap here and Aberama is getting pretty used to hearing you say things he doesn't really understand...

🦔 For example when you ask to go on a trip to build a bear workshop, he really thinks you mean a literal bear building factory... He's a bit confused as to why you'd want to visit a production line... And when he asks and you giggle he quickly realises that this is one of those things he's misunderstood...

🦔 But he's willing to learn he supposes, even if the idea sounds a little mad to him...

🦔 And Aberama is too old to be worried about looking too soft, he doesn't care one bit what anybody else thinks of him, he only cares that his girl is happy and getting all the love and little treats she deserves...

🦔 Will do some research as to which is the best build a bear store in the country and plan it into the route you're travelling... He won't tell you that's what he's doing, so by the time he surprises you with the little day trip you will have forgotten that you'd asked him about it...

🦔 Your reaction when you see where he's taking you is so sweet, how at first he can tell you're a little uncertain, that you have your suspicions but clearly don't want to get your hopes up too much... But then you're sure that he's taking you there because you're standing right outside the shop and he's waiting for the penny to drop and you turn to him with these wide sparkling eyes...

🦔 "This is what you meant isn't it sweetheart?" He asks with a chuckle when you nod your head and squeak with excitement ever so adorably...

🦔 He lets you lead the way because as we've established he's got no idea what goes on here or what the deal is at all... But he thinks it's so sweet how you explain all the steps and give him a little walking step by step tour/tutorial.

🦔 You ask him to help you pick which teddy to get because there are so many you love but you really do only want to get one and besides you both like travelling light... One of Aberama's many nicknames for you is "duckling" and so you end up getting a little duck, which you name "buttercup" another one of his nicknames for you...

🦔 You think she's perfect because she matches your woodsy little aesthetic and also she's just undeniably adorable!!

🦔 You want him to help you with each step so that he can be involved too, "Cause I've done it before but you haven't and I don't want you to miss out!" You insist, and that is partly true... But it is also partly down to the fact that you find it entertaining to watch him struggle to get his head around everything.

🦔 He's pretty good with his hands and very nimble fingered though so he'd be very good at the stuffing and stitching... When you show him the little hearts to put in the bears he can't help but chuckle... He's not exactly cynical in his old age but he definitely thinks that somewhere there's a very rich man because of this "experience" they've managed to sell to people...

🦔 But how can he fault them when you're revelling in that "experience" right before his eyes and you look so so happy...

🦔 He laughs again when you show him the bit where you do a voice recording, "God they've really thought of everything haven't they sweetheart..." He chuckles, you giggling when you scold him for spoiling your fun...

🦔 But of course he does it... I kind of imagine Aberama has quite a way with words, can create quite sentimental homely poetry off the cuff, something very short and sweet... And like honestly my apologies for not including this but my brain is not capable of writing a little poem right now

🦔 Anyway, he reads it beautifully and so calm and slow that you get a little bit worried the recorder is going to time out and he'll have to start again. But luckily the poems very short and sweet.

🦔 Thinks the birth certificate is absolutely insane and does laugh about it, humours you but you do both have a good giggle about it...

🦔 You can't find anything you want to dress your little duck in in the store because you're very fussy about your woodsy little aesthetic and you want her to dress like you dress... And Aberama can see you're a little disappointed you couldn't find anything that felt right so...

🦔 He works away in secret each night after you've gone to sleep to make a tiny replica of a Pinafore you own, one that's the perfect fit for your little duck... Each night he has to wait until you've fallen asleep, sneak out of bed, sneak your cuddly toy away from the bed too, and then work until the early hours in very dim lamplight so as not to wake you...

🦔 There's a couple times where you wake in the middle of the night and he has to be so quick to hide his work and pretend that he was simply getting a drink of water...

🦔 Then one morning you wake up to your little duck sitting by your pillow in this perfect little pinafore... Your heart absolutely bursts and you're genuinely amazed. "Oh my god... Did you do this?" You can't believe how sweet and thoughtful a gesture it is and you're also incredibly impressed by his handy work...

🦔You show her off to everyone you possibly can which does of course mean that poor Abe does in fact wind up getting the piss ripped out of him by some of his friends... And bonnie, god bonnie won't let him live it down saying things like "here the bairns need new clothes da, what're you doin making clothes for a teddy bear when your own flesh an blood are cuttin about with holes in their jackets..."

🦔 But you're so proud of your little bear and so thrilled that Aberama gave it that sweet little finishing touch, he's not bothered what anyone else has to say...

Finn

🌸 is going to say no... Definitely is bothered about looking soft, definitely will be extremely paranoid about being ripped into by his older brothers and his mates...

🌸 Already knows the things they'll say to him, all the comments about if he needs that for when he has nightmares... All the comments about how whipped he must be if he's building teddy bears with you.

🌸 But he's also definitely young enough that he will just so whatever his girl wants, he's a bit of a pushover and if you tell him you're going and he needs to go with you or he's dumped (not even really a serious threat) he will go...

🌸 But he will be massively awkward about being there, he'll be proper skulky constantly checking his periphery for anyone who might know him... Definitely puts his hood up when you're walking into the store, definitely keeps his hood up the whole time.

🌸 The whole time you're in the store he's got this semi blush on his cheeks, his freckles shaded with a slight pink glow behind them....

🌸 he finds it all a bit uncanny, thinks the bear skins are a bit "fookin weird..." But he goes along with everything because the quicker you get on with it the quicker it's over and the quicker he can get out...

🌸 You spend a lot of this trip laughing at him and taking the piss out of him because he's being a baby... "You're being daft Finn, lighten up babe... You don't gotta be so serious all the time you're Finn Shelby not Tommy..."

🌸 You try to get him to do little bits with you, he just laughs nervously when he's doing the stuffing and then gets awkward about the heart...

🌸 He definitely is a bit mortified when you ask him to do the voice recording... "Seriously babe? Do I have to?" "it's not like I'm askin you to kill someone Finn jesus..." "I'd fuckin rather you did love I'm better at that!"

🌸 he does do the recording in the end but it's quiet and muffled because he mumbles it, he's too worried about other people in the store over hearing him...

🌸 You let him dress it and it winds up looking like this...

AN // happy Valentines day my lovelies, hope this brings you some fuzzy cosy vibes this evening!! This took me like two whole weeks to write :o sorry they don't all come with a bear, there will be more bear analysis soon I think... And sorry some are shorter than others, I really only threw poor Finn in there because the thought of him sulkin in build a bear made me giggle.

Taglist

@inalovesrabbits-blog

@cocoaflower @zablife @marwwfairy

@everysage @tommyshelbyswhore

@kas3yhatesyou @kxnnxy @starrykitn

@call-sign-shark

@only-malala @galactict3a @darkcastle167

@feyresqueen @ratcig @love4thegallaghers

@randomcreator-09

@val-murphy @liliac-dreamer

@impossibleheartflower @mollybegger-blog

@vanhelsingsbigtoe @hp-hogwartsexpress

@sethell

@niktwazny303

@novashelby

[csprint]

he wants a baby

jackson wang x f. reader

jackson doesn’t think there’s anything he’s ever wanted more. he’s thought about it early in your relationship, when he truly realized that you’re the one. the one he could start a family with. and when he was sure of it, he was never afraid to share with you how much he wanted this. a baby.

he talked about it a lot with you. it became your regular pillow talk. “you want it too though, right? like, you think about it sometimes?” jackson would ask while holding your back against his chest in bed. his voice always got awfully quiet and soft during those moments compared to his normal tone.

you’d indulge him, tiredly listening or answering him in the best way that wouldn’t make him think having a baby is completely off the table.

he gets so excited, thinking about those things so far ahead. he made sure to promise you that he would take such good care of her. promised he’ll be there to watch her every step. and he was sure to use ‘her’ because he had the deepest feeling that your first child would be a girl.

“of course i do, jackson. it sounds so nice but.. just not right now. it’s not the right time.”

and he’d nod in understanding. your lives were just insanely busy, bringing a child into the relationship while things weren’t slowing down as soon as you’d liked it to, would probably bring more chaos than joy.

“but one day, right? we’ll have a baby one day, won’t we?” he whispered quietly in the darkness of the room, burying his face in your hair.

you pulled apart his hands from where his fingers locked over your stomach and brought it up to your lips, leaving soft kisses on the back of it. “one day.”

but as the weeks turned into months, that one day was never brought up again. after things had finally calmed down a bit, he thought that maybe you’d be the first to bring it up because he didn’t want to seem too desperate, (although he was) but you never did.

jackson silently planned things out to himself. it was going to be nothing but staying home and wasting time together. he even planned the day he was going to propose to you. not exactly in that order.

he was even convinced he was being given signs, just from a simple and innocent encounter with a fan who happened to be a new mother. she wore a white dress and all jackson could think about was what you’d look like in a white dress, post-birth glow.

the fat, rosy cheeked baby sat in her stroller, squealed in utter joy, easily entertained at the childish game jackson had initiated. a smile almost wider than his face came playing onto his lips, entranced and in complete awe of the adorable infant and her baby giggles.

jackson doesn’t think there’s anything he’s ever wanted more.

the night dragged on as it usually did. attending important parties with you because something’s always being celebrated. and then leaving before someone could convince him to take a private plane to another party in a different city.

when you made it back to your hotel room, there was just no way he could keep his hands off of you. kissing all over your face and neck, gripping each part of your body he possibly could and dug his fingertips into your plushy skin.

there was just no way he could stop himself. not when you’re so warm around him, your gasps and whimpers echoing in his ear. not when he’s so balls deep inside of you, his fingers gripping tight on the sheets, making his knuckles turn white.

“tell me when to stop.” he choked out, the vein running down the side of his neck looking prominent.

“w-why?” you didn’t want him to stop and you didn’t know why he’d ask that of you.

“cause if you don’t,” he groaned, hips snapping forward into yours, “i’m afraid i might put a baby in you.” jackson closed his eyes, not sure he wanted to see your reaction, and leaned his forehead against your shoulder.

the soft gasp you let out didn’t go unnoticed or the way you clenched around him, making him draw a sharp breath. he tried to get himself to stop, brought his rutting to a minimum but didn’t completely still inside of you because that would have been pure torture.

“okay.”

jackson sweetly whimpered when you tangled your fingers in his hair and gently tugged at it, making his head tilt back up. he looked at you with widened eyes and a slightly parted mouth.

“okay?” he repeated, wanting to be sure that he heard you correctly.

“yeah.” you shrugged. “i want you to put a baby in me.”

he was so blissful, removing himself completely off of your body and burying his face in his hands. you allow him to revel in it. even if he was too loud, putting you both at risk of getting kicked out. even if he was jogging around the room, nakedly, with his fists in the air, as if he’s won a boxing match. you didn’t mind if he basked a little more.

“we’re going to make the fattest, most cutest baby girl, ever.” you felt jackson’s body again, his frame fit like a missing jigsaw piece.

“what makes you so sure it’s going to be a girl?”

“i’ve got a really good sense for these things. trust me. you’re having a girl.”

your heart suddenly got overly emotional. he was so beautiful and you were in complete awe over his certainty. it didn’t take long for your gawking to finish before his lips were feverishly against yours.

he was so desperate, yet so slow, savoring the moment. the feelings that he caused to belly within you were unexplainable.

jackson lowered his mouth to your breast then took the nipple between his lips, pressing lightly with his tongue. you cried out – like your whole body was too hot and you couldn't breathe – bringing up a hand to trace his fingers across your other breast, but if he stopped you felt like you would die. you gripped his bare shoulders, holding on for dear life against the onslaught of sensations.

you gasped as he pushed into you for the second time, amazed by the electricity that rocketed through you. your legs wrapped around his hips of their own accord, seeking a better angle, searching for more. even now, he moved with grace, sliding in and out of you slowly and steadily. only his rapid breath, occasionally coming out in a strangled moan.

it’s pure torture how slow he is sliding into you but feels exquisite. you gently roll against him, moaning as he slowly moves in and out of you. the pace is keeping the orgasm just out of reach, keeping you on edge; desperately clenching around him and pushing your hips into his to increase speed. but jackson’s hands remain firm on your hips, controlling the movements. both of your breathing is heavy, both moaning loudly as the need to find your release hits an all-time high.

going so slow was hard for him as well, though. he couldn’t hold it for long but he also didn’t want to rush it. and he never liked cumming before you did. what kind of man would that make him? had to treat you right.

jackson dropped down to his elbows, leaning on either side of your face as he panted heavily, the foot of your heels digging into the curve at bottom of his spine.

“please, just a little harder…I need more…I can't…take it…oh god, jackson– “

he interrupted you with a hard kiss, hips rutting a little faster now. the rush of pleasure hit you, and your fingers grasped for purchase on his back, needing an anchor. it was almost unbearable, the electricity building where the two of you were joined, tingling down to your toes and making you lightheaded. jackson panted hot air against your neck, your lips, kissing you again and again, and the energy was building and building.

you looked at his face, knowing his was trying to hold on a little longer. maybe the realization had seriously hit him for real, this time. that this was it and he’ll probably be an actual dad like he wanted.

“jackson,” you panted, cupping his face with your hands, fingers wiping the sweaty hairs that stuck to his forehead, “it’s time.” you whispered.

and he nodded and replied, “okay.” his voice weak and strained.

you noticed his movements had grown more erratic, almost frantic, and the low grunt deep in his throat seemed to shudder down your spine and rocket down to where your bodies were joined.

"oh god," you breathed as the sensation overload finally seized you. your chest was tight and your nerves sizzled and your thighs clenched as the pleasure exploded and seeped into every cell of your body. he groaned, his forehead dropping down to your shoulder when your walls fluttered around him.

you fell into the aftershocks when he thrust into you one last time and cried out your name. you felt the rush of fluid inside you and reveled in the feel of his body shuddering in your arms. he trapped you under his heavy weight but the kisses he softly peppered along your neck and collarbone made you forget that it was hard to breathe.

not even mere seconds after, he started moving again, pushing even deeper, a whimper escaping your lips.

“j-jackson?” you stuttered, thighs tensing around his hips.

“one more time,” he grunts as he suddenly began to pound into you heavily even after he had already came, “just to be sure.”

[necromancerbunny]

I’ve got a secret, can you keep it? || #1

summary: Aaron corners you at your parents’ anniversary party to tell you what he wants.

warnings: age gap, dbf!Hotch

If your parents knew what thoughts are plaguing your mind every time you look at Aaron at their anniversary party, they would lose their marbles. But how could you not think about him? How could you not think about the way he looks at you from across the room, how much his expression softens when he’s talking to you? The signs are there, you’re just unsure if you’re decoding them right.

It’s probably the age difference that makes you so uncertain, prompting you to wonder if he would even want something from you. Aren’t you too young? Aren’t you too naive? Why would he want you? Still, the way he looks at you always pulls a dreamy sigh from your lips. Just one chance. All you need is one chance to find out what if.

There’s something about him that keeps pulling you in, that gravitational field forged from his quiet confidence, from the way he acts so nice and polite despite being the unit chief of one of the FBI’s most prestigious teams. And those eyes? And that rare smile? They haunt you in your dreams. Oh, those dreams…

“I need your help. It’s an emergency,” you hear your cousin’s voice a mere second before his fingers clasp around your wrist to pull you away from the terrace door.

You love Liam, he’s only sixteen, but he’s dating his first proper girlfriend now, so he can be pretty lost sometimes, and he doesn’t feel like asking for his parents’ advice. So, you became the person he turns to for a few wise words, which is kind of funny considering you haven’t dated anyone properly in a while.

Despite your love for this kid, your attention often slips away during the conversation, because you know Aaron’s eyes are watching you closely, putting a sweet pressure on you by making it hard to focus on your relative. When you dare to throw a casual glance in his direction, as if you were just scanning the room without looking for anyone or anything, you see that damn smug smirk on his face.

Suddenly, your cousin’s phone starts playing his favorite song, his girlfriend’s name flashing on the screen. He looks uncertain, but you want to take this chance to get rid of him. With a kind, supportive smile, you tell him to be a man and talk to her, tell her why exactly he doesn’t feel like introducing her to his parents just yet.

With a sigh, you head to the backyard, following the path that leads you to your parents. Not because you want to have a chat with them, but because Aaron’s there. He’s busy explaining someone to a woman you don’t know, but you can see that look in her eyes, that smitten look with those sparkling eyes that tell you what she wants from him. He doesn’t seem to notice, or rather he’s just good at hiding his emotions.

It’s jealousy that’s clawing at your heart, leaving an ache behind you don’t want to feel, so you flash a smile at your mother who’s watching you with curious eyes, then take a step back to leave the group. But your body freezes before you could walk away, because you suddenly feel his hand on the small of your back. When you look at him, you see the way the corner of his lips curl into a barely visible smile.

No one seems to notice, not even that woman who’s still watching him with those wide, doe eyes. You can’t help but wonder how long that might last, because you instinctively bite your lower lip when his fingers spread on your back. He’s gonna be the death of you, but god, wouldn’t it be the sweetest possible death?

“I’m sorry, do you happen to have some painkillers? I can feel a headache coming,” he suddenly says, giving your parents an almost awkward smile. Your mother tells him they have some in the master bathroom, but when she puts her champagne flute on a table behind her, he’s quick to speak up. “No, it’s your night, I’m sure your daughter knows her way around.”

It takes a second to register what he just said. He wants you to go with him, he wants you to join him on this trip into the house. A part of the house that is usually off-limits to the guests. Panic fills you, but you manage to take a deep breath to calm your nerves. It’s just an innocent request, he surely doesn’t have some ulterior motive. And if he did, then what? That’s what you want, after all, isn’t it?

Before you know it, Aaron leads you toward the house, passing through the crowd in silence. There aren’t any curious looks, no one seems to wonder what you’re doing there together, because you’re an adult, and he’s just a family friend. A recently divorced and stupidly handsome family friend, someone you have very, very indecent dreams about.

God dammit.

When you reach the master bedroom, he closes the door behind you and stops. You turn back with a questioning look, but he’s just standing there, brown eyes observing you curiously. Gulping, you decide it would be for the best if you just moved on to the bathroom to get what he asked for, so you don’t have to face him. The way he’s watching you? That’s pure torture. It’s like he wants to say something, but he’s hesitating, as if something was holding him back.

You find some Advil in the bathroom, but when you take the box from the shelf, you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. “I don’t really need that,” you hear him say, so you turn around to see what he wants then.

Aaron’s smile reaches his eyes, making you melt on the spot. No wonder that woman was all over him, who in their right mind wouldn’t be? Sometimes you can’t help but think about what he must be like behind the scenes, because there has to be something, a reason why Haley left him. You heard the story from your parents, but you never dared to ask him about that.

“But you said–”

“I know what I said, but that was a lie,” he informs you casually. When you give him a questioning look, he flashes a smile at you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

At first, you just stare at him, mouth agape. But then your brows furrow as you take a deep breath, preparing to ask the stupidest question you can think of. “Nothing. Why do you ask?” you wonder out loud.

There’s a beat of silence before he steps closer to you. “Dinner. I have a reservation for eight, so I’ll pick you up half an hour earlier, okay? Wear something nice.” When he sees that you froze from the suggestion, he lets out a quiet chuckle. “You’re so beautiful when you’re confused,” he says as he reaches out to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

A secret relationship with Aaron Hotchner is like a rabbit hole. You dive in, following the flow, and only hope things would work out in the end. But damn, isn’t it the best thing ever? He’s nice, handsome, confident, and did you mention handsome?

Yes, you’re screwed.

[runawaysparklers]

Last Song: Shambhala Area 17 Redux from Fire Emblem Three Hopes. The best final boss song that doesn't play during the final boss.

Last Book: This one kind of depends. The last full book I read was The Last Emperor of Mexico. A fun story about an Austrian man who was 110% convinced he could rule Mexico without speaking Spanish or knowing anything about Mexico, and overthrowing the entire Mexican government that was already there. Read it if you like stories about hubris that end in executions. But since I finished that book, a bunch of chapters of Welcome to Demon School, Iruma-kun! have come out, along with chapters of the IF AU. But I'm not counting those as full books because it's one small chapter at a time.

Last Movie: Promare. A weird comfort movie for me about gay firefighters and fire that refuses to comply with the laws of physics. Worth a watch.

Last Game: Persona 3 Reload! I played it at launch, got to the final month... And then never finished it because I know the ending. I picked it up again around my birthday, and decided to replay the whole thing and actually... Beat the game this time.

Last TV Show: Cardfight Vanguard: Asia Circuit. ...Wow, this really isn't anywhere near as good as season one. Why does Kamui sound like a 35-year-old female pack-a-day smoker?

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: I love them all. You can't make me choose. ...Also I know "salty" isn't an option but I love salt. Between these, it's probably savory? I love meat.

Relationship Status: Single. I'm busy with work, school, and being ace.

Favorite Color: It violently swings between blue and green like a metronome on amphetamine.

Last Internet Search: "Kenji social link P3R" I wanted to finish his social link as quickly as possible so I never had to think about him again.

Folks to tag... @thebladeblaster You're up!

TAG GAME - 10 People I'd Like to Know Better

thank you for tagging me @zorua-adorable !

Last Song: anna sun by WALK THE MOON

Last Book: junji ito's lovesickness collection

Last Movie: descendants 3 lmao

Last Game: fire emblem: path of radiance

Last TV Show: alice in borderland

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: sweet 100%. i have such a sweet tooth it's a bit of a problem

Relationship: single and not planning on changing that any time soon

Favorite Color: purple 💜

Last Internet Search: fahrenheit to celsius

no pressure tags: @ambeer6 @biblicallyaccurate-candylady @in-a-bucket @nerdofmanymediumsandfandoms @rencatuive @tophats-tea @biggestlen @bleuflowerfields @hqwthornes @asexual-shelly

[spideysbruh]

busy woman

requested- need a Timothee social media au with sabrina carpenter fc

a/n- since the deluxe is out !!!!!!!!!

~

@y/n just tweeted- please.

@shortyn replied- so real

@realchalamet replied- please

@billiexyn replied to @realchalamet- WHAT DO YALL KNOW?!?!?!??

liked by tchalamet, tayrussell and 872,288 others

y/n i know i have good judgement...

view all 22,277 comments

tchalamet probably my favorite music video of yours

confidentyn WE'RE GETTING A MYSIC VIDEO TOOOO OH MY GODDD

dejavuyn LETS GOOO NEW MUSIC FINALLYYYY

lauriesvest IS THAT NOT TIMMY ?!?!?!!!!!

laylayyn the way she's flipping him off lmfaooooo

liked by y/n, tayrussell and 2,288,883 others

tchalamet toooooonighttttttt

view all 73,665

xmasyn these two never make any fucking sense istg

y/n tonighttttttt the minutes seem like hours

liked by tchalamet

tchalamet the hours go so slowlyyyy

itaintmeyn couples that don't make sense together, stay together!!!!!!!

liked by tchalamet

liked by tchalamet, billieeilish and 1,098,276 others

y/n tonight 😳😳

view all 32,117 comments

tchalamet 🥵🥵

historyyn AHHHH YALL ARE A COUPLE IN IT !?!?!!

ynsbeatbox CANT WAITTTTT

beautifulyn he's a CRIMINAL in it ?!?!!!

liked by tchalamet, florencepugh and 977,488 others

y/n can't wait to see you all and be incredibly horny every night 🫶

view all 87,288 comments

tchalamet ... i don't know if I want you on this tour anymore, babe...

liked by y/n

y/n it's too late buddy

changinyn LMFAOOO NO WAY SHE SAID THATTT

rachelynstan she's so funny bro 😭😭

noticeyn ILL SEE YOU IN CHICAGOOOOOOOO

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- writing about me?? 😳😳 busy busy...

@timmyandynupdates just tweeted- Timothée and Y/n seen in New York recently!

@starsyn replied- MY PARENTSSSSSS

@prettyyn replied- i hope he's there for the opening night of tour🥺

@ynsjuicebox replied to @prettyyn- me too he's always so entertaining at her shows😭

liked by sza, rachelzegler and 2,109,299 others

tchalamet this pretty girl's tour kicks off tonight. she works harder than anyone else i know. I'm endlessly proud of her.

comments on this post have been limited

y/n i love you.

y/n I JUST DID MY MAKEUP FUCK

liked by tchalamet

tchalamet sowwy :(

liked by tchalamet, rachelzegler, billieeilish and 1,263,488 others

y/n one week down, nine more to go 😳😳

view all 76,177 comments

coincidenceyn PLS ARREST TIMMY FOR ONE SHIWWWW

lovethechals this out of context is so funny 😭😭💀

bobdylyn FUCK I WANNA GOOOOO BUT ITS SOLD OUT 💔💔💔

tchalamet wowwwww that first picture is so pretty, that person is definitely a good photographer.

liked by y/n

tchalamet best show ive ever been to

liked by y/n

y/n just posted a story!

caption- my honey beeee 🍯

liked by tchalamet, sabrinacarpenter and 1,432,488 others

y/n two days off, I make the best of them

view all 54,387 comments

compyn is that a collage of timmy ? 😭😭

y/n he goes to my work, I go to his 🤷🏼‍♀️

tchalamet how are you the prettiest fucking girl in the whole entire universe ?

liked by y/n

rachelzegler my pretty best friend !!!

tchalamet my busy pretty girl

outlawyn his comments oh god im so lonely 💔💔💔

liked by y/n, doechii, ellefanning and 3,009,199 others

tchalamet i hit the jackpot with you

view all 81,019 comments

y/n oh stopppp 🤭

liked by tchalamet

snoozeyn GIRL THE PICTURE SHE POSTED ON HER STORYYYY FUUUUUUUCKKKKK MEEEEEEEEE

acompletetimmy may a love like theirs find me 😭🫶🫶🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

liked by tchalamet, dylanminnette and 2,188,938 others

y/n performing or whatevaaaa

view all 81,198 comments

spideyyn HOW IS SHE SO GORGEOUS

timmyxyn i bet timmy took those last two pics🥺🥺

timmysgreeneyes how tf did timmy bag suchhhh a baddie bro

tchalamet stg i could spend every single second of every single day of my life with you and never get bored

liked by y/n

y/n 🥺🥺 i love you

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- 😍😍🤩🤩🤩😍😍🤩🤩😘😘😘😘😘😘😋😋😋😋😋😋

liked by tchalamet, rachelzegler and 2,388,277 others

y/n why are we lowkey giving flynn and rapunzel

view all 71,477 comments

tchalamet you were my new dream 😔✊🏼

y/n boy stop imma cry

bobsyn the prettiest couple ever

dontthinktwiceyn can I be yalls nepo baby pleaseeeee

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- 🫦🫦🫦😋😋😋😋

*

[14dyh]

Clueless | H.Z.

Pairing: Hange Zoë x reader Summary: Your research partner, Hange, is clueless about romance. Or so you thought. Content: just fluffy research partners trope A/N: i survived college hell week so here you go. HVD HANGE LOVERS!!

"I didn't know you could walk slower," you remarked as Hange strode beside you. 

Early training was exhausting, coupled with the paperwork you have to handle after. Just thinking about it drains your energy.

Your ever-energetic Section Commander only beamed at you and responded, "Well, I have to match your pace more often now."

"Why is that?"

"Since we became research partners?"

Your head racked in confusion, gaze snapping back to them.

"Research partners? Since when?"

"I knew you still haven't read Erwin's notice," they said matter-of-factly, pulling a folded sheet of paper from their uniform. "He thinks your works are impressive and said we should work together on a new trapping device."

"That... sounds exhausting..." 

"Right! Exciting, isn't it?" Hange smiled, too deep in their excitement that they misheard you. You can never keep up with that amount of enthusiasm, try as you might. 

After pulling an all-nighter last night to organize files, your commander now wants to transfer you to the thinking team. Great. 

"When are we going to start?" you asked Hange. 

-

It turns out that working closely with Hange would present unexpected issues. You have no problem with Hange or the work itself as being with them brightens your day more than you cared to admit. Sometimes you wonder why they're so good at making you smile and laugh even at the face of mathematical formulas and complex design structures but that's a question for another day. Your real musings lie on the question of why they're so clueless about people hitting on them. Surely, the box of chocolates left on their desk with hearts scribbled all over it or the cadets swooning over them when they passed by the corridor weren't just people being friendly as Hange always liked to think. 

This present issue became more clear when Valentine's Day arrived. To think that your lot makes time to celebrate this event is amusing. You were with Hange the whole time that day, brainstorming and sleepless that you almost forgot about the day of love happening just outside your doors. 

"What if we try it? You know, outside?" Hange offered, sipping on their fifth mug of coffee. "See if it works?"

"Hange, it's a long-range weapon. And there are people outside," you muttered sleepily, yawning as you walked towards the window to allow some sunlight in. You drew the curtains and looked down. "People celebrating apparently."

"For what?" Hange asked absentmindedly, busy scribbling down a few ideas that you probably have to illustrate later. 

"Dunno," you yawned again, drawing the blinds back. "I'm sleeping. You can't stop me."

"Go ahead," they said, thumb pointing at the bed. "I'll wake you up later."

-

When Hange woke you up about an hour later, you hid under their pillows and bargained for another five minutes of sleep. 

"No, silly, we're not going to work. I brought something," their voice came, lifting the pillows you're hiding on. 

Their brown eyes beamed at you, holding up something as your vision cleared. 

Chocolate? 

No, not just that. They've got an armful of it. 

"Where on earth did you get all of that?"

"Outside the door," they muttered, opening one to munch on it. They offered you one. "Surprising, huh?" 

"Well, it's Valentine's Day." You only remembered about a minute ago. 

"It is?" Their eyes widened momentarily. "I thought it's tomorrow."

You laughed softly, taking a chocolate from their hand. "We've been staring at plans all week, we didn't know."

"About time," they spoke, sitting on the spot next to you. Their eyes met yours and for a moment, you were tempted to look away as if gazing any longer will melt you in a puddle. It's not helping that they seemed to enjoy looking at you more than anything else recently. "Let's have dinner. There's a new dinner just outside the quarters."

"Did, uh, did we miss dinner downstairs?" 

"Yeah... I forgot about it." A sheepish grin crossed their face. "Doesn't matter, though. It's only 9 PM."

-

It turns out that diners were occupied that day, couples swarmed the place as the buttery scent of baked goods wafted in the air. After the long queue, you managed to take back four sandwiches which you ate in your shared room. 

Hange sat on the bed next to you, scribbling equations, crossing them out, and starting over again. It was adorable how their brows crease when they think.

"Hange?"

"Hm?"

"Shouldn't you sleep?"

They smiled, "Later."

"Happy Valentine's Day," you mumbled sleepily, curling up next to them.

"You too." Hange's gaze lingered on your sleeping form, thinking of the reservation for two they booked yesterday.

They stayed up late that night, writing down equations, and dimming the lamp to allow you some sleep. They were asleep until afternoon slumped over their papers which you diligently put away when you woke up that morning. You only understood half of what was written, guided by Hange's short annotations on the page. It warmed your insides, knowing that Hange wrote these equations for your designs. The invention you're both working on felt more feasible and easier to envision.

- 

"It's working well, Commander," you reported to Erwin later that day when he asked about the device's progress.

"It must have been, huh? Hange knows how to gather a great team," he smiled amicably. "They specifically requested for you."

Your cheeks heated up, smiling warmly even on your way out of Erwin's office.

Hange was waiting in the corridor, notebook discarded and eyes lighting up when they saw you. They half-run in your direction, energetic and beaming as always as though they had enough sleep.

"Ready to go?" They asked, walking beside you.

"Where?"

That same charming smile you always notice creased their cheeks.

"Maybe the diner has a seat for two this time."

[servndipityz]

I love the stuff you write on namgyu! I was wondering if you could write something like a jealous namgyu x reader? Maybe reader has something going on with one of the players and namgyu finds himself cursing at it daily, he finds reader and whatever player kissing at night and he decides to do something about it? I'm sorry if that doesn't make sense. English is not my first language. :( 💓

a/n ── ugh i'm not too happy with how this one turned out... anyway thank u sm for requesting and being patient, i hope u really like it! as for everyone that has requested and hasn't seen me post it yet, TRUST i will, i'm just extremely busy, so it'll take some time :)

ALLIES AND ENEMIES

warnings ── jealousy? dae-ho and reader are exs

word count ── 3.6k

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"you okay?" you asked dae-ho, your gaze lingering on the small bloodstain on his shirt.

"uh… yeah," he let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "nothing a marine can't handle." he smiled, his tone light, though the smile didn't quite hold. it was an awkward kind of conversation, after all.

"that's good," you replied curtly, still smiling. "well, uh..." you trailed off.

"do you wanna stay and eat with us?" he interrupted, glancing toward the group he'd played the pentathlon with. "young-il's a bit grumpy, but he's nice enough when—"

"thanks, but no." you shook your head, already thinking about your own grumpy team, who were probably watching from across the room. dae-ho's gaze flickered for a second. "i think it's better if we keep our distance."

he nodded slightly. you'd talked about this before, and you were right. these were life-or-death games—you weren’t about to team up with your ex. if what they said was true and only one person could make it out in the end, maybe the best you could hope for was that the other got taken out before either of you had to watch. as cynical as it sounded.

"okay… take care," he said, still a little unconvinced but knowing it was the best option.

"yeah," you muttered, turning to walk over to thanos, se-mi, min-su, gyeong-su, and nam-gyu on the other side of the room.

you weren’t sure what was weirder—playing children’s games to survive or running into your ex here. you and dae-ho had dated a long time ago, back when you were in high school and could still afford to dream.

now, you couldn't afford anything, really. that’s why you were here.

you and dae-ho had ended on good terms—high school ended, he enlisted in the marines, you went on with your life, which clearly hadn’t ended well for either of you. you’d almost not recognized the scrawny boy you left behind when you ran into him at the games. but even though you didn’t love him anymore—if you ever had, you were seventeen—you still cared. a lot.

he was a good person. so you’d resolved to check in on him when you could. and keep your distance. just in case.

"hey," you said as you reached your group, plopping down on one of the stairs where they were eating.

"heyyy," thanos said in a sing-song voice, wiggling his eyebrows. you frowned.

"what?" you asked, though you had a pretty good idea.

"oh, nothing, nothing." thanos smirked, glancing at min-su. "right, min-su?"

min-su shook his head frantically, eager to go along with whatever thanos was up to. thanos dapped him up while you rolled your eyes.

"you know him?" se-mi asked, resting her head on her palm, looking at you without much interest. she pointed toward dae-ho with her chin.

"uh, yeah." you shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of all the eyes on you.

"you shouldn't talk to him." nam-gyu spoke up, not even looking at you—just staring at dae-ho in the distance, his tone flat and dismissive.

"why? he's a friend," you huffed. as far as you were concerned, any ally in this place was a good thing.

nam-gyu just turned his head away further, like talking to you was too much effort.

"i bet he's more than a friend," thanos said, clearly entertained.

you frowned. "well, maybe if you didn't bet so much, you wouldn't be here," you shot back, annoyed—though you weren't sure if it was because he was right.

gyeong-su scooted closer. "how do you know him?"

"uhm, we dated for a bit..." you started, but nam-gyu cut you off.

"great. that's exactly what we need," he muttered, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

you turned to him sharply. "and what's that supposed to mean?"

he still wouldn’t look at you, calmly turning his whole body the other way.

"isn't it better to have allies?" you asked, looking around at the group for back up.

"sure," nam-gyu finally said, standing up and meeting your gaze. "maybe just not ones you’ve fucked."

and with that, he walked off toward the bathrooms—or god knows where. you didn’t care, as long as he disappeared from your sight.

you were shocked, but not exactly surprised. he'd been like this ever since the games began. sometimes, one could almost believe he cared about you—or something close to it. the way he always kept an eye on you, always stayed close during the games. but that was only sometimes, and it had to be a false impression, because the rest of the time he did nothing but pester you.

especially whenever you talked with dae-ho.

he’d been lucky enough to witness your reunion, and though he hadn’t said a word about it until now, it was clear he wasn’t amused—far from it. every time you checked on dae-ho, or so much as looked at him, nam-gyu’s mood seemed to darken, if that was even possible.

why? you weren’t sure. dae-ho had never even spoken to him, yet nam-gyu seemed insistent on keeping him out of sight. you'd understand if dae-ho had tried to sabotage your group during the games, started a fight, anything—but he hadn’t. not once.

maybe nam-gyu was just too paranoid for his own good. maybe it was the drugs.

but if you thought it was bad, that was just the beginning of it.

it started small. a little comment here and there. a sarcastic remark when you walked back from talking to dae-ho. a passive-aggressive glance when he caught you looking his way. nothing big, nothing worth fighting over.

then, it got worse.

like the way nam-gyu started questioning your every move in the games, as if checking in on dae-ho made you a liability. like the way he made sure you were always next to him when plans were made, like he didn’t trust you on your own anymore.

nam-gyu saw things differently than you did. he couldn't afford you getting distracted during a game and getting yourself—no, the whole group—killed. he told himself that was the only reason his blood boiled the way it did. because dae-ho was a threat. and what if you decided to switch teams and go with him? then nam-gyu's team would be too small, and who knew what chances they'd have at survival.

that's what he told himself.

besides, he didn’t see what you saw in him. long hair? nam-gyu’s was long too, and he didn’t need to wear a fuckass ponytail. and sure, dae-ho was a marine, but so what? he had a tattoo for it—big deal. nam-gyu had a tattoo too. maybe not of the marines, but… who cared?

he found himself wondering when you had dated. was it recent? had he broken your heart? had you broken his? not that he cared. but at least it was something to think about while lying awake at night.

the first time nam-gyu really thought about killing dae-ho, it wasn’t even in a game. he was just watching. just sitting there, chewing a stale piece of bread, listening to you laugh at something dae-ho said. it wasn’t even a good laugh—the kind you let slip when something actually got to you. it was just polite. half-hearted. but it was still too much.

nam-gyu didn’t get it. it wasn’t just that you were too soft about this whole thing—too trusting, too willing to think anyone was still a “friend” in a place like this. it was that you were soft about him. dae-ho. the ex-boyfriend. the marine. the guy who, for some reason, you still cared about.

it was annoying. distracting. unnecessary.

and, if nam-gyu was being completely honest with himself—which he wasn’t—it made him feel something dangerously close to jealousy.

not that he cared who you talked to. he just didn’t want you getting attached to someone who might, at best, drag you down or, at worst, be the reason you didn’t make it out. that was all. that’s what he told himself as he sat on the floor, arms resting on his knees, watching you with narrowed eyes.

you weren’t paying attention to him. of course not. you were still sitting with dae-ho, still talking like it was a normal conversation and not a literal countdown to one of you getting eliminated.

and nam-gyu hated that he noticed how easy you looked with him. like being around him still made you comfortable. safe.

you didn’t act like that around nam-gyu.

you acted like he was a headache. like he was some problem you had to deal with. a nuisance, at best. and sure, he was an asshole, and he knew it, but that wasn’t the point. the point was you didn’t look at him the way you looked at dae-ho.

and for some goddamn reason, that pissed him off.

but what pissed him off even more—if that was even possible—was when dae-ho voted X. he voted to leave the games. what did he think, that he could just walk out the easy way, money in his hand and a pretty girl under his arm?

not pretty—average. or whatever. it didn’t matter. anyway, even though half the players had voted to go, nam-gyu didn’t particularly care for any of them. except one.

“you’re fucking joking,” he snapped, turning to you as the screen flashed blue, adding yet another X vote.

you frowned. “what?”

he looked at you like it was your fault. “your fucking boyfriend voting to go.” he rolled his eyes, tone dry and cutting. “has he convinced you too? you gonna betray us?” he stepped in closer, gaze sharp.

your jaw tensed, fire flashing in your eyes as you took a step forward too. you were getting pretty tired of nam-gyu's antics when it came to dae-ho. “how can you be such an asshole?” you shot back, voice firm. “i need the money too, idiot. i’m not going anywhere. and he’s not my boyfriend.”

nam-gyu let out a scoff, but there was something too quick about it, something brittle. “who knows, you spend so much time with him, he may as well have manipulated you.”

you rolled your eyes. “oh, please. not everything is some mind game, nam-gyu. maybe he just doesn’t wanna fucking die.”

he let out a bitter laugh, stepping even closer. “yeah? and what, you think i do? none of us wanna die. but some of us don’t get the luxury of walking out.”

“i never said i was leaving.” your eyes bore into his. “you’re putting words in my mouth just so you can be mad.”

he scoffed, shaking his head. “yeah? you sure about that? ‘cause you sure looked real cozy with him earlier. whispering, giggling—what, were you planning your great escape together?”

you groaned, rubbing your temples. “oh my god, you’re impossible. i was talking to him because, unlike you, he actually listens instead of just picking fights for no reason.”

his nostrils flared. “for no reason?”

“yeah! no fucking reason!” you threw your arms up. “i swear, it’s like you want me to be the villain here just so you can feel justified in whatever weird, possessive meltdown you’re having.”

nam-gyu’s jaw clenched. “possessive? oh, give me a fucking break.”

but he didn’t deny it.

you gave him a look. “just be thankful i’m in a shit load of debt, because if this is your way of convincing me to stay, you’re making me wanna go so i don’t have to look at your stupid face.”

his mouth twitched, something sharp and wounded flashing across his face before he masked it with irritation. “whatever, i don’t wanna fucking see your stupid face either.”

he took a step back, eyes lingering on you for just a second too long before he turned sharply, heading toward the beds. his shoulders were stiff, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

and on his way, he made sure to bump into dae-ho. softly enough to seem like an accident, but strong enough to hurt. just the way he was.

you scoffed, shaking your head as you turned away from nam-gyu. there was no point in arguing with him when he was like this—irritated, petty, practically looking for a reason to fight. you weren’t going to give him one.

instead, you exhaled through your nose, pressing down the frustration bubbling in your chest. it was late. there was no reason to be wasting energy on this.

soon, the voting was over, and one by one, the others shuffled off to their beds, some mumbling half-hearted goodnights, others just collapsing into their bunks without a word. you did the same, settling in before trying to drift off and rest for the next day.

but you couldn't sleep. after what felt like an eternity, you shifted your eyes across the room. you weren’t the only one still awake.

on the other corner, dae-ho’s group looked tense. some were whispering, others just staring at the floor, lost in thought. it made sense—most of them had voted to leave, and now they had to survive yet another day. it was hard to blame them for being anxious.

dae-ho himself sat a little apart from the others, elbows on his knees, gaze distant. something about the way his shoulders slumped made you frown.

you sighed. even after everything, you still cared. it wasn’t something you could just turn off.

so, you got up, padding quietly over to him. the room was mostly dark, save for the dim emergency lights casting a sickly glow over everything. everyone else was asleep—or at least pretending to be. well, everyone except one person.

you could feel nam-gyu’s eyes on you.

you ignored him.

“hey,” you murmured as you sat down beside dae-ho.

he blinked, then turned to you, lips pressing together in a tired smile. “hey.”

“you alright?”

he let out a quiet chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “as alright as i can be in a place like this.”

you nodded. “yeah.”

a beat of silence stretched between you two. it wasn’t uncomfortable, though. it was familiar. dae-ho had always been like this—never rushing to fill the quiet, never speaking just to speak. it was one of the things you’d liked about him.

"don't you wanna leave too?" he finally asked.

you wanted to say that you did, of course you did. but it wasn't like you had a choice. "i can't." you just said.

he nodded, looking away momentarily.

“i don’t regret voting to stay,” you said eventually, voice soft. “but i do regret that you’re still stuck here.”

you turned your head slightly to look at him. his expression was unreadable, eyes locked on yours in the dim light. you should’ve looked away. you should’ve changed the subject, should’ve stood up, should’ve—

his lips were on yours before you could think twice.

it was sudden, unexpected, and for a second, you froze.

it wasn’t that it was bad—it wasn’t. it was familiar, and maybe in some other time, some other place, you would’ve leaned into it. but not here. not now.

you pulled back, your hands finding his chest and gently pushing him away. “dae-ho—”

“sorry.” he barely let you finish before he was shaking his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “that was—sorry. i wasn’t thinking.”

you swallowed, nodding. “it’s fine. just… not right now.”

he exhaled, giving you a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “yeah. i get it.”

from the other side of the room, you heard a sharp scoff.

you turned just in time to see nam-gyu standing up. his face was unreadable, but his movements were stiff, tense. he didn’t say anything as he walked straight toward you, but you could feel the weight of his stare.

before you could react, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you up to your feet.

“what the hell?” you yanked your arm back, glaring at him.

“you're going to bed.” his voice was low, quiet, but firm. he didn’t look at dae-ho. not once.

you scowled, glancing back at dae-ho, who just sat there, jaw clenched. the tension between them was thick, suffocating. the last thing you wanted was for it to escalate.

so, you let nam-gyu pull you away.

his grip loosened once you were far enough from the others, but you could still feel the heat of his hand against your skin as you walked beside him. the flickering emergency lights cast dim shadows on the floor, stretching between you, neither of you speaking as you passed row after row of beds.

the second you reached yours, you yanked your wrist from his grip and crossed your arms. “you always do this.”

he didn’t stop walking until he was at his own bed—right next to yours. he sat down heavily on the edge, elbows resting on his knees, but his eyes never left you.

“do what?” he asked, like he was uninterested in whatever you had to say.

“act like—” you huffed, shaking your head. “like some guard dog whenever dae-ho’s around. it’s weird, nam-gyu. it’s fucking weird.”

his eyes flashed, something sharp behind them. “oh, i’m sorry. didn’t realize i was interrupting something important.”

“you weren’t.” you frowned, glancing over your shoulder. “i just—”

“just what?” nam-gyu’s voice was low, tight. the sharp cut of it sent something cold down your spine, though you refused to let it show. “just needed one last moment with your boyfriend before he gets himself killed?”

your hands clenched at your sides, frustration burning in your stomach as you turned back to him. he sat there, his knee almost brushing against yours, the dim light catching on the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for something, hold something, break something.

you exhaled sharply through your nose, fingers curling into your sleeves as you turned back to him. “you’re fucking insufferable.”

he scoffed, crossing his arms like that somehow made him look less defensive. “and you’re naive. you think he wouldn’t throw you under the bus the second it benefits him?”

“he’s not like that.”

“oh, please.” nam-gyu rolled his eyes. “you’re smarter than this.”

your jaw tensed. “you don’t know him.”

“and you do?” he tilted his head, tone mocking. “because from where i’m standing, it looks like he already walked away once.”

the words hit harder than you wanted them to. you felt your stomach twist, your throat tightening around something bitter. it wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before—how things ended, how fast they fell apart. but it wasn’t the same. it wasn’t—

“fuck you.” your voice was quieter now. “you don’t get to do that. you don’t get to act like you give a shit.”

nam-gyu’s expression flickered, for just a second, before that familiar frown slid back into place, sharp and infuriating. “you think i give a shit?” he shook his head. “trust me, i don’t lose sleep over your little romance novel.”

your stomach burned with frustration, your nails pressed half-moons into your skin as you leaned forward, close enough that the space between you barely existed anymore. his gaze held steady, unreadable, but his fingers twitched again, gripping the edge of his blanket like he needed something solid to hold onto. “then what the fuck is your problem?”

nam-gyu didn’t answer. he just stared at you, unblinking, like he was waiting for you to figure it out yourself. and you hated that. hated the way your heart beat too fast in your chest, the way his gaze made your skin too hot, too tight.

“i get that you’re an asshole,” you continued, voice dropping lower, more controlled. “but you can’t actually be such an asshole. you push me away, you pick fights, you act like i’m some liability, but then you’re always fucking there.” your hands clenched at your sides. “so which is it, nam-gyu? do you want me gone, or do you want me close?”

his throat bobbed. he looked at you for a long moment, something unreadable shifting in his expression. and then he exhaled, running a hand through his hair, his posture shifting just slightly—less rigid, less closed off.

“i don’t want you to die.”

it was quiet. almost too quiet, barely above a murmur. but you heard it. and judging by the way he tensed right after, so did he.

you stared at him, heartbeat drumming against your ribs, searching his face for some kind of joke, some kind of smirk, some kind of—

but there was nothing. just him. just this.

nam-gyu clicked his tongue, turning his head away like that would somehow erase what just happened. “forget it.”

you didn’t move. you just watched him, the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands curled into fists like he was angry at himself. and maybe he was. maybe you were too.

but for once, you didn’t feel like fighting him.

so you sighed, shaking your head, before laying back on your bed. the mattress dipped as you layed down, the rough fabric of the blanket cool under your fingers. “you’re impossible.”

nam-gyu didn’t answer. he just exhaled sharply through his nose, like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. instead, he shifted, turning away as he laid down on his bed. the faint rustle of fabric filled the quiet as he pulled his own blanket over him, his back facing you.

but as you settled in, you felt it—just barely. the subtle creak of his mattress. the shift of his weight as he scooted back, inching just a little closer to yours.

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