#I promise everything after this will be way less angsty

[salsakiyoomi]

sukuna had been gone for ten days.

he won't answer his phone, he won't answer his texts, you even tried to send him an email — yeah, no use.

by the tenth day, you were starting to feel less worried and more angry.

that's when he finally came knocking at your front door.

it was a random tuesday night when you were crying your eyes out at an angsty romance movie when a series of knocks came at your door.

quickly, you wipe away your tears and you head towards the door, creaking it open slightly to see who it is.

a gasp escapes you at the familiar sight of the tattooed face of your stupid, stupid boyfriend.

you swing the door open and before he could get any words out, you drag him in by the collar of his shirt and slap him across the face.

stunned is an understatement.

if anything, sukuna is thoroughly dumbfounded — sure, he knew you were feisty, except, he never thought you'd throw hands, especially as sexy as you did just now.

“where the hell have you been?!” you yell at him, but he's still flabbergasted, with his hand on his cheek where you had just slapped him.

“sukuna.” you growl, and he knows that he’s in trouble.

“sorry, something came up.” he says under his breath, rubbing his cheek.

holy hell, you sure knew how to throw a slap.

“really?” you huff, an angry scowl on your face at the audacity of his curt and vague answer, “that's all you have to say for yourself after ten whole days of being MIA?”

“look, baby, i'm sorry —” “i don't want your apology! i want an explanation! i called you, i texted you, i even sent you an email and you never responded!”

sukuna feels something close to guilt and maybe even…joy? because wow, were you really that worried about it? how flattering.

“i just had a deal going on.” he mutters under his breath, knowing you're going to reprimand him for it.

“what?” you utter out, “a drug deal?! seriously, ryomen? again?! you promised me you quit that shit!”

“it was a good deal, okay?!” he responds, starting to feel frustrated now, “and i needed the money.”

“you could've asked me for money!” you tell him and he scoffs, “yeah, like you're any less broke than i am.”

“sukuna.” you warn and he shakes his head, avoiding your gaze.

“look, i'm sorry, okay?” he says, “it was a moment of weakness.

“yeah, like all of the other times?” you ask sarcastically, “get out.” you add, pointing at the front door of your dorm and already ushering him out.

“oh, come on.” he chides, using the tone that he knows makes you weak, and looking at you with those stupidly convincing red eyes of his, “i said i'm sorry baby, okay? i won't do it again, i promise.”

“you stress me out, ryomen.” you huff, crossing your arms.

“i know,” he says smoothly, “i won't do it again, for you.”

he knows he's let you down again. in his history of fuck ups, this was probably one of the worst — breaking your trust, again.

and yet, he knows you'll always come back to him, forgive him and coddle him — just like you always do.

there was no denying that you were weak for him.

“....fine.” you mumble, “but if you do it again, i'm breaking up with you.”

“yeah yeah, i know.” he chuckles, his hands at your hips, “i won't.”

“good.” you huff.

he hums in response, leaning in to kiss you to make you forget about everything he's ever done and he practically feels the way you melt into the kiss, sinking into his touch as he caresses the soft flesh of your hips.

he was a manipulative piece of shit and he knew it, but if it meant having you under his touch? yeah, he won't give it up.

you bite on his bottom lip and he groans, pulling you closer.

after a moment, he pulls away, the both of you gasping for air.

he smirks, “i can tell you miss me.”

“shut up.” you huff and he chuckles, his hand sliding up to caress the back of your neck and pull you in closer.

“i'll hit from the back tonight if you let me.” he whispers in your ear and you blush, slapping his chest.

“ryomen!” you exclaim and he laughs, “come on, baby. don't you miss me?”

before you even get a chance to respond, he's hauling you up and carrying you to your bedroom.

sukuna's a manipulative piece of shit who probably has nothing better to do than play around and break hearts — he doesn't get attached.

and no matter how many times you threaten to break up with him, he knows you'll always stay.

he was just that good.

[strwberri-milk]

can i request the boys thinking mc is cheating bc she’s been acting off and hanging with other people, then they confront her but learn later that it’s something else that’s been going on (like her wanting to keep a problem hidden from them) angsty or fluffy ending it’s up to you im just craving angst 😓

Zayne doesn't want to directly confront you. He's terrified that somehow, he'll mess everything up and that right now, not knowing is better than confirming his fear. He'll just continue observing you for a bit, trying to figure out if there's something that can definitively point towards you actually having an affair. Your behaviour is strange but he won't feel too concerned until you start actively pulling affection away from him. That's when he's going to really start panicking. He doesn't know what he's done or said to make you take such a drastic step in your relationship and this is absolutely going to devastate him.

He'll talk to you one evening after you come home late. He tries to open it up by telling you that if it's something he's said or done to you then he's sorry and he promises he'll do whatever it takes to fix things between the two of you. It's you, and it's always been you. He can't even fathom being with anybody that isn't you. He'll ramble a little for once, not really able to accurately use his words as he tries to express how much he loves you.

You realise very quickly where he's going with all of this, immediately shutting him down as you tell him that you aren't seeing somebody else. He listens with bated breath to try and comprehend everything you're telling him, praying that you aren't lying to him because if you were, it'd definitely break him.

You'd probably have to ruin the surprise if you wanted him to feel fully secure after this conversation, especially since you also were hanging off of people when you normally don't seem to. He might feel a little insecure about your relationship for a while before settling into the routine again with you, but as long as you're wholly honest with him it'll pass fairly quickly.

Xavier wants to follow you around but he also knows it'd piss you off if he did. He'll just start paying more attention to events when the two of you are together and even more attention to things if it seems you're purposefully not inviting him to something. He's trying to understand why and what for, not wanting to directly accuse you but his jealousy definitely ramps up.

You'd have to talk to him as he slowly starts to escalate, becoming more pissy if you have plans with friends or when he responds poorly to you taking calls in his presence. He doesn't really say too much but he does make it very clear just how displeased he is with the look on his face or the way he practically grabs you whenever you're doing things with him.

He gets a little rougher with you overall - not in a painful way, in a distracted, irritated way. He doesn't want to hurt you on purpose and typically you don't really respond to this difference in pressure because it's nothing crazy but you can tell that he's starting to really internalise everything that's happening around him. When you do talk to him he listens with a furrow in his brow, trying to figure out if you're telling him the truth, or this is some elaborate lie for you to throw him off your scent.

He believes you pretty quickly but he is also going to be really skeevy about letting you do things without him for a bit. He just wants to spend time with you after all and after all this emotional turmoil you owe him a few stress-free dates.

Rafayel is not pleased. He makes it clear the second he thinks something is wrong by being colder and less affectionate with you. He isn't wholly above following you and figuring out who you're hanging out with, trying to figure out if there really is a chance that you are trying to have an affair.

You'd get some emotional whiplash from how differently he's acting, how he's making it clear that you've wronged him somehow but he isn't going to talk to you about it. He's avoidant, waiting for you to admit the truth. He's also patient, which means you could be iced out for weeks if you decide not to talk to him about what's happening.

He might spoil the surprise for himself if he goes fully into surveillance after which he'd just tell you that he figured out what you were hiding from him. You'd be a little disappointed but also more concerned as to how he managed to figure it out without tipping you off. He won't tell you at all about how he got the information - just that he did.

If he decides not to stalk you a little you'd have to ask him why he's so mad at you. He'd tell you that he's just treating you the same way you've been treating him, and that as far as he's concerned, this is deserved. You'd have to tell him the truth and why you've been hiding all this information from him - after which he will brighten up significantly. He'll say something about how he's never doubted you, yadda yadda yadda but he's definitely more clingy now than before from his nerves finally starting to settle.

Sylus doesn't want to monitor you either and decides to give you the benefit of the doubt. He's fairly secure in your relationship and knows that he hasn't done anything to make you want to cheat but he does feel himself faltering if you're becoming prone to laughing at your phone or trying to hide it from him. He won't ask for it but you can see that he's starting to get suspicious.

He would leave it alone until you reveal to him your surprise. By then he's still feeling fairly anxious but when you reveal that your behaviour was all just a result of you trying to plan something for him then he'll relax a little, thanking you for the effort you went through. You can tell that he's very glad that you've finally come clean when he holds your hand tightly, practically clinging to you as he thanks you.

He'll plan some more elaborate dates for you after the reveal, making it clear that he's missed your attention being solely on him. You don't really mind though since he's basically throwing money at you, spoiling you silly and reminding you just how much he's willing to do for you.

[kookooluvr]

Teach Me How To Love - Part 6

jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

w/c: 13.6k

warnings: namjoon and mai's wedding, mentions of anxiety and feelings of panic, oc blames herself for her past failed relationship, jk being jk, they slow dance, hana appearance (not the last), lots of feelings, explicit sexual content; soft romantic sex, looooots of kissing, brief nipple play, oral (f. receiving), he jerks it for two seconds, unprotected sex (she's on the pill, chill out) passionate missionary sex, domestic grocery shopping, angst angst angsty ending, lots of self doubt and tears 🫣

a/n: i apologize in advance 🫥😭😭 the angst has arrived LMAOOO y'all please don't hate my girl oc, she's doing her best, okay? anyway, i'd love to hear all of your thoughts on this one, your comments and asks always make my day !!!! lots of love my angels 🫂

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @livinluvl @chxiosworld @mimi1097 @bumblebee-21s-blog @koosluvss @sou-17 @svnbangtansworld @junecat18 @shrek-the-destroyer @tastykookoonut @sturniolowrld @palomanazareth @chimmisbae @daskewl @ramyun-h @heyitsroshni @matryoshka-poetry @almatiarau @gukkie7 @ambiee3 @blueberriesm @milkk1400 @yuriouki @lovelovethebeatles @somehowukook @deedeeps @emily-hung @jkaxl @bhonbhon @bearchermer

find tmhtl masterlist here

find tmhtl playlist here

Jungkook has always been a fan of weddings. Some might call him a sap and make fun of him for getting excited about seeing the bride walk down the aisle, or for tearing up at the speeches, but he really doesn't care. He loves it. He especially loves that he gets to witness two of his closest friends tie the knot in just a couple of hours.

For you on the other hand, today is a bit less joyful. That's not to say you're not happy for Namjoon and Mai, because you are. You've grown to really like his friends and you hope their marriage is filled with nothing but happiness and endless love. You're just not a big lover of weddings in general. It could just be the resentment of your failed engagement that you've tucked away in your heart that seems to be clawing its way up to the surface. To you, weddings are just a reminder of everything you've lost.

"Why aren't you dressed yet?" Jihyo asks, her eyes wide as she takes in your pyjama-clad appearance through the screen of her phone. She's already dressed and ready to go in a navy floor-length gown, looking her very best to impress Taehyung, who asked her to be his plus-one.

The FaceTime call was intended for her to ask your opinion on her choice of earrings, but instead, she's caught you in the middle of an anxious spiral.

"I don't know if I can do this," you blurt out, letting out a deep sigh.

"What? Of course you can-"

"No, seriously. I haven't been to a wedding since my cousin's last year and I only stayed for an hour then left," you mutter, chewing on your bottom lip.

When you agreed to be Jungkook's date to the wedding, you were still on cloud-nine after Jeju, your rose coloured glasses still perched snugly on the bridge of your nose. Now? Now you're second guessing everything, your brain yelling at you to take ten steps back.

"Okay, just...breathe. Everything's gonna be fine," Jihyo reassures you. "I know this is out of your comfort zone, but I promise, you're gonna be okay. What happened with Sunghoon doesn't define you. You can do this. You're gonna go and you're gonna dance with Sexyboots and you're gonna have champagne and you'll look hot doing it. And I'll be there if you need me."

Her words bring your anxiety down from a 10 to a 5.

"What if I cry?"

"Then you cry, so what?" She shrugs, offering you a soft smile. "That's okay. It's a wedding, you'll just blend in with everyone else who's crying."

She's got a good point.

"What if I throw up? You know I throw up when I'm really anxious."

"Then I'll just say you had some bad Chinese food. ___, I'm not letting you back out of this."

"Why nooot?" you whine, plopping down on your bed with a huff and a roll of your eyes.

"Because I'm not going to this wedding without you. And a little itty-bitty wedding does not have the power over you to make you this stressed out. Now get your ass up and go get dressed before Jungkook gets there and sees you like this."

You know you can't argue with Jihyo when she speaks in that tone. And besides, she's right, it's just a wedding. So what if your fiancé slept with one of your friends a month before your wedding? No big deal. You just have to put on your big girl panties and go.

After another twenty minutes of trying to find an excuse not to go, and ultimately failing, you force yourself to get up and take a shower, scrubbing your skin until it hurts in an attempt to distract your brain from impending doom. You work almost robotically, doing your hair and makeup on autopilot. When you open your closet to get your dress, you catch a glimpse of that pesky white tulle peeking out from behind the rest of the clothes, as if it's mocking you.

You'll have to throw that thing away one of these days.

By the time you've zipped up your dress, there's a knock at the front door. It's him. You rush to give yourself one last glance in the mirror, making sure every hair is in place before going to get the door.

"Hey, you- woah..." Jungkook's jaw goes slack, his eyes growing in size as he drinks you in. He swallows thickly, his hands fidgeting at his sides. "You look...you're...wow..."

You'd think he was overreacting if you didn't feel the same about his attire. Seeing him in his tux, with his hair styled in that way that makes his face look extra chiselled, has your face flushing and your heart racing.

"You look...wow too," you chuckle, feeling a lot lighter than you did a minute ago. "I like your suit."

"I like your dress," he murmurs, his lungs feeling like he just ran up a flight of stairs. "You're gorgeous."

You want to tell him that he's gorgeous, but instead, you roll your eyes, grab your purse and kiss an unbothered Miso goodbye before making your way out. The short trip down to his car is silent, both of you feeling some nerves, both for very different reasons.

He opens the passenger side door for you and makes his way to the driver's seat, starting the route to the venue. He puts on some music while he drives, absentmindedly tapping his fingers along the steering wheel. He can sense how busy your brain is by the way you fidget with your hands in your lap, but he isn't quite sure how to approach the matter.

"Everything okay?" he asks, quickly glancing over at you before turning his eyes back to the road.

"Mhm," you nod, staring out the window. "Weddings just make me a bit emotional."

He wouldn't call the look on your face emotional, more so anxious, but he won't call you out for it. Instead he tries to lighten the mood, stepping around the obvious tension.

"Well, you can cry on my shoulder if you want," he smiles. "Thankfully my suit is black, so no one will ever notice if you get mascara on it."

You scoff, forcing a faint smile across your lips. "Right."

He keeps glancing your way, watching you intently. He looks as if he's trying to read your thoughts, but he's not Charles Xavier and he can't do that, so he settles on making lighthearted conversation until you reach the venue.

"Y'know, I'm not the best dancer but I do hope you'll save me a dance tonight," he murmurs, subtly glancing over at you.

"Please, I have two left feet," you scoff.

"Well, I happen to have two right feet, so I guess it works out then."

The smile that tugs at the corners of your lips is too strong to fight, so you give in and let it settle across your face.

When you arrive at the wedding venue, it looks like something out of a fairytale. It's a stunning outdoor ceremony, with rows of elegant chairs for guests to be seated and decorative flower arrangements, with a few violinists seated at the entrance, waiting for their cue to begin playing. The weather is warm with a slight breeze, the seasons slowly transitioning from summer to autumn, creating just the right temperature for a wedding.

Most of the other guests are already there when the two of you arrive. You spot his friends sitting in a row behind Namjoon and Mai's family members, everyone looking their best to celebrate the happy couple. You and Jungkook make your way over, sitting next to Jihyo and Taehyung, who have apparently been flirting like horny teenagers for the past thirty minutes, according to Yoongi.

"Hey, how're you feeling?" Jihyo whispers while Jungkook and his friends make their way to the front to talk to a nervous-looking Namjoon.

"I'm good," you nod, not wanting to take away from Namjoon and Mai's big day.

She can see the slight unease on your face, but this is neither the time nor the place to do a deep dive on your personal issues, so she nods and takes your word for it. She'll speak to you about it tomorrow over a pint of ice cream and some Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.

"You and Taehyung seem pretty cozy," you whisper, shooting her a little grin.

"He's so sweet," she sighs. "He brought me flowers when he came to pick me up at my apartment."

"You really like him, huh?"

She nods, smiling down at her lap. "I do, yeah...and that suit he's wearing makes me wanna suck his dick real bad."

"Jesus Christ," you mutter under your breath, looking around to make sure Namjoon and Mai's parents didn't hear that.

"What about you? Are things okay with...?" She gestures towards Jungkook with her eyes.

You look over at him, watching the way he laughs at something Hoseok said, the way his nose scrunches up and his eyes squeeze shut. He's beautiful in the late afternoon sunlight, his presence filling you with a warmth that overpowers the light autumn breeze.

"Yeah," you nod, feeling a smile start to tug at the corners of your lips as he makes his way over to take his seat next to you.

"Everything okay?" he asks, picking up on your stare.

You nod, leaning a bit closer to his side. Your smile reassures him that everything is more than okay. When you're with him, you're okay.

Jihyo watches the two of you with a soft smile on her face, picking up on the instant shift in your mood. You seem happier when he's near, your smile growing wider when he whispers in your ear to tell you that he likes your hair in this style, his fingers gently brushing a few stray strands behind your ear. Jihyo knows your feelings for him go way deeper than you'd like to admit, and when Taehyung makes a flirty comment about love being in the air, she can't agree more.

An announcement is made for everyone to take their seats, signaling that the ceremony is about to start. Everyone quiets down, the violinists getting their bows ready to begin playing the opening melody. Soon, the music starts and everyone watches as Mai's father leads her down the aisle, her dress trailing behind her with every step she takes. She looks like an angel draped in lace and tulle, her smile radiant as she walks towards the love of her life.

Your vision starts to blur with unshed tears as you glance over at the groom, watching as he struggles to keep his emotions at bay. He holds himself together as best he can when he shakes Mai's father's hand in a silent promise to take care of his daughter.

Namjoon takes one look at his bride and it's like everyone and everything else fades away. He takes her hands in his and vows to cherish her and protect her, to love her until they are both nothing but dust and bones. Mai reaches out to dry his tears, promising to love him through all of life's challenges, making a vow to be his wife now and forever.

There isn't a dry eye in sight, so you don't look out of place when the tears stream down your cheeks, putting up a good fight against the layers of setting spray plastered over your makeup. It's a hard moment for you, but you push through for Namjoon and Mai, and when the ceremony ends with a tearful kiss between the happy couple, you clap and cheer, and you wish them nothing but the best.

Everyone makes their way to the reception area after the ceremony. The marquee is breathtaking, draped in soft ivory fabrics that flutter gently in the early evening breeze, with twinkling fairy lights hanging overhead, casting a warm glow. Long tables are elegantly set throughout, each adorned with crisp white table linens, floral displays and flickering candles. As guests begin to gather inside, laughter and soft jazz music fill the air, creating a warm atmosphere that adds to the beauty of the surroundings.

You take your seat next to Jungkook, sitting at a table with Jihyo, Taehyung, Seokjin and Jisoo, and their two sons, Dohyun and Moonbin. Unfortunately, they had to leave their youngest at home with Jisoo's mom because he's a bit too young for such a long night out. Seated at the next table are Jimin, Hana, Yoongi and his date, Areum, and Hoseok and his date, Eunji, along with two of Namjoon's co-workers. Everyone mingles throughout dinner, enjoying the delicious spread of food and drinks.

"They grow up so fast," Seokjin teases. "It feels like just yesterday when Joon asked her to be his girlfriend."

"I remember him being so nervous to ask her out, spamming the group chat to let us know he was gonna do it," Jungkook chuckles.

"They make a beautiful couple," you muse quietly, looking over at Namjoon and Mai at the head table, Namjoon looking at his wife with stars in his eyes. It's the same look the man to your left gives you when you're not paying attention.

"They're gonna have the best sex on their honeymoon," Taehyung mutters, stuffing a huge wedge of roasted potato into his mouth.

"Language, Tae," Jisoo chides, trying to cover Dohyun and Moonbin's ears, even though the ten-year-old and seven-year-old have already heard and are now snickering amongst themselves.

"Honeymoon sex is the best sex," Seokjin grins smugly before taking a sip of his champagne, earning a swat from his wife.

"That's enough out of you," Jisoo grumbles, shaking her head.

"What?! It's true!" Seokjin chuckles, resting his arm over the back of her chair. "How do you think we made this little guy," he grins, reaching around her back to ruffle Dohyun's hair, earning a "Gross, dad!" from their eldest son.

"Where do you think we'll have our honeymoon?" Taehyung asks Jihyo. Normally, a woman would tell him he's crazy for making a joke like that after barely two months of flirty texts and a drunk hookup on the night they met. Jihyo, however, falls right into step alongside him.

"Maybe Italy. They have nice beaches," she smiles.

"I guess I should start practicing my Italian. All I know is ciao and spaghetti."

"Wow, you're an educator?" Seokjin scoffs.

"Hey, I teach English Lit, not Italian," he shrugs.

Jihyo laughs, making a comment about getting him into a speedo on an Italian beach, to which Taehyung responds with a joke about being The Rock's body double in Baywatch, earning a cackle from Seokjin.

"You're cute," Jihyo leans in to whisper, a smile breaking out on Taehyung's face.

"You're cute," he grins.

You watch from across the table as the two throw flirty words back and forth, clearly enjoying whatever it is the two of them have going on. They seem to pair well together. She laughs at his jokes, like, actually laughs. He seems to like making her laugh, cracking jokes just to see her reaction. It's sweet.

Dessert is served and speeches follow shortly after, some friends and family members saying a few heartfelt words. Mai's maid of honour, her sister, gives a speech about having an amazing older sister to look up to, and her father makes everyone tear up with his speech about letting go of his daughter and trusting another man to love and care for her. As the best man, Seokjin gives a particularly moving speech about watching his best friend, Namjoon, fall in love, pulling a few awww's from the guests. You hear a soft sniffle coming from your left, so you glance over at Jungkook to find him wiping his eye with his thumb, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"Are you crying?" you whisper, forcing down a smile.

"No, I just...the flowers are irritating my allergies," he mumbles, avoiding eye contact.

You smile, finding it hard to resist leaning over to plant a kiss to his pouty lips. If it weren't for all these people, you probably would, but you can't risk letting everyone in on the feelings you harbour for him. Still, the risk of being caught doesn't stop you from reaching out for his hand under the table and absentmindedly playing with his fingers until they end up intertwined with yours.

Once the speeches are over, the live band starts back up, soft jazz music filling the marquee. A few guests even make their way onto the dance floor with their significant others while Namjoon and Mai start making their rounds to talk to their friends and family members. Jungkook gets up from his seat, taking the opportunity to stretch his legs a bit.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," he whispers. "I'll be right back, okay?"

You nod and watch as he walks off, occasionally greeting a few of Namjoon's relatives on the way to the bathroom. He seems to have a real way with people, Namjoon's grandmother greeting him like he's her own grandson. It's a strange feeling to see how people naturally gravitate towards him. He's charismatic in a soft-spoken, gentle kind of way. He's able to engage in conversation about basically anything. Dohyun and Moonbin call him Uncle Jungkook, the cool uncle who buys them Lego's and lets them take his cute dog on walks. He's kind, and polite, and he cries at weddings, and he radiates love. It's practically impossible not to love him, so you feel justified in your feelings when you see just how loved he is by everyone else around him.

Some of his friends make their way outside to get some fresh air, some going to get champagne at the bar area, while Jihyo gets spun around by Taehyung on the dance floor. Mai spots you sitting alone, so she makes her way over, trying not to mess up her dress when she sits down next to you.

"Hey, pretty lady," she smiles, looking even more radiant up close. "You having fun?"

"I am," you murmur, a soft smile gracing your face. "You make a beautiful bride, Mai."

Mai waves you off, playfully rolling her eyes. "Please, I cried all my makeup off."

"I think Namjoon might have cried more than you, so you're good," you tease.

She throws her head back in laughter, glancing over at her husband who seems to be having a heartfelt conversation with a few of his aunties. "Isn't it insane? I'm married to that guy."

You feel a pit start to grow in your stomach, but you smile and nod, and you make conversation to drown out the little voice in your head taunting you.

'It's all your own fault that you're not married.'

'Sunghoon was right, you prioritised your job and drove him away.'

'Jungkook won't want you when he realizes how much baggage you carry.'

"So," Mai lightly nudges your arm, pulling you out of your daze. "Where's your guy?"

The mention of Jungkook seems to soothe you. A smile threatens to break out across your face at her referring to him as your guy. Is he your guy? You want to deny it, but instead you indulge in the giddy feeling for a bit longer.

"He went to the bathroom. He should be back anytime now."

"What do you say, are you two next in line?" she teases, holding up her ring finger with a smirk on her face.

Please, as if you'd ever allow yourself to get as far as that again.

"Don't start that," you scoff, giving her a pointed look.

"Hey, I'm just saying. I saw the two of you earlier during dinner. He was practically drooling over you while you weren't looking."

"He was not."

"How long are we gonna keep doing this?" She chuckles, rolling her eyes. "You say you're just friends, then I say you're crazy because you're obviously-"

"We're obviously just two adults who get along," you shrug, feigning ignorance.

Mai watches the way you look down at your lap to avoid her eyes. She knows it's because you don't believe your own words, and she can see you clearly have more layers hiding beneath the surface.

"Look," she sighs, her tone turning softer. "I know we haven't known each other for very long, but I really like you and I think we're building a real friendship...and I can tell you might have some things holding you back from being honest with yourself."

You glance over at her, feeling naked under her gaze. She can see right through you, and you hate it. You hate that you can't run away from your baggage forever. You hate how right she is.

"___, I may not know everything and I don't mean to overstep, so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong...but I see the way you look at each other. Friends don't look at or treat one another the way you do."

You can't say that she's wrong, so you don't say anything at all. You don't know how to say what you really feel. You don't know how to explain that you're so scared of getting hurt, so you don't allow yourself to indulge in the things that could end up hurting you. You want to be honest and shout out loud that you love him, that you want to be loved by him, but you find that it's easier to love him from a distance than to risk getting your heart broken again.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped," she murmurs softly, offering you an apologetic smile.

You know she means well, and she hasn't said anything that isn't true. "No, no, it's, uhm...it's okay, Mai."

She excuses herself when Namjoon calls her over to join the conversation he's having with her parents, not leaving without a hug. She leans down and wraps her arms around your shoulders, whispering a soft, "Please, give him a chance," before walking off to join her husband.

You watch with a smile as Jihyo and Taehyung dance to an upbeat jazz song. He dips her as a grand finale, the song coming to an end with a saxophone and drum harmony. The band prepares for the next song as a female singer steps up to the mic, the opening melody of 'A love that will last' by Renee Olstead floating through the marquee. You're so caught up in watching the couples fill the dance floor, you almost don't notice the soft tap on your shoulder and the whisper of a velvety voice in your ear.

"I think you owe me a dance, Professor."

You glance up at Jungkook, your heart pounding in your ears. His hand is outstretched, palm up, waiting for yours.

"Jungkook," you breathe out a soft chuckle, as if he's crazy for even suggesting it.

"C'mon," he whispers, subtly cocking his head to the side. "One dance."

Your heart lurches at the thought of potentially embarrassing yourself. You haven't slow danced since your prom night, and even then, it was more of an awkward shuffle than anything remotely graceful, but the way he's looking at you has you nodding in resignation. "Okay...one dance..."

You hesitate for only a second before slipping your fingers into his. His grip is gentle, leading you to the dance floor with practiced ease. The music drifts through the marquee, a romantic melody wrapping around the two of you like a secret. His other hand finds the small of your back, and suddenly, you're closer than you expected. Jungkook sways with you, his movements effortless, like he's done this a million times in his head. His thumb brushes the back of your hand absentmindedly, a nervous habit or maybe something more. His gaze flickers down to you, dark eyes unreadable, but there's something tender about the way he looks at you, like you're more than just a habit he can't break, more than a friend. It's not the first time he's held you, not even the most intimate touch you've shared, but something about this moment feels so different.

"You really do look beautiful tonight," he murmurs, barely loud enough to hear over the music.

A warmth creeps up your spine. "You clean up pretty good yourself."

He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Instead, there's something wistful in the way he looks at you, something unsaid lingering between you.

You let your head rest lightly against his chest, just for a moment, just long enough to feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath the layers of his suit. You breathe in his cologne, warm and familiar, a reminder of nights tangled in sheets and whispered confessions that never quite crossed the line.

Jungkook holds you like he's afraid to let go, like if he does, you'll slip through his fingers completely. There's a weight in his chest, a truth sitting heavy on his tongue, but he swallows it down.

"I remember dancing with you at that Christmas party four years ago," you muse, your voice soft, barely above a whisper.

His face breaks out into a grin. "God, we were so drunk that night."

The night everything came to be.

You breathe out a quiet chuckle before your face melts into something softer. "It didn't feel like this though."

Jungkook chuckles, a quiet, breathy sound against your ear. "No?"

You shake your head. "This is different. Feels like it actually…means something."

It slips out before you can stop it, and for a split second, neither of you move. The words hang between you. You feel Jungkook's hold tighten, just a fraction, before he exhales slowly.

"What if it always has?"

Your heart stutters.

Jungkook doesn't look at you when he says it, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder, like he's scared of what he might find in your eyes. But his hand at your waist lingers, his fingers flexing like he wants to pull you even closer, like he wants you to understand something he can't bring himself to say out loud.

You don't know how to respond, so you don't. Not yet. Instead, you let the music carry you, let yourself melt into the warmth of his embrace.

Your lack of reciprocation doesn't deter him. If anything, he holds you closer, his fingers curling into the fabric of your dress like he's memorizing the way it feels to hold you like this. Then he leans down, just enough that his lips brush your temple in the lightest of touches. He lingers for a second too long. A second that tells you everything his words can't.

And then, just like that, the song ends.

Jungkook steps back, forcing a small smile. "I should, uh, get us some drinks," he mutters, reluctantly putting space between you.

You nod, even though something inside you screams for him to stay, because for the first time, you realize that maybe you aren't the only one who's been pretending this whole time. Well, maybe he hasn't been pretending. Maybe you've just been too afraid to look a little closer, dig a little deeper. If you had, you would've noticed how brightly the truth shines in his big brown eyes.

You stand in the middle of the dance floor and watch as he walks off in the direction of the bar, disappearing into the sea of guests. You shouldn't be disappointed. You keep him at arm's length for a reason, yet that reason is starting to seem a bit hazy at the moment.

While he goes to get you some champagne and a water for himself—because he is ever the responsible driver—you take a moment to yourself, silently exiting the marquee to get some fresh air in a more secluded spot outside. The sky is illuminated by stars and twinkling lights draped throughout the garden outside, the music faintly drifting through the air in the background.

The night air is crisp against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the crowded reception. You inhale deeply, letting the coolness settle in your lungs, trying to still the racing thoughts in your head. The way Jungkook held you, the way his voice sounded, gentle and sincere.

You shake your head to clear it. This isn't new. You and Jungkook have always blurred the lines, dancing on the edge of something deeper without ever taking the plunge. He's your secret, your safe indulgence. But tonight...it's different.

You exhale, absentmindedly rubbing your hands over your arms as if that will do anything to settle the nervous energy buzzing beneath your skin. He said he'd get you a drink, and you wonder what's taking him so long. Maybe he got caught up in conversation with one of his friends or Namjoon's relatives, or maybe he's-

Your thoughts are cut off when you turn around and take a quick glance toward the marquee entrance, your stomach twisting. Jungkook stands near the bar, a glass of water in one hand, a flute of champagne in the other. But he's not alone.

Hana.

She leans in just a little too close, flashing that perfectly calculated smile of hers, the kind that makes your skin crawl. Her manicured fingers brush against his forearm as she laughs at something he said, which probably wasn't funny enough to warrant such a boisterous laugh.

You try to convince yourself it doesn't mean anything, that it's just Jungkook being Jungkook—too polite, too non-confrontational, too oblivious to the way women like Hana take an inch and twist it into a mile. But the longer you watch, the harder it gets to ignore the way she leans into him, the way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, the way she bats her lashes up at him. And the worst part is that he doesn't immediately pull away.

He doesn't flirt back. Surely not. But he doesn't shut her down either.

A bitter taste rises in your throat.

Maybe this is your fault. Maybe this is what happens when you pretend things don't matter when they do. When you are so incessant on keeping things casual, making sure nothing changes, that you take too long to acknowledge the truth staring right in your face.

Jungkook does mean something to you.

The idea of someone else wanting him makes something twist inside you, something hot and possessive and terrifyingly raw. You don’t even realize your fingers have curled into fists at your sides until Jungkook suddenly glances up, eyes sweeping the crowd as if searching for something. Or someone.

You.

The moment his gaze finds yours, something shifts. His expression softens, the corners of his lips turning up ever so slightly. Then, almost instinctively, he takes a step back from Hana, just enough to put space between them, to make his intentions clear.

Hana notices too. Her smile tightens as she follows his line of sight, her eyes narrowing when she spots you standing there. For a second, her lips part like she's about to say something, but Jungkook is already moving, leaving her behind without a second thought, heading straight for you.

Jungkook stops in front of you, holding out the flute of champagne with a faint smile. His eyes flicker over your face, searching, as if he can sense the storm brewing beneath your carefully crafted exterior.

"Thought I lost you for a second."

You force a small, hollow smile. "Well...you found me."

He studies you, eyes flickering across your face like he can see right through you. Maybe he can. So, you look away, pretending to sip your champagne even though your stomach is twisted in knots.

"Everything okay?" His voice is quiet, but it cuts through the noise in your head with ease.

You should say yes. Should flash him a smile, play it off like nothing's wrong, but the sight of Hana's hand on his arm is still burned into your mind, tangled up with memories you thought you buried long ago.

This isn't about Hana or Jungkook. It's about a different man who swore he loved you, who got down on one knee and asked you to spend forever with him, only to turn around and throw it all away.

Seven years.

You spent seven years with someone who once made you feel like the center of his world, until you weren't.

"You never made time for me."

Sunghoon's words had cut deeper than the betrayal itself, because in the end, he hadn't just broken your heart, he'd made you feel like it was your fault. Like if you had just been more for him, he wouldn't have strayed.

That is why you promised yourself that what you have with Jungkook is nothing more than convenience, that it doesn't matter if he ever falls for someone else, someone with fewer walls, someone who isn't afraid to love him the way he deserves. But standing here now, heart hammering in your chest as he watches you with quiet concern, you know with certainty that you've already broken that promise.

Jungkook stands before you, watching you with a quiet intensity. You know he's not Sunghoon, but that doesn't make it less terrifying.

You force a smile. "Yeah. Just needed some air, that's all."

Jungkook doesn't look convinced. His head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing. "You sure?"

You should deflect, should change the subject, but instead, the words slip out before you can stop them. "She likes you, you know."

Jungkook blinks, momentarily caught off guard. "Huh?"

You huff a quiet, humorless laugh, tilting your glass slightly in the direction Hana had been standing. "Hana."

Jungkook follows your gaze, then shakes his head with a scoff. "Hana likes attention."

You hum, taking a sip of champagne, but the uneasy feeling lingers. Not because you think he'd entertain her, but because you know there's nothing you can do if he ever decides to go for her instead. He's not your boyfriend. You made sure of that all by yourself.

"___, I hope you know that I'm not interested in her."

You weren't looking for reassurance, not really, but hearing him say it so plainly sends a warmth through your chest that you refuse to dwell on for too long.

You shrug, feigning indifference. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, Jungkook."

Jungkook scoffs, as if he expected the indifference. "Maybe not," he murmurs, looking over at you. "But I want to."

You let out a slow breath, trying to shake the weight of the moment, the way his words settle deep in your chest. When you glance at Jungkook, he's watching you, not with pity or expectation, just there, a steady presence.

So, you do what you always do when things get too real. You deflect.

"I don't know," you hum, tilting your head, playfully narrowing your eyes at him. "You seemed pretty into that conversation. Maybe I should let you get back to it."

Jungkook groans, tipping his head back dramatically. "Oh my God, stop."

You grin up at him. "What? I'm just saying, I don't wanna stand in the way."

"Please," he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "There's nothing to stand in the way of."

You hum, swirling the champagne in your glass. "I don't know, Jungkook. Hana's got great hair. Seems like a solid choice."

"You have great hair."

"She's pretty," you mutter, looking back at the marquee in the distance.

Jungkook scoffs. "You're gorgeous. Now what?"

You stare at him for a second, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck. He's too good at this, throwing you off, slipping in little compliments like they mean nothing. But they mean everything and he knows it.

"You're so annoying," you murmur, taking a sip of your champagne.

Jungkook grins, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. "And yet, you keep me around."

You roll your eyes, but there's no real bite to it. "Unfortunately."

He chuckles, then nudges your arm lightly with his elbow. "C'mon, ___, admit it. You'd be lost without me."

You raise a brow. "Lost?"

"Hopeless," he teases with a shrug. "Completely, utterly hopeless."

You huff, feigning exasperation. "I survived just fine before you, y'know."

His expression softens, just a little.

"I know," he murmurs, quieter this time. "But I like it better this way."

Your fingers tighten around your glass, heart stuttering in your chest, because damn it, so do you.

A cool breeze sweeps past, and instinctively, you wrap your arms around yourself to keep warm. Jungkook notices immediately. Of course he does. Without a word, he shrugs off his suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, his movements fluid, effortless, like it's second nature to him.

You glance up at him with wide eyes. "Aren't you going to get cold?"

"I'll survive," he shrugs, completely unfazed.

You pull the jacket tighter around yourself, the warmth of it sinking into your skin, carrying his signature scent. "You didn't have to do that."

Jungkook gives you a look. "You know I was never going to let you stand out here freezing."

Your lips twitch. "A gentleman, huh?"

"What, you didn't think I had it in me?"

"I mean… I have seen you trip over your own feet in the hallway at work."

Jungkook groans, biting back a smile. "Okay, first of all, that was years ago. Second of all, that floor was slippery, the janitor just mopped it."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Sure it was."

Jungkook lets out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

You grin, feeling lighter than you have all night. Maybe it's the warmth of his jacket, or the teasing glint in his eyes, or just the way that it's always been easy with him.

After a beat, Jungkook nudges your arm lightly. "You do look good in my jacket, though."

The comment is casual, offhanded, but there's something in his tone, something softer beneath the teasing that makes your stomach flip.

"Yeah?"

Jungkook hums, taking another sip of his water.

Your heart stumbles, but you roll your eyes, playing it cool. "Careful, Jeon. You almost sound like you're flirting with me."

"Would that be a bad thing?"

"Oh shush," you scoff, forcing down a smile.

The air feels different. The atmosphere is lighter, but charged with something else, something neither of you wants to name. Jungkook watches you, his gaze steady, thoughtful, like he's debating something in his head.

Another breeze sweeps past, and instinctively, you pull his jacket tighter around yourself. The movement makes him smile, just a little, like he finds it endearing. Then, without thinking, he reaches out. It's a small gesture, his fingers gently tugging at the lapel of his jacket, adjusting it over your shoulder, as if to make sure you're really warm enough. But the way he does it, the slow, deliberate movement, the way his fingers brush against your collarbone, sends a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold.

You glance up at him, your breath hitching. He's closer than you had realized. Close enough that you can see the way his lashes frame his dark eyes, the soft curve of his lips, the intensity in his gaze. Before you can say something about it, Jungkook moves.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Giving you everything opportunity to pull away.

He lifts a hand, fingers ghosting along your jaw, barely there, like he's afraid to break the moment. His gaze flickers to your lips, just for a second, and your breath catches in your throat.

And then he kisses you.

It's not urgent or demanding. It's careful. Considerate. Barely more than a brush of lips. It's a question, rather than a statement.

And God help you—you answer.

You let yourself sink into the feeling, let yourself feel the warmth of his lips, the steadiness of his hand on your cheek, the way everything else fades away when his lips touch yours.

It's over before you can even process it, before your mind can catch up with your heart. The night air feels cooler against your heated skin, and when you open your eyes, Jungkook is already watching you. His expression is unreadable, his breathing just the slightest bit uneven.

You swallow, your voice barely above a whisper. "What was that for?"

"I don't know," he murmurs. "Felt like the right thing to do."

It felt quite right to you too.

The rest of the evening passes in a haze of laughter and music. You make it back inside just in time for the bouquet toss, though, to your relief, you don't catch it. Taehyung looks mildly disappointed, teasing you about how he was hoping for some 'divine intervention' before Jihyo drags him away to dance.

Eventually, the celebration winds down, guests filtering out into the night. You find yourself outside again, rubbing your arms against the chill before Jungkook appears beside you, keys in hand.

"Ready to go home?" he asks, his voice low, warm.

You nod, walking back to the car.

The drive home is quiet but comfortable. Jungkook keeps one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, fingers tapping absentmindedly. The streetlights cast golden streaks across his face, and every so often, you catch him glancing at you, like he wants to say something but keeps deciding against it.

When he pulls up in front of your apartment building, he shuts the engine off and looks over at you. It's silent, neither one of you making a move.

You hesitate for a second before reaching for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride-"

"Do you want me to walk you up?"

You meet his gaze, your heart racing. The weight of everything that happened tonight lingers between the two of you, something unspoken pressing at the edges.

"Yeah," you murmur. "I'd like that."

The elevator ride up is quiet, your pulse quickening with every passing second. When you reach your door, you fumble briefly with your keys before finally pushing it open, stepping inside. "You wanna come in for a bit?"

Jungkook leans against the doorframe, watching you. And then, after a beat, he nods and steps inside.

And just like that, you're alone together, away from the noise, away from the watchful eyes of friends and wedding guests, away from every excuse you could possibly use to avoid this moment.

You go to check on Miso, giving her some water and a treat, gently stroking her fur. She welcomes you home with a sleepy 'meow' before laying back down on her little bed in the corner of the living room. Jungkook stands in your dimly lit living room, his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, watching you tend to Miso with an expression you can't quite decipher. There's something softer in his gaze, something almost reverent.

You swallow, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your heart is pounding. "Do you want something to drink?"

He shakes his head, lips tilting into a faint smirk. "No." He steps closer, gaze flickering over your face, then down to where his suit jacket hangs off your shoulders. "You gonna keep that?"

You clutch at the lapels instinctively. "I might."

His smirk widens. "Looks good on you."

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it's him, maybe it's you. All you know is that one second, there's space between you, and the next, he's cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin, his lips on yours in a slow, soft kiss. It's not driven by impulse or the heat of the moment, and when Jungkook sighs against your lips, and pulls your waist closer to him, you have to break the kiss to catch your breath and steady your heartbeat.

"Do you...wanna help me out of this dress?" Your voice is almost too quiet to hear, but the smile on his face lets you know he heard you.

"It would be my pleasure," he murmurs softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.

It's as if time slows down as you lead him to your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. The dim glow from the city outside casts soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the warmth in his dark eyes. And then, without another word, he leans in and kisses your lips. His hands slide up to cup your face, tilting your head just how he wants it.

You sigh against his mouth, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, holding him close.

His lips move down, trailing soft kisses along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You shiver, and he feels it, his smile evident against your skin.

"Still cold?" he murmurs, his breath warm against your neck.

You shake your head. "No."

Jungkook chuckles, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His hands slide down, fingertips brushing along the suit jacket around your shoulders. "Can I?"

You nod, letting him remove the jacket before his fingers find the zipper of your dress, dragging it down excruciatingly slowly. The fabric loosens, slipping down your frame, pooling at your feet in a whisper of silk.

He exhales sharply, eyes darkening as he drinks you in, your body wrapped in nothing but scraps of lace.

"God," he breathes out, subtly shaking his head. "You're..."

You look up at him with a soft smile. "I'm…?"

Jungkook chuckles, but it's low, almost breathless. "You know what you are."

"Say it anyway," you whisper.

His fingers brush against your jaw, tilting your face up to his. "So...so beautiful."

And then he kisses you again.

It's slow, deliberate, like he's savoring every second, every soft sigh that escapes you. His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you shiver at the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

Your fingers loosen his bow tie, then move onto the buttons of his dress shirt, opening them one by one. Jungkook watches you through hooded eyes, sighing as your lips move over his cheek, the corner of his mouth, his jaw. You push his shirt off shoulders, letting it drop to the floor, your lips moving down to his chest.

He gently slides his fingers into your hair and tilts your head back, kissing you once more. He sighs against your lips, his hands sliding down your sides to rest at your waist, his thumbs drawing slow circles against your skin. The feeling is intoxicating, he is intoxicating. The warmth of his body, the weight of his hands, the way he kisses you like he has all the time in the world.

You melt into him, your fingers splaying over his bare chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your palms. His lips move against yours in a way that makes your head spin, slow and deep and hypnotic.

Jungkook keeps his lips attached to yours as he leads you backwards towards your bed, gently laying you down on the mattress, his hands holding him up to hover over you. He trails kisses down the side of your neck, sucking on a few sensitive spots before reaching behind you, his hands sliding over the fabric of your bra.

"Can I?"

You nod, cupping his cheeks to pull him back in, needing him the same way you need air to breathe.

He unclasps your bra and slowly slides the lace down your shoulders, tossing it somewhere in your room for you to find tomorrow. He trails his kisses down to your collarbones and chest, his lips grazing the skin of your breasts.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, more to himself than to you.

You sigh, your fingers sliding into his hair as he swirls his tongue around a nipple, wrapping his lips around it to suck. He does the same thing to the other nipple, his lips pressing tender kisses to your breasts.

He kisses down your stomach, smiling against your skin as you spread your legs for him, your sighs growing needier.

He lets his fingers trail up your inner thighs, making their way up to your hips, pulling the soft lace away from your skin. He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours, his fingers toying with the sides of your panties.

"Can I take these off?" he asks softly, pressing a gentle kiss right above the waistband, smiling as you whimper a breathy 'yes'.

He sits up and hooks a finger into either side of your panties, slowly dragging the fabric down your legs. His gaze is soft and appreciative as he takes in the sight of you bare and spread out for him.

His eyes move from your core to your face, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips as he looks into your eyes. He slowly trails a hand up your inner thigh, his fingers trailing through your wet folds. "God, you're so pretty," he sighs, his cock twitching in his pants.

You let out a soft gasp as he leans down to press a few feather-light kisses to your folds, the streetlights shining through the blinds, reflecting in his brown eyes.

He presses a kiss to your clit, his tongue peeking out to get a taste, and it's as if a switch goes off in his brain, his hands gripping your thighs to hold them open as his tongue traces along your pussy.

You moan, your back arching off the bed as he licks a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit, swirling his tongue to turn you into a moaning mess. You reach down to grab hold of his hair, not to tug, just to ground yourself. Your legs spread wider as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking gently before going back to long, determined licks.

"That feels...so good," you breathe out, glancing down at him to find his eyes on you, looking at you like he wants to make the most of this moment, the passion evident in his gaze.

He lets out a soft moan against you, his tongue and lips working in perfect rhythm to pleasure you. He can't get enough of your taste, looking like he's in a state of ecstasy. He can feel you trembling beneath his hands, your body responding to every lick and nibble.

He worships you with his mouth, taking his time, his tongue moving in circles, his hands holding you in place against his mouth. He can’t keep himself from grinding against the bed, feeling like he might explode from his pent up desire.

"Just like that," you moan, your body writhing beneath him, your back arching. "D-Don't stop..."

He can practically feel how close you are to your climax and it only spurs him on. His tongue laps through your folds before focusing solely on your clit, his fingers digging into your skin as he holds your thighs over his shoulders, preventing you from pulling away.

You hold his head in place, your muscles trembling, your moans growing louder as you get closer to the edge.

You gasp, your walls contracting repeatedly, your eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure starts to consume you whole. "'m gonna cum...!"

He keeps his pace, pushing your knees up to your chest to give him better access.

In a matter of seconds, your muscles completely tense up as you cum on his tongue, your moans bouncing off of your bedroom walls. He continues to slowly lick and kiss your clit until you can't take anymore.

His lips trail a slow path up your body, leaving a searing warmth in their wake. His breath is hot against your collarbone, his nose brushing against the side of your jaw before finally capturing your lips in a deep, unhurried kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"You taste like heaven," he whispers against your lips.

A bashful smile finds its way onto your face, your cheeks flushed. Your breath is still shaky, your body thrumming with heat as he kisses you. Your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him closer, needing more. You can still feel the remnants of your high, but it's not enough.

Your hands trail down his body to start unbuttoning his pants. "Let me return the favour," you whisper in his ear, slowly pulling down his zipper.

He groans as your hand slides into the front of his boxers, gently massaging his cock, his body shuddering. His eyes close involuntarily at the feeling of your hand on him, his brain short-circuiting.

Jungkook catches your wrist before you can go any further. His grip is gentle, his dark eyes locking onto yours with something deep and unspoken. He shakes his head, a small, almost nervous smile playing at his lips.

"Not tonight."

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "Why not?"

Jungkook exhales slowly, his thumb brushing over the inside of your wrist. His gaze softens even more, and when he speaks, his voice is quieter, almost shy.

"Because I want to make love to you, ___."

Your breath catches in your chest. He wants to make love. The two of you have never done that before. You've never allowed it. You should correct him. You should remind him of the rules, of the boundaries you set.

But when he looks at you like that, with his heart in his eyes, the words die in your throat.

Your voice is a fragile whisper, your heart beating in your ears. "Okay."

He drags the tip of his nose along your cheek, lips brushing over your skin. "Are you sure?"

You nod, breathless.

"Need to hear you say it, baby."

The endearment sends heat through your body.

"I'm sure."

He kisses your lips for the hundredth time, pouring all of his feelings into you, like he's been waiting for this moment for far too long.

You help him out of his pants and boxers, letting out a soft giggle when his foot almost gets caught in the pant leg, his body moving before his brain can process what's happening.

He sits back to get a full view of your body laid out for him, his eyes trailing from your face, down to your breasts, and lastly, your sopping pussy. He groans as he wraps his hand around his cock, giving it some slow strokes, his fist squeezing harshly. The tip has already started leaking a pearl of precum, the shaft already fully erect.

He hovers over you, his lips curling against your skin as he reaches down, guiding the head to your entrance. He pushes in slowly, filling you inch by inch, stretching you in the most delicious way.

Sinking into you feels like coming home.

Jungkook's face twists in pleasure, his breath ragged, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. He holds himself up on his forearm while his free hand slides down your body to hook your leg around his hip.

He groans, his forehead falling to your shoulder. "Fuck, you feel so good," he breathes.

You slide your hands around him to hold onto his back, pulling him closer, needing him as close as possible.

The sound of your moans send shivers down his spine. He moves slowly, deeply, his hips rolling into yours with deliberate, passionate strokes, sending fire up your spine. His fingers dig into the skin of your thigh, letting out a breathless whimper as he sinks in as deep as he can possibly go.

Your breath stutters, your fingers clutching at his back, feeling his muscles contract under his skin.

Jungkook kisses the junction between your neck and shoulder, his hips rolling at a practiced, steady pace. "You take me so well, baby...this pussy feels so good wrapped around me..." His voice is low, breathy. "You're so fucking perfect."

Your nails dig into his skin, your eyes squeezing shut as your emotions start welling up, a harsh lump growing in your throat.

Jungkook lifts his head, cupping your face, his eyes dark and tender as they search yours. "Look at me, ___."

You do, and it almost steals the air from your lungs, his eyes boring into yours, showing you all the feelings he's harboured for you since the day he met you.

Your hands slide up to cup his jaw, pulling his face closer. "Jungkook…"

"I know, baby," he whispers, pressing soft, tender pecks to your lips, his hips rolling with a fierce intensity. "I've got you. Always."

He presses his lips to your cheek, then your nose, then your forehead. "You're everything, ___."

The lump in your throat grows heavier, but you force it down, willing yourself not to break down completely. Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck and allow yourself to get lost in him, giving yourself over to him in a way you never have before.

You want to tell him you love him.

Those three words sit heavily on your tongue, but you can't get yourself to say them. Not now, when your emotions are this high, when you're still trembling beneath him.

It's too real, and if it's real, it has the power to ruin you.

You show him with your body instead of your words, looking up into his eyes, pulling him impossibly close. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your lips seeking his in a slow, lingering kiss. You pour everything into it, every unspoken word, every confession you long to make.

Jungkook kisses you back just as deeply, his hands framing your face, his touch gentle, like he already knows. Like he's willing to wait.

His thrusts grow sloppier as the pleasure builds. Your hands grip his shoulders, your chest heaving, every thrust of his hips pushing you closer to cumming. His cock throbs inside you, but he's determined to make you cum before he does.

"Come on," Jungkook whispers against your lips, his voice thick with lust. "Let go for me, baby. You can do it. I'm...I'm right here."

His words send a shiver down your spine, feeling the familiar coil start to tighten in your stomach.

"I...I can't..." you gasp, the intensity of it feeling overwhelming.

"Yes, you can, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "Let it happen. I've got you, baby, I promise."

The pressure inside you finally bursts, and you're lost in the feeling of it, consumed by the overwhelming pleasure of it all. With a soft, breathless cry, your body finally gives in, your climax surging through you in waves, your entire body trembling as you cling to him.

Jungkook isn't far behind. He groans low in his chest, his cum painting your walls in thick white ropes, his face buried into the crook of your neck as he rides out his high.

He presses a soft kiss to your skin, his breath shallow. "I'm not going anywhere," he murmurs against your neck, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace.

Your body shakes from the aftermath, your heart pounding in your chest, but for the first time in a long time, you don't feel empty. You don't feel alone. You just feel him all around you; all consuming.

He reluctantly parts from you to freshen up in the bathroom, coming back with a warm, wet washcloth to clean you off, making sure you're fully taken care of before making his way back to bed.

The room grows quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside and the sound of your slowed, steady breathing. The warmth of Jungkook's body lingers between your sheets, his arm draped across your waist as he holds you close, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns against your stomach.

Neither of you speaks for a while, simply existing in the comfort of each other's presence. Your legs are tangled beneath the sheets, your bare skin still pressed together, and there's an intimacy in it that feels deeper than anything words could convey.

Jungkook sighs, shifting slightly to press a lazy kiss to your shoulder. "Are you okay?" His voice is softer now, like he's afraid of breaking whatever fragile thing hangs between you.

You nod against the pillow, your fingers grazing along the length of his arm. "I'm okay."

He hums in contentment, pulling you even closer, his lips brushing against your temple. "Good."

You should probably say more, clarify what tonight was, what it meant, but you can't bring yourself to speak. You simply close your eyes and let yourself melt into his warmth as he spoons you.

Jungkook shifts, resting his chin atop your head, his voice thick with sleep when he murmurs, "Stay here."

You scoff faintly. "I live here."

He chuckles, his chest vibrating against your back. "You know what I mean."

Your fingers find his, lacing together beneath the sheets, and as sleep starts to pull you under, you feel the softest brush of his lips against your hair.

"Goodnight, baby..."

Before you can think twice about how un-casual all of this is, before you can let yourself spiral, you whisper back, "Goodnight, Jungkook."

You wake up tangled in soft sheets and him, his arm draped over your waist, his breath steady against the nape of your neck. The early light filters through your window, casting a golden glow over the room.

For a while, you don't move. You just listen to the birds chirping outside and the steady rhythm of his breathing. Then, as if sensing you're awake, Jungkook stirs. His arm tightens around you, his lips brushing lazily against your bare shoulder.

"Morning," he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

You smile, stretching your limbs. "Morning."

He hums, nuzzling into your skin, his voice muffled. "What time is it?"

You glance at the alarm clock on your nightstand. "Almost nine."

Jungkook groans dramatically, tightening his hold on you. "Too early."

You laugh, trying—and failing—to wiggle away. "It's not that early."

"It is." His grip loosens just enough for you to turn and face him. His hair is a mess, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but he looks at you like you're the most interesting thing in the world.

"You're staring," you point out, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook smiles sleepily. "Can you blame me?"

Your face heats, and you roll your eyes. "Shut up."

He grins, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Never."

The warmth between you lingers as you stay in bed a little longer, exchanging lazy kisses, stealing moments that feel dangerously intimate. It's only when your stomach growls loudly that Jungkook finally pulls away, letting out a huff of laughter.

"Is that your way of asking for breakfast in bed?" he teases.

"I wish," you mumble. "Unfortunately, my fridge is basically empty. I was supposed to go grocery shopping today."

Jungkook sits up, stretching his arms over his head before leaning back on his hands, the sheets pooling around his waist. "Then let's go grocery shopping."

You blink up at him. "You want to come with me to the grocery store?"

"Of course," he shrugs, grinning. "What kind of man would I be if I let you carry all those bags by yourself?"

Is going grocery shopping something you should do together if you want to maintain any remnants of boundaries? Probably not.

"What would you even wear? A tux?" you chuckle.

"I may or may not have a change of clothes in my trunk," he mumbles, giving you an almost guilty grin. "Y'know, just in case I end up spending the night at your place."

Oh well.

You laugh, shaking your head. "Fine. But you're driving."

The grocery store is surprisingly busy for a late Sunday morning, but Jungkook keeps your mood up. You watch, amused, as he inspects the produce with an intensity that makes it seem like he's solving a crime. He picks up a bell pepper and turns it over in his hands, then glances over at you.

"This is a good one," he declares.

You snort. "Oh, are you an expert?"

Jungkook nods solemnly. "Of course. I have a very refined eye for vegetables."

You shake your head, taking the pepper from him and tossing it into the cart. "Okay, vegetable connoisseur. What about fruit?"

His expression turns serious. "The fruit requires even greater precision." He steps toward the apples, picking one up and holding it to the light like a jeweler inspecting a diamond.

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh. "And? What's the verdict?"

He nods once. "Acceptable."

You chuckle as you grab a few more apples and place them in a bag. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously helpful you mean,” he corrects, grinning.

It's easy, this whole thing. You browse the aisles while be pushes the cart, occasionally sneaking snacks into it when you're not looking. You catch him dropping a bag of chips in and you raise an eyebrow.

"I need those?"

"Absolutely," he nods, not missing a beat.

You roll your eyes but let him put the bag in the cart. It's for him, but you'll buy it as a way to have something that belongs to him in your apartment.

"Shit, I forgot to get my cereal," you sigh, already on the other side of the store. "Can you go and get it, please? It's in aisle six."

"Sure," he nods, handing you the cart.

"Thank you," you smile, watching him walk off.

You're still smiling when you turn the corner, your heart light from the previous few hours with Jungkook. Then a voice pulls you out of your little love bubble.

"Oh my god, ___?"

You barely have time to react before you're being pulled into a hug, the nostalgic scent of her floral perfume washing over you.

"Sian?" you gasp in surprise, pulling back to get a better look at your old high school friend.

"It's been forever!" she exclaims, her eyes wide as she takes you in. "I almost didn't recognize you, it's been so long. Look at you! You look good!”

You laugh, nodding along. "I could say the same about you. How have you been?"

"I'm doing well," she smiles, resting her hand on her hip. "I recently landed this great job at a new law firm. What about you?"

"I'm a professor at Yonsei University. I teach political science."

"I guess we're really grown ups now," she laughs.

You chuckle along, feeling the truth in her words. "How are things with Minho?"

Her smile falters for a fraction of a second, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, Minho and I broke up. Turns out he's just like every other guy," she scoffs, "Couldn't keep it in his pants."

Your stomach twists. "Oh, Sian....I'm so sorry."

She sighs, crossing her arms. "Don't be. Honestly, I should've seen it coming. I guess all men are the same in the end, aren't they?"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You don't know what to say, so you offer a small, noncommittal hum.

Sian doesn't seem to notice your discomfort. She keeps going, rolling her eyes. "It's whatever. At least I found out before we got engaged. We were close to it but I guess I dodged a bullet."

Then, almost as an afterthought, she adds, "Speaking of which, have you heard? Apparently Sunghoon got married a few months ago."

The words hit you like a slap to the face. Your chest tightens, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

Sian doesn't notice. She keeps talking, oblivious to the way your body has suddenly gone rigid.

"Yeah, crazy, right? I heard his wife is pregnant, too. Due in a few months, I think." She shakes her head. "Guess he finally got his act together. Good for them, I suppose."

Your fingers tighten around the shopping cart.

Your ex-fiancé, the man who cheated on you and then blamed you for it, is married. He has a wife. A baby on the way. And yet, here you are, still hesitating, still doubting.

He cheated on you. But he's faithful to her. Was it you? Were you the problem all along?

You force a small laugh at something Sian says, nodding absentmindedly, but your mind has already started spiraling.

Jungkook returns just as you wrap up your conversation, a box of your favourite cereal in hand. He gives Sian a polite nod before turning to you, grinning.

"Miss me?" he teases, but the moment he sees your face, his smile falters. "Hey...what's wrong?"

You shake your head, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "Nothing. Just caught up with an old friend."

Jungkook doesn't buy it. His gaze searches yours, his brows furrowing. "You sure? You seem-"

"I said it's nothing, Jungkook," you snap before you can stop yourself, feeling guilty almost instantly.

His lips press together, the hurt flickering across his face so quickly you almost miss it.

He doesn’t push. He never does. He just nods slowly, letting the silence settle between you like an invisible wall.

"We should go," you mutter softly, already turning the cart toward the checkout without looking back.

The drive home is silent.

Jungkook doesn't say anything, but you feel his eyes flicking over at you every so often, like he's waiting for you to speak. To tell him what's wrong.

You don't.

Your thoughts have started racing and they just won't stop. You think about your past, about the seven years you wasted on a man who made you believe you weren't enough for him to remain faithful. And now he has a wife. A baby on the way. A family.

And here you are, falling into the same pattern.

Falling for Jungkook.

He's not Sunghoon, you know that, but what happens when he gets tired of waiting for you to let him in? What happens when you eventually realize you can't give him what he deserves?

It would be easier to end it now.

Before either of you get hurt.

Before you lose yourself in him completely.

The silence stretches on when you get back to your apartment. Jungkook carefully sets the grocery bags on the counter, his movements slow and calculated. He glances at you, his brows knitting together in quiet concern, but he still doesn't push, not yet.

Instead, he tries a softer approach.

"Hey." His voice is gentle, coaxing. "Wanna help me put these away?"

You should. You should do something, say something, but you can't bring yourself to move. Your arms stay crossed over your chest, your body stiff, your mind in a haze.

Jungkook watches you for a moment before sighing lightly. "Alright then," he murmurs, unpacking the bags himself.

The tension is unbearable.

He packs your groceries away, waiting for you to speak. When the silence becomes too much for him, he takes the plunge.

Jungkook exhales slowly. "___."

Your stomach tightens at the sound of your name on his lips.

"Talk to me." His voice is gentle, patient. "Please."

"There's nothing to talk about." Your voice is flat.

Jungkook tilts his head, studying you carefully. "Really? Because you've been completely silent since we left the store, barely looked at me, haven't said a word." He pauses. "That doesn't seem like nothing to me."

You press your lips together, shifting on your feet. "I just have a lot on my mind."

"Okay." He nods slowly. "Then tell me and maybe I can help-"

You sigh. "Jungkook, just drop it."

He pauses.

"I just..." He pauses, looking for the right words to say. "I can tell you're upset and...I don't like seeing you like this."

The weight of his concern presses down on your chest, suffocating. You can't do this right now.

"I said I'm fine." Your voice comes out sharper than intended.

Jungkook lets out a short, humorless laugh. "You always say that."

"Why do you even care so much?"

The words hit him like a slap.

Jungkook blinks at you, taken aback by your sudden hostility. But then, something shifts in his expression, his heart physically breaking in his chest. His hands clench at his sides as he exhales through his nose.

And then, in a voice so quiet it almost doesn't reach you—

"Because I love you."

Your heart stops. Your breath stutters. Your pulse pounds violently in your ears.

Jungkook swallows, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving yours, practicing laying his entire soul at your feet. His eyes are glossy, his voice thick. "I love you, ___."

It's not loud. Not dramatic. Just honest.

And it terrifies you.

Jungkook takes a step closer, his eyes burning into yours. "I have loved you for such a long time...and I don't care if you try to push me away, or if you pretend like this is just sex, or if you act like what we have isn't real.” His voice wavers slightly, but his gaze doesn't. "Because I know it is."

Your heart pounds violently against your ribs.

You want to believe him. But the ugly, gnawing voice in your head tells you it's only a matter of time before he realizes you're not enough.

"You don’t love me," you whisper, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. "You think you do, but you don't."

His brows draw together, his face crumpling. "How can you say that?"

You swallow, blinking back the tears in your eyes. "Because you don't even know me, Jungkook."

His face twists, letting out a bitter scoff. "That's bullshit."

"Is it?" You laugh, but it's hollow and humourless. "You only know the parts of me I let you see! The nice parts. The parts that don't scare you away." Your voice wavers. "But the rest? The ugly, damaged parts? You don't know those. That's the real me, Jungkook. You don't love her."

Jungkook’s chest rises and falls unevenly.

"Then let me. Let me know you...all of you. Let me love the good parts and the bad and everything in between. Let me love you when you're messy and broken, and on the days when you feel like you can't get out of bed. Fuck, I wanna be with you, ___. I want all of you, not just the good parts. I want the pointless fights and the makeup sex after. I want the grocery runs when we run out of your favourite cereal. I wanna drive to work in the same car and then come home and have dinner together. I wanna slow dance with you in the middle of the night in the kitchen with the refrigerator light shining over us. I wanna cuddle and hold your hand in public and tell everyone that you're my girlfriend, because for fuck's sake, ___, I love you."

He's almost breathless by the time he gets it all out.

"Please...give me the chance to love you...please."

His words leave you utterly and completely speechless. You want to allow yourself to be loved by him, but your brain won't allow you to. The thought of experiencing all of that with him and then having it inevitably ripped away is what stops you from telling him you love him too.

"Jungkook...I can't...."

"Why not?"

Because you're terrified. Because Sunghoon made the same promises and still broke them. Because you know that once Jungkook sees the worst of you, he'll leave and it'll hurt, probably worse than it did with Sunghoon.

"I just can't, okay?!" Your voice grows softer. "I can't. You'll regret it."

Jungkook exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. "God, why won't you let yourself be loved?"

You've asked yourself that question about a million times before.

Your hands tremble at your sides, your eyes burning, your body screaming at you to run. Then you do the only thing you know how to. You push him away and hurt him before he can hurt you.

"This was never supposed to be anything more than sex," you whisper.

Jungkook stills.

"That's all this ever was, Jungkook."

Jungkook lets out a shaky scoff, but his voice cracks. "You don't mean that."

"I do." You force the words out, your voice shaking.

"Tell me you don't love me back." He lifts his gaze to meet yours, and your breath stutters at the sheer heartbreak in his eyes. "Tell me you feel nothing for me. That this," he gestures between you, "Was never more than just sex to you."

The words are on the tip of your tongue.

Tell him.

Make it easier for him to walk away.

But the truth is lodged so deep in your throat, it physically hurts. And Jungkook sees it.

His face hardens, his jaw clenching. "That's what I thought."

You have no defence, so all you can do is resort back to shutting him out. Literally.

"Just go, Jungkook. It'll just be better for both of us in the long run."

"So that's it? You're just gonna throw this all away?"

You don't respond, looking down at the ground.

His face remains strong, even as the tears begin to fall down his cheeks, and you know you're not strong enough to look at him.

He nods in resignation and silently takes a step back, his sadness written across his face. Then another step. And then he turns to get his phone and his keys and walk to the front door.

Your chest constricts. You should say something. Stop him. Tell him the truth.

But you don't. It'll just be easier this way.

It has to be.

Jungkook turns his head to look back at you, his hand on the door handle, waiting for you to stop him and tell him that you love him. But you don't.

His lips start to part, like he wants to argue, like he wants to fight for you. But he doesn't. He doesn't have it in him anymore.

"I hope one day you'll be able to love yourself the way I love you."

He walks out without another glance back, the door shutting behind him. The second he's gone, you shatter.

It's like your body has locked up, frozen in place as the weight of everything crashes down all at once. Your breath shudders, coming in uneven gasps, your chest rising and falling in jagged movements.

And then, your knees buckle. You sink to the floor, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes, as if that will somehow stop the flood of tears spilling down your cheeks.

Jungkook is gone.

You did this. You pushed him away. That's what you do. You get in your head and sabotage everything good in your life.

A sob rips through you, your shoulders shaking as you fold in on yourself. You don't know how long you stay like that, curled up on the floor, drowning in your own sorrow. Time feels meaningless when all you can hear is Jungkook's voice echoing in your head, over and over again.

He looked so wounded when he told you he loved you. So open and vulnerable. And what did you do? You shut him out. You let your own fear win. Because that's all you are now, a shell of the person you used to be. Afraid and untrusting.

Sunghoon made sure of that.

The memory of him slams into you with brutal force. His voice, his touch, the way he used to hold you at night and tell you he loved you, promising you a lifetime, only to go and stick his dick in another woman.

"I had no choice, ___. You were never around. You put everything and everyone before me."

"I needed someone who actually made me feel like a man."

"You did this to us."

His words haunt you. They never stopped haunting you, no matter how hard you try to run from them. And now, as you sit here, crying on your kitchen floor, you realize that you've been running ever since.

Every step you've taken since that night you caught him has been in fear of being that girl again. The one who gives too much of herself, the one who isn't enough, the one who ends up getting traded in.

That voice in your head tells you that Jungkook would do the same, eventually.

Maybe not today.

Maybe not tomorrow.

But one day.

One day, he'd wake up and realize you aren't worth it.

You thought that if you ended it before he got the chance to see how damaged you really are, that would make it hurt less. And yet, the look on his face will forever be engraved in your brain, taunting you, reminding you of the pain you've caused him.

The sobs come harder, your entire body shaking until you can barely breathe. You press your forehead to your knees, squeezing your eyes shut.

And then you feel it, a soft nudge against your leg.

You glance down to see Miso weaving between your ankles, her big eyes looking up at you with confusion and concern. She meows softly, rubbing her head against your shin, as if she can sense that something is wrong.

A broken sob escapes your lips as you scoop her up into your arms. She doesn’t resist, only tucks herself into your chest, her purring serving as a soothing vibration against your skin.

You bury your face into her fur, fresh tears spilling over. "I'm okay, baby," you whisper, though your voice cracks with the weight of the lie. She just stays curled against you, warm and steady, like she's determined to absorb every ounce of your sadness.

You carry her to the couch, curling up with her in your lap, absentmindedly running your fingers through her soft fur. The apartment still smells like Jungkook, his cologne, his warmth, and it only makes the ache in your chest worse.

You don't know how to fix this. You don't even know if you can. But one thing is painfully, devastatingly clear.

You broke two hearts today.

< Part 5 || Part 6.5 >

[ldrfanatic]

i miss you

theodore nott x reader

yeah this is gonna be angsty.

synopsis - a mini-series where reader and theo break up after a three year relationship and struggle without each other. eventual hea. this is more like excerpts and moments between the two of them than a full story. part two coming soon.

one

1.2k words

song - i miss you, i'm sorry by gracie abrahams

slytherin boys works

"i think we should break up."

you and theo spoke at the same time. both with tears in your eyes. after a three year relationship, neither of you really wanted it to end, both still harboring feelings for each other but after not speaking practically all summer, it seemed like the best option.

"i don't want to make things awkward with our friend group. but outside of group events, i think it's best we don't talk."

the boy in front of you nodded his head silently in agreeance. sobs wracked your body as theodore nott, your now ex-boyfriend pulled you into a strong hug. it felt like your heart was splitting in two. for the past three years, you'd known nothing but theo.

after an eternity, you both stepped apart and you shared a deep kiss. your last kiss. it was salty with the taste of both of your tears.

---

in the weeks that followed, you were the most miserable you'd ever been in your time at hogwarts. keeping your distance from the person who'd not only been your lover, but had become your best friend as well, was the most difficult thing you'd ever had to do.

everything reminded you of him. every path you took seemed to take you to theo. it was like the universe wanted you to suffer.

no less than four weeks after your breakup, word spread quick that marcus flint was planning on asking you out. before, no boy at hogwarts even dared to look in your direction in fear of what theo might do to them. but you supposed that didn't matter now.

you were eating breakfast next to luna. she was a little odd but she'd become an unlikely friend in the aftermath of theo. a dark brown owl that you recognized at the nott family owl dropped a note on the table in front of you. your name was scrawled across the front in handwriting you recognized.

luna placed an encouraging hand on your shoulder as you picked up the note with a shaking grasp. unfolding it, a message had been hastily scribbled.

"i miss you. i know you said that we're not talking, but can i see you? please?"

you looked up and met the intense stare of theo.

a single nod confirmed his request.

---

"how are you?"

you almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the question. given your matching eye bags and teary eyes, neither of you were handling the split well.

"it's not hard to tell, nott. just ask me what you want to know."

theo kicked bitterly at the pebbles beneath his feet.

"i hear flint is planning on asking you to hogsmeade." he spit the words out like he couldn't believe someone was asking you out. the girl who wasn't his anymore.

"you don't have to worry, nott. i still love you. i promise."

"look, i'm not happy with this either, y/n. nothing happened in the way i wanted. but do you have to call me that? I hate it when you call me nott. like i haven't been the guy wiping your tears for three years."

you felt your eyes swelling. not even trying to stop the tears, you cocked your head sideways and pinned theo with a single heartbroken look.

"yes. i do. because i'm scared that if i call you theo, act like we're friends, smile at you and watch you smile at me, that i might never stop crying."

---

two months after your breakup with theo and you still hadn't stopped crying. you knew it would hurt. but this was inexplainable.

after your meeting in the astronomy tower, theo stopped showing up to meals. and classes. in fact, you hadn't seen him leave his dorm since. three weeks passed like a blur and before you knew it, snow was falling.

with christmas around the corner, you began handing out presents to your friends. one in particular sat in the corner of your room. the dark green wrapping paper had stood out noticeably from the silver snowflake wrapping paper you'd used on all the other gifts you'd given this holiday.

you stood across from mattheo, theo's roommate, and held out a folded piece of paper to the boy. mattheo took it, albeit confused.

"what's this?"

"for theo. just... give it to him. please."

mattheo nodded, gave you a quick hug and then scurried off in the direction of the boys' dorms.

---

"i got your note."

the deep voice of theodore nott startled you.

you placed a hand over your heart, having nearly jumped out of your skin. the sight that greeted you was nothing less than gut wrenching. the sweet hopeful boy you once dated was gone. in his place was the hollow shell that he'd been when you first met him, before you started dating.

he was thin and pale, noting to the fact that he'd barely eaten in the past few weeks. where you'd finally started to sleep a little easier at night, theo looked like he hadn't sleep in weeks. years even. if it hadn't been for the familiarity of the warmth of his gaze, you would've sworn this was not theo.

an involuntary gasp escaped you.

"theodore!"

you resisted the inherent urge to begin fussing over him. he watched you with a guarded stare. after a few beats of tense silence, you held the gift out to him.

he eyed it with apprehension.

"i bought it before..."

you didn't finish your sentence. you didn't have to. theo's head tilted back in realization and after a couple pensive breaths, he took the present.

he toyed with it in his hands for a few moments, as if deciding whether or not to open it. he seemed to have made a decision when he undid the white bow you'd carefully tied atop the small box.

inside was a silver chain. it was thick with a small delicate looking circle on the end.

"what is it?"

you chuckled slightly at his bluntness. he'd never been one to beat around the bush.

"it's a muggle thing, i think. my cousin was telling me about it. anyhow, you shine a light through it and, well," you spoke a soft lumos and shined your wand towards the circle. on the wall behind you, a picture appeared.

a young isabella nott was laughing with a young theo at a beach on a beautifully clear day. her smile was bright and contagious even through a picture. it was honestly the happiest you'd ever seen theo in your years of knowing him.

the moment theo saw the picture, he broke down. you really hadn't meant to make him cry.

"i'm sorry. i just wanted you to have it."

you knelt down next to him, and he immediately latched onto you.

"i can't- i can't do this without you. please."

this was the second time that theodore nott had begged you. the look in his eyes was all it took for your resolve to break.

"we fucked up bad, theo." you cooed softly to him as you rocked him through his sobs. "this breakup has tested... everything i thought i knew about myself. but i miss you. so we can talk about it."

---

7.8.2024

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@moonlightreader649 @thatdammchickennugget @helendeath @fandom-life-12 @bouquetolegoflowers @maryvibess @nighttimemoonlover @blobsblobician

[klunkcat]

50 VAGUE ANGSTY + HURT/COMFORT DIALOGUE PROMPTS

42. "Tell me what I did wrong! What's wrong with me?!" + rise A Team 🥺

You keep requesting things that I know will hurt ur feelings!!!

TW: panic attack, derealization/dissociation

Waking up in the med bay had been less painful than this. He’d broken fourteen bones and fractured three more, been coughing up blood and some thick substance he was very sure was never supposed to be on the outside but he’d thought, ‘hey, we won’. 

This didn’t feel like winning. This felt like standing on the other side of a very long tunnel and seeing the world from a sideways tilt. 

He’d been allowed out of the med bay for a glorious two days– mostly to lay up on the couch instead of the stiff medical room— and missed somewhere that the world had actually ended. Because when Raph leaned over him to grab his glass of water on the table beside him, Leo flinched. 

It wasn’t him, he decided. Because Leo had never once in his life feared anything from his big brother, not even when Raph had gone through his snapping phase. Because Raph was Raph and that meant the biggest warmest hugs you could imagine, and big wet watering eyes and crying over commercials with kittens that sneezed too hard. It couldn’t be him that saw Raph moving forward and thought of pink, slimy tendrils, and felt his airways closing with a sharp thrum of oh god and I’m going to die, because that didn’t make sense. 

Raph froze, eyes wide. Leo fell further outside himself. 

The other him made his hand move, he didn’t feel it move. The other him spoke. 

“Oh, ha. Sorry, static must have shocked me.” From the blankets, yeah. That made sense. This other him that jumped at things at least had his wits, that was reassuring. 

“Leo,” Raph said very slowly. Some hindbrain red alert crawled all the way up from his heart and right out his mouth, and into that other version of him that was staying very still. 

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.” 

Raph put his arm down just as slowly, leaned back like he could telegraph every moment. His eyes stayed wide and locked on to him. “Okay, that’s okay.” 

“It wasn’t you,” the other him said, and Leo couldn’t feel his lips moving but he desperately wanted to be able to shut him up. “It wasn’t um— just. Jumpy. Pulled something funny, you know with the. The bandages.” 

Shit, Leo thought. Stick to the script, pal. 

“Right,” Raph said, without blinking. Like he was thinking something else. 

“Don’t do that,” other him said. “Okay, the big brother voice thing. I don’t need it, let’s just. Watch the movie, right?” 

He was suddenly aware of Donnie by his kneecaps, Mikey staring at him from the mound of pillows he’d made at Don’s legs. He needed this other him to shape up, acting classes were a must. He was flubbing big time, Leo did not flub. 

Raph shifted again, molasses slow, and gave Donnie a look. His twins face twitched with a nod, and he summarily picked up Mikey, blanket and all and shuffled into his lab. Traitor, Leo thought vaguely. Pincer attack, coordinated front. He hated that. That was his and Don’s thing.

Stepping on my turf, he meant to say. Other Leo’s mouth didn’t move, so he was useless. 

“Actually, Raph’s a little worried.” 

Oh, Leo thought, oh no. Fear lanced through him again, in some distant way. He could see his fingers twitching and couldn’t make them stop. “Worried? About what. Can I help, big guy?” 

Raph hummed. “Think you could, yeah. We haven’t talked about everything that happened, have we?” 

Well, Mikey had made him talk a little, about why he thought it would be okay to choose himself without telling anyone else first. Hugged him as tightly as he could with Leo’s broken ribs for three solid hours until Leo’d given in and promised he’d be kinder to himself. Donnie had been furious at him for three straight days somewhere after he’d blearily woken up from his coma, but they hadn’t talked directly about why yet. Suddenly, the look he’d caught clicks.

He was still too outside himself to react the right way. Other Leo looked away and twisted the blanket in his hands. 

Ever so slowly, he felt Raph’s warm hand land on his knee. He could see it, his big brother’s hand, green and normal. No spikes, no pink. He could breathe out— there was a rope somewhere there that guides him closer enough that he can flip his own hand around and squeeze. 

“Nothing to talk about, bro bro,” Leo managed, but it was croaky and lacking all the usual fizz. Fizzless, him. The horror was nearly too much to think about. 

The look Raph gave him was half a wince of apology, half tangled up exasperation. He didn’t like that there was guilt there. That didn’t fit. Raph hadn’t done a single thing wrong. 

“Leo.” 

He made himself swallow. “Raphala.” 

Raph sighed. Flipped Leo’s hand over so he could stare down at the bandages crossing his palm. He’d burnt the inside of his fingers somehow, he couldn’t even say when it happened. Silly, really. He’d laughed when Don had told him. Come to think of it, Dee hadn’t really looked like he’d agreed with the joke then either. 

He watched the way Raph traced his thumb across the white gauze, the way his face twisted and crashed down with mounting horror. 

“I’m so sorry, Leo. You know I love you, right?”

Other Leo made a second appearance, making his hands go numb. “I— of course? I love you too, what does that—?”

Raph’s non bandaged eye blazed when he looked up at him, swimming in the dim movie light. “I hurt you, Leo. I took your trust and I hurt you with it. Raphie’s so sorry.” 

That didn’t— Leo blinked rapidly. The world fell out of focus, clicked free of its puzzle piece board. Out into the ether. “Stop apologizing.” 

“Leo—”

“No!” Other him said it sharp, loud. Too electric behind the words, he winced at himself and didn’t feel his face move. “You don’t— you don’t get to apologize to me. That doesn’t— what are you talking about Raph?” 

Somehow his brother’s face only fell further, it made the panic in Leo’s chest sticky. “I said that wrong, I don’t—” It was so hard to think, why couldn’t he make himself think? “I’m not afraid of you! I’m not.” He wasn’t. Because it was Raph. 

“It’s okay if you are, buddy. Raph understands—” 

“I’m not!” Leo bit out, and blinked rapidly again as the world falls further out to sea. “I put you in danger, I jumped in and— I did something stupid, and you got brainwashed. Because I fucked up. Why aren’t you mad at me? Tell me what I did wrong!”

What’s wrong with me, he thought, vibrant and liquid like toxic sludge seeping down to his core. 

He couldn’t even see right anymore, everything had gone shapes and colors. It wasn’t even Raph in front of him, it was something. It was nothing and— 

“--breathe with me, okay? In. Out, that’s it. That’s perfect, Bug, keep doing that.” 

The Bug snapped him together, pulls all of his strings forward. Raph hadn’t called him that since they were toddlers, when he and Donnie had started insisting being twins and Raph tried to play along. Bug and Boo, he’d said all proud. Donnie had hated it instantly and rebuked any attempt at being called something so sweet by biting. Leo’d tried to make it fit a little better, since Raph seemed to like it so much.

‘S it b’cause I bug you?’ Leo’d said, sad and puddling up but hiding it with a teasing smile he knew would make the hurting less loud. 

Raph had smoothed his hand across his head and grinned. ‘It’s cause you’re my favorite bug.’ But it sounded like a good thing when Raph said it. 

Leo forced in a breath, feels his hands become his hands and his toes firmly plant as his toes. “Sorry,” he managed. “Sorry, went. Um. Somewhere. Back.” 

Raph’s big worried eye peered down at him, he let go of Leo’s hand with a firm squeeze. Leo shook his head, clearing out all the fuzz as much as he could. 

“I need you to hear me, just for a second. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Raph tried, worry making his voice small. “Can you believe me on that one thing? You were brave, and you got us through it, and most importantly you got Leo through it. I’m not mad.”

Leo scoffed, staring down at the blanket instead. Raph carefully scrubs a hand across the top of Leo’s head, warm and calloused the way he knows. 

“Raph wanted you safe. That’s all. And I hurt you, so it’s okay if you— if you need time.” 

Leo snapped his eyes up, grabbing at Raph’s hand again even before he pulled away. “I don’t! I don’t need you to go anywhere, or leave or. Please don’t leave.” 

Raph’s face gentled. 

“Can we just,” Leo couldn’t look at him, he couldn’t. “Can we just stay here for a minute? Maybe talking can be later.” When it wasn’t him and other him preferably, so he could say things the right way.

“Okay.” 

Raph settled back on the couch, slowly lifting his arm free and telegraphing the space underneath for Leo to decide. As if he needed to decide, the best place in the world was in Raph’s hugs. He’d always fit perfect there. 

Raph smoothed his hand across Leo’s head with his thumb, back and forth.The warmth pulled him all the way back into himself, almost with a shudder. Leo squeezed his eyes shut and buried his snout further into Raph’s side. It made him brave. “I’m not scared of you. I’ve never been scared of you, big guy.”

Raph’s thumb paused. Smoothed back again. “It’s okay if you are. That was… pretty scary.” 

Leo shook his head stubbornly. “Wasn’t you. I know my big brother anywhere. That wasn’t him.” 

He pretended kindly not to hear the hitch in Raph’s breathing. The warm chuckle after is like lottery gold. 

“Thanks, bug. I know you, too.” 

[pomefioredove]

i crave angst and hurt/comfort/fluff maybe something like that with vil? maybe reader gets hurt pretty badly or something and vil gets upset?? hehe angsty scenarios>>

on my hands and knees rn... vil... save me vil...

summary: anger is an ugly emotion type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, angsty..... mentions of bullying/abuse etc?? very open ended you can interpret that how you please, GOD this is indulgent

Anger is an ugly emotion.

So much is true even for Vil Schoenheit. If you asked him, there is nothing more undignified than losing your composure in front of others, especially those under your care.

No, Vil keeps such emotions to himself. If he feels the need to get a point across, or to settle a conflict, he will do so with grace and dignity. He won't even break a nail.

This is different.

This is seeing you turn away from him with tears in your eyes, and feeling as if the very world itself is crashing down around him.

He cannot stand it.

He cannot stand seeing you like this.

It shakes him to his very core. You've had bad days, evenings where you come crawling into Pomefiore looking as if the world had chewed you up and spit you back out at his feet, and he's tended to it.

He's combed your hair, cleaned the dirt out from under you nails, bandaged your paper cuts with a sort of gentleness he doesn't even reserve for himself, made you look new and whole again.

Vil can't help with this.

It drives him mad. It makes him feel like he's stuck inside his own ribcage with nothing but the sound of his beating heart, trapped in a flurry of confusion and anxiety.

He wishes you would just talk about it. It would make everything so much easier if you would let him help.

But he won't pressure you. He couldn't bring himself to. And, quite frankly, if he knew even the slightest detail about whomever had been making you feel this way, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself from finding them and mincing them to shreds.

As they deserved.

But Vil is not one to rush into anything. He is patient, cordial, taking his sweet time to understand a problem from all angles before enacting a solution.

And so, he doesn't ask.

He holds your chin between his delicate fingers and dabs at the corners of your eyes, hoping to brush away your misery along with your tears.

You sniffle. It's not a pretty sight- you're certainly no graceful crier.

He couldn't care less.

The only thing that Vil can think of now is how only one measly person could be your undoing.

After everything you've been through without even breaking a sweat, all it took were a few too-familiar words to melt you into a pool of bad memories and misery at his feet.

Sevens help whichever poor fool had done this to you.

"Now, now. That's alright," he coos, wiping your cheeks just as a new barrage of tears runs down them. "Don't worry about a thing."

You just barely manage to choke out a response. "I'm sorry, this is- this is embarrassing,"

"Nonsense. You have nothing to feel bad for. I promise I won't utter a word of this to the others,"

He cups your face in his palms, giving you a moment to compose yourself.

"Deep breaths," he instructs. "Seven seconds in, hold it, for just a moment, and then seven seconds out. There. Excellent job."

It's quiet. The sound of sobs and his own heart pounding seem to fade into quiet breaths shared between the both of you.

"Good," he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. A repetitive, soothing motion. "How do you feel?"

"Guilty," you say. "I didn't mean to ruin your evening."

"You've ruined nothing. You're very important to me, you know. I would never want you to think I'm too busy for you," he offers a smile. "Now, how do you feel?"

You're quiet for a moment, likely mulling over his words. Your voice is softer when you reply. "Tired,"

"Oh... you poor thing. I can't have you dead on your feet tomorrow, now, can I?"

You shake your head.

He stands, pulling you up with him. "Come along, then. Let's get you to bed. I'll help,"

He begins guiding you away from the couch you'd spent the better half of the evening sobbing on. You respond in a quiet voice.

"Vil?"

"Mm? Yes?"

"You promise you won't say anything about this to the others?"

A look of utter softness crosses his face at your request, and he smiles again. "My lips are sealed,"

[miajooz]

Hey pretty

How are you today ? Hope you are doing amazing! So I have a request that I don't know if it's your cup of tea so feel free to ignore this.❤

How would you feel on modern!AU ellie and reader who where eachothers first loves meeting again after many years both having a family and talk with so much love to each other and it's angsty and lalalandish if you know what I mean . Anyway thats it !

Because I loved you first

warnings 𖤓 - not many warnings, just angst and fluff! use of y/n a few times—topics of homophobia, alcohol, and drugs mentioned. - wc: 5.8k

extra 𖤓- thank you so much for the request, beautiful. IM SO GRATEFUL!! i also wrote this while waiting on the poll for gamer!ellie, so i promise ill start writing when i see the results! anyways, i hope this is to your liking!

you know what people say about your first love—well—they say a lot of things. many theories suggest that you never get over your first love, even if you have a knew lover. your first love is the birth of all your feelings, the place where all those ideas and expectations for what you want in a relationship really bloom. that’s because you see it first hand, you see your cards laid out and how each of you play them to form a functional relationship.

even the toxic relationships with no functionality are remembered. is it to say they’re remembered for the sole purpose that they were toxic and messy? or maybe it’s for the same reasons as how you remember any first love. sure, you remember the bad parts, that’s the most obvious part of a toxic relationship. but what about the similarities? every relationship with a first love is different, different people have different experiences—that’s common knowledge.

but what about the similarities? more specifically, heartbreak.

heartbreak is at the end of all these kinds of relationships, though some feel heartbreak throughout a relationship. at least one of you has to feel it, it also seems to be a common theme in lesbian couples. not to be stereotypical per se, but something about these relationships feels so forbidden; even in modern times. it all depends on your environment, it doesn’t matter that it’s more normalized now. maybe it’s because you’re still figuring out yourself when you’re with your first love, even more so if you’re trying to put a pin on what your sexuality is.

that’s why when things end, it feels like you’ve lost a piece of yourself. the piece of yourself and the front you made for this amazing person in your life, is gone. it’s irrelevant to hold onto such passions and ideals when the person they were intended for isn’t in your life anymore. so yeah, in simple terms: it’s as if you’ve lost a piece of yourself. but what are you to do when you’re left questioning who you are again?

break ups happen for many reasons, sometimes you get bored, some cheat, some abuse, the reasons are endless. but what about the people who don’t have a say in their own relationship? what about the people who have to sit back and watch everything they built with the love of their life be torn from their hands with no warning. even if there’s a warning, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

your first love embeds vivid memories into your brain, memories and feelings you can’t forget in situations like yours. your first love can become an extension of yourself, it’s such a profound experience you can’t help but feel as though it’ll never be replicated, as if you’ll never feel that way again. there’s a mold your first love makes, a mold that your relationships afterwards follow. maybe that’s why you can’t forget. the root, the heart, the soul, all of the foundation for your next relationships are built off your first one. it’s like an answer key, because you know what you want.

especially if nothing went wrong, then you really had everything you wanted.

that’s what happened to you and ellie. you both met in high school, she wanted to major in astronomy and you wanted to major in psychology. the two of you were good friends before, but the friendship faded after the two of you hung out alone so many times. the friendship developed into something much more, it was almost as if it was destined.

in your case, you had your future practically planned out for you. your parents had such old, traditional ideals; it was suffocating. everyday of your life felt like playing dolls, like you were a puppet in a big show for everybody to cast expectations and ideals on in the name of legacy. they wanted you to have a husband and kids, safe to say they didn’t want you to go to college—let alone have a girlfriend. but somewhere in your delusional mind, you thought maybe you’d have control over your life for once.

your life ended the day you had that sleepover with ellie. the sleepover you hosted at your house, it was new year’s eve . new year’s eve was a fun night, you could watch the fireworks with the love of your life on your balcony and talk about everything and anything. the fireworks were so beautiful that night, but not nearly as beautiful as ellie. the way her messy hair framed her face and blew in the slight, cold breeze. the way you’d occasionally feel her green eyes locked on you. what an entrancing woman, how’d you get so lucky?

your head was raised high, your eyes tracing all the beautiful bursts of color and life that people shot into the sky. the distant cheers of children cheering and screaming in excitement over a new year. a fresh start for some people, but not to you. to you, this was a start to taking control of your life. you’d work to grow more with ellie, get a house, live happily. that’s what you both wanted, you just wanted to be happy.

but hope was a curse, a curse that made you think things would be okay in situations that would never be okay.

ellie wasn’t watching the fireworks, well—maybe she was. but she was watching them through your eyes, the way your pupils expanded and reflected the rainbow colors shooting into the sky from all directions. you had such a calm, peaceful look on your face. her heart just swelled, you were so beautiful she wanted to cry.

she reached her hand towards you a bit until they connected, interlocking your fingers. that snapped you out of your mesmerized state, the colors fading from your pupils as you looked at her instead. her green eyes were reflecting yours, a beautiful mirror that told so many stories and so many feelings.

“you’re so beautiful.” she murmured, her body quite close to yours. her grip on your hand tightened a bit, those beautiful green eyes looking at you like you were a work of art. like she was at a museum looking at an ancient greek statute, like you were gifted by aphrodite herself.

all you could do was smile, your face was so soft and filled with genuine love. she was the love of your life, there was no doubt about that. you let out a short laugh, leaning in to kiss her. your lips connected softly, it was a gentle kiss that spoke so many unspoken words.

it looked like a scene from a romance movie, you never felt so much love for a person—not ever. your lips were soft against her chapped ones, almost symbolic in the way of healing. the kiss wasn’t very progressive, you kind of just sat there and kissed her over and over again.

that’s when the door to your bedroom creaked open, though you didn’t notice. you were too focused on ellie to care about anything else, plus, how could a door opening be heard over booming fireworks clouding your senses?

in the doorway was your mother, the look on her face could be described as horrified. ellie seemed to know something was up from the shift in energy, she opened her eyes slightly and broke the kiss, looking over her shoulder. there was your mother, standing in the doorway like she just saw somebody dead on the floor. as if ellie just murdered her daughter.

you immediately got curious when ellie broke the kiss, so you mirrored her actions.

your heart dropped to your chest, oh my god.

“shit..” you mumbled under your breath, looking at your mother with an equally horrified expression. this couldn’t be happening, why did things have to go so wrong? you tried to pull your hand away, but ellie didn’t let you. seriously, what was there to hide now?

“mom—“ you started, but you were quickly cut off by her angry voice. this was not good.

“what the hell is this, y/n?! did you just kiss that girl?!” she asked in utter shock and disappointment. that wasn’t the part that hurt you, the disgusted undertone is what hurt. as if you could describe something so blatantly obvious an undertone.

“mom, she’s my girlfriend. i didn’t think it would be a big deal.” you tried to reassure her, brushing it off as casual. why wouldn’t it be casual? was it a crime to love somebody? but you knew it was in her eyes, in the eyes of somebody like her.

your mother wasn’t having it, she looked between you and ellie with utter repulsion. ellie bit her cheek as to soothe her nerves, this was a very awkward situation for her. what made it harder was how upset you looked,

that alone hurt, it hurt a lot.

“oh, so sneaking around behind my back is okay?” she stared, her manufactured fingers pointing at your direction in a scrutinizing way. her eyes locked on ellie, narrowed in disdain and anger. “get out, get out of my house.”

you’re jaw dropped a bit, you were furious. she stared at your mother wide eyed, torn between letting go of your hand and leaving or staying to fight this. ellie couldn’t leave you behind, that wasn’t the type of person she was.

“what the hell is wrong with you, mom?! she’s my girlfriend!” you argued, stepping in front of ellie a bit. you never raised your voice at your mother before, but this situation seemed fit. as you saw it, respect was earned, not given.

your mother was livid, especially since your reaction was so raw and angry. over a girl? repulsive. “no, no she’s not. not anymore, you’re breaking up with her now.” she said firmly, not even hesitating when she saw your hurt expression. “you will have a husband, i won’t allow such sin and shamefulness in my household. do you want to be kicked out?!”

your face dropped, kicked out? you knew how your mother could be, she’d strip you of everything you knew and loved if it didn’t align with her. did she seriously want to kick you out over this? you’d be on the streets, you were still 17. ellie couldn’t take you in either, she was going off to college in three weeks.

before you could argue back, ellie did. “what the actual fuck is wrong with you?! did you have her just to control her life?!” she yelled, trying to charge towards your mother, but you held her back. you tried to intervene but it was no use.

your mother looked appalled, the shift in her expression made your blood run cold. “get the hell out of my house, you’ve corrupted my daughter.” she accused, her eyes falling on you next. “if you don’t break up with her i’m kicking you out.”

those words rung in your head over and over, it was as if time slowed. you almost thought it’d be worth it. you couldn’t lose ellie, she was absolutely everything to you. she was the only person in your life who genuinely made you feel like you mattered. but you couldn’t argue this, your mother was a stubborn as a rock.

ellie was shocked, this was absolutely unreal. she didn’t want to do all of this in front of your mother. she let out a shaky sigh before gripping your hand much tighter. “fine.” she said begrudgingly, immediately pulling you towards the door. she pushed your mother out of the way, looking over her shoulder as you walked through the house.

you were in your front yard now, since that’s where ellie dragged you. you were sobbing at this point, crouched down with her and clinging onto her like a lifeline. this was the hardest moment of your life. as much as you wanted to stay with ellie, that wasn’t realistic.

“please, please don’t leave me. i love you so much.” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face uncontrollably. your mother was watching through some window, her expression cold and angry. but you didn’t care, and neither did ellie. all she could worry about was you and your well being—what would happen if you were actually kicked out. seeing you cry so hard and the idea of having to leave you had her sobbing as well.

ellie shushed you, running her hands up and down your arms comfortingly. but it didn’t do much, especially since she was crying herself. “shh, it’s okay, baby. i love you too, i love you so, so much.”

those words were so unbearably painful to hear, you couldn’t even breathe, let alone form a decent thought or sentence besides a plea. your heart felt like it was squeezing every ounce of joy in your life out and into a dumpster. it felt like everything you did was being destroyed in front of you helplessly.

“please don’t leave me.” you repeated, unsure what else to say. “please don’t leave me.” you had mascara streaming down your face messily, it was a devastating sight to your girlfriend.

ellie’s heart was torn to shreds, watching her person in so much pain was too much. she wiped some of the mascara with her thumb, though it didn’t do much. maybe she just wanted to touch you.

“i know, baby. i’m so sorry.” she murmured, her hands lingering on your face. “please don’t cry, you look so pretty tonight.”

those words only made you sob harder, even more so when you saw her shift. why was she standing up, she couldn’t possibly be leaving, right? you let out some sort of strangled cry, desperately reaching for her. you didn’t allow her to stand up all the way.

“no, no! ellie, ellie—please!” you sobbed, desperately clinging onto her shirt. ellie’s face contorted into one of pure devastation, like she just lost everything she loved. she did, you were her whole world and more. she leaned down a bit, her eyes sympathetic and spilling out tears. then your lips connected, but it wasn’t as comforting as the one from earlier. she kissed you softly, and then she stood up.

you choked out another loud cry, reaching for her like she was about to run into a battlefield. “i love you, i love you so much, okay?“ she was wiping the tears from her eyes as they fell. watching your crumbled form on the floor, she couldn’t take it. she looked up at the sky, the fireworks booming now just felt like stabs to her heart.

before you could protest, she was walking towards her car. you reached out for her and weakly screamed, unable to form a coherent sentence—not even a plea. this was the hardest thing ellie had ever done in her life, but it had to be done. she couldn’t allow herself to be the reason your life went to shit, no, you deserved much better than that.

when she drove away, all you did was cry in your front lawn. hunched over, hands on your head, sobbing. it was the kind of sobbing that knew no bounds, the kind that poured out of you in a way you didn’t know was possible.

oh, ellie. the love of your life, your soulmate. yeah, you were lost again for sure.

so..how did you end up here? this was quite a few years later. ellie was gone, but she never left your mind. that night never left your mind, the night where you lost yourself again in a way you didn’t know was possible. but ellie wasn’t in a much better place, starting college after suffering such a heartbreak wasn’t easy.

every new years felt like a stab to the chest, the memory faded over time but of course it was never gone. that was the woman who shaped your identity, who taught you what loving somebody actually meant. forgetting was impossible—all because you loved her. all because she was your first, all because she was the reason you felt even a sliver of comfort in your fake, dollhouse of a life.

where was that same comfort when your mother arranged for you to marry a man? a wealthy man, sure, but it wasn’t ellie. ellie made you feel wealthy in a way that wasn’t financial, you felt rich because you had the best girlfriend in the history of the universe. this random man was nothing to you, the feeling was mutual. that nothingness for him continued even when you had your beautiful daughter. but you loved her, even if she was created from such a cold, heartless man.

in a picture, your life looked so perfect. you had a rich husband and a beautiful daughter, what more could you want? but it wasn’t perfect, not when you weren’t loved, not when your so called husband was running off with other women anyways—not that you cared, but it just highlighted how fucked up your life really was. you didn’t want much, it’s not like you wanted the world. you just wanted the love of your life back, the only person on this earth who actually cared about you wasn’t there. you didn’t even get to go to college, your life was a living hell. you didn’t get to pursue the one thing you wanted besides ellie, you had absolutely nothing besides your daughter.

ellie’s life wasn’t much better, even if she had the freedom you didn’t have. she was with a woman named dina, the two of them were raising a baby together. but when ellie lost her adoptive father, things went downhill fast. she wasn’t the same woman, she couldn’t sleep or eat or even function. she started partaking in self sabotaging habits like drinking and drugs. she never took any of her anger out on dina, but she still couldn’t take it anymore.

dina made the hard decision to break up with ellie, it wasn’t going well and she had to do what was best for her son, jj. ellie understood, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. she still visited dina and jj sometimes when she was well, but it didn’t make her feel any less lonely. she was all by herself, stuck in an empty house with empty bottles.

she knew she was hurting everyone around her, but she was so stuck in that hole. that hole of depression and loneliness that isolation caused. that hole was almost impossible to escape alone, that’s why isolation is such an issue when you’re depressed. usually when she was drunk and hazy, crying on the couch in an empty house, her thoughts would drift back to you. they’re drift to that night where she had to just walk away, regretting everything she did. even if it was for the best, it hurt. in her dark moments, you were always there. but where were you now?

so, again, how did you get here? how did you manage to find yourself standing face to face with your first love, how did you manage to look her in the eyes? it was some sort of new year’s eve party at a park, people were celebrating and partying. once again, it felt like a fresh start for everybody but you. your friends dragged you along so you wouldn’t be trapped in your house on new year’s eve. you left your bastard of a husband to babysit your daughter while you left to go have fun—or at least try to.

ellie was here on her own accord. new year’s eve was so hard now, she figured forming more positive memories around it would he beneficial. but when she saw you, everything changed. it was a like a switch in her mind just flipped, was she hallucinating? she didn’t recall taking any hallucinogens, did someone slip one in her drink? she wouldn’t put it past her if she was hallucinating you, considering you were always on her mind. perhaps the lack of sleep and stress was getting to her, because this couldn’t be real.

so she stood there, her slightly veiny hands gripping her drink tightly. she was wearing wearing a brown, leather jacket with slight fur or sherpa on the insides and collar. her jeans were a pale, washed out color—this was an outfit joel would usually wear, as if that was comforting her in any way. her expression was wide eyes, her jaw slightly agape. so many feelings rushed through her body at that moment, feelings she was trying so hard to forget.

you were just as shocked, your drink falling out of your hands and shattering on the concrete. was this seriously happening? you were in a tight, purple, silk dress. it wasn’t too short, but it rested on your thighs nicely. your outfit screamed class and wealth, which wasn’t exactly wrong. the pearls and endless jewelry adorning your body further pushed that idea.

for awhile you just stared, neither of you speaking first, what was there to say? this was the woman you were yearning for the past 7 years of your hellish life, the woman who started everything for you. this was the woman who showed you what it felt like to be loved, the woman you dreamed of finding again. how was this so..normal? in your mind, she was across the damn world—but she was just right here. you dreamed of finding her again, and now you did—in such a strange setting.

ellie stared back, the urge to go chug alcohol until she blacked out was overwhelming. that seemed to be a more prominent urge as of recently. she didn’t wanna feel those emotions again, but she couldn’t help but feel relief. you looked okay, you seemed to be in a good situation which was relieving to her worrying mind.

a good situation—in the sense you looked healthy.

“ellie?” you questioned, your voice soft as it cut through the deafening silence between you two. ellie didn’t respond at first, her mouth was open in preparation to say something—but it was hard.

“hey..” she managed, her tone soft and laced with nervousness. but somehow it didn’t feel awkward, simply speaking to her again just felt so natural.

“what are you doing here? i didn’t—“ you let out a. shaky breath to which she noticed, “i didn’t think i’d see you here.”

ellie let out a small scoff, her lips curled into a soft smile. it was barely visible, but she used to always smile around you. your heart sunk, some sort of noise lodged in your throat. “just..drinking, i guess. what’re you doing here?”

you let out a small laugh, your manufactured hands fidgeting in front of you. “we’re in the same boat.” you said smoothly—or at least you tried to say smoothly.

“how have you been?“ she asked, her head tilted to the side a bit. she held her drink in her hands, unable to even think about it. all she could think about was how pretty you looked in that dress. was it too soon to say she wanted you back? too soon was bullshit, shes wanted you back ever since that night.

there was silence on your end. you couldn’t lie to her, but how could you tell her how much of a mess your life was? yet you did it anyways, as if you believed she could save you. “i..uh, i have a daughter now..” you started, clearing your throat. “but i didn’t get to go to college.”

ellie’s eyes were widened, a daughter? that hurt, that hurt a lot. did that mean you were currently with somebody? in her mind she still had a chance to get you back, this was a very defeating loss. but she tried not to assume, she didn’t know your situation yet. she pushed that feeling away, especially when she saw how troubled you looked. hearing that you didn’t get to go to college upset her, mainly because she knew psychology was a huge passion of yours. she instantly knew it was your mother’s doing.

“a daughter, huh? congrats.” she praised, the smile on her lips was much bigger now. she let it fade a bit so she could address the college topic more seriously, “why didn’t you go to school?”

you swallowed thickly, clearing your throat to mask the nerves, “my mom arranged me to marry my current husband, so..” you mumbled, “so i wasn’t able to go to college.”

this seemed to piss ellie off a lot, you could tell by the ‘subtle’ way she tightened her grip on her drink. but it was understandable, this situation was absolutely ridiculous. maybe it was ellie’s natural hatred for your mother because of that one new year’s eve night, but she was livid.

“are you fucking kidding me?” she questioned in disbelief, her voice was laced with anger and maybe something like disappointment. she knew how smart you were, it was upsetting to see somebody with such big dreams and ambitions trapped in a life they never wanted. “wow, i’m so sorry.” she rubbed the back of her neck softly, unable to really emphasize her sympathy. but you understood, you understood the ways ellie expressed herself and emotions even after so long.

you offered her a small smile, trying to be reassuring—if possible. “it’s alright, i’m happy to have my daughter in my life.” you explained, which was definitely true, “how have you been?”

now it was ellie’s turn to be silent, and of course you noticed the mood shift immediately. she brought her glass up to her lips and took a sip, her eyes didn’t leave yours for a single second. she took two sips before sighing and holding the glass in front of her. she was acting like a husband who was sick of their wife and kids or something.

“ah, not great. joel actually passed away a few months ago.” she explained, trying to keep her whole demeanor and voice level. but it was hard, you could hear the way her voice cracked in vulnerability when she spoke his name.

you were genuinely shocked by this, upon doing the math in your head, you realized joel was probably around 55 years old. that was young, how utterly heartbreaking. you had a lot of good memories with joel, even if him and ellie didn’t get along all the time—he accepted you two. he was the biggest supporter when the two of you broke up, but you didn’t know that. you didn’t know that he also tried to contact you and check up on you. but your mother stopped that, evil witch.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry, ellie.” you offered, immediately stepping closer to her and rubbing her arm comfortingly—it was like how she comforted you on the night she left you. rubbing your shoulders like you were a fragile work of art. it seemed to work, because she perked up immediately. her eyes fell on the hand that was now caressing her arm, the feeling was so natural but so distant. she missed this, she missed how softly you touched things when you cared. especially when you used to touch her, you were so careful with her even if it was unnecessary

you didn’t even realize you were touching her until she perked up, touching her was like a reflex even after all these years. she was still your soulmate, even if you hardly knew each other—your souls were tied. they were tied in the way that couldn’t be separated, even if you were on different ends of the earth. even if you were trapped in shitty marriages or broken relationships. soul ties didn’t break that easily.

“thank you, i appreciate it.” she replied, her expression was soft. oh, you missed that expression so much. that was almost how she looked at you that night on your balcony. new year’s eve was a cursed day. “i uh..i had a girlfriend but we just broke up. grief changes people—me.” she added, though she didn’t talk about jj for some reason. that was too much to explain, so much to explain and so little time.

your expression was somber, you were really hoping ellie would be well off. maybe that was just the bad stuff, maybe she was well off besides these more recent events. “i get it, just let yourself heal, okay? what about college, did you still go?”

the change in topic seemed to lift her mood a bit, you always used to have that effect on her. “yeah, i’m actually trying to be an astrophysicist or a cosmologist.” she explained, a soft smile painted on her lips now. “it’s been hard with so much shit happening, but i’m managing.

this pleased you, that was actually really great to hear. ellie had always been passionate about space and the history of the universe, so the fact she was trying to pursue her passion made you really happy for her. “that’s amazing, ellie!” you congratulated her, you had a big smile on your face.

ellie laughed in response, your enthusiasm was infectious. she missed that about you, how you could light up anybody’s mood from simply existing. it was because you were genuinely a good person, because you cared for people in a way that was so deep and so true.

“thanks, maybe i should talk your ear off again like i used to. i’m learning a lot of new things, you know?” she joked, but there was a genuine undertone. she wanted nothing more than to talk to you, she wanted to build something with you again. she wanted to learn about your life and be in it again, her life was so dull and lonely without you.

your smile faded a bit, though it wasn’t because you reacted badly. you stared at her, stared at the woman who you had longed for every waking moment for the last 7 years. you longed for her in your dreaming hours too, but just the waking ones. you smiled again, though it was more genuine.

“i’d like that, i’d like that a lot.” you replied, it was affectionate in a way. you wanted nothing more than to chat with her, curse this life of yours. you didn’t want to be a stay at home wife, you didn’t want to be with that bastard you call a husband; you wanted ellie. that’s all you wanted, you felt like that would fix everything.

ellie’s smile widened at this, it was like when you first took your relationship further back then. only this was different, this felt so forbidden in a way and so familiar.

your hands slid down from her arm and you grabbed her hand, holding it between both of yours. it felt like that moment on that balcony 7 years ago, when you kissed and held hands and watched the fireworks. there were fireworks booming around the two of you, but you paid them no mind. the colors shot beautifully into the dark sky, but just like last time, ellie was far prettier.

ellie was watching you, she watched as if everything around her was a white void. she almost immediately gripped your hand, the look on her face was so sincere and genuine. it was so full of affection and love, the affection and love you didn’t dare forget. the love that was your first, the love that taught you what it meant to love. the love that made you feel like you were the only one in the room, in the world, in the universe.

“you look so pretty tonight.” she coaxed, you could tell she meant every word. it was like those words were pulled straight out of her heart and put on a platter just for you. all you could think about was that night again, when she called you pretty as she held your hand and kissed you.

you could feel your heart flutter, all those feelings from last time came back to life in that moment. all the wishing and dreaming and yearning, all of it seemed worth it now. ellie was worth anything and everything, the fact you were apart for so long only made you want her more. you would figure out a way to be with her again, you’d do absolutely anything. you’d take control of your life for once, you’d live your dreams with the girl you loved and go to fucking college. you’d get a house, let your daughter meet her, and just be happy. this moment was the boost you needed—if things went well, that is.

your eyes were slightly glazed over, fighting back tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. you squeezed her hands so tight it must’ve been painful, but it was as if you were let her go then you’d never find her again. as if she wouldn’t find her way back to you, as if you wouldn’t be so lucky next time. your expression was sincere as well, that loving look that spoke volumes of how you felt. it spoke the words your soul and heart couldn’t.

“ellie” you started, trying your best not to cry like you did that new year’s eve 7 years ago,

“let’s try again.”

tagsss! <3 @eriiwaii @valeisaslut @haithone @usuck

[quesocheeso]

Just had a thought that's pretty angsty, maybe even a tad out of character lol but you can tell me if you choose to answer this, but I wonder if Macaque was the one to first notice that Xiaoxing couldn't use any magic, and I wonder if at first Macaque was worried that Wukong would suddenly thing less of their son and tried to hide it at first. Of course his worries aren't needed becasue the only thing Wukong feels now is worry for his son's safety since he 1- already got kidnapped as a baby once and 2- by association to both him and Macaque could be a target in the future. Cue a cute moment where Wukong is just like "Whatever, he can't use magic, but considering everything I'm just glad you're both alive."

Also completely unrelated thought (sorry I just love this au it gives me a lot of thoughts lol) but do you think that maybe shadowpeach suspected that Xiaoxing might be able to use magic in the future? Like I imagine the kid has some sort of magical aura or smth which would be a bit odd for him to have if there was no magic in him at all, so maybe the parents see that and wonder if there's something there that just hasn't shown itself Yet. But that's not the type of thing they can really do anything about so they just leave it and wait and see. And then they end up being proven right at The Angsitest Moment Possible :D

I like the way ya think anon😁 and definitely not out of character cause yeah Mac would definitely notice first and would try and hide it because of how turbulent shadopeaches' relationship is at the beginning of their co-parenting arc but you're right Wukong doesn't care because at the end of everything, power has been a source of a lot of disfortune in his life, and if he's own child doesn't have to deal with the intricasies of power levels and politics and just live a normal life the better.

If anything he begins to put countermeasures and become even more protective of Xiaoxing, he looks into whether the lack of magic would be harmful, even reaches out to Guanyin for help which she assures everything is okay, then he comes back to ffm relieved , and then at one point he sits down with Macaque and for the first time in centuries they have a proper heart to heart, they don't talk about their past just about Xiaoxing, and holding his hands Wukong promises that Xiaoxing not gaving magic doesn't chage anything and that he loves him the same and that he'll do anything to keep him safe as he grows up, which Macaque just short circuits because he's used to the Wukong who was power hungry, the Wukong who kept stricing for more magic, more immortalities, more power, and for this Wukong, the one sat in front of him holding his hands gently, to look him in the eye and tell him that power doesn't matter to him more than the safety of their child, that Xiaoxing could never gain magic and he would not love him less for that, just takes all the air out of his lungs.

And for the first time, Macaque actually sees that Wukong has changed.

As for whether they knew he had magic, I'm gonna say no, his power was pretty locked, he did have small traces of it growing up but the kid was basically a celestial primate, so he's already a magical being so people pretty much correlated both of those things instead of maybe him having some unlocked magic.

Why it was unlocked? I'm not sure yet, but if we go by what i wrote before than it was a survival mechanism that only allows him to access his magic when he thinks/is in grave trouble, so as a baby he just assumes he needs to ward off enemies as soon as he is born because of how stressed Macaque was through it all, but after being moved to ffm he basically lives a safe stress free life. So there's no need for all of his reserves of magic.

I parallel Xiaoxing to Gohan when they access their power, like only in moments of rage or danger they get a power boost that makes them the strongest person around.

Whether or not Xiaoxing is able to access that power after all the world ending events pass is still up in the air rn.

[tan1shere]

Hi! So if you’re comfortable with it i’d love to request Professor!Billie x reader. I love how in “Her Favorite” Billie asks if Reader is okay and if she needs anything. So what if Reader is quiet and shy but is sh-ing maybe Billie sees scars on her arm? Idk just super fluffy and angsty. Again please only write it if you’re comfortable with the request. Have a great day and thank you for your amazing writing 💕

My priority

A/n: yes ofc !! Thank you for checking angel, I'm more than ok with writing this :) I hope you enjoy <3

Warnings - mentions of self harm, cuts ??, and depression, so please don't read if it's triggering in any way ! || Masterlist

Another draining day at this hell hole of a college. You dreaded it each day you just wanted to stay in bed and hide from everyone. You go to your first class of the day, wearing oversized everything as you couldn't care less you just wanted to be comfortable. You take a seat at the back, out of everyone's way. When you accidentally bump into someone. "Sorry." You say timidly. "Watch where you're going." They say bluntly. You sigh hoping this day doesn't drag on too much.

Nearing the end of this class, you couldn't be more happier. Although you loved your professor. She was the kindest person, and honestly made it a lot less horrible. Everyone has already left, like always you are the last to leave. "Bye Ms O'Connell." You give her a gentle smile. She does the same. "Bye sweetheart, have a good day." You blush slightly, she always made you so nervous. Did you have a slight crush on her?

Fast forward a few weeks and you were having the worst day known to man. You had woken up late, burned your tongue. Every little thing seemed to happen, badly. Setting your whole mood off. You had even forgotten your jacket, feeling cold. Bringing your arms around your body ever so slightly everywhere you went. You weren't always such a joyful person, you had severe depression. It always lingered inside you maybe that's why people never wanted to be near you, were you scary to them?

It was that same class again, and you honestly couldn't of been more thankful, knowing she'd cheer you up just by her presence. You go to sit down in your usual spot, writing down something when you feel a presence by you. Ms O'Connell, she was looking at you with the softest smile. But her eyes moved from your face and it faded. Your brows furrow wondering why she was looking at you in such a way. Had you spilt something on yourself- but as she walks to the front and you look. You facepalm.

You idiot, how could you forget your jacket for that reason. She most definitely saw them, and now you truly wanted to hide. Instead of being last you try to be the first one out. "Y/n, hun?" You hear her say making you stop. Her voice was so delicate. Your head turns to look at her. Humming in response. "Could we talk?" You slowly nod. Approaching her slowly, you look into her eyes. "I'm here for you." Is all she says. Your eyes avert from hers, watching as the other students leave. "And you can always-" She begins but you turn back to face her with tears in your eyes.

It truly breaks her heart. She doesn't say a word just brings you into a hug which you tightly reciprocate. Crying softly into the hug. "It's ok, you can talk to me." She soothes your hair, gently kissing the top of it. She knew you needed as much comfort right now. "I feel so alone." You sobbed, honestly quite pathetically but you couldn't care less you just needed this hug desperately. You needed warmth of someone.

"Shhh, it's ok. You're never alone. And if it helps you have me, I promise." Maybe it was childhood trauma but you felt comfort in her, even if she was your professor. She moves you with her going into her tiny office in the room. "We can sit here for awhile, you can rant. Cry more. Or just stay silent whatever you prefer. Just know I'm here for you." You hug her so tightly after she says that.

You finally felt seen.

Im so sorry if this isn't the best :( my brain was lacking more creativity but I hope this is what you were after even a little bit :)!

[eumivrse]

HOUSE OF CARDS : nanami kento

summary when nanami catches up to you in kuantan, he vowed to make it up to you for lost time.

warning(s) IMPLIED SHIBUYA INCIDENT SPOILERS!!! i tweaked it from canon obvi, nanami & reader are married, dirty talk, fingering, fem receiving oral, squirting, creampie, breeding, kitchen sex, lots of profanity, some fluff and angst !!

word count 4,435

note manifestation of ‘me and nanami are actually in malaysia rn’. also title inspo from house of cards by bts bc the song is angsty yet it sounds raunchy?!! that’s the intention !!!

“You’re going to hurt your neck sleeping like that.” A familiar voice awoke you from your slight doze, blinking twice to see your husband crouched in front of you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, lips trembling as you clasp your arms around him. Sniffling against his chest, you crumple your hand on his blue button up, a way to convince yourself that this is real.

That he really made it out alive.

“I hate you.” You sob, jabbing at him with light punches. Fellow passengers exiting from their respective flights are staring at you two, but you couldn’t care less when a huge lump in your throat has been removed.

He pats the back of your head, your chin resting on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, honey. Have you been waiting long?”

This trip has been something you mutually have been anticipating since last year. Your husband had always wanted to visit Malaysia and naturally, you decided that the first time you two will ever go out of the country as a married couple will be here at Kuantan.

Getting your schedules aligned for a 2-week long getaway— well, it wasn’t easy. Working as sorcerers under the jujutsu society doesn’t grant you much vacation time. After all, there’s not enough people to compensate for your absence if the both of you go under the radar for two weeks straight. And it definitely didn’t help that Kento is highly valued as a first grade sorcerer.

Your flight was scheduled for 8:30PM until he got a call saying he was needed at Shibuya urgently even though it has been settled months prior that he will be out of the country by this time. To say that you were livid that they even asked for him doesn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling.

But of course, in his old Kento fashion way, he reassures you, “Go on the flight without me, love. I’ll catch up with you. I promise.” You knew his words were empty— you had an intuition especially since it was an urgent request and people’s lives were already on the line.

It was selfish for you to want him to ignore the calls that night but you knew there was a chance— even if it’s a mere 5% — that he would never be able to catch up with you.

His sweet voice convinced you enough to go on the flight anyways, but the 10 hour flight to Kuantan was the probably worst 10 hours you’ve had to live through in your life. Being on a plane with an empty seat next to you where your husband is supposed to be sitting had you thinking all kinds of crazy thoughts, your heart sunken. You damn near already prepared a eulogy in your head from the thoughts intruding your peace of mind.

It wasn’t until you were waiting at the airport that slumber had overtaken your paranoia and you fell asleep in one of the waiting areas near the boarding terminals, although uneasy.

“Is everything at Shibuya okay now?” You choke, face flushed with heat, eyes streaming with tears that had no sign of stopping any time soon.

“There are problems, but everyone’s fine. I don’t want you to worry about that right now, though.”

He presses a loving kiss on your forehead before parting from the hug and standing up from his knees.

He holds out his hand for you to grab onto. “Let’s go,” he looked so fatigued, but he couldn’t even think about his body crashing down on him when he’s just relieved that he’s able to see you again.

You take his hand, using the back of your free one to wipe your tears away. “Okay.”

It was easy to find out why Kento was dreaming of this place. It was simple, yet the natural scenery was what made it so beautiful. Palm trees swaying along with the wind’s grace, the water in its crystal glory, reflecting onto the sky’s clementine hue, indicating the sun’s time to rise. You took your time to walk through the beach before settling in your rental, waves crashing across the shore far enough that it grazed your ankles.

Kento stood right where the seas met the land, letting his shoes get soaked despite it being completely out of his usual self. He’s very particular about keeping things neat, after all.

You lock your arm around his, gazing up to see him completely immersed with nature, eyes closed and head stretched back towards the sky. The bags under his eyes were apparent under the sun, the corner of his lip slightly upturning into a small smile. It’s not common to see him at such serenity considering he was just at the verge of death hours prior.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“This is everything I’ve ever wanted.” He cherishes, always having an appreciation for the simplest of things. If he could just run away and live here with you, away from the trauma he constantly experiences. He knows that’s not productive and that neither of you would actually approve of it, but he couldn’t care less about technicalities right now.

It’s a good change outside the chaos and turmoil you constantly experience at work and living in the city. The gentle breeze glides past Kento’s hair, and you stay still for a short while, taking advantage of this moment as it’s rare to do so back at home.

The vacation rental you chose was perfect— walking distance from the beach and all the local businesses. The owners even left a welcoming note for the both of you and complimentary slippers to walk around the house in. It’s nothing grand, but you preferred this over a resort to keep things relaxing.

Kento plopped himself down on the couch and you decided you wanted to explore around to find something to eat. The anxiety was eating you from the inside earlier and you swore you would have puked if you ate.

You quickly changed from your previous outfit which reeked of airport air to a sundress you thought would be perfect for the tropical weather. He was dozing off on the couch with his neck craned, arms crossed, face towards the ceiling with his eyes closed, so you sneaked out of the house with quiet footsteps.

You came back just in time to see Kento in the same spot, except shirtless with a towel draped over his head. His damp hair gave you the impression that he had just taken a shower and you realize how long you took outside just to end up back here with a bag of Laksa and rice that you purchased from a nearby canteen.

Although it was safe to say that you got lost.

He was sitting with his elbows propped on his lap, fingers laced together like something was clouding his mind. “Are you hungry?” You ask as you walk across the living room and to the kitchen.

“Not necessarily,” he briefly replies. Exploring the cabinets for some plates, Kento got up from his position and helped you prepare the food by untying the plastic bags and pouring it on bowls. You set the food on the island, taking a step back and almost tripping on his foot, unaware that he was right behind you with utensils in hand.

You giggle and he chuckles while he places the silverware on the counter, one of his hands catching your shoulder. “Careful, love. Forks are no joke if they hit your eye.” You roll your eyes, finding it ironic that he’s so careful with forks knowing he’s seen you fight against things far more dangerous. Turning around, you only notice now that his bare chest is smeared with faint marks that resembled burn scars. It’s not uncommon for him to be wounded, but you always tend to get emotional when you see him hurt.

Concerned, you express your thoughts. “These look serious, are you okay?” You look up to meet his eyes, pursing your lips with the intent to suppress your tears. Trying to stay calm and collected was your way to not make Kento feel bad again, but how could that work when he already knew how you felt from the moment you asked?

He uses the tip of his thumb to catch the tear on your right eye before it even had the chance to trickle down. “I’m more than fine. Ms. Ieri got treated right away, it’s just that some of it is still healing.” His dulcet tone almost immediately made you feel a sense of tranquility as if his voice can make you forget all the problems in this cruel world.

“I’m glad,” you croak.

He leans down, eyes peering down your lips as he whispers gently, “You don’t have to worry about it anymore, okay?” And with that, he kissed you with a hint of longing and zeal, lips sealing onto yours with eagerness to go further. Your body had shifted due to his weight, your lower back hitting the ledge of the island, mouth opening into a small gasp. Kento grabbed that as an opportunity to shove his tongue inside as he curled his hands onto the edge of the counter to sandwich you in between.

Your hands roamed around his back, pulling him in closer that your chests are pressed against each other, tilting your head in intervals all while saliva started to seep out of your mouth from how messy and needy Kento seemed to be. You were tired— he’s tired, but the adrenaline rush of being under pressure for an extensive amount of time allotted you the energy to want something like this.

Kento is hungry, but not in the way you initially assumed.

You nibble on his bottom lip before he pulls away, his face rosy. “The bedroom— we should go there.” It was difficult to be coherent when you’re growing impatient and in heat, hiding the wet spot forming under your pretty little sundress.

He refuses by grabbing onto the back of your thighs and picking you up, placing you on the quartz counter. Your arms are laced around his neck, tucking your lips with enticement at how he was able to pick you up so swiftly when you don’t necessarily consider yourself light. He shakes his head, “I wanna have my food now though.”

Rolling your eyes, you giggle in embarrassment, “You’re a damn tease, Kento.” After all, nothing else could satisfy his cravings and relieve his pent up stress besides you.

He did the honors of lifting your dress up, seeing the huge spot of your arousal apparent on your panties. You hold onto the hem of the garment as he pinches on the garter of your underwear, pulling them down all the way, then letting it fall past your ankle and on the wooden floor. Your cunt glistened with slick already running down the middle of your slit, Kento collecting it with his index and middle finger before spreading it all over your folds. Legs trembling with anticipation, you twitch when he taunts your pussy by inflicting force on your sensitive clit with the tips of his fingers.

You hum, “Are you done playing with me yet?” He slips his fingers under and down where your hole is, pushing them in and letting you adjust around it before kneeling on the floor, so he could be eye-level with your cunt.

He blinks towards you, eyes glued onto yours as he spreads your legs apart with his free hand. “Not playing with you, baby. Just making sure you’ll feel comfortable.” Kento reveres as he pulls his fingers out from your hole to replace it with his tongue. Your upper body leans back as reflex, palms placed on the surface of the counter to keep leverage.

You cry out moans of his name mixed with a few curses as he switches between giving your clit small kisses and licking you all over your dripping pussy. “Fuck, Ken’. You’re making me go crazy…” It also didn’t help that he would look you in the eye periodically as he slides his tongue all along your slit. Just seeing him in between your legs with slick smeared on his cheeks was more than enough to make you cum.

Likewise, Kento’s shorts were starting to feel rigid, his cock rock hard under the tight confines of his clothes. Hell, he feels like he might cum now before he even gets the chance to do anything with it. He takes a pause, teasing your throbbing hole by flicking his index finger against it. He coos, “So beautiful…” Gazing up to meet you eye to eye again as he suctioned his lip against your clit, sucking on it like there’s no tomorrow. He wondered for a moment why he was even dreaming of Kuantan when he already gets the best view in between your legs whenever he wishes to.

One of the spaghetti straps of your dress fell loose on your shoulder, your tit almost peeking through the sorry excuse of a paper thin fabric. You take a chunk of his hair to pull onto as Kento pushes the base of your ass, giving him more allowance to make sure no drop of arousal is left wasted by catching it with his tongue. Heat rushed up to your cheeks as you threw your head back, snapping your eyes shut for a quick second before whimpering his name.

It probably isn’t smart to be so loud when the town is just getting started with their day at 9 in the morning, waking them up with noises you’d only hear at the dead of night. You could only pray that these walls are thick enough to mask the lewd noises from your neighbors.

A puddle of drool and slick pooled right below you as Kento proceeded to shove your thighs apart, not letting them get near each other to keep you wide open. He spits on your cunt, watching his drool drip down your ass while he aligns his fingers back against your hole, slipping them in as he continues to lick your clit.

You suck your breath in, “Kento, please, please, please—! Keep going—“ He had to chuckle in amusement that you’re already so worked up when he’s barely even begun, shoving his fingers in and out of your slippery pussy, far enough that you feel the desperate need to release.

He exhales, keeping his digits in steady speed, “Need you to cum all over my tongue, baby.” That request was a little selfish from his end, rushing you to your orgasm as he plunged his fingers in deep enough that clear liquid projectiled out your hole. You screamed his name while he used his mouth to slurp it all off, giving your clit small little pecks in between to ease you from your release.

His knees were sore as he stood up, coarse hands massaging your inner thighs as you wiped his chin with your thumb. “Are you okay?” He asks, sweeping his hands up to your waist then your shoulders.

“Mhm,” you hum, still trying to catch your breath.

He examines your state, looking you up and down with a smirk on his face. “Was this the dress I picked?” He pinches the loose strap on your shoulder and you nod.

“Yeah, and the one you paid for.” You wink.

He slowly lowers the strap on both sides, letting the dress fall enough for your titties to spill out, nipples all cute and perky. “It looks perfect on you, honey. But do you wanna know something?” He leans in closer to your face, his breath puffing against the tip of your nose.

“Hm?” Your curiosity is piqued, although you were becoming impatient with the growing need of him inside you. You knew he was holding it off as a way to taunt you.

“I think you’d look better with it off.” He whispers cheekily.

You look up with a scrunched face, half out of flattery and the other because of his crassness. “You’re so filthy,” you giggle, but you weren’t going to deny the throb of your pussy when he said those words.

He chuckles with a low gruff before locking his lips with yours, tugging you closer by gripping onto the side of your ass. You hop off the counter for a moment, parting from Kento with bated breath as you frantically shed the rest of your clothes off, leaving you bare. Not being able to get a good view prior, you finally see the tent poking through his shorts.

With a faint voice, you egg him on, “Need your cock inside me, Ken.” Cupping his clothed bulge, you graze your hand in a slow up and down motion, your husband cursing under his breath. You close in the space in between you, lips just right against his neck. “I want your cum shoved deep inside me, wouldn’t you like that too?” With a kiss on the crook of his neck, he could see that smug grin plastered on your face from the corner of his eye. You knew the weight of your words and how much that affects him. If he hadn’t had the self control he could’ve came right here and now.

He seethes, trying his best to save himself from the embarrassment. “Such a dirty girl you are.” When he grabs the back of your thighs, you use that as a gesture to leap back up on the counter, lacing your arms around his neck to keep him near.

You pout, “I learned from the best.”

Kento pulls his shorts down along with his boxers, his fat cock springing out, tip all pink and angry with translucent pre smeared on the surface. Your pupils dilate at the sight even though you’ve seen this in more scenarios than you can begin to imagine. His size has always been intimidating, biting your lip out of anticipation and slight nervousness.

With your legs already wide open, he presses the curve of his cock against your folds, sliding it up and down to warm himself up, his tip poking on your clit. Kento praises, “You’re so pretty,” cupping your cheek as he uses his free hand to align his cock right on your hole, pushing himself inside of you as slowly as possible.

You were squeezing onto him and he watched how your eyes knocked at the back of your head, mouth agape. Your cunt was sucking him in so well, it didn’t take long for him to thrust to the hilt, grunting from how tight you were. “Holding up okay?” He asks, hands wandering from your waist to your boobs, putting pressure on them with his palms to massage you, coaxing you to his size.

Your breath was shaky as you responded with a laugh tinged with an anxious tone, “Yeah… let’s stay like this for a minute.” You felt so full, you swear you could feel the veins on his cock pulsing against your walls.

“Okay, love. Take your time.” He presses a delicate kiss on your forehead. As soon as he flicks his thumbs on your nipples, you tightened around him again followed with a squeal slipping past your lips.

Your arms are still hung around his neck, using that to pull his face closer to yours. You could see every detail of his face from his prominent cheekbones to a few tiny red scratches he probably obtained from his mission earlier. You faintly hum, “I love you so much, Kento.” He smiles at that, his cheeks flaring a light pink tint. “I love you even more, sweetheart.”

A prompt, yet languid kiss closes off any other distance you may have had and you break away not long after just to give him the green light. “I’m ready now.”

Kento pulls his dick out halfway, then takes his sweet time to thrust it back in, testing the waters to make sure he isn’t hurting you. Your thighs tremble as he pulls away even further the second time, to the point where only the tip is inside. Sighing at how hollow you felt, you nearly choked on your gasp when he suddenly stuffed you full of cock.

Your jaw hinged open, Kento holding onto the back of your knees to bend your legs and spread them outwards to resist your urge to clamp them close. He moves his hips in slow, yet deep strokes, his balls pressing up on your ass with each thrust. He keeps your head from falling backwards by grabbing the back of your neck with one of his hands, fingers pressing on the sides. Your cunt was fluttering around him, staring at his face perspiring with sweat from his conscious efforts.

He looks up, meeting your eyes. His damp hair was sticking to his forehead, his bare chest rosy from this heated moment. Your eyes are glazed over, half lidded as if you’re already drunk on his cock. From the moment he sheathed into you, you already knew walking properly wasn’t going to be an option for at least the next day. He praises, “You’re taking me in so well, love. So well…” He places his hand on your tummy, pressing over the soft pudge of your stomach.

You squirm, your lips were moving, but not a word actually came out, just feeble whimpers and moans as drool dribbled from the corner of your lips. The sun was shining a little too brightly across the kitchen window, somehow it felt dirtier to be doing this in broad daylight, let alone in the kitchen. “Wanna…” you start, pausing for a moment when the head of his cock plunged further in your cunt than just a second before. “Fuck, hah— Kiss me—“

It’s not like you gave him a choice anyways when you drew him back in for a sloppy kiss. You were eager, sticking your tongue out for his to swirl around with. He groans into your mouth when he picks up the pace, slamming his cock fast and deep enough that his pelvis would press against your tummy. He grips on the plump of your ass to keep you in place and you wince the rougher he would fuck into you. You teased him by digging your teeth onto his bottom lip, in which he murmured a slurry curse in response.

You were being split in half, the slight curve of his cock making you feel like it’s nudging through your abdominal walls. Kento seemed like the composed one as he kept consistent with the speed of his hips, fast enough to keep you on your toes, but also slow enough so that you aren’t in pain. Although the thoughts running through his mind don't pale in comparison to you.

Kento is fucking obsessed with everything about you. He almost came earlier just eating you out and he hadn’t even been touched at that point yet. The saliva running down your chin, your lashes fluttering as you moan into his mouth — oh god he truly thinks you’re the most precious thing on earth. He felt nothing but guilt making you go through hell by letting you go on the plane with ambiguity if he’ll be safe or not, so this was really the least he could do to make up for it.

You part from him, a thick strand of saliva snapping the connection between the two of you. He curved his cock up enough that it prodded your g-spot and it was obvious he did when you gasped, the sharp stream of air reaching your throat nearly making you cough. “Right there, fuck yes, just like that baby—“ you moan, Kento pounding his cock into you over and over, making sure he hits that spot again until you let loose.

His balls are throbbing with the sole desire to empty inside of you, his cum just sitting on his tip, waiting to fill you full. He grunts, “Want me to cum inside? Hm?” You nod feverishly, curling your upper lip into your lower.

Kento has a bruising grip on your ass that you knew for sure would leave that spot sore after this. He snaps his hips, just waiting for you to release already, adding his thumb on your clit for extra stimulation. Blood rushed through your cheeks as you mewled a soft ‘Kento’ before reaching your high.

He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “Oh yeah, baby. You feel so fucking good.” Feeling the sudden warmth around him, Kento’s hips stuttered, the compression of your cunt milking him dry. He lazily drew circles on your clit to help you come down from your orgasm and with your arms still locked around him, you pulled him back, his forehead clashing onto yours. “I love you.” You grin meekly.

“I love you more,” he repeats, keeping himself buried inside you, draining all his cum in your pussy ensuring that not a drop is left wasted. You let go of your embrace and he holds your waist as he pulls out, his cock pearled with a mix of your slick and his cum.

White, thick cum leaked out of your hole and Kento plugged his thumb back in your walls to shove it back in. You shiver when he took it out and placed it over your lips, willingly lolling your tongue out to take kitten licks on his finger.

You almost fell to your knees when you stepped off the counter, your husband catching you by the arms. “I don’t think we can go out later.” You laugh the ache off, referring to the fact that you wouldn’t be able to walk.

He holds your hand and kisses the top of your head when you are able to stand up straight. “That’s fine. Let’s just catch up on sleep today.”

“So do you still want that food over there?” You tilt your head towards the Laksa you purchased earlier. Kento takes a glance towards the other side of the counter where it sat and laughs, “Well now that we’ve kicked up our appetites, that’s looking really good right now.” You look at the surface you were just getting fucked on and realize how gross and sticky you feel right now.

“After I take a shower.” You smile with a flustered expression.

“Want me to start you a bath?” He offers, bending down and using his free hand to pick up clothes that were scattered on the floor.

You squeeze his hand, limping in wobbly steps as you lead him to the bathroom. “Only if you’re going with me!”

[batsycline69]

Summary: Steve Rogers, in search of a piece of the life he once lived, wanders into your antique store. Months later, you remind him there's always room for second chances.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x GN!reader

Words: 5k

Content/warnings: little angsty bits but mostly just fluff, established flirtationship, mutual pining, they're in love but don't tell them they don't know yet, can be read as comic Steve or MCU Steve

A/N: mini playlist for this fic here

Love is calling It's time to give to you Something you can hold onto I dare you to try

-"Andromeda" by Weyes Blood

Everything started with a sagging floorboard he volunteered to fix.

An afternoon spent ambling about his old neighborhood nearly six months ago didn’t offer any of the comforts he’d been hoping. He roamed his old neighborhood in search of something familiar. Something that would remind him that yes, the life he remembered living was real. Yes, the evidence still remained. The longer he walked, the less he believed.

Instead he was met with nothing but reminders of everything he’d missed. Of the memories he’d made buried somewhere beneath the city that had cropped up around them. Of a past he knew he could never return to no matter how badly he wanted it.

Dejected and lost, he happened into an antique shop for a brief reprieve from the rain. Just as fitting of a place as any for him; he could be just another antique in the collection.

Heavy drops pattered against the old windowpanes. Antique lamps lit the store as he wandered through the shelves of other peoples’ belongings, long abandoned, feeling a strange sense of belonging among them. Wooden floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he stepped onto a sun-bleached rug spreading out across the aisle.

Wandering for shelter, he found you. A box of loose ceramics teetered precariously in your arms. You tripped on a loose floorboard. If Steve hadn’t been there, the whole box would have shattered. At least, that’s what you told him.

Something clicked between the two of you almost immediately. Steve felt it like a gravitational pull, tugging him back again and again.

From that point, it was harder to stay away. He wanted to bury himself in the past where he belonged, yet you kept calling him forward, and your voice was one he couldn’t resist.

Steve doesn’t know how to slow down, but he can’t stand the idea of passing you by. For you, he tries. Just like he tries not to read into the way you make his stomach flip, but it’s hard when he gets back into the city after a fight with you at the top of your mind. You see behind the status he never asked for. Not a runt, not a hero. When you look at him, he’s just Steve.

You make it easy to just be Steve.

Every day, you see things worn down by life. Things displaced from where they once were.With you circled with second chances, it’s hard to not feel like maybe that could apply to him too.

Sandwiched between a hardware store and an old diner, your store waits for him. The promise of snow hangs heavy in the crisp air, but today the sky is gray above him, only slivers of sunlight seeping through the clouds. Fearless gusts of wind whip through the narrow streets. Down the block is the bakery you swing into some mornings before you open shop.

The door sticks as he tries to get it open, the same as it has for the past few months. For him, it’s nothing, but he’s watched customers struggle with it when he hangs around for repairs. The last time he was here, he told you he’d fix it. Life got in the way, as it always did. Time slipped out of his fingers the way it always did.

The chime above the door rings through the small antique store. Inside, he feels the weight of the world lessen. Here, the greatest thing you might ask of him is to carry a buffet from one end of the shop to another. Maybe you have an old armoire you have to find a place for. You’ll offer to pay him, and he’ll turn you down like always. How can he accept your money when you’ve given him more than he can put into words?

Dim sunlight filters in from outside. Motes of dust catch the light as they lazily float through the air. Music plays through old tinny speakers, offering the same peace he so frequently seeks from you.And, behind the old desk with its dinged sides, is you sifting through a box of donations.

Your face lights up for a moment before quickly shifting into a grimace. The evidence of his recent feat darkens the skin of his jaw, leaving behind an ugly, splotchy bruise.

“Yikes…” you say, eyes lingering on his injuries.

To varying degrees of success, you always try not to fuss over him too much when he comes in roughed up from a fight. He’s not sure if it comes from a place of not wanting to scare him off or from some assurance his work won’t scare you off, but regardless, he appreciates the effort.

Steve breathes a laugh. “Looks worse than it is.” He kicks the snow on his boots onto the worn doormat at the front of the shop.

You’ve received similar assurances in the past. First on his mind is to make sure you don’t worry. He doesn’t feel deserving of your concern. One thing has always been true: Steve can take care of himself. Worrying over his well-being is a waste of your energy.

You scoff. “You’d say that no matter what,” you reply as you emerge from behind the desk, careful not to knock over any of the framed paintings leaned up against the surface.

The past few months have given you insight to him. He’s let you get to know him, and in turn, he’s gotten to know you too. How you like your coffee. The routine you settle into when the shop is slow. Little dances along to the song you tell him you love.

Steve has always sought new experiences. The world becomes more clearer to him whenever he gets to connect with he’s never seen before. Always more insight to what he’s fighting for. When those experiences come through you—a song you recommend, a worn book you slide over to him to read between missions—he always savors it a little longer.

“It’s nothing that has to keep me from finally fixing this door,” he says.

“You don’t want to take the day off? Maybe kick back, catch up on some sleep? I’ve heard you had a pretty busy past couple of days.” Your eyes flicker to the back of tools hiked over his shoulder. Usually he uses the ones you keep stashed in the shop, but sometimes you’re stubborn. He brings backups for when you refuse to share in an attempt to get him to slow down.

Like Steve, you don’t shy away from impossible battles.

“Believe me. This is a welcome change of pace,” he replies.

You still hesitate, idling at the front of the desk. You lean into it, your hands pressed back to keep yourself supported. “I’m just saying, this doesn’t have to happen today. If the door sticks for another day or two, the world will keep spinning.”

The truth he can’t bring himself to admit is he wanted to see you. Surrender seems like a stretch, but something in Steve gives when he’s with you. He’s a man with no limit to the fight within him, but you aren’t combat. The biggest risk he runs when it comes to you is ruining it all with the wrong words at the wrong time.

For everything Steve has done, the lives he’s lived in not so much time, this is something he doesn’t have much experience with. Not that there is much to this. He helps you with your shop. You scurry up to your apartment up above and bring down a batch of cookies you’d made the night before. There are stolen glances, allusions to things the both of you could do together some undefined day in the future, fingertips that brush against fingertips as one of you carefully passes something to another, but nothing definable.

Steve hovers by the door. His gaze falls to the floor beneath his feet, scarred from the years of furniture being dragged across its surface. He tucks his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, the same worn leather he’s sure you’d recognize from his many trips. Same durable boots. Just as constant as he can be given the life he’d stumbled into.

“Just looking to be useful,” he says, looking back up at you through his lashes.

He can see where you want to interject, can practically feel the air charging with whatever comment you want to make. Instead, you sigh gently with a barely there roll of your eyes.

Your lips draw into a thin line. He’s certain you see him itching for something mundane when you speak again. “Be careful about bringing the cold in.”

So Steve works. Nothing but him and an annoying door. Stakes that seem like nothing after the week he’s had. Of course, the stakes aren’t actually nothing, because they involve you. Your shop. Something he can do that will make your life a little better, a little easier. Responsibility like that isn’t something he takes lightly.

He listens to you hum along to your music and wishes that crushes were something to be outgrown. He wishes that being seen didn’t yank at the strings of his heart like he was a marionette.

Captain America may have grown something larger in his life than he could anticipated, but the mantle only grew around Steve. At the center, he’s still him. Something he refuses to commodify. Something he can trust when everything else around him became unfamiliar. Beneath what the serum built, beneath the tough exterior built up over his life, is still the boy his mother raised.

As he attends to off-kilter hinges, he thinks of her. Thinks of helping her around the apartment because the landlord wouldn’t fix anything and there was no alternative they could afford. Giggling at her little jokes so she’d never know he could see the exhaustion on her face.

Loss has always found Steve. He can’t say it comes naturally—no matter how many times his path crosses with loss, it never gets easier—but he knows its face when he sees it. He knows you’re something that could one day slip through his fingers. Steve knows there’s always more to lose.

Ever since he woke up, Steve has been a spectacle. Something to be beheld. Someone to serve. And that’s what he wanted. He signed up for that, for a time. He’d never signed up to be a living legend. That was a weight Captain America took on for the greater good.

Steve wanted to do good. He wanted to help because it was right. The museum exhibits and news stories and flashy parties weren’t anything he’d asked for.

For a brief moment, Steve had everything he wanted. And that moment of time came crashing down with him. That moment stays buried in ice while he is pushed back out into a world that knew him uncomfortably well.

As he tries to right the door, you glance over. “Need a hand?” you ask, watching the way he props the door against the frame.

He doesn’t, but you know that. So he says yes.

You walk over to him, hoisting the door up some so he can get a better angle on the hinges. He makes quick work of righting it.

When he’s done, you swing the door open a few times, letting out a sigh of relief when it doesn’t drag against the stoop. And suddenly, you dash back over to the desk, sliding a little folded piece of construction paper towards you.

The card has a little flower doodled on the front. You must have done it while he was working.

A smile ghosts on his lips as he looks back up to you.

“It’s a thank you card,” you explain, a hesitant smile on your face.

A few bills fall onto the desk as Steve flips it open. He quirks his eyebrow up at you before skimming the card, a plea for him to take the money this time. Instead, he slides the money back towards you.

“Steve.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not taking your money.”

“I can’t just keep letting you do this for free. I have to pay you back somehow.”

“The cookies are always a perk.”

“I mean it.”

“So do I.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Steve.”

The visits are farther between than he’d like. Sometimes he’s worried he’ll be gone for too long, and when he comes home, you’ll have been swept off your feet by someone who beat him to the punch. You’ve gone on dates—you’d made offhanded remarks about them from time to time—but if you have anything serious, you’ve never brought it up to him.

He lets out a low chuckle, growing a little self-conscious. “Alright,” he says as he looks back down at your handwriting sprawled out onto the card. He stares down at your name signed at the bottom, trying to loosen the words stuck on his tongue. “How about a date?”

You freeze. Steve suddenly feels as though he can’t breathe for the second it takes for you to move again as if rebooting.

When you say yes, Steve feels the lightest he has in a long time.

The day sits like a weight on your chest. Steve’s last minute cancellation of your date last night doesn’t help things. Well, he didn’t actually cancel. Lucky for you, the news was airing the latest costumed threat to the world before you started getting dressed up.

That’s what you tell yourself to make it not hurt so much, at least.

Of course he would get pulled away for work; you were under no impression that would never happen. How many times has he had to dash out of your store onto the next mission? But that didn’t mean you hadn’t been hopeful you’d at least be allowed this one date.

You’d been up late worrying about him, feeling ridiculous for doing so. Steve was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Still, you’ve grown attached. You don’t exactly love when he wanders into your shop all banged up. And because you worried all night, you were running off little sleep. Irritability has your shoulder blades aching from tension.

Someone came by with a box of unprotected ceramics. Again! The matching set clanged together as the person carelessly tossed the box onto your desk. You’d fought back the urge to wince. Not to mention, once you were alone again, you were left alone with your thoughts of Steve, and you certainly didn’t need salt on that wound.

So now, you’re finally in your pajamas, freshly showered and ready to relax after a day that had tested your nerves to the very end.

And then your buzzer sounds through your apartment like a jackhammer.

You curse beneath your breath, letting out a long sigh. You could ignore it; for the sake of whoever is calling you at this hour the second you finally sat down, you probably should. But the expectant silence after makes you feel antsy.

With a groan, you rise to your feet and stomp over to the buzzer, thankful there’s nothing below you but the empty shop. “Yeah?” You mean to sound less irritated than you do.

There’s a long pause. You cross your arms impatiently. Just as you’re about to say something, the speaker clicks.

“It’s me.” Steve’s voice sounds uncertain on the other end. You freeze, suddenly aware of your biting tone. Of the pajamas you’re currently wearing. Of the fact that the guy you were supposed to go on a date with last night is on your doorstep. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I know it’s late…”

Fuck, he wants to come up. You know it. “Just give me a minute.” Your reply is hurried. Fuck. Why didn’t you just tell him to meet you for coffee tomorrow like a sensible person? But you already know the answer; because he’s here now.

You’ve been watching tree branches bow with the weight of snow building atop them all day. Steve drove despite the weather—presumably straight from a fight—to see you. If you weren’t too busy tearing through a pile of clothes to find something wearable, you would have butterflies in your stomach from the idea.

By the time you’re opening your door, Steve has shuffled the snow on the front walk away with his restless footsteps. He’s got a bouquet clenched in his hand as he stares at you with a sheepish smile on his split, swollen lip.

“Are you alright?” you ask tentatively, hovering in the doorway.

“Of course,” he says. Your eyes flicker to the coagulated blood on his lip before going back up to his tired eyes. He avoids your gaze by looking down at the flowers. “I…”

Snow settles on the shoulders of his jacket, in his hair, golden from the streetlight above. “Sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t really think this through.” He lets out a low self-deprecating laugh.

You breathe a laugh too. You got dressed again for this, just ask him up!

Somewhere a few blocks down, the light of a snowplow flashes against the side of a building, but the city feels almost eerily still regardless. Heavy, wet snow builds on the sidewalks acting like a little pocket to keep you and Steve in your own little world.

“Come inside,” you say, stepping out of the doorway.

As he kicks snow off his boots in the small stairwell, your heart races. The lines had always been so clear when he helped around the shop; he’d help you move furniture around or situate boxes, you’d pay him back the only way he’d allow: with baked goods. Apart from the rare takeout dinner after hours, you never saw each other once the sign was flipped closed.

All the familiar comforts are gone.

Steve tries his best to feign casualness as you open the door to your apartment, but you catch him eyeing the secondhand furniture around your home. “Sorry about the mess,” you say as you kick your shoes off by the door. “I have some things I was stashing to sort through this weekend.” Carefully, you take snow-dusted roses from him, gesturing towards your worn couch for a seat.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” he says.

You shake your head. “Not at all.” Your thankful for the music you left playing to fill the silence. At least digging through your hutch for a vase gives keeps you busy while you try to play off your exhaustion.

The last thing you want to do is talk about how tired you are to Captain America, especially when the reason you couldn’t sleep was the danger he was facing.

The stilted conversation has you both showing your hands more than either of you would like. As you go into the kitchen to deal with the flowers, you feel your nerves growing. Are you being weird? Is Steve being normal, and you’re the only one being weird?

The thoughts are burying you in your head. Unfortunately, that means you miss as you knock your flowers against the vase you’d placed far too close to the edge of the counter. You jump back just in time to save your toes from getting crushed. Glass shatters against the tile, rocketing in every direction across your kitchen floor.

You bite back a scream of frustration.

Steve is at your side before you even realize he got up. “You okay?” he asks, looking you over just as you had done to him only moments earlier.

The concern in his eyes fizzles out your irritation. You steady your frayed nerves before nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just wasn’t thinking.”

Or rather, you were thinking far too hard about far too much. Steve Rogers is in your apartment, which leaves plenty for the mind to turn over. You’re still not totally sure what landed him on your doorstep, especially tonight of all nights, and you’re really trying not to get your hopes up too high.

Steve takes one last confirming glance you’re alright before giving a small nod. “Stay there. Got a broom somewhere?”

You watch him carefully as he sweeps up the shards, suddenly caught off-guard by the sight of him in your kitchen, bumbling around trying to find your garbage can before you direct him. His blue eyes scan for glass catching the light,

He pauses right in front of you, somehow unaware of how close he’d gotten until he looks back towards you. The line of his back straightens suddenly, but doesn’t step away.

He’s not still bloody from the fight, but you can’t imagine there was time for much else besides cleaning up before he showed up. Only this close do you realize how well you can still smell his soap.

Breath catches in your throat as you meet his eyes. Worry still swims in his gaze. You have to remind yourself he did just come back from a fight. The tension in his muscles is still evident. He’s on edge, and your exhausted carelessness helping.

You raise your hand, letting it hover in the air for a hesitant moment. Finally, you find the will to raise it all the way. His skin is warm beneath your thumb as you smooth the crease between his brows. Right now, he doesn’t need to be worrying about you.

“Rough day at work?” you ask.

Steve laughs softly. “You could say that.” He procures another vase for you, this time offering to handle it himself, shooing you back towards your couch, joining you shortly after. “How about you?”

The exhaustion of your day is catching up to you now. With Steve here, with the jitters of the vase breaking fading away, you feel yourself bowing to it, finally giving in.

He follows you as you collapse onto the couch. When he’s finally settled at your side, you stare at him for a moment. “I couldn’t really sleep last night,” you admit, feeling the weight of his gaze. Your eyes flicker away. “I was worried about you. You always come back looking like you’ve had the shit beat out of you, and…”

You trail off, still feeling Steve’s gaze lingering on you. He’s trying to do you a service, allowing you to finish your thought, but you wish he’d interrupt you. The words feel stuck in your throat, because admitting anything to him feels so foolish.

You expect him to laugh at your mundane life. The other shoe has yet to drop; yes, Steve Rogers wandered into your life, and yes, he asked you out yesterday, but you wait for the day he stops coming back. For when he outgrows you or gets bored, whichever comes first.

“I like having you around,” you finally say, the words more timid than you would like. “I wouldn’t want something to happen to you.”

His eyebrows quirk up. The shock is endearing, but he recovers quickly. After everything, the idea of home terrifies Steve. Something so fragile, so easy to upheave. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” he murmurs, his voice low now with the proximity to you.

You scoff. “Yeah, well, from what I hear, you give everyone plenty of reason to.”

“Fair enough,” he says, a faint smile still tugging at his lips.

Oh, you like him a lot. You’re just another name on a very long, very old list of people with a crush on Captain America, but how could you not be? He comes in to help you with your old shop, worries over the heating and offers to talk to the landlord. He sweeps up shattered glass when you’re careless enough to knock something over in the first place. He makes a bad day feel better just by passing you one of those incredibly sincere smiles.

You let your eyes linger on him, taking him in.He clears his throat, looking to stare down at the sun-bleached rug beneath his feet. The scuffed floorboards stretch out before you both.

“Yesterday...I can’t promise it will never happen again. Hell, I can probably guarantee it will. But I am trying. I…” He lets out a small huff. “I didn’t want you to think I don’t care. Because I do.” Music fills the lull of his hesitation. “And I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I did mean to.”

“Yeah...Lucky you were big news. I was able to skip the ‘oh no, he’s dead in a ditch’ phase and go straight to ‘oh, he’s just off to fight some god.’”

“No gods this time,” Steve replies, a teasing, mischievous glint catching in the blue of his eyes. “Just another evil organization.”

“Oh, well that’s a relief,” you tease back.

The time passes easily with him. He calms your worrying each time he smiles a little too widely, reminding him of his split lip, insisting he doesn’t need any ice. The space between you blurs as the hours do. When his arm falls over your shoulders, you ease against his chest.

For a while, you listen to his heart beat against your cheek. The sound is comforting. He may be a superhero, but somehow, you can make his pulse race. The warmth of his body makes you feel so alive. Steve feels like the first warm day after the bitter cold of winter. He’s the sun that kisses your skin as you shrug off your jacket. A promise that the snow will melt and spring will come.

All at the same time, you feel the weight that comes with being the sun. Being a beacon of hope doesn’t come without its burdens, nor is it something that develops overnight.

Steve has always left lots unsaid between the two of you. Not secrets, more so saving you from the full story. Saving you the burden of his burdens. As you think of the many things Steve keeps close to his chest, your fingers slip between his. His gentle gaze falls onto you.

He looks comfortable. You make him comfortable. This man who’s done more than you are ready to comprehend, quite frankly, finds safety with you.

Two hours ago, you were in a rotten mood. Six hours before that, you were worried something would happen and you’d never see him again. You’d spent the time wondering what you would do if you never saw him around the shop; the thought made you feel sick.

Now, you’re going to kiss him. Months have passed as you imagined what it’d be like. With each new wound he’d wandered in with, you’d imagine kissing it better. At the time, it seemed so childish, yet now you’re given the opportunity, and you can’t turn it down.

You lean toward him, careful to press your lips to the side of his. Soft and chaste, but feels like everything. As you pull away, he looks at you like it is.

Tingling lips beg for more, but you don’t want to hurt him or irritate his already swollen mouth.

“How fast do you usually heal up?” you purr. Your fingertips brush against his jaw, holding him gently.

“Couple days,” he replies quickly. His heart skips against your skin.

You nod. “Consider that my IOU.”

As you lean back down against him, Steve eases beneath you. Tension melts from his muscles beneath your fingertips. Still not fully pliant, but you imagine that doesn’t come easy for him. How often does he get to have his guard down? How long can it genuinely stay down before he has to run to the next fire?

You savor this moment. The future with Steve is an unknowable beast. But right now you have the warmth of Steve around you, keeping you warm even in your drafty apartment.

Conversation settles between the two of you. Soon after, the music stops. You keep meaning to say something, maybe put something else on, but you’re so comfortable. And as Steve’s breath starts to even, you know you’re stuck, though you find it far from a bad situation.

You don’t dare move; you imagine Steve is a light sleeper. And as you allow yourself to sink against him, your eyes slip shut. The steady beat of his heart pulls you to sleep shortly after.

When you wake, Steve’s head rests heavily on top of yours. The warmth makes you sluggish. You don’t want to move, but you feel your neck growing stiff. Grogginess has you unsure how long you’ve been asleep. Maybe twenty minutes, maybe three hours. The darkness outside your blinds doesn’t give anything away.

“Steve,” you whisper, shifting slightly in his grip. He rouses quickly—you feel a brief flicker of satisfaction at your initial guess—blinking sleep from his eyes.His eyes sweep the apartment quickly, checking for danger. Old habits, you imagine. When he knows you’re safe, he settles back, recovering his composure quickly.

You stand up, his hand still in yours. Your lips press against his bruised knuckles before giving him a gentle tug. “C’mon.”

“I should get back.” His voice stays low, rumbling and warm.

You shake your head. “Come to bed. I’m not gonna have you driving out in this weather.”

His eyes flicker to the snow still falling outside your window. The shadows dance across his face as he nods, following you as you lead him to the bedroom.

Cold settles over your skin as you get ready for bed. You can’t wait to settle back against Steve’s body heat, to curl up beneath the blankets wrapped around him. And as quickly as you can, you join him there, the sheets already warmed from him.

He pulls you against him as soon as you’re beneath the covers, hand smoothing up and down your arm when he feels you shivering against him.

Gradually, you warm up. Sleep finds you before it finds Steve. When he’s finally alone with his thoughts, finally able to rest, he’s surprised to find that where his thoughts turn feel less burdensome than usual.

One in particular catches Steve off-guard. He thinks of you as someone he could limp home to. When the dust settles, and he’s just Steve again. You could be a place to set down the shield to rest.

a/n: huge shoutout to @janybabyy for giving this a readthrough. your notes were monumental in getting this finished

dividers by @saradika-graphics

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider giving it a reblog 💛

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Hihi! I went on anon cause my main blog is strictly sfw, but I promise I'm an adult(29). Anyways, I had this idea of Ascended Astarion teasing Tav/Reader in front of a mirror. He can't see himself, but loves the way Tav/Reader shudders under his touch and them getting more and more embarrassed because all they can see is themselves getting riled up by seemingly nothing, but when they look down, ofc they see his hands working magic across their body.

Lol ty for the clarification and ask! I've been needing some nsfw practice!

Ascended Astarion nsfw under the cut, 18 + warnings. Like this is not implied smut. It is smut, graphic. Possessive, obsessive, manipulative, bad vampire man who loves you. As much as he's capable of. Morally gray human Tav from the start to here. It's only downhill from here baby, m/f angle. But if that doesnt fufill the dream let me know and I can make a gender neutral/ gender nonspecfic no prob! And probably less intense too because this is angsty~~~

Like I went ham, this is a whole ass fic now💀

You frowned at yourself in the bedroom mirror, adjusting your hair for the umpteenth time. It still didn't look right, despite what felt like hours of practice that you'd put into the intricate style.

You sighed as let one of your braids fall down, dissatisfied with what you saw. You didn't exactly look the part of an all-powerful vampire's consort, or at least not with the company you've recently been keeping. But it turned out a significant part of taking over Baldur's Gate was trenched in politics, meetings, balls, social events created for the sole purpose of mind games.

It was exhausting, or at least it was for you. But Astarion seemed to take to it like a duck to water. This life suited him, one of power games and subterfuge, and more often than not, murder. Not that you minded. You were just happy that he was having fun. That he was finally free after all of those years of torment. Even if he was using that freedom for… less than savory ends.

But despite his goals, you had sworn to him that you would never stray. And you intended on making good on that promise.

You just wished that he didn't insist on you being there for all of his "business". You hadn't realized how literal he had been about the whole sitting in his lap plan. It had taken a half-hour conversation to even convince him that no, you would not be doing so in the nude. He still hadn't given up on convincing you off that plan, but you highly doubted that it would help with your current level of heightened insecurity.

Maybe you were worrying for no reason. It wasn't Astarion who made you feel out of place. Well… it was, but not because of anything he did. Just… who he had become. He was so different now, so much colder to everything and everyone but you. More calculating, less forgiving, and just perfect for working with the most dangerous individuals in the mortal plane.

You seemed to be the only living thing he could relax around anymore, the only person who could soften him. It was strange really. You used to remember his softer side, before the ritual. The way his heart would hurt for children and animals alike, despite his failed attempts to hide it. His soft spot for Karlach, those who were brave and brazen, always willing to do the right thing despite the risks. The kind smile he used to have, reserved for beautiful things like the sunrise, the sunset.

Gone, all of it. It was a fact that you didn't like to think about. What you both gave up, things could have been; there was no point to it anyway. It was over. You gave Astarion the choice, this is what came of that. So here you were, obsessing over your appearance in preparation for a meeting with a high-ranking devil.

How things had changed.

You had no idea if you would ever find a way to match up with the company he kept around these days. Maybe it was your own fault for surrounding yourself with otherworldly creatures, but it was hard not to feel inadequate.

It didn't help that whenever you even slightly alluded to that insecurity, Astarion was more than ready to remind you of your… "options".

"You can join us whenever you'd like my treasure," Astarion would say with a creeping grin, "Just one bite, and we can be sure you'll be mine forever. Would that be so bad?"

It was a tempting offer, one that you kept insisting on refusing. You loved Astarion more than anything. But… you wanted that love to stay your choice. An obligation you maintained of your own free will. It's not that you didn't trust him… but to be a spawn had too many implications for you to handle.

"What has you pouting sweet thing?"

You startled when hands suddenly settled on your hip, gripping through the thin fabric of your nightdress. You looked back, relaxing the slightest bit to see Astarion smiling down at you, amused at the fact he'd managed to sneak up on you through the mirror.

"You said you weren't going to do that anymore," You whined as you leaned back into him, your eyes turning back to the mirror. You could see the fabric of your slip indented under his hands, ghost-like without his actual image reflecting back.

"I lied," Astarion said simply, leaning down to breathe you in from the crook of your neck, "Now what are you thinking about pet? I can tell something's on your mind."

You bit your lip, debating for a moment if you should tell him or not. But it's not like he would let it drop, and he was way too good at being able to tell when you were lying. Might as well come clean.

You sighed, "I don't…I don't know if I'm cut out for this."

You expected him to huff at you, maybe even laugh. But instead, the grip he had on you tightened, hard enough to make you gasp. You could feel his fangs scraping against your delicate skin, scratching hard enough to cause pinpricks of blood to bead out.

"And why would you ever think a thing like that?" Astarion asked, his voice harsh and low, "Where else would you be if not by my side hm? Please, enlighten me."

You gulped, your heart rate starting to pick up. You hadn't meant it like that, "That's not what I meant-"

"Then what else could it have meant?" Astarion shot back, his hands digging into you, surely ready to leave finger-shaped bruises. Suddenly he was using that same grip to drag you backward to the bed, effortlessly settling you between his spread legs.

All while managing to still be right in sight of the mirror. You could feel your cheeks redden as his hands started to wander, unceremoniously tugging down the straps of your nightdress to reveal your chest. That was another thing about life after the ritual that had been a surprise, just how different Astarion's sex drive was. It's not like he was a prude before, far from it, but now he was insatiable. Always ready and willing to touch you whenever the urge struck him. Often enough for you to eventually come to the thrilling, if not slightly disturbed realization, that… he was training you. Training your body to always want his touch.

And tonight was no different. You could already feel yourself getting wet, and he had barely done anything yet. But then suddenly he was pinching your nipple harshly, hissing in your ear, "I expect an answer when I ask you a question darling."

You bit back a moan, trying to remember what you were even arguing about as he started to play with your breasts, "I-I didn't mean it like that. I just… I don't want to embarrass you."

It was humiliating to admit but it was true. Not many people of Astarion's caliber insisted on a singular lover. There were so many people after him now, people with more power, more beauty, and grace. You didn't match up. You couldn't.

"Nonsense," Astarion dismissed, his hands wandering down to tear off more of your clothing, "Look at you. You were made for this life. Made for me. You're gorgeous."

The compliments mixed with the harsh feeling of his hands ripping your nightdress in two was quite the experience. You could feel his own hardness pressing into your backside, twitching as he threw your ruined clothing to the side.

Then he was gripping your chin, forcing your head back up to stare into the mirror in front of you, "I said look."

You obeyed, eyes widening at what you saw. It was so strange to see yourself like this, fully exposed with your legs spread apart, flushed and panting. It nearly gave the illusion that your very image was what was causing the wetness between your legs, instead of the invisible man toying with you.

You swallowed, your throat dry as Astarion's hands wandered lower, a feather-light touch tracing up and down your slit, "You are everything. The sole reason that I'm the man I am today. There is nowhere else you should be than right here."

"But-" You gasped, your words interrupted by a sharp slap to your inner thigh. You could see your skin start to redden in the mirror, a perfect imprint left in it's wake.

"Darling, are you questioning my judgment? What on earth made you think that was a good idea?"

You frantically shook your head, moaning when his fingers delved deeper, playing with your slick folds, "I-I'm not. I didn't- I'm sorry."

You whined as he roughly pinched your clit, his other hand moving upward to do the same to your heaving chest.

He was starting to grind his hardness against you, a tease of more to come as he murmured in your ear, "There's my good girl. Was that so hard?"

You shook your head, gasping as he finally dipped his long fingers into your cunt. You were already so sensitive, humiliatingly close in a matter of minutes.

"So gorgeous," Astarion sighed, staring straight ahead to the sole image of you, whimpering as he finger-fucked your pussy, "So needy. Can you see how wet you are pet?"

You could, you were leaking around his fingers, that needy, intense feeling getting more and more intense by the moment. It was so embarrassing seeing yourself like this, enough so that you snapped your eyes shut.

A bad idea. Astarion tutted at you, landing another sudden and hard slap to your thigh, "None of that. I told you to look. Or else."

You snapped your eyes back open, watching yourself whimper and gasp as you were played with, the harsh movement of his hand jostling your breasts. You weren't going to last much longer, not with the image of you being taken apart, the feeling of him inside you, the mean edge to your love's words.

"You're such a silly little thing, aren't you?" Astarion growled, fucking you harder and faster. You were so close, but you weren't stupid enough to come without permission. Not after what he did the last time, "Doubting me. Do you really think I don't know what's best for you? What's best for us?"

"No," You whimpered, your hips arching backward to rub harder into his erection, "You're right, I-I'm yours. C-Can I come now? Please?"

"Beg me and maybe I'll think about it," Astarion meanly laughed, relishing in the gush of slick his harshness coaxed from between your legs, "Beg and apologize. Apologize for doubting us. For doubting me."

You could barely get the words out through your own gasps, tears prickling in the corner of your eyes, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean it!"

"Good girl," Astarion huskily laughed, using a clever thumb to rub over your swollen clit, "Now tell me you love me."

"I love you," You said easily, meaning every word, "I love you more than anything.

"Tell me you'll never leave me. Ever."

There was something else behind that promise. An obvious implication that your fucked-out brain was too distracted to see.

"Never," You promised, reaching back for you him. You curled your fingers into his hair. pulling his head down to press his mouth against your throat. An open invitation, "I'll always be with you."

Astarion groaned against your skin, his fangs so close to piercing, "Precious pet, how could I ever want anything else? Come darling, you've earned it."

Then he was biting you, the brief flash of pain the perfect trigger for you to fall over the edge. You came with an embarrassingly high-pitched whine, slumping back into Astarion as he drank from your throat.

You looked as much of a mess as you felt, the stickiness between your thighs glistening in the light. You watched yourself, whimpering as Astarion slipped his fingers out. Just to tap them against your lips, forcing them into your mouth to suck on.

You moaned around them, light-headed as Astarion popped off of your throat. You sighed as he licked at the wound, enjoying the brief moment of rest. You weren't naive enough to think that you were done yet. Not when Astarion was still hard, his cock pulsing against you.

"See?" Astarion huskily laughed, licking the blood off of his lips while he played with your tongue, "You're perfect. Perfect and mine."

[deadlymistletoe]

Fears and Bandages

Pairing: Thranduil x F!reader

Request: @frustrated-kitten asked: I thought maybe I could request a Thranduil x FemReader where she returns with several injuries after fighting a bunch of spiders with Legolas and some other elves? Some small wounds, some more serious, but in the end she survives and everything goes well?

A/N: I hope it’s what you wanted - I was going to make it more angsty but this is what came out and it stuck.

Genre: slight hurt/comfort

Description: Thranduil’s composure cracks as he waits for you to come home from battling the spiders. He’s only able to put his fears to rest once he’s bandaged you up himself.

Warnings: Mentions of blood/injuries. Stitches.

Word count: 1582

Thranduil’s foot tapped against the ground, fingers drumming impatiently against the armrest of his throne. Besides the two guards posted at the entrance to the room, the rest of his subjects were steering clear of him.

He didn’t blame them for avoiding him while he was like this - after all, had it been someone else fidgeting he would have been annoyed himself.

It was rare for the composed elvenking to fidget as he was, to betray any hint of apprehension, but today was the exception.

It was well known that there were two people on this earth that Thranduil would do absolutely anything to keep safe, and it just so happened that both of them had gone headfirst into a dangerous situation.

The first, his only son, Legolas. Since the elf had first looked up at him from his mother’s with those wide blue eyes Thranduil had known that he would do anything for him.

After his wife had died that feeling had only strengthened, as the meaning in his life centered around the elfling who was quickly becoming one of the realm's best archers.

For a long time, nothing had changed, until he met the second person he would come to care about more than he would have thought possible. You.

Thranduil had never even considered that he might love again after his wife passed, but then you’d come into his life and he’d found himself falling faster than should have. And he just knew that he couldn’t lose you too. History couldn’t repeat itself. He wouldn’t let it.

Of course, that was easier said than done since you, much like Legolas, continuously risked your safety to fight the spiders that continued to invade the Greenwood.

Thankfully for him, you’d stepped back from the danger once the two of you fell in love and you took to the role of Thranduil’s consort - soon-to-be-queen, but the latest nest was bigger than usual and the spiders began to get more bold so you’d insisted on joining Legolas for the raid.

So now Thranduil sat, fidgeting like an impatient elfling, waiting for news. 

He felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time - helpless.

Yes, Legolas had promised to make sure you both came back in one piece, but Legolas was also known for saying he was ‘fine’ when he had a gaping wound - Valar forbid he find out what his son’s definition of ‘one piece’ was.

Thranduil let out a frustrated sigh. He knew better than to doubt the abilities of you and his son, but sometimes he just couldn’t help but worry. After all, the last time his son had left the palace with a mother-figure, only one of them had come back - granted, that was when Legolas was a child with none of the skills he had now. But still.

He immediately straightened up, movements freezing when Galion ran up the steps leading into the room. “They’re back, my lord.”

Thranduil wasted no time making his way down the steps, Galion rushing to keep up with him as they made their way to the front gates. “Is everyone okay?” Are they okay?

“Everyone’s alive.” Those words were less reassuring than they should be. The mirkwood elves had a habit of using the term ‘alive’ rather loosely.

When he reached the entrance, those gathered around instantly parted for him to make his way towards the glimpse of pale hair he’d noticed through the crowd.

None of the patrol had been completely spared, that was certain, as scratches adorned each of their complexions, the darker blood of the spiders splattered over their uniforms.

Healers had already dispersed amongst the warriors, vials of antidote in hand just in case, and he was relieved to see that Legolas had no obvious signs of injury as he drew closer.

Legolas saw him coming and turned to meet him, voice low as he spoke. “There were more than we expected. We weren’t prepared, a second lot ambushed us after the fight had already started.”

Thranduil placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze - a show of affection that still kept a semblance of formality. “You did well.”

He hesitated, not wanting to brush his son off but at the same time needing to see you. Legolas saved him from asking, nodding towards where a healer was bent over a figure on a bench. You, he realized.

“She’s okay.” Legolas murmured. “Just a bit more cut up than the rest of us.” He rolled his eyes playfully. “I’ve been on guard to make sure she didn’t injure herself more running off to find you before the healers got to her.”

Thranduil’s lips twitched, holding back a smile as he made his way towards you, Legolas following behind.

It didn’t take long for you to look up at the familiar footsteps, a smile spreading across your lips despite the sting as the healer cleaned up a deep wound across your shoulder.

When the healer took her hands from you to rummage through her supplies you immediately took the chance to push yourself to your feet, moving around her and meeting Thranduil half way, his arms naturally finding their way around your waist as you stumbled slightly.

He smirked slightly looking over your shoulder. “I do believe Lothael is about to scold you for using her distraction to your advantage.”

Your healer, Lothael, had followed you, rolling her eyes. She gave Thranduil a wry look. “Yes, well, I can’t imagine that the king wants his queen-to-be to bleed out on the floor.”

Thranduil’s eyes quickly ran over your wounds, double-checking that you weren’t in imminent danger of bleeding out, and lingering on the deeper ones before looking back at Lothael. “I can take it from here, thank you.”

He knew that technically the healer had more better skills than him in the art, but at the same time, he also knew that the only way to completely reassure himself that you weren’t about to bleed out was if he did it himself - he needed to know that he’d checked and taken care of your wounds with his own hands.

It was only when the two of you had left the view of the other elves, leaving Legolas in charge, that you let yourself lean against the wall with a groan, the pain that had been throbbing in your leg since the adrenaline had worn off on the walk home forcing you to give it a break.

Thranduil, whose hand had been resting on your back, ready to steady you at any moment should you need it, gave you a worried look as you pulled away from him to use the wall as support.

“I’ll be fine,” You muttered, grimacing. “It’s just demanding a rest.”

Thranduil gave you a calculated look, and before you could say anything or even begin to wonder what he was thinking, he swept you off your feet, your arms automatically going around his neck as he carried you bridal-style down the hall.

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle, a smile crossing his own face at the sound. “What are you doing?”

He glanced down at you, a small smile dancing across his lips. “Why, I’m carrying to your chamber’s, my lady. Valar knows you’d collapse halfway there if I didn’t.”

You laughed before quieting down and leaning your head against his chest. “I’m tired, Thranduil.” You murmured, the toll today had taken on your body catching up to you.

He looked at you with a soft look reserved only for you. “I know, Meleth. You can rest soon.”

You sighed, staying silent as he reached your shared chambers and laid you on the bed, letting you sink into the silks and furs that covered the mattress.

You had started to drift off when you suddenly felt something cold seep into one of the deeper wounds, pressure keeping it there. You jerked away from the cold sting, but a hand held you in place, and you felt Thranduil’s silky hair brush against your skin as he lent over you to brush his lips against your forehead.

“I’m just cleaning them.” He murmured. “Relax.”

You let out a shuddering breath as he moved the cloth, a few tears slipping down the side of your face as he continued on to stitch the wound closed.

Your strong facade you’d kept up in the entrance and on the journey home hope had dissipated, as had your energy now that you were with the one you didn’t have to act strong for.

Thranduil whispered apologies and reassurances as he cleaned and bandaged the rest of your wounds with a gentleness that could only come from a lover’s hands, occasionally wiping the tears from your face and running his fingers through your hair at a particularly harsh sting.

It felt like hours later when the last wound was taken care of and you heard the quiet clink as Thranduil set the glass bottle of ointment aside.

He remained seated at your size, gentle fingers brushing over your face and hair as he gazed down at you, his own fears put aside now that he’d tended to you.

You held his gaze, relishing the cool touches until you felt your eyes begin to droop, and the last thing you were aware of was the feather-light lips that brushed against yours and the whispered, “Sleep, Meleth.” as you drifted off, Thranduil’s fingers soothingly carding through your hair.

Everything Taglist:

@fizzyxcustard @bookworm-with-coffee

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[sylix-royalty]

I’m getting back into writing, so have a Hotch/Reid snippet!

can… can i have a hug? please?

And a little bit of

oh, sweetheart- come here.

With a dash of

how long has it been since someone hugged you?

Type: Angsty Fluff

Warnings: Kinda just sad, brief mention of drugs

Spencer was very obviously the most touch starved of the group. It wasn’t to no fault of his, not really. It was clear he didn’t prefer physical contact most of the time, but Aaron wasn’t stupid. Aaron knew that despite Spencer’s sensory issues and mild germaphobic tendencies, he really just wanted to be hugged sometimes.

It was more obvious after some cases, when his arms wrapped around himself as he sat alone on the back of the plane, curled up as staring out of the window rather than reading whatever book he’d already read 7 or 8 times that week. It was only Wednesday after all.

It was less obvious after others, the itch of his hands as he read, how they’d twitch before he’d read a page. Aaron noticed, but he wasn’t sure that the others did, too careful of Spencer sensory. And Spencer clearly didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire of his own mind by his need of physical contact. But, Aaron wasn’t stupid. He was a profiler for a reason. But he wasn’t just going to jump down Spencer’s throat like that, putting him on the spot would be unhelpful and most likely backfire.

So, Aaron watched more intentionally. Trying to give an obvious sign to Spencer that he was here for him, should Spencer need him. It took a while, longer than Aaron liked to admit, but finally Spencer came into his office after hours.

The case had been a bad one. Having to deal with not only children, but Spencer was taken as a hostage and belittled so bad that Aaron was on the verge of shooting the man just to make him shut the hell up for good. Of course he couldn’t, that would risk his job, and more importantly Spencer’s life, but the thought definitely crossed his mind.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Spencer asked softly, and Aaron nodded slowly.

“Stay as long as you need,” he said gently, trying not to use that boss tone he knew he had. Spencer nodded, noting the attempt, and sat on the couch, curled up with his arms around himself once again, staring at the wall.

Aaron worked in silence, not going to push or pry answers out of the younger. He knew Spencer was struggling, and he had a terrible reputation when it came to asking for help. But Aaron hoped he was slowly working through that.

“You don’t believe him, do you?” Spencer whispered, finally. “You don’t… you don’t see me as a… drugged up, ratty—“

“No, Spencer,” Aaron cut him off, not allowing Spencer to repeat the words of the UnSub. “I don’t see you like that. No one does.”

“I do,” Spencer whispered, “I feel like that, sometimes. Sometimes I wonder if everything’s worth it.”

“It’s all worth it,” Aaron whispered.

“You would say that,” Spencer whispered, and Aaron set his pen down.

“Meaning?” Aaron asked without trying to sound offended or offput.

“Meaning you see me,” Spencer explained. “You see the man I’m trying to be. You… you understand… who I am in a way that most other’s can’t.”

“I’m perceptive,” Aaron reasoned.

“Yes,” Spencer agreed. “But you also care.”

“This team cares about you,” Aaron reasoned.

“They do,” Spencer nodded. “But they care so much about one thing, something you’ve been… overlooking lately.”

Aaron blinked.

“You’ve been staring at me, after cases. Reading me. I see your eyes. I feel them.”

“If I’ve made you uncomfortable, that wasn’t my intention,” Aaron promised.

“No, I know,” Spencer promised. “I just…” he inhaled slowly, his arms falling from where they were wrapped around him. “Can I have… have a hug? Please?”

Aaron exhaled slowly from where he sat, finally hearing the words come from Spencer’s mouth almost made him jump out of his chair. He still moved a bit too quick, but Spencer didn’t seem to mind or care as he quickly got off the couch, hearing Aaron’s gentle “oh sweetheart, come here,” and met Aaron halfway, wrapping his arms around Aaron’s shoulders, and Aaron’s arms around his waist.

Spencer almost broke right there. But Aaron held him up strong, as per usual. He kept his hold for as long as Spencer needed, or wanted, which was longer than he originally calculated.

“When was the last time someone hugged you?” Aaron whispered into his ear.

“Too long,” Spencer whispered, voice broken and scraggly as he pushed his nose into Aaron’s shoulder.

“Don’t let it ever be that long again,” Aaron whispered.

“I’m here, Spence. I’m right here.”

[rottenherbs]

In the Quiet (pt.3)

Paring: H.P x Reader Tags: slow burn / friends to lovers Summary: full moon. A full kiss W/C: 2.5k A/N: Could you imagine the immense burden harry must of felt as such a young age. Im 24 and if even a SLIVER of that shit happened to me id fold. Idkkkk tried to write angsty troubled harry today [masterlist] Much love, Saige

The days had become a rhythm — one that felt oddly comforting. Classes, meals, study sessions, and quiet walks through the halls of Hogwarts. The connection between you and Harry had subtly shifted, no longer just friendly exchanges or casual study sessions. There was something deeper now, an understanding that neither of you had fully voiced, but it lingered between the words you spoke and the silences you shared.

Tonight, however, felt different. The full moon hung high in the sky, casting silver light across the grounds, and the air was thick with the promise of something that felt just out of reach. You had no idea why, but everything about the evening felt like it was building toward something — something that was waiting to be acknowledged.

After dinner, you headed to the Gryffindor common room, your thoughts a little scattered. But as soon as you entered, you saw him. Harry was sitting by the fire, his usual spot. His gaze was distant, as it so often was, but there was something in the way he was staring into the flames that made you pause for a moment. He wasn’t just lost in thought; he seemed… distant, like a part of him was elsewhere.

You hesitated for a moment, but then, your feet moved on their own. The firelight flickered softly, casting shadows on the walls. Harry hadn’t noticed you yet, but as you drew closer, his gaze lifted, and when his eyes met yours, there was that familiar warmth — but something else, too. Something more vulnerable, more… open.

“Y/N,” Harry said softly, his voice carrying a weight that was rare for him. He didn’t usually speak like that, as though everything else had fallen away, leaving only the moment between you.

“Hey,” you replied, feeling your heart race in the quiet of the room. “What’s on your mind?”

Harry glanced at the fire again, his fingers tracing absent patterns in the armrest of the chair. “Just thinking,” he muttered, a little quieter than usual. “About everything… and nothing, really.”

You couldn’t help but smile, taking a seat on the couch next to him. “You’re not the only one. Feels like there’s always too much going on here.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The crackling fire and the occasional rustle of the other students in the common room filled the silence. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. No, it was the kind of silence that wrapped around you both like a blanket — warm, familiar, safe.

You turned toward Harry, your legs tucked underneath you. “You know, you’ve been so quiet lately,” you said. “I don’t think I’ve seen you like this before.”

Harry looked at you, his green eyes softening. “I’m just… tired, I guess,” he said. “Tired of being everything everyone expects me to be. I don’t know if I can keep it up.”

You felt your heart ache a little at his words, because you knew exactly what he meant. He wasn’t just Harry Potter, the hero — he was a young man, struggling with all the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was something you didn’t fully understand, but you wanted to. You wanted to be there for him in whatever way he needed.

“You don’t have to keep it up, Harry,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “You can let it go, even just for a little while. No one will think less of you.”

His lips parted as if to say something, but he stopped himself. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to push you away, to retreat into his shell — but then, he didn’t. Instead, he turned toward you fully, his gaze locking with yours.

“You really mean that, don’t you?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“Yeah,” you said without hesitation. “I do.”

The room seemed to shrink around you both, the firelight dancing on Harry’s face, making his eyes shimmer with something unspoken. It wasn’t a moment of grand declarations, nor was it a dramatic gesture. It was just two people, silently acknowledging the bond that had quietly formed between them.

And then, without saying a word, Harry shifted a little closer. The space between you, once filled with uncertainty, now seemed to disappear. His presence felt so real in that moment — the air felt charged, and yet there was no pressure. It was as if time had slowed, allowing you both to breathe, to simply exist in this small, shared space.

Harry looked down at his hands for a moment, taking a deep breath, before meeting your eyes again. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I don’t think I would have made it through this year without… without you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and before you could stop yourself, you found yourself leaning forward just slightly. “I’m glad you’re here too, Harry.”

The words hung between you like a delicate thread, fragile and unspoken, and then, in the quiet of the common room, it happened.

Harry’s hand, which had been resting on the armrest, moved slightly toward you. His fingers brushed against yours, the contact light but electric. Neither of you pulled away. Instead, you let the warmth of his touch linger, and before you even realized it, your hand found his, your fingers intertwining in a quiet, unspoken agreement.

The moment stretched, timeless and gentle, as if the world outside the walls of the common room had ceased to exist. There was no chosen one, no prophecy, no expectations. There was only Harry — and only you.

He looked at you, his face so close now that you could feel the heat of his breath. There was no rush, no sudden urgency. Everything about this moment was slow, deliberate. His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, searching for something. Something that felt far more vulnerable than the usual confident Harry.

You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. You just waited.

And then, ever so slowly, Harry leaned in.

His lips brushed against yours in the gentlest of touches, and in that moment, everything fell away. The weight of the world, the burden of who Harry was, the weight of expectations — it all melted into the soft press of his lips against yours.

The kiss was slow, tender, almost hesitant. But there was something in it that felt like the beginning of something new — something that had been building between the two of you for weeks, but had never been given the chance to truly bloom until now.

When Harry pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, and for a long moment, neither of you said a word. You didn’t need to. There was an unspoken understanding between you, one that felt more significant than any confession could ever be.

You smiled, your heart pounding, but your words were soft, as though you were afraid of breaking the fragile moment between you. “This… this feels right.”

Harry’s lips curled into a small smile, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was peace in his eyes. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It does.”

And in that small, secret moment, with the fire crackling softly behind you, the world outside felt like it no longer mattered. The only thing that existed was the quiet promise of what could be — something real, something just for the two of you.

Chapter 5: “More Than Words”

The following weeks after that night in the common room seemed to move at a different pace. Everything felt more vivid, more alive, as if you and Harry had entered a space outside the constraints of time and expectation. You still spent your days together — study sessions, walks through the corridors, the quiet understanding in the silences you shared — but now there was a new depth between you. A secret. A bond.

The weight of the world was still on Harry’s shoulders. You knew that. But now, whenever he looked at you, there was something in his eyes — something that said he wasn’t alone anymore. And that, in itself, was enough.

It was the night of the Yule Ball. The Great Hall had been transformed into a winter wonderland — shimmering lights and hanging icicles casting a soft glow across the room. Students were laughing, dancing, and dressed in their finest robes, but despite the celebration around you, all you could focus on was Harry.

He was standing by one of the tall pillars, looking out over the ballroom. His messy hair was tucked neatly behind his ears, and he wore a dark green robe that complemented his eyes perfectly. You had always noticed how handsome he was, but tonight, seeing him like this, your heart swelled in a way it hadn’t before.

As you made your way across the hall, Harry turned, his gaze immediately finding you. A small smile tugged at his lips, and he stepped forward, meeting you halfway.

“You look… amazing,” he said, his voice softer than usual, though it held an awe you didn’t miss. “I—I mean, wow.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. “You look pretty great yourself,” you replied, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

There was a small pause before he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing over yours gently. The touch felt like everything — like it was a simple, unspoken promise that neither of you had yet fully articulated, but both of you knew.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Harry murmured, his eyes searching yours.

“You know, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you said, your voice quiet, but it was full of truth. “Not if you’re here.”

A small blush crept onto Harry’s cheeks as he looked at you, but there was something else in his expression — a deep sincerity. He wasn’t just the hero who had saved the day countless times. He was just Harry, standing in front of you, vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache.

Before either of you could speak further, a wave of students parted around you, but Harry didn’t move. He only kept his hand loosely in yours, like he didn’t want to let go.

“Do you want to go outside for a bit?” you asked, your voice soft, as though you were inviting him into a quieter, more private space where the world couldn’t touch you both.

Harry looked at you for a moment, as if weighing the idea. Then, a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice low.

Together, you left the ballroom, making your way out onto the grounds. The air outside was crisp, and a gentle snowfall had started to fall, dusting the grounds with a soft layer of white. The night felt peaceful, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle inside.

You walked side by side, not speaking much at first. There was something comfortable about the quiet now, something that made your heart feel at home.

Eventually, you found a secluded bench beneath a tree, the shadows and moonlight making the moment feel even more intimate. Harry sat first, and you followed, sitting next to him, not quite close enough to touch, but the space between you seemed to hum with the unspoken tension of everything that had built between you.

For a long time, you both sat in silence, watching the snowflakes drift down around you.

Finally, Harry broke the silence, his voice soft, but his words carrying a weight that felt new. “I don’t want to be just some legend, Y/N,” he said quietly, glancing at you. “I don’t want to just be the person everyone expects me to be. I don’t want you to just see me as that, either.”

You turned your head to look at him, and there was an openness in his eyes that made your heart ache with something indescribable. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t sympathy. It was something more profound.

“I never have, Harry,” you said softly. “From the moment we started talking, it was always just… you. The real you.”

He seemed to relax slightly at your words, though the vulnerability never fully left him. “I don’t know if I’m ready to be the person you deserve,” he murmured, as if it was a confession he didn’t know how to share. “But I know I want to try.”

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you reached out, your fingers brushing against his. The touch was electric, and when his hand instinctively closed around yours, it felt like a promise.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” you said, squeezing his hand gently. “You’re more than enough as you are. All of you. I… I just want you to be with me.”

Harry turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours. The contact felt like an unspoken agreement, a bond that neither of you could deny anymore. Slowly, he leaned toward you, his breath warm against your skin as he gazed at you.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice thick with the emotion he was trying to hold back.

You nodded, your voice barely a breath as you whispered, “I’m sure.”

And in that moment, everything seemed to fall away — the worries, the fears, the weight of the world. It was just the two of you. And then, Harry leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with an intensity that sent your pulse racing. It was slow at first, tender and hesitant, as though you both were savoring the newfound closeness, allowing it to settle between you like the snowflakes that surrounded you.

But as the kiss deepened, it became something more — a fierce need, a consuming hunger for something you both had been waiting for. His hands found their way to your face, cupping it gently, as if afraid you might slip away if he wasn’t careful. Your hands moved to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, as though it was racing in sync with your own.

You didn’t need words now. The kiss spoke for you both, telling a story of shared pain, hope, and the promise of something beautiful, something real.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and with hearts pounding, Harry rested his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you close. The air around you felt warmer now, even in the midst of the winter night.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” Harry confessed, his voice rough. “Not with anyone.”

“I haven’t either,” you whispered back, your hands tracing the line of his jaw. “But I know it’s right.”

He smiled then, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart flutter. “Then we don’t need anything else, do we?” he asked, his voice quiet but filled with certainty.

“No,” you said, leaning in once more, the moment perfect in its simplicity. “We don’t.”

And as the snow continued to fall around you, the world felt still, as though it was holding its breath in reverence to the secret moment you had just shared. The burden of expectation, the weight of the future, and the endless possibilities of what could come next no longer seemed important. In that moment, it was just you and Harry — and everything felt as it should be.

[astral-decaf]

hiiii, im said one piece fandom :333 may i request some zoro angst? i just need it to be angsty with no fluff, i’ll leave everything else to you :33 other than that i hope you have a great day/evening!!

Dispassionate Goodbyes

Warnings: sfw, angst, hurt/no comfort, second pov, no gendered pronouns, modern au

Characters: Roronoa Zoro, gn!reader

A/N: I hope you like this!! Probably not my strongest writing. I very rarely, if ever write Zoro owo;;

You tried. You really tried. Yet, you couldn't take it. He was stoic, serious. And well, he had been your type maybe once upon a time. Yet here you were, watching him with a flat blank expression, the way he ignored you. Was he ignoring you? What would you consider his focus? Zoro was entirely focused on the wrong thing, in your opinion.

It wasn't that you didn't matter to him, no, it was the opposite but he made a promise to Kuina.

Yet he was stern, serious. You didn't know how to handle that. So, here you were. After months, here you were. It was a poorly hidden secret that your relationship was failing on some level. On a level you couldn't truly understand. Even though you knew what you needed, you had put this off. You needed someone emotionally available, affectionate, and generally less busy. You needed someone who wasn't Zoro. You needed Sanji, even, the blonde you had slowly fallen for. Yet... It was clear that even he had alternative feelings.

Oh what a shit draw of luck.

That was your only thought as you stood there, wringing your hands anxiously as you watched Zoro.

"Zoro?" You beckoned.

The green haired man looked over, "Huh?" He grunted.

You gulped, meeting his gaze shyly. "We need to talk." You stated, continuing when Zoro didn't meaningfully react, "This isn't working. I need more. More than you can give me."

Zoro seemed to think for only a minute before continuing lifting weights, "Yeah." He stated, "Door's over there."

You stated at him, heart dropping into your stomach at his response as you held back tears. You bit your lip, only nodding, turning around at his rather dispassionate words. "...whatever, Roronoa." You whispered, beginning to walk away. You had hoped he would beckon you back.

Zoro never did.