#I want to and will figure out a way to stop feeling so comforted by sadness

[parfaitblogs]

making the bed ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your night crumbles around you, and spencer is happy to pick up the pieces. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort  tags: established relationship. (prior) alcohol consumption. reader is semi-drunk (but sobers up). post drinking depression. healthy alcohol information/discussion 🫡 word count: 2.1k a/n: do not read too much into this for you will begin to question why i still enjoy going clubbing. (joke...) 😄 plsss tell me if u liked this or even if u didnt thank u i love uuuuuu

Alcohol is a depressant. 

You remembered the God awful lecture your boyfriend had given you when you woke up one Sunday morning with this feeling of existential dread, and nothing to pin it to. A ramble about how alcohol can temporarily increase the body's production of dopamine and serotonin when entering, causing a worse crash of both chemicals when it leaves. Leaving you, evidently, depressed and anxious after a big night. 

You knew that. 

You also knew how quick you were to seclude within your mind when you were with people. Too many drinks and not enough social interaction tended to lead to your own isolation, sitting on the outer edge of the booth, absentmindedly playing with the charm on the end of your phone. 

The room no longer spun the way it had an hour ago. You missed when it spun. When it spun, you weren't thinking about how little you had to contribute to the conversations your friends were having. You weren't tallying up how many drinks you had already drank, then falling flat when you realised you couldn't remember, and that was a thought more horrifying than knowing it was over ten. You were fun, when the room was a carousel. 

Now, it's simply overwhelming. Loud chattering from both your table, and the surrounding ones. Clinking of glasses at the bar. A sports game on the television across the room. Balls on a pool table being dispersed for the first time in a game. Dancing feet. Music. People. So many fucking people.

Your phone buzzes against the table, and you pick it up before any of your friends could turn their heads to see where the vibrations were coming from. You figured they were too drunk to conclude it was you, anyways. Or to care. 

Spencer had texted you fifteen minutes ago to check in on you, and though it wasn't long ago, you not responding immediately in a flurry of half strung together sentences and emojis was worrying for him. That was probably why his name was now lighting up your screen, a funny photo of him mid-bite of an ice cream as his contact photo, enlarged. 

You hadn't responded for no reason other than the fact that you had no will to. Which should've been a big enough red flag to yourself that you should text him, and you should ask if he can pick you up. Thankfully, he loved to prove how well he could read you, and he was calling you anyways. 

"Hi," you mumble into the phone, angling your body away from your friends, hand held up to your other ear to block out some of the noise the best you could. 

"Hi," he parrots back to you. "You okay?"

An automatic yes manifests on your tongue, but you're quick enough to keep it to yourself before you can lie to him. Instead, you let out a quiet, "No."

He seems to have expected that answer, for he leaves no silence in between your admission and his response. "What can I do to help?" He also seems to be expecting your hesitance at asking him for anything that would require him to move, because he adds, "I can pick you up. Do you want me to pick you up?"

"Yes. Please?"

"I'm already leaving," he tells you, and you can hear his shoes against the wooden floor of his apartment to confirm that. "Did something happen? Are you safe?"

"No, nothing happened. I'm safe," you reassure him. "I started feeling sick so I stopped drinking an hour ago. Now I'm just sad."

"You remember what I told you about it being a depressant?"

"Vividly," you mutter, and while it isn't meant to be funny, you hear him huff a short laugh anyways. It makes you feel a little better. 

"It's important to know," he defends. "I'm sorry I shared important information with you."

"Mm."

Your lack of a verbal response was expected, but he still hated the sound of it regardless. You heard him sigh. "I have to hang up now. I'll be there in forty minutes. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you too."

No matter how much time had passed, your head lifted every time the door — that your group was so conveniently close to — opened, letting in a rush of cool air and sobering you up with every hit of it. 

True to his word, Spencer was entering the bar after forty minutes, face scrunching up at the sudden onslaught of noises and visual stimuli. Same boat as you, only he had not a drop of alcohol in his body. At least you weren't crazy about it being overstimulating. 

"This is why I don't go to bars," he says once he's approached your booth, and you had stood up next to you, his hand finding an automatic place on your waist. 

"It's usually not this bad," you tell him, but he decides not to ask you anything else upon hearing just how exhausted your voice sounds. You're grateful for that.

The goodbye to your friends is quick, Spencer rattling off a lie about him needing you home for he had work early the next morning, and you only had one key to the apartment. Even the friends who knew that wasn't the case didn't comment on it, and you made a pointless mental note to thank them for it later. You knew you wouldn't. 

The drive home was even faster. Silence, aside from the rush of the wind from your slightly cracked window as Spencer drove, that helped the sick feeling in your stomach from the alcohol you had consumed. 

It didn't seem to help the hollowness of your chest, though.

You weren't sure if anything would, really. A chemical imbalance in your brain — even one as temporary as the deflation from being drunk — was hard to fix without medication. It would go away, yes. But then you would make the mistake of drinking once more, and you would find yourself back in this brain peeling predicament. 

You showered alone. Despite Spencer's offer to join you, and your own personal desire for him to be there with you. It didn't help your fogged mind at all, and you were exiting the bathroom feeling like you had retreated further into your bones. Every movement felt clunky, your skin a heavy coat to your skeleton, restricting your movement down to short shuffles and barely lifted arm movements. 

He was reading when you reentered your bedroom, and you've never seen him put a book and his glasses back on his bedside table faster. He looked visibly tired. Keeping himself awake a seemingly difficult struggle, that you could feel your body heading towards to as well. 

"Hey," he says as you climb into the bed, and he's very patient as you figure out what position you want your bodies in. Head on his chest, but next to him, you had decided on, and his fingers entangled into your hair.

"Hi," you mumble, staring up at the ceiling, counting brush strokes of the paint, as if it were possible to.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

You huff at the phrase, tilting your head upwards so your eyes could land on him. "Do you have a penny?"

He pauses, then angles his head closer towards yours. "Okay, kiss for your thoughts?"

"That'll just distract me."

"Is that what you want?"

You should say no. Arguably the last thing you should be doing when you're sad is let intimacy with your boyfriend distract you. But then again, you're not the best advocate for healthy coping mechanisms anyways. 

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" he muses, and his lips brush against yours. Your heart flutters. 

"I don't really know what I want," you settle on telling him, honestly. "I want my brain to shut up."

His body deflates beneath you, and you feel guilt chip away up your spine at the killing of the less depressing atmosphere. 

"Sorry," you mumble.

"No. It's good. Be honest with me," he reassures you, quietly. His fingers tap at your scalp, "What's going on up here?"

"I'll cry if I try to verbalise it."

"Crying's good for you, you know," he hums.

"I'm pretty sure I still have eyeliner in my waterline. I'll just stain your sheets," you retort. 

"Yeah, probably. That's fine."

You're silent for a few moments, gathering your thoughts in your brain the best you could despite yourself, before you sit up, his hand dropping to the bed beside you.

"I just don't like being... here? Out? I don't know. I'm just really sick of being sad every time I drink. Is there something wrong with me? Did you get sad whenever you drank? Everyone else I know loves going out for drinks because they have fun and they're giggly drunks, or they're clingy drunks. And if I drink too much then I'm a fucking sad drunk, and I'm the only person I know that gets that way. I want to be normal."

He's silent your entire rant, and then some, waiting for your heaving chest to slow, having caught the few tears that slipped down your cheeks. You were grateful — you needed that time.

He reaches a hand out, and you let him tug you back down to the bed, slotting your body atop his own, just so he could see you properly. 

"To answer your question, no, I didn't get sad when I drank," he says, brushing your hair out of your face, before his hands rest on either side of your face. "But I wasn't really happy, either. I just talked more."

"You already talk a lot."

His lips twitch. "I do. Double whatever you think my worst is, and that was me drunk. Focus on the part where I said I wasn't a happy drunk, please."

"But you weren't sad. So there is something wrong with me."

"No, there's not. Alcohol is a depressant," he punctuates his words with a kiss to your nose, which you gratefully accept despite your emotions. "Are you willing to give up alcohol as a whole?" 

"My friends will think I'm boring, then."

He hesitates in his response, but ultimately settles on asking, "Do you think I'm boring because I don't drink?"

"No. Obviously not. And you have a real reason for not drinking, so—"

"—and being sad isn't a real reason to not drink?"

Taken aback by his sudden sternness, you go quiet, breath hitching within your throat. He was right, ultimately. No reason is reason enough. You knew that. 

Sensing your discomfort at his tone, he expels a breath of air and lowers his hands down to your hips. His voice drops to something a little less harsh, as he murmurs, "You are allowed to not want to drink alcohol if you don't like the way it makes you feel. If your friends think you're boring for that, then they're not worth it."

You silently nod your head, beginning to curse your emotional regulators. For while you had kept your tears at bay for the vast majority of this conversation, it seemed all it took was the gentle rubbing of circles onto your hip bones, and a fact checked piece of life advice from your boyfriend to make you cry. 

"Sorry," you sniffle, dropping your head to the crook of his neck to hide your newly tear stricken face. 

"Crying's good for you," he repeats his earlier words, and feels you nod your head. "You don't have to decide tonight. I'd encourage you not to, actually. You're technically still intoxicated."

"I'm sober," you protest, weakly. 

"Okay, honey." He's only agreeing with you to wane any further argument. "I don't think your friends will think you're boring, though, if that's any help."

"I don't think they will either."

He nods his head, and you're relaxing against him a little more. 

"Are you just trying to not be the only loser who doesn't drink?" you mumble, voice muffled by his skin.

"You've caught me."

He relishes in the laugh that leaves your lips, and he places the gentlest of kisses on the side of your head, which prompts you to lift it to look at him again. 

"You're not a loser for not drinking," you say, and his lips pull into a smile. 

He leans his head up, brushing his lips against yours, despite the mix of mint toothpaste and alcohol on your tongue. "I know. You wouldn't be either."

"I know."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[rueclfer]

Can I get a gentle reminder smau with Shigaraki? And maybe with a little excerpt of him checking in on us 👉🏻👈🏻 love your writing, but don’t feel inclined to do this request if you don’t want to :)

ily u r sweet yes u can get some of this soft n tender shiggy

gentle reminder // tomura shigaraki

“keep track of your shit.” tomura says once more, tossing your pill bottle onto your bed, right next to your figure hidden beneath the mass of blankets.

“you see a bottle of pills that looks kinda important, that you know i left in your room since last week and you don’t think to at least notify me?” you huff, peaking your head out.

“i dunno.” he shrugs. “you leave shit in my room at the time. think i have half your closet on my floor.” 

you tightly clench the fabric of the blanket up over your nose as heat spikes up to your ears.

tomura doesn’t need an invitation to make himself comfortable in your bed. you feel the shift of the mattress underneath you and hear the rattle of the pills as he shakes it in his hands.

“so this tiny ass pill” he lays on his back, one hand behind his head, the other holding up the small orange bottle to his eyes. “is the one thing that keeps you together?”

“unfortunately.” you sigh, pulling the blanket down under your chin. “can you pass me one?”

you watch him carefully shake out the small pale pill into the palm of his hand. he returns the stare as you swallow the pill dry, returning your head down onto your pillow.

“feel better?” he sets the bottle on the nightstand.

“no.” you laugh at the naivety. “gonna take a little to get used to them again.”

“what do you need then?” he blankly stares at you. “‘cause you can’t do this for another week.”

you two lock into a staring contest while you think for a moment. 

what do i need?

you feel like shit. you haven’t taken a proper shower in a few days. you haven’t really eaten anything. your throat is dry. this migraine is pounding its way out of your skull. this is the most you’ve spoken to someone in a week.

“maybe just stay here.”

it takes him by surprise- you see the shock in his eyes. 

sure you’ve messed around a bit (a lot), but you’ve never asked him for any sort of warmth and comfort. this is new territory for the both of you.

tomura fully turns on his side and inches a bit closer to you. he’s scared to touch you, so he just invades your bubble a little bit more than he usually would. your breaths intertwine in the stuffy air of your bedroom and you see the room slowly grow dimmer as the sun sets.

“is this helping?” he whispers.

“yeah.” you close your eyes, fingers reaching out to rest on top of the back of his hand, lighting tapping over his fingers. “thanks, tomura.”

“just don’t be stupid and forget again.” he sighs, switching your hand positions, his now firmly laying flat over yours.

“maybe it’s all a ruse to get you in my bed.” you tease.

“not that you need a ruse. it’s you. i’m always available.” he scoffs. “idiot.” he quickly adds on.

tomura’s glad the sun was almost set at this point. you wouldn’t be able to see his growing flushed face and chewed bottom lip as he continues to stare at your slight smile, and tousled hair from laying in bed all day.

he’ll make a mental note to make it a habit to stop by your room and remind you to take your meds from now on. he doesn’t realize until now that this piece of solitude in each other’s presence has been something he’s been craving, almost like an insatiable hunger. 

tomura scooches closer now, letting himself in the cocoon of your blankets. you accept him in between your arms, letting him rest his head against the crook of your neck.

“thank you, tomura.” you mutter against his hairline.

“yeah.”

[gibberishfangirl]

WINDBREAKER | i crumble completely when you cry

Synopsis ✰ you caught a bad case of the blues

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Mitsuki Kiryu, Jo Togame

Contains ✰ sfw!, crying, them trying to comfort you, lots of hugs, kisses, established relationship, bottled up emotions, reader is stressed/sad, seasonal depression, reader has self doubt, anxiety is implied, angst with a good dose of fluff, boyfriends are boyfriending

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

man… you’ve been so mean to him all day. ‘what’s her problem’ sakura couldn’t help but ask himself that question on repeat. the way you shoved him off whenever you walked past him, avoiding eye contact, and ignoring him whenever he tried to talk to you. he was tired of it, you’ve been like this for days. he could feel himself getting more frustrated the more you shut him out of your life. he was going to talk to you today if it was the last thing he’ll do. “hey can we talk?” “no.” you curved him with a harsh reply as you walked past him once again. five. that was the fifth time you did that this day. you disappeared out of his sight while he processed the amount of times you shut him down.

sakura let out an exhausted sigh as he continued to walk down every street looking for you. where could you even be at this time? he was getting hungry and it’s late he just wanted to make sure you at least got home safe at this point. he considered going into your guys’ favorite diner to catch some food and see if you were around the area. he eventually figured why not and made his way over there only to be stopped in his footsteps as he heard soft sniffling and sobs coming from the small neighborhood park. he felt his heart drop at the sound as the whimpers sounded too familiar to his ears for his liking. he hated that sound. mainly because he hated you being so sad.

he felt like an idiot. you were sad not angry this whole time and he couldn’t tell the difference. Sakura quietly made his way into the park when he spotted you crying on the swing set all by yourself. he took a seat on the swing next to you before opening his mouth “you okay?” you instantly recognized his voice but couldn’t respond from the choked up sobs you were letting out. the most you could do was shake your head no as you tried to stop crying. Sakura rubbed small circles on your back as you continued to sob and choke on your tears struggling to catch your breath. you rubbed your eyes with your sweater as an attempt to stop the tears.

“c’mere it’s okay.” sakura guided you off the swing and into his lap as your sobs reduced to small hiccups. sakura would be a liar if he said seeing you like this didn’t break his heart or make him feel sad as well. he hates to see you not be yourself. nonetheless he accepted your affection as you wrapped your arms around his neck and snuggled into him. “‘m sorry i was so mean to you.” your voice cracked as you apologized. sakura continued to massage your back, “it’s okay, y’know you could’ve told me if you were just feeling down.” “i-i-i-knowididntnwant-wan-you to-worry.” you blurted out as fast as you could in between sobs. to anyone else it might’ve just sounded like gibberish but sakura understood what you were trying to say. “i’ll always worry about you regardless.” sakura admits with a blush, slightly thankful you couldn’t see it as your head was buried into his neck. he consoled you for as long as you needed never breaking the grasp he had on you. he didn’t want to let go until he knew you were ready.

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

of course Ume knew something was wrong. he’s a lot more observant than he leads others to believe. especially when it comes to you, he notices everything about you. he knows you better than he even knows himself. which is why he couldn’t stand the way your eyes were swollen and puffy from the previous nights you obviously spent crying. despite trying your best to conceal it with make up or fake smiles he knew. it made him feel bad to think there was something you wouldn’t want him to know about. of course it was your right to choose what you wanted to keep yourself but it still hurt him to not be able to be there for you the way he wishes he could be.

if you didn’t want to talk, that’s okay. he’d never force you to if you weren’t ready, it’s not his right. for now he’d accept being there for you as he laid on the hammock with you on his chest. you both sat in silence as he listened to your faint heartbeat and small inhales and exhales. he grew worried when he felt your breathing become unsteady. he took a moment to stop looking up at the sky and tilted his head down to you. your hair was covering most of your expression so he tucked some of it behind your ear to get a better look at you. “there you are~ my pretty lover.” he coo’d at the sight of your face while you scoffed in response. “wanna tell me what’s wrong now?” he gently asked you unsure if he should’ve asked at all. he slightly regretted it once he saw tears prickle in your eyes. the way he could visibly notice giant tear drops gathering at the bottom of your eyes.

“don’t know what’s wrong with me. i might just be crazy.” you mumbled against his chest as tears streamed down your face. “ah don’t say that you’re not crazy. it’s normal.” he reassures you, playing with the strands of your hair just the way you like as he slightly massaged your scalp. “doesn’t feel normal.” “doesn’t mean it’s not okay.” “i’m just sad.” “it’s okay to be sad sometimes, just gotta talk through it and fight it okay? don’t let it swallow you whole.” “that’s hard.” “yeah… well that’s why you have me. i’m always here to help.” Ume gently reassured you before placing the softest kiss on the top of your head. it was so soft you almost missed it.

“you don’t ever wish you were with someone more normal?” “and miss out on someone as amazing as you? nah.” “i think you could find better.” “what a silly thing to say.” Ume couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped his mouth. in his perspective it truly was such a silly thing for you to say since it didn’t get better than this in his eyes. you were the best that he could ever find in this world and he has no intention on letting that go ever. “it’s not funny!” you’d pout finally looking up at him with tear stained eyes. “you’re right, it’s not. you should never think i could possibly find someone as perfect as you are.” he agreed with you but not in the way you thought he would. Ume couldn’t help himself as he pulled you up closer to him so your faces can align. he placed a kiss on your lips, another two on the corners of your mouth, another two on each side of your cheeks, one near the corner of your left eye, another near the corner of right eye, and lastly one on your forehead. Ume would kiss your tear stained face for as long as he needed to in order to stop those evil thoughts from entering your head.

Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

Suo couldn’t really pinpoint what was wrong. despite him being pretty well at reading people and understanding where someone is coming from he couldn’t tell what was happening. had something happened recently to cause such a change in you? did he do something wrong? all he could do was watch you sadly as you poked around your ice cream barely consuming any of it. it took you forever to finish it, and it was your favorite ice cream. normally you would’ve finished it quickly while telling him a funny story that happened between you and your friend. the date night between you two was spent in silence for the most part despite his attempts to perk up the conversation. maybe you were done with him? maybe you were finally over the relationship? his mood was going down the drain the more he wondered what was this tension surrounding the two of you.

“you okay suo? you seem upset.” the sound of your soft spoken voice snapped him out of thoughts. he looked at your eyes and now that he thought about it… he’s never seen you with such sad eyes before. your eyes were drained and had no light in them yet here you were asking and caring about him. you reached over to feel his forehead “mm’ your a bit warm. we should get you inside you can get sick.” you insisted taking him by the hand and leading him back to your home. once the two of you got to your place you laid in bed together and you asked again “you sure you’re fine? i don’t want you feeling bad.” while cuddling closer to him. all the negative thoughts Suo was thinking earlier vanished. of course you still loved him, you wouldn’t act this way if you didn’t. but still… you weren’t happy and he didn’t know how to help.

“are you okay?” he finally asked. “huh? why wouldn’t i be?” “your eyes. they look sad.” “oh…” you could feel your own face heat up, you didn’t think he’d notice but of course he did. Suo noticed everything. “i don’t really want to talk about it right now.” you sheepishly admitted. you felt a bit cowardly about not being able to open up about the random sadness that tended to pain your chest every once in a while. you always struggled with opening up about this situation and never knew how to word things which is why you tended to avoid it as much as you could. “that’s okay. we’ll talk when you’re ready. i’ll just hold you for now if that’s okay.” “that’s more than okay.” you sighed in relief, glad he didn’t push the topic further. you felt the tension that had burden you all day lift off your shoulders for that night. having someone who can understand you in silence and comfort you was all you could wish for in that moment. sometimes you didn’t want to talk, you just wanted to be held.

something Suo would always do for you: he’ll hold you and never let go. some people couldn’t handle silence but you were glad suo was so understanding and understood it in the same way you did. words couldn’t describe the amount of relief and comfort you felt once you woke up in the morning to find yourself still in suo’s arm. his grip on you never weakening as your eyes met the soft sleeping expression worn on his face. it felt nice to snuggle into him and listen to the bass of his heartbeat knowing he’d never leave no matter how hard things got. it filled you up with hope that bad days don’t last forever and that they will go away.

Mitsuki Kiryu ᡣ𐭩

he couldn’t stand the way your eyes puffed up from the amount of crying you were doing. he hated to see how sad you were like any other good boyfriend would. he would wipe your tears carefully as he held your face. he’d take in your facial expressions as you sniffled and rubbed your eyes. you avoided any type of eye contact with him, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about how wrong this hang out went. the two of you were at a party, you thought it’d help cheer you up but you ended up getting overwhelmed. Kiryu was the first to realize you were upset and took you outside for some fresh air. he knew you were at a vulnerable place and kept you perfectly hidden from sight with his body. you didn’t want anyone else seeing you like this. “you okay love? wanna leave? we can go home.” Kiryu wasn’t sure of what exactly triggered this response from you but his utmost concern was getting you comfortable.

“yeah. let’s go, wanna go home.” you replied shyly still avoiding his caring gaze. Kiryu guided you away from the scene, he didn’t even bother saying goodbye to anyone. once the two of you got home he grew even more worried considering the fact that you hadn’t stopped crying. the only difference was your cry became more silent over time. you sat on the bed as Kiryu helped undress you. carefully taking off your jacket and shoes, he treated you like a fragile porcelain doll. you didn’t fight back his help and laid on the bed to cuddle up with a pillow. he’d sit on the edge next to you as he pushed your hair out of your face. he’d trace the sides of your face with his gentle soft fingers. “want some hot chocolate? might make you feel better.” he’d offer. he assumed from your complete silence you didn’t want to talk about it so he moved on to doing anything else he can to cheer you up. you felt like your voice would give out on you if you tried to respond so you settled with a small nod.

“kay, be right back in a few minutes.” he’d press a gentle kiss on your cheek and wrap a blanket around you before heading out. just like he promised he was back within a few minutes with a nice cup of hot chocolate. he sat back on the edge of the bed and softly blew into the cup wanting to make sure it wouldn’t be too hot for you. he was relieved to see you more calm, your hiccups and soft sobs were gone as you gained the energy to sit back up. he brought his hand behind your back to give you a small massage while he used his free hand to bring up the cup to you. the sip of the hot tasty substance really helped you calm your nerves. “thank you.” you mumbled with a blush finally meeting his eye. the small gesture of you meeting his eyes had Kiryu smiling. he was glad you finally were able to meet his gaze after all this time. “of course. let me get you some pj’s” he offered already getting a set out for you from his closet.

“c’mon lemme help you.” he insisted resting his hands on the buckle of your jeans. he wouldn’t pursue action without your full consent. “i-no! you shouldn’t. that’s… embarrassing… isn’t it?” you blushed furiously. this whole conversation was almost enough to make you forget about your previous crying session. “embarrassing?? no. it isn’t why should it be? i want to take care of you.” he giggled playfully. his voice and loving eyes cracked a small smile out of you for the first time this night. especially with the way his voice was laced with pure genuine love. “oh… okay then.” you weren’t used to others going out of their way to care or cheer you up the way Kiryu was doing right now. it felt nice and comforting to know someone like this would be in your corner at all times. Kiryu’s love goes above and beyond for you even if you were in dark times. he’d help guide you back to happiness and care for you each step of the way. he wouldn’t push on the subject until you were comfortable.

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

Jo can always get the hint when you’re feeling down. hes very observant so it’s easy for him to catch any small detail about you even if you assume he didn’t notice. so when he noticed your blues coming in and your distant behavior his first thought was wondering if someone did anything to you. but when you never came to him for help he figured it wasn’t that. you knew if someone was giving you problems you could always get your boyfriend to handle them so it had to be something else. maybe it was something he couldn’t understand? he’d bring hell upon anyone who unsettled you so he didn’t know how to handle when it wasn’t someone. you were typically the more outgoing one than him in the relationship so he hated seeing you mope about. he’d come up with ways on how to cheer you up even going as far as asking Choji for some advice. who better to ask for advice? you were his sole reason for finding the motivation to get out of bed everyday, if you were feeling sad he’ll do anything in his power to make it better.

you sulked in bed for most of the day waiting for Jo to get back home from work and running errands. you almost called it night until the door gently creaked opened revealing your tall handsome man. in all honesty Jo was tired after a long day of work but he still wanted to make this night special for you even if it meant dragging his tired feet across every store to find your favorite flowers, snacks and movies on dvd so the two of you can have a movie night. curiosity struck you fast as you quickly removed your covers waiting for him to show you what was in the bag. Jo let out a chuckle at your quick reaction, “hey pretty girl, got you some stuff.” he’d take off his dirty black work jacket before leaning down and kissing you on the forehead. the two you spent the night chatting about his day for a bit before cuddling and watching the movies. it was nice to get your mind distracted from the thoughts that were haunting you lately.

“do you want to talk about what’s wrong?” Jo asked as the first movie ended. “not really, guess i just felt a bit down.” you tried to shrug off. you weren’t the best at expressing yourself during these times especially when insecurity was eating you from the inside out. Jo raised a brow up at you already knowing you all too well to know it was more than just “feeling down”. “i was a little insecure.” you mumbled quietly hating the way it sounded so foolish out loud. Jo felt a bit taken back at your response a small part of him was waiting for the punchline but it never came. not that he thought it was funny in the slightest, but because in his eyes you were as good as life itself got. he wasn’t sure how to respond at first, he wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t feel that way but he felt like that wasn’t a good move. he can’t force you to feel differently but he wished he could make you realize that you were perfect. instead of responding he tilted your head up at him and kissing you straight on the lips.

“what was that for?” “for being you.” Jo mumbled before interlocking your lips once again. he figured it would be better to show you how beautiful you were instead of only using his words. even if that meant having to show you every single day for the rest of his life. he’ll do it even after you realize you’re the only one for him. you could expect many cuddle sessions and more to come from Jo anytime you felt the slightest bit of insecurity or doubt creep into the back of your mind.

a/n <3: i’ve been feeling pretty down recently so similar posts like this are coming soon 😭 sorry but i hope yall still enjoy! also i am a FIRM believer that jo is the type of man to work all day just to provide for the both of you and still make time to create special moments for you each and every single day. he’s just such a lover boy sorry i don’t make the rules.

[atlabeth]

i crumble completely (when you cry)

pairing: sebastian sallow x fem ravenclaw reader

summary: there's only one way to get into salazar slytherin's scriptorium.

a/n: hogwarts legacy was 70% off, i bought it and it's good but not good enough in all the ways that matter so im fixing it for myself. no i dont know why this is where my inspo is when i have so much unfinished stuff but just go with it

wc: 2.1k

warning(s): angst but hurt/comfort angst! a more in depth scriptorium scene so crucio is used but this is from seb's pov so lighter descriptions of all that fun stuff

“Ominis, you have to.”

“I’m not doing it!” he exclaimed. “What do you not get?”

“Would you rather die here?” Sebastian spat. “Because if you don’t, that’s what will happen. And I’ve become rather fond of my life over these past few minutes.” 

“I refuse to use dark magic,” Ominis seethed. “You of all people should understand, Sebastian!” 

“I don’t understand why you’d let us die instead of casting one spell!”

He barked an incredulous laugh. “It is not just one spell! God, you—”

“Can you do it?” 

Sebastian’s anger faltered for a moment when you spoke up, and he frowned when he saw you were looking at him. “What?” 

“Can you do it?” you repeated. “Can you cast the curse?” 

“I—” His mouth fell open and shut as he looked between you and Ominis, before they finally settled on you. “—I think so. Not well, but—”

“Then you can do it,” you said. “Cast it on me, and we’ll be out of this mess.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened as he said your name in disbelief. “You can’t be serious!”

You stared at him. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Ominis cut in. “I know what it feels like—you’re not putting yourself through that. We’ll find another way.”

“There is no other way.” You gestured at the letters on the ground, his aunt’s last mark on the world. “You’ve got the answer right here, and a willing victim. What are you waiting for?”

Sebastian grimaced. “Calling yourself a victim isn’t helping.”

“The only reason you’re willing is because you don’t know what you’re signing up for.” Ominis’s blank gaze pointed at the ground, but his sharp words hit you all the same. “It’s unimaginable, excruciating pain. Every one of your nerves exploding, your bones being crushed to dust, your blood turning to fire. You will never forget what it feels like.”

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the chill settling over you. “Well, it’s either that or we sit around here until we die.”

“Even if he wanted to—”

“Which I don’t!” Sebastian cut in. 

“He would have to really mean it,” Ominis finished. 

“Again, which I don’t!” he exclaimed. 

“That just means it won’t hurt as much,” you said. “Should take away some of your reservations.”

Sebastian huffed. “There is something wrong with you.”

“And you were all for this when it would be Ominis casting it on me?” you asked, tilting your head.

“I— I figured he would cast it on me!” His eyes widened. “I— I could teach it to you, and you could cast it on me!”

“Will the two of you stop bickering?” Ominis asked. “It’s not making this any better.” 

“Of course,” you nodded. “Sebastian will cast the Cruciatus Curse on me, and we’ll be out of here. Okay?” 

Sebastian stared at you, your steely gaze having already met his. You’d always been stubborn, unyielding—he’d known it since you bested him in a duel in your first ever meeting. 

Ravenclaw hardheadedness, he figured. Always assuming you knew best (you usually did), that you were right (you usually were), that you could handle whatever ended up in your path (you usually could). 

And here you were, standing right in front of him, those determined eyes unwavering as you practically begged him to cast an Unforgivable Curse on you. 

Did you know that he wasn’t even sure he could cast it on you? Not just because it was near unthinkable, but because he had no idea if he could scrounge up enough ill will towards you to even partially want to hurt you. 

Did you know that you were the reason he’d started doing better in classes? That, no matter how much he complained about your study sessions together, that he could have been doing something much more productive, he treasured every moment with you? 

Did you even know that the mere thought of causing you pain made him want to retch? That, yes, he may very well choose death over imparting the torture curse on you? 

Did you even know how he felt about you? 

Sebastian pulled his wand out his robes, his grip tightening in an effort to stop his hand from shaking. “You’re sure about this.” 

You nodded. “It won’t leave any physical wounds. It’ll be over sooner than you know it.” 

He huffed as he glanced away. “You shouldn’t be the one reassuring me.” 

“I don’t mind,” you shrugged. “Just… buy me a pint of butterbeer when we get out of here. Then we’ll be square.” 

“You’re not exactly aiming high,” Sebastian said wryly. 

You smiled. “My mum always told me it was the simple things. Now, do it before I lose my nerve.” 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, once, twice, three times as he adjusted his hold on his wand. He closed his eyes as he tried to remember the wand movement, but instead, he saw your face. 

The first time he met you, when you embarrassed him in front of the whole class by beating him ina duel. When you asked him to take you to Hogsmeade for the first time, and you ended up taking down a troll—how beautiful you looked with the glow of exertion beneath your skin, when you turned to him with the widest (and maybe first) smile he’d ever seen from you in the wake of your efforts. 

How could he do something like this to you?

He pushed the doubt down. There was no other way. You wanted him to do it—wanted him to save them all from a very boring, very preventable death. 

Something in the scriptorium could save Anne. That was worth anything. 

Sebastian took in a deep breath. He brought forth every negative thought—the goblin that cursed his sister, his housemates that believed in nothing but blood purity, his uncle that refused to believe in him, refused to even try to save Anne. 

None of it to do with you, who had done nothing but support him since you helped him up from the ground after pummeling him into it, but he tried to project it onto you anyways. 

He raised his wand. 

He opened his eyes—your gaze hadn’t moved. They showed no fear, no anger, no emotion at all but steely determination. 

“Crucio!” 

Red light arced from his wand to your body. You crumpled to your knees the instant the spell reached you, skull-splintering screams echoing throughout the small room as the curse wrapped its way around you. 

Your scarf fell from your neck, your robes pooled around you, your knees and palms scraped the stone as you tried to support yourself in any way. Your agonized wails were deafening, and Sebastian nearly lost it right then and there, nausea rising in his throat. Ominis’s blank, widened gaze fell on the wall, his hands clenched into fists as he fought to keep his expression even. 

You were one of the strongest people Sebastian knew. Always infallible, always so smart, so level headed in the face of his impulsivity. Naturally gifted at magic, and somehow willing to tolerate him. And he’d been forced to reduce you to this. 

But it worked. Your screams of pure torment unlocked something in Salazar Slytherin’s sick design, and the door of tortured faces pulsed with red energy before sliding into the stone. 

Sebastian rushed over the moment the door started to open, his wand falling from his grasp in his haste and his eyes wide with fear and concern. He went to touch you, but stopped just before he could—he didn’t want to hurt you more. Your entire body rose and fell with your beleaguered breaths as you rolled on your side, your every movement labored. 

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed. “I— I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

You couldn’t respond, the pain still arcing its way through your body despite the curse being done. You inhaled sharply as your eyes screwed shut, and you nodded. 

“You’re clearly not okay.” The slight waver in Ominis’s voice betrayed his unaffected stature. “That was remarkably stupid.”

“Ominis—” Sebastian started, but you shook your head. 

“It worked,” you interrupted as you lifted a shaky hand to point at the now revealed scriptorium. “Couldn’t… couldn’t be too stupid… could it?”

“There is something wrong with you,” he whispered. You could only manage a pained laugh at his words. 

Sebastian stayed there with you as you fought through the last few convulsions—he said nothing when you grabbed his hand, bit back his wince when you squeezed tighter than a vice. After what you just went through, he could bear something so small. 

Your breathing was still labored when he finally helped you up. Your legs nearly collapsed beneath you, but he kept you upright. 

“You’re okay,” he whispered, desperate to reassure you. “You— you’re okay.”

“I told you I would be,” you said. 

“You did,” he conceded. “I keep forgetting you’re always right.” 

He got the slightest smile from you at that. Sebastian glanced over when he heard footsteps, and he saw Ominis approaching. His whole body still held a tenseness, but he was sure it was for a different reason this time. 

“…You took that well,” he finally said, and he held out your scarf. 

Again, another laugh and another wince. “I really didn’t. But thank you.” 

You reached for the scarf, but Sebastian got to it first. He gently draped it around your neck, taking special care to keep the Ravenclaw emblem in the front. You had a lot of pride in your house. 

“How’s that?” he asked softly. 

“Perfect,” you nodded. “Thank you.” 

He nodded too, and Ominis cleared his throat. Sebastian turned back to him, his cheeks tinted slightly pink. Ominis held his wand, and he took it back before shoving it back into his robes. Casting any sort of spell felt dirtied right now. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I… I’m sorry about all this.” 

“…Thank you,” Ominis echoed. “Let’s just get out of here before any more of Slytherin’s tricks find us.” 

“No arguments here,” you mumbled. 

Ominis walked in, and though your eyes followed him, you lingered back with Sebastian. He still supported you, one of his arms interlocked with yours. A part of him was worried that you would collapse again the second he stepped away. He could feel your chilled skin even through your robes—no wonder you always wore your scarf. You ran colder than a mermaid. 

“I’m so sorry,” Sebastian said quietly. 

“You already said that.” 

“Because it’s true,” he said. “These curses are unforgivable for a reason. You never should have had to go through this.” 

“Well, I forgive you,” you said. “We had no choice, and I asked you to do it. And,” you gave him a wry look, “it didn’t hurt that much, so you clearly didn’t mean it.” 

He couldn’t even laugh at that—he kept hearing your piercing screams, agony beyond all reason. He would surely hear them for weeks to come in his sleep, see your prone form every time he closed his eyes. 

He felt you nudge him in the side. “Hey. Perk up. I’m okay. Besides,” you gave him a sideways smile, “Rowena would be proud. Anything in the name of knowledge, eh?” 

That got the slightest of smiles out of him, and he shook his head. “There’s—” 

“Something wrong with me, I know. That’s the third time today.” You tilted your head towards the scriptorium. “Now, shall we get what we suffered for?” 

Sebastian nodded, and the two of you walked in, him still supporting you. Ominis had already made his way up the stairs—he really did want to get out as soon as possible. You had your wand in your free hand and had already murmured a quick Revelio, eyes darting around in an effort to unearth any secrets. 

“That brain of yours never stops, does it?” 

Your lips quirked. “Never.” 

Another beat of silence as you searched the alcoves together. He couldn’t help but watch you—you were a Ravenclaw in her natural habitat. Your brow creased just so, your pretty features honed to a single point of focus, cycling through all your thoughts at breakneck speed despite what you just went through. It made his heart swell with something he couldn’t quite name, right beside a gnawing hole filled with guilt.  

“I really do owe you a pint,” Sebastian murmured.  

You laughed. Lighter, this time, and with only the slightest grimace. “Make that two.” 

A smile crossed his lips without him even thinking. Sebastian was so glad he had you in his life—he was only sorry he had to wait until fifth year. 

“Deal.”

[jimxnslight]

2 and/or 16 with a sad mopey jungkook who saw oc with her new man, trying desperately to convince her to leave him for him because he just doesn’t get how she could have possibly moved on yet even if it’s been like a year or two

Pairing: student!Jungkook x figure skater!reader

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: None

A/N: why am I physically incapable of writing a 1k word drabble…

“You can’t be here right now,” you huffed as you rushed along the hard concrete surface of the sidewalk, your black coat billowing behind you while your nose and cheeks suffered at the hands of the chilly air. Perhaps if you slowed down the wind would bite less harshly at your skin, perhaps your heart wouldn’t be racing in your chest as fast as it was right now, but if you weren’t speed walking away from the bus you had just stepped off of, you knew you would’ve been standing back at the bus stop like a statue, the shock of seeing the man you thought you would never see again freezing you in a way the winter cold could never.

“Y/N wait,” a familiar male voice called from behind you.

What was he doing back here?

He should’ve been halfway across the world right now, speaking flawless English to his American friends and eating American foods and living the American Dream everyone seemed to always be raving about. Not back here, in your simple neighbourhood, following behind you as you tried to make a hasty beeline to your home. 

“Y/N please, I need to talk to you,” he continued to follow behind you, much more effortlessly considering his longer legs. 

Whenever you got back from work, you would always get off the bus in the neighbourhood next to your own, preferring to walk the last few minutes in a comforting silence, but now you were regretting that choice of yours. Now you wanted nothing more than to lock yourself in your home and pretend you hadn’t just spotted your ex boyfriend waiting for you at the bus stop, the one who you hadn’t seen in almost a year. 

You picked up your pace, not allowing him to catch up even though you knew he could if he wanted to, “well, I don’t want to speak with you.”

“Why?” He whined, the question inducing a short silence before he spoke again, his tone turning bitter, “it’s not because of… him, is it?”

That stopped you in your tracks. 

The action had been so abrupt he almost crashed straight into your back, only narrowly missing the collision at the last moment. He couldn’t possibly have been talking about… no. No way. Things were still so new, they had barely even begun. How could he have found out so quickly?

You turned around, determined to get some answers, but the sudden sight of him left you speechless for a moment. 

Jeon Jungkook. 

He was standing so close to you that your coats brushed together as a gust of wind whirled between your legs, his face barely a breath away from your own. That face, with his strong jawline and structured eyebrows and defined nose, but also his pouty lips and soft skin and doe eyes. You had to look away as you took a step backwards, trying to hide the old feelings starting to rise to the surface of your exterior. 

“Who is him?” You asked, your tone a lot less bitter than you would have liked. Maybe if you were mean, he would leave you alone, but it wasn’t in your nature to be like that, especially to Jungkook despite everything that led to your breakup.

A brow on Jungkook’s face raised, as if he wasn’t sure if you were serious or not, “you know who I’m talking about.”

“No, I don’t.”

He sighed, taking a second to gather himself, “your new boyfriend, Y/N. That’s who I’m talking about.”

“How could you possibly know about that?”

“Namjoon told me.”

That idiot, you should’ve known not to tell especially him of all people. He’d always had a soft spot for Jungkook, never scolding him or berating him over things Jin would’ve choke slammed him into the Atlantic ocean for. But that piece of information also made you a bit wary, because you wondered what else Namjoon had told Jungkook about you in all these months, you wondered why Jungkook even cared to know. 

“Fine,” you huffed, turning around to resume your journey back to your home - and also to avoid the sight of his features -, “yes, I can’t talk to you because of my boyfriend.”

Jungkook made a noise that sounded like a mixture of a whine and a groan, as if the word boyfriend was suddenly the most atrocious term created by human beings who foresaw just how torturous it would be to his ears, before he began to follow behind you. Thankfully he was smart enough to drop the boyfriend topic, choosing instead to resume his earlier point. 

“I just need you to hear me out. That’s all I’m asking for,” he pleaded, watching as you continued to turn into your street, relieved to catch sight of your house a few blocks away, “I really need to talk to you.”

“No.”

“Please, Y/N. Just give me one chance to explain.”

You were practically jogging at this point, almost desperate to get away from the smooth lilt of his voice. The voice that used to softly comfort you through those days when you felt like the world was sitting heavily on your shoulders, that used to praise you whenever you would bring home a gold from your competitions, that used to gently coax you out of your anger whenever it felt as though your unsupportive parents had lit you on fire with just their discouraging words. That voice could have asked you for anything and you would’ve given it without a second thought, even now you could feel yourself drawn to it despite the months you two have been apart. 

“I said no,” you forced out, sighing in relief when you managed to make it up the three stone steps leading to your front door before dropping your heavy canvas bag at your feet. The stretch of silence that followed as you began to dig into your purse for your keys gave you a little hope that Jungkook had finally given up on whatever mission he was so determined on. 

It was only when your keys had slotted into the lock of your front door that he seemed to really panic. 

“I want us to make up,” he announced quickly, feeling you slipping from between his fingers. Your brows furrowed as you turned around to remind him that you weren’t the “friends with her exes” kind of girl and you’d made that very clear to him after your break up. But before you could open your mouth, he spoke once more.

“I want you to be my girlfriend again.”

He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at you with sombre doe eyes. It was only now that you could see the desperation in his features, evident in the slight dip of his lips and furrow of his brows. You hated that you also noticed just how beautiful he looked, the sun setting behind him casting a warm glow on his skin and dark brown hair. 

“That’s not possible anymore, Jungkook,” you stated, shifting your gaze away from his once again. God, it was so hard to be in his presence, so hard to be near him and not be able to touch him like you used to. You thought you were finally starting to get over him, but clearly it was only his absence that had given you any semblance of a chance. 

“Look, I know how things ended may make it seem that way-” He began, but you cut him off instantly.

“Things ended because they had to. There’s nothing else left to do except move on.”

 “But-”

“No, Jungkook. It’s over.”

It was over the moment Jungkook received that letter a year ago. 

You both obviously hadn’t known it back then, you had been too wrapped in that safe bubble of childish dreams and love to ever consider just how complicated the future could become. But then reality came along and hit those two stupid 18 year olds like a truck. 

It had been one week after your high school graduations, the two of you still riding that joy until Jungkook had showed up at your door with a large envelope clutched between his fingers. You remember noticing how nervous he looked, his knuckles white and his eyes wide in worry. You’d quickly ushered him into your bedroom, letting your mom know who was at the door, before closing it behind you. 

“Is that what I think it is?” You had asked curiously, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. When he nodded, you smiled, “it looks big, that’s a good sign, right?”

“You open it,” he’d exclaimed, shoving the envelope in your direction with shaky hands. You couldn’t understand why Jungkook was so nervous, if anyone deserved to be accepted into this program it was him. 

You ripped the top of the envelope open, eyes widening when you caught sight of a single word. 

Congratulations. 

“Oh my god, you’re in!” You’d exclaimed, shoving the papers back towards him with shaking hands. At first Jungkook had seemed shocked, his eyes scanning the document before him as if he were in a dream. But then a huge grin had overtaken his features, the realisation that this was real finally setting in before he threw his arms around you, pressing his lips to yours. You had laughed, cupping his cheeks, knowing that the dream your boyfriend had been working towards for years was finally becoming reality. 

That joy didn’t last long. 

The engineering program that Jungkook had been accepted into, which was one of the most competitive in the entire world and would allow him to work with the most distinguished engineers in the field, was based in America. On top of the generous scholarship and the promise of all expenses being paid, there was nothing standing in the way of his dream. 

Nothing… aside from you. 

You had been in one of the top figure skating programs in the country since you were a child, the chance of becoming an olympic level athlete high according to your coaches as long as you stayed focused on your goal.  

Initially, you had both tried to find a way to prevent the separation, with Jungkook asking his program coordinators if there was any way he could stay in South Korea while you went to your own program to request any way in which you could continue while living in America. But your efforts were fruitless, and soon you were forced to deal with the reality at hand. 

The conversation hadn’t gone well at all. You’d insisted that trying long distance wouldn’t be so bad, but Jungkook had argued that the two of you would eventually fall out of it. Back then the words had hurt you, that he’d had so little faith in your relationship especially since you both had been best friends before you started dating. Things had completely exploded after that, building into an emotionally messy situation that by the time it was time for Jungkook to leave for America, your breakup had been inevitable. 

Now that you were a little older, you could understand Jungkook’s perspective a bit more after witnessing all the long distance relationships crumble around you gradually, and you could also admit just how poorly you both had handled the entire situation in general. Not to mention, you’d been given a lot of time to really think it over and you’d realised just how superficially you both had viewed the issue. Had it never occurred to you that, with such a valuable degree, Jungkook might want to stay in America after University to work alongside the greats? And that you, with your entire life here, wouldn’t want to move to a different country? 

Perhaps the breakup had been for the best, or at least that was what you had concluded. 

So then why was Jungkook back here, expecting anything to have changed?

“It doesn’t have to be over,” Jungkook tried again, his breath coming out foggy against the cold air. 

“But it does,” you tried to convince him, “I have a boyfriend now, Jungkook.”

“Forget him, it’s not even serious. Come one, Y/N… don’t you miss me anymore?”

His presence was starting to make you realise that you did. It had taken you months to get over him despite how messy the breakup had been, but now you were starting to wonder if you had actually gotten over him or you’d only convinced yourself you had. The latter made you feel ashamed, guilty that your current boyfriend had a girlfriend that might not truly be over her ex just yet. 

That guilt forced you to turn away from him and grab the handle, determined to put an end to this for the sake of loyalty, “nothing has changed. You’re still there and I’m still here. So goodnight-”

“I dropped out of the program.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, snapping back to him in shock. You scanned him from head to toe, trying to pick up on anything that might indicate that he was lying or just joking around. But his eyes lacked any amusement and the edge of his lip was turned downward in that way it always did when he was being serious. 

Jeon Jungkook had dropped his dream. 

The boy whose parents had died when he was young, who had struggled all throughout his life to get through school because of it, who only had one dream of becoming one of the best engineers the world has ever known… had dropped out. 

“I thought I would be able to move on. I’ve heard time is supposed to heal, but I swear Y/N whoever made that phrase is a lying bastard because time away from you only made things worse. I thought about you everyday, about how much I missed what we had and hated what we became.”

Jungkook swallowed, suddenly looking like the shy and vulnerable 15 year old boy you first met in tenth grade. 

“I think… I think that deep down I had intentionally tried to break us up before I left - like getting the breakup over with then would be better than trying to hold on, only to fall apart slowly and painfully. But I didn’t realise that pushing you away would be the one regret that followed me everywhere I went.”

He moved forward then, climbing the stairs until he was face to face with your quiet figure. Your mind felt like a hurricane, the words coming out of his mouth only spurring your thoughts into more and more chaos, until his final words seemed to shut you down entirely. 

“I still love you, Y/N, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“But- you can’t just give up on-” You tried to get out, but Jungkook beat you to it, reading your mind perfectly. 

“I’ll study engineering here. I don’t need a fancy American University to do that, South Korea has great enough options. Either way, I’ll make it work, it’s what I should’ve done back then.”

Now you were rendered completely speechless. Jungkook had just dropped his dreams in America and come back… all for you. You didn’t know what to feel, didn’t know how to even wrap your mind around the dramatic turn of events. Most of all, you had no damn clue what it was you wanted. 

Or rather who it was.

“Hey.”

You and Jungkook turned to find your boyfriend standing at the bottom of the stairs, his almost black locks pushed backwards and hands shoved into his pockets as he gifted you a soft smile. Then his gaze travelled to Jungkook, curiosity spreading throughout his features. 

“Who’s this?” He asked, climbing the steps before him to stand by your side. Jungkook’s sharp gaze stayed fixed on the way his arm wrapped around your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. 

“This is Jungkook,” you managed to say, although you couldn’t admit anything further with all the emotions whirling through your mind, “Jungkook, this is Yoongi. My boyfriend.”

Yoongi gave him a nod, though you could tell the lack of description left him curious as to who Jungkook was.

“Is he coming inside or…?” He asked.

There was a beat of silence, and honestly a part of you was glad Yoongi was here. Glad that the moment hadn’t stretched enough that you might have actually given Jungkook’s proposition an answer. Whether it was because you were afraid you might have said yes, or might have said no, you didn’t know. 

“No,” you finally answered instead, taking a breath to pull yourself together, “he was just leaving actually.”

Jungkook didn’t move, doe eyes trying to meet your lowered gaze. You could tell your words must have hurt him, but you also knew that he wouldn’t take much offence to it just yet because this won’t be the first time he’ll approach you. You’ve known Jungkook for years, and you knew that he put immense effort into getting what he wanted. Not to mention there was something in his eyes too, a firm kind of determination that told you he wasn’t going down without a fight. 

A hesitant breath escaped Yoongi’s lips, seeming to pick up on the weird tension in the air between you both. 

“Alright, we should get going then,” he said, pushing the front door open while he guided you inside the house, “it was nice meeting you, Jungkook.”

You were glad Yoongi was there to pull you away from the situation, because you were sure you wouldn’t have had the strength to do it on your own. The lack of Jungkook in your presence was starting to allow your sense to flood back into your mind, chastising you for even thinking of something so crazy. 

And yet, despite the sense returning to you, you couldn’t deny this feeling of yearning that had settled into your heart - or maybe it has always been there and you’ve just been ignoring it ever since Jungkook left. Either way, you hope for your sake that you don’t ever meet Jungkook again. 

Because when you really thought about it, when you began to question every one of your feelings and desires, you always found your mind jumping back to Jungkook without fail. You hated that you spent a year trying to forget him, and one appearance from him had you back to square one. You hated that he still had such a huge effect on you, and that you were still so embarrassingly weak for him.

But most of all, you hated that the next time you saw him… 

You feared you might actually tell him yes. 

[lillotte17]

The Music Room

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS‼- Do Not Read unless you have completed the Dread Wolf's Regrets quest!!!!

AN: I have not finished the game, so I don't know if this will actually be part of my canon yet, but the world is currently awful and I...needed to be making something. But as I said: I have NOT finished the game yet, so if you leave a comment (pls and thank) do NOT write anything with spoilers in it!!!

Okay, on with the show!

~

Rill finds Inquisitor Lavellan sitting at the harpsichord in the music room. All of the other rooms at the Lighthouse had seemed barren when they had first started using it as their base, and even this one had apparently been used as some sort of storage space -there was an alarming amount of cheese for some reason- but the quiet here feels different in a way that is hard to quantify. Peaceful, as opposed to desolate. The light pouring through the windows is always bright in here. Always warm. The murals on the walls were still vivid when they came. Colorful and new. The most prominent one bears the symbol of the Inquisition flanked by howling wolves.

The woman contemplating it does not look like the fearsome hero who closed a hole in the sky and stopped the southern half of the world from falling into chaos, though. She looks small. And tired. And sad.

Rill clears her throat, feeling awkward.

“So. Not trying to complain or anything, but when you asked to come here, you did say that you could help by giving us insight into Solas’ history and his way of thinking and… Well. You were pretty quiet in there while we watched those memories.”

“I know,” Aili sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. I’m just… I knew some of it. Bits of things he told me himself. Things I figured out…afterwards. And I knew there would be more. More I didn’t know. He’s thousands of years old, so I knew that the story of his life would be more than what he had told me, but…”

“It’s a lot.” Rill hums in agreement.

“Bit of an understatement,” Aili snorts. Her gaze drifts down, and she runs her fingers over the instrument in front of her. “…I didn’t even know he played.”

“So, tell me what you do know,” Rill says, casually plopping down onto a nearby crate, “It’s probably more helpful than you think.”

“I know… I know that he hates tea.”

“Right. Noted. Probably shouldn’t offer him any of Lucanis’ coffee either, then.” Rill grins, folding her arms across her chest.

“Probably not,” Aili agrees, returning the smile faintly. “He has a sweet tooth, though. He loves books. Loves learning. And teaching, too. He was always happy to share stories about places he had been, or spirits he had talked to. He paints beautifully. And he sketches, too. He doesn’t laugh very often, but when he does, it’s…”

She trails off, her face creased with grief and faint traces of longing.

“I’m sorry.”  She says again.

Rill shakes her head at the apology but gives her a curious look afterwards.

“You said that Solas was important to you; I’m guessing you didn’t mean that you were just really good friends?”

Aili shrugs.

“I thought that we were…something.” She glances around the room again, eyes landing on the mural of the slain dragon and the mourning wolf above it. “Now I’m not sure if even that was true.”

“Is that something he would lie about?” Rill wonders, her eyebrows ticking upwards, “Because that would be some valuable insight. He doesn’t strike me as the sort to use seduction as a manipulation tactic, but he seems comfortable twisting the truth about everything else, so…”

Aili sits for a moment in silence, frowning in consideration before finally shaking her he in the negative.

“It’s… No.” She fumbles briefly. “I know that given…given everything we’ve seen, it might be hard to believe, but… He has a kind heart. Truly. He wants to do the right thing. He believes in justice, and he wants things to be fair. He wants to help people when he sees them suffering. And he blames himself when he can’t. He just…comes to the wrong conclusions, sometimes, and he struggles to ask for help when he needs it. He… There would be no reason to -no point- in lying about his feelings for me. I was already his friend, and I took his advice seriously. He had my ear and my protection. He wouldn’t get anything out of it unless his intention was to be needlessly cruel, and…he’s not like that. He isn’t.”

“Then why were you doubting that you had something?”

“It’s…complicated.” Aili sighs. “It’s about time, I think. Or at least, part of it is. He feels things deeply. Passionately. Even if you can’t tell which words he’s telling you are true, you can always tell when something matters to him. And this place… Mythal is everywhere. In every mural. In every room. Statues. Paintings. Symbols. Everything is about her. For her. Even now. Even after taking Flemeth’s power and essentially killing her himself. His love for her, whatever shape or form it might have had, has colored every aspect of his life since the beginning of the world. And compared to that…”

She taps a single key on the harpsichord, letting out a high clear note.

“Mythal is the All-Mother. The Protecter. The bright and beguiling moon. And I…I am barely a candle flame.”

“You’re the Inquisitor. The Savior of the South. People still call you the ‘Herald of Andraste.’ You disbanded the Inquisition, and still managed to bring enough people together to hold back the darkspawn hordes while I fight the gods up here in the North. I think you might be selling yourself a bit short.” Rill says with a curl of her lips, trying to be kind.

“There will always be heroes, just as there will always be despots. I’m hardly unique in that respect.” Aili replies, striking another key. “A puny mortal striking back at false gods probably reminded him of his own past. His own struggles. Maybe that was it. Maybe there’s even something about me that made him think of Mythal. I don’t know. I don’t know what he saw in me. Or thought he saw. But look around. There are a few Inquisition symbols in this room, but beyond that… There is no trace of me in this place. Nothing he held onto. Nothing he felt was worth keeping.” 

Rill frowns. Fidgeting with her hands. Itching to pull out a blade to play with, but uncertain if the move would been seen as a threat.

“Sorry.” She offers after a few moments of silence. “I try not to talk to him very often, for obvious reasons. It’s still a bit creepy, if I’m being honest. Even if I did, though, I don’t think his romantic life would be something he’d be keen to tell me about.”

“It’s not your fault,” Aili assures her with a smile that does not reach her eyes, “He wasn’t keen to tell me either.”

“The Fade’s a funny place, though,” Rill says, gesturing at their surroundings, “I’m not always sure which bits of the things we’ve found here are from Solas, and which things we brought along ourselves. Lucanis found a book he used to read as a kid. Harding says she can smell her mom’s cooking sometimes. Neve said she can hear the sea when she wakes up in the mornings. Things like that, you know?”

The Inquisitor nods.

“Not surprising, given the nature of this place and the person who built it.” Aili says. “This was a refuge. For spirits and slaves fleeing tyranny. And for Solas himself, too. It wants to be welcoming. It wants you to feel safe.”

“It was different when we got here, though.” Rill tells her. “Bit empty. Bit sad. Lonely, almost.”

“Sounds like Solas,” Aili sighs, something close to exasperated fondness.

“This room though…” Rill sits up straighter, turning her head to glance at the sunlight painting patterns on the already painted walls. “It was always like this. It may be small and tucked away, but it’s honestly one of my favorite places in the Lighthouse. It’s always a little warmer in here. The sun’s always shining through the windows. The quiet in here feels like…comfort. Like home.”

“I feel like you’re trying to lead me somewhere, but I’m not sure where it is,” Aili chuckles.

“Well, you said it yourself, didn’t you?” Rill grins back at her, “This is the only room with Inquisition symbols in it.”

Aili blinks. Makes a face.

“There are also murals of Mythal in here. Because she’s everywhere.”

It is Rill’s turn to sigh.

“Maybe she is. Maybe he couldn’t escape from her. Maybe he never will. What she did. What she made him do. What was done to her. But the library with all his memories of her is big and dark and gloomy. And the statues of her are stiff and aloof and cold. And the little room upstairs he shoved a cot into to sleep is…just depressing, really.”

 She catches the older woman’s gaze. Holds it.

“It’s called the Lighthouse, but the beacon at the top isn’t where the light is. It’s not in some huge memorial room dedicated to Mythal. It’s here. There’s a chair with your seal on it, almost waiting for you to sit and watch him play. There’s the paintings on the walls. There’s… Look, when did this become me telling you about the Dread Wolf’s heart?”

“I have no idea,” Aili laughs in earnest this time.

“Really though, this is a good room. I like to sit and read by the windows in here sometimes. The light in here always makes be think of summer afternoons. The air has a sweetness to it, too. Something flowery. Heather, maybe. Or Lavender.”

Aili starts, her eyes going wide.

“What’s wrong?” Rill asks.

“You said it smells like lavender in here?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“It’s…the soap I use. For my hair. I always have.”

“Well, there you have it!” Rill grins in triumph. “He kept your memory here. Away from his regrets. Somewhere bright and happy. Well…as happy as Solas gets, anyway. Not too bad for a candle flame, eh?”

Aili laughs again.

“Thank you, Rook.”

[redvexillum]

The tension between Alastor and the reader is so thick, you could cut it with a knife. It's like you're walking a fine line between longing, danger, and desperation, and I'm living for it.

Alastor is so perfectly imperfect here—he's this terrifying yet magnetic figure who is so clearly struggling with these feelings that he doesn't understand. He's both cold and calculating, but when it comes to the reader, there's this rawness to his actions that just makes him so fascinating. That whole inner monologue about not wanting to return her to a place he knows will hurt her, but being unable to stop himself from pulling her closer… it's so complicated and SO good. And the fact that he's so consumed by her, by wanting her and not knowing what to do with it, adds this layer of vulnerability to his character that makes him even more captivating.

And then there’s the reader. My heart aches for her, being stuck in this toxic relationship, trying to find moments of comfort and connection in a life that feels like it’s slipping through her fingers. I love how she’s so unaware of her beauty to Alastor, how she doesn't realize the effect she has on him, even in her small, quiet moments. That sense of unassuming beauty is so tragic and poetic, especially since Alastor sees it, but she's too far gone to see it herself. 😭

But OH my God, that moment where Alastor calls her out on her husband not being faithful—YES!! That was so hard-hitting, and I was just waiting for the moment where he would pull her in, and he did it with such ease. I’m a sucker for this slow-burn tension and the subtle buildup of emotions in scenes like this.

The little details—like the umbrella, the apple tree, the discarded notes for secret communication—are so charming, but also so dark at the same time. And how about the way Alastor reacts to her innocent gestures? Gah, it just shows how deep his feelings go. He’s so messy, so tangled up in his own obsession with her, and it makes him such a perfect character.

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 19 (Human Alastor x Married Reader)

Chapter Trigger Warnings: Fluff, a little angst, Alastor thinking too hard about feelings, more damp Alastor

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

Alastor pulled the pan out of the icebox as you looked around his kitchen., taking in the sight of warm, worn woods. You ran finger tips over places where stain had been worn away by years of work, refinished by someone who didn’t bother to touch the color up. Everything was older, clearly not updated with the quickly improving technologies and style standards of the time. 

It reminded you of home in a way your own home did not. It reminded you of home from your childhood, not as it was now, updated, but how it had been when you were a girl, sneaking into the kitchen to steal a buttery roll before dinner had been served. The room, no- the whole home from what you’d seen, had a warmth to it you doubted your own home would ever have. Alastor’s home was one that could raise happy families. 

It felt strange, padding around a home with nothing but your stockings on your feet. You didn’t even go around your own home without your house shoes on your feet. There was a comfort in the action too, much like the rest of Alastor’s home. 

Shaking your head, you tried to bring yourself back to the present. There was nothing to be gained thinking about how the home made you feel. To keep you grounded in the present, you tried to make yourself useful. 

“What can I do to help?” you asked, fingers twisting together as Alastor set the pot on the stove.

Alastor looked over his shoulder at you as he made his way to the stack of firewood off to the side. He hummed for a moment as he bent, picking up a two hunks of split log and a handful of kindling from the bin along the kitchen wall. The scraping of splintering wood against itself was loud in the quiet room. 

“Only relaxing,” he said after a moment of thought. “I doubt you get to do much of that.” 

“No,” you said as you settled into the chair at the humble dining table, fingers tracing scratches in the finish, “I suppose I don’t.” 

“Is Jambalya alright?” Alastor asked as you watched him grab a match from a hanging tube near the stove and strike it along the surface, lighting it with practiced ease. After shifting the wood around a bit more, he stuck the match inside the body of the stove and watched as it caught dry kindling. He knelt and watched as the flame spread, catching the wood before he closed the door to the stove. “It’s from last night.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” you said, rather more unsure than you wanted to let on. You couldn’t remember a time you’d eaten food prepared by a man that wasn’t a a cook by profession. The idea of your father, brothers, or even Laurence in the kitchen was frankly comical. 

“I assure you, it’s more than simply fine.” Alastor teased as he put the pan on the stove, stirring the contents with a wooden spoon after he set the lid aside. As the food warmed, the delicious aroma of spices and cooked meats filled the air. 

You sat and waited, listening to the sounds of cooking and Alastor’s humming along with the jazz floating in from the main room. It was a battle, but you forced yourself to remain in place, not taking over tasks that didn’t belong to you as he dished the food up into chipped bowls. 

It clinked softly against the worn wooden table as he sat the serving in front of you. It was a generous helping, more than you would have given yourself, more than Laurence would have allowed you to have. The spices smelled divine as you took in a deep breath. 

Taking the first bite, you found the food was as good as it smelled, much to your delight. One bite followed the first and soon you fell into the steady rhythm that came with sharing a relaxed meal together. 

There was an ease in eating with Alastor. It was comfortable at the well loved dining table, tucked off the side of the kitchen rather than in some cold, formal dining room. 

You were not even sure he had one. The home was small but not cramped, leaving little room to hide a dining room. Comfortable. Warm. The heat from the woodstove pushed the damp cold out of the air, but you knew it was far more than that. 

“Did you grow up here?” You asked as you traced more scratches on the table. Your father would have lost his mind if he caught you scratching up the table, but you were far from innocent of such childhood acts of destruction like the ones you ran your fingers over. 

“In this very house,” Alastor smiled softly. “Mother worked hard to ensure we could keep it. I wouldn’t dream of parting from it now.”

“And your father?” The question brought as close to a frown across Alastor’s face as you could remember ever seeing. 

“He left when I was just beginning to grow into a young man.” Alastor said tensely. 

“I’m sorry.” You reached out for his hand before you thought twice. “I can’t imagine a father leaving.” 

“It was for the better.” Alastor’s smile returned, though soft, as he looked down at your smaller hand covering the back of his. 

“Your mother worked hard to provide a home for you. I think that’s admirable.” 

Alastor stood, slipping his hand out from under yours as the record ended. He walked quickly into the living room, pausing when he knew he was out of sight of you to run his fingers through his hair, curls catching in his fingers as he raked back his hair. 

He forced his breathing to slow and tried to will his heart to do the same. This was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous. There was no reason for the touch of a woman, why your touch should send his heart into a fit. It wasn’t the first time he’d had your hand in his, nor was he some inexperienced young man. 

There was no reason you should get to him so much. There was no reason for you to worm your way under his skin like you did. Unless?

No, that was out of the question. Alastor shook his head as he crossed over to the record player and put on a new selection. Mimzy’s constant pestering was getting to him. That was all there was to it. She was getting in his head and left the door open for you to get in too. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped.” Your voice was soft from the doorway. The downside, Alastor realized, of having shoes off to keep the floors cleaner meant it was harder to hear you move through his home. He wasn’t used to having guests in his space. 

Alastor looked at you, eyebrow raised as he stood in silence. The gas lamps cast warm firelight into the space, reflecting off the curls in his hair, messy, wild and soft. You couldn’t help but wonder if he knew how he looked, how it broke your heart and made you long for a life you didn’t even know you were missing out on before now. 

He was the picture of domestic bliss, black socks on warm wood floors, firelight. You longed for a life where this was the home you maintained, welcoming the kind man home after his day of work wrapped up and he shook off the illusion of the day. 

Holding his hand out to you, he invited you closer. Hesitantly, you slowly made your way to him,

“Not at all, my dear. Just putting on another record.” His hand took its place low on your back as you reached his side. Did he know how you longed for the weight of his hand on your back when you were alone with your thoughts? “Do you have a preference?”

“No, not really.” You shook your head, wishing you did. “Laurence doesn’t-” 

“I know,” Alastor’s voice was soft as he dropped his hand from you, switching the record out for another he picked seemingly at random. “He doesn’t let you indulge in the joys of life.” 

“No” Why did you feel like crying in that moment? “He dosen’t.” 

“Ma cherie, why the frown? This is not a sad song.” He took your hands in his and smiled down at you, eyebrows furrowed in an adorable contrast that had your frown softening. 

“Perhaps this song isn’t,” you whispered as Alastor tugged you to him, swaying your bodies together to the music. This wasn’t the classical music Laurence would favor, but that did nothing to hamper Alastor’s ability to lead you through a slow dance that had your heart hammering in your chest. “But isn’t my life just comically so?”

“How do you mean?” Alastor asked, face too close to yours but you didn’t mind. In fact, you leaned into his touch hoping he’d indulge. 

You felt so painfully safe with him. it wasn’t fair. He had taken liberties time and time again, discounted social boundaries left and right. Touching you like doing so meant nothing more than touching the spine of a book at the booksellers. 

Even now, alone in his home with him, you felt safe. Not once had Alastor pushed more than you would allow him. It left you wishing he would push for more, that he would lean down and kiss you as he spun you around the small living room, leaving you no space for your thoughts. 

“I could care for you, Alastor, deeply. You’re so reckless with our friendship. How could I not fall into the trap of caring for you far too deeply?”

“You say that like it’s a problem.” Alastor whispered as he spun you out of his arms, only to tug you back to him, keeping just enough space to barely be proper. 

“Isn’t it?” You whisper, hand on his chest as his hands return to their place, taking your other hand up in his. His hand on your hip guided you through the steps. Though you stumbled, tripping and stepping on his feet, he didn’t so much as flinch. 

“I should get back home,” you said, though you didn’t want to leave the bubble of his home. “I’ve got to get the cleaning done and start dinner.” 

“What if you were home?” Alastor’s hand tightened around your waist, knowing he was pushing you. 

“It’s a lovely daydream.” You sighed, torn between looking away from him to hide the way your eyes burned with tears as he spun you around the living room and keeping them locked on him, refusing to leave the shelter of the illusion he offered but surely did not mean. 

“One more dance?” Alastor asked as the song ended. “Then I’ll take you back to the life you don’t deserve to live.” 

His heart swelled as you agreed with a timid nod. Why he needed the last dance so badly, he couldn’t understand. He didn’t want to take you back. He didn’t want your time together to end. 

It would just leave him craving more of your time. Why? 

You tripped over his foot again, same mumbled sorry falling from your lips, though you hardly caused him pain. It was clear you were not a practiced dancer, but you followed his lead well enough and he enjoyed catching you when your stumbled steps risked sending you tumbling to the floor. 

What if Mimzy was right? He didn’t want her to be, but did it really change anything? He had planned to take you from Laurence, anyway. He had toyed with the idea of making you his anyway, letting you be the cover for his lack of desire. Was it really much of a problem if he were to care for you just a bit more than he had another?

He had wanted to deliver you to the front door. It was only proper to do so, but that would be far too risky. With the wet weather, too many people eager to gossip will be sitting in windows looking out on the streets. Anyone who looked to be out of place would find itself dissected, picked apart in the micro social circles of reading groups and knitting circles.

All they could risk was a pass by the front of the house, rolling by just slowly enough to get a good look inside windows and examining the driveway. The car had to keep rolling down the street, fast enough to not raise eyebrows. They had to ensure that there was no sign of your husband’s car in the driveway or any sign of his presence within the home.

Alastor was far less eager to return you to your home than he had been to pick you up. The rain had tapered off to a light drizzle, weighing heavily in the air and ensuring the feeling of dampness long overstayed the drops of rain themselves. Gloom clung to the both of you as he held the car door open for you, sheltering you from the rain as you stepped outside. 

The umbrella was an ever present could over you, held by Alastor as he led you through the trees behind the park. His eyes burned with something you couldn’t understand as he looked ahead, ensuring you steps were sure and safe. He moved branches and brush out of your way, letting you make your way through the forest while remaining fairly dry. 

It went against every urge in his body, even those new desires he failed to understand or have words for, to deliver you to the one place he knew without a doubt would see you in pain. His palms itched, fingers twitching in an ever present physical manifestation of his restless mind. 

Rain dripped onto his head, running through his curls as he did his best to keep you dry under the umbrella. You wore his long coat over your day dress, far too large for you. Yet another layer of protection for you against the rain that would raise questions for the man who would desire to do nothing more than ruin you. 

He watched you as you walked, lost in his own thoughts and you yours. You made such a sight, stepping through the underbrush carefully. Water gathered on the toes of your shoes, reflecting the dim light up at him. 

Did you know how uniquely beautiful you were, stepping between branches and dodging greenery heavy with rain? 

He didn’t think so. 

You seemed to be amusingly unaware of the pictures you made in his mind, the way they lingered like photographs he could never hope to capture. An unassuming beauty, hidden away in the shadows. How cruel that you were married to another before he found you! If he had met you years ago, in a lifetime where you were still unattached, would he have known you for what you were then? 

He stopped just in front of the big apple tree in your yard, standing on the edge of the forest holding your hand in his as he looked between the looming house and you. Was your heart beating as fast as his? Were you feeling the same indescribable feeling he was? Would you have a name for it? 

Was it was he feared it was?

“What is it?” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts and then your soft fingers were slipping under the curls draped across his forehead as you checked him for fever. Such an innocent gesture and yet so forward. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been disappearing.” 

“Disappearing?” Alastor laughed. “I wasn’t aware I was performing magic tricks.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his joke, drawing a bright smile to his face. Another vision, another picture he could only hope to capture in his mind. It was madness, what you were doing to his mind. How pictures of you seemed to litter the corners where bloodshed and disgust had only lived before. 

“You’re so…” your words died off as your eyes locked with his. 

“I’m sorry, my dear, I’ve been thinking.” Was that fear that crossed your face? Alastor reached out, caressing your cheek with the backs of his long fingers. You still flinched when he would reach out for you, he noticed. It was a subtle movement, one that betrayed years of abuse your body and mind were conditioned to accept. You would flinch and then you would lean into him, a timid little cat only beginning to learn that a man could do something other than cause pain. 

“About?”

“I enjoy seeing you,” Alastor started, voice soft and shifting as it felt like a struggle to maintain the accent that he usually found came naturally. “A lot.” 

You opened your mouth to say something, but he only shook his head. 

“I can’t keep calling the house,” Alastor said, fingers ghosting down your neck and along your shoulder. “The operator will notice. Word will spread and there’s always the risk that he will answer.”

“He’s been staying out longer,” The idea of Alastor’s calls breaking your day up and whispering temptation to put aside your housework and see him ending when they’d only just begun broke your heart. You didn’t get to listen to his voice while he worked in the evening. You didn’t want to lose the little nuggets of his attention you could snag. “He’s been working so much we’ve hardly been out.” 

Alastor’s head cocked, “Do you really still think it’s working he’s doing?” 

“I don’t know, it’s… it’s what he says-.” 

“He’s not faithful to you.” Alastor wasn’t sure why that mattered to him. He needed to know that you knew your husband held no candle for you in the face of the reality that you may not clearly remember what you had seen or heard at the speakeasy. Returning to his intended conversation with a shake of the head, he continued, “What I wanted to say was that I cannot keep calling, making plans with you when another can so easily listen in. As this… thing between us grows, it’ll only become more obvious to the city if we’re sloppy. Does he come out back?” 

“No,” You shook your head. Alastor was treated to the view of your face in the afternoon sun, peeking out from between the breaks in the heavy clouds, from different angles as your hair shifted with the action. Such a strange thing for him to find himself aware of. “He hires a landscaper to maintain the property, but they’ve been coming less and less lately. He’s not fond of the outdoors, in all honesty.”

“This tree,” Alastor reached out, running a hand over the rough bark of the apple tree, looking up for a moment at the branches dotted with the starts of flowers before handing you the umbrella. “There’s an old rabbit den here.” 

“There is?” you asked as he knelt, moving long grass aside as he showed you the opening under a root, deep and abandoned. 

“I can get back here without him seeing, even if he’s home. If I was careful enough, even if he was outside, I’d be able to get back here and slip notes in. Would you be able to come get them?” 

“It’s not uncommon for me to come out back for air,” you said, crouching down next to Alastor to look at the hole. “If he’s home and in a mood, I wouldn’t, but how would I know when I need to find a way out?” 

“You’d just have to check.” Alastor shrugged. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was something. “I’ll keep a lighter in the hole so you can burn the notes. When I’m here, I’ll flash it a few times in case you’re looking. He doesn’t seem the type to sit at the window.” 

“What if I wanted to leave you notes?” You chewed your lip, wincing at the way your teeth scraped against the healing split in the flesh. It was an injury that was becoming more common. Though the beatings had lessened, Laurence was more likely to slap your face in the last two weeks, something he usually avoided for the need to maintain appearances. 

“You could,” Alastor took her hand in his, “If you wanted to. I can swing by and check a few times a week, maybe more.”

“Our own personal mailbox,” you mused as Alastor stood. He held his hand out to you, helping you to stand again as well. 

“Indeed, now let me walk you to the door. Can’t have you getting wet, can I?” 

You walked arm in arm with Alastor, nestled into his side. He kept the umbrella over you, continuing to sacrifice his comfort to ensure you were dry as you walked across the back lawn and to the back door. 

In what felt like just a moment, he was standing on the back stoop with you. It felt normal to deliver you to the door. He liked the feeling, though he’d give anything to be delivering you to your father’s doorstep and not this one, but that was alright. He would make the best of it. 

He was brought to you for a reason. You were brought to him for a reason. No one else could free you. No one else was strong enough to kill for you. No one else was deserving of you.

Alastor stepped into your space, wrapping his arm around you before he thought it through. His shirt was damp with rain and for a moment fear clawed at him as you stood stone still. Then your arms moved, wrapping around him and soothing the fear as you held him to your body just as tightly as he was holding you.

Part of him wanted to hate you for the way you had brought fear into his heart. Part of him soared with the thrill of it. When had he last felt fear of anything? Of anyone?

“Can I see you again?” Alastor asked as his fingers ran down your back. “Tomorrow?” 

The game changed, Alastor knew that. His heart raced at your soft agreement. He didn’t need to feel the way you sighed into his chest or the way your head tucked ever so easily under his to know he had never understood the game he had set out to play. 

It didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact that Alastor had always been a quick study, sharp and keen. This may be a new game, one he had never played before, but that didn’t matter. 

Alastor would win this game, of that he was sure. 

He would win, no matter the cost.

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

Next?

[theweepingangelofcas]

Eat The Rich, Feed Them to the Cats - Moriarty Bros x Reader

Anyone else in the USA having a crisis? Me too! Let's all maladaptive daydream together that our sweet dear Sherlock boys are with us, on our side.

Title is inspired by a fav nonprofit cat shelter of mine, Wonky Hearts Animal Haven. Please go check them out. They have stories that are truly so heartwarming and uplifting, it's a great distraction.

(No, I do not believe all men are bad. I myself have a male fiance whom I love and trust very much. But the election has left me feeling helpless and scared, as though my rights or my body don't matter. I'm writing this to vent. I respect if your political opinions are different than me, but I ask that you do not attack me in the comments, my dm's, etc)

******************

William Moriarty

You two had been together for years now, since you two were teenagers. You've shared everything. Hopes, dreams, ideals... So when he saw someone try to harass you simply because of your gender? That won't do.

"Oi! Pretty broad!"

The random man's words did little to phase you. You didn't even speed up your footsteps. But your dear William stopped in his tracks.

Oh, yes, that's right. No one had ever been stupid enough to cat call you with him around before.

"Y/N..." his gaze had turned to the man, unblinking, "Did you not hear what that man just so crudely yelled at you?"

You shrugged, stopping in your tracks to try and let him catch up to you. He didn't dare move.

"It's nothing, William. Happens all the time to us ladies."

If you didn't know better, you'd say his eye just twitched.

"Is that so? And here I was, thinking it was mostly noblemen who were the rotten part of our society."

He smiled then. Like his mind wasn't 100% alongside you anymore.

His cane left the ground, being weilded in both hands almost like a baseball bat.

Or, more accurately, perhaps he was holding it like a mace.

It was safe to say, no man went within a few dozen meters of you for quite some time after that. After all, you always had your dear William with you now.

Louis Moriarty

Oh, did you think William would be protective?

Ha!

Louis is SO MUCH WORSE

To be completely fair, he was already practically a guard dog for both you and William. You had been engaged to him for a few months, and each passing day he just wanted to spend more time by your side.

This was how he found out how truly awful some men could be.

You two had boarded a train back to Durham, coming back from a lunch date together. You two had managed to score a semi-private spot in the lunch car, meaning that he could hold you without too much fuss from the rest of society. One hand was in yours, the other wrapped around your waist. You had both ordered drinks, his a sophisticated Earl Grey tea, yours a refreshing seltzer water. That was when your waiter came back up to you both.

"Sir, I know this is quite uncouth of me to say, but the gentleman a few seats down won't stop staring at your lady friend there." He gestured to you, specifically your chest, and you seemed to shrink into your seat instantly.

Louis scowled, "Thank you for informing me. You're dismissed, good sir."

The waiter stepped away, and Louis's grip on you got tighter.

"It's fine, darling. You mustn't fret." You tried to comfort him, but his scowl only deepened.

"I will fret." He turned his head, catching eyes with a man a few booths down. He did, indeed, seem to be staring at you. "And I'm going to teach him to respect others, or die trying."

You saw Louis stand, and approach the man in a terrifying calmness. He shook his hand, and gestured for him to follow him.

If you happened to see a person-shaped figure get thrown out of the train that day, no one has to know.

Albert Moriarty

He understands deep, seething rage. He dealt with it much when he was younger. So he understands that the best way to deal with it, is to take care of it yourself.

Normally, women weren't allowed into a prestigious college. But Albert, with his power and wealth, managed to convince the school that having one woman among its ranks wouldn't hurt. Hence, you being halfway through a science and medicine degree. Albert supported you all the way through. Your husband truly was a lovely, understanding man.

"It was fascinating, my love!" Your eyes lit up as you opened your textbook to that day's lesson, "We learned about the chambers of the heart, and all the illnesses and diseases that can correlate to it's health. Isn't that so cool!"

His smile widened at seeing you happy, "It certainly is, my dear. Do go on, teach me more about it."

You nodded, eyes bright, about to keep talking before-

"I'm sure anything is fascinating to a woman. But can she even understand it? Why, she should be at home, not trying to educate herself on something she could never possibly understand."

A man had approached you both. His smug grin was enough to dampen your joy immediately.

Albert blinked, his expression blank, before turning his head back to you, "My dear, would you like my walking stick, or do you want to use your textbook? After all, this fine gentleman seems in need of an anatomy lesson."

Your grin came back, "Your walking stick, please. I'd rather not get my favorite chapter dirty."

The man's eyes flew open as you took the wooden cane from Albert, weilding it more like a weapon than an aid.

"Now," The excitement in your expression was back, "I'll give you an anatomy lesson as I break all of your bones in alphabetical order."

[glade-constellation]

I was scrolling through TikTok and came across this audio that really just, put all the puzzle pieces together for how Nexus really felt. Imagine Sun is the one speaking. Sun never said this, he never would say this to Nexus back when he was “Moon”, but this is how Nexus interpreted it.

Nexus woke up with no identity. Not a single clue of who he was, what he was meant to be, or what he could become. But there’s someone there that’s telling him who he should be, and no one is arguing it, so that just must be how it goes. He never even tries to start figuring out who he is, he goes straight into being who someone else wants him to be. He was Moon. That was his name.

But then they start telling him all the wrongs he did. No one was telling him he needed to take the blame, but to him it was clear they wanted him to. Because he was Moon. And Moon had done those things, even if he didn’t. He had no memory of doing them, but he was Moon so he had to have made those mistakes. They were his problems, and he had to fix them.

So he does. He stops Eclipse. He tries to fix what he can with Sun, and be there for his brother. He desperately tries to keep Lunar safe even if Lunar was not happy with him afterwards. But that’s just it. He’s doing all these things and it feels like he’s getting nothing back. No one seems to acknowledge what he’s putting in, and when they do recognize it they give him shit for it. He keeps trying and keeps seeming to fail.

Then, he has a chance to talk to himself. The person that is actually Moon, the one who actually made all those mistakes. The one whose entire identity was forced upon Nexus. There is no thank you. There is no heartfelt conversation. There is nothing but mildly curious indifference and once again being forced to into an identity that wasn’t truly him. Told to die in it, if it kept the family happy.

Then Solar died. And he was devastated. And he grieved. But apparently, he wasn’t even allowed to grieve as his own self, he had to grieve like Moon too. Had to still be there for others while grieving himself, keep up an act to keep them happy while he was suffering. They weren’t there to comfort him, they were there to comfort Moon, and they weren’t still doing a pretty poor job of that.

That was his breaking point. Never once did he feel like his family cared about him. They cared about Moon. He was so, so tired of the identity forced upon him. From now on, he was going to call the shots in his own life. If he died, he’d die as his own person, and no one else.

Nexus was constantly buried under the weight of being someone he never truly was by his entire family. Earth was the only one who treated him as his own person, and that’s because she only knew him as himself. She had never known Moon, and had no bias to go off of. Lunar, quite obviously at this point, didn’t like him and made a point of showing it. Because he wasn’t the original Moon and Lunar didn’t like that. Sun obviously had years worth of bias. I think that’s why he favored Earth over the others, because she actually cared about him. She didn’t care about what he was supposed to be, she cared about who he was.

There’s a deep complexity to Nexus as a character that I need people to see and understand. People feel like Nexus only started his downward spiral after Solar died, but he has been suffering since day one. He had an entire year’s worth of trauma, both his own and those forced upon him, that lead him to becoming Nexus. Nexus becoming a villain felt like a wildly outrageous “edgy emo teen” phase because, in a way, it was. Nexus had never known who he truly was, because he had never expressed himself outside of the realm that was Moon. He was simultaneously trying to find himself and distance himself as far as he could from Moon. He was trying to become everything that Moon wasn’t so he could escape. His turn to becoming a villain was because, despite Moon having hurt people, Moon had never been a villain in anyone’s eyes.

Becoming Nexus was his way of freedom. He was happier dying the villain than he was living as Moon.

[asunsetgrace16]

Alright, 9-1-1 Bucktommy fans, It's time for my tinfoil hat moment. (this is the only thing keeping me sane rn)

So. Based on 8x06, it's easiest and the least painful to assume that Bucktommy is done for good.

HOWEVER...it is not out of the realm of possibility that those interviews were supposed to hit the way they did and they are really just fucking with us. OS's interview was less than ideal in multiple ways, unfortunately. If we follow with this, there may be a chance for them to get back together. Or if they are well and truly done, the chance for them to have an actual conversation about it. So here is my proposal:

8x07 is "Tommy Begins", set a few months after 8x06. In the present day, there is a multi-alarm emergency where the 217 and 118 are both there. In the flashbacks, we see Tommy in the army, facing indirect homophobia while trying to figure himself out.

Then his time at the 118 with Gerrard as captain, dealing with the same thing from the army. We see him try dating as a gay man, getting his first serious boyfriend circa ~2012-13. And thanks to the idea from @honestlynervousnut, it doesn't go well. It's abusive, manipulative, and when Tommy gets out of it, he tries to bury that part of him for good, associating moving in with a relationship going downhill. Thus enters Abby and the trauma etc.

We see him apologizing to Chim and Hen, and getting settled at the 217 while finally feeling comfortable with himself and his sexuality. Maybe there is another boyfriend or a few dates.

Present Day: The emergency is a nightmare, and it only gets worse when Tommy's helicopter crashes. Buck, despite trying to forget about his pain by sleeping around, still can't forget about Tommy. He's done some growing, some reflecting in there too. He drops what he's doing to run to Tommy. They get him to the hospital alive, but barely, maybe sprinkling in Tommy coding en route. Then they pull a Tarlos and have Buck talk to him while he's in a coma about how he still loves him, and wants to fight for them, and how he would be willing to start over if Tommy would just wake up.

The episode ends with Tommy squeezing Buck's hand and saying "Evan..."

THEN, just hold on, I'm not done yet.

8x08, we see Buck and Tommy have a heartbreakingly honest conversation while Tommy is in the hospital about Tommy's past relationships, his actual hesitation and reluctance to want to be with Buck. And Buck talks about how even though he thought he was secure in his sexuality, he wasn't actively trying to understand how to figure out what changed about him and what stayed the same while, sharing his growth too. Buck will bring up the line "you don't find a great love, you make it" and after the tears and the confessions, Buck says "I've never stopped loving you. And I won't, no matter how this ends, because as much as Abby was transformative, you blew my mind wide open to things that I never knew I could have." Buck gets his third chance, and they do say that the third time's the charm. He says the things he should have said last time.

Then there is more tears, Tommy says I love you back, and apologizes, and agrees to start over. Copy and paste Carlos holding on to TK's arm with a hand in his hair, but with Buck, and they kiss. Finally.

Then the camera pans to a shot of Bobby, Athena, Eddie, Chim, Lucy, and whoever else standing in the doorway/looking through the window but they can still hear all of Buck's speech, of Tommy's room, tears in their eyes and smiles on their faces.

Then the episode continues. Thanks for coming to my delusional TedTalk

[jam3sacaster]

“I’ll be gentle, angel.”

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by @nebulastarr / Rupert discovers it’s readers first time.

18+ FANFIC / SMUT. Reader character aged at 21.

Hopefully isn’t too disgustingly dirty, or too long. Rather let myself get carried away. • indicates the beginning of the smut. Please request more if you want to see more! 🩷 Can do longer pieces.

“Good evening, Mr Campbell-Black.” You rehearse aloud, having placed a gentle knock on the regal front door of Penscombe Court, the clock ticking just past 10pm. No, far too formal, you decide.

“Good evening, Rupert.” You chime once again, self-cringing as the words fall loosely from your mouth.

“Good evening, angel.” You hear a gruff, distinguished voice reply. Pure embarrassment ripples through your body as your eyes dart immediately to the effortlessly handsome man stood before you. Before you could reply, he pushed the door ajar to let you in to his magnificent home. By instinct, you make your way to the lounge — where the flames dance and crackle in the fireplace and cast an amber glow against the two freshly-poured tumblers of Scotch. “Drinks already?” You ask, sitting on the sofa and attempting to take us as little room as possible.

Not once averting his piercing gaze from you, Rupert takes a seat next to you and takes a large swig of his Scotch. “Helps to loosen us both up. Stop any awkward conversations.” He replies, undressing you with his eyes already. “Tell me, angel,” Rupert begins, “You have been here 3 nights in a row now and haven’t even so much as looked at me in the wrong way. Why is that?” He finishes, in an interrogating tone.

The silence thickens around you both, and the warmth of the fire wraps itself around you like a comforting hug. Shuffling the cardigan off your shoulders, you take a gulp from your drink and, for the first time, hold eye contact with Mr Campbell-Black. “Because… I know what you want from me. And that scares me.” A tiny voice replies that you recognise to be your own. How pathetic! You need to exude confidence around Rupert before he chews you up and spits you out. Without replying, Rupert pushes out an almost sarcastic-sounding laugh and lowers his head towards his right shoulder, cracking it in the process, and again towards the left.

•

“Darling, you’ve got nothing to be scared of.” He smirks, after what feels like an eternity. As he speaks, he places a gentle hand on your knee and blood rushes to your cheeks, immediately flushing them a bright crimson. It’s now or never — the inner voice in your head speaks as you stand up in front of him, and shimmy out of the figure-hugging black dress, stepping out of it and kicking it away from you.

For once in his life, Rupert is speechless as he takes a moment to drink in the picturesque image in front of him. A woman built of soft, fleshy curves and intricate lines, held together by red lingerie — an elaborately woven bra and thong and black suspenders held up with black garters. The best piece you owned, ready to be christened by Rupert’s yearning fingers peeling them from your body. “Wow angel.” He manages to spit out, eyes unmoving from the marvel image of your body. He sits at the edge of the sofa and smothers his face amongst your breasts, breathing in the feminine aroma of your skin. “You have no idea how hard you make me.” He adds, pulling back to rip the shirt from his body.

Now it’s your turn to marvel at the man that is Rupert Campbell-Black. Bulging veins sitting atop rippling muscles. Carnal lust aflame in his eyes. And, most importantly, the most impressively large bulge growing in his trousers. After you had wiped the drool from the corner of your lips, you lay yourself down on the sofa. Within seconds, he had stripped himself of his trousers and was leaning over you, propping himself up with one arm. The look in his eyes told you all you need to know. Inching backwards, he pulled your thongs from your body, revealing how terribly wet you’d became from his stripping. “My God.” Rupert smirked, instinctively delving his tongue between your folds. Arousal left your lips in laboured moans, and your fingers gripped a handful of his jet black locks. “You’re so fucking wet.” He spoke, pulling himself away and taking a hand to his cock, stroking it slowly and readying himself to enter you.

“Rupert…” You whisper breathlessly, scared and reluctant at the sheer size of his manhood. Readying yourself, you place your hand on his cock, pushing his own hand away and matching his rhythm. “I don’t know about this.” You mutter.

“Why? Don’t be scared, angel. I won’t bite… Unless you want me to.” Rupert chuckles, and pushes out a moan at the soft touch of your hand. Rupert grabs the base of his cock and lines it up with your soft opening. He attempts to shove himself in, but within seconds, winces in pleasure at the tightness. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “Rupert… I’m…”

“Darling, you’re so tight.” He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Are you?…” He asks, not wanting to make assumptions. Is it really that obvious? “Rupert, this is my first time.” You speak gently under your breath. Closing your eyes momentarily and expecting to hear his condescending chuckle, you quickly open one eye to see a soft smile across his mouth.

“I’ll be gentle, angel.”

He replies earnestly, and with pinpoint precision, softly pushes his way inside you. Looking up at him, you capture a glimpse of something you’re certain no one has ever seen before. Rupert Campbell-Black encapsulated in complete ecstasy. “Fuck.” He manages to spit out, his words fighting for power over your ever growing moans. With each thrust, you felt the knot in your stomach loosen. Rupert’s eyes were glazed over in pleasure as he tenderly thrust in and out of you.

“If this is how wet you get for me, you must come again.” He spoke breathlessly, grabbing handfuls of your breasts as he spoke against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “Fuck, Rupert, please go slow.” You splutter, wincing ever so slightly, stretched out completely around the girth of him.

“Sorry, darling. Is this better?” He asked, tentatively making his strokes slower. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes in euphoria. Tension builds slowly in your lower stomach as his large member managed to hit the right spot every time. “You feel incredible.” Rupert manages to speak, as the intensity of his thrusts slowly speeds up. You can feel him twitching inside of you. You cannot believe you have just lost your virginity to THE Rupert Campbell-Black.

Flipping yourself over onto all fours, you positioned your shapely arse as an offering for the rugged man, and he grabbed a firm hold of your hips and began thrusting himself into you. Moans escaped your lips faster than you’d have liked. With each pulsating thrust inside your body, Rupert drew nearer and nearer his orgasm. “Cum inside me,” You pleaded, almost begging him to release himself. “Please, Rupert, I need it.”

Rupert placed a gentle fingertip to your lips, then ran his thumb across your tongue, desperately wanting to feel every single inch of your body. His abs tensed and twisted — his body preparing for his release. “Fuck angel, I’m going to cum.” He spat, and a smirk pulled at your mouth. Never in your life have you been so ready for anything. “Cum. Cum for me, Rupert. I need it so badly.” You reply, bringing your arm to his level to scoop up his balls and inch him closer to ecstasy. He paused for a moment, and pushed out a low grunt. You felt his cock twitch and pulsate as spurts of his hot load shot deep inside you, so much so that it began to drip outside of you with every weakened thrust from Mr Campbell-Black. “Fuck… Oh, fuck.” Rupert exclaimed as he pulled his dripping cock from your wet spot, and you lowered your mouth to lap up every missed drop of cum. You had never seen him to enamoured in desire. You wanted to please him this intensely every time — you and only you. In a pool of sweat, Rupert collapsed next to you and huffed out a sigh of relief.

“Angel, you were incredible. Thank you.”

[jakedustry]

𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 - 𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

drabble

wc 1k+

warnings f!reader, oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, overstimulation, marks/hickeys, mention of m! masturbation

↪ izzy adds... everyone say thank you to my best friend for sending me this idea one fine night so that I could wake up to a paragraph about how he'd eat me out because that's what made me write this

It wasn’t that long since you started dating Jake Sim. You started as friends – best friends even. When he first came into your math class, you weren’t paying much attention to him. Honestly, you were too busy trying to figure out where your other classes were to even notice him, but he caught your eyes a few weeks later when he decided to sit next to you. At first, you only exchanged a few smiles and short greetings, but after a while, he started asking you questions, trying to get to know you. 

After that, it only took a few more weeks for him to become your best friend. And now, just a month ago, he managed to gather all his courage and ask you out on a date, confessing he had those intentions from the moment he sat next to you. You couldn’t say no to him then, and that hasn’t changed since then. How could you when he was the one to show you what love feels like?

“What’s up?” You wonder, looking down at your lap where your boyfriend rests. He is lying on his stomach, his head on your belly, absolutely unfocused on the movie on your TV. “Nothing,” he mumbles but doesn’t look up to meet your eyes. “Jakey,” you say, cupping his cheeks and making him look up. “What’s on your mind?” 

“You are,” he answers, making you scoff. “I mean it,” he looks you straight in the eyes before looking down again, his fingers playing with the hem of your pants. He mutters something under his breath, but you don’t manage to catch it. “What was that?” You ask, your cheeks flushing red the moment he looks up, flashing you the cutest puppy eyes you’ve seen yet. “W-What?” 

“Do you think I could eat you out?” He repeats his question, this time louder, with more confidence. You could never say no to him, and he knew it. But honestly, you didn’t even want to tell him no. 

The excitement in his eyes as he sees you nod is unbelievable, and before you know it, he is pulling your pants and underwear down. You’re embarrassed. You try to hide your face behind your hands, but Jake is quicker, holding your hands in his to make sure you see him. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.” 

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” you shake your head. “We’ve never– you know, you haven’t– and–” you try to form a meaningful sentence, making your boyfriend laugh. He pulls himself up to face you, tugging your hair behind your ear before he cups your cheeks. “I know, I know,” he whispers, his eyes full of assurance. “And we don’t have to do anything until you’re ready. You can stop me whenever you want, and we can pretend nothing ever happened. I don’t want to rush you. I’ve just been wondering how you’d taste,” he caresses your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss to prove he means everything. 

You don’t want to see your face because you know you’re as red as ever. But Jake doesn’t seem to mind a bit, carefully moving down again and making himself comfortable between your legs. You watch him place your legs on his shoulders, smiling at you to assure you once more before his attention shifts to your lower lips. 

He starts carefully, his tongue making its way from your clit down to your needy entrance. He takes his time with everything, making sure every lick of his, every movement he does, is as perfect as ever. He can’t rush this; he keeps repeating to himself. 

Jake keeps glancing up at you at first, wanting to see your reactions, but he soon gives up on that, too, diving in completely and focusing on his movements instead. 

“So good,” Jake moans, tongue-fucking you. Your head is thrown back, your hand in his hair as you cum for the second time. At this point, you don’t even know what he’s saying. He started blabbing stuff when you came for the first time and haven’t stopped since. He moves slightly up, sucking on your clit while his fingers make their way to your hole. You gasp when he inserts his middle and ring finger, lazily fingering you. Your legs shake, but he doesn’t stop. It’s as if he was in his world, on cloud nine, just because he can eat you out. 

His free hand wraps around your thigh, still trusting his fingers into you as he looks up at you. “You’re the best,” he mumbles, placing kisses on your inner thigh. “So good, I could do you forever.” You don’t get a chance to answer. Before you can even think of a response, his tongue is sliding between your folds again, and you’re unable to speak. Forget a dessert, this was the whole meal for him. 

“Jake– Wait, I can’t– not anymore,” you cry out, letting go of his hair, and it’s like something in him switches, looking at you immediately, his eyes full of worry. “What is it, baby?” He asks, completely frozen. “‘S too much,” you admit. “I can’t anymore.” He sighs in relief, slowly moving his fingers again, as if he didn’t hear you at all. “Is that so?” He coos, sucking on your inner thigh this time, and you’re sure it will leave a mark. “One more, please. You’ve been so good,” he praises. “Please, pup.” 

“Last one, though,” you agree, giving him a warning look that, however, only makes him chuckle. Jake returns to his job within seconds, leaving hickeys and marks all over your inner thighs while he fingers you before going back to sucking on your clit again. This time alone, though, his free hand doesn’t end up anywhere on your body, but instead, he uses it to pull down his pants, freeing his aching cock. 

His moans get louder as he palms his cock, pulling his fingers out to focus better. The praises from before turn into incomprehensible whines of lust and groans of your name, driving you crazy. 

It doesn’t take much longer for you to cum on his tongue again. Even though you thought you didn’t have another one in you, he managed to prove you otherwise, releasing all over your thighs soon after. His breath shakes as he falls on you, embracing you in a hug, as if this was just another one of your cuddling sessions. You’re both a mess, but you couldn’t have enjoyed this more. “So good,” he mumbles again before he sucks on your neck, leaving a hickey there too. “My girl tastes so good.”

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @adel222 @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @nxzz-skz✶⋆ want to get notified? join taglist here!

[weneepie]

neighbours w/ eddie brock & venom rules | m.list

note. yes i saw the last Venom movie and no i'm not okay, but let's act like everything's fine okay? <3 feel free to request!

You had been living in the apartment for a while now, and as you weren’t really the type to sympathise with people, you had no idea who your own neighbours were. Until one of them became way too loud for you to ignore. 

It wasn’t like you were doing a really difficult job, even if it was still debatable. Being a writer was making you stay up all night long to keep writing your book with the hope of finally being able to finish it and, one day, find an editor. But the guy living next to you? He was making things impossible for you. 

You had decided to let it pass, hoping that it would simply stop by itself ; but it didn’t. Actually, you could swear it had become worse by the time. So one night, you decided that it was already more than enough, and you left your place to come knock at his door. 

You heard sounds of stuff breaking, a guy talking by himself, until he finally opened the door. He was all alone, and he seemed to be anything but okay. The guy was sweating in his grey hoodie, and he looked completely exhausted. You frowned slightly when he offered you an awkward smile. 

“Hi, I’m sorry about the noise.” He started, and you could only sighed at his words. How could you be angry at a poor guy who seemed to be just as in a bad state as you right now? You slowly shook your hand. “It’s fine, just try to be careful. I’m not sleeping much, but it’s hard to focus with all the noise you’re making.” 

You met his gaze when you heard him murmuring something. What was his problem? You were trying to be nice, there was no way he was really speaking under his breath. “Excuse me?” You asked with an eyebrow raised, and the guy quickly looked back at you. “No, nothing! Sorry again.” And with that, the conversation was over. 

After the ‘incident’, it was always like fate wanted you to meet your neighbour more often than it was the case before. In the elevator, when you were going out of your apartment to put the trash out ; anything. By the time, you learnt that your neighbour’s name was Eddie, and that he was a journalist. Both of you weren’t doing the same job, but you had the same troubles so it felt easy to talk with him, even though Eddie was a bit… strange. 

It was almost like he was never fully comfortable, something being awkward with him all the time. You might have sounded crazy, but you could swear it was like he was never alone in his own mind. Eddie was the type to talk to himself, in a whisper or louder than expected sometimes. You learnt to deal with it, but you couldn’t get out of your head this silly idea that Eddie was hiding something from you. 

One night, after some friends almost forced you to go out with them at the bar, you were walking alone in the street to go back to your apartment. You weren’t even tipsy, as drinking wasn’t much your thing, so you were sure that the noises you heard behind you were more than real. You tried to walk faster, but it was obviously not enough. Soon, your wrist was held by a complete stranger trying to get you to come with him. 

You didn’t have much time to fight him back, because he flew away suddenly. You opened your eyes wide, following his figure crashing in the wall, not understanding what had just happened before your eyes. It didn’t make much more sense when you looked back at where he was before and saw a large dark figure standing in front of you. 

Large white eyes, and even larger teeth going out of a stupidly wide mouth ; you were sure you were about to die here and now. The monster tilted his head to the side, examining your figure before it kind of smiled, making it even creepier than before. “The little human shouldn’t walk alone so late.” His voice was deep, deeper than anything you ever heard in your life before. 

“We’ll walk you back,” it said, and you weren’t sure if you really had the choice to refuse the offer. At least, he didn’t want to eat you alive, it was a good start. “Eddie says you’re nice, and we agree with him.” 

Wait… Eddie? You looked back at the creature with a frown, and you could swear you heard someone yell at the monster under all of those muscles. “Eddie says we can’t tell you he’s here, but he’s hidden,” said the black monster. The more he spoke, and the less you understood what was going on. Until it revealed you the truth hidden for so long. 

The dark figure disappeared, only to leave you in front of your neighbour, Eddie Brock, a black head with sort of tentacles going out of his shoulder. You blinked a few times, completely at loss of words. Eddie had this awkward smile on his lips, trying to find the right words. The silence felt like an eternity, so many thoughts flooding in your mind. 

“That’s Venom. You weren’t supposed to meet him, or to know he was… well, me? Kinda.” You frowned, your eyes now locked on Eddie’s face who wasn’t helping you at all to understand everything. “Venom? You have an alien inside of you?” You almost snapped at him, the confusion too strong to think straight. “

“A symbiote, but yeah, technically an alien,” he said, and a sigh escaped your lips. You had so many questions ; and now that you knew, you weren’t going to give Eddie the choice to explain everything or not. You needed to know what was really happening, and how it was even possible. 

This is how you ended up staying almost the whole night at Eddie’s place, with him and the symbiote explaining to you the situation. You quickly understood that it wasn’t a simple possession ; Eddie was a host and they both had this kind of situationship a bit weird that was going on. Venom was way less terrifying now that you saw him bickering with your neighbour. You could almost think he was fun, but it was too early for this. 

But after this, you started to spend even more time with your neighbour. Him and his symbiote, of course. Sometimes, when they were fighting too much, Venom would leave his host to come hide with you for some time. Not too long, because hurting you was the last thing he wanted, but enough to run away from Eddie. The man was never too worried, because he knew exactly where his stupid symbiote was. 

It was a weird dynamic between the three of you, but it was something which was working pretty well. You were spending hours and hours at Eddie’s place to write while he was working on his articles, and Venom would alway complain about how boring it was to have you both working at the same time while he had nothing to do. The symbiote was an attention seeker, you learnt that quickly. 

And when things began to evolve between you and Eddie, you knew Venom would always be implicated too. You didn’t expect to be in a relationship so soon, but even less in a polyamorous thing with a man and an alien. But nothing could go wrong, right? There was absolutely no reason to be worried, or at least it was what you were trying to say to yourself. 

But you were right. It was, actually, even better than what you had imagined. Eddie was the sweetest man you ever met, always taking care of everything for you and making sure you were doing good. It was probably the most safe and sane relationship you ever had, and it was strange to say that. Because Venom was the same, in his way. 

He was a bit clumsy, most of the time, but he was always trying his best. You never felt uncomfortable, even if he could be pretty bold or franc sometimes. It was part of his charm, you had to say. When he started to share his chocolate with you, you knew he was doing the biggest step to someone in his whole life. 

After all, it wasn’t so bad to be living in this shitty apartment.

thank you for reading!

[knot-ee]

Here they were. Here. they. were. One day Yuji was dead. One moment Megumi was absolutely heart broken, then moody and rebellious because he had been lied to in such a tremendous way, and now the object of his love, frustration, and grumpiness and he were back to being friends. The life of a jujutsu sorcerer was really something else. Megumi was convinced Yuji and Yuji alone could bring out this side of him considering he had not forgiven Satoru. Even worse he knew Satoru wouldn't apologize for the trickery.

Megumi's life was already hanging by a thread, and he was forced to face an emotional whiplash that really made him feel conflicted. He didn't want to lose anyone else in his life. He wanted stability. Wanted it so bad it hurt. Almost as much as it hurt to realize he had less than platonic feelings for his friend and a boy doomed to die because of his heroic deeds. The two boys really are BOYS. Naivety and teenage hormones at work. Yuji's blush was nothing out of the ordinary. In fact he looked damned cute with it but Megumi figured the boy would look cute even with a cold.

It was infectious.. not the cold, but Yuji's puppy-like demeanor. It made Megumi blush too. He so casually ran his fingers through his spiky black hairs and just walked down the hall that led to their bedrooms, then stopped in front of his own. He always kept his room clean. A room was just a room. Sure Megumi slept in his bed and also spent night upon night thinking about Yuji, CRYING over Yuji on said bed. It was just a room though.

“ Let's just do it in mine. You probably have to get your room all settled. I went in there a couple of times to-- pack your... things. ”

A painful lump formed in Megumi's throat but the boy waved his hand, trying to pass it off as the obvious not being need to said instead of dread strangling him. Yuji had probably unpacked but did he have enough time clean up? Megumi had cleared the room of dust but more layers must have accumulated since Yuji's absence. Megumi opened the door to his room and left it open. Considering he never had friends growing up, he had manga and Tsumiki's shows to guide him on how to act. He sat cross-legged on his bed.

It was a simple dorm room and Megumi's was not really all that different. Most of things were still in the apartment he and Tsumiki shared (owned by Satoru) but he did include a few personal touches to the dorm room. Shelves full of animal trinkets gifted by Satoru or Tsumiki. A picture of he and Tsumiki during a summer festival, wearing yukatas. His bed was all in dark green with more plushies than someone would imagine Megumi would own; all animal shapes and all gifts.

“ Um... what about an anime? I have some DVDs. ”

Megumi moved off of his bed to kneel down in front of the tiny TV stand.

“ You can sit on my bed or on the chair. Whatever you're comfortable with. I have Howl's Moving Castle? Princess Mononoke. I have nature documentaries, too. ”

At first Megumi had been a little prickly and distant but it didn't really offend Yuji because he of course had seen first hand how caring and selfless Megumi actually was. Yuji was pretty good at reading people, well certain people. His grandpa had been a little rough around the edges too anyways.

Though he tried not to be so much in Megumi's face all the time, he couldn't help but he happy and a little energetic whenever he was around Megumi. Especially now after months of being apart and having succeeded in making up with him. He really didn't like the idea of Megumi being upset with him. Sure Yuji was typically friendly and made friends easily, he wanted to hang out with Megumi and really he his friend. Well he thinks they are friends by now and Megumi seems to think the same.

And now he's even more eager to spend more time with his good friend. Like a puppy reunited with a playmate. If he had a tail it would be wagging furiously right now. It just kept getting better and better! First Megumi has agreed to hang out just with him tomorrow so they don't have to worry about anyone else for their day out having fun. Not that Nobara was so bad but he didn't have that connection with her the same way he did with Megumi even if he also considered her a friend it was just different.

Secondly Megumi has agreed to watch a movie with him? So Megumi truly wasn't angry with him anymore it seems. Yuji almost sighs in relief.He's grinning widely unable to contain he's happiness.

"Ah no no! Don't worry, I'm down to watch anything really. Anything you'd like!"

Yuji quickly adds on. Anything to finally hang out and just spend more time together. It's clear there Yuji is happy and eager to hang out with Megumi by the way he instantly follows the other. Smiling and making small talk as they walked back to the dorms.

"So... Your dorm or mine?"

He asks then almost blushes when he realizes that sounded a little odd. Usually Yuji wasn't really thinking about things like that or worried but for some reason with Megumi it was a little different. He found himself wondering sometimes if he's being too much or not saying the right thing which wasn't really like him at all. He typically just went with the flow. He tries to remind himself to just do that now too.

[good-beans]

You talked a little while ago about why you don't think Shidou would make a good father to Amane (agreed) and proposed the idea of Mahiru adopting Amane. That's cute but I want to tell you about my post-MILGRAM headcanon:

Amane joins the Kajiyamas

Not Fuuta specifically adopting her, but like him taking her back to his family's house. I'm sure they'd have a spare room

I think people don't think about Fuuta's homelife much, or if they do they take Fuuta's one interrogation question where he calls his dad an old fogey and assume its like, abusive

And don't get me wrong, I don't think the Kajiyama household are perfect. Fuuta' beautician sister surely hasn't helped when it comes to Fuuta's body image issues and I'm betting they're all a bunch of tsunderes too embarrassed to say they love each other

But in a series where most of the abused characters are still convinced their abuser loved them/acted out of love. Seeing a guy not be afraid to call his dad a loser is almost a green flag

I think it'd be good for Amane to not necessarily be adopted as the lone child to a single parent but get to be introduced to a very different style of family unit from her own One where its normal to express different opinions or disagreements or even have arguments and not have it be the end of the world

Amane already has a snarky side to her, I bet it'd flourish in a brash household like the Kajiyama's (or at least how I imagine them to be)

OOHHH wait I love that so much! >:O

I agree -- I never interpreted Fuuta's family as abusive or harmful, just not super close and struggling a bit after his mother left. (And yeah, all as openly emotional as him😭) They seem stable and very capable to taking in a extra, very well-behaved child. Assuming Fuuta is the way he is because of them, that atmosphere of being very honest and forward would work well for her. They say things as they are, little by little pointing out the harmful parts of her worldview. Like you said, none of them make excuses about harmful behavior stemming from love, so she'd get a really healthy dose of truth in that area. She never feels coddled or treated like a baby. They care for her while treating her very maturely.

I absolutely love how well she and Fuuta get along, with that snarky side to her that you mentioned. It would allow her to fit in well in the new household, getting the sense of belonging she'll lose after leaving the cult. Also, seeing how Fuuta and his sister let things slip and aren't perfect sons/daughters, she'll be able to relax about earning a parent's love through perfect behavior. She'll probably stay exactly the same, but her stress about it will fade <3

I doubt Fuuta's father can ever replace the hole she'll have from her own father, but the addition of an older sister will be huge. Amane will never get the feeling her mother is being replaced, but the woman will still fill the gap of the older, same-gender role model she needs. Her beautician job may throw Amane at first (being an indulgence in vanity), but it isn't as in-your-face as other careers. I think she could definitely ease Amane into accepting it, and over time, accepting her own personal "indulgence."

Plus, her moving in would also be really good for Fuuta! I think he'd recognize there's a ton of fun things she missed out on, and that heroic side of him outweighs the part that cringes: he gripes and groans about going to "kid places," but he's always the one to announce "I can't believe you've never been to __, we're going right now!!" This allows him to touch grass leave the house and experience his own life to the fullest. He's able to channel his desire to help society into a healthier outlet. Also, seeing her studying habits and plans for the future might even inspire him to do the same. (might.) He becomes the stereotypical good big brother, though of course he denies it viciously...

I have recently been going insane over their friendship so I'm completely taken with this idea OUGH thank you for telling me ;-----;

[bunnihearted]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔