#Instead of doing shots I decided to give you all a gift

[mcuamerica]

Loving Flames | Part One

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Summary: Amarantha decided to 'gift' you to Eris Vanserra to get back at Rhys. Requested by anon here.

Warnings: 18+ only, canon level violence, alludes to SA, the word whore shows up a few times, (again not proofread), let me know if anything was forgotten...

Word Count: 4.6k

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

Eris met you when you were 35, years after the war. It was at a High Lords meeting, with your father bringing you along to introduce you to the court. It snapped for Eris in that moment.

You were wearing a spectacular navy blue and silver gown, fabric attached to your shoulders to make it look like a cape. Your wings were tucked in tight behind you to keep from bumping into anyone.

He tried to speak to you that night, tell you about the bond, but his father pulled him away quickly and he didn’t see you again.

The next time he saw you, however, you were by Rhysand’s side in all black, mourning the loss of your father and your mother. And your wings. While Tamlin’s brothers didn’t kill you, they almost did. Taking time with you is what allowed you to live, unfortunately for you.

Eris tried approaching you again, needing to say at least something to you. This time, Azriel, the ever obedient guard dog, growled and told him to leave. These ceremonies were for friends only. Which the Autumn Court was not. That night, Eris gave up on the idea that you and him could be together. He decided to leave you be, and avoid you at all cost.

But then Amarantha came sweeping in. Rhysand brought you to the ball with all of the High Lords when she took their powers. As since Rhysand’s father killed Tamlin’s, she wanted to punish him more than just taking him to bed.

“Beron, which one of these is your heir?” She asked, perched atop the throne. You were standing close to Rhys, his arm around your back. Eris, even though the bond was buried deep down, could feel the nerves radiating down that bridge. You were terrified. That she was going to hurt you. Or Rhys. And what better way than letting your enemy do it or you.

“I am,” Eris spoke before his father could utter a word. His father shot him a deadly look, but Amarantha’s smile widened.

“Good. I’m gifting her to you.” She said and smirked, nodding towards you.

Your eyes widened. Rhys looked to Eris with an even deadlier look than his father, almost saying ‘if you hurt her, you will be killed slowly and I’ll enjoy it.’ Eris stepped forward, soliciting a growl to come from deep within Rhys’s throat.

“Easy, bat, I will be gentle.” He said, unable to drop the mask. He forced his hand to remain steady as he reached it out to you.

You shrunk closer to Rhysand, listening as he leaned down and whispered something not even fae eyes could detect. You looked up to Rhys with pleading eyes.

“Hurry, now, I do not have all day.” Amarantha said, staring at her nails as if she were bored.

With a final nod from Rhysand, you shakily took Eris’s hand.

He did not pull you, instead allowing you to walk with him back to where his father and brothers stood. After that that, he let go of your hand. He promised himself he would protect you, even if you all thought he was a monster. He would never harm you, and never make you do anything you didn’t want to. Not as long as he could help it. His mate. You were under his protection now, and he would be damned if he let anyone harm you ever again.

Deciding to make you suffer even more, since you were the reason Rhysand knew about Tamlin’s brothers hurting you, Amarantha assigned you to a tiny room connected to Eris’s. It didn’t have a fireplace, and it barely fit the small bed that was in it. There was a small room filled with revealing clothing. Specially placed there so you could please Eris, according to her.

But months went by and he did not touch you. He would escort you to court dinners, offering you more food than the small portion you were allowed. You never accepted, eyes always darting for your brother to bring you some sort of comfort. But, Rhys was barely there. If he was, his eyes were cast downwards as Amarantha stroked his arm or his leg, making it clear that Rhys was her obedient dog, her whore. It made you sick to your stomach, but you knew he did it to keep your family safe. So maybe one day you could return to the sanctuary of Velaris.

You flinched slightly as Eris rested a hand on top of yours. “You need to eat, my lady,” he whispered. What seemed to be concern filled his eyes.

“So you can treat me like a pet?” You asked, swallowing your fear.

“So you can survive this.” He said. “I-“ he glanced up as Amarantha stood up to make an announcement. “I will come to your room tonight and I want you to have strength.” He said before she began to speak.

A chill ran down your spine at the thought of what you imagined on your head. You looked down to your plate, taking a small bite of the food. You were no good if you starved yourself. And if you didn’t please Eris like he wanted to, either he or Amarantha would punish you. Probably in front of your brother. Or make him do it.

Eris hummed in agreement to your action, before his attention looked towards Amarantha.

That night, you were shivering in your bedroom. The light set of pajamas doing nothing to keep you warm in the cool room, surrounded by nothing but stone. You perked your head up when the door connecting to Eris’s room opened. He normally used the main one connected to the hall, but tonight he must have wanted to be discrete. Bile rose on your throat in anticipation of what was about to happen, tears welling in your eyes as you body shook from the cold.

“I’m taking you to see your brother.” Eris said quietly. You looked at him, sitting up even more as you curled into yourself more.

“Why?” You asked

Eris’s heart broke at the sight of you, shivering from the cold and near tears from what you imagined he would do. He could be the villain in your story as long as he could keep you safe. But he needed you sane, as well. He would not let you deteriorate under this gods-forsaken mountain.

“Did you not hear Amarantha? She is sending Rhys to do scouting for the next few months. And I’d like for you to get a proper goodbye.” Eris said. “Here,” he said, pulling out the long, wool lined robe for you. “You’ll be warmer in this.” He even warmed it up with his internal heat before he came in here.

You slowly reached out, grabbing it before wrapping it around your body. He saw as you sunk into its warmth, wish that it was him you could find such comfort in.

He held out a hand and you slowly took it. “I’ll need to act like I’m taking you somewhere else, so just stay close and don’t talk.” He whispered before wrapping an arm around your waist. While you would have normally recoiled, you could only lean further into his body heat, much warmer than any you’ve know before. You assumed it was his internal flames burning under his skin, maybe causing his temperature to be much warmer than others. It must have been a nice luxury to have. Though, you were certain he had a fireplace in his room. Not that it would be hard for him to conjure flame anyway.

Eris stole glances at you, hoping that this would make you happier. You hadn’t seen Rhys, at least not at a distance where you could embrace or talk, for at least a year. But Eris knew Rhys would take your unwillingness to eat as Eris forbidding it, or some other malicious thing. Your eyes were sunken, each piece of clothing hung from your body looser as the days passed. You looked tired, exhausted, as if someone was draining the life force from you. No matter how many times Eris had asked, you were never allowed outside with him. Not even on one of the upper balconies. Your punishment for being alive while her friend was dead. It seemed Amarantha wanted to punish you more than Rhys. And Eris was just glad he could be there to protect you from most of her wrath, claiming that his gift shouldn’t be harmed. The things she threatened to do… Eris hoped she wouldn’t figure out you were his mate. Because if she did… even if her and Beron were allies, Eris didn’t think she would spare you much longer.

Eris knocked on a door, one of the shadow wraiths opening it. Your lips turned into a gentle smile as you greeted Nuala, happy to see a familiar face.

At the site of you, Nuala stepped aside. Rhys had bruises all around his neck, where he was staring at them in the mirror. You swallowed and looked up at Eris.

“Five minutes.” He said and stepped back, nodding at you to go in. You tentatively took a step inside, and once you were over the threshold, Nuala shut the door. Rhys turned, his eyes widening as he finally took account of who was in the room.

“(Y/N),” he breathed out rushing over to you. He looked you over, frowning at how poorly you looked. He cupped your cheeks and searched your eyes. Searching for the carefree little sister he knew. “Are you okay? How did you get here?” He asked.

Rhys must have put a shield around the room before Nuala opened the door, if he did not know Eris brought you here.

“I’m fine… I wanted to say goodbye. You are leaving for the outside soon.” You said, your voice quiet and weak. If Amarantha was trying to torture Rhys, she was doing a good job at it.

“Has he hurt you?” He asked.

You shook your head, wanting to say how well Eris was treating you. But the look on Rhys’s eyes told you he wouldn’t believe you. Maybe you needed to make more of an effort to be involved in this ridiculous, cruel court. But would that make you any better than Beron? Would it help you? Would it help your brother?

Rhys pulled you in for a hug and you wrapped your arms around his chest, burying your head in it. “Please come back.” You whispered, holding him tighter.

“I will never leave you here.” He whispered, rubbing your back. “And I will do everything I can to get you away from him.” He said as he pulled away.

“Did Amarantha do this?” You asked as you traced the small circular bruises on his neck.

“She likes to mark her whores.”

You frowned, looking up at the cold look in his eyes. “I’m proud of you.” You whispered. “I want you to know that… you are doing what is right for our family. And I’m so proud that I can call you my brother.”

You could see the words didn’t hit like you wanted them to… and your heart sank at the thought of Rhys not thinking he was doing enough. Or that he wasn’t good enough. “I will see you soon, (Y/N).” He said, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.

You glanced at the time on the clock, then noticed Rhys had a balcony to go outside. “Fly for me, brother.” You whispered before stepping back. “I will see you soon.” You said before turning around and walking out of the room. You gave Nuala another smile before finding Eris with his back against the opposite hallway wall.

You walked up to him and took a quiet, internal breath. “I’d like new clothes.” You said to him.

His rose his eyebrows, shocked at your sudden urge to talk to him. “Excuse me?” It came out more rude than he meant it, but didn’t let that show.

“I-“ you started and then took a visible deep breath. “If I am to be your gift, I want to be presentable. I would like new clothes.” You said. You had no intention of doing anything for Eris, and the more you could avoid him, the better. But if Amarantha thought Eris favored you, maybe she would let you out. Maybe you could fool her into thinking you were enjoying it. And maybe that would be enough for her to let you leave your room by yourself.

“Okay.” Eris said.

It was your turn to be shocked. You thought you would need to convince him a lot more than that.

“Give me a list of clothes you’d like, and I’ll see what I can do.” He answered, then held out his arm. “Now come, you must be tired.” He said.

You tentatively took his arm, still slightly shocked that he didn’t dismiss you. This male that you knew to be cruel and abusive was nothing but kind, gentle, and patient with you. You started to piece together the times you interacted with him, and couldn’t think of a single time were he was mean. Maybe distant, cold, but plenty of faeries were like that. Your brother was like that a lot of the times. It was a mask to keep him safe. Maybe Eris was the same. Maybe you could trust him.

You faltered as he did not stop at your door, but kept walking a few more steps to his. You looked up at him and watched as he opened the door and lead you inside. Maybe you didn’t escape what you dreaded earlier today.

“It’s warmer in here. If you’d like, you can sleep in here. I can take your room.” He said.

You frowned. “What?”

“Every time I see you, you are freezing. And it’s because Amarantha put you in a room that is meant to be a cooler. Why it’s attached to a bedroom, I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s the proper place for the Princess of the Night Court to sleep.”

“But… won’t you get cold?” You asked, glancing to the door that connected the rooms.

“I run hot.” He said, a slight smirk coming to his lips.

“Why are you being nice to me?” You asked.

“Maybe it will be beneficial to me later on.” He said and shrugged. “But I cannot bring myself to harm you.” He said. “In anyway.”

And he showed it. From then on, you stayed in his room. Soon enough, you offered him to come to your room too. Even with the fire, you were still cold. You supposed it was the lack of food, of sunlight, of fresh air. It was not good for your body. So, you asked him to join you in the bed. Just to sleep. And he obliged, staying on his side of the bed. Until one night, where you were particularly cold after a ‘winter’ ball was thrown.

You turned over to Eris, who seemed to be asleep. You were in an oversized sweater and some loose pants. Courtesy of your wardrobe he provided for you. “Eris?” You whispered.

His head turned towards you as he opened one eye, a small smile coming to his lips.

He would act like this whenever you were alone. When no one could see you, he would show you a soft side. A side that had you wondering where all the cruel things said about him came from. This couldn’t be the same male that left your cousin for dead in the Autumn forest. He was so different than how Mor described him. If he was helping you, why wouldn’t he help her?

“Yes, princess?” He asked.

You weren’t even technically a princess, but he insisted on using the nickname. You were surprised it didn’t bother you.

“Can you… make the fire warmer? I’m cold.” You said quietly.

His eyes flickered to the burning hearth before looking back at you. “Can I try something before?” He asked.

You searched his eyes and, as usual, found no malice. Maybe a hint of mischief, if you detected it correctly. You gave him a nod, narrowing his eyes as he asked for you to turn on your side. Your back facing him.

“Do you trust me?” He asked when he noticed your hesitance. You paused at the question. You’ve been asking yourself the same thing for months. Almost a year now. Could you trust Eris? “Remember what I said? I won’t hurt you.” He said.

You slowly took a deep breath, turning your body so your back was facing him. You tensed up when you felt him shift on the bed, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling her closer to his warm body. “What- what are you doing?” You asked.

“I’m going to make you warm.” He whispered in l your ear, the breath sending a shiver down your spine. In the best way.

Suddenly, you felt his hand settling on your bicep, and your arm instantly warmed up. You relaxed into the warm, smiling to yourself.

“Is this better?” He asked, rubbing your arm up and done as he held you close.

“Much.” You answered, even leaning into his chest more.

Eris became your anchor Under the Mountain after that. You often found yourself clutching his bicep, not wanting to be far from him. He stayed true to his word. He would not hurt you. And, apparently, he wouldn’t let anyone else hurt you either. One day, you were in the throne room as the court reveled, sitting on a loveseat while you waited for Eris to bring you something to drink. One particularly drunk made stumbled his way to sit next to you and got too close for your liking. Right as he was about to wrap an arm around you, Eris hauled him out of the seat. He pushed him back and said something with a growl you couldn’t hear, and then the male was running out of the room. Not many males approached you after that.

Maybe it was because your brother was gone for so long, or maybe it was because Eris was genuine to you. Even when you were out of the room, when he wore that cool uninterested mask, he was gentle with you. His touch was never too tight or too harsh. Was never too high or too low. He made you comfortable. You were starting to like him. As a friend, at least.

For the next 40 years, you were always around him. Even when Amarantha gave you more freedom, you wanted to be near Eris. Rhys started to notice, but didn't say anything as it was only apparent for your affection to his enemy before Summer, Winter, and Day rebelled. And then Amarantha's reign became increasingly strict. With only High Lord dead, and a new one taking his place, there was more tension than ever. Especially because anyone who was caught doing anything suspicious was whipped or tortured in front of the court. Sometimes, your brother would be the one to hold their minds and do it.

However, after finding out that Autumn and Night had nothing to do with the rebellion, she decided to be nice one day and allow you to the upper levels. She gave you in particular one rule, do not go outside. You couldn't help but watch as your brother went out on one balcony. And on the other, Beron and his sons were laughing. Actually laughing. It was only one month when the High Lord of Summer was killed and a bunch of Winter children were closed. Children. And Amarantha was celebrating you all.

Eris, however, was sat across from you on the couch. He noticed the way you longed to go outside, realizing while he was allowed out to visit his court with his father, you were stuck Under the Mountain. You hadn't been outside in more than 40 years.

"You should go, celebrate." You muttered, motioning to his family. "You may not be able to leave for along time." You said, frowning as you looked to your hands.

"I'm just fine in here." Eris said, resisting the urge to lean over and grab your hand. While you never crossed a line of being intimate, or anywhere near it, you had become friendly with Eris. You were more than glad to curl into his side at night, hold his hand at the dining table, or grab his arm while you walked around the passageways.

Before you could suggest it again, one of Eris's brothers peeked his head into the room. "Eris, bring your whore in here." He said.

You internally winced at the term, and Eris glared at his brother. While many people had called you the same, Eris normally corrected them. Especially his brothers.

"She isn't my whore." He growled out. "And if you call her that one more time, Sol, and I will rip your throat out." He said. "Besides, you know she can't go outside."

"Ah, Amarantha will never know." Sol said and smirked. "We'll distract the bat, you take her out there for some alone time." He said, making his way over to the balcony where Rhys was standing. As Sol pulled him inside, you could visibly see and hear Rhys's growl. He didn't want to be here, but if he could watch you amongst the Vanserras, he would.

"Sol-" Eris called out but groaned when him and one of the other brothers pushed Rhys out to talk to Beron and the Lady of Autumn. About what, you didn't really care. You stayed in your seat, taking a deep breath.

"I could at least open the door." He said and stood up, going over to the free balcony and opening the door to let in the breeze. You stood up, standing in front of the threshold. You closed your eyes as you felt the wind on your face, even if it was light.

The smile that came to your lips took Eris's breath away. Even in this terrible place, you could still find small bits of joy.

You looked down at the gap between you and the rest of the world, Eris standing on the other side. "Thank you." You said quietly to him, holding out your hand for him to take. He squeezed your hand, fighting the urge to pull you over the threshold and into his chest. He could image your giggle and scolding before you stepped back into the room. But before he could answer you, Amarantha burst through the doors with two of her sentries.

"Seems like the little princess can't follow the rules... Ah, Eris, are you trying to disobey my command?" She asked.

Your eyes widened and you immediately dropped Eris's hand. "I didn't go outside." You said quickly.

"No, but you were about to. And Eris was going to help you." She said. Rhys and the others came in.

"Now that I ponder it, I do remember hearing about the two of you sneaking around the passage ways months ago. That wasn't to spy, was it?" She asked. "Acting as lust-crazed fools?"

You never once showed any interest in Eris like that, and yet everyone just assumed the two of you were sleeping together. Or more like Eris was fucking you as he pleased.

"Nothing to say? Too bad." She said and nodded towards the sentries, one of them grabbing you and the other grabbing Eris. Rhys lunged forward to try and protect you, but Eris's brother's grabbed him.

"Relax, bastard, no one's going to hurt the princess." Sol teased.

"What is the meaning of this, my queen?" Beron asked, the ever-loving servant. His wife next to him looked completely uninterested other than a hint of worry for her son.

"We will make sure Eris and the princess never sneak around again." She said, giving a small wave before walking out of the room.

Before you knew it, you were standing in the throne room with Eris on his knees. One of Amarantha's sentries had a whip in his hands. "This is what you get for disobeying my command. And you get to watch princess, for luring him like you did the former High Lord of Spring." She said.

You looked at Eris, then at Rhys, pleading him with your eyes to do something, anything to stop this from happening. Rhys just tilted his head and stood beside Amarantha. Of course he thought Eris tried to pull you out and he would gladly see Eris punished over you.

The sound of the whip rang out, skin ripping underneath it. Beron and his other sons stood, stoically watching the punishment.

"How many month ago was it? 5? You've been sneaking around 5 months?" She asked. You weren't even sneaking around, you were simply walking. "5 more." She said and you struggled against the sentries holding you back. "Oh and another 5 for all those months lying to me." She said.

More sounds of the whip. More skin ripping. You watched as Eris clenched his teeth, never yielding a yell or scream. Like he had endured this before. You, on the other hand, were silently crying. You desperately tried to hold back your tears, but you couldn't.

After the final sound of the whip crack rang out, Eris sagged to the floor. "And 10 more, because I don't like hurting my friends." She said.

"Stop!" You screamed, an instinctual tug at your gut telling you he would bleed out if he received any more. "I'll do anything, stop this. Eris didn't do anything wrong." You begged, the sentries yanking you back as your legs almost gave out from under you.

Rhys shot you a look that essentially told you to shut your mouth, but you didn't see it. You were staring into Amarantha's cold eyes.

"Anything?" She asked. When you let out a whimper and nodded, a side smirk came to her red lips. "What about agreeing to be locked in sweet Eris's room under I die?" She asked. "Seems like a fair trade, since you disobeyed my command of not going outside. And you can't roam the halls with him either."

You let out a gulp, hearing a small whisper from Eris telling you not to do it. "So long as you, or anyone of your behalf, hurts him again. I will stay in his room." You said.

"Unless I command you out to court, you will stay in his room. And I, nor anyone on my behalf, will not hurt him. Until I die." She said.

You stood up straighter, feeling Rhys's eyes on you. "We have a bargain." You said.

"That we do." She said as you used your magic to imprint a tattoo on your back, right where Eris's scars would be. In doing so, you did the same for Amarantha, who only smirked more. "Take him to a healer. And take her to the room." She said. You stumbled as they pushed you towards the giant doors. You watched as Eris's sagging body was hauled up by his brothers, nearly sobbing at the sight of him.

As the sentries pushed you through Eris's room's door and shut it behind you, you suddenly realized what you agreed to. You were going to be trapped in this room forever. Unless she wanted to torment you more. Or she died.

What did you just do?

Part Two

A/N: This was so much longer than I expected and it's not even finished yet.. There will be at least another part! Hope you all enjoyed!

Taglist

[joelmillerisapunk]

a sweet arrangement

sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist ♡ Sugar Daddy Masterlist

Wordcount: 3,374

Summary: You sign up for a sugar daddy app. What's the worst that could happen?

Warnings: 18+, fingering, oral (both m&f receiving), light bondage, reader might have pullable hair (i dont rememeber if i took it out) quick mentions of slut, baby, sweet baby, sweetheart, darlin

Notes: tysm @saradika-graphics for the dividers. I was cheated on over the weekend, and I wrote this as a "I wish I could be here" instead of being sad." Just another rich!daddy fantasy

You've been feeling financially stretched lately, and after hearing about the concept of sugar daddies and sugar babies from a friend, you decided to give it a try. You sit on your bed and hesitantly create a profile on a popular app, describing yourself as a young, independent woman looking for a mutually beneficial arrangement. As you sit scrolling through, you can't help but feel a sigh of reluctance escape your lips. You never expected to find yourself on a sugar daddy dating app, but life has a way of surprising you sometimes.

After a few moments of looking around the site, a notification pops up. It's a message from a user named "Contractor_Guy."

Curiosity piques, and you open the message, hoping it's not some creepy come-on. To your surprise, it reads:

"Hey there. I don't usually do this sort of thing, but I figured it's worth a shot. My name's Joel. If you're interested in getting to know me, send me a message back."

Feeling intrigued, you reply:

"Hi Joel, I'm not sure what 'this sort of thing' is, but I'm curious now.”

The response comes quickly.

Contractor_Guy: "Haha, 'this sort of thing' is something I usually avoid. But hey, it's a new day, and who knows what it might bring?"

You: Hopefully luck! But seriously, what exactly are you avoiding?"

Contractor_Guy: "Haha, well that's a bit of a long story, darlin.”

You: "Oh, I don't mind a long story. I've got some time to kill. Besides, I find it intriguing that someone like you is on a sugar daddy app.”

Contractor_Guy: "Well, my last experience wasn't the best, and I'm just being cautious this time around.

But, here's the long version. I met a girl a few years back, and at first, things were great. We clicked, and the relationship was mutually beneficial. I was able to provide for her in a way she couldn't for herself, and in return, she was there for me when I needed emotional support. As time went on, she started to change. She became more demanding and less appreciative. It got to the point where she would expect extravagant gifts just for a simple text or phone call. I realized that she was only interested in my money and not in the relationship we'd built."

You: "I'm sorry to hear that. It's not easy to find someone who's genuine and appreciates what you have to offer."

Contractor_Guy: "Yeah, it was a tough lesson to learn, but I'm hoping to find someone different this time. Someone who appreciates the little things, too, not just the material things."

You: "I think that's a fair expectation. We all deserve to be appreciated for more than just our wallets. So, Joel, tell me more about yourself. What do you do for a living?"

Contractor_Guy: "I'm a contractor. I do mostly residential construction and home remodeling projects. What about you? What do you do when you're not scrolling through dating apps?”

You: "Lol, I'm usually at work. I'm a graphic designer, so I spend most of my days in front of a computer. It's not the most glamorous job, but I love what I do."

Contractor_Guy: "A graphic designer, huh? That's pretty impressive. I've always been more of a hands-on guy myself. But I must admit, there's something intriguing about a woman in the arts.”

You: "And who doesn't love a man who can wield a hammer and a chainsaw with equal ease?"

Contractor_Guy: "Oh, I'm definitely good with my hands darlin' ;). ”

You: "Maybe one day you'll show me just how good you are with your hands."

As the conversation continues to flow effortlessly, you both exchange numbers and agree to meet for a coffee date tomorrow. Before signing off, you send a playful message with a picture attached

You: "Well, I'm off to begin the countdown to our coffee date. I'll leave you with this little teaser. ;)"

Insert a picture of you posing confidently in a cute outfit, with a mischievous grin on your face.

Contractor_Guy: "Wow, that definitely has me counting down the hours! I can't wait to see you in person."

With that, you end the conversation eagerly anticipating your first in-person meeting with the intriguing contractor.

The two of you meet for the first time at a trendy coffee shop downtown, and you can immediately sense Joel's charm and confidence. You can tell he's done this a time or two. He offers to buy you a drink and pulls out the mattest black credit card you have ever seen to pay with. He guides you to a table in the back corner, and you both engage in light conversation, discussing your interests and goals. Joel is clearly intrigued by you, and you feel a spark of attraction towards him as well.

"So, tell me more about yourself," Joel says, his eyes locked on yours.

"Well, like I said on the app, I'm a freelance graphic designer," you reply, “It's not the most stable job, but I love what I do."

"I can imagine," Joel says, a hint of admiration in his voice. "I've always been a fan of the arts. But I'm sure you understand the struggles of making ends meet as a freelancer. That's why I'm interested in this arrangement."

"I do understand," you agree, your mind already contemplating the potential benefits of such an arrangement. "It would be nice to have some financial stability while still being able to pursue my passion."

"Exactly," Joel says, his tone firm but understanding. "And in return, I'd like you to be my companion when I need someone to spend time with. We can go on dates, attend social events, or just relax at home. I value your company, you're easy on the eyes and brain, and I believe we would make a great team."

"I think that sounds fair," you say, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "I'm looking for something similar - someone who understands my situation and is willing to help me out."

Joel offers to take you to his place for a glass of wine, and as he leads you to his car, the conversation shifts to the details of the arrangement.

"Now that we've established the terms," Joel says, his voice low and serious, "I want to make something clear. I'm going to support you financially in any way you could ever dream of or want, but there's one condition."

"What's that?" You ask, your curiosity piqued.

"I want access to you whenever I please, however I please," Joel says, his eyes meeting yours. "I want to be able to use you for my pleasure whenever I want. Are you comfortable with that?"

Your heart races as you consider his request. You know what he's asking for, and you're not sure if you're ready for that level of intimacy. But at the same time, you can't deny the excitement coursing through your veins.

"I need some time to think about it. This is a big decision."

"Of course," Joel replies, his tone understanding. "Take all the time you need. But remember, this is the condition of our arrangement."

As Joel drives you to his mansion, you can't help but feel a mixture of excitement and trepidation. This is unlike any arrangement you've ever been a part of, and you're not sure what to expect. As you follow Joel upstairs, your heart races in anticipation. He leads you into a large, dimly-lit room, its walls adorned with black velvet and soft, glowing lights. A large bed dominates the center of the room, surrounded by various toys and restraints.

"I want to show you what I mean when I say I want access to you whenever I please.” Joel says, his voice thick with desire.

Joel leads you over to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a seat on the edge, patting the space beside him. "Come here, sweetheart," he says, his voice soft and inviting.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. But the curiosity and excitement pulsing through you win out, and you find yourself sitting down next to him. Joel's hand reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" he says, his gaze intense.

You feel your entire body get warm at the compliment, your heart racing faster than ever before. "Thank you," you murmur.

Joel's hand begins to trace a path down your arm, sending shivers coursing through your body. "I want to make you feel good, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and husky. "I want to give you pleasure like you've never experienced before."

Your mind is racing as Joel's hand continues to explore your body. You're not sure what to do, but you find yourself leaning into his touch, your body craving more.

"I want to show you something," Joel says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He stands up and walks over to a large wooden chest at the foot of the bed. He opens it, revealing a variety of toys and restraints. Your heart races as you take in the sight. You've never seen anything like this before, and you're not sure what to make of it. Joel walks back over to you, a blindfold in his hand. "I want to show you how good it can feel to let go and trust someone," he says, his voice soft and soothing.

You hesitate for a moment but something about Joel's words and the look in his eyes makes you feel safe, and you find yourself nodding in agreement. He gently places the blindfold over your eyes, cocooning you in darkness. You can feel his hands on you, guiding you back onto the bed. You trust him, and you let yourself relax into the feeling of his touch.

Joel's hands continue to explore your body, tracing patterns and circles that send shivers of pleasure coursing through you. You can feel the bed shift as he leans over you, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to make you feel so good, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice barely above a whisper. Your breath hitches as his hands continue to wander.

Suddenly, you feel something soft and silky against your skin. It's a scarf, and Joel is using it to gently bind your wrists to the bedposts. You gasp at the feeling of being restrained, but the sensation is not unpleasant. Instead, it heightens your senses, making you more aware of every touch and caress.

Joel continues to explore your body, his hands moving lower and lower until they reach the waistband of your pants. He pauses for a moment, waiting for your consent. "May I?" he asks, his voice low and husky. You nod, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He slowly begins to slide your pants down your legs, his hands lingering on your skin as he goes. You can feel the heat of his touch, and you find yourself arching up towards him, wanting more. Finally, your pants are off, and Joel's hands are free to explore your body in earnest. He caresses your thighs, your hips, your stomach, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

You can feel yourself growing wet, your body responding to Joel's touch in ways you've never experienced before. You moan softly, your hips bucking up towards him. Joel takes the hint, his fingers finding their way to your wetness. He begins to explore you, his touch gentle but firm. You gasp at the sensation, your body quivering with pleasure. His fingers move in slow, deliberate circles that send shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. You find yourself moaning louder and louder, your hips bucking up towards him as you chase the feeling of release. Finally, you can't take it any longer. You cry out as the orgasm washes over you, your body trembling with pleasure. Joel continues to touch you, his fingers gentle as they bring you down from the peak of pleasure.

Slowly, your breathing returns to normal, and you become aware of your surroundings once again. The blindfold is still over your eyes, and you're still bound to the bed. But you feel safe and content, your body still humming with pleasure. He unties the blindfold, and you blink your eyes against the sudden brightness of the room. He's standing above you, a wicked smile on his face. "Did you like that, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice low and seductive.

"Yes sir," you get out with a hoarse voice.

Joel's gaze travels down your body, taking in the sight of you spread out on his bed, still bound to the bedposts. "Mmm, such a good girl already," he says, his voice full of satisfaction. "I have so much more I want to show you."

He walks over to the wooden chest at the foot of the bed and rummages through it, pulling out a variety of toys and restraints. Joel turns back to you, a pair of handcuffs in his hand. "May I?" he asks, his voice low and seductive.

“You may."

Your heart racies with excitement as Joel cuffs your hands above your head, replacing the soft, luxurious ribbon, and securing you back to the bedpost. You test the restraints, finding that they hold you firmly in place. Your heart is racing with excitement, your body tingling with anticipation. He walks back over to the chest and pulls out a vibrator. He turns it on, the buzzing noise filling the room. You watch as he approaches you. He traces the vibrator over your body, teasing you with each touch. You arch up towards him, wanting more. But Joel is in control, and he takes his time, drawing out the anticipation until you're nearly begging for release."Are you ready for more, darlin’?"

“Yes please,” your breath coming in short gasps.

"Good girl." He traces the vibrator lower, teasing your clit with each pass. You moan, your hips bucking up towards him. But he pulls the vibrator away just as you're about to come.

You whimper in frustration, but Joel just smiles. "Patience, baby, patience," he says.

He continues to tease you, bringing you to the brink of orgasm again and again, but never letting you fully come. You're writhing on the bed, your body begging for release when Joel leans down and whispers in your ear. "Do you trust me, sweetheart?"

You nod, your heart racing. "Yes, I do," you whisper.

Joel smiles, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He leans down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. You moan, your hips bucking up towards him. You're ready for whatever comes next.

Joel breaks the kiss, his eyes locked on yours. "I'm going to take you to the edge, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and seductive. "And then I'm going to bring you back again. And again. And again. Until you can't take it anymore."

Joel's hand moves back to the vibrator, tracing it over your clit once again. This time, he doesn't stop. He continues to tease and pleasure you. Suddenly, Joel pulls the vibrator away once again. You whimper in frustration, but before you can protest, he's replaced it with his mouth. His tongue expertly teases your clit. His hands roam your body as he brings you to the brink of orgasm once again. This time, however, he doesn't stop. He continues to lick and suck at your clit, his fingers entering you and curling against your G-spot as he pushes you over the edge.

You cry out, your body shaking with pleasure as you come hard against his mouth. Joel doesn't stop, his tongue continuing to torture you as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. As you come down from your orgasm, you gasp for breath, your body still trembling with pleasure. Joel's gaze is intense as he watches you, his face flushed with arousal.

"That was so, fucking good," you manage to gasp out, your voice still hoarse from your orgasm.

Joel smiles, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'm glad you thought so," he says, his voice low and seductive. "But I think it's your turn now."

"My turn?" you ask, your eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yes," Joel says, his smile widening. "It's time for you to return the favor.”

You feel a pang of nerves flood your body. “But I'm still all tied up.”

Joel smirks, leaning in. He grabs the hollows of your cheeks, forcing you to look at him, “ I never said you needed to be untied, did I.”

You swallow hard, your mind racing with the implications of his words. Joel releases your cheeks, his gaze traveling down your body. "You're going to make me very happy tonight, sweetheart. Just remember - I want access to you whenever I please, however I please. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," you reply, your voice full of submission.

Joel's smile widens, and he reaches down to unfasten his pants. He steps out of them and his boxers, revealing a hard, thick, ready erection. He climbs onto the bed, his legs straddling your chest. "Now, I want you to take me into your mouth," he says, his voice firm and authoritative.

Your heart is racing as you obey. He brings it up to your lips, and your tongue darts out to lick the tip. You can taste the hint of salt and musk, and you find yourself growing aroused again. You open your mouth wide to accommodate his size. He tastes so good, so intense, and you can't get enough. You begin to move your head, your mouth sliding up and down his shaft. Joel gasps, his hips bucking up towards you.

Suddenly he grabs your hair and holds his cock to the hilt, filing up your entire throat, blocking your airway. You try to gasp for breath as Joel holds you down on his large throbbing cock but it's no use. Your head is swimming with pleasure and arousal, and you're not sure if you can take anymore. Just then Joel releases his grip on your hair, allowing you to breathe again. You take the opportunity to pull away, gasping for air. Joel smirks down at you. "Such a good little slut for daddy already," he says, his voice full of praise. "Daddy wants to see more. Show me how much you want me."

You nod, your heart racing with anticipation as Joel pulls away and undoes your restraints. When he's back on the bed, you take him back into your mouth, your hands roaming his beautiful, full thighs. You begin to suck and lick at his cock, your tongue exploring every inch of him. You can hear Joel growing more aroused, his breaths coming in short gasps.

You feel a hand on the back of your head, guiding you. Joel is thrusting into your mouth, his cock sliding in and out. You moan around him, your hands reaching up to cup his balls. He's tensing, his hips bucking harder with each thrust. Suddenly, he lets out the most primal groan you've ever heard, his cock swells in your mouth. He thrusts into you one more time before coming. You can feel his warm come filling your mouth, and you swallow it down eagerly. Joel groans, his hips stilling as he rides out his orgasm.

You pull away, gasping for air and Joel collapses onto his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You can see the satisfaction on his face, and you feel proud of yourself. You've never done anything like that before, and you're not sure how you feel about it. But there's a part of you that's excited, that wants to do it again.

You're both panting heavily, your mind still reeling from the intense experience you've just shared. Joel's gaze is locked on yours, his eyes full of admiration and desire. "You were amazing, sweetheart," he says, his voice a low rumble. "I can't wait to show you more." A wave of excitement washes over you as Joel reaches out and gently strokes your cheek, his fingers lingering against your skin. "I want to make this arrangement work, darlin," he says, his voice soft and earnest. "But I need to know that you're in this for the right reasons."

Your heart races as you consider his words. You know what he's asking, and you're not sure if you're ready for the level of intimacy and commitment this arrangement requires. But at the same time, you can't deny the excitement coursing through your veins, the thrill of being desired and pursued by someone like Joel. You nod, your heart racing with both excitement and trepidation. "I think I'm ready to accept your condition," you say, your voice low and hesitant. "But I need to know that you're in this for the right reasons, too."

Joel's eyes meet yours, his gaze intense and serious. "I promise you, I want nothing more than to care for and support you, both financially and emotionally," he says firmly. "And I expect the same companionship in return."

You take a deep breath, your mind racing with the implications of your decision. But there's a part of you that's eager to explore this new world, to find out what it means to be truly desired and cared for by someone like Joel.

"Okay," you finally say, your voice full of resolution. "I want to make this arrangement work too."

Joel's face breaks into a smile, his eyes filled with relief and joy. He pulls you into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "Thank you, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice full of gratitude. "I'm going to make sure you never regret this decision."

---

Thanks for reading ❤️ let me know if you'd like more from these two

[obsesssedblerd]

"Who's your new teacher?" (Part 3)

Synopsis: Toji takes Megumi to his doctor's appointment, and you, his teacher, hunt for a gift to give him.

Pairing: single dad! toji x f! reader

Contains: plenty of fluff, crack, megumi is four, tsumiki is seven, toji is still toji (but like he's soft for his kids and he takes care of them), reader is a preschool teacher, reader and toji are around the same age, protective toji, protective tsumiki, megumi being scared of doctors, mentions of shiu kong, everyone is happy bc i said so

part one here, part two here

a/n: here's part three! barely proofread. sorry for mistakes.

update: pt. 4 here

--- --- --- --- ---

Though Megumi said that he would be brave, Toji Fushiguro knew his baby all too well. In the waiting room of the doctor’s office, Megumi sat stiffly beside him, clinging his dog plushie way too tight—an obvious sign that he was scared. Toji’s heart aches within his chest, and once he finishes filling out the paperwork for him, he sets the clipboard aside and pulls the small boy onto his lap. “Megs, it’s okay, I promise. We won’t be here long, alright? No scary shots.”

His eyes fill with tears, and he buries his face into Toji’s shirt with a distressed whine. Tsumiki—who was sitting next to Shiu and playing a game on his phone to pass the time—immediately lifts her head once her ears register the sound of her little brother crying, and she hands Shiu his phone back before coming to stand in front of the two of them. Toji moves an arm so she can inch her way closer to Megumi.

“Don’t worry, Gumi, we’re here,” she coos softly as she wraps an arm around Megumi’s free side, so he was being comforted by her and Toji at the same time. “Me and Papa won’t leave you alone, okay? We’re right here. You can hold my hand the entire time.” 

A middle-aged man sitting across from them sighs loudly in annoyance, and Toji looks up in time to see him rolling his eyes at Megumi’s little sniffles. “Oh, c’mon, it’s not that big of a deal. Besides, boys don’t cry.”

The concern that Toji feels for his son is immediately replaced with sheer rage, his blood boiling as he squeezes his hand into a tight fist. He’s about to open his mouth to say something, but his seven year-old daughter beats him to it. Tsumiki whirls around angrily, meeting the asshole’s stare head on. “Nobody asked you, stupid head!!” She yells.

The man’s eyes go wide, the receptionist at the front desk gasps, and a few of the other patients in the waiting room either stifle a laugh or turn the other direction. The man looks at Toji, as if expecting him to intervene on his behalf and correct his daughter. Instead, he pats Tsumiki’s shoulder and stares at him with a small smirk. “You heard her,” he tells him, his voice dark with warning. “Stupid head.” 

He must’ve seen the utter violence in Toji’s eyes, because he chooses not to say anything else. Toji looks over to see Shiu giving Tsumiki a high-five. Then, Toji gives her shoulder a small, loving squeeze. “That’s my girl.” 

To his relief, Megumi—who had watched the exchange silently—had finished crying and was a little bit calmer. Though he’s done crying, Toji’s little blessing decides to remain in his lap, smiling up at his sister when she turns back around to hug him some more. He notices Megumi taking slower breaths, and holding up his little fingers to count the seconds as they go by. 

As he silently counts to himself, a memory from three weeks ago floods Toji’s mind. You, sitting on the ground next to Megumi, explaining a good tactic to calm himself down after crying and experiencing stress for too long. “Breathe in for four seconds,” you explained in a soft voice, holding up your fingers in front of him to count. “Then you’re going to hold for seven seconds, and finally, breathe out slowly to last eight seconds.” 

Now that he’s thinking of you, Toji smiles, wondering if it would be awkward or not to send you a message after Megumi’s appointment. Just what did you like to do after work?

—

“...What?!” You shout into the phone, your heart pounding as you pace back and forth in your living room. 

“Uh, sorry,” the store clerk on the other line says, gulping nervously around their words. “We’re unable to put this item on hold for you.” 

Your head is spinning. You think you’re about to throw up. Your eyes drift back to your laptop which displays the email announcing the special, limited edition of the dog plushie Megumi has—a bright white one, matching the dark-colored one that he kept with him all of the time. 

You subscribed to the brand’s website around a month ago, and had been keeping an eye out for it to drop so you could get one for him. Since it dropped this afternoon shortly after all of your students had gone home, you immediately knew that it would be the perfect gift after his doctor’s appointment. For the last three hours, you had been calling store after store, only to be met with disappointment when customer service revealed that they were completely sold out. It was a popular plushie, after all. You finally found a store that had the plushie in stock, but—

“How come you can’t put it on hold?!” You exclaimed. “I’ve never heard of something like this before!” 

“Um, well, since the plushie is a special edition item, they can’t be ordered from the store or put on hold, just so everyone has a chance to get one. It has to be fair.” 

You’re shoving your shoes on, using your shoulder to hold the phone to your ear as you grab your keys and purse. “Okay, how many are left?” 

“I believe just one. They sold out super fast today.” 

You didn’t care what had to happen. You were getting that damn plushie for Megumi. 

—

You thank every deity that you didn’t get pulled over, and that you didn’t get into an accident. You pull into the store’s parking lot, run out of your car, skip the cart, and go straight towards the toy section. The store is busy this evening, and that worries you. You hope that you’re not too late. When you reach the aisle where the plushie is supposed to be located, you skillfully maneuver your way through the crowd of parents and kids. You are a teacher, after all. 

You see the stand where the special edition plushie is supposed to be, and your heart sinks when you see that it’s completely empty. You groan as you walk down the next aisle of toys away from the crowd, reaching into your purse to grab your phone. Maybe there’s another store nearby, or even about thirty minutes away with at least three of them in stock. Maybe—

A brightly-colored package barely sticking out from underneath the rest of the stuffed animals in a large bin gets your attention. You shove your phone back into your purse, then dig into the bin, pulling out stuffed animal after stuffed animal until you reach it. You gasp, then pull out the last special edition dog plushie. Luckily for you, it’s not damaged. You squeal in victory, already excitedly imagining what little Megumi’s reaction is going to be like once you deliver it to him tomorrow. You check the price of it, and wince. Definitely a special item. You’re definitely going to have to dip into your savings account. 

It doesn’t matter. The smile on Gumi's face will be worth it. You know that much. 

As you’re transferring money from your savings account to your checking account, you hear footsteps approach the aisle you’re standing in. “Shiu, I’m telling ya, it’s supposed to be here, but it isn’t. You sure you called the right store? I swear, this shit-” You look up to see Toji, who comes to a complete stop once he sees you, his eyes widening in shock. 

Oh. 

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tags: @abadbitchblogs @koriisworld @queendessi24 @chosoyukisgf @blubearxy @starmapz @atomictrashcreator @levixbby @jjknanamin @roxytheimmortal @eternallyvenus @jup1tersuccubus

sorry if I missed anyone! I went based on the replies in the previous part. if you would like to be tagged for part 4, kindly let me know in the replies! this includes those who have been tagged previously! <3

[artist-issues]

Let’s talk about this Mufasa movie.

No. Let’s not. Let’s just talk about Mufasa. This is going to be long because he’s a really good character and The Lion King is a really good movie.

Mufasa’s whole point, as a character, is to foil Simba. He’ s not just the stereotypical “great dad role model” character, or the “wise mentor who is ripped away” character.

He, as a character, is in the story because he is “Who Simba Really Is.”

Simba is our young protagonist. The whole point of Simba in the story is to start out “not yet grown into who he really is,” so that the story can teach him how to “grow into who he really is.”

So the audience needs to know “who is Simba and who is Simba supposed to be?” right at the beginning. Which is great, because all kids are trying to figure out the same question about themselves. So it’s relatable. But anyway, the storytellers make Mufasa the answer.

On a simple level, you can answer the question, “who is this Simba guy?” right off the bat in the movie with “the son of the King.” There’s the setting. There’s the set-up. There’s the title of the movie. That’s why the very first lion you’re introduced to in the movie is Mufasa, and it’s not a shot of a baby lion cub. It could have been. Lots of movies open with a shot of their main character. Encanto, for one.

Not The Lion King. The Lion King starts with, “you can’t know who Simba is without Mufasa, so Mufasa gets shown first.”

So okay, Mufasa is a King. Good to know. That’s obvious from the big rock he’s standing on and the way all the animals are coming toward him. But from there, they quickly establish a few more things about Mufasa. He smiles at this little bird that bows to him. He hugs the shaman-monkey. He goes from “big solemn lion” to “good and benevolent” immediately.

And then as it goes on, you learn more about Mufasa. He’s not an idiot; he knows Scar is up to no good, and he is very direct about it. He is not a naive dupe, trusting a schemer blindly. It’s more complicated than that. He is a better leader and a better guy than that. Mufasa knows Scar is his brother, and in a snappy little interaction with Zazu, storytellers make it clear that he worries about Scar; he knows he has good reason to worry, but hasn’t decided to give up on his brother.

Additionally, he is merciful to other dark creatures too. He beats the tar out of hyenas but doesn’t kill them. He rescues Zazu from Scar’s mouth. He scolds Simba but he does that, and more, to teach him. So what Mufasa is teaching us, according to what I just showed you the story says, is that A Good King, A Good Man (Lion, whatever) Is:

Authoritative - Makes decrees and makes decisions and yes, tells others what to do. Creates the structure his people live in.

Kind/Humble - Shows the same level of casual friendship to a revered shaman-recluse as he does a little self-important majordomo. (Humble because he’s not afraid to admit when he’s afraid if it’ll help his son.)

Teaches - Takes time out of the day to pass on what he’s learned to someone who is going to take his place—he’s not hoarding his own position or gatekeeping his life-experience-expertise. He’s not finding his identity in how he has this wealth of information that causes people to need him; he gives it away freely, purposefully.

Protects - Is willing to endanger himself and go to the trouble of defending creatures that are weaker than himself.

Shows Mercy - See Scar and the hyenas, who deserve death, but he doesn’t give it to them.

Prioritizes Family - The time he’s taking out of the day is for his son. And he follows up with his recluse of a brother instead of going, “that’s Scar, I know he don’t care about nobody but himself, his loss, not my problem.” And he extends trust to that brother, which is really just an example of gift-giving to a family member who’s done nothing to keep that trust.

Has Faith - Mufasa makes a point of not answering Simba’s question about “Will you always be there for me,” with just himself. He could’ve. Many parents do. Many parents are tempted to, to show their love. “Yes. You’ll always have me. I’ll always be there to answer your questions; I’ll always protect you, I’ll always be what you can count on, you’ll always find a need fulfilled in me.” But Mufasa doesn’t take that bait. He gives Simba an answer that is not “himself-based.” Not selfish. “Look at the stars.” I don’t care what ya’ll say. Mufasa has faith in something outside of himself. He says “and so will I,” but that’s after contextualizing himself within “something bigger than us.” (And oh my gosh, he doesn’t even answer with, “let me give you a lesson you’ll need for your whole life.” He doesn’t even take credit for this faith, for himself. He gives his own father the credit.)

And really, all of those traits can be summarized with the phrase: Lives His Life Sacrificially For Others.

That’s what a leader, a good father, a king, a good man, does. And pay attention: That is what Simba is supposed to be. Simba is supposed to be Mufasa. That’s who Simba really is, that’s where he’s supposed to go. There is a “real you.” But you have to agree with it and accept it, even though your natural bent is to give in to the illusion that you “don’t have to be that, you can choose who you are.”

Yeah, sure, in a sense you can reject Who You Really Are. You can spend your whole life playing pretend, like you’re not That. But you’ll be doing just that: playing pretend. Unfulfilled. Dissatisfied. Running from the misery that is the natural response to your silly game of pretend. Insisting that “there is no misery, this is what I want.”

Okay. Sure it is.

I’ll save Simba for another post.

The point is, Mufasa is a template for who Simba Really Is. Look at those traits. When it’s Simba’s turn to exemplify those traits, does he?

Act I: Is he authoritative? He tells characters what to. And he makes his own decisions—sometimes for good, sometimes bad. For example, he won’t let Zazu deter him from going to the elephant graveyard, so that’s a bad decision, but he does choose to go back and help Nala instead of running to save himself. Authoritative and protective. But it’s all misplaced because he doesn’t “Live His Life Sacrificially For Others.”

Act 2: He’s not. Timon and Pumbaa tell him to do something and he goes along with it. Timon and Pumbaa claim an ancient tradition and his father’s lesson is stupid and Simba goes along with that. He’s no longer making decisions of his own accord, for anything but his own comfort.

The idea is, in Act 1, you see Simba has the same traits as Mufasa, budding inside of him. But they’re all misdirected, and they’re all twisted, because they’re missing one key ingredient: he’s supposed to use those traits in the context of “Live His Life Sacrificially For Others.” Simba doesn’t want to do that. Simba wants to do whatever he wants.

Sure, there’s a part of him that combines that motive with “I want to be like my dad.” But that part dies on the vine and turns sour when his father dies saving him.

So then in Act 2, not only is Simba clinging to “I’m going to live life all my way,” but he’s changed what that means by pushing the nugget of “I want to be like my dad/I WANT TO BE WHO I REALLY AM” completely away. Because it’s too hard, and he’s got shame tangled up in it.

And worse—he starts doing basically the opposite of all of Mufasa’s traits, all of the traits that make him Who He Really Is. He’s not prioritizing family—he’s abandoning them. He’s not protecting others—he runs from the idea of going back to help Nala. (tiny glimmer of it still being inside him because he does try to protect Pumbaa from her.) Kind and humble? No. It’s unkind to tell your best friend you won’t help her because you’re afraid. Humble, no, because humility is thinking of yourself less, not thinking less of yourself.

Ask the question. When Simba’s living in the jungle with Timon and Pumbaa, is he exemplifying any of the traits of Who He Really Is? Or is he doing his best to bury that?

But then after Mufasa reminds him of who he Really Is, and Rafiki shows him how to get his past out of the way so he can accept it, Simba goes back. Into Act 3 we go

Now. Does Simba exemplify Mufasa’s traits? Does Simba start becoming Who He Really Is? There’s not a lot of time left in the movie. Look at the traits, see if he does.

Authoritative? Yep, comes up with the plan to break in and get to Scar, doesn’t back down from the confrontation.

Kind and Humble? Yeah, he willingly admits the truth (he thought it was true) that makes him look bad to give his mom closure. He’s kind to Nala and to Timon and Pumbaa, admits his mistakes, when they come to help him. Hugs the old shaman who cracked him in the skull with a stick—just like Mufasa hugged Rafiki to show us kindness and humility at the beginning of the movie.

Teaches? We don’t really see an opportunity for him to do that yet at this point in the story and his life, give me a break.

But protects? You bet. That’s why he’s there for the confrontation in the first place. Shows mercy?

Yep.

Because he’s not like Scar. He knows who he is. THE POINT.

And when he runs in for the big confrontation, he doesn’t immediately leap on Scar and rip him to pieces. Even though the storytellers make sure to show us he clearly wants to.

Instead, he runs up to his mother to see if she’s all right and show her that he is. And again, he tells her the truth because that’s what she needs even if it’s not what she wants, and he’s learned not to run from what he’s “done.” And faith in something bigger than himself?

Yeah. His father’s voice comes through the clouds just before he decides to roar and claim his title. Through the clouds. Because that whole “we’re a part of something bigger, something more important than ourselves,” was always what he was missing. He was just thinking about himself.

And all of this is because Mufasa is the example of Who Simba Really Is: Lives His Life Sacrificially For Others. That’s Mufasa.

That’s Mufasa, in the story of The Lion King. That’s his purpose as a character, that’s who he is.

So now if you make a movie that’s just about him, what you should be doing is showing how he got there. How he accepted who he Really Is instead of choosing who he wants to be, on his own. And you should make his father, and learning humility, an enormous part of that. Because self-sacrifice is such a pillar of his character. It’s the whole thing.

What you should certainly not be doing is telling a story that ends with finding self-worth or a kid who makes a name for himself. I repeat: if the Mufasa live action movie ends with Mufasa doing anything that revolves around self, they got him wrong and they set him up nonsensically for the next movie.

He should have to decide whether or not he wants to believe his own father, because of that one line, “let me tell you something my father told me.” That shows that he accepted his father’s lesson. And what was his father’s lesson about? Faith. In something BIGGER THAN YOURSELF. So then Mufasa grows up to be a character who lives his life sacrificially for others, and you can trace the roots back to that: “I learned a lesson about something bigger than myself from someone who was not myself, and I humbly believed and accepted that lesson.”

I mean jeez, the line is: “LOOK AT THE STARS.” Whenever you feel alone. Whenever you’re wrapped up in who you are and who you’re not and failure and the idea of what you want to be, knock it off. Quit looking at yourself and look at something bigger than you. And then you’ll get “Understanding of Who You Really Are”—no matter what mistakes you’ve made, no matter how you’ve failed, no matter what your circumstances are—thrown in.

…Of course, the Lion King remake ruined him anyway by having the point be “I’m not worthless.” And that was never the point. But whatever. I’m rambling now. You get the idea.

Mufasa is exactly what he needs to be for the original The Lion King. He’s exactly what he needs to be for Simba’s story. Mufasa is awesome.

[flowerandblood]

Play with my heart (1/3)

[ modern actors • Aemond x Strong • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, sexual tension, unprofessional behavior ]

[ description: He gets the main role in a series about a great family and dragons, which could change his career. He is set to play the uncle and love interest of his childhood friend. When he meets the actress who plays her role, he begins to lose track of what is an acting and what is his real feelings. Sexual tension, grumpy, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: Yeah. I talked about it and I did it. You don't even know how much fun I had doing this. Of course, my characters play in a series whose script is an exact copy of my story The Fall from the Heavens. In this universe, Aemond (playing the One-Eyed Prince) and Rhaenys (playing the Princess) are of course not related – the other characters are also just actors. This three-part series is my gift to all fans of the original series, thank you so much for your support. "Rhaenys" in this story is her artistic pseudonym which she use instead of her real name. In this chapter you will see her Instagram photos without any face reveal, just treat it like some moodboard of her modern look. You can read this as a standalone story.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Despite his resistance, his grandfather said this series could be his big chance. Because what's the likelihood of a big production looking for a tall actor with a scar over his left eye?

The white line running from his eyebrow to his cheek was a reminder of when his nephew smashed a bottle next to him, the shards of which shot upwards as he leaned over it. He lost the sight in that eye at the time, but got a new artificial one that looked almost identical to the real one.

"The director became interested in you when I described your appearance and character to him. It's a leading role, Aemond." His grandfather continued, clearly excited. He, however, felt only discomfort at his words.

"It's a fantasy series. Dragons, gowns and knights. Romance, on top of that, between an uncle and a niece. I don't know. It's…" He started and didn't finish, running his hand over his face.

It sounded idiotic and he felt he would have made a fool of himself in front of millions of viewers who would forever remember him in the role of the cripple prince in an incestuous relationship.

"At least read the script." His grandfather didn't give up and placed a thick volume of stapled white pages in front of him.

Resigned, he spread himself comfortably on the sofa in his flat in the evening and began to read. He pressed his lips together when he saw that it all started with a flashback – the characters of the prince and his niece were still children at the time and were to be played by younger actors.

There was no cloying or exaggerated sweetness in the story or dialogues that he had expected. What surprised him was the moment when his character lost his eye and the fact that he decided not to speak to his betrothed for eight years.

He thought it was a bit of an overreaction, but perhaps in those days men approached their honour in this way.

Then he got to the scenes where their adult characters appeared and their first scene when they see each other in the courtyard. He imagined what was happening as if he was watching a film, them, throwing glances full of pain at each other, and him, unable to bear it, attacking his opponent in rage.

To his surprise, the next scene, the scene in his chamber turned into a love scene that made him hot – and then, just when he thought the rest of the plot would be a soap opera, his character suddenly became aggressive and cold again, destroying everything they had managed to accomplish.

He thought curiously that he liked how complicated and unpredictable the Prince's character was, how hard he tried to suppress the feelings he felt for this girl, how confident he was at the same time, with so many complexes and hatreds inside him.

He was intrigued.

He decided he would go for an audition and to his surprise, the next day he received a call that the director had decided he was perfect for the part.

He got the lead role in the series.

His grandfather, as his agent, contacted the production and it turned out that they wanted to rehearse scenes between him and the actresses who would play the Princess. He was to appear in the studio in a setting specially prepared for this, which would resemble the Prince's chamber.

They were to portray the scene in which his niece comes to the Prince's chamber on the evening they see each other for the first time in eight years.

There were no wigs or costumes prepared yet, so he was given something of a substitute, a simple leather tunic and boots, and a black eye patch that had been designed specifically for his character earlier and was already finished.

The lights were turned off, leaving only the lamps for illumination and the candles and fire lit all around. He looked towards the fireplace, fiddling with the knife between his fingers, recognising that this would add an air of unease to the scene.

"Action!" The director shouted, and the door opened. He looked to the side and spotted a tall, black-haired girl. Her lips curved in pain at the sight of him, as if she was suffering greatly, but he thought in the back of his mind that her facial expression was exaggerated.

"Did you received my letters?" She asked in a trembling voice, looking at him with her chin raised high.

This was not how he imagined her, but he decided to focus on his role, rolling the knife between his fingers.

"Yes." He replied coldly and dispassionately.

The girl swallowed hard.

"Have you read them?"

"Cut! They see each other for the first time in eight years. They feel anger, fear, disbelief! Give me something more than theatrical indifference and tears." The director called out, making both him and the girl in front of him swallow hard, embarrassed.

"Action!"

It seemed to him that it went on forever. Girls similar to themselves went in and out, and he repeated the same line over and over again, feeling nothing.

He was in character as much as he could, taking his role very seriously, trying to identify with it, but he couldn't bring up the feelings he was supposed to have for this girl who, after all, was supposed to be the love of his life.

He sighed heavily, adjusting the eye patch over his eye when the director said that there was another rehearsal ahead of them. He nodded his head to let him know that he was ready.

"Action!"

The door opened, but the girl who stood in it looked at him for a moment with big eyes, as if she didn't recognise him. There was something endearing in that gaze. She turned behind her, as if she was afraid of being seen, and immediately closed the door, breathing loudly.

At last, real acting.

She turned towards him, as if she was afraid of him, and he pressed his lips together, involuntarily looking at her body hidden only beneath a thin nightgown, her slightly wavy, long dark hair falling freely over her shoulders.

Her face was gentle, warm, her eyes large, her lashes and eyebrows dark, accentuating her charm.

She was silent for a moment, her lips trembling, as if she wanted to say something but couldn't.

"Did you received my letters?"She muttered softly in a hopeful voice, from which he felt goosebumps pass along his back.

"Yes." He whispered, his voice soft and low.

Yes, he thought, give me something I can work with.

She swallowed loudly and clenched her hands into fists, shifting from foot to foot. She shook her head, her eyebrows arched in pain as if asking how he could do this to her.

"Have you read them?" She asked, and he pressed his lips together, tilting his head back and snorted under his breath, turning the blade in his hand. She jumped up, horrified when he slammed it suddenly into the armrest lying beneath his hand.

"Yes, my Lady Strong. I have read them all. Many times, here, in this chair." He murmured mockingly, looking at her with slightly parted lips, lifting his chin in a gesture of superiority.

He was sure the director would interrupt, but he let them continue.

The girl lowered her gaze, her body quivering as if she was about to cry, an expression of humiliation, pain and shame on her face from which he felt heat in his heart.

Her gaze suddenly changed. She swallowed hard, as if she had also swallowed his insult, and moved ahead of him, pretending to walk towards the bookshelf.

He pressed his lips together and looked at her over his shoulder, measuring her with a furious, cold stare.

"Do you often visit men like this?"

She turned to him with a look as if she wanted to kill him, her hand dropping as if she had run out of strength after what she had heard.

"Have you no shame?" She asked coolly, the way she said it, the look in her eyes made him feel a cold sweat on his back.

"Cut! That was fantastic, thank you!" Said the director, and she blinked, the expression on her face turning from cold and disgusted to a wide smile full of joy, her gaze warm and welcoming.

"– you were amazing – I had goosebumps –" She whispered as she walked past him and giggled, waving goodbye to him, disappearing out the door a moment later.

When it turned out a few days later that she had got the role, he breathed a sigh of relief. The director had told him in a phone conversation that he could feel the kind of tension on camera that he expected from their characters and that this was it.

He was ashamed to admit it, but he agreed with him.

She was good and pulled the most subtle, intriguing expressions from her face with ease.

Although he didn't usually do this and resented his grandfather for forcing him to create an official instargam account, which was almost dead anyway, he used it to find her. At first he thought Rhaenys was her name, but then the producent told him it was her stage pseudonym.

He did not know what he thought of this, finding that it was an approach to acting that he was not fond of, but he decided not to judge her hastily, being a very private and withdrawn person himself.

Finding her turned out to be child's play, and he felt like a voyeur, scrolling through all her posts on her wall one by one, wanting to get a sense of who he would be working with, or at least that's how he tried to explain this unnatural curiosity to himself.

He snorted involuntarily in amusement upon seeing her Pikachu shirt, thinking with a kind of admiration that she had a distance to herself that he lacked.

She apparently wasn't afraid of harsh judgement from the outside world, of someone saying she was childish or immature, retaining a kind of innocence he hadn't seen in any actress in a long time.

Usually, like him, they created themselves, how they wanted to be perceived, making from their characters a style under which everything else was adjusted.

He felt a strange kind of satisfaction that he couldn't explain when he didn't see her in any of the photos with any man in an embrace or position that might indicate that she had a boyfriend.

He thought this would make it easier for him to get into character and not feel remorseful – although of course it was only his job – that he was touching someone else's girlfriend.

Although he was not convinced about this project at first, he was now beginning to feel excited at the thought that this really could open the door to his career.

All the way up to the start of shooting, he had been preparing himself to actually get into the character mentally, reading the script again and again, trying to understand Prince's character, unintentionally identifying with him more and more.

With his pain, his shame, his longing, his despair, his unfounded, cold, calculating irony and aggression.

While not everyone applauded the method acting, he felt the need to understand the character he was playing, to get inside his head, to become him in some way, to properly portray his emotions.

He and his grandfather flew to the hotel a few days before shooting to acclimatise, attend rehearsals and costume fittings. He met the actor, Aegon, who would play his brother-king, and Jace, who would play the Princess's older brother, and although he was an aloof man, he quickly found common ground with them.

Looking at the size and number of sets, the scenery created especially for one or two scenes, he felt the grand scale of the whole project and thought with excitement that he would be a fool if he refused.

When the make-up artists and stylists applied the wig on his head, his leather tunic, his breeches and his eye patch they said he was made for this role. When he glanced at himself in the mirror, he found in disbelief that he really did look like a different person and he liked what he saw.

He looked dark, menacing, malicious.

Just as he had imagined.

They met formally for the first time at, much to his liking, a session with a woman who he understood was a psychologist and was supposed to take care of them when it came to approaching intimate scenes and their comfort zone.

They shook hands with polite smiles in a way that was a tad too official, but there was something heartfelt and warm in her expression and her bright eyes that made him feel a pleasant sensation in his chest.

He tried not to grin as he saw her wearing a Pikachu t-shirt, the exact same one she wore in one of her photos on Instagram.

The woman invited them with a hand gesture to sit across from her on the couch as she sat on the other side, in an armchair.

"As I understand it, you have both read the script and your director's suggestions and know that there will be scenes involving you touching your naked bodies or exposing yourself in front of each other." She said calmly and they nodded their heads.

"Okay. I'll start by asking if you have any questions or concerns." She continued, but they were silent.

"I will be with you during every scene of this type, offering you advice and support. You have the right to say if you feel uncomfortable, if you are made to feel bad by a certain type of touch and you don't want to repeat the scene in the same way. The director wants you both to feel safe here." She added, and they nodded their heads.

"Do you have any barriers, things you're sure you don't want the other party to do? Touch in places that you find unacceptable?" She asked, and he remained silent, but looked at his partner out of the corner of his eye, curious.

He saw that she pressed her lips together, as if she wanted to say something but was afraid to. She swallowed quietly at last, fiddling with the material of her black tracksuit shorts.

"– I – let's just say I'm not experienced in this kind of scenes – it's hard to say where my comfort limit is – what should I do if, for example, we're in the middle of filming and I feel unwell? –" She asked uncertainly, looking at her with her big, bright eyes.

The woman nodded.

"– of course, you should then stop the filming – it would be a good idea if you just agreed between you beforehand what you plan to do, where you plan to touch each other – this will help you to prepare in advance for what is going to happen, to say what causes your concerns –" She replied calmly.

The girl smiled and let out a quiet breath, as if something in her answer had reassured her.

He saw her for the second time during a party at the hotel that the series' production organized for them, so they could get to know each other better and relax before the first day of shooting.

Like him, she was dressed plain, in long mid-thigh length, fluffy sweatshirt and woollen cream, overknee socks, while he, as usual, was dressed all in black.

She approached him to greet him for a certain out of sheer courtesy, he however appreciated her professional demeanour. When she asked if she could sit with him and the people from production he involuntarily moved over on the sofa, making room next to himself, which she accepted with a smile.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye while chatting to the set crew all evening, a few drinks were enough for him to loosen his tongue a little and start talking like a normal person.

He furrowed his eyebrows, feeling the whisky already humming heavily in his head when he saw her get up from the table and go to the toilet, leaving her half-finished drink with them.

He figured he'd wait with his assessment of the situation until she returned, but to his dismay, surely enhanced by the alcohol, he acted rather dramatically, pushing the glass away from her as soon as she sat back down next to him and tried to reach for it.

"Never leave your drinks with strangers in this business. Always take them with you." He said as if he were her older brother or father.

She blinked, horrified and ashamed, clearly not even thinking that anyone among the people around her might want to hurt her, but he knew this environment better than she did.

Seeing the look on her face, he pressed his lips together.

"Believe me. I heard this kind of stories. They put pills in your drink, tell you they'll help you back to your hotel room when you start to feel worse, and the next day on set they tell you that if you say anything to anyone, you can go back where you came from."

They stared at each other for a moment in uncomfortable silence and although the people around them were laughing, she seemed to be experiencing some sort of shock.

"Do...do you know such women personally?" She mumbled, and he shook his head, playing with his glass between his fingers.

"No, thank God. But I've heard hundreds of stories like that. I'm not trying to scare you, I'm just trying to warn you. For your safety." He added, feeling for some reason like an idiot who was now lecturing and moralising her.

She nodded quickly, however, her gaze filled with a warmth and understanding that made his chest hot, though he blamed the whisky he'd drunk for his condition.

"Yes, you are right, I should be more careful. I'm glad I'll be working with someone like you." She confessed with a kind of embarrassment that surprised him, playing with the material of her woollen knee-length socks.

He looked at her, spread out comfortably on the leather sofa, realising that there was so little room at the table that their knees were pressed against each other.

When she said she would go to sleep, for some reason he offered to walk her to her room. She smiled broadly at his words and they set off together for the lift, exchanging quiet, non-committal remarks on the way.

There was something about her demeanour that made him feel at ease, her gentleness, openness and the alcohol humming in his head made him more daring when it came to spoken words.

"You made a great impression on me during the auditions." He hummed and she looked up at him, her eyes shining with joy.

"You don't even know how much these words mean to me. You were wonderful, convincing and charismatic. I hope I won't disappoint you." She said.

"Mmm." He hummed and flinched as the elevator doors slid open on the floor where their rooms were located. They walked out into the hall in silence, the warm look in her eyes that she gave him over her shoulder made him feel hot.

"– see you tomorrow –" She said and he nodded.

"– sleep well –"

The first scene they were to play, although it was only in the fifth episode, was when they returned to her chamber after speaking with her stepfather following negotiations about the succession to the throne.

Their dialogue was about what they really thought regarding what had happened in the past – this scene did not contain intimate moments and was meant to help them get into their characters well.

She walked into the room, which was also a large medieval chamber immersed completely in darkness and smiled at the sight of him. He nodded his head in greeting.

She approached him, all beaming with happiness and excitement, a nightgown on her body and a thin robe thrown over her shoulders.

"You look amazing. Wonderful characterisation." She said softly with a sincere cordiality from which he felt warmth in his heart.

"Thank you." He replied calmly, not knowing what more he could answer.

"I am the one who wants to thank you. For what you said yesterday. I guess I needed to hear this." She said, giving him a warm look full of gratitude that made him feel relieved.

"Forgive me if I was too harsh." He whispered.

"You were not." She said calmly.

He nodded and grunted, swallowing heavily, being sober having problems again with putting his thoughts into words.

They looked up at the director who ordered that they were about to go to the first shot where they were lying on the bed, so they took their places next to each other on the sheets.

He felt the stress gripping his body, the tension at the thought that there were dozens of people around them looking at them and judging him.

He had been given this role with ease and now he had to prove himself.

"Action!"

He shuddered as he felt her hand on his and looked up at her – her face was frighteningly close to his, pleasantly smooth and soft, a warmth in her gaze from which he ran out of words.

"Speak to me, uncle. Don’t lock yourself in your mind." She whispered to him, as if these words were meant only for him, as if she really cared about him, missed him, loved him.

He looked at her with his heart pounding fast, thinking with horror that he had forgotten his line.

"– I will –" She whispered.

He swallowed hard and closed his eyelids, trying to turn his fear into an expression of regret and rage on his face.

"I will never understand how could you leave me then." He hissed through clenched teeth, looking at her again, pain in her gaze, as if his words had really surprised and hurt her.

"– that was never my intention –"

"– then why? –"

"My mother then told me to let you rest and calm down. That the guards wouldn’t let me visit you anyway by order of the Queen."

He snorted, looking at her with both disbelief and frustration. He blinked, smelling her pleasant scent, and realised that, just like in the script, she must have rubbed her skin with some vanilla oil.

He looked at her lips, pink, soft and full, and for a moment he forgot again what he should say next.

What was happening to him?

"It doesn’t matter." He muttered finally. "I needed you when it happened."

He saw her furrow her brow, her lips tightened in pain.

"I needed you too." She said in a trembling voice. "When Criston Cole held my cheeks as your mother’s guards poured moon tea down my throat. I wondered at the time if that’s how you felt."

He was impressed to see real emotion in her gaze – pain, grief, shame, fear. He didn't know why he lifted his hand and touched her cheek – he thought it was idiotic, but she followed it up and grasped his fingers in hers, kissing gently the inside of his palm.

He cursed in his head feeling his manhood pulsed softly in his breeches.

He put his arm around her waist and snuggled her into his chest as scripted – her hands embraced him, her face pressed against the hollow of her neck.

He seemed to feel her puffy little nipples through the fabric of his shirt before the director shouted ‘cut!’.

They pulled away from each other, looking up at him, rising on their elbows.

"– I liked it, but I would change the ending – I know it's not in the script, but the moment when he touches her cheek begs for a soft, tender, innocent kiss – can we try it that way? –" He asked, and they nodded and grunted, embarrassed.

She returned to her earlier position, trying again to bring to her face the same sadness, pain and grief he had seen seconds before.

"I needed you too." She said in pain. "When Criston Cole held my cheeks as your mother’s guards poured moon tea down my throat. I wondered at the time if that’s how you felt."

He looked at her for a moment with a gaze full of regret and touched her cheek again, running his thumb over her jaw. She kissed his hand as gently as before, cuddling her face into his rough skin, closing her eyes. She sighed quietly as he drew her closer to his face, her warm breath enveloping his skin before his fingers weaved into her hair, forcing her to lean down.

They clung to each other in a slow, shy kiss with the quiet click of their saliva, her plump, fleshy lips tasted of some sweet strawberry lipstick, deliciously soft, warm and wet, their breaths shaky and excited.

It seemed to him that time stood still; her touch was tender and full of peace but also the certainty of her affection, her soft fingers gently trailing over his jaw and cheek, caressing him as if she wanted to give him a sense of security.

Something about her closeness reassured him, and his broad hand stroked her head as if she were a small child, brushing gently her lower lip with his own, a quiet, shy sigh left her mouth.

He swallowed loudly, terrified as he felt his manhood swell and throb at the sound, at her closeness, at her taste, craving more.

They finally pulled away, her forehead pressed against his temple as his knuckles ran over her warm, soft cheek, something in her gaze he couldn't name.

"Cut! I loved this!" Their director called to them and they let out a loud sigh of relief, as if they had accomplished something very significant. His partner smiled at him.

"Everything's all right?" He asked, somehow condescending towards her, afraid she wouldn't tell him she felt uncomfortable even if she did.

She blinked, surprised by his question, and leaned over him as the crew discussed with each other whether they wanted to change anything in the shot.

"Why are you asking?" She asked lightly, curious, as if she didn't understand what he meant.

There was something intimate about how close her face was, her pleasant scent filling his lungs.

"We didn't talk about this before the scene. You know." He replied, not knowing what else to call what he was thinking about. Her eyes widened as if what he said scared her.

"– oh – no, no – I feel fine – but it's very kind of you to ask –" She whispered warmly, laying her head next to his on the pillow, pressing her forehead to his temple.

"– I feel safe with you –" She said softly into his ear, her words intended only for him.

He swallowed loudly at the thought that this could be a huge mistake on her part.

[number1jeonginstan]

Part of my Valentine's Day Collab!

A/N: My second installment!!! I wrote this one in one sitting, hopefully, y'all like it, please give me feedback because I love to read it <333

Pairing: FWB!Hyunin x Reader

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: Unprotected sex (obvi, it's me, Ju...), sex dice, foot job (m! receiving), fingering, cumming inside, fluffy sex but also not??!

Hyunjin, your best friend from high school, the man you had been sleeping with for the last 5 months because neither of you could find anyone to work around your schedules to sleep with, the person who you were getting drunk off of the expensive wine he was gifted, was begging you to roll a sex dice. 

It all started with the two of you deciding to spend Valentine’s Day together, instead of falling into cheap marketing tricks of spending upwards of hundreds of dollars on your significant others, you decided to spend it with your fuck buddy.

You had come to his apartment at around 7 at night, holding a box of chocolates that your co-worker had given you as well as takeout food for the two of you. 

The two of you sat down, watching a random show while munching on the Chinese food you had brought. 

“They definitely fucked after the episode was shot” Hyunjin giggled, taking a bite of the egg roll that was in your hand causing you to let out a quick “hey!” 

“I believe it” you replied back, taking note of their on-screen chemistry. “Their chemistry is just a bit too good” 

“Kind of like ours?” he giggled, stealing another piece of your food even though he had his own on the plate in front of him. 

“I aspire to be as delusional as you” you giggled, stealing a bite of his noodles as a way to get back at him. “Hey! Stop stealing my food!” he shouted, wrapping his arms around his plate to try and hide it from you. 

“So when you do it, it’s okay, but when I do it hell freezes over? That’s not very kind of you Mr.World Renound Model”  

“Exactly!” he grinned, kissing your lips before going back to the show in front of the two of you. 

Your brain short-circuited for a second, he had just kissed you, on the lips, when the two of you weren’t having sex. This is the first time he’s ever done that, maybe it was on accident you thought to yourself, trying to distract yourself, you quickly asked him if he had anything to drink. 

Maybe that’s what you had to do, loosen up, maybe you were just being a bit too up-tight because it was Valentine’s Day and you had vowed to never do couple-shit, but here you were with Hyunjin, but the two of you were just friends with benefits, right?

That’s what you kept telling yourself as you watched him open the bottle of wine for the two of you. You watched as his muscles flexed, his body ridden in only a black wife beater and grey sweatpants, the outline of his dick could be easily seen. 

You could feel yourself getting wet at the sight of him, no wonder he was so famous, he’s fucking beautiful. 

“I don’t have glasses anymore” he groaned taking out two mugs from his cabinet. One was littered with cats and the other with Minho’s face. 

You looked at the mugs gobsmacked as it took you a second to process them, and as soon as you did, you busted out laughing. “Holy shit, are these the only things you have?” you giggled, watching him pour the contents of the bottle into the mugs. 

“Hey, they were a gift from the cat lover himself” he replied, an offended look on his face. 

“I’m just kidding, this will do just fine” you grinned, taking the cup with Minho’s face from him only to be stopped. “I don’t want you drinking out of this one” he quickly stated, handing it back to him only to grab the one with Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. 

Little did you know the reason was because Hyunjin felt possessive over you, he didn’t want you drinking out a cup with another man’s face, an attractive one at that. 

He watched as you took a sip of the drink in your hands, the way the red liquor stained your lips, the slight blush on your cheeks as the two of you drank out of your designated cups. He could feel his cock slowly stir in his pants, the sight of you was enough to get him hard, but it wasn’t just that.

He wanted to kiss you for hours, go on dates, and cuddle with you, but he was too scared. Too scared to ask, too scared that you wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings. He sighed as you ate one of the chocolates you brought, watching the way you licked the caramel sauce off your fingers, grinning at the sight of your childish ways.

The two of you reminisced as you drank backs pressed against his couch, each sip of the fruity smooth liquid causing more and more of your secrets to slip, your laughs overlapping one another. It was peaceful, the sound of his laughter sounded like home, and for him vice versa. 

As more secrets spilled from both of your lips, he stated something that caught your attention. “Hannie actually gifted me sex die for Christmas as a joke” he chuckled, reminiscing on how he glared at him as he saw what was in the velvet box. 

“I thought they were the earrings I really wanted, but nope sex die. He did actually give me the earrings too, so not all was lost” he giggled, pouring more wine into his mug. 

“Want to try them out?” you shrugged watching as he almost gagged on his drink. 

“You really want to?” he stuttered, wiping the bit of wine that dribbled out of his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“I mean, why not? We can put that gag gift to use!” you grinned, crawling over to him, and straddling his lap. “Come on Jinnie, do you not want to?” 

You looked up at him with the doe eyes he was a sucker for. He couldn’t say no to you, especially when you had asked ever so kindly.

He picked you up, your legs wrapped around his hips arms around his neck as he walked you to his room, gently laying you on his bed as he rummaged through his desk for the die. 

You were on your back, hair splayed around you as you watched him, his eyebrows becoming unknit as he finally found them in the back of a drawer. 

“Here” he giggled, giving you the die to roll. “Let’s see” you whispered, looking at what it landed on. 

Right there, clear as day, the body part had landed on foot, the act was job. “Guess I’m giving you a foot job!” you giggled, watching his face go from one of worry to one of perplexity. 

“A what!” he shouted a bit too loud, causing you to laugh. “Come on, don’t tell me you are scared. Plus, aren’t you the one who wanted to and I quote “eat my feet”?”

“I was, but this might be uncomfortable for you” he whined, not wanting you to do something you weren’t one hundred percent sure about. 

“I’m not uncomfortable, plus I want to try it. If I don’t like it, or you don’t we don’t have to do it again” you explained to him, getting up on your knees to be face to face with him, your lips kissing his in reassurance. 

“I mean if you aren’t opposed to it–” 

“I knew it, Seungmin owes me 100 bucks” 

“You bet on me having a foot fetish?” he stuttered out. 

“Yes, now lay back” you stated, dragging him onto his bed, his back against the headboard as your foot brushed against his cock. He let out a groan at the contact, his dick already hard as soon as you brought up the die.

You slowly rubbed your foot against his sweatpants, watching the way his head was thrown back, slight moans leaving his lips as he pulled down his joggers. His already erect cock slapping against his stomach. 

You slowly brushed your pedicured foot along the underside of his cock, watching the way he bit his lip as your toes ran along his tip. “Fuck baby, just like that” he groaned, a hand slapping over his mouth as your toes curled along his length. 

Each pump of your foot around his cock made him closer and closer. “If you keep going like that, I’m going to cum” he whined. You slowly got up from your position across from him, straddling him as you kissed his lips. 

His lips formed a pout as you pulled away, your hands gravitating towards his head, brushing his hair behind his ear. “Has anyone told you how pretty you are” he whispered out loud, taking in the rise and fall of your chest.

He slowly pulled your shirt off your body, groaning at the sight of your tits, a black lacy bra adorning your breasts. “Fuck, these are so beautiful too” he whispered against your collarbones, kissing and biting them as he slowly traveled to your breasts.

He reached behind your back, unclipping your bra only to hear your breath catch in the air as he slowly pinched one of your nipples, sucking on the other one. 

“Jinnie” you whined, your hand running through his hair once again as he continued to abuse your chest.

“Such a whiney baby for me, I love it” he groaned as he left marks all over your chest, cupping your breasts. 

“Need you” you whined feeling your pussy drip at every passing moment that he wasn’t inside of you. 

“My baby needs me?” he chuckled, kissing your lips before slowly pulling down your own sweats, and throwing them somewhere in your room, along with your underwear. 

Before you could even do anything, he flipped you over, your body underneath him as he took sight of you. Your chest is littered with hickies, and your lips plump from kissing him over and over again. 

You were heaving as your hair surrounded your face. You were art and he wanted to stare at you forever. He took sight of your leaking pussy, his fingers trailing across it, catching the juices.

“You are so wet for me sweetheart, can’t believe you were trying to help me without taking care of yourself, such a selfless little girl” he whispered before slowly pushing his fingers into your cunt, stretching you out on his long fingers. 

“Just for you Jinnie, want to be such a good girl for you” you whimpered, your walls clenching around his fingers. 

“Yeah, you are a good girl for me, such a good girl, the best” he chuckled, kissing your lips as his fingers continued to abuse your cunt. He wanted to find that spot inside of you that made you go crazy. 

“You want to cum baby? Want to cum for me?” 

“Want to cum on your cock” you whined as you felt your high get closer as he slowly brought one of his fingers down to your clit. 

“My poor baby wants me to cum inside her, is that what’s it?” 

“Yes, want your cum Jinnie, please want it deep inside of me” 

“Who am I to deny such a sweet girl?” 

He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, eyes blown out at the sight of you whining at the loss of contact. He slowly ran the tip of his cock along your folds, watching as your poor little hole clenched around nothing but the air.

He gently slapped the tip against your clit, eliciting a quiet moan from your lips before dragging it down and slowly pressing his cock into your cunt, watching you as your eyes rolled behind your head as he sheathed the entirety of his cock into your tight little cunt. 

“Take my big cock” he groaned, slowly thrusting inside of you, your back arching slightly off the bed as he thrusts into you harder, lifting your hips up so he could hit the spot he had with his fingers minutes prior.

“Is it good baby?” 

“So good, such a good cock, only cock I want” you whimpered as his thrusts began to get faster, a finger trailing down to your clit giving you the extra stimulation you needed. 

“There we go baby, come on, cum on my cock. You can do it, cum on Jinnie’s cock” he groaned into your ear, feeling the way your cunt was wrapped around him, sucking his cock in as he fucked you. 

“Ah– too deep” you whined, you could feel him hit your cervix, the tip of his cock thrusting against it, but he didn’t stop. 

“There we go baby, good girls cum on my cock” he groaned, he could tell that your high was nearby the noises that escaped your lips, and the way your thighs were wrapped around his torso. 

It only took one more particularly deep thrust for your cunt to spasm around his cock, sucking him in deeper.

“So good!” you screamed, your head lolling to the side as he continued to pound into as he chased his own high. 

“Fuck, gonna cum into this tight little pussy” he whined into your neck, his thrusts getting more sporadic as he came deep inside of you, your walls drinking up every ounce of his cum. 

He fell on his back as you wrapped your arms around him, his cock softening inside of you. 

He looked at you, brushing the hair off your face. 

“I should get going” you whispered to no one but yourself. Before you could even get up, he stopped you. “Don’t please” he whined, his hand wrapped around your wrists. 

“Please baby, I want to spend every Valentine’s Day with you. I want to take you on dates, I want to make you breakfast in bed. I want to do every sappy thing we said we hated about couples with you. Please, let me do this for you, with you” he pleaded, kissing your cheeks and then your lips.

He pulled away, waiting for your response, his eyes pleading for you to say yes. 

“As long as you don’t poison me with your terrible cooking, I would love to go out with you” you giggled, kissing his lips.

“This isn’t a dream is it?” he whispered out loud, thinking to himself. 

“It isn’t” you giggled, cuddling him closer to your body, your head laying against his chest. Maybe Valentine’s Day isn’t as bad as you thought. 

[am-i-interrupting]

Making Self Deprecating Jokes Around Them

For @aliceneedsphalis

Alastor

Before you got together, he’d chuckle at the jokes but as he started to care about you the laughter would begin to fade.

He’d begin to ask the question, “Who made you think of yourself this way?”

If you could give him the name of people, expect them to be gone when he “crosses paths” with them.

It’s completely unrelated to what you revealed, he promises.

No, no, he just happened to stumble upon them acting a fool and decided to set them straight is all.

It wasn’t until you got together that he started to refute your “jokes.”

The first time he gave a gentle flick to the back of your head, you turned to him gobsmacked.

“Why did you do that?!” “I have rules, my dear, and one of those is to not let the object of my affections talk bad about themselves.”

At some point, you just expect it.

On occasion, you’ll say something and expect it only to not get it.

“What are you doing?” “I’m waiting on you to flick the back of my head.” “Why is that? I do have a sense of humor.”

He’ll wait until you let your guard down and then flick your head as he walks by. It’s no fun if you know it’s coming.

He does try to build your confidence though.

Randomly he’ll pop into your room with a list, a list of all the negative things you’ve said about yourself.

He’ll hold you in front of a mirror and make you look at both yourself and him as he praises what you’ve unconsciously revealed you dislike.

He doesn’t hold back his amusement as he watches you squirm.

Husk

He lets you make the jokes even if he doesn’t like them.

He’s not going to laugh. He barely even reacts.

One day though, he’ll let slip how he feels.

“Do you really think it’s funny, hating yourself? Because I don’t. You cope however you need to. I’m not going to blame you for that but it hurts to see someone I care about so much treat themself so badly.”

He might team up with Charlie or Hell, even Rosie to try to figure out a way to change your coping though.

It’s not overt but more so an offering of different ways for you to cope instead. Giving you more options than the one you have even if you still fall to the crutch.

He’s not one who’s too much of a fan of PDA, much less words of affirmation in public.

In private though, he’s constantly building you up.

He whispers how beautiful, funny, insightful, and strong he thinks you are.

He’ll be half asleep and playing with your hair, watching it weave through his claws, as he looks at you with pupils so blown they take over all the color and go on about how lucky he is to have you.

Rosie

“Now why would ya say that about yourself, hon?” is what she asks the first time you make a joke of that kind.

She wants to help you get to the root of your problems.

She’s going to subtly break into your walls and get the damn to break that holds all the secrets to why you feel this way.

She may or may not give Alastor some names if she hears them.

She might get some kind of positivity train going.

One day you just get a bunch of letters and gifts from friends that explain how much they appreciate and care for you. When you wonder aloud if there’s any special occasion you missed, Rosie just shrugs.

She is a bragger by nature, I believe, but she’d take care to make sure you were in ear shot if she could when she starts bragging about you.

She wants you to know how much she truly cares and appreciates you.

She’ll let everyone else know in the process though.

Vox

This man did not give a single flying fuck about how you saw yourself until he started caring about you in an intimate way.

It’s not that it didn’t bother him before but it didn’t bother him enough for him to make time to do something about it.

He’s a busy man and he’s used to being surrounded by people (*cough cough* Valentino *cough cough*) who will talk his ears off about their problems that he doesn’t actually care about.

He’s not just going to make you spill why you see yourself the way you do without a good enough reason.

He might even laugh at some.

He is a nervous/uncomfortable laughs though so just because he laughs doesn’t mean he finds it funny.

Even when you start dating, he’s not going to ask you why. He’s just going to listen to you ramble about your life and death and out pieces together.

Certain people he looks for on his camera and they disappear.

Aside from singing your praises and showering you with gifts though, he doesn’t really know what to do.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which music waters a wilting flower on a chilly autumn night and jungkook is stuck by the glue onto you.

> idol!jungkook x reader / strangers to lovers / fluff, slight angst / wc: 4.4k

> warnings: mentions of oc’s toxic ex bf, slutshaming, and alcohol

> in which masterlist!

note: the in which couple’s first encounter reveal?! has arrived with a bam cameo at the end <3 recommend reading the ‘first times’ in the masterlist next if you haven’t yet :D as always reblogs and/or feedback are appreciated 🥰 and yes. i love beabadoobee.

—

“sir, will you help me-“ you panic, eyes pleading for help as you look between the door and the owner of the music shop. “i think it’s stuck.”

“oh! of course, of course. i apologize about that.” the middle-aged man, quick to your aid, ducks out of the counter. “i ought to get this thing changed soon. spent a fortune on it but it’s not doing what it’s supposed to do.”

you copy his chuckle, watching him push up the still half-closed door before shoving it open to the side.

“thank you!” you politely bow your head before stepping out.

“come back again next time! i’ll give you a discount!”

“really? a discount? then i have no choice but to come back!” you whine playfully, smiling at the promise of saving money in the future. you present him another bow. “have a good night! close the door now, it’s cold.”

the 90’s love song playing inside becomes muffled when the transparent glass completely shuts out the outside world once again. instead, the lead vocalist’s voice is replaced by a golden and dulcet humming by a stranger.

you scan for the source of the sound, and at once, you discover it when you whip your head to the right. scrolling through his phone, he’s sitting at the far corner of the old wooden bench— the same boy who was paying at the counter when you stumbled into the store. unbeknownst to yourself, your heart skips a beat. you were transported to a field of flowers when you brushed past him, and you met his big brown eyes briefly when he turned to leave.

burdened by the heavy and uneven weight you’re carrying on your shoulders, you decide to rest on the other side of the bench while you wait for a taxi to pass by. you spare a glance at the oversaturated band posters on the off-white wall behind it before sitting down as their audience.

the humming ceases when he feels your presence beside him.

you cautiously set down the padded guitar bag on the ground, securing it in between your thighs, anxious of getting so much as a scratch on the precious instrument. it’s a dear friend’s birthday tomorrow, and you only found the time and the money to purchase her gift today.

you check your wrist watch. 10:13pm. you fell asleep in the library while studying for a test, and because of that, you’re probably going to be home at around midnight. this place is pretty far and secluded, but apparently it’s known for its good and rare finds. you went here with your friend two months ago just to window shop and one of their bass guitars caught her eye. naturally, you couldn’t resist. her birthday gift has to be this. for some reason, it just feels easier to spend money on your loved ones than yourself.

will you even manage to send a birthday message before you pass out to sleep again? god, you hope so.

you feel your empty stomach grumbling angrily, and you’re not sure if it makes a sound or if it’s all just in your muddled head. yup, you missed dinner, too.

“i’m so hungry.” you cry out quietly, resting your forehead on the neck of the guitar.

fine, maybe you subconsciously said it a little louder than quiet. it was a shot in the dark, curious if the stranger beside you would have any sort of reaction. you hope for a glance at most. he has beautiful eyes, ones you almost feel envious of.

“me too.“ the sulky response slips out of his mouth with an exhausted sigh.

the sound of his voice makes you perk up in pleasant surprise, gazing at him with an amused, tight-lipped smile. on the other hand, he stiffens from the realization of what he just did. he stops manspreading, straightening himself up and awkwardly clearing his throat.

“sorry… it was a reflex.”

“it’s okay.” you reassure him with a quick laugh.

you tear your eyes away from him, watching the moths frantically flying under the street lamps. it’s silent for a moment, except for the shop owner’s on-going playlist and the occassional singing of the abundant crickets.

you face him again with a flair of innocence.

“do you want a granola bar?”

he lifts his head to look at you, the screen’s light reflecting on his tan skin, and that grants you the ability to see his breathtaking eyes. there might’ve been countless instances when they hated how small this bench is, most likely a tight fit for three people, but right now, you wouldn’t have it in any other way.

“it’s just that… i’m going to eat it and it feels rude to eat alone knowing you’re hungry, too.”

his teeth sinks in lower lip, contemplating for a few beats before nodding his head. “yeah, sure. i’d like one. thank you.”

you bring out the tupperware from your messenger bag, unfastening the sides open and separating the lid. as your own wordless way of telling him that they’re not poisoned, you grab one first, taking a small bite, before offering the container to him.

“here you go.”

you stifle a cackle when he pulls down the sleeves of his black hoodie as if he’s preparing to eat a whole course meal. he’s so fucking cute, gentle and dainty while picking up the granola bar along with the parchment paper underneath it. that leaves you with three left. you set down the tupperware between the two of you, loosely putting the lid on top.

“huh?” he exclaims with big round eyes, hand hovering over his mouth as he chews. “did you make this?”

the question makes you wince nervously. he didn’t like it? you could’ve sworn it's the best batch you’ve made so far. “uhm, if it tastes good, then i did. if not-”

“no, no. i like it.” he giggles, waving his hand to shoo your worries. “it’s not too sweet, and it’s soft? how did you make it chewy?!”

“oh-” you breathe out a sigh, clutching your chest in relief. “i just follow a recipe i found online! my neighbor gives me honey like every week so i found a use for it.”

“well, it’s really good. thank you.” he gives you a kind smile, scrunching his nose before resuming to eat the snack you spent your sunday night preparing.

and it’s quiet again. you look the other way to hide the proud smile playing on your lips, the fluttering of your unguarded heart raging and stubborn. maybe if you put food in your mouth, you’ll stop talking… not.

“i’m ___.”

he swallows before replying, distinctive dimples near his mouth making an appearance. “i’m jungkook.”

jungkook. it suits him so well. it’s perfect.

“do you play the guitar?“ jungkook asks curiously, motioning at the instrument you’re holding.

“oh, no- i just got this for my friend’s birthday. she’s in a band.” you share with a chuckle. “what about you? what do you need those giant speakers for?”

“ahh, they are big, aren’t they?” he scrunches his nose, glancing at the two boxes beside his feet. “i just figured buying new speakers would motivate me to work on music more.”

“are you a singer?” you gasp dramatically for effect. “or perhaps, a rapper?”

“i mean…” he smiles sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. “i guess i can rap, too.”

“that’s cool. i think you have a pretty talking voice, too.”

“aigoo, thank you so much.” he jokingly bends down his torso for a bow, clasping his hands together with the small remaining piece of granola bar in between before taking it in between his teeth.

the harmony of your laughter bleeds through the chilly air, providing your hearts a wave of much needed warmth.

“thank you too. you gave me an idea what to gift my friends next time.”

“speakers?” his face lights up like of a kid unboxing presents beside the christmas tree. you’ve never met anyone who looks this passionate at the mention of the said device— this whole interaction is giving you the urge to dive deeper into the world of music beyond the sphere of being a casual listener. “they’ll love it. it’s the best gift for me personally.”

you tilt your head to the side. “you know a lot about them?”

“hmmm, i don’t know.” he purses his lips as he hums, eyes falling on the ground as he ponders. “they’re important for shows and work so i naturally learn a lot about them… i often look for reviews and new releases. it’s like a hobby?”

“really? then i’m sold. i need you.”

the carelessly casual words escape your mouth before you can think twice.

“need me?” he repeats your word in surprise, pointing at himself.

you disguise yourself with a nod and a coy smile, acting nonchalant as if you’re not screaming inside. you’ve always been this shameless when you have nothing to lose, but he’s just so pretty that you want to learn shit like what his favorite food is and whether your zodiac signs are compatible even though you don’t believe in them.

“help me choose the best speakers to buy, one year from now. i don’t know anything about music at all, so i always have a hard time with gifts.” you’re pouting sadly by the end, your words bearing the weight of truth, albeit you’re also using them as an excuse to glue yourself onto him.

in your mind, five seconds feels like it’s stretching into eternity. he breaks out into a shy grin, playing with the parchment paper left in his hand before folding it over and over again until it becomes the same size as the nail of his thumb. he stuffs it into the pocket of his washed denim jeans.

“okay then, i should help you. give me your number?”

your hands graze each other as you lay hold of his phone, clueless instruments of your and jungkook’s youthful impulses and anticipation.

“do you have other ___’s in your contacts? should i name myself ‘___ from mj’s music box’?” you inquire half-jokingly, raising your eyebrows at him.

”ey, come on. there’s no need for that.” he chortles, staring back at you with an unnamed emotion in his eyes, but you quickly revert your attention to the screen and you don’t notice.

“i don’t think you’ll remember me just by my name a year from now, though.” you mutter to yourself as you tap on the screen. after that, you tap the call button to save his number on your phone as well.

you’re already handing him back his phone when he finally constructs a reply-

“is that so? then make it difficult for me to forget.”

and the air gets robbed from your lungs. it makes you wonder how many hearts he has broke, being this handsome and charming, and if you’ll even drag this out and stick around long enough to find out.

“be careful of your words. i’m pretty competitive.” you playfully taunt him, softly tugging his wrist to put the device on his delicately wide palm. “don’t blame me when i end up being the only person you think about.”

he matches your energy, a cocky smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he shakes his head. “psh, why would i? that doesn’t sound like a bad deal.”

why are you thinking of ways to keep this flowing instead of retreating and coming up with an obvious excuse to leave? as always, you find yourself most liberated when you meet new people, even when you know they’ll only be a fleeting presence in your life, here to leave a stain or a scar. you wish a taxi never arrives. you wish to be left stranded here for the rest night so you can hear him talk about the first song he ever wrote and you can tell him about the stupid song your first boyfriend wrote for you.

but alas, the universe intervenes with your fantasies and the approaching blazing headlights almost blind your blurry eyes.

you wave your hand to hail the taxi, and you smile at jungkook one more time. “time for me to go.”

“oh, okay.”

the vehicle parks infront of the bench. he watches you hurriedly toss the granola bar you never finished into the transparent tupperware, a feeling akin to disappointment gnawing at his guts.

“wait- weren’t you waiting for a taxi, too?” you wonder out loud as you slide the resealed container inside your bag.

“i’m fine, i have a ride. you go take it- oh, oh- let me help you with that-” he stands up abruptly when he sees you struggling to stand up, lifting the guitar to relieve you of the barrier.

“thanks, jungkook.” you laugh airily, getting on your feet, closer to him than you’ve ever been. he’s taller than you originally thought, and it’s hard to ignore the fact that his flexing forearms are veiny… (you have a suspicion that he’s doing it on purpose. the guitar bag isn’t that heavy.) those, paired with that pretty baby face— he’s so manly and so adorable in a way you’ve never seen in anyone else. he’s a beautiful, refreshing sight to behold.

you’re holding your breath, as if that would freeze the hands of the clocks, halt the earth from spinning on its axis because it’s the only way for you to stay without blaming yourself. the love songs haven’t stopped playing, and a slow acoustic sets out to delude you that this is a scene from an indie romance film, a beginning of something beautiful, but it rarely is. it never is.

his bunny teeth sink into his bottom lip, tainting it a darker shade of pink, before his tongue sneaks out to lick it. “you can go inside.” he generously says, slightly raising his arms to gesture at your cherished gift he’s grasping securely.

you only nod in understanding, walking past him and proceeding to open the door to slide into the backseat. you assist him in putting the guitar inside the taxi and over your lap, and you force your brain to shut down before you can speak again and your friskiness gets you into trouble.

“get home safe, ___!” he brightly chirps, waving at you goodbye.

your cheeks are starting to hurt from all the giddy smiles, but you just can’t stop, not when he has this contagious and bubbly expression painted on his face that’s simply impossible not to adore.

“you too, jungkook.”

his meticulous eyes briefly wander around your figure, checking if you’re too close, and then he carefully slams the door shut. you sink into your seat, swallowing the lump in your throat before telling the taxi driver your address.

you don’t want to think too much, so you close your eyes, hoping to get more sleep to recharge your mental and social batteries. unsurprisingly, you grow restless not even five minutes after. the soothing piano ballads faintly playing in the radio aren’t much help either. an infuriated scream hangs on the tip of your tongue, and you bite it down into dust. instead, you dish out your phone from the pocket of your bag to save jungkook’s number… but then the venomous voice of your ex calling you degrading names ranging from ‘an ungrateful, attention-seeking bitch’ to ‘a slut’ after you broke up with him echo in your tumultuous head, and you begin feeling pathetically small and nauseous. for a split moment you find yourself contemplating whether you should just delete it or not. out of guilt or out of fear, maybe both, you’re not quite certain.

what ultimately pull you out from the dark abyss of relentless overthinking are the first notifications you ever receive with his name attached to them.

Jungkook:

hey this is JK

i just thought of this now ?!..

trade my music equipment expertise for your magical granola bar recipe? :)

you bury your face in your hands, silently crying out— “ah shit, this is so annoying. why does he have to be so cute? i need a drink.”

—

“i’m hungry.” the grumpy complaint spills from your tongue now that bam, your not-so little happy pill, is out from sight.

“me too.” jungkook juts out his bottom lip, lifting his head from your shoulder to look at you. “do you still have strawberry wafers in your bag?”

his question prompts you to hug it defensively. no, just no. “i’m saving them for emergencies-”

he puts his index finger infront of his lips, shushing you with a shake of his head. he tuts. “i know. this is an emergency, baby.”

cornered at the armrest of the couch, you have nowhere else to go. you unwillingly surrender to satisfying his craving, grimacing as he starts rummaging through your bag. this is exactly why you told him you should eat brunch before bringing in bam for his grooming, but jungkook insisted that it won’t take too long. sure, maybe the grooming session itself won’t… but the waiting in line part? that definitely took too long. making an appointment is technically futile when you’re visiting on a weekend.

“mhmmm, i love it.” he moans in satisfaction, devouring the slice of wafer in only two consecutive bites.

you glare at him when he offers you the plastic bag with a teasing smile, seizing it from his grip to snack on the treat while you continue to wait at the lounge area. you’re the only fur parents left here, the last clients before the staff goes on their hour-long lunch break. the sign on the door has been flipped to say ‘CLOSED’.

jungkook wraps one arm around you, pulling you closer by the shoulder and cupping your face with his warm hand to plant an apologetic kiss on your cheek. “i’ll cook you a hearty meal for dinner when we get home.”

you melt in his hold, leaning further against the backrest to release the tension from your body bred by hunger and impatience.

“really?” you feign nonchalance as you make the futile attempt of hiding the pleased smile curving on your lips. “i want chicken. the one you made before, with the creamy and spicy sauce.”

your mouth is practically watering as you describe the dish, the smell and taste of his cooking still vivid in your senses’ memory. it’s making the food you’re eating painfully insipid, but it’s better than nothing.

“and wine, too. no- actually, i’m craving tequi- argh, i’ll settle with wine.”

“okay! chicken and wine for dinner!” he agrees straight away, pressing a kiss on your temple before pinching one more stick of wafer between his fingers. he breaks it into two halves and gives one of them to you.

you accept it wordlessly, but a peculiar feeling is slithering its way into the tight confines of your heart, and you can’t withdraw your eyes from closely observing your gorgeous boyfriend. he brushes off the crumbs that fell on his white t-shirt and his lap after he finishes his share, still chewing as he tenderly takes the empty plastic from your hand. just as you predicted, he finds entertainment in folding it as small as possible.

“this is giving me déjà vu.”

“déjà vu?” he tilts up his head, doe eyes widening as you’ve captured his attention.

“uh-huh, you know when we first met…” you trail off, sending him a threatening look when the confused expression on his face stays unchanging. “you remember, right?”

his mouth hangs open before his eyebrows knit in irritation, posture straightening as he stammers with his defense. “what kind of question is that? you’re hurting my feelings- you were wearing a varsity jacket with the number 6 on it!”

“jungkook, i wore that like everyday for four months.”

his expression softens, pierced lip forming a pout. “do you even know that i-i… ah, i’ll show you instead!”

“show me what?”

he digs his hand in the pocket of his dark blue denim jeans, dishing out his wallet. you peer at him with curiosity as he rapidly unzips it to comb through his cards, pausing at his driver’s license and removing the white paper hiding behind it.

“no way-” you splutter, nearly choking on your own spit as your hunch grows enormously.

he unfolds it to reveal the faded blue ink that writes the most crucial and specific details of the first time the universe conspired to make your paths cross.

“look, i still have the receipt from the night! november 11…”

you notice him squinting at the faint characters, and you momentarily disconnect from the surge of mixed emotions to pull out his prescription glasses from the collar of his t-shirt. you affectionately wear it on him, weaving your fingers through his hair to brush away the loose strands from his bun blocking the lens.

“thanks baby- it’s november 11, 2017. at 9:55pm!”

jungkook originally kept this receipt for a month incase he had to return the speakers due to unforeseen defect or damage. but then you never stopped talking, and you became the only person he thinks of 24/7 just as your coquettish warning told. the thought of throwing it out never occured to him. instead, he preserved it in his wallet because he carries it with him everywhere he goes. he would even argue that it’s his most important property in it. he can have his credit cards cancelled then replaced, but this piece of paper is once in a lifetime.

mj’s music box closed down due to the pandemic. he hasn’t told you this, didn’t want to break your heart when he found out. he knows that you treasure the place as much as him, if not more.

meanwhile, the new-found knowledge has rendered you speechless, unblinking, buffering.

“what’s with that face? you’ve never seen this in my wallet?” he quizzes you in bewilderment, smiling humorously.

“of course i haven’t! you want me going through your wallet without permission?!” you whine, hugging his arm and hiding yourself behind his back to calm the intense pumping of your heart.

oh, your sweet, sweet jungkook— he never runs out of way to make you fall in love with him all over again.

“my love, you know i don’t care about things like that.” he chuckles, astonished by how you still highly value and respect his privacy and boundaries despite how long you’ve been together. it just occurs to him then, that at the very core of your relationship, this is probably why he never once regretted moving in with you. he says it all the time, but he just feels so goddamn lucky to have you in his life. he loves you. he loves everything about you. even the things he doesn’t like, he loves.

“aren’t you going to eat that?”

you’re overflowing with his love, you can’t stomach anything else.

“i won’t.”

“i’ll indulge myself then.” he cages your hand in his, raising it for the wafer to reach his lips. he bites it all the way down like a bunny eating a carrot, ending the journey with a chaste kiss on your knuckle. “you’re too quiet… are you crying?”

you shake your head profusely, tightening your embrace. “i love you so much, i can’t think. i just want to hug you.”

he smells a different type of sweet nowadays— more manly, more mature, binding you in an enrapturing spell, and with a suble hint of a baby scent that somehow makes him much more intoxicating. it’s overwhelming to think about— the amount of perfume bottles you’ve bought and consumed after asking one another if they smell too basic or too strong; the amount of times jungkook changed his wallet and took the receipt along with him because it only felt right.

“mkay, i’m not going anywhere.” he whispers, nosing at your hair.

and so, he stays stuck by the glue onto you as he gulps down a bottle of water, as he returns his wallet in his pocket with grunts of difficulty, as he deletes a promotional text on his phone sent by his service provider. he suspects that you’ve already fallen asleep. after all, you did spend the entire night dancing to the songs he sang along to. you wore the crocheted blanket you made as a cape and a dress, flowing with your graceful movements controlled by the lyrics and the beat and the melody and his compliments and his giggles.

he’s proven wrong when you slowly turn your head, cheek squished against his bicep. with heavy eyelids, you search for his hands, tangling them with your lonely ones.

“want to hear something silly about that day?”

“i’m all ears.” he beams eagerly, watching you twiddle with his long and slender fingers.

“do you know why i offered you my food?”

“because you couldn’t let a pretty boy like me succumb to starvation?”

“weeeell, there’s that…” you admit to his confident guess. “but aside from that, i wanted to see your nails closely.”

“my nails?”

you make a noise of confirmation as you trace his tattoos, a laugh seeping from the cracks of your relaxed demeanor. “to see if they were clean and trimmed or not.”

“so…” jungkook, the most hygienic man you’ve ever met, is digesting what you just confessed to him. “if they were dirty, you never would’ve told me your name?”

“hmm, yeah. because i always badgered my ex about it and you know how that relationship ended, so i thought enforcing those type of rules would help because i don’t want to deal with that shit again.” you cringe at younger you’s naivety and desperation, smiling shyly. “and it kind of… worked out so well? it sounds so funny to me now. i actually love myself for that.”

“fuck, baby,” he sighs.

he can’t imagine how a human being could ever dare to treat you with anything but gentleness. literally, can’t. it makes him sick to his stomach, makes the blood in his veins boil. he feels disturbed by the memories that still haunt you, and he feels angry because he is powerless and he can’t erase them no matter how hard he tries.

he caresses your face, planting doting kisses on your lips. the ghost of his affection lingers, like an invisible lipstick mark. “i wish i met you sooner.”

“what are you saying? i think we met at the perfect time!” you console his frustration, grinning when the epiphany lands on top of your bittersweet flashbacks. “out of the 365 days of the year, we met at 11/11. you’re my wish come tru- bam!”

the shocked, high-pitched squeal freefalls from your mouth when bam excitedly jumps on your laps out of nowhere, the weight of his upper half crushing your thighs underneath him. the dog smiles at you, panting.

“bam, i missed you but i was just about to tell your dad something romantic!”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[receedingdawn]

Cookies And Acrylic

Pairing: Logan x Reader

Summary: When anxiety keeps the art teacher awake at night, she comforts herself with late-night shenanigans and a surprise guest.

Warnings: OOC for Logan (Sorry he can be IMPOSSIBLE to write for but I love him dearly, fluff, pining

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: I'm so sorry I wrote this at like 1 am because I could not sleep, very fitting for this one shot though... Also unedited because I didn't feel like it!

Read on AO3

Groaning as you twisted and turned in bed, you rolled over to check the time. It was one of those nights where no matter how hard you tried to lift into that blissful rest you so desperately craved, it never came. A pitiful sound escaped you as the clock read two in the morning, too late to have a good night's rest, yet too early to be up. Rolling back over, you contemplated your next actions for a few seconds. Sleep never came easy, especially during the nights that you were kept up with anxiety. 

When asked to help out at Charles’ school for the gifted, you instantly agreed. You knew how the rest treated mutants of the world, you practically leaped at the opportunity to help out. It was a harsh world they were born into, and you made it your goal to help as many out as you could. How much stress the job would give didn’t dawn on you when you started. Nights like this where you lay awake, your mind stuck on the endless probabilities of the children being hurt while in your care. You knew the rest of the team would be there to help if anything happened, but anxiety doesn’t always need a reason to happen. It just does.

Deciding to walk around the building to calm yourself, you got out of bed with a sigh. You changed your sleep shorts into flannel pajama pants in fear of a student discovering you wandering around the school in the middle of the night. The last thing you wanted to do was accidentally traumatize a student with their half-naked teacher roaming the halls in the early hours of the morning. Sliding your feet into a pair of slippers, you made your way out of the room to begin your adventure around the perimeters.

It was incredibly calm with the habitants of the house fast asleep, keeping the building at an eerily quiet tone as you wandered the rooms. You padded to the kitchen, in search of a glass of water and maybe a late-night snack. At this point, would it be considered an early morning snack? You didn’t care enough, all you knew was that a secret tin of baked goods was calling your name. Ororo had been into town a few days before, stopping at a bakery on the way home. She had selflessly bought a pack of assorted goods for her fellow teachers on the way home, hiding them in the back of the pantry as to ward off sneaky students.

Taking a simple chocolate chip cookie out, you decided that instead of water, of course, you needed milk with it. Even though you were well into adulthood, no single person could be too old for the comforting taste. You grabbed a random mug from the cabinet, pouring yourself a glass before sitting down at the kitchen table in silence.

Holy shit.

Ororo wasn’t lying when she said the bakery was the best she had ever been too. It had been a few days since she brought them home, yet the taste could still bring tears to your eyes. You had no idea such a regular-looking cookie could be borderline orgasmic. 

“Am I interrupting something?” The rough voice awoke you from the temporary trance the heavenly treat had you in. Your eyes snapped to the dark doorway of the kitchen, noticing the gruff man. Logan was leaning on the side of the frame, his arms crossed while his eyebrow was cocked playfully. You chuckled to yourself for a moment, realizing the absurd position the man had caught you in.

“You might be, I was having some sweet alone time with the newfound love of my life,” you giggled, pointing to the half-eaten cookie. Logan rolled his eyes as he sauntered into the kitchen, making his way to the pantry. He opened up that tin you had just been in, grabbing himself a helping. Shooting a look in your direction, he held up the cookie as if wordlessly saying “It better be good” before taking a bite.

“Holy fuck, what the hell did they put in here?” The man let out in the middle of chewing, his voice muffled by the crumbs. You stared at him for a second before bursting out into laughter at his unusual response. Logan was always one for seriousness, you had never seen this side of him before. The severe nature of the man never bothered you, it drew you in. He fascinated you with his witty remarks and lack of social interaction with the others. Logan was an outcast in a place where no such thing existed, and you had always wanted to figure him out. Jean would call you out on those thoughts, saying it was a crush, but the word made you feel like a school girl following around her boy of the week.

“I think Ororo said there was a sign in the shop that said Made with EXTRA love, but I honestly think it might be drugs.” You said after finally getting a hold of your laughter, causing the man to crack a slight grin. God, if you could take a picture there and frame it, you would. He never smiled, he smirked, but never a true smile.

“Definitely drugs,” Logan remarked, finishing the last of his cookie. He wiped the excess crumbs off his hands and rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. You did your best to not make it obvious you were staring at the veins in his arms as he lathered them up.

“What are you doing up?” You asked him, forcing yourself to think about something other than his well-built body. The man quickly dried his hands before facing you again, “Couldn’t sleep.” There was the Logan you knew best, the one who gave short answers with little to no context. You cocked a brow at him, telling him that answer wasn’t good enough.

“Nightmares,” He let up after a few moments, finally giving you an answer. Shooting him an understanding look, you got up to clean your mug and throw away the napkin your snack had been on.

“I get it, between my nightmares and anxiety I rarely ever sleep.” You responded, voice low with the admittance. The man nodded in understanding, knowing exactly what you meant. He was well acquainted with the nightly battles one who had been through the events either of you had been though fought every night. Logan was surprised to feel he felt bad for you, even though the admission wasn’t a surprise to him. Most who lived at the mansion had some sort of trauma to get through and lived with the reminders of it each day. He was more surprised that it didn’t cross his mind you struggled with it. You were a light in the mansion, both students and other teachers adoring you. It was completely understandable, in a world of chaos and unknowns you were a beacon to everyone. Your kindness and warmth radiated to all those who were in your vicinity, and they did not take it for granted.

“I’m in the same boat princess,” Logan said, moving himself away from the sink to give you room to clean the dirty dish. You both sat there while you scrubbed, the sound of the faucet filling up the silence. He just stood there, watching you as you worked. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, it almost felt as if he was studying you.

“Are you going back to bed?” You asked after putting the now clean and dry mug back into the cabinet. Shaking his head no, Logan made his way to the hallway to go back to whatever he was doing before interrupting you. You called out after him before he left, causing him to turn around.

“Have you ever painted?”

In the over a millennium he had been alive, Logan Howlett never thought he would be caught dead with a paintbrush in his hand. He had no idea why he agreed to a painting lesson in the early hours of the morning. Logan knew everyone at the school was equally obsessed with you, which resulted in him usually keeping his distance. He knew you were a gorgeous and kind individual, but he never caved to his urge to get to know you.

“You’re psyching yourself out, it’s written all over your face, Lo.” His gaze snapped from the small tool to you in an instant. You had never called him by a nickname before, and the way it rolled off your tongue sounded like music to him. He gripped the paintbrush with such a force you had never seen before, causing you to almost let out a giggle. Sitting on your bed, cross-legged, with a brush in his hand, he looked extremely out of place. A man with hands the size of his had no business being even close to a paintbrush, let alone using one. The jeans and white tank top he practically had glued onto his body at all times had no business being on your bed, but he had no complaints if it meant he got to spend a few moments with you.

“Just follow my lead, okay?” How could he follow your lead when you worked so meticulously? The man just stared at you as you worked, your talented hand shaping out a small tree on the canvas. He stared for a few moments, coming to the realization he could watch you for hours and not get bored. Didn’t people say watching paint dry was excruciatingly dull?

“You’re worse than my students,” you joked, noticing the lack of paint on his canvas.

“None of your students have metal for bones, it makes it harder,” You both knew Logan was just coming up with excuses to get away with his little creative talent.

“I have a boy in one of my classes who had feet for hands, you’re pulling things out of your ass Logan.” He was caught there.

“Enough, just help me.” His hazel eyes shined playfully, holding out his hand to help him again. You rolled yours back in response, leaning over to help him. Taking a hold of his hand, you guided his movements on the canvas. Your breath caught as you felt how strong Logan felt under you, despite him letting you be in control.

You couldn’t help but feel that it was almost domestic, the two of you sitting on your bed in silence while participating in your favorite activity. No answer as to why he would agree to this came into your head, but you weren’t mad.

“Alright Edward Scissorhands, your turn to try by yourself. You can be a big boy and do it yourself, can’t you?” Teasing him, you went back to your work. It was a simple scene of the courtyard out back, showing off the gorgeous greens of the trees. Logan couldn’t help himself but watch you, continuously messing up his own work in the meantime. After finishing yours, you looked up, noticing the mess left on the man's canvas.

“I tried,” He shrugged his shoulders in embarrassment.

“I know you did,” Your genuine response took him by surprise. Logan assumed you were going to have some cute quip to respond with, but this one was different. Not everyone was cut out for making art, but he had tried. Never in a million years would anyone who knew Logan would think he would even think about partaking in a hobby. Yet here he was, getting out of his comfort zone (while multitasking and checking you out).

You helped him finish his painting to the best of your ability, yet it came out comparable to Charlie Brown’s old Christmas Tree. Logan knew he had no creative bone in his body, but boy did he try his best. You joked that his finished product was similar to Charles’ old burnt tree in the courtyard, and he chuckled in response. He signed his initials at the bottom and dated it as well. You started to pack up the supplies while Logan helped clean off brushes.

“I’m keeping this,” You held up his work while grinning, He groaned in embarrassment at the thought of others coming into your room and wondering what the abomination was.

“Jesus Christ,” Running his hand through his hair, Logan gave you a pointed look. There was no way in hell you wanted to keep his god-awful creation to yourself.

“Listen, in fifty or so years I can sell this for crazy money. A painting made by The Wolverine himself, you could make me rich Lo!” There was that nickname again, and it suddenly made him okay with you taking it.

“So you’re just using me,” He muttered sarcastically, causing you to giggle in response. You handed him your painting as a consolation for your gold digger behavior. Logan would not admit how taken away he was by the action, instead he just stared at you again. You looked back at him curiously, wondering where his words went. He genuinely had no words, it had been a while since someone gave him a gift, even if you wouldn’t consider it.

“Thanks for hanging out with me,” you had just given Logan a masterpiece and that was all you had to say about it? It annoyed him how sweet you were, and he knew this was going to become a problem for him. 

“Despite the looks of it, I did have fun. Thanks for making the night bearable, princess.” You both got up, giving each other one last look. In a moment of courage, you stood up on your toes and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you, I needed this,” you responded after lowering yourself back down. Logan noticed you blushing at the peck, which almost made him chuckle. Closing the door behind him, you made your way back to bed, hoping you could get at least a few hours before the next day came.

Logan made his way back to his room, studying every paint stroke of yours as he did so. He had never been interested in the arts before and was now obsessing over what he thought to be the second most beautiful thing he had seen in his life. The man concluded that you were the first. He decided to place it on the small table next to his bed, the piece standing out in his sparsely decorated room. Before setting it down, Logan looked at the back of the painting to see the words To: Lo written on it. 

~

Let me know if you guys liked this or not, I don't know how I feel about the ending tbh... To my friend that I admitted to in a Canes that I was writing fanfic again, I love you.

[reddesires]

Flirting With Them. (POTA Headcanons, Caesar, Noa, Blue Eyes)

Reference: This Imagine

As much as Caesar is most accustomed to human culture, he's very oblivious when it comes to the romantic aspect. (I mean be fr, Cornelia had to shoot her shot multiple times for him to notice) so when you openly flirt with him, with prolonged eye contact and a sultry tone of voice, he just figures that's just your personality and he shouldn't read too much into it.

This goes on for a long period of time and you sort of give up since your efforts are in no way awarded (felt like punishment with how bruised your ego is.) Caesar automatically notices the lack of batting your eyelashes at him and the seductive lilt in your voice has vanished instead you smile politely, you seem more reserved around him now.

He gives it time hoping that you'll resume your prior behavior but you don't so he'll have to take matters into his own hands, he begins talking to you in a sensual tone, his baritone inflect sending a shiver down your spine while refusing to break eye contact. It clicks for you right away.

"Are you flirting with me?" He leans back a flicker of confusion on his face,"flirting?" Your sultry tone reappears as you lean towards him."Do you like me?" He's stiff as a board looking away in an opposite direction, a huff exuding from him not willing to give an answer.

You flirt playfully with Noa, now you couldn't possibly blame him for being oblivious to your flirting, he just notches your behavior as friendship but to help on your case, your teasing was bordering dalliance and your touches felt more like a caress, primarily directed towards his arms or the tops of his shoulders.

He takes your advances in stride, treating you as he would treat his own friends and only sometimes would you contemplate if you should be more forward but you go against it deciding friendship should be enough for if he isn't receptive of your affections so you stop (it was a shame, he's such a stud after all pfftt)

Yeah, Noa catches on to that fairly quickly, he notices your no longer teasing him in that tone of voice instead the note is reminiscent to how Soona speaks to him, sisterly, also why aren't touching him? (he'll basically have an internal temper tantrum obsessing over that).

So there's only one thing to do, he'll have to just act that way towards you, lightly grazing you within your personal space and grabbing at your hair to direct your attention towards him and of course, tease you with that undertone unknowingly that he's trying to woo you and it's so unlike him that it clicks almost instantaneous of what he's trying to to do and your willing to give him what he wants.

"ooh, is there something you want to tell me, Noa?" The seductive lilt in your voice startles him "uh-uuuhh" he stampers out instinctively, scratching at a non-existent itch on his arm "I think you do~

the way that you flirt with blue eyes is with fleeting eye contact and shy smiles thrown from a distance, initially it started out that way. You were always drawn in by his azure eyes and his almost regal stance, he looked a lot like his father but so much like his mother.

Over time you grown close and your flirting consisted of compliments (Blue Eyes deserves a partner with a love language being words of affirmation) and the gifting of small trinkets, like a shiny stone you found in the coursing waters of the river or small figurine you craved from wood that took you ages to finish.

Blue Eyes is totally at a loss of how to respond to this behavior of yours, Apes don't feel the need to speak on things that are obvious translated into compliments and he accepts your trinkets and keeps them in a safe place but you were unaware of him doing so. Over time, you feel like you are being a pest and bothering him with human like qualities, so you cut back on the flirting.

At first he's slow to come to the realization that your behavior has changed, your grin lacks the radiance and your hands are empty of gifts instead you've resorted to smiling softly and gifting him space (I can imagine him being like noo, I want you close 🥺 AHHH)

So now he's on a mission of gifting you the shiniest stones he can find in the river and making adornments he spends hours at a time making while caring for Cornelius just so everytime you meet up he has a bestowal at ready and of course he's been practicing how to compliment you.

You are thrown off guard by this. This isn't a normal behavior amongst the apes, so you just know that he's mimicking your flirting behavior, so you just have to tease him. "Blue eyes! Another gift for me?" He signs that he knows you like traditional jewelry the female apes wear in the colony."Is this your way of showing you like me?" And he's hesitant to admit before relenting,"yes."

[blasphemousclaw]

personally i always interpreted the golden order greatsword as radagon wanting to keep renalla with him. the fact that its a moonlight greatsword, and how that tidbit isnt confirmed until the end of the item description, almost gives it a kind of "hiding behind the back" kind of vibe, like its a memento radagon shouldnt be holding onto but found a way to take with him anyways. given that in the queens bedchamber melina dialogue, marika refers to him as a leal hound of the order with a tone of disdain, and how he "hadnt yet become her", i personally get the vibe that radagon felt that whatever he had to sacrifice (his family, his wife, his self) for the golden order was worth it, with a kind of resigned determination ala I Wish I Didnt Have To Do This (hence marikas disdain cuz she doesnt think he HAS to, its just convenient for her plans+the schemes of the greater will)

my general impression of radagon is someone who loved renalla deeply and genuinely, and tried to take some small part of their marriage with him in the golden order greatsword, and was willing to make small steps out of line to try and keep that love present (giving renalla the amber egg with a GREAT RUNE INSIDE, one that judging by design wouldve gone to his son miquella since its similar to malenias, using the moonlight greatsword to become the golden order greatsword instead of making a new one), and someone who repeatedly tries to Do Whats Right For The World by sacrificing his own desires, and that makes the fact that all of his decisions led to heartbreak and pain in his loved ones more poignant and impactful. like hey man. you uh. didnt HAVE to drop everything to go be elden lord. didnt HAVE to leave ur family. now you cant ever get that back and its ur own damn fault buddy now ur bicon of a son is getting rly into snakekeeping and blasphemy and graffiti-ing ur Associated Symbols onto everything he feels would piss u off and ur never getting invited to radahns graduation from sellia academy of star murder. you uh. you did that buddy! you shot urself in the foot!

this is so late sorry, but yeah I really like this interpretation. like I said in my prev post I feel like Radagon forging Rennala’s marriage gift into a Golden Order greatsword can be interpreted as a way of carrying a part of her with him, even as he leaves her behind and forges ahead on his way to serve the Golden Order. Radagon has never viewed his time with Rennala with any scorn or regret; in fact, the things Rennala taught him during his time with her were very formative to his identity and beliefs:

“As the husband of Rennala of Caria, the red-haired Radagon studied sorcery, and as the husband of Queen Marika, he studied incantations. Thus did the hero aspire to be complete.”

The forging of Radagon’s greatsword kind of goes with this theme of Radagon cherishing what he had with Rennala, but ultimately deciding to move on to a greater purpose, using what he gained as Rennala’s husband as an integral part of his path forward. Perhaps even, based on the idea that Radagon “aspired to be complete,” he felt like he wasn’t a whole person, that he was missing something? That, though he loved Rennala, he couldn’t give himself fully to her? That he would leave Rennala behind if it meant getting a chance to feel whole?

Anyway, I completely agree that Radagon making the conscious decision to leave Rennala, despite having this love and respect for her, makes for a much more tragic and impactful story than Radagon not having any agency. What he did was shocking, inconceivable, and gravely disrespectful, not just to Rennala, but to all of Caria. And I think it’s almost certain that Radagon’s decision led to resentment amongst his children, sowing the seeds of their future rebellions against his Order… as Miriel says, when telling us Radagon and Rennala’s story, “You would do well to remember... Severing a vow, strongest of bonds, has consequences ever more dire". It’s just good storytelling!!!

[tomssexdoll]

Dangerous love

PAIRINGS: Tom 2010 x Female reader

CONTENT: ANGST + SMUT + FLUFF

SYPNOSIS: Tom and y/ns gangs are fighting, he shoots at her, aiming for it to go past her, scaring her but his aim is off, instead shooting her in the stomach..

A/N: ily all

WARNINGS: dom!tom, sub!reader, p in v (missionary), breast and nipple play, eating out, mentions of guns, blood, being shot, violence

Tom and I were apart of seperate gangs, ones that happened to be enemies. We had this feud for years, after one their men betrayed our old gang leader, stealing our money and guns.

From then on it has been non stop fighting, shooting at each other's homes, stealing each other's cars, you name it. When people hosted get togethers their gang was always blacklisted if we were to attend, fearing the worst would happen.

There was no one I hated more than Tom Kaulitz, one of the men in that gang. We had been enemies for years, despite what happened between our gangs it was just because we had this deep hatred for one another.

Anytime I saw him I resisted the urge to just bash his head into a brick wall. He always got on my nerves, giving me dirty looks or yelling out insulting things with his buddies. One day, we were scheduled for a fight. I knew we were going to win, we always did. I just put some jeans and a tight top on, finishing it off with a black leather jacket my father gifted me.

As we arrived I scanned the area, we decided to meet at an abandoned warehouse, a suitable place for a fight, if anyone got killed they would easily be left there to rot. We parked our cars, getting all our guns and knives out, we always arrived early to a fight, wanting to get the advantage, something they never did. I decided on a handgun, something small and easy for me to carry.

As he entered the abandoned warehouse, Tom stood tall, his cold eyes locking onto mine. The tension between you two was palpable, the air thick with unspoken animosity. He was flanked by his gang members, all of them armed and ready for a brutal confrontation.

I smirked and turned to my gang members, nodding, signalling for them to start. As soon as they got my confirmation they started to shoot, bullets errupting around the warehouse.

Tom was quick to react, pulling out his own weapon and returning fire. Despite the chaos surrounding him, his cold gaze remained locked onto me. He was taking this personally, wanting nothing more than to put a bullet between my eyes.

As everyone else shot at each other, it seemed we were only focusing on each other, trying to get the first shot.

Tom smirked, taking cover as he reloaded his weapon. I could see the determination in his eyes, locked onto me as if I was the only one worth fighting. He moved quickly and suddenly, firing off a series of shots directly at me, only aiming to scare me, not hurt me.

As I stood up to shoot at him, one of the bullets hit me, the adrenaline filled chaos had made his aim off, piercing me in my stomach, making me wince and fall down to the floor.

Horror filled his face as he realised what he'd done. He rushed to my side, kneeling beside me as the chaos of the battle rages on around us. His hand, still gripping the gun, trembling slightly as he takes in the crimson stain spreading across my shirt. "Fuck," he muttered, his usually icy demeanor cracking for a moment.

"STOP THE FIGHT!" he screamed, panic in his voice as everyone turned to us, seeing me on the ground, wounded. "What the fuck?" "What is he doing?" some people murmured amongst themselves.

Ignoring the stares and whispers, he carefully lifted me up, cradling me in his arms as if I was the most precious thing in the world. He shouted orders to his men, snapping out of his momentary lapse as he switched into boss mode.

Everyone was surprised, seeing him so worried about me, despite us being enemies for years. As Tom ran to his car, he placed me down on the passenger seat, quickly removing his belt, fashioning it as a makeshift tourniquet above the wound to slow the bleeding, his muscles rippling with the effort.

"What the fuck are you all doing standing there? HELP ME!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the building. His men springing into action, running to my side and grabbing some aid tools they had packed incase they'd gotten hit.

They grabbed some gauze, wrapping it around my stomach urgently, some even taking their shirts off and wrapping it around my stomach too, trying to stop the bleeding as Tom stood there, tears in his eyes, watching the life slowly slip away in my face.

Tom took my hand in his, squeezing and reassuring, his grip never faltered as he climbed into the back seat beside me and gave his men the signal to drive. The car sped off into the night, leaving chaos in its wake. "Hold on, just stay with me," he choked out a sob, running his fingers through my hair.

As we arrived to their gangs "medical centre", Tom carried me out, rushing inside and panicking, asking the doctor to help me.

The doctor's calm, professional demeanor was a stark contrast to Tom's frantic energy as he laid me down on the operating table. Tom's hands shook as he held mine, his knuckles white with tension. "Do whatever it takes to save her, damn it!"

"Just calm down Tom, panicking won't save her," the doctor sighed, taking all the material off my stomach and sliding my shirt up, inspecting the wound.

"Since you've jam-packed her wound and stopped the bleeding she'll be fine, let's just get this bullet out and conceal the wound," the doctor grumbled, grabbing some tools and slowly picking out the bullet.

Tom's gaze never left my face, his expression filled with relief as he saw the doctor successfully removed the bullet. "Thank you," he said, gratitude etched in every line of his face. He leaned down and brushed a gentle kiss to my forehead, "you're going to be okay."

The doctor quickly stitched the wound, making sure it wouldn't reopen, applying a thick bandage, ensuring my safety. I was still weak and pale, the doctor kneeled down "what's your blood type sweetheart?" he gently asked, "O positive" I mumbled, my eyes flickering to his.

He nodded, fetching a pack of blood, attaching me to the IV. As the blood began to reinvigorate me, Tom's tensed muscles relaxed fractionally. He watched the color return to my cheeks, my breathing evening out, and a glimmer of hope sparked in his eyes.

The gang members who came with us snickered to themselves, laughing and mumbling about us. "What's so fucking funny, hm?" Tom turned to them, his gaze piercing.

His jaw clenched at their mocking words, his fingers digging into my hand hard enough to bruise. He rose to his feet, towering over the snickering bastards in front of him, his gaze boring into them with an unsettling intensity, "you don't know what you're talking about."

They smirked "it's weird how you "hated" her, yet you're here saving her? I thought you were supposed to be enemies" they laughed obnoxiously, even the doctor started to get annoyed.

"Oh we don't?" they said, "since when did enemies save each other, cry over each other and demanded a gang fight to stop, how stupid are you Tom?" they gritted their teeth, their words harsh and cold.

Tom's eyes flashed with fury, his nostrils flaring as he took a menacing step forward. The air seemed to crackle with tension as he glared at them, his voice a deadly whisper, "you talk about her like that again, i'll break your fucking neck, you don't know who you're messing with." (ok alpha tom)

They held their hands up in surrender, rolling their eyes and scoffing, walking back to the car. I slowly sat up, my head spinning slightly, "easy there, don't hurt yourself more than you already are.." he rushed to my side, holding my hand again.

"Why did you even save me Tom? It doesn't make any sense, we've been enemies for years," I turned to look at him, my droopy eyes meeting his. He gave a small shrug, averting his gaze for a moment before looking back at me, "I don't know. Maybe it's because deep down, I never really wanted you as an enemy. But I hate seeing you hurt, even more when it's by my own hands.." he sighed, "I guess we kind of had to be enemies, considering our situation" I gently rubbed my thumb over his hand.

His expression softened, chuckling softly, "maybe you're right, but things don't have to stay that way," he turned over my hand, pressing a gentle kiss against the back of it.

"What are you implying Tom?" I raised an eyebrow, a smirk played at the corners of his lips, "i'm impying that perhaps we could be....friends? Or more than that, if you're willing," he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my neck.

"That's impossible, how are we even going to convince our gangs? You're thinking too fast Tom!" I sighed heavily, the idea comforting but reality quickly setting in. He lifted his hand to my cheek, gently caressing it, his eyes longing into me, "I know it won't be easy, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes, I'm tired of pretending I don't want you" he said, "and if we can come to an agreement, our gangs will follow."

"But, how will my father even agree? He despises you Tom, and your father too..." I groaned, resting my face into the crook of his neck. His jaw clenched at the thought of my father, the endless battles he had with him, a flicker of anger crossing his features before it was replaced with determination.

"I'll deal with my father, and yours. We'll find a way to make it work, we have to," he squeezed my hand reassuringly. I nodded and lifted my head to look at him, gently placing a soft kiss to his lips, "you don't know how long I've wanted you too.." I whispered against his lips, looking up at him.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise at the sudden kiss before a smirk tugged at his lips, pulling me closer and deepening the kiss. His tongue explored my mouth, marking me as his.

I smirked, swiftly pulling away, "we need to stop before they see," I motioned to the gang memebers in the car, "they're not parked far away y'know, we'll get killed for even trying something like this," I giggled. His eyes darkened with a mix of desire and irritation at the reminder, his hands flying to my waist and pulling me onto his lap.

"I don't give a fuck what they see," he growled, his voice low and husky. "Watch the IV!" I bursted out laughing, rolling it around to where I was.

He chuckled, his strong arms encircled around my waist, pulling me flush against him as he maneuvered the IV stand into a more safe place, "you're a menace, you know that?"

I giggled, "a menace? That's new, where's the more harsher words like bitch, slut, or even whore, hm?" I tilted his chin to look up at me. "Oh, you want me to call you those words huh?" he grinned, I leaned in, whispering in his ear, "maybe in bed..."

His grip on me tightened, his expression darkening, "don't push your luck, angel. I might just decide to show you what those words really mean.." he grunted, pulling me into yet another rough kiss, his lips moving passionately against mine.

His kiss was rough and demanding, his tongue sweeping into my mouth as he explore every inch of it. His hands moved up to tangle in my hair, holding me in place as he deepened the kiss.

As things were getting heated, the gang memebers who were parked outside started to beep frantically, I jumped slightly and grunted, annoyed at them cockblocking us. Tom broke the kiss, his forehead resting against mine as he exhaled deeply, visibly annoyed.

He shot a quick glare towards the car, removing his hand from my hair and picking me up, placing me down on the door. "Fuck sakes.." he muttered under his breath, before turning his attention back to me, "we'll continue this later princess," he took my hand, leading me back to the car.

As we got into the backseat of the car, the gang memebers snickered and threw lewd comments about me and Tom's earlier display of affection, "keep your fucking mouths shut, both of you" he growled, his jaw clenching at each word they spat out of their bitter mouths.

As we were approaching my house, I looked out of the windows and noticed the sky had turned shades of pink and red, signalling the sun setting, I was surprised I was out for so long, me and Tom's special moment in the medical centre only feeling like a few minutes.

I smiled, gently cupping Tom's cheek and placing a soft kiss to his lips, "call me, ok?" I grabbed his phone from his pocket, typing in my number and saving it as a contact before waving and getting out, walking towards my house.

As soon as I opened the door I was met with 12 raging gang memebers and my enraged dad, all worried about my whereabouts. "Who the fuck was that dropping you off?" one said, "why were you in a car with a random guy? Don't you know how dangerous that is! What have we taught you over and over again!" another yelled.

All of their yelling and arguing fell silent with my fathers shake of a head. "Why were you with Tom Kaulitz, I thought he would've just dropped you off and left you for fuck sakes," he grumbled.

"Well, he stayed the whole time and held my hand, where were you guys? Hm?" I snapped, angry at all their rejections of Tom, only if they could see the real him.

"Well, you know that if we stepped foot in there we'd probably get swarmed and killed, it is their base afterall.." my father scratched the back of his neck, finding excuses for his absence. "Oh really? Bullshit.." I rolled my eyes, storming into my room and slamming the door shut, locking it behind me.

I just blocked out their yelling and sat on my bed, sighing. As soon as I started to think about Tom, I heard some tapping at my window, like something was hitting it.

I curiously strutted over to the window, my eyes widening as I saw Tom there, standing and waving, signalling that he was going to sneak in. He climbed up the pipes with ease, I slowly lifted the window and let him climb in, his gaze softened as he saw me, walking towards me slowly and engulfing me in a soft hug, resting his head on the top of my chin.

"I couldn't wait to see you, I needed to be by your side again," he mumbled in my hair, "oh wow, you can't last even 5 minutes without me? I'm flattered," I giggled, looking up and him and leaning in, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

"We have to be quiet, if my dad finds out he'll kill you and me," I moved my hands off his torso, interlocking my fingers with his and walking towards my bed. I sat him down and climbed on his lap, wrapping my legs around his waist and smashing my lips into his again.

His hands gripped my hips tightly as he kissed me back fiercly, his tongue plunging into my mouth with a possessive hunger. We had been starved from each other for so long that we couldn't help ourselves, touching each others bodies, feeling each others bumps and curves.

"God, I need you so fucking bad..." he groaned, gently laying me down on the bed, trailing kisses from my face, to my neck, to my chest, down my stomach and even further, his hand roaming over my curves as he worshipped every inch of me. He paused at the waistband of my jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them off.

He smirked at my lacey thong, his fingers teasingly tracing the delicate fabric before hooking them with deliberate slowness and pulling them down my legs.

Toms eyes flicked upward to meet mine, the gaze between us both heavy with desire. He lowered his head pressing a tender kiss to my inner thigh, slowly going up to my folds.

He stuck his tongue out, gently parting them and tasting me for the first time. "You taste amazing.." he groaned, wrapping his arms around my legs and pulling me closer, slowly and sensually dipping his tongue into my wetness, then going up and softly sucking my pulsating clit.

"Mmmh..." I moaned softly, moving my hands down and tugging at his braids. He smirked against my pussy, loving the ffect he was having on me. His tongue flicked and circled, sending waves of pleasure throughout my body.

He teased and sucked on my clit, almost torturously slow before plunging his tongue deep inside of me, again and again. "Oh!" I gasped, the sound a little too loud, putting us at risk.

"Shhh baby...be quiet for me, you don't want to make your dad suspicious.." he chuckled softly, pulling away for a second, grabbing my remote to my tv and turning it on, putting it on a random channel and turning the volume up.

"There, now we can be a bit louder.." he murmered, diving his head back in between my thighs, his fingers gripping tighter on my thighs. As much as he loved hearing me moan he really didn't want to be killed by the hands of my father.

His tongue moved more quickly, in and out of my wetness as he expertly brought me closer to my peak. I whined softly, bucking my hips into him, throwing my head into the pillows, the pleasure getting almost too much for me to handle.

He growled lowly, enjoying the sight of me trying to maintain control. He sucked harder on my clit, reaching up and slowly sliding 2 fingers inside of me, his fingers curling at my g spot making my eyes roll back and grip the sheets tightly.

The sounds of the voices on the TV blurred out, my only sole focus being Toms low grunts and moans as he devoured my pussy. His eyes darkened with lust as he felt my climax approach, my pussy wrapping around his fingers, instantly redoubling his efforts, sucking harder on my clit while pumping his fingers faster inside me, coaxing for me to let go.

"That's it princess..let go.." he egged on, his voice gentle and comforting, nothing like how he usually was. His usual demeanour tough and intimidating.

With one last flick of my aching clit my orgasm crashed down, my cum spilling on his wet tongue, he smirked and lapped his tongue at my hole, collecting every bit of juice he could.

"Fuckkk.." he chuckled, slowly crawling up, his large frame hovering over me. His hands landed on my shirt, slowly dragging it up and throwing it somewhere across my room. His hands wrapped around my back, unclipping my bra and letting it fall off, revealing my perky tits, my nipples hardened.

He gasped, lowering his head, taking one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking gently before giving it a little bite, "ah!" I yelped, "tom!" I giggled, smacking his arm playfully.

"Whattt..I had to.." he smirked, latching onto my nipple again, his hand coming up to my other breast and kneading it possessively, as if he was trying to claim my tits as his.

I grew impatient, whining loudly, "I need you..now.." he chuckled against my breast, slowly removing his mouth from my nipple and growling softly, "you want me inside you, hmm?" I nodded eagerly, desperate for him.

He nodded, his eyes flashing with hunger as he looked down at me, his erection straining against his pants. He quickly removed his clothes, revealing his muscular body. Tom settled between my thighs, rubbing the head of his cock at my entrance, teasing me, "mmh..put it in.." I whimpered, wrapping my arms around his neck.

Tom finally pushed inside of me, burying himself to the hilt, his hands gripping my hips as he held himself still. He looked down at me, his gaze burning into mine, "I hope you're ready for me.." he grunted, beginning to slowly move.

He started to thrust in a slow and steady rhythm, the sensation making both of us moan in pleasure, he leaned down, capturing my lips in a soft, passionate kiss. We moaned against each others lips, his cock hitting a spot inside of me that made my legs tremble.

As he started to pick up his speed, he grabbed my legs, throwing them over his shoulder and reeling himself even deeper into my cunt. With my legs draped over his shoulder, he started to piston into me with renewed vigor, each thrust driving him deeper.

He tried so hard to not let the headboard hit the wall, his abs flexing and contracting as he powered through, his eyes locked onto mine, drinking in every moan, every twitch of pleasure on my face.

As my moans got louder Tom placed a hand over my mouth, muffling my moans as he continued to roughly thrust into me, his hips rolling and smacking against mine. His other hand reached down to play with my clit, adding an extra layer of pleasure to his rough fucking.

I whined into his hand, his tip annihilating that gummy spot in me, making my face contort in pleasure, his grin widened as he felt my pussy tighten around him at the sensation.

His thrusting became faster and harder, his hips snapping sharply with each movement, he wanted to fuck me so well that I wouldn't be able to walk straight for days.

"You like that, hm?" he taunted, his breath hot and heavy against my neck as he fucked me with unrelenting hunger. He reveled in the way I squirmed under his commanding touch.

I nodded, breathing out a soft 'yes', the noise vibrating against his hand. His pace increased, his cock plunging deeper and faster, the sound of skin slapping softly echoing in the room, muffled by the sounds of the TV.

He could feek his orgasm building, his balls tightening as he chased his climax, "i'm close baby..cum with me," he whispered, removing his hand from my mouth and replacing it with his lips, my moans escaping into his mouth as he kissed me passionately.

I could feel tension grow in my stomach, my orgasm dangerously close, his shaft slamming into my sopping hole over and over again, wet noises filling our ears as he reached closer to his climax.

"Cmon you little slut, cum on this cock" he growled, his voice hoarse with lust. I rolled my eyes back, my pussy clamping down onto his throbbing cock, I let out a loud moan into his mouth, muffling it with the kiss.

He gasped, quickly pulling out and shooting his thick cum all over my stomach. He pumped his cock several more times, coating my stomach completely in his sticky seed. Breathing heavily, he leaned over me, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he looked down at his cum marking my skin.

"Look at that, you're a real mess now, aren't you?" he chuckled, I rolled my eyes playfully, "yeah, no thanks to you," he grabbed a tissue from my nightstand, cleaning up the evidence of our love making.

He layed back with me, pulling me swiftly onto his chest, running a hand through my disheveled hair, "how did I get so lucky..I never knew you'd share the same feelings I have for you, I thought it would be fucking impossible," he whispered, looking into my eyes lovingly.

"That's exactly what I thought," I giggled, placing a gentle, yet passionate kiss on his lips, Tom draped the blankets over us, covering our sweaty, naked bodies. I felt safe, secure in his arms, this is where I wanted to be, I just wanted to be like this all day, all night, everyday for the rest of my life.

I knew it would be hard, convincing my father to accept Tom and make ammends with his gang, considering the betrayal that occured, hurting his father who was the last leader of the gang.

"I really hope your dad accepts me, I mean, I'd do anything for you, I need you so bad it's crazy, you occupy my every thought, there's not a day where I'm not thinking about you.." he said gently, I looked in his eyes, searching for any sign of deception but the only things that I could find was sincerity.

"Tom..." I muttered softly, "I mean it, I want to spend every waking moment with you, I want you by my side everywhere I go," he caressed my cheek gently.

"I really want that too..I'm sure we'll find a way to convince him, afterall he is my father and always wants the best for me, he always has," I smiled, giving him the reassurance he needed.

tags: @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @ballhair

tags: @kaulitzsbabyy @kaulitzswhxre @tomsonlyslut

tags: @bkaulitzlover @bills-wife-1 @20doozers

tags: @miyukafujii @ella1289

[bbyquokka]

kisses with skz

– how skz would kiss yn !!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | ot8 x gender-neutral reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | fluff, smut – 18+ is strongly advised!

𝐂𝐖 | established and unestablished relationships, inexperience reader, drunk kissing, suggestive themes, sub themes, jealousy, masturbation (m rec), grinding, dry humping, lots and lots of kissing!

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 | 1.8k ~ ( 1,882 )

𝐀/𝐍 | happy valentines day! here is my gift to you!! ‹3‹3 don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. curious as to what is next? here is my wips list! i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

𝐁.𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 – the type to start slow and steady. he would touch you first. his hands gliding along your skin. it gives you goosebumps. his hands running along your curves, fingertips soaking in every detail. he'd lean in and let his lips brush along your neck first. he'd inhale your scent before peppering soft and gently kisses along the skin before trailing his lips to your jawline where he'd pepper kisses along it until finally, he'd kiss your lips. it'd be slow, gentle and warm. lips moving together perfectly, slotting together like you're made for one another. hands continuing to caress your hot and flush skin. you’d feel tingly with excitement, wondering where this will all lead to. he’d be so gentle with you but at the same time a bit harsh and rough. the hunger that chan feels for you the longer his lips are caressing yours, increases bit by bit. he’d squeeze your curves, soaking in every detail that brushes against his fingertips. 

𝐋.𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 – he'd be the one to teach you. you'd let him know that you've never kissed or made out with someone before. minho would be a little surprised at first but offers to teach you. you two are nothing more than friends so you'd have to think about it, outweighing the positives and the negatives of kissing your best friend. you wouldn't know what to do but decide to say fuck it. you only live once and just go along with it. minho has a huge crush on you so he will admit that he took advantage of the situation but he never thought you'd agree to it. you'd be shaking, nerves ripping you apart. minho would cup your cheeks and tell you to take deep breaths. “it’s ok. it’s only me. we don't have to do this if–” his sentence would be cut short by you squeezing your eyes and pushing your lips against his. it's uncomfortable and not what you expected it to be. it’s just all teeth and lips. you could feel the outline of his two front teeth from how hard you pressed your lips against his. minho would just laugh and instead, hold you close and press his lips against yours gently. you'd freeze, not sure on what to do. “just do what feels natural.” he'd whisper against your lips. his thumb would stroke your cheek and soothe you. you'd hold onto his shoulders and just relax. your nerves are still apparent but the longer minho kisses you, the more you feel yourself melt into him. his soft lips, his hands on your cheeks; it's so much but you don't hate it. you'd pull away from one another before staring and laughing to yourselves softly.

𝐒.𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍 – a drunken kiss. you and changbin got invited to jisung's frat party. lots of booze, people and loud music. both of you have had a little too many shots and cheap liquor. you, changbin, jisung and a few others would be the only ones left standing. it's two am and jisung would have this ‘amazing’ idea of truth or dare. you'd be feeling a little risky (thanks to the alcohol in your veins) so dare it is. “i dare you to kiss someone of your choice.” you'd look around, shrug and walk to changbin. he'd give you a smirk, pull up flush against his body and kiss you. you'd be shocked at the sudden confidence but you'd soon find yourself melting into the kiss. it's a simple, five second kiss so it's over way too soon for you. soon, everyone gets bored of truth or dare so everyone decides to call it a night and sleep… except you and changbin. you're straddling him, half naked. naked chest pressed against his. his hands on your ass, cupping and squeezing it firmly. the kiss is heavy, hot and sloppy. it's nothing but saliva, teeth and tongues but it's enough to make you both feel very aroused and wanting more of each other.

𝐇.𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 – hyunjin loves to give you small and quick pecks. a peck on the cheek, a peck on the nose or a peck on the lips. you could be cooking or cleaning or even just lounging around the apartment, hyunjin would give you a sweet peck whenever and wherever he can. and you'd do the same. when you see him in his studio, hair up in a ponytail and dressed in an old t-shirt and denim dungarees that's coated in dried paint, you'd walk behind him, wrap your arms around his midriff and peck his cheeks. “missed me, darling? because i've missed you.” when he's feeling lustful and just wants you, his kisses remain tender and sweet. he could be thrusting in and out of you roughly, hips stuttering and bodies hot and sweaty,  but his lips on yours are so tender, soft and slow. it's enough to make you melt into him and want more. he treats you with such care and attention because he adores, treasures and loves you so so much. afterwards, he would pepper your sweaty face with kisses and whisper sweet and loving words to you, telling you how beautiful you are. hyunjin loves kisses but he loves them even more when they're on you and from you.

𝐇.𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 – sloppy. messy. greedy and needy. it's no surprise that jisung is a greedy and messy guy when it comes to things like this and it's no different when it comes to kissing. he's so full of lust and need for you that it overpowers him and clouds his mind. his rational thinking is out of the window as soon as his lips are on yours. his tongue invading the inside of your mouth. saliva pooling and spilling from the corners. lips swollen and kiss bitten. he'd pepper your neck with kisses and bruises whilst grinding on you. he'd be so whiny too. he'd be whimpering and clinging onto you, begging for more. he wants to take care of you but at the same time be taken care of, so depending on the mood and how he is feeling, you could end up with a very whiny and subby jisung. “... p-please take care me, yn. i’ve been a good boy.” his body would shiver and feel like it's on fire as you'd tease him with kisses first. kiss his round cheeks and nose before trailing down his neck to his chest. you'd kiss his pecs, giving the skin an occasional suck to leave bruises and his hard nipples a suck that's enough to leave jisung bucking his hips and wanting more. you'd trail the kisses down to his stomach where you'd kiss his soft tummy and bite his waist gently. he'd be bucking his hips up into you, grinding the air desperately and tears trickling from the corner of his eyes. he'd be a sobbing, whimpering mess burnt with desire and lust. “p-please yn. please, i need you.”

𝐋.𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗 – aftercare kisses are a must with felix. he'd be so tender and gentle with you after a night of love making. even if he hasn't been rough with you and it's been a simple, vanilla night, he would still kiss you so tenderly as if he's scared you'll break in front of him. he'd kiss each and every love bite and bruise on you, whispering how sorry he is and how he is going to take good care of you. sometimes (when one round isn't enough) he'd be sitting in bed leaning against the headboard. he'd watch you come out of the bathroom all washed and ready for sleep. you'd crawl onto the bed for felix to beckon you with two fingers, grab the back of your head and kiss you roughly. it's all tongue and teeth, his grip on you harsh. he'd pull you onto his lap, move your hips fast so you grind on him whilst keeping his lips on you. it's game over at this point and you're at his beck and call once again

𝐊.𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 – he can’t stand you so the thought of kissing you makes his skin crawl. however, he finds himself late at night imagining your soft lips on his. he imagines melting into you and you into him. he imagines holding up and caressing you. he hates you because he wants you but he'd never admit that to anyone, not even his close friends. however, when minho invites himself round to his place and invites you along with him, seungmin’s calm and peaceful world turns chaotic. you're in his home and just driving him insane. he's anxious but also very excited as well as jealous. the way you laugh at minho’s stupid jokes or give his bicep a squeeze is enough for jealousy to bubble in the pit of seungmin’s stomach. he'd have to excuse himself, go to his bedroom and fish his hard, leaking penis out of his pants. eyes closed, fist around his shaft as he strokes himself to the thoughts of you. he moans and groans, head kicking back and whispering your name. he wants your lips on his, kissing and sucking on him. he wants to taste you and swallow every moan the spills past your lips. he wants it all and he hates that about him so he hates you too. he just hopes that when he leaves the bathroom, you’re not there so he can go back to his calm and peaceful life.

𝐘.𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍 – two people who have never kissed anyone in their lives. both of you would be so nervous. palms sweaty, throat dry, body shaking. everything feels so awkward and tense. both of you asked friends about what to do and what to expect with everyone saying the same thing “just do what feels natural!” but what is that exactly? two very nervous people sat face to face on jeongin’s couch, you give each other nervous smiles and awkward laughs. jeongin wipes his palms on his jeans, your hands are bundled into fist. you'd look up at him to speak before feeling lips being pressed against yours forcefull (the last thing you see is jeongin's eyes squeezed shut) it's not as good as what you both expected it to be so when he pulls away, you both feel a little disappointed. moments of painful silence would pass by before you gain the courage to take his sweaty palm in yours, lean forward and gently kiss him. it's better than the first time, still uncoordinated and inexperienced, but better. with a shaky hand, jeongin would place his hand on your cheek and stroke it gently as you slowly shuffle into his lap to decrease the distance between you both. you'd both start to get into it, slowly increasing the pace and adding tongues. both of you getting hot and bothered, panting a little and becoming lightheaded as you'd both forget to breathe. you'd shakily hold onto his shoulders and bravely take the chance to grind on him whilst kissing him. his hips would buck up into yours and he'd help you pick up the pace until you're both panting and humping one another through clothing. both of you being inexperienced and feeling new, exciting feelings means that once it's started; it's quickly over. 

[hotgirlbedtimescenarios]

Loved You More

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader *no physical description* (one-shot)

Words: 1.4k+

Warnings: angsty and sad, mentions of loss, mentions of pregnancy / wanting children

Inspo song - Let Me Love You More Braxton Keith

Main Masterlist

It was falling apart around you, just as you had feared. You were fighting with Joel again, not because he had done anything wrong, but because of what he wouldn’t do.

He won't let you all the way in. He won't let you love him the way you know you can.

 It was the silence he wrapped around himself, the walls he built, keeping you at arm's length.

No matter how many intimate nights you shared or happy moments passed between you, he refused to let you all the way in. You knew he loved you; he told you every chance he got, and the warmth in his eyes affirmed it.

So why won’t he give himself to you fully?

“Joel, please,” you cried, tears tracing paths down your cheeks. “I told you that doesn’t matter anymore. I want you.”

It shattered Joel’s heart to hear the agony in your voice, but his resolve had crystallized into something unyielding. He took a deep breath, fighting the tremor in his chest.

He fights the urge to pull you into his chest and rub a soothing hand across your back.  “You can’t give up your dreams for me. You deserve a white wedding, a husband, kids, a bright, beautiful family. It’s what you’ve always wanted. Don’t deny it.”

“You’re enough, Joel,” you insisted, desperation clawing at your words. “I don’t need anything else.”

“That may be true now,” he sighed, sorrow etched deep into his features, “but what happens when you wake up one day and realize you want more? When it’s too late? You’ll resent me for taking those dreams away.”

“Then why!” Your voice rises, breaking. “Why did you let it go this far? Why don’t you want a life with me?”

“I do!” he admitted, anguish cracking his voice. “But I’ve done this before. I had a wife and a daughter, and when I lost it all, I nearly lost myself. Hell, I damn near didn’t make it. I don’t have it in me to be the man you need. Not anymore.”

“So, this is it?” you whimpered, the weight of finality hanging heavy in the air.

“This is it.” And with that, he turned, leaving a gaping void where hope had once lived, and he didn’t look back.

You sink to the cold, hard floor, sobbing until the tears dry, leaving behind only a hollow ache.

---

Two nights before, Joel decided he had to leave you. It was after watching your face at his niece's kindergarten graduation.

He saw how you beamed with joy and cheered for the little girl walking across the stage just as loud as her parents, Tommy and Maria. After the ceremony, you scooped her into your arms for a bear hug and looked at her precious face with love and longing, and Joel knew what had to be done.

Being a mother has always been your dream, and he knew it was meant for you. Joel had seen it in your gentle hands, how you braided hair and made flower crowns, how your voice soothed children to sleep, the perfect sweet tenor for singing lullabies and tucking babies into bed. You were born to nurture, to love, but he couldn’t give you the family you deserved.

He knew you'd be a perfect mother, but being a father was no longer in the cards for him. Of course, he's still a father; he will always be deep down. The love for his daughter Sarah and the void it left in him when she passed is exactly why he can't bring himself to go through it again.

Protecting her was his job, and he failed.

He'd had a wife then and failed at that, too. He hadn’t been enough for her to stay.

He didn't want to fail you too. So instead of dragging you with him in a lonely existence where he knew he wouldn’t allow himself to give you kids or marry you, he decided to let you go.

 He loves you enough that he can't be selfish with you. He loves you more than he loves himself, so he sets you free. It is his final act of mercy. It is a bittersweet gift to free you from a future of sorrow.

He can't be everything you need, and he doesn't want to rob you of what you've always wanted.

Although you might never forgive him, he hopes you will understand.

He prays that one day, you will see that to love you more, he had to set you free.

---

6 years later.

Joel wakes in his empty home, the silence echoing around him like it always does. After a restless night and an early morning cup of coffee, he drives into town to load up on supplies for the job site he’s heading to this week.

Joel drives his pickup truck downtown with the windows rolled down, enjoying the cool brush of the autumn air against his skin and basking in the sun's warmth.

He parks on the curb outside the hardware store downtown and exits his vehicle, shutting and locking his door behind him. He stretches his tired bones in the warm sun and breathes in the fresh air. Today felt good, which is rare for him. But the day is beautiful, and he is determined to enjoy it, to try to allow happiness, no matter how small, a place in his life.

But then, a doorbell jingles from across the street, pulling his attention in that direction, and time seems to halt. He sees you—for the first time in years. His heart constricts painfully in his chest.

Over the years, he’s heard about you, your engagement, and your wedding, too. It hurt, damn, it hurt, but it's why he left you in the first place. To give you that chance, and now that he can see it all worked out for you, he's glad he made that choice.

He watches as two children, your children, exit a café across the street, bursting out the door, laughter dancing in the air. You follow behind, a baby cradled in your arms, your face alight with a joy he had never been able to give you. And there was your husband, a man younger and more suited for you, guiding you with a gentle hand on the small of your back.

Joel feels as if he were shattering all over again, a specter haunting a life he could never reclaim. He stands frozen, unable to look away. You were everything he had wanted for you, everything he had sacrificed for.

He left you crying that day, heartbroken, and without a proper goodbye. He's sure you hate him. He's sure you don't want to think about him ever again.

But then you look up. Your bright and happy eyes meet Joel's sorrowful ones, and your gazes lock. For a heartbeat, the world stands still; the pain of the past swirls between you, breathing life into the connection he had severed so long ago.

But despite the past, you smile at him, an acknowledgment that pierces through the years of silence and heartache.

You smile at him because now you know why he did it. Why he left you and never looked back. He was right, and he was a good man—a great one.

He set you free because he loved you more; you just didn't know it until now.

You have a happy family, a white picket fence, and an adoring husband, all because Joel gifted it to you. All because he was strong enough to break your heart.

So you smile at him across the street, the man you once loved more than anything in the world. Somewhere deep down, you probably always will.

Thank you, your eyes seemed to say. I understand now.

He smiles back, a bittersweet gesture filled with love, longing, and resolution.

He knows he shoudln’t linger, so with one last nod, Joel turns away and walks into the hardware store, leaving you behind for good, leaving you to live the life he wished for you. A life without him.

As Joel steps away, the ache that settled deep into his bones years ago seems to lighten just a fraction because today is proof that he had made the right decision. He loved you more than himself. He loved you more than you had ever known.

He loved you enough to let you go. And even if he has to spend the rest of his years missing you, at least he knows you're happy.

[therealcocoshady]

Dating Marshall Mathers HCs - Love languages edition

Author’s Note : Hey Stans 🥰. I am a sucker for Eminem Headcanons so I decided to give it a shot ☺️. Let me know what kind of HCs you’d like 👀. These HCs are based from the vibe I get from him, from his music, appearances or interviews - I might be wrong though, or you might disagree. Or not ? Either way, let me know what you think ❤️

Acts of service 

On some things, he is a bit old-fashioned and he will see some things as « his job ». He knows you can carry your bags or put that Ikea shelf together yourself. Doesn’t mean you have to. 

Absolute gentleman. Contrary to what he says he has manners. He just doesn’t overdo it. 

He is pissed when you ask for someone else’s help instead of his 

« Why didn’t you ask me ? » 

Also annoyed when you don’t ask for anything at all 

That being said, he hates asking for help

As much as possible, he will do his best to make your life easier with small gestures like : 

Picking you up at the airport // Driving you to and from work if he can 

Having your favorite food delivered to you when he is not there and he knows you are too lazy/tired/sick to cook 

Taking care of you when you are sick, tired or simply having a bad day 

Making sure his pantry is stocked with your favorite drinks and beverages 

He enjoys helping you when you are cooking/cleaning… 

Once he is comfortable around your place he will even do it unprompted 

Gifts

Might be his least favorite love language 

He enjoys giving gifts far more than he likes receiving them 

He is very hard to shop for anyway 

What do you get for a man who has the means to get everything he wants for himself ?

He is grateful for gifts but he is not really the materialistic type 

He low-key doesn’t believe he deserves gifts anyway 

When he gives you a gift, you can expect it to be meaningful and thoughtful

He pays a lot of attention to details 

Or it can be something you mentioned you needed 

Big, expensive gifts are for special occasions

Just because he has the means doesn’t mean he will gift you a Chanel bag on a random Thursday. Sorry. 

When he splurges, he doesn’t half-ass it but it doesn’t happen too often either 

Before he buys you something expensive, you have to be together for a while

Trying to win a woman over by spending money on her ? Yeah, not for him. He is too scared of gold-diggers. 

Also, if you have a fight, he might try to suck up to you with a gift or a bouquet even though he is the first to criticize how shallow gifts can be 

When he is away and doesn’t see you for a while, he might arrange for a surprise delivery, to make you smile and also make sure you don’t forget about him (as if it were possible)

Physical touch 

He is a bit guarded at first, so much so that you start doubting that he actually likes you (« Surely, he would have made a move by now… » - nope that man is just slow)

If he actually likes you, he makes it a point to behave like a gentleman and he will try and pick the best time for a first kiss or even simply holding your hand for the first time 

Great kisser. 

Not a big fan of public displays of affection (for obvious reasons)

If the two of you are ever spotted together, people might mistake you for a member of his team because he will not even get caught holding your hand 

That’s partly because he values your privacy at least as much as his - he doesn’t want his girl to get harassed or bothered 

However, when it’s just the two of you, he is all over you 

Whenever the two of you spend time together, he enjoys having physical contact with you, even if it’s just holding your hand while watching a movie 

Definitely makes up for his busy schedule with physical touch. 

Quality time

Probably his love language of choice 

Overall, he is really mindful of your schedule and appreciates that you respect his 

If you don’t, it’s not going to work between the two of you anyway 

Most of the time, he is punctual and he will not show up late to one of your dates 

If it happens, he will profusely apologize and make it up to you 

Might get a little pissed if you do (but he knows that girls will be girls and you are most likely late because you wanted to be extra pretty for him) 

He has a hectic schedule but he if he loves you he will make time for you 

Him making time for you is actually one of the telltale signs he actually cares about you 

If you are as busy as him, he really appreciates that you manage to make time for him

No phones rule during your dates 

Like, seriously, it’s a huge red flag for him if his date spends too much time on her phone instead of enjoying the moment 

Speaking of phones… He doesn’t text you too much. Instead, he tries to find moments when he can call you and have an actual conversation. 

When you are talking, you have his full attention 

He pays attention to everything you say and and do, even when it doesn’t seem like it 

He remembers everything 

He enjoys hearing you talk about things you are passionate about

If it’s something he is not too familiar with, he asks questions and he might even make an effort to do some research of his own, just so he can keep up with you 

And in turn, he really appreciates if you do the same 

Doesn’t seem like it at first, but he actually enjoys a good conversation. Even if you’re gorgeous, if you’re not interesting… Hard pass. 

He also gets really talkative if he’s talking about a topic he is passionate about. Like hip-hop culture, pop culture, sports… He will talk your ears off. And he likes talking about it with you. 

Even better if you are able to have an actual debate with him. He might not agree with you but he respects someone who can stand their ground and have actual valid arguments. 

Because you might not be able to spend too much time together sometimes, he will do his best to make your dates special 

As your relationship evolves, he includes you in some more mundane activities, just to enjoy more of your company 

Don’t expect to spend too much time at the studio with him. He keeps his work and personal life separate. 

That being said, he might invite you to spend time with him there once or twice. And it means a lot. 

Words of affirmations 

We all know this man has a way with words 

When he praises you or compliments you, he means it 

A perk of dating a dictionary nerd : he chooses his words carefully 

Never a dull compliment 

He is a great motivator : when he encourages you and tells you you can do it, you actually start believing that you can 

He is good when It comes to giving words of affirmation but receiving them ? Nope. 

When you compliment him, he gets a bit awkward and doesn’t know how to react 

That being said, he enjoys it 

Compliments he enjoys the most are not necessarily the ones about his professional skills or physical appearance but genuinely about his character 

Any fan could tell him he is a great rapper or that he looks good. But having his girl tell him what an amazing person she thinks he is and being specific about it ? YES. 

Basically, just show him that you care about him (the real him) 

With how guarded he is, it might be some time before he actually says « I love you »

It might not come with a big declaration either. Just « I love you ». Simple. 

Definitely catches you off guard the first time he says it, with a super casual tone. 

However, when he says it, he means it 

He leaves you small notes, too 

[hothothotch]

hi! can you write a hotch angsty / fluff piece based off the episode of s3 ep 20 where they go to NY and have to work with Kate Joyner and Hotch treats reader like how he did to Morgan and pushes reader aside bc even after reader being there for him after his divorce with Hayley and thinking there was something more but then ends in fluff? :)

hey hey! first i want to say that this ask has saved my life. second, i got carried away again. but i hope you like it, anon s2

(god knows how much i want a part two for this one)

requests are open!

tw: angst, fluff, 5.3k words.

You should have seen it coming.

You’ve been a part of BAU’s team since the departure of Ellie, a quick replacement approved by Agent Hotchner — or Hotch, as the team called him — that took place for the first time after The Fisher King’s case, when Ellie was shot; when she decided working at the BAU was too much to handle, Hotch approved your official transference only a few weeks before Strauss’ approved Prentiss’.

In all honesty, you’d been surprised Hotch didn’t kick you out after that, but grateful nonetheless — you absolutely loved that job.

You had been the first to notice when Hotch’s marriage started to crumble, your own habit of staying late nights at the office giving you a first-row view of the nights he’d stay late and go home only on the early hours of the morning, just to come back fresh and new as if nothing had happened. There wasn’t much you could do to help, even if you wanted to; the fact that Hotch trusted you on the job didn’t necessarily mean that he trusted you enough to let you in on his personal issues, and you didn’t feel like you really wanted to. But, as purple bags started to form under his eyes, a clear evidence that he hadn’t been sleeping, you couldn’t help but start showing small, almost meaningless acts of service that you hoped would make him feel better.

Everything was pretty secretive.

You started to get in the office earlier, so you could leave a cup of fresh coffee on his desk (black with no sugar, as you know he liked), and whenever you went out for dinner, you’d come back bearing something that was small enough so he wouldn’t want to pay for what you brought.

You started daring more only a few weeks into your small endeavor. Instead of only leaving your secret gifts, you started to write small notes in Garcia’s colorful sticky notes (because you had none on your desk, so he wouldn’t know it was you) with encouraging comments, mostly about his job — and, when you were feeling specially bold, about his appearance in general.

You thought nothing of it, and had no idea if he even read them, but the fact that you were doing something to at least try and make things better was enough to warm your heart. Much more when his stern façade would suddenly turn into a lighter one as the day went by, even when you were out on cases and he found a cup of steaming coffee waiting for him, a sticky note attached to it with a unique message handwritten by you.

It wasn’t until the divorce that you felt the urge to reveal your identity.

Hotch had been served the divorce papers in front of the whole team, only a few minutes before they went out for drinks — it goes unsaid that he immediately stepped out of the group, deciding to go home. The team still went out for drinks, but the talks weren’t as fun as they were supposed to be, and the topic in hand was only one: Hotch’s sudden divorce.

“Haley left home a few weeks ago” Derek confessed, playing with his full glass of beer. A few women had come to hit on him, but it seemed like that small and closed group had decided that if one of them was miserable, they all would be miserable that night — and Morgan had been the first to agree to that silent contract, refusing every opportunity he had to get laid that night, “She took Jack and her things and… left”.

“How could she do it?” Penelope had asked, her voice wrapped in a wrath no one had ever seen the blonde bubble of happiness be.

“Hotch is very dedicated to his job, Pen” Emily had replied, her voice as condescending as sad, a clear indicative that while she wished things had been different, that maybe there was a second chance, something they could do to help, she still could understand Haley’s side in this bargain, “We understand that because we do the same, but Haley… she wasn’t one of us”.

And it was true. While any of you were ready to make sacrifices, to jump off cliffs in order to do the best for your job, Haley was just a wife that had to stay closed off at home with her kid, praying that, at the end of the day (or the week) her husband would make it back home.

Now Hotch knew how it felt.

“There’s nothing we can do to help” David had said that night, taking his own glass of whiskey and taking a sip of the sour drink, “Just be there for him”.

David was right. And maybe his words that night had been what prompted you to climb the three-steps of the catwalk’s stair one week later, one hand playing nervously with your necklace as you used the other to knock on Aaron’s door right after Spencer had left to go home, only you and your boss still on the sixth floor.

“Come in”.

Aaron’s voice was imposing, as serious as it had always been; it was curious, you noticed very quickly, how you’ve never seen Hotch falter before — even when he was served the papers, or when he officially announced for the team that he was, indeed, divorced. He had been calm and collected, talking about the topics as if he was making a comment about a case, or about the weather, and the only indication of his unsaid pain was the way his fingers played nervously with the now empty space where you’d been used to see his wedding band.

Just as he was doing when you opened the door, your eyes falling immediately on that spot, as if searching for an indicative that they had decided to try again. The hope painful on your heart.

“I finished the reports from the last case” you said after a few minutes, moving slowly to leave the folders on top of his desk, “And I’ve also filled the late paperwork, I’m sorry it took me a while”.

Hotch looked up at you, his brown eyes scanning your face almost curiously, and you frowned nervously at the prospect of having something wrong with your face, “What is it?”.

“Nothing” Aaron replied quickly, dropping his eyes back to his hands, “I’m sorry”.

You smiled softly at Aaron, moving slowly to take the seat across from him, careful enough to assure him that if he didn’t want you to sit with him, then you’d quickly move out and pretend nothing had happened. When he didn’t, you allowed yourself to place both your hands on top of his desk, your palms up in an inviting manner — you knew Hotch wouldn’t hold your hand, even with the clear offer, but you’d keep offering until he felt like accepting.

“We’re a team, Hotch” you whispered, almost inaudibly, hoping, one more time, not to be overstepping or making him uncomfortable in any capacity, “I know we’re not best buddies…” you teased lightly, adding a ‘yet’ on your mind, “But you still can share things with me. I’m here to help, you know? If you want to talk, ever, I’ll be here, okay?”.

Much for your surprise and happiness, Aaron had wanted to talk, eventually.

The first time was after a child-related case, from where he left with the need to see Jack, but unable to do so because Haley had taken him to his grandparents’ house. At first, when he called you up to his office, you’d thought you’d be reprimanded for a mistake you couldn’t even remember you committed, but you had barely stepped inside the office when Aaron started to speak, his eyes focused on the mess of papers on his desk.

“I want to talk” he said, his voice more painful than you thought it would be, “If you’re still up to it”.

You were. Absolutely.

And just as talking to him, falling in love with Aaron Hotchner was the easiest thing you’ve ever done in your life.

You didn’t notice how it happened, or when you finally realized you were head over hills in love with him, but what you did know was the unspeakable feeling of your heart thundering on your chest whenever he shot a smile on your way, or when he accidentally brushed his hand on your arm when walking past you, or during your nightly conversations, when he’d repeat the words you first told him all those months ago, when you offered your help.

“We’re a team”.

But you should’ve seen it coming.

You should’ve seen it coming when Aaron announced whoever was responsible for that case had called him personally, and not respected the natural order of things in which JJ receives the case and reunites with Aaron to know if it deserves their immediate attention.

You should’ve seen it coming when Derek commented about Kate Joyner being as ass, and Aaron immediately got defensive — and to some extent you believed you had noticed, even if you decided to ignore it, since your body had responded to his defensiveness.

But you didn’t. Mostly because up to that moment, everything was okay.

“You’ll keep throwing theories at me until I tell you to stop?” Hotch asked, and even if his voice was serious and perfectly professional, you could see a hint of a smile on the way his brows weren’t as furrowed as usual, a shy dimple appearing on the corner of his lips.

This, you thought as you observed his clear features, moving from side to side on the chair you’ve been sitting on, your sole duty being waiting for Garcia’s call, or a lead of any form, this is what I love the most about him. His almost smile.

The thought alone both intimidated you and made butterflies dance on your stomach. You loved him.

“I will” you agreed with a resolute nod, your face as serious as possible considering how bad you wanted to laugh, “That’s what I do when we don’t have leads, I try every possible outcome and make you smile every once in a while. Because we’re a team”.

Aaron shook his head, his smile a bit more apparent than before, “A team, indeed”.

“I hope we make a good one”.

You cringed visibly at Kate Joyner’s British accent, not failing to notice how Aaron immediately moved to look at her, a smile creeping up on his lips immediately as he met her eyes — and you felt your heart break even more at the realization that it was the same smile he always gave you.

“They liaised at Scotland Yard”, Emily had teased when you arrived, JJ gasping at the mischievous tone on her friend’s voice. You wondered if any of them noticed how your face fell by the minute, your eyes unable to match any of theirs, heart thumping against your chest because you had noticed how Aaron had looked at Kate.

He wanted her.

In a way he clearly had never — and probably would never — want you.

“Hotchner” you looked up immediately at his serious tone, furrowing your brows as you paid close attention at his words. You saw, with the corner of your eyes, when Derek and Rossi moved closer to the three of you, their faces as serious as Hotch’s, “Does it look like he could be one of our guys?”.

“What’s going on?” Derek asked, his eyes following Hotch’s every move.

“We’ve got eyes on one of them” Aaron replied quickly, and for a second you hoped they’d be somewhere you could get them, that maybe this hell would be over in the next hour, maybe you were remotely close… “He’s on the subway platform at 59th and Lex”.

Your heart stopped beating at that moment, your breath immediately caught on your throat as you turned to face Kate, “We could be there” you muttered, your voice nothing more than an accusing whisper, “If we’d followed Derek’s plan, we could be there”.

“No, we should be there!” Derek retorted, his voice pulling out the anger you’ve managed to keep away from your words, and if your message hadn’t been clearly delivered to Kate, Derek’s had been — it was her fault.

“He’s got a gun” Garcia announced on the other side of the line, her voice wavering slightly at the new information.

“What do we do?” you asked, eyes moving past Kate to meet Hotch’s, “What are we supposed to do?”.

Aaron didn’t have time to reply before Garcia’s voice came through once more, “He shot her”.

God.

“Where the hell are the police?”, Kate’s voice was nervous when she next spoke, walking past you as if you weren’t there, her eyes not daring to meet yours, even if you knew that she didn’t care about the rage you were displaying. She cared about nothing other than Aaron’s impression on her, “This is Kate Joyner with the FBI. We have a murder suspect, subway platform. 59th and Lex”.

“He’s getting away!” Garcia announced, her voice clearly anguished.

Your mind started to work, all the training you ever had in your life — both for the BAU and other Units — coming back to you on that second, drawing you to move closer to the phone, you’re voice commanding, “Garcia, can you get eyes on him above ground?”.

“He’s heading west on 59th Street”.

“If he makes it to the park, we’ve lost him” Kate pointed, clearly worried.

The point was, Kate’s worry meant nothing to you anymore. Not when she was responsible for that; not when her pride got over her job and caused you to lose the only lead you could’ve had.

“And whose fault is this, Joyner?” you asked, your voice as venomous as you could make it sound, both your hands holding tightly at the wooden surface of the desk you’ve been sitting at, “Because from where I see it, is yours”.

The silence between your small group was almost palpable, and you could hear how someone took a harsh breath, as if your words had been like a slap to their face. You didn’t turn to see who had had that reaction, though — you knew the team had a very tunneled vision of you, that the fact you rarely snapped at people made them think you weren’t as fierce as Prentiss, even though they knew you were way more able to stand your ground than Spencer, usually without being overly rude at the source of your dismay.

That wasn’t the case, not that day.

You heard Aaron calling your name, and if it were any other day, maybe you’d have drawn your eyes off Kate to look at him, but you knew if you did this now, you’d backtrack — and God knew you didn’t want to.

“We could’ve had this guy!” you spat, pointing at the phone, “We just had to follow along with Morgan’s plan, which was a good plan, but Ms. I’m-better-than-anyone couldn’t handle hearing that someone was better than her!”.

“That’s not what happened—”.

“Oh, isn’t it?” You cut her off immediately, licking your lips for a second as your eyes kept glued on hers. Not blinking, not faltering. For the first time since you joined the FBI, you allowed the anger to consume you, because it was personal for you.

The way she looked at Hotch was personal for you.

The way they kept their bodies close was personal for you.

The way he had immediately stopped reciprocating you and your feelings whenever she was close, was personal for you.

The way she had the man you loved under her spell was personal for you.

“Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved onto someone isolated” Kate retorted, her voice way calmer than yours.

“Maybe, but it was worthy a fucking shot!” you screamed, slapping your hands against the table, the sound calling the attention of the other Agents around, “Morgan said to put us at express stops. You wouldn’t need any new cop or to take the cops that are working from the streets, you just needed to assign us for this, and you decided not to, just because Morgan said so!”.

“It’s not your place to have this discussion”.

You were ready to spat back, maybe even to move closer to Kate and tell her that if she failed to do her job, then it was time someone else do it. But the voice that called you out wasn’t Kate’s.

You faltered, your voice suddenly getting caught on your throat as you turned to face Aaron, his eyes void of emotion as he looked at with you a grave expression, only one message written on his face: shut up, or you’ll see the consequences.

“My…” you stuttered, “My place?”.

“You need to back off” Aaron moved on, “We’re here to give the profile, that’s what we’ll do”.

“We have seven bodies, Aaron!” you said, but your voice had lost the strength it had when you were discussing with Kate, your anger turning into something way more painful. Painful for you, “Seven bodies. A woman was just killed on a subway platform because of her incompetence and you’re telling me to back off?”.

You hated how your voice broke on the last phrase, clear evidence that you were on the verge of tears. And you hated that he was a good enough profiler to see it, but he chose to ignore, because he was favoring her over you.

“You said it right, we have seven bodies” Aaron agreed, “Which is exactly why we need to stay focused”.

Derek snorted, drawing your attention back to him, “Pretty rich coming from the man who can’t stay focused on anything but her”.

As if it couldn���t hurt you more.

Aaron didn’t flinch, his eyes meeting Derek’s as he finished the almost inexistant space that separated the two of them, his voice low and passive — the tone he always used when talking with a suspect, “Take a walk. Now. You both”.

All you needed was for his eyes to meet yours for you to know you were done. With this case; with Kate Joyner; with Aaron.

“I’m out” you announced, messily grabbing your things and throwing them on your pockets, trying your best not to unravel then and there, where Kate could see how much she had affected you — how much their actions had affected you, “Out of this precinct. Out of this case”.

You walked past Aaron without sparing a glance at him, making a beeline towards the elevator. And for a second you thought about ignoring the way he called you, aware that you wouldn’t be able to look at him without the tears falling down your face, without you pouring your heart out to the man you ultimately loved, but that couldn’t reciprocate your feelings.

But you stopped, anyway. You stopped because a part of you hoped you’d see the man you’ve grown fond of in the past months; because you expected him to apologize, to say that you were right, or just say something… because if he didn’t, you might as well give up on him.

Ask me to stay, you pleaded, just ask me to stay.

“You can’t walk away from this case”.

You snorted at his cold words, and even with your back turned to him, you knew his face was still cold as stone, the Unit Chief, not your friend, “I can. And I will” you finally found it in yourself to turn and face him, the first tears falling down your face, “I’ll tell Strauss I couldn’t handle it, that it hit too close to home. Don’t worry, I’ll take the plane back to D.C tonight, I don’t want the jet and won’t make the Bureau pay for a bedroom for me. It won’t ruin your budget”.

“Why are you acting like that?” he asked, and you allowed yourself to bask on the way his own voice faltered, the way his closed demeanor changed at the sight of your tears, but it only lasted one second before you looked over his shoulders, finding Kate looking straight at you, clearly curious.

Suddenly there was no way you’d walk out without saying everything you needed to say.

“You really don’t know?” you questioned, “Okay, so I’ll tell you, Aaron” you made a pause, fidgeting with your necklace once again, trying to find the courage you needed to let it all out — everything and nothing at the same time, “I’m so in love with you, Aaron. I’ve been from the moment you started opening up to me. And to see you dismissing my opinion, acting like I’m nothing more than just an AIT who has no idea what she’s doing here, it hurts…” your voice was nothing but a mumbled hiss, the tears now staining your shirt, and you were unable to stop them, even when you violently wiped them away with the palm of your hand, “It hurts because I thought maybe… maybe you were feeling the same. Maybe you were opening up to me because you wanted me to be a part of your life, more than a friend, but a real partner… I thought we were a team, but I see I was wrong”.

You allowed yourself to look desperate, broken, out of place for one more second as you watched the way his demeanor changed as he processed every word you’ve said. You noticed with a heavy heart when it stopped, when he finally took in the meaning behind your words, and then…

Then you saw nothing.

And that only made your heart break even more.

“As I said, I was wrong” you repeated, pressing the elevator button violently, “I’m sorry, Agent Hotchner. I hope the case ends well. I’ll hand you my resignation once you’re back home”.

And without a word more, you left.

…

Prentiss called to let you know the case had ended only two days after you left — not that you wanted to know, but you had told Hotch you’d hand your resignation once he was back, so you were grateful she called. She didn’t ask if you were okay, because you clearly weren’t, and you were grateful for that, too (even if Derek and Penelope did call to know if you were feeling okay).

Aaron didn’t call.

He didn’t reach out.

Didn’t send a message or an email.

He was dead silent.

You had learnt from Derek that Kate Joyner had been killed on an explosion meant to hit her and Hotch, and that Morgan had driven him back to Quantico once Aaron was cleared from the hospital. He didn’t need to tell you, but you knew he had talked to Aaron (or either talked while Aaron listened) about what you said before leaving, about your feelings and how you were ready to resign because of the way he treated you; you also knew from his voice that he wanted you to ask what had been Hotch’s answer to their talk, but you didn’t want to know. Your heart was already too damaged to accept another blow.

It had been around the third day since the end of the case when someone knocked on your door. You had asked the team not to come over, not wanting them to see you on the state you were — hair disheveled, eyes puffy and red from crying —, and much less have to answer to questions you weren’t ready to answer; but you had been receiving a visit from your neighbor, Mr. Clark, who had caught you crying alone once and since then had been visiting you on the same hour everyday to make sure you were doing okay.

He was also helping you look for new jobs, even if he was trying to convince you to do something less dangerous than working for the FBI. It wasn’t working.

“Hello, Mr.—” you cut yourself off immediately when your eyes met the newcomer, your lips slightly parted as you took in his image, “Agent Hotchner?”.

You noticed how he flinched at your words, moving slightly back as if you had shot him straight on the heart, and not just called him by his title. Still, Aaron tried to keep himself perfectly composed (as always), one hand hiding something on his back as he fidgets with his fingers with the other.

If you hadn’t spent the past weeks crying over him, you’d have found it adorable.

“What are you doing here?” you asked sharply, your eyes scanning him one more time before you stopped to find his eyes, almost losing yourself on their brown — almost green, depending on the light — immensity.

“I wanted to talk to you” Aaron replied, rolling his eyes at the notice of how obvious his words were, “I wanted to apologize”.

You tilted your head to the side, your body clearly blocking his way inside your apartment — something you’ve never done before, “Okay. Done. You can go now”.

Your words were harsher than they’ve always been, void and certain, mostly because you knew you still loved him, and that if he asked to go inside, you’d allow. You’d buy anything he said in order to feed the fantasy of you two being more than friends, of the possibility of you being what you wanted you to be.

“Can we talk?” Aaron pleaded, taking a step towards you, “Please”.

“Why? So you can ignore everything I said at the precinct and cry over Kate’s death?” you spat out, and maybe you shouldn’t have talked about someone’s death with the coldness you’ve done, but you were honestly tired of Aaron and his bullshit, “I offered myself to help you, Aaron, because I knew you were suffering over your divorce. And if for some miracle Haley and you decided to go back together and try again, I’d swallow my feelings and let my heart break as I watch you and her trying to rebuild what you had, because I know how much you suffered over losing her. How much you miss being Jack’s father everyday…” you raised one finger, pointing directly at Aaron’s heart — the heart you still loved more than everything, “But I’m not stupid. I won’t let you step on my feeling to cry over another woman after I’ve told you how I feel, after I’ve pathetically confessed my love to you. I’m worthy more than that, Aaron! I deserve more than someone who only needs me when they’re emotionally vulnerable. I deserve to be loved, Aaron!”.

Aaron was silent for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as he observed the first tears rolling down. You thought he wouldn’t say anything, that maybe he’d only move away as you told him to, but he didn’t.

He took a step towards you, using his free hand to clear your tears, “I know” Aaron whispered, licking his lips, “And I should’ve thought about it, about your feelings, before putting mine on top of them. And I apologize, even if I know it’s not enough”.

No, it wasn’t. Because merely apologizing wouldn’t erase the memory of him observing as you poured your heart out and dismissing it on behalf of another woman. It wouldn’t erase the comments, and how he belittled you. It wouldn’t erase the pain you’ve felt on the plane back, or how pathetic Erin Strauss made you feel for abandoning the field over personal problems.

“I didn’t notice you were in love with me because I was trying to brush past the fact that I had fallen in love with you, of how inappropriate it would look like for Strauss, of how it could jeopardize your career…” Aaron cleared his throat, looking at the ground, “And how bad I felt over the fact that you were trying to help me with my marital problems, and I was too busy noticing how beautiful your smile is. I didn’t believe it was right for me to fall in love with you, because I didn’t deserve someone as pure as you”.

You remained silent; your arms crossed in front of your body. You knew there was something else he wanted to say, so you allowed him to.

“I imagine you heard someone talking about how… how much Kate looked like Haley”.

You snorted bitterly, and that seemed to attract his attention back to you, “Everyone. Even I thought that when I saw her”.

Aaron nodded slowly, this time his eyes didn’t move from yours, “When I saw her, all I could see was Haley. And I tried to convince myself that the fact I was shaken by that meant that I was still in love with Haley, and that I didn’t have to worry about my feelings for you, that I wouldn’t mess up our friendship because there weren’t feelings between us… but whenever I looked your way, or talked to you, I’d feel my heartbeat faster. And when I looked at Kate, I felt… empty. As if I was staring at an old ghost” he confessed, and you could see on his demeanor how confessing that pained him — either because he was confessing in a way that he wasn’t in love with Haley anymore, or because he felt bad speaking ill of the dead, you weren’t sure, “So I tried to force myself into find that old spark, the way I felt for Haley, something that would prove to me that I wasn’t in love with you, but I failed. And I failed you in the meantime”.

You took a sharp breath, hating yourself for the way you started to play with your necklace, “Where does it put us, Aaron?” you asked painfully, “Because I won’t go through that again”.

Aaron took his hand off his back, showing you the small Tifanny box he had been hiding, your breath getting immediately caught on your throat as you reached for the object hesitantly, “I’m not proposing to you” he clarified at the look on your face, “I couldn’t, not after just getting divorced… and I also can’t be in a relationship with you, now. I want to, but I need to settle things with Jack before I bring someone knew into my life, and I need to prove to you that I mean it when I say I love you”.

“Aaron…” you whispered, opening up the lid to reveal a golden lock pendant, one that you knew all too well — one you had nonchalantly commented with Aaron you wanted, but thought nothing of it, believing he hadn’t paid any mind at your words. He had, “I can’t… I can’t accept it, I—”.

“I’m not trying to buy your forgiveness, I’m not stupid to think you’d accept a gift in exchange of it” he cut you off, “But I want you to keep it as a promise that I’ll try to make it up to you every day, until you can forgive me. And that I’ll wait for you ‘til my last breath, if needed”.

You looked up at Aaron, nodding slowly.

You knew by the look on his face that you’d be the one leading them from that moment on, that if you wanted to just get the necklace and tell him to go, he’d go without missing a heartbeat. But you didn’t want it. Aaron was willing to try, to win your forgiveness and to respect your feelings in a way he hadn’t before.

“We’re a team” you muttered under your breath, opening up a smile.

So maybe you owed it to yourself to try, too.

Aaron gave you a similar smile, nodding, “We’re a team. The best team”.

And as you took a step to the side, inviting Aaron to enter your apartment, you knew you had already forgiven him.

Thank you for the request ✨