#a cup of coffee to warm my icy heart

[goosita]

young!politician!snow enjoys making you squirm, knowing how easy it is to get reactions out of you

it’s so easy for him to throw you off balance, to surprise you at every turn. ever since the night he drove you home, with his hand resting so warm and heavy on your thigh, you’ve barely been able to focus at work. every time your mind starts to wander, it ends up settling and fixating on the same thing; him.

you wonder if he can sense it, if he can feel your eyes trailing over every inch of him when he breezes out of his office for another coffee break. your gaze lingers on his broad shoulders when his back is turned, or on his pretty profile when he’s looking the other way. you try not to let it be obvious, politely averting your eyes when he spins to face you again or return to his office.

it’s been several days since the night you let him drop you off at your apartment, and coriolanus takes up about 98% of your thoughts. he’s on his third cup of black coffee for the day when he pauses and turns to face you, speaking up.

“do you have plans for this evening, miss y/n?” he asks, smiling kindly at you. you’re not sure what to say, caught off guard by his question.

“nothing other than melting into my couch with a book, sir,” you answer honestly. your heart kicks up in pace at his question, wondering why he’d want to know.

“well, you do now.”

you blink and furrow your brows, looking at him unsure. you can tell he’s a little frazzled today, hair slightly out of place from running his hand through it several times. he takes a long sip of his coffee and sighs.

“i have to go to a gala tonight, something they only just told me now at the last minute,” he explains, looking down into his cup. “of course, i’ll need a date.”

you stare at him, not sure if the world is playing some sick joke on you or not. coriolanus lifts his eyes and stares right back at you, waiting for you to say something.

“…..me?”

it comes out as a pathetic squeak, but he doesn’t point it out. he simply nods, icy gazs still boring into you while you scramble for an answer.

“uhm. y-yeah, yeah okay,” you stutter, feeling small under his stare. he gives you an easy smile then, his whole demeanor seemingly going more lax.

“excellent. finish whatever you’re working on and log off for the day, we have time find you a dress.”

dress shopping with coriolanus snow is something you never thought would ever happen, yet here you are. he had slid you into your coat at the door after you’d logged off your computer, whisking you down to his car which he again drove himself. as you’d opened your mouth to say you didn’t really have money for a new dress, he’d cut you off easily, telling you that if he was the one to drag you to this gala, the least he could do was pay for your outfit.

now, you stood in front of a wall of mirrors in a green silk gown that hugged your body in all of the right ways. it fell to the floor, but bared your shoulders and arms. coriolanus walked in a slow circle around you, scanning every inch of your body carefully. he stopped then and nodded at one of the fitting room attendants, who brought him a black velvet box. inside, a white diamond necklace sat with a single, small pendant. a snowflake.

you tried as hard as you could not to shiver when coriolanus stepped behind you, carefully moving your hair to clasp the necklace around your throat. you could feel his breath on the back of your neck and you kept your eyes down, almost afraid to catch his gaze in the mirror.

“beautiful,” he whispered, so soft that you were certain that you were the only person who heard it. his fingertips slowly trailed down your spine and it was impossible not to shudder.

“look at yourself,” he said quietly, reaching around to your front, lifting your chin. you looked over your reflection, tilting your head to the side. he was right; the dress was absolutely stunning, the pendant resting on your sternum sparkly but understated, tasteful.

“its lovely, coryo,” you said, finally meeting his eyes in the mirror. his plush lips stretched into a dazzling smile, clearly pleased at your use of his nickname.

“yes, you are.”

you didn’t notice as the fitting room attendants all exited, leaving you alone with coriolanus in the secluded dressing room. his hand traveled down from your chin to your shoulder, fingertips brushing down your arm before taking your own hand in his. he smiled again and led you over to a seat, gesturing for you to sit.

coriolanus grabbed a box and lifted it open, revealing a pair of silver heels that looked more expensive than a year’s worth of your rent. and then, he did something you would never imagine.

coriolanus snow kneeled before you.

you stopped yourself from inhaling sharply at the surprise, at the image of who everyone knew to be the eventual future president of Panem, dropping to his knees at your feet. he carefully lifted the hem of your dress, just enough to wrap a hand around your ankle and place your foot in his lap. then, he picked up one shoe and slit it on, taking extra care to clasp the strap around your ankle. his eyes lifted to yours, gazing up at you almost reverently as he stroked over the bone on the inside of your ankle. he held your stare for a long moment before repeating the action on your other foot.

“coriola—“

he cut you off as he rose to his feet again, taking your hand and pulling you up.

“do they fit alright?” he asked, breaking the intimate bubble he had created a moment ago. you nodded, swallowing hard.

“yes,” you breathed, searching his eyes curiously. what was he playing at here? what was he thinking?

“perfect. i suspect it’ll be a lovely evening, hm?”

[hanniebaeee]

Unexpectedly Yours

Chris Bang x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff

Summary: You and your friends are on a holiday at a ski resort and you meet a certain Kpop idol, who sweeps you off your feet.

a/n: I just need to be delulu for some time. Forgive me for the errors, I wasn't at my best 😭

You loved winter. The snow, the ice crunching under your feet, the chilly blasts of wind - it was all good. But you were evaluating all your life choices as you sat shivering, even though you were bundled up.

The snow-capped peaks of the mountain resort gleamed under the winter sun, a picturesque setting for a perfect holiday. You  were here with your best friends Lisa and Jennie, seeking a much-needed break from your busy lives. Nestled in the heart of the mountains, the resort's cozy log cabins,  sparkling ice rink, and it's rustic charm had stolen your heart.

But even as you sat in it's quaint cafe, surrounded by the warm aroma of hot cocoa and freshly baked pastries, you felt yourself shiver. Lisa placed a cup in front of you and said, 'Darling, what did you really expect from a ski resort? It's supposed to be cold here.'

'I'm fine, ok? Just a little cold, I'll get over it.' You mutter, taking the cup in your hands.

'Do you realize that you haven't moved from that chair in almost an hour?' Jennie teased.

Shooting them both a glare, you look away. And just to prove that you weren't as weak as they thought, you step out again. The icy wind had you pulling your scarf and woolen hat closer to your face.

You scan the area, seeing crowds of tourists getting ready to ski. That's when your eyes land on a group of men, all dressed in top notch gear and looking like the leads of a movie. They were talking and laughing, and it was a nice sight to behold. One guy in particular caught your attention - he was so breathtakingly handsome, with a beanie pulled low over his ears and a beautiful smile. He looked so familiar, but you just couldn’t quite place him.

Jennie and Lisa returned with the skiing gear. You didn't know how to ski, so you were skeptical about the whole. But they had already decided to drag you out and teach you, so here you were. You felt like a clown as your legs wobbled and you begged them to let you go. And after some twenty long minutes, you were moving.

But as fate would have it, your trip and tumble into the snow. All you could see were some feet, and you just wanted to die. You found a hand appear in front of you and you then a face.

It was that guy from before. He was crouching in front of you, holding out a helping hand. Blushing, you take his hand and let him pull you up.

'Are you okay?' he asked, giving you a soft smile. His voice.

You nod awkwardly, brushing snow off your jacket.

'I’m fine. Thanks.' You mumble, and look at him with a small smile.

'No problem. I’m Chris,' he said with a grin, offering his hand.

You try to place his accent. It was absolutely sexy and Australian?

'I’m Y/N,' you reply, shaking his hand. His touch sent a pleasant shiver up your spine, and you take a step back.

'Nice to meet you, Y/N.' He said, his tone playful and his smile widening.

Your friends were at your side suddenly, apolozing. And Chris watched in amusement as they fussed over you like you were five.

'Stop it! I'm ok.' You said, blushing deeper now. 'I'm sorry. These are my friend, Lisa and Jennie. This is Chris.'

They all say hi and he calls his friends over, and after introductions, you go your separate ways.

Over the weekend, you and Chris kept running into each other. Though the first couple of times it was just plain awkward, you started joking about how you keep meeting each other all the time.

'Lets go grab a coffee, if you're free that is. I think the universe wants us to.' Chris laughs and you nod a quick yes, following him to the cafe. You sit opposite to him and you're smiling like idiots, not really sure what was happening. And then you get talking - you spent hours at the cafe, just having a good time.

It was dark when you both walk back to your cabins. The stars were shining brightly above, and you both gaze at them, wonderstruck.

'This was great, Y/N. I don't think I've had this much fun just talking to someone. It feels like we’ve known each other forever.' He said, his cute smile going right into your heart.

'I feel the same way, Chris.' You blush. 'I've had the best time.'

Chris smiled again, and then took your hand in his, squeezing it gently. You could see that he wanted to say something more, but he was holding back.

'Everything ok?' You ask, a tinge of worry sneaking in.

Chris nods and says, 'Yeah. Yeah, all good. We have a couple more days before we leave. Let's make the most of it, yeah? We can do something together? Make some plans with all our friends or something?'

Your eyes sparkle as you nod.

'I would love that.' You said, feeling a warmth spreading inside you.

'See you in the morning, then.' Chris said, squeezing your hand again. 'Good night, Y/N.'

'Good night, Chris.' You say and wait for him to let go of your hand.

Jennie and Lisa are on top of you as you walk into the cabin, bombarding you with a hundred questions.

'Oh my God, Y/N. He's so fucking HOT.' Lisa squealed. 'How did you -'

'We just had coffee and talked, ok? Just a friendly coffee. Nothing else.' You said, swatting Lisa away. 'He is hot though.'

'Damn right, he is.' Jennie added, smirking.

Chris held your hand, skating backwards slowly, as you tried to move forward. He was laughing playfully at how scared you were and you tug at his hand to make him stop. But you both end up losing your balance and fall on the ice, a giggly mess.

Building snowmen and having snowball fights - you had the best time doing the silliest things with Chris and his friends. Even Lisa and Jennie seemed to be enjoying it a lot.

The day ended with dinner at the resort’s restaurant. You all sat around a big table, indulging in steaming bowls of ramen and yummy honey cakes for dessert. Your heart gripped painfully even as you sat among this noisy group. Chris would be leaving the day after. Just one more day with him, before he would be returning to Seoul.

Jennie noticed your glum expression first from across the table. She caught your before giving you a worried look. You just smile and shake your head, but your best friend knew you better. Late that night, you both sat talking.

'Y/N, I know you think this is silly, but sometimes this is how things happen. You don't have to tell Chris anything now. Take his number or something. Keep in touch. See where it goes.'

'I don't know, Jen. I mean I know him for what, two days? I'm sure he is just being friendly.'

'So what? Is being friends so bad?' Jennie asked.

'I don't know.' You mumble with a pout.

You try to smile and have a good time the next day. You knew you were being silly weeping over a man you hardly knew, but that's just how you felt. Chris lingered close most of the time, before finally sighing and saying, 'Meet me at the hot tub tonight?'

'Hm?' You give him a wide eyed look.

'I want to talk. Just us.' He said. 'Please?'

'Ok.' You reply, nodding.

'9:30 sound good?' He asked.

'Yeah.'

At 9:30 pm, you find Chris already in the hot tub, and you shiver through the steam rising around you. He smiled and held his hand out to you, beckoning you over. You wondered why the hot tub was so mysteriously empty, when the resort was so busy.

You quickly get in and settle down beside him, shoulders brushing.

'You wanted to talk?' You ask, looking at Chris. He turns to face you and you see uncertainty in his eyes. Like he was debating whether this was a good idea or not. You were a bit disheartened by it, but you held on, just because you really like this guy.

'Y/N, before anything, there’s something I should tell you.' Chris said, softly. 'I'm terrified, but, I really really like you and I-'

Your heart skipped a beat.

'Chris, it's ok. Talk to me.' You said, encouraging him to speak.

'I'm part of a K-pop band, and we’re pretty well-known in Seoul. And in other parts of the world. You know...um...' Chris blushed and looked away quickly as if embarrassed. 'I don't know if you really don't know me or if you're just pretending... 'Coz Jennie sure as fuck knows-'

You stare at him, and now that you see him so close and clear, you're sure you've seen that face before.

'Jennie knows?!' You ask, and you look so scandalized, Chris chuckled.

'She does.' He said, nodding. 'She threatened me actually, that if I ever played with your feelings, she would leak our pictures online and you know, oh my God, she's so scary I nearly cried.'

You're staring him with an open mouth.

'I don't know if I should be sorry or proud.' You said with a nervous laugh. 'I'm so sorry, Chris. I'm not into Kpop... shit, I didn't mean to insult you, I mean living with Jen, it's a part of my life, bit I haven't really seen anything-'

'Y/N, it's ok. This is perfect.' Chris said, laughing. 'Its just perfect.'

'Oh my God.' You were starting to panic a bit. 'So you're famous. You're a celebrity? Great.'

'Hey hey, I'm just Chris.' He shrugged.

'Wow - rich, famous and modest.' You joke, making him laugh more. 'So, do you go by Chris or, do you have a Korean name or something?'

'Mhm...Bang Chan. Most of the time.' He replied, nodding, and you draw in a breath.

'Have definitely heard that name before. Yes, Stray Kids.' You cover your face with your hands. 'I'm so embarrassed, Chris. I'm so sorry.'

He just put his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

'You're so cute, Y/N. You're killing me.' Chris mumbled, hugging you tight.

It's so strange that you feel completely at ease in his arms.

'I'll miss you when you go back to Seoul.' You mumble against his chest, putting your arms around him.

Chris sighed, holding you tighter.

'I’ll miss you too, darling. But we’ll keep in touch, right? Calls, texts, anything.' He said, and you feel him place a soft kiss on top of your head.

You couldn't stop the tears from falling as you watched him loading the cab with his things. You sniff and clear your throat, trying to look as normal as you could.

'Yahh, don't be sad, you can always keep in touch.' His friend Minho said with a smile.

'And you can visit us anytime.' Felix added, ruffling your hair fondly. 'Don't cry, sweetheart.'

Chris pulls you into a hug and then as if he was losing his resolve, sighs before taking your hand and pulling you into the building. Pressing you against the wall, he leans close and says, 'Promise me you’ll visit me in Seoul. Tell me, this is not the end.'

You look up at him, tears threatening to spill.

'I promise.'

The next thing you knew, kissing you. His lips are soft, yet demanding and you just pull him as close to you as you could. When he lets go, your breaths mingle, coming out in white puffs in the cold

'I’ll be waiting.' He whispered and you smiled, kissing his cheek.

Your heart hurts as you watch him go, but your friends hug you and you're all laughing as they wiggle their eyebrows at you. You leave for home the next day and fall into your own routines.

You spoke over video calls and texted all the time, so you were quite content. Though you hadn't made anything official, the way he treated you and flirted with you made you feel nothing less. A few months into this, Chris had started asking you to plan a visit to Seoul. You were conflicted because you weren't sure if you could afford such a trip. And everything that came with it. You had been saving up ever since you got back, but you were still unsure.

'Please, Y/N. Come see me, I miss you so much!' Chris whined. 'I want to show you my world.'

'I will, Chris. I just need some time,' you would reply, your heart aching to be with him.

You saw that they were having a comeback soon and they were having so many concerts lined up. This felt like a good time to finally plan something. You brought this up with Jennie and Lisa, asking if they wanted to go with you. Jennie was screaming a big yes, but Lisa apologized and said that she couldn't.

So you and Jennie start planning. Tickets were booked - both flight and concert ones. Then you speak with Minho and Felix to plan a surprise for Chris. You were so excited, but nervous at the same time. This was so new to you, it was overwhelming.

The concert hall was packed with screaming fans and the energy, electrifying. You were sweating and in awe as you watched Chris perform. He was mesmerizing on stage, not to mention, hot. Jennie was screaming beside you, way too excited to be here, and her energy was infectious - you had the best time.

After the concert, you made your way backstage, heart pounding. You meet Minho, who hugs you and takes your hand, leading you in. You could hear Chris's voice, as he told the boys how well they did. Felix saw you and flashed you a grin before looking back at Chris. The rest of the members too glance at you, smiling and waving. Chris turned around with a frown on his face and he froze as he saw you.

He was sweating so much, he was literally drowning in it. Yet, he looked just so beautiful, you wanted to cry. You stare at each other, a lot of emotions crashing in. Chris's expression went from disbelief to pure joy in just seconds.

'No way!!' He rushed to you, pulling you into a tight embrace. 'You came! You came!'

'I promised, didn't I?' You whispered, tears stinging your eyes.

He pulled back to cup your face in his hands and then he kissed you. Right in front of everyone. His friends laughed, screaming at you two to take it elsewhere. Laughing, he took your hand and pulled you into his dressing room. The moment the door closed, his lips were on yours again, urgent but tender.

'You have no idea how much I've dreamed of this, baby. You've made my day. Oh my God, I can't believe you're here.'

'Fuck, if I don't get you home right now, I'll just fuck you here.' He growled, standing up quickly and making his way out to call out to Minho. They speak in hushed voices before he takes your hand again. He takes you to his dorm, and he asks you a hundred times if he could fuck you before you just kiss him silent and then he makes love to you.

You end up on the couch, on his lap as he kissed you more. He was so warm after all the dancing, but still seemed to have enough energy for you. His lips left wet kisses on your neck and chest.

He was so shy and giggly, you wouldn't have thought Chris would be like that. Hell, he was even more shy than you were. You lay in each other's arms, kissing very late into the night, just elated that you were finally together again.

Over the next few days, Chris shows you around Seoul whenever he was free. You knew this was a very busy time for him, but he wanted to do everything he could. Most of the time, you just went out to eat and then came back home to make love because he was already crying over the fact that you had to go back home.

Your favorite spot was a cute little cafe near his dorm, where you would go late at night for some snacks. His friends loved you and Jennie so much that sometimes he had to wrestle you out of their company for some alone time.

The day before you had to leave, Chris took to a beautiful view point from where you could see the entire city.

'Baby, I don’t want us to be apart anymore. I mean, it was doable before you came, but I don't think I can anymore. I want you here with me. I know it's a lot to ask, and you take all the time you want to think. But I really really want you to move here, with me.'

You are dumbstruck for a moment. Moving to your current city from home had been hard. And to move your entire life to Seoul? You see the hope and love in Chris's eyes and sigh. You didn't want to spend a minute away from him. But you were so scared.

'I'll think about it.' You hear yourself say.

'I love you, Y/N. And I want to be with you. I want you to be my girlfriend. I want you to be my partner.' Chris said, kissing your cheek.

Your heart soar as you say, 'I love you too, Chris, and I want you. I want to be girlfriend.'

You're so happy, you pull him into a tight hug. You kissed under the stars, feeling happy and anxious all at the same time. You were crazy about him, and for now, all you could think of was making this work.

Chris couldn't stop hugging you as you stood in front of the departures gate at the airport. Jennie watched with a little smile on her face as the idol kissed her best friend way too many times.

'Call me as soon as you land. I'll miss you, baby.' Chris mumblee against your hair, and you hum in response, holding on to him.

'I'll come, yeah? Don't worry. I love you, bub.' Chris kissed you one more time before Jennie grabbed you and led you way.

Chris smiled as he watched you go. He knew this was good. He had never been this sure about anything else in his life.

[strljaem]

“let’s see what we have at home”

lol idk how to feel about this one. 🧍🏻

💿 : make you mine, madison beer

The morning started like any other, with meetings and emails piling up, and my usual cup of coffee not doing much to quell the rising tide of anxiety. The company was growing, deadlines were tight, and I had a department to manage. But the real pressure came from knowing that Jaemin, my husband, was the CEO, and we had to keep our relationship under wraps.

No one knew we were married. To everyone at work, Jaemin was the stoic, intimidating CEO with a penchant for precision and results. His sleek suits, usually charcoal or navy blue, fit him perfectly. The jet-black hair styled in a slick-back comma always seemed to catch the light at just the right angle, making him look every bit the powerful executive. His eyes, though often icy and serious in meetings, held a warmth that only I knew.

That morning, I was heading to the 18th floor, where my office was located, and had a stack of important files in my arms. The elevator was crowded when the doors opened, but I noticed him immediately. Jaemin stood at the back, his broad shoulders filling out the suit jacket, his height towering over everyone else. His gaze was intense, fixed on me as if he were trying to say something without words. Then, as if realizing he was staring, he blinked and looked away, pretending to focus on his phone.

I stepped into the elevator, squeezing into the small space available. The mixed scent of cologne and perfume filled the air, and the hum of conversation died down as the doors closed. I was grateful for the space, but I couldn't help feeling the nervous energy coursing through me. My legs felt weak, my palms dampening with sweat.

When the elevator dinged at the 10th floor, most of the people stepped out, leaving only me and Jaemin. The doors closed, and the silence was deafening. I was standing with my back to him, clutching the files like they were a lifeline. The air felt charged, like a storm was brewing. I fidgeted with the edges of the papers, trying to calm my racing heart.

Suddenly, I felt a hand reach around and grab mine. It was swift and gentle, but it caught me off guard, and I stumbled backward. My head landed squarely on his muscular chest. I looked up, my breath hitching as I saw his eyes. They were warm, a complete contrast to the icy glare he usually wore. He smiled down at me and softly said, "Hi."

"Hi," I replied, my voice almost a whisper. His arm was still around me, holding me steady.

Then he leaned in and kissed me. It started gentle, as if he was afraid to break the spell, but then it grew firm, passionate. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, my entire body tingling. I laughed in the middle of the kiss, pulling away and gasping for air. I lightly smacked his arm. "Later, at home."

Jaemin smirked. "Let's see what we have at home," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Jaemin released me and stepped out like nothing happened, his professional mask firmly in place. I was left standing there, flustered and trying to catch my breath. It took me a moment to realize I'd missed my floor.

[po11yannaswife]

𝑃ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ 𝑀𝑒 ˖⋆࿐໋⠀

𖹭𝐶𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑙 𝐴𝑖𝑟𝑑 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟𖹭

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠; 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦, 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡.

𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋. The sound of the radio rang in your ears, staring out through the window as snow poured down onto the ground, growing silently. The only light was the sun barely peeking through the windows, and the soft dim glow of the lamps that were scattered throughout the room.

Biting your lip, you knew you two couldn’t get to travelling today. It was too dangerous, with how icy the roads were, and how with the snow, you couldn’t even see a few miles ahead. 

“Darling?” Carol’s voice echoed from behind you, her blonde hair in it’s usual somehow always perfect state, red lipstick painted over her lips, and one of the many outfits that you could only dream of affording. You smiled softly at her with your eyebrows raised. “I’m hoping you aren’t thinking we’re driving today, because if so, I have some bad news.”

Shaking your head, you wrapped your hands around your warm mug tighter, “Do you take me for clueless?”

Carol had faintly grinned, stepping closer towards you. Her hand had placed itself on the small of your back, taking the cup of coffee from your hand and taking a sip as you stared at her, watching as she winced. “Too sweet for me.”

“That’s because I made it to my taste,” You gently took the mug from her hands, now her gaze on you, watching as you sipped opposite to where her lipstick had been printed on the ridge of the mug. “Your coffee is on the nightstand, plain black.” 

Carol raised her eyebrows, turning to see the mug, humming. Her hand landed on your shoulder, her red nails squeezing the skin and her lips pressing onto your cheek. “An angel you are.”

You hummed, leaning into the light peck she had given you before letting go, getting her coffee. “Do you know when the snow is supposed to stop?”

“They said late tonight,” You answered, eyes still fixed out the window, “We’d have to wait until the roads clear, so I’m thinking we most likely won’t even be able to leave until tomorrow afternoon, or even night.”

“..Why don’t we make the best of it, darling?”

Her words caught your attention immediately, causing you to turn around. “I’m intrigued.” Carol grinned in response, picking up the camera she had newly gifted you from the luggage.

“Maybe you can take some photographs of us outside, you know, get some practice..put the camera to good use.” The older woman suggested, her red nails lightly scratching the textured metal. She raised the camera up to you, smiling as she clicked the button to take a photo of you. “Perfect.”

“That one definitely was not.” You spoke gently to her, taking the camera from her hands and looking at it. “Get your extravagant coat on, let’s have a little fun.”

She immediately complied, turning around swiftly and taking her coat off the hanger. You got your own on, following Carol out the door.

A not-so-delightful shudder ran down your spine as you stepped outside, the cold harsh and the wind strong. Carol, being in her fur coat, wasn’t as affected as you, taking a step further into the snow with a faint smile on her lips. She faced your way to look at you, “Come on, you agreed, darling.”

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to step closer to Carol, raising the camera lens to your eye, your heart at least warming as you clicked the camera, watching in admiration as Carol spun around in the snow. The snowflakes surrounding her made her look like some sort of princess. She gazed right into the camera now, her icy eyes captured with a click, bringing the camera down from your face after probably getting a dozen photos. You took a minute to admire her, snowflakes in her golden hair, a faint blush on her cheeks from the chilling air, and her eyes, directly on you, the luckiest girl in the world.

“Staring is considered rude in most places, you know.” She teased, prying the camera from your hands. “Your turn, sweetheart, before you freeze.” She glanced around her, murmuring,  “And before the other guests think we’re insane.”

Carol laughed pitifully as she watched you smile awkwardly, like a child standing for a picture on the first day of school. You were too cold, your arms wrapped around yourself and your face scrunched. “I’m freezing, Carol!”

Carol clicked the camera as you stared at her, waiting for her to end your suffering as you stood in the snow, your breath coming out in visible huffs. “Give me a little twirl, now.” She ordered softly, using her pointer finger to mimic the action.

Complying, you twirled yourself in the snow, hearing the snow crunch beneath your shoes, and hearing the faint clicking of the camera. You began to step towards her after twirling once. “Alright, I think we-”

You presumed the universe didn’t want the photoshoot to end, as you tripped over the snow and the ice below it, falling back into the snow with a yelp and a plop into it. Carol had to attempt to stifle her laugh, her hand slapping against her mouth. “Oh!”

 “I swear to god!”

Carol stepped over to you quickly, camera still in hand. “Are you alright?” Her voice was deep, but you could tell she was trying her best not to smile or laugh at the event. You couldn’t lie, a giggle slipped from your lips. She didn’t hesitate to lift the camera up once she saw you were okay, snapping a picture of you, laying in the snow pathetically with a grim expression. “Come on, sweet thing.”

As her hand reached out, you could hear another click, your eyes rolling. “I’m not in my best state right now, these pictures are going to come out horrible.” She pulled you up, wrapping her hand around your shoulders and held you close. “That had to have been utterly unattractive, falling on my arse in the snow.”

Carol gave herself the permission to laugh now, opening the door to your room while pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Oh, shush, you.”

You sighed happily at the warmer space, putting your wet coat on a hanger and hoping it’d dry up by the next morning. Nonetheless, you were still soaked, sighing deeply in frustration at the feeling of the damp clothes on your body. “I’m going to-” Carol cut you off when she heard your tone, coming from behind.

“None of that,” She cooed, her body facing you now as she took charge of getting you put together again. Her fingers slowly unbuttoned the buttons to your blouse, the tips of her fingers grazing the exposed skin as she got lower and lower. “You get frustrated so easily, sweetheart.”

Only being able to hum, your breathing quickened on it’s own as she unbuttoned the last one, and her eyes skimmed your torso, taking her time to land right back on your eyes. You could see her hesitation as her nimble fingers traced back up your stomach, running over the lace of your bra, and up to your shoulders, hesitating to push off the fabric covering your torso.

Your shaky hands reached up to hers, gently guiding the blouse off your shoulders with her hands, giving her silent permission with a glint of desire in your eyes, matching hers.

“Beautiful,” The older woman mumbled before tracing her cold hands up your neck, and to your cheeks, holding your face as she pressed her lips to yours, gently kissing you as she lead you to the bed behind you both, your knees buckling as the bed came into contact with the backs of your legs. Carol had pushed you further onto the bed so your head was propped onto the pillows as she hovered herself over you, reattaching her lips to your own. The kiss was more passionate now, her tongue swiping your bottom lip for permission. You parted your lips immediately, your hand resting on her cheek as your breathing sped up, feeling her hand begin to unzip your skirt.

Carol’s hand slipped under your body, pushing your body up slightly so she could slip the skirt off effortlessly. She could’ve asked you to simply lift your hips, but to stop kissing you was a harder task, at the moment. You were addictive, a drug to her that was worth the risk of being caught. The way you breathed heavily against her and your hands roamed her hair and face, the way her name fell softly from your swollen lips, like a gentle prayer.

She began to kiss your jawline softly before trailing down to your neck, leaving hot opened mouth kisses as her red nails scraped softly against the skin, eliciting a soft gasp from you. Her hand moved lower, and lower down your body, smirking slightly as she felt your legs part more so for her touch. 

The woman retreated slightly to move her blonde hair out of the way, gazing at you adoringly as her fingers traced over the lace of your underwear, watching you as she began to gently slide the fabric down your legs, her other hand still roaming your body, mostly your cheeks and collarbones.

No words needed to be exchanged as she heard you whimper softly for her touch, and Carol was not one to reject your silent pleads. Her fingertips finally touched your bundle of nerves, moving further down to collect your wetness and moving back up, circling around it once more. 

Carol saw as your eyes went half lidded and your breathing quickened, a soft moan eliciting from you. You closed your eyes, pulling her head forward to you and she didn’t hesitate to continue her soft kisses to your skin, her teeth grazing certain spots that made you gasp for her.

“Oh, Carol..” She sighed heavily against your skin in response, quickening her circles around your clit. Her mouth lightly latched around your tit and your back arched as you grasped tightly onto the pillow behind your head.

Carol cooed your soft moans, hoping no other guests would hear them, no matter how sweet and heavenly they were to her ears. She kissed your lips, “I know it feels good, sweetheart,” She kissed the corner of your mouth, her circles tighter now, and a burning sensation collecting between your thighs. You couldn’t help the slip of a more so high pitched moan escaping, which landed to Carol’s hand gently placing itself over your mouth, “Shh, I know, darling, I know. You’re doing so good.” Her eyes watched as your own gazed back at her, hazed with need and desperation for her. She was all that you had wanted, needed. You couldn’t help but always feel a flutter in your chest when you gazed at her, she was so…words couldn’t explain how beautiful Carol was. Especially when she was on top of you, whispering delicate words of praises that made you melt. “That’s a good girl, just keep looking at me.” Her hand tightened ever so slightly over your mouth, her voice low and gravelly.

When you began to flutter your eyes shut when your legs shook, Carol tutted, “No, no,” She slowed down her movements, “Look at me, please. Keep those pretty eyes open for me.”

You complied, opening your eyes up again, in which she quickened her movements once more. She felt as you whined against her hand, your breathing ultimately ragged and your hips starting to move against her hand. You threaded your fingers through her soft hair, your head tilting at her look. 

She leaned down to rest her head against yours, and your sounds became more frequent as you were on the edge of finishing for her. She moved her lips to your ear, gently nipping on the skin before whispering ever so seductively, “Let go for me, angel.”

As if your body listened to her every word, your back arched into her as your release washed over you. Her hand let go of your mouth and instantly replaced it with her own, kissing you passionately through your high. Your fingers tightened around her hair as she fell onto her side, swallowing every whimper and moan that came from you.

Carol’s hand grazed back up your body, retreating from your lips just for a moment, putting her fingers delicately against your lips, almost like an offering that you didn’t have to take. Yet, you did, with hazy eyes and a lazy movement, your mouth wrapped around her slender fingers, sucking your mess off of them while she looked at you, with such adoration and need, your heart panged. You licked one last stripe in between the two fingers, and she gently pulled the digits out of your mouth.

She slowly tucked a hair behind your ear, taking note of your flushed cheeks and trembling figure. “My angel.”

“All yours.” You breathed lightly, nuzzling into her hand as she stroked your cheekbone with her thumb. Carol gave a small smile, her red lipstick had almost stayed on perfectly, which had slightly shocked you, even though it was printed all over your neck. 

Pressing a long kiss to your lips, Carol brought the blanket around your figure, protecting you from any cold that was to hit you in a few moments. 

Carol paused and looked at the camera that was set on the dresser, looking back at you with a slightly mischievous look in her icy eyes. You knew what she was referring to almost instantly, biting your lip and gently nodding when she raised an eyebrow. “Photograph me.”

She elegantly stepped up from the bed, pulling the camera into her hands and getting the camera ready. She raised the camera up to her eye, smirking as you gazed right into the lens. Your were supporting yourself with your elbows, your hair messy and her lipstick all over your neck, your almost bare chest visible. All she knew was that, when the picture was processed, she was keeping it for herself. 

Carol put the camera back down on the nightstand, wrapping her arms back around you. And shutting her eyes for a few moments.

Lost in thought, you could feel an odd pit in your stomach, almost a dread or a paranoia that caused an unbearable and incurable nausea. You watched as Carol laid back next to you, studying her blue eyes and perfect features. Was this really all worth it?

One look at Carol Aird was all you needed to know.

[ryuyukawa]

─Warm Latte

∘₊✧─── ❀ ───✧₊∘

★ Pairing: Fiddleford McGucket x reader

✦ Genre: Fluff?

★ Warnings: None

✦ Summary: With the thoughts that kept you up at night, you decided to call him. I guess you do have plans for the weekend now.

Note: This is a part 2 of cold espresso!! and thank you soo much for 60 notess on theree!! I hope you enjoy this one!!

The morning sun filters weakly through your curtains, painting your apartment in pale, washed-out colors. You wake up with a weight on your chest, the events of yesterday replaying in your mind. Fidds’s words linger, the almost-confession hanging between you like a half-finished sentence. You sit up, staring at the empty space beside you, the silence of your apartment amplifying the doubts that creep in.

Was it real, or were you both just caught up in a moment? What if he changes his mind? What if this ruins everything? The ache of uncertainty is a familiar one, but this time, it feels sharper—more personal. You’re not just risking a friendship; you’re risking the one constant that has always been there, the person who knows you better than anyone else.

You try to shake off the thoughts as you drag yourself into the kitchen, but they cling to you like the bitter taste of stale coffee. You placed the kettle on the stove, boiling it; but even then, the comforting sound of brewing can’t quiet the unease bubbling inside you. With your coffee done, You pour half a cup of milk; you finished brewing your coffee. The steam swirling like your scattered thoughts, as you stare at the phone that was mounted on the wall. You had a thought, should you call him? The missed opportunity, the half-formed words, and the weight of unsaid things hang in the air.

Maybe he’s already moved on. Maybe you’re just overthinking everything like you always do.

You hesitate, fingers hovering over the button. You know you should say something, but fear grips you, tightening around your chest like a vice. What if he doesn’t want to hear from you? What if he regrets opening up? The latte’s warmth does little to thaw the icy grip of doubt in your heart. You bring the cup to your lips, letting the heat seep in, but it’s not enough to push you to action.

Finally, you take a deep breath, holding the phone as you let your thumb dial his number before you can even change your mind. The phone rings, each chime echoing your own heartbeat, loud and uncertain. You count the rings—one, two, three—each one heavier than the last until you hear the faint click and Fiddleford’s voice breaks through the static, warm and familiar.

"Mornin’, darlin’," Fidds greets, his tone light but a bit tired, like he’s been up thinking too. There’s a slight rasp in his voice, the kind that makes you think he’s been pacing his garage, lost in thought, maybe even wrestling with the same doubts that kept you awake. "Didn’t think I’d hear from ya this early."

The sound of his voice soothes and stings at the same time. You can hear the way he’s trying to keep things casual, but there’s an undercurrent there—a weight that wasn’t there before. You clutch your cup tighter, feeling a rush of nerves. "Hey, Fidds. I─ I just wanted to check in. See how you’re doing."

There’s a pause, just long enough to make you wonder if he’s regretting yesterday. You picture him in his garage, tools scattered, the faint smell of motor oil and burnt circuits clinging to the air. You’ve seen that space a hundred times, but now it feels like a sanctuary you’re intruding upon. You almost wish you hadn’t called—almost.

"Aw, I’m alright," he replies, but there’s a crack in his voice, barely noticeable. "Been tinkerin’ in the garage. You know me, always got somethin’ to keep my hands busy."

You smile at the thought of him, sleeves rolled up, grease on his hands, lost in the creation of some new invention. It’s so quintessentially him, the way he pours himself into his work when he’s trying to work through something. But today, even that image doesn’t bring the comfort it used to. You can hear it in his words—the same uncertainty, the same fear of messing things up that’s been gnawing at you.

You take a deep breath, trying to muster some courage. "I’ve been thinking a lot about yesterday. About what you said… and what I didn’t get to say."

There’s another pause on the line, heavy and charged, and you feel your heart drop. What if he’s changed his mind? What if this is all too much too soon? You imagine him, fidgeting with a screwdriver or wiping his hands on an old rag, anything to keep busy, to keep from saying what he’s really thinking.

"I’ve been thinkin’ about it too," he finally admits, his voice softer, more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard it. It’s almost like he’s laying his heart bare, showing you the parts he’s always kept hidden, even from himself. "Was worried maybe I said too much, maybe scared ya off. But, truth is, I don’t regret it. Not one bit."

The knot in your chest loosens just a little, and you swallow the lump in your throat. His admission is raw, real, and it hits you harder than you expected. "You didn’t scare me off, Fidds. If anything─ if I'm being honest, I’m the one who’s scared. Scared of losing what we have, scared of taking a chance and it not working out."

He sighs, and you can almost see him running a hand through his hair, frustrated but hopeful. "I get it. Hell, I’m scared too. But if we don’t try, we’ll never know, will we?"

You nod, even though he can’t see you, feeling the last bit of doubt start to melt away. "You’re right. And I don’t want to keep wondering. I want to try, Fidds. I want to see what this could be."

His soft chuckle warms you from the inside out. It’s the kind of laugh that used to fill late nights with the soft glow of desk lamps and the quiet hum of old music playing on his radio. "Well, shoot, darlin’, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all week. How ‘bout we make it official then? A real date. You and me, no holdin’ back."

The tension between you evaporates, replaced by a lightness that feels like sunshine breaking through the clouds. The reality of his words sinks in, each one planting hope where doubt had taken root. You smile, glancing out the window as the morning brightens just a little more. "I’d love that. Tonight?"

"Tonight," Fidds repeats, a hint of excitement coloring his voice. You can hear the smile behind his words, and it sends a flutter through your chest. "How ‘bout we make it somethin’ special? Don’t gotta be fancy or nothin’, but, y’know… somewhere that feels right."

You pause, thinking about all the possibilities. There’s a nervous thrill coursing through you—picking the perfect spot feels like the first step into something real. "How about that little Italian place downtown? The one with the fairy lights and the outdoor patio? I’ve been wanting to try it for ages, and I hear the food’s amazing.."

Fidds hums thoughtfully, and you can almost picture the way his face lights up at the suggestion. "Sounds like a plan, darlin’. I always knew you had good taste. Plus, can’t go wrong with some pasta and good company, huh?"

You laugh softly, feeling your nerves ease with his playful tone. "Guess not. I’m warning you though, I might order half the menu. I’ve been craving good Italian for weeks."

He chuckles, the sound warm and genuine. "Well, don’t you worry ‘bout that. I’ll keep up. Might even out-eat ya if we’re not careful. And hey, if it’s half as good as the company, I reckon we’re in for one hell of a night."

There’s a beat of comfortable silence before Fidds’s voice drops a little, more sincere. "Y’know, I’ve been lookin’ forward to this. Feels like we’re finally doin’ somethin’ we shoulda done a long time ago." His words tug at your heart, the weight of everything left unsaid still hanging between you. But there’s a new kind of hope there too, one that’s slowly outshining the fear. "Yeah… me too... I’ve always had a feeling that maybe we were just waiting for the right time."

"Guess it took us a while to figure that out, huh?" he says, a hint of laughter in his voice that doesn’t quite mask the emotion underneath. "But better late than never. We’re makin’ our own time now."

You feel a warmth spreading through you, a soft glow that makes the morning feel a little brighter. "I’m glad we are. I think… I think this is going to be good for us. No more ‘what ifs,’ just us, figuring it out together." Fidds’s voice softens, his sincerity coming through clearly. "Yeah. And whatever happens, I just want ya to know—I’m in this with ya. We’ll take it one step at a time, and if it ever feels like too much, we’ll talk it out. No pressure, no rush. Just us."

You smile, feeling lighter than you have in a long time. "Thanks, Fidds. I really needed to hear that. And don’t worry—I’m all in too."

There’s a comfortable pause before he speaks again, his tone turning playful. "Alright then, tonight it is. Seven sound good? I’ll make sure to wear somethin’ that ain’t covered in grease, promise."

You laugh, the sound carrying the kind of joy that’s been missing for far too long. "I think you’d look good no matter what, but I’ll hold you to that. Seven it is."

"See ya tonight, darlin’," Fidds says, his voice light, but with an underlying current of something more—a promise, a new beginning. "We’re gonna have ourselves a real good time."

You hang up, feeling the anticipation bubbling up inside you. Tonight isn’t just another dinner; it’s the start of something new, something that’s been waiting in the wings for far too long. And for the first time in a long time, you feel ready.

What do you thinkk?? Good? Bad?? Tell mee!! Ive been thinking what to do with this one.. not as creative but i like it!

Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome!

[cinnamon-piastri]

Burnt out star | Charles Leclerc

A quick Charles blurb for day 5 as I've had a rough day and run out of time to write anything ❤️

Warnings: None just fluff x

Imagine you're working late to make up for Christmas deadlines, and Charles decides to surprise you as he knows how burnt out you've been lately.

• He shows up outside of your workplace to pick you up even though you said he didn't need to. He was smiling as he stood by the passenger door to embrace you in a hug and give you a tender peck on the lips. Mumbling "I've missed you" into your lips as if he hadn't just seen you that morning.

• You sat in the car and noticed your favourite coffee order from Starbucks sitting in the cup holder. A sticky note on it saying "drink me :)" you smiled before giving Charles a kiss on the cheek "thank you my love that's so sweet" him chuckling in response. "If you think that's great you haven't seen the real surprise yet" he replies with a smirk as he starts driving while his hand rests gently on your thigh.

• You arrive home in no time and Charles is already sprinting to open your car door before taking your hand and guiding you up the icy path to your shared apartment, he stops just as he unlocks the door and tells you to close your eyes before you enter. You curiously oblige as he holds his hands over your eyes and guides you into the apartment.

• As soon as you enter there's a familiar smell you work hard to identify, the room smells like a mixture of vanilla and cinnamon and it instantly warms your heart. He continued to guide you until you were in your shared bedroom before he slowly took his hands off your eyes and said "okay open em mon amour"

• As soon as you opened them you were face to face with your bed that had been adorned in rose petals. There were candles burning with the name "Christmas cookie" on the label. On the bed was also a little basket that contained a bouquet of roses, some face masks and skincare products, fluffy socks and your favourite chocolate.

• Your smile lit up the room more than the candles did as Charles admired your face and how beautiful you looked even though you were tired. "I thought I could run you a bath mon amour, and afterwards we can do some facemasks while we watch a Christmas film what do you think?" Charles whispered in your ear as he hugged you from behind, trailing soft ticklish kisses down your neck.

• You turned to face him with a smile. "I'd love that, thank you so much Charles this means the world to me" you confess as you bring him in for a kiss. Charles smiling as you pull back replying "Anything for my love, I know you've been stressed lately and I want to help you relax"

• Charles brings you both hot chocolates as you get out of the bath, laying in bed sipping on them as you both watch Christmas films, before cuddling up and falling asleep on his chest as the snow starts to fall outside. "Good night my star, sleep well"

[oneshotnewbie]

hello hope your having a great day.

i looked at you request thing and i was wondering if you do like reader struggling with self-harm.

if you do can you wright a oneshot with Natasha Romanoff x daughter reader and well Natasha finds out that reader is struggling and all that.

if you dont want to or dont feel comfortable to thats totally fine just ignore this.

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of self-harm and the plot is presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Winter had wrapped New York City in an icy embrace. Snowflakes fell from the gray sky in quiet, deliberate grace, transforming the busy streets into a white wonderland. In the stillness of the morning before the city woke up, the Avenger Tower lay majestically and sublimely above the snow-covered skyline.

Natasha Romanoff, the world's deadliest spy and one of the leaders of the Avengers, stood in the tower's kitchen and stared out the window. Her thoughts were not about the earliest missions or the daily threats, but about her daughter. For a few weeks now, you had noticeably withdrawn. Not only from her, but also from the other Avengers. It was particularly painful for her to see the distance from Wanda, who you had treated like a big sister from the beginning and who was a person you could rely on.

The red-haired woman sighed and mechanically stirred her coffee, which had already gone cold. It was still early in the morning and the other Avengers were still asleep or on missions. But she knew you would wake up soon. The question was whether you would talk this time or you would only communicate in monosyllabic answers and silent glances. Like so often recently.

Wanda entered the kitchen tiredly and with heavy steps. Her steps slowed when she noticed Natasha in her tense posture. "Good morning, Nat," she said gently and went to the coffee machine where the person she was addressing was standing. Natasha nodded at her and turned her back to the kitchen, leaning against it. "Morning, Wanda."

The two women stood there for a moment in silent agreement, only the coffee machine making its noises, before Wanda addressed the topic that was on both of their hearts. "I'm worried about y/n too," she began carefully, knowing that she was never allowed to read the other's thoughts without permission.

"Me too," Natasha replied immediately, making no attempt to lecture her. Rather, she was grateful that she had done so and that she was not alone in her thoughts. "She's changed so much. She hardly speaks to me anymore, and I don't know why."

Wanda sighed and sat down at the table with her full cup. "It could just be puberty. But I have a feeling it's more than that. Maybe she's trying to cope with something she doesn't understand."

Natasha nodded slowly, joining the witch, letting out a loud sigh. "Possibly. But how do I find out what it is if she doesn't want to talk to me?"

At that moment, the two heard footsteps and you entered the kitchen soon after. Your hair fell uncombed in your face and your dull eyes looked tired and distant. You wore an oversized white sweater and faded jeans that made your slim figure seem even more delicate.

"Good morning, my love," Natasha said, trying to keep her tone warm despite her uncertainty and nervousness. You mumbled a barely audible "morning" and reached for a bowl to make yourself some cereal. You seemed withdrawn, as if you were trapped in your own world.

Wanda tried to reach you with a cautious smile and a hand that she reached out to you, a gesture she usually did to lure you into a loving hug. "Did you sleep well?"

You just shrugged, ignored her and sat down at the table in silence. You seemed too lost in your thoughts to speak and your mother could see the pain in your eyes that you hid so well. "Y/n," she began gently. "If you want to talk about anything, we are here for you. No matter what it is."

You raised your head and looked at your mother. For a moment something flashed in your eyes, raising both women's hopes, but then it disappeared again and you lowered your gaze. "I'm fine," you said quietly and started eating your cereal.

The tension in the room was palpable. Natasha and Wanda exchanged a worried look before Wanda stood up and threw on a jacket. "I'm going for a walk," she said and looked at you again. "Get some fresh air.“

When Wanda left the room, Natasha was left alone with you. She felt helpless, a feeling she detested and didn't really know. But she knew she couldn't force you to talk. She had to wait, patient and ready when the moment came. "Sweetie," she finally said and reached for your hand, which you immediately pulled back. "I love you. And I'll always be here, no matter what."

You looked at your mother and for a moment it seemed as if you wanted to say something. But then you just nodded silently and stood up to put your bowl in the sink. „I'm going to school.“ Were the only and last words she heard before you disappeared from the kitchen.

Natasha felt a deep sadness. She knew that something dark and heavy was weighing on you, something she couldn't bear alone. And she swore to herself that she would find out what it was and help you banish that shadow.

The day dragged on in a haze of unsaid words and silent questions. Natasha spent the hours thinking about ways to finally reach you again. She spoke to the other Avengers, seeking advice and understanding, but no one really seemed to know how to deal with a teenager who had withdrawn into themselves.

In the evening, when you were back in the Avenger Tower, you retreated to your room. Natasha stayed in the living room and continued to think. She decided to talk to Wanda, hoping that she might be able to find a way to reach you.

Wanda found Natasha sitting on the sofa, a worried expression on her face. "You wanted to talk to me?" she asked gently and sat down on the opposite side of the couch, placing one hand on the redhead's shoulder. "Can you read her thoughts?"

Wanda immediately shook her head and pulled her hand away. She jumped up, in disbelief at what she had heard. "No way, Nat. She's too sensitive, she'll notice immediately that I'm im in her mind. And if she notices, you can be sure that she'll never trust you OR me again. I can't reconcile myself with that."

As soon as Natasha was about to counter-argue, they heard a loud clatter from your room above them. Natasha jumped up and ran up the stairs, followed closely by Wanda. When she ripped open your door, she found you sitting on the floor, surrounded by shards of a broken mirror. Your sleeves had ridden up as you tried to pick them up, and your mother froze when she saw the fresh and healed cuts on your arms.

"Y/n!" she cried, kneeling down next to you. "What happened?"

You burst into tears and hastily pulled your arms back, but it was too late. The two women had already seen the scars and fresh wounds. She pulled you into a tighter hug and whispered soothing words as Wanda left the room to get first aid supplies.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," you sobbed. "I didn't know how else to deal with all the pain."

Natasha fought back her own tears and held you tight. "It's okay, darling. I'm so sorry." she said softly and rocked you gently back and forth before Wanda returned with bandages and helped to treat your wounds. The atmosphere in the room was filled with pain and worry.

While Wanda slowly left to leave you two alone after bandaging you, you sat on your bed, a book in your hands while Natasha quietly cleared away the broken glass. After everything was done and the risk of further injury was averted, she nervously walked towards you. "Can I sit down?" she asked carefully and you nodded.

She sat down next to you and took your hand. For the first time in weeks, you didn't pull it away. Instead, tears welled up in your eyes again and you looked at your mother with an expression that broke Natasha's heart into a thousand pieces. "I... I don't know how to explain it,"

"Just try," she encouraged you gently and placed a hand on your back, stroking gentle circles on it. "No matter how chaotic it feels, we can get through it together."

You hesitated, then slowly began to speak. "It's... it's all so much. The expectations in school and later life, the struggles, the losses from our wars. I feel like I'm caught in a storm and don't know how to escape."

Natasha pulled you into a gentle hug and kissed the top of your head. "You don't have to go through this alone, y/n. We're all here for you, especially me and Wanda. She misses you and she wants to help you find a way out of this storm too."

You sobbed quietly and leaned your head on Natasha's shoulder. "I'm so scared, Mom. The upcoming war... I don't want to lose anyone."

"I know, darling. But together we are strong. And we will find a way for everyone to come out of this unscathed, I promise you."

At that moment, Natasha felt like she had finally broken through a small part of the wall you had built around yourself. There was a long road ahead of you, but she was determined to support you and help you find your place in this chaotic world you were born into.

[elryuse]

Hey can I ask for yandere xiaoting ?

Devil In Disguise

YANDERE XIAOTING X MALE READER

Xiaoting, a vision of flawless beauty sculpted by stylists and fueled by caffeine, pushed open the familiar door of her favorite cafe. The air, thick with the aroma of roasted coffee beans, was a welcome escape from the sterility of her practice studio. But today, the enticing scent was overshadowed by a different kind of allure.

Behind the counter stood a boy with hair the color of dark chocolate that seemed to absorb the warm light filtering through the window. His eyes, a deep brown that held a warmth that sent a shiver down her spine, were focused intently on the espresso machine. He was handsome, yes, undeniably so, but it was his smile – genuine, unburdened by the pressures of fame that she carried like a second skin – that truly captivated her.

"Can I get you something?" he asked, his voice a pleasant baritone that rumbled in a way that made her knees weak.

"Hmm," Xiaoting purred, leaning against the counter. Her stage persona, a mix of icy cool and smoldering sensuality, came naturally. It was a shield, a carefully crafted armor that protected her from the emotional onslaught of constant scrutiny. Here, though, in this tiny cafe with its worn wooden tables and mismatched mugs, it felt heavy. "Idk.. Surprise me."

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine once more. "Coming right up," he said, his smile widening. As he worked, she stole glances, memorizing the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he steamed the milk, the way his fingers danced across the espresso machine with a practiced ease. Finally, he slid a steaming cup towards her, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Here you go," he said, his voice warm and inviting. "Hope it surprises you pleasantly."

"I'm sure it will," Xiaoting said, her voice a husky murmur. "By the way, I'm Xiaoting."

He smiled, his name tag reading "Y/n. Nice to meet you, Xiaoting. So, what brings a beautiful girl like you to my humble cafe?"

The question was simple, but it sent a jolt through her. Rarely did people see beyond the mask she wore for the cameras. An idea, delicious and dangerous, sparked in her mind.

"Just looking for a little escape," she said, her voice tinged with a calculated vulnerability. They talked for what felt like hours, but in reality, it was only a stolen half-hour between customers. She learned about his dreams of becoming a musician, his love for classic novels that she'd only ever seen adapted into movies, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed at a particularly bad joke she told. It was intoxicating, this taste of normalcy, of genuine connection.

But as she went to leave, her heart plummeted.

"Hey," Y/n called. "I don't usually ask this, but…" He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a napkin. "Would you like to keep in touch?"

A thrill shot through her. This was better than she could have hoped for. But then, a girl, blonde and bubbly, linked arms with Y/n, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Hey babe, sorry I'm late!"

Xiaoting's smile froze, the warmth in her replaced by a chilling emptiness that spread through her like ice. "Girlfriend?" she croaked, her voice devoid of its usual playful lilt.

Y/n's face fell. "Oh, right. This is…" His eyes darted between them, confusion etched on his face. "This is Xiaoting, and…"

"No need to introduce me," Xiaoting cut in, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness that tasted like ash in her mouth. It was a performance, a carefully crafted mask once more, but this time, it was fueled by something far more potent than practiced charm. "It's lovely to meet you. Y/n tells me wonderful things about you."

The lie flowed effortlessly, a seed planted in the fertile ground of the girl's insecurities. Later, alone in her luxurious apartment, the mask shattered. Rage contorted her face, a terrifying transformation that would send shivers down the spine of anyone who witnessed it. A mere pop star, a nobody, dared to have someone she desired? The thought was an insult, a challenge to her carefully constructed world.

The following days were a blur of activity. Xiaoting, the master manipulator with a team of loyal and discreet individuals at her beck and call, orchestrated a flawless plan. A carefully placed photo, an anonymous tip to the tabloids that fueled the ever-hungry gossip machine, and a manufactured public meltdown on Y/n's girlfriend's part did the trick. Days later, Y/n, heartbroken and confused, found himself sitting across from Xiaoting in her opulent apartment, a stark contrast to the cozy cafe.

Y/n stared at Xiaoting, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Tears had carved glistening tracks through the caked-on makeup his ex had insisted on before their "emotional" break-up video.

"It's all a lie, isn't it?" he rasped, his voice raw with betrayal. "The cheating, the whole thing."

Xiaoting, perched on a plush velvet sofa, her designer dress impeccably styled, reached out and squeezed his hand. Her touch, usually electric, felt cold and calculating. "Oh, Y/n," she cooed, her voice dripping with manufactured sympathy. "Don't listen to the media vultures. They just want to create drama."

Her practiced smile didn't reach her eyes. Y/n, however, blinded by grief and the subtle shift in her demeanor, clung to her words like a lifeline.

"She seemed so genuine in the video," he mumbled, his voice thick with despair. "She even had… proof."

A flicker of triumph passed through Xiaoting's eyes, masked by a concerned frown. "Proof that can be easily fabricated, darling," she purred. "You know how these things work."

Y/n nodded numbly, his mind reeling. Xiaoting leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper. "You deserve better, Y/n. Someone who will cherish you, who understands you. Someone like me."

He looked up, his gaze searching hers. In that moment, a flicker of something dark, something possessive, glinted in her eyes. But Y/n, lost in his emotional turmoil, missed it.

"I don't know what to believe anymore," he whispered, defeated.

Xiaoting's smile bloomed, genuine this time. "Then believe in me," she said, her voice laced with a dangerous possessiveness. "Believe that I can make you happy."

And in that vulnerable state, Y/n did. Blinded by the illusion of comfort and the toxic sweetness of her words, he allowed himself to fall into her carefully constructed web.

Days turned into weeks, then months. Xiaoting, the idol with a seemingly perfect life, became his haven. But the haven was a gilded cage, its bars disguised as luxury and affection.

His phone calls with friends became "intrusions into their healing." His attempts to pursue music, his long-held dream, were dismissed as "unrealistic distractions." The outside world became a blur, filtered through Xiaoting's carefully curated narrative.

One evening, amidst a candlelit dinner, Xiaoting casually mentioned a camera crew arriving the next day to film a "day in the life" segment.

Y/n froze, a flicker of unease crossing his face. "A camera crew? Here?"

Xiaoting, all innocence, feigned surprise. "Oh honey, didn't I mention? It's a surprise! They want to showcase our beautiful love story."

His unease morphed into terror. The manufactured reality she'd created suffocated him. But before he could protest, she reached for his hand, her grip a vice.

"Don't worry, darling," she purred, her voice laced with a chilling sweetness. "It'll be perfect. After all, the whole world deserves to see how happy we are, right?"

Y/n's pleas were drowned out by the manufactured sweetness of her voice. Trapped in her gilded cage, his future stretched before him, not a haven of love, but a prison built on lies and a terrifying obsession.

The camera crew bustled around the apartment, their presence a suffocating weight on Y/n's chest. Every stolen glance at Xiaoting confirmed his growing suspicion. Her smile, practiced for countless interviews, seemed strained around the edges. Her eyes, usually sparkling with manufactured cheer, held a glint of something manic.

As they filmed their "candid" interactions, Y/n fumbled for words. Xiaoting, ever the professional, filled the silence with fabricated anecdotes about their whirlwind romance, peppered with possessiveness disguised as affection.

Later, after the crew departed, the air grew thick with a suffocating tension. Y/n, his hands clammy with unease, finally found his voice.

"Xiaoting," he started, his voice barely a whisper. "It felt… staged. Everything."

Xiaoting's smile faltered for a brief moment, then reappeared, wider and somehow colder. "Staged? How silly, darling. It was just a little awkwardness, that's all."

He wasn't convinced. The way she'd hovered over him, her touch lingering a beat too long, the way her gaze flickered to the phone whenever it buzzed – it all screamed control.

"Can I… can I call my friends sometime?" Y/n asked, his voice small.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Xiaoting's face, quickly masked. "Oh, honey, you know how the media is. They'd twist anything into a story. We wouldn't want them to paint a wrong picture of our perfect relationship, would we?"

Y/n swallowed the retort that rose in his throat. He felt a growing sense of isolation, a gnawing loneliness that her constant presence couldn't fill.

Days blurred into weeks. Phone calls became a distant memory, replaced by Xiaoting's curated schedule of "romantic outings" and "couple interviews." He was a prop in her meticulously crafted narrative, his own dreams and desires pushed further and further out of reach.

One night, while Xiaoting slept, Y/n stumbled upon her phone. A morbid curiosity gnawed at him. He knew it was wrong, but the need to understand his situation overpowered his conscience.

His breath hitched as he saw text messages exchanged with a private number. The messages were cold, calculating, filled with instructions about manipulating interviews and maintaining their "perfect" facade.

But what truly sent chills down his spine was the final message: "Target successfully isolated. Phase two: public declaration."

Y/n's blood ran cold. He wasn't Xiaoting's lover; he was a pawn in a twisted game orchestrated by a woman consumed by a possessive obsession. Fear, sharp and primal, clawed at his throat.

He knew then that he had to escape. But how? Xiaoting controlled everything – his access to the outside world, his finances, even his reputation.

He spent the next few days formulating a plan, a desperate gamble fuelled by a newfound strength. He started subtly leaving messages for his old bandmate on social media, hidden in plain sight within innocuous comments. He pretended to be enthusiastic about Xiaoting's upcoming album release, subtly planting seeds of doubt about their relationship in interviews.

The night before the album release party, Y/n finally made his move. He waited until Xiaoting fell asleep, then packed a small bag with essentials. He knew she'd wake up soon, so he had to be quick.

He tiptoed towards the door, his heart hammering in his chest. Just as he grasped the knob, a cold voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Going somewhere, darling?" Xiaoting stood there, her eyes blazing with a terrifying fury.

Y/n's mouth went dry. "Xiaoting, I… I just need some air."

"No," she said, her voice a steely whisper. "You're not going anywhere. You belong to me now."

Y/n knew then that reasoning was futile. He had to fight his way out. He lunged for the door, but Xiaoting was faster. She grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

A struggle ensued, desperate and brutal. Y/n, fueled by a surge of adrenaline, managed to break free and sprint towards the window. He threw it open, the cool night air a welcome shock.

"Y/n don't!!" Xiaoting screamed, her voice laced with a chilling desperation.

He didn't look back. He scrambled onto the fire escape, adrenaline masking the fear threatening to consume him. He descended quickly, ignoring the burn in his legs, until he reached the ground and melted into the night.

He knew this was just the beginning. Xiaoting wouldn't give up easily. But for the first time in months, he felt a flicker of hope. He was free, and he would do He sprinted through the deserted streets, the rhythmic pounding of his feet the only sound in the night. Glancing back every few seconds, his heart hammered a frantic tattoo against his ribs. He didn't see Xiaoting, but the chilling memory of her desperate plea sent shivers down his spine.

Reaching his old friend's apartment, he pounded on the door with shaking hands. Relief flooded him when the familiar face of his bandmate, Mark, appeared. But before Y/n could explain, a car screeched to a halt outside, its headlights momentarily blinding him.

"Y/n!" Mark gasped, pulling him back inside just as the apartment door splintered. Xiaoting, her face contorted with rage, stormed in, a gaggle of security guards flanking her.

"There you are!" she hissed, her voice laced with venom.

Y/n's frantic pleas for help fell on deaf ears. The security guards, well-versed in the art of celebrity wrangling, subdued him with practiced ease. Mark, powerless against the tide, could only watch in horror.

Back in the gilded cage, Xiaoting's rage had morphed into a chilling calm. Gone was the facade of the loving girlfriend. Y/n sat across from her, his wrists bound with silk scarves, the very picture of a dethroned king.

"You shouldn't have tried to leave," Xiaoting said, her voice devoid of emotion. "Now, things will have to change."

A cold dread filled Y/n. He knew then that escape was no longer an option. Xiaoting wouldn't simply lock him away; she would control him. His career, his reputation, his very identity – all would become pawns in her twisted game.

The following days were a blur of media manipulation. Xiaoting, the heartbroken victim, spun a tale of a troubled boyfriend on the verge of a breakdown. Public sympathy flowed freely, further isolating Y/n.

He was allowed to keep his phone, but under constant surveillance. His band, ostracized and pressured by Xiaoting's powerful team, reluctantly distanced themselves. The world he once knew crumbled around him.

Weeks turned into months. Y/n became a ghost of his former self, a talented musician reduced to a silent shadow beside the ever-smiling Xiaoting. He was forced to participate in interviews, his every word carefully scripted.

One day, during a live performance, a flicker of defiance sparked in his eyes. As Xiaoting launched into a love song, he reached for the microphone, his voice hoarse but resolute.

"This isn't real," he rasped, the words catching in his throat. "She's keeping me prisoner."

The music screeched to a halt. Shock rippled through the audience. Security guards rushed the stage before Y/n could utter another word.

But the damage was done. The carefully crafted facade had a gaping hole. Whispers turned into accusations. Public opinion shifted, a seed of doubt planted.

Xiaoting, however, remained unfazed. Public scrutiny was a game she knew how to play. She painted Y/n as delusional, a victim of his own mental breakdown. Her carefully calculated tears and veiled threats of self-harm swayed the narrative back in her favor.

Y/n, isolated and silenced once more, sank deeper into despair. He knew he might never truly escape Xiaoting's grasp. She had woven a web of control so intricate, so pervasive, that it had become his reality.

The story ended not with a dramatic escape or a heroic rescue, but with a slow, suffocating descent. Y/n remained a prisoner, not behind bars, but within the gilded cage of a twisted obsession, his music and his dreams forever silenced by the chilling melody of Xiaoting's love song.

[theprenderelliepalace]

College AU

Damon x reader

Summary: y/n always had a thing for bad boys in leather jackets. Too bad she's a day late and a dollar short. When the infamous Damon Salvatore rolls up to her literature class, with his stupid smirk and all-black wardrobe, she should be done for, but y/n's heart was broken a long time ago. So what're two wild cards to do with two broken hearts on a college campus?

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, bad break-ups, Katherine (our favorite baddie), wasted coffee, fluff (implied smut) and school stress

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Please leave." I paused. "You look like you're dressed for a funeral and it's depressing me." I was walking across campus to my next class, the incarnation of trouble and arrogant bad boy, Damon Salvatore, hot on my heels.

"Oh come on! I bought you coffee. Doesn't that score me some brownie points?" He caught up to me. His strides were long and languid, like he was having no trouble at all harrasing me in broad daylight while I was breathless and almost sprinting to get away from him.

I stopped and turned on my heel to face him. He was taller than me, alarmingly so. His hair was swept against his forehead in that heart-throbbing, 'Damon way', that made my knees weak. "Technically, you didn't make me brownies- he gave me a look, "and yes, that is what it should mean. So no. You bought me shitty coffee, asked me out on a date I would rather drink toilet water than go on AND you have the nerve to follow me around like a lost puppy!" He shook his head with a silent smile that made him look so gorgeous I almost passed put, then and there.

I cleared my throat. I threw the cup that had been shoved unceremoniously into my hand five minutes ago, across the campus courtyard. It hit the side of an unassuming trash can with a dull thud. "Go fetch." I shook my shoulders as if to shake my resolve over me like a veil of iron. "Or chase your tail or something. But leave me out of it." He stepped in front of me, his shoulders were set and his jaw was hard, yet there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye that told me trouble was near...

"You have a big mouth for something so little. Makes a guy want to knock you off your high horse." He leaned in, his lips inches from my ear. His breath was warm, a comfort against the icy November gloom. I shook my head and started to shove past him, he caught my wrist and pulled me into his chest. "So you can ride something else-"

My face flushed the deepest shade of red I could imagine." ALRIGHT. Thank you Salvatore, for that lovely mental picture! I'm going to pretend you don't exist now!" I rushed to the other side of the courtyard. My heart was beating at a million miles an hour as I turned my coat collar against the wind and to hide my face from the rest of the world (I hoped my coat would just eat me alive then and there). All the while that I ran, I could hear his unbridled laughter echoing across campus. It followed me like a shadow and clung to my very heart. It was a sound that made me want to laugh too, but I couldn't.

I wasn't about to let my heart break over another mistake like Damon Salvatore. Right?

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

I was alone in my dorm when it started to rain. The sound was unnatural this late into the year, but welcoming. It made me forget about my leather-clad stalker and my 400 page paper due next week. It made me forget about home and work and stress.

It made me remember the cheap whiskey hidden under a loose floorboard under my roommates bed.

I decided I would head up to the roof. It was quiet enough. I just wanted to relax. Let loose and forget about the world for a while, let all my troubles wash down with the pitter-patter of the rain. I opened the door and what was the first thing I saw?

"Oh, fuck you." He turned. This excruciatingly jerkish grin plastered on his face. His hair was slicked back and damp with the rain. His leather jacket hung loosely over his sweatshirt, it drew my eyes down to his jeans. The way they hugged his- "Aren't stalkers supposed to do recon too? Like, don't they sit FAR, far away and take stupid pictures for their creepy alters?"

He ignored me. He walked over and stood under the awning in front of me. "See something you like?" His voice was low, almost hungry in its desire. Suddenly the rain didn't make me feel cold anymore. I couldn't speak, I couldn't move. He smiled at me, grabbing for the bottle that i hadn't realised was still in my hands. He scrutinized the brand. "Remind me to teach you to have better taste." He tutted.

He walked along the side of the building, sitting on the bench at the edge of the awning. I stared at him. I was so out of it at this point, I might as well go out with a bang and a shot of whiskey.

I sat next to him, falling into place like I was supposed to be there. "Why do you like me Damon?" I scoffed. "Do you even like me, or do you just have a thing for girls who say no? If so, get a life." He snickered and took a swig from the bottle. I reached out for it and took another.

"You are a lot more like me than you want to admit." I must be drunk already, because I gave the bottle back to him and glanced up. He had this sad whisper of a smile dancing across his lips. A torment in his eyes that I should've known all too well.

"How so?" I asked. I shivered with the gust of wind that seemed to bring the first real silence that I had ever experienced with Damon.

"You don't want to admit you have a heart. It's funny because none of us ever do. We just assume that we survive on words and thoughts, it's always a matter of the heart and the head..." He took another swig. "No one ever tells you how to survive when both are broken."

"You say that like you've never heard of duct tape before." He laughed as I drank. I slumped down against the bench, my feet dangled out in front of me and I watched the rain drops splash against my boots. "What was her name?"

It was a long shot, a drunken guess that I never expected him to answer. "Katherine. She, was something..." Suddenly, this raging pyscho that I thought I knew as mean and brutish was vulnerable. It felt like he was almost human.

"I had someone too. I don't think my heart can take another fuck-up. It's not like my head's doing any better." I ran my hand through my hair. I looked up at him, he was smirking at me. That charming smile that I had come to know to mean trouble had a different meaning behind it now. Almost like he knew a secret.

"Is that why you threw my coffee and missed the trash?"

"Uh, no. You have terrible taste in coffee." He shrugged. "Plus, I don't have a very good throwing arm." We looked at each for a moment before we burst out in a fit of giggles that was drowned out by the roar of thunder.

We talked until the bottle was empty. We kissed until the rain stopped and the wind picked up. It howled at ripped at our clothes. I pried myself out of his iron grip, my lips were swolen just like his were. Except he wore that stupid smirk on his stupid face.

"I hate that." I pointed to his lips with my index finger, he ran his tongue down the digit, "Hey!",and brought my palm up to his mouth. He kissed the center so tenderly but his eyes were dead serious. It made my stomach clench. A gust of wind shoved me forward and I landed against his chest. He caught me with ease and steadied me.

Damon winked as he picked me up bridal style and carried me towards the exit. "Hey Mr Bad-boy, don't buy me coffee." He rolled his eyes at me.

I opened the door for him and then wrapped my arms around his neck as it swung closed behind us. "Buy me dinner." I smiled.

"Yes Ma'am." He grinned.

I kissed him, he shoved me against the wall. We never got dinner, but he did make me pancakes the next morning.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

First ever one-shot man! Sorry it's fluffy but dang if I don't like me some banter

REQUESTS OPEN

Comment and reblog what you think. It would make lil' old me very happy :)

Masterlist

[nerdraging4point0]

The Scorpion and the Scales // Chapter Three // PolyAU

Tropes and Tags: MF, MFM, MFMM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed musicians, polyverse, friends to lovers.

Content warning: 18+ only MDNI,PinV, PinA, oral (f!recieveing, m!recieving), threesomes, light BDSM, voyeurism, exhibitionism, partner sharing, jealousy, angst.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Active taglist: @ladyveronikawrites @tearfallpixie @beaker1636 @circle-with-me @synthetic-wasp-570 @itsjustemily @thesazzb @vinyardmauro @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @dominuslunae @mountains-to-move @sundamariis @caitcoreeeee @crimson-calligraphyx @letmeadoreyoux @starsomens @artificialbreezy @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @lilrubles @shilohrosechicken @missduffsblog @jessicafg03 @thatchickwiththecamera @mysticdoodlez @chels3a-smile @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @roley-poley-foley @ravieisunhinged @dethronetheveil @to-be-written @somewhere-diamond @somebodyels3 @sacredthefran @bloody-delusion-expert @shilohrosechicken

As I stand in line at the cozy coffee shop, I gaze up at the menu board, pretending I don't already know my order by heart. My phone pings in my pocket - a new text from Chris, sending a random musing about the sunny Florida weather. We've been texting for months now, and it still feels surreal. The morning after our chance encounter in his hotel, I was sure it had all been a dream...until his flirtatious text arrived later that day. I had to pinch myself when Noah slid into my DMs shortly after, smoothly asking for my number through their manager. I eagerly gave it to him, but later kicked myself for seeming overly eager. I should have played it cooler. But now, breathing in the aroma of fresh coffee on this crisp spring morning, I can't help but smile thinking back on it all.

I shuffle up to the counter, my wet boots squeaking on the tile floor. "Large latte please," I mumble through chattering teeth as I fish a few damp bills from my coat pocket. The barista nods and punches it in. I head over to the pickup counter, anxiously awaiting the hot drink to warm my frozen fingers.

Staring out the fogged up window at the gloomy gray sky, I snap a photo of the heavy rain clouds looming overhead. I quickly text it to Chris with the caption "Must be nice *sad emoji*". I wrap my hands around the steaming paper cup as soon as it's ready, letting the heat seep through my icy skin. 

Opening a new thread I send the image to Noah, my response to him completely different. “Can’t wait to be in warmer weather. *sunglasses emoji* *palm trees*” smiling to myself as I pocket my phone and head to my car. Just as I hop into my drivers seat the message pings again. Chris. 

Chris: Gonna meet me at the festival next week?

I feel my heart sink a little knowing I’m gonna have to say no. I’d promised Noah I’d come out and visit that week, it was a last minute plan and up until yesterday I wasn’t sure I was gonna go. 

Eve: Sorry, can’t. I’ll be in LA next week.

I leaned back in my seat, lost in thought as I contemplated my relationship with Noah. He had been such a good friend these past few months, always there to listen and offer a kind word when I needed it. But was it more than that? Between all the playful banter and shameless flirting, it was hard to tell if he felt the same spark I did.

We had never actually met in person, besides that one night at the concert. So it was difficult to gauge whether he was genuinely flirting back, or just being friendly. I sighed, wondering if I should even continue pursuing this. Chris and I had something real, something solid. This thing with Noah, as fun as it was, might just be a fantasy.

I am pulled from my thoughts by Noah pinging my phone with a new message.

Noah: you got somewhere to crash when you visit?

Eve: I'm searching for hotels now.

Noah: Nah forget that. Come stay at my crib, we got extra rooms since some of the homies are outta town.

Eve: For real? You sure that's cool?

Noah: Hell yeah, it's chill. We got a house with spare bedrooms and if it becomes an issue I'll put you up in a hotel, no stress.

I smile to myself taking a sip of my latte before starting up my car and heading to work. 

"What the hell, man?!" I shouted at Nick from across our living room. That sneaky bastard had swiped my phone while I was grabbing the pizza we just ordered. And when I saw that she finally texted back, I realized the dude had a whole conversation with her that I missed!

"Come on, bro. You know you've been crushing on this girl for months but haven't had the balls to make a real move," Nick said, flipping open the pizza box and piling up slices on his plate. "I was just helping my best bud out."

I couldn't believe it. I mean I know we're close, but impersonating me to chat up my crush? Not cool. But he had a point - I should've made a move sooner instead of just flirting around. Still, not the right way to go about it. I grabbed a slice and sat down next to him, still pissed but hungry. We'd figure this out over pizza like we always did.

I was nervous about the whole thing at first. Sure, she'd been pretty, and yeah, I'd asked for her number, but I figured it would just be some crazy fan conversation. I'd change my number after and no harm done, right? But then we started talking and...she was actually fun to talk to. And somehow I found myself becoming attracted to her.

What would she think when she got here? There were no spare rooms - all the guys were already here, we fucking lived here. That meant she'd have to crash on the couch. Or in my room, as Nick suggested. He thought it would be a "good icebreaker" for us to share close quarters. I hadn't bothered to text Eve back and tell her it was Nick, not me, messaging her. But Nick promised he'd put her up in a hotel if she wasn't comfortable with the arrangements. I hoped he'd keep that promise if it came to it.

This whole situation had me feeling unsure, off-balance. But part of me was also intrigued to see what would unfold. I just hoped I wouldn't do anything to mess this up.

But then I stop and think for a second. A girl coming here? To my house? I haven't had that happen since...well, since the last one found my address and showed up unannounced. That's why I moved here in the first place - to get away from all that. What if this chick is just as psycho? I've seen Fatal Attraction, okay? I know how these things can go.

Suddenly I'm not so hungry anymore. Nick sees the look on my face and sits down next to me. We've been friends long enough that he can read my thoughts. "It'll be fine, man," he says. "She flirts with you all the time. Just be friends if you want. Or more than friends, I don't care. It's only a week - I'm sure you can handle it."

I know he's right. I just need to chill out and see how it goes. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little bit nervous about what's coming.

I landed at the airport and did everything I could to delay leaving the terminal. I grabbed some overpriced lunch and wandered around aimlessly, trying to work up the nerve to actually go through with this. Noah had texted me his address right before I got on my flight back in Denver. Now I was just staring at it on my phone, wondering if I should put it into Uber or not. My heart was pounding. My stomach was doing backflips. Should I text him and say I landed? Should I ask if he still wanted me to come over? The fact that he gave me his address had to mean something, right? Ugh, I was so nervous I thought I might puke. But I knew I had to woman up and just go for it. I took a deep breath, requested the Uber, and tapped in his address with shaky fingers. Here goes nothing.

My heart was racing as my Uber pulled up to the curb. I had no idea what to expect when I entered the address into the app - all I knew was that I was heading to the Hollywood Hills to meet a potential new client.

As we wound through the hills, I pressed my forehead against the window and took it all in. The homes were magnificent - sprawling mansions tucked away on manicured properties. So different from the cramped apartments I was used to back in Colorado.

I breathed in deeply, but the smell of rain here was nothing like back home. There was a metallic edge to the air that left a bitter taste in my mouth.

We rounded a bend and the driver slowed. I clutched my bag, my palms growing sweaty. This was it. He pulled a U-turn and stopped in front of a house that looked like it cost more than I'd make in my lifetime.

My jaw dropped as I took in the immaculate home before me, with its pristine windows and crisp white walls. The red brick driveway was occupied by a couple of modest cars, typical for this ritzy neighborhood. I stepped out of the town car, murmuring thanks to the driver as he retrieved my bag from the trunk. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the imposing house. You can leave, I thought. Hop right back in the car and get out of here. But my feet carried me up the driveway, still gaping at the sheer size of the place. Movement in one of the windows made me freeze. What if I had the wrong address? How mortifying would that be? The front door opened and out stepped Nick, wearing a baseball cap, silver shorts and an anime shirt, no shoes. My heart pounded as I took a deep breath. Here goes nothing, I thought, as I approached the front steps.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Nick waiting for me on the porch, barefoot as always. "Hey Nick," I said with a smile. "Noah said you were expecting me."

"Yeah, it was my idea for you to crash here," he grinned. "Now get inside, it's freezing out here!"

I laughed as I stepped into the pristine house. "This isn't cold to me, you California boys don't know what cold is!" I joked, slipping off my shoes by instinct.

The interior was super modern - all greys, browns and beiges, not what you'd expect from a heavy metal band's pad. To the right was a hallway and stairs, and just past the foyer was a huge living room with a white sectional facing a giant flatscreen over the fireplace. My eyes landed on the couch, where I saw another familiar face turn to look at me.

The sight of him took my breath away. He'd cut his hair even shorter than the last time I saw him, but he was still so tall - even barefoot, he towered over me. When he wrapped me in a hug, it felt awkward at first as we tried to figure out where to put our hands. But then I felt the strength of his arms around my waist as he playfully lifted me off the ground, making me giggle.

I could have stayed there forever, but he sent me down all to soon. Noah took my bag and reached for my hand, leading me upstairs. My heart raced at his touch. As we walked down the hall, he pointed out the different rooms, but I could barely focus. All I could think about was how close we were and the tingles running up my arm from his hand in mine.

When we got to the bedroom, he let me step inside first. It wasn't huge, but it was cozy and full of him. The unmade bed, the books and soda cans scattered around - it just felt so intimate being in his personal space. I caught a glimpse of his impressive gaming setup, but I was much more interested in taking in every detail of him. The way he smiled at me then, I thought my knees would give out. I don't know how I'll ever be able to concentrate with this gorgeous, sweet guy right down the hall. But I can't wait to try.

I took in Noah's room, still surprised that Nick had pulled a fast one on me and arranged for me to stay here. Clothes were strewn across the unmade bed where Noah had just dropped my bag. Posters for bands and anime littered the walls alongside framed vinyl records. It was such a guy's room.

"Sorry for the mess," Noah said, scratching his neck awkwardly. "I didn't have much time to clean up."

My heartbeat quickened being alone with him in his space. I crossed my arms, hoping he couldn't tell how nervous I was. Noah Sebastian's room. I was standing in Noah Sebastian's actual bedroom.

"Don't worry about it," I said, trying to sound casual. "I appreciate you letting me crash here this week."

"No problem," Noah replied. "I'll take the couch so you can have the bed."

"Oh, don't let me put you out, I can take the couch."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "You're not putting me out. More like Nick did."

I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "There a reason for that?" I glanced away, pretending to admire his book collection so he wouldn't see my blushing cheeks.

"Uh, nothing that I need to repeat," he mumbled awkwardly. I couldn't resist peeking up to gauge his reaction. But as our eyes met, mine wandered past him to the floor-to-ceiling windows framing the rolling hills and glittering cityscape beyond.

The sweeping view of the Hollywood Hills took my breath away. "Wow," I whispered, wandering over to the window for a closer look. Noah joined me, gesturing at the barely visible mountains peeking through the morning haze. "Nice, right? On a clear day you can see for miles."

I laughed and gave him a playful nudge. "C'mon, with all this smog? I've got you beat."

He raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. "Oh really?"

"Mmhmm." I scrolled through my phone until I found the perfect photo. "Check this out."

It was a shot of Pikes Peak from my apartment window last February, covered in a pristine blanket of snow. I angled the screen towards Noah and watched his eyes widen.

"Now that's a view, sweetheart," he admitted with a chuckle. "Maybe I should reconsider."

I grinned, giving his arm a squeeze. "Told you. But don't worry..." I leaned in close, my voice dropping to a whisper. "You still have the better view right now."

Noah's POV

I could barely believe my eyes when she walked into my room and laid down on my bed. The hours melted away as we talked and laughed, her sweet voice soothing my nerves. Ordering takeout was an excuse to stay close, our legs touching as we watched trashy shows.

When night fell, everything changed. She emerged from the bathroom in those tiny black shorts, her endless legs on full display. I tried not to stare as she slid under the covers beside me. My heart pounded as I turned down the lights, bathing us in a soft purple glow. Part of me wanted to reach out and touch her, but I held back, not wanting to ruin our friendship.

She protested as I lowered the curtains, craving the city lights. I wanted to give her anything she desired in that moment. With her lying there, looking like a dream, it took all my willpower to keep things platonic. But I knew if I made a move, crossed that line, there would be no going back.

“You wanna go to the beach tomorrow?” The sound of her voice pulled me back from my wandering thoughts. Was she seriously asking about the beach right now? It's the middle of March - there's no way it's warm enough yet.

"It's still freezing out," I replied, sitting up quickly. Was she crazy or just messing with me?

"The forecast says 75 degrees tomorrow. Perfect beach weather!"

I scoffed. "Yeah, maybe if you're a polar bear. No way is 75 warm enough for the beach."

She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow. "Says who?" she challenged with a smirk.

"Says anyone with common sense. Go ahead and freeze if you want, but don't expect me to join your little arctic adventure," I quipped back.

She pouted playfully. "But I got a cute new bikini just to take Insta pics in! You're really gonna deprive me of that?"

I shuddered as my eyes traced over her. The way her tank top had slipped just enough to tease me, her creamy bare legs stretched out so close... Focus, man.

"You can take poolside pictures instead," I suggested, struggling to keep my voice steady.

She crossed her arms with an exaggerated frown. The way it pushed her chest up towards me did nothing to tame my thoughts.

"No fair," she whined.

What's not fair is you still being dressed, I thought. I bit my cheek to keep from saying it out loud.

"Never said I was fair," I quipped, patting her thigh twice before standing up. "I need a snack. Be right back."

Her laughter followed me out of the room. "Always with the song lyrics, huh?"

I hurried down the stairs, trying not to look at the guys playing video games as I made my way to the kitchen. My heart was pounding as I grabbed a couple bags of gushers and a gatorade. I couldn't believe I was about to be alone with her again.

When I got back to my room, there she was. Sitting on her knees, clutching a pillow to her chest, biting her lip. God, she looked so cute like that. I wanted to kiss her so badly.

"You look deep in thought," I said, cursing myself for sounding so lame. I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to play it cool as I finished off a pack of gushers.

"Just tired I guess," she said. I could tell she was lying but I didn't want to push her.

"You bite your lower lip when you're tired?" I asked. Smooth, real smooth. I couldn't stop staring at her mouth.

"This is your first time really hanging out with me. You don't know everything about me yet," she replied.

As she brought her knees to her chest, I felt my heart sink. She was closing herself off from me. I wanted so badly to wrap my arms around her, but I was too scared to make a move. There were so many things I wanted to say, but the words got stuck in my throat. I had to play this cool if I didn't want to mess this up.

“Why did Nick want me to sleep in your room?” her question cuts the air like a knife.

I didn't want to admit it, but I couldn't get her question out of my head. The truth was, Nick knew me too well. He could see right through my nonchalant attitude to the longing underneath. Ever since she walked into my life, I've been drawn to her - her quick wit, her magnetic energy, the way her eyes light up when she laughs.

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves before responding. "Nick thinks I need some female companionship. He suggested you might be interested." I paused, heart pounding, worried I'd revealed too much. Her joke about professionals made me smile, but I couldn't hide the vulnerability in my eyes.

I busied myself tidying the nightstand, needing a distraction from the growing tension between us. But I couldn't resist asking the real question: "Do you want to?" I held my breath, knowing everything would change based on her answer. Part of me was terrified, but an even bigger part was thrilled by the possibilities her reply might bring. I could no longer deny my feelings; all I could do was put myself out there and hope she felt the same spark I did.

[mononijikayu]

to build a home ━ geto suguru ft nanami kento.

That was the end of it. They can't take much more of this pain. Suffering for a goodbye that would never be repeated. This cannot be true. They reflected to themselves. You also have a life. A different way of living. It's unjust to Kento, to blame him for their loneliness, their suffering. It's unjust to them, it's unjust to Suguru. They must make the first step. To make it final. To let him go for good. This is what saves them, this is what graces them in front of god.

note: i found an old draft of something i did and i thought it would be perfect for an angsty suguru writing, especially after rewatching fleabag. i started to joke yesterday that i'll do a suguru partner to 'time after time' and here we are now, me crying over what i made.

the final scene is inspired by the ending of fleabag. i cried through it but it really was something that triggered my heart strings. every good love story deserves a good closure when it ends. happy christmas again!!! let's hope this is my last idea in a while!!! its starting to make me cry too <333

Genre: No Curses AU, Priest Suguru AU, Fleabag AU;

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, First Love, Grief, First Heartbreak, Break Up, Emotional Scars, Forbidden Love, Star Crossed Lovers, Closure to Healing;

masterlist

play: to build a home by cinematic orchestra.

THEY DOESN’T KNOW WHY THEY WERE HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE. The mass of such a dull cup was ultimately the most significant in that moment, reminding her of the heaviness that pounded through her shoulders. While they drank, their bright eyes shot into the already icy black pools. They could feel it, the way their pulse thumping with the power only felt when a hammer slams on an anvil.

A drop of black coffee shouldn't be pouring on the surface of that gleaming white envelope, their familiar seal on the edge. Like it used to when they were younger. Their pupils constricted as the cup clicked on the surface of the little chilly plate. The question resurfaced in their mind as if it had not already been blatantly obvious to themselves.

‘Why am I so scared?’ The words echoed in their head, silently. ‘What does it matter if it spills or not? It’s just an envelope.’

Though that wasn't just any ordinary envelope. They pursued their lips as the truth revealed everything without care for a wait. They felt another flurry of child-like recklessness within them once again. For a brief moment, their warm gaze was visible. The lost purity of their youth, which they had thought to have lost long ago, had reappeared. They sighed, unsure of what to do.

The icy loneliness of the envelope's borders, as it sat calmly discarded not far away from them, made it impossible to convey to them. The soft whisper of darkened skies made it impossible to tell if it was morning. Yet within their memories, the brightness of the morning dawn has always resonated with a pleasant unattainable radiance. They couldn't sleep again today. That day kept returning to the young soul. They felt as though it was akin to another grievous reminder of those warm-hearted charcoal eyes they had once loved.

They lowered their head, almost ashamed. All they could feel inside of them was that searing anguish filling their heart with nothing but agony. There was no peace in the confines of their heart. There is no peace on those nights, even if the moon sings pleasant things to soothe her to sleep. They knew that there was nothing but horrors. He visited their dreams almost every night.

He smiled so beautifully against the shine of the moon. Like that summer night where they first kissed. They were letting all the memories they had buried haunt them. These nightmares always comprised the sweetest smiles and bitter goodbyes. The cozy bed had somehow become an opponent. It seemed as though they were wallowing in a terrible abyss of quicksand in the luxuries of their cold feather bed, with no way out. It didn't help to stay unmoving, alone in this unmade bed, staring up at the plain white ceiling.

They had loved Kento enough; They truly did. But he wasn't home, he wasn't there to fill that space. To replace that emptiness, to make a home out of the numb loneliness. he was a merchant by trade. The nomad who ceaselessly took the opportunity that life had to offer. Yet he too was a serious man who took his responsibilities to the people he loved seriously as long as he could. Yet Kento was someone who had no permanence in the warmth of home. 

When he was home, it was something that still showed the gaps, the distance that had come with their degree of separation. Their little arrangement, their little life together, had once been beautiful at one point. But now all it does is make them lonely, now it makes them infuriated. Yet there was no one left to blame.

What was there to be angry about? He needed to keep what life being lived going, much of that relied on him. There was little to complain about, when they agreed about it before they had decided to become one. After all, these years had been lived in a garden of thorns. Nothing was easy.

They should be thankful he had worked at all. Others have had a harder time than them, losing  homes and the meal on the dinner table. Yet in Kento’s absence, their gaping heart was filled with those bright beaming memories of their first love. Everything about those memories were painted in vibrant pastels. Everything was so bright and new.

He smiled at them, rushing toward them direction as his dark locks spun across the pillows like a constellation weaving through the wide open sky. On those lonely nights, they did not want to think of him as much as they did. But one never forgets that long lost love. In those nights, they could not admit to anything but anguish and pointing fingers, blaming Kento for not being by their side. They wanted to blame him. It was easier that way, blaming the man they had committed to life with. 

Because they cannot stop thinking of his eyes that narrowed down at them tenderly. They couldn't get those memories out of their head, their mind craved everything about that charming man who had captured this wanting heart all those years ago. They had created quite a world, nay a universe, just for him.

Everything within that universe was devoted to cherishing, worshiping memories of that man already dried in the inked pages. But they could not help it. Geto Suguru was too hard to forget, too hard to bury in the past. When you fall in love the first time, nothing ever comes close. Nothing ever comes to be beyond the world that had embraced them for years and years.

How much they had remembered all those years of being in his strong, warm arms. The repeatedly lonesome bed trapped and bound their body and soul to the seclusion of the darkness. Their feet were firmly planted on the floor, their body towering over the diner. Arms resting upon their chest, the echoes of their heart beat unlike any other. They knew that they had no feeling of coherence. Nothing felt real, nothing felt true. Everything had been a blur—a never-ending darkness that had cleared them completely, leaving nothing but a void.

They recalled the way they had carelessly bruised themselves when they had awoken from another nightmare. Mindlessly, They walked in the dark narrow halls as quietly as they could. They did not wish to wake Kento’s father from his slumber, not when he was ill.  Their hands had been weak as they stumbled into the kitchen to get the warm water pitcher. There were no tears streaming from their weary eyes.

There was no sound from their lips, and no effort had been taken to prevent the spreading of shattered glass. They simply stared. They had no sense of sanity. There is no reality meter to gauge their consciousness. Simply as motionless as the fruit resting on the marble counter. They watched as the overflowing water pooled through the broken whole like a deluge had challenged the pieces of glass across the floor.

"Why am I doing this?" Their thin crimson lips let out a quiet whimper as they bowed their fatigued head in the heavenly air. Their brilliantly bright bonnet trailed behind them, shielding their eyes. "There's nothing else to say. I said that last time.....He was the one that said goodbye. I've been doing so great. And now….."

Yet somehow, They couldn't tear their attention away from the envelope, that begged bare fingertips for their warmth to give life to the inanimate pages of living, haunting love. To whisper those same words of affection that they had abandoned years ago, to match the fondness of the words within its frames. Their index finger marched forward, unafraid. The brightness of the platinum band on their ring finger reprimanded them in a scolding glow at that time.

They hesitated once more, their heart beating harshly against the flesh of their body. The reign of fears killed the resolute strength within them. They bite tenderly at their lower lip in anxious softness. They had made their peace with everything a long time ago, at least that is what they said. So there was no reason to be misled, to be misled by feelings settled in the corner of the mind’s palace. The shadows of their face reverberate like a ghost that begs to be finally laid to rest as the light weakly glows.

Yet, just like a wandering phantom wishing for relief, They realize that this was heaven’s bestowed fate. To be bound to the barren earth with the haunting memories of the life that had been lived like a gramaphone on repeat. To travel through the life they may have had, to torment her like her into a never-ending misery-like haunting bestiality. A never-ending hell that never ends.

Moving steadily, They held her hands into a chain, They felt the unending chill that only winter could provide. Is this how it has been for all this time since they split up? Have they truly been this miserable? Have they truly abandoned themselves to the abyss of grief, of longing? Of yearning for something that will never return? 

The spring they had loved has yielded to winter, its vivacity has long since faded. They knew that too well. But they could not help but return to spring in long locked away memories. That spring was where they can admit they had been the happiest. The truest to themselves. Because he was there.

It was because Geto Suguru had been the melody of that song through the truth of the heart.  Suguru's youth belonged to them. As much as they knew that their own youth belonged to him. That spring was for the two of them to own, only theirs and no one else’s. Greedily, that’s what they believed.

Those blooming flowers formed their gentle smile and made their heart pulse with the thrill that came with young love. It was the way he laughed so boyishly as he raced the length of the flower fields. Their eager gaze followed him, the wind eager to dance across those flower fields. The crinkle of mischief  drifts through the sky to mingle with the beam of rainbow lights.

The lark eyed young man looked at them as though it was like sunflower beams. The loving words seemingly flowed out like lovely echoes of hummingbird melodies. There had been the sweet touch of hands wrapped around them with such happiness, the delight of being together as the sound of the river's quiet whistles. 

It all came flooding home, that mellow breeze that led their love, in each and every moment they traveled the paths they had taken, arms locked together. Nobody had an inkling. Not even their parents. The spring dalliance, that became so much bigger of a world than anything else, was all their own. 

It had been the perfect love, belonging to the two of them. The only one they had told had been their uncle Yaga. He took pity on a broken soul, they knew. Those eyes filled with such wrestling grief. That conflict, that wanting, that yearning. He knew it too well. It was his kindness that allowed her to escape Tokyo after Suguru parted from them, to save her from growing mad.

Away from those dark eyes that continued to watch over them in the distance. Those lark bright that only mourned him just as much as they did. There was an echo in their soul which reached out to him, spoke in such a terrible voice; a voice they didn't even remember having. It had been so loud and angry. Yet Suguru merely smiled at them, ever so mournful as theirs was.

'I mourn the person we once were,” He whispered to them in the tender gaze of the altar, looking at them as their voice echoed in the basilica's bright glass windows. “Such brilliant splendor that’s long past us now, my love.”

They could not help but feel melancholy about remembering the spring.  They had come to hate it, even Kento just knew. Barely leaving their studio, abandoning the sight of warm blossoms of roses across the neighbor's front lawn. They decided to have to care for it any longer. It was too fleeting. Too young, too eager. Things that they were no longer. Spring provides us with a small sliver of careless youth.

The flowers in that spring bloomed, as did the love they both thought was impossible. However, spring must always give way to the beginning of fall. It was now October, and the hardest rain was anxiously awaiting freezing into the hammering winter cold. One in which They had come to be caged in. Like dragons of old who lived in caves in the abandon of endless silence. Alone to dwell on what was and what could have been in the present, which only deepens their agony.

It was the most heartbreaking moment of their existence. To watch the etches of their fair face contort to grief, to fear and to tears. The tears they had wished they had never come to shed. Suguru had been the one to tell them, to relay those words that ripped them apart like a harsh ocean wave rushing through.

The words of their father, the words of a man who used the woman he said he loved like a chess piece. To further his rise to the top of politics. They had been young then, when their father had bragged of doing such a thing. Of hurting their mother like it was a holy act in the eyes of god. 

When Suguru informed them that he cannot be with them any longer, they were taken back to that memory of their father. That heartache that shattered the dreams of a child. Nothing was absolute in the world, not even love. Not the way they had wanted. Not the way Suguru desired. It was to be a sin, a sin that would go against the word of the holy book he considered ever so sacred. 

It was Suguru’s path, he told them so clearly, hammered with familiar hurt—one that reminded them of their own grief. The two of them sat on the bed they used to sleep in together, the sunshine dulled by the venomous dark clouds which had gathered to see such a scene. But they remembered the distance that had formed in the sky. They remembered how warmly the tears of parting fell, one after another like the pouring rain. The warmth of the pillows grew cold with the solemn shadow of their own body. 

As they sat there immobilized, their eyes began to echo bloodshot red. Their habitually loud voice was hushed into soundless sobs for a short time — they had no words to say. All that passed through their mind couldn't seem to understand, to register this new reality that was now happening. It hadn't occurred to them how everything had morphed towards something they didn't wish to be a part of. A life they did not want to change forever. It was worse to wait, to watch for him to turn to them and be reminded that they could not be together any longer. 

It felt like they were walking towards their shallow grave. They could not do it, couldn’t deal with it any longer. He did not want to be miserable, as much as they didn’t. Being together until that moment felt like a dream, and now it is a nightmare. Yet remembering, repeating those phrases, those words, felt like they burned in flames. They felt like they burned every inch of their flesh into ash. It was the feeling of being poured into a wild sea to be swallowed by an agitated wave , to drown in everything. Suguru whispered those words in the past tense, tears pouring from his eyes.

Those words they hated, over and over. The value of those whispers of ‘i love you’ in repeated order, followed by buts and excuses, by deviation, by cancellation, by subtraction. They etched in these fragile veins and poisoned them to death. It was a curse, to love. And yet it continued, as easily as breathing. Those words had made a fool of them, laughing at them. And They would never be the same again. There was nothing left for fools. Nothing. 

“But you love god.” They whispered back, brows furrowing into sorrow. “More than you love me.”

“I’m sorry.” He kissed the top of their hair, smiling ever so apologetically. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

Suguru had left that flat the next day, a letter left on the counter along with the keys. The nooks and corners empty, from where he hid his variety of morning tea to the little books he would read as the sun would rise to greet them. They stood frozen, staring at what had remained. The flat was cold, so dreadfully cold. They just stared, with their eyes burning in pain and crimson shine from the tears that would not stop pouring. They did not take it well.

They'd flung aside the blankets that had filled with muted tones of their disheveled look, scrambling across their face like a hurricane. They didn't want to think about it. They didn’t want to be reminded of it. Yet all there was left was reminders. Nothing but ruins in the once great space that was their own. That life no longer materialized into being, not here. As lonely as the dead trees, stripped of the foliage that once decorated their twigs. Life cannot exist where there is no sun, life cannot exist without the warmth of water, nor can it exist without the oxygen in their lungs. There was none here. Nothing was here, other than barren life.

Moving into a modest shack of an apartment in the far out districts of Tokyo, nearer to the other prefectures than anything else. Uncle Yaga was the one that had suggested it to them, as it had been far enough from the capital. It was a new perspective, a new sign of life — one that could perhaps heal them. He told them that he had once sought refuge in the far flung district’s vibrant feel, having departed himself once more in his nomadic pleasures. They had been blessed by his suggestion.

The bright street lamps comforted them at night. The sight of morning air that came through had been a gentle kiss on their welcoming of that first lonely sunrise. There was a buzz of excitement that filled them as they watched different people stroll the streets every day, suitcases in hand and speaking different tongues. They all were hoping,  gathering  their strength to start a new life, just as they had. In a manner, they were maintained by this encounter every day. In a sense, it made them feel like they weren't the only one going towards a new chapter in life. They were not alone for the first time in a long time. 

Though uncle Yaga sent money regularly, they too were able to find some work. It had helped them somewhat, the world still reeling from the financial disaster that had recently plagued the nation. They have been able to save enough money recently. And in those times, they had come to be interested in pottery. They seem to notice the solace of it, having watched some locals make clay pots for their meals and as gifts. Soon enough, they wanted to try it all out. They had been eager to find the materials.

But they did not know where to start, unable to find the ones that they liked enough to suit the ideas They had in their head to come to life. A small sigh passes their lips. They had the confidence to think that learning would be easy, but it had not been. But They had been glad to have this moment to start something new. A new hobby meant a new life. And a new life meant moving forward. Life finally goes on.

On that cold winter morning in January, they met an old man who had come from central Tokyo only a few months before. He had moved to the city a while ago, he said. To be closer to his son who had become his carer. Having suffered burns across his body after an accident had happened in his home, his only child had been wanting to take care of his father so that he would not be alone.

They had been surprised about him. He was an intelligent man, but he was stern and rarely smiled, often in heavy bouts of pain. But they do not blame him. His burns had not completely healed. Often, it was only morphine that could put him to rest. 

They met the old man’s son soon enough. Their neighbor, Nanami Kento, had been kind to them when they first met. It had all begun when they had struggled with their  purchases from the market and he had been willing to lend a hand. He had always smiled at them with his thin lips, blossoming craters upon his cheeks.

He was a beautiful man, with his light blond hair and his soft brown eyes. They were nearly the same height, but it did not perturb him. Still, there were corners they could not reach, even with their height. Kento had been the one to help them, reaching forward so devotedly. 

It was obvious that he had been a bigger man in a frame than them, though. Kento’s father had bragged about it, certainly. They could see Kento’s cheeks redden ever so brightly. They could only find themselves laughing along with Kento’s father as he reacted even more expressively. For a while, Kento had kept them company as time went by. That had soothed them and kindly given them something to look forward to. From the friendship that blossomed, they had found something they had longed to have in a long time — a true laugh.

There had not been any interaction with the two of them, for a time after that. Kento admitted to them that for a while, he pondered if he should continue developing affinity with them. When they allowed him to continue to explore the depth of that warmth between them, Kento had been certain to be nothing but good to them. 

He respected them too much, giving them much more than any one, even Suguru, had afforded them. When they talked, there was not a semblance of awkwardness. Not once did they feel any dull moments hit the tune they danced to. It had been easy to just be with him. The burdens did not exist in his every touch, not even in his gazes. The warmth of his embraces had enraptured their cold body, eager for the warmth of someone’s care.

That made them feel relieved, to not be alone any longer. There was comfort in someone’s kindness and truthfulness. From then on, they had always been aided by him. That’s why they had felt as though they too would like to return the favor, taking the responsibility of taking care of his father when they had the time to do so.

They had conversed with him when the older man had no company in the apartment’s commune. Kento had sent them a telegram saying that he would be home later tonight, but the trains had a mishap.They had switched his reserved seat for another day and it took a while to fix with the officers of the train.

As such, Kento asked them to take care of his father till he returned. They had no qualms with doing so, having a day off that day. Besides, Kento had told them that his father had been melancholic after his mother had passed. His father needed someone and they were willing to step forward to be that someone.

They had not known the language he was now speaking, the deep thick accent of his words befuddled from the hale of medication he was taking. It did not seem he understood what they were saying in reply either. Yet during the times that he did, it had made them warm inside. Today seemed like a good day, where they responded back to them. 

Today, he seemed to know what they had been saying though, smiling when they told him good things that happened at the market this morning. But for the most part, they created a language through actions. At least when the older man had been capable. But most days, the two of them sat to enjoy the day. Just by sitting together to enjoy the warmth of the small fireplace in their apartment. It was enough to have someone.

Kento’s father had been someone who had been interested in pottery, as far as teaching it for years when he had been a younger man in the capital’s finest schools. Kento had told themthat it had been part of their family’s history, as his grandfather had been a historian who studied the history of their family’s hometown. His father had become intrigued by the pots and vases they would find, eventually deciding to focus on such studies and practice.

It piqued their interest, for the most part, watching Kento’s father tell them ceramics he had taken with him from all the places he had come to work when he was able. Most clearly on days when the morphine had not overtaken him. Some he had made by hand, practicing methods that had long been gone and reviving them one motion at a time. But now they were only stories, his body no longer able to do as he wished, in particular, took her interest. Bright golden streaks echoed through the plate like golden rain, wonderfully varnished with nothing but the finest finish. When they turned a moment later to ask, they had gotten the reply.

“That had been from the days of old.” Kento’s father whispered to them, gazing at them with a small smile. “They called it kintsugi, young one.” 

Their eyes gazed at him questioningly. “What is that?”

The old man gazed at them with warm almond eyes and smiled at her, speaking. “Something that is broken being fixed with gold, child. To be whole again. It is a kindness, an echo of beauty. A new life.”

For a moment they blinked, stunned that he had gathered himself in his chair with a painful groan.

 “A new life?”

The old man smiled at her once more, faintly this time. “All that is broken — is not truly broken. It is just waiting to find a way to be alive again. That is why they used to fix it with gold. Life for the broken can be golden too. There is always a new path to walk on again, young child.”

That moment made their heart flutter, almost as if they had been waiting their whole entire existence for those words to be said to them. Warm words of simple solace were sometimes more than the warmth of the fire crackling in the room. It was the most genuine warmth against the winter. Tears streamed down their cheeks. They could only whisper, "Thank you." 

Ever since then, they had come to be fond of the artistry of kintsugi—pooling as much as they could to the devotion of new passions. It was a new life they had been living, excitement pumped through veins. In these two years, they had ended up getting lessons from Kento’s father on pottery when he was able to instruct. It had been a pleasant time, having to spend carelessly after work in the wonderful pool of stories, of myths, and of time gone by that had suddenly made them forget about the mournful heartbreak.

When he was in too much pain, they nursed him to rest and afterwards, continued to do as they pleased with learning the art of the pottery. The wind that cooled their body from the open window had been refreshing, the exhaustion of work pondering their body. It had been for a new exhibition, one that had come after the other. It had been something that had surprised them, that such skillful artistry would become the wholeness of their current life. But it fulfilled them, it had filled the gaps they had with gold—to live again as they had always had. Forward.

In a moment as they dipped their hands in the cold pools in the bowl, they did not remember how lost they had been when the already gone had seeped through. It had been pouring lately, but it had been expected, especially as their quarter was always affected by the autumn rains. Pursing their lips, the young soul could only sigh as they saw the roof still dripping from last night’s wistful rain.

It had always slipped their mind, to tell Kento about the leaking roof. But it could not be helped as they gazed at the open window. They would tell him when he gets home from work, he would fix it. Leaning forward, they watched what remained of the rain pour through. 

For a moment, their mind explored the corner it always returns to. The smile on her lips as they chased them, playing those childish games. The cold rains were heavily drenching their Sunday dresses, readying for church. But those lark eyes did not care.

No, they were paved with mischief. They were a wildfire, burning through with his loud laughter. Those were happy moments, their memories whispered, Memories that yearned for him, that adored him. Urging them to open her heart once again, to love the ghost haunting them. That moving forward should mean loving what was already passed.

No, now at this moment — they shook their head. They will not go back to those memories. They will not. They felt happy. This was their life now, their new life. And they are doing well. They are happy, even. Happier than ever before. They felt content in the already small space crowding in the wonder of sketches across the battered walls.

The round table is full of drying plaster vases, letting the hot sun beckon it frozen in the summer heat. The smell of charcoal gathered across their blackened fingers, as they rubbed them against the planned design. At that moment, the new path had become dipped in gold. And for that, they were grateful. There was no need. No need to return .

But when the night came, they nearly dropped the envelope.

Kento had returned, placing a kiss upon the temple of their head.

Their left hand over their lips, the ring echoing a tender promise.

‘Had Yaga give me up to him?’ They panicked, their heart beating wildly. ‘No, he wouldn’t do that to me…..But still, how did he?…’

“Are you alright?” Kento lowered his gaze at his lover, questioning them. For a moment he was worried. They had been tearing up, still staring at the letter. Putting his soft hands against their shoulder, the shine of the ring finger beckoned against the early dawn. “‘Hey, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” They whispered to him, wiping away their tears, and tore the envelope and threw it in the bin. “It was nothing.”

His gaze beckoned towards the bin and then to them. “Are you sure? It’s nothing bad, is it?”

“No, it was just an advert. Nothing important.” They gave him a small smile to reassure him. But his eyes could see that the light in his lover’s eyes was dim. “Selling me those ridiculously expensive silver pots again.”

“I see.” He did not want to overwhelm his lover by asking. He pursed his lips and turned to them, putting his hands on their face. Rubbing their cheeks, he tried to comfort them with his touch.

But they turned their face slightly away from him. “It’s just that. It’s not that important.”

The fondness across his lips deepened. “You don’t have to buy them, you know. I know you hate them. But I suppose the ad may be telling us something. I’ll take you, we’ll buy you something. Even if it's not the silver pots. You need to treat yourself, love. Tell me. I’ll buy it for you.”

“I just….” They could not find the words to say. Their heart beating fast, They clutched their hands onto it as though to beg for it to stop. “I’ll decide later….it could just be another waste of money, you know?”

He shook his head laughing. “Spoiling you, making you smile. It will never be a waste of money, you got it?”

They pierced their lips in a tender line and then smiled, nodding.

He sighed softly, satisfied. Kento put his hands on their shoulders and then their arms. Moving close to them, he allowed his body to caress them. They had rested their head onto his shoulders, quietly accepting his comfort. They had stayed that way for a while, Kento knowing he would have to leave in a couple of minutes. 

He indulged himself to comfort them at this time when he would not see them for a couple of days at most. He needed to be with them. In all times he can be there, he will be. It was the least he could do, after being so far away from them all this time. He loved them with all his heart, after all. When they had parted, he grabbed his coat and put his hat on. He turned to them, smiling widely at them. Her fingers played at the texture of his trench coat. 

“I’ll be back as soon as possible. I would not want to miss dinner with your uncle.” He tells them, caressing his lover’s long spread of hair tenderly. “I’ll hurriedly finish work and come straight home, hm? I’ll bring some flowers too.”

They let out a small laugh. “I’ll look forward to it.”

He kissed the edge of their temple and then their cheek before they separated once again. Finally, he gathered his lips around theirs and softly hugged them. They peered into one other's eyes, before they laughed. Kento whispered his goodbyes and heard them say farewell. When they had closed the door, reality shook her to its core. It had his name on the mail, written as sender. It had been Suguru's name. They hurried to the bin, opening it and taking the torn letter. 

Tears streamed down in their eyes as they realized that the wound had reopened. The shadows of the past had come and rushed like a flood, like a sudden thunder from the skies. They had been found once more, they had been yearned for. Suguru had written to them. After all this time, he wanted them.

They stared at the torn letter and burst into a sob, guttural almost like an animal’s wild cries. In a soundless fall of their body on the floor, heavy tears surged like an infinite wave of ripping currents. Their arms shook as they clutched themselves, gathering over their shoulder blades.

All the emotions they had felt at the time, and yet still felt, hurried back to them like lightning striking the soil over and over.  Everything had returned. All that they had buried within the back of their mind. All that they had fought to bury six feet under, they had all but risen from the dead.  They couldn’t stop themselves from embracing the cuts of the envelope as though they were cradling the most precious thing in the world.

Suguru’s name echoed in the bits and pieces of shredded paper. After all this time, he still remembered them. After all this time, there was still that wanting, that forbidden desire. But it would never happen now. After putting Kento’s father into bed and aided him to sleep that night,their restless abandon in the pool of recalling tears called them awake. 

And here in this lonesome space, with this torn letter — this torn letter that shouldn’t even exist. Suguru was now living his dream, his destiny, his duty. There were children laughing every day in the choir of the church. Satoru still visits, sometimes with Shoko. Suguru had taken in twin girls in the church, adopting them after their parents had left them at the steps of the large gates. He was living his dream, he had his life now. His life was now fulfilled. Full of the newfound hope and laughter. 

Geto Suguru should be doing well. He was happy. He said as much in his appointment at the church. They were there, a witness as his dreams tore apart years of a home built in each other. Suguru smiled at them from all the way in the back. They choked a sob and stood, leaving. It was enough, seeing him then. Dazzling in the bright golden crucifix on his chest and the most beautiful black robes and that mantle of yellow–gold. That had been enough of a scene, that should have been the ending of those pictures in the theater. That should have been the end.

 ‘But his dark lark-like eyes. His eyes were grieving you.’

Reeling in a moment of rewind, the words in the card makes them feel like they were going to burst into tears once again. Suguru had become one with god, become one with the divine, with the duty of the sacred. That world is treating him well. They prayed every day, in the silence of their repeating days, that he would always be well. That he’ll always be healthy.

That he would always be happy. That god would always favor him. They knew that god would always be kind, god will always be merciful, god would grant their prayers. They knew that. After all, god has taught love. And in their heart, there was only love for the man that had made her feel what love truly looks like.  

There was that day, that day in central Tokyo, when Kento had brought them for a day out with his father. They were going to visit his mother’s grave. In the markets, they walked and talked. Deciding what to give in offering to the temple and then to his mother. Yet it caught their eye immediately. The same long tresses of hair, as charcoal as the night.

The same sound of laughter echoing from the distance. Dark priestly robes beckoned his body, kind words poured through the sanctity of his lips. Behind him were two young girls, dressed in long dresses, trailing behind him so tenderly. Silver crosses were on their necks, a gift no doubt from the priestly man, the godly man, that had taken them in.

The two girls shared the same shine, same passion in their eyes as Suguru does. Jolly in the tenderness, they were so beautiful in the morning sun. They felt their heart break at the sight, as they lowered their parasol and let the sight be gone. For the past to just be the past. For life to move forward. It was better that way. For the two of them. It was better to forget than remember. Yet, that’s what they did.

They had wept ever so silently all night when they returned home, trying their hardest to not be seen by their lover. They did not want Kento to worry. They did not want to trouble him in his sleep. They did not want to cause more suffering. Not for them, not for the memory of the long lost love they knew Kento could never replace. There must not be anymore reminiscing, there must not be anymore yearning. There must not be any more curiosity. 

‘I don’t miss you.’ They whispered to their restless heart as they wept. ‘I do not miss you.’

That was the end of it. They can't take much more of this pain. Suffering for a goodbye that would never be repeated. This cannot be true. They reflected to themselves. You also have a life. A different way of living. It's unjust to Kento, to blame him for their loneliness, their suffering. It's unjust to them, it's unjust to Suguru. They must make the first step. To make it final. To let him go for good. This is what saves them, this is what graces them in front of god. 

Their hands grasped the envelope with a trembling breath. They chewed at their thin lips even more as they trembled and felt the tears flood. They looked at the envelope with eyes shaking, too unwilling to say goodbye. A harsh cry came from them as the shaking hands clasped together, cutting through the coherence to incomprehensible fragments that would never be whole again.

They gathered them in their hands and stood, allowing the tears to pour. They shut their eyes once They reached the bin, as if they were mourning a death. Even after these many years, perhaps they will always mourn. This was a tragic death that will never be forgotten. A death that would haunt them for the rest of their life. They apologized as they stared at the bits, whispering those words of devoted love that had long been banished from her lips. 

They cried Suguru’s name repeatedly, at each repetition, it was almost like a prayer more than anything else. Those words of love died as much as their beloved Suguru’s name did in each round of breath. They said tearful goodbyes, each and every time. They murmured the parting words of her love. They watched as their body moved on its own and flung them aside moments later.

They put their gloves back on their hands and their bonnet back on their small head as they paid for their drink in eerie silence. The staff had not been there, but they left the payment anyway. The tears dried sooner than later, and their heart had no more space to become even more numb at each pang of the ache. But it was all for the best. 

Kento’s father will be walking soon, and they needed to arrange breakfast for him. They felt the frigid wind surge through their shrouded bodies as they strolled through the dimly lit streets, and They pondered if it was god above comforting them, just as Suguru used to say. They wondered if all would ever be okay. That they were pleased with what they had done.

Their lips let out a forlorn sigh as they slid their hands into the sleeves of their coat. They took a deep breath and started to walk home, the echoes of their footsteps merging with the silent cries of their heart. Memories of love, now tinged with the bittersweet hues of what once was.

“It was nothing.” They whispered to the calm air, convincing themselves. “It was just what it was in the end.”

They smiled and paused as they saw a falling star.

“I’m living well, Suguru.”

“I’m glad to know that.”

They turned their head up as they halted, under the light.

Their mouth opened as the dark eyed priest smiled at them.

He still looked so beautiful, especially now, under the moonlight.

They halted, facing each other, and the dim light revealed the lines etched by time on Suguru's face. It must have been a moment of peace for Suguru, his steps measured and deliberate, a silent echo of the morning rituals he once shared with them. He always loved walking, embracing the fresh air as the world awoke. The memory of those quiet mornings lingered, a haunting reminder of a love that once flourished like the flowers touched by the first light of dawn.

As Suguru drew closer, the streetlamp cast a glow upon the contours of his face, revealing the weariness that came with the weight of his choices. His eyes, reflective pools of regret and nostalgia, met theirs, and for a moment, time stood still. The priestly robes draped around him seemed to carry the burden of unspoken confessions and silent prayers.

He had seemed all grown up, his hair longer than it had been all those years ago. Yet, he was still whom they knew. The person they had loved the most in the world. Their very heart, right in front of them, as though they had never parted. 

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

Suguru smiled at the sound of their voice, his steps slowing as if time itself had granted them a brief moment of suspended reality. The street lamp flickered, casting dancing shadows that played across his somber features. His eyes, once filled with the warmth of shared memories, now held a distant recognition.

"Long time no see," they whispered, the words escaping their lips in a hushed tone, laden with a mixture of nostalgia and restraint. The blink that followed seemed to bridge the gap between the past and the present, a futile attempt to clear away the emotional fog that hung between them.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you too.”

"Sugu—No, uh, Father. Father Geto," they stammered, the words catching in their throat as they struggled to reconcile the familiarity of the old name with the newfound title of reverence. The transition from the intimate to the formal underscored the undeniable transformation Suguru had undergone.

A fleeting sadness crossed Suguru's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the divide that now existed between them. The weight of the priestly robes seemed to intensify, as if the fabric itself bore witness to the complexities of their shared history.

Whispers of the impossibilities that had consistently echoed in his mind for years when it came to them, to the life they could have had. The life they could have deserved. He was certain that their words shattered him, his mind full of chances and roads not taken. 

"Indeed, it has been a long time," Suguru replied, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths. The use of the formal title added a layer of formality to their exchange, a thin veil attempting to conceal the depth of the emotions lingering beneath the surface.

A heavy silence settled between them, and the flickering street lamp seemed to cast a spotlight on the unresolved tension in the air. Their gaze lingered on Suguru's face, searching for traces of the person they once knew within the contours of the priest before them.

Father Geto, his expression a mask of duty and restraint, nodded in acknowledgment.

"Yes, it has," he replied, his voice a measured cadence that echoed through the quiet night.

They bit their lower lip, a nervous habit that betrayed the turbulence within. The words unsaid, the questions unasked, hung in the air like a delicate thread waiting to unravel. The night embraced the weight of their emotions, and the street lamp continued to flicker, casting its dim glow further upon the scene—a reunion tainted by the passage of time and the choices that led them down divergent paths.

Their eyes shimmered with unshed tears as Geto Suguru let the passage of time settle in the air. The chasm between them widened, and in that moment of silence, it seemed to stretch into eternity—a vast expanse of unspoken emotions and missed opportunities.

"Suguru," They whispered, unable to mask the vulnerability in their voice. The name hung between them, a bridge attempting to span the gap created by titles and time.

Suguru's gaze flickered with a mixture of pain and understanding. Yet in between, so much love. So much devotion – sealed away for what remained of all his life. Reserved for a lifetime where his yearning to duty, to god, did not win.

"Please," he began, the weight of his own emotions evident in the quiver of his voice, "Call me Father Geto. It's the only way we can navigate this... this impossibility."

The words hung heavy in the air, a poignant acknowledgment of the constraints that bound them. They merely nodded, a small, pained acceptance of the reality that lay before them. 

"Father Geto," They uttered, the words tasting foreign on their tongue.

A sigh escaped Suguru's lips, a fragile exhale carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies.

"I never wanted it to be like this," he confessed, his eyes betraying a sadness that transcended the boundaries of their shared history.

"I know," they replied, aching with the burden of understanding. The streetl amp's flickering light cast a dance of shadows on Suguru's face, emphasizing the lines etched by time and choices.

The heavy silence persisted, a tangible force that hung in the air like a shroud. Their gaze fought to be tender as they remained fixed on Suguru's face, as though trying to find solace in the familiar features that had once provided comfort and warmth.

Father Geto, a master of self-discipline, struggled to maintain the mask of duty and restraint.

"We are bound by different paths now," he said, each word resonating with the finality of their choices.

They took a hesitant step forward, as if attempting to breach the invisible barrier between them.

"Do you ever regret it?" they asked, their voice a mere whisper in the quiet night.

Suguru's eyes, haunted by the ghosts of what could have been, met theirs.

"I would be lying if I said I didn’t," he admitted, the confession heavy with the weight of his own longing.

Tears welled up in their eyes, and they fought to keep their composure.

"I thought time would make it easier," they confessed, a raw vulnerability laid bare beneath the dim glow of the streetlamp.

Suguru offered them a weary smile, a flicker of shared pain passing between them.

"Time has a way of revealing wounds we thought were healed," he said, the truth echoing through the hallowed space between them.

The night embraced them, a silent witness to the intricate dance of emotions beneath the flickering street lamp. Time seemed to stand still, allowing the echoes of a love both tender and tormented to reverberate through the quiet air, wrapping around them like a shroud of nostalgia.

"I miss you," they whispered, the words hanging in the cool night air, laden with the weight of untold stories and the lingering ache of unresolved emotions.

Suguru, with a melancholic smile that held the depth of a thousand shared sunsets, replied, "I know."

His words, a testament to the silent understanding that had weathered the storms of time, painted a canvas of their shared history.

A brief yet profound moment passed between them, a communion of souls familiar with the artistry of sorrow. They exchanged sad smiles, acknowledging the pain that dwelled beneath the surface—a tapestry woven with the threads of what was and what could never be again.

"But you'll never leave God, won't you?" they asked, the words hanging in the air like a sacred hymn, a melody of unspoken truths that resonated through the silence.

Suguru, his gaze drifting to the ground like a fallen prayer, nodded with a heaviness that only a man torn between earthly desires and divine duty could understand. 

"Yeah," he confessed, his voice a fragile melody that cracked with the weight of the choices he bore.

A bitter laugh escaped them, a bitter acknowledgment of the cosmic joke that played with the strings of their fate. "Damn."

"I'm sorry," Suguru whispered, the words carrying the weight of unspoken regrets, a plea for forgiveness in a universe that seemed indifferent to the intricacies of human hearts.

Suguru listened in the gentle embrace of the night, the words hanging in the air like a delicate confession of the heart. The flickering street lamp cast a soft glow on their faces, revealing the vulnerability etched in the lines of their expressions.

“I’ve never felt so homeless,” they admitted, their voice a poignant melody that resonated with the ache of a displaced soul. A somber laugh escaped them, a fragile release of emotion that danced on the precipice of tears. "To be without the person that made me feel like life can be a home. It’s as if I’ve been taught how to build a home, and then it's just, in ruins.”

Suguru, his eyes reflecting the constellations of shared pain, nodded in solemn understanding. The weight of their words echoed through the silent night, the gravity of loss settling like a heavy fog.

“It's a peculiar kind of emptiness,” he mused, his voice a low murmur, as if joining the nocturnal conversation with the whispers of the wind. "To have known the warmth of a home, only to find it reduced to ruins. The echoes of what was linger in the cracks, haunting the spaces that once held promises."

The person's gaze, a reflection of a universe in turmoil, met Suguru's.

"You were my home," they confessed, the words carrying the weight of unspoken dreams and the fragments of a life that now lay in ruins.

Suguru, his heart heavy with the acknowledgment of what had been lost, replied, "And you were mine." His voice, a gentle breeze that carried the scent of nostalgia, painted the canvas of their shared memories. "You'll always be."

"I know." They replied back, pointing to the middle of their chest. "You'll always find your way into a house here too."

The night wrapped around them, a silent witness to the unraveling of a love that had once been the cornerstone of their existence. The street lamp flickered, casting a dance of shadows on the remnants of their shared dreams, now scattered like stardust in the cosmic expanse.

As they stood beneath the dim glow, Suguru reached out, a silent offering of solace in the face of their shared homelessness. The person, their eyes brimming with unshed tears, accepted the gesture, a fragile connection in the midst of ruins.

"It's okay not to have all the answers," Suguru whispered, his words a gentle reassurance, a beacon of understanding in the night. "Sometimes, the process of rebuilding begins with acknowledging the ruins."

"Did you do the same?"

He laughs somberly.

"I'll still have to learn to. Just like you." He whispers back to them, tilting his head at them. "It's often hard, when you love someone so much. There's too much to want, too much to remember. But also too much to forget."

They pursed their lips at him.

"Do you want to forget me?"

He shakes his head.

"No. Never."

They dug deeper into their pockets.

"You know, the worst thing is, after all this time, I don't think I've stopped loving you," they confessed, the admission tearing at the seams of their heart like a love letter written on the pages of time. "I still love you. Even if I have someone to love now, I still love you."

There was panic in his eyes for a moment. As though those three words being said paralyzed him. As though they compelled him. The mere three words echoing in his ears made him feel as though he would break covenant to god the moment he heard them. He would sin and he would sin knowing his heart would not be guided by reason. Love after all, does not have reason. Love is just love.

Suguru, looking at them with eyes that mirrored the reflection of constellations, pleaded, "No, no, don't."

"Let's just leave that out there just for a second on its own," they said, a brief huff following as they gathered the shattered remnants of their composure. "It needs to be said, one last time."

Suguru, resigned to the bitter reality that hung between them like a faded photograph, nodded with a quiet acceptance. He offered a smile, fragile as porcelain. "Alright."

"I love you," they declared, the words a sacred offering hung in the air, a requiem for a love that refused to be extinguished, a melody that echoed through the chambers of their shared history.

Suguru, offering a tender smile, whispered, "It'll pass."

"I know," they replied, their voice carrying the wisdom of a soul that had danced with the fleeting nature of love, accepting the transient beauty of their shared pain.

As if prompted by an unseen force, they both turned, their hearts guiding them toward separate destinies. They who is still tethered to the past, lingered in the shadows of what could have been, as if waiting for a final resolution that might never come. Suguru, facing the far reach of the church's dome like a silent sentinel, took a moment to compose himself, tears betraying the stoic facade he wore as a priest.

"I love you too," Suguru confessed, the words a whispered goodbye, a final benediction offered to a love that had been both a sanctuary and a storm.

And then, with a heavy silence enveloping them like a shroud, they finally parted ways. Each step echoed the closing of a chapter, a poignant farewell etched into the fabric of their souls—a bittersweet symphony played beneath the dim glow of a street lamp, where love and destiny converged and diverged in the grand tapestry of life.

There is still a home, built the soul of those you love.

They walked away, they couldn’t help smiling through the tears.

There’s always going to be that home, made just for each other.

They live on together, small crevices of the soul just for each other.

They'll be fine.

Suguru would be fine.

They'll always build a home.

Together.

[evereinefaust]

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝐈𝐜𝐞 ࿐ྂ

Pairing: Gray Fullbuster X afab!Reader

Sypnosis: MC found herself in a winter wonderland. And that was not a good thing. Because of a certain ice wizard, her entire house was filled to the brim with ice.

Word Count: 863

"Oh, how I hate this season!" You grumbled as you rubbed your jacket to keep yourself warm. You had a thick jacket on you, but you still experienced the cold. It's just too much. You already had a thick sweater over your thick long-sleeved turtle neck, and a thick jacket over the sweater. You wore a thick leg warmer under your thick pants. And thick boots to complement your 'thickness style'. You are just so unused to this kind of weather, the cold isn't your forte. And worst of all, a certain ice stripper entered your house without your knowledge and then decorated the whole place with ice ornaments. Ice miniature, ice picture frames, ice sculptures, ice fruit baskets, ice mats, ice fruits, almost everything is covered in ice!

"I swear I'm gonna kill that bastard" You gritted your chattering teeth as you stayed inside your icy room, piles of blanket covering your already thick body. "I-I-I n-need h-hot choco-colate" You said as you reached for your very hot beverage resting on your coffee table. Once you got a hold of the cup, you blew some wind to warm it a bit before drinking. "[Name], why aren't you playing with the others outside?" There he is. The one and only ice mage in Fairy Tail. He is inside your room. Standing at the door without anything on except his boxers.

"Oh, hi there Gray!" You faked a smile while greeting him, waving your hands at him with your eyes closed. "Can't you see that I am suffering from the cold that I can't even leave my room?" You asked him sweetly, trying hard not to snap at him with venom in your voice. "I can see that" He simply replied, one eyebrow raised. "You freaking jerk! It's your fault that I'm in this condition!" Ow... Snap! Now you can't contain your anger, you're gonna burst anytime soon. "It's your fault that I'm here, trying to get warm while you and the others enjoy the snow! It's all because you invaded my house and planted some cursed ice in here that's gonna make me sick! It's your fault that I have to stay like this for the rest of winter! It's all your fault!" You yelled at him, your face becoming redder and redder by the second.

"Geez! You don't have to yell, I can see that!" Gray said in irritation. He walked his way to your bed, his right hand on his hip while the other on his ear. "Why you-!" You are about to snap again but you are cut off by his lips. He kissed you so immediately that you never had the time to register what was happening. "There? Satisfied?" He pulled away as he asked you. "Wha..." You were dumbstruck at the event, you can still feel his ice-cold lips touching your warm ones. "I demand an explanation" You snapped back to reality and then glared at him.

"You don't forgive people that easily, do you?" He chuckled, which earned him another hard glare from you. "Okay, okay. I was planning to spend most of the time with you. But since you will probably hang out with Lucy and the others, I made your house freezing" He explained the first part, sitting on the floor with his arms crossed. "And because of what I did, here you are, all alone in this freezing place" He finished. "That's it? I don't think that's enough to convince me" You raised your brow and then took another sip of your hot chocolate.

"I don't have to convince you" He smiled and then slammed his fist on his palm. "H-hey, wait! Please don't add another ice collection of yours here. It's freezing!" Your eyes began to panic as you waved your arms in front of you in a dismissive manner. The piles of blankets were separated from your body. Gray only smirked as he finished his magic, you could feel your heart drop. He just made you suffer more. You stared at him in disbelief and stayed like that for a while.

"Don't you like it?" He asked, snapping you back to reality. "Huh?" You shook your head and then looked at the finished product he made. It was a miniature you and Gray, he was wearing a tuxedo while carrying you in his arms, bridal style. You were wearing a bridal dress while holding onto his neck. Smile plastered on both of your faces. "I love it" Your eyes softened as you took the gift from him. "So that means I'm forgiven?" He asked, a smile gracing his lips. "Not yet" You smirked, his face almost dropped. You love this reaction of his. "I will only forgive you if you spent all of the day with me," You told him, pointing a finger at your red lips and setting the ice sculpture down. "As you wish" He returned the smirk then smacked his icy cold lips on your red warm ones once again. Icy love can freeze the moment.

[indulgencecentral]

Warm Me Up

AKA when you need more than blankets to fight the cold

Pairings: Suguru Geto × gn!reader

Genre: smut and fluff oneshot

Warnings: Established relationship, nicknames, (sugar, darling, love) fluffy sex for the sake of it, Suguru wears glasses, reader is a bottom.

MDNI

A/N: If it isn't obvious already, giving Suguru the nickname 'sugar' is my favourite thing in the world because he deserves a reverent nickname. I wrote this because it's cold where I live, but I always wear shorts and therefore am plagued with icy coochie syndrome. I also wrote this while listening to All Mine by Plaza.

The two of you had been reading in companionable silence sharing a blanket as you sat at opposite ends of the couch, feet tangled together. Occasionally you would look up from your book to admire Suguru, his hair falling into his face as he read with rapt attention, a pang in your heart when you realised how pretty he was. 

Flame crackled in the fireplace, and empty mugs of hot chocolate rested forgotten on the coffee table, and still, you found yourself chilly all over. 

After catching yourself staring at your lover for the fifth time, you sighed and put your book aside, sliding Suguru’s bookmark between the pages of his novel and clambering into his lap. Automatically, his free arm went around you, and you waited till he finished the paragraph he was reading.

“Hello darling,” he said, his eyes sliding to meet your tired ones. His voice was a rumble in his chest, and you burrowed closer, relishing his body heat.  

“Sugar,” you sighed into his chest. “I’m cold.”

Placing a kiss on your forehead, he drew the blanket tighter around you, pulling you into his solid embrace. “Better?”

You hummed in affirmation, lavishing kisses on his jaw. “That’s not where I’m cold, though.”

At this, he laughed, tucking your hair behind your ear. Had watching him while he read made you horny? Yes, yes it had. But could you be blamed? There was something so attractive about his soft hair in his eyes, the glasses resting low on his nose, his intense focus, the way his jaw ticked and brow furrowed, the way his hands spread the ages apart.

“Where are you cold, then?”

You threaded your hands through his hair, nails scratching lightly along his scalp as you pulled his mouth to yours. “You know where,” you whispered against his lips, a barely-there brush of his mouth enough to make your breath hitch. 

Suguru pulled you into his lap, hands sliding low to cup your ass. “Do I?”

“You do,” you nodded, drunken on his closeness, the lingering scent of his cologne and aftershave making you dizzy as he squeezed your ass. 

“And how would you like me to warm you up?”

You tipped his head back, your mouth making a mess of his neck, teeth grazing along the soft column, the apple of his throat bobbing with each kiss and lick. “Please, Sugar, I’m so cold,” you whined brokenly, paying careful attention to the sensitive speck of skin beneath his ear. 

Instead of replying, his hand traced the sticky heat of your crotch over fabric, your knees buckling when he did. “Like this, love? Is this of you want?”

You ground against his stiffening cock, your motion enough to draw a groan from him. “Let me feel you, sugar,” you moaned, rubbing yourself against his thigh. 

“I’m all yours, darling.”

Your hands found him then, drawing his thick length from his trousers, pumping the shaft gently, whimpering when his hands found your nipples. He kneaded them softly, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth as you slid down on his cock, moaning as you felt him warm up your insides.

Settling on his hips, you mewled as he thrust up in you, shallow slow fucking with no intention of an orgasm, just warmth, comfort and that gorgeous feeling of being linked together. 

Every time he shifted beneath you, the steady pace of your breathing stuttered a little, and every time you nipped at the canvas of his collarbone and neck, his eyes shuttered. 

“Better now?”

You snuggled into him, a sleepy daze clouding your senses. “So much warmer.”

With another kiss upon your temple, you heard the rustle of pages as he picked up reading where he’d left, his length snug inside you. 

Yeah, you thought as you drifted off to sleep. This is the best way to warm up in the winter.

Original Work

All reblogs and iteractions are appreciated!

Do not plagiarise, copy or repost my work anywhere.

All characters belong to Gege Akutami.

© all rights reserved @indulgencecentral

[iseos]

: POLAR

wc. 853 archive. pairing. kim sunoo x fm!r synopsis. on a cold winter night, your heart is warm genre. fluff

  GENTLE SNOWFLAKES FALL FROM THE SKY in the below-freezing temperatures, adding to already abundant amounts of snow piled on the ground.

despite the always dreary sky and less-than-desirable weather conditions, the infectious joy from both the recently passed and upcoming holidays pervades, making it almost impossible not to feel it as well. the approaching new year encourages people to leave behind old challenges they faced and welcome new changes that are to come.

extra caution is required when traveling outdoors, as ice hidden under layers of snow makes it difficult to get around without slipping.

"be careful," sunoo whispers as he watches their footing as they walk up the icy steps into y/n's apartment and tightens his grip around her arm.

the two had spent the evening walking around the neighborhood, admiring the decorative holiday lights wrapped around trees or hung in people's windows. they were out for so long that their limbs were becoming numb so they decided to head back inside.

it was so cold out that they could see the breath they exhaled in front of them so they walked closely huddled together, not wanting to accidentally choke the other with the extra long scarf they were sharing and to keep any body heat between them from escaping.

  once they reached the correct door, sunoo stood behind y/n as she struggled to insert the key due to her frozen fingers, rhythmically tapping her shoulders in anticipation of the warmth awaiting them inside.

  as they finally managed to unlock the door to her apartment, they stepped inside, greeted by the cozy warmth of her home. the contrast between the biting cold and the toasty comfort was a warm welcome change. they quickly shed their scarf, winter coats, and gloves, revealing rosy cheeks and noses, evidence of the brisk walk they had just enjoyed.

  y/n wasted no time in heading straight for the kitchen, knowing exactly what would warm them up best. she prepared two steaming cups of hot cocoa with an unhealthy amount of marshmallows and whipped cream, skillfully balancing them on a tray as she carried them back into the living room. sunoo had settled onto the plush couch in the meantime, the flickering flames of the fireplace casting a warm, golden glow on his features.

  handing him a mug, y/n grinned mischievously, "i know you like your cocoa extra sweet, just like you," she teased, her voice filled with affection.

  sunoo chuckled and accepted the mug, "well you know me too well, don't you?" he took a sip, the hot chocolate warming not only his body but also his heart.

  with their mugs of cocoa in hand, they settled in front of the fireplace together, the soft crackling of the flames providing a soothing background melody.

  the board game they had started earlier and planned to resume when they got back home was now forgotten on the coffee table; they simply enjoyed each other's company in the serene atmosphere of y/n's apartment. but after a while, y/n couldn't resist the competitive itch.

  "you know," she began playfully, "we never finished that game earlier. i think it's about time i finally claim my victory!"

  sunoo raised an eyebrow, a grin playing on his lips, "oh really?" he set his cocoa aside, ready to engage in a friendly competition with his beloved.

  as the game resumed, the two became immersed in the world of strategy and tactics. but amid their playful banter and laughter, y/n couldn't help but notice a dollop of whipped cream clinging to the corner of sunoo's lip. her competitive spirit momentarily took a backseat to her mischievous side.

  knowing how easily she could fluster the boy, a sly smile took over her face. y/n leaned closer, her finger gently lifting the cream from his lips. their eyes locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes of their affection for each other. sunoo was momentarily dazed, and y/n took the opportunity to play her next move in the game.

  she placed her piece on the board and threw her hands in the air triumphantly. sunoo feigned surprise, knowing he had let her win this time to see her wide smile that he adored.

  with the board game concluded, y/n stood up and headed down the hall to change into her comfier clothes, leaving sunoo in a daze once more.

  when she didn't immediately return, the boy got up to go find her.

as she playfully slid down the hall in her fuzzy socks, y/n wasn't expecting to see sunoo already standing there. she accidentally lost her balance as she failed to stop herself and crashed right into him, their lips meeting in a sweet, unexpected kiss.

  sunoo held her by her elbows, ensuring she didn't topple over again. their laughter filled the hall, a testament to the carefree happiness they found in each other's company.

  as the night grew later and the fireplace dwindled, they wrapped themselves in a warm blanket, content and cuddled up together as the gentle snowflakes continued to fall outside.

© iseos

[fruitcoops]

Snow Day

Hehe, Coops floof because it's snowing here and I'm finally free of finals! SW character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3 (and don't worry, the final day of nutmas just needs a beta read because Reasons)

Sirius did his best to sit gently at the edge of the bed. Judging by Remus’ immediate scrunch-face and everything but his forehead disappearing beneath the covers, he failed. “Re?”

“Mmm.”

“Are you awake?”

Remus made another disgruntled noise. Sirius should know better by now.

He tugged the edge of the blanket down to expose the peak of a rosy cheek. “Re, wake up.”

“ ‘S Saturday.”

“Ouais.” Remus whined softly when he slid beneath the comforter, but went without protest into Sirius’ arms. The hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt before slipping underneath with a satisfied hum were sleep-warm and rough, and something in Sirius’ chest felt too big, suddenly. He ducked his head to kiss Remus’ temple, letting his lips linger there as his breathing began to even out once more. “Re, it’s snowing.”

Remus’ breath caught. Sirius felt every stage of drowsy understanding roll over him, from the pause of his burrowing to one hazel eye peeking out from a mess of bedhead and blankets. “Snowing?”

“Oui.”

“Real snow?”

“Three inches, maybe.” Sirius grinned when Remus’ face lit up. “Saw it when I went to make coffee.”

“Didn’t have that in the forecast.” Remus propped himself up on one elbow with obvious effort and turned to check his phone, then hesitated and turned back around to snuggle into Sirius and leave a chaste peck at the corner of his mouth. “G’morning.”

Sirius caught him when he went to turn again and drew him in for a slow kiss, relishing every pliable, sleepy bit of him. Remus nuzzled into his jaw when they parted and Sirius’ heart fluttered at the scratch of his stubble. “Bon matin. Sleep well?”

“Mm. Very.” A sigh warmed his collarbone. “I want to get up and look at the snow.”

“It’s very pretty,” Sirius agreed.

“I’m so warm in here. You’re warm. Stay with me.”

“Happily.”

Remus groaned and wrapped both arms around his waist. “I wanna see the snow.”

“Viens ici,” Sirius said into the cowlick near the back of Remus’ hair, rubbing a hand along the notches of his spine. “I’ll still kiss you in the snow.”

--

“Worth it?”

“Worth it.”

Snowflakes caught on Remus’ pale lashes; he was close enough that Sirius could pick out each one, if he squinted. It seemed fitting that someone who belonged so wholly in an icy wonderland would be adorned like that. Or perhaps not an icy wonderland—Remus was rarely anything but warm and inviting, like a lamppost in a winter storm. His eyes were the color of fresh caramel against the charcoal gray of his beanie when he glanced over at Sirius with a smile.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Sirius kissed just beneath his beanie. “You.”

“Oh, jeez, what did I do this time?”

“I love you in the winter.”

Remus made a pleased sound, though it was muffled as he ducked his chin into his coat and shuffled closer. Laying in a snowbank might not be the most common way to spend a Saturday morning, but Sirius couldn’t find a single thing to complain about. “I love how you look in the fall,” Remus said after a moment of comfortable quiet. “All cute and cozy, stealing my hoodies. But yeah, something about this is very…you. You were built for snow days, baby.”

“The weatherman said we’d get a foot today.”

“Sounds like soup and casserole weather to me.”

The snow was cold against Sirius’ cheek, but he could feel the warmth of Remus pressed all along his side even through their many layers. Their breath fogged between them in frozen clouds; he raised a hand to trace the redness of Remus’ cheek and got a kiss to the meat of his palm in return. “I love you in every season,” he said quietly.

The smile lines at the corners of Remus’ eyes crinkled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sirius let his fingertips slide down until he was cupping Remus’ jaw and kissed him slow. “I’m going to marry you so hard, loup.”

“Not if I marry you first,” Remus whispered.

“Race you there.”

“Winner gets a husband.”

Sirius smiled as their lips met again, both half-numb, a slender hand twining with his own until the world was just winter chill and Remus. The snow was coming down heavier, now; the flakes prickled any section of bare skin with nips of cold. Sirius swiped his tongue over the seam of Remus’ lips and felt heat flash through every vein. He drew him close with a hand on his lower back, humming when Remus slung a leg over his hips and settled more comfortably on the small snowbank. It was lumpy and half ice, but the sheer joy of kicking it together while they basked in the first February snow day was worth every sore muscle to come. Maybe he could even talk Remus into a massage later.

The air was bitterly cold on his lips when he pulled back. “We should probably go inside.”

“Five more minutes.”

“Coach will actually kill us if we get sick—”

“Five minutes,” Remus interrupted, taking Sirius’ chin between his thumb and forefinger to bring him back in. Snow crunched under Sirius’ shoulder as he turned on his side until their knees touched. The left side of his face was numbing fast; he would freeze down to his bones before separating from Remus for even a second. Kissing the love of his life under falling snow with all the time in the world…well, it felt just like magic.

[buckfullmoon]

Filled to the brim with a little something for everyone (I hope!), and presented in no particular order, here is the official Buck Moon 2023 Rec List! Join in the Buck Moon celebration by reading a fic, new or old, and leave a comment! Bonus points if you find the oldest and newest fics on the list.

Please mind the tags and ratings, etc on all fics before enjoying.

Safe And Sound by Orphan_Account

Moving into his new flat after his divorce, James Potter is surprised to meet his new neighbour--the ever adorable, sweet, Deaf Remus Lupin. Growing up a CODA, James is more than happy to meet someone who speaks his mother tongue, but isn't sure what to do when the feelings of friendship start to turn into something deeper. Freshly divorced, is James ready to move on?

beautiful boy by dykesiriusblack @dykefever

It has been since first year: this delirious want suffused in Remus’s veins. James introduced himself on their first day at university and Remus’s heart hasn’t sat right in his chest since. It’s been bunched over, scrunched in a corner to make room for James and his booming laugh and bright smile, the way his calloused fingers grip Remus’s elbow as he passes him in the hallway of their shared flat and scoops out his pulse. two boys and a day.

Blood Moon by @impishtubist

“No, you misunderstand.” Dumbledore’s icy-blue gaze holds his own, and for some reason, Remus feels a chill crawl down his spine. “Harry doesn’t know that James is alive.”

Crowns and Coffee Cups by @eyra

There's the wild, hedonistic James, all wicked grins and bright eyes behind his trademark glasses, and then there's the quiet, deliberate James with his low voice and a big, warm hand on Remus's chest, trying to feel for a fever beneath the cotton of his t-shirt and Remus thinks, as he closes his eyes to the touch, that both James's are rather wonderful but this one - this one is his. Remus gets ill, sometimes. James is always there.

Finding Me, Finding You by @puuvillaa

James has a one-night stand with Remus. In the morning, he realises what a big mistake he has made.

postcard from paris by @greyeyedmonster-18

They survived a war, and grew alongside each other, until life finally pulled the three of them in different directions. The night before James Potter leaves for a Healing residency in another country, he and Remus spend one last night together. Five years later, Sirius Black is getting married, and Remus finds himself face-to-face with James for the first time since that night . The night that ended in empty promises and a fever Remus couldn't sweat out. Sirius is in love. James is charming and handsome as he had ever been. And Remus, without a doubt, is unbelievably ruined.

Then Let’s Have Everything by probablydaydreaming

Remus has a breeding kink and James acts on it + cute, fluffy talks about the future and starting a family

I can wait, I can wait by bertramwooster 

Remus Lupin spent almost every day of his 13th summer with James Potter.

tie the anchor to our feet and say goodbye by @mkaugust

Remus knows things never happen one at a time. He just didn’t expect to spend James' final months having a poorly timed sexuality crisis.

Until the Moon Sets by BelladonnaLee @lee-bella

On a moonlit night in the waning summer, Remus takes two bottles of Butterbeer and a pack of cigarettes to the Great Lake for a rendezvous with a certain someone who is no longer here.

Howling at the Moon by BelladonnaLee @lee-bella

He is lost in the forest of antlers, lost in his prey and lover's antlers on this full moon night.

Demoralized by Mairi Nathaira (Tara) 

Remus is a prostitute. He runs into someone he knows and things changes from there.

Coming Second by orphan_account

James has a tough Quidditch match. Luckily Remus is on hand to sooth his.... Soul.

Campfire Confessions by @mkaugust

Quiet & warm late summer nights and a stolen hoodie.

The Bane of My Existence by @givemetherapyimawritingtravesty

Sugar Daddy moonchaser domestic fluff and smut. 

The Truth Will Out by BeautifullyBrokenPeople

Auror James Potter gets cursed on a mission, and the consequences will have him revealing his deepest darkest secrets; but how will Remus, his best friend and long-time crush, handle the truth?

A Patient Wolf by RonsGirlFriday

"A gentleman is simply a patient wolf." (Lana Turner) A series of vignettes marking the passage of time in an unrequited Remus/James.

Fine by June by eprime

Remus gets everything he wants, and then he gives it up again.

Jersey Boys by @aqua-myosotis

James is going mad, Remus is a cutey and Sirius is done with it.

ripe, and semi-sweet by theweeddecays @remuspotterblack

Remus is finally ready to follow through on a promise he made to James.

The Art of Flying by @theresthesnitch

James always looked so pretty up in the air, but now, Remus controls when he gets to come… and when he gets to come down.

(PS... think a great fic is missing? Send an ask with a rec, it's not too late!)