#and no one anywhere doing anything about it

[spookyji]

marquis diamond. s.jy

cw. baby trapping, dubcon, toxic relationship (jake is obsessed).

so pretty, jake murmurs, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. in the dress he chose, the jewelry he picked. and despite his loving voice, admiring gaze, you can’t help but flinch at his touch as his hand caresses your leg beneath your dress, feeling the soft skin of your inner thighs. the skirt of your dress pulled up to reveal the wet spot in your panties, as he smiles slightly. good girl.

as if there’s anything but an option. jake never lets you outside. it’s only on occasions like this, dinner with his parents on the rare overseas visit to pretend like everything is perfect. it’s not all pretend for him, the way it is for you. in all his lovesickness, this insanity really is perfection. the doors with only one key… after the biometric scanners, the jewelry embedded with trackers. and the mark you can’t escape, the cum he’s filled you up with every chance he can, dripping into your panties from your swollen pussy, sore from only an hour ago.

his parents adore him, you even more so. the restaurant dinner should be heartwarming, romantic, as jake never lets go of your hand, always leaning in for kisses every couple of minutes, obsessed. his parents preening at how good he is to you, listening to him say words for you as you smile, your thighs rubbing together uncomfortably at the feeling of his cum seeping out into a sticky mess in your panties, the fear that they’ll see through the facade,, because jake is frightening through the lovesickness if you try and resist. but there’s something more disturbing him, as his dark gaze flits around.

not feeling well, my love? jake asks, his voice laced with concern as you shake your head, the hand tightening around your wrist. play along. and he lies to his parents with such ease, saying he’ll take you outside for a little for some fresh air. they miss the way he takes you anywhere but, the bathroom door locked behind the two of you. i don’t like it, all those people who can see you, jake’s grip bruising your wrist as he drags you towards the sink counter, his free hand holding your face, i hate it. an insanity in his gaze, as his lips press against yours.

you’re the most beautiful thing in this whole word, jake murmurs, his teeth nipping on the lobe of your ear, slowly breathing in the scent of your hair, the edge of the bathroom counter digging into your ribs as he turns you around, his body pressed up to every inch of yours, kisses pressed into your hair, cheek, the line of your jaw, hands sliding up your arms to rest on your shoulder. look at you, so perfect. the mirror reflects back to you lovers that should’ve never been, but in his rose tinted eyes, lovers that are nothing but perfect.

i don’t know what i would do without you, he sighs, i love you so much, i’m going insane… jake quietly shushing your little whimpers at the sound of his belt buckle coming undone, the slow drag of the zip of his pants following. his voice so soothing for someone so deluded, his stiff hard on pressed into you from behind, jake’s hand sliding between your legs to push them apart slightly, just enough to tug away your panties, sticky with the cum he’s left in you. rubbing your clit through your panties, fingers deftly coaxing out your slick arousal, semen seeping from your pussy down your thighs. jake, t-they’re waiting for us— you mumble, only for his free hand to push against your lips. open up, he murmurs, sighing as you hesitantly part your lips, sucking on his fingertips the way you know he wants you to, don’t think about anyone but me. you’re at his mercy, unable to resist as he coos at the way you tremble under him, remnants of cum and fresh arousal coating his fingertips.

‘til he’s satisfied as you weakly cling to the smooth countertop, his fingers pull out of your mouth. j-jake, please, you whisper, i— you begin, only for your words to be silenced by his hand over your lips, muffling your hesitation, as he slowly ruts into your ass. no, he won’t wait to ruin you. not when jake owns all of you, he doesn’t take no. spit, he instructs. good girl, his palm covered in your saliva as you reluctantly obey, the slick, lewd sound of his hand coating his cock with your spit, your dress pulled up as tears prick at your eyes, forced into his desires. his hand on the small of your back pushing you into the countertop, biting your lip to resist the moans that threaten to slip through as jake pushes into your swollen pussy, your body betraying you as your warmth sucks him in little by little, clenched tightly in need.

mm— so fucking good f’me, jake groans, his hips sharply snapping into yours roughly, thrusts loud with slaps of skin on skin. the countertop jutting into into your skin as the first tear slips down your pretty face, jake—! you whimper, shocked by the rough intensity of his urges, somewhere, pleasure ebbs with the pain, the soreness that comes with being fucked again and again. that’s right, say my name, baby, his moans laced with such lovesickness, adoration. look at you. through the blur of tears welling up, you can see in the bathroom mirror, your ruined face to him must be so pretty. and jake’s hard thrusts abusing your cute cunt, tip kissing your womb with relentless intentions.

you’re all mine, he moans, mine. gonna fill you up, yeah? full with my baby– in his deluded fantasy, you’ll be completely his. you, him, and a little family. knocked up with his babies, you’d never be able to leave. so vulnerable and reliant on him, even more than you already are,, after all, jake just wants to completely adore you, spoil you, and keep you, his perfect lover. he has so much love to give you, won’t you accept it? he’ll prove it to you, with how good he’ll take care of you and his baby. and it’ll happen sooner or later… if it hasn’t already happened, with how much he’s filled you up with his release. kisses so lovingly pressed into your shoulder, your hair, the corner of your lips. jake loves you so much, won’t you love him back the same?

your sobs freely slipping from your lips, as your body gives into release, so pleasing to him as he murmurs praises into you, ‘til hot, creamy cum fills up your abused pussy, seed filling your womb as warmth spreads beneath your skin, tummy bulging with his heavy load. mm, love you, love you, love you, he moans as your heat milks him of his release, as if your body knows what he wants. jake, you cry, as pain throbs between your thighs, pussy sore from being used again and again, bred up so full every chance he has.

my perfect doll, jake whispers, pulling out to turn you around, so vulnerable into his arms. you’re so pretty when you cry, your glossy eyes and bitten lips, so absolutely ruined. so bred full, you’ll behave for him. flinching as he slides your panties up, his fingers pressing briefly into your swollen pussy through the thin fabric, satisfied with the way it’s still wet with his cum as it seeps from your folds. kissing your lips sweetly, slow and romantic… and spitting possessively into your mouth, wiping away the remnants on your lip. jake’s fingers combing through your hair, wiping away your tears before holding to your waist, taking you back to the dinner table. and you know it doesn’t end here tonight, even when you’re constantly swollen and full with his load.

jake’s insatiable.

—

officially adding enha to the list of groups i write for !

[cherrygirlfriend]

Hii love, I can't stop thinking about pervert!reader overhearing rafe talking with his friends and rafe being a little cocky about how he pulled reader (when in reality everyone knows that she pulled him since he couldn't even look at her BC he was so shy) and him being the one who got the pants in the relationship so reader gets in and puts him in his place, being so flirty and touchy that he can't even speak properly

how to tease your nerd

…or pervert!reader overhears nerd!rafe boasting and decides to teach him a lesson.

you were on your way to rafe’s dormitory, carrying a tray of chocolate cupcakes in your arms that you’d baked for him, wanting to congratulate your boyfriend on having been the only one in his class to receive the perfect grades on one of his midterms, the professor known to be the professor with the most difficult course.

the hem of your floral dress was swishing against your thighs, your heels clacking against the floor, and as you were lifting your hand to knock on the door, you noticed that it was slightly ajar, and you could hear people speaking inside. most people would knock, or make their presence know in another way, but you always were the nosy type.

you leaned closer to the door, biting down on your bottom lip, being able to make out your boyfriend’s voice.

“oh yeah, she was so into me.” rafe chuckled, “i was so smooth and charming. she was like melted butter at every word i said. she couldn’t get enough. you just gotta be interested in everything she says, ask things about her, and plenty of physical contact.”

you had to hold in a snort; it was adorable, really, how the boy that stuttered every time that you’d flirted with him, whose face turned red every time you touched him, was now boasting to his friends about how he had managed to get you to date him, when the smartest guy you’d ever met couldn’t even realize you had feelings for him without you having to say it straight up.

maybe you should mess with him a bit.

you knock on rafe’s door loudly, before pushing it open. your boyfriend was sitting on his bed, two of his friends sitting around the room. the moment rafe’s eyes landed on you, they widened and his cheeks started to redden, “b-babe, hi. what are you doing here? y’didn’t text me or anything…”

“oh, i wanted to congratulate my baby.” you said, holding up the cupcakes. rafe’s friends were staring at you with wide eyes as you put down the tray of cupcakes onto his desk before sitting right next to him, making sure to be pressed as close to him as possible, looking up at his friends, “so, who are these?”

“t-these are my friends.” rafe mumbled with a tight smile, clearing his throat, “guys, this is my girlfriend.”

“wow.” one of the guys let out, causing tou to chuckle under your breath, “rafe, how’d you-“ he was interrupted by the boy sitting next to him, starting to turn red.

“what were you three talking about?” you asked in a sickly-sweet tone, turning to face rafe, batting your eyelashes at him, putting your hand on his thigh.

“n-nothing…” rafe mumbled under his breath, the boy’s hand going to scratch the back of his head, “just— uh, just-“

“games.” one of his friends interfered as a way to save your boyfriend’s ass, and you could hear a small breath of relief leave his lips.

“oh, games.” you cooed, resting your head on rafe’s shoulder, your eyes still on him, while he did his best to look at anywhere but you, your hand nearing his inner thigh, squeezing at the muscle.

“we- we should go.” one of the boys said,

“oh, already?” your bottom lip twisted into a pout, “that’s too bad. be sure to grab some cupcakes. i don’t think rafey can eat them all by himself.”

both of them snorted at the nickname you called rafe by, awkwardly fleeing out of the room, your boyfriend’s face completely red and a semi visible in his sweatpants. “what’s wrong baby?” you cooed sweetly. “i thought you were supposed to be smooth and charming.” rafe’s eyes widened as he pulled his face back slightly, his brain registering his words, “y-you heard that?”

“oh yeah.” you grinned, trailing a manicured finger down his jawline. “but don’t worry. i thought it was adorable.” you leaned closer to rafe, your lips inches away from his as you squeezed his thigh, a small whine leaving his lips, “but you don’t have to pretend for me.”

feel free to send requests and check out my masterlist! <3

[hearts4mica]

Jason/Arkham Knight x Batsis who was his best friend before everything got wrong. Batsis never forget Bruce and even tried to go search for Jason but she never got time/was responsible for baby Damian.

She's considering joining Jason's side after finding out about him, but Tim and Dick stops her. (Jason is a Yandere, Batfam is Yandere, Batsis is a tsundere)

Someone i used to know

Yan Jason x Batsis Reader! (Batfam included) masterlist

_________________________________________________

Your best friend in the whole world was Jason. You never went anywhere without him.

And being the only kids in the manor (dick was a teen so he didn’t to you) you two bonded easily.

Well one day he never came home you hoped he was still there somewhere alive- that was until Bruce brought back his body.

A few years later after visiting his grave something felt off to you. Later that day the cameras showed someone stealing his coffin?! Who would do that!

Now you didn’t even have a place to visit your brother.

Later on Damian was introduced to the family, he somehow reminded you of Jason a misunderstood child that just needed guidance. And as the only girl that was 100% of the time at the Manor (except for school) you decided to be the one who would care for him.

Taking care of a baby was too much work but you wanted Damian to have a not so rough childhood unlike you so now in your free time you could only study or take care of Damian which made your grades go lower and lower and lower. Then you began to fail your classes.

And as stresful as that was people started to say another vigilante began to act up through the city of Gotham so everything at that time was awful.

But then

“Jason?”

Jason came back? How?

Your bestfriend alive once again and he was mad.

Mad at Bruce, at the joker, at you for not searching for him.

To try and fix things with him you decided to leave with him. The two of you again just like when you were younger. Jason agreed his eyes were different, he acted different but you knew deep down he was still Jason.

As your packing your stuff Tim stops you trying to reason with you.

“You can’t leave us! You can’t! Why? We need you.”

Dick tried to reason with you too

“Baby bird don’t be unreasonable who will take care of Damian? You are the closest person to him. Would you abandon him really? He’s only 6!”

And Jason didn’t help at all.

“Why didn’t you look for me in all of this years? You just moved on! Are you seriously leaving me again? You have to choose. Me or them? You’ll pick me right? Right?! I’m your bestfriend afterall!”

_________________________________________________

I’m really sorry if this is not good enough! My writers block is really bad rn and i don’t have inspo to write anything but i didn’t wanna leave the requests unanswered :(

[sqgeism]

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 | various blue lock boys x gender neutral reader

love mail — bllk guys as reverse romance tropes :P mostly stupid unserious (and probably ooc) fluff :] the multifandom is really kicking in cus i don't remember ever doing anime for this account... hi bllk fandom

SEISHIRO NAGI - TOO MANY 'BEDS'

sleeping over at nagi's for the first time made you nervous, even if you two have already been together for a while - the idea of possibly sharing a bed made you a little anxious.

that fear was quickly squashed as you see nagi had... pillows everywhere. not just like couches or chairs, spots on the floor and counters had them too. anywhere is a bed if nagi tries hard enough.

you eventually fall asleep on his bed just because he insists it's the nicest place, and he actually wants you to enjoy the night while he takes the couch. doesn't really matter in the end, you wake up with him cuddling you and a pre-made excuse on hand that he got tired of the couch, and wanted to be comfortable too. (cuddle with you)

MIKAGE REO - 'KIDNAPPING' A 'MAFIA BOSS' (random rich guy)

you don't know how you've gotten here. well, you were pretty sure you were dragging your best friend by the wrist - and maybe your hand slipped in a crowd, and you grabbed the first wrist you made contact with. okay, so maybe it's your fault- but come on! how were you supposed to know? (look behind you)

reo blinks. the only reason he let it go this far was that he thought you were cute, assumed this was some elaborate plan to get him alone and ask for his number, but the dumbfounded (and slowly turning to panic) expression on your face was saying otherwise.

he pats your shoulder, his other hand digs through his pocket and he looks at you. he's smiling, for some odd reason. for a guy that was dragged around by a stranger, he was calm. did he just wink at you??? "call me." he says smugly as he hands you a business card and walks away. (he starts spam calling nagi about how stupid he must've looked and probably should've asked for your name first or anything else)

KAISER MICHAEL - DIVORCE OF CONVENIENCE

you and kaiser lowkey were just better off as friends. yes, he cared about you, but wasn't able to do anything more romantically. figured divorcing but staying close was the best option, and it was. you and him were too different, had different life plans, likes, dislikes, room temperatures.. that was always an issue with kaiser. (he always slept in a room that was awfully warm, you didn't like it 💔) even with the divorce though, you two are still close. nothing can change how kaiser feels about you in regards of being the best person in his life.

ITOSHI SAE - TRUE HATES KISS

shidou hit you in the face with a ball. why it was becoming sae's problem was beyond him, but you weren't waking up and the others were beginning to panic. (for some odd reason no one thought to bring you to a clinic or something)

you and sae have always hated each other, grumbling profanities about skills in blue lock, appearance, or anything alike. he remembers something you said once; "kissing you and getting punched in the face would probably be the same thing." a random thought, and honestly really stupid now that sae thinks about it, but it would be funny.

nobody questions it when sae walks up to you seated against one of the bleachers barriers, unconscious and still. then, he kneels down infront of you and presses his lips against yours. it isn't even a long kiss, it was a peck at most.

you gasp for air dramatically and the others jump, while rubbing your lips—you frown—noticing sae's deadpan stare and a weirdly familiar taste of strawberry. "ugh, strawberry?! gross." "you know my chapstick??"

ITOSHI RIN - DATING YOUR 'ENEMIES' SIBLING

sae pissed you off to a great degree. because your brother was yoichi, and you just hated the guy for being good. yoichi is your twin, after all. whoever that guy trashtalks or is against, you hate them too.

and when he introduced you to rin, it kind of didn't click to you that he and sae were related, you were just enamored with how pretty he was that you failed to realize they shared the same last name.

surprise surprise... when you two started dating and getting real close, you come to notice his baby photos have an extra person.. the same ugly face and pink hair you've been hating on. after initial shock, you decide that your love for rin is stronger than your hatred for sae.

it gets worse when rin tells you about his history with his brother. :p

BACHIRA MEGURU - TOO HOT TO CUDDLE

that doesn't stop bachira.

he's got you wrapped around his strong arms and legs and even if you whine, he isn't letting go. he hasn't had freetime ever since he entered the bluelock program and a little bit of heat is NOT stopping him from being with you.

he makes you a nice, cold bath in the morning though </3 it's his apology, please forgive him.

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE - NO ONE IS CONVINCED YOU'RE DATING

fake dating a model for convenience is overrated! kunigami IS dating one but no one believes it. he talks about you all the time, has you on his ig posts (but unfortunately no photos together 🥀), stuff like that.. but no one believes him. some people think he's a fan, which.. no, he is not. he's your boyfriend AND a fan, get it right.

and that's the funny thing. you do the same, have him on your posts, talk about him often, but because your worlds and fans are so different.. they kind of don't believe it. you two are never seen together due to busy schedules, so everyone thinks it's some kind of elaborate joke. it's really odd.

he had to post you, asleep on top of him, in his football jersey with his hands in your hair to prove it.. you're surprised at such a BLUNT hard launch but he had to prove to the people somehow

ISAGI YOICHI - LOVE AT FIRST HATE

b4 you and your boyfriend were lovers, you two HAAATED each other. this started back in middle school, you were playing volleyball and he was playing soccer.. somehow, your volleyball and his soccerball slipped from your controls and towards each other.

"oh, here." you both say at the same time. and while you serve his soccer ball, he kicks your volleyball.

you both took that to great offense for some reason.

then you two hated each other, spouting nonsense that either one would never make it to the big leagues.

now your names are on billboards and top players of your respective sport. out of spite, and personal motivations.. personal motivation being spite.

meeting again by coincidence in some big celebration for sports prodigies, he says he's surprised you made it this far, you bite back with an insult of the same caliber.

you two snuck out to make out or something :p

[222col]

bimbo!reader x rafe cameron

summary: rafe likes you too much to let you go (part one can be found here)

cw .ᐟ hints at nsfw, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome

꒰ notes ꒱ based on the film buffalo '66 (1998)

stockholm syndrome— a coping mechanism to a captive situation. the physiological response to being held hostage, in which the captured develop a bond with their captor.

trapped in the shitty motel room, that typically rafe wouldn't be caught dead in. but he had to think quick, take you somewhere no questions would be asked.

still in the same clothes, rafe liked the pink tights and sheer skirt too much to bother going to buy you new ones. nothing to do with the fact he thought you'd escape if he left you alone, he knew you'd grown to accept that you weren't going anywhere.

he didn't force you to stay only within the four walls of the motel, he took you out too. on dates, if you will. local diners, makeshift picnics on the beach, rafe was being the perfect gentleman. well, as gentlemanly as one can be to his hostage.

"m'hungry." you murmur, fiddling with the hem of your skirt as you sit on the edge of the bed. "yeah, princess?" rafe mumbles, gently running a hand over your back from where he lays behind you. his softness had become a welcome change, no more harsh touches or screaming of orders. only when you were acting up.

he was testing the waters, taking you to the country club. he'd been exclusively taking you places where pogues frequent, the country club was the furthest thing from that. a place where people knew his name, his family.

drink in hand, actually good food on your plates, you were the picture of perfection to accompany it. "better, baby?" rafe mumbles, gulping down the liquid in his glass. nodding your head, opening your mouth to speak before interruption ensues.

"is rafe cameron on a date?" the blonde speaking laughs out the words, slapping a hand to the back of rafe's neck. you'd assume it was a friend, but the way rafe's jaw clenches in response makes you believe otherwise.

rafe leans away from his grip, eyes harsh as they meet the blondes. "fuck off topper, can't you see i'm busy?"

"touchy," topper smirks, as he looks over you from head to toe. rafe can see exactly what he's thinking, and he hates it. "where you been hidin' this girl, cameron?" god, if only he knew...

rafe is already up and standing, eyes level with topper. gaze warning, daring him to say anything more. he was the one who found you, did all the work to make you his, this is why he'd been keeping you locked up in that motel. no prying eyes to ogle at you, the only person who could look at you was him. the only one who could touch you, think of you even, was him.

"fuckin' quiet now, aren't you?" rafe taunts, a smirk threatening his features. watching the bob of topper's throat, swallowing down the nerves. "not a word, topper. don't even look at her."

you're almost impressed, watching how fast topper walked in the other direction. starting to piece parts of rafe's life together, quickly realising just how influential he must be. him specifically or his family name— you're not sure.

"you okay, doll?" rafe almost whispers, hand reaching over the table to gently take yours. you want to argue, tell him that topper barely did anything for you to be not okay about. but part of you can't help but play up to his concern. "mhm, thanks to you." you murmur softly, gently nodding your head.

the smile that spreads across his face is sinful. he was protecting you, and you were letting him. no arguments, no attempting to escape, you were grateful.

it was becoming too normal. rafe was long forgetting the circumstances to which you're lying next to him on the motel bed. the bruises he left on your ribs the first day were starting to disappear, the memory of your pleading starting to vanish from his mind. left only with the feeling of your hands on his skin, the gentle brushes through his hair, soft kisses to his cheek.

facing each other on the mattress, fingers interlocked between your bodies. no words exchanged, but his attention was solely on you. looking over the faint remaining eyeshadow left on your eyes, how your necklace pooled on your throat how you laid, the small indent on your bottom lip from where you'd been chewing.

"you're so pretty," he mumbles, thumb stroking over the hand in his. it wasn't the first compliment he paid you, but it was the first to make you blush. soft dusty pink washing over your cheeks, shy smile on your lips. squeezing your hand gently, before removing it from yours to caress your cheek. "i mean it."

unable to stop the way your face nuzzles against his touch, eyes fluttering shut. "never want you to leave me." he admits, voice barely above a whisper.

the words hit your ears and the air in the room suddenly feels different. he's genuine, almost... insecure, scared you'll beg him to let you go again. he's not sure he'd be able to deny you if you asked to leave again. "i don't want to." you whisper, softly reopening your eyes to meet his.

rafe's yet to taste your lips, but he's sure he just fell in love.

"you— you don't?" rafe asks, in disbelief. his hand cups your face, searching for any sign of uncertainty. "i don't." you assure, moving your hand to his face, mirroring his position to yours.

rafe tentatively shuffles closer, noses almost touching. feeling his laboured breathing fan across your face. his lips ever so softly touch yours, as though he was holding himself back. you were too precious, too soft to ever rush. for the first time, rafe wanted to go slow. lips kissing over your bottom lip, gently swiping his tongue across, asking for entry.

tongues meet and his eyes are rolling back beneath his eyelids, never had rafe tasted someone so sweet. one kiss, and he was completely done for.

"i like you, rafe." you whisper softly, lips kiss swollen.

"i more than like you, princess," he murmurs, voice as quiet as your own. "never letting you go."

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work without permission.

꒰ taglist ꒱ @khartalks @funkycoloured @bluestrd @appleaali @stanart4clearskin @donteventry-itdude @ssst4444r @gublerstylesobrien1238 (to be added)

[4linos]

shattered walls.

lee minho x gn!reader

synopsis: as the weight of the day crashes down, you pull away from minho, terrified of letting him see your struggles. but his unwavering presence reminds you that true love is about sharing the messy moments, not just the happy ones.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, emotional distress, and anxiety

wc: 2509

It had been one of those days where everything felt wrong, like the world itself was pressing on you from all sides. It wasn’t one singular thing, but a multitude of small, sharp things that had compounded into a heavy weight on your chest. The little annoyances, miscommunications, a failed attempt at completing work, that email you meant to send but never got around to, and the way your heart still ached over something from the past you could never quite forget. All of it was too much.

You didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to share the weight you felt in your bones. You didn’t even want to admit it to yourself, much less to Minho.

Minho, your ever-optimistic, seemingly unshakable boyfriend had noticed from the moment you walked into the apartment. He had asked the usual questions, all with that quiet concern in his eyes that always made your heart twist.

“Hey, are you okay?” he had asked, his voice soft but thick with worry. His eyes traced your movements carefully, reading you like an open book.

You gave him a half-smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes, but enough to reassure him. You nodded.

“I’m fine,” you replied, your voice flat. You tried to walk past him, but his hand caught your arm lightly, making you pause.

“You sure? You look a little... off.” His words were careful, tentative, like he was walking on fragile ground.

“I’m just tired, Minho. Really tired,” you answered, tugging away from his hand. Your own emotions felt like they were twisting in your chest, but you didn't want to say anything more. Not now. Not yet. Not to him.

He didn’t push further, but the concern never left his eyes. Instead, he tried something else, shifting gears, attempting to lift the atmosphere with his usual playful energy.

"Okay, okay. But hey, how about we grab some ice cream? I know it’s your favorite. Or maybe we could go out for a walk? You like walking when you’re stressed out, right?"

You shook your head at the suggestion. You didn’t feel like going anywhere. You didn’t feel like doing anything. You just wanted to disappear for a while. But you didn’t know how to explain that to him.

“I’m fine. Really,” you repeated, your voice becoming sharper now, more defensive. But you weren’t angry at him. You were angry at yourself. Angry that you felt this way and couldn’t find a way out of it.

Minho’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he looked like he was going to push a little more, but instead, he sighed and nodded. “Alright, if you change your mind, let me know. I’ll be in the living room.”

He tried to give you space, but you could feel his eyes lingering on you for just a little too long before he finally retreated. You watched him go, your mind reeling, and for a brief moment, you wanted to call out to him. To stop him before he left, to let him in. But you were scared. You were scared of him seeing how broken you felt, how overwhelmed you were. You didn’t want him to see you like this. Not now.

The next few hours were a blur of you trying to keep yourself busy, but nothing seemed to stick. The silence in the apartment stretched out longer than it should have. You heard him in the other room, maybe watching TV or scrolling through his phone, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go to him. You felt like a stranger in your own skin.

But Minho, always the patient one, didn’t give up. He tried again.

“Babe,” he called from the living room. “Do you wanna talk? I can’t stand seeing you like this.” His voice carried an undercurrent of frustration now, not with you, but with himself. You could tell. “I hate it when you shut me out.”

You were sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the wall, but you didn’t respond. You didn’t trust your voice. Every time you tried to speak, it felt like a lump was lodged in your throat, holding back everything you couldn’t say. You just wanted to scream, to let it all out, but you didn’t have the strength.

Minho walked in quietly, sitting on the edge of the couch. His presence was warm, his body heat radiating off him, but it felt distant. He wasn’t angry, no, Minho never raised his voice, but there was an edge to his frustration now. He just wanted to help you, wanted to make you feel better. But no matter how many times he asked, you shut him out.

“Come on, talk to me,” he insisted, his hand resting on yours gently. You tensed at the touch, pulling your hand away quickly, like the contact was a burn.

“I don’t want to,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, a thread of emotion you couldn’t hide. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then let me help,” he pleaded, his eyes softening. He reached for your hand again, this time more cautiously, his fingers brushing over yours with the gentleness of someone afraid of breaking something fragile. “I’m here. I’ll listen. I don’t need you to say the right things, just... something. Anything.”

You flinched at his touch, your chest tightening. It wasn’t because you didn’t love him. It wasn’t because you didn’t want him there. But it felt like you were suffocating. Like you couldn’t breathe with him too close, with his kindness too much to bear.

“I just can’t, Minho,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill over. “I can’t keep pretending everything is fine when it isn’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

His face fell, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Babe, it’s okay. It’s okay to not be okay. But pushing me away won’t help. You know that.”

You stood up suddenly, pacing the room. You couldn’t sit still. You couldn’t be around him without feeling like you were a burden.

“Then leave me alone,” you snapped, the words out of your mouth before you could stop them. You hadn’t meant to say it like that. But there it was. It felt like a cold slap, the kind that froze the air between you two.

Minho stood up quickly, his eyes wide with shock. He didn’t say anything for a moment, like he couldn’t process the words. His jaw clenched as if he was holding something back, something that was threatening to boil over. But he wasn’t angry at you. He was hurt. Deeply hurt.

“Is that what you really want?” he asked, his voice low and strained. “For me to just... leave?”

“No,” you whispered, your throat closing up. “I don’t want you to leave. I just... I don’t want to hurt you.”

His expression softened, but there was still a flicker of something in his eyes, something that told you he was close to breaking too. But he wasn’t going to. He couldn’t let you fall apart like this alone.

“I’m not leaving,” he said firmly, stepping closer. He reached for you again, but this time, you didn’t pull away. You didn’t want to. You felt his arms around you, pulling you into him, holding you as if he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear.

And in a way, you felt like you were disappearing, vanishing into your own misery, drowning in the weight of it.

“I love you,” he murmured against your hair, his voice trembling slightly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I love you. And I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out, together.”

You closed your eyes, letting the words wash over you. His warmth, his scent, everything about him felt like a lifeline, and yet it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t find peace, no matter how much he tried to comfort you.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, the words coming out broken. “I don’t mean to push you away. I just... I don’t know how to let you in when everything feels so messed up.”

Minho tightened his grip around you, as if trying to hold you together. His fingers dug gently into your back, but it wasn’t an attempt to restrain you. It was a silent promise to be there, no matter how much you wanted to retreat.

“You don’t have to explain,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to let go of everything and lean into him, let him take the weight for a while. But you were scared. Scared that if you did, you’d fall apart completely, and he would see all the cracks you tried so hard to hide.

And that’s when he made a mistake.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered, his frustration peeking through for just a moment. “I’m trying everything I can, and you’re shutting me out. Don’t you care? Don’t you want to feel better?”

His words hit harder than you expected. He didn’t mean it, not really, but it felt like a betrayal, like all of his kindness had been exhausted, like he couldn’t take it anymore.

You pulled away, this time with anger burning in your chest. The floodgates opened, and you were shouting before you even realized it.

“Don’t you think I want to feel better?!” you cried, your voice cracking. “I’m trying, Minho. But every time you come near me, it feels like you’re just piling more on. I’m broken, okay? I’m not fixed, I don’t know how to be fixed. And I can’t be what you need right now. I just can’t.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Minho stood frozen, his face pale. He looked like he didn’t know what to say anymore.

And then, without warning, the weight of everything hit you all at once, and you broke. Your sobs were raw, shaking your entire body as you collapsed back into him. “I’m sorry,” you gasped, clutching at him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Minho’s arms tightened around you immediately, holding you in a way that spoke volumes. His voice was soft, almost a whisper. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to be fixed. I’m here. Always. No matter what.”

And in that moment, with your tears soaking through his shirt and his hands gently running through your hair, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t alone.

Minho didn’t say anything for a long while after that. He just held you, his arms wrapped firmly around you like a barrier against the rest of the world, like he could protect you from yourself, from everything that was spiraling out of control inside you. His chest rose and fell with each slow, careful breath, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, a quiet rhythm that anchored you, a reminder that you weren’t drifting entirely.

Your sobs had turned into silent tears now. Your body still shook slightly in his embrace, but the storm was beginning to ebb, if only a little. He didn't speak, didn't try to fill the silence with hollow reassurances or explanations. He just stayed with you.

Eventually, when you could breathe again without it hurting, when your hands weren’t trembling quite so much, Minho slowly loosened his grip, but only just enough to cup your face gently in his hands and look at you. His eyes were red too, rimmed with emotion he hadn’t let spill earlier. He was always so composed, so strong for you, but right now, his vulnerability was written across every line of his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I said the wrong thing. I was scared. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

You shook your head, wiping at your face uselessly. “No, it’s not your fault. I just, everything’s been piling up and I didn’t even realize how bad it had gotten. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t trust you, or that I don’t need you. I do. I really do.”

Minho’s thumb brushed away a tear from your cheek as he exhaled shakily. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better.”

“I’m not,” you whispered. “I love you.”

His breath hitched slightly, his eyes blinking a little too fast as if he wasn’t sure he heard you right.

You pressed your forehead against his, your voice steadier this time. “I love you. So much it scares me. And I think that’s part of why I shut down. Because letting you in means showing you every part of me even the parts I hate.”

He closed his eyes, his hands cradling your face, thumbs resting under your jaw. “I already see those parts,” he whispered. “And I still love you. I’m not here just for the happy days. I’m not here just for the smiles. I’m here when it’s messy and hard and when you don’t know how to say what’s wrong. I’m here even when you don’t want me to be.”

You couldn’t stop the tears again, but this time they weren’t sharp. They were quiet and warm and safe.

Minho leaned in, his lips barely brushing yours, not out of desire, but reverence. The kind of kiss that says, I’m here, even in silence. Even in pain.

When he pulled back, his expression softened into the warmest smile, the kind that always made something inside you loosen. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, then leaned in again, this time to rest his forehead against yours.

“Let’s not keep doing this,” he whispered. “Let’s stop pretending you have to go through things alone. I can’t force you to talk, and I won’t. But I need you to promise me something.”

You nodded slowly, your fingers curling around his.

He held your hand between both of his, like it was something delicate, like it was something sacred. “Don’t shut me out anymore. Please. Even if you can’t explain it, even if it’s just sitting next to me in silence, let me be there with you. Let me hold that weight too.”

You swallowed hard, your chest aching in a different way now. Not with dread, but with something softer, acceptance. Maybe even hope.

“I promise,” you said quietly. “Even if I can’t talk, even if I don’t know what to say... I won’t shut you out again.”

He let out a small breath of relief, then wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you into his chest like he never wanted to let go. You melted into him, your head resting in the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of him, clean laundry and warmth and safety.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Even if you push. Even if you break. I’ll be right here.”

And somehow, in that quiet promise, something inside you finally, truly, began to breathe again.

//

masterlist.

[sunsburns]

grinding on joaquín's thigh bc ur horny but too tired for anything else so it's just a lazy attempt to get off. and he's just laughing at you and moving your hips to help you out. can you tell i'm in heat.

bring back grinding! bring back dry humping! i don't believe there's anything hotter than someone getting off on you, all whiny and needy and desperate (18+)

and with joaquín ... listen his mouth is soft and slow against yours, a little open, a little lazy. you’re tucked sideways in his lap, the console digging faintly into your hip, one knee hooked over his thigh. it’s late—streetlights bleeding amber through the fogged windows of his parked car, music humming low from the speakers, your exhales fogging up the windshield with every sigh you press into his lips.

his hand is on your back, fingertips tracing lazy little shapes just beneath your shirt, and your fingers are curled around the collar of his hoodie like you’re holding on for dear life.

it’s not frantic—hasn’t been for the past twenty minutes. just soft kisses, slow breathing, limbs tangled without thought. everything about it feels warm and heavy, like you’ve melted into him and there’s no real urge to pull away.

except now your hips are starting to ache. there’s this stubborn ache building low and slow in your gut, not sharp or wild, just enough to keep your breath catching each time you shift.

and you do shift—slowly. just enough to drag your centre along the muscle of his thigh, and the friction is faint, muted by the soft cotton of your shorts, but it makes your eyes flutter anyway. you do it again.

this time, his hand stills on your back. his thigh twitches just slightly beneath you.

you don’t look at him.

you just keep moving—small, rolling movements, your cheek pressed to his shoulder, your breathing starting to stagger. your lips are kiss-swollen, chin a little sticky from spit, and all you can think about is how good his thigh feels between your legs. how easy it is to just stay like this.

you’re tired. exhausted, even. too much to undress or climb into his lap or drag yourself into anything more. but this? this you can do. this is lazy and slow and good.

and god, he’s so warm under you. muscle taut and solid, a little flex here and there that makes your breath hitch. the friction is low and sweet and soft, just enough to make you dizzy without pushing you over the edge too soon.

he smells like laundry and clean skin and faint cologne—the kind that lingers on your own hoodie when he gives it to you to wear, the kind that makes your brain go quiet when he’s this close.

his hand starts moving again. not to stop you. just to help. big palm sliding down, fingers curving over your waist and guiding your hips without pressure. just helping. his mouth brushes your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw. gentle. sweet. like he’s trying to be respectful about how completely wrecked you’re becoming just from this.

the faintest whimper escapes you when the seam of your underwear drags just right, and he breathes a soft curse under his breath.

either way, you don’t stop. and neither does he.

you lose track of how long it lasts, how many soft sounds you let slip into the quiet between songs on the stereo. it’s all heat and pulse and pleasure curling beneath your skin like a slow burn. like you could stay right here forever, grinding helplessly against the warmth of him, the safety of him, letting yourself come apart in the laziest, sweetest way.

and when it hits—when your thighs shake just faintly and your body stiffens and melts all at once—he doesn’t say a word. just kisses the corner of your mouth, the line of your jaw, arms tight around you like he knows you don’t want to be anywhere else.

[sai-int]

How would rts!simon act when it comes to pregnant reader’s hormones? Like she gets super clingy randomly or will just start crying over a cute dog reel on instagram?

combining this with the ask about reader getting super horny from pregnancy hormones too!

—so, simon can handle horny. no problem.

you climb into his lap, needy and squirmy, whining that you “just want to feel full, si, please—” and he’s already palming your belly like it’s the most precious thing in the world, lips against your temple, growling into your skin:

“y’can have it, sweet’art. whatever y’need. y’know i’ll fuck y’through anythin’”

the way you grind down on him, teary and frustrated because your body’s so sensitive—that makes him gentle in the filthiest way. slow, deep thrusts. endless praise. letting you cry it out on his cock if you have to, soothing you with soft “that’s it, atta girl, ride it out, i got ya.”

he’s obsessed with how your body changes. how much warmer you feel, your growing bump and the plush of your hips, how tight you still are. he has zero complaints—if anything, he’s addicted.

—he can also handle clingy; he actually loves when you need doting on or when you want more of his attention. he’s happy to oblige.

when you shuffle into the room in one of his shirts, lip wobbly, just wanting to be held—he drops everything. doesn’t care what he was doing. he’ll sit on the couch with you curled up on his chest for hours, rubbing your back, murmuring soft little nothings into your hair.

“you’re alright, girl. ’m not goin’ anywhere.”

likes that he can soothe you, that you trust him enough to let him be your anchor. and when you whine, apologizing for “being too much” or “annoying,” he just pulls you closer.

“y’nevertoo much, dafty. not for me.”

even if he wakes up to you sobbing at your phone screen at 3 am, he’s still there for you. he just hands you a tissue and kisses your forehead.

“y’ cryin’ over a pug wearin’ a sweater, sweet’art.”

*“i know, simon, it’s just so—“ hiccup “—small—”

he bites back a smile and holds you while you cry. rubs your belly. rubs your back. and then when you start laughing at yourself five minutes later, he kisses you again and calls you a “mental little thing.”

regardless he loves all of it. it overwhelms him sometimes, how much emotion you carry in comparison to him, how vulnerable you let yourself be with him. but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. not even the sobbing over tiktok edits of golden retrievers.

because it’s you. and every piece of you is his to protect, to love, to hold. even when you’re hormonal and feral and snotty-faced crying into his hoodie at in the dead of night.

especially then.

[always1star]

thinking about the love and deepspace receipts 🤔

things they buy!

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

someone tell me xavier isn't constantly buying a new pillow because he claims the one he just bought "hurts his neck too much" as if it isn't his fault that he sleeps anywhere and everywhere and that's probably why his neck hurts, but also because he's constantly fighting/working so he's probably also a little tense. he's got the expensive cooling technology firm memory foam pillow i know it.

i wonder if zayne believes in supplements. if you were to go grocery shopping and try to pick up some, he'd probably yap on and on about how they are actually scams and an overabundance of each supplement can actually do more harm than good. the type of guy to actually read labels, making sure he's not putting too many toxins into his body.

do you guys ever wonder if rafayel actually grocery shops (not to buy random crap)? the answer is probably not but i think that he thinks that a banana is 10 dollars a piece (because he is so filthy rich it hurts). he probably also doesn't eat food from the grocery store, besides his silly snacks. and if he were ever to be in one he'd only question the potential of each item to be turned into a pretty and usable paint. so... he actually only shops at the art store.

sylus eats like the rich man he is. he eats tons of expensive steaks, lobsters, crabs, etc etc. always buying the highest quality food he can find. its fine-dining at his place basically all the time. will toss any good thing he sees into his cart. when he's out shopping, he also really likes to stop by the record shop to see if any new classical vinyls to pick from.

caleb is the best person to shop with. he always knows how to pick the best fruit, meat, vegetables, anything. plus, anything you point at, he can probably make into a meal. he's the best at actually bringing home necessary items on the list, but will often toss in a few extra things cuz why not. number one malewife!

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

sorry i got busy ill be back soon

[dinoandguitar]

I feel like we need to make a series of svt holding their newborns for the first time

so can I request one with jeonghan?🥺🙏🏻

"Fall in love twice in one second"

Husband!YoonJeongHan x Afab!Reader

Genre: Pure Fluff!

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, childbirth (Reader has just given birth). The setting is at a hospital.

A/N : Hi! Omg yes I was thinking about this too.. I most probably will, right after I'm done with some more requests:) Thank you so much for you request, hope you like it 🩷 I truly appreciate the support and please feel free to ask me anything, anytime. 🫶🏾

Masterlist

The hospital room smelled faintly of antiseptic and warm linen, the quiet hum of machinery keeping a steady rhythm in the background. Outside, the sky had already started to turn gold ,a soft light that made everything feel sacred, creeped into the room.You were lying back on the bed, still a little groggy from the exhaustion, your hair messy and face flushed- but you had never looked more beautiful to Jeonghan.

He stood frozen at the side of your bed, eyes wide and glassy, arms outstretched as the nurse gently handed him the two impossibly tiny bundles swaddled in pastel blue and pink. One in each arm- his son and daughter. His children.

He didn’t speak at first. Couldn’t. His breath caught in his throat as he looked down at the babies nestled against his chest. Their eyes were closed, lips slightly parted in their newborn sleep, completely unaware of the way their father was unraveling around them.

“Oh my God…” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. His voice cracked halfway through. “They’re real. They’re really here.”

You gave him a tired smile, watching as his thumb brushed over your daughter’s cheek, so soft,ly and carefully, as if she was made of glass. “You can sit down,you know..” you murmured, smiling. “They’re not going anywhere.”

He blinked, like you’d pulled him out of a trance, and slowly, reverently, sank into the chair next to your bed. His hands trembled just enough to notice, but the babies didn’t stir- only nestled closer into him, one tiny hand curling around the soft cotton of his shirt.

He couldn’t stop staring.

“Look at them,” he whispered, breath catching again in his throat. “They’re so… perfect. I don’t even know how to hold all this love inside me.” You watched him, barely able to keep your own eyes open, but your heart was so full it physically ached. “They know you,” you whispered. “The way they calmed down the second you held them..they know you’re home.”

Jeonghan lowered his head, brushing his lips against the top of your son’s head, then your daughter’s. “I didn’t know it was possible to fall in love twice in one second,” he said, smiling through his tears. “And I didn’t know I could love you even more. But I do. Watching you bring them into the world-God, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.”

Your baby girl shifted slightly, a soft whimper leaving her as her tiny fist pushed up against Jeonghan’s chest. He smiled, eyes softening. “Shh, it’s okay, princess,” he whispered, rocking gently. “Appa’s got you. I’ve got both of you. I always will.”

There was something magical in the way he spoke to them, like they already understood. And when your son’s little legs gave a sleepy kick and your daughter blinked lazily in her sleep, Jeonghan laughed, so quietly, so reverently, like he was afraid to disturb the peace of this perfect moment.

Then, he began to hum- softly, almost instinctively. A lullaby he used to sing to your belly during late nights, hands pressed gently over your growing bump. You’d catch him singing when he thought you were asleep, whispering promises of bedtime stories, starry skies, and about how much he loved his little family.

Now, with both babies in his arms, he sang that same lullaby again- voice thick with emotions but steady. Your baby girl stirred first, tiny lips parting in a yawn. Her eyelids fluttered, and then, slowly, just for a ssecond.. she opened her eyes.

Jeonghan’s breath hitched... “Babe, look!,” he whispered, eyes wide, glassy. “She… she looked at me.”

You blinked back your own tears. “Of course she did. She knows her appa.”

Jeonghan leaned in, letting one tear slip down his cheek as he rested his forehead gently against hers. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered. “I don’t know how to deserve this… this family. You.”

The babies shifted again, pressing closer, like they knew they were safe. Like they felt loved.

“I’ll spend my whole life making sure they never doubt how loved they are,” Jeonghan vowed quietly. “I’ll be there for every first step, every bad dream, every scraped knee, every silly drawing and every heartbreak. I’ll be there. Always.”

He gently pressed a kiss to each forehead, holding them tighter- but still delicately, like they were made of all the fragile wonder in the world.

“You made me a father,” he whispered, looking at you. “And you gave me the two greatest gifts I’ll ever receive. I don’t think I'll ever be able to love you enough for this..”

Then, with your two newborn tiny babies resting peacefully and the golden light wrapping the room like a blessing, Jeonghan leaned back in the chair, still humming the lullaby, and held them in his arms like the entire universe was finally where it belonged.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

A/N : GAH I MISS HIM SM :(((

Requests are open!

[berryblosom]

SO TELL ME IS THIS LOVE ? •·.·''·.·•

Summary: your friend is convinced Satoru is in love with you, you think she’s crazy.

You’re insane.”

You’re in your usual seat at your favorite coffee place, tucked into the corner booth with your drink and your best friend across from you. As always, she’s on one of her rants, topic of choice? You and Satoru.

“What’s insane.” she says, pointing her straw at you, “is how blind you are. That man is down bad.”

You roll your eyes. “Do you hear yourself? In what world is Satoru Gojo in love with me?”

This has been going on for months. She’s got this wild theory that Satoru’s endless teasing and constant presence in your life means he’s secretly in love with you. And she won’t let it go. You’ve explained it to her a million times. Satoru is a flirt. It’s like second nature to that man . He’s like that with everyone. You never took his flirty comments seriously, because why would you?

“In the world where he drove an hour just to pick you up from work and take you home,” she counters, sipping her drink like she’s got all the evidence in the world.

You shrug, trying to sound unbothered. “He offered. Said he was already heading home.”

She gives you a deadpan look. “Right. Sure. What about those concert tickets you couldn’t find anywhere?”

“He said his friend didn’t want them. It wasn’t a big deal.”

You can almost hear her brain working, the way her eyes narrow and her fingers drum against her cup. She was not done.

“What about when your cat died, and he stayed over the whole weekend? Then got you a new one just because you just mentioned missing having a cat around?”

Okay. That one’s… a little harder to dismiss.

You were a wreck when your cat passed. Satoru just showed up, no questions asked, and didn’t leave your side for two days. Then, a week later, he handed you the cutest kitten with a bow around its neck.

But still. That didn’t mean anything. Right?

“Will you stop?” you sigh, setting your cup down. “Satoru is not in love with me. He’s just my friend.”

Rei throws her hands up like she’s about to strangle you. You could tell she’s losing her patience with your excuses.

“I don’t get why you’re so adamant he doesn’t like you.”

“Because he doesn’t. I just know. I’m pretty sure he has a date this weekend, anyway.”

She squints at you like you’ve grown two heads. “That’s just a load of shit. He’s gonna do what he always does.”

You pause, confused. “What do you mean ‘what he always does’?”

Now she’s looking at you like the answer is obvious.

“He goes on dates to get a reaction out of you. He dates the girl for like a week, tells you all about it, and when it doesn’t get to you? He breaks up her.”

“He does not do that.”

“He definitely does. Remember that girl from his gym last month? She asked him out, and he complained to you about how annoying she was. And when you told him not to lead her on, breakup the next day.”

“He told me she dumped him,” you mutter, frowning.

Your friend just snorts and shakes her head.

“You could tell Satoru to fly to France to get you a single rose, and he’d be on the next flight out. He hangs on your every word.”

You stare at her, heart doing something weird and fluttery in your chest. Could she be right?

“You really think he… likes me?”

But she doesn’t answer. Her gaze shifts to something, or someone behind you.

“Well, let’s find out. Satoru!”

You whip your head around so fast, you’re pretty sure something cracked. And of course, there he was. Satoru Gojo in all his smug, infuriating glory, walking straight toward you.

“Ladies,” he greets, his tone dripping with charm as he slides into the booth beside you.

“Toru, this isn’t your usual coffee spot,” you say, trying to sound casual as you scoot over to give him space.

“Yeah, Rei invited me. Said the cakes here was to die for.”

You shoot a glare at your friend. Traitor.

“Oh, definitely,” she says sweetly. “You know, Y/N was just saying how much she misses those muffins from that bakery that closed down last year.”

Your eyes widen. “I did not say that—”

“Really?” Satoru interrupts, eyes locked on yours. “You want them?”

His arm is draped casually behind your seat, but he’s a lot closer than he was a second ago. You can feel the heat radiating off him. And the way he’s looking at you right now?

It’s not how a friend looks at someone. Your heart is not behaving. Not even a little.

“I-I just said they were good.”

“But do you want them?” His voice is lower now, more serious. Like he’s offering to track down the bakery’s owner and revive the business or even bake them for your himself.

“The place is closed. It doesn’t matter.” You nudge your friend under the table when you hear her snickering.

“It does matter.”

“Why?” The word leaves your mouth before you can stop it and you’re afraid of the answer.

You know Satoru. You’ve known him your whole life. He’s not the boyfriend type. Never has been. He’s dated plenty of girls, all through high school to university, none of them ever lasting longer than a month. You’d always told yourself he saw you like a little sister and nothing more

But then he’s looking at you like this? Like he wants to give you everything you’ve ever asked for.

“Because I like doing things for you,” he says simply.

Your heart skips a beat, then starts doing full sprints in your chest. You drop your gaze, staring down at your half-eaten cake on the table.

“Well isn’t that sweet,” Rei says, standing up and gathering her stuff. “I’d hate to leave, believe me, but I’ve got plans.”

You narrow your eyes. “What plans?”

“Dress shopping. Two of my favorite people are gonna get married soon.” She winks, blows a kiss, and practically skips out of the café.

You gape after her. She’s dead. So dead.

“What was that about?” Satoru asks.

“Nothing.” You scramble for a distraction. “So, uh… any special plans for your date this weekend?”

He leans back slightly but stays close. Still on your side of the booth. He casually pulls your plate toward him and takes a bite of your cake.

“Nah. Gonna cancel.”

Your eyes flick to him. “What? Why?”

He glances at you with a small smirk. “I’d rather be with you.”

Your mouth goes dry. “Really?”

He grins, licking frosting off his fork. “Yeah. Really.”

[goldenhickeyss]

Since ARMY loves reading so much, maybe they’ll enjoy this story— a 100000% canon 📚✨

When they were younger, Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook used to lay out blankets in the living room and fall asleep there. Sometimes Jungkook would sneak into Jimin’s bed too — getting scolded by the managers, but he never cared (or stopped). 🤭

Even when the other members allowed Jungkook to use banmal (informal speech) with them, he mostly saved it for Park Jimin — even though Jimin wasn’t the closest in age.

(And to this day, Jungkook still acts like he’s Jimin’s hyung 🤭)

Whenever Jimin was stressed, Jungkook was the one who made him laugh and helped him through it.

If Jimin could be anywhere in the world, doing anything... he’d be looking at the ocean — with Jungkook. 🌊.

Jungkook used to tease Jimin nonstop just because, in his own words, “I like hyung too much.” He said Jimin gave him the warmest comfort and the best kind of attention.

When Park Jimin began starving himself, Jungkook did it too — just to get him to stop. Jimin offered to pay for any gift Jungkook wanted after his graduation. He used to say: “my heart that thinks of Jungkook is quite big.”

One rainy day, they fought and parted ways upset. Jungkook got lost and cried. But they found each other again — and hugged it out on a rooftop, full K-drama moment ☔️💔

For birthdays, Jungkook wasn’t big on gifts — except he took Jimin on a trip to Tokyo. There, he made a three-minute video all about Jimin (with just a sprinkle of Tokyo), using a song by a gay artist that’s clearly gay-coded.

(And yes, Jungkook said back then that he always checks lyrics before picking songs)

In his studio, The Golden Closet, Jungkook recorded a cover of "We Don’t Talk Anymore" — with Jimin.

Some of the prettiest photos of Jimin also came from The Golden Closet. And when Jungkook dropped his GCFs (Golden Closet Films), Jimin consistently got the most screen time. 🎥

No two members spent more time riding in cars and hanging out backstage than Jimin and Jungkook — not just when they lived together, but even during tours abroad.

Whenever they travelled overseas, they trained together at the gym or hung out in Jimin’s hotel room — where Jungkook would reportedly show up at least three times a day (collecting his stamps 😉).

They stayed up late so many nights they don’t even remember what they did — unless it was doing laundry, celebrating Billboard wins... or delivering hickeys 👀.

Sometimes they’d sneak out late at night, just the two of them — no managers, no friends — to eat at cozy places like White Day Restaurant, Hobak, or Antoya BBQ 🥩.

Birthdays were sacred. No matter where they were in the world, they made sure to celebrate them together — like when Jimin flew across continents just to be with Jungkook.

They always found ways to make each other feel special — like Jungkook posting a #sorry caption (except when he just said "I love you"), or that legendary thirst-trap birthday video he made for Jimin.

Jungkook shows up at Jimin’s place and just starts cooking pasta like it’s his own kitchen — and Jimin loves everything he makes, especially his tteokbokki. He has spent more Chuseoks with Park Jimin than with anyone else outside his family 🥟

During hectic promotion schedules, Jungkook admitted he missed Jimin. Jimin promised he would visit him once he was free, eat his delicious ramen, and tie his hair neatly.

During BTS’s Chapter 2, when each member focused on solo projects, Jungkook and Jimin still chose to record a travel show together. Before enlisting, they travelled to three places — and finally made it back to Tokyo, something they had dreamed about for years.

Both said: those trips were the best of their lives.

And finally, they enlisted side by side — becoming the first idols to use the Buddy System.

Since then, they’ve been sharing everything: free time, practices, showers... and the best moments with their fellow soldiers

The story isn't over yet — there are still so many lines left to write. 🖋️✨

[xx-w0rlds-0k4y3st-f4g-xx]

lol if youve known me for any length of time, you'll know that iv got a lot of thoughts into the whole "will solace as a teenager working in the medical field" thing.

the first of those thoughts is related to the fact that he's just this little weird ass healer/field medic/combat medic.

the second is that hes a teenager. a literal teenager. he shouldn't be in charge of anything, he is anyway.

the third and most built of these thoughts (and possibly the one that I'm the most passionate about as a teenage nursing student and nerd who reads into things too much) is the fact that even if will solace grew up, left camp, and went into the adult world, he may not even want to work anywhere near the medical field. just going off what we know from the books, in their most basic, we know that he's a combat/field medic, and that he is, at one point, pretty much the only person at chb with healing powers, so even as a early mid teen, he had a lot of pressure and stress, a lot of injuries from people he knew, even more deaths that he couldn't stop no matter how hard he tried.

that messes up a person. ive heard a lot of stories from people who tried working in medical, as nurses, as doctors, etc, who just couldn't. and given how much traume he probably has from being in both wars, countless other battles, training accidents, all that shit, and knowing roughly how traume tends to affect people, he could go a couple ways:

he could try to go to medical school, then burn out immediately because of the change in pace.

try working in medical, and just... not be able to in an actual medical environment, because of how camp operated, how the battles operated, etc.

or, he could flourish like nobody business, become one of those doctors/nurses that everyone knows and loves because he's genuinely good, because its all he knows.

from my research into trauma and how it tends to work (thank you fanfiction research for weird areas of knowledge), a lot of people experience it as wither something that keeps them afloat in whatever situation they're in (eg a soldier while still in battle, and for the purpose of this, will staying in the medical field and flourishing), or it can immediately push that person over the edge into not being able to stay in that environment for any reason (eg someone who was in a really bad car accident, or for this, will not being able to work in medical after aging out of camp). from what I understand of will in the books, he could potentially fall into either camp.

the other issue with will's characterisation as "the doctor guy", is that based on what tasks we know he carries out in the books, there is no way he would be just a doctor, if he even decided to become one after camp. personally I think he would suit a nurse practitioner role, just based on the skills, scope of practice, independence, etc. but while at camp, my guy is basically an 18th century surgeon, doing basically everything

...anyway i rambled and may have lost the plot a bit but look man, this is a passion point for me

guys please stop calling will solace a doctor. he’s a minor. he’s NOT a doctor. he’s a war medic that cares about the people in his life. he’s a nerdy teenager who wears jorts and cargo shorts in the infirmary instead of actual scrubs. please stop calling him a doctor. especially when you are trying to hate on solangelo. he’s just a healer. he’s just a minor. like he is not a doctor. stop saying he is one.

[formulaonecrumbs]

could you osc comforting reader throughout having to have a surgery to remove a cyst that refused to rupture? the fear of no longer being able to have children if something goes wrong with the procedure. the worry of oscar not wanting to be with her anymore and him staying with her through it. from learning about the cyst to post surgery having to help her move, shower, eat after surgery.

-🧸

even if

Oscar Piastri x PCOS!reader

summary: reader needs surgery to remove a cyst and fears the worst—oscar stays through it all, from diagnosis to recovery.

warnings: pcos, chronic pain, ovarian cysts, surgery, hospital setting, fear of infertility, post-op recovery

A/N: i don’t have much to say except for that i’m sorry this isn’t much longer. i didn’t know how to write it, idk why. but thank u for the request as always :) i appreciate it more than u know, lovie. I LOVE YOU, 🧸❤️

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

it starts with a scan.

you’d gone in expecting them to say what they always say: ride it out, take painkillers, it’ll pass. but instead, the doctor frowns, tilts the screen, and clicks too many times. and then:

“this one’s not rupturing. we’re going to need to remove it surgically.”

the words hit your chest like a stone dropped in water. the ripples spread fast—fear, confusion, shame.

they talk you through the process, but all you hear is the possibility.

the what if.

what if something goes wrong? what if it takes more than just the cyst? what if you wake up and something’s missing? what if you can’t—

“will this affect… fertility?” you whisper, barely able to finish the word.

they don’t say no. they say “we’ll do everything we can.”

and that’s worse.

you don’t tell oscar at first.

you mean to. you want to. but how do you explain that you feel like your body’s turned against you? that you’re scared he might not love what’s left of you after?

he finds the pamphlet before you can hide it.

you come home to him sitting on the couch, the crumpled sheet of paper in his hand. his expression is unreadable. not angry—just quietly hurting.

“how long have you known?” he asks softly.

“a few days.”

he nods. “and you didn’t tell me because…?”

you shrug, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “because i didn’t want you to think i’m broken.”

his face breaks instantly. “don’t say that.”

“but it’s true.”

“no. it’s not.” he gets up, crosses the room, holds your face in both hands. “you’re in pain, and you’re scared, and you don’t want to go through this. but you’re not broken. not even close.”

you look down. “what if i can’t—what if i won’t be able to have kids?”

he doesn’t flinch. “then we deal with that together.”

“you want kids, though.”

“i want you.”

your eyes flood. he kisses your forehead.

“we’re getting through this,” he says. “surgery and recovery and all of it. i’m not going anywhere.”

he’s there the morning of the procedure. hospital bracelet on your wrist, paper gown too cold, hands shaking in your lap.

he’s the only reason you’re not falling apart.

he talks to you while the nurses prep everything. about planes. about how he saw a dog wearing sunglasses on the walk in. he makes you laugh—quiet, but real.

“you’ll be out in a second,” he says. “and when you wake up, i’ll be right here.”

you fall asleep with his hand in yours.

you wake up sore and slow and dizzy. everything aches.

you barely register anything until you hear his voice, quiet and close.

“hey, there you are.”

you turn your head. he’s right beside you, hair messy from running his hands through it, eyes red-rimmed from not sleeping.

“hi,” you croak.

“you did so good,” he says, brushing your hair back. “doctor said they got it. everything went okay.”

“okay?” you whisper.

“okay,” he nods. “you’re okay.”

you cry. he lets you. holds your hand and leans over to kiss your temple.

the next few days are rough.

you’re weak. sore. bruised and stitched and barely able to move without help.

but oscar helps with everything.

he sits behind you in bed so you can lean back against him when your stomach hurts too much to lie flat. he holds your hips steady when you shuffle to the bathroom. he helps you shower, gentle and respectful, whispering “i’ve got you” over and over while water runs down your back.

he makes you toast and soup and little snacks. watches bad tv with you and laughs even when you can’t. reads your medication labels out loud and sets alarms on his phone. tucks your heating pad in the perfect spot and rubs your shoulder while it warms up.

he sleeps beside you on top of the blankets just in case you need space, then crawls under when you reach for him without saying a word.

and he tells you he loves you. constantly. when you’re in pain. when you’re quiet. when you’re too tired to say it back.

“i love you,” he says into your hair.

“even now?” you whisper.

“especially now.”

the bruises fade. the stitches dissolve. the fear softens.

you’ll never forget how it felt—the waiting, the hurting, the not knowing. but you’ll remember this more: the way he never let go. the way he saw you at your lowest and didn’t blink. the way he made you feel like you could come out the other side whole.

and you did.

THE END :>

[geeeemmmmmmm]

Asgardian liquor

A/N:Wow look who's finally returned, hoping to get out more writing soon aha! I'm a little rusty so as always sorry for any mistakes and enjoy!

Summary:Bucky thought he couldn't get drunk until you convince him to try Thor's asgardian liquor

WC:2.2k Warnings:Mentions of drinking/alcohol, fluff

Energy filled the room, the not so distant chattering and drinks clinging together overtook the once calm atmosphere of the bar as you and the rest of the team celebrated the return of Steve and Natasha from their month long mission in Korolyov. You and Bucky were sitting near the head of the table with Tony of course sitting at the head while Thor and Bruce were opposite you both with the others scattered around the other end of the table. You weren't having too many drinks on the account of helping Tony with a meeting in the morning and a hangover wasn't the thing you needed. "I'm gonna get another martini, do you want anything Buck?" you asked slowly peeling yourself away from his side "Thanks doll but I'm fine, nothing here could get me drunk anyway" he laughed reaching his hand out for yours before you could walk away "Didn't Thor bring some of Asgard's speciality drinks you should try one" you nodded towards Thor happily downing a pint as his laughter boomed across the bar, finally you slipped your hand out of his hold and made your way to the bartender. 

Keeping it simple you ordered an espresso martini hoping it won't keep you up all night. You leant against the bar gently nursing the drink in your hands just admiring your boyfriend laugh with his teammates as he sipped the drink Thor passed over to him. "He's head over heels with you, you know that right?" Steve told you as he snuck in beside you "Even in the 40s he was never this lovey dovey" he laughed again smiling while he reminisced about his old life. "I love him, it sounds so weird to say but i'm proud of him for coming this far you know" you replied turning your head to look at Steve "I get what you mean" he replied quietly taking a swig of the beer he had "The nights all about you and Nat! stop trying to move the focus off of it" you said happily feeling the buzz of the alcohol start to work its way around your body "Oh c'mon it was nothing special if anything it was Nat who did everything" Steve replied sheepishly. He never wanted to boast about his achievements but everyone knew he was very proud on the inside. 

The night flowed on gently with Steve standing next you making awkward small talk to the waitress - Bucky was right Steve has a knack for always being awkward trying to pick up girls. The stereo blared a beat that you know all too well, "Bennie and the Jets" by Elton John - it's yours and Natashas song ever since when you returned from your first mission you had accidentally blasted the song through the quinjet upon touchdown. Ever since then it's been an unspoken tradition with your best friend to dance whenever you both hear it, whether that be in the streets, in a bar or anywhere else where it's not a danger risk. Your feet moved before you could think as you ran over to meet Nat in the middle of the bar. The martini helped loosen up your dance moves as you both immediately burst into a fit of giggles while you swayed to the beat. No one in the team was watching you both, they'd seen it all before. "Much better than Barnes" Natasha said in between giggles, clearly she's had a couple too many as she twirled you around "Might need a dance battle to figure that one out" you almost crashed onto the table from a very sudden spin from Natasha. You shot your eyes over to Bucky who was making his way through the pint Thor had given to him but like a reflex his eyes found their way to yours. "No boys!" Nat groaned, pulling you back to the dance floor off the table "Just us!" you cheered, throwing your hands up. 

The song slowed down as did your energy, the martini you downed gave you a push to lead Natasha back to her seat with you next to her and Sam sitting opposite you both. "Nice moves ladies" Sam playfully made finger guns at you both with a wink "Should've joined in" Natasha joked nudging your shoulder "Next time then, you owe us" you exclaimed with a bright smile. "How's you and Bucky?" Sam chirped before he slammed a shot down his throat "Perfect" you hummed "You never gave me a chance" he jokingly whined "Your too good for her" Natasha replied joining in on the joke "Damn right you are Wilson" you said shaking your head. The banter between you three lightly progressed, with Sam and Natasha gulping down more shots making more mindless laughing fill the room.

After a while Bucky found his way back to you, wrapping his arms around your neck as he stood behind you "How was the specialty drink?" you asked tilting your head up against his chin "Mhmm s'real nice didn't make m'drunk though" he mumbled trying not to slur his words, looking down at you with a dopey grin sitting proudly on his face "Yea and Steve isn't Captain America" Sam cut in happily "don't'chu joke about Stevie" Bucky trying to be tough with a slur till very evident in his voice "Enough of that Buck" you joked hoping to bring his drunken attention back to you when you patted his chest. 

"M'girl I looove youuu" he hiccuped moving around you to sit down next to you "I love you more Bucky" you laughed watching him try keep his head upright "No I love m'girl more than you! she always take care of me and she sho pretty'n warm" he went silent for a second to pull you onto his lap. "see she so warm" he said proudly, grinning as he nuzzled his head into your hair. You were tightly held against your boyfriend with your legs dangling off of his. You looked over to Sam and Natasha who were about to fall off their seats laughing at the sight of Bucky Barnes, the winter soldier, the ruthless killing machine currently drunkenly mumbling into your hair while you leant against his chest. "don't laugh at m'girl she m'rock I just wanna keep you in m'arm foever" you stifled your laughter as he kept his arms wrapped around you peppering kisses onto the crown of your head. You just sighed smelling the strong scent of the Asgardian liquor in his breath.

This was a side no one had seen on Bucky so of course the team's attention found its way over to you and him. "Can I tell you a secret?" he slowly loosened his grip so you could look up at him. "Of course" you whispered looking into his glassy eyes "your m'fav'rite person more than Stevie" he whispered looking around after he said that like it was extremely classified information. "Can I tell you something?" you asked letting your laughter slip out "anything fo'mgirl" he replied happily letting his words become more incoherent by the second. "You're my favourite person too" your words immediately lit his face up even more "really?" he squeaked "Going supersonic on us super soldier?" Tony called out from back at the head of the table but Bucky ignored it, keeping his still dopey smile locked on you "you can't tell anyone m'kay?" you whispered happily wiggling your hands out to cup his face feeling his stubble lightly tickle your palms "scouts honour" he gushed pulling you back against his chest. The team kept their conversations with their eyes locked onto you both as they hid laughter whenever Bucky would blurt out something completely random while you talked. 

"Buck, can you take me back to the tower?" you asked looking up to give him puppy dog eyes. You could tell he wouldn't want to leave if you forced him but you know how he will do anything for you. "Of coursee" he mumbled, letting you stand up again. He stumbled while getting up and landed on you whispering some incoherent apology as he kissed your temple. "I'm gonna take - I mean we are heading out guys cya!" you called out to the rest of the table after quickly handing Natasha your card to shut off your tab at the end of the night. Bucky trailed slowly behind you trying to stumble over, clearly he has never been this intoxicated so you pulled back and wrapped your arm around him in hopes to stabilise him. The night air held a slight breeze when you both stepped outside to wait for a cab. Bucky happily stood next to you draping all of his drunken weight on you "Bloody hell your heavy Buck" you said trying not to collapse "Just making sure you don't disappear on me" Bucky said letting his words sound slightly sober.

You flicked your hand out to call the first cab you saw. "Can you still move Sgt?" you asked trying to burst into laughter at the sight of him about to fall over. You held onto his arm while you managed to swing the cab door open and usher him in. You slid in next to him giving the driver the tower's address and you could see the surprise in his eyes when he joined the dots. Bucky was completely out of it as he rested his head on your shoulder with his metal arm resting on your lap. You admired him like you were earlier in the night, his hair that was neat at the start of the night now disheveled and falling into his eyes with his eyes fluttering closed. You don't know how he still looks incredibly handsome but you just rested your head on his and moved your hand up to gently card through his irresistibly soft hair. Your touch was met with a sleepy groan as he nuzzled further into your shoulder - if he could be fused with you, he would be. 

The tower started to come into sight as you were about to wake Bucky up. "We're home baby" you whispered, holding his head up with your hand waiting for him to remember the night so far. His eyes looked confused as he glanced at you and the cab but he quickly remembered and nodded. You chucked some bills at the cabbie, not caring about change and started to help your boyfriend out. "M’Sleepy" he whispered, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes "Me too let's just get back into our room" you murmured back giving a wave to the security guard as you passed with a drunken super soldier holding onto you for dear life. The elevator doors clicked open as Bucky leant against it finally shifting his weight somewhere else. "Had a good night?" "The best with m'girl" he replied not caring about the slur in his voice, grabbing you into a hug. The doors gilded open at your floor, the warm lights illuminating his features letting you see how sleepy the super soldier really looked. 

"I meant what I said your m'favourite" Bucky whispered as you took his hand to lead him back to your room. "I mean what I said as well" turning your head back to give him a smile before you opened your door. "Thank you for taking care of me, I didn't think I was this drunk" he breathed out after you stepped inside "Anytime, I want you to have fun too" you said stepping in front of him to cup his face again. You were met with a big yawn as he leant into your palms "Think you need to sleep it off big guy" you drawled before waiting for him to nod in confirmation to help him out of his shirt. You carefully helped him kick off his boots and pants leaving him in some boxer shorts. You started to rush over to your dresser to get changed but Bucky held onto to you "Stayyy" he whined "I'm honestly just going to grab a sleep shirt like 1 metre away" you laughed dragging him alongside you. 

Quickly you changed out of the mini dress you had on and traded it for Bucky's red henley you had basically taken for yourself, some panties and your favourite fuzzy socks all while Bucky kept at least one hand on you the whole time. You led him over to your bathroom and brushed your teeth while he attempted to brush his, the asgardian liquor really hit him hard. In record time you climbed into bed opening the blankets for Bucky to quickly follow. Before you knew it he had yet again draped his weight on you like a human paperweight. His head cozily tucked against your collarbone letting his messy hair tickle your neck with his arms wrapped behind your waist letting his legs entangle with yours. "Thor didn't make you drunk huh?" you whispered into his hair resting your arms on his back. "Nuh uh just needed m'girl" he groaned, nipping at your neck, his voice muffled by your neck. Just before you were going to reply you heard soft snores come from him as he felt heavier on you.

Bucky was quick to show you his vulnerability and clinginess when you first started to become friends and begin dating over 2 years ago but you never thought you'd see what he showed you tonight. The comforting weight of Bucky resting on top of you and the rhythm of his heartbeat against yours quickly soothed you to sleep. You didn't care about the meeting tomorrow or anything for that matter. The only thing you wanted was to always be snuggled against your boyfriend, intoxicated or not.

A/N:I love me fics with shitfaced Bucky what can I sayyyy

[bobfloydsbabe]

dear reader | reporter!bob floyd x socialite!oc

SUMMARY: Robert Floyd's first assignment as a reporter is to cover high society gossip. Harriet Spencer is an almost engaged socialite who really isn't as vapid as she appears to be. They could not be more different, and yet there is a magnetic pull between them that soon becomes impossible to ignore...

WARNINGS: set in the mid 1930s, class difference, smoking, forced proximity, pining, angst, one vague masturbation reference. strictly 18+/minors dni

WORD COUNT: 1.2k (i think i blacked out)

A/N: Lew looked so good at the Thunderbolts* premiere tonight. Did y'all see his hair? His suit? That's the reason this exists. Thank you @attapullman for always raving about Lew with me. Enjoy!

“Those things will kill you, you know.”

He’d know that voice anywhere. In a crowded room where he can barely hear himself think. Whispered in the dark, with miles between them. A laugh across the street. Hushed breaths haunting his dreams. It’s a voice that draws you in much like the woman it belongs to.

He hums, blowing out smoke until a pale grey cloud rises to the sky, becoming one with the nighttime clouds.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker, Mr. Floyd.” She’s closer now, her voice a sweet melody in his ears. He wants to wrap it around him like a cloak and carry it home. At least then he’ll have some part of her to cling to.

He’ll still see her—an unfortunate circumstance of the job—but she will truly be out of reach. She was never his, but once that ring is on her finger, she’s lost to him, and seeing her being paraded around that stuffy ballroom made him crave something. Anything to settle the sinking feeling in his stomach. The aching sensation of a loss he has no business feeling.

She stops next to him, slight and elegant hands resting against the cold concrete railing. She’s stunning. The dress, a silvery waterfall of fabric and gemstones, fits her like the gloves she’s long since discarded. She hates the feeling of them on her skin. Her mother hates that she can’t keep them on for longer than an hour, but has long since given up trying to get her to keep them on.

“It’s a special occasion,” he says finally. His voice is even and eerily calm. He betrays none of the turmoil raging inside his head, the blood pulsing in his veins, or the cold sweat at the back of his neck.

She quirks her head to the side, a crinkle between her brows he longs to smooth out with his thumb.

“Oh, yeah?” He nods. “What is it?”

He shrugs. The sound from the party is as loud as ever. Even behind the mostly closed doors, he can hear glasses clinking and meaningless chatter. He can hear it, but the only thing that matters is the sound of her breathing. Right next to him. So close he can almost taste her.

She hums and he can practically hear the mischief woven into that single note. When he finally looks at her, she’s grinning at him and her eyes are gleaming with scheming. “Miss Spencer.” It’s a warning, but she ignores him. Of course she does.

“Let’s play a game,” she suggests and adjusts the pearls around her neck. “I’ll be the reporter and find out why you’re out here being grumpy while smoking.”

His eyes narrow. “You’re not a reporter.”

“I am now,” she says, snatching his notepad and pen from his front breast pocket. “Now, tell me why you’re out here sulking.”

“Miss Spencer, give those back.” He stubs the cigarette, letting the bud sit on the railing to throw out after this supposed game is over.

She puts the end of the pen to her lips with a contemplative look on her face that he should not find as erotic as he does. Paying attention to her pretty pink mouth has only ever gotten him in trouble. Mostly that trouble has to do with his right hand and hard cock, but he’s really trying to not think about that right now.

Her hazel eyes focus on his face, and he can’t help but hold her gaze. A tug at the corner of his mouth has him schooling his features back to neutral. She steps closer. The heat of her overtakes him and his head starts spinning. She’s intoxicating.

“What is going on in the big bad reporter’s brain? Was your editor mean to you?” She pauses. Considers. “Did he scold you for being too honest? Told you not to write anything unfavorable in case it upsets the elite.” She looks at him, assessing. His editor had in fact said something similar, but he’s not about to tell Harriet Spencer that.

She hums again, more inquisitively this time. She steps closer and their shoes are now touching. He can feel her breath on his face. He licks his lips without meaning to. “No, that’s not it either,” she concludes.

“Please,” he says, like it’s painful. Because it is. “Give those back.”

She smirks, leaning forward. He doesn’t flinch.

“Tell me why you’re grumpy and I will.”

He can’t breathe. “I’m not grumpy.”

“Sure, you are. I’ve never seen you smoke. You actively avoid the people who do, which is everyone, I might add, and that can only mean you’re grumpy about something.” She smiles, clearly proud of her deduction. “I know you, Mr. Floyd. Like it or not.” I like it, he thinks. I like it more than I should.

He takes a long steadying breath, then meets her eyes. “There’s this woman,” he begins.

Her eyes light up before he can say anything else. “Mr. Floyd, you’ve been holding out on me,” she scolds him, but there’s no harshness in her tone. “I can’t believe you have a special lady out there and didn’t tell me.”

He doesn’t move a muscle. Doesn’t quite know how to convey everything going through this mind and body without sounding like a madman and scaring her off. “She’s special alright,” he tells. “But she’s not mine.”

Her face drops, a pout forming on those kissable lips.

“Why not?”

The sigh that escapes him is long and heavy, pained. “She’s about to be engaged to someone else.”

Her frown deepens. “How do you know?”

“Everyone knows.”

“Does she know how you feel?”

He shakes his head with a bitter laugh. “No.” He scrubs with chin, letting the feeling of his prickly stubble calm him a little. “No, but it doesn’t matter. We can never be together.”

“That’s absurd.” She seems truly horrified and completely oblivious. “If you love her, you should be together.” She’s so incredulous that he finds it hard not to smile. She’s the one who’s going to marry a man her parents picked for her, even though there isn’t an ounce of love between them.

“Yeah.” He forces himself not to lean his forehead against hers. “Yeah, we should.”

She’s quiet for so long, he almost cups her cheeks to check she’s still breathing, but then she holds the notepad and pen out to him. “I don’t think I want to play reporter anymore.” He takes them and places them back in his breast pocket. “This wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be.”

“You thought stealing my work tools would be fun?”

She grins then. “Yes,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “But I’ve decided you’re allowed to be grumpy. It hurts when we can’t have the person we want the most.”

His heart stops. He might be dying.

She kisses his cheek, lips lingering closer to his mouth than what is appropriate by any standard. “I think you’re pretty special,” she whispers against his skin and pulls back, smoothing out the skirt of her dress. “Goodnight, Mr. Floyd.”

He’s not sure how long he stands there in the middle of the balcony grinning like a fool. Honestly, he doesn’t really care.

likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

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