#and you know what? I still don't know the answer. I should. but I don't.

[mariasont]

Laced With Love - A.H

summary: while hotch is away on a case, you do nothing but shop, and when hotch insists you use his card who are you to disobey him? especially when what you buy benefits the both of you

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader spending hotch's money (it's giving sugar daddy af), so much teasing, fingering, oral fem receiving, hotch worshipping reader, some inappropriate comments made in front of morgan accidentally, they both just completely forget about dinner and don't mention so ya know my bad, dirty talk, soft dom hotchy poo

wc: 3.5k

You had a little problem.

It all started innocently enough: one coffee to-go, a quick window shop in your favorite boutique, and somehow that led to you walking out with a bag containing the most adorable pair of heels that you couldn't leave behind. Then it snowballed—another store, another bag. A perfume counter. A cute sweater that was on sale, and, well, that one really didn't��count because it was practical. It was warm. Functional, even.

Okay maybe you had a big problem.

But it wasn't until your phone buzzed in your bag, pulling you out of a deep debate over whether you needed the floral dress you were holding, that you realized just how many bags were hanging off your arms.

Mr. Bossman flashed across the screen.

The name was completely ridiculous (and more than a little outdated now that he was your boyfriend), but it fit in a weird, nostalgic way. He'd been away on one of those long-distance cases, the kind where you weren't needed, and you'd been counting the days (and minutes) until he'd call. 

You grabbed your phone so fast you almost dropped the dress.

"Hi!" you answered, a little too quickly, your voice so giddy and sugar-sweet it could've given you a toothache. He always teased you for it, but right now you didn't care.

"Hi." His voice was warm, a little rough around the edges with exhaustion. "Just wanted to call and let you know I'll be home tonight."

Your heart practically leapt at his words. "Really? Finally! I thought I was going to shrivel up and die from boredom without you here. Okay, maybe not die, but like... what's the point of anything if you're not home to tell me I bought too many candles?"

"I'm not sure how you've lasted this long," he said. "Should I be worried about the state of the house? Or your bank account?"

"First of all, rude. Second of all, if you are so worried, maybe you shouldn't leave me alone for that long. Ever thought of that, Mr?"

His laugh came through the line, short and deep, and it hit you square in the chest. You closed your eyes, leaning into the sound like it could somehow bring him closer. You could see him so clearly--the way his face softened in a way that made him look ten years younger, the way his shoulders would drop, the way his eyes would crinkle. You missed him so much it hurt.

"Poor thing," he teased, still chuckling softly. "What's a girl to do when I'm not there entertain her? Besides spend my money, I mean."

"Don't worry, Aaron, your money is perfectly safe. My super respectable paycheck—you know, the one you sign—is covering me today."

"Hmm," he said, his voice still muffled. "Sounds like your boss is paying you too much."

"I don't know... I think you're getting a pretty good deal considering I keep you very taken care of. Would you like me to prove it later?"

"Hotch, tell me I did not just hear that."

You froze mid-breath, your hand flying to cover your mouth as a wave of heat rushed to your cheeks. That was Morgan’s voice. Morgan. You felt like a cartoon character with steam pouring out of your ears as your face burned red hot.

A nervous little squeak escaped you just as you heard Aaron fumbling with the phone, his voice clipped as he said something you couldn’t quite make out. There was a muffled shuffle, the sound of a door shutting, and finally, the blessed beep that meant he’d taken you off speaker.

"Christ, honey."

You peeked through your fingers, cheeks still burning as you tried to decide if you should laugh, cry, or maybe just dig yourself a hole and live there forever.

"So," you said, hesitating for a beat, "scale of one to ten, how dead am I? Should I preemptively file an HR complaint against myself, or just let Morgan handle my inevitable downfall?”

You heard him exhale sharply, the creak of a chair following as you pictured him leaning back with that half-smile he always gave when he was equal parts amused and exasperated.

“It’s fine. It’s a little embarrassing, sure. But nothing Morgan hasn’t done to himself ten times worse. He’ll give you a hard time for a day or so, Garcia will laugh, and then they’ll let it go.”

There was brief pause, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “That being said, maybe think twice before making explicit promises while I’m at work, honey.”

You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to the shopping bag in your hand as you toyed with the strap absentmindedly.

"I mean, it's only fair I keep my promise now," you said softly, barely loud enough for him to hear. "It's the least I can do."

You heard a faint sound in the background—maybe him clearing his throat—before his voice dropped an octave. "You're already on thin ice today. Don’t make promises you can’t deliver on."

You let out a little huff, batting your lashes instinctively even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

"I don't know why you're doubting me, Mr. Hotchner. You should know I'm very serious about keeping my promises."

"You know, you're not making this easy on me, " Aaron muttered, his voice low and gruff. You could hear a faint groan, followed by what sounded like pacing on the other end. "Alright, I've really got to go now. Behave yourself. And how about you use my card for the rest of the shopping trip?"

"No, Aaron, I can't!" you said quickly, shaking your head as if he could see you. "You'd never trust me again with your card after the damage I'd do. Besides, you're already going to be shaking your head when you see what I got with my own money."

Aaron sighed, his voice going into that low, authoritative tone that always made your stomach flip.

"You will use the card." There was no room for argument in his words. "I want you to. End of discussion."

And just like that, the call ended with a click. You stared at the screen for a moment as if it might magically reopen the call so could argue your case one more time. But, of course, that didn't happen.

He’d told you to use his card—he demanded it, actually—but your fingers still hesitated, clutching the little piece of plastic like it was about to bite you.

You glanced at the white lace lingerie folded neatly on the counter, the delicate fabric practically winking at you. It wasn’t just pretty—it was the kind of perfect that made your heart flutter. Normally, you’d talk yourself out of something so indulgent, but this time? Well, Aaron had practically begged you to buy something… and you couldn’t think of a better way to treat both of you.

You only hesitated for the briefest moment before swiping his card, your heart doing a little flip as the cashier folded the lingerie into tissue paper with careful hands. It felt like a tiny secret between you and Aaron—a very fun secret.

By the time you got home, the sun had started to dip below the horizon, and you knew you had some time before Aaron made it back. He always gave you a pretty reliable ETA. It was the perks of dating someone so anal.

You lugged your shopping bags up to the bedroom, your arms aching a little, but in the best way possible. Once in the bedroom, you started unpacking everything like it was Christmas morning. Dresses went in the closet, shoes were lined up neatly, and you stashed the receipts in the nightstand just in case Aaron did ask how much damage you'd done.

Then you pulled out the piece—the one you'd bought with him in mind. The silk felt decadent under your fingertips, and the delicate lace was almost too beautiful to wear. Almost. It fit like a glove, hugging every inch of you like it had been tailored specifically for this moment. 

Feeling pleased with yourself, you made your way to the kitchen and slipped into your favorite frilly apron, tying the bow neatly at the back. Cooking wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you were determined to make this work. Pasta seemed foolproof enough (right?), and you threw together a salad and garlic bread for good measure. By some miracle, nothing caught on fire, and the kitchen actually smelled amazing.

You found yourself glancing at the clock every few minutes. When you finally heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, you glanced over your shoulder, heart skipping a beat.

"Hi honey!" you called sweetly, pretending as if standing in the kitchen wearing practically nothing was the most common thing in the world.

Aaron stepped inside, the door clicking behind him, but the second his eyes landed on you, he froze. His tie was loosened, his sleeves slightly wrinkled, and his hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it at least a dozen times today. But none of that mattered now—he stood there like he’d forgotten how to breathe, his dark eyes drinking you in.

You smiled at him, slow and innocent, brushing your hands lightly against the counter. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Sweetheart..." His voice was deeper than usual, strained and almost ragged, like he was trying to pull himself together and failing miserably.

"Yes?" you replied, acting as if you didn’t notice the way his eyes were glued to you while you turned off the burner and set the pan aside.

"What..." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as his gaze dragged down your body, lingering shamelessly on the curve of your ass. "What are you wearing?"

You turned to face him fully, the delicate lace tugging just slightly as you moved, drawing his eyes lower without him even realizing it.

"Oh this?" you said, gesturing vaguely to the piece. "It's just something I picked up today. You told me to use your card, so I thought I'd get something you'd like."

His jaw tightened, eyes scanning you slowly before lingering on the pink bows peeking out over the apron. "You used my card on this?"

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, your hands gliding down the soft lace as you took a step closer, looking up at him through your lashes. "I figured it was an investment. You know, for both of us."

Aaron groaned, low and frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose for a brief second before letting his hand drop.

“Using my card for this…” His voice was rough as he closed the space between you in one long stride, his hands landing on your waist and pulling you flush against him. His lips curved into the faintest smirk as his voice dipped lower. “Was the one thing you’ve done right today. Now take this off—slowly, sweetheart—and let me see exactly what I bought.”

He pinched at the bow on your apron, his fingers tugging lightly, but you stepped back just enough to be out of his immediate reach.

“If you were that eager to see what I bought,” you teased, your fingertips grazing one of the straps of the apron, “maybe you shouldn’t have left me waiting so long.”

You slipped one strap off your shoulder, letting it fall halfway, then paused, tilting your head slightly as if daring him to come closer.

"Trying on pretty things, waiting for me to come home—must've been absolutely draining," Aaron shook his head slowly.

You pouted at him, pushing your bottom lip out just enough to make his eyes soften. He chuckled quietly, stepping closer until his hands braced the counter on either side of you, caging you in.

 "But you know what? I missed you too. And seeing you like this... makes being away feel like torture."

Your pout melted into a glowing smile as your hands found their way to his chest, your fingers brushing lightly over his shirt.

“You mean it? You really missed me?”

"Of course I did." His hands cupped your jaw gently, his thumbs brushing along your cheeks as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real. His other hand moved slowly to the bow at your waist, pulling the knot loose with an easy tug. "Now, angel, let me see what else I've been missing."

The apron slipped to the ground, forgotten, as Aaron’s eyes locked onto you. He blinked once, then twice, his expression unreadable except for the slight parting of his lips, like he’d been robbed of air.

His gaze traveled over you like a slow caress, taking in the way the lace hugged your curves, teasing him with everything it didn’t quite cover. His eyes lingered on your chest, where the sheer fabric exposed the peaks of your nipples, and you caught the subtle hitch in his breath as he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching slightly.

You tilted your head, letting your expression soften into something sweetly innocent as you leaned back against the counter. The lace shifted with the movement, exposing just enough to make his jaw tighten. Then, just for a second, you parted your legs, catching his sharp inhale as you gave him a soft, almost shy smile.

When he realized what wasn't under the lace, his eyes snapped back up to yours. Without a word, he dropped to his knees, hands sliding over your thighs until they rested just above your knees.

A soft gasp escaped your lips, heart skipping several beats as you stared down at him. You hadn't expected this. Not the way his knees hit the floor like it was second nature, not the way his palms spread wide against your skin, thumb brushing over the curve of your inner thighs as he looked up to you.

He must be exhausted, that was your only explanation. But then his hands pressed harder into your thighs, and the thought evaporated. His eyes weren't clouded with exhaustion—they were focused, like he was memorizing every inch of you. 

Your stomach twisted sharply, your legs suddenly feeling like they couldn’t hold you upright anymore. He was looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. That singular thought settled in your chest, blooming like a flower, before curling low in your belly, leaving you breathless.

His lips grazed your thigh in the softest of touches, like he was savoring the moment. Slowly, he pressed another kiss, firmer this time, his fingers tightening around your thighs as his grip became more insistent. He kissed you again, higher and slower, his nose grazing your skin, breath fanning over you. A deep, contented hum rumbled from his chest.

"What have I done," he murmured, his voice rasping like the words have been pulled from his chest, "to deserve this? To deserve you?"

His eyes flickered up to meet yours. "Tell me, angel, because I'd do it a hundred times over if it meant to have you like this."

You wanted to tell him everything—the depth of your love, how he made you feel like the luckiest person alive—but the words lodged in your throat.

"Aaron... I... you're just..." you stammered, voice trembling as your fingers curled around the edge of the counter. 

Before you could gather your thoughts, he lifted one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder, fingers digging into your skin. His lips brushed higher, dangerously close to your exposed cunt, and a soft, broken sound escaped you.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration shooting straight through you. 

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" His breath was hot against your thigh. "You always have so much to say. Don’t tell me you’re out of words already. I haven’t even started.”

"I was going to tell you how—oh, gosh, Aaron—"

Your words you had been trying to string together scattered completely, replaced by a shaky moan as his mouth pressed firmly against your clit. Your breathing stuttered, your chest rising and falling as waves of pleasure coursed through you, drowning out every thought but him.

His mouth was everywhere—warm, insistent, and impossibly skilled as his tongue traced over your clit with maddening precision. He worked like a man possessed, drawing sounds from you that you didn't even know you were capable of making. He was too good at this—too good at knowing exactly where and how to touch you, too good at making you fall apart with just his mouth.

Then he shifted, his hand gripping your other thigh as he lifted your second leg over his shoulder, leaving you completely at his mercy. The sound you made was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, your hands flying to his hair as your head tipped back.

Your back pressed against the edge of the counter awkwardly, a dull ache building in your lower spine, but it was nothing compared to the torrent of pleasure radiating through you. His tongue moved in devastating accuracy, his hands gripping your thighs like he was gluing you to himself. Your chest moved in shaky breaths, his name slipping from your lips in trembling cries that you couldn’t hold back.

"If I'd known this would be my reward," you gasped, tugging hard at his hair, your words faltering as your head tipped back. "I'd have emptied your whole wallet—oh, fuck—“

His lips closed firmly around your clit, pulling firmly in a way that destroyed your sentence completely. His hands tightened on your thighs, keeping you locked exactly where he wanted you.

"You must really mean it if you're cursing now." His tongue flicked over you again, making your back arch sharply. "Didn’t know you had that in you... let’s see what else I can get you to say, angel."

A warm flush spread up your neck and into your cheeks, heat rising faster than you could control. "I didn't mean to--"

You were cut off once again as his finger slid into your pussy. Any trace of embarrassment was gone, swept away by the overwhelming need pooling deep in your core, leaving nothing but raw desire in its place.

The pressure, coiling low in your stomach, was building so fast you could barely keep up with it. Every tell-tale sign was there—the trembling of your thighs, the way your chest shuddered in shallow breaths, and most incriminating of all, the words spilling from your lips before you could even think about them.

"I love you," you gasp, the desperation clear as ever. "I love you so much, I love you—Aaron, oh—"

He groaned against your clit, his tongue pressing hard as though your words were the fuel he needed to pull you apart completely. His finger curled again, hitting that spot that made you vision blur. His eyes flicked up, and you could tell he knew exactly what was happening. He always knew.

"I know, angel," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "Now show me just how much."

Your orgasm hit you with staggering intensity, a wave of heat and pleasure crashing through you that left every inch of your body trembling. Your breath came in uneven, stuttering gasps as his name spilled from your lips, over and over, like a mantra you couldn’t stop repeating.

"That's my girl," Aaron murmured, his lips brushing against your sensitive skin as his finger worked you through the waves.

His lips pressed on last kiss to your thigh before he straightened, his hands immediately wrapping around your waist like he predicted you'd collapse without him. As soon as he lifted you, you clung to him like your life depended on it (and in that moment you were sure it did), your arms winding around his neck.

Everything felt distant, like you were floating somewhere above yourself. Your head rested limply on his shoulder, your lips brushing against the side of his neck. Your fingers curled weakly against the fabric of his shirt, and for a fleeting moment, you weren’t even sure your body had substance anymore—you felt soft, boneless, entirely his.

Aaron tapped the back of your thigh gently. "Come on, sweetheart, up."

You tried—really, you did—but your body wasn't cooperating. Your legs dangled uselessly, and you let out a soft, half-laugh, half-whisper. "Can't."

He huffed a quiet laugh. 

"Hopeless," he teased. He hoisted you up before you could process it, his shoulder pressing into your stomach as he flipped you over it. A surprised squeak escaped you, but his hand was already bracing your thigh as he started up the stairs. "I guess I'll just have to do all the work, as usual."

"You're so strong," you mumbled dreamily, your head lolling against his shoulder. "Like... disgustingly strong. It’s so hot."

Aaron laughed, his hand smacking your ass. "Keep talking like that, sweetheart and I'll start using you for my next workout routine. And I guarantee it'll be something you'll feel tomorrow."

"Mr. Hotchner!" you gasped, your voice half-indignant and half-giggling. "And you act like I’m the inappropriate one in this relationship!"

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head as he carried you into the bedroom. He lowered you down, tossing you onto the bed just hard enough to make you bounce lightly against the mattress. You let out a soft laugh, body sinking into the covers as you looked up at him. 

“The difference is, I have the good sense not to say things like that on speakerphone.”

You let out a small laugh, raising your eyebrows. “And you should have the good sense not to trust me on speakerphone. Really, Aaron, rookie move.”

He stood tall at the edge of the bed, his fingers slowly loosening the top button of his shirt as he tilted his head. "“That’s fine. We’ll call it even—after you make good on that promise."

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[lightseoul]

a/n. i really don't know where i'm going with this, y'all. but getting to role-play as a therapist and explore bakugou's psyche has been lots of fun, so bear with me. please let me know what you think and/or would want to see! maybe that'll give me an idea lol. (1.1k)

navigation. part 1, part 2, (you are here)

“n-no.”

at that, the woman’s eyebrows shoot up, disappearing underneath her fringe. “no?”

“you heard me,” bakugou spits instinctively, immediately regretting how hostile that sounded not even a second later. “i mean, no, i didn’t.”

his therapist, apparently unfazed by his show of aggression—she must’ve gotten used to it by now, although he still feels bad when he gets testy—only jots something down in her clipboard before looking back up at him, an inexplicable expression etched across her features.

“do you have any ideas, then, why, for the first time in seemingly forever, you’re fixating on a particular social encounter?”

bakugou barely manages to bite back a scowl.

he hates it—this part. the part where his psychologist obviously has theories as to why he’s acting a certain way or how he’s actually feeling but chooses to ask him instead, in an attempt to draw it out of him.

as if talking about difficult shit in the first place isn’t already painful enough.

and isn’t that what he’s paying her to do? give him answers? why’d he have to be the one to wrack his brain for uncomfortable answers to uncomfortable questions?

“do you?” he then challenges, emboldened by that train of thought just now.

“yes,” she responds truthfully and without missing a beat it somewhat surprises him. “but as i’ve explained to you before, i think it’ll be helpful for you if we try a more active approach on your end so that any insights gleaned from our discussions become more personalized and stick with you longer.”

well, then. fuck.

the lady’s got a point.

“so,” she continues when he doesn’t reply, annoyingly aware her little spiel got to him, “any ideas? working hypotheses?”

“uh,” he starts begrudgingly, eyes roving over the bookshelves lining the room’s walls as he struggles to come up with another angle. then it dawns on him, and he looks directly at the woman. “i didn’t expect to see someone in here, and when i did, it caught me off guard.”

“that may be because most of our clients opt for virtual consultations rather than face-to-face ones.”

“yeah,” he piles on quickly, admittedly thankful for the validation, and for the fact. the absolute last thing he needs is to bump into some extras before and after therapy. “that must be why.”

“but how does that explain your, and i quote, ‘dumb as shit reaction’?”

bakugou instantly feels himself flame. he clears his throat, “i told you, didn’t i? it caught me off guard. how the fuck did you expect me to react?”

that must’ve been a reasonable point, thank the fuck, because the woman pauses in thought before nodding slowly. “i suppose you’re right.”

he narrowly bites back an of course, i am.

but then she’s spouting off again.

“although it’s interesting to me how your immediate reaction was to say hi, when that’s not really…how should i say, your style, based on our prior sessions and your personality test results.”

a pause.

bakugou scrambles for a bulletproof rebuttal. he comes up short.

the lady cocks her head to the side, curious. “how often would you say you mull over social blunders?”

never, he thinks to himself. because they never happen.

“i figured as much,” comes her unexpected reply, and only then does it dawn on him that he said the last bit out loud.

“can we talk about something else?” he finds himself suddenly asking, totally over this entire conversation. he can worry about being a loser and pathetically begging for an out some other time. right now, he just needs a break.

“actually, you’re in luck,” she checks her smartwatch, “the session’s just about to end.”

at that, his shoulders almost instantly sag in relief, which makes the woman laugh. he shoots her a half-hearted glare.

they spend the next few minutes summarizing what has been discussed, as well as the arrangements for the following weeks, with bakugou eventually throwing his bag over his shoulders and bidding her a mumbled goodbye. he tosses her a nod over his shoulder as he crosses the threshold of her office, mind already drifting to what he’s going to cook himself for dinner.

and that, for a typical session, he’s walking out relatively unscathed.

but then he does the stupid thing of looking up from where he was studying his trainers when a door creaks open, and he freezes.

because standing a few feet away from him, right beside the entrance to the restroom, is you, equally frozen.

he doesn’t know how much time passes with him just staring at you like a motherfucking idiot, and you, strangely enough, peering at him back, but it’s you who eventually takes a hammer to the silence.

“h-hi,” you offer, voice soft and quiet, just like how he vaguely remembers it from two weeks ago.

“hey,” comes his gruff reply, which would’ve been immediately followed by a wince at how rough his tone was just now had he not stopped himself in the nick of time.

at least he didn’t stutter.

“…b-bakugou, right?” you ask after a moment of neither of you saying anything, confirming his earlier suspicions.

“right.”

you nod, a polite yet somehow stilted smile on your face, and suddenly he’s mentally slapping himself. since when was he fucking bound to one-word sentences?

he decides then and there that this shit won’t do.

in an attempt to convince himself that no, this is just a weird outlier of an encounter for him, and that no, he’s not a fucking idiot like dunce face, and that yes, he is and is being perfectly fucking normal, he resolves to ask you for your name.

and he was just about to do that—he swears he was—when someone from the other side of the door calls out a name, and you whip to face their direction, breaking eye contact.

“yes, doc!” you holler back, and he watches you as you hesitate in place for a second, before turning to face him with an awkward smile.

“nice meeting you, bakugou-san.”

and then you’re off and shutting the door behind you.

he stands there for what feels like a few minutes, just blinking at the door in front of him, what must be your name echoing—again and again—up to the far recesses of his mind.

then: fuck.

he may or may not have just lied to his therapist.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[joonsytip]

Left for Ruins || Seungcheol [Teaser]

Pairing: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Crime, Smut, Fluff, Office Worker Husband!Seungcheol, Investigative Journalist Wife!Reader

Synopsis: Being an investigative journalist, you would do anything to unravel the truth, even if it means getting married to the timid office worker Choi Seungcheol, who was in fact the best friend of your brother who went missing seven years ago.

Warnings: Mentions of all sorts of criminal activities, reader and Seungcheol are two people with contrasting personalities, exploitation, gaslighting, heavy themes involving syndicate etc.

Thanks to @diamonddaze01 for the amazing banner! ♡

Comment or send an ask if you wanna be tagged.

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

“I want you to marry me.”

Seungcheol is currently cornered, shying away from the proximity, unable to meet eyes even.

“W-Why do you want me to marry you?”, he manages to utter, body leaning back in reflex as you close in further.

All he gets from you is a very known cunning smile.

As you watch him like he's a prey, he pleads with you to give him some space.

“You're in your thirties, don't have a partner, got a stable job and a clean image. Don't you think we'd look good together?”, your hands take off his glasses, making him look into your eyes, “You are handsome and I've known you for as long as I can remember.”

Seungcheol finds it hard to maintain eye contact. Always soft spoken, he hesitates to ask you questions.

He needs time, he needs a push. You know it all and you know him all too well.

As expected, his hands reach yours to get back his glasses. He gently takes it and puts it back on. His eyes meet yours at his own will, for the first time that night.

“I’m practically blind without my glasses.”, he says softly, “Can I ask you some questions? Will you please answer them? And I have a lot to ask.”

You find it amusing, the way he awaits your response. If you deny, you're sure no questions will be asked. You're confident that you'd be able to coax him into marrying you with no such difficulties anyways.

You're known to be ruthless. You don't bat an eye before deceiving people, lies naturally flow out of your mouth.

When you give a nod, he asks you to take a seat, mainly for himself so you could back off and he could finally breathe.

“You've known me for years, Y/N. And I'm sure you're not asking me to marry you because you have feelings for me. Tell me the truth and I'll consider it.”

Your eyes glint dangerously but it's gone suddenly.

Your face falls, melancholia starts pouring into the atmosphere.

“I’ll be honest.”, you say, sounding sincere, “You were closest to my brother. It's been seven years since I saw him. I heard time heals but for me it's making things worse. I still can't believe that a good person like Daon would disappear overnight.”

Seungcheol takes the seat beside you, his heart aching in the memories of his best friend.

Your gaze drops at your lap, letting the sudden wave of tears stream down your face. It's a wound, unattended, always fresh.

With a croak in your voice you continue, “My brother trusted you the most and for me, I know that you've always tried to be a shelter, looking over as a guardian figure.”

Seungcheol’s demeanor is similar to yours, as he says, “When Daon disappeared, I just couldn't forgive myself. It always occurred to me that I should have searched more, did I give up too early? What if he's still waiting for me? I'll always live with this guilt.”

You both sit in silence.

“We could never repay you, what you did for us back then is something not even family members do.”, you feel Seungcheol go stiff when you place your hand on top of his, “My mom is nagging me to get married and I realised I trust you a lot. That if I gotta do this, I'd rather do it with you. I feel safe around you, Cheol.”

His ears are turning red, mouth going dry. His entire body screams for help.

You study him carefully, lips twitching as he excuses himself out of his home office for a moment.

As soon as he's out, you're off your seat.

“You're insane, Y/N.”, you could sense the disbelief in the voice coming from the earpiece, “You should be an actress.”

“Shut up, Jeonghan.”, you say through gritted teeth, “I have never let my hair down for this long, it's starting to irritate me. My ears are itching.”, you fix your hair so it covers the device in your ear.

Your mouth launches a string of complaints while your hands place work effortlessly to plant bugs over several places.

“The guy seems like a decent person. Throwing a marriage proposal just to wiretap his office seems a bit too much.”, Jeonghan keeps on speaking through the earpiece, "What if he agrees to the marriage, how are you so sure he won't?

You pay no attention to his rambles, skimming through the papers and files, eyes often darting to the door.

“Make sure the devices are working fine. I placed only one camera though, no place to hide others.”, your brows furrow as you go through the files, “Nothing useful here. Maybe I could get something in the drawers.”

But the sounds of footsteps approaching makes you halt.

Seungcheol on entering back notices you in the same stance as when he leaves you.

He carefully walks towards you, almost guilty when he kneels in front of you, “I appreciate that you think so highly of me but we're exactly opposite in terms of personality and aspirations. We won't work out. I'm sorry, Y/N but I can't marry you.”

You hear Jeonghan sighing in relief.

“Woah, he really didn't take the bait.”, you hear him mumbling, “We're done here. It's time for you to leave.”

Jeonghan is about to speak again but he hears sobs.

Seungcheol eyes you in horror as he watches you sob hysterically. Your eyes are red, nose flaring.

“Why don't you understand, Cheol?”, you choke, struggling to speak but do nonetheless, “Do I really need to spell it out for you!!”

Jeonghan shrieks on the other side, this wasn't on the card.

“Calm down Y/N.”, Seungcheol hesitantly holds your hands.

A second later he's about to turn to grab water for you but freezes.

“I like you, Choi Seungcheol! I really like you, a lot.”

Seungcheol's shaky hands somehow manage to grab your face, his eyes searching for yours, “Do you mean it?”

You scoff internally.

“Do I look like I'm joking?”, you say wiping your tears.

He observes you for a moment then you're being pulled into his embrace. Your lips curl up instantly.

Good for you, your tears flow as swiftly as your lies.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

[westside-rot]

Therapy Hours

Pairing: husband!terry richmond x black fem!reader

Words: 3.7k words

Summary: Terry seeks comfort from the only person who can give it to him.

Notes: Minors DNI. Smut, oral: fem receiving (0ver-stimulation) and cursing. Light by my standards lol. I had to force myself to stop revising this so please forgive any errors. I'll find em eventually and fix it. 😭 In the future I plan on alternating between fluff and smut so the next one should be fluffy/angsty.

Also please don't repost this on any other sites. Reblogs/comments/likes make me happy.

Tags: @megamindsecretlair @melaninpov

Something isn’t right. You look over to the side and discover the space occupied by your husband is empty. He was there a moment ago, proud and silent in his admiration for you while you sat mesmerized by the view. This picnic was the culmination of a month-long struggle to find balance with work and each other. All you cared about was reconnecting with him in a garden straight out of a fairytale for as long as possible, forever if you had it your way. Now he was nowhere to be found.

You rationalize his absence by assuming he must’ve forgotten something in the car. Likely an item you’d noticed earlier and convinced yourself not to purchase. Satisfied with your answer you lay back on your thick cotton blanket face to the infinite stretch of blue, uninterrupted by clouds with your arms and legs stretched out in opposite directions as far they'll comfortably reach. That’s when you notice the dress you’d been wearing has somehow vanished as well.  You don’t bother pursuing logic this time. It’s beautiful outside and warmed to the ideal temperature for sunbathing. Now you’re a part of that beauty, perfectly made and carefree.

The sun’s warmth penetrates your brown skin and you relax into a gratified acceptance with your eyes closed and a smile on your face. A breeze grazes your skin. You part your legs to it exploration. It's subtle at first then harder as it sweeps up your legs and fixates on your intimate parts. You moan as your hips begin to move in a sensual dance interrupted by something you can’t name. Then you realize the golden reddish hue behind your eyelids is gone. It's dark, darker than it should be for the time of day. You find it impossible to care with so much pleasure running through your system. It doesn’t matter who or what is responsible for your predicament. They can keep you so long as they promise never to stop.

The unknown force answers with more delicious suction. It draws your body into a tight arch and pulls the breath from your lungs. Breathing is pointless where you’re headed. While your brain can’t fathom the destination, it doesn’t get in the way of supplication once you're finally pushed over the edge.  

"Terry..." You moan the name forever present in your heart and mind. His location is still unknown, you trust him to always find you.

"I’m here love." The voice is muffled. You recognize its owner the second you hear it.   The pleasurable void you’ve fallen into rematerializes as soft sheets against your back. Everything else gradually comes into focus, your husband's massive hands anchored on your waist, the prick of his facial hair as his tongue and lips move along your slick folds made warm by each labored breath he takes. Your eyes reset themselves forward as you attempt to reorient your place in the real world, a simple task made difficult by his unwillingness to pull his tongue from your drenched hole. Delirious but still guided by habit you manage to catch sight of the alarm clock on your nightstand. 3:00am.

"Shit…We have to be up in a few more hours--" Your hands act in contradiction to your words, pulling him in closer by the neck to keep him on the right spot. "Baby..."

"I know." He flattens his tongue against your clit and latches on. You realize he's responding to the urgency in your voice and not the truth you’re attempting to speak.

Where your first orgasm was tempered by your dream, the second attacks your senses at full force. His strong capable hands absorb the shock as they hold you in place.  It's several minutes before your thrashing subsides to gentle undulations from the heavy breaths passing through your body. His fingers knead the flesh around your waistline. Even though his lips are still dangerously close to your pussy you feel more like the wife he’s attempting to soothe and less like the midnight snack you've been made into. You melt among the pillows with your eyes closed one hand loosely cradling the back of his head, the other bent and draped across your face as he makes out with your inner thighs. It takes you a while to recover your voice, a little longer to remember what you intended to say next.

"What’s wrong papa? Did your regret for not playing with me earlier finally wake you up?”

He doesn’t speak right away. The answer reaches you in the silence long before his words give confirmation.

"I’d take regret over these dreams I keep having. They’re getting worse."

Six months ago, Terry nearly lost his life attempting to protect his cousin. His outer wounds have healed up nicely. It's the scars left on his soul that provoke your bloodlust. If you had your way those piece of shit cops would’ve received their karma long before the worst happened. Mike would be alive. The man you love, a man accustomed to sleeping peacefully by your side every night wouldn’t be routinely attacked by demons you couldn’t see.

Most nights you’re promoted to the role of big spoon. You hate the circumstances, but it settles the panic in your heart to hold your mountain of a man in your arms and grant him the protection he’s given you over the years. Tonight, he's found a different way to cope, a method worth keeping in your toolbelt even if it means resembling a zombie for the rest of the day.

"Baby I’m sorry. You should’ve woken me up." You reach down to massage his ears with both thumbs before attempting to bring him to eye level. He resists by nuzzling his face in your thigh.

"Technically I did wake you up." He mumbles, filtering kisses between increasingly labored breaths. The path his lips are taking force you into a conundrum. Press the issue or trust his methods. Brains weren’t meant to work this hard at this hour. It’s cruel and unfair when you realize Terry isn’t weighted down by the same predicament. Every time his breath passes over your sensitive lips you feel your logic slipping further away. He’s giving you a reason to forget and move on. You’re also his wife. The one person on this shitty planet he can always rely on, the only person crazy enough to sacrifice a third orgasm so close after the second to protect his heart from the lie he was attempting to maintain.

You find a compromise in the minute that passes, maybe two. It’s hard to separate the details when he’s making every attempt to bury his face in your pussy. You struggle to be assertive. It’s the desperation in your voice when you say his name that eventually gets him to lift his head.

The room is dark, the moonlight casts a glow across the top half of his face just enough to see his eyes. He reminds you of a sad puppy being chastised for something they don’t understand. The expression breaks your heart and makes you smile as you stroke his jawline, your upturned lips on full display to match his sad look.

“I need to make sure you’re okay and not telling me what you think I need to hear. We deal with this together. Not apart.”

He nods and turns his face into your hand to kiss your palm. There's an uncomfortable silence in the room, but you remain patient, resisting the urge to pry the answer from his now visibly tense body.

“I dreamed I lost you.” His delayed response is both a relief and heartbreaking as the previous dreams he’s shared replay in your mind. All include some variation of him being imprisoned. None include a happy ending for him or for Mike. Leaning down to kiss the top of his head, you mimic his vice like hold once he buries his face in your stomach.

Regret mixes with the anger you were already struggling to contain. It fills the room, ensnaring you in contradictory thoughts. Sit on his face to make you both feel better or do what Terry refused to and murder the men responsible for making him feel anything less than a hero, for desecrating the space in his heart reserved for the people he loved.  You could only really be mad at yourself for pressing the issue. Orgasms were a far better reward than listening to the gruesome details of your presumed demise. Given what he's been through your mind takes you to the worse possible options. You’re prepared to listen but aren’t sure how you'll get back to sleep afterward this.

"Nothing is going to happen to me." You soothe him with more kisses and tender reassurances. He answers with a tighter grip like he’s expecting something to challenge your words.

"We fought about everything…” He starts. You prepare for the story to get progressively worse. “One day you show up with some random ass light skinned fucker with a crooked hairline. I’m thinking he’s the new gardener only to find out you’re leaving me for him. You kicked me out. Had me sleeping in a tent in the backyard while some bum ass bitch wore my clothes and fucked my wife. Losing you is one thing. Losing you to a leprechaun who can’t grow a proper beard is bullshit."

 You were anticipating having your throat slashed or a hole torn in your chest by a monster you couldn’t outrun. This was somehow worse because Terry was dead serious yet nothing he said warranted a serious response.

"Ok, first of all, you’re light skinned too."

Clearly you were being tested and failing miserably. You'd taken a deep breath in the hopes of drawing something positive and meaningful into your thoughts. All you managed to do was bring up a past hilarious debate about him being caramel and not chocolate like he proclaimed himself to be. Terry’s head shot up like someone had lit a fire underneath him. You can feel him staring you down and instantly crack under the pressure.

"Be serious woman."

The poor man is clearly traumatized. You bite down on your cheek for his sake before giving him a direct view of your face, wide eyed and filled with doctored innocence that crumbles by the second. “I’m trying!” You fuss. “But you’re being awfully specific about this man's appearance."

"I saw the fucker clear as day like I’ve seen him before…I’m taking you to work. Might even stay just to be safe."

The conviction in his voice tells you not to brush off his words.  You can imagine him now posted up in your office surveying the area. He wouldn’t hover or say much, his domineering presence and chiseled muscles on full display would guarantee no woman within a 30-mile radius was productive. You would be at the top of the list. Unlike half the women in your office you had zero decorum in your husband’s presence. The last thing you needed were your colleagues gossiping about you getting fucked in your office.

"My dear sweet husband aren’t you being a little unreasonable?” Posing the question in a song doesn’t have the desired effect. It merely gives him a reason to frown harder.

"Hell no. I’m not taking anything for granted anymore, especially when it pertains to you. Far as I’m concerned this was a message from God to protect my home.”

There’s plenty to laugh at. Even less to challenge. You were looking at your answered prayer, a literal message from God to prove men like Terry weren’t a fantasy. This one was real and more than you could’ve hoped for. In honor of that gift you smile and nod in agreement and prepare to be followed everywhere.

“I can’t say you’re wrong. I can tell you no one at work fits the description.” He ponders while you stroke his neck. He isn’t silent for long.

“He could be a new security guard or the person delivering the mail."

"Mhm, I could forgive the wrinkles in a UPS uniform. Something about those brown shorts makes me feral. I’m getting wet thinking em." The laugh you’ve been holding sputters from you, putting tears in your eyes.

Terry sucks his teeth and gestures to raise up completely. He doesn’t get far when you throw your arms around his neck. He grunts but lets you have your way. "It's not funny."

"You’re right baby. It's not.  Dream me is a dumb ass bitch. I’d never leave you, especially not for an obviously unattractive man with tiny feet and a crooked hair line. You’re so pretty daddy. No one with sense would ever look anywhere else." You lean forward to coax a smile from him with a kiss. You feel his jaw loosen and his fingers grip up your ass. "I love you."

All the humor in your voice is gone, replaced with an unmistakable sincerity that eases Terry back to the calm levelheaded man he's always been. "You’re taking the necessary steps to heal. It's not something you'll ever forget but you’re going to be okay. We both are. The fact we can laugh about any of this is progress. Now I’ll promise to keep my sidepiece out the house you pay bills in if you promise not to stalk me from the parking lot."

He chuckles. "Promise."

It's nearly 4am. In two more hours you'll have to be up for work. Hardly enough time for a decent rest but your body will hate you if you don’t try to get back to sleep. You kiss your husband one last time and gently lay a hand on his chest to pull away only to be met with resistance.

"Wait. I still need to prove it to myself."

"Prove what baby?"

“That you won’t give up on me. That I won’t lose you." He speaks against your lips, his voice moving through you like the low rumble before a storm. It stirs up the lust cast aside for his benefit. You feel it in your belly and everywhere his tongue has been.  The energy in the room changes with the dark look in his eyes. He drinks you in saying nothing and everything with his calculated gaze. Awareness pricks at your skin off the strength of his possession moves. Then his hands are on you, lowering your arms from around his neck to your sides. He seizes your waist and hums as if contemplating something. Before you can ask the question, you lose the words in the swift rearrangement on to your stomach. You gasp from the shock while the rest of you uses all your energy to push against the sturdy fingers holding your wrists down. Freedom isn’t your goal. You resist solely to reinforce his dominance and feed your desire to test his nature. You want him to stake his claim and issue a warning to anyone daring to look in your direction even if the rival in question is a phantom conjured up by his subconscious.

Handcuffs aren’t an option for obvious reasons. You wonder if binding your hands together with rope will achieve the same shuddering response to being cloaked with his weight. You’re completely helpless and content to stay right where you are, one with mattress, one with him.

"Say you'll never leave me." His warm breath passes over your ear before his teeth sink down on flesh.

"I'll never leave you." You whisper back, moaning appreciatively when he kisses down the column of your neck down between your shoulder blades. His hands aren’t pinning you down anymore, but you try your best not to move as his tongue traces a warm and agonizingly slow line down your spine to your ass.

"I’ve never taken a life. I will if it means keeping you safe…You belong to me " Terry had taken down an entire police force without sending anyone to hell where they belonged. It was comical to think a man she never met; a man who didn’t exist could provoke him to use lethal force. The unexpected sting of teeth clamping down on your backside jolts you out of your musing. He's fully awake now, unfettered by slumber and past traumas. He doesn’t need to be gentle or ask for permission. The pain from that discovery offers an indescribable contribution to the pleasure you’ve experienced thus far. You can’t distinguish the two anymore the harder he bites.

"Yes." It's an reiteration and an apology for earlier all wrapped up in jarring acceptance. This isn’t the man you fell asleep next to hours ago. You aren’t the same either. His influence has unlocked a part of your brain that craves the pain and the pleasure it brings. If branding you with his teeth will bring him peace you want that too.

You moan and arch toward your captor’s mouth. He answers the invitation with a growl, yanking you on to your knees, driving your face into the comforter to deepen the arch in your back. You’re already spread obscenely open. He spreads you further with his thumbs and stops moving. He’s probably smiling in that subtle way you catch when he thinks no one’s watching. This isn’t quite the same. He's taunting you with proximity, close enough to feel the heat from his breath, far enough away to create an ache only he could soothe.

"Please." He's reduced you to this, folded in half and shameless in your attempts to reach his mouth. When he does finally lick his way inside everything else in the world melts away.

He's merciful but also deliberate in the way flattens the wide breadth of his tongue along the length of you, slurping you up like ripe fruit he intends to savor. All you can do is shudder and mewl as he groans into your slick heat, rubbing his face in it, masking himself with your scent. The message isn’t for you. It's for him. You hope it soothes the disquiet in his heart the way it's cleared out the baggage in your mind. All thoughts lead back to him, the thorough way he draws tight circles over your clit and the depths he reaches as he simulates the way he would fuck you if he had the willpower to trade places with his tongue.

He makes himself comfortable, stretching out his legs alongside your writhing body. His ankles provide a stable anchor for trembling hands. Then they’re caging you in, limiting your range of movement.

The sheets absorb your screams as you cum without warning and no sign it’ll end any time soon. You push toward his face at the same rate you pull away. Escape isn’t the goal. It's the only proper response to sensory overload. Indescribably good and too much to handle all at once. Terry is right there with you, latched on and undeterred by your frenetic movements, grunting indecipherable praise despite the pressure your thighs have placed on his ears.  At this rate you’re going to claw the sheets to shreds or beat a hole in the mattress. Then he's putting his entire body into it, crossing his ankles behind your head to lock you in place.

Weeks ago, you expressed an interest in learning Jiu-Jistu. You expected detailed commentary while you observed from the sidelines or watched a video. This wasn’t how you envisioned your first lesson or any lesson. You weren’t even sure if this was a legit move or something he’d improvised. The absurdity of it doesn’t register correctly in your mind. Instead you’re grateful, grateful for his strength, for his persistence, for his ability to find healing through forced orgasms even it’s obvious he’s lost his mind in the process. Unlike the dream version you take your vows seriously. You accept Terry at his best and his worst, through nightmares and a demonic possession. 

Panic opens your mind to a ridiculous thought. He's going to kill you.  The irrational part of your brain is convinced you won’t survive another orgasm. You can’t bring yourself to resist the rapid strumming on your clit and the spike in pleasure it produces. You’d gladly give your life for it. Leave earth with a smile on your lips and a memory worth immortalizing in the afterlife. To call your bluff Terry brings his thumb from your fluttering hole to the soft flesh of your ass.  He prolongs the suspense with teasing swipes around the rim then very slowly pushes through your defenses when he feels you’re ready for it. Something in your brain malfunctions. You start to whine like a caught animal. They’re the kind of sounds you’d find embarrassing if you weren’t in the presence of a grown ass man.

The last thing you hear before you explode is Terry’s deep voice in your ear. "Good girl."

When you return to consciousness, you’re still face down with a damp spot under your cheek and under your pelvis. Terry is stretched across your back crooning in your ear about how proud he is of you, how beautiful you are, how in love with you he is. His touch is equally soothing as he trails down your forearms to interlock your fingers. You haven’t stopped trembling. It’s worse in your legs. Even the slightest movement revives the memory of where his tongue has been. You find comfort in the fetal position anyway. Terry is right there to reinforce the hold, cradling you with his entire body so he doesn’t lose you in the subspace you’ve drifted off to. When the consequence of his overindulgence subsides to a light shudder you feel his coiled lips at your temple.

“Are you proud of yourself?”  

“Maybe.” He drawls, the pride evident in his voice. “You’re still shaking baby. Are you good? Did I hurt you?

“Of course you didn’t. I’m a little floaty but I kinda want you to break me again--just to make sure I like it.” You offer a lazy smile and reach back to scratch his cheek. "What about you? Are you finally convinced I won’t run off with your ugly ass replacement?”

His laughter sounds like music.  You wonder how he can find the joy in anything with his stiff dick left unattended and drooling precum on your backside. It’s all you can think about now.

"I am."

"Good because it’s never going to happen. I’m also not going to work today. I can’t function like this." Despite your predicament you use the distraction to your advantage and raise your thigh to accommodate him. A little maneuvering slots the tip between your lips but doesn't quite make it inside. You whimper and try again.

“No. You’ve had enough sweetheart.” You’re more than a little disappointed when he pushes your legs shut. 

“I can keep going. Let me take care of you.”

“You have taken care of me baby.” A kiss is all it takes to end your pouting. Like a greedy brat, you twist around to claim another, then one more to sample your flavor on his lips. His dick stirs against you, it doesn’t persuade him to be anything less than noble. “I plan on keeping you in this bed all day.  Get some rest. I’ll have you later.”

Terry’s demeanor remains unchanged as he realigns your back to his chest and slips is muscled leg over your restless ones. He’s given you a preview, a reminder, and a warning. You aren’t sure how well you’ll sleep knowing what you know but you snuggle up to his arm tucked beneath the pillow.

“I love you.”

Those three words calm the restlessness in your heart and get you to shut your eyes. 

"I love you too handsome. Try not to dream about me."

[burnforyou]

FIGHT & MAKE UP - LUIGI MANGIONE x READER

!SUMMARY! a fight with your boyfriend, luigi, ends up causing you to be bent over the bathroom sink.

!WARNINGS! fighting, accused cheating (no actual cheating), a bit of crying, he's a little insecure, reader is sensitive, make-up sex (kinda public)

if you don't like this, don't read it.

“hey, lu...“ you approach him sitting on a kitchen stool with caution, the wound from your argument still fresh.

“i don’t want to talk to you.” he states curtly.

“please, we won’t settle this unless we talk.” you beg.

“well, i wanted to talk to you this morning,”

your stomach drops in realization, your heart aching.

“but you weren’t here. so i stalked your location and went to where you were, and of course, i saw you with luke.” he snarls, his voice echoing in your kitchen.

“we were just talking? I… i wanted his advice. i wanted to talk to someone else about it, get another opinion.” you cautiously place a hand on his shoulder. he stiffens under your touch.

“it’s always him, isn’t it?” he turns his head to lock eyes with you. his eyes are wide with expectation.

“no,” you pace in the kitchen and rub your head, a headache stirring. you stop and look at him. “this is a big misunderstanding.”

“no, i’m not misunderstanding anything.” he gets up from the stool and stalks up to you. you have to tilt your head up to look in his eyes, now dark. “i’m telling you as i see it. to me it looks like every time we have an issue you go running back to him. literally anyone else, anyone else, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

he loses himself in the argument and you see it in his face. he’s lost the color in his eyes, replaced with a darkness you've never seen before.

“i’m sorry luigi, i wanted his opinion because he’s a man and i figured he would try and understand your side too, and i’d get unbiased advice from him.” your ramble on and on, struggling to get him to understand you.

“in what world would you get unbiased advice from him?" the adrenaline courses through his veins, "he probably begged you to break up with me, called me a loser, an evil man, the whole thing!”

“no, that’s not what happened,” tears begin welling up in your eyes, but you don’t let them fall. taking his accusations felt like walking on broken glass.

he grasps onto your shoulders with a force that almost makes you fall back.

“you can’t see it? that he just wants to get into your pants? he just wants to take you from me?” he growls in your face. his eyes search your face for any inkling of an answer.

“do you really think i’d leave you for him?” your voice comes out as sharp as a knife.

he opens his lips to reply, but closes them before saying anything. he doesn’t have anything to say to you.

he drops his hands to his sides after they left red marks on your skin.

“really, luigi? really?”

you start backing away from him. disappointment fills your heart.

“and since you care so much, he didn’t tell me to break up with you. actually, he told me i should apologize to you. but now, i don’t think you deserve my forgiveness.”

every stair creates a creaking noise as you storm up to your bedroom. once you meet the bed, you're out like a light.

you blink your eyes open, feeling a hand caressing your face softly. you're met with a stricken luigi looking down at you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"can we talk?" he proposes carefully.

you sit up and lean back on your hands.

“you talk and i’ll listen.”

he takes a deep breath and leans down beside the bed and brings a notebook up from the floor. he looks down at the notebook and up at you again.

“i wrote down what i wanted to say, um…” he stammers off.

a smile threatens to grace your lips. it’s hard to stay mad at him, with his big brown eyes and little apology script.

“i’m sorry y/n. i didn’t mean to accuse you of cheating on me. it’s just.. my parents didn’t have the most, solid, relationship, as you know, and my father made me believe every woman would leave me. i’m really trying to break the pattern, to prove him wrong, to let you prove him wrong, but it’s really hard for me. but i am really trying for us, y/n."

"okay." you sigh.

"I don't mean to make excuses for my actions. I know what I said to you was wrong, and I'm sorry. for all of it, for the fight last night too."

you're weak. you're weak and you know it. you can't stay mad at him for anything. you climb into his arms and let him cradle you like a baby, his warmth engulfing you. "I'm sorry" you mutter weakly into his chest.

his thumb caresses the back of your head and he leaves a soft kiss on your forehead.

"i know. l'm sorry too baby." his voice comes out soft, his tender touches holding you to him.

you gave luke a hesitant side hug, eyes locked on luigi. he gives you a lazy smile and winks.

"thanks for having me," luke politely shakes luigi's hand and you take note of their size difference. luigi looms over him, not just in height, but size too. luigi makes small talk with luke as he leads him to the rest of where the rest of his guests are sat.

when you finally get a moment where all the guests are distracted, you sneak off to the kitchen, where you know luigi is hiding away. you lean against the counter next to him.

“why did you invite luke to your birthday party?”

“i wanted to…" he turns to look at you with a coy smile and your heart flutters. "get on better terms with him.” he watches your shocked reaction with satisfaction.

“wow luigi. that’s really.. nice of you.”

his lips turn up into a slight smirk that you catch. a sneaky suspicion he’s lying arises.

"that's not the real reason, is it?"

he crosses his arms across his chest and his biceps bulge in his short sleeve shirt. you bite your lip.

"you want to know the truth?"

"um, yes?" you reply like it's the most obvious thing in the world. he grips onto the counter next to you and leans over you, forcing you to look up at him. he leans down right next to your ear, his breath making the hairs on your neck stand up.

"I wanted him to see that you belong to me," he nibbles on your earlobe, "firsthand."

"you're joking." you bite your lip. he retracts from your ear, his signature hung smile lighting up his face.

"nope!" he says, popping the 'p.'

"and I thought you were being mature." you shake your head and roll your eyes with faux annoyance, trying to pretend like his words don't make you inexplicably needy. he leans into your neck again and presses hard kisses on the soft skin where your ear meets your neck.

"you know you like it." he casually reads you like a book. his slight scruff scratches your neck just the way you like it. "you know you've wanted this all day, prancing around here in this short skirt."

"lu," you whimper, quiet so the party-goers won't hear.

it was risky, but the rush, the adrenaline, the fact that luke could walk in at any second, it made you weak in the knees and left you aching for more.

he comes up and leaves his forehead against yours, eyes dark with need, pupils completely dilated.

"bathroom?" your heart pounds in your chest.

you shake your head, going against your own wishes.

"they'll notice we're gone."

"not if we're quick enough." he smirks, grabbing your hand. "come on."

he leads you to the downstairs bathroom and closes the door quietly after you. he presses your hips against the cold counter top and roughly pulls down your panties from under your skirt.

he wastes no time getting down on his knees, holding your ass apart with his hands, and playing with your already wet pussy.

"you want this bad?" he slaps your ass and groans at your reaction, jolting forward with a small gasp and a red mark appearing. his eyes meet yours in the mirror and he pushes a finger in you, still watching your reaction carefully.

"i want it now," you whine and stick out your bottom lip.

"look at you, so desperate." he shakes his head, pulling his shorts down enough to pull his hard cock out. he lines the tip up with your pussy and pushes his hips right against your ass, filling you up in seconds. your mouth falls open but nothing comes out, your lips completely dry.

as he thrusts into you, his thighs meeting your ass make loud, obscene noises that slip through the door.

you try and look back at him over your shoulder, but he forces you to look into his eyes in the mirror, bent over and fucking you desperately. "i'm gonna make this quick." he whispers into your ear, "look at who's fucking you this good."

you open your eyes and meet his dark ones in the mirror. instantly, his hand finds your clit and rubs it, adding stimulation. a moan flies out of you uncontrollably and you bite your lip to silence yourself.

"don't," he groans, "be loud f'me." he moans as you pulse around him. he smiles at you, watching your head bob as he fucks you braindead.

"could luke ever fuck you this good?" he asked with a rasp.

you gasp and he watches you struggle in the mirror with pleasure. he brings his other arm around your throat, his bicep now pressed against your throat. you try and shake your head but he just squeezes you harder.

"say it.” he growls roughly.

his cock kisses your cervix with every harsh thrust. your eyes flutter shut and your lower stomach bulges, heat growing with every movement.

"n-no,” you stammer, face red and sweat dripping, “fuck!"

"say my name.” you hold onto his arm and try and pull the weight off your neck, but he prevails.

"Luigi, please!”

"there ya go, that's it." he moans and slows his pace, grinding into you.

"say who you belong to." he slaps your clit carefully and your legs begin to buckle beneath him, body convulsing with pleasure.

"you, luigi. I'm yours." you purr and arch your back into him more, watching his eyebrows come together in the mirror.

"I'm gonna cum,” you whine, digging your nails into his muscles.

"cum baby," he demands, "make 'em hear you cum with me.” your vision fades to black when luigi thrusts into you as deep as possible, your skin meeting his with a dirty slap one more time. you buck against him, throbbing around him while he fills you. he quickly slips out of you and pulls your panties back up before any of his cum could drip out, forcing you to spend the rest of the party with his cum dripping out of you.

MASTERLIST - PREV. WORK

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[777heavengirl]

kitchen

remus lupin x reader one-shot ! warnings: my beta reader rated it 12/10 angst, do with that what you will. word count: 2,889 masterlist a/n: this is so sad. this is rlly just me partly reflecting my break up onto Remus i AM SO SORRY IN ADVANCE.

You stared at the side of Remus’s face as he talked with James. Your brother ever the animated man, waved his arms around and spoke excitedly, to which Remus could only muster small chuckles and low-toned responses. 

You knew he was tired. 

Work was tiring. 

The moon was tiring. 

His body was tired. 

Part of you was still left with a bitter aftertaste from his apathy. You pressed a kiss against his bicep.

Remus’s lips pressed into a thin line resembling a smile. You knew it meant he was itching to leave. But you didn’t move. You sat, and stared, at him, at James, at Lily. At nothing at all. You laughed when they did, and put your hand on his forearm as to remind yourself of the spark between you. To remind yourself that he was here, with you and that he loved you.

That you loved him too.

You wondered if he had always been this way. Had you just been too in love to notice the apathy? The way he seemed to not even try to reciprocate any energy? Were you just being too needy? 

Was James not bothered by his friend’s lack of emotion? 

You and Remus had too much history. You could not remember what life was like without being with him. It had been years. Years of running up and down behind your twin brother and his friends, years of hands intertwined with Remus’s, kisses first shared in the dark— Merlin forbid your brother found out at the time. You had been happy. For years. Even with the ups and downs and the mercurial nature of his moods. Maybe lunar is a better word for it.

The waning and waxing phases of the way he felt about the world. You thought that might be the hardest part of it all. 

The way he’d be enthusiastic about the future one week, talking about job postings that had piqued his interest, talking about a future. But other weeks, the dark side of the moon reared its ugly head. He’d be riddled with doubts and fears. Days and weeks were he simply wallowed, days where he haunted your room or your kitchen, for hours. He’d reluctantly go to his muggle job, the monotony of it all bringing his mood down even more.

Weeks like those it was hard. The talks of aspirations went up in a cloud of smoke and you were once again left with nothing.

 He always did say that even though he wasn't sure what he wanted to do, he was sure about you. That you were the one constant in his future. No matter what, it was you. It wasn’t as reassuring as he believed it to be.

You tried not to think about it.

You eventually bid goodbye to your brother and his darling wife. The picture of a perfect family, with a baby on the way, in a small flowering cottage. You itched to ask Remus if he ever wanted that. Did he ever think about it at all?

But, you loved him. That was all that mattered.

Besides, you had real history. Too many years invested. If it wasn’t with him, you were probably just going to end up alone.

You were in love with him for Godric’s sake. Maybe that was the reason you could never choose yourself. 

“Have you given what we talked about some thought?” your words were barely above a whisper, unsure, scared about what his answer could be. You could see him look around uncomfortably. Maybe you should’ve waited until you actually got home not walking through the streets. 

“Y-yeah, I did…” his hand gripped yours tighter as you walked, like you might slip from his fingers “I think I should maybe wait a few weeks…” his shoulders tensed when the sigh inevitably left your lips. “I’m sorry I know it isn't what you wanted to hear but- I don't know if the Ministry would even take me… I did see a new posting for an entry-level in the department of magical creatures maybe I could apply”

“Apply soon yeah”

He nodded silently and you kissed his shoulder to wordlessly tell him thank you, as you walked home from James and Lily’s. Maybe he’d actually do it this time. Maybe one day, he’d see his own potential, he’d see how much farther he could go. 

Maybe someday he’d be brave enough to take a leap and fulfill his promises to you and himself. Maybe one day you’d finally be in a spot to build a family together. Or at least plan for it.

After all, you and Remus had real history. And he promised. Many moons ago.

Your love for him was why it was always so hard to do the right thing. 

Because as soon there was some disagreement, you knew, as much as he did, that no matter how upset you might be with him he could sweep you into his arms and all worry would melt away. 

In the small flat, you and Remus shared, under the warm light of the stray table lamp you’d dance. He’d take you in his arms and move along the soft rhythm of the music he’d put on. He’d kiss your temple and swear and promise.

Shallow words that at this point went in one ear and out the other. Promises of a future together, of applications that would never get done, of steps that would never even be attempted. 

But nevertheless, you forgave. 

You forgave four years of broken promises. You forgave the lack of a ring on your finger. You forgave the lack of planning for the future. You forgave his indifference.

You made yourself think you forgave him.

You tried to forget too.

Tried to forget his lack of ambition because why try when they would never want to hire someone like me? Tried to forget the way your mother had warned you about this a year back. Tried to forget the way Sirius called your phone last month from France, telling you you’d love it there, telling you it was a shame Remus didn’t want to go. How much of a shame it was that you had to miss out on life-changing experiences because Remus couldn't. 

Wouldn’t. 

Same thing.

Sirius called again a few days after you visited your brother.

“Is it raining there? The weather’s shit here at the moment” You ask, staring at the window, the raging storm outside banging against the glass and drowning the usual sight of the street bellow. 

“Meh- could be worse, I reckon it’s starting to warm up soon, so m’pretty excited about that,” He said, you hummed in acknowledgment “Have you talked to Moony again about coming? It really is beautiful in the summer doll— besides you can stay with me for free obviously”

You sighed

“No Sirius, I honestly don't even want to ask I already know how that one will go”

“So what? you’re not vacationing at all?”

“The only place I’m vacationing is in rock bottom Black-” you said, staring at the closed bedroom door. No doubt Remus was taking a small nap. The full moon was approaching.

Sirius tskd’d.

“You know you can always come… by yourself I mean, stay with me for a while”

“Sirius…”

“I know I know… I’m sorry-” Sirius tried laughing it off, the chuckle not lasting long as he asked, “Are you happy at least? With him.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that” You tried fighting the way your eyes seemed to immediately water.

“I fear it’s a pretty straight-up question- yes or no?”

“I don’t know if this is what happy is anymore” you whispered, afraid to state it fully aloud

“Then it isn't. When you’re happy, you know” Sirius sounded somber “You have to do the right thing, whatever is right for you not for him”

“It is never that easy”

“Yes, it is doll. It is always that easy”

You bid him goodbye soon after.

You chalked it off as Sirius not knowing what it was like to be with someone for years. You couldn’t just throw away the past four years of your life just because what? He was tired? He wasn’t putting as much effort as you wanted?

It could be fixed.

You were convinced you’d fix it as Remus trudged out of the room, hair disheveled as he rested his head on your shoulder. A kiss to the crook of your neck.

“Was it Pads?” he mumbled against your skin, you ignored the way you felt caught

“Yes”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, better than okay”

“I wish we could go to Paris” you tried not breaking down in tears right there and there. 

It was never about money. You could go on brooms for fucks sake. You could portkey right into Sirius’s little French apartment. 

You didn't ask him why not. Why not go? You drowned the question in the tea he eventually handed you. You had always been more of a coffee person, but much like everything else, you sacrificed it for his preference for tea and its calming effects.

You tried your best to fix it, for months. You’d lay down with him after work, card your fingers through his light brown locks, trace his scars while he fought off sleep, press a chaste kiss to his lips before he fell asleep. 

You started calling Sirius more often than not, in hushed whispers. Tears were often spilled. You stopped feeling bad eventually. It was just calling a friend in a time of need. Draining the disappointment you didn't dare throw in Remus’s face. 

He was going through enough.

You continued to hold on to hope.

You’d nudge him along. Try for new jobs, call friends to see if anyone, anyone at all, could find him an in with the ministry.

“He just needs to apply sweetie- this is stupid” Marlene rolled her eyes, her auror uniform casually unbuttoned after her day of work, she twirled the spoon in her tea with a small wave of her finger. “They’re starting these werewolf allocation programs, they make sure they’re given jobs and such…”

“I don't know if he’d like that” You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. You could imagine him already, turning his nose away from any sort of Ministry help.

“Can I ask why he isn’t the one asking me these things?” Marlene said a glint in her eye that let you know she knew the answer already. You looked away.

“Sometimes it's hard to do the right thing Marls”

“You need to do the right thing for yourself”

“Marlene-” you scoffed “Me and Remus just have too much history- how can I ever just choose me? It’s us”

“Maybe it’s time it’s just you” 

You stared at Remus that night, the soft music that played from his muggle radio filling the air between you. You stared at him silently, the curve of his lips, the soft of the apples of his cheeks. The silvery scars that ran across his face. 

You loved him, you did.

But you also did feel the very worst you could feel. No dancing in the kitchen could fix it anymore. No kisses and fake promises could fix it. Not anymore.

As soft as he made you feel, as much history as you had together. You couldn't help the overwhelming need to cry every time you looked at him. 

What the hell was he even doing? What were you doing?

Any plans you had dreamed of with him were now very quickly crumbling in front of your eyes. He continued to silently make tea. You hoped he wouldn't notice the stray tears that managed to escape your eyes.

You and Remus had what your brother always called real history. He just meant it was deeply engrained, in your bones, in your heart. He said it poignantly last time you popped in for a visit. His tone didn’t fail to chip at your heart.

Your years together weren’t something you could erase. Not that you wanted to. 

You were happy with him. Right? You loved him.

Maybe if you just gave him more time. You had graduated Hogwarts a mere two years ago. 

He had always been more than good to you. Even at your lowest. Even at his lowest. He was nothing but gentle and loving.

Maybe. Sometimes, love wasn't enough.

You didn’t say anything as he finished cleaning up the kitchen. He kissed your temple goodnight. You stayed up, staring at the phone line debating on calling Sirius, again. 

“I just don’t know what I should do…” you leaned against the wet metal railing of your balcony, the drops seeping into your pajama pants. You grabbed the base of the phone with one hand, the other holding the receiver up to your ear

“I don’t know why you’re asking me angel, you already know what my answer is going to be”

“Don’t be mean Sirius” he could hear the pout in your voice, and he laughed

“I’m not- you know I love Moony, we’ve been friends for ages but…”

“But?”

“I love you more” You didn’t respond. “And I think you need to love yourself more than you love him too” You could hear him inhale what you guessed was a cigarette

You hummed in acknowledgment, not daring to open your mouth at the fear that sobs would break your words.

“Don’t wear yourself out for someone that isn’t doing the same for you…”

“That’s unfair… he does”

“He forgot a card for your anniversary”

“It was a few days after the full moon…”

“Okay, what about your birthday? Or Christmas for that matter? What? D’you think I’d forget how you called crying? Every single one of those times” He said, you could feel your lip wobbling. “Come to Paris with me-”

“Sirius-”

“Just think about it okay? Promise me you’ll at least do that…”

“Okay, I will—”

“Right… ‘night love,” he said, you muttered a small goodnight “and for the record…” He hesitated for a second, almost as if he shouldn’t say it. Sirius was never one to stay quiet, he did this time. “Nevermind, I love you”

“Love you too Sirius” you answered, head hanging in defeat. The phone call clicked off.

It really wasn’t about Sirius you thought, as you guiltily crawled into bed with your boyfriend. Not about France either. You stared at his sleeping form.

It wasn’t about your and Remus’s history. It didn’t matter how long you had been together if there was no future.

It wasn’t about what your brother or Marlene, or even your mother thought. 

It was about choosing you. 

Right?

“Remus” you padded over and stood next to the small dining table that morning. 

“Yes?” He didn’t look up from his book, a bad habit he had picked up. He was never truly listening when he did that

“Remus have you applied to the job at the Ministry?”

“Mhm? Ministry…” he still didn’t look up, he took a sip of his tea “No I haven't yet, I’ll get around to it though, I just want to take my time with it you know?”

“Its an application how long can it take?” you could feel yourself start getting angry, and you looked away from him. Not that he had looked up to look you in the eyes anyway.

“I just want to give myself the best chance to get in.” he finally looked up from his book, an exasperated look on his face. You refused to meet his eyes “What's wrong with that?”

“You’ve been saying the same thing for ages Remus”

“We’ll I have other things going on— just because you have different ideas about what my progress should look like doesn't mean I’m not doing anything you know? Because I do, I do a lot actually” He said, staring at you as if daring you to deny that he did anything. 

Of course, he worked hard. You could never refute tthat. He moved his eyes down to his book.

You bit your tongue for a second, but the words slipped out nevertheless.

“Remus I don't think we can be together anymore”

“What?” the tone in his voice was nothing short of heartbroken. He searched your face for anything. Any hint that you weren't serious. “No”

Godric it was so hard to do the right thing.

“I don’t think we are on the same page anymore, you say things, you promise but…” you rubbed your temple, you could feel a headache coming “None of those promises ever come true” you sighed, finally looking at him

His eyes were rimmed red.

“You’re right,” he said, defeated, breathless.

“If you know I’m right why didn’t you just do it? I have never asked you for anything else, just for you to apply for yourself Remus, because you had said it was what you wanted”

You and Remus stared at each other. A blank look on his face as he looked at you, his nose red and tears threatening to streak down his cheeks. 

“Can you say something? Anything? Why didn’t you just do it?”

“I don’t know”

“You never know Remus, but I do and I refuse to wait for you to figure it out anymore”

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine @heyyyloverr

let me know if you want to be added onto the permanent tag list ! also please check out my new series bless the telephone if you haven't already! MWAH thank you for reading <3

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[4:47 am]

(cw: wife!reader)

CEO!Johnny had been mad since the second he heard about this early meeting. That was a week ago. Well, not mad, more like pouty. For a few months now he’d gotten used to going into the office a little later so that he could have his mornings with you. Nothing too crazy, just a half hour later, but after all the hard work he’d put in for the company, he felt he deserved the half hour with his wife. The mornings were blissful, waking up and cuddling with you. Following that up with coffee and breakfast together and bidding each other goodbye with a kiss before heading in your respective directions.

But today, today felt like hell. He was up before the sun was coming up, waking up while bakers were still baking for the morning rush, while children were still fast asleep and in dreamland before going to school. Getting ready before you were even thinking about waking up. Hell, you were deep in rem sleep right now.

A part of him wanted to be selfish and wake you up. At the very least, to have your company. He wouldn’t force you out of the warmth of your shared bed. He just missed you… and today would be a long day. Going in early to talk to overseas investors and spending the rest of the day finalizing reports for the end of the quarter. He was already tired of it all.

Johnny dragged his feet while he sipped his coffee and willed the caffeine to kick in. He was bone tired. He had even stolen some of your under eye patches to help with the puffiness under his eyes. He sighed tiredly, tying his tie and fixed his hair one last time.

He turned off the light in the bathroom and padded across the bedroom to your sleeping form. He pressed a kiss to your forehead whispering a quiet, “have a good day, baby.”

He wishes he could say he felt accomplished since he had been awake so early and working almost as long. He talked to the investors, he got a lot of paperwork done, and he drank a lot of coffee. And still he didn’t feel good knowing his soft mornings with his wife had been torn away.

So it came it as no surprise when your FaceTime call came in at your usual wake up and get ready hour. He smiled brightly as his thumb slid across the screen to answer your call. He was met with your pouty face surrounded with the white sheets of your shared bed, “you didn’t wake me up.”

Johnny laughs, “baby, it was like 5 in the morning! Good morning though, how are you?”

“I dunno,” you grumble, “my husband doesn’t love me so…”

Johnny chuckles softly, slumping back in his very expensive desk chair, “I do love you. I love you so much that I didn’t interrupt your sleep. I did consider it though.”

“If you really loved me you’d have woken me up,” you argue playfully.

“I think you’ll love me when you see what I left you in the kitchen,” Johnny tells you, lifting his brows with a smirk.

He watches you move through the halls, hair messy and free. He watches your eyes light up when you saw the surprise he’d left for you. “Breakfast and coffee. Wow, I guess you do love me,” you tease, “thank you though, baby. I appreciate it.”

“I think you’ll also be happy to know that I’ll be home early today. I haven’t told anyone yet, but I will be. I deserve it after waking up at 4 in the morning."

"I don't think your secretary would approve of that," you chide, arching your brow a him through the camera.

"Well, she wasn't here at 5 in the morning was she? Plus, she'll like it when she gets to go home early too," Johnny yawns, "I'll pick up dinner on the way home, baby. Have a good day. You off to work?"

You shake your head with a smile, "nope, took the day off. I'll see you later. I love you."

"I love you too," Johnny responds before hanging up. Damn, he should have taken the day off too, especially since his CFO was more than capable of doing this on their own. He drags a tired hand down his face, he was definitely going to put in for a long vacation and it you off to some resort where you both could spend the whole day in bed if you wanted to.

[holyguardian]

Aerith dipped her head with a quiet exhale, smiling to herself when Somnus admitted Nikolaos would have laughed 'about us'. They had been quite a lively pair, hadn't they?

Part of her wondered if she would have met the soldier under different circumstances. Had this tragedy not unfolded... would she ever have learned his name? Would he tease and laugh with Somnus about being banished to his room for those days, had he been given the opportunity?

It was an odd feeling. To have missed the chance of knowing someone in life, and to be left wondering 'what if'.

At first it was reflexive of her, taking what was offered by Somnus. Though she found herself feeling... flattered. She wasn't hungry and he still handed her more, a gentle little action. 'I care about you. I want you to be healthy. Please eat.' It felt like she had a lifetime of experiencing those sentiments, it was something that came from a place of love.

She tried not to read too much into it.

"I hope it's enough." Aerith mused, for all the beauty that Somnus saw in it, she could only see the empty spaces. It felt like she was supposed to fill in everything with details but the art of Lucis did not need clutter to stand out.

Her attention was pulled away with a quiet tone of question. The trumpet sounded fit for the occasion, and her eyes sought Somnus. It wasn't to call them immediately to gather. It was the first warning to prepare.

"So, it's almost time." As much as she tried to hide it, her tone betrayed her. She was nervous. It was an important ceremony and she had little preparation for it. Her brother might wail louder than the trumpet's call. The family may feel tense about their presence. And she felt in over her head, navigating new territory.

That was when Somnus took her hands. Guided her. It was such a simple act, his hands cleaning hers, and yet she felt disarmed by it. Like she couldn't quite catch her breath. Her eyes had to fall to the water, watching the water slowly become muddied by colour as he meticulously massaged her fingers clean and immaculate.

His hands felt strong, but in this they were so soft and controlled. Why was she thinking so deeply about this?

"I don't want to let anyone down." she admitted, her voice soft. There was another beat of silence before she spoke again. "What should I wear? I don't know if there is a custom about how people dress, I would wear our official colours of green and gold but..." maybe she was too in her head. Maybe she should let the Prince get an answer in.

Lifting her hands from the water, Aerith shook small droplets back into the bowl and exhaled a calming breath. She was grateful he hadn't whisked away. For a time, she felt selfish, as though she had been keeping him... but Somnus remained even when his duty had been 'done'.

It turned out she needed some gentle support when diving headfirst into something that was new. "Are there any chants or prayers I should know of?"

The situation ha dbeen tragic and sullen. And yet they also had their moments of light with each other. Little bouts of banter, looks, that closeness – still. When Queen Ifalan showed up suddenly, Somnus felt like they had been caught doing something far more scandalous. His panicked quick-spoken explanation of the situation somehow was taken by the Queen. With a certain look, but still.

The Lucian Prince was sure that this would haunt him for a while.

At least he could change out of the uniform that now felt scorching hot on his skin after the Queen had seen him in it soon. The change back into a simple toga was quick - and yet Somnus had to add his blue shawl and the signature royal decorum. This was an official evening after all.

Aerith’s fears about the urn’s fate were met with a little shake of his head and amused pull of one corner of his mouth.

“He really would have laughed about that – and about us. But no. That won’t happen. The urn will be secure. Have one of the servants carry it.”

Because surely it would be too public if the Princess was carrying an urn openly for the entire ceremony. A linen cloth to keep the piece of gratitude safe and hidden for now would serve well.

Looking over her shoulder – and sometimes urging her to eat by simply handing her grapes and pieces of fruit, so she would not outright ignore them – Somnus watched her finishing it.

It was a piece fit to stand in the libraries and halls of treasures of the castle. It was delicate, fine brush strokes detailing armour, wreath, temple, intertwined vines and bringing a new breath to the otherwise very bold and direct strokes Lucis used in its art.

“It’s beautiful”, he whispered quietly, eyeing specifically the soldier. He resembled Nikolaos. It was perfect. Such a wonderful piece and yet it was for such a sad occasion.

A faint noise travelled through the cooler air coming with the impending evening. It was a trumpet, calling out in a long almost wailing noise.

Somnus straightened his back and gazed towards the windows.

“That is the first call. Six more will follow to announce the beginning in an hour. It calls the people to gather.”

So, it would begin. Torches and fire bowls starting to light a winding path up to the hills, where priests and priestesses gathered first around the family and closest friends. Their chanting would follow the trumpets soon when the night started to lay over Lucis like a dark blanket.

His eyes travelled to Aerith again. She would need help. And as much as she had taken him around on their first evening to show that a festive was not that bad, now it was his duty to help her navigate this night.

Stepping towards her, he gently took the urn from her. Just placing it to the side. He would not force it out of her hands, should she actually want to carry it all the way. But she needed guidance. Like how he instead took her hands in his and guided her to follow a few steps back. To then dip her hands into one of the shallow bronze bowls of water. The warmth and oil helping him to brush and massage the paint off of her fingers, though he took his time with each one.

“Don’t be afraid of what is to come. I will be with you every step.”

[squidwriting]

#3: All In Selfishness

✁ — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

⇥ Masterlist

⇥ Taglist (hope they're all working!) @ferrari-curse, @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved, @robertthehoover, @annasnape7, @menabuser16, @swthrtbyeol, @foulbreadpaenut, @earphonejack09, @namelesslosers, @pearl-pool, @ameagrice, @ayyylol, @honeynanamin, @ninglovr

⇥ Pairing Hwang In-ho x fem!reader

⇥ Warnings Spoilers for Season 1 & 2, angst, violence, graphic descriptions of injuries & death

⇥ A/N: Thank you for all the likes and reblogs! I'm so glad you like the story! 😭💝 (Edit: Taglist)

⇥ [#2] | [#4]

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"I'm sorry about earlier, everyone. I don't know what happened."

In-ho smiled sheepishly as he looked around the small group. "No, it's okay," Dae-ho answered with a wave of his hand. "Don't be," 456 agreed. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have made the last kick." 

Dae-ho recalled the games with utmost enthusiasm, demonstrating how everyone succeeded in their task. You smiled lightly, watching the group in silence. Your eyes finally landed on In-ho. He had almost lost it earlier, when he had failed at Paengi chigi several times in a row. You had never seen him so agitated, so out of control. He had always been calm, even in the most difficult situations. Part of you wondered if it was all just an act - especially when you had realized that he had been throwing with his right hand.

In-ho was left-handed after all. 

"What's wrong?" In-ho's voice was as gentle as you remembered, his face showing real concern for the first time since you had met him. "Uhm," you stuttered, ripped out of your thoughts, and cursed internally when you realized you had stared just a tad too long at him. "Nothing," you mumbled after a moment, tearing your eyes away from him. "I just-.. thank you all for letting me be a part of your team." 

You sighed deeply, and wrapped your arms around your legs, pulling your knees up to your chin. What a messed up situation. There he sat, the love of your life - so close, yet so far away. 

"Listen," Dae-ho said, standing up from his spot across from you. "Perhaps we should learn each other's names. I still don't know your names, gentlemen. Just yours, Miss," he smiled brightly at you. "I'll start. I'm Kang Dae-ho," he declared proudly, raising his fist. 

"Wow. 'Big Tiger.' Cool name," 390 chuckled, pointing up at the younger man. "My name is Park Jung-bae. My parents wanted me to be twice as righteous." 

"I'm Ryu Soo-yeon," you spoke up when everybody looked at you expectantly. "Soo means endure and yeon means repeatedly." 

"Ooooh, that's deep," Dae-ho said, his eyes widening a little. "Did you have very strict parents?" 

You chuckled a little at his remark and shook your head. "No. They weren't the one to give me that name. I chose it for myself," you said, trying to decide if you should elaborate further or not. Before you came to a decision, In-ho spoke up.

"Why?" 

"Well," you swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath. "I lost memory about 10 years ago. Everything I was before just... disappeared in the blink of an eye. It almost broke me, not knowing who I was and where I belonged."

A heavy silence settled over the small group as they all listened to your words. "I couldn't ask anybody for help. I mean... there was nobody who could give me back what I lost, right? I had to live with that loss every single day, with no hope that I'd ever the same again. So, one day... I decided to move on. Literally. I left the city and everything behind, including my legal name. Ryu Soo-yeon was born. 'Endure repeatedly'. Live with the pain and emptiness every single day." 

Jung-bae whistled lowly, trying to ease the tension that had built up around them. "Then... how did you end up in this place?" He asked after a few moments. You stared into the distance, away from the men around you, trying to come up with a coherent answer. The truth was not an option, even though you detested lying. 

In-ho watched and listened in silence, trying to make some sense of what he was hearing. Ever since that day when you woke up from your coma, he had wondered how you had been. 

You had refused to see him - and no nurse or doctor had let him into your room from that moment on. He had been shut out - from your room, your life, and your heart. Not once did he blame you, he just wanted to understand. 

He wanted you back. 

And if every effort he made, in every feeling he felt - he never stopped and asked himself how you must have felt. 

He understood that now.

But would it have changed anything? 

Would anything be different now, had he asked himself that question? 

Was he wrong to be numbed and blinded by grief?

"I'm-," you started, shaking your head slightly, "I found... that little card with the phone number... and I guess I was too curious for my own good."

In-ho blinked, when he noticed something.

Something he had first seen when you two were still children. Something that had not changed when you two got older and got married. 

Your lips had twitched ever so slightly; barely noticable to the eye. He himself would have missed it, had he not been so attuned to you. 

Your lips had twitched when you finished talking.

You were lying. 

Smiling sheepishly, you quickly avoided the group's glances. "Anyway..." you mumbled, trying to steer the attention away from yourself, "we were introducing ourselves, right?" 

Dae-ho cleared his throat quickly, before nodding in agreement. 

"I'm Oh Young-il," In-ho said, ignoring this new situation for now. "Young-il sounds like 'zero one', and that's my number. Easy to remember," he laughed. 

"What a coincidence," you mumbled, looking at Player 456 who was last to introduce himself. 

"Gi-hun. What's your last name?" In-ho asked, looking at 456 too.

"My name is Seong Gi-hun," he answered, smiling lightly. 

"It's nice to meet you all," you smiled at every single one - including In-ho. He smiled back at you, as he always did, but something was different. 

Had you blown it? Did he see through you after all? 

Before you could try to find an answer, an alarm sounded through the dormitory. One by one, pink soldiers stepped into the large room. 

"Congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game," the square announced. "Here are the results of the second game." 

The light was dimmed as more and more money fell into the see-through piggy bank hanging from the ceiling. People watched in awe, some in horror. 255 players remained. 201 people had died already. Part of you was surprised that you were still there, among the living. Then again, you were not there for the money. You had a mission, even if it was "only" a personal one. But maybe, that difference in motivation was all it took for you to still stand tall, healthy and breathing. 

Or maybe you were just lucky. 

Both reasons were equally fine, and in all honesty - you did not care. You were one of the surviving players, and you would do your best to keep it that way - period.

"It's not even 80 million per person," someone complained, ripping you out of your thoughts. "Only 110 people died? Is that all?"

That comment made you flinch unvoluntarily. Had you heard that correctly? Was it not enough that 110 people lost their lives in the last game? Were people really that cold and nonchalant about it? Or could you simply not understand that because you were not in need of money...?

"Count them again!" Player 100 demanded. You glared at him from across the room; that old man had been grating on your nerves ever since he had first opened his mouth. 

"I almost died twice, and that's all I get?" The man close to your group mumbled, loud enough for you to hear. You looked at him, trying to make sense of the ruckus that was slowly building amongst the players. In the meantime, a storm started brewing within your body. 

Another vote was about to happen. 

The X and O on the ground glowed dangerously. Your mind was reeling, finally understanding that you had to make a choice again - and none of the two seemed right. 

Pressing O would mean to continue these games of life and death. 

Pressing X could mean the end of the games - and the end of your time with In-ho. Who knew if you would ever meet him again? This may have been your only and last chance to-

"Don't worry. I want to stop here too," In-ho said, causing you and Gi-hun to look at him. "I should go and be with my wife at the hospital."

Wife?

Your heart dropped, and you swore you heart it shatter somewhere within you. He was married? That was impossible, you two were not even legally divorced. 

"Yes," Gi-hun answered, patting In-ho's shoulder. "Maybe she remembers you again now." 

Releasing a breath you did not realize you were holding, you tried to calm your heart and nerves. Of course he had no wife in the hospital. You were the one he must have told Gi-hun about, it must have been your story. In-ho's explanation for joining the games. Naturally he could not just waltz in and say he was actually the one organizing this shit show. 

"Are you okay? You look a little pale," In-ho said, nudging your elbow gently. Your eyes snapped over to him as you nodded quickly. "I'm fine. Just a little... exhausted." 

All this lying and acting was almost more draining than these wicked games. In-ho smiled lightly and made his way down the stairs as he was called to make the first vote. As expected, the screen above him counted one X as he pressed the red button. 

One by one, the players were called to the front and placed their votes, the numbers on the screen almost going head to head. Not even 100 players had voted when the arguing began. Despite In-ho's passionate plea, the ones who voted O quickly overtook the room, chanting in unison. 

"One more game! One more game! One more game!"

In the midst of all this, you were watching helplessly, contemplating what to do or what to think. In-ho's words seemed so real, so honest. In the big picture though, they did not make any sense. 

"Player 371." 

You flinched when you heard your number being called. As you made your way to the front, you looked up at the screen. The numbers were almost equal now, X leading by a few votes. 

What should you do? Leave?

You needed answers. 

And maybe it was wrong, but in this moment... you were selfish. You put your need for answers above the lives of 254 other people. 

Loud cheers erupted behind you when you pressed O. 

On the inside though, all you heard was deafening silence. 

[honeygrahambitch]

Hannibal didn't expect to receive a phone call from his daughter's teacher. He was at first worried Maeve had bit someone again but he would later find out it was nothing of that sort.

"You are aware we are currently trying to find a president for the parents council."

"Yes, I am aware."

And yes, he did a background check on every single parent in that school, of course.

"You missed the last meeting on this matter," the teacher reminded him.

Yes, he and Will had told her that Maeve was not feeling well and neither of them could attend. They were actually on a trip in Italy.

"Unfortunately so. I didn't have a chance to catch up with it."

"I am actually calling to let you know that the parents decided and I quote- Maeve's cool dad should be the president of the council." The teacher replied somewhat unsure. "However, I hope you understand my confusion."

"No...I..." Hannibal was debating whether the teacher was straight forward implying that he was not a good fit. When Will walked into the kitchen, it sank in. "I understand completely. You don't know which of us is actually the cool dad."

Will arched an eyebrow.

"Bedelia?" He mouthed and gestured towards the phone. Hannibal shook his head and mouthed "the teacher".

"Yes, I didn't want to make this awkward, I hope you understand."

"I am cool. I think I am cool. The kids appreciated the cupcakes I made for Maeve's birthday."

"I brought a dog to school for show and tell." Will said.

"And Jeremy told his dad he should start wearing suits like Maeve's dad. That proves I'm cool."

"Maeve had the most impressive insect collection and that was not thanks to your "I am not touching that"."

Hannibal remained quiet for a few seconds then remembered the teacher was still waiting on an answer. "My husband is actually very cool. He is right, the parents were totally talking about him. He is very happy to accept."

"Accept what?" Will asked confused.

"Yeah, I will let him know you will email him everything. Oh, yes, the council meetings. And career day preparation. And the field trip. So many projects, you definitely need someone as eager as my husband."

Will's face fell.

"What just happened?"

"The parents said that Maeve's cool dad should be the president of the parents council. You were so enthusiastic I couldn't take that from you. Have fun." Hannibal explained after hanging up.

"But I don't want to chair meetings. I don't want to be social, I hate those people."

"Being cool comes with great responsibility, my love."

[ledesaid]

Billy body-swaps

╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║

Billy has been hopping like a kangaroo, more specifically... His soul.

Every two weeks, on a Sunday, he wakes up in the body of one of the members of the Justice League, and it is the most incredible thing that has happened to him. There is no way it wouldn't be.

But after being Green Arrow, Blue Beetle, Hal Jordan, and Elongated Man... The League has started to worry a little.

Because when he opens his eyes, everyone is in the meeting room of what Billy assumes is the Hall of Justice in D.C.

Everyone is silent and glances at each other. Just a handful of paranoid adults.

Hal: I’m still me.

Flash: Buddy, just keep quiet.

He may have only seen Batman once since the first round of swaps, but he could swear Batman just gave them a "Shut up" look.

Billy can only try to find out who he is this time without looking suspicious, and luckily, he has Cyborg sitting in front of him. He thanks his shiny armor.

He smiles to himself as he closes his eyes.

Today he is Hawkman.

He really wants to hit something with his mace. But...

He supposed he was missing something important. Getting caught was a bad idea, but he didn't know exactly what to do when a screen appeared in front of him with three figures: a circle, a square, and a lightning bolt.

Everyone started choosing one of the figures, and Billy decided to press the lightning bolt.

And as expected. Everyone looked at him.

Billy: "Oops, I think I made a mistake."

He let out a soft laugh. Nobody was moving.

Batman: Who are you?

Billy decided he should cooperate at this point.

Billy: Okay, you caught me, I'm the imposter...

Raising his hands and smiling didn't seem enough to calm the rest.

Batman: Superman.

It was so quick that it thrilled him. He knew Superman was fast, but being taken to a cell in a second was incredible!

Billy: Please, there's a misunderstanding... can we talk a little?

Superman: This is strange...

Billy: Nice to meet you, sir Superman, it's an honor to meet you in person, for various reasons I can't tell you my name, but I want to assure you that I'm not a villain... I just have this peculiar... Power? Of eclipsing or possessing? I assure you it is random and without bad intentions.

Batman: So, you're a meta?

Billy: No, Mr. Batman, sir!

Billy didn't expect Batman to enter so silently.

Batman: Do you know the origin of your powers?

Billy: No... not exactly. I'm very sorry...

Superman: Do you think it has extraterrestrial origins? Or maybe magical?

Billy: Possibly magical... I have tried to talk to you before, but something prevents me... It's not that I don't want to, it's just that I can't...

Batman: But you're talking to us now, what makes it different?

Billy: I don't have an answer... I'm sorry.

Superman: Well, while we find out more, how should we refer to you?

Billy: You can call me Marvel if you like... I suppose it fits with this power of mine.

[azrielbrainrot]

"memorising their favourite things and treating them when they have a bad day" with azriel or cassian please 😊

A Good Day

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,1k

A/N: I ended up choosing Azriel because I'm extremely biased. I hope you enjoy and thank you for sending it in!

From sleeping in and being late for work to getting a stain on your new shirt over lunch, today hasn't been a good day. The gloomy weather didn't help either, you were always partial to the rain, there really wasn't a best feeling than snuggling into your bed with a good book and the sound of the rain lightly hitting your window, but today's rain was too heavy and it was too cold, making it hard to be outside, and of course with your luck today was precisely the day Rhys needed you to check on several businesses in Velaris, keeping you out for most of the day.

You had gotten home a couple of hours ago and had since taken a long warm bath, but your feet were still frozen and your head still aches. You had barely had a second to yourself since you woke up startled by how late it was and it was all taking a toll on you. It had truly not been your day. You should just go to bed early and rest, hoping tomorrow the sky would clear and you could take it easier.

A soft knock at your bedroom door brings you out of your thoughts, quickly putting on a robe over your nightgown before opening it to reveal Azriel, a crease manifesting between his brows as he takes you in.

“Hard day?”

You simply let out a heavy sigh, opening the door wider for him to come in and walking back to sit at the end of your bed. His shadows were already scattering around the room as he closed the door, some reaching for you, always stopping short of touching you lest Azriel reprimanded them for acting on their own. You take the opportunity to study him while he stands in front of you, his hazel eyes searching the room, a spy's habit you suppose.

Azriel had been out all day as well, you heard him tell Rhys that he would be following up on some leads on the other side of the court, - where you were pretty sure it was snowing, - but no one would have guessed. The bastard looked as perfect as he always did, there wasn't a hair out of place and he wasn't even a little wet from the rain.

His eyes catch yours as you take him in, and you don't have it in you to look away, letting his eyes burn into yours. You didn't have the chance to do it often, it was a shame really, his eyes were achingly beautiful, as was the rest of him.

“Are you sick?” His voice startles you for a moment, forgetting that the world kept spinning as you got lost in the hazel. He had moved closer without you noticing, you now had to crane your neck all the way to keep eye contact. When you still don't answer him, he reaches out a hand, carefully placing it on your forehead, feeling for a change in temperature. “Just tired?”

“Do I look that bad?”

If you even looked half as exhausted and out of it as you felt, it couldn't be a pretty sight. For some reason you were also finding it hard to focus on anything but him; how warm his hand had felt against your skin, the attentiveness in his eyes despite the hint of amusement also present.

“You look beautiful,” he muses, a small smile growing on his lips.

“When have you become such a sweet talker, shadowsinger?”

“Just telling the truth.”

You let out a small hum, not knowing what else to say. It didn't sound like he was lying or teasing you, but you also knew beautiful was too generous for your current state. There was also no reason for him to be complimenting you out of nowhere, was there?

Luckily, a few shadows gather in his hand, saving you from trying to figure out how to respond. It doesn't take long for a box of pastries to manifest before your eyes, the sweet smell taking some of your edge off instantly. You had always found it fascinating how he could carry anything within them, even more when you were the one hiding there with him.

Azriel places the box in your hands, watching you open it and gape at the inside with thinly veiled amusement.

“What's this?”

“Chocolate muffins from the bakery by the Sidra,” he explains even though you could see for yourself. “They're your favorite, right?”

You nod up at him, your eyes darting between his and the open box sitting on your lap, filled with delicious muffins, the ones that are extremely hard to get since they always sell out early.

“Why did you get them?”

“For you.”

“But why?”

You can't help but repeat dumbly. It wasn't your birthday and you don't think you've missed any other important date. There was also a strange tremble in your heart, at the thought that he remembered which ones were your favorite muffins, you don't even remember when you mentioned it.

“I heard you were running around all day in the rain,” he says with a gentle smile. “Just thought you deserved it.”

“Oh.”

You look down at the muffins one more time, a wave of inexplicable emotions washing over you, some threatening to suffocate you in their intensity.

“You've been really nice to me recently,” you murmur. It felt like you were missing something, and the glint in his eyes doesn't help with your suspicions.

“Have I not always been nice to you?”

“I suppose you have.”

He has, hasn't he? Azriel has been a constant by your side for years. Always ready to help you in every way he can, letting you drag him along to anywhere your little heart desires, even taking care of you when you are tired. You had always thought of it as him being a good friend, but you might have been somewhat mistaken.

“I'll let you rest now,” Azriel says, patting your head softly as he often did, except now it felt different, butterflies erupting in your stomach as he did. “Good night.”

“Good night,” you answer absentmindedly, watching him walk to the door, his shadows gathering over his form again.

Azriel leaves before you can say anything more, throwing a breathtaking smile your way and closing the door behind him on the way out, and the whole time you can't stop wondering why you never noticed the way he watches you and listens to everything you tell him attentively, the way his shadows reach for you, and the way his hand lingers on yours.

Oh.

[wlwsoccerfics]

Not a good time?(PernilleHarderXMagdaErikssonXLeónCebriánReader)

Warnings: Google translate used, quite short

Summary: you have a disagreement with your sister over the phone so you are in a bad mood and your girlfriends are afraid to make it worse cause they have to tell you that they accidentally put a dent in your beloved Car.

Pernille & Magda got home, both were hoping you were in a good mood . Well you weren't, obviously cause they heard you arguing with someone on the phone, placing around in the kitchen. "No me interesa escuchar lo decepcionada que está mamá.(i am not interested in hearing how disappointed mom is)" You told your sister. "Ambos son muy tercos(you are both so stubborn)." Mapi told you. "Debe ser una cosa familiar(must be a family thing)!" You told Mapi because she sure as hell could be stubborn as well. the entire discussion was about FC Barcelona wanting to give you a contract and you are not being interested because you were happy at FC Bayern Munich & they offered you to renew your contract for two more years. But your Mom wanted you home so she was not having it.

After the call ended you threw your Phone on the kitchen counter you checked the your watch, noticing your girlfriends should be back by now. the two wanted to go grocery shopping for Dinner tonight and have been gone for almost two hours now. "cariño?chica?" You asked. "are you home?" You added to your question.

Walking out of the kitchen to see your two loves standing by the front door. "är du okej, ängel?(Are you okay, Angel?)" Magda wanted to know. She looked a bit nervous. "So glad you are home!" You told them. "Yes i am fine! Just had a disagreement with Mapi!" You explained to them. "What is up with the two of you?" You wanted to know cause somehow they both looked really guilty of something. "Uh. There was a little mishap!" Pernille admitted. "We really didn't mean for it to happen." Magda answered. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to figure out what they wanted to tell you. "Can the two of you maybe stop talking in riddles & tell me what happened? After the talk with my sister about calling our Mom i am not really in the mood to play detective!" You tell them. It was a gentle tone you used. But still there was a hint of...exhaustion.

"there is a dent in your car. we came out of the grocery store and it was just there. The Security cameras in the parking lot weren't working though." Pernille confessed to you. You stared at her.

"That's it?" You asked confused. Now they were the ones being confused.

"uh yes! We know how much you love your Car!" Magda answered.

"i do love my Car, but i love the two of you more! I don't care about a dent in the car! As long as nothing happened to you!" You told them and pulled them in for a kiss. First you kissed Magda and then Pernille. Of course both of them hugged and kissed you back.

"it's interesting how quick you go from arguing with your sister to being adorable with us!" Pernille admitted.

"well it's in my blood!" You told them and giggled softly .

You ended Up facetiming your sister again that day explaining that you are upset about the Situation with the contract because you love that you get to be with the two loves of your Life while getting to do the job you always wanted to do as a kid and now that you had everything you dreamed of. Mapi understood where you are coming from cause she loved being with Ingrid on the same team as well. She also promised to talk to your Mom about it so she will stop giving you a hard time about it.

[siriuslylantsov]

6 string

pairing: joel miller x reader

description: in which, joel teaches you how to play a song on the guitar.

tags: fluff, established relationship, fem!reader, contractor!joel makes a brief appearance, no outbreak au, age gap, r has hair long enough to twirl but thats it for appearances, so so sweet, some singing, joel makes a dirty joke (i couldn't help myself) hozier mentioned!! and played... by a certain someone, and riptide as the song r learns, one mention of a dead parent.

a/n: my second joel teaching reader fic, this is very telling... also! should this be more frequent? my requests are open if you have any suggestions? i'm self taught when it comes to guitar, where tf was joel miller to teach me...

wc: 1.6k

“could you teach me?”

joel's head doesn’t lift up from his plans, long blue scrolls stretched across the table. “teach you what, baby?” he murmurs absentmindedly.

“a song. on your guitar,” you answer, voice small.

he looks at you now, his expression mildly shocked. you seem to have garnered his full attention, though it wasn't difficult when it came to you, he let go of the corner of paper that he had pinned to the hard surface. 

“i've been tryin’ to get you to play for months now,” he replies, not irritated but curious. “why the change of heart?”

“oh, i don't know. i just think it’d be nice to have a skill that i can credit to you.” you know the justification isn’t necessary and you know he knows that. he’ll do it regardless, anything for his girl.

a wry smile plays on his lips. “i’ve taught you plenty’a skills,” he says, not oblivious to the innuendo that clung to his statement. 

you huff out a chuckle, “not like that, silly.”

 you watch him walk over to you. his hands plant themselves on your shoulders, thumbs caressing lightly in the divots of your collarbones before turning you around. 

“let's go.”

“what? now?” you ask, although you don't stop him as he gently pushes you to the living room as he follows with his hands still on you.

“got other plans?” he sits you down on the couch, moving across the room to grab the instrument. 

“no,” you respond, smiling when he sits to your right. he's angled slightly so you can see his hands. it's how you're usually positioned when he plays you stuff so he can watch you but this time it's more for your benefit. 

“d’ya have a song in mind?”

you hum in thought, trying to recall songs he's played. they all seem difficult. “something easy?” you suggest.

“‘s a little cliche but a good beginner song,” he says as he starts to play.

recognition dawns on you, he's playing riptide. he quietly hums, a low timbre to the verse. you want to melt. 

“i love it when you play,” you murmur, dropping your head to his shoulder. 

“i love playin’ for you, sweetheart,” he replies, letting a chord fade out and handing you the guitar with a soft “c’mon.”

the instrument feels big in your arms as you rest your elbow over the base of it. it's not that you forget how much bigger joel is to you but in this instance it becomes painfully obvious. he guides your other hand to the neck, curling it around the wood. 

“okay, so riptide consists of three chords. a minor, g and c and it's the same strummin’ pattern all the way through,” he explains, moving your fingers to the first chord shape.

he places your fingers over different fret boards and you try to remember each one as he moves on to the next. you give an experimental strum to one chord and sounds with an unpleasant pitchy buzz. your face screws up and he chuckles lightly.

“you have to press hard enough so you get a clear tone, but not too much, just enough that it's firm against the fret,” he says, covering your hand with his own and pushing down.

“ow,” you gripe as the strings dig into your fingertips. 

“sorry, baby. s’gonna hurt like hell for now, need to build up your calluses for it to not.”

“it's fine,” you reply, partially distracted by how his calloused fingertips rub against the back of your hand, trailing down to allow you to try again.

you do, pressing a little harder, ignoring the pain. when you strum again it comes out a bit clearer, still buzzy, but better than before. 

you spend the next 30 minutes trying to switch chords, a feat more difficult than you thought it would be. you almost rage quit five times but joel's soothing encouragement urges you to keep trying. 

“how do you do this so easily?” you whine, leaning back on him. he's sitting a little behind you now, as you've moved to the edge of the couch. 

“playing for 20 years helps,” he says with a little shrug, rubbing your arm.

“careful, mister. you're showing your age,” you warn teasingly and he chuckles, that same warm one that you love so much.

“good to try some stummin’ now?”

“mhm,” you sit straight again. 

he crowds in behind you, arm coming to rest above your right one. he has a gentle grasp on your wrist and your palm as he directs your movements along the strings; down, down, up down up, he murmurs quietly in your ear, moving your hand accordingly.

you get the hang of it, you think. stumbling here and there when you do a down instead of an up, or the opposite. he watches as you intently strum, his fingers keeping the strings muted by touching them lightly. your hand, not on the neck anymore, rests on his thigh.

“keep going,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder. “you’re doin’ good.”

he lifts his fingers off the strings, and they start to resonate with uneven tones. but then a very distinct note rings out and you realise he's started to play the chords while you strum. it sounds good. you look at him and smile, and he shoots you an equally bright grin, crows feet deepening proudly. 

“there we go,” he spurs as your strumming stays perfectly consistent. you hum the melody as he effortlessly switches chords, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he does so. “wanna try doin’ both at the same time?”

you stop, your wrist growing a little tired. “tomorrow.”

“okay, sweet girl.” he takes the guitar out of your arms and leans it against the couch. 

he instinctively wraps around you when you curl into his side, scooting further back into the couch. his fingers play with the hair at the nape of your neck, it makes you squirm because it tickles and he laughs. the same low and warm one again, his chest vibrates with the sound as you press your ear to it. you can hear his heart beat in steady thumps. he leans his head against yours, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the space between you. his free hand settles on your leg, his thumb lazily tracing small, aimless patterns.

“can't believe i've never asked this,” you ask, suddenly curious. “how did you learn how to play?”

he tenses ever so slightly before easing again. 

“y’know my dad died when i was young, right?”

“yeah,” you confirm, lifting your head so you can see his face.

“well, he used to play all the time and after he passed my mom let me have his guitar,” he explains, twirling a strand of your hair with his fingers. he stares absentmindedly at your shoulder, but his gaze is solemn leaving you no reason to worry.

“took me ‘bout a year to pick the damn thing up ‘cause everytime i did it reminded me of him but when i finally did, i spent days on end teachin’ myself. didn't want a teacher or nothin’. if anythin', i wanted him to teach me but i never took up his offer when he was alive.”

“sweet,” you whisper, bottom lip jutting out sadly.

“you’re sweet,” he counters, tapping your nose with his finger. it wrinkles up at the contact and you pull away to reach for his guitar. you hand it to him, perking up in anticipation.

“play me ‘like real people do’?” you request, knowing smile on your lips.

only you could get mumblin’ grumblin’ joel miller to learn a hozier song. it took a bit of convincing, to which he would reply with begrudging grunts like it was the worst thing in the word. but he learned it surprisingly fast, playing it out of nowhere later that night. 

“‘f you sing, then yeah.”

you nod and he shakes his head fondly as he begins to play. you’re not a singer by any means but you could keep a tune. 

“i had a thought, dear, however scary about that night, the bugs and the dirt,” you begin softly, nodding along to the beat.

“why were you digging? what did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth?”

his fingers effortlessly plucks the right strings without looking, his eyes fixed on you with a reverence that makes you nervous. must be muscle memory, you wonder how long it’ll take you to get that good.

“i will not ask you where you came from. i will not ask and neither should you.”

your head tilts to the side, smiling. you bring a hand up to his jaw, scratching his beard lightly in a way you know he likes. you lean closer for the next words.

“honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips. we should just kiss like real people do.”

so naturally, you kiss him, giggling as you do so. he nips at your bottom lip when he falters, you–the distraction–to blame. 

it goes sweetly and quietly like that. you lean against his shoulder for the rest of the song, humming the melody. he doesn't mind, he just likes the sound of your voice, be it behind closed lips or not. 

when the song ends, he freestyles a bit, you don’t know what he’s playing but it sounds nice. everything sounds nice, and smells nice and feels nice, you could probably die here and you’d be happy, so long as you could take joel with you. 

“play more tomorrow?” he asks, still plucking away. 

“yup,” you chirp, inadvertently agreeing to more frequent lessons by him. even though he doesn’t suggest it, it’s implied in your own secret little way, and how could you say no to an offer like that.

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

[psiqueromance]

after hours. l.jn

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You sighed, your head aching from the interrupted sleep. You looked at Jeno, who was sleeping peacefully next to you, face down on the bed with his arms around the pillow that supported his head, his chest rising and falling gently with each slow breath that came from his half-open mouth.

You wondered if you should really wake him up at such an early hour, wondering if it would make him angry, his night's sleep being interrupted because his girlfriend wanted to eat a specific food that wasn't at home – deep down you knew he wouldn't mind, your boyfriend being too sweat to get upset over something so silly.

Slowly and lazily, you approached Jeno from behind him, one arm resting on his pillow to keep your balance while your other hand came to rest on his shoulders. Looking over his shoulder, you smiled softly at how peaceful your boyfriend looked sleeping. You shook him lightly, so as not to startle him but enough to wake him up. "Jeno?" you whispered close to his ear, kissing his cheek.

At first there were no answers, only your boyfriend's low snoring being heard, but after a few seconds of insistence it seemed that his slumbering state had ceased, a low whine sound coming from his lips as he rubbed his eyes. "Babe, are you awake?" you asked him softly.

Jeno opened his eyes, half closing them as he tried to see the time on the clock on the nightstand next to him. "Babe, it's late, what are you doing up?" He murmured, almost incomprehensible, turning over with his eyes closed again and hugging you around the waist, making you lie down on the bed again as he hugged you and put the blanket back over your body, in an attempt to go back to sleep.

You felt him put his head in the crook of your neck, his hair tickling your chin. "I want to eat ramen from that Yuzu shop." You said determinedly, noticing your boyfriend take his face away from your neck and look at you with a judging look. "It's two in the morning." He said as if it was obvious.

"I know, honey, but I woke up with an absurd desire to eat that spicy ramen... I won't be able to sleep if I don't eat it." You said with the best puppy eyes you could muster, Jeno looking at you with that same judging look before sighing and getting out of bed.

The next thing you knew, you and your boyfriend were out in the middle of the night in your nightclothes.

Since you left the house, Jeno had kept his arm around your shoulders, pulling you as close as possible, probably to warm you both up on that cold night, and to have a sense of protection over you.

You looked up, finding your boyfriend still trying to shake off the sleep by rubbing his eyes. The sight of your boyfriend in that way was cute, but you couldn't help but feel bad about taking him out of the comfort of his bed to go out into the cold and windy streets of Seoul. "Sorry, I really need that ramen."

Jeno met your eyes, smiling lazily before placing a kiss on the top of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. "It's okay y/n, there's nothing I wouldn't do for my girl."

You smiled, lowering your head to hide your embarrassed expression.

Jeno opened the glass door of the establishment, the place empty but much warmer than outside. After letting you in first, your boyfriend comes in and closes the door, leading you towards the variety of instant ramen stacked up, each one in different flavors. "Spicy?" he asked you, looking down, you nodded watching him take the package.

You sat on one of the white stools that was in front of a pink counter, leaning your elbow on it and resting your head on your hand, watching your boyfriend put the ramen in the weird machine that put the water in the ramen to boil.

After a few minutes he came back with the small plastic bowl with the ready ramen inside, he placed it on the counter in front of you and gave you the small packet with the sauce. He sat next to you, resting his head on your shoulder as he watched you put the sauce in the bowl, mixing it with the rest of the noodles. "Do you want some?" You spoke quietly, noticing Jeno's imminent sleepiness.

"Nah, I told you these instant foods are bad for health, they can cause cancer and stuff..." he said with a sigh. 

"If you say so..."

After a few moments, you were about to finish eating, when you felt Jeno lift his head from your shoulder. "Actually..." You smiled, knowing that the man couldn't resist a good spicy ramen.

He didn't need to say anything else before you offered him some of the food, turning to him with your chopsticks between your fingers. He smiled, always loving the habit of you always feeding each other.

A few minutes passed and the food was finished, the two of you stood up, both full and very sleepy. While you paid on the computer with the card your boyfriend handled you, Jeno hugged you from behind, his head in the crook of your neck as he breathed slowly.

After paying, you turned in the man's embrace, lifting his head and giving a peck on his lips, smiling after. "All done."

He smiled before pouting his lips. "Can we go home now, babe? I'm sooo sleepy." Jeno said, throwing his head back in an exhausted voice.

You giggled, kissing his cheek. "Yes Jen, we can go."

He smiled without showing his teeth, his eyes shining with the love that was reserved for you. Jeno tightened his grip on your waist, bringing you impossibly closer. "You know I love you, right?"

"I love you too, sleepyhead."

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 131 (The Gold Medallion)

Heather and Spencer were both grateful when the antidote arrived by morning. Spencer met a local merchant near the cantina for the medicine while Heather stayed in bed to rest. Once she drank it she felt better, if still a little nauseous, but after lunch the girls decided to venture to the museum.

They set up a few dig sites and found a few relics, but when the sun got too hot, the women changed into sundresses.

Finally, the sun was so hot they gave up digging and took shelter inside the museum. Walking through different rooms to view the priceless artifacts on display, Heather stopped when her phone beeped with an incoming text.

Suri keeps talking about getting married after her Aunt Elsa's death and I think she's going to propose to me. What should I say?!?

(I know that's not what the pop up says, but if I make these canon, they can't all be the same scenario as a ring in a bag!)

Heather was surprised to learn Hazel and Suri were already thinking about marriage, and she didn't feel equipped to offer advice one way or another.

This is a big decision and you should decide this for yourself, Dandelion. Love you.

She thought her answer more than sufficient, but Hazel was clearly upset and texted back quickly.

I thought I could really rely on you for life advice, sis. If I knew what to do, I wouldn't have to ask.

Heather frowned. That definitely could have gone better.

"Hey Heather, come in here. Come look at this."

She put her phone away and found Spencer in a stone-walled room, standing before a diamond-studded gold medallion inside a glass display. A plaque on the wall revealed the medallion's inscription - found deep inside the Selvadoradian jungle decades earlier, the medallion was inscribed "A gift from Malcom A. Landgraab to Lady Victorine Goth."

Spencer chuckled. "A Lady Goth and a Landgraab? That's a wild combination."

Heather froze. "Lady Victorine Goth and Malcolm A. Landgraab? How old is this necklace?"

"They think it's from the early 20th Century," Spencer read. "Malcolm A. Landgraab was a rancher out west, and Lady Victorine Goth was Lady Ravendancer before her marriage, one of the world's most powerful spellcasters who published a book of spells. But both were married to other people and there's no evidence they ever knew each other."

"Other than this necklace," Heather mused. "I should ask Mortimer Goth about it. Maybe he knows something about them."

"Do you think it'll have something to do with the curse?"

Heather shrugged. "Hopefully there's no curse, but if there is, and it does have something to do with it, I have to know more for Ash's sake."

Despite taking the antidote, Heather still felt feverish and fatigued. They headed back to the rental so she could take a nap, and Spencer took the time to analyze some of her new artifacts.

By dinnertime, Heather was feeling peckish, so they returned to the square for a nice evening in town with the locals. Heather remembered Conrad's fear that they could run into members of Los Tigres de Selva, but she was feeling well enough to really enjoy herself and didn't want to waste the opportunity.

The night was warm, so they both dressed accordingly. On the way into the square, Spencer made an offering to the statue of Madre Cosecha, a Selvadoradian custom.

"She helped settle this place during a time of great famine," explained Spencer. "A true hero. Hopefully she can help keep us safe on our temple dig tomorrow."

Heather smiled. "We should stock up on more supplies, anyway. She would want us to protect ourselves and I don't need another spider bite."

They enjoyed arepas under the lights and chatted proudly about their kids. "Violet gets into everything, and she's got her older brothers wrapped around her grubby little fingers."

"She sounds a lot like Lavender. One minute she's sitting quietly looking through a book, and the next minute she's tearing through the bookshelf. And Ash has me convinced I could design an adventure game featuring stray pets. I even reached out to a philanthropist who loves to help game developers as a hobby named Cal Anthony, Jr. Suri actually recommended him - he's married to her mother's cousin, Olivia - but he said this was totally doable and he'd be happy to mentor me anytime. I think I might actually do it. I even have a name - Furever Friends: Stray Valley. I couldn't decide which I liked better so I added a colon to use both!"

"That sounds amazing, Heather. I'm sure my kids would love to play a game like that! How are things with you and Ash's dad these days?"

"As good as they've ever been, probably. Even when we dated. It's sort of strictly professional between us, but Ash comes home happy from spending time with Malcolm's family, so I can't complain. I guess they just got a new puppy, too."

"The kids won't stop trying to convince us to get another dog," Spencer moaned. "I think we're hoping to change their minds with a hamster, if anything."

When they finished eating, they moved to the cantina, where Heather decided to autonomously mix drinks at the crowded bar. Spencer danced the Selvadoradian rhumba in the courtyard while she talked Omiscan mythology with the locals. She was an expert in Selvadoradian customs after all her time spent in the temples and among the people, and she never tired of talking about the secrets of Selvadorada's past.

Their night continued until Heather began to feel feverish and fatigued again. Though the antidote had seemed to work, the women didn't want to take any chances and called it a night.

As long as Heather was feeling well enough, they had a temple to explore before returning home. ->

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Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

Landgraab Curse you say?! More on that, here, if you want to know more.

A massive shout out to @opalsimmer and @berrysims-lp, whose sims Lucia, Silas, Neve, and Terrell first saw this medallion inside the Selvadorada museum! I recreated it in my game with @opalsimmer's help and intend to explore this mysterious Landgraab/Goth lore. (Uncovering some family secrets, of course!)

And thank you @oimygiblets for letting me make Calivia Forever canon even though your story takes place about three decades before mine!! And @opalsimmer and @matchalovertrait for naming Heather's video game! 🙌🙌🙌