#as in like . a mentioned part of the relationship

[st4rbwrry]

𝒟𝒜𝒩𝒢𝐸𝑅𝒪𝒰𝒮𝐿𝒴 𝐼𝒩 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸.

꒰ forbidden love with a southern boy sounds fun. a pastor for a father, and living in a small town with god-fearing, gossipy folk was not. ꒱

🫧 𐀔 . . . 16.8k. fem!reader, lowercase intended, farmer!eren + bluecollar!eren, domesticity, established relationship, talks of religion, small mention of abuse and alcoholism, forbidden love, sneaking around, age difference + time skip, lotssss of arguments, oral sex ꒰ f + m ꒱, quiet sex (they try ;3), fingering, spanking, lots of kisses, eren’s rlly affectionate, foreplay, rough sex, size difference, spitting in mouth vv briefly, sub/dom dynamic, lots of dirty talk, multiple orgasms + overstim. minors do not interact. reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated. ♡

꒰ theme songz + mocha’s note ! ꒱ . . . i’ll be by edwin mccain + movie by avenoir. . . i rlly like this plot, didn’t mean for it to be so long srry. but it’s good so ;) very notebook themed.

 

getting married in secrecy was every family’s worst nightmare. the opportunity to see their creation speak soul-written vows to their lovers and part ways into unity. to laugh and dance together, snap photos, share cuisines and three-tiered intricately crafted fondant cake. helping their daughter pick out a dress, and their son a tux. all of those memories are delicate and forever cherished. to be ridden of that felt cruel. but, what family deserves that when they don’t accept who you're giving your love to? when they find the person you’re marrying selfish, undeserving of your love, and rude? those are the words people used to describe eren, your husband. 

the sun beats down upon the quaint southern town of georgia, casting long shadows across the freshly cut lawns and pegasus-painted houses. a gentle breeze rustles the leaves of the ancient oak trees lining the streets, their gnarled branches stretching towards the cloudless sky. in the heart of this idyllic community, nestled between the town square and the bustling main street, stands a modest yet stately residence. this is where you resided years ago with your father, the reverend pastor kain. the house exudes warmth and tradition, its wraparound porch adorned with rocking chairs and potted azaleas. a white picket fence encircles the property, symbolizing the tight-knit neighborhood and the values upheld within these walls.

inside, the air is thick with the scent of pot roast bubbling within the choral blue dutchoven and the soft hum of gospel hymns drifting from the living room in soft symphonies from your sickly mother. diagnosed with kidney failure yet always ensuring the three of you had the warmest days. the cool interior provides a welcome respite from the summer heat. the polished hardwood floors creak beneath your feet, leading you past a formal dining room with a sturdy oak table and matching chairs. family photographs line the mantel above the fireplace, capturing moments of joy and love.

your father's study lies at the end of the hall, the door slightly ajar. through the crack, you catch a glimpse of his desk, cluttered with stacks of paperwork, sermons, and bibles. the faint aroma of pipe tobacco wafts out, mingling with the musty smell of aged books. despite the comforting atmosphere, an undercurrent of tension hangs in the air, a palpable reminder of the forbidden nature of your love and the stern disapproval of your father, the man of god who once guided you with unwavering devotion.

you’ll never forget the intensity of your heart racing as you held eren’s hand within your own and stood before your father proclaiming your love. the look of disappointment on his face with furrowed brows, smile lines deep as he frowned and stared unwavering. the stern posture he’d taken by leaning up in his chair and hearing the nonsense coming from both of you. the bickering between him and eren while he held your hand the entire time, silently telling you he’d protect you while you shut out the aggressive sound of your father’s voice. 

your love blossomed in stolen moments, snatched between the cracks of duty and expectation. in the hushed whispers of late-night phone calls, the furtive glances exchanged across crowded rooms, and the fleeting touches that set your skin ablaze with longing. the two of you would meet in secret, hidden away from prying eyes and ignorant tongues. in the shadows of the park, where the crickets sang their serenade and the stars twinkled overhead. or in the cozy confines of his pickup truck, parked along lonely stretches of highway, miles from home.

there, in those intimate spaces, you’d lose yourselves in each other. lips meeting in passionate kisses, hands roaming freely, exploring the curves and contours of your bodies. you’d talk with him for hours, sharing hopes and fears, dreaming of a future where you wouldn’t have to hide your love. 

you met on a warm evening on your way to the farmers market, finding him churning butter with broad muscles, naked from his upper body and inked out over his neck and dominant forearm. there’s a slit in his right eyebrow that also held a piercing. slightly wavy brown hair pulled into a bun with baby blue overalls clinging to his skin. 

when he locked eyes with you while you pushed a cute green grocery cart, your heart immediately bloomed. those slanted grayish-green eyes with long, brown lashes of his stealing your strength. his movie star smile with a toothpick lodged between his teeth as he finally caught your gaze. the sun shone down on him, casting a golden glow on his tanned skin and ricocheting off the silver dog tag around his neck making him look even more attractive. 

the man gave you a wink before returning to his task, a sly smile playing on his lips. his arms flexed as he churned a bit harder, obviously showing off now that he knew he had your full attention. shyly, you pull your eyes away from him and pretend you don’t notice him staring as you inspect the vegetables before you. once he had finished, he wiped his hands off on a cloth and strode over to you, his overalls hanging from his hips now after he popped them free in front of you, sweat clinging to his skin. he stood in front of you, a cocky smile plastered on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest, a few beauty marks littered across his skin.

he waited for a moment before speaking up, his voice low. “you know, you’re not very good at pretending you don’t notice me.” he chuckled as he spoke. “i can see you stealin’ glances at me from the corner of your eye.”

goddamn, you nearly short circuit from hearing his voice. it’s deep and slightly raspy. the smell of him is almost natural and sweet. you caught a whiff of apple. or maybe butter given he’d been working on it for the past three hours. 

“and if i was?” 

eren’s smirk widened at your snarky response. he took a step closer to you, his body now mere inches away from yours as he looked down at you, tilting his head slightly. “then i’d say you have a thing for hot and sweaty country boys.”

“yuck, that was so corny,” you giggle in his face. 

he rubbed his forehead with his palm, feigning disappointment at your response, but he was secretly enjoying the playful banter between the two of you. “mhm, yeah. it was, wasn’t it? sorry, i’m not good with talkin’ to pretty girls.” 

you hum. “mhm, i bet you say that to all the girls. it’s a small town, and you’re attractive. i hear lies.” 

“y’know, a liar doesn’t usually apologize for his bad pickup lines. unless . . . ” his voice was a low, sultry murmur now, and his eyes held an intensity that made you feel as if he was peering into your soul. the heat from his body felt like it was seeping into your own, and the air around you seemed to crackle with electricity as he spoke. “he means it. and you aren't calling me a liar are you, darlin’?” 

the way he looked at you made your heart thump hard in your chest, and the fact that he was so close made it difficult to think straight. there’s no doubt that this man was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, in real time at least. 

“you’re staring awful hard, like what you see?” 

“maybe i do.” 

“only maybe?” 

“i do,” you playfully roll your eyes. 

“geez, w’na marry me already,” he jokes, and of course you laugh like a lovesick teen. “i like your laugh, it’s cute. teehee.” 

listening to him mocking you made you gasp and lightly hit his arm. “stopp, i don’t sound like that!” 

“do so,” he slowly licks his lips, scanning you from head to toe. “i’d like to get to know you, if you don’t mind.” 

you nearly choked at the suggestion. me? he wants . . me? no way. “uh, you don’t even know me. didn’t even ask if i had a boyfriend.”

“are you tryin' to say you have a boyfriend?” 

“no, i don’t. but, i'm not allowed to.” 

a frown briefly tugged at his lips as he heard what you said, the meaning behind your words sinking in. not allowed to? “how come? strict parents? celibacy? . . nun?”

“okay, asshole,” you scoff. 

eren throws his hands up in defense. “sorry, just honestly askin’.”

you began to fidget at the thought of telling him about it. what if he ran away because he wanted nothing to deal with it? he notices your reluctance, and almost says something to dismiss the conversation for your sake. “my father’s extremely religious, well known in this town, actually. pastor kain.” 

“oh,” eren nods, understanding clearly now. he tried to be as considerate as possible, even though part of him didn’t care. if he wanted you, he’d have you. “so you’re the daughter. funny, me seeing you only now. he’s that strict he don’t let you come out or sum?” 

“ ‘the daughter’. why do you say that as if i have some type of rumor about me going around?”

“no, no, it’s nothing too serious. maybe a little insensitive, but . . i’ve just heard people whispering about your family and whatnot. things like your father being up his own ass or you being a  . . i’ll dial it down to prude ‘cause i find other shit said derogatory, and i'm sure untrue.” 

pursing your lips, you hum at the things being spoken behind your back. it’s not surprising. “thank you for telling me that. i’m sure a lot of people have opinions about me and my family. my dad can be a bit of a hard ass. and i surely wouldn’t call myself a prude. just because my family is religious doesn’t necessarily make me feel the same.”

“you’re not christian?” he asks. 

“no, not at all. i mean, i believe in something. i pray, i talk to someone, but i don’t consider them god. personally, i call them my fairy godmother,” you smile sweetly, thinking that sounded kind of silly. “sorry, that must sound childish.” 

“it doesn’t, it’s cute,” he chuckles. “i feel the same. agnostic is the term for me. plus, i’m more of a spiritual person. crystals and shit.” 

your brows raise. “wow, that’s rare to hear a man say that, at least here. it’s refreshing.” 

"why's that? you not from here?"

"nah, me and my mother are from the city. philly. he ended up moving us here after getting the deed to his grandfather's house. we've been here since i was ten."

eren shifts where he stands, removing the hair tie from his hair that cascaded down to his shoulders. tucking a strand behind one of his ears and shoving his hands into his pockets. “so does he have you on lockdown for the summer?” 

“pretty much. he’s got me set on studying for college. any other distraction in my path he throws a fit. i usually have free time whenever my mom needs something, like groceries for instance. i have friends and shit, i promise.” 

eren rolls his tongue and plants another toothpick in his mouth, chewing on it and watching as you curiously observe. to do the honors, he answers before you ask. “cigarette addiction. tryna cut back.” 

“makes sense.” 

“how’s about we keep it a secret?"

his tone was firm yet determined as he spoke. he knew it wouldn’t be easy to keep a relationship a secret from the pastor, especially with how overprotective the man was of his daughter. but he was willing to do it, to give you a chance to be happy and not live the way your father demanded. life’s too short, and you’re young and pretty. the thought of sneaking around with you, being your dirty little secret, made his heart thump in excitement. he was never one to play by the rules anyway.

“you mean like . . sneak around?”

“yeah. with your permission, of course.” 

for some reason, his intentions felt sexual. maybe he had heard the rumors and wanted to see what you were like and change that. you’re not a virgin, luckily the person who took it moved out of town therefore it remained a secret from everyone. he’s pretty to look at, nice on the eyes, fairly polite, and a flirt. but, you couldn’t put your finger on it. and if this was going to be a waste of your time, you surely didn’t want to risk your father finding out. 

so, you decline. “i gotta go, i’m sorry. it was nice meeting you though.” 

eren couldn’t help the slight grimace that appeared on his face when you extract your hand to give him a handshake. it felt so formal and . . cold. your dismissive tone and gesture made it seem like you were done, like you were giving up on the possibility of even interacting with him again. he wanted to question you further, but didn’t want to come off as pushy. 

“yeah, same to you.” 

while flashing a final smile, you push your cart around him to head for the check out counter. 

“when can i see you again?!” he shouts across the open market, hands cuffed around his mouth so you hear him loud and clear. 

“around!” 

eren felt a small ache of disappointment at your vague response, but couldn’t help but smile at the frantic pace you left him at. he knew he’d see you again, he’d make sure of it. two weeks passed and the city’s fair was bustling with the townships' people. one they held every year right before halloween. you’d volunteer to help your mom with her candy apple stand, taking any opportunity not to be stuck home studying. 

the county area was picturesque, a perfect example of the serene beauty of rural life. the fields stretched out as far as the eye could see, rolling hills dotted with occasional trees breaking up the endless stretches of greenery. cows and sheep could be seen grazing in the distance, their peaceful presence adding to the tranquility of the setting. the air was clean and crisp, carrying the scent of grass and wildflowers as the sun set into the night. the fair being held was a hive of activity. children running around laughing and excited chatter adding to the general din of the crowds. the smell of food wafted through the air, the scent of funnel cakes and other fried goods mingling with the underlying aroma of hay and dirt. bull rides and horse races occurring. 

eren found himself wandering through the fair, his thoughts preoccupied as he looked around. he didn’t really feel like playing games or participating in activities right now, he just wanted to clear his mind. but as he strolled past the laughing crowds of people, he paused, noticing a familiar figure nearby. his heart skipped a beat as he recognized you, and a small jolt of excitement coursed through him. your dressed in dark blue low rise affliction jeans that were flared towards the bottom along with a matching vest top and black western boots. a plain black cowboy hat atop of your head. your hairstyle changed completely the last time he saw you. it’s longer, reaching the middle of your back in soft, curly bora bora braids. you looked beautiful. straight out of a dream. a magazine even. 

the wind blows roughly, and from where he stood he could smell the gourmand of your perfume. he stopped only a few feet from you, shoving his hands in his pockets in an attempt to look casual. despite the outward appearance of coolness, his heart was beating fast against his chest, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness coursing through his veins. he hoped you’d be happy to see him again, but he also couldn’t shake the fear that you might reject him. . . again. 

you were stationed at a small booth, an array of freshly made candy apples neatly lined up for sale. the aroma of sweet, sticky apples mixed with the sugary coating filled the air. a woman who stood beside you who stole your entire face, or more-like you stole hers, taking orders from customers, dipping each apple into the thick, red coating before handing it over with a smile. as he drew closer to you, he plastered a careless smile on his face, trying to appear nonchalant. he raised a hand in greeting, waving at you casually.

“hey, what a coincidence.” 

catching his attention, the glint in your eyes reads more than your face does, discreetly giving flirty while your smile is faint. you’re stunned to see him, in fact. briefly eyeing your mother before speaking. “oh, hi! um. . . didn’t catch your name before.” 

“oh, uh. it’s eren. yeager. eren yeager.” 

he felt a slight flush of embarrassment as he said his name. he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to even introduce himself when he’d first met you. he’d been so eager to get to know you, to convince you to give him a chance, that he’d completely forgotten to mention his own name.

“right, how are you?” 

“uh, good. yeah, i'm good.” 

“are you here with family?” 

“nah, i’m here with some friends. they’re wandering off somewhere,” he says. “are you? is your father here?” 

“he isn’t, actually. i just volunteered to help my mom out with her stand!”

eren’s smile grew just a fraction bigger at your response. he was silently grateful to whatever divine entity was watching over him for keeping your father from being here. it gave him a chance to talk to you freely. 

“is that so? so you’re not being watched over right now?”

“i’m twenty, i don’t need to be watched.”

“point taken,” he purses his lips, eyes trailing over to your mother who was clearly ear-hustling. eren decides to introduce himself. “how you doin’, ma’am. it’s a pleasure meeting you.”

“oh, hello!” your mother smiled back, turning her body fully to take in his sudden attention. she’s just a smaller version of you, same pretty face now slowly wrinkling with time. gray kinky curly hair that grazes her shoulders. she’s dressed in a long navy blue dress painted with yellow daises, a white apron draped around her neck. she smiles at eren’s charming demeanor. “are you a friend of my daughter's?” 

he gave a small nod. "yes, that's right.” 

you could tell your mother scrutinized him for a moment, taking in his appearance. she could tell he was well-groomed and well-spoken, but she also had a watchful eye for any potential troublemakers. she glanced over at you, noting the way you were watching the interaction between the two of them, and then glanced back at eren.

“well it’s nice to meet you. i don’t believe you gave me your name,” she nodded in acknowledgment, her gaze still appraising him. 

“apologies. i’m eren yeager, ma’am.” 

she took in his name and the way he presented himself, weighing him silently in her mind. she was clearly being protective, trying to figure out if he was a suitable friend for you or not. you sigh deeply, twirling your fingers anxiously. eren notices. 

“ah, so you’re the eren i’ve heard about. the troublemaker.” 

“ma. .” you eye her, as if telling her not to start. 

he smiled innocently, a small hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. he didn't think he was quite as bad as the rumors might’ve made him out to be, but he also knew that he wasn't exactly the most picture-perfect person. 

“troublemaker, huh? didn’t know i was known for that. i can tell you that i'm the sweetest person you’ll know if that eases you.” 

“hm,” your mother squints suspiciously, a small giggle, surprising to you at least, coming from her. you blink at her, brows furrowing. does she find him sweet? “aren’t you charming. i hope you stand by your word.” 

this was becoming awkward for you. given the way you were raised and the household you grew up in, your mother was always the sweet one. stern when needed, but for the most part she let you be your own person. she still had heavy concerns for the people you chose to surround yourself with. and a man wasn’t exactly something she’d be ecstatic with. but with her sickness, and unknowing of the time she had left, she’d let her guard down to see you happy. if he were to break your heart, it’d only be a lesson you’d have to learn on your own. 

you remove your sight off of the pretty boy before you, the stand quieting down from attraction to hold her shoulder endearingly. “mama, would it be okay if i stepped away for a bit? just to talk.”

“just for a bit, alright? and make sure you’re only talking,” she says, throwing eren a warning glare. you groan, titling your head annoyingly. 

eren nodded in understanding, silently vowing not to do anything that would give your mother a reason to get between you two. the last thing he needed was a scolding from a protective parent, especially one as dedicated as yours. he already had to potentially worry about your father. he gave your mother a reassuring smile, hoping to ease her worry just a bit. “don’t worry, ma'am. we’re just going to head to the hoedown for a dance.” 

you shoot him a look, dancing sounds different from talking. he smirks. 

“alright, fine. but you be back before ten, okay? no funny business.” 

shaking your head, you give her a peck on the cheek. “promise mama. thank you.” 

“mhm hmm.” 

she watches eren step aside as you remove your apron, maneuvering around the stand as he elongates his arm with a gentle ‘after you’, the two of you strolling away, but not before you turn to look back, giving her a grateful yet giddy smile. your mother chuckles, waving and smiling back, her heart warming at the sight of eren reaching to hold your hand that you hesitated to take before giving in. she couldn’t help but think this was going to be trouble. 

“she seems nice,” eren mutters, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

you can’t help but roll your eyes. “yeah, she’s very sweet. just can be a bit overprotective.” 

“it’s good you have parents that care for you like that,” he replied, an almost sad tone in his voice. 

"yeah, they. . they're cool," you say, faltering slightly as you try to find the right words. “what about yours?” 

you look up at eren, trying to catch his eyes, but he's staring straight ahead, his jaw set and his expression closed off. it’s clear that he doesn't want to dive too deep into it, but you can't help but wonder what could've happened to make him react like this. he clears his throat uncomfortably, protectively holding you close as he guides you through the crowd. it makes your heart jump. 

“dad isn’t the best.” 

“. . oh.” 

the ranch slowly comes into view, the sounds of music thrumming louder as you approach. there’s a large, open space filled with people dressed in their best western attire, a sense of excitement and nervousness overtaking you. eren leads you through to make your way towards the center of the ranch, where the dancing and festivities are already in full swing. the music is lively and upbeat, couples twirling and spinning across the makeshift dance floor. others chugging down drinks at the bar. 

“you w’na show me how you move?” there’s a certain look in his eye, something else that you can't quite identify. his confidence is infectious. 

the crowds contagious, and it’s clear that everyone is having a great time. but you can’t help but fidget at the thought of dancing with someone you’re extremely attracted to. who smelt like patchouli, dressed in all black with tan, slightly roughed up cowboy boots. who’s smile is as bright as the moon, chocolate long hair making him look like the prettiest prince. it felt like a date. and technically, this would be your very first one. which, now that you’re thinking about it, is probably why your mom looked at you the way she did. 

you cower, biting your lip. “um, i . . can’t dance. at least the way they are.” 

eren raises his brow at your declaration. “really? hm.” 

you swallow when eren’s hand pulls you a little closer by your hip, gently resting there to guide you into position. "don't worry. i’ll lead, and you just follow. it’s not rocket science, right?"

“okay.” 

he starts to move, slowly guiding you into a basic step. despite your lack of knowledge, you try your best to keep up with him, your eyes glancing down at your feet every now and then out of fear of tripping. eren notices your hesitation and gives a small laugh. he keeps his arm around your waist, making sure you don't falter.

"relax. you’re doing fine. stop looking at your feet so much. you’re going to fall if you keep it up.” 

“sorry,” you giggle, your initial nerves starting to fall off as you let him guide you. 

he spins you around gracefully, his hand still firmly holding you in place. you're starting to get the hang of it, your body slowly moving in time to the music. the expression on eren’s face is a mix of amusement and pride; it's clear he's enjoying teaching you to dance. as the music changes to a slightly faster beat, he picks up the pace a bit, twirling you around with practiced ease. his steps are confident, his grip firm yet comfortable. you find yourself actually enjoying the experience, laughing at your own clumsy attempts to keep up with him. his smile widens, his eyes shining with a playful glint as he watches you. amused by your honest attempts of catching up. 

the music slows down eventually, and now plays a soft melody that has couples pulling each other closer to slow dance romantically. rolling your lips inward, you beam up at him with a soft chuckle. i’ll be by edwin mccain playing, and it happened to be one of your favorite songs. the moment becomes intimate, and eren makes a move to rest both hands on your lower back to pull you even closer so your chest touches his. the warmth from his body onto yours gives you goosebumps. it gets more romantic when he places your arms on his shoulder, your hands interlocking while his eyes lock onto yours. bodies swaying slowly with the melodious tune.

“don’t know if i told you how pretty you are.”

you can feel a flutter in your chest at the unexpected compliment. you turn your eyes away from him, a small smile playing on your lips as you try and hide your reaction. you can feel the warmth rising in your face, and you have a feeling he notices it too. “and i told you that you say that to all the girls.”

you’re unsure what switched, but his face grows calm, studying your face intently, hugging you closer as if you’d slip away. that makes you alert. “so . . your mother thinks i’m trouble. i’m not sure what you’ve heard about me. we do live in a small town so shit gets around, including rumors. but, what i’m worried about is how you perceive me.” 

the tone in his voice catches you off guard, his eyes fixed on yours with an almost vulnerable expression. “um, i haven’t heard anything about you to be honest. i don’t really stick my nose in drama, or the bullshit older folks gossip about. clearly, my mom knows, and i’ve heard something minor about your father. . i just — don’t want things like that to cloud my judgment of you. i’d wanna get to know you from you.”

he swallows, trying to contain his thankfulness. “seriously?” 

“yeah, i mean . .” you shrug shyly. “people don’t necessarily have many nice things to say about me or my family apparently. i guess you could say we’re two peas in a pod.” 

“outcasts,” eren prys in a small joke. 

“complicated, whatever. misconceptions everyone makes when they don’t know shit. if i get to know you, and get what i think we want to get from each other, and it turns out to be great or goes completely to shit? then that’s for me to decide when i’m ready.” 

“you’re absolutely right,” he sighs. “i fuckin’ hate this town sometimes. i’m twenty-three ‘n i feel like i'm stuck here. i just wanna run away and start a new life.” 

“i feel the same,” you weakly smile, thoughts flashing around in your head. “this doesn’t feel like home anymore. the community is perfect exterior-wise, but deep down everyone’s a little demented. and believe it or not, my life is miserable. my father’s too overbearing, my mom's sick. they have these high expectations of me, like going to college and honoring the family’s name. but, i’m starting to realize it’s not what i want anymore. i’m only doing it to please them. my father legit made me take a year off just to make sure i’m fully prepared for college.”

“has your father always been strict like that?” eren switches with you as more people make way on the floor, facing south now. the star lights hung on the ceiling setting the mood as more love music played. 

“since i was a kid, yeah. he’s always had these values he believed we should uphold. ‘keeping’ the families guidance, child’ he would say,” eren watches you chuckle dryly, his jaw clenching. “often times i wonder why my mother married someone like him when she’s the complete opposite. i’m guessing he was different when they were younger. sometimes i think i ruined their love.” 

“don’t think that, ꒰♡꒱,” hearing your name come from him made you squeeze his hand tighter, oddly feeling comforted. “whatever problems they have aren’t because of you. they decided to bring you into this world, therefore it’s their job to raise you to be the best you can be. and i think you’re great, and you can think for yourself and do whatever you want with your life.” 

“thank you, eren.” 

“mhm,” eren searches your face continuously, memorizing every detail of expression. for future notes. “do you think he’s so hard on you because he never got the opportunities you have? or ‘cause, you know, you’re his only girl?” eren asks. 

instantly, you nod. “yeah, that’s definitely it. he’s afraid to make a mistake. granted, he’s made a few already. no parent is perfect, but it’d be nice if he’d see me as the adult i am now and not just his baby girl. or perceive me as this sweet little church girl whose only values in life are to please her parents and have awards to hang in the house to boast about when we get visitors.” 

“that’s gotta be hard, i’m sorry.” 

“it’s okay. i’d also be the first in my family to attend college. i got offered a scholarship to brown, which is why he has me studying till i bleed. figuratively, of course.” 

“wow, an ivy league. that’s big.” 

“thanks, i’m a genius,” you roll your eyes sarcastically. your hands drop from his neck, entwining your right hand with his left, eren wrapping his arm around your waist as you two dance that way. “your hands are really soft.” 

“all that butter i be churnin’,” he cackles. his face grows serious once more, and yet again you’re unable to read him. “listen, so . . i w’na tell you that i really am drawn to you. i like you, ‘n i’d like to get to know you. who knows, maybe one day we can run away together from our lives here, some cliché shit like that.” 

“i . . yeah. i really wanna get to know you, too.”

“ooh, you likin’ me?” he flirts. 

you can't help but give him a small smile, your cheeks flushing slightly. this lovesick feeling you get around him was something you’d only read about in novels hauled up in your bedroom to escape reality. it felt nice. 

"maybe i am. what if i am?"

"i like the sound of that," he replies, his voice a soft murmur just above your ear. "i like it a lot, actually."

you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the closeness making your heartbeat quicken. you try to tell yourself that it's just the dance, just the music, that's making you feel this way, but deep down, you know it's more than that. something about eren, something about the way he's looking at you right now, is stirring up feelings you haven't felt before.

“you know," he says, his voice low and intimate, "would it be too early for me to ask to kiss you?”

and that followed up with more forbidden kisses. the two of you tried to see each other four days out of the week, of course, sunday’s being off limits. you’d run to the market for your mother and spend most of your time at eren’s farm feeding the animals and helping him work. making up an excuse when your mother asked why you took so long. the two of you decided it was best to keep your relationship private from both your mother and father until the time was right. there are nights when you would sneak out when your parents were sleeping to make out in the back of his pickup truck under the stars. 

play fighting in the lake, writing each other love letters, running into his arms whenever you saw him while he spun you around and held you tight. every moment spent with him felt like a novel. every kiss feels like a risk, every touch like a secret act of rebellion. living a double life pretending to be just friends. the intimacy of stolen moments you share is like a secret language, a bond forged by the very secrecy that threatens to keep you apart. a month into the relationship, eren surprised you with a date at the same ranch where you shared your first dance. decorating the back of his truck with blankets, pillows, and tons of snacks for a drive-in movie casting on the back of the ranch. he made love to you for the first time that night. 

pastor kain and most of the god-fearing parents in this town knew that eren had a reputation for being rowdy and a sweet talker with the girls. he’s not necessarily someone they’d see their daughter for. and eren will admit he’s made some poor decisions in life, but that didn’t make up for who he was deep inside. nobody knew him. they only knew the surface level of what was spoken of him and his family. the yeager's. eren practically runs the farm that’s in his mother’s name, working his ass off every day while his father wastes himself in heavy liquor on the living room couch. he could’ve left a long time ago, but his attachment to his mother and what she built refused to let him pull away. 

his father made a few public appearances that tarnished their family name further. altercations with good people in town for giving him dirty looks or speaking with ill intent on his son. a father forever, but a horrible dad through and through. his reputation already ruined eren’s. a lot of people assumed he’d be exactly like his father; a drunk, and an abuser. his mother going without peace in a horrible fight between the two causing her heart attack. eren hates that he can’t let him go, having a few nasty fist fights himself. maybe he’s hoping he’d get better one day and be someone. but that was far from what will happen. 

eventually, you and eren sneaking around had to end when word got out about it through your father’s church; an older woman calling you a slut and stating that you’ll be no good dealing with a yeager. it’s clear they were truly disliked in this town full of idiots and sinners themselves. ‘holier than thou, up their asses, pretentious dicks!’ is what eren had to say about it. you and your father had one of the worst arguments of your life. a total scream fest when he found out. 

eren sat outside in his truck, anxiously bouncing his leg, eventually exiting to pace around on your porch. you come out with tears streaming down your face, eyes red and puffy. eren falls apart, cooing ‘awe, baby’ before embracing you into a tight hug, his strong arms burying your face into the warmth of his chest. 

“he just doesn’t understand. i don’t get why he doesn’t understand,” you choke on your sobs, eren brushing a hand down the back of your head, kissing it after. 

“let me talk to him,” eren suggests, and instantly you’re disagreeing, backing away and trembling. 

“no, eren. i told you, nothing we can say will get through to him. he’s fuckin’ hopeless!” 

“kain, stop it!” your mother’s frantic voice could be heard shouting at your father from inside, glass being thrown out of anger. 

the blood flows through eren’s veins viscerally, an intense feeling settling within him, bringing back memories of his own mother. the booming voices of his father and items being tossed, knocked down, or torn. without another word, he’s rushing into your home intending to set things straight. you panic, following his lead, unaware of what he is capable of when angry. you’ve never seen him on that level before. you knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t put his hands on your parent, and he was respectful to show proper communication. 

“eren!” your voice croaks, tailgating him as he approaches your father’s office where the commotion ensues. 

“he’s corrupting our child! why can’t you see that?!” 

eren stands tall, pulling you behind him protectively as he meets pastor kain’s accusing glare with unwavering determination. 

“who told you to step foot into my home, boy?” pastor kain grits, your mother standing idly beside him, pain wretched over her face. your lips begin to tremble, hating seeing her that way. you never wanted this to be the outcome. you just wanted to love this man. why should you be punished for that? 

“corrupting her?” eren chooses to ignore his statement and cut to the main issue. “sir, with all due respect, it’s not your decision to say who she can ‘n cannot be with. i have no intent to hurt her, which is exactly what you’re doing right now. we've made choices based on what's best for us, for our future. ‘n while those choices may differ from what you had planned, they are ours to make.”  

“and who gave you permission to include yourself into my daughter's plans?” the man snarled, eyeing you as you sob behind eren aggressively. your cries paining eren’s heart. you were too broken to stand up for yourself right now. feeling like you’ve been doing that for your entire existence. it felt safe to have eren handle things for you. 

“she did, because she’s an adult and i will marry her whether you give us your blessing or not,” his voice rises, tinged with a hint of defiance. the word marriage drives your father into madness. “i will never apologize for loving your daughter, for wanting to build a life with her. if that makes me a bad decision in your eyes, then so be it. but i refuse to let you dictate the course of our happiness.” 

his gaze shifted towards you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and disappointment. the tension hung heavy in the air, the weight of their disagreement pressing down upon them. yet amidst the conflict, there was an undercurrent of love and concern, a testament to the complex bond that existed between father and daughter. your father holds a hand to his heart as if it’s torn, strolling around his brown desk to take a seat. 

“you’re going to let him speak for you, ꒰♡꒱. speak to me like this? there’s no respect for me anymore?” 

your sniffles are loud, removing your face from the middle of eren’s broad back to stand your ground, elevating your head and clutching his hand tighter. “i truly don’t know what else i can say to you, daddy. i’m not fond of the life you have planned for me. i will always be your daughter, but i can’t and will not be this little girl you want to have control over. i am an adult, therefore you have to treat me as such. i no longer want to attend college because of my own decision. it was always your dream, not mine. eren had nothing to do with these transitions. i am allowed to love whomever i please.” 

the room falls silent as your parents stare at you, your mother placing her hands over her chest with loving despair. she herself has made multiple attempts to try and change her husband's point of view, but nothing surpasses. eren glances at you, eyes shining with adoration and protectiveness. 

“it’s not that i won’t let you live your life. it’s that i don’t approve of who you’re trying to give your life to. what can he do for you?” 

eren feels a sense of inferiority. “i may not come from wealth, but i am not a man of indolence. your daughter is a remarkable woman who deserves everything she wishes for. she knows her own mind ‘n heart, ‘n she's chosen me. ‘n i love her for that. i’m not belittling your concerns, but i can not, in good conscience, abandon the woman i love’ needs. we may not fit the mold you've envisioned, but i love her and will continue to whether you disapprove or not. i will provide for her, take care of her. she never has to lift a finger while with me.” 

pastor kain’s face contorted in anguish, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world bore down upon him. he looked at you, then at eren, his eyes searching for some glimmer of understanding, some shred of compromise.

“oh lord, have mercy on us all,” with a heavy sigh, he turned away, his voice barely audible as he spoke. “you’ve made your choice clear, ꒰♡꒱. you’re choosing to leave the only home you've ever known, turnin' your back on the only family you've ever had. and for what? a fleeting romance with a man who can't even provide you with a stable future? someone rowdy with a poor excuse of a father? a flirt who can’t handle his greed for women? you want me to be happy for you? for this? he ain’t good for you, baby girl. and i will stand by that for as long as i breathe.” 

that’s when all of you equally realized that no matter what was said, his opinion will remain one sided. admitting defeat as a whole. anything that was said completely flew over his head, and only his view mattered. it’s narcissistic, and bizarre. eren was baffled, in fact. 

the waves of pain crash down on you, wishing he would just understand you, and be happy for you. to approve and give his blessings. to tell you that the man you’re in love with is good for you. eren holds you as your body grows weak, almost falling over. it’s clear the effect this had on you, and he fucking hated it. 

“i just want you to . . you don’t even k-know him.” 

he shook his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i fear for your soul, my dear.” 

i fear for your soul. that haunted your dreams like nothing else ever had. it was by far the vilest thing you’d ever heard your father say to you. it made you cry for days on end. breaking your heart over and over again. weakening since the moment you’d packed your suitcase and said goodbye to your mother. you no longer saw your father as family. giving her a heartfelt embrace and kissing your home goodbye. four months later, your mother passed away. regret ached at you for not seeing her as much after you left with eren. you’d seen her only a few times after the horrible fight, spending the day with her as she gave eren an extreme apology as well as her approval. she prayed you’d forgive your father, to give him grace. 

the last time you saw your father was at your mother’s funeral. and the look on his face remained the same towards eren; disgust. you still loved your father a great deal, but the respect no longer resides. you’d comfort him, check on him occasionally, but keep your distance to protect your peace. after your mother received a beautiful burial, you continued your future with eren. marrying in secrecy two months later. in the aftermath of loss, the two of you found solace in each other. amidst the grief and chaos, your love became a beacon of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest times, there could still be beauty. so, in a quiet ceremony surrounded by close friends, you vowed to spend the rest of your lives together. 

as you exchanged rings and sealed your union with a kiss, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. for a moment, nothing else mattered except the love you shared, the future you would build together. a good thing that came out of this was eren’s father getting clean and giving him a letter from his mother he’d kept hidden on his own accord. a title for land she’d purchased just for him to do what he pleased. eren’s father held down the farm while eren decided to build your dream home on the new land. and he stood by his word. 

it was hard for eren to forgive his father, but he appreciated that he wanted to be better. it’d never bring his mother back, nor heal the bruises on his heart, but it was something. once he built this home for the two of you, he’d never have to see him again. it seemed like both of you were running away from your father’s. it was scary how somewhat similar your situations were. you became acquainted with his father out of respect, helping with the farm to pass time as eren focused on building the house with his friends. it helped you clear your mind surprisingly, always adoring animals and gardening. it’s something you wanted to do once the house was ready as a hobby. 

some days were really hard, grieving not only the death of your mother but the separation from your father. you felt bad for the many nights you cried in eren’s arms about it. luckily he didn’t invalidate your feelings. he constantly reassured you that everything you felt was natural, and he had no problem comforting you on your lowest days. and that if anyone understood the pain of losing a mother, it’d be him. he truly was your angel. who would’ve thought a man you’d met at a market one random day would be the one you’d spend the rest of your life with. 

eren spent an entire year and a half building a charming little cottage nestled in a scenic countryside setting out of town, about an hour. it’s a cozy, quaint structure with a warm, homey feeling. the exterior is made of white wood, front adorned by a wrap-around porch, blue shutters, and a few flowers in pots. the windows are large and welcoming, bringing in natural light and a lovely view of the surrounding landscape. he’d built your dream kitchen, tall windows overlooking the garden. a bathroom with a clawfoot tub and double sinks. and a library so you could read and write. he did it all. 

you stood beside him, hand resting on the small of his back as you surveyed your new home. 

"this is perfect," you whispered, voice filled with emotion as tears well in your eyes. “it’s everything i’ve ever wanted, eren. thank you.” 

eren turned to you, his eyes shining with love and pride. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. the scent of your perfume mingled with the earthy aroma of nature filling his senses with comfort.

“i meant what i said, i'd do anything to make you happy,” he murmured, breath tickling your skin. he tilts your chin up, gaze locking with yours as he brushes a stray curl behind your ear, the tears falling down your brown cheeks. “you’re the most important thing in my life, and now we get to share this space, these memories, everything. together."

‎‎               𐦍

a storm is raging outside on the day of your anniversary, and it only raises your anxiety for your husband currently working in this weather. you’d set up the dining area to surprise eren, spending hours in the kitchen to perfect the tastiest meal. you’d always be sure to welcome him home with a good meal after hard labor. talks of the storm have been on a loop, playing on the living room tv repeatedly. one of your worst fears was a natural disaster. for it to possibly happen today of all days felt like a big joke. 

you’ve been trying to keep your mind off it, praying for eren’s safety while anxiously nibbling at your cross necklace. you’ve tried to contact him a few times, but gotten no response. assuming he was busy, you left it alone, knowing he’d get back to you as soon as he was available. service was probably terrible out there. within the next moment, as you set the oven to three sixty-five and placed the round cake pan in, the sound of the front door swinging open alerts you. you hear that familiar sound of house keys jangling, and your heart nearly combusts at the realization that your husband made it home. 

the oven mitts come off, and immediately you’re bolting towards the living room; a sweet scent of roses wafting up from the extreme wind blowing into the house and the bouquet in his hand. “where you at, baby? i’m home!” 

his voice calling out to you makes you giggle, echoing through the warm house. a few seconds later, you emerged from the archway, a smile beaming on your pretty face as you ran into his arms, eren chuckling as he caught you and your legs wrapped around his waist. kissing at his face in relief.

“baby, i was so, so nervous. the storms gettin’ worse by the day. i thought you were stuck somewhere. you weren’t answering your phone ‘n i got so scareddd,” you bury your face in the crook of his tatted neck, nearly sobbing as you clutch him tight. 

it’s true, the weather was horrible. trees knocking down, power going out, roads blocked. it happened out of the blue. they’re saying a hurricane is a high possibility. why you’re finding out last minute? who fucking knows. unfortunately, he was on the clock today working at the plant, his highlighted yellow vest adorned on his shoulders as he stepped himself out of his dirty timberlands. luckily they were collectively told to head home early for safety reasons. 

“oh, darlin’, i’m alright. my body’s intact,” he kisses your cheek. “i told you to stop watchin’ the news. it makes you more sensitive.” 

he sets you down slowly, your bare feet hitting the ground while you pout up at him. your curls were tousled as if you'd just rolled out of bed, but you looked beautiful, breath catching in his throat actually. especially dressed up in this dark red two-piece set. cute ruffled shorts and a skimpy bra accentuating your every curve in a way that left little to the imagination. the swell of your ass, hips, and thickness of your thighs that touch swallows the material salaciously. your skin is smooth, always. scented with dewberries and magnolia. 

“fuck, baby,” he breathed, voice low and husky as his hand slips down to grip your ass, spanking you hard as you squeak. “i like this on you. you look pretty.” 

“thank you, baby,” your eyes sparkle with affection. “i wanted today to be special. i made dinner and all. but the storm had me shittin’ myself.” 

“that’s why i gotcha these before the flower shop closed. well, i ordered ‘em ahead of time ‘n miss valerie let me pick ‘em up,” eren hands you the assortment of flowers in his hand, blooming red roses and cream calla lilies swarmed in black wrapping paper. you take them, adoringly jutting out your lower lip more. “happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

“you’re such a sweetie, rennie,” you lay your chin on his chest, leaning into him while looking up at him with puppy eyes. “thank you.” 

“mhm hmm,” eren loses focus already, clutching the side of your face before leveling his neck lower to capture your lips in a searing kiss, bottom lip dropping to enclose your mouth with his. 

the kiss is slow and filled with passion, eyes shutting in sync as you moan from his taste. he smelt like he’d done hard labor and the musk of his cologne he’d spritzed at six in the morning, but you loved it. every time. your fantasies just get more disgusting as you age. the heavy toolbelt that’s sliding down his hips, the white crewneck, slightly stained with patches of oil almost eating up his muscles, showcasing his tatted right arm and neck. wedding band around his finger as he holds your face to aggressively kiss your smaller frame. he’s forever hot. 

the savory aroma of dinner wafted up from the oven, momentarily breaking the spell. with a groan, he reluctantly pulled back, eyes never leaving yours. "i smell food.” 

"well, since you've gone through all that trouble, i showed my appreciation properly." 

as you drag him towards the dining room, his gaze falls upon the beautifully set table, the flickering candlelight casting a romantic glow across the darkly lit room. confetti littered the surface, a whimsical touch that added to the celebratory atmosphere. a chilled bottle of wine sat in a silver bucket. he watched you slip on your oven mitts to retrieve the food you were keeping warm. eren surveys the spread, the tantalizing aroma of perfectly steamed lobster claws glistened with butter, while the filet mignon looked pink and juicy. his stomach growls with anticipation, only eating the lunch you packed for him earlier in the day containing birria ramen and pork dumplings. 

“damn, you always do so well. good job, baby,” he marveled, heart swelling with admiration for your thoughtfulness. his praises making your face heat up. he does it so much you’re not sure if he realizes how it makes you feel. "everything looks so good. let me jus’ shower real quick ‘n we can dig in, yeah?” 

“noo,” you protest. eren arches a brow. with a flourish, you poured two glasses, the rich red liquid swirling seductively in the crystal bowls. “love you like this.” 

eren cracks a smirk, sucking his teeth in amusement. “you’re so dirty, girl.” 

"you like it,” you raise your glass in a silent salute. “come eat. i need you thick.” 

“shut it.” 

you scream as he hits your ass playfully, sneaking behind you to kiss your cheek while you snort, eren pulling out your chair like a gentleman so you can sit, soon taking his adjacent to you. for the next hour the two of you enjoyed each other's company, laughing in faces, getting tipsy, love bites and sensual touching . . the usual. eren thanked you repeatedly for how good the food was, soothing old-school rnb playing soundly low in the background while he washed the dishes as you spread chocolate icing on the cake you baked. it was a moment of simple domesticity, a glimpse into the everyday life you’d built together. once the last plate was put away, your husband dried his hands and turned to face you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he watched you sip your wine while you spread the icing spatula over the cake, humming to the tune. 

slowly, he approaches you, coming behind you and planting kisses along your neck, your hand dropping the spatula while your eyes falter shut. his kisses are filthy, his hands groping you to push your ass back onto the outline of his dick now hard in his jeans for a while. he slowly trails a hand up your throat to clutch, pushing you against the counter nearly bending you over fully. 

you moan, rubbing your ass back on him as his hands roam over your body, a wine glass in your hand as you close your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder. you reached beside yourself, fingers trailing lightly down his forearm where his hand slips in between your thighs, groaning on your skin as he rocks his erection against the shape of your ass. a delicate gasp falls from you, setting your wine glass down and hooking your arm behind yourself to hold his head in place. 

“c’mere,” eren licks his lips, your skin prickling with heat as he guides you closer to him by your abdomen, spreading your thighs further apart to slot his fingers into your ruffled bloomers. 

his teeth nip at your earlobe while he grunts and rolls the pads of his rough fingers against your clit, a cute sound emitting from your mouth. your jaw is agape, eren hissing when you tug at his hair the minute he’s sliding his middle fingers into your pussy, stretching you open as his thumb strums your clit, tugging your bloomers down to your knees with the hook of his thumb. instantly, you’re falling apart. moans breaking out in short whimpers and high gasps, grinding into his palm. eren arches over you, free hand palming the countertop which your hand rests over to grab for leverage, wedding bands touching, his breath heavy on your flushed skin.  

"there we go, take it baby,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with desire and encouragement. he leans in to capture your lips in a slow, sensual kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to mingle with yours. 

“babyy,” you’re whimpering, his fingers long and entirely deep inside of you. the loud squelch of your pussy fueling him. 

eren’s fingers scissor and curl to hit that perfect spot inside you, your moans growing louder, hips rocking to match his rhythm. the dual stimulation of his fingers fucking you while he thumbs at your clit has your body trembling with anticipation, the wine in both of your systems heightening every feeling. the desperate clench around his fingers only increases his efforts, pumping his fingers faster and applying more pressure to your sensitive bud.

the sudden insistent knocking at the door shattered the intimate mood. you froze, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes shot open to glance at him, a mix of annoyance and concern etched on his features as you watch his jaw clench. he wants to ignore it, but the worry on your face tells him not to. he’s groaning. 

“the hell could that be?" he muttered under his breath, your mind racing with possibilities. it wasn't uncommon for neighbors to stop by, but during a severe storm? you’d think everyone would be hauled up at home. 

groaning yourself, you fix yourself up, scrunching your face from the uncomfortable feeling of wetness sticking between your thighs. wanting to stomp in irritation, you go to grab a soapy towelette as eren’s too busy licking you clean off his fingers while shaking your head and wiping his hand. 

“do you think it could be the county police? maybe they’re checking to see if everyone’s safe,” you say, going to search for one of eren’s oversized hoodies to toss over your head and cover your body appropriately. 

“could be. i heard a few people’s had their power knocked out. i’m hoping we won’t have to evacuate.” 

eren takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever interruption awaited. with a reluctant sigh, he strode towards the front door once you were ready. as he unlocked it, he made sure to securely have a tight grip on it since the wind was ridiculous out. the last thing the two of you expected was to see a familiar face awaiting, going into shock as you see your father standing on the other side, his gaze sweeping over eren before settling onto you. 

“pastor,” eren greeted him curtly, trying to keep his tone neutral despite the annoyance simmering beneath the surface. he steps aside, letting the man inside so he wouldn’t get knocked over by the raging winds. “come in if you must.” 

eren shuts the door, standing tall next to you. he’s confused why he’s here, hoping his visit wasn’t a thinly veiled attempt to criticize his relationship with you once again. then again, it’s been three years since he’s personally seen him. of course you kept him in your life, just extremely briefly. you stand beside eren, feeling his tension and bracing yourself for an uncomfortable confrontation. pastor kain’s presence fills the room with an awkward heaviness, and you can almost sense the disapproval radiating off him in palpable waves.

“daddy, what are you doing here?" you ask softly, worry and curiosity inked in your voice. 

as pastor kain stepped further into the house, his eyes roamed the space, taking in the evidence of you and your husband’s shared life together. the cozy living room, adorned with photos of you two, hinted at the love and connection you’d built. the faint scent of the dinner you had not long ago, a reminder of the domestic bliss you’d created.

“i was in the neighborhood and wanted to see my daughter. the storm’s really bad, and i got worried. hopefully i'm not interrupting anything.” 

your eyes soften, smiling faintly. "thank you for doing that. i’m glad you stopped by. but you should be home. why were you out in this weather?” 

“had to drop cherry off at the vet, she ain’t doing too good,” your father frowned, the mention of the dog he’d gotten a while after your mother passed makes you sympathize. 

“oh, i’m sorry to hear that. she gon’ be okay?” 

“can’t say for sure. she been havin’ a lot of stomach problems, uh . .” he quickly clears his throat as if to cover up his pain. you weakly smile, rubbing his arm. 

“hey, no need to explain. i’m prayin’ she’ll be okay. it’s nice to see you, um . . eren and i were just celebrating our anniversary. would you like to join us for dessert?” you gesture towards the kitchen where a decadent chocolate on chocolate cake sits on the counter. 

eren watched pastor kain’s expression closely, gauging his reaction to the invitation. when he hesitated, eren couldn't help but feel a flicker of irritation. 

“sure, why not?" pastor kain replied gruffly, his gaze lingering on the cake before meeting eren’s eyes. "but just a slice, i shouldn't impose."

eren bit back a retort, choosing instead to lead the way to the kitchen. he motions for the two of you to take a seat at the dining table while he cuts a generous portion for each of you. it's silent until he comes back.

“here you go, sir,” eren says, handing him a plate with a warm smile. 

“ ‘preciate you.” 

eren nods formally, leaning against the counter, observing the interaction between you and your father with a mix of curiosity and caution. 

“how’ve you been? i know last time i saw you, you were attending therapy. is that going well?” you ask. 

“it’s been . . difficult," pastor kain admitted, his voice cracking slightly as he set his fork down. he rubbed the back of his neck, a sign of discomfort or perhaps guilt. "losing your mother was a blow, and then dealing with your decision to . . leave home. .” 

he trailed off, gaze drifting to you before returning to meet eren’s eyes. there was a depth of sorrow in his eyes that he hadn't seen before, and for a moment, eren almost felt sorry for the man. the topic of your mother is still hard for you, eren coming over to sit beside you to entwine his fingers with yours to give you comfort. 

“i miss her every day," pastor kain continued, his voice barely above a whisper. your heart aches to hear your father's admission, and you reach out instinctively to lay a comforting hand on his. despite your differences, you know the pain of losing your mother is something you share deeply.

"i miss her too, daddy," you say softly, voice thick with emotion. "every single day. but, she would want us all to be happy, and live life to the fullest. she told me so after . . everything.” 

the thought of the altercation makes you all shift uncomfortably, hating that night. “we both care about you very much. i know things haven't always been easy between us, but . . i hope we can find a way to mend those bridges."

“that’s another thing i’ve been discussing with my therapist,” he sighs. “we talk about that night often, and somehow it still stirs something . . awful in me. though time has passed, i still don't approve of you disappearing with this man while giving me the short end of the stick with only minimal check-ins."

that makes eren flinch, feeling a sting of defensiveness rise within him. clenching his jaw, he stares intently at your father. just waiting for him to really try it. at this point in time, he gave no fucks about respect. eren knows you can stand up for yourself, but he won’t hesitate to set him straight. 

"leaving wasn't easy for me, you know that, as i’ve said before. i loved mom so much, and i didn't want to abandon you. but i also needed to follow my heart and build a life with someone who accepts me for who i am. you’re still upset about us eloping, alright. but that doesn't mean our love is any less real. i mean, of all days, you really chose to do this today?” 

“i’m not saying your love isn’t real,” pastor kain said, his tone softening slightly as he realized he was already upsetting you. it’s something he’s trying to work on. he sighed heavily, running a hand through his gray hair. “i just miss my little girl. the one who used to sit on my lap during sermons, who helped me prepare for sunday mornings. you grew up too fast, baby girl. left me behind. for this man i barely know.” 

your heart clenches at the raw emotion in your father's voice, and you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, getting irritated by your sensitivity. his words still sting, a painful reminder of the distance that has grown between you over the years. eren doesn’t appreciate the way he’s making you feel, easily getting triggered. 

“forgive me for intruding, but i don’t appreciate the disrespect you have towards me or my wife.” eren budges in, his intervention catching you off guard. you face him with wide eyes, silently urging him to tread carefully. while you appreciate his protectiveness, you don't want him to further alienate your father.

"it’s okay, eren," you murmur, placing a calming hand on his chest. he looks at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“no, it’s not okay, ꒰♡꒱,” eren stops you. “i've grown tired of being disrespected 'n judged based on your father's misconceptions of me. you don’t know me because you haven’t tried to get to.” 

a challenge simmers in the dark depths of his eyes as he stares at your father.  “if you truly care about your daughter's happiness, then you should be supporting her choices, not tryin’ to tear them down with your outdated beliefs.”

“with all do respect, eren, she’s still my daughter.”

“actually, no,” eren jumps back in, his jaw clenching, a hint of steel underlying his words. “this is my wife, and this is our house. if you choose not to respect it then you can kindly see yourself outta that door. i don’t understand your mindset when it comes to knockin’ down your daughter's happiness, nor do i understand holdin’ me accountable for shit i did as a stupid kid.”

“that doesn't change the fact that you stole my daughter from me and married her outside of her faith. it goes against everything I've taught her. and you aren't even a christian, it’s not according to god’s plan."

“where is this even coming from?” you scrunch up your face in disgust, eyes piercing at him. “why are you still being like this after all these years?” 

“i’m not tryin’ to cause an argument. i talked to god and realized i should come forward with issues that are bothering me, and find solace. and that’s what i’m doin’.” 

“by still hurting me?” 

“i’ll say it again,” eren cuts back in. “she’s my wife. put aside your religious beliefs and respect that as a man,” eren scoffs. “we may not have married under oath, but it happened. so deal with it.” 

“i would respect you a lot more if you gave my daughter the proper marriage with her family. especially after her mother died. maybe i’d forgive all your other sins. this goes against her family’s unity,” pastor kain snarls. 

“dad, enough,” your eyes squeeze tight. he’s ruining your day. “this is getting out of hand now. .” 

eren pinches the bridge of his nose, ready to swing at this point. "pastor kain, i understand that my past mistakes have given you a reason to doubt me. but i'm not that same reckless kid anymore, clearly. i've worked hard to build this home for us ‘n keep it. everything i’ve done from the moment i met her to now, has been for her. so here’s what’s gon’ happen. you either start respecting your daughter’s choices and accepting me as part of this family, or you can kindly remove yourself from her life. because i won’t tolerate disrespect towards her, especially not in my home.”

as eren speaks, you instinctively reach out and intertwine your fingers with his, feeling the warmth and solidity of his touch. pastor kain’s expression remains stoic, but you sense a crack in the armor of his rigid beliefs. perhaps, just perhaps, eren’s sincerity and your own steadfastness are beginning to chip away at the walls of resistance. 

“and if you can’t accept me, then maybe it’s time for you to reexamine your own faith and values. because the way you’re treating your daughter, i wouldn’t say it’s christian of you at all. so i implore you, for her sake, let go of your preconceived notions.” 

the air goes quiet for a while, eren staring at your father blankly while you gather your thoughts and caress his hand. it doesn’t take long for your father to push back his chair, the wood slightly scraping the floor as he rises up. 

“i apologize, to both of you. truly,” he swallows, bowing his head. “i’ve made plenty of mistakes i’m not proud of. the biggest one running my daughter away from home. i am trying to do better, i am. my old habits seep out unexpectedly. i think deep down my blessings were always with you two, i just have selfish tendencies. i am deeply sorry, eren.” 

eren isn’t sure if this is a facade, or if the man is being genuine. his lips are pressed into a straight line, nodding once but having no more words. he’d accept it, but the matter of if he was willing to change and show proof remained. 

“right,” he smiles weakly. “and i'm sorry to you, ꒰♡꒱. i’ve never meant to hurt you, granted i have many times. i will continue to repent for my sins. and i hope one day you can forgive me. i will let you two enjoy the rest of your day, i'm sorry to intrude.” 

pastor kain gives one more smile to you both before turning his back away and heading towards the front door. you’re frozen in your spot, your heart telling you to bring him back because it wasn’t safe. 

“we can’t let him go,” you turn to eren, anxiousness written all over your face. “eren, it’s really dangerous out there. what if something happens to him?” 

eren sighs, leaning in to kiss your forehead before standing to follow behind him. his hand is on the nozzle of the door before eren’s speaking up, clearing his throat to rid the still pent up animosity. 

“you can stay the night. i won’t let you travel in that storm.” 

pastor kain breathed in. “no, no. it’s completely fine. i’ve already overstayed my wel—”

“i insist,” eren finalizes, blinking slowly. “꒰♡꒱ will lose her shit if you drivin’ in that. you know she’s terrified of storms.” 

a few minutes pass and your father sits on the living room couch with eren making conversation, surprisingly. you can tell your father is trying to get to know him, and being respectful. you zone out for the most part, this day feeling long and getting to you. you decide to fix him a plate of leftover food you had and making everyone hot chocolate to ease the stress. it’s getting extremely late now, almost near midnight and your father grows tired. 

“we can take the sofa. you head upstairs and get comfortable,” you smile at your father, eren glaring down at you as you hook your arm with his.

eren’s jaw tightens slightly at the suggestion, but he quickly masks his irritation with a polite smile. he knows it's the right thing to offer your father the bed, despite his own desires to share a more intimate space with you. the house was built specifically for both of your comfortability since the two of you had long decided kids weren’t for you, being satisfied without. 

"that’s very kind of you, darlin’," eren says, his voice smooth and measured. “i think your father will appreciate that, huh?” 

“mhm hmm,” you nod sheepishly. “there are clean towels and washcloths in the closet by the bathroom. we’ll be down here if you need anything.” 

“think i’ll manage, baby girl. thank you.” 

your father gives you a sweet hug and a delicate forehead kiss before smiling at eren and giving him a handshake. “thank you.” 

“no problem.” 

eren sighs deeply once he’s fully upstairs, grumbling, ‘gotta take a piss’ before he’s heading to the second bathroom around the hall. you gather extra blankets from the coat closet, cutting off the lights while snuggling into the pillow soft couch watching adult cartoons. it’s been a hell of a day, and you wanted nothing more than to ignore the horrible weather outside and sleep next to your man. the white noise of the staticky television nearly has you drifting off to sleep, that is until thirty minutes later you’re woken up by eren sliding next to you.  

as the two of you settle in for the night, eren pulls you close on the cloud white couch, his strong arms enveloping you in a comforting embrace. despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, he whispers softly into your ear, “you alright, sweetheart?” 

you can smell the body wash on his skin, his hair pulled back into a bun as he kisses your cheek and hums, bear hugging you. sighing deeply, you nuzzle your face into his neck, trying to block out the raging rain outside that’s stressing you out on top of current events. “i’m okay. today was really a lot. i’m sorry about that.” 

eren furrows his brows. “now you know you shouldn’t be apologizing for him. he can’t control himself, n’ that’s not your priority. i meant what i said by protecting you from any n’ everybody that brings you negativity. i’m not with that. he needs to respect you, especially in this house.” 

“as well as you,” you bat your lashes up at him, rubbing his chin. “i hate that he talked to you like that. after all this time, i thought he’d change. i knew deep down he still felt some way since he never brings you up when i visit. doesn’t ask me about us . . nothing. i guess it’s a start that he apologized? and made conversation? but to come here saying you w’na check on me, then proceed to disrespect us?” 

eren sighs. “unfortunately, you can’t ever fully change a person. i’ll take the apology, but it’s g’na take a lot more than that for me to even consider him a father in law.” 

you stare longingly at his face. “i am grateful that you stood your ground and protected us. that’s very attractive.” 

eren grins. “you’re my wife, ꒰♡꒱. forever. ima always make sure you come first.” 

graciously, you smile, leaning in to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. “thank you, baby. truly. you’ve been the most beautiful, kindest, loving person in my life. i love that you protect me, take care of me, provide and support me. i love you dearly.” 

“of course, baby. i love you too,” he replies, smudging his nose against yours. “my sweetheart. you mean everything to me. you saved me.” 

“stop,” you frown. “you’re gonna make me cry. yuck.” 

eren nudges his knuckles against your chin with a click of his tongue. “cut that. you’re a strong girl.” 

you hum, turning your head to look outside the window that faces the garden out back, the rain pouring heavier; clouds completely gray in the midnight. it was terrifying, especially hearing the wind beat against the shutters. you squeeze eren closer to you, your nerves getting to you more, goosebumps on your arms. 

“what a helluva anniversary, huh?” eren speaks to distract you, leveling his face over yours to block your view of the outside. you smile at him, knowing he was aware of your fear. 

you tsk, rolling your eyes. “man, from this scary ass weather, to my father’s bullshit . . i’m over it.” 

“hm, over it? already?”

you pucker your lips questionably. “yeah?” 

“it’s not over,” his voice barely becomes a whisper as he leans into you more, lips pressing against yours deeply. 

“eren, i really want to, but we can’t. my dad's upstairs,” you giggle, pushing your face away only for him to grab you and pull you closer to his chest, throwing your left leg over his waist. 

“i don’t care. fuck me.” 

you gasp with a laugh, eyes bulging when you feel his dick hard and heavy on your thigh. “mister yeager, are you naked?” 

“had no choice. my drawls upstairs and i ain’t puttin’ the dirty ones back on.” 

“only ‘cause you wanna touch my coochie,” you laugh, gasping when his fingers begin tugging at your shorts, ass almost slipping out while the rest of his fingers delicately brush along your clothed clit. “w-wait. what if he hears. that’s g’na be so embarrassing.” 

“ain’t he a heavy sleeper?” 

“well, yeah, but—”

“guess you’ll have to train yourself to keep quiet,” he smooches your cheek, smacking your ass hard to tease you, and you lose immediately, moaning loud. he chuckles, your thighs parting to welcome him, mouth agape from the warmth his palms bring, igniting your skin. the blood rushes through you as heat encases your face the instant his hand wraps around your throat, bringing your face closer. 

"didn’t get to finish touchin’ you earlier,” eren breathes heavily, his nose pressing against your neck as his lips glide to your collarbone. “it pissed me off."

“m-me too,” you whine when his thick tongue aggressively licks at your collarbone, a kiss following suit and continuing all over your neck.

"your pussy felt so good on my fingers," eren's hands massage over your thighs, purposely avoiding where you need him most. fingers swallowing the thickness of your thighs and the plush of your ass, smacking to get another reaction out of you. 

"you're teasing," you whimper, rolling your head back while your eyes scroll. “fuck, you know how wet that makes me”. 

" ‘fuckin ‘course i do,” his breath hitches again, moving his face to the other side of your neck, your hand gripping his bicep while grinding your hips to inch closer to his fingers. he tastes your skin again, and it’s lewd, and loud. knowing how sensitive you were there, any intimate sound setting you off.

"stop. teasing." 

eren’s pulling the blankets back, dragging you to stand up and firmly pressing your backside to his chest, just like the position he had you in earlier. staring down at you, he admires the deep red of the set you wore for him. it complements your brown skin perfectly, drawing attention to the fullness of your breasts and the swell of your hips. your thick, curly hair tumbling down your back in soft waves, framing your heart-shaped face and accentuating your plump, inviting lips. he pulls the bloomers completely off, your painted toes stepping out of them, twitching from any touch he gives you. 

“you’re so perfect,” eren whispers, guiding your head back to lie on his chest so you can look up at him, his mouth enclosing around yours to kiss you upside down. his chin holding you still. “you turn me on so bad.”

you bite your lip, looking up at him with hooded eyes as he holds you in place, a strong arm wrapped around you to keep you pinned to his firm chest. the heat of his skin seeps into yours, igniting a fresh spark of desire within you. you can feel his dick pressed against your lower back, evidence of how much he wants you. you shift slightly, grinding yourself subtly back in a silent invitation. your nipples harden under the sheer fabric of the bralette when his hand comes to play with them, straining towards his touch. you part your lips, letting him deepen the kiss as his tongue dances with yours. the taste of you mingles together, a heady aphrodisiac that makes you crave more. you moan softly into his mouth, surrendering yourself completely to the moment and to him.

turning slightly to the side, you detach your lips to spit into your hand, kissing him again as you stroke his dick beside your thigh, his hands embedded into your hips. his dark brows knit, your hand twisting to his liking as he holds your entire face with both hands, groaning low while brushing his lips amongst your own. his teeth go to pull down the strap of your top, latching his mouth onto the skin of your soft tits, jaw widening to suck on the flesh with tenacity.

"can't get over how good this looks on you," eren hums, keeping the other strap on your shoulder for appearance. he spanks your ass again, and you stand up straighter, turning to face him.

“you really like it?” you ask shyly.

his gaze roams over your body with undisguised hunger. “baby, i fuckin’ love it."

it makes your face hotter, slowly twisting in your spot to try to keep your composure. you hated when you felt intimidated by him as if he was some sort of stranger. 

“don’t get shy on me now,” he noticed instantly, cupping your chin before kissing you. “show me that bad girl i know.” 

a coy smile twitches at your lips, eren urging you to hurry with a hand smoothing onto the top of your head as you lower to your knees. he grips your hair dominantly, forcing you to keep your eyes on his. the sight is undeniably godly. he looks almost worn out, shoulders hunched under the weight of a long day's labor, and the marital instinct inside of you wants to make him feel better. his dark hair is mussed, easily falling from the hair tie wrapped in the follicles. there's a rugged attractiveness to his features; the strong jawline, the piercing gaze, the hint of stubble along his chin, the desire in his eyes. scattered across eren’s right arm and neck is a plethora of dark ink, artistically gothic, straight out of a fantasy novel. none of his tattoos had deep meanings. he liked what he wanted and that was all, using his skin strictly as an artist’s canvas. the only one that meant a lot to him was your name tatted across his wrist. 

"tell me to open my mouth." 

eren grunts, your sudden lead stirring something within his abdomen. usually, he’s the one telling you what to do. "open your mouth. now." 

your lips part, obeying without hesitation. "stick your fingers in." 

eren lays two fingers on your soft tongue, slowly stroking until he’s reaching the back of your throat to build up more saliva. you moan in approval, eyes watering but still maintaining eye contact. eren’s brows are knitted, dick hanging from the weight of it. he’s bending forward, spitting on your tongue and prepping your mouth, groaning gravely. you pull your mouth back from his fingers, salvia dripping down your chin. 

“you always do that,” he chuckles, the roughness of it making you squeeze your thighs. 

“ ‘cause you’re nasty,” you smirk, rolling your eyes. eren playfully does the same. “take my head and put my mouth where you want it." 

“fuck, you’re so good at that,” eren comments, gripping your chin to give you a chaste kiss. “talkin’ so pretty.” 

he keeps a firm hold on your scalp, curls tangled within his rough hands as he steadily guides you toward his dick, eyeing you darkly, back slightly bent so he can catch the view of your nose touching his stomach. you make sure to keep your eyes attached to his, dying to watch him submerge into ecstasy. he enjoys the control he has over you. you gag around him, and when he whimpers from the sensation, you can't help but grind in your position, the neediness itching at you. trailing your dominant hand between your thighs, you use two of your fingers to spread your lower lips apart to collect your juices before sinking them into your soaked opening. 

"oh my god," he notices instantly, choking on a moan as your nails dug into his thigh, moaning around him. he's breathing heavily, your teary eyes the trigger. pressure builds inside him now. he evokes a low growl, and his pace picks up even more, and so do your fingers. shifting your hips quicker. “i’m so proud of you, mama. you doin’ me so fuckin’ good right now.” 

eren loses himself in the raw act of claiming your mouth, each brutal thrust forces a corresponding squelch from your stuffed lips, saliva and precum mingling in a lewd display of submission. you continue sucking, your moans vibrating around his shaft as you fuck yourself open for him, juices flowing freely down your thighs. eren's thrusts become more urgent, his grasp on your hair tightening.

“fuck, baby gimme your throat," he whispers, his hips driving forward aggressively. “take it real deep.” 

with a deep thrust, eren hits the back of your throat and holds it there, the pressure building at the base of his dick. your eyes water, tears streaming down your cheeks as you hold your breath, never breaking eye contact, silently urging him on. your eyes roll back, overwhelmed by the sheer size of eren's dick fucking your throat. you gag as he fucks your face steadily with his head tossed back, and through it all, you find yourself getting wetter at the depravity of it all. eren's neediness is arousing, his hips rocking into your mouth with so much lust. you can feel his balls slapping against your chin with each thrust, the sound echoing obscenely in the almost quiet room. the tv luckily drowned out most sounds. suddenly, eren's entire dick pulses and throbs within your throat, hot jets of cum erupting directly onto your tongue. you swallow, like he likes, gulping down every drop as he rides out his orgasm, finally stilling to catch his breath.

“fuck,” he wheezed, hips jerking as he carefully pulls his toned hips back to let you breathe, dick twitching and jumping, still hard and needing more. groaning when you kiss the tip and after, his happy trail. “that felt too good, sweetheart. c’mere.” 

eren’s gaze locks onto your face, drinking in the sight of your gratified expression as he picks you up, sitting you on the couch as he lowers his head between your thighs. your knees are hiked up to your chest, your thumb hanging on the corner of your mouth as you stare down at him in bliss. his brain rewires every time he sees her; puffy, warm, and soaking just for him. the anklet you have shimmers as you chew at your thumb and gyrate your hips, waiting for him to touch you with a pleading whine. 

he slides two fingers knuckle-deep into your dripping pussy, pumping them carefully as he lowers his face to suckle your clit into his mouth. your quiet moans and cries spur him on, your hand going atop his head to guide him as he eats you out. your hips buck against his face, your body trembling beneath him, back arched and toes curled as he devours you. he's relentless, tongue flattening across your clit as he moves his head to apply pressure, lips kissing and swallowing your clit while his fingers twist and fuck into you. you're panting now, fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer while your face screws up in pleasure, hating that you couldn’t scream the way you wanted. 

"mmm, look at that pussy, baby. look,” eren’s grabbing the back of your neck to connect your forehead with his, forcing your gaze to look at the way his fingers move inside of you, soft tummy molding. “fuckk, she’s so sweet. clenching too tight. give her t’me. make it easy.” 

sobbing, you nod your head against his, covering your mouth to muffle your moans as tears well. he curls his fingers just right, hitting that elusive spot far inside that makes your toes curl. grunting, he lowers his face back, burying it into your cunt feeling the scruff of his facial hair creating delicious friction against your sensitive skin. he’s opening and encasing his lips around your clit in iterations, sucking and licking hard, spanking your outer thigh while slicking his face up and down, your wetness lewdly known. 

“ooo, f-fuckk, ba—by, agh!” the pressure builds, coiling tighter in your belly until you can't hold back anymore. you cry out, fisting at his hair and the fabric of the couch as you roll your hips harder on his mouth.

“you’re making such a mess, girl,” he talks against your pussy, swallowing down every drop you give him. spanking you repetitively, the act and vibration causing your thighs to clamp around his ears as your orgasm crashes over you. pleasure rippling through your body, your juices flooding eren's mouth as he laps at you greedily, prolonging your bliss.

the shivers come from every part of you, your legs, your arms, and the breath on your lips. wanting to cry from how good it felt along with the frustration of not being able to scream. eren comes up to kiss you, muttering ‘go ‘head’ to let you scream into his mouth, grunting and moaning altogether from the intensity. your legs unable to stop shaking. he’s giving you open mouth kisses, your sounds stirring something sinister within his dick as you suck on his tongue, tasting yourself and groping at his waist to bring him closer to you. 

“atta girl,” he pecks your lips one more time before pulling you to stand again. 

eren turns you around, bending you forward as your thighs press tight together, holding your body up by your forearms pulled back. your upper body hangs, tits threatening to spill from your bralette. eren’s hair is long in his face now, positioning his hips so his dick can slide easily into you without the extra support. a low groan rumbles in his throat when his wish is granted, and you take him full. a ring of white shadowing around his dick with your cream, breathlessly whispering ‘yeah, fuck’ under his breath. feeling his dick makes you whine, shifting your ass back, greedy for more. this feeling never gets old. 

“fuck, yes. squeeze me just like that,” he rasps, pulling nearly all the way out before snapping his hips forward. you gasp from his roughness, tilting your pelvis to take him fully. the tightness making eren blow a raspberry before throwing his head back. “goddamn, mama.” 

“p-please,” you beg, moving your ass back as much as you could, not having much power over strength at the moment. “need it, baby. fuck me.” 

there was no need for that since he already had the intention of fucking you numb. shifting hips waist, he's rolling into you with ease, your ass clapping back onto his abdomen as he lets out a disgruntled noise that's loud enough to wake the entire house. you squeak, his thrusts rough and steady, fucking you good while keeping you still. heaving, your body falls back into his weakly, having no control over how he wants to use you. thighs adding pressure onto your clit as you mindlessly bounce back on his dick that's splitting you open.

"b-baby. . . too loud," a small panic drawls out, leveling your head to avoid blood rushing to it. eren scoffs, slowing himself momentarily to bring his face by yours.

“i don’t give a fuck, this my house,” he rasps, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the column of your jawline. “do you want me to make you cum or not?” 

he assumed you crying was the answer, responding with ��mhm’ as a ‘that’s what i thought’.  his dick twitches inside of you, eren doing his best to keep his composure, but you make it nearly impossible. he's pistoning in and out, watching you coat his dick sweetly, voice laced with lust as you spasm around him and cum unexpectedly. he groans while listening to your cries that ripple brokenly, pounding depravedly as pleasure courses through both your veins.

“it feel good cummin’ on my dick?” 

“yess, ‘ren. c-can’t stop cummin’, baby.” 

“gimme some more.” 

you bite your lip hard to stifle the scream threatening to spill, fingers curling into fists as you fight to maintain restraint. sweat beads on your brow from the exertion of keeping yourself still and silent under his relentless onslaught. the coil of tension in your core winds tighter and tighter, orgasm just out of reach. just when you think you can't hold back any longer, eren shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. now, the head of his dick is kissing that sweet spot within you with every mean, intended stroke. a strangled gasp escapes you unbidden as that warm feeling bursts once more, convulsing helplessly in his hold, muscles clenching wildly around his dick as you struggle to muffle your cries behind clenched teeth. your hand pushes at his waist as a signal for some form of relief, moving your body forward. 

“where you goin’,” eren’s yanking you back the moment you try to escape, locking your wrists in his one hand, the other gripping your waist to continue fucking you back onto him. 

“erenn,” your voice cracks, your vision blurring from the intensity. a hiccup falls, your head hanging low as he grounds his dick all up in you. you hear yourself squelch, his sharp hips interacting with the softness of your ass that recoils back. your hands struggle in his hold, crying at the deadlock. but it felt so, so damn good. “f-fuck you. oh my god, fuck you, baby.” 

eren tongues his inner cheek with a snarky chuckle. “that just makes me w’na fuck you harder.”  

the stamina he has gives you a headache sometimes, unknowing of when you end up flat on your stomach lying on the sectional part of the sofa. eren notches the head of his dick between your folds to gather more of your slick before sinking back in, sheathing himself entirely, balls flattening on the curve of your ass. the solid warmth of his body blanketing yours, wrapping his bicep around your neck while he grabs onto the armrest before you two, rolling his hips and dropping his dick into you. 

“no one’s ever g’na do the shit i do to you,” he sloppily french kisses behind your ear, voice growing weak, panting heavier.

“mhm mm,” you agree without words, breaking out to follow the rhythm of his hips.

“your so pretty. say it. tell me you're my pretty girl.” 

tears prick at the corners of your eyes, face flushed, and arousal coiling hot and heavy in your belly, responding greedily to his every action. 

"i’m your pretty girl,” you gasp weakly, voice barely audible. your nails dig into the cushion as you writhe helplessly, full with his heavy dick and held immobile by his superior strength. every ruthless drive of his hips forces the air from your lungs, making you feel floaty.

a choked sob escapes him as he sinks everything into you, your fingers clawing frantically at the upholstery. you try to bury your face in the cushions to muffle your noises as he splits you open, each powerful thrust getting a singular sound from you, but eren had other plans. his big hand covers your mouth, continuously french kissing your neck as he grunts by your ear and rambles the filthiest things. your body does what it’s trained to; react. you cry in his palm, pussy fluttering around him as you cum for what seems like the tenth time, squeezing his dick like a vise. trembling violently beneath him and it takes every ounce of self-control he possesses not to let loose the feral growl building in his throat, knowing it would alert your father of your illicit activities. instead, he grits his teeth and redoubles his efforts, fucking into you his hardest to pursue his own release.

“eren,” even in your lightheaded state you begin to worry. his skin clashing obscenely loud with yours makes it hard for you not to scream after every nasty pound. you can feel him in your stomach, eyes rolling back into your skull as your mouth drops open, gasping in fragments.

“shut that shit up, ꒰♡꒱.” 

whining pathetically, you let him use you as he pleases simply ‘cause there’s no room for bickering. all coherent thoughts flee, leaving only primal instinct and the desperate need for release. with a muffled grunt, he buries himself to the hilt and cums inside you, his grip on your hip tightening almost painfully as he thrusts out every hot drop, shuddering while grinding against your ass to prolong the sensations.

"holy fuck," his voice cracks, rumbling as he hits your ass again and again.

eren slumps heavily atop you, both of you panting and twitching in the aftermath. he rolls to the side, pulling you with him so you're draped across his chest rather than crushed beneath his weight. one large hand strokes lazily up and down your spine as the other tangles in your wild curls, holding you close as he tries to catch his breath.

"you did so well, love," he praises softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and rubbing on you soothingly.  "you're a good girl, i love you so much.”

his voice is warm and approving, filled with the kind of affection that makes your heart swell with happiness. in this moment, cocooned in his strong arms and basking in the afterglow, nothing else matters. this anniversary was just one of many. you were worn out, drifting off to sleep without responding, but he knew you felt the same. eren managed to clean you up in your sleep, dressing you with his hoodie again and snuggling under the warm blankets for the rest of the night.

the following morning, you awake to the smell of brewed coffee and pancakes. wiping your eyes and yawning as you make your way towards the brightly lit kitchen, needing to soak in the bath since you can barely walk. finding your father and eren cooking together while listening to the radio broadcasts. it was the most shocking sight seeing them bond. your father flipping buttery flapjacks and your husband fixing the garbage disposal since something got caught in it. your heart blossomed nonetheless, thinking that this is all you wanted all along. this was the best gift. 

© 𝑠𝑡4𝑟𝑏𝑤𝑟𝑟𝑦 . all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life.♡

[xinganhao]

🥈 svt vs. reader's bad boyfriend.

anon → "could you do a post with one of the members getting after yn's bf because he thinks he's not treating her well enough?"

⌗ ┆i have a terrible feeling i might've misunderstood this req,, so please forgive me if i did lol ꒰ ꒡⌓꒡꒱

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: reader has a bad boyfriend, hurt/comfort, [light] angst, crack, cussing, [short] headcanons under the cut.

🥈 headcanons .ᐟ

— "break up with him now" ✩ junhui, soonyoung, wonwoo, minghao, vernon.

ah, yes. the trope of someone who will immediately insist that breaking up is the solution, although, in this case, it's completely warranted. soonyoung and minghao are the most vocal about you ending your relationship, but in their own little ways. for his part, soonyoung's a little annoying about it— you'll barely have explained your current predicament and he's already whining, "just break things off with him!" minghao, meanwhile, actually listens, but his expressions and consequent advice are brutal. he's always been no-bullshit when it comes to life, and so when he hears about all the things your boyfriend is doing/has done? he's actively advocating for you to get up and go. junhui's the type to take it out on your boyfriend. he's constantly threatening bodily harm and various other minor crimes against the poor guy, even though he doesn't really ever act on it. he is extra cold when he's in the other man's presence, to the point that your boyfriend may be under the impression that junhui hates him. (spoiler alert! jun does!) wonwoo isn't always vocal about his distaste; he's a little more backhanded/passive-aggressive about it. he's more of an actions guy, through and through. picking up the slack here and there to show you that your boyfriend is a dick for not doing things that your friends can. vernon also struggles a bit to get the right words out, so he just... says it as it is. he may look like he's packaging his advice as a joke, but he's 100% sincere when he sends you breakup playlists and reddit threads about ending things with your significant other. that's just his way of communicating it, really.

— "but are you okay?" ✩ seungcheol, joshua, mingyu, jihoon, seokmin, seungkwan.

for the most part, all the boys are the 'just-end-your-relationship-please' type, but there's also some who rely more on expression of concern. take mingyu, for example, whose chief endeavor will be to cheer you up. he'll leave sweet nothings and encouraging notes in hopes of lifting your mood; his eyes, constantly peeled to see how you're faring. you can rant in to the wee hours of the morning, and both seungkwan and joshua will listen. they'll let you tell the same old stories again and again; even if they half-joke that you just never listen to them, they're still there as a shoulder to cry on. seungkwan is more likely to give advice, while joshua's strength lies in non-judgmental indulgence. seokmin will make it his life's mission to distract you from the issue at hand. a movie night? a trip to an obscure café? if it will improve your mood in any way, shape, or form, he's already halfway there. he won't even mention your boyfriend, if you don't bring him up. seungcheol is similar to mingyu in the sense that he best expresses his concern through little encouraging gifts. he's not the type to push the envelope, to try and get you to talk when/if you're not ready, so he just communicates to you that he's there, when/if you need him. jihoon's also a bit unsure how to navigate a relationship that's not his. he can pick up how you're feeling, at the very least, and so he instead focuses on that. he's a quiet, steadfast presence who will take you to the gym or encourage you to write songs, if only because he thinks those might be potential solutions.

— "play stupid games, win stupid prizes" ✩ jeonghan, chan.

svt's petty line, how i love you so. they can all admittedly be petty when they want to be, but these two? they take the cake. jeonghan is a big believer in "show him what he's missing." he'll snap hot photos of you on your behalf. he'll let you use him as a nice little ploy to incite some jealousy. is it a little toxic, a bit red flag-y? sure, but that asshole is putting you through much worse. jeonghan's a firm believer that revenge is a dish best served cold, and he's cold to the bone when it comes to making sure you get what you deserve. (and that your boyfriend, too, has what's coming for him.) chan is insistent that you should break up with your boyfriend, of course, but he's a big believer that you should go out with a bang. it's a bit amusing, to see one of the group's more lowkey members insist that your boyfriend should be on the receiving end of a public lashing. some might say he just likes the drama. truthfully, he just wants to make it abundantly clear to everyone that you're not someone to be messed with, and that you're not going to settle for anything less now that you've kicked the devil's incarnate to the curb.

[uraveragelonelysapphic]

Gentle Love

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Fem!Reader

Summary: She may be Lady Death, but to you, she is your sweet love.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: mentions of depression, panic attacks, just a lot of hurt/comfort

a/n: surprise! another fic! i know a lot of people have been wanting just rio fics, so here you go! a little hurt/comfort! the goal was to make a mental health fic where it isn't romanticized, so here's hoping i did that! enjoy!!!

Your relationship with Lady Death wasn’t one that had a spontaneous start. She didn’t save you from a painful demise, or help you realize life was worth living.

She had met you on her day off. (Yes, Lady Death gets days off. She’s not the only one working the underworld, you know.) She was wandering through a wooded area when she came across you. You were sitting under a willow tree, humming to yourself as you wove a crown of daisies.

Her heart had practically melted at the sight of you, and she found herself gravitating towards you. Before she knew it, she was introducing herself to you and you were inviting her to join you beneath the willow.

The two of you were pretty much inseparable after that. You spent countless days getting to know every part of each other; mind, body, and soul. Soon enough, you were deeply in love with Rio Vidal: Lady Death. And she could say the same about you.

You both had grown exponentially by being in each other’s presence. But a romantic relationship doesn’t mean the absence of all problems.

Rio struggled deeply with guilt. She hated that she had been bound to this calling, that she had been chosen to wear a face she found hideous and escort living creatures to a world beyond life. It pained her to take children from their mothers, sisters from their brothers, soulmates from their lovers. 

But you were so soft with her. Soft as you kissed her in her Death form, soft as you held her while she shook with guilt and self-hatred, soft as you assured her that she was doing the right thing. That you loved her always.

As for you, mental illness was something you had dealt with from a young age. After all, being a witch who was chased from countless villages and hunted endlessly, all for possessing a magical ability she never asked for…well, it tends to have some lasting negative effects on one’s mental well being.

You were proud to say you knew how to handle it, but you had your weak moments. Moments like now. And you hated them.

As you woke up, you felt a familiar heaviness in your bones. Your heart felt heavy but was racing all the same, your head ached, and your stomach churned with dread and anxiety.

You turned to the other side of the bed, reaching for your comfort, your person, only to find it empty. Your eyes filled with tears as you took a deep breath. 

You wondered if you should call her. You hated that the thought even crossed your mind. You could handle this alone.

“But you don’t have to,” your lover’s words echoed through your mind as you pondered what to do.

You and Rio had created a system for times like this. If ever you were feeling like the walls were closing in, like you couldn’t breathe, like you could barely function. All you had to do was think of a color and a name. Her name.

Yellow meant you were struggling, but could handle it alone if need be. Red meant you needed her.

You rarely tended to use red. You loved Rio, and you knew full well that her presence helped to calm you in times of discomfort and anxiety, but you couldn’t pull yourself out of your need to be independent and not rely on anyone for help. You hated admitting the need for help.

Even now, as you laid in bed, tears streaming down your face as you struggled to breathe, you refused to admit defeat. But you knew you owed it to both her and yourself to say something.

Yellow. Rio. Yellow, you thought as you brought your hands to your face, willing your breathing to calm down.

It was no use. All you could think of was how useless you were, how helpless, worthless, weak.

You choked out a sob as the room seemed to get smaller and smaller.

Until you felt gentle hands on your wrists, tenderly pulling them from your face.

“Hey there, sweet girl. Let’s sit you up, yeah?” Rio said softly.

You followed her instructions, allowing the witch to help you to a sitting position.

You met her eyes, expecting to see disappointment and disgust, but instead being met with nothing but love pooling in her brown eyes. 

Her hands moved from your wrists, gently intertwining her hands with yours. 

“There’s my girl. Let’s try and get that breathing to slow down. Wanna get some more air in those beautiful lungs of yours, yeah?” She cooed, her eyes encouraging.

You nodded, and she took one of your hands, placing it on her stomach as she took exaggerated breaths as an example.

You began to copy her, your eyes not leaving hers, feeling safe as you lost yourself in her.

She squeezed your hands softly. “Look at you go. Breathing all by yourself. I’m so proud of you, mi vida,” she whispered as you found yourself finally able to breathe steadily.

You both sat there for a few more minutes, her allowing you the space to feel whatever you may be feeling as you came back to your senses.

You opened your mouth to speak, struggling to find words to express your needs. As if she had read your mind, Rio let go of your hands to reposition herself against the headboard of the bed and opened her arms to you.

You smiled at her in gratitude, moving to sit in between her legs, laying your back against her front as she held you.

You both sat in silence for a few moments, just soaking in each other’s presence; Rio running her fingers through your hair with one hand and softly caressing your leg with the other.

Eventually, she spoke.

“I’m so proud of you.”

You shrugged against her and she shook her head.

“I’m serious, my love. I’m proud of you for calling for me.”

“Feel weak,” you mumbled as you hung your head.

Rio furrowed her brows, turning you to face her. “Quite the contrary, love. You are the bravest person I know. You can handle these things on your own. I know you can. But you knew it wasn’t what was best for you, so you called for me. And I’m so grateful to be in love with such a strong, beautiful girl who knows how to help herself,” she said, her voice full of adoration that brought tears to your eyes.

“I love you, Rio,” you choked out, your hands finding her cheeks, thumbs brushing against the skin softly.

She placed her hands on your waist, allowing you to initiate the kiss.

You brought her face to yours, kissing her with all the love you had. She kissed you back, softly, always softly, pecking your lips softly as you pulled away.

“I love you most, my precious girl,” she said, laughing as you rolled your eyes at her need to turn everything into a competition.

She kissed the tip of your nose, relishing in the way you wrinkled it at the sensation.

“Alright, I prescribe you a glass of water, some chocolate chip pancakes, and cuddles with your hot girlfriend,” she said as she got up, smirking at you.

She beamed in triumph as you giggled. “Well if that’s what the doctor herself ordered, who am I to disagree?” you teased.

“My thoughts exactly. I’ll be right back, my brave girl. I love you,” she said, her eyes softening again.

“I love you, Rio Vidal,” you said with a smile, and she blew you a kiss before exiting your bedroom.

Yes, she was Lady Death, but to you, Rio Vidal would always be your gentle love.

[purple-plum-petals]

Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!

⊱ Those Three Words ⊰ || Mr. Silvair X Reader

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮   Character(s): Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Route End: Mr. Silver Hair 1), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and Horror-Elements), Cultural Barriers (Mr. Silvair Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Slight Angst, Pre-Established Romantic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~3,280 Request: “Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!” Author’s Note: Mr. Silvair!!! He’s genuinely so pretty, y’all – it’s not fair. 😔 I find his overall character to be quite fascinating, and a part of me is really hoping the game gets a DLC or something to further expand on each of the character’s lore (and more moments with the MC, of course). Like game, what do you mean that some of the monsters may have been humans while others probably never were?? I desperately need more food… I headcanon that Mr. Silvair was either 1. never human, or 2. has been in the other world for a very long time, resulting in the loss of his memory as a human which could be why he’s so interested in researching them/maintaining the MC’s humanity. 🤔 But that’s just a theory – a game theory! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

Even after everything that had happened between you and this world’s resident human-enjoyer, you surprisingly still felt at ease with Mr. Silvair. That comfortability, though, made you think hard about your sanity. After all, it probably wasn’t normal to be comfortable around someone who enjoyed taking you apart and watching your body put itself back together over and over again. Yet, you did, and you didn’t mind your current arrangement as much as you probably would have in the past. 

Mr. Silvair’s home was destroyed in a fiery explosion (courtesy of himself), so you had offered to help him find a new one. You managed to locate a large room, one that he deemed satisfactory enough to call his base, and you had been staying with him indefinitely since then. As long as you had a comfy bed to lay in and someone else to keep you company, you were happy. 

Your other friends(?) frequently stopped by as well to say hello, the most common ones being Mr. Crawling and Mr. Chopped. While you were occasionally hit with a feeling of loneliness, it was hard to feel that way with so many friendly faces around. Well… maybe their faces weren’t that friendly, but they were kind and gentle with you, and that’s what truly mattered. 

You hear the sound of Mr. Silvair moving around in the room adjacent to the one you typically stayed in, and you wonder to yourself what his plans for today are. The tall, long-haired man spent most of his time engaged in research. You didn’t see him as frequently as one would expect despite the fact you two were practically roommates. All you could do was hope he wasn’t messing around with and subsequently angering any more terrifying, violent ghosts. You enjoyed your current home, and going out to look for another one wasn’t very high on your list of things to do. 

The Rubik’s Cube in your hand was still as scattered as ever, and it seemed like, no matter how long you spent trying to solve it, you were only able to successfully complete one side. Mr. Masque was kind enough to give it to you (he apparently had a whole stash of the things somewhere), and his gift was something you were immensely grateful for. Attempting to figure out the puzzle helped you pass the time wherever you were alone (and it most likely helped you keep your head on straight). 

You’re currently lying flat on your back atop the plush bed in the relatively empty living space, looking up at the gray concrete ceiling with a blank stare. Once you decide you’ve loafed around for long enough, you stand up slowly from the bed, placing the cube gently on the covers of the cot. You stretch your arms above your head, a strangled noise coming from your throat at the movement of your stiff muscles, and you begin to make your way to the other room where your… 

What even was Mr. Silvair to you? While yes, you were fond of him – hell, you’d go as far as to say you loved him – you knew he didn’t feel the same. You remember the moment he told you “I not understand like”, and that he didn’t want to save you from your condition, no… he found you entertaining to keep around, and that’s why he did what he did. 

It was complicated, you thought, trying to have a relationship with a being who didn’t grasp what the concept of love was. Deep down, though, you knew you wouldn’t change it for the world. He enjoyed your presence, and that was all you could ask for. 

You walk over to the metal door and knock, waiting for a response. After a moment, you hear Mr. Silvair’s voice echo, “Enter.”

The door opens with a slight creak as you twist the knob, peeking your head inside the somewhat grimy space. The room, still fairly new, didn’t have as much blood or gore as his old one did. There were fresh stains on the floor and wall, you noted, and you couldn’t help but wonder who or what they were from exactly. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, though, so you didn’t bother asking. 

You grin up at the taller man and give him a small wave, saying softly, “Hello. I not bother?”

He returns your smile, placing the scalpel in his hand on the stainless steel tray that held a variety of medical tools. It looked like he was in the process of cleaning the many, typically blood-stained, pieces of equipment. Mr. Silvair turns to face you and replies gently, “Hello. You not bother. Enter.”

Tilting his head to one side, his long, silver locks move when he does, cascading down his head and slipping off his shoulder at the movement. His smile drops slightly before he asks, “Feeling unwell? Injured? Need cure?”

“No, no cure.” You quickly say, not quite in the mood to be dissected or taken apart right now (honestly, though, you never really were, even if you did understand why it needed to be done). You pause by the door before finally shutting it behind you, the both of you now alone in the private and secluded space. 

Ugh – why was it so hard to say what was on your mind??

After taking a moment to build up your confidence, you tell Mr. Silvair while fidgeting with the rubber of the clear raincoat you wore, “I want see you. Communicate.”

He hums and smiles at your admission, walking over to you before placing a calloused hand on your face. Your eyes close on instinct, and your breathing shutters when he rubs his thumb across your cheek. A part of you wanted to be annoyed with him since he had to be aware of the effect he had on you, yet you didn’t want to run the risk of him removing his cool palm from your skin, so you kept your mouth shut. 

It had taken quite some time for Mr. Silvair to get to this point of physical affection with you (something he began doing more often after he saw how much you enjoyed getting head-pats from Mr. Crawling), so you didn’t want to ruin any progress you two had made in your complicated and unconventional relationship. 

“Okay,” Mr. Silvar starts, removing his hand from your face as he gestures to one of the two chairs in the room. He smiles down at you before saying, “Sit. We communicate.”

You do as you’re told without speaking another word, your hands folded in your lap after you sit down, watching Mr. Silvair take a seat on the chair across from you. You talk with him for quite some time, doing your best to update him on your current progress with the puzzle since that was pretty much the only thing you had going on in your life. While it wasn’t satisfying to speak in the other world’s language because it tended to miss most of the nuances of speech, it was the only way the two of you could communicate. 

Mr. Silvair seemed to pick up on your frustration, seeing you were growing annoyed at the lack of words in your arsenal – the term you were looking for wasn't coming to mind. In response, he tilts his head to the side and asks you, “You upset. Why?”

“Not right words.” You reply, brows furrowed when you look up at him, your gaze landing on the bloody bandages wrapped around his eyes. You turn your head to look down at the floor, the somewhat fresh pool of blood perfectly matching the color of the Rubik’s Cube. You point to the puddle and turn to ask Mr. Silvair, “What’s this called in your language? Can you tell me how to say this color?”

“Blood.” Mr. Silvair responds, not understanding what you wanted him to explain. 

“No, no.” You quickly reply, shaking your head. You continue to glance between him and the blood, enunciating your words even though he didn’t understand your language the same way you were able to understand his. You didn’t back down or give up, though, saying again, “The color – I want to know what color blood is.”

He pauses, one hand under his chin as he seemingly takes a moment to figure out what you are asking him. After a few beats, Mr. Silvair replies with a word you haven’t heard anyone speak before, “???”

You visibly brighten at the new word, and the expression on your face causes Mr. Silvair to let out a light chuckle before he crosses one of his legs over the other. You take a breath before telling him, “Okay. Thank you.” 

After another pause, you continue to speak, “So… One part object done, red part. Other parts hard – not finish.”

Mr. Silvair had been leaning forward in his chair, his elbow digging into his knee while his hand rested under his chin, holding his head up as he stared at you with an unwavering gaze. He always listened to you with rapt interest, and you would be lying if you said the constant attention didn’t make your heart stutter in your chest. However, he suddenly speaks, pointing to the pool of blood you had been gesturing toward moments before, “What you call that?”

“Huh?” You ask, pausing your story to look at him. Mr. Silvair doesn’t say anything else, though, giving you a moment to comprehend what he has asked you. You perk up when your brain finally registers what Mr. Silvair had said, replying to him happily, “Oh, that’s the color red. So, blood is typically red – blood red.” 

“R-ehd?” He echos, and the sound of his voice speaking a word that you were able to understand without having to flip through your mental dictionary had your breath hitching. It sounded so strange but so nice coming from his lips. 

“Yeah, red! Blood is red!” You say, sounding excited and oh-so happy. Mr. Silvair would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find the look on your face and the tone of your voice endearing. Then, your expression shifts slightly as you lean forward in your chair, saying enthusiastically, “Oh my god – I just got an idea! Me teach you me language!”

“...You language?” Mr. Silvair asks after a moment, shifting in his seat slightly. 

“Yes! Me teach you!” You reply, gesturing to both him and you with your hands. Your mind remembers the way Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped helped you shortly after you first arrived, teaching you directions to walk, facial expressions, and more. They had helped you expand your knowledge of this world’s language, and they were probably responsible for your survival in so many of those early interactions. So, you smile at him as you say, “We same.”

He returns a smile, nodding his head and replying with a simple, “Okay.”

“Alright, so, let me think here…” You hum to yourself, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes while you consider what you should start with. Body parts seemed to be the first thing that popped into your head, so that’s eventually what you decided to start with. Sitting up in the chair, you point toward your hand with the other, tapping a finger to your palm as you speak, “Okay, so, this is my hand – hand. Can you say hand?”

It was kind of cute, strangely enough, seeing Mr. Slivair take the time to repeat the word you spoke over and over in his mind, trying to match the movement of your mouth with his own. Your languages were quite different in sounds, syllables, and the like, so he was practicing what to say before actually speaking. After a few moments of contemplation, he replies, “...H-ah-nd.”

“Hey, that was pretty good! Not bad for your first try, Mr. Silvair, even if the pronunciation is a bit off.” You say with a wide smile, clapping your hands together as you applaud him on his efforts. He chuckles again, finding your way of teaching to be… sweet. 

Then, you speak again, once again grabbing his attention. You tap the pad of your finger under the skin of your eye, asking him, “Do you remember what this is called? I think I’ve told you before.”

Mr. Silvair is quicker in his response this time, having heard you ask him about his own eyes before as he smoothly says, “Eye.” 

“Yes! Good job!” You praise once more, giving him a thumbs up in response. Then, he stands up from his seat, walking over to you while his once-white lab coat flows behind him. You crane your head back to look up at him from where you were still sitting, a simple and stupid, “...Huh?” leaving your mouth. 

Mr. Silvair reaches a hand to your face, cupping your chin gently in his hand. You feel his thumb resting on your bottom lip, and he begins to move his finger back and forth along the slightly chapped flesh, tugging at it slightly. He tilts his head to the side, asking you seriously, “What this called?”

“Oh, uh…” You know your face is probably flushed beyond belief at this point if the heat cascading through your head is anything to go by, and your mind and heart are completely caught off-guard by his sudden touch and question. You avert your gaze to the side, swallowing harshly before you finally reply, “They’re my lips – they’re, umm… similar to mouth. Lips, mouth, same.”

“...Lips?” Mr. Silvair asks again for clarification, his voice having an almost husky tone to it that has a shiver travel down your spine. 

You nod in response, muttering a barely audible, “Yes…” 

Mr. Silvair hums at your response, a small smile gracing his lips. He leans down, face so close to yours, before he inquires with an almost teasing tone to his voice, “You want touch?”

“Y-Yes.” You answer at an almost embarrassingly fast speed. 

The man who you had grown so fond of chuckles at your enthusiasm before leaning forward, pressing his lips softly to yours while he holds your face between his palms. Kisses weren’t a common thing between the two of you, and they were really only something Mr. Silvair initiated when he felt like it. You could feel the intensity at which your heart was beasting due to his sudden affections, and there was a part of you that was worried it would burst out of your chest right then and there. 

Your eyes flutter shut and you tilt your head to the side, your hands coming up to rest atop his – his hands that were holding your cheeks so, so gently. It was almost sickening the way he was holding you like you could break at any moment. 

Then, almost as quickly as it began, the kiss ended before you even realized it did. Mr. Silvair’s forehead was now pressed against yours, and he doesn’t make any move to remove his hands from your face. Your lips were no longer touching, and yet he still lingered.  

Mr. Silvair didn’t play fair, you thought, yet you couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to kiss you so suddenly, so randomly. You close your eyes and your brows furrow at the tightening in your throat, an aching sensation slowly spreading throughout your chest like a disease before you whisper, “...I love you.”

There’s a silence, a stretch of nothingness before Mr. Silvair suddenly asks you, his voice just as soft as yours had been, “Repeat?”

“...No,” Your response is nearly immediate, and you shake your head before repeating once more, “Nothing.”

“...I love you.” The sound of those three words leaving his lips nearly causes your mind to implode. It sounded so sweet, yet it also felt worse than any suffering you had experienced before. The searing and excruciating pain, the feeling of a blade digging itself into the flesh of your torso couldn’t compare to the deep-seated torment you felt right now.

Mr. Silvair hums, tilting his head to the side as his thumbs continue to caress your cheeks, “What mean?”

You knew there was no point, no reason to try and explain your feelings again, but you do. You still do, even though you know it’s pointless to try. You can’t bring yourself to look at him as you speak, finding the concrete floor more interesting, “Mean… mean me like you. Lot like.”

There’s a pause, a moment of contemplation before Mr. Silvair says, “...Not understand.”

“I know.” You reply, nodding your head once in response. 

“You know?” He asks you, sounding somewhat confused, a tone you very rarely heard from the man. Had he forgotten that moment that you couldn’t seem to forget, the memory that you continuously found replaying in your mind like a broken record? It wasn’t fair, you thought, that only you were forced to hold onto such a painful memory. 

“You communicate before.” You clarify, finally willing yourself to look at his face. Mr. Silvair’s expression was tight, his lips drawn into a flat line. 

You needed to get away, to just run from this moment in the hopes he would forget the whole exchange just as he apparently did the last one. You take your hands and grab his wrists, removing his palms from your face before you stand up from the chair. You refuse to look at him as you turn, heading to the door as you utter, “...I’m going to go for a walk, so I’ll be back later. Goodbye.”

Then, you feel something tug at the sleeve of your raincoat. It wasn’t strong, nothing that would actually stop you from moving, but your legs proceeded to hault at the small action. Mr. Silvair says, his tone not demanding in the slightest – if anything, it sounded like a plea as he speaks, “No exit.”

You take a deep breath and turn around to face him, asking in such a small voice that it even caught yourself off-guard, “...Why?”

“I want you here.” Mr. Silvair responds quickly, so quickly it seems to have taken both of you by surprise. The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he asks, finally releasing the material of your jacket from in between his fingers, “Stay… Will you stay?”

You once again find yourself wondering if Mr. Silvair was aware of the effect he had on you as a sigh leaves your mouth. You nod your head lightly and reply, “I will stay.”

“Good.” He says in response, a gentle smile on his face as he says for the second time, “I love you.”

You frown at him and shake your head, saying with a slight edge of frustration in your voice, “No speak. Not true.” 

“True… Believe true.” He says quickly, reaching out to once again place a hand against your cheek. You don’t move, don’t flinch away from his touch – you still relish the way he’s holding you like a fragile piece of glass. Mr. Silvair’s brows are furrowed ever so slightly as he mutters, “Confused.”

“You’re telling me… How do you think I feel?” You say with a huff, your hand holding into his as you find yourself nuzzling your nose into his palm. The painful feeling in your chest was still present, but it wasn’t nearly as excruciating as it had been now. You find it in yourself to smile, gazing up at him as you speak, “...but we’ll get through it together – we together. Right?”

“To-geh-ther…” He repeats, leaning down to press his forehead to yours once more as he says softly, “Yes.”

[animarune]

Since I started listening (a week ago) I have been describing it as "BBC Sherlock except it's actually Good" or "if BBC Sherlock was good"

Like Sherlock's immediately upfront about his ADHD and autism and everything else and it's not treated as a joke or an excuse to be an asshole, it's just to explain why he's Like This, and they bring it up in a lot of good ways like needing sunglasses and ear defenders to go for a walk.

I really loved his whole "I spent many years studying [several different speech sciences] in order to mask effectively, how hard can it be to learn swingers' code?" speech because it was funny and he's not as good at masking as he thinks he is which is relatable xD

Also yeah John and Mariana aren't there to play dumb, they have their parts to play, and John has his own flaws to overcome, and it's so interesting when he and Sherlock are really gelling together (with their "rapport") and where they bounce off each other. I'm thinking of Sherlock effectively reading his mind in The Cardboard Box up until he opens said box and immediately can think of nothing else but the thrill of the game, and thus misses how John's upset about not telling him it's his birthday and misses the fact that he's triggered John with the contents of the box. I'm thinking of John constantly reminding himself, Sherlock and the listeners that "he was an army doctor" and trying to take charge in situations he has no business doing so.

I'm thinking about the two of them effusively complimenting each other for several minutes before the guy John tackled tells them to shut up already.

I'm thinking about how full of heart this Sherlock is even while struggling with empathy.

Genuinely, this show is so good. Like I follow a few blogs who share quotes from the books about how soft they are or how funny they can be and I feel like this podcast adapts their relationship amazingly compared to the friggin BBC show.

I told my dad my whole "if it were actually good" bit and he was like, "but you really liked that show?" I was like "yeah these videos I watched [hbomberguy's and Sarah Z's] forced me to realize how bad the writing was all along" and we talked about Moffat struggling with concise stories when given too much time to fill. (I explained there was a shorter pilot episode that was actually good.) I forgot to mention the reason I liked the show so much had more to do with the fandom surrounding it at the time and all the fan works I consumed lol

Anyway, yeah, tl;dr: Sherlock & Co. is great and anyone interested in Sherlock Holmes and/or true crime podcasts ought to give it a listen!!

Sh&co vs. bbc sherlock

Something I feel that really separates Sh&co from bbc Sherlock is that Sherlock is not some super computer mind thats a million steps ahead of everyone.

Yes he is incredibly smart, but he's not the only one who is solving the problems. Like there are several episodes where he couldn't have solved the crimes without John and Mariana.

I just really love how they all work together- Like Mariana and John don't just exists to look stupid compared to Sherlock.

[vigilskeep]

the lucanis romance pacing is kind of objectively terrible, no idea what the writing thought process was, but it’s so funny in-world that it basically circles around to a win for me

[daosies]

the only one

Sylus has a soft spot for you.

sylus ♡ gn!reader

warnings: reader is the protagonist but gender neutral, pre-established relationship, crude & violent descriptions, not proofread

notes: muehehe

You are the only one in the world who can treat Sylus like this. 

“[Name],” he calls for the nth time. “[Name].” 

Sylus observes the furrow of your brow, the wobbly line of your lips. He notices the way your entire expression scrunches up, the way you visibly gasp when your gaze drifts over the most audacious line of the book you’re reading. 

It’s endearing, really. The way your feelings dance across your face, oblivious to the crimson irises that do the same. Sylus notices all these things about you; he also notices how you don’t notice him, how your attention is fixated wholly on your book, how his adoring looks are bested by an inanimate object and how his terribly-obvious advances are shut down because of printed words on a paper.

Sylus hates losing. He hates being ignored. In fact, Sylus has never been ignored in his life—his sheer presence commands attention, his gaze alone being enough to silence a crowd. When it comes to you, however, his gaze is not enough.

Again, you are the only one in the world who can treat Sylus like this.

“[Name].” Sylus has had enough of losing. He reaches for the book and steals it from your hands. 

“Sylus?” you reply, as if he hadn’t been there the entire time. “Since when did you arrive?” 

Oh, he thinks. So, to you, he really hadn’t been there the entire time. 

“Ten minutes ago,” he states coolly. 

“Huh? Why didn’t you call me? Or tell me?”

“I did.”

“Really? Oh, sorry! That book was really getting crazy, I mean, like, the main character was—”

Sylus decides not to mention the part where he gave up. He had tried to get your attention, but somewhere along the way, he opted to sit in your presence instead, perceiving despite not being perceived. 

In the silence, Sylus’s gaze trailed over your features, from the bridge of your nose to the curl of your lips. His red eyes tied knots around your expression, burning the image into his retinas, weaving the strings towards himself, from the base of your pinky to his. Sylus hates being ignored. He hates losing and he hates the idea of not being acknowledged. 

When it comes to you, however, it’s different. 

Everything is different. 

“And then—oh, sorry. Am I boring you with the details?” you suddenly say, becoming bashful. Your pupils avert from his. Sylus is desperate to force them back on him, his brows furrowing ever-so slightly. 

Quicker than he can think, he replies, “Not at all.” 

You look at him. The tension laced into his expression eases. 

“I almost forgot to ask,” you say, switching topics abruptly, “why are you here, Sylus?” 

He chuckles at your bluntness. You are the only one in the world who can talk like that to him.

“I just wanted to see someone.” 

Your eyes widen. Sylus relishes in the sight, unblinking, desperate and wild and oh, utterly miserable. To rely only on sight is a terrible fate, but again, you are the only one in the world who Sylus cannot catch. Your image slips in between his mind, falling through the intangibility of memory and vision. You cannot be contained—your unabashed and radiant spirit, your breathtaking and limitless beauty. You torture him! With thoughts of your existence, with thoughts of your real and incomparable being! 

You—you exist! 

(Sometimes, Sylus can’t believe it. And then he looks at you, and then himself, and he realizes that you are damn near divine. You are damn near intangible, an entity he worships, a concept he follows and offers himself towards. If you were to tell him to dismember himself now, Sylus thinks he would. If you were to ask him for his eyes, he’d tell you to hand him a knife. If you were to ask him for his heart, he’d tell you to take all four chambers.)

“You… you wanted to see me?”

Sylus smirks a little. “Did I say that?” 

Your face erupts with embarrassment. “Hey! You… you!” 

“Me,” he affirms.

(Look at you.)

Mirth flickers across the carmine expanse of his irises, the scarlet of his lips and the crimson within his veins. His pupils catch your for a moment before you look away, covering your expression with the palm of your hand. Sylus is used to people avoiding his gaze, to shying away from his presence out of sheer terror. He prefers it that way, really. It makes his job easier. 

(Look at him.)

When it comes to you, however, it’s different. Sylus doesn’t want you avert your eyes from his—he wants to peer into your soul, to pick apart the temple with his own bloodied hands, to witness for himself the grandness of your presence, the impossibility of your existence. 

(How could he ever believe you exist? When he is terrible and haunted, while you—oh, you—are utterly divine?)

Sylus wants you to perceive him. He wants you to pick him apart, too. To dismember him! To peel apart his skin and come to realize that everything, everything within himself—from the branches of his veins to the curl of his ribs—have only ever flowed back to his heart. 

And you own that heart of his. That wretched, twisted little thing. You own it. And everything else that comes with it. 

“You’re so…!”

“So?” Sylus encourages you to continue, tilting his head slightly. A smirk twists at his lips. He’s enjoying this far too much. 

“Whatever!” You try to snatch the book back from his hands, your movements agile and befitting a hunter. Unfortunately for you, Sylus is used to playing things dirty, so he snaps the novel away with his Evol and calls it a day. 

“Let’s go,” he says, standing up. “You like the arcade, right?” 

You glare at him without saying a word.

You are the only one in the world who would ever make Sylus wait. Still, he obliges.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter.

He hums. “And?” 

“Disrespectful.” 

Sylus’s cool expression remains unfazed. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

You snort. “Who would ever call you that?” 

Only you, he thinks. For some reason, the thought doesn’t irritate him. 

After all, you are the only one in the world who can treat Sylus like this. 

(As a matter of fact, to Sylus, you are the only one in the world.) 

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 1 of 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

Chapter warnings: A lot of mood and scene setting—just vibe with it, MC is in her sad girl era, hints of depression and anxiety, masturbation, Yoongi is a new dad y’all he is tireddd af

Word count: almost 6k

Posting date: November 12, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕🫶🏼

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

Namjoon leans back in his seat, sporting an all-too-familiar, slightly conspiratorial glint in his eyes. Hmm. You know that look. 

It's the same one he had when he "casually" set you up to tutor one of his trainee friends in English—the one you let slip was kinda cute. Or when he signed you up to perform with one of his rapper friends in that underground club in Hongdae. Sure, you knew every word of the chorus to eminem’s Stan, but you were not a fucking singer. 

You still did it, though. Both times. 

Namjoon’s especially notorious for volunteering you to do things he insists are "right up your alley." There’s a fire in his eyes when he starts talking about one of his ideas, and before you know it, you're swept up in his vision, already picturing yourself right there beside him, doing something you’d never consider on your own.

Namjoon has been your best friend since forever and for reasons you can’t explain, saying no to him has always been impossible.

Right. It’s definitely that. It’s definitely not because in those two prior instances mentioned, both friends of his are actually the same guy. The one you had an almost crippling crush on over a decade ago. (You’re sooo over it, though. Trust.)

When Namjoon leaned in, you were already bracing yourself.

“So, you know Yoongi, right?”

You blink, pause, and slowly shake your head. It has taken years, but today is the day you tell him, “No.”

“The fuck? What do you mean no?” He replies, already looking hella amused. “I haven’t even said anything.”

Your face feels like a furnace, but you grit and steady your voice. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

He lets out a hum, shifting in his seat, and you get the sense he’s working up to something. 

You sip your coffee, keeping your eyes on him. He gives you an exaggerated shrug, dimples deepening as he lets his shoulder sag. 

God you’re literally already about to break. 

“Fuck. Joon. Spit it out.”

He nods triumphantly, “Ok, there’s something I thought I’d run by you first, before he hears about it.”

The words hang in the air, and you raise an eyebrow. “Joon. What are you getting me into?”

Namjoon chuckles softly as he folds his hands on the table. “So… Yoongi has a son. A baby, actually.” He pauses, watching for your reaction. 

Woah. Someone has fuckboi Min Yoongi all locked down?! Huh. You never saw that coming.

You let that sink in, surprise filling the quiet space between you. “I… didn’t know he had a kid.”

“Not many people do,” Namjoon admits. “Only those close to him know. Yoongi’s a great dad, but his caretaker recently left, and now he’s scrambling to balance his schedule and take care of his son.”

“And his wife?”

Namjoon sighs, gives you a look that means he’s about to say something confidential. “There’s no wife.”

“Baby mama?”

“Out of the picture.”

You let out a small breath, absorbing everything you just heard. You already had an idea of where this is leading up to, but you want it said explicitly. “So what exactly are you asking me?”

Namjoon nods, eyes hopeful. “Look, I know this is a big ask. I’m putting this out there because you’re one of the best with kids I know. And Yoongi—well, he’s pretty wary about letting new people get close to his son.”

You take another sip of your latte as he prattles on.

“While you’re still getting your bearings back, maybe you could take over the caretaker job, even part time?” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly as he says your name. “I just thought you might consider it. You’d be doing us both a favor. Yoongi really needs help, and I’d trust you more than anyone with this.”

You sit back, letting Namjoon’s words settle. Namjoon knows exactly what he’s asking—knows exactly how hard it is for you to refuse when he gives you that puppy dog look, especially when he’s throwing Yoongi into the mix. Honestly, you hate how you're apparently still soft for him even after all these years.

Namjoon also knows your current situation. Does he not realize it’s a bit unfair to ask this of you right now? Not when you're still picking up the pieces after your breakup with your long-term boyfriend. Not when you need time to heal. Not when you literally uprooted your life and just moved back to Seoul a month ago.

But somehow, you can’t shake the curiosity. What would it even be like to see Yoongi as a dad? To get a glimpse of this whole other life he’s got now?

It’s probably a terrible idea. 

Yeah, no. You don’t need this right now. Money isn’t tight. And you need to focus on… 

You take a slow breath, mentally tracing the edges of this mess. There are a hundred reasons to say no, and only one reason you’d even consider saying yes. And because it’s for Yoongi… damn, maybe that’s reason enough.

The next time you see Yoongi, it’s at HYBE’s massive rehearsal space. Namjoon had invited you to watch the group practice—innocent enough, though you know it’s also his way of nudging you toward the job. Joon thinks he’s subtle, but you know his plans are, more often than not, clunky as hell.

You settle in one corner, holding on to your half-finished iced Americano. A few staff are scattered around the studio, there was another girl (maybe a member’s girlfriend, you’re not sure), but it’s mostly empty. The boys are warming up, stretching or chatting, and you wave to Jungkook and Taehyung before finding yourself glancing toward Yoongi.

Wearing an all black outfit and a baseball cap, he’s standing off to the side, arms full with a fussy baby, and a bassinet stroller in front of him. The boy can’t be more than a few months shy of his first birthday. He’s close to tears, twisting and squirming, while Yoongi, visibly flustered, tries to hand him a toy, then a bottle, then anything he can find. Nothing works. Soon, the baby’s fuss turns into a full-on tantrum.

Oh, damn. Poor Yoongi. 

He drops the bottle, spilling milk across the floor just as the stroller, half-locked, rolls a few feet away. He lunges for it, fumbling as the baby’s wailing intensifies, tiny fists flailing in frustration. Yoongi’s eyes dart around, panicked, while a couple of female staff start toward him, hands outstretched. But he waves them off, his face set in a mix of fierce determination and mild desperation as he rocks and hushes the baby.

It honestly hurts to watch the scene unfold. You almost want to do something.

Namjoon starts clearing people out, Jimin dims the studio lights, and Seokjin picks up the spilled bottle, wiping down the floor. Hobi taps a white noise track on his phone, placing it near the stroller. Your heart warms at how effortlessly everyone pitches in, their movements so practiced it’s obvious they’ve done this before. But it makes you wonder just how many rehearsals have paused for these moments. It’s probably why Namjoon wants to help find a solution, a.k.a you.

You meet your best friend’s gaze and he cocks his head toward the door, signaling for you to file out with the others, but your feet take you somewhere else entirely.

“Is he okay?” you ask, approaching Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t hear you at first, too focused on calming his son. His face is etched with exhaustion and something fragile, an uncharacteristic crack in his calm. He finally glances up, half-exasperated. To your mild relief, a look of recognition crosses his face, before he replies, “Yeah, he’s—he’s usually not this fussy.”

You watch him struggle for a bit, then, before you can second-guess, you step forward. “Do you mind if I try?”

Yoongi hesitates, studying you like he’s weighing the decision to trust you with his son. His eyes flick towards Namjoon who was standing by the door, before it goes back to you. After a tense pause, he nods, handing the baby over.

You hold the little boy, shifting him gently away from the mirrors and bright lights, rocking him slowly and humming an old lullaby you used to sing for your preschoolers. Gradually, his cries quiet down, his tiny head resting against your shoulder as he begins to relax, fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt. Within minutes, he’s fast asleep.

When you glance up, Yoongi is watching, his face unreadable. There’s relief, yes, but also a quiet wonder, an almost surprised gratitude. 

“I owe you,” he murmurs, a softness in his voice you hadn’t expected.

“‘S ok,” you say, quietly, careful not to wake the baby.

The two of you stand there, his eyes on you for just a beat too long, and if you didn’t have the baby to ground you, you feel like you just might float.

“Thank you,” he says, tone soft and sincere.

From across the room, Namjoon watches, his eyes mirroring the same gratitude.

The call from Yoongi comes unexpectedly one evening, just after dinner. You don’t recognize the number, then again you don’t have a lot of +82s yet since you just moved back after many years of being in the States. The last thing you expect is to hear Yoongi’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Hey, it’s…Min Yoongi,” he starts, voice a little rough.

“Oh, hi.”

There’s a short silence, and then he clears his throat. “Namjoonie mentioned you uh might… be interested in helping with my son.”

You feel a strange flutter, both at the fact that Yoongi is talking to you, and at the fact that he’s asking something so personal. “Uh, yeah. I can help out.”

The pause is long enough that you imagine him somewhere, shifting uncomfortably. “I know it’s a lot to ask,” he finally says, sounding almost apologetic. “I don’t want to… impose or anything. But it would help. A lot.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you,” You hear Yoongi release a sigh of relief. Then he says the next phrase in a rush, “I know you are overqualified for this, so uh please let me compensate you with your salary as a teacher in America.”

You feel your face flush. Thank god this was not a video call. Seems you’re as uncomfortable as he is talking about money, though it is a necessary evil. “Oh, no, please Yoongi. You don’t have to. Joonie’s my bestfriend and you’re his brother. I can just help until you can find a more permanent solution.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t argue with you on this. You hear a puff of breath before he says. “Alright. Thank you.”

And just like that, you’re set. He gives you the address, and you’re left wondering for the rest of the night how you’ll manage this strange new gig.

The first day you arrive at Yoongi’s apartment in Hannam-dong, you’re a bundle of nerves, unsure what to expect. 

After you ring the bell, the door opens to reveal Yoongi with his usual reserved expression, a piece of muslin cloth draped on one shoulder.

“Hi,” he says simply, stepping aside to let you in.

You offer him a smile. “Hey.”

He closes the door behind you as you step inside. You look around, taking everything in.

The apartment is spacious but cozy, with a warmth that speaks of careful design—minimalistic furniture in muted colors, shelves lined with books and vinyl records, a few baby toys strewn around the living room. Homey.

This is the first time you get to really see Yoongi. The brief encounter at the rehearsal studio didn’t afford you the chance to appreciate how time has treated him. 

Seeing him after six years, he’s both the same and somehow different. He has always had that calm confidence—a steady, grounded energy that feels both nostalgic and new. His usually colorful hair, now in its natural hue, casually frames his face. He wears a simple white tee and you can tell the noodle arms are gone. His shoulders are much broader, arms stronger than how you remember him. The silver earrings are still there, subtle reminders of his edginess, softened by time.

But beneath it all, there’s a layer of, hmm… exhaustion, you guess? A shadow under his eyes, faint lines hinting at the weight of sleepless nights. His lips are chapped, there’s a tiny red bump on his chin. He’s a new dad, he hasn’t prioritized himself for a while. Still, his face carries a tenderness in the fatigue, like he’s tired, but happy.

“He’s napping right now,” Yoongi clears his throat, motioning toward a small crib by the window, where his son is sleeping peacefully, bundled in soft blankets. 

“You haven’t told me his name.”

“Haneul.”

“That’s beautiful,” you reply, and Yoongi nods, almost shy.

He hesitates, glancing down as if gathering his thoughts. Then he says your name. “I… um, I didn’t know how this would go. His last caretaker was actually my aunt, but she got sick and had to go back home.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that.”

He nods, “But after seeing how he calmed down with you… I think he’ll be alright.”

He gives you a tour of his apartment, the baby monitor clipped in his jean pocket. His place is modern, spacious, baby-proofed. There are pictures that line the walls of the hallway linking the nursery, his studio, guest room, guest bath, and the masters.

You spend some time going through Haneul’s things—familiarizing yourself with the layout of the nursery. He shows you where the baby food and snacks are. Talks about his favorite toys and activities. 

While he downloads the 101 on Haneul, the one thing you were curious to know was, where is his birth mom? You obviously don’t want to be a prick so you swallow the question down. Maybe you’ll find out in the future. But for now, you just need to know where the baby wipes are.

For the first few days that you come over, Yoongi keeps close, hovering just within earshot as you ease into the cadence of his son’s needs. He’s there with his arms folded, watching as you handle Haneul, a cautious yet respectful distance. You get it though. You’re a virtual stranger he just let into his home and his son’s life. Who wouldn’t be guarded?

You quickly notice that Haneul has a sweet temperament, but has a bit of a sensitive side. He doesn’t take to loud sounds, so you keep your voice low and movements gentle, singing him lullabies and nursery rhymes under your breath while Yoongi quietly observes, even if he pretends to be engrossed with something else.

On your third day, Yoongi has to leave to attend an important meeting at HYBE. He’s been pacing by the door, making sure his son is settled before he goes, even though you’re right there, holding the baby with practiced ease.

“Are you sure you’re… good with this?” he asks, his brow furrowed, as if still convincing himself to leave.

You give him a reassuring smile. “Go. I got him. He’ll be fine.”

He hesitates one last time, eyes fixed on you, and then he finally gives a small nod. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.”

As soon as the door closes, you’re left with the quiet hum of the apartment and a very awake, very curious baby in your arms. You spend the next hour rocking him and singing songs, amazed at how easily he settles, almost as if he’s known you longer than a few days.

After his nap, you take a video of the babbling Haneul enjoying his yogurt gems and send it to Yoongi. He replies almost immediately with a smiley emoji and a curt: cute.

Yoongi returns around dinnertime right as you’ve settled the baby down in his bed. He steps inside the nursery quietly, watching as you tuck the blanket around his son. When you look up, he’s standing there, holding two cups of steaming liquid.

“I, uh… thought you might want some tea,” he says, looking slightly awkward but endearing.

“Always.” You take the mug with a grateful smile. “How was your meeting?”

“Could’ve been an email,” He shrugs and stuffs the empty hand inside his pocket.

You grin as you take a sip, remembering how you’ve always enjoyed his dry sense of humor, in the rare occasions you hung out in the past. Ooh, this tea is… your favorite.

“Silver moon?” you asked.

He nodded, “There’s a TWG shop that just opened near the office. Namjoonie might have mentioned it was your favorite, so.”

Your ears warm up just as well as your throat as you savor another drink.

“How was Haneul? Did he give you a hard time?”

“Not at all,” you shake your head, looking over to the little angel. “I’ve had a lot of practice, you know.”

“I can’t imagine handling a whole classroom full of them,” he says, looking at you with a mix of admiration and amusement. “One’s hard enough.”

“You’re lucky to have him,” you reply wistfully, suddenly feeling a tug at your heartstrings. ‘What I would give…’ you almost utter out loud.

The thing is, you actually do, without realizing it. Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi files the thought away, a subject he might bring up one day—when the time comes that he thinks you trust him, too.

The days blur into a steady rhythm. You arrive in some afternoons, not really everyday, only when Yoongi needs the extra hand at home or if he needs to leave the house for a day of rehearsals. You both establish that this is merely a favor so he doesn’t treat you like you’re at his every beck and call. Usually it starts with a short message in Kakao, and if you’re free, he would send a car to pick you up. Your meals are always ready, delivered on the dot. Conveniences are always within your reach—your favorite tea, extra clothes in case there are food or poop blow-outs, etc. The cleaning lady that goes thrice a week, Mrs. Kwon sometimes keeps you company and assists you with anything.

As you help take care of his baby, you feel that he’s looked out for you, too. Which is nice.

On days that he is working from home, Yoongi brings his work into the living room, just to be nearby during playtime with you and Haneul. 

One evening, when his son falls asleep in your arms after a particularly fussy day, Yoongi glances up from his laptop and leans back in his chair, a tired but grateful smile breaking through.

“He’s really taken to you,” he observes, sounding almost as if he’s admitting it to himself.

You smile, feeling a strange warmth at his words. “I think he’s just a really sweet kid, Yoongi. He’s easy to love.”

The smile he gives you after that is probably the gummiest one you’ve ever seen. 

A few weeks pass, and a subtle partnership has started forming between you, like you’re both slowly finding a rhythm in the chaos of caring for Haneul.

Bath time becomes a kind of unspoken relay: you gather the towel and clothes, while Yoongi preps the tub, testing the water with careful fingers. There’s a brief exchange of glances—no need for words, just a nod as you pass off Haneul, who’s already giggling happily.

Snack time turns into a ritualized watch party. You set out the applesauce and crackers for Haneul, and Yoongi brings a bag of chips and his laptop over to the living room, joining you and Haneul for yet another episode of Miss Rachel. Occasionally, he’ll mutter a sarcastic comment under his breath, trying (and failing) to disguise the fact that he’s memorized the songs, too. (And in English, no less!)

There was one particular afternoon that you walk in on the father and son having a heartwarming exchange.

Haneul, who’s wobbling on his unsteady little legs, is reaching eagerly for a stuffed tiger Yoongi is holding just out of reach.

“Oh, no, no, no—you gotta work for this,” Yoongi teases, eyebrows raised dramatically. He moves the tiger side to side, adding a low, exaggerated growl that makes Haneul squeal with laughter. Yoongi leans fully into the act, growling and making faces, finally swooping Haneul up with a playful roar, both of them dissolving into laughter.

You can’t help but laugh along with them, your heart catching slightly at the sight. The way his eyes crinkle in genuine amusement, his mouth relaxed into a wide gummy grin. And you’re startled by how… soft he looks, how fucking attractive he is when he’s like this. When his usual quiet intensity is replaced by this playfulness, by this open warmth. It hits you somewhere deep, a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest that you can’t quite ignore.

Yoongi catches you watching, his smile faltering for a moment, but he holds your gaze. His expression shifts, something curious reflecting in his eyes as if he’s wondering what you’re thinking, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he swallows a lump in his throat, cheeks dusting a faint pink as he looks down, bashful.

You force yourself to glance away, feeling warmth creep up your neck. For the first time, you’re struck by an awareness of him that wasn’t there before, and it lingers, even as you turn back to whatever it was you were supposed to be doing. The image of his smile, his laughter—it all stays with you, stirring something you can’t quite put a name to.

And just like that, you’re settling into this role in the life of the Min men—something you know is temporary, but is infinitely meaningful.

When you’re not in Yoongi’s apartment, your own place feels strangely foreign.

God, you hate it here. You can’t even bring yourself to call it home—it’s just a room with white walls, half-opened moving boxes, a stack of unread books Joonie gave you, a mattress on the floor, and a fridge with a single egg. It’s quiet. Too quiet. You could fix the place up—it’s not like you can’t afford a bed frame or groceries—but for some reason, you’re punishing yourself. Like this is the way someone like you—unwanted and rejected—ought to live.

Nothing in this flat tethers you to it, and maybe that’s why you prefer being out.

You’re afraid your heart is stuck somewhere in limbo, somewhere between Seoul and LA. Maybe it’s still floating above the clouds on that flight back. You don’t know when it’ll come down, but you hope it’s soon.

Tonight, you’re restless, tossing and turning in your makeshift bed, replaying fragments of your old life—a love that once felt solid, a future that had once felt certain. Your mind drifts to those last conversations with Jiyong, your ex, the ones where he shut down every hope you had for a family, making you wonder if wanting more was somehow wrong.

You probably deserve it, though. You want a family, but you can barely cook for yourself. What do you hope to feed a child—takeout? Junk food? It’s laughable. You can’t even make a home feel like one. Jiyong probably got tired of you because you’re useless at it.

Stop. You close your eyes, focus on your breathing, try to still your mind. 1, 2, 3…

Some nights, you especially hate yourself. Tonight is one of them.

You need to call Namjoon. He can usually talk you down, ease the self-loathing. You ring him three times, but each time, you get his voicemail. Fuck. Maybe he’s out, maybe he’s getting laid. Good for him, honestly.

But that might actually work. You rummage through one of your boxes and find the one purple bullet that’s gotten you through plenty of spirals. With a flick, the vibrator buzzes to life, and you slip it beneath your panties, pressing it right against your clit. You’re not in the mood to drag this out—you want release, quick and easy, something to take the edge off.

At first, your limbs relax as that familiar tingle begins, little sparks shooting from your core, teasing you with hints of pleasure. You keep at it, determined, but after a few minutes, the sensations stall. It’s like your body’s stuck, lingering on the edge without tipping over, leaving you stranded and more frustrated than when you started. You decide to cut your losses.

Maybe a shower. Maybe you can pop by the GS25 down the block for a bottle of soju.

But then your phone pings. It’s Yoongi.

Your tummy suddenly feels funny.

You immediately swipe up and read the string of messages that has popped on your Kakao.

Yoongi: Hey so I found this in Haneul’s crib Yoongi: image.jpg  Yoongi: u got this for him? he is lowkey obsessed. Yoongi: But WTF is it? 

You cackle. Loud and hearty. A sound you didn’t think you were capable of on a shitty night like this.

You: A capybara! Look it up! Yoongi: Oh Yoongi: never heard of it You: They’re cute Yoongi: ? You: Don't be mean You: Haneul and I love bora Yoongi: ?? You: thats her name Yoongi: noted

That night, the Kakao thread becomes your lifeline. Yoongi asks about your next visit, what you had for dinner, and when you say goodnight he sends back a grainy selca of him and a sleeping Haneul with Bora. The photo brings unexpected joy, something to remind you that you aren’t as alone as it sometimes feels. Finally, you succumb to slumber, clutching your phone to your chest, thoughts of Yoongi and Haneul floating in your dreams.

After that, you become more and more aware that Yoongi’s place has become a sanctuary. There’s Haneul’s bright laughter, the way his tiny fingers curl around yours, and the sound of Yoongi’s soft, steady voice, creating a background that somehow starts to feel comforting. With them, you’re too busy to dwell on the past or the ache left behind by someone else’s rejection. Instead, you’re present, stable.

And it’s in those moments—when you’re reading Haneul a story or soothing him to sleep—that you feel a glimmer of something you’d thought you’d lost: hope. The simple act of holding him, soothing him through his small struggles… It’s healing in a way you can’t quite put into words, as if this little boy is slowly fusing pieces of your heart you’d almost forgotten were broken.

And Yoongi—he’s part of it, too. His presence, his quiet strength, the way he’s trusted you with something so precious. 

You know this is just a phase, that this isn’t your life, but a part of you can’t help but imagine what it would be like if it were. To be here, day after day, with this little family that’s somehow found its way into your heart.

You’re still healing, still putting yourself back together, but this—this feels like the start of something you could believe in again.

What you couldn’t believe though was the email from your building administrator with an acknowledgment receipt for next quarter’s rent payment—all settled. You haven’t made the deposit yet, how come it’s saying it’s been paid for already?

You pace your room staring at the email from your phone as if it holds all the answers. 

What is happening? Who paid for this? You didn’t sign up for some sugar baby service… 

Wait. Something clicks in your brain. Suga. Baby.

Your first instinct is to call Namjoon, meddler extrordinaire. He picks up on the second ring, sounding annoyingly chipper.

“‘Sup, buttercup?” he asks.

“Don’t act cute, Joonie,” you warn. “Did you know about this?”

There’s a pause. “About what, exactly?”

“Yoongi,” you say, practically hissing his name. “He paid my rent, didn’t he? Three months’ worth. How did he even know where I live?”

Namjoon lets out a hum, his tone maddeningly calm. “Ah. That.”

“Yes. That. Care to explain?”

“Look,” Namjoon says, unbothered. “Yoongi asked, so I gave him your address. He said you refused his offer, but still he wanted to pay you back somehow.”

“But Joon! It’s too much—” You pause, scrambling for the right words. “How did he even get a hold of the landlord and settle all this without my knowledge?”

Namjoon chuckles, which only makes you more annoyed. “Yoongi hyung is an influential guy, you know. If he wants something, he’ll fuckin’ find a way. Just take it, okay? You’re helping him, he’s helping you. It’s fair.”

You huff, still not convinced. “It’s just… a lot, Joon. I don’t need anyone swooping in and paying my bills. And you could’ve at least warned me.”

“I get it. But you’re helping him with something really important. This is his way of saying thank you.”

You sink back into your chair, the irritation draining out of you. “Fine,” you mutter. “But if he pulls something like this again, I’m coming for your ass.”

Namjoon laughs. “Aishh. Why the hell is it my fault?”

“You’re a smart man. Figure it out.” You hang up.

You spend that afternoon at Yoongi's. He was in a rush, dashing out for some shoot as you arrive. You hear him return around seven, just as you're finishing putting Haneul to sleep. Once the baby is settled, you tiptoe out of the nursery with the baby monitor on hand, following the sounds of soft clinking and the rich aroma wafting from the kitchen.

“Hey, Yoongi,” you call out, stepping into view. “Haneul’s all tucked in. I was just gonna—”

“Stay for dinner?” Yoongi’s eyes light up, his voice gentle but hopeful as he turns, holding a pot in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. It looks like he came straight from his shoot, his hair still styled in soft, precise waves that swoop perfectly across his cheekbones. He’s wearing the softest, oversized yellow sweater layered over a crisp white shirt, and his jeans hug him just right. But it’s his smile that really draws you in—light radiates from him, his face glowing not just from a bit of skincare, but from something more.

Goddamn. The man is looking fine as hell.

You’d planned to meet up with Namjoon tonight, but one look at Yoongi—whose eyes are too shy to hold yours as he ladles red sauce into a ceramic bowl—and you know you are absolutely staying put. Joon will understand.

“Ok, yeah, that looks really good,” you say.

“It is.” Yoongi smirks, just barely, and gestures to the fridge. “I’ll plate this up if you can grab some drinks?”

You procure a couple of beers from the chiller and set them on the dining table, shooting off a quick text to Joon afterwards.

You: Hey, raincheck? Yoongi made dinner and it looks good ngl

His response is instant.

Namjoon: You blowing me off to play house with hyung. K. I see how it is.

This asshole.

You’re about to call and give him a piece of your mind when Yoongi’s voice pulls you back. “Everything okay?”

Your gaze shifts to the plates of spaghetti he’s just set down, the aroma working wonders to sway your thoughts. “Yeah, just Joon being a pain in my ass as usual.”

“Sit.” Yoongi gestures to your chair as he settles into his.

“Wait.” You grab the baby monitor from the kitchen counter, setting it between you and Yoongi. The screen shows Haneul fast asleep, Bora tucked securely under his arm.

“There. Now we can eat.”

Yoongi nods, and the two of you dig in.

It hits you that this is actually the first time the two of you have shared a quiet dinner together like this. You were expecting Yoongi to let the silence linger, but he starts a conversation mid-way.

“I, uh, was surprised to see you back here,” he says casually, twirling a forkful of pasta.

“Me too. It was… kind of abrupt.”

He nods, not pressing, just listening. You don’t think you’re ready to talk about that so you try a joke.

“Didn’t think you’d ever see the girl who carried your performance of Stan?” you add, smirking. “I basically launched your career.”

“Carried?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Nah, you were choking.”

“Hell no.”

“Uh-huh.” He laughs softly, shoulders bobbing. “Rewriting history….”

“Fine. I sucked. Joon totally went behind my back with that one. Not that he’s the only one who likes going behind my back,” you add pointedly, of course alluding to the matter of your paid-off rent.

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, looking almost guilty. “Sorry for overstepping.”

“Just don’t start paying my utilities behind my back, too. Because—”

He shifts awkwardly, avoiding your gaze.

“Yoongi?”

He clears his throat. “Just your electricity. I… may have asked the landlord to include it this month.”

“Oh my god.”

“And water,” he adds quickly, eyes widening like a kid who just got caught.

“Add my Netflix subscription while you’re at it.”

“Done.”

“NO!!! You’re actually worse than Joonie,” you groan, though a smile quirks at your lips. “But, thank you:”

He nods, briefly pausing before he speaks up again, a little too flippantly. “So… you and Namjoonie—what’s the deal there?”

You blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, looking somewhere over your shoulder. “You know what we all think? That he’s playing some kind of long game with you.”

You wrinkle your nose, laughing. “Oh god, no. Y’all are waayyy off. Namjoon’s like my brother, that’s it.”

Yoongi nods slowly, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips as he watches you.

“Everyone thinks that, huh?” you ask, leaning in, a little bolder than usual.

“Mhmm.” Yoongi gives a slow nod, as he nibbles his lower lip.

“All the members?”

“Yeah,” he says, watching you carefully.

“Including you?”

He shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though something shifts in his expression, like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle he didn’t know existed.

“Interesting,” you murmur, swirling your glass.

“Why?” he narrows his eyes on you, wheels turning in his head.

Maybe it’s the beer loosening you up, bubbles lifting your usual filters. You’ve always been a lightweight.

“You never wondered why Joonie suddenly set you up for English tutoring with me—just you—even though your company had a professional hired to teach everyone?”

He blinks, eyes narrowing a bit more.

“Or why I ended up singing with you at that damn club?” You laugh, leaning back.

His lips mold into a small pout, processing, but you’re already laughing.

“Joonie’s been throwing me into your orbit, Yoongi,” you say, giggling, the alcohol hitting you hard now. “And you’re telling me you never noticed?”

He looks like he’s having a full conversation with himself, his mouth opening and closing like a stunned goldfish inside a gallon bottle. All he manages is an eloquent: “shit.”

“Well, for the record,” you pause, “I thought you were cute, but it was obvious you weren’t interested. Don’t worry, though,” you say lightly, glancing down on your almost empty plate. “I’m a big girl now. It’s all in the past.”

As you stab the last meatball, you miss the way Yoongi’s gaze softens.

You have no way of knowing what’s going through his head. But if you did, you would find that he’s thinking:

If he could go back in time, he’d kick his younger self straight in the balls for not noticing, and tell him to get his head out of his ass long enough to realize this one shocking truth: 

You were not Namjoon’s girl.

And he actually had a chance with you.

Because maybe you’re right. Back then everything was about the dream—y’know, big house, big cars, big rings, and all that shit. So yeah, maybe, he wasn’t ready then.

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t now.

Notes: Oh-KKKAYYY!! How are we feeling? Anything you liked in particular in this chapter? Where is the baby mama? Do we even care atp?!

Part 2 is where things get more flirty, spicy, and all that good stuff.

Tell me your thoughts and theories. See you in the comments! <333

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful, human 💕🫶🏼

Taglist:

@yoongznme @nnybtitts08 @rinkud @nbjch05 @perfectiondazesworld

@marnz1990 @mxrauds @queenbloody @jadestonedaeho7 @futuristicenemychaos

@direnediane @glossdebut @maryhopemei @theresstardustinmyblood @mggv97

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@eurydiceofterabithia

Sorry if I'm unable to tag you. Did my best to include everyone who commented and asked!

[crellanstein]

And the fact that Evan now has such a problem with that sort of thing?

Heartbreaking.

Hard to find a more fitting anecdote for how Trust is one of the primary things lost in a bad breakup; the person you made yourself vulnerable too and allowed to care for you can no longer be that support you need. In fact, they’re attempts at resuming any kind of previous dynamic become invasive & are violations of the newly established order.

In the past, Evan was grateful that anyone would seek to care for him; in any way whatsoever, but now their shared history intercedes & K’s attempt to help him serves only as a visceral reminder of the problems that drove them apart.

K’s unwillingness to fully accept the way things are now, and her share of responsibility for it, make it impossible for that trust to be re-established. That’s clear because she doesn’t even think to ask Evan before she tries to heal his arm. (And frankly, that’s kind of surprising given her stated opinions on consent, but also her need for ‘enthusiastic consent’ kind of shows she has a one-sided view of such things)

And Evan makes a really great point when he mentions that when they first met, the dark, twisted, & fucked-up parts of him are what attracted her, but now she decides it’s too much?

K seems to think of Evan as ‘hers’ in a way, not totally possessive, but more like He’s a character in Her Story, and so She gets to decide where & how his trauma ends & what shape/form it’s Allowed to take.

But Evan is his own person, and he gets to decide what’s ok & not ok for him, and frankly I think he has a pretty good handle on his life, given that he was born to be some sort of embodiment of demonic-darkness: He’s channeling it for good, he’s helping the magic world stay on it’s feet, he’s fighting monsters and bad guys and taking responsibility for the damage his decisions have caused, he’s fixing or replacing magical elements in the world that have broken down because of those decisions. Yeah, he’s still socially inept & living the life of a very isolated loner & not going to much-needed-therapy, but again, he was born on a track to make him Voldemort & guess what?!? He’s no where near being a wizard-hitler witha snake fetish!

So Trust is out of the picture at the moment.

K doesn’t trust Evan to be his own person, not fully,

and Evan can’t trust K to treat him as more than her tragedy-coded-boyfriend.

Clearly neither of them have moved on, but any progress forward in their relationship is stalled by the fact that they’re still stuck on the issues that broke them up in the first place.

Rewatching mismag season 1 ep 3 and at the part where Evan goes to K when they’re having a heart to heart “you’re the person who fixed my leg without thinking about it”

And there’s something profoundly tragic that 3 years later they would be the person that destroyed his arm, trying to desperately fix it without thinking

[odoraful]

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

mini durin has been settling well in his new home in teyvat, but his strange disappearance one day sparks anxiety for you and wanderer

content: wanderer x gn!reader; established relationship; use of 'kuni' as wanderer's nickname; set approx. a month after the events of summertime scales and tales; mini durin appreciation !!; mild angst surrounding loss but ultimately comfort; hopefully not too ooc wanderer 🥺; 3.1k words

a/n: if i had a dollar for every time i wrote about waking up in the morning beside wanderer who wanted to stay in bed with you, i'd have two dollars which isn't a lot, but it's weird it happened twice

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Wanderer brought home a miniature dragon, you initially thought he had got roped into taking care of someone else’s companion. At your first introduction, it had zipped around the room, little wings flapping intensely, as Wanderer tried to scold it to settle down to not frighten you. Its excitable, curious energy compared to his perpetual indifference was a sight to behold. To your surprise, it was in fact a friend he had met on his surreal adventure in a storybook land. You could hardly believe it when Wanderer retold the details of his journey to you, but the proof was in the adorable little dragon sitting on the sofa between you.

Mini Durin, as he was named, quickly became settled into you and Wanderer’s home. You both had begun to include him in your routines, much to Wanderer's persistent denial at wanting to get closer to him as friends. One of Mini Durin’s favourite parts of the day was the mornings when he could wake you two up. He’d sit on your chest and nuzzle against your cheeks or eagerly pull away at the blankets with his mouth, leaving a less than pleased Wanderer each time. However, today you woke up without hearing the bubbly sound of his giggles and greetings.

Your eyes opened blearily. Strange… he’s not here, was all your unfocused mind could think.

“Kuni,” you whispered with a slight rasp, voice still finding itself in the morning.

Wanderer remained perfectly still. He slept on his side facing you, and always had his arm draped around your body. Shoulders, back, waist, anything that connected you to him. Whilst breathing wasn’t necessary for him, feeling the rhythm of your inhales and exhales helped lull him into slumber.

“Come on,” you cooed, “we can’t stay in bed for the whole day.”

You were met only by the room’s silence, and the involuntary twitch of Wanderer’s eyelid.

Wanting to get up, you carefully lifted his hand that laid across your waist. Your fingers grazed his own, and, ever so slowly, you tried to move it closer to his body.  Suddenly, his fingers interlocked with yours. Your eyes widened with surprise as he shuffled closer, filling in the space between you.

“So, you were awake!”

Wanderer’s eyes fluttered open, amusement swirling in his indigo gaze.

“You’re too lazy, you know that?” you said with a teasing lilt.

He sighed in response, pulling your hand closer to his chest. The warmth of your body radiated across his naturally cool skin.

“And you’re too talkative,” he drawled. “There are worse things in life than sleeping in.”

You couldn’t fault him there, but productivity would be thrown out the window if you both stayed like this.

“Mini Durin didn’t wake us up today,” you mentioned.

Wanderer shrugged, rolling onto his back.

“Maybe he’s finally learned some etiquette about interrupting other people’s sleep.”

He closed his eyes again, anticipating that you would do the same. Though, he should have known better that you wouldn’t bend to his will so easily. As his guard lowered, you wiggled out his grasp. As much as Wanderer tried to stop you by wrapping his hands around your waist, you were too quick. Now that you were out of bed, there was no point in him staying here as well. He groaned in defeat. Shortly after, a drowsy Wanderer followed you out.

“Durin, good morning!” you called out.

Morning light filtered in as you pulled the curtains open, tying them aside. You scanned the room, but still no sign of him.

“It’s time to eat,” Wanderer called as well. “Durin?” 

He disappeared into an adjoining room in search of his purple-winged friend.

At this point, Mini Durin would already be fluttering about helping you open windows or perching on the counter as he brewed tea. Wanderer frowned.

“Where’s Mini Durin?” he asked.

You furrowed your brows. “Have you checked the laundry basket? He might be hiding in there again.”

“Of course I checked,” he replied.

“Well, what about the closet–”

“Where we store our blankets and extra pillows in? I already did that too,” he tried to keep the snap in his voice at bay, running a hand through his hair.

It was incredibly rare to see Wanderer uneasy, which made the twinge of anxiety you heard as he spoke even more noticeable.

Though Mini Durin was fond of exploration, it was uncharacteristic of him to disappear without mentioning, even more so in the early mornings. He had to be here somewhere. Your shared home was small, so there were not many spaces where the dragon could be hidden.

You strode to the study room, the last area neither of you had searched. The window above the desk had been opened, the light curtain material swaying lazily with the breeze.

“Kuni, I think he might have flown out through here,” you said, tiptoeing to push the curtain aside.

As you peered out, you hoped he would be there, perhaps simply getting some fresh air. However, only the occasional person would walk by, either on their morning stroll or carrying bags from their market visit. Mini Durin was still nowhere to be found.

Wanderer scowled, approaching your side near the window. “He should know better than to just leave like that.”

“He couldn’t have gone too far,” you reassured, laying your feet back on the floor, “I’m sure he’ll be alright.”

“Alright?”  

You turned to your partner, startled by the sudden seething of his voice. Wanderer’s face was contorted in frustration, though he couldn’t meet your gaze.

“He barely knows Sumeru City,” he spat. “How can you say he’ll be alright?”

Mini Durin had accompanied the two of you outside, but only in covert ways. You couldn’t deny his point that the roads of the city were yet to be familiar to him.  

Wanderer was simmering with anger, a state he hardly wanted to show in front of you. He had become more accepting of other emotions—embarrassment when you caught him staring at you on a golden afternoon, amusement at your attempts to care for house plants that oftentimes wilted, even adoration when you brought cups of tea to help him through troublesome Akademiya assignments—though, as much as he wanted to diminish it, anger was the easiest to provoke. Especially when it could mask other, more fragile feelings. Sadness and fear, namely, being the culprits.

Though he had not outwardly admitted it since his time in Simulanka, Mini Durin had become a close friend. He saw too much of himself in the little dragon to not at least hold some fondness. Few could occupy the soft spot of the person with no heart, and yet Mini Durin had cosied his way in, much like you had. It was what made the thought of losing him even more painful.

You reached your hand out to steady him, placing it on his shoulder.

“Kuni, please–”

“We don’t even know what time he left!” he continued, seeming to not hear you speak. He paced to the middle of the room, shrugging off your hand. “He could have flown out hours before we woke up.”

Too many thoughts raced through his mind. He hated this. Hated the flurry of emotions he got swept in, like a single pilot navigating through an endless storm.

“And who knows what kind of crazy people might be out there thinking he’s some kind of bounty.”

His throat felt tight as the words clawed up their way up. Some miserable part of him expected you to be afraid of him. That this side of him, prone to temperamental outbursts, would be more than you could handle.

“I–” he began before groaning. Exasperated by his own anger, he ruffled his hair with his hand, “–didn’t mean to… yell like that to you...”

He needed to think. Where would Mini Durin try to go first? Surely the Akademiya. Wanderer had taken him there many times, hidden away in his bags or garments. Mini Durin would probably want to satisfy his curiosity by exploring there himself. The Akademiya didn’t have too many floors, but it was an expansive building. If he left now, then–

Wanderer was jolted from his spiral of thoughts as he felt two hands press against the sides of his face, squishing his cheeks slightly.

“What are you doing!?” he spluttered, holding onto your wrists in shock.

“I’m calming you down,” you said, firmly.  

He was forced to look at you, confronted by the concern in your eyes.

Incredibly, the combination of your touch and voice did slow his racing mind. It was a break in the storm. That sliver of light that guided him towards safer skies.

“I am calm,” he asserted.

You gave him a skeptical look, brows raised. Wanderer clicked his tongue, knowing that his own statement was far from the truth.

You sighed.

Wanderer never spoke of his past, preferring it to stay left behind rather than exist in the present. Even so, you could make your own deductions. You sensed that sudden disappearances of those he cared about may be all too familiar to him. Your heart ached at the very thought.

“It’s alright to be frightened,” you said, gently. “It just shows how much Mini Durin means to you.”

“Frightened? I’m not…” his denial dried up in his throat, as too did his temper.

“But Mini Durin isn’t reckless. A little naïve, sure, but he would never put himself in danger like that,” you reasoned.

Tension released from his body at your consolations. Archons, he cursed. He was not one to be easily placated, but your voice and words managed to soothe him so quickly. You were a complement to his vitriol—understanding the world’s harshness yet maintaining a forgiveness he had yet to figure out.

He guided your hands down from his face, holding them loosely in his lap.

“You’re incomprehensible,” he muttered under his breath.  

With a shallow tease like that, you knew his spirits had somewhat returned to him.  

“We’ll find him together, okay?” you lightly rubbed his hand with your thumb. “No matter what.”

He nodded, his thoughts clearing with each gently circle you placed on his skin. “We should look around the street first and then head to the Akademiya. I wouldn’t put it pass him to want to explore that building on his own.”

Both in agreement, you two quickly changed out of your night clothes and headed out of your home. Walking down the street together, you knocked on the doors of your neighbours and approached those who were passing by, asking if they had seen a small purple dragon. However, you received no such clue as to his whereabouts. You prickled with anxiety with each shrug of shoulders and shake of people’s head. Maybe Mini Durin had flown out for longer than you anticipated.  

You reached the last home on the street, knowing the owner to be a kind old woman named Noor who lived by herself. Wanderer tapped on the door.

A voice called out, though it did not sound like an elderly woman at all.

“Coming!”

The door swung open. Standing at the threshold before you were two familiar figures.  

“Mini Durin!” you cried out with a gasp.

Seeing him at his neighbour’s home and not somewhere more dire filled Wanderer with inexplicable amounts of relief. His arms moved before he could even think. He yanked the little dragon into his arms and pressed him against his chest. Tucking his chin over his horned head, Wanderer let out exclaimed a sound of something between relief and annoyance. You rushed to wrap your arms around him as well, joining in on this tight hug.

“Oh! H-hello you two!” was all Mini Durin could reply, voice muffled by Wanderer’s garments.

The casualness of his tone certainly contrasted against yours and Wanderer’s panic over his disappearance. He was confused by the overwhelming concern you both displayed, and, particularly, the sudden physical affection by his friends.

Despite the gentleness in the way he held Mini Durin, Wanderer’s voice was still harsh as he scolded, “What are you doing here!?”

The purple dragon pushed his head out from Wanderer’s grasp, needing to get more air to speak.

“Well, I was just stretching my wings out in the morning, when I heard a THUD outside,” he replied, adding an extra emphasis on the sound effect. “I looked out the window and saw granny struggling with her grocery bags! I couldn’t just leave her, so I went out to help.”

You looked over at Noor standing at the door, walking stick in hand and a warm smile on her face.

“The young Wanderer and Y/N!” she crooned, “What a pleasure it is to see you.”

“Good morning, Noor,” you greeted with a fluster. “Sorry for all the commotion, we’re just happy to see our friend.”

Noor gazed fondly at the trio.

“Ah, is this little one with you two? “I should’ve known someone as kind as him would be acquainted with you.”

You moved to Noor’s side, supporting her arm as she shuffled towards Wanderer, Mini Durin still in his arms.

“I thought this small one wouldn’t be able to manage, but he swooped in and carried some of my bags in his mouth and flew all the way down this street!” she recounted with a hearty laugh.

As much as Wanderer didn’t want to react, the corners of his mouth twitched. Your expression was much less hidden as you burst into a grin. A tiny dragon carrying bags triple his size was certainly a comical image.

Noor leaned in closer to Mini Durin, patting him on the head. “Thank you, little purple one. It would have taken me double the time to get home without your assistance.”

Mini Durin lifted his chin proudly. “No problem, granny! I’m strong and fast enough to carry anything.”

Wanderer rolled his eyes and scoffed at that bold claim. He turned his attention to Noor, bowing his head.

“Thank you for looking after him,” Wanderer said.

There was sincerity in his voice that she didn’t think he was capable of. She nodded thoughtfully. It took little to judge that the prickly, young scholar had made a true friend.

“It was my pleasure,” she chuckled. “I’ll let you three go, but you’re always welcome to visit my home whenever you’d like.”

Mini Durin broke free from Wanderer’s arms, nuzzling Noor on the cheek which she happily received. The three of you waved goodbye, waiting until Noor shut her door before walking away.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The morning sun had risen past the green tiled roofs of the houses lining the street, basking everything in a yellow glow. Mini Durin flew gently next to Wanderer, still quite happy about his earlier act of heroism.

Walking side-by-side, Wanderer wordlessly drifted closer to you. Your hands grazed each other, and you noticed his skin was warmer now to the touch. You turned towards him curiously. For a split second, his eyes flicked to the side towards you, before returning to gaze straight ahead of him. It would easily have been interpreted as a reflexive movement if not for the pink that bloomed across his porcelain skin. You bit back a smile, understanding your partner’s subtle shows of gratitude.

Wanderer knew if he properly turned to you, he’d see that silly, doting look on your face and he did not want to lose his composure this early in the day. Instead, he looked over at Mini Durin.

“You left the house without anywarning to follow someone you barely know?” he huffed. “You’re too careless for someone whose been here for less than a month.”

“That’s Kuni-speak for: I was really worried about you,” you mock whispered.

Wanderer shot a glare at you for admitting that, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

Mini Durin, prepared to defend himself for helping a citizen in need, brightened. His round, innocent eyes seemed to sparkle in the morning light.

“You were worried about me?” he asked, zipping in front of you, “Truly?”

He hovered in front of you two, wings flapping in excitement, stopping both of you in your tracks.

“Of course we were!” you exclaimed. “You’re our friend. We wanted to make sure nothing bad had happened.”

Mini Durin’s little heart soared hearing you say that word: friend. He looked expectantly at Wanderer.

Wanderer stared at the anticipation in the purple dragon’s expression. He realized at that moment that there was a trend of surrounding himself with somewhat bright-eyed individuals.

“Yeah, yeah, I was worried too…” he mumbled, darting his eyes away. In a louder voice he moved the topic along with a wave of his hand, “Now, let’s all go home so I can get on with my morning.”

He walked briskly down the street, ahead of you and Mini Durin.

You and Mini Durin looked at each other for a beat before bursting into giggles. Too focused on each other’s amusement, you didn’t see Wanderer turn around to observe the two of you.

He thought it would take many, many lifetimes for him to feel this way. The world seemed too cruel to give out such warmth, and yet, there were the two of before him, a bubbly mess in the middle of the street. Contrary to what many would believe, he found himself not hating this feeling. If he remembered correctly, content was what it was named.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The next morning, just like he had always done before, Mini Durin creaked open the door to your bedroom and flew inside. Landing on the blankets, he saw the two of you in a tangled mess. Notably, Wanderer locking you in his arms.

“Good morning!” he chirped, stretching out his wings. “Come on, it’s time to get ready for the day!”

You both shifted in your sleep, slowly coming into consciousness at his wake-up call. Unexpectedly, Wanderer lifted a tired hand at Mini Durin, gesturing him to come closer.

Mini Durin cocked his head to the side in confusion. Typically, his good friend would groan and complain before begrudgingly getting out of bed. He flew closer.

“Huh? Is there something–”

With a loud exclamation, Mini Durin was swept by Wanderer’s grasp. Before he knew it, he was snuggled underneath the blankets between you and Wanderer.

“Hey! You tricked me!” he said, trying to keep his tone hushed being so close to each of your ears.

He was met only by a cheeky smile from Wanderer and a quiet laugh from you. Wanderer patted Mini Durin’s head before speaking softly,

“It’s good to see you here.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[mlyscha]

SIDEWALK THEORY ✦ P.SUNGHOON

𝓼ynopsis. in which the sidewalk theory is proven to be true by your boyfriend, making your heart flutter. 𝓹airing. p.sunghoon x female!reader 𝓰enre. tooth rotting fluff. 𝔀arnings. not proofread, english is not my 1st language, reader is kind of annoying and amelie is out of creativity tbh ( ;´ - `;). 𝔀𝓬. 93O. 𝓶asterlist.

♡ 𝓪melie's 𝓷ote: remember when i was thanking you guys for the 60+ followers... we are close to hit 100, WHAT?! thank you guys <3 ya'll are truly amazing (,,>﹏<,,) i also wanted to mention that i mainly use british english but i wrote pavement as sidewalk because i like this word better, you can judge me...

sunghoon loves you from the bottom of his heart. he is in fact so deep in love that he recently begun to create possible scenarios that could include you and him in the future ━ such as marriage.

okay, let's just not go that far. i might emphasise that, if you are expecting him to show affection in front of others or constantly do so in a daily basis, your fate is to be frustrated. the thing is that he just doesn't feel like doing it to prove his love for you. still, it's not like he has no necessity to kiss you, or hug you and all. he simply think different than most of people.

one of the things sunghoon figured out since he begun to fall in love with you and date you is that: protecting means loving, safety means forever. with that being said, he mainly prioritise protecting you more than everything; because, safety means forever, right? and he wants you to be his forever because he loves you ━ and loving means protecting.

also, since he was a little boy his mum taught him how to be a gentleman, and you can confirm your mother-in-law did a great job at it. sunghoon is just so polite, respectful, always respecting your boundaries ━ but still acting like that characteristic playfulness of a young boy when he feels acting like it.

talking about his mum's teaching, i might mention one thing that he learned, said his mum back then: "if someone you love is in this part of the sidewalk" she reefers to the part closer to the street. "and you want to keep them safe, make sure to switch places with them ━ just like i am doing with you." little sunghoon checks which part of the pavement he was walking on. "see? you're away from the danger of the streets, you know why?" "because you love me...?" "right! good boy!" ━ sunghoon from the future might not even remember this little lesson his mum taught him a long ago, but it glued to his mind until it became a normal thing to do.

now, dating this amazing man for almost two years, the sidewalk theory became your roman empire. you heard about this theory on tiktok, and from that point, you never felt the same way. i mean, since both of you were just friends he always did that, however, it was never that deep, you know? and since the beginning of your relationship you've never really figured this thing out.

so, nowadays, going out with your boyfriend is something else. sometimes you just want to feel that giddiness one more time, asking for a midnight walk to the convenience store with him, just to see him unconsciously touching your shoulders and gently switching places with you ━ and eat an ice cream. that scenario actually became kind of usual, but never failing to make you feel the same special way.

"hoon...?" you called his name hesitantly, not wanting to ruin his sleepy state since it was late. "baby?"

"mhm..." he groaned.

"can i ask you one thing?"

"mhm,"

"why do you do that?"

"mhm?"

"that, sunghoon, you know what i'm talking about!" you whispered-yelled, looking up to check on him, being met with his closed eyes and frowned brows.

"mhm-hm..." he denied.

"come on... you know? the sidewalk thing?"

"what sidewalk thing?" he spoke with a groggy voice.

"you know, when you switch sides with me..."

"i do it?"

"yeah!" you saw his right eye peaking at you, then closing again.

"mhm," sunghoon took a deep breath before asking: "what about it?"

"why do you do that?"

"i don't know," he shrugged. "may i ask why...?"

"because i like it..." you replied, admitting.

"why?"

"is cute,"

"mhm..." a cheeky grin was held in by him.

"why are you trying to hold that smile, mr. sidewalk?"

"hey!" his cute giggle echoed and that big grin found its way to escape. "don't call me that..."

"huh? want me to call you what then?" you teased, feeling his hold onto your waist gently tighten and his head snuggle onto the crook of your neck. "oh... someone's feeling a little clingy today, mhm?" his touch immediately went away. "noooo~ come back, mr. clingy man!"

"okay, stop this, don't call me those names,"

"i asked you which name would you want me to call you, mr. grumpy man..."

"call me baby, okay?! call me darling, sweetie even cupcake, i don't care," your boyfriend spoke impatiently. "now let me sleep, woman."

"eh? woman?"

"baby... baby, let your boyfriend rest, 'kay?"

"okay, you can sleep..." you squinted your eyes. "call me woman one more time and you'll be called mr. dumped man!"

bonus scene! ★

"[...] and i told her! but then she was like: "i don't know about any of that bullshit", and i was like-"

"yeah, right," casually, sunghoon places his hands on both of your shoulders and move you to the other side of the sidewalk. "...and then?" noticing you subtle silence, he continued, wanting to know about what was going on with your friend.

"um... and i was like..."

"you were like...?"

"you did it again!"

"you told her that?"

"no! you did this again," you looked down at the pavement.

"paid attention? what?" poor sunghoon, got confused about what you meant.

"the sidewalk thing!" you were trying to make him figure out what you were talking about a few days ago.

"oh? did i?" he checked himself, slowly figuring it out.

"yes, you did," you nodded while smiling.

holding a big smile, he scrunched his nose and cleaning his throat. "anyway, tell me what you really told her then, baby."

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥��𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆

[dcxdpdabbles]

I love freelancer Danny au and want to know how they reacted when they first meet Dani and how Dani relationship with Danny is like father and daughter . Siblings , cousins I kind of see it as father and daughter in this au.

Danny and Dani have a sibling relationship in this au. The Waynes see her as the fun, world traveled Aunt that randomly appears when they less expect it.

They run into her as Bats in other countries on missions. Even if they are midway in an investigation, they will find ways to change into their civilian identities to just have a coffee with Aunt Dani by "chance" in Italy.

The Fentons act like Bruce and Danny are married, even though Danny has never even brought up the relationship between them. So they will treat Bruce's many kids like they are Danny's.

This means Dani, Dan, and Jazz are the cool uncle and aunts, while Jack and Maddie are the loving goofy grandparents. Fentons are known for treating people as part of the family if they hang around long enough- Sam and Tucker were basically their other kids- so it's no issue to just accept Danny's Not-Husband Bruce.

The first time Jack met Bruce, he hugged him like they were old college roommates. Danny had literally told the family about Bruce and Dick joining them for Thanksgiving dinner ten minutes before the duo arrived. He had not mentioned them beforehand, and yet everyone at the table were so excited to have them there.

[stargirllanaa]

Death Grips - R.C

Dark!Frat!Rafe Cameron x f!reader

Warnings: Dv( physical abuse),NONCON, Mentions of Dv, Cheating, mentions of cheating, abusive relationship, gaslighting, manipulation, frat!rafe, blackmail, emotional abuse, underage drinking, he’s an asshole guys

Summary: inspired by ‘death grips’ by Etta Marcus/ After a messy break up with Rafe Cameron your freshman year of college, he can’t seem to leave you alone. Whether you’re awake or asleep

A/n: hey guys I haven’t wrote in so long but I had this idea in my head for so longgg, hope you enjoy cause this is a series!!<3

Part: I

……

It had been four months since you broke up with him, yet he still haunted every aspect of your life through your dreams. You were beyond tired of waking every morning with a pounding heart and a bed drenched in cold sweat from memories plaguing your mind. You always thought the most challenging part of a breakup would be the actual breakup, but it wasn't; no matter how hard you tried, you knew you would never forget the heartache Rafe put you through, and you had come to peace with that, what you weren't prepared for was his looming presence in your life even though he wasn't even physically present, that was the hardest part.

“You all packed up?” your mom asked, snapping you out of thought as she peeked through the crack of your door, only her eyes showing.

You had been so lost in thought that you had almost forgotten you were supposed to be finished packing up for school by now.

“Yeah...” you nodded as you quickly bagged up some remaining things that had sat on your bed.

“Well, almost,” you chuckled as your mom entered your room,folding up clothes to help you finish.

“Listen,” she said softly, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. “I know you're really stressed about going back. "

You sighed as she spoke. Part of you felt guilty for the way things went last semester. You always tried not to blame yourself, but you couldn't help but feel like you put yourself in the situation, so it was your fault.

“But this year is going to be better, okay?” You simply nodded in response as she brought you in for a hug. “Freshman years like a trial run.” she giggled warmly.

You had never been in a serious relationship before Rafe. The two of you had started dating at the beginning of your freshman year.bYou met him in your psych class, which you had been failing horribly. It's not like you were stupid. You could easily understand the material if you tried, but you were lazy and didn't feel like it. You had to guess Rafe was failing too, because when your professor partnered the two of you up for your big midterm, which was 30 percent of your grade, you got 72 percent.

Although getting 72 percent wasn't exactly a grade to be proud of, it was enough to pass, and it seemed like a victory at the time. Rafe had this way of making even the most minor victories feel significant, and it was then that you started to see him in a different light. After the project, you both started spending more time together, studying, hanging out, and gradually, what began as a partnership for class grew into something more.

Your relationship with Rafe had always been complicated, to say the least. He was a junior, part of a frat, and you were just a freshman with like two friends, and everyone knew Rafe. So when you started dating it was cool that everyone started to know you.

Rafe was the worst, something you only fully recognized in hindsight. At first, his attentiveness felt like care, and it was easy for you to fall into his traps because you had never been with anyone else. but it quickly morphed into control. He picked who you could hang out with, what you could wear, and even how you spent your free time. You knew you didn’t like that but it was your norm.

Arguments between the two of you were frequent and intense, His yelling at you to “get away from him” turned into full-fledged pushes across the room. What started as him grabbing your wrist a little roughly turned into him using that exact grip to drag you across the cold floor as you kicked your feet, trying to get away. It was a classic case of an abusive relationship. Ignoring the red flags till they hit you in the face. Literally. The breaking point was when you caught him cheating on you mid-fuck.

It was devastating, not just because of the betrayal, but because it forced you to confront the reality of your relationship with Rafe. The breakup that followed was messy and painful, with Rafe oscillating between begging for forgiveness and blaming you for his actions. Not only were you heartbroken, but the stress of your relationship caused you to fail most of your classes, forcing you to have to retake them the whole summer.

So yeah, you were stressed to go back to school, not even stressed; you were terrified; after you and Rafe broke up at the end of last semester, you didn't leave your dorm for anything other than class, so you really didn't have to see him or interact with him. This year, you couldn't do that; the self-isolation would only worsen things and make you more depressed; you wanted to have experiences, go to parties, and hang out with your friends. The only thing was Rafe was a horrible boyfriend, so he had to be an even worse ex. Even though you wished and hoped that the two of you could just ignore each other and stay cordial, you knew Rafe better than that.

-----------

You sat in your dorm, headphones on, blasting music as you focused on finishing your English paper. Looking up, you glanced at your roommate Mia, waving you down and clearly trying her best to get your attention. Slightly giggling at her efforts, you paused your music, sliding the headphones off your ears.

“Oh my god, finally!” she mocked, sighing before sitting on the foot of her bed with a playful smirk.

“I've been trying to get your attention for 20 minutes!” the curly-haired girl exaggerated as she threw her head back.

“Oh, please! I haven't even been working on this for 20 minutes!” you bantered back, throwing your pillows at her.

“Yeah, right, like I believe that. Everybody knows that all you do is work all day.” Mia giggles playfully, throwing the pillow back at you.

She wasn't wrong. You had told yourself that this semester would be different; you would go out, make friends, and party, yet you were still glued to your dorm a month into it. You tried to push yourself; you really did, but the constant dreams about Rafe didn't help you feel better about potentially running into him.

“That's not true..” you awkwardly laugh as you nervously scratch your neck.

“Yes, it is,” the brunette slowly says, looking around as if missing something.

“No, it's-” you try to get out before being cut off.

“Then prove it.” Mia cuts you off, standing off her bed to walk over to you. “Zeta’s throwing tonight, and I don't wanna go alone.”

When Mia mentioned Zeta,Aka Rafes frat, your heart sank, but you tried to stay calm. The last thing you wanted was to end up at a party where he would almost certainly be, but Mia had no idea how bad things had gotten between you. She knew you and Rafe ended on bad terms, but she didn’t know the full extent of what you’d been through.

"Zeta?" you repeated, trying to mask your anxiety. "Why do you want to go there?"

Mia gave you a knowing smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Because Topper's been trying to get with me for weeks now, and he invited me tonight.”

Your stomach churned at the mention of Topper. He and Rafe were close, practically best friends, which meant Rafe would definitely be at the party. The idea of seeing him again, especially in a place that held so many bad memories, made you feel sick. But Mia had no idea how deep your anxiety ran, and to her, this was just about a fun night out and a cute guy.

"Mia, you know Rafe’s going to be there," you said carefully. "I just… I don’t know if I’m ready for that."

Mia’s face softened, and she shifted, leaning forward. "I know things didn’t end well, but you can’t let him keep you from living your life, right? You deserve to have fun, meet new people, and not let some jerk control how you feel."

You bit your lip, staring at the floor. She was right, in a way. You couldn’t hide forever. But the thought of being in the same room as Rafe, of possibly having to interact with him, made your chest tighten with fear. Mia had no idea just how bad things had been between the two of you. To her, Rafe was just a messy breakup, not a nightmare that still haunted your every step.

"I know, it’s just…" you trailed off, unsure of how to explain the weight of it all without giving too much away.

"Look, if it gets weird or if you feel uncomfortable, we’ll leave. I promise. But maybe this is your chance to show him that you’ve moved on, that he doesn’t have power over you anymore."

Her words hit you, and for a moment, you considered it. Maybe going to the party was a chance to reclaim something, to face Rafe without fear, and show him—and yourself—that he no longer had a hold on you. But a part of you still hesitated, the fear gnawing at your resolve.

"Okay," you said after a long pause, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll go. But if things get too much, we leave, no questions asked."

Mia’s face lit up, and she pulled you into a hug. "Yes! Don’t worry, we’ll have fun. We’ll stick together, and it’ll be fine. I promise.”

You forced a smile, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach as Mia rushed over to her closet to pick out outfits. You hoped she was right, that tonight could be a fresh start, but deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that being so close to Rafe again would stir up things you weren’t ready to confront.

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

The bass from the music thudded through the ground as you and Mia walked up to the Zeta house. Even from outside, you could hear the chaotic hum of voices and laughter mixed with the pounding beat of whatever random early 2000s white boy song was blasting through the speakers. Your nerves tightened with every step, and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

Mia seemed unfazed, practically glowing with excitement. She gave you a quick, encouraging smile as she adjusted her skirt. “Okay, we’re just going to have fun, remember? Topper’s probably already inside, and we don’t have to stay long if it gets too crazy.”

You nodded, though your heart was racing faster than you’d like to admit.

The front door was wide open, people streaming in and out like they were at some exclusive club. Mia grabbed your hand, pulling you inside with a grin.

The moment you stepped through the door, the atmosphere swallowed you. The smell of beer and sweat mixed with the sharp scent of alcohol. The dim blue lights illuminated the crowd of bodies packed together. It was overwhelming, and for a second, you considered turning around and leaving before anyone noticed you were there.

You thought you pregamed good, but apparently not good enough. The minute you looked around, you felt too sober to be there. Mia was already scanning the room, probably looking for Topper, as you tried your hardest not to scan the room and end up making any unnecessary eye contact with you-know-who.

“Oh, he's right there,” Mia yells over the loud music, reaching for your hand.

You tried your best to down the alcohol from the water bottle you and Mia had brought, the bitter taste burning your throat as she pulled you toward Topper. You knew the only way you'd make it through the night was if you drunk enough. Topper knew you, and you knew him—and you were almost sure he’d mention your presence to Rafe if he hadn’t already. This whole situation felt like a setup, a trap you’d willingly walked into.

When you finally reached Topper, you stood awkwardly behind Mia as she and Topper made small talk. You tried your hardest not to look at him; even though he wasn't Rafe, he was still a huge reminder of him, but every time you found yourself accidentally looking at him, he was already looking at you. You found it very strange, even looking at Mia a few times to see if she noticed. It sent a shiver down your spine; you already felt anxious about being here, but how he looked at you made it seem like he knew something you didn't.

Not long after Mia had been chatting with Topper, she turned toward you drunkenly with a big, mischievous smirk.

"Hey," she slurred slightly, leaning in close to you as if sharing a secret. “Topper wants to show me his room upstairs. You cool waiting for me here?" Her voice was filled with a mix of giddiness and anticipation.

Your stomach dropped a little, but you forced a smile, trying not to let your anxiety show. The last thing you wanted was to be left alone in a place like this, especially with the looming threat of Rafe showing up at any moment. But Mia was your friend, and she deserved to have fun.

“Yeah, sure,” you said, your voice sounding steadier than you felt. “I’ll just hang out on the couch or something.”

Mia’s grin widened, and she gave you a quick, sloppy hug. “You’re the best! I won’t be long, I swear.”

Before you could respond, she grabbed Topper’s hand and dragged him toward the stairs. You watched them disappear into the crowd, your pulse quickening as you realized you were alone in a house full of people you didn’t want to see.

You looked around, searching for a spot to sit. The couch in the corner seemed the safest option, so you headed that way, trying to ignore the unease creeping up your spine. Sitting down, you took another swig from your water bottle, hoping the alcohol would kick in soon and numb the nerves threatening to take over.

And it did; about 20 minutes later, you felt on top of the world. You had made it off your spot on the couch, made a whole new group of friends for the night, and started dancing like no one was watching, but someone was, and you started to feel it. The party's energy had begun to lift your spirits, and you felt freer than you had in a long time.

But then, in a split second, that sense of freedom evaporated.

It was as if you could sense him before you even saw him. That familiar tension gripped you as your eyes instinctively scanned the room, and there he was—Rafe, leaning casually against the far wall. His eyes were already on you, a predatory gleam in them, and your heart sank. You wanted to leave immediately. You looked down at your phone, immediately texting Mia that the two of you had to go. Your new friends even looked at you, concerned at the change in your demeanor, asking you what was wrong, and in your drunken state, you told them.

“My fucking ex is here, and he's staring at me!” you stressed to the group of girls over the blaring music.

“Girl, that's amazing! This is your chance to make him jealous!” one of the girls slurs with a glowing smile as she takes your hand. her comment earning nods and smiles of agreement from the rest of the group.

“No, you don't get it. He’s like crazy!” you whined as you looked down at your phone, waiting for a response from Mia. “and my roommate hooking up with his best friend.”

Sure, if Rafe was a regular ex, you would see him at a party and maybe be happy for a petty chance of revenge, but he wasn't a regular ex. You didn't even wanna interact with him yet intentionally piss him off, but you obviously couldn't just leave your friend, so you had to just try your best to ignore him, and you tried, but he made it pretty fucking hard.

He wasn’t alone. Surrounded by his friends, Rafe looked every bit the confident, cocky guy you had once fallen for, except now, that same confidence felt menacing. The smile tugging at his lips was more of a smirk that sent a chill down your spine.

He knew you had noticed him.

And as soon as he caught your eye, he kicked his act into high gear.

Rafe started laughing louder, nudging the guys around him like he was the life of the party. Every gesture felt exaggerated, every movement too calculated. He wanted to make sure you saw him and felt his presence as much as possible.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at that. It was sad that he was acting like this. I mean, how immature was he. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much seeing him affected you, so you turned away, trying to refocus on dancing and getting back into the moment. But it was too late. The room felt smaller and more claustrophobic, and no matter how much you tried to immerse yourself in the music again, you could still feel his eyes on you.

And unable to resist, you glanced back.

Rafe had taken it a step further now. One of the girls nearby had found her way beside him, blonde, tall, and obviously intoxicated. She pressed herself against him, laughing as she draped her arms around his neck. Rafe barely acknowledged her, his attention still fixed on you. It was deliberate.

Your stomach churned.

And then, as if to solidify his little performance, Rafe pulled the girl closer, gripping her waist. The girl giggled, clearly enjoying the attention, oblivious that she was being used as a pawn in Rafe’s sick game.

You tried to look away, but the weight of his gaze held you in place.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and kissed her—slow, deliberate, and intense. His hands roamed her body as she melted into the kiss, all while Rafe's piercing eyes remained locked on yours.

It felt like a punch to the gut. The room seemed to spin, and you suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe. He was doing it on purpose. Every touch, every movement, every second of that kiss was for you, to hurt you, to remind you of the control he used to have and still has over you.

And it was working.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Your heavy eye contact with Rafe was broken as you turned around to face Mia with teary eyes. You didn't say anything, but she clearly saw what was upsetting you from a mile away.

“Oh my god, he's fucking disgusting.” she gasped, looking directly at Rafe with disgust painting her face. “Let's go right now.”

On the walk back to your dorm, Mia went on and on about how what he did should confirm the breakup was the right choice and how he just did it to try and make you jealous, and you knew that. You didn't need her to tell you, but that didn't make you feel better. He had caused you enough pain, so much pain, so why was he still going? When would it be enough?

“How was Topper?” you questioned curiously, honestly hoping selfishly that he did something that would make her never wanna see him again.

“Horrible.” she cringed, mock gagging, waiting for your reaction.

Really?” you chuckled, trying not to beam from ear to ear.

“No, the dick was average, but he's hot,” she giggled, looking up as she reminisced on the hook-up. “But why were you so happy?” she full-on laughed, crossing her arms over her chest

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

“Have you seen Rafe?” you asked around the party, looking around every corner for signs of your boyfriend.

You were supposed to go back home for the weekend for a doctor's appointment, but your doctor actually canceled the appointment, so you stayed on campus instead. You had tried to call Rafe multiple times to let him know you were still at school, but he hadn't answered. You believed it was because the two of you had gotten into a fight that morning, and Rafe was known to give the silent treatment, so you thought you might as well just find him yourself if he wanted to play that game.

You navigated through the crowds of people, your heart racing as you called out to a few acquaintances, hoping one of them had seen Rafe. He had been so distant lately, and the tension between you from earlier that morning hung like a thick fog.

“Have you seen Rafe?” you asked one of his friends, who shrugged and waved you off, lost in a conversation. You sighed, the knot in your stomach tightening. The last thing you wanted was to spend the night worrying about where he was, especially after you fought.

“Maybe he’s in the back,” another friend suggested, nodding toward a dimly lit hallway. You nodded, grateful for any lead, and made your way in that direction, your pulse quickening with every step.

As you reached the end of the hall, the music faded slightly, replaced by the muffled sound of voices. The door was somewhat cracked. You could hear muffled moaning, grunting, and clapping. You gasped, hand clamping over your mouth hard. You didn't wanna believe it, you couldn't, but there was only one way to know. Hesitating momentarily, you leaned in closer, peeking through the small crack of the door. Your heart sank as you recognized Rafe’s frame as he fucked some blonde bitch from the back, and if seeing what could be his frame didn't confirm it was him, the “fuck Rafe that feels so good.” did.

You felt as if the world around you had come to a standstill. You knew your relationship with Rafe was far from healthy. Anyone could see that, but you never expected him to do it. To betray you in such a hurtful way. Your mind started to race. Had he cheated before? Was it the whole time? Did everyone know but you? How could someone treat you like shit every single day yet be the one to cheat on you? It wasn't fair, and to be honest, you felt embarrassed.

You turned and rushed away from the door, tears welling in your eyes and blurring your vision. You needed to escape this suffocating atmosphere. As you moved back into the main party area, you tried to shake off the weight of what you had just witnessed, but it clung to you like a heavy blanket.

You stumbled into a group of your friends, busy dancing and laughing, oblivious to your turmoil. One of them, noticing your teary face, hugged you. “Hey, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. But deep down, you were anything but fine. You felt hollow, betrayed by someone you trusted more than anyone else.

As you moved to the crowd's edge, hoping to catch your breath, you couldn’t shake the image of Rafe with that girl. How could he do this to you?

You grabbed your phone, fingers trembling as you dialed his number, your heart racing at the thought of confronting him. But it went straight to voicemail.

------

“y/n!” You woke up to Mia shaking you awake, your heart beating out of your chest, and your sheets dripping in sweat. “God, are you ok?” she chuckled with a worried undertone.

“Y-yeah... Yeah, I'm fine.” You yawned, looking at your roommate with a mixture of confusion and anxiety. That was the third time you had that dream since the party. You didn't realize how much seeing Rafe kiss that girl really affected you until you went to sleep the next day.

“Well, it's 9:30; breakfast closes in 30 minutes,” Mia informed you, staring at you, waiting for a response or some form of movement to show your getting up. “That means let's go.”

Every time you had a nightmare, it made you lose your appetite the following day, reminding you of how you felt during that time. In fact, it made you lose the urge to do anything, and the nightmares did come more often than not. So when you made your way to the dining hall, you only planned to get a small bowl of cereal and maybe some fruit.

You and Mia sat down next to each other, opting to eat there. You had faced your fear of going to the dining hall multiple times, never seeing Rafe there, and everything went smoothly until it didn't.

“Oh my god, Toppers here.” Mia gasped, eyes sparkling with excitement as she made eye contact with him and waved.

You looked up, confused as to why he was even at the dining hall when you knew his frat had better food than the campus could ever provide, let alone why he was there ten minutes left before it closed, but it clicked when you saw Rafe right behind him with an empty plate in hand. Part of you felt like they were there to antagonize you, but at the same time, you felt that thought was semi-narcassistic because why would they go through all the effort. But it was Rafe, and this was all a game to him; it was fun to him.

As Topper approached, Rafe lingered just a bit behind, his blue eyes scanning the room with that familiar cocky smirk plastered across his face.

“Hey, ladies,” Topper said, his tone light and teasing. He leaned against the table, completely at ease.

“Hey, Top.” Mia chirped, seemingly oblivious to the tension hanging in the air.

Rafe finally stepped forward, his casual demeanor masking the intensity beneath.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, shooting you a sideways glance.

You hesitated but finally nodded, wanting to keep the peace for Mia’s sake. “Yeah, sure.”

He slid into the seat beside you, and for a moment, the conversation flowed easily. Rafe leaned back, looking relaxed as he chatted with Mia and Topper. You tried to focus on your cereal, but his presence loomed over you, reminding you of everything you wanted to forget.

“So, what’s everyone up to later?” Rafe asked, his gaze flickering between you and Mia. “Got any fun plans? Or is it just another boring day in paradise?”

You rolled your eyes slightly, hoping to brush off the comment. “Just studying,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light.

“Like always?” Rafe smirked, leaning closer, his tone teasing but laced with something sharper. “You know, I thought you’d be over us by now. Seems like you still care way too much.”

The comment hit you like a punch in the gut, and honestly, it was weird to you that he even noticed you'd been glued to your dorm. It just showed you that he was still hung up on you. Your heart raced, anger bubbling to the surface. “Wow, really? You think it’s about you?” you snapped, the words slipping out before you could think twice.

Rafe shrugged that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. “I mean, it’s not like I’m the one who’s still depressed about it,” he replied, his tone smooth dripping with amusement at the fact he was getting to you.

“Unbelievable,” you said, standing up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor before You gathered your breakfast—cereal, fruit, and all—and headed toward the trash. You tossed it all into the bin. “Enjoy your breakfast,” you called over your shoulder, the disbelief mixed with fury driving you forward as you stormed out.

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

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Enjoyed my fic? Leave feedback! Comment/reblog!

Wanna see more? Check out my fic ‘i don’t smoke’

[readwritealldayallnight]

im on my knees begging for jealous Simon headcanons 🧎🏻‍♀️

The thing about Simon is, he really has no reason to get jealous when it comes to you, and he knows it

He knows there isn’t anyone else who could make you smile so much your cheeks hurt, no one else who could make you laugh until you claim you’re going to pee your pants, no one else who could make you feel as good as he does, in oh so many ways, because you tell him so

You tell him that those same feelings of being loved, understood, appreciated, and wanted, those very feelings that you make him feel each and every day, he gives them back to you a thousand times over

He knows when you look in his eyes and tell him that you love him, that there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he is the only one for you, and nothing or anyone could ever change that

You’re as smitten with him as he is with you

Still though, Simon does have eyes

And while the logical part of his brain is telling him that he’s got no reason to be gritting his teeth and clenching his fists underneath the table, he can’t help but grow more and more frustrated with the way Soap and Gaz continue to flirt shamelessly with you

To be fair, you had warned him that keeping your relationship a complete secret from everyone would likely result is moments where Simon would have to watch you get hit on, and simply have to grin and bear it

That didn’t mean it was any easier, watching his only best mates try and work their charm on you, all while he sits at the same table and watches you roll your eyes at their advances

“Aw, come on love, just one chance, s’all I ask for!” The handsome, young sergeant practically whines to you, cheeky grin plastered across his features as he tries in vain to convince you to let him take you out some time

“Pfft, ye’d be nothin’ but a waste o’ her time, Garrick. We wouldn’t even ‘ave to to leave base for me to show ye a good time, bonnie.” The Scotsman winks at you, pointedly ignoring the way Gaz elbows him in the ribs at his comment

Throughout the entire exchange, Ghost’s gaze has never left your face, watching every time you scoff and roll your eyes at the men’s antics, reminding himself that you’re his, and he is yours, and the two sergeants are nothing more than pains in both of your asses

Finished with your pitiful meal from the dining hall, you stand from the table with your tray gathered in your hands, flipping your hair over one shoulder as you look towards the men trying to win your affection

“Once again, gentleman,” you say to them, knowing that they’re listening to your every word and watching your every move. “I don’t fraternize with colleagues. At least not the Sergeants.”

The two men groan in feeble protest at the mention of their ranks, having heard this reasoning from you before

“Ach, what if I get myself demoted, lass? I ken I could do that, easy!” Soap teases you, only kind of joking

“Mmm, don’t think that’ll work.” You reply, beginning to slowly walk away from the group, but not before glancing over you shoulder to lock eyes with Ghost and add, “You might have to become a Lieutenant. Those are more my type.”

The two Sergeants are staring after you, slightly gobsmacked, while their Lieutenant hides an overly smug and satisfied grin beneath his mask, shielding the pride that spread through him at your words

“Shite, sounds like you might ‘ave a chance, LT.” Soap laughs, smacking Ghost across the shoulder in a playful gesture, thinking that the larger man would never actually pursue you, let alone sleep in your bed almost every night

It’s a few weeks later when you and the rest of the 141 are all out for drinks at a nearby pub however, when Simon finds his instincts growing stronger than his insecurities

Because that’s just it isn’t it? He’s not feeling insecure when he sees you walk towards the bar by yourself to order a new drink, at least a dozen pairs of eyes watching you weave through the crowd in hopes of making a move on you

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches some tipsy idiot try and pretend he’s drunker than he really he is when he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you, apparently feeling the need to put his hands on you as he apologizes

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches you shove the guy off, reading your lips he knows so well as you tell the guy you’re not interested, nor is he insecure when he knows the idiot won’t give up that easily, likely asking if you’re here alone before you point over to where the 141 have overtaken a booth in the back

No, he certainly isn’t feeling insecure when he sees that the man never bothers glancing back to the table, still trying to land a hand on your body somewhere, when Simon’s instincts take over, rising from his seat without a word to the men who glance his way and ask where he’s going suddenly

He’s acting on pure instinct as he stalks over to you, the crowd parting for his large frame to move by without hesitation, locking eyes with you just as he lands a massive skull gloved hand on the tosser’s shoulder, wringing him around to face him

Your would be admirer isn’t feeling so confident now when he’s staring up at a 6’4” wall of muscle donned in all black apart from the white markings of his skull balaclava

If he were a more jealous man, Simon might take more time to admire the way you can practically hear this idiot gulp over the loud sounds of the music, the way his eyes bulge out of his head and how he looks nearly ready to piss himself on the spot

But your man knows who he is to you, and so instead he shoves the geezer away, turning to face you as one hand lifts up the bottom of his balaclava, just far enough to swoop down and meet your lips in a passionate tangle of tongue and teeth, tasting the alcohol on each other’s breath and the desire in your systems, a kiss that says to everyone else watching, including the bewildered Captain and Sergeants gawking from across the room, that you are his and his alone

[temilyrights]

43) “god you’re so emotionally constipated.” for Emily x Reader please.

history smothers us

emily prentiss x gn!reader

summary: years of unspoken words and misconceptions threaten to destroy what remains of a once close relationship. you couldn't imagine your life without emily. now you look at her and feel every part of the ocean that destroyed you both. featuring prompt "god you're so emotionally consitpated" from my prompt list.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: angst with a happy ending. mention of blood. no use of y/n. set in season 12. unit chief prentiss.

a/n: thank you so much for the request <3 sorry it took me a while I struggled to find the right idea. I imagine this wasn't what you had in mind but I do hope you enjoy it anyway. also side note: i've deleted my taglist, i'm restarting because it was years old so if anyone would like be re-tagged or anyone new would like to be added pls lmk!

The police lights flash in the midnight sky. Agents and local police spread across the farmhouse. And you, sitting in the back of an ambulance, blood dripping down the side of your head, the beginnings of a headache making itself known.  

The bright torch shining in your eyes makes you wince, but the EMT clears you of a concussion and hands you pain meds to swallow. You drag your hand through your hair, a frustrated sigh leaving your lips. 

The unsub had come out of nowhere and whacked you over the head with a metal pole, and he probably would’ve done a lot more if it wasn’t for Tara being two steps behind you. 

Honestly, you were fine. A little banged up, with a nasty bruise already forming, but the blood had been wiped away and it was almost like it had never happened.

Well, apart from the very angry Unit Chief Prentiss stalking towards you. 

You wish this was an unfamiliar sight, but god she’d been back months now and you don’t think her smile had been pointed in your direction once. 

“What were you thinking?” She scolds, voice sharp and eyes narrowed. You don’t miss the shaking of her hands as she holds them tightly on her hips or the rising flush of her cheeks, both she would blame on the cold but you knew they were born out of concern, not that she’d ever admit it. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realise the FBI now required its agents to have the abilities to see through walls.” You roll your eyes, the half-joke an attempt to fix her glare, but you know even as the words pass your lips it’s futile. Your shoulders slump, already tired for the fight ahead,  “He came out of nowhere, Prentiss.” 

Her lips purse, “They require you to be able to clear a room. It seems you might need a refresher course. Maybe until you can be trusted and I deem you requalified it’s best you stay back in quantico.” 

“What?” You ask incredulously. Of all the dumb things- “Let me get this straight, you’re benching me over nothing? Tara was through that door seconds later. I wasn’t defying your orders. You have no reason to do this!”

“I want you to redo your basic training so I know you can be trusted in the field.” She demands, stoic, serious, and so far away from the soft woman you used to be able to reach out to. 

You laugh, but the noise is sad and wild. You shake your head in disbelief, watching the woman in front of you that years ago used to be the person you were closest to in the world. Now you stare at her and feel every part of the ocean that destroyed you both. “God, you’re so emotionally constipated.” 

“Excuse me?” 

You push yourself off the end of the ambulance, bringing yourself to your full height and meeting her gaze. You knew the day she accepted the unit chief position this wouldn’t end well, there was too much history, too much the two of you had left unsaid, hurt and anger smothering any possible relationship left. 

“Let’s not pretend this has anything to do with my performance.” You begin,

words low enough that if she didn’t listen the words threatened to disappear with the wind, “It’s because I got hurt and you’d rather damage my career and ruin the tatters of our relationship than admit that me getting hurt scared you.” 

Emily steps backwards, face stricken. Her hands fall from her hips, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles for words. 

You decide there’s nothing left she can say. You excuse yourself and grab a lift with Luke, happy to leave the crime scene and your boss behind. After everyone’s finished at the farmhouse and packed up at the police station it’s nearing two am and everyone is ordered back to the hotel to catch a few hours of sleep before the flight in the morning. 

Your feet are dragging by the time you make it to your room. The meds have done their job though and your headache had faded away, but nothing but sleep was going to help your heavy and aching bones. You wave a tired goodbye to Tara, who unlike Emily had no issues checking in and making sure you were okay, and then retreat to your room. 

You slump into the chair at the desk, telling yourself you’ll find the energy to get ready for bed in one minute. But so thankful to finally be off your feet. Your reprieve lasts only minutes before a knock sounds at your door. A withered sigh leaves your lips and you consider ignoring it but still find yourself pushing yourself upright and making your way back to the door. 

When you open it, you wish you’d listened to your thoughts. 

“Hi?” You say hesitantly, staring into the tired face of Emily Prentiss. There’s no anger, her shoulders are almost slumped, defeated maybe? You look away, too scared to analyse further. 

“Can I come in?” 

You open the door further allowing her entrance. She smiles, tight lipped at you, nodding her thanks. You close the door and wait for her to speak, pondering how in the hell you both got to awkward silences and forced tight lipped smiles when years ago you two could share looks across the room and know what the other was thinking, spent hours talking and laughing together, how you had built a life and never thought there would be a day that she wasn’t in it with you. 

“We can’t go on like this.” She starts eyes meeting yours before flickering away, “Things between us have not been right since I returned and I think maybe we should clear the air. I want to be the Unit Chief, I want to be back here at Quantico but that only works if we can be a team.” 

You scoff. It slips from your mouth, uncontrolled and harsh. Emily’s gaze snaps to yours, her surprise at the sound clear. You shake your head, “What is there to say?” Where would we even begin?

“I-” She chokes, blinking as the emotions claw at her throat. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Your brows draw in confusion as you shake your head, “What are you talking about?”

“After everything that happened with Doyle-”

Your eyes bulge, “You think I'm still upset about that? God, do you think I’m a monster? You survived. You lived. That’s all that matters.” 

Tears pool in her eyes, but she blinks them away, her gaze shifting to the wall as her fingers pick at a hangnail. She looks back at you, still picking, gaze more open and lost than you’ve seen in a long time. “Then why? I hurt you. I can see it in the way you can barely stand to be around me, like it hurts you to even be in my presence.” 

You blow out a breath, eyes moving around the room before they land back on her and then away again. “It’s not your fault.” You breathe, emotions lodged in your throat and heart beating wildly against your chest as you try and force the words out. “You didn’t hurt me, I hurt myself. There was never going to be a life I led that you weren’t right with me, you know?” You laugh, wet and broken. 

Emily’s mouth falls open, her eyes emotional pits that you don’t dare hold. 

“And then you left for London and I couldn’t exactly be upset because I had no say in what you did with your life. We were just friends. I knew it’s what you needed and I don’t resent you for that. I just…” You take a breath, “I was so angry at myself for missing you, for thinking that I could be someone you would stay for.”

And there it was. The truth. Because at the end of the day, you’ve always just wanted to be enough for the woman in front of you. For her to see you as more than just your friend. To one day have your feelings returned. 

She’d left and you’d both been busy and you’d deliberately tried to separate yourself as well, drawing back from the painful reminder that you weren’t enough. And since her return, all those emotions have been resurfacing, however much you tried to keep them buried. Because falling out of love with Emily Prentiss was just not something you were capable of, and you’ve spent years trying too. 

Emily approaches you, the space between you closing ever so slightly. Your gaze sticks to the ground, scared to see the easy to read emotions across her face. She takes a breath, the sound muffled by the beating of your heart.

“After I came back from Paris, I used to find myself looking at you and knowing I couldn’t be that woman you remembered, the one you sought for. I wanted to. Desperately.” Her voice hitches, and then lowers to a hoarse whisper, “I wanted to be the woman you fell for.” 

Your eyes finally rise, against your will. Tears make their way in delicate paths down her cheeks, she looks every bit as lost as you feel. The only thing stopping you from falling apart is the fear that if you let go you may never recover. 

“I didn’t need you to be anyone. I just wanted you to be yourself. I wanted you to trust me.” You respond gently.

She shakes her head, “No, everyone was looking for that version of me that I couldn’t grasp onto.”

“Emily,” You sigh painfully. Her face crumples, eyes squeezing shut at the sound of her name from your lips. It’s been so long, you know. “You were healing from a trauma. I’ve always wanted the authentic you, whatever that includes. Why would that suddenly change?” 

She nods, a deep frown on her face as she accepts your words. Then a wet laugh, as she wipes away her tears. “I’ve missed you. Every day. I hate being in the same room as you and it being awkward. I used to be able to look at you and know what you’re thinking. I want that back.” 

A small smile curves your lips, “Me too, more than anything.” 

“Yeah?” She questions. Her teeth run across her lip, as she dares to hope. “You think we could get back there?” 

Your heart hammers. “I just need you to be really clear here. What exactly are we getting back to?” 

She steps forward, finally close enough to touch. Her hand hesitantly reaches out and touches yours, her cold fingers intertwining with your warm ones. Your body remembers her touch, relaxes and leans into it automatically. You eat it hungrily, tracking the movement before your eyes rise to meet hers and find soft, open eyes watching you. “I want to make you fall in love with me again.”

Your breath catches in your throat, tears pooling in your eyes as your hand shakes in hers.

“And this time, I promise, I’ll be there to catch you.” 

“We might have a slight problem with that plan.” You laugh, trying your hardest not to sob.

She frowns, nose wrinkling in the way you adore. “What’s that?” 

“It’s pretty difficult to re-fall in love when I never stopped loving you in the first place.” You huff, and Emily laughs, rich and free and bright. Her face joyful and happy, and with the wide bright smile you’ve waited months to feel pointed in your direction. God the sight makes your head spin.

“Is that so?” She asks, hand moving up to cup your cheek, eyes full of love and pointed at you. 

You can only nod, dizzy from her attention and the emotions coursing through your body. 

When her lips find yours it feels like finally coming home. Soft and delicate, both too scared to push too hard, exploring slowing even as her hand holds your cheek and yours fists in her shirt. You’ve waited years for this, and if you get more of these than it will be worth it. Everything is worth it for the feeling of Emily in your arms. 

When she pulls away, it’s too soon. You follow her mouth and she concedes and gives you a couple more slow kisses before she stops herself, resting her forehead against yours.

“I just want to say sorry for earlier.” She whispers into the safe space you’ve built. “You were right, I was scared when you got hurt. Dave’s already kicked my ass for my response, you won’t receive any disciplinary action.”

You nod slightly, her forehead moving against yours, “Thank you.” 

“It won’t happen again.” She promises, sealing the words with a kiss to your lips. 

“I know.” You kiss her again, but this time you break out into a yawn midway through. Your momentarily forgotten exhaustion, making itself known. 

She melts against you, caressing your cheek. “Oh, you need to sleep. We can talk more tomorrow. I’m taking you out for dinner.” 

You bite your lip to hide the smile threatening to take over your face, “A date?” 

She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “Yes, a date. But only if you sleep first.” 

“Your wish is my command.” You can’t stop the grin from taking over your face anymore. You press a peck to her lips and lead her back towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow.” She agrees, eyes fluttering over your face as if she’s committing every aspect to memory. “Sleep well.” 

“You too.” 

She presses one last kiss to your lips before she opens the door and makes her exit. You close the door quietly behind her, sinking back into it and allowing the giggle to finally escape your mouth.

What the fuck had just happened. 

Emily Prentiss kissed you. 

Emily Prentiss has feelings for you. 

You weren’t alone.

You bite your lip and push off the door, finally ready to get ready for bed and praying come morning that this would still be your reality.

taglist: @aburman03

[blackynsupremacy]

NICHOLAS BEING OBSESSED WITH YOUR BOOBS HEADCANONS

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: nicholas can’t enough of your boobs.

contains: sfw and nsfw (18+) so minors dni! established relationship, nicholas being a simp, nicholas being a pervert, making out, mention of smut, ambiguous unprotected/protected (it’s up to the reader), oral (f!receiving + m!receiving), riding, major love to your titties, nipple sucking/biting, food play, ice play, slight breeding kink, praise kink, mention of sending nudes, cuddling, aftercare.

taglist: @stereotypicalbarbie @sabrinasopposite @afrogirl3005 @rosiestalez @supaprettyg @xoxoglittergossip @hnch33rios @tryingtograspctrl @gxuxhdjdu @simply-the-best23 @jkr820 @ellethespaceunicorn @camiesully

• your boyfriend nicholas loves everything about you.

• your mind, your soul, your heart.

• and of course, your body.

• one of his favorite parts: your boobs.

• the biggest simp to them thangs.

• it all started when he came over to your place for a dinner and movie night.

• ya’ll were gonna cook together, eat, and watch a movie. just kicking with each other, basically.

•when you opened the door, he peeped your usual lounge wear consisted of sweats and a white, ribbed tank.

• what he also peeped was that you didn’t wear a bra. you were a little confused on why he was blushing when he stepped inside.

• “because well, you know, you’re not wearing a…yeah.” he awkwardly gestured towards your figure and tried his best to avert his eyes.

• of course he believed you were this breathtakingly stunning woman who was indeed sexy as hell, but he didn’t want you to see him as a creep by any means.

• he respects you—a lot!

• when he told you why, you couldn’t help but laugh.

• “wait. what am i not wear—oh. ooohh!”

•you weren’t thinking of it that much because this was your house and you felt that comfortable around nicholas to walk braless around him. you reassured him this was just how you relax at home.

•you’d sometimes walk around shirtless, but that’s a story for later.

• from that day on, nicholas gained a bit of confidence regarding his love for your chest.

• it started out with you guys cuddling on the couch. his big wholesome self was laying on top of you with arms wrapped around you like a koala. his head rested on your torso, just a little below your chest.

• you didn’t mind. that’s your lil’ bookie butt!

•you and nicholas were laying in a comfortable silence. one hand massaging his hair, while the other was scrolling through your tiktok.

• “hmm…y/n.” he murmurs, nuzzling his head up closer. you spaced out a little and he called your name again a little louder.

• “yeah, nicholas?” you respond still paying attention to your scrolling.

• “there’s something i wanna try. would you be okay with that?”

• “yeah, sure, go ‘head.”

• nicholas took that green light to slide his large hands up under your shirt to softly caress the skin of your stomach, just taking his time and easing his way in.

• he was gonna make sure you’d stop scrolling once and for all and give him some attention.

•you thought he was just giving you an innocent body massage as you felt him move your shirt up your stomach.

•you giggled a bit when he sprinkled some sweet kisses along your navel.

• now you were starting to get confused. was he about to go down on you, right now?

•it was the complete opposite, nicholas was lifting that little ass shirt of yours higher and higher until your breasts were fully exposed to him.

•the girls were sitting pretty and looked ready to be taken care of.

• with both hands, he grasps onto them. with a dark, focused vision, his fingers take time to knead, roll, and play around.

• “nick, baby, what are you—ah, shit.” your sentence was cut short when pressed his tongue flat against your nipple, giving it a deliberate lick before his lips surrounds it to give it a good sucking.

• nicholas felt smug as fuck when he heard the thud of your phone hit the floor. now both of your hands were caressing his head as you brought him in closer.

• he’s a cheeky little perv when it comes to your boobs.

• he sees your nipples as little hershey kisses.

• ya’ll could just be standing there and he’d just grab a titty with no logical reason.

•he likes to playfully bury his face in your chest.

• gives you a motorboat every once in a while.

• he loves when you cuddle right on top of him, so your chests would be pressed together.

• he’s a sucker for you when hug him from behind.

• bonus for when you hug him from behind and you’re both shirtless.

• your plush, soft chest pressing and rubbing against the hard, toned muscles of his back are an intoxicating sensation.

• besides those itty bitty tanks you wear, it drives him crazy when you wear bikinis, corset tops, and low cut dresses.

• girl, he’d be ready to give it to you if you wear any of that with one of his necklaces.

• especially his gold cross chain. he’d be ready to literally fold you.

• you’d sometimes send him pics of you covering bare chest with his necklace on to tease him.

• for your instagram post on halloween, you and him recreated the iconic, yet scandalous album cover from janet jackson’s 1993 self-titled album.

• it’s the one with your hands on your head and he’s concealed behind you with his hands covering your breasts.

• ya’ll went so viral that queen janet herself gave you a like, comment, and a follow.

•nicholas thought you were so cute while you were having a fan girling moment.

• ya’ll didn’t give two shits about whatever backlash ya’ll received.

• you just got followed by janet jackson, so nothing else mattered.

• he loves to see them thangs jump and jiggle.

• one time you jogged up to him to tell him something and this man kept staring at your chest like he’d been hypnotized after seeing them move like that.

• you’d have to be the one to bring him back down to earth.

• “nicholas, i’m trying to tell you something important. my eyes are up here, baby boy.”

• he’d nervously laugh and apologize, he felt so embarrassed. he swears up and down that he has better self-control.

• you reassured him that you were going to let him see them soon.

• when you guys work out together. he would notice the bounce of your boobs when you were running on the treadmill.

• or when you sweat, it leaves your brown skin glistening in that area.

• his nasty self don’t give a fuck, he wants to lick it.

• obviously gropes onto your breasts while you guys makeout.

• he loves when you whimper in his mouth as his grip gets more intense.

• you were playing him in pool. it was hot as hell, so of course you wore a fucking corset top.

• nicholas just watched attentively each time you bent over to hit the balls with your pool cue.

• his eyes couldn’t pull away as your breasts pressed flush against the table.

• you didn’t notice because of your competitiveness. you just wanted to kick nicholas’ ass in this game.

•well, you did.

• man was in such a titty tizzy, he fumbled the game.

• you couldn’t help, but to gloat and he was still happy for your win.

• plus, he got to see your boobs, so did he really lose?

• he sings your praises each time you expose yourself before sex.

• “fuck, my girl is so fucking beautiful.”

• “don’t you see what you do to me, y/n?”

• “please, let me make you feel good, sweetheart.”

•when he goes down south, one hand is intertwined with yours while the other is playing around with your nipple as his tongue brings you to euphoria.

• they’re one his favorite places to release on after you’ve given him the world’s best head.

• he goes fucking crazy when he sees it dripping down your nipples.

• loves to alternate between each boob. he wants to make sure the girls get equal tlc.

• pull on his hair harder, his nibbles turn to bites.

• to spice things up, he’ll have you decorate your boobs with whip cream, chocolate sauce, or icing for him to lap it clean.

• his personal favorite is circling an ice cube around your nipples to get them cold and erected before placing his hot tongue on each.

• he’s mesmerized by the way the girls bounce whether you’re riding him or you’re beneath him in missionary.

• if it’s in reverse cowgirl, he’d hold on to your boobs for dear life.

• if he’s taking you from the side, one hand is on your leg to angle it up while the other gripping onto your chest.

• sometimes he’d just sit back and watch. he’d enjoy the show with his hands behind his head.

• or if he’s in a sentimental mood, he’d hold you by the waist and bring your chests as close as possible until you both become undone.

• afterwards, he’d run you both a bath to soothe your worn out bodies.

• he gently massages your boobs with soapy hands while whispering about how good you make him feel and not just in a sexual sense.

• he’d want to get you pregnant to see your boobs grow even bigger.

• he’d dress you in a sheer, satin nightgown that he bought you.

•he you got seven of them in different colors.

• when you cuddle in bed, he loves to be the big spoon, so that he can slide his hand under your top to caress your erect nipple.

• boobs aside, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.