#as you can see here as well. Like it's just makes me feel melancholic.

[mchiti]

Today, I went to the cinema to watch a movie that recently came out here. Not a comedy, not something to laugh on, because I'm not really laughing these days am I. It's an italian production about the odyssey of two migrants reaching Europe. Maybe we feel like we know it all about it, and working with migrants I know many stories I wish I could forget sometimes. But the graphic media portray of it is so important, something we were lacking I feel - especially in the very powerful way and with the high budget of this movie.

This movie was shot between Senegal, Morocco and Italy. It was all recited in french and wolof. The actor,  Seydou Sarr, is Senegalese and won an important trophy a few days ago. It's his first role. The director also remembered Morocco after winning a trophy.

Keep an eye on it, it will be distributed internationally soon.

(putting a disclaimer: the trailer down below has english subs. some scenes are quite impactful and there are traces of violence so don't watch the trailer if you don't feel like it).

[cursedyuri]

a soft n smutty piece for fall coziness… <3 the changing seasons always make me feel melancholic and i feel like ellie would take care of r if she was the same :)

tw: depression, nsfw, 18+ only

the sun filters into your bedroom through the half-drawn curtains, a warm glow that paints everything golden. you stretch out under the covers, hand reaching for sunlight, palm open against the blankets as warmth envelops your fingers. numb with cold, you defrost.

even as your hand soaks in the warmth of the sun, guilt twists inside you, ice cold. the phone in the kitchen has rung out three separate calls today, shrill and blaring in the silence of your apartment; you've melted too deep into the mattress to answer. the kitchen may as well be miles away.

she’s probably worried, you fret. what if she thinks i’m dead? i need to call her back.

but as much as you want to force yourself to leave the comfort of your duvet, the you-shaped crater in the bed, you can’t do it. you just can’t.

you’re not surprised when you hear the sounds of your girlfriend’s arrival, ellie’s key scraping the lock before she swings the door open. you’d given her your spare key months ago. she’d only used it on days like this.

you hear the rustle of plastic, the harried zips and thumps of ellie removing her boots at the front door. and then she’s appearing in your doorway, her face twisted with worry; brows drawn together, lips turned downward. she looks heartbroken.

“baby,” she says, voice tinged with a cocktail of equal parts relief and concern, “god, i thought you were—”

“dead?” you interject. your voice softens when you add, “i’m okay, el. i’m sorry i didn’t pick up the phone.”

“no, it’s okay, don’t worry.” she pads over the worn carpet, plastic bag crinkling at her side as she approaches you on the bed. “i brought breakfast.”

she holds up the bag for emphasis; you can see three to-go boxes inside. the smell of hash browns and scrambled eggs and pancakes wafts out towards you, and you hate the way it makes your mouth water. she knows breakfast is your favorite. you can hardly resist it, even this late in the day, as the sun sets outside your window.

“thank you.” you smile up at her. it’s forced—it doesn’t meet your eyes. she notices, because she always does.

“you don’t have to eat right now,” she clarifies. hazel eyes swoop over the bed, appraising the blankets splayed out over you in disarray, and she hesitates. you hold out your hand for her in encouragement. “come here, ellie.”

so she does. she sets the bag of breakfast food on the nightstand, then climbs over you with a clumsiness that seeps through her caution. you smile. genuinely. and then she’s kissing you, soft lips pressed to yours as her auburn locks tickle your cheeks. the kiss is gentle and languid, slow and soft and encouraging. she tastes like home, and you realize you’ve been aching for this feeling all day, body numb in the confines of your bedroom. you lose yourself in her kiss, sighing deep through your nose. her tongue is warm and wet against your lower lip; she works your mouth open and licks into you, sending heat rushing to your belly where it pools like molten gold.

you’ve found yourself in a haze lately: a fog so thick that it blurs out all feeling, leaving you spent in the silence of your apartment even after days of doing nothing. days of just thinking.

but ellie breaks through the fog as her hands cup your face, thumbs brushing soothingly over the apples of your cheeks. her tongue slides deliciously over yours and you moan without thinking. she freezes for just a moment. she draws back and you nearly whine, eyes barely opening to peer up into his.

“we don’t have to do anything,” she assures you as she leans forward to kiss the bridge of your nose. “not if you’re feeling down.”

your heart swells with affection for her: her disheveled hair, her soft gaze, her flushed lips swollen from kissing. her consideration for you. her love.

“but i want to,” you breathe. “i want it, ellie.”

so she disappears into the crook of your neck, the warmth of her mouth sending a shiver rocking through you as she presses kisses to your sensitive skin. each kiss gets more heated, her lips parting to suckle on the flesh right over your pulse. you moan and she pauses before murmuring against your throat, “are you sure?”

you nod almost frantically. “i’m sure, i’m sure.”

it doesn’t take long for her to undress you, which you’re grateful for. she works your shirt off and rolls your panties down your thighs, her hands smoothing back up over the supple skin.

on days like this, when you’re hardly afloat in the tidal wave of your melancholy, she tends to hold you with gentle wariness, as if you’d shatter if she moved too quickly. and you love it. the obvious adoration in her gentleness, in the need to take things slow.

but you decide you don’t want that today.

when her face is within reach again, you pull her in for a heated kiss. it quickly evolves into all tongue and spit and teeth, your lips smacking audibly as you trail your hands down her sides. you grip the soft cotton of her shirt and slowly pull it upwards, exposing inch by inch of pale, freckled skin, and when your fingers brush over her ribs, you feel the slow shudder that afflicts her. her body responding so instantly to your touch makes you dizzy with arousal; that pool of heat in your stomach grows ever-larger. it doesn’t help that she’s touching you too, the calloused pads of her fingers delicious against your skin. she grips and squeezes you in all the right places, drawing sharp breaths and high moans from your throat as her hands explore every inch of you.

suddenly, it’s hard to remember what came before this. the haze that had lingered over you for days. all you can think about is the feeling of ellie’s body against yours, her jeans scratchy as she rocks her hips down to yours. you hook your legs around her waist, bare cunt desperate for friction, even through a layer of denim.

you pull back from rushed, sloppy kisses to gasp at the sensation—you shamelessly rub yourself against her through her jeans, unable to find it in you to worry about the mess you’re making. ellie watches you in awe, your eyes half-lidded as your hips roll upward, your pretty lips parted in a delicate “o” shape.

“fuck it,” she rasps, and she’s lurching back to sit up on her heels, ripping her clothes off in a blur of fabric. her shirt falls off first, and then she works her way out of her jeans, so eager she stumbles a few times. you beam at her, eyes clouded with lust, and when she finds her way back between your legs, the feeling of her bare skin against yours has you gushing impossibly wetter. you find yourself in the same position as before, only now without the barrier of ellie’s clothes between you. you grind yourself up against her, twitching and gasping each time her pelvis glides over your clit; you can feel how wet you are, how messy you’re leaving her. and she can feel it, too, evident each time she moves her hips against yours and moans with her head tucked against your shoulder.

your impatience is a balloon that’s been filled and filled and filled, and it finally pops. you reach between your writhing bodies to ellie’s cunt; her teeth close around your shoulder when you give her clit a few slow strokes, fingertips pressing hard into the bundle of nerves. she soothes her bite with her tongue and then laughs under her breath, uttering lowly, “i’m sorry, fuck, just feels good.”

you hum in response, pausing to reach into the nightstand drawer, where you keep a harness and strap for situations like this. she draws in a shaky breath, turning her head to kiss your neck again, tongue circling your skin before she pulls back to slip into the harness. then she’s back on you, pulling you in for another heated kiss as she drags the tip of the strap through your folds and up to the bud of your clit. you’re soaked everywhere, and her cock feels so smooth as it glides effortlessly over you; you’re barely breathing.

ellie’s voice is in your ear, quiet but thick with lust. “let me eat you out first.”

and it sounds amazing, it really does. any other time, you’d relent, let her mouth at your cunt for hours until you’re so fucked-out you can’t think straight. but that’s not what you need right now.

“i need you inside me,” you tell her, voice low and sultry, almost unrecognizable from its usual timbre. ellie hears it, too, the husk in your tone making her grit her teeth with a low, gravelly moan. “shit, baby—can’t say no to that.”

she slides into you so easily, your cunt opening smoothly around her as she pushes in to the hilt. you both sigh in pleasure, you at the feeling of being so deliciously full, her at the satisfaction of watching your expression dissolve into pure bliss.

“so fuckin’ wet, goddamn,” ellie murmurs. she draws back only to fuck into you again, and you whine when she brushes up against the end of you. the spot that only she can find. that only spurs her on—she starts fucking you in earnest without much buildup, too pent up to be patient and slow and intentional. she knows what you want, you realize, flooded with arousal as her hips slam into yours. her strap drags perfectly through you, so deep you see stars behind fluttering eyelids.

“ellie,” you moan, brows pinched together, mouth hanging open.

she doesn’t slow down, skin smacking against skin as she fucks herself into you. “what do you need, baby? i’ll give it to you. i’ll give you anything.”

another moan tears out of your throat at her words, your arms moving up to snake around her neck and reel her in for another sloppy kiss. “more,” you gasp, your foreheads pressed together, slick with sweat. “more, please, more.”

ellie gives you one last, searing kiss, then pulls back to readjust. she stills inside you while she grabs hold of your legs, palms squeezing the doughy flesh of your thighs before she pushes them toward your chest. your knees are up by your shoulders like this, and you reach your hands around to support yourself, though your own touch can’t rival her. “good girl,” she praises when she notices what you’re doing, allowing your hands to replace her. she instead brings her attention to your hips, holding them still while she pulls almost all the way out and fucks back into you. and it’s rougher, now, more intentional. ellie moves faster, harder; you cry out a blissful oh my god, tears burning in your eyes from the sheer pleasure of it.

this is it—this is what you needed. and ellie gives it to you exactly how you want it, her body smacking against your ass and the backs of your thighs, her cock hitting that sweet spot within you so rhythmically that you find your brain is entirely empty. the ceaseless noise in your head has quieted, in its place is sheer pleasure.

your release sneaks up on you; you’re not thinking straight, overwhelmed with lust and the warmth it floods through your veins. you come suddenly but with so much force it nearly knocks the wind out of you. squirming and shaking under ellie’s towering form, your cunt spasms around the silicon cock and she groans out in delight.

spent, ellie lowers her weight on you, still careful not to crush you beneath her. you’re both catching your breath, but she can’t drive away the urge to kiss you. slower, this time. more loving.

“hey,” she says, “i love you.”

you smile against her lips, giving her another few pecks before you tell her, “i love you too.”

her arms are warm, lithe, and strong around you, holding you as close as she can. but when you start to wiggle underneath her, she groans in disapproval.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i just—i really wanna eat some pancakes.”

[yzzart]

hello, my love! how're you? I hope you're well

could you write one more compilation between tom and y/n? further detailing their relationship with the rest of the cast. I love seeing you include Rachel in your writing, and I'd love to see her recording, commenting and showing more tweets about y/n and tom!!

thank you very much for your generous and sweet attention ❤️☺️

"Definitely an old couple."

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader.

summary: your fans are obsessed with compilations of you and tom being an old married couple.

word count: 604!

notes: your request is an order, my sweet anon! and in the future i will post a request showing the tweets that Rachel shared with reader 😼!!

"Our beautiful lovebirds." — The camera, which was recording a video, is pointed at you and Tom, who were sitting in your chairs and observing yourself in the mirror that had been placed by the makeup artists. — "I love calling them that." — She commented alone, then, laughing; until Tom put the peacekeeper helmet on your head, all the while laughing about how adorable he looked.

Quickly, he grabbed his cell phone that was on the table in front of him and took a photo; in fact, more than two photos. — Suddenly, the camera goes into frontal mode, showing Rachel's image.

"A cliché couple, i love them."

"About the movie, i'm curious to know, in your opinion, what was the best thing about it?" — The interviewer asked, uncrossing her legs and waiting, attentively, for the answers.

"The best thing?" — A fake thoughtful frown formed on your face. — "I really think it was seeing blond Tom…?" — Tom hit your leg, laughing along with the interviewer; you tried to maintain a serious expression, conveying an air of confidence with your answer, a very complicated mission. — "Oh, and the worst thing was him returning to his natural color." — Your eyes swept over Tom, who continued to laugh, smiling listening to the sound of his laugh.

"That's not possible." — He recovered, running his hand through his coat, fixing it a little, and turning his head to the side, looking at you; his lips were still forming a mischievous smile. — "I remember you saying you're the number one fan of my natural hair." — Tom crossed his arms with a defiant look, and tilted his head.

"And i am, my dear." — Imitating his action, you also crossed your arms, teasing your boyfriend; Tom lightly pushed your arm and placed a hand on your thigh.

"Oh, and Tom and Y/n're, like, Lenny's godparents." — Rachel fixed her headphones, removing some strands that were in her ears, turning her head to the interviewer and Tom. — "Sometimes i feel like he prefers them over me." — She joked, feigning a melancholic frown and forming a small pout.

"It's just that she and i are his favorites now." — Tom replied, earning laughs from the interviewer and Rachel.

"And Y/n is the clear winner!" — Tom announced, clasping his hands together and looking at the camera, watching one of the producers, who worked behind the cameras, prepare to present the small prize. — "Can i dedicate a speech demonstrating my pride or is it too early?" — Rachel laughed, not believing his words and finding it funny, accompanied by Josh, with you making a gesture of reference. — "Please, honey."

"I don't know but i'll listen." — You replied, arranging a high-five with your boyfriend and noticing the presence of the little prize approaching. — "This is for me?" — Tilting your hand, you took the enchanting object and admired it; something that looked like a miniature Oscar, and was really adorable.

"When you're the best, you're the best." — Rachel and Josh spoke together.

"And i think Y/n just arrived!" — The interviewer commented, tilting her head towards a small crowd that was forming at the beginning of the red carpet; and several flashes and some screams were witnessed by everyone at the scene.

"Oh, she's here." — Leaning his hands on the railing and moving away, Tom ran his eyes over the crowd; until, finally, he had the opportunity to see you and, automatically, an exuberant glow remained in his deep blue eyes. — You were so beautiful, always have been, he thought. — "Look at her." — His tone was low, but so admirable and enchanted. — "I need to ask her for an autograph."

[ponderingmoonlight]

And yet, you're here

Pairing: Geto x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,8k

Synopsis: Years after Suguru left, you're still not able to get him off your mind. When he reappears years after his betrayal, the past collides with the present. Unexpected, in a way you didn't even dare to dream about.

Warnings: this isn't proofread 100%, the emotional rollercoaster you deserve, hurt to comfort big time, this is for all my geto girlies who deserve their happy ending

please please please make this go viral thank you

„He’s a threat for the whole population!”

“We need to kill that brat before he kills all non-sorcerers.”

“I can’t believe someone like him was able to do something like…that.”

“So much wasted potential. Why does a special grade sorcerer act this way?”

“I thought he’s a nice boy.”

“So, you’re not one of those nice guys I guess.”

The sun already hung so low in the sky that you were barely able to see his soft features, let alone the surprised look that crept over his face while hearing those words coming from your mouth.

“Are you talking about me or Satoru?”

You let out one of those cute chuckles he adored so much, the kind he heard in his head on repeat even when you were long gone. Gosh, he couldn’t get enough of this. Those lonely nights with only you and a cigarette by his side, the countless hours he spent trying to understand you while it was his mind that slowly but surely fell apart.

“Nope, I’m always talking about you, Suguru.”

“What am I if not a nice guy, then?”

Sure, Satoru Gojo was his one and only best friend, but you were something else entirely: An unspoken bond that lived in the spaces between words, in glances that lingered just a moment too long. You weren’t a lover, not in the conventional sense, but you weren’t just a friend either. You were a mirror to his soul, the keeper of truths he couldn't bear to speak aloud, and the only person who could hold the weight of his silence without it breaking you both.

“You’re... complicated,” you finally replied, the word laced with warmth rather than judgment.

“You’re the kind of person who feels too much but hides it too well. The kind who would burn the world down if it meant saving the people you love. Not everyone understands that, but I do. Or at least I’m convinced I do.”

Suguru’s lips twitched into a faint smile, more melancholic than amused.

“Complicated, huh? That’s one way to put it.”

“And dangerous,” you added lightly, the hint of a smile in your voice.

“But not in the way they think. Not to me.”

His expression softened, the darkness in his eyes easing for just a moment as he stared at you.

“Not to you,” he echoed, as though testing the words on his tongue, letting them sink into the cracks of his fraying soul.

Till this day, that one last conversation both of you had on that lonely bench still haunts him. The way you looked at him back then, as if you’d already knew that you might never see him again, as if you just counted the hours until he goes berserk.

What are you thinking about him now?

Is he still on your mind?

Are you hating him the way Satoru does?

“You’re thinking about her again, don’t you?”

Fuck. He thought about you.

Again.

Suguru lets out a sharp exhale, the sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh, bitter enough to sting his own ears. How pathetic he has to look to the people surrounding him. When he walked down this path, he knew that he’ll have to do it without you, that he won’t be able to see you again. And yet…

Losing you seems to hurt more than anything else.

 “Of course I am,” he admits to his assistant, his voice low and rough like gravel underfoot.

“Not like I can help it. She’s everywhere, even when she’s not. It’s ridiculous.”

There it is again, your face ghosting through his mind. Other than Satoru and Shoko, you never really tried to find him. If you wanted to, you would, right? Maybe you’re too mad at him for all the things he’s done. Or maybe you already forgot about him.

 “But it doesn’t matter, does it? She’s gone. Just like everything else.”

For a moment, he closes his eyes, trying to drown out the memories, the sound of your laugh, the way your voice softened when you said his name, the weight of your eyes on him as if you could see through all the lies he told himself. He’d burn every memory if he could, let them smolder in the same fire that consumed the rest of his life.

“Besides. She’d hate me now, just like everyone else. Maybe she was just waiting for me to turn into the monster she saw coming.”

“Stop stewing in these thoughts, that doesn’t matter anymore. We’re expecting another bunch of monkeys in half an hour.”

But even as she said it, the words tasted wrong. It shouldn’t matter that he can still feel the warmth of your gaze, your unwavering belief in him, and yet it cuts deeper than any accusation ever could. Suguru shakes his head while straightening his shoulders, eyes locked onto Manami in front of him in order to force you off his mind.

“Doesn’t matter,” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper, as though trying to convince himself.

“It’s too late for that now. So, where’s the monkeys?”

“Why did I know I’d find you here?”

His voice startles you, making you jump slightly. You turn to see none other than Satoru Gojo standing there, hands in his pockets, his white hair catching the fading sunlight. The sunglasses perched on his nose don’t quite hide the sharp edge in his expression he usually wears around you.

“Because I’m always here, I guess,” you reply softly, your tone as tired as the circles under your eyes appear.

“And I told you to stop a long time ago,” Satoru bites back, his voice bitter, cutting.

“The Suguru you knew… he’s gone.”

The weight of his words lands hard, though they’re not new. He’s said them before, with the same venom in his voice, every time you bring up Suguru or the past.

“I know. I’ve always known.”

“Then why do you keep punishing yourself? Dropping out of Jujutsu High when everyone needed you didn’t bring him back. Hiding out here doesn’t change anything, y’know?”

“It wasn’t about bringing him back, Satoru,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intend.

“It was about… letting him go. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” he challenges, stepping closer.

“I’ve spent years watching people destroy themselves over things they can’t fix. I know the look in your eyes - you miss him. You always have. But you didn’t even try to stop him when he turned his back on us.”

You flinch, his words hitting a nerve.

“Because it wasn’t my place. I wasn’t like you, Gojo. I wasn’t his best friend. I wasn’t strong enough to drag him back kicking and screaming or to stand in his way. All I could do was… let him live the way he decided to. I thought… maybe if I stayed behind, if I didn’t follow him, he’d understand that I believed in him, that I trust him and his actions, the path he chooses. That I’d be here if he ever wanted to come back.”

Satoru’s shoulders tense, his jaw tightening. He never understood. Until this day, he never wrapped his head around the fact that you didn’t try to stop his best friend back then. You, who had more power over Suguru than himself.

God, how much he hates that disgusting truth until now.

“And look where that got you,” he mutters.

You look away, your hands gripping the edge of the bench for support.

“I never expected to see him again, Satoru. I didn’t think I’d matter enough to him for that.”

The silence between you stretches thin, brittle as glass.

“Do you think he hates me?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

“For staying behind? For not going after him?”

Gojo doesn’t answer, which is answer enough. You know he blames you, at least a little, for what happened. For not doing more. For leaving everything to him. For allowing Suguru to turn his back on Jujutsu High.

“Suguru hating you? Never. I bet he still thinks about you every damn day”, Satoru mutters under his breath before turning on his heels and leaving you standing in the rain.

Suguru, still thinking about you? You shake your head vehemently, not allowing that absurd thought into your brain. If he would miss you, he’d visit you, right? In all those years, he never lifted a finger in order to find you.

You were right there. In your small apartment, at jujutsu high.

Maybe he forgot about you after all.

“Me? Forgetting you? I’d never be able to do that, (y/n).”

Maybe some promises are meant to be broken.

-a few evenings later-

You’ve drank too much.

You always do when Shoko isn’t with you, when no one’s around to watch you. But even though you emptied a whole bottle of liqueur on your own, you still aren’t able to forget him. Fuck, his face is glued onto your mind like a second skin, never leaves you even though you drink enough to forget your own name.

Will it always feel like this? Will that ache ever go away?

“What are you thinking about, handsome?”

“Something I’ve lost some while ago”, you mumble, absently swirling your glittery cocktail around.

“That’s a bummer.”

You don’t even gift the random stranger next to you a look, the guy who smells like cheap cigarettes so vehemently that you feel like throwing up.

Maybe it’s time to call it a day.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

You spring back onto your feet, the alcohol vibrating through your veins. You were never much of a drinker back then, only shared a cigarette with Suguru from time to time. But this became your only way to numb the pain. At least for a few hours, at least for some time.

The cold air of the night hits your face like a wall. Even though it’s far past midnight, the city buzzes in street light, laughter and cries. And yet, all you’re able to think about is him again. His laugh, his voice, the way he used to look at you when he thought no one else was watching. Is it wrong to long for him? Is it disgusting that you couldn’t care less about the things he’s done those past years, about what he’d become?

You shake your head, trying to dispel the thoughts, but they cling to you, stubborn and relentless. Why can’t you just stop? Stop longing for something that will never happen, stop running after a person who is long gone? Suguru won’t come back, you won’t just meet him on a random street-

The click of footsteps catches your attention. Heavy, yet elegant footsteps across the still busy street.

At first, you think it’s just another stranger wandering through the city’s darkened streets. But something about the rhythm - steady, purposeful - sets your nerves on edge. Something about this feels familiar.

You glance up, your heart skipping a beat as your gaze meets a pair of familiar dark brown eyes.

Suguru Geto.

The world around you blurs, the sounds of the city fading into silence. It’s him, unmistakably him. His hair is longer than you remember, strands sticking to his face from what looks like rain, or maybe it’s sweat. Blood splatters ruin his clothes and the sharp line of his jaw, painting a stark, gruesome picture paired with those cold orbs. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes… they’re searching, watching your every move.

You should run, or scream, or yell at him – at least something that shows him what he put you through.

Anything.

He’s the same man who left you, who walked away from everything, from you. He, who didn’t even tell you about his true feelings, who didn’t care about the consequences of his actions, who didn’t even ask you to join. All those miserable nights you imagined him sitting next to you on that bench, the bottles of alcohol you’ve drank just to forget his name. He needs to pay for it, needs to know what he did to you by leaving you behind.

But instead, your feet move of their own accord, closing the distance between you in an instant.

Before he can react, you throw your arms around him so, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Suguru freezes, his body stiff against yours. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, as if the sheer force of your presence has left him powerless. You bury your face against his chest, not caring about the blood, the grime, or the hurricane of questions swirling in your mind. All you care about is the fact that he’s here, alive, and solid beneath your touch. You can feel him – not only in your dreams, but for real.

Suguru is here.

He’s alive.

He’s right between your arms.

The scent of him - familiar, though tinged with something darker - fills your senses, dragging you back into a world you thought you’d never touch again. Tears sting your eyes, but you bite them back, unwilling to let them fall.

“Suguru,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Finally, he moves. His arms lift hesitantly, then wrap around you with a force that knocks the air out of your lungs. He holds you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear any given minute, his grip firm and desperate. His head dips slightly, and for a moment, you think you feel him trembling too.

“What are you doing?”

His voice is rough, low, almost broken.

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice muffled against his chest.

“I just… I missed you.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes scanning your face as if trying to memorize every detail.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, his tone a mixture of regret and warning.

“Neither should you,” you counter, your gaze unwavering.

Suguru’s lips twitch, almost forming a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He lifts a hand, his fingers brushing against your cheek as though testing if you’re real.

“You should hate me.”

“Maybe I should,” you reply, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you.

God, you’re so furious at him. Mad because he ran away, mad because he left you standing in the rain.

Mad because this is actually the first time Suguru Geto hugged you.

“But I don’t. I guess I could never hate you.”

His expression falters, the mask he’s worn for so long cracking just enough to reveal the man beneath. The one you knew, the one you loved in a way you never fully understood. And for the first time since leaving everything behind, he feels that small ray of sunshine taking in his heart again.

“You don’t know what I’ve done, what I’ve become. I was so sure you’ll hate me like everyone else.”

“I know enough. And I don’t care. You’re still Suguru Geto, aren’t you?”

He exhales sharply, the sound almost like a laugh, though there’s no humor in it. You, not caring about the fact that he ended countless lives out of his own fulfilment? You, a jujutsu sorcerer who always protected those monkeys?

“You’re too good for this,” he bites back, shaking his head.

“Too good for me.”

“Don’t decide that for me,” you snap, surprising even yourself with your suddenly so sharp tone.

“You don’t get to make that choice. You already did when you left without saying goodbye”

The silence between you stretches, heavy with unspoken words. You’re right and he knows it. But… Was it really a possibility to take you with him back then? Was there a tiny chance that you…would have joined him?

Slowly, he leans his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as though seeking comfort in your presence. No, he doesn’t want to think this through. Not right now. Not when he feels your heart pound against his body, not when you’re this close to him for the very first time.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he admits, his voice barely a whisper.

“I told myself it was better that way.”

“And yet you’re here,” you point out softly.

“And yet I’m here,” he echoes, his lips curving into a faint, bitter smile.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you. No blood, no curses, no jujutsu, no past or future. Just the weight of the present, fragile and fleeting. And for now, that’s enough.

For now, simply holding the man you thought you’ve lost forever on a random street is more than enough to make you feel whole again.

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[moonyspupp]

All Yours

Lucius Malfoy X Female Reader

SMUT

CW: breaking up,drinking,slightly drunk sex, smut, age gap (readers like 19-20 also)

Had to take the lack of Lucius posts into my own hands.. I hope you enjoy this! It’s 5 am rn..

·.★·.·´¯`·.·★ ·.★·.·´¯`·.·★ ·.★·.·´¯`·.·★ ·.★·.·´¯`·.·★

It’s been quite some time since you and Draco broke up. After dating since your 5th year, he decided to ultimately break things off with you. Heartbroken, you never understood why but could no longer fight his choice. You truly believed the two of you would last even after graduation, but yet you were wrong. For a while you were left hurt and wondering. You didn’t fully grasp the reasons behind his decision, and your attempts to make him reconsider had ultimately been useless.

—

You clutch your tote bag as you make your way down the Diagon Alley. Bustling with activity; witches and wizards of all ages came in and out of shops, their voices filling every inch of the pace with sound. There was a melancholic energy in the air, as your memories started to flood back. You had come here to attempt to forget the pain of your recent breakup. As you walked down the cobblestones, the sights and sounds of the alley enveloped you, slightly distracting you.

“I need a new wand..” you sigh to yourself remembering the fit of rage from before was the reason your wand broke.

You brush that feeling aside, spotting Ollivanders and changed your path to that direction. You reminisce the date you had with Draco there many years and it frustrated you. Though this was supposed to be a distraction, everything seemed to remind you of Draco and the pain of his decision. Your feel your heart grow heavier with each step

You continue to walk past, each one bringing a memory you would rather forget.

You step into the small wand shop, the smell of wood and magic filling the air. The shopkeeper, a familiar face organizing bottle greets you as you walked in

"Welcome. How can I help you today?" he greets you turning his head

“Hi sir, I’m looking for a new wand” you say giving him a weak smile.

He smiles back and gestures around the room full of wands. You busily browse the selection of wands, your attention focused on finding the right one. The large selection causing you to take your times Little do you know that Lucius Malfoy, has entered the shop.

He notices you almost immediately, his sharp grey eyes observing you as you move around the shop. He watches you intently, your face filled with a soft yet sad expression, of course he knew why that was.

Lucius continues to observe you silently, his eyes following your every move. He recognizes the signs of heartbreak. He walks up beside the shopkeeper not wanting to disturb you, standing a short distance away from you, his silver eyes still studying your every movement.

“This one should be it ..” you muttered to yourself as you observe the wand.

You trudge your way to the counter to pay. Letting out a soft sigh, you wanted to go back home already. You a signal to the shopkeeper that you've made your selection. The elderly man smiles at you kindly, nodding in understanding.

"Ah, found the one that spoke to you, I see." he chuckles, reaching out to take the wand from you. He begins the process of wrapping up the wand up intricately.

“Excuse me, young lady." Lucius Malfoy's voice chimes in from a few feet away.

Your eyes dart up to see who the voice was coming from, so familiar yet you hoped to yourself that it wasn’t who you thought. It was indeed, Draco’s father. Your heart started racing at the unexpected sight of him, why would he be here of all places? Your lips parted slightly as if to say something but before you could he cuts you off.

"(y/n), how have you been?” Lucius steps forward, his silver eyes locking onto yours. There's a hint of curiosity there, as he gives you a slight smirk

“Oh , sir.. I’m.. I’m doing well, just here to buy a wand.” You say stuttering still not exactly sure what to say.

He raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement appears on his face as he picks up on your stuttering. He steps closer, looking at the man continuing to pack the wand.

“I’ll pay for it (y/n), don’t worry about it.” Lucius tells the shopkeeper, the same smirk never leaving his face.

The shopkeeper nodded smiling handing him the wand. “Wait sir it’s fi-“ before you can even finish protesting, Lucius is already handing the man the gold to pay. Your surprised eyes meet his gaze as he chuckles at your expression.

After the payment was finished, he turns to you, holding the wrapped up wand in his hand.

"Follow me." he said sternly, before walking out of the shop and into the alley, expecting you to follow.

Your face still remained surprised by the whole event that just took place at the shop. You did NOT expect to see him whatsoever. Standing there in a slight trance, you realize what Lucius said and quickly walked out the shop thanking the man.

It took you a bit of time to catch up to him but Lucius was standing a little way down the alley, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

"Took you long enough." He said almost casually, pushing himself from off from the wall to stand. He began walking at a relaxed pace, that you would continue to follow, his silver eyes watching you.

“About the wand sir.. thank you.” You muttered quietly trying not to meet his gaze

Even during the time you did date Draco, Lucius wasn’t ever up for much of a conversation. Not that he didn’t like you, but he preferred to watch you from afar as Draco doted on you. You weren’t sure why he had bought the wand for you, but nevertheless you were grateful, though it does have you wondering.

Glancing over his shoulder at you, his smirk widening as he heard your soft words of thanks. He stopped walking for a brief moment and turned to face you, studying your face for a moment. You felt your face turning slightly red at his eyes peered at you.

"You’re welcome." Lucius said, his eyes never leaving yours. He couldn't help but find slight amusement in your attempt to avoid his gaze, almost intriguing him.

You give him a small nod as the two of you continued to walk. You couldn’t brush off the way he made you feel. “Your exes father for gods sake” you thought as you tried to pull yourself together.” Yet the feeling kept coming back. Was he always this handsome? You thought as you looked at the side of his face as he walked.

Lucius notices your stolen glances, not saying a word, he smirks.

“Shit..” your face begins to flush up again as your mind began to race, trying to break the awkward heavy silence you asked him about where he was taking you.

“Where are we going sir?” You asked softly with a slightly tilted head.

“Malfoy manor dear, shouldn’t be much longer.” He said his eyes still on the cobblestone street. “Draco isn’t there, so don’t worry.” He said letting out a small soft laugh

You stay quiet, feeling embarrassed about Draco and the end of your relationship with him, your walking becomes slower as you begin to think about it again. You grit your teeth slightly at his words, not taking offense but still a bit hurt.

He slows his steps a little, falling back to walk closer to you. His shoulders slumped slightly. His eyes continued to glance over at you, as if he was searching for something.

"Tell me (y/n), how are you really holding up?" He asked with a sincere voice.

You stop in your tracks after being confronted, letting out a loud sigh. You begin to feel your body shake at the thought of it

“Not.. as well as I wish I was sir.” You muttered quietly feeling your fists ball up at your side.

Picking up on your tension, his eyes caught the sight of your clenched fists. He lets out a soft sigh, steps slowing even further. He looked over at you, a mixture of concern and sadness on his face.

"Still hurting from the breakup, I see." He said bluntly, but in his voice you sensed no sarcasm or malice, but sincerity

“Mhm” you mumbled “I’ll be okay eventually sir don’t worry about me” you gave him a weak smile

“That's what they all say, 'I’ll be okay’" he playfully mocked smirking

You give him a pout at his words, still feeling embarrassed about the whole thing with Draco, your eyes brim slightly with tears. You turn away slightly as to not let Lucius see.

His eyes widen in surprise as he notices the tears in your eyes. He had not expected that his words would have such an effect on you, but then again, the pain in your eyes tells no lies. Lucius lets out a sigh, stepping closer to you. The mocking expression was gone from his face, replaced with one of guilt.

"Come now. No need to cry over that boy." He tuts as he wiped a tear away from your eye. He lets out a sigh feeling guilty.

You slowly nod trying to regain composure of the situation, trying your best not to cry in front of your exes father.

“Let’s get you inside dear.” Lucius said as he wraps an arm around your shoulder. Feeling a slight sense of comfort , the two of you make your way inside the familiar manor.

He guided you up the stone steps and through the big oak doors. Looking around as you take in the elegant dark surroundings. Your head turns around every corner; reminiscing the family portraits. A sense of nostalgia fills you as the familiarity of the house sinks in.

He led you down a long hallway, lined with the beautiful walls and expensive items. Eventually, you came to a stop in front of a large oak door. Lucius pushed the door open, gesturing for you to enter ahead of him.

You oblige and step in seeing a small but elegant library. The room is filled with bookshelves with all kinds of titles with a slight aged appearance. The center of the library sits an oak desk, it’s surface littered with parchment and a few very expensive looking bottles. The sound of the crackling fire place comforts you further, coziness begins to replace your sadness. You continue to marvel around the library and its quirks until your attention is soon drawn to the other side of the room, where a plush velvet couch sits in the corner.

“Have a seat” Lucius says, gesturing to the couch before making his way to the desk to pour two glasses of what looks to be firewhisky

He comes back holding the two glasses, handing you one before he sits down next to you, the couch large enough that it allowed for a small comfortable distance between the two of you. He leaned back into the soft cushions, his look turns confident as his eyes turned back at you.

“Feeling better now?” He asks with a smile before taking a sip of firewhisky

“Yes sir thank you” you smile sweetly at him before tasting the alcohol yourself. The warm stinging feeling engulfs your throat. Taking a deep breath after a few more sips; the realization that you were now alone with Lucius begins to set in; making you feel slightly heavy with forbidden desires.

You pick up a small book on the table next to the couch as you set down the glass, you began to read in an attempt to once again distract you.

This time for a different reason.

The silence grows between the two of you, broken occasionally the crackle of the fireplace.

Lucius lets out a small content hum as he stretched his legs out, crossing one knee over the other as he continued to look at you. His eyes flicked over your features again, noticing the small things he hadn’t during the time you were with Draco. The way your lips curled up whenever you were embarrassed, and the sweetness of your voice. Even the way your hair framed your face, so much about you enamored him the more he thought about it. He would be lying if he said that something about you didn’t interest him in a very certain way. He let out a small sigh, and looked away, turning his gaze towards the fireplace.

Suddenly, the air in the room seemed heavier. Silence continued as the two of you sat there. You occasionally looked up from your book to see Lucius deep in thought, his eyes fixed on the flames in the fireplace swishing his glass. After a few more moments of tense silence he spoke again.

“Tell me, (y/n), how long were you and Draco dating again?” He asked with his gaze still fixed on the fireplace as he took another swig of his glass.

“Mm four years or so sir.” You said quietly breaking the view from your book to look at him. Your body began to warm up just a bit, including your core. You press your thighs together in order to get some relief.

“Four years. It’s a long time.” Lucius said quietly, before letting out a sigh. His expression relaxed as he listened to your response. Finally processing it, he let out a scoff, shaking his head slowly.

“Such a fool to let a girl like you out his grasp, unbelievable really” he mutters softly before setting the empty glass down. You can sense his cool facade slipping away as his legs spread ever so slightly, now touching yours

“What makes you say that sir?” You mumble feeling a slight buzz of the alcohol

Lucius smirks at your words, noticing the alcohol starting to make you tipsy, he himself feeling it as well. He lets out a sigh. He looks over at you, his eyes scanning up and down your figure briefly, taking in the way the soft lights caressed your relaxed face.

"You're a beautiful girl, (y/n). You deserve better than being tossed aside like that.” His words sounded sincere, especially considering the amount of alcohol the two of you had drank so far.

"A girl like you... deserves a man that can appreciate you." He said leaning back slightly into the couch. Lucius’s eyes continued their gazing, committing every inch of you into memory

“You mean that sir?” You ask him leaning towards him slightly. You look at him through your lashes pouting

Lucius chuckled faintly, his eyes flicking over your face as you leaned closer. He was aware of the way your body inched closer, too aware and he couldn’t help but smile, enjoying the way you looked at him with such an innocent yet seductive look. He feels his own desire growing at the sight of it.

“Of course I mean it, darling.” He said smirking slightly biting his bottom lip

He leaned in a little closer, closing the small distance between the two of you even further. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your jawline for a moment, admiring the view in front of him

“You’re a charming little thing, aren’t you?” He chuckled, his voice low and smooth as firewhisky. His eyes were almost glued to your face, taking in every little detail he could.

You let out a small laugh at his words placing a hand on his neck and trailing down, his heart nearly slips a beat at the feeling, feeling his better judgment begin to slip. His eyes met yours, both full of need as the air begins to darken with desire.

“You’re making it difficult to keep my composure, darling. You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.” he murmured, his voice deep and sharp

In that moment you have made your mind up, you no longer cared if this was Draco’s father. You needed to have this man. Right here right now. His breath hitches as you begin to rub his thigh through his pants, gradually moving closer to his hardening member.

Lucius’s breath becomes heavier at your touch, his hand remained on your face, his thumb still stroking your cheek. He had leaned in even further without even noticing, his lips almost touching yours now. His other hand found its way to your waist now resting on your hip, gripping slightly.

“I wonder if my son realizes what he lost,” he said quietly as his lips met yours

The kiss was firm and passionate as they moved roughly against yours, the taste of alcohol filled your mouth as the kiss continued. His hand on your hip squeezed slightly, pulling you closer to him. The heat from you bodies now being shared in a moment of lust. The kiss quickly became more intense, Lucius's need for you building even more with every passing second. The sound of hot breaths and huffs becoming louder. His tongue flicked over your lips as you quickly let him, silently asking for more. His hand on your hip tightened its grasp, pulling you onto his lap, pressing your body firmly against his.

You wanted this badly.

You moan into the kiss as he ran his arms up and down your figure, breaking the kiss his fingers reaching down to the bottom of your shirt as he quickly slipped it off you. Your breasts sat so beautifully in your black bra, making Lucius’s eyes widen. Using his free hand he shamelessly unclasped the back before tossing them aside. Your top half now bare before his eyes. Lucius spent no time groping them, as he pulled on your hardened nipples; earning a wince from you.

The feeling was too much for you to not act on as you started to slowly grind yourself onto his lap, the light from the fireplace contouring your curves in such a way that made you look ethereal. He groaned at the feeling as he gripped your breast firmly. He wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you in place as his lips began to dance against yours. He let out a small moan, the sound deep and guttural, the feeling of you in his lap driving him.

“Naughty girl aren’t you (y/n)” he tuts with his heavy breath, he subconsciously began to move his own hips against yours.

You bury your face into his neck as your arms come up to shoulders, letting out a small whimper in response to his words. His chest pressed tightly against yours as you feel your hearts beat against each other

His arms find their way down to your waist once more and he groans at your innocent response. Lips now biting and kissing at your neck, his mind was now a blur making him lose control.

Lucius let out a low growl as he pulled you down to the smooth wood floor, his silver eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you, your body now positioned between his legs. He reached out, threading his fingers in your hair, his grasp firm.

You whimper softly at the feeling of your hair being tugged so suddenly, hearing the sound of his belt unbuckling you look up at him with needy eyes and slightly parted lips

Lucius lets out a low hum as he looks down at you, seeing the needy look in your eyes as you bite your lip he lets out a low moan. The sound he made was low and guttural, almost a growl, the sight of below him driving him wild as he pulled out his large swollen cock in front your face

“Look at you, on your knees, pouting so sweetly for me...” "Such pretty little lips... It's almost a shame what I'm thinking of doing to them." he murmurs with his voice deep and raspy as his fingers continue to tangle in your hair.

You nearly drool at the sight of Lucius in front of you, you paw at his thigh as he jerked your head forward to meet his length. You begin to grind on your heel for any time of relief, feeling your panties soaking.

“Tell me what you want pet.” Lucius growls

“Y..your cock sir.. please let me suck it” you say babbling with slightly closed eyes, your face now mere inches away from his throbbing length seeing the top weep with precum as it runs down the side.

"Open your mouth, darling. I want something of yours..." Lucius commanded, his voice thick with desire. His eyes darkened even more at his own words, the lust and desire filling his very being. He pulled on your hair again, tilting your head back further, forcing your lips to part even more.

Your face trembles as you oblige by sticking your tongue out far for him, your breathing ragged as you wait for the one things you needed most right now.

"Good girl" he smirked as his eyes fixated on your parted lips and needy face. He taps his leaking member onto your tongue a few times, the precum sticking to your lips as he does

You hear a few curses spill out of his mouth before you feel his cock down your throat. He pulls back and slams back into your throat repeatedly as your muffled cries vibrate around him. Hearing him moan you feel tears begin to well at your eyes at the feeling. With teary eyes, you look up at Lucius and he growls at the sight of you taking his cock so well.

"Look at me," he mutters, his voice thick with possession and desire. "Keep your eyes on me. I want to see those beautiful eyes, my lovely little pet." His locks eyes with you, his grey eyes sharp and focused on your own.

You moan around him at his words, now grinding on his foot, you desperately needed more from him.

Lucius pulls your hair back roughly popping his cock out your swollen lips. You pant hard as you try to steady your breath. He releases the grip on your hair as you lean on his leg. He brings his hand to your chin to get you to look up at his breathless face.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look down there, darling... On your knees for me." he breathed, his grip on your chin firm as he spoke.

“More sir please..” you say moaning, you feel your need grow more than ever, you needed Lucius to take you. You slip your panties off desperately and hug onto his leg as you continue to grind; your eyes never leaving his

Lucius could feel your need and desire growing as you pleaded with him, begging for more. The grip on your chin tightens as you grind against him. The sight was almost too much for him to bear. He was already too lost in his own desire to deny you of your wants.

He pulls you onto his lap roughly, your weeping cunt soaking his own needy member. His lips finding every bit of skin they could on your neck leaving a number of love bites in their trail. His hands caressed your body as you grinded and moaned against him.

"Are you sure you can handle it, darling? You're being so needy already." he said letting out a low growl and he continued to attack your neck.

You nod moaning at his touch, your arms wrap around his neck as his ran his cock up and down your wet slit, your legs shake slightly at the feeling of being teased. He slowly lowered you onto his length, his arms now around your waist as he moaned at the feeling. You feel yourself stretching to accommodate his length, your breathing becoming heavier as you winced with every inch.

“Mm fuck!” You whined out as you were now engulfed around his shaft fully. Your legs began to tremble as you lean back slightly to brush a strand of hair off your sweaty face.

Lucius lets out a sigh as he feels your tight cunt swallow every inch of him. His own pride growing as he sees you take him so well. He leans back into the couch as he watches your body quiver. He can’t help but let out a small smirk at the view of you enjoying it so much.

"You… you feel so good, my dear," he mutters, his voice thick with need. "So… so perfect. So... so mine." He said breathing heavily, bringing a hand to caress your cheek. You cupped your smaller hand on his as you let out a small moan escape your lips, giving him a shy grin. The air was intimate and lustful as the two of you met eyes.

He begins to move, his body moving, slapping against yours, at a medium pace, moans filled the room as he continued to ravish your pussy on the couch. The wet lewd sound of your bodies was something so incredibly naughty to the two of you. Feeling him slam right into your sensitive spot you cry out loudly. His holds your waist down as he continued to pound you hard.

You throw your head back at the feeling of being stretched out so well, moaning loudly as your legs shake. Your cunt nearly feels like it’s going to break. Lucius feels a wave of pleasure at your moan, he ran a hand down your navel as he admired the way your tits bounce as he fucked you hard. He brings your lips to yours, needing to feel you closer, he kisses you harder, his tongue exploring your mouth once more, but this time his touch more intense, his body moving against yours in a faster, more desperate rhythm.

"You're so sweet, my pet," he said panting between his moans "So eager and obedient. You know what you want, what you need, don't you?" Lucius smirks still pounding you hard, he pulls out just enough to see your wet folds stretching around him.

“Yes! Yes! I do” you babble as you feel coming more undone as you hear your own wetness slap against your throbbing pussy. You were lost in the sensation of his lips on your skin, his hands roaming over your body Your head was thrown back as you savored the moment of having your body ravished by a much older man who just so happens to be your exes father.

Lucius moans at your words and bites your neck hard, “Naughty girl.. you’re mine aren’t you?” He said growling in your ear as he grips your waist tight. “Forget all about Draco dear, you belong to me now.” He whispered. The sounds of his breathing filled the air, as he grew more and more desperate for you. He was completely consumed by you, by the need to have you, to claim you as his and his alone.

“Yes sir I belong to you and you alone!” You scream out trembling “My body belongs to you master!” A dribble of drool drops out the corner of your mouth, you forgot all about Draco at this point, he didn’t matter anymore. In this moment all you wanted was Lucius to claim you as his.

A sharp slap finds its way on your ass, you tense up and wince at the pain, the sting lingering even seconds after. Lucius grabs your chin and pulls you back into another deep and needy kiss as lips his against yours as he consumed you completely in that very moment, claiming you. You moan loudly into the kiss as you feel the heat radiating off his body to yours

His hands found their way back to your hips, pulling you closer. His breaths were heavy, ragged, as he continued to mark your claim your lips as his, his actions almost feral. He pressed himself even deeper inside of you as his pace was now nearly unforgiving to your core. Your pussy continuing to leak underneath you, he continued to relentlessly pound into you, your moans only serving as encouragement for him. His kisses and bites becoming more and more intense as you feel the two of you grow closer to a climax. The dirty sounds of your breaths and skin filled the air.

Your voice, strangled with need, crying out his name pushes him over the edge “Lucius! I feel like ‘m gonna cum!” Your broken words combined with the tears in your eyes fueled him with a certain possessive need. Your legs struggled to wrap around his waist as you feel them growing weaker by the second.

"Yes, darling, finish for me" Lucius moans voice thick, The two of you lost in each other completely, your bodies moving in a such a way that exuded need and desire. The sound of hour heavy breathing filled the air, the moans and gasps growing even louder and more ragged

“Lucius I’m gonna cum!” You babble out with your head thrown back, your cunt was nearly numb as Lucius speeds up his pace. Your kiss him deeply to savor the moment and the feeling, lost in thought you felt your climax coming as your arms and legs tightened around him as you moaned into his mouth. Your legs squeeze him tightly as if you weren’t ready to let go

Lucius looks down at your fucked expression, his gaze taking in every part of you, his need for you almost consuming him.

"You're mine, my pet," he mutters, his voice low and possessive. "He growls with a shaky breath.” You are mine to take, mine to have, mine to do with as I please." He bites down on your shoulder as he feels his own orgasm nearing as he grips your hips tightly.

His body shook against yours as he let out one final groan as he found his release, your name escaping his lips in a strangled moan as he spilled his hot seed inside you. His body was still pressed tightly against yours as he still held you. You shudder at the feeling and lay your head onto shoulder , legs now loosening. Lucius pulled out of you as he grins at the sight of his seed spilling out your now swollen cunt. You whine at the feeling as he coos you.

—

The room was quiet for a moment, the only sounds were the heavy breathing of both of you as you came down from your highs. The calmness of the room had returned as Lucius held you tightly with his body against yours. his arms wrapped around you.

“Let me clean you up darling” he said smiling softly at you, caressing your face briefly as he got up to buckle his pants. You look up at his with tired eyes, as he left the room.

Lucius was quite gentle as he cleaned the both of you up, getting you a new change of clothes, ones you have left there during your time with Draco. But he didn’t matter now did he? He wiped the sweat off your forehead as he slipped the clean shirt back onto you with a sweet smile. “Thank you” you smile back at him. You watche him tie his hair back as he sits back on the couch, patting on his thigh for you to come sit.

You reach the couch before crawling back onto his lap, straddling him. You buried your face in his neck, gently nuzzling into it. He lets out a small sound of contentment at the gesture, his arms now rubbing your back gently. His lips find their way to your forehead, placing a soft gentle kiss in contrast to the moment you two shared. He runs his fingers through your hair as you hold onto his chest, his touch gentle as he holds you in his arms. There is a sense of comfort and security as he holds you, almost protective. He can feel your body pressed against his, still flush and warm from their intense moment, your breathing regular again.

You pull away just enough to see his face, the corners of his lips curling into a small smile. He now has a relaxed face, a sign that the alcohol had worn off. Lucius runs his thumb over the marks he made on your neck, letting out a content sigh as he looks to you. His eyes locked onto yours before you place a small kiss on his lips, an intimate gesture you felt like you needed. His eyes closed at the kiss, returning it but in a tender and gentle way. The kiss was sloppy yet affectionate as the two of you let breathe softly. He brought a hand up to cup your cheek as the two of you share a soft moment.

"You're mine, you know that, right?" he murmurs his voice now low and intimate. He gently traced his thumb on your bottom lip as his silver eyes met yours. The gentle smile still there as he waited for your response

“I’m yours Lucius” you say giving him a sweet and sincere smile, the same shy feeling comes back to you as you say those words, but you meant them.

“No more pouting about Draco now darling, you have me now” Lucius said giving you a playful wink

His words no longer held the stinging feeling they did earlier that night. You felt a sense of relief as you realized that, you paused for a few moments and nodded grinning at him. You had Lucius now and that was all that mattered to you now.

A comfortable silence fills the air as your actions begin to catch up, you feel his body relax under yours as his breathing became more steady. He ran his fingers through your hair as you laid against his chest, “You know... You don't have to go anywhere..." he mutters with his exhaustion heavy in his voice,"You can stay if you want since no one’s here, Spend the night here." He said pulling away to search your face for an answer

With sleepy eyes you look up to him and nod, “Can I sleep with you?” You ask tilting your head slightly

Lucius lets out a hearty laugh, “Of course my darling, anything for you” he grinned as he took your hand

[aurumalatus]

YOU ARE THE ONLY THING

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ (THAT'S EVER MADE SENSE TO ME)

wc. 5k chapter warnings. angst, cursing chapter summary. the memory of you haunts kinich wherever he goes, a perpetual existence in his life. but when he sees you again by chance, he takes the opportunity to try to right his wrongs. author's note. the first chapter of many...this is gonna be a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, a lot of stupid mistakes and forgiveness and moving on and all that good stuff. pls lmk what y'all think! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

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MAYBE WE DON'T TALK ENOUGH. [1]

The graduation ceremony had been lovely, Kinich is sure.

If he had actually been paying attention to any of it, he might’ve even had fun. The field had been decorated with an array of balloons and flowers reflecting your school colors. Countless tears are shed and hugs are exchanged—he knows this might just be the last time he sees some of these people for the rest of his life. In a way, it’s a tribute to the childhood he’s spent here.

He scoffs, kicking at the dirt. To hell with that.

Because while everyone else had been grinning widely, proudly cheered on by their families, all he could do was stare at the empty seats in the stand. Unfulfilled promises swirl madly in his mind; the congratulations that people offer him in passing just slip in one ear and out the other.

So when you approach him, one hand outstretched as you shyly ask him to talk alone, all he can do is follow, blankly staring at the back of your head.

“Kinich, I have something to tell you.”

/

Kinich feels the remnants of you when he runs, sweat sticking to his skin and cold, biting air filling his lungs in a single breath.

Mid-stride, he zips his windbreaker to his neck, watching his breath dissipate like ice. The wind feels so much more piercing when he runs—it stings at his skin and his teeth. Fallen leaves crunch underfoot, a blanket of color over the edges of the field. Autumn always makes him feel melancholic—change always makes him feel melancholic.

Each step pounds heavy in the grass, picking up speed. His teammates know that he likes to run alone, just him and his contemplation—though Aether claims that it makes him a crazy person—and these are the rare times that he can just think.

Running comes naturally to him. Thinking does too, but not like this.

Most days, he tries to stay busy enough to avoid the thoughts. When he’s busy, there isn’t time to reflect on the past, there isn’t time to regret. Being team captain and taking as many credit overloads as he does means that he can stay ahead of the impending waves of guilt.

But when he runs, and it’s just him and the sound of his footsteps, memories of you start to creep in.

They say grief comes in waves, and he believes that must be true—you’ve always been a tide, ebbing and flowing into his life. That much was a constant, even when you weren’t. 

(Or, even when you ceased to be.)

He can go about a few weeks without thinking about you, as far as he’s tried. And he means really thinking about you, not just a brief thought relating to you, or your life, or your memory—he’s not sure he could last even ten minutes that way. Over the years, you’ve become so tightly intertwined with his being that he’s not sure he could ever untangle that connection fully.

His laptop password had been your birthday for years after you left. He still makes his tea the way you taught him, with lemon and just a spoonful of honey. Your shared playlists still haven’t left his Spotify library.

He sighs. Three years is a long time.

It’s long enough for most normal, well-adjusted people to grow out of their past relationship, or at least not be wondering about them for a majority of the day. And that’s if he can even call what the two of you had a relationship—it had been something, and it was his fault that it wasn’t anything more.

Sometimes, he just wonders where you are and what you’re doing.

It’s a sick sort of thing to ponder, especially knowing what he did to you, but he can’t help it—often, he sees you in everything.

He wishes that wasn’t the case.

A part of him wishes he could strike you from the history of his existence. Another part of him wishes he could see you again, just once.

“Sorry for calling you out here! I just thought if I didn’t tell you now, I might never tell you…”

“Kinich!”

He flinches halfway through his step, the echo of your voice fading somewhere in the back of his mind. When he skitters to a stop, he realizes it’s his coach yelling his name, one hand cupped at his mouth and the other frantically waving his clipboard. He gauges the distance between them—lost in his thoughts, he had run about 200 feet straight past the other man.

Flushing in embarrassment, Kinich jogs back to meet him.

“Sorry about that,” he pants. “Was just thinking about one of my exams.”

There’s a pause, like Coach Wayna is deciding whether to ask questions or let it go—Kinich isn’t usually one to lose track of himself, after all. Still, the man seems to land on the latter.

“Well, nice hustle,” he praises, rewarding him with a strong clap on the shoulder. “Get some water and wash up.”

He slaps a towel into Kinich’s outstretched hand—he accepts gratefully, slinging it over his neck and scrubbing the sweat off his face. 

He glances up at the graying sky. The clouds are coalescing into mismatched swirls—maybe it’ll rain tonight, he thinks vaguely. It doesn’t usually stop them from practicing anyway. He can recall a number of times that he has walked home drenched in mud.

“Already? It’s early, isn’t it?”

At this time of year, practices don’t usually end until the sun kisses the horizon, dipping and dimming. Kinich usually walks back to his apartment with his roommates at dusk, Aether’s whining carrying them home.

Coach Wayna is busy watching the other guys run, scribbling something down on his clipboard.

“We’re letting out early today,” he shrugs.

Licking over his lips, Kinich tastes the salt pooling at his cupid’s bow, lungs heaving.

“What’s the occasion?” he asks, raising a brow.

Looking out over the field, he watches the rest of his teammates finish their sprints. Aether is messing around again, trying to leapfrog over Xiao’s back, much to the latter’s irritation. Gaming seems to find the sight amusing, based on the way he whoops and cheers.

Kinich sighs, shaking his head—Aether is lucky that he’s as talented as he is.

Coach Wayna laughs, a guffawing sound that resounds deep in his chest and across the field. He’s a good-natured guy, really, if not a bit more patient than Kinich himself can manage.

“The occasion is that you guys are college students,” he explains, “and sometimes, I’m willing to let you enjoy your lives a little bit.”

A half-scowl crawls over Kinich’s lips. Coach Wayna is always on them about enjoying their lives outside the sport, just like everyone else in Kinich’s life. His friends have always been determined to get him out of his bedroom and get him participating in something that isn’t his clubs. It’s irritating sometimes, to say the least.

Kinich’s tongue runs dry, so he pads over to the cooler, throwing the top open and pulling a water bottle out to shake off the excess condensation. It’s nice and cool, a welcome sensation even when the air is colder than usual—internally, his skin thrums with heat.

He gets about halfway through the bottle by the time his teammates make it over, in various states of exhaustion. Aether is first to react, letting out a loud groan and flopping to the ground dramatically.

“Coach, are you trying to kill me?” he whines, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Xiao approaches Kinich directly, taking a water bottle from his outstretched hand.

“It’s your fault that you’re so tired,” Xiao deadpans, taking a swig and settling down in the grass. “Because you were late, the rest of us had to run extra.”

As kind as Coach Wayna is, he doesn’t let things like tardiness slide too often—Kinich’s legs burn as a firm reminder of that. Everything they do, they do as a team, which includes punishment.

“Blame Lumine,” Aether grumbles. “She forgot her keys, so I had to drop her off at work.”

Aether’s sister, as kind as she is, does tend to be a bit forgetful. But Aether is also irresponsible as hell sometimes, so there’s a 50% chance that he merely overslept. Xiao seems to silently agree, based on the way his brows knit together.

Coach Wayna has a short meeting with them to end practice, and Kinich half-listens—he’s still caught up on earlier. It’s only when Aether flicks him in the back of the head that he returns to earth.

“Hey, airhead, we’re going to Third Round Knockout,” he says, an order, not an invitation. Kinich scowls.

“You mean you’re going,” he corrects, packing up his duffel bag. “I’m going home so I can take an ice bath and forget this ever happened.”

He can count a number of other things that are infinitely more important than taking a single step in that greasy place, too. He has a few exams coming up to study for, a lab report to do, and a few logistics issues to resolve with his financial aid and scholarship. So really, he has no business going out at all.

But the thought grows more and more appealing the more his stomach rumbles. Aether seems to notice too, because he grins cheekily, slinging an arm over his friend’s shoulder.

“Just follow the sweet, sweet siren song of burgers and fries, and let it guide you home.”

Xiao sighs from where he sits on the bench, shaking his head—sharing an apartment with Aether and Kinich means he’ll likely get roped into this too. Aether goes around making his pitch to all their teammates, but most decline on the basis of being too busy or having things to do. Kinich thinks they’re just too exhausted to deal with Aether’s antics.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Gaming whines, checking his phone. “I have an exam tomorrow and if I don’t study and sleep, I’m gonna fail for sure.”

Aether wags a finger in his face, grinning. “You don’t have to study, C’s get degrees!”

Kinich wonders if he should step in, knowing how easily influenced Gaming can be when it comes to Aether’s lax personality. He doesn’t have time to get the words out, however, because Xiao strides past with a critical side-eye. 

“Yes, and Aether’s get dropped from their university…”

“I don’t—hey!”

“Let’s just go,” Kinich sighs, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. Aether pouts, but follows his teammates off the field. 

“Fine, but Xiao’s treating!”

/

Third Round Knockout is exactly the type of place Kinich imagines college students to like.

It sounds strange when he words it like that, considering he is a college student himself, but he means a different type of college student—the type that finds cheap, greasy pizza and boisterous laughter enticing. Or perhaps anyone who finds the showy, race car-themed decor attractive (just how much money did they spend on checkered flags?), or thinks that spending your Friday night listening to pop music from low-quality speakers is a good time.

He doesn’t mean it in a really bad way, of course. He’s friends with college students like that (like Aether), and that’s the only reason he finds himself stepping past the threshold. Still, after a long day of practice, he can’t deny that sitting down for some food sounds pretty good right about now, even if that food comes cheap and deep-fried.

“God, I’m fucking starving,” Aether moans, collapsing into one of the booths in exhaustion. He flips one of the plastic-lined menus over, scanning over the food options. “I seriously think if I have to wait another second to eat, I’ll die.”

Xiao slides into the booth next to him, brows furrowed as he types away at something on his phone. “Seems like you’re always somehow on the verge of dying.”

Though his stomach grumbles, Kinich doesn’t bother looking at the menu—the food here is as standard as it gets, burgers and fries that drip with grease and milkshakes that are basically entirely comprised of sugar. But he reasons that he probably deserves this after the day that he’s had. 

Everything had been nothing short of exhausting. He had conditioning in the morning, followed by three exams back to back, then headed to practice right after. Needless to say, his brain is running on the fumes of the black coffee he downed in between his second and third lecture.

“You good, man?” Aether asks, poking at Kinich’s hand. “You’ve been looking like a zombie all day.”

Kinich figures that a zombie is probably an apt description for how he looks right now, in his ragged hoodie and old sweats. He hadn’t been planning on a night out, after all, but he’s not one to care for fashion even on a good day.

He merely mumbles back an “I’m fine,” thoroughly disinterested in discussing what he’s endured in the last twenty-four hours. He presumes that that’s just the life of a university student like him. The athletic scholarship is good, and he does enjoy playing with his teammates, so he’ll rest and recover and do it all again tomorrow, just like he always does.

Xiao and Aether start bickering over something on the menu, so Kinich takes that opportunity to zone out.

He blinks tiredly, gaze wandering—the bright, multicolored decor is almost too much for his weary eyes. People are drinking and grinding to the music on the dance floor across the room, the bass of the music so loud that he can feel it vibrating under his feet.

Sighing, he pinches at the bridge of his nose, trying to avoid a migraine.

He shouldn’t have come today. His mental to-do list only grows longer, and staying home would’ve been a far more efficient use of his time. Perhaps a part of him had felt guilty for how busy he’s been in the past few weeks—it’s actually been quite a while since he sat down with his friends like this.

“Alright, Kinich, you lose!”

The sound of his name pulls him from the depths of his mind to find Aether and Xiao staring at him expectantly.

“What?”

Aether nods to the counter, crowded with a swathe of people. “You have to go order. You were last to nose goes.”

Nose goes? Kinich’s face scrunches in disbelief. Sometimes, he feels more like a kindergarten teacher than a soccer team captain.

“Are you four years old?”

Aether tilts his head, a challenge. “Are you rejecting the sanctity of nose goes?”

Maybe he doesn’t feel so guilty for being busy after all.

Desperate, Kinich looks to Xiao for support, but the other man shrugs, as if to say I can’t deal with him either. Arguing with Aether is a guaranteed headache, so Kinich merely groans, begrudgingly rising from his seat.

“Whatever. Just tell me what you want, then.”

He sighs as he shoves through the crowd, passing through sweaty limbs and sticky floors. No one seems to pay him any mind, and he takes a few accidental elbows to the ribs. God, he wants to throw up.

The actual line for the counter isn’t too long, luckily. There’s only one or two people in front of him. 

He checks over Aether and Xiao’s orders in their groupchat. Aether’s order is a list about a mile long, while Xiao simply wants a single combo meal. Typical.

He thinks on his own order a bit, and he’s midway through creating a mental list about the pros and cons of getting french fries versus onion rings when he looks up again to gauge the wait time. His breath hitches as he realizes two things:

He’s next in line.

He knows the people at the counter.

One of them is Childe, donned in a white t-shirt and a dark leather jacket.

Kinich knows who Childe is just like everyone else—with how much his name gets thrown around on this campus, he’d have to be an idiot not to. Being the star quarterback of the football team, he’s as close to a celebrity as one can get around here. Plus, they have some mutual friends, but Kinich doesn’t really consider Childe a friend, per say. They’re acquaintances at best.

But Kinich doesn’t really care about Childe—he doesn’t know him well, never has, probably never will, and he’s not one to worry about people outside of his concern. No, it’s not Childe that draws his attention at all; in fact, he’s in the way of it.

It’s the fact that Childe is talking to you.

Kinich sucks in a breath.

He blinks once, thinking it may just be his exhaustion playing tricks on him, but you’re still standing there, smiling up at the other man.

Though he’d known that you applied to this school, he never found out where you actually ended up going—you’d blocked him on everything post-graduation, after all. It seems like some sort of sick sign from the universe that you would be here right now.

You’re wearing the Third Round Knockout uniform, he notes dully—so you work here. But that still doesn’t explain why you’re smiling and laughing with Childe, looking entirely too happy with his company. Kinich has talked to the ginger before, and he’s not that funny. 

Childe turns at that moment, seemingly finished ordering his food, before he lights up in recognition.

“Ah, Kinich, what’s up?” he greets, patting him on the shoulder. “Hey, nice game the other day! You’re fast as hell.”

If he were anywhere else but here, Kinich might’ve actually appreciated Childe’s compliment. But right now, he can’t even remember what game he’s referring to; instead, he offers a dry, tight-lipped smile.

“Thanks.”

He peeks around Childe’s arm—you haven’t noticed him yet, too busy counting bills and stuffing them into the register. You’re halfway through a yawn when you call out to him.

“I can help the next person, please!”

Childe shoots him a grin, waving as he steps past him to leave, and suddenly Kinich feels overwhelmingly vulnerable. It feels endless, the drag of your gaze as it turns up to him, falling to his face. Pure shock paints your features.

Something unearths in his chest, kicking up with dust that stings at the corners of his eyes. 

They bloom there, a wealth of feelings that wrap like thorn-lined vines around his heartbeat. Regret speaks the loudest—it screams from where it sits, panging with familiarity at the sight of your face.

“K—Kinich,” you greet once you recover from your initial shock, a rasp. There’s an audible lump in your throat, voice reedy and thin. 

You look even more beautiful than he remembers. That’s all he can think as his brain force feeds him a series of memories—images of hazy sunsets and half-empty spray paint cans and secrets shared between chapped lips. His entire youth is nearly synonymous with your name.

His eyes draw to your neck, the bareness of it; it makes his heart ache.

You toy with the silver chain swinging at your throat, shyly staring down at your feet.

Almost in slow motion, your hand slinks up to your collarbone, reaching for something that isn’t there. It has Kinich’s eyes fluttering shut for a moment, almost painfully.

“Hi,” he starts, sound barely crawling from his throat. “It’s been a long time.”

He waits, but he doesn’t know what for. A change, in expression, in tone, in something, a sign that you remember what the two of you were, or perhaps what you could’ve been. But you’re still blankly staring at him like he’s a stranger.

“Can I help you?”

Kinich forgets about the food entirely. He just can’t get over how different you look, sound, and are. It’s a stupid realization—obviously you would’ve changed in the last three years. But somehow, he feels like he’s been the only one rooted in place all this time.

“Sir?” you repeat pointedly. “Can I help you?”

He utters your name once, soft, then inches forward, an instinct. “Listen, I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you interrupt smoothly, devoid of warmth. You back away, defenses up; you’d expected this from him, clearly. “I don’t really want or need it.”

And it hurts to hear that, that you don’t really want or need something from him. Because that always used to be the case, used to be your normal—clinging to each other, wanting and needing and having each other. And though he doesn’t like to live in the past, this is one thing that Kinich is unwilling to let go of.

“Can I…still try?” he starts, hesitant. “To apologize?”

The music still pulses in his veins, in his hands, in his chest—it echoes in his ears as he awaits your reply.

Deep down, he knows he shouldn’t do this. He’d lost any right to pursue you years ago. And he’s certainly not the type to make emotionally-charged confessions in public, but he sees you and he wonders if you still remember his favorite color.

It’s messing with his head.

“Why would you?” Your tone is biting, words sharp as they’re flung off your tongue. “No offense, but we haven’t known each other for years. I don’t see a point.”

And though you’re right, the thought pains him—there had been a time when he was the only one who knew every part of you, and you of him. But you’ve changed so much, you both have, and the evidence is standing before him.

Your eyes fill with frost. His mouth grows dry with regret.

“I know, but at that time, I—”

“You avoided me for months, Kinich,” you cut in quietly, thumbing at the edges of your sleeves. He knows that habit—you always do it when you’re nervous. “Forgive me for thinking that meant you wanted nothing to do with me.”

The bitterness leaks into your voice. You’re trying to be indifferent, but the resentment still feels raw.

And he deserves that, deserves this, he knows; he’s made a lot of mistakes when it comes to you. He more than anyone knows how much he fucked up, and if he could take it back, he would do so in a heartbeat. But he can’t, and your dull eyes and bare neck are evidence of that.

“You’re right,” he breathes, then swallows, gathering himself. “I’m sorry.”

You clear your throat, looking for something else to busy yourself with—anything to avoid eye contact. 

“You don’t have to be.”

Despite your words, the misery is written across your face, like you’re reliving every single moment of that day. And, of course, you have no way of knowing, but he wonders if you realize how often he relives it too.

“Now that we’ve graduated, I just thought you should know…”

Kinich feels completely out of his element, pinned in place.

He wonders what he even wants out of this whole interaction. Your anger? Your hatred? Would it have made him feel better than your disinterest? His fist clenches.

Say something. Don’t let it repeat itself.

It’s always been his vice—he doesn’t think he’s a stupid person, but he does think he’s a quiet one. And sometimes, that comes back to bite him in the worst moments. When he thinks back on the moments he’s shared with you, he can recall so many times that he could’ve said something. And maybe it wouldn’t have saved you both, but what if it would’ve?

You’re sighing in resignation, looking over his shoulder to call the next person when he speaks, hasty. 

“If you ever want to talk about what happened, we can. I can.”

It reeks of desperation, and he has half a mind to be embarrassed, but the feeling doesn’t surface. Instead, he catches a flicker of budding hope in your eyes, a wink of familiarity that has his heart slamming against his ribcage. 

Your lips form the shape of his name, and Kinich finds his breath.

“I like you, Kinich. A lot. For a while now. And, if you’ll have me, I’d like us to be together.”

“What’s going on here?”

Too focused on your expression, Kinich fails to notice the older man sneaking up behind you, a stern frown on his face and arms crossed. You cringe at the intrusion, already struck with a sense of foreboding. 

You whip around, hands drawn meekly to your chest.

“Sir,” you squeak out, a nervous giggle escaping your throat, “I was just—”

“We’ve already talked about this,” your manager hisses, a contrastingly serene smile on his face. “This would be your third strike.”

Despair creeps onto your face, and Kinich finds himself drawn forward, hand outstretched.

“Wait, sir, please. It was my fault. She was just—”

Your boss fixes Kinich with a sour glare, looking him up and down—his lip curls into disapproval when he sees the tattoo on his arm. 

“Don’t make excuses for your friend.”

Everyone around stares at the commotion—when Kinich glances back, Xiao and Aether are watching, wide-eyed.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the same way.”

“You’ve had enough chances,” your manager starts, deceptively saccharine-sounding.

He looks between the two of you, spiteful. Kinich’s heart drops like a stone. 

“You’re officially fired.”

/

“Wow, you fucked up bad.”

The next day, Aether’s unhelpful commentary is nearly drowned out in the general noise of the quad. 

Fluffy clouds half-obscure the sun above, leaving a permeating warmth and a relaxing breeze. There’s an extensive crowd of students spread out across the grass, studying and laughing and chatting. It would be a beautiful, enjoyable day, if not for Kinich’s overwhelming guilt and the irritating sound of Aether scarfing down his lunch.

And while the blond’s remarks are unhelpful, they aren’t necessarily wrong. Recounting the whole event just makes him more aware of how idiotic he had been. Kinich rakes his fingers through his hair in frustration—he just can’t stop making mistakes when it comes to you.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he admits, absentmindedly pulling at the blanket beneath him. “I just wanted to talk to her.”

After the incident, your manager had disappeared with you into the back, likely to work out the details of your termination. You threw him a last glance over your shoulder, eyes pouring with regret—whether it was regret that you had been interrupted, or regret that you had interacted at all, he isn’t sure.

“Oh, you talked to her alright,” Aether chirps, mouth full. Kinich’s face twists in disgust. “Talked her right out of financial stability.”

Lumine jerks an elbow into her brother’s ribs, ignoring his pained yelp. 

“What he means to say,” she starts, shooting her twin a poisonous glare, “is that you made a mistake, and you know it now. All you can do is apologize, or leave her alone if you think that would be best.”

Kinich thinks on that for a moment. Apologizing seems reasonable, but the laundry list of things he should apologize to you for seems to grow longer by the day. He’s not even sure you would hear him out for that long at this point.

Last night had given him a glimpse of hope, but your manager had ruined anything he had built up in that moment. 

And really, he should leave you alone. The guilt building and knotting in his chest is enough, enough that he knows that getting involved with you further would only lead to more heartbreak for both of you. He’s just not sure if he’s capable of letting you go again.

“I mean, no offense, but weren’t you the one who rejected her back then? And then, like…ghosted her?” Aether asks.

Lumine facepalms, thoroughly exhausted by trying to reel in her twin’s complete lack of decorum. It seems to be her full-time job at this point.

“It’s okay,” Kinich sighs, waving her off. “He’s right. I did.”

He’d been going through a lot back then, not that it had been a valid excuse. He’d been far too immature to be honest with you like you deserved. 

With a groan, Kinich shuts his laptop to fully focus on the topic at hand—he hasn’t been studying for a few minutes now anyway.

Lumine and Aether stare at him like they’re awaiting clarification. He shrugs, deflated.

“I was young and stupid. There’s no good explanation for it.”

“I don’t know if was is the right term,” Aether adds thoughtfully. “I mean, you did just get her fired, and that’s because—”

“—Aether.”

Lumine hisses through gritted teeth, and her twin chuckles, suddenly nervous.

“That’s because I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot and I’m going to stop talking now.”

Aether dives back into his chicken fried rice like a kicked puppy, pouting. Lumine glances over at Kinich, gauging the conflict written over his features. She sighs, smoothing her hair over her shoulder.

“Well, the choice is yours.”

If it were just up to him, he would chase after you and apologize endlessly. But he knows that his aren’t the only feelings in play here—if anything, yours matter more. So, he decides to leave it to fate.

He fishes into his bag with one hand, producing his wallet and shaking out a few coins. He holds one out for his friends to see.

“Heads, I apologize. Tails, I leave her alone.”

He swallows hard.

“Forever.”

He’s not sure if he truly means that quite yet, but he tells himself that he does. Steeling his resolve, he tosses the coin in the air. Aether and Lumine’s eyes grow wide as they follow its path, spinning and twisting before landing neatly on the ground.

“Kinich, do you think we’ll still know each other in five years? Ten years?”

“Of course we will.”

Kinich leans forward, peering down at the fallen Mora.

There’s a tinge of relief in his sigh.

Heads.

[yourfavepookiebear]

Hii, can i make a request? Yandere and self aware twisted wonderland please?

So the characters could hear the player after some time, although it is very difficult unless you pay attention, they actually don't know the appearance of the player!

But yeah, yandere Heartslabyul with a player who's pretty expressive? Like whenever something frustrates them they'd almost always curse out loud, when something makes them happy and satisfied they'd yell out a "Yes! Oh my god bro", etc

Okay so basically a player like me (and many others), cool, got it. (Im panicking I suck at writing for heartslabyul) I fucked up at ace's part idk what to write for him

God the old hag is waking up

Rushed asf

Riddle Rosehearts

You're pretty easy to read, at least on the terms of mood and emotion, which could be considered a good thing for him ?

At first he didn't believe it, because how could the player be anything but perfect ?

But then he realized that you don't need to be emotionless to be perfect.

Now this vaguely depends on whether we're talking about before OB or after OB Riddle, but if it's after OB then he doesn't mind it much

In fact, he likes hearing you mumble in frustration whenever you lose or see something irritating, it makes him...melancholic, in a way. Because these are all the signs that you're pretty normal just like them, you feel. It reassures him sometimes, to know that.

It's pretty cute and funny to him, but he won't show it

Hates that you show that side of yourself to others, he wants to be the only one to see this, but alas..not much can be done.

At least, not within the rules.

Cater Diamond

A bit like Riddle, it's sorta funny for him. God he wishes he could tease you, but he can't because of the damn programming..

Will definitely sneakily film it or record it he can't pass up on such an opportunity !

Depending on his mood he may or may not post it as well, but most likely on his private account

Can't have anyone else seeing such a cute thing, can we ?

Trey Clover

Now this is a bit complicated (more so than the others)

He wouldn't show it on the outside ofc, but he finds it endearing. (everyone does.)

May or may not crack a little smile when he sees you jumping in joy (or banging your head on the wall in frustration)

Doesn't care what others think about it, he will listen to your little outbursts with all ears.

And if anyone dares to comment about it, they better get ready for hell.

Deuce Spade

Doesn't really know what to think about it,

Ofc like everyone else he loves to hear you jump in joy or excitement, but frowns when you whine or complain about something

You deserve the very best !! If he could, he'd do anything to make you happy, just to see your little smile

God he wishes he was with you, but he can't...except-

Right, maybe draconia could help him with this.

Ace (I forgot his last name)

Oh well.

Seeing how expressive you are, he would definitely sneak in a few teases in his dialogues.

You know that cheeky smile of his ? Yeah, that's the one he has

Unlike a few others, he doesn't care if you're jumping in joy or in sadness, all he cares about is hearing you, seeing you..

Don't worry, soon enough, you'll be right next to him. So if you one day wake up to find yourself locked up in a room, just know that he means no harm

He can't help but wonder what you look like...ah, no use thinking about that since you'll be here soon.

This sucks ass ngl, my writing is trash right now but whatever

I did better than I thought since it's been a few months since I last wrote anything

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[obsessed-with-fake-men]

looking at you

when your movie date with Jeremy doesn't go how he planned, he has you put on a private show...not that you know he's pulling the strings

Jeremy Frazier x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit 

Content warnings: nsfw, mdni, dubcon, stalking/peeping, mutal(?) masturbation, he calls you a slut

Author's note: This fic can be read as a follow up to forever or as a standalone. Jeremy is still a pervy creep and will continue to be one.

Word count: ~3300

Jeremy loves looking at you. Honestly, it might be his favorite thing to do. He’s slyly watching you now, carrying yet another box of belongings up to your room. God you’re beautiful. He loves the way you puff out air to get a piece of hair out of your face when your hands are full. And the way you put your hands on your hips when you’re lost in thought. And not to mention how cute you are when you think no one is watching. How you dance around in your panties, singing into your hair brush. A little strip tease just for him.

He sees you pause and look down, then pick up a paper airplane.The note he sent your way moments ago, unfurling in your hand. 

meet me at 7, bring popcorn - j

Your eyes dart to the window, searching. For him. But Jeremy is safe in the shadows, free from your gaze. He watches you shrug and draw the curtains. Not to worry, he’ll see you soon.

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

Jeremy is pacing next to his house. He’s waiting for you. It’s 6:58 and you’re not there. 

Fuck what if you don’t show?

With your curtains blocking his view, Jeremy can’t be sure whether you’re coming or not. He glances at his watch: 6:59. 

I’m such a delusional idiot of course y/n isn’t coming.

The chime of the bell tower begins, signaling the top of the hour. Jeremy runs a hand through his hair in exasperation.

What would you want with a pathetic, no good, murde-

The creak of a door startles him out of his thoughts. Head jerking toward the sound, he sees you.

The tightness in his chest evaporates instantly and he unclenches fists he hadn’t consciously made. 

You look divine in the light of the setting sun. Jeremy’s eyes roam your figure, he notices you changed from what you were wearing earlier. The tight sundress hugs your upper body and is absolutely inappropriate for the October evening. 

Jeremy feels a smug sort of satisfaction at the thought that you chose it just for him. 

You clear your throat. 

“Like what you see?” you tease with a giggle.

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and gesturing at your dress with the other.

“What can I say, you make me speechless.”

Warmth rises to your cheeks as you smile shyly. 

“Ummmm anyway,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I brought the goods.”

You produce a bag of pre-popped popcorn from behind your back.

“Skinny Pop?” Jeremy asks dubiously, quirking an eyebrow.

You shove his arm playfully. 

“My mom heard somewhere that the microwave stuff gives you cancer or something,” you shrug.

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we,” Jeremy jests.

You swear you see a dark gleam in his eyes, like a wolf staring down a doe before striking. But upon blinking you’re left looking into the warmth of his brown irises.

“Soooooo, are we heading inside?” you ask, moving to walk toward the house.

Abruptly, Jeremy grabs your hand and halts you in your tracks. 

You feel like you’ve touched a live wire as an initial cool jolt of electricity runs through your hand and arm, quickly fading to a warm tingle.

“Actually, I have a surprise for you,” he says with a grin, pulling you toward the backyard.

Turning the corner, you see a rustic treehouse glowing from within.

“Woah, a treehouse!” you exclaim. “I didn’t know this was back here.”

Jeremy watches you look up in awe. The lights of the house reflecting like stars in your eyes.

“Yeah, I come here to get away from everything,” he sighs. “It’s the only place I feel like I can really think, you know?”

Glancing up at him, you see a melancholic expression you know well and you give his hand a squeeze. “Yeah, I definitely get that.”

Jeremy lifts your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, he gives them a light kiss.

“Ladies first,” he murmurs, nodding toward the rungs leading up the tree. 

Reluctantly, you relinquish his hand and begin the climb. Leaning against the trunk, Jeremy looks up to enjoy the view. Your dress flicking up, tantalizes him with each rung you mount. Squinting, he can almost make out the color of your panties. Jeremy makes a silent vow that he’ll know the answer by the end of the night. 

When you reach the top you pause to gaze around the tree house. Its simple, worn wood was made enchanting - illuminated by fairy lights and the soft glow of a television. There was a nest of comforters and pillows on one side and an old CRT TV with a built-in VCR on the other. 

Arms snake around your waist, seeming to appear out of thin air. Jeremy pulls you into him, pressing your back to his body.

“What do you think?” he whispers into your ear. His cool breath feels like the autumn breeze, leaving a trail of goosebumps down your neck.

“It’s beautiful,” you sigh.

Jeremy spins you in his arms, hugging your waist tightly. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs. Leaning down, he glances from your eyes to your lips and back.

You do the same, heart racing as you see his adam’s apple bob. Pushing up on your tiptoes, you almost close the gap between your mouths. 

“Is this the part where we kiss?” you ask breathily, looking up at Jeremy through fluttering lashes.

He answers with action - a palm flat on your back, pulling you together. His lips are soft, but you feel the need, the urgency behind the kiss. You grip the front of his soft flannel in one hand, attempting to pull him even closer to you.

Jeremy groans into you, he loves knowing that you’re just as desperate as he is. Testing your limits, he nips lightly at your bottom lip. You let out a soft moan and Jeremy quickly swallows it, heart soaring at the sound. Threading your fingers through his messy brown hair, you feel a dizzying weightlessness. 

Jeremy feels it too. Peeking his eyes open just a crack, he realizes the two of you are levitating.

Oh shit.

He pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours. Willing his rasping breath to come easier, he feels his feet settle back on the ground. In an attempt to keep your suspicions at bay, he pulls your body close in a tight hug before setting you down. You blink up at him, dazed. Leaning down, Jeremy kisses your forehead.

“At this rate we’ll never watch the movie,” he chuckles.

You settle into the blankets as Jeremy pops the VHS of Casablanca into the old television. As the tape slides into the machine, he sits next to you.

The title card appears in curly cursive script and the black and white film begins in earnest.

Leaning over you whisper, “I didn’t realize it was a classic!”

“I hope that’s alright,” he says, glancing over at you.

You nod vigorously and Jeremy chuckles, returning his attention to the screen.

“But the others wait in Casablanca,” the narrator’s mid atlantic voice bellows out. “And wait and wait and wait.”

Jeremy mouths along. He’s memorized all the movies in the house by now, and he’s always identified with that line. But now, he wonders if all this time he’s been waiting for you.

The two of you are sitting a respectable distance apart, as is you weren’t trying to swallow one another moments before. You both have one hand strategically placed in the space left unoccupied. Pretending to play with the blankets, a ruse to inch fingers closer and closer. Finally you touch, it’s a light, innocent brush. Over in a second. But the electricity is there again, sending a shiver down your spine.

Jeremy’s head snaps to you.

“Are you cold?” he asks. 

Before you can reply, his flannel is off and he’s helping you into it. The worn fabric smells earthy, like fallen leaves and wet dirt. It’s an odd but comforting smell, and you pull it tightly around yourself. 

“C’mere,” he says, opening his arms for you to snuggle into. And snuggle you do. Laying your head on his chest, you drape a leg across his hips. Jeremy wraps his strong arms around you, holding your body to his. 

The two of you stay like this for a while, unmoving. Relaxing into the steady rise and fall of Jeremy’s breathing, you notice how cold he must be in only his t-shirt. Just as you start to feel guilty about taking his flannel, Jeremy begins to trace light circles onto the exposed flesh of your thigh. His touch is maddeningly gentle and leaves a trail of burning desire. Two can play this game. 

You softly run your nails from his chest down across his stomach. Jeremy’s breath hitches as his muscles tense under your touch. He grips your soft flesh, squeezing your thigh tightly once before returning to those damn circles.

Biting back a moan, you turn your head to trail featherlight kisses along his collarbone, up his neck and to his adam’s apple. His cock twitches against your leg as Jeremy's wandering fingers trail up to cup your ass. You moan, playfully nipping at his jaw. 

“You’re not paying attention,” Jeremy groans. 

“I am paying attention, I promise,” you giggle. Shifting your weight to rub against his growing erection. 

“I'll show you paying attention,” he growls.

Pushing back to sit up against the wall, Jeremy pulls you onto his lap. 

You look so pretty perched there, with your hands resting on his chest, blinking those beautiful eyes at him. One hand finds its home on your hip, and he gently strokes your cheek with the other. He would do anything for you in that moment. If you said you wanted the moon, he’d spend eternity pulling it down from the heavens. 

“Here’s looking at you, kid,” Jeremy whispers, in perfect time with the movie. 

You giggle and your plush lips beckon his attention and grabbing the back of your neck, Jeremy pulls your mouth to his. 

His aggression takes you by surprise, causing you to gasp. Jeremy wastes no time delving his tongue into your open mouth. You freeze at the sudden intrusion. Jeremy softly rubs his thumb along your waist, coaxing you to relax into the kiss. He nips and sucks at your tongue, swallowing the moans you spill as he grinds his hips up into you. 

Jeremy snakes a hand up to your throat, squeezing gently and you practically melt for him. Arching your back, you break the kiss as you thrust your tits into his face. He releases your waist to take them gladly. Grabbing your soft flesh, he groans. You’re not wearing a bra. 

My little slut.

Pulling at your nipples through the fabric, you gasp and squeeze your legs around his thighs. Claiming your lips once again, Jeremy decides it’s time to find out what color your panties really are. Grabbing a handful of your ass, he slowly pulls your dress up and up and…you pull away, panting.

You’re so beautiful with your face flushed and eyes dark, he thinks this must be a preview of what you look like when you orgasm and he can’t wait to find out. As he starts to pull your dress up even farther, you put a hand on his chest, halting his action. Turning, you look over your shoulder to see that the credits are rolling. 

“Shit!” you laugh. “It’s over!”

Jeremy grabs the remote and dangles it from two fingers.

“It doesn’t have to be over if you don’t want it to…”

“Okay that’s true,” you giggle, “I'll actually watch it this time. I promise.” 

You hold out a pinky to him and Jeremy links his long finger with yours.

“I won’t hold you to it,” he winks

Laughing, you roll off of his lap. He groans at the loss of contact. 

“Is it okay if we don’t go any further tonight?” you ask, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

“Of course,” he sighs, cupping your face.

He gives you a light kiss on the forehead and you snuggle back up against him. Rewinding the movie, Jeremy finds the last part you remember. 

What a fucking tease. He’s going to make you pay for this later. 

You’re fully engrossed in the movie this time and Jeremy lightly plays with your hair. All the while he is dreaming up just what to do to get you back. 

When the movie finishes you reluctantly sit up. 

“I guess I should head home,” you yawn. “Unless you need help taking all this down?”

“Nah, I’ll take care of it later,” Jeremy replies. “Let’s get you home.”

Jeremy descends the treehouse steps first, something about being there to catch you if you slip. Hugging his flannel tight to your body, you carefully make your way down the rungs. When you near the ground, you feel Jeremy’s strong hands on your hips. He helps you hop down and you walk hand in hand back to the front of the house. When you near the edge of his yard, he pulls you into his body and presses his forehead to yours.

“See you tomorrow?” he murmurs hopefully. 

“You know where I’ll be,” you laugh.

Leaning up, you press a soft kiss to his lips. Jeremy’s greedy hands want more. They want to drag you up to his room so he can touch every inch of your flesh. To give you pleasure you haven’t even dreamed of. Instead, he simply squeezes your hands before releasing you into the night. 

He stands, unmoving as he watches you go. Once you’re safely inside, Jeremy slips up to his room. 

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

Turning on your lamp, you look out your window at Jeremy’s room. It’s still dark. 

He must be picking up the tree house.

Taking off Jeremy's flannel, you breathe in the scent of him when a sudden strange feeling comes over you. It’s like you’re moving on autopilot or something. Slipping your dress over your head, you saunter toward your full length mirror. You adjust it a bit, tilting and turning the mirror until the reflection is just right. Then you take a step back and get a good look at yourself. Almost naked, except for your red panties. 

I thought they were red, a smug thought echoes in your head. 

Your hand reaches for the flannel and you shrug it back on, thankful for its warmth. You must have forgotten to close the window earlier. Instead of shutting out the night air, your legs take you to the edge of your bed. Before you sit down, you slide your panties over your ass and down your legs, flicking them across the room at the mirror with your foot. 

You don’t even have time to question the action before you’re settling down on the edge of your bed, spreading your thighs wide. You take a moment to admire yourself in the mirror, naked except for Jeremy's open shirt. 

Such a perfect little slut, the smug voice taunts. 

You want to argue, but your hand begins to lightly trace up your body. From your knee, up your thigh, ghosting across your stomach and resting on your breast. You squeeze, and it feels eerily similar to how Jeremy touched you earlier. The thought evaporates when you roll your hard nipple between your fingers. You fall back onto the bed, as your other hand starts toying with your clit. 

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

He's done it. He never tried before, no one seemed worth the energy. But Jeremy has successfully possessed you. He isn’t sure the power really reaches that far, so maybe it’s more like influencing you. But that means you wouldn’t be doing the actions he’s implanting in your psyche if deep down you didn’t want to…right? 

The first thing he did was make sure he could watch you. He had you adjust your mirror so he can perfectly see you spayed out on your bed from the comfort of his desk. 

And splayed you are. 

Here’s looking at you, kid. 

Jeremy was teasing his cock before, lighting stroking it as you disrobed. But now that you have two fingers poised to enter your tight wet pussy, he can’t hold back any longer. 

He grips the base of his cock hard and groans, your cue to sink those fingers into your core. Jeremy’s hips stutter up into his fist as he hears a faint moan float through the window. He can see your hand moving faster and faster, hurriedly he speeds up his strokes. Desperate to match your pace. Your other hand snakes to circle your clit, causing your back to arch off the bed. Jeremy is hunched over his desk, eyes glued to your mirror. If he had an ounce of self respect, he may feel ashamed. Fisting his cock like a pervert to the little show he’s making you put on. But fuck, seeing you like this. His will being done so perfectly. It has to be right.

“Another finger baby,” he whispers. 

And instantly you respond. The resounding moan you release knocks the breath from his chest. So desperate. So hungry. A sound that says your fingers aren’t enough. His cock pulses in his fist. He’s dangerously close, but so are you.

“Cum for me,” he huffs, fucking up into his fist in earnest.

You whine, thighs trembling as your fingers pump in and out of your core.

Fuck you’re perfect.

As you orgasm, his name tumbles from those perfect lips. If it had just been once, Jeremy could’ve convinced himself he’ imagined it. But then you cry it over and over, chanting his name like a prayer. He can’t hold back any more. With one final buck of his hips, Jeremy cums with your name on his tongue.

It’s the most intense orgasm he can remember. Maybe it has something to do with the semi-possesion, maybe it’s just what you bring out in him, but Jeremy swears he’s seeing stars. 

When he finally comes down, he realizes he can’t sense you any longer. 

Fuck.

He must’ve lost the connection. His heart is beating so fast, he can’t hear a thing. But he stares intently at your mirror. At your frozen form, still spread perfectly for him to see. 

Then you stir.

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

You come to after what is maybe the hardest you’ve ever orgasmed. Definitely the best orgasm you’ve had with just your fingers. Why you didn’t grab your vibrator, you’re not sure. Groaning, you prop up on your elbow and look into the mirror. For a second you swear you see a pair of eyes shining back at you in the shadow of the reflection. Blinking, you sit up further. But the mirror is empty, reflecting only your open window. 

A cool breeze dances across your exposed skin and you shiver, pulling Jeremy’s soft flannel tight across your body. 

Jeremy…did I really just call his name when I…

You shake your head, dismissing the thought and get up to stretch out your tight muscles. Crossing the room, you go to close the window. Before you shut it, you lean out. The moonlight illuminates your form perfectly, naked save for that damn flannel. You can’t see him, but for some reason you think you can feel his gaze on you.

“Goodnight, Jeremy,” you giggle softly and you pull the window closed.

When the frame thuds shut, Jeremy finally breathes out a sigh. Shaking his head, he lets out a soft chuckle.

Playing with you is going to be so much fun.

[ofallthingsnasty]

pairing: crocodile x f!reader tags: fat reader, yandere, past violence, written from nico robin's pov as a little character/relationship study, minors dni word count: 0.9k

note: I had this thought about Robin meeting Crocodile's well-kept basement wife for the first time ages ago but wanted to expand on it a little, mainly because I love the melancholic and stuffy feel being his basement wife has to me. This is mainly vibes and exploration, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! If you want to know more about 'your' scar, I talked about it here and here.

For the first time since she’s met Crocodile, Nico Robin is actually surprised. 

She hadn’t been when she had first seen his lavish base at Rain Dinners in all its opulent glory, hadn’t flinched when she noticed the gigantic species of gators swimming through an even more gigantic, underground tank, hadn’t raised a brow at his penchant for expensive clothes and jewelry and countless cigars, something so decadent compared to the starving land around him.  No, instead it fit him like a glove; that elegant, suave style of evil that had crawled into the very foundations of his lair to fester and rot and ooze wickedness whenever she returned. A marvel to witness, truly, such commitment to the bit. Predictable. Placeable.

What doesn’t fit, however, is a dependent. 

A man like Crocodile - with all his peacockery, arrogance, scorn and grandeur, isn’t someone she can see oh-so-graciously letting someone partake in the riches he has carefully hoarded just because of the goodness of his heart. It’s laughable, the thought. She could have seen him with a child, maybe, a little brat from some old flame many moons past, a little snot-nosed kid who is the epitome of spoiled, who gets too little attention and too much money from daddy.  That, she could have seen sitting on that old, luxurious chaise after getting called back to the base. 

But not you. Not fully-grown, very much not snot-nosed, you.

You’re so small, she thinks, or at least you seem to be. Compared to the grand interior surrounding you, the expensive leather settee you’ve been put on, the dark fur that nearly swallows you as you sit, nothing but your hands and round face peeking out from underneath, you are, in fact, quite small. Small and scared, the coat that’s been draped over you making you look like you’re all fat, bug-eyed rabbit and no part lithe and feisty wolf. If she wasn’t trying to grasp this situation she’d suppress a laugh at the clear intention behind your gaudy little outfit: like a purse, you’ve been dressed to compliment his outfit of the day, undoubtedly just as ornamented with pelt as you. You’re an unusual sight for the wife (and wife you are, she notes with a glance at a gold band wrapped around your pudgy finger) of someone as high-ranking as a warlord - if she had to imagine anyone befitting of that title it would have been someone more sleek; tall, classy, with observant eyes and painted lips that give way to pearly and sharp teeth. Someone whose mere presence whispers power, someone who is at least half as capable as Mister 0 himself.

What’s sitting right in front of her is a liability, a living, breathing shackle. And those are dangerous in the world the two of them operate.

And it begs a simple question: why? Why show her this, make her aware of your presence? Everything he does has a reason, but what purpose does this encounter serve? Robin’s life has been nothing but running, running and then some more running - and so does her mind, ever on edge, ever hunted. She needs to put this into a category, to discern good from bad from somewhere in between, especially when it comes to the inherent danger that is Crocodile. But it makes no sense to her, no matter how hard she tries to find any in the short second she has seen you. Is this a lesson? A show? A reward? A sign of trust? 

Nothing quite fits. She tilts her head as your eyes flutter over her form; taking in the seemingly relaxed elegance, her effortlessly chic outfit. You don’t seem to know either, fear and confusion etched into your soft features. Too easy to read, she thinks. He has clearly never told you about her. Not involved in this business. Hm.

Before she can take another step towards you - to glean another detail, to lure a word out of you that might solve this little mystery - the heavy thud of opening doors startles you. You sit ramrod straight in a millisecond, face instinctively pulled towards the source of the noise. Although she stays right where she is, it gives her another piece in the puzzle to work with: with the motion, a gnarly scar bulges underneath fake light, spanning from the edge of your mouth almost to your ear, gifting you an unnatural, lopsided smile. Ah. She knows Crocodile’s handwriting when she sees it, knows how heavy it can be with his left hand especially. 

You aren’t here out of your own free will.

How fitting, after all.

Not a dependent, but a captive. A cherished one, at that. A little pet, his favorite, tucked away and kept in safety.

She almost wants to scoff at the revelation. Evil, through and through. But this isn’t yet another display of just how cartoonishly bad he is, she thinks, until-

Until you part your lips to reveal a horribly tainted smile as you spot him, hurrying to sit up from the stiff leather and scuttling over. He doesn’t even look at her as you greet him quietly, awkward and uneasy, his face so utterly pleased with whatever this display is supposed to show him. You fold one hand over his right wrist and pull close as he laughs at your antics - you don’t act like this normally, do you? 

Finally, as he excuses you to disappear behind him, whispering something to you that she’d consider intimate if she hadn’t seen the raw, unembellished fear in your eyes, if she hadn’t known that the scar that adorns your face is years-old, it clicks.

This isn’t for her. It’s for you.

[fayes-fics]

Refuge

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (throuple)

Summary: Fluff fic. The boys tend to you when you are sick.

Warnings: none... this is just sick/comfort and fluff.

Word Count: 1.1k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Anon request fill (see HERE) requesting a fluffy comfort fic with the Bridgerton brothers. This isn't set in the Lessons-verse, but is a similar set-up, where the reader is in an established throuple with A & B and lives with them at Aubrey Hall. Nonny, I hope this fits your wishes. Enjoy! <3

A bed is only a refuge when it's by choice.

That's the thought preoccupying your melancholic mind as you sit in bed, propped against a mass of pillows, staring out the window across the sun-drenched fields of Aubrey Hall. Wishing you could be outside, enjoying the sun's rays on your skin. Instead, you are stuck inside, boredom reaching new heights as you contemplate restarting a book for the third time. 

For the past two days, a stomach complaint has left you feeling weak and without an appetite, but also frustratingly unable to sleep, seemingly worse at night. Also, you never sleep well when separated from your loves—it is all a recipe for a maudlin mood. The doctor does not think it is contagious but recommended bed rest and a foul-tasting tincture you must drink twice daily. The Bridgerton boys are coming back from business in London today, and usually, that would signify a wondrous, sensual reunion, but your traitorous body has decided otherwise.

Just as you are sullenly picking up the book you completed that morning, there is a soft knock at your door.

“Come in,” you call, defeated, expecting it to be someone bringing you more disgusting medicine.

“Darling, we are home! My valet informs me you are sick. Why did you not send word to London? We could have cut short our business,” Anthony’s worried tone seems to inhabit his whole frame as he strides in and makes a beeline for you.

“Are you alright?” Benedict adds, appearing behind him, his face also a picture of concern, rounding the other side of the bed.

The wondrous sight of them tips you over the edge. A bloom of pleasure mixed with frustration that your reunion cannot be in the manner you would like. It breaks the dam of emotions you have been keeping at bay, all bubbling over into tears. 

“Oh my love, no, please do not cry!” Benedict implores and softly takes a seat on the edge of the bed, taking your hand.

Anthony hovers, worry etched into his face but seemingly unsure what to do. Benedict frowns at him and signals for him to sit on the bed, which he does after a pause, taking your other hand.

“I've missed you both so very much,” you snuffle between tears, your gaze pinging between them. “I am just so sorry to disappoint you - I am not in a fit state to celebrate as we usually would,” you offer quietly, feeling guilty and biting your lip.

“You could never disappoint us,” Anthony avows sincerely, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

“We have missed you too, my love,” Benedict strokes your cheek delicately with his free hand, swiping a tear that falls with his thumb. “But please, you are obviously sick; we only care about you getting better.”

“Yes,” Anthony nods brusquely, “what can we do to alleviate your suffering? Open a window? Or is the room too cold? Perhaps a fire? Do you need more pillows? Or less? Perhaps some more tea?”

A glow behind your ribs flares at their loving concern in their unique ways—Anthony trying to solve the problem, Benedict offering sympathy. It is just so them.

“I would perhaps enjoy new reading material,” you confess quietly. “I have read all the books here in this room at least twice over now,” you admit sheepishly.

“I will have the staff move my entire library up here this afternoon,” Anthony declares solemnly, a hand over his heart.

“No, no, please, just a few books will be more than fine,” you assure with a feeble giggle, more tears welling at his outsized gesture.

“I think what she most needs from us, brother, is us,” Benedict assesses, lowering himself to buss a kiss on your forehead—always the one to intuit your emotional needs more than you can yourself.

“Yes, please,” you whisper, almost ashamed of your yearning to just be held by them, your weakened state making you feel fragile and in need of strong arms holding you close.

Anthony instantly pulls at his boots and then swings himself around until he can lie next to you. “Of course, how did I not see that?” he chastises himself, his lips running a soothing line over your right temple.

Benedict also takes off his boots and does the same, and a feeling like warmed honey spreads behind your ribs as they each wrap an arm around your middle, snuggling into your neck and face. 

“Thank you so much,” you murmur, your tears drying with their comforting presence.

“No more tears now,” Anthony lectures, but with a gentle sweetness that is him willing you to feel contentment. “We are here to do everything in our power to ensure you are all better soon.”

“Indeed,” Benedict confirms.

“Could you possibly get under the covers with me?” your ask is timid.

“Oh, of course!” both exclaim and stand up just long enough to shuck their jackets and waistcoats, pull back the bedding and slide in next to you. The heat of their bodies is an instant balm, seeping through their shirts through the thin cotton of your nightgown.

“Darling, your body is cold!” Anthony exclaims anxiously as his hand slides over your belly.

“I have not been able to keep food down, so I am always cold,” you admit. “All I can handle is weak, cooled tea.”

“My poor love,” Benedict sighs into your hairline. He runs gentle kisses over your cheek. “Then we will just have to stay here and keep you warm now, won't we?” 

“That would be truly wonderful,” you sigh, closing your eyes, feeling a bone-deep relief to be back in their joint, loving embrace. Something feels missing when they must both be gone. One is bearable; both being gone makes you ache for them. “Thank you, my loves,” you murmur as you feel the pull of sleep finally taking you.

The boys share a knowing silent glance - all other things they may have to attend to can wait; paramount is you and your recovery - before settling into the pillows next to you. Their legs entwining with yours, their arms holding you, their solid bodies bracketing yours. 

You sleep peacefully for the first time in days and awaken around dawn to beautiful birdsong, surrounded by Anthony and Benedict, their breath skittering over your skin in repose. During the night, your hands have ended up laced together. You feel warm for the first time this week, and your stomach rumbles, the urge to eat raring for the first time in days. It feels like you have turned a corner, although your desire to leave the bed is close to zero, snuggling down into them both - your wonderful boys.

A bed is only a refuge when it's by choice indeed.

Both Anthony & Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @sya-skies

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 26: drunken confession

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

Another one a little long that I love. I hope you like it :)

"Hey, look who's coming over there!"

Morgan's cheerful voice forced Spencer to look up from the bar and it was then that you could see that Derek hadn't lied when he called you: he seriously was hopelessly drunk.

"Y/N!" he shouted, slurring his words and grinning from ear to ear as he opened his arms to fling himself in your direction. Luckily you closed the distance to grab him to keep him from falling off the wooden bench he was on "How did you know I wanted to see you?"

You heard Morgan let out a chuckle at this, as if he hadn't had to listen to his incessant pleas for him to call you, since Spencer was pretty clear that only under those conditions would he return home.

"Oh, I can read your mind, didn't you know that?" you joked and he, whose reality was completely altered, widened his eyes in astonishment as if he genuinely believed your words.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you, it's just that he can be very stubborn at times" Morgan apologized.

You two knew each other because of your common friendship with Spencer and on more than one occasion members of the unit had included you in their activities, so there was a degree of trust.

"Why did he get drunk, anyway?" you muttered, with the man still in your arms and his head buried firmly in your neck "I mean, he... you know, he doesn't do it because of his streak of sobriety”

"I honestly don't know. He just asked me to join him here and he ordered one cocktail and then another and well, he ended up like this."

That didn't sound like Spencer, for you knew that if there was one thing the man had, it was strong willpower to stay free of anything that would alter his body chemistry. You were suddenly worried that something had happened and he hadn't told you, although judging by the state he was in it wasn't the most appropriate time to find out. Still, you could try later.

"I'm tired, I want to go home" he complained, rubbing his nose against the skin of your bare shoulder. You didn't think Spencer would get so clingy under the effects of alcohol, because of that whole germ thing, so you were slightly surprised to feel how he was holding you so tightly.

"Do you want me to help you carry him?" asked Morgan and after your friend got off the bench you looked at him for a second, checking that with a little of your help he could still stand to walk to your car.

"Don't worry. Everything under control”

"Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent”

"Well, in that case I'll see you later. Bye kiddo, be sure to call me when you're home."

"Bye, Morgan!" he hiccupped cheerfully, waving goodbye to his friend and getting a pat on the shoulder.

You two stumbled to the parking lot, but with enough luck you made it to your car in one piece and once there you were able to throw him into the passenger seat, making sure to buckle him in before starting.

Once you started the engine, you asked your friend if he was ready for you to leave, and since Spencer's entire body was turned in your direction, it wasn't hard to notice his nod to your question.

You waited until you were a couple of blocks ahead before finally speaking, though you knew full well that he would answer truthfully to whatever you were going to ask him.

"Hey, Spencer”

"Yeah?"

"I'm not mad at you, but... Can I know why you drank?"

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him take a moment to ponder what had really been the reason for all that, and you waited patiently, until he finally got up the nerve to say something.

"I was sad”

"Sad?" 

"And I felt lonely" he completed. The red light allowed you to turn and look at him, and then you met his big, beautiful, melancholic honey-colored eyes. 

"You could have just called me"

“But you knew I needed to see you, right? Why didn’t you ever tell me you could read minds?”

You laughed at his innocence and just shook your head, incredulous to see how a genius had fallen to that level just for a couple of drinks. But you were still worried about what kind of emotional problem your friend was now afflicting and why he hadn't had the confidence to tell you, because after all you were supposed to tell each other everything and support each other. It had always been like this.

You wanted to ask him something else, but you noticed that Spencer's eyes had already closed suddenly, so you thought it would be best to wake him up until you were finally home.

“Reid,” you called softly, once you parked outside the building and unbuckled his seatbelt. He seemed oblivious to everything and for a second you feared you would have to leave him sleeping there until the next morning “Come on. Up"

As best you could, you managed to put his arm around your shoulders and half carry him to the entrance, making sure there were no gossiping eyes when you struggled to open the front door. You thought the staircase would be the most difficult, but fortunately he acquired a certain lucidity that lightened your load after the first step.

“Hi,” he greeted you, speaking too close to your face and smiling from ear to ear, as if he had just noticed your presence.

“Hello, hot stuff” you replied amused and your friend's cheeks blushed violently at your compliment, staying that way until you managed to reach the door with the number 23.

Once inside you managed to lead him to the small bed where he slept and then you let out a sigh of relief; he watched you from where you stood, still with that dizzy expression.

“It was difficult, but we're finally here, huh?”

“I have already been thinking about it very seriously. And I don't think you can read my mind," he said, sounding quite convinced “I mean, although there has been evidence that it's still not scientifically possible, you would need... you would need a lot of things that right now I don't know what they are, but that I know you don't have”

You giggled and then knelt next to the mattress to be closer to him, stretching one of your hands enough to brush his hair away from his forehead. Spencer smiled at your touch.

“You got me, I can't read your mind. Because if that were the case, I would walk in there right now…” with the tip of your finger you gently touched his forehead, bringing a smile to him “to find out what is making you so sad”

“Even if you wanted to, you couldn't. I'm not thinking about that.”

"No? And then what do you think about?” you asked gently.

Your smile was calm and you were very close to him, admiring with amusement the signs of drunkenness that were still in him. Spencer, as much as the situation allowed, was also watching you, although this time there was something different about him. While your friend looked at you fondly every time, now he seemed completely enthralled with you.

“It's not about that”

“Does it have anything to do with your mom?” 

“No, she's fine.”

"And then?" you insisted. He just kept watching you “Come on, what is that wonderful mind thinking?”

It took Spencer a second to respond.

"You"

"Me?" You murmured in a light voice. “And why do you think about me?”

You wanted to know what it was about, however, nothing could have prepared you for the response you were going to receive.

“I'm thinking about how pretty you are. And how much I want to kiss you right now”

You unconsciously leaned back, and to say you were surprised was an understatement, because you were completely taken aback. Although you had clearly heard every word drawn from his tongue, your mind was wondering if he had seriously confessed that he wanted to kiss you.

“Huh… what…?”

“I think about how much I want to kiss you all the time, actually. Every time I see you, and smell your perfume, and I see your smile, and you touch me... it's like you drive me completely crazy”

“Y-You don't know what you're saying,” you stammered, feeling those words unreal. “You're very drunk.” 

"It's true, but even if I am, I know well what I feel. And I know that I am so in love with you. As you can't imagine."

Even though he was drunk he sounded totally sure of what he was saying and he couldn't do anything but terrify you. Spencer wasn't supposed to be in love with you, you didn't even believe he was capable of harboring feelings of that nature for you. If you were honest, you didn't feel scared by what he was saying, but what worried you most was that you didn't know how to feel about it.

You were barely deciding what would be the right answer when he beat you to it:

“Why did you have to go out with that boy?”

"Sorry?"

“The one from your social network”

Your mind had to recalibrate so you could now focus on what he was referring to and understand that he was probably talking about your last date. You had met this guy online that you had liked and with whom you had made a date last week, just to be able to distract yourself a little from the routine of your work and, with a bit of luck, maybe think of a candidate for the future. 

It was obvious that you had told your friend and although you thought he was happy for you, you now knew that, surely, that wasn’t the case.

“Are you angry about that?”

"I'm sad!" he corrected you. The thought of him breaking his streak for you made you feel nauseous and if you could you would have told him it was a totally stupid reason "You're my friend and you're so pretty and you're going to date an idiot that I'm not”

“You're not an idiot.”

“But you don't want to date me either”

You were quiet for a moment, your brain practically burning to find the right words. You were afraid that one bad answer would hurt your friend or that another would give him false hope, because you didn't even know if you felt the same way about him to begin with. The confession had caught you so off guard that you needed time. Just a few hours, or maybe a day, to put in order the whirlwind of emotions that danced inside you so that you can offer a verdict.

Besides, Spencer was madly drunk, how could you trust the words of someone who was intoxicated?

“We'll talk about this tomorrow, okay?” you said at last, reaching out to caress his cheek as if you could offer some sort of comfort. “You're not up to it right now”

“Maybe you're not even real,” he mused, lost in whatever was on his mind “I'm just dreaming about you again.”

“Oh, I assure you, I'm very real,” you huffed, feeling the suffocating weight of the entire situation settle on your chest. “I just don't want to rush things. I need time and you need sleep”

"You love me?"

That wasn't a question, it was a plea. And it was breaking your heart not to be able to answer something to those crystallized eyes that were looking for some positive sign in your own cloudy gaze. 

“Spencer, I… Why don’t we discuss it tomorrow?”

“I just want to know if you love me,” he insisted. One of his hands shakily rose to your chest and planted himself there firmly, the tips of his fingers reaching your shoulder.

"Of course I love you. I love you a lot"

"But you love me?" 

You just wanted to hug him and maybe give him that kiss he wanted so much, but your mind kept screaming at you that you would be taking advantage of your drunk friend and that you couldn't know if that would be something you would regret.

You took a deep breath to maintain your composure and with the hand that had previously been on his cheek you took charge of holding his hand, still at the level of your heart.

“I will answer you tomorrow, when you can understand the answer, okay? I promise you"

Spencer smiled, defeated, and finally nodded his head. From his perspective there was no longer any hope, your response to what he felt was negative. 

“Can you at least stay with me until I fall asleep?”

"Yes, yes, of course. I'll stay as long as you want, honey”

“I like it when you call me that,” he murmured tenderly and quietly, as if he were afraid of saying the wrong thing. But when you smiled at him that worry dissipated.

“I'll make sure to remember it.”

You stayed in silence for a while, which was only broken when you asked him if he wanted you to turn off the light. He said no and then you stayed where you were, still holding his hand.

It took you a bit to convince him that to sleep he had to close his eyes, because he refused to stop looking at you. After a few minutes of him doing it, you began to see the first signs that he was falling into the realm of dreams.

“Y/N” he called to you, just when he was between the limbo of consciousness and unconsciousness.

"Yeah?"

“I hope you love me tomorrow”

You stayed with him until you checked that he was sound asleep, as you had promised, and then you returned home. You didn't even sleep that night, tossing and turning in bed for hours while your brain racked to understand what your heart was feeling.

And at least one thing was certain, that, the next morning, when you returned to Spencer's apartment with breakfast in one hand and his favorite coffee in the other, you already had an answer.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1 @sdddoobydoobydoo @taintedstranger @missabsey

[monnn]

Am I the greatest bastard that you know?

staring: idol! jeonghan x non-idol!, gn! s/o

wc: 1.3k-ish

genre: ANGST. big angry feelings of reader, kinda fluff towards the end?

a/n: hi, ur fav angst lover is back! things have not been great lately and this fic might just be a vent of mine. big feelings and anger is very valid but so is taking a break. hope you realise that and take a break from life to just exist! to whoever's reading this, i love u, let things take time, take time for yourself, stay hydrated and BE ANGRY!!!

divider by @saradika-graphics !!!

song rec for this fic is The Greatest Bastard by Damien Rice!

knowing how stressful going on a hiatus can be, you successfully lure jeonghan into a staycation, away from the city. though han had to be present for rehab, you had checked with the doctor and he was okay with han being away for a weekend. doing nothing was the plan since jeonghan was actively burning out from working hard to the extent that he's injured, so he was looking forward to spend time with his loved one for a while. what neither of you knew was the fight that would gonna pop up at reaching the room. hannie had drove all the way to the hotel since you didn't have a license and all you had done after reaching there was ask what he wanted to eat since y'all had skipped the rest stops.

~ 30 mins before

"hey love, what do you feel like eating? i could order it for us" you ask a very eepy han.

"just anything, i'm okay with anything" he replies and you can sense the exhaustion in his voice. to make sure you don't get him more grumpy, you ask again to confirm if he's sure about his decision.

"jesus y/n! can you cut me some slack? just stop fucking bothering me and order whatever the fuck you want!" he yells, shaking you to the core.

here's the thing - there necessarily hasn't been any major disagreements or "fights" in your relationship, so the intensity of his feelings get to you. but he should've known better than to snap because your rage knows no bounds and hannie does know about this.

"well, fuck you with that behaviour of yours, i'm not gonna be ordering any food!"

"good! because i don't fucking need it anymore either!" he screams, walking away from the room. you had put great effort in picking a room which is right by a stream, surrounded by mountains and a temple on one of the mountains.

trying not to mind the rage and disappointment with han, you chug a glass of water before doing anything. but you weren't gonna let han off the hook because he was having a hard time. the value you hold for yourself is much more important and you've tried so hard to just have that value in your life for so long, hence you are not going to let the love of your life doubt on it. finishing another glass of water, you leave the room in search of hannie with some snacks and a drink.

you are yet find han with the passing time. he wasn't by the stream, hadn't left the premises according to the owner and definitely hadn't hiked up a mountain(cause bro was literally eepy). but the one place you hadn't scraped was the temple, so you hydrate and go on to check if he's there.

in fact, he is there. his silhouette seems regretful. melancholic even. hunched over and zoning out by overthinking. you stomp your way towards the temple, letting him know of your arrival as he fixes his posture and keeps his gaze down. leaving your shoes behind, you enter the temple and kneel infront of han to provide well-needed snacks and water. he whispers a small 'thank you' and you move aside to sit away from him. not that you wanted to, rather wanting to just talk without any physical contact. you see him chug the water and eat his snacks, making a part of you feel relieved. after finishing his nibbles, han thinks he's ready to talk cause he knows it's better to do this right now than to dwell and let it become bigger.

"y/n, i'm sorry. i am not gonna reason myself for my actions towards you but i do wanna let you know i'm really tired. probably beyond exhaustion. i love you but that was really wrong of me to behave that way when you were just trying to make me feel better." he begins.

"okay, i accept your apology. but i'm not sorry because i haven't done anything wrong. and i'm gonna have to get this off my chest cause if i don't say it now, it's just gonna grow and rot in me." you say, stretching out your hand for him to hold. hannie slips his palm in yours and there's a little squeeze from both of you before letting go.

"okay, i'm gonna listen what you have to say and i'm sure i'll have things to say after, but i'm gonna listen to you first." he says, reassuring you.

"thank you. i hope you know that i was just trying to be of help and not a bother. you snapping at me was unnecessary, which you know by now and it scared me han. for a moment, you were an angry stranger to me and it made me so angry too. why? because i don't deserve to be treated like this han, you know how hard life has been and still is for me." you pause, taking a deep breath as you feel tears welling up your eyes. but one look at hannie and you know he's making space for your anger, willing for you to continue.

shit, you really do love him.

"i understand how mentally and physically exhausting things have been for the past week or so. i understand so much han, i really do. but that does not give you any leverage to be rude or angry at me. regardless of the terrible things i deal with in my life, i'm really trying to be positive towards our relationship and this unconsciously might've broken a part of me. maybe i'm being dramatic but my feelings are big and valid. i love you but we'll need to work on this at our own pace, yeah? what do you think?" you finish, catching a breath that you didn't realise was held.

jeonghan takes a deep breath, before he begins. taking one look at you, he fidgets with his phone and tries to talk cause he has to start somewhere.

"firstly, i am really sorry love. i wanna let you know that i regret my actions and shouldn't have behaved that way towards you. it's just been really hard for me to go into a break from being so packed with schedules. i don't think i've rested at all since i started working and it's just a lot. it's a lot because i now am realising the importance of rest and that solely is beyond overwhelming. but now that i'm here, i want to make the best of it and spend as much time as i can with the people i love. again, i can't think of anything other than apologising because you don't deserve that. i have no right to be treating you that way when you've put your complete trust and love in me. i'm so sorry again love, i want to work on this. i'm not sure how but i wanna work on us, with you. i love you." he finishes, letting out a loud sob. you hold yourself back from going and holding him cause he needs this more than anything else.

instead you move next to him, taking one of his hands in yours. hannie turns to look at you and lays his head on your shoulder, not caring about drenching your shirt. you gently caress his hand as he calms down and give him some water to hydrate. disconnecting from your hand, he drinks the water and wipes his face but intertwines your arm in both of his the moment he's done. there's a moment of stillness felt, as he leans onto your shoulder, nuzzling further into your neck. you haven't felt this feeling ever and just being present makes you realise that there is always space to be wrong and learn in love. not sure if it's the same with everyone else, but you know for sure it is with jeonghan.

[little-diable]

Hair - Spencer Reid (smut)

This came to me as I was listening to "Hair" by Suriel Hess. I know this situation has been used numerous times before, but I felt like it fits the song just too well. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The team is sent to the place (y/n) had left about ten years ago, leaving all her trauma and sorrows behind. But as she has run ins with familiar faces, Spencer has to pick up the pieces, catching her before she can fall.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, outdoor sex, bits of possessiveness, colleagues to lovers, some angst (see summary)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (2.4k words)

“(Y/n), can I speak to you for a moment?” Hotch’s voice echoed through the morning, forcing (y/n) to slow down, watching the rest of the team disappear down the hallway. Wordlessly she followed Hotch into his office, arms crossed in front of her chest, waiting for her boss to start talking. “We’re going back to your hometown.”

“I know, Hotch, listen-“ he interrupted her with a raise of his hand, making her straighten her posture even more. For a few seconds neither of them said a word, clinging to the silence now engulfing them. She felt his intense gaze on her, felt him reading her every micro-expression, awfully aware of the tension holding her body hostage. 

“I’ll trust you to be honest with me, you tell me if you want out.” She nodded her head, keeping her lips pressed together, till Aaron let go of a sigh, murmuring a short “I’ll be down in a few”, watching (y/n) leave the office. 

With her heart pounding, and her mind racing (y/n) grabbed her go-bag, finding her way to the rest of the team. It’ll be alright, it has to be. 

You're afraid, said people get too comfortable, need a change, said there's something else you're looking for

……

“(Y/n)?” Spencer’s voice ripped her out of her thoughts, hazy eyes finding his concerned ones. He was standing closer than she had anticipated, almost taking a step back. Her colleague stared her down, waiting for her to speak.

„I, uhm, sorry. What did you say, Spence?“ (Y/n)’s voice trembled, needing to clear her throat. He took a step back, turning to his bag, seemingly deep in thought. She watched him unpack, carefully placing his things down on the hotel bed they were supposed to share for the duration of this case. 

“Just asked if you’re okay, that’s all. You know you can talk to me, right?” With a sigh leaving her (y/n) plopped down on the bed, groaning as she rubbed her eyes. 

“I know, I promise I’m alright. It’s just been a long day.” Spencer watched her for a few more seconds before he placed the book he was now holding down, walking closer once again. He sat down next to her, hands folded in his lap. 

“It must be hard being back here.” (Y/n) couldn’t stop her groan from leaving her, angrily rising to her feet with her hands tugging on the roots of her hair. Frustration thumped through her veins, filling her body with every passing second. She hated being treated like this, hated being looked down on like a ticking time bomb about to rip them all to shreds. 

“Not you too, Spencer, please. Just drop it.” Spencer had to watch her reach for her jacket, unable to stop her from leaving their shared hotel room, leaving nothing but a simple “I’ll be back later” to echo through the room.  

He didn’t pick up on the shallow breaths leaving her, he didn’t pick up on the way she fumbled with her fingers, scratching the fabric of her leather jacket. Spencer didn’t pick up on the tears welling up in her eyes, and not even (y/n) did, at least not till she left the hotel with a tear dripping from her chin. 

(Y/n) wrapped her arms tightly around herself, walking the streets she hadn’t walked in over ten years. A strange melancholic feeling flushed through her, a feeling so threatening (y/n) couldn’t stop her body from guiding her to the home she had cut ties with back then. 

Her eyes took in the familiar walls, the windows she had once looked out of. Pain tugged at her heart, a sensation so blinding, (y/n) had to force her teeth into her lower lip. She couldn’t stop her eyes from focusing on the frame of people appearing in the windows, making her heart skip a few beats. 

If you're bored to death with your hair, you can cut it, maybe you'll feel something new, change what you want when you want if you want it, I'll still feel the same about you

……

“Reid and (y/n), go back to the scene. I want you to talk to the neighbour again, she must have heard something.” Wordlessly (y/n) followed Spencer to the black SUV, watching him pull out of the station, eyes set on the road ahead. 

“When did you come back?” Their eyes met for a few seconds, before Spencer switched his attention back onto the road, not picking up on the pained expression tugging on her features. She had a hard time speaking up, opting to take a sip of her coffee before she gave in. 

“Around two. I’m sorry Spence, I didn’t mean to lash out on you.” A smile tugged on his lips, a smile so bright (y/n) couldn’t help but chuckle. The sound got stuck in her throat as Spencer’s hand found her knee, softly squeezing. He pulled his hand back within seconds, and yet her mind couldn’t help but focus on the tingling sensation the touch had left, a sensation so strong (y/n) had to avert her gaze, staring out of the window. 

There had been something going on between the two of them for months, unspoken feelings, unfamiliar sensations, unaddressed longings. Whatever it was, it kept the both of them on their toes, wondering if they should do something about the way their hearts skipped beats whenever they were close, wondering if they should do something about the heat flushing through their systems whenever their eyes met. Both Spencer and (y/n) knew that they could easily lose their jobs, not daring to go against the laws they were supposed to follow. 

“I just want you to know that I’m always here for you, that’s all.” His words forced her eyes back to his features, admiring the handsome profiler who was now parking the car. With a soft “I know” leaving her, (y/n) followed him out into the warm morning, standing a few steps behind him as he knocked on the red door, waiting for the witness (y/n) hadn’t met just yet. 

(Y/n)’s breath got hitched in her chest as the door was pushed open, exposing a familiar face she hadn’t seen in almost a decade. The elderly woman’s eyes met hers, pupils dilating before a smile tugged on her lips, inviting the two in. Before (y/n) could even begin to speak greeting words, she was pulled in for a tight hug, a sensation so lovingl, (y/n) feared she’d break out in tears all over again. 

“Oh (y/n), it’s so good to see you again.” 

Sure, there's a chance that, one day, you'll regret it, and that day might feel like the end, your hair will grow back, honey, don't you forget it, I'll love you now 'til when it's long again

……

“Where are we going?” (Y/n)’s murmurs filled the car, watching the police station pass by. Spencer kept driving, not replying as a grin tugged on his lips. She chuckled his name, watching him shake his head. The familiar streets tugged at her heartstrings, wondering how Spencer knew how to navigate through the area, not seeing through his plan just yeet

Only as they entered a familiar area of the forest did (y/n) slowly realise where he was taking her. Her eyes snapped back to his, murmuring Spencer’s name.

“You remember?” Months ago, as they were trying to pass time on the jet, the two of them had played a game of twenty questions, learning more about one another. While he had told her about his mother, about his time in school, about the struggles he had faced, she had told him all about this very place, the safe spot she had ran to whenever things at home got messy. 

“Of course I do, I knew it’d come in handy one day.” The SUV began to slow down, parked near the lake (y/n) had spent most of her summers at. He watched her get out, watched her walk closer to the body of water, soaking up the silence, the sunshine, the comfort now filling her body. 

“Thank you, Spence.” Slowly he came to a halt next to her, sending (y/n) a smile before he forced himself to avert his gaze. But (y/n) kept looking at him, clinging onto the unfamiliar confidence guiding her on, reaching for his jaw, feeling the shadow of his beard scratching her thumb, tilting his head back towards her. There was no need to speak up, no need to explain what was about to happen, like two magnets pulled closer, they crossed the distance between them. Their lips met slowly at first, trying to adjust to the new sensation, trying to get familiar with one another’s lips. 

A moan rumbled through (y/n) as Spencer pushed her against the SUV, nestling between her thighs without breaking the kiss once. She felt his left hand wandering down her back, pushing her even closer, not wanting to let go just yet. Both searched one another’s closeness, clinging to the racing of their heart, to the heat making them shudder. 

(Y/n) couldn’t stop her hands from finding his shirt, toying with the first few buttons, popping one open before Spencer pulled back, desperate to catch his breath. 

“We shouldn’t do this here, I want you to be comfortable.” She didn’t give him any time to inhale another shaky breath of air, only shaking her head. 

“I’m as comfortable as I can be, I need you, Spence, please.” With a groan rumbling through him, he pulled her back down from the hood of the black SUV, toying with the button of her trousers. Their lips found back together once again, desperate to free themselves from the clothes keeping them separated. Without another warning, (y/n) found herself being turned around, front pushed against the hood she had been sitting on moments ago. 

“We have to be quick, I don’t want to risk anybody seeing you like this. I don’t like sharing what’s mine.” Her heart skipped a beat at the possessiveness dripping from his words, making her walls clench around nothing. All (y/n) could do was listen to the sounds Spencer produced, giving room to a moan leaving her as the breeze met her now bare cunt, a sight that forced a similar sound out of Spencer. 

His hand found her heat, finding her pulsing bundle of nerves, rubbing it just enough to heighten her senses, to make her toes curl. (Y/n) found herself struggling to hold on, needing to claw her fingernails into something, not used to her body reacting to these kinds of touches with a sensation this intense. 

“I want to take my time with you, want to treat you just like you deserve to be treated, but fuck, I need to feel you around me, I’ve been waiting too long for this to happen.” The sound of his teeth ripping open a silvery foil packet echoed through the air, once again leaving her tensing. All (y/n) could do was moan a soft “Me too”, making a smirk tug on his lips.

Spencer pushed into her from behind, slowly, carefully, giving the both of them a few moments to adjust before he pulled back out – only to push back in with more force. He fucked her with calculated thrusts, knowing exactly how and where to touch her, disappearing inside of her deeper and deeper with every thrust. Spencer stretched her perfectly, making her squeeze her eyes shut, unable to hold back with the sounds clawing through her. 

The sound of their bodies meeting could be heard from all around them, giving into the longing that has kept them awake for nights on end, guiding them through each and every morning. (Y/n) desperately wanted to see the pleasure tugging on Spencer’s features, needing to watch him slowly unfold, but the ferocious thrusts of his didn’t give her any time to ponder over her thoughts, forgetting her own name whenever his cock pressed against that one sensitive spot. 

“Feels so good, Spence, so good.” His raspy chuckles left her walls fluttering, a sensation forcing a few moans out of Spencer. Both could tell that the other was close, unable to hold back after dreaming of this moment for so long. And yet neither of them wanted to give in just yet, holding onto the seconds fading by way too quickly. 

“My pretty girl, so fucking tight, so perfect for me.” (Y/n)’s hand found its way to her bundle of nerves, rubbing it in sync with the pace of his ruthless thrusts, pushing herself closer and closer to the edge. Like a burning match alighting a fuel station Spencer set her body on fire, making her tremble and moan as she came with his name rolling off her tongue. 

“Don’t stop, Spence, don’t.” Her murmurs guided him on, fucking into her for a few more seconds before he let go with a groan, forehead pressed against her clothed spine. Spencer gave it some more thrusts before he pulled away with a sigh, letting go of her to redress, throwing the condom into the close by trash can.

He pulled her in for another kiss, cradling her face in his warm hands. Both stared at one another, unable to bite down their smiles, at least not till the sound of his phone echoing through the air ripped them apart, realising how much time had passed since they’d left the station. And with a chuckle rumbling through them, they began to drive back, fingers interlaced, hearts intertwined. 

Your hair will grow back, honey, don't you forget it, I'll love you now 'til when it's long again

[acupofinkedblood]

Medkit x reader [An Arrow To The Knee]

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

How has he became such a fool?

They say that love has this blessing that drive you mad. Medkit used to think that it’s such an exaggerated vision of those lovesick idiots that have nothing better to do, but now he can definitely be certain that he had become one of the said fools the very moment he fell for you. Sometimes Medkit can only curse his heart for not just turn into rock or something, because him and love? It’s not the prettiest combination, at least he thought so

But then you slowly make your way into his life. Since when did he start to realize that he was yearning for your company each time you part ways with him then bid him a smiling ‘See you soon’? Medkit doesn’t know. There isn’t any logical expansion for love, what a pity. That little feeling of a bunch of butterflies doing backflips inside his stomach whenever he is near you is so frustrating, yet it’s you. He can’t push you away

Or he did a few times, but you’re just too stubborn to even accept that mere defeat

The moment the confession finally lifts up the unspoken tension weighs in his heart, Medkit feels like he is finally able to breathe under the light of his true feelings around you. Sure, it takes time. A lots of time and patience for him to warm up to your presence as someone close to his life. Because he is like a cat rescued by you, and they need quite a while to adapt, no? Rest assured, now that the two of you belong together, there is nothing else to worry about

Mekdit used to state that he was afraid of commitment because he couldn’t foresee what the future had to offer, whether it’s a melancholic tragedy or the fulfilling happy ending he had been chasing after. And you are a part of that little play he takes up on the stage as well — Or in another word, a play of his life — which means he doesn’t know what role will fate gives you in the future. All those years, he has relied solely on his sense of survival to make his decision. He just doesn’t want to lose it all again

He trusts his intuition, he really does. Yet somehow when the matter involves you, he can’t help but going back and forth. One wrong decision and this action will have consequences on both of your lives. Hell, he is even on the run right now, who knows how long will he be able to keep himself out of that death sentence of Blackrock’s government and the endless madness of the Cult? He loves you, and he only wants what is best for the two of you

When he first got into this relationship with you, he was a bit uneasy. He has actually mentally braced himself if anything happens, but to his surprise, you shower him with affection of his preference, he feels like his heart is beating again lively. He feels loved around you, and he loves you. There is this specific idea that keeps bugging him from times to times after years of being together with you. Will that be too sudden? Or what if it isn’t what you want? Medkit is still as ever, prefers to figure things by himself to not bother anyone else. However, as time flies, he can finally understand what to do. For once, let him gamble his life on his own as he throws the given script given by fate away

He is already the leas actor of his life, might as well starts to become the co-director of his choices at this point

“Careful,” he coos, holding onto your hand while you close your eyes, “Don’t trip on your feet, take it easy”

“My, a surprise for me? I can feel the slight salty breeze, dare I might say it’s the beach?”

“Lucky that you even remember my words when I urged you to take a coat”

Your chuckle eases the bubbling worries deep inside his chest. Yes, he did take you to the beach in the crack of dawn, but the sun isn’t coming out just yet. Lucky for you that demon doesn’t necessarily need to sleep, or else you will probably sleepwalk your way here with him. It sounds clearer now, the steady waves hit the shore rhythmically. As the wind kisses your face, you can even smell the sea water in the chilly night. It feels peaceful, but a bit cold of course. Thankfully Medkit insists that you should bring a coat along. Your boyfriend is always such a worrisome guy, but you still love that about him

“We’re here. C’mon, open up your eyes”

The sun gently perks up from the sea the very moment you do as he told. The golden rays caress your face, blesses you with the dawn of a new day. Its reflection is almost glistening on the surface of the sea, the sight is almost surreal. While you are still in awe of the serene landscape, Medkit still keeps his hands in the pockets of his coat, occasionally fidgeting with the object inside it anxiously. But he can’t really back off now, can he? Medkit takes a deep breath, rehearsing his own lines which he had to write it over and over again until reaching the perfect conclusion

He calls out your name, watches you carefully as you look over to him. You can tell that his expression has softened greatly

“I have something important that I want to tell you”

“Tell me then,” you smile, “Is there something on your mind?”

“All those times you have stayed by my side, I have to admit that I have grown soft. Years have passed, and I just want you to know that you mean a lots to me. The thought of the future can be scary, but when I imagine you standing at the end of the tunnel, my heart can’t help it but feels…calm. And even if I’m afraid of going forward, at least I know that I can rely on you to keep me on my toes. And I, truly, want you to accompany me on this path of the future”

Before you can process his words properly, Medkit gets down on one knee as he finally pull the thing that he keeps fidgeting with inside his pocket: A velvet box - a typical choice to store a ring inside. Wait, hold on—

“I want to stay by your side, to grow old with you and to live for a tomorrow worth dying for. Not just to survive anymore, I want to live. And I wish to spend my life with you until my last breath. I promise that I will take care of you with all I have got, so…,” the box is opened, revealing the sleeping beauty of a golden ring lying inside, “Will you marry me?”

Your brain stops functioning for a good moment there. Is this a dream? You aren’t sleepwalking, right? Your hands tremble slightly with joy as you acknowledge this is reality, that oh so bright smile can be helped but appear on your face. You feel like crying, but that overwhelming satisfaction of happiness is conflicted with it. What a reaction you are having at the moment, he thinks. Before Medkit knows it, you already flung yourself into him with your arms around his body. He almost falls backwards into the sand in surprise there, mind you. But he can’t bring himself to be annoyed at that fact, not when you are this overjoyed

All those time you thought you will be the one that purpose to him first, guess that he really catches you by surprise in the best way possible, huh?

“Yes! A hundred times yes,” you exclaim, “I will and I do, how can I not?”

That answer does more than just satisfy him. That simple word feels like an elixir to put all his worries at bay, especially with you in his embrace like this. One hand holding the ring box, the other wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. Medkit let out of a relaxed sigh as he takes in your senses. The shore is all for the two of you, so there is no one around to judge or anything. But even if they do, you simply don’t give a damn

“I love you too,” he murmurs, “Forever”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Note: I bought this super cute bracelet that matches the one that I wear before and it’s just so so adorable（＾Ｏ＾）

[privateanxieties]

these final hours

Summary: When your job becomes too overwhelming, Frank decides enough is enough. A brief conversation reveals that things run deeper than he thought.

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

His verdict comes down one Sunday evening, breaking you from the melancholic stupor you're well into traversing.

"Alright, that's it."

There's a part of you that wants to protest immediately. It's always the first one to make itself known, because it's the one that feels the most fear. No, you cannot just quit your job, no matter the toll it's taking on you. No matter how many people tell you it's making you fade. No matter how little you stand to gain from keeping it up. Because if you do, then - then -

"Don't look at me like that. I said that's enough. You ain't going tomorrow."

There is, however, another part of you: the one that could cry out in sheer relief just by being presented with an out.

You don't even know what it is, exactly. Everyone has to work who was not born fortunate. People have much harder jobs than you do, and they get paid even less. So many struggle to make ends meet. You have neither the long, nor the short straw. The work is completely average, though perhaps below your capabilities. Definitely below your studies - God knows you're not justifying any of those student loans, save for maybe lots of jobs requiring some kind of degree these days. No, you can't quite grasp where all this melancholia with regard to your job originates.

When you really look at your situation, you have to abstain from getting carried away by overwhelming disappointment over how unjustified all this grief seems. Things could be a hell of a lot worse. People go through things at work that render them suicidal, and here you are, on a Sunday night, sad that you have to wake up for your commute.

"Sweetheart, you gotta talk to me. Alright? Can't handle seein' you like this. Nothin's worth it, you hear me? Ain't a goddamn thing in this world worth what this shit does to you."

Frank's hand on your knee makes you immediately tense up. It's instantaneous sensory overload from a simple touch and you can't explain it. It bothers you that you can't explain because it's another thing that's wrong with you. Another overreaction to an inoffensive event.

Before you can move away or even just barely take a breath, the warmth of his skin disappears. You hate the relief that washes over you. Who feels better when someone they love stops being affectionate? You, apparently. Always against the grain.

"You know I'm not making you do anything. Yeah? Need to hear that you know that."

A nod is what you manage, but eye contact has yet to happen. You theorize that if it were to happen, if you were to see him in this moment of wild vulnerability, you'd probably want to run from him and all else in the world.

"You don't have shit to prove to anyone. You included. Can't try to beat yourself into a mold if that mold's just gonna take away all the best parts of you."

Your chest rattles, and you try to keep your breath from becoming a pained gasp.

"You know, just 'cause I read doesn't mean I'm good with words. That's all you. But I'll say whatever I gotta say to get through. I ain't losin' the woman I love to a fucking job. And I sure as shit ain't letting her believe she's gotta do what the world says she's gotta do. Break herself as many times as she has to just to get approval. Can't do shit with approval, I'll tell you that."

Against all odds, words tumble out of you like a knocked over pot of crayons. Sharpness everywhere.

"I fail at - at everything. I haven't done one thing right my whole life. I quit everything I start. Everything - Frank, I can't st-"

An involuntary sob rips straight from your heart.

"I can't stand myself. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of my days not belonging to me. I'm tired of getting nowhere. I'm tired of not having any good reason to be like this. Every day I have to know, I have to wake up and go to sleep and never stop knowing that I am the way that I am. And I wish something would just happen so I don't have to keep-"

It stops. The flow of words you've never said out loud, even to yourself, stops dead. The silence floods the remaining space without delay but it, too, does so fruitlessly.

Frank has heard enough. Enough to know exactly what you've sworn you would protect him from.

"Will you look at me?"

The softest plea. You don't think you've ever witnessed it.

"Need to see it. Yeah? I need to see it in your eyes, what you just said. And then we'll figure it out. But I need to know, sweetheart. Because if I gotta protect you from your own mind, Imma be honest with you - I need different gear."

It's a weak attempt at humor, but not completely unsuccessful. Mostly you just know that Frank means every word. And you know, as your gaze meets his at last, that the part of you that always resists outside help has lost some strength. You're not too far gone to be able to admit that your thoughts have been getting bleaker. It's a newness that scares even you, who's been down this path before. Somewhere, it seems a turn arrived that even you weren't aware you'd taken.

But Frank is nothing if not relentless. There is no road he won't track you down on and no path inaccessible to someone of his determination. You can see it in his eyes, along with the subtlest glimmer. You're making him worry, and when Frank worries, he plans. Ten, maybe twenty steps ahead - which is why he locks away your phone with his guns for the night. It's safe to say you won't have an alarm for tomorrow, and the relief that fact brings isn't unaccompanied by guilt. Frank soothes it with promises and his unique brand of realism - you'll get through everything together, as long as you're honest. No more hiding, no more detours.

You're not sure how good you'll be at it, and when you voice the thought to him, Frank doubles down as he pulls the covers back from the bed and you both slip under them.

"You know what being good at therapy looks like?"

You hum your curiosity.

"Not needing relief anymore. Promise to let me know when we get there. Yeah?"

You press your fragile promise into the skin of his cheek, tucking your head below his chin and wrapping as much of your body around him as possible and, for the first time in weeks, drifting off instead of fighting to sleep.

.

.

.

-fin-

A/N: just a short piece that I hope brings you some comfort if you need it.

[fabydoll]

ILLICIT | TEASER. coming soon

ৎ ݁ ۪ ⋅ Ꮚ dilf, cop, taehyung x teenage milf, fem reader

ϑϱ⭒ ݁ sum ৎ ݁ ۪ after the murder of two people so dear to your heart, in front of your own eyes, your left broken and all alone, but who better to make you feel loved and cared for than an officer of the law...

ϑϱ⭒ ݁ starring ৎ ݁ ۪ kim taehyung ⟡ kim jennie ⟡ kim namjoon ⟡ choi tzuyu, ect 𓂅ﾞ

ϑϱ⭒ ݁ cw ৎ ݁ ۪ AU, infidelity ౨ৎ murder ౨ৎ drugs ౨ৎ cheating ౨ৎ power imbalance ౨ৎ underage pregnancy ౨ৎ pregnant sex ౨ৎ cock warming ꒰sorta꒱ ౨ৎ reverse cowgirl ౨ৎ lactating kink ౨ৎ ephebophilia౨ৎ underage sex ౨ৎ illict, illegal relationship ౨ৎ hints to a daddy/daughter kink

Taehyung stood in front of your tattered apartment door, knocking. The acrid smell of a recently smoked and lit cigarette lingered in the air, shoving a muscular, veiny hand into the pocket of his long, heavy dark brown winter coat, his police badge being the only thing that brought any color to the otherwise bleak and lifeless hallway, eyeing his somber and desolate surroundings that were your apartment complex.

You lived here?

Thinking back on your condition and the fact that you’re only a young teenage girl—a young pregnant teenage girl—a part of him, the fatherly part of him, couldn’t help but feel so sympathetic, empathetic to your situation. You must feel so scared, alone, just like the same broken young girl whose pleas and begging not wanting to go to jail somehow found a way to pull on his heartstrings.

If he was being honest, he should care as much as he did.

But you made him care, so much.

“Miss Y/N, hope I wasn’t bothering you,” Taehyung said, his velvety voice sounding nurturing, fondly looking at your slumbering state, like you were the cutest thing his eyes had ever laid on. You rubbed your doe eyes; you were beyond adorable. “Of course not, Mr. Kim, I was just taking a little after-school nap,” you softly yawned, stretching your tired limbs, looking up at the taller, older man and giving him a sweet sleepy smile.

“I see,” he said, fondly smiling back at you. Mr. Kim was ever so beautiful, especially when he smiled, looking like a gorgeous matinee idol. You could never tell he was in his late thirties; you softly blushed. “Anyways, I came to check on you. Your case worker, Mrs. Choi, informed me that you hadn’t checked up on her calls lately. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

And see your beautiful smiling face again.

“Oh,” you formed an “oh” with your plump, plush pink lips as Taehyung tried his best to avoid looking at, you’re blooming and blossoming cleavage that your oversized low-cut t-shirt offered a tantalizing view of. “I must have dozed off; being pregnant can be so trying sometimes,” you hummed, daintily placing a hand on your 4-week-old tummy bump. Taehyung softly nodded, eyes on your tummy “I image it would be hard.”

The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, for what seemed like eternity, just gazing into each other’s starry eyes, like you were in reverie, daydreaming, waiting, albeit nervously, for the other to make a move. Taehyung awkwardly cleared his throat, breaking the moment as he began, “Um, do you maybe want to go out for a walk together?” You blushed again but nodded, smiling.

“I would love to.”

꒰ 8:12 pm ₊˚⊹ᰔ ── apricity 𝜗𝜚

It was a chilly evening with crystal clear snowflakes falling from the heavens, daintily snowing down onto you two as you walked side by side, hands softly brushing against one another every now and then as you strolled around the neighborhood, which was covered in snow, looking like a gloomy but beautifully melancholic winter wonderland.

It was peaceful and calming; the two of you just strolled around. Taehyung reached into his pockets, taking out his thick leather gloves and slipping his equally thick and large hands in, as well as lighting up a cigar.

You watched him almost hypnotically, Taehyung feeling your curious and innocent gaze just deeply chuckled as he took a drag. “You wanna try some?” he called out, a chilly smoke-filled fog airing out as he offered it to you. You coughed and hesitantly took it.

You took the itsy bitsy, tiny drag you could possibly take before passing it back to him, as you started to air out cute little puffs of air, a fond chuckle ringing in your ear. Taehyung took it from your small hands and took another long drag. “So how’s school? Heard you were in your last year of high school.” You gently hummed, “Yeah, it's going fine. I actually just started my senior year.”

“Hmm”

“Yeah, I was pretty excited about it too, until you know,” you looked down at your pregnant belly. Sighing, you gave your tummy little gentle, soft rub as you continued in much softer tone “I never expected to get pregnant at such a young age, you know? I had my whole life ahead of me, I had dreams and hopes, but then again maybe it happened for reason, a reason that I sometimes believe was so I could still have someone by my side, like an angel looking after me, now that I'm. . . all alone.”

You tried your best to suppress the tears that threatened to cascade down your pale, rosy, ruby red cheeks. Taehyung frowned seeing you cry, it hurt for an odd reason he couldn’t quite fully explain, you still managed to look so breathtakingly beautiful, Taehyung pulled you closer laying his head on top of yours, a strong, muscular arm around your small shoulders. As he rocked you back and forth, like a loving father trying to coo their crying child, comforting you with nothing more but soft, warm words in a deep mellifluous, euphonious tone, his words as sweet and as warm as a hot cup of cocoa.

The snow continued to fall on both of you, as you were wrapped, engulfed in, Taehyung’s warm embrace your tears slipping down your cheeks and socking into Taehyung’s coat, his sweet-smelling cologne and strawberry scent, somehow calming and soothing you, as Taehyung gentle let go, he entwined his lager hands with your smaller. You two just stood there for a moment hands twinned together, it was quite picturesque scene with beautiful snowy backdrop.

“You wanna go out for some hot cocoa? My treat” he cooed, a hand pushing back a strand of your hair out of your angelic tear-stricken face.

“It would my pleasure.” You sniffed, smiling warmly up at him.

𝜗℘ㅤׁㅤ. . taglist . . . @taevestr, @tan-veee, @nm4565natty

꒰ ၇୧ ⠀ᅟ𓈒⠀note, if you want to be added to the taglist you must comment ⠀⠀⁺ ꒱