#friends of distinction going in circles

[blueiight]

Ill pay people to make moving video edits of ldpdl to all my sad boy 60s-80s black ennui music

[purplecelestial-buddy]

Something something 1am got me yearning

[howardhawkshollywoodmusic]

21. Going in Circles by The Friends of Distinction debuted Aug 69 and peaked at number 15, charting for 20 weeks and going gold.

Luther Vandross' 1995 remake charted for two weeks. The Friends also have the number 30 hit of the year, Grazing in the Grass.

[mostly-imagines]

Sugar on the Rim vol. II

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

part one

warnings: heavily implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), smut, oral fem!receiving, nervous but enthusiastically consenting reader

You’d tried to calm your nerves but they couldn’t be helped.

You’re anxious about everything, all of it. What he wants you to do, what he’s expecting you do, whether it’ll hurt, whether you’re ready.

You think you trust Bruce, but you also know that these things are different for men and women. You don’t necessarily expect that he’ll have a mind for what you’ll need, but honestly, neither do you. You don’t know what to do to make this easier for yourself—you don’t know what to do at all. 

You bought the lingerie, you’ve got it on under your clothes and it feels like a costume. You can’t tell if that aids or worsens the anxiety. 

You’re fidgeting with the hem of your skirt and you wish you could quit it, you’re radiating enough nervous energy as it is, you don’t need to be sending him visual cues on top of it. 

Bruce holds your free hand in his as he guides you through the manor, you think it’s a different section than you’ve seen before. His hand engulfs yours unfairly as he leads, but the touch of his skin is so warm and inviting that you can’t tell if your hand is still shaking under it. If it is, he pretends not to notice.

He guides you up the stairs and into a corridor and then another before you arrive at a set of double doors. You’ve never seen double doors on the inside of a house before.

He lets you in ahead of him, and you have a distinct thought that you’re glad he can’t see the look of awe on your face as you walk in. His bedroom has an entire living room inside of it, and altogether it’s bigger than your whole apartment. A maroon couch and matching chairs surround a grand fireplace at the front of the room and the resulting glow from the active embers has the area shrouded in a warm light ahead of the shadows filling the rest.

You glance past the seating at his bed; large and proud. It’s definitely bigger than a king sized, with an overhead canopy and streams of dark burgundy curtains draping down from the corners. There’s another set of closed double doors past the bed, you imagine leading to the bathroom.

The end of the room displays a large window seat that looks like it’s never been used, and vast tinted windows. You look up to find the ceiling higher than you’ve ever seen in a bedroom with a very expensive chandelier hanging over it all.

He takes your arm, steering you out of your wonderment and leads you towards the couch rather than the bed, gesturing for you to sit down with him. You do, quietly glad when he positions himself so that you’re close to each other but not pressed right up against you. He’s able to relax his body more than you’re able to fake it on yourself, and you think your thoughts must be vibrating out of you by now.    

One hand comes to rest on your thigh as his other nudges your cheek towards him. “Hey, nothing’s happening right now. No need to be nervous.”

You nod blankly, but your thoughts are running wild with everything that you very much are nervous about.

He takes your hand in his, rubbing circles with his thumb. 

“You’ve got to relax,” he coos, “Remember what I said?”

You take a breath, “You’re not going to throw me in the deep end.”

“Exactly,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Just wanna make you feel good, right?”

You nod, easing your posture.

He looks you in the eye, “You gonna let me?”

You hum, nodding again.

“Good girl,” he purrs, pulling away.

You quickly find that the distance is not at all what you want, and you decide to push forward—as forward as you can—sitting up again to peel your jacket off. He watches you move with a look in his eyes, you take it for intrigue but it may just as well be something akin to pride. Pride in you? He’s openly flirted, kissed you, and straight up propositioned you for sex—but sure, he’s proud of you for taking your jacket off.

Your nerves transition into insecurity before you can catch them, and you’re starting to feel a little stupid, like a child playing pretend.

You watch tentatively as he tilts his head at you, running his own assessments of your actions. 

“Will you come sit on my lap?” he asks you after a moment. 

You suddenly become acutely aware of the amount of air in your lungs. This feels like a big request and you’re not even sure how to take his meaning. Does he want you to sit sideways? Your back to his front? Or fully straddle him? 

He wants whatever you want, he’d said. What do you want?

You glance down at his thighs, covered by fabric more expensive than you can imagine. Positive confirmation rings through your head immediately, willing you to push yourself forward a little more. 

You reposition yourself over him, straddling his lap in spite of your nerves.

Again, he looks pleased. Happy even. One of his hands comes to stroke soothing patterns across your lower back, the other resting on your waist. 

He makes sure to catch your gaze, “You’ll tell me if you want to stop.” 

He follows when your eyes stray, “Yes?”

“Yes.”

He places a tender kiss on your cheekbone, “How did shopping go?”

“Um, good. It was good. One of the sales girls helped me,” your breath is shaky as he kisses your jawline.

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I, uh, I just went to this little boutique up on third street,” he places another kiss on the column of your throat as you talk. “Um, it took longer than I thought it would. There were so many choices.”

His hands come up to soothe over your ribs, pulling you a little closer as they do. He hums for you to keep talking, his kisses continuing to lower until they’re down to your collarbone, though they remain relatively chaste.

“I—I didn’t really know what to look for,” you admit, breath shaky as you exhale. 

“But you like it?”

“Yeah, I—I do.”

He hums, smiling against your skin. His fingers inch under the seam of your shirt, caressing your waist. “Can I take this off?”

You nod timidly, trying not to seem so on edge with anticipation. You’re not confident that he can’t see right through you.  

He presses another chaste kiss to your neck upon receival of the permission, and your shirt begins to come off slowly, his hands skimming every new bit of skin revealed. As he pulls it over your head, he glances down at the baby pink bralette you’d picked out for yourself.

He groans quietly as he takes in the sight, “Oh, pretty girl. Beautiful girl,” He noses at your chest, leaving little kisses where his lips make contact with your skin, “Look at you. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your stomach flutters as his hair tickles your cheek. His hands roam up your sides, stopping to stroke placid circles along the sides of your breasts.

His touch makes its way around your back, expertly undoing your bra clasp without a second thought. Your bra hangs forward a bit off your shoulders, but he leaves the work of entirely removing it to you. And you do, with more confidence than you’d imagined yourself mustering.

He immediately shows his appreciation, kissing and caressing your chest with lover-like admiration. Your head falls back involuntarily as he noses at your soft skin.

He’s breathing heavy when he pulls back, humming low and deep before lifting you up off his lap to stand. The sudden shift has you a bit thrown off, working to catch up as he kneels down in front of you and repeats his earlier process with your skirt—kissing your thighs and tugging the fabric down bit by bit.

When it’s discarded on the floor you stand only left in your underwear, the lace practically illuminated against your skin.

He looks up at you from his place on the floor and smiles as he takes in the sight of your body. His hands find your hips as he asks you, “Has anyone ever seen you like this before?”

You hesitate for half a second before answering truthfully.

His smile grows, “No, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s nodding, “Yeah, I know.”

As he rises to stand he scoops you up by the back of your thighs and lifts you in the air with no discernable effort. Now at face level with him, you get a bit bolder and lean in to kiss him. He kisses you back, pleased, beginning to walk the two of you over towards the bed.

He sets you down gently atop the soft mattress, kisses pushing you backwards to lie back on the bed. He scoops your wrists up and leisurely moves your arms up above your head. His grip is benign as he releases one hand in favor of holding your jaw. Your kiss is deep and controlled on his part, but in a way that makes you feel light in the head. You like the cloudy-sensation very much.

After a while, he pulls back to look at you with clouded eyes. 

He practically purrs, “You’re such a kind girl. So sweet to everyone, all the time. Will you let me be sweet to you?”

Your breath is shaky as you nod, attempts at hiding your anticipation failing.

He nods back at you with a faux-sympathy across his face. “Let me hear you say it.”

You force air into your lungs, giving you the willpower to speak the words. “Will you touch me? Please?”

The corners of his lips turn up, “Of course, sweet girl.”

He nips at your jaw as his hands travel down, petting the inside of your thighs with a touch so feather light it almost tickles.

Your knee jerks inward towards his hand, your body desperately seeking out more of this new sensation. He obliges, tracing his touch back up, up, up until his hand dips under the lace trim of your panties, skimming over your clit. Your hips flinch back away from him momentarily in surprise, only to press back forward a second later.

He actually laughs at the action, like it’s endearing. You feel a little silly for it, but you’re not given much time to dwell as he persists, brushing against you with a bit more pressure.

He tilts his head, watching your expression carefully with a remarkably pleased look on his own face. “How’s that, sweet girl?”

You nod, beside yourself. “Feels good,” you whimper. “Feels really good..”

You don’t necessarily mean to, but your hips grind up against his touch, your body too mesmerized with the sensation to remember to be embarrassed.

He’s certainly not complaining about it though, his quiet coos encouraging you to chase the feeling. 

He lets you grind up against his hand, taking in the needy look on your face with contentment.

“Poor girl,” he tuts. “Just need somebody to take care of you, huh?”

That makes your cheeks burn, but your attention finds itself more concerned with the urge to squeeze your thighs together.

You whine when he pulls his hand back out of your underwear, only for him to stand resolute in his actions. 

“Not yet, sweet thing,” he hums, pressing you back down to the bed with a light but firm touch when you try to sit up. 

He hushes you gently, murmuring for you to be patient as he shifts his position over you. 

He starts to move down your body, leaving kisses in his wake. The sensation of his lips tracing down your stomach has you feeling butterflies.

By the time he reaches your waistline you’re borderline dizzy from the anticipation, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to alleviate the ache.

He pauses there for a moment, torturously, and noses at the seam of your panties. A whine from you has him chuckling and finally moving to where you need him.

He kisses your clit over your underwear and you’re fighting thoughts of embarrassment over how sure you are he can taste how wet you are over the fabric.

It doesn’t seem to be enough for him though, as he tugs your panties down slowly, kissing your thighs as he goes.

Bruce’s hands hold onto your waist as he eats you out, holding you in place with an easy grip. 

You squirm against the feel of his tongue and you can’t quite figure out what to do with your hands. You almost wish he’d made you keep them above your head but really you’re not sure you’d be able to keep it together if he had. You’re not sure you’re keeping it together now.

He groans against your pussy, and one of your hands flies to grip his hair without permission from your brain. If you’re being honest with yourself though, your brain isn’t really the one calling the shots anymore.

You gasp when he licks a bold stripe, “Bruce—”

He groans again, briefly breaking away from you. “Oh, say that again.”

You sigh out, “Bruce, please.” 

He makes a pleased hum. “Good girl,” he murmurs before diving back in. 

He complies with your pleas generously, giving you more. He’s gradual but resolute as he inserts two fingers into you, giving you the time to adjust. But he’d evidently done a very thorough job prepping you for it, you’re so wet that the initial entry doesn’t sting like you’d expected. No, rather the first thing you register is closer to pleasure. A lot closer.

He begins to pump in and out of you at he continues to suck at your clit, and somewhere during you have a distinct thought of “oh this is it.”

You let out a little gasp and for once, you break out of your own head and just relish in the way his fingers curl inside you.

The way your thighs squeeze around him as you come, doesn’t hinder him one bit, only has him applying his ministrations with more intent. It doesn’t take long for the trembling of your body to give way to full on shaking, your body stuttering beneath him.

He continues working at you the entire way through your orgasm, until you’re flinching from overstimulation. 

He gives you one more lick before looking up at you with hooded eyes. “Y’taste sweet too, you know that?”

You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks as he starts to move back up to face-level, kissing the high point of your cheekbone.  

He pulls down on your bottom lip, your slick wet against your mouth.

You open without question, a clouding urge to please him the only thing running through your mind. 

He grumbles a low, pleased sound as you do, moving his hand only to provide room for him to kiss you again.

He sits back up over you and starts unbuttoning his shirt and you realize only now that he’s still fully dressed. 

He glances down to his belt as he undoes the buttons. 

“Will you help me out, sweet girl?”

You blink a couple times before registering the request, still overwhelmed by how quickly and skillfully he’d made you come. 

You struggle a bit to push yourself up into a sitting position, but he supports you by your waist, nipping along your jaw as encouragement.

Your hands shake as you undo the clasp, and while you’re still very much eager, if not moreso, you’re suddenly confronted with the very real possibility that you’re about to have your limits pushed. He ate you out and did a damn good job, stands to reason that he’d want you to return the favor.

So it takes you by surprise when he’s nudging you back against the pillows, removing his pants himself.

He keeps you occupied with an intense kiss as he does, and the distraction so smooth it’s almost like it’s rehearsed. 

You follow his lead easily, though surprised by his lack of desire to get his fill too.

He drapes himself over you nicely, his size easily dwarfing you out. He’s quick to block your chin from tilting down, gently bringing your face back up to meet his. 

He shakes his head lightly, murmuring, “Don’t worry about that. I got you.”

You are worried about it, but you trust Bruce, you know you do now.

You feel the weight of his cock against your stomach, at this exact moment, feeling like not much more than a daunting task.

“S’alright, sweet girl,” he lulls, brushing your hair back. “Okay?”

As heavy as the simple question is, you don’t need to think about it before you’re nodding and moving your hand to hold onto his bicep.

He peppers kisses all over your face as he starts to push in, effectively starting to distract you from the pain of the stretch. He hushes your whines soothingly and kneads at your waist with confident hands.

Your arms lock around his shoulders on instinct, your eyes squeezing shut as you try to convince yourself he’s almost all the way in, but you know you’ve got aways to go.

He pauses halfway, imploring you to open your eyes so he can check up on you properly.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he softly urges.

You will yourself to blink up at him and try to take on the challenge of both him and his gaze. Surely, an impossible task.

But you manage shaky eye contact that occasionally gives way to glancing down at his lips. 

It doesn’t feel good yet, but it only makes you more eager to keep going.

“I’m okay,” you nod, taking a breath. “You can keep going.”

He waits to find that reassurance in your eyes before he continues to push in, bestowing you a deep kiss in reward for your bravery.

Once he’s nearly bottomed out he waits a moment, then begins to rock in and out slowly, letting you get used to a starter of the sensation.

He brushes your hair back, weaving through the strands. “There we go,” he coos as you look down between you. “Doing so good.”

Your gasp is louder than they had been before, and closer to a sigh now. 

He’s fucking you gently, with a decorum that exceeds what you’d earlier told yourself you were stupid for hoping for.

It doesn’t take long at all for his movement to start to feel really good and your grip around his shoulders comes around to a different kind of intensity.

He noses against your jaw, applying kisses whenever  convenient. “‘S that feel good, sweet girl? Hm?”

He hits a particularly deep spot in you immediately after and it makes you borderline squeak. He huffs out a laugh that’s nothing short of affectionate. 

“Yeah?”

He then attacks that spot with extra intention, hitting it absolutely expertly every time. He speeds up a little, lips latched onto your neck as he fucks you nice and deep.

He drops a hand down between you and starts rubbing circles onto your clit with a pace that makes you want to scream.

You can’t help the moan you release when he teeths at your neck, clearly aiming to drive you crazy. But damn if he isn’t going about it the right way.

His circles pick up pace and you can be sure you’re leaving nail marks on his back. He seems to only get more encouraged by your sounds, working you closer and closer to the edge with every whimper.

He finally lets you over after a minute of shamelessly relishing in your moans, himself following close after.

He continues moving in and out of you until you’ve both completely finished, slowly coming to a stop. 

You get a moment to catch your breath before he pulls out delicately. You don’t even realize he’s moved before he’s got his boxers back on and is halfway to the bathroom.

You’re a little alarmed by the sudden shift in proximity, though you guess that’s the playboy experience, isn’t it? After a second you hear water running and assume he’s taking a shower.

You push yourself to sit up fully, minding your achy thighs, and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You glance at the foot of the bed where your underwear lies, then back over by the couch where the rest of your clothes lay discarded. You briefly contemplate how quickly you can get your clothes back on when the bathroom doors open again.

You glance up at Bruce, dazed, who looks surprised himself to see you sitting up. As he makes his way back to the bed you notice the supplies he has in tow and your brain begins to slowly start turning its gears again.

You don’t realize the glass of water in his hand is for you until he’s pushed it into your palm. 

His other hand carries a wet wash cloth that you, again, aren’t able to register the purpose for until it’s in action. 

“Drink,” he tells you as he spreads your knees apart gently, wiping away the mess between your legs with a notable amount of compassion for your sensitivity.

You do, gulping a few as he finishes, tossing the rag in a hamper before setting your glass down on the side table.

Your eyes return to the end of the bed and you nearly decide to get up, but he’s still standing so close to you, you’re not sure this is the right time.

You seem caught halfway between decisions now, you know you do. You’d honestly preferred when you thought he’d just ditched you for a shower because at least then this part wouldn’t be so awkward.

He watches you closely as you deliberate and seems to draw a conclusion about your hesitation rather quickly. His brow pinches as he processes, tilting his head at you. 

“You’ve got to be joking,” he says, bewildered. “Right?”

“I—” you falter, looking to the couch and back to him again. “No?”

He stares at you for a moment with an expression you can’t define.

“Lay down.”

You don’t have a second to process before he’s climbing back in bed too, pulling you down to lay your head on the pillow.

He pulls the covers over you and splays an arm over your waist, clearly firm in his decision for you to stay.

Your eyes are heavy and his bed is so comfortable, it’s difficult for you to even consider either of you wanting you to leave now.

Maybe you’ll just sleep for a little while, get some of your energy back. 

The way he traces soft patterns across your stomach certainly encourages the idea and doesn’t give you much power to resist.

You let your eyes flutter shut to the feather-light touch and listen to the steady deepness of his breaths.

Well, this isn’t so bad either.

🐲 reblogging is an ancient art form, only the strong may master it 🐲

[vadlings]

Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

[chubby-bun-bun]

untitled (part 1)

You help out an injured crow. It seems to be a bit of a strange crow, though.

nav: one (current), two, three, four, five, six or: read on ao3

tags: sylus x reader, still linkon city but mc is not a hunter, basically an alternate universe, minor character deaths, mc has a distinct backstory and personality, slow burn, hurt/comfort, you’re lowkey a disney princess witch character who attracts crows 🐦‍⬛✨💅

314.27.

You exhale slowly. Barely enough to cover food for the next two weeks, until your next paycheck. That nasty cold last week really gutted this month’s budget.

With a heavy heart, you retrieve your card from the ATM and start your usual trek toward the city park, stopping by the familiar food cart that sells peanuts at a good price. (Yes, a questionable purchase, considering your financial situation. No, you will not acknowledge said questionable purchase.)

Linkon City in mid-December is bone-chillingly cold, blanketed in powdery snow—but that’s never stopped you from your daily visit to the park. The freezing temperatures tend to drive most people away, leaving the usually lively space quiet. You, however, can’t resist coming to see your friends.

Caw! Caw! Caw!

Speak of the devil. Well, devils.

A giddy smile tugs at your lips, and the exhaustion from the day evaporates.

“Hi!” you call out to the murder of crows circling above. Their midnight feathers gleam against the brilliant pink, orange, and purple hues of the winter sunset. You reach into the inside pocket of your weathered but ever-loyal overcoat and grab a handful of peanuts, tossing them onto the snow-free patches of ground.

The crows descend immediately, squabbling as they pick at the treats.

Moving carefully so you don’t spook them, you settle onto a nearby bench. A few of the bolder ones flutter down to join you, perching on the bench as their beady eyes lock on your face. Beaks held high, they wait expectantly, clearly hoping for more. You huff a soft laugh and oblige, tossing another handful.

Your peculiar friendship with these crows began a few years ago. The day of your family’s funeral.

A drunk twenty-year-old behind the wheel of his rich businessman father’s SUV, barreling down the highway at four times the speed limit. Your mother, father, and younger brother, on their way to your college graduation. A tragic case of wrong place, wrong time.

You don’t remember much after that. Everything that followed was all a blur. The driver didn’t really face any consequences, thanks to their family’s influence. Their lawyer presented you with a pitiful settlement offer (or, in hindsight, maybe you were more or less threatened into accepting it). Maybe it was the overwhelming sense of hopelessness at the time, or the suspicion that your lawyer might have been paid off by the driver’s family, but you ended up agreeing to settle.

It didn’t matter anyway. Your family was dead.

The funeral was a simple event. Some extended family came to offer their support and condolences. Once the day ended and everyone went home, however, you were left alone in your family’s house.

You don’t remember much, but you do remember standing in the middle of your living room, a growing tightness in your chest slowly overtaking you, as if your heart was being squeezed from the inside. The walls of the room seemed to close in around you, and suddenly it was impossible to breathe. Somehow, you ended up bolting out the door—leaving it wide open behind you—and ran. You didn’t know where you were going, but you eventually found yourself here, at this very park, sitting on this very bench.

A single crow had perched nearby, watching you silently. Your hand brushed against your coat pocket, and you found some leftover peanut shells from the funeral’s snack offerings. You absentmindedly tossed them toward the crow, and it hopped down to peck at them. There was something oddly comforting in the way it ate, its sharp black eyes darting back toward you as if to say thank you.

The next day, you returned. One crow turned into three, then six. Slowly, more joined, until it seemed like the entire murder looked forward to your daily visits and peanut offerings.

A sudden, loud thump behind you pulls you from your thoughts. You instinctively turn toward the sound, only to find… nothing. Frowning, you scan the area, glancing left and right, until your eyes land on a crow lying on the ground directly behind your bench.

You gasp and quickly stand, rushing over to it.

“Are you okay?” you whisper, crouching down and scanning it for signs of injury. It looks like it fell straight out of the sky.

The crow caws at you—loudly. Unlike the murder behind you, its caw is sharper, more jarring. It grates against your ears like nails on a chalkboard. Its eyes seem to gleam red when the light catches them at certain angles, similar to how a cat’s eyes flash in the dark.

Then your gaze drops to its left wing, which is bent unnaturally.

“Did you hurt yourself?” you murmur, leaning closer to examine it. The injury doesn’t look like a typical fracture. The way the wing bends reminds you more of a mechanical part with a screw loose than a broken bone.

It caws again, louder this time, as if trying to get your attention.

You glance up at the sky and realize it’s grown darker. Heavy clouds swirl above, signaling an impending snowfall. Behind you, the other crows begin to disperse, their farewell squawks echoing as they take flight.

Looking back down at the injured crow, you watch as it tries to take off, only to crash back onto the ground with its unusable wing.

“Um, would you like to stay with me until your wing feels better?” you ask hesitantly.

The crow tilts its head to the side, almost as if it understands you. You miss the subtle garnet glow in its eyes as you carefully scoop it into your arms, cradling it gently to avoid jostling its injured wing.

“I’ll help you out until you’re better,” you say softly, already walking toward home. “I don’t have much, but you can have the rest of the peanuts I bought earlier.”

The crow doesn’t resist, settling into your arms. Its body relaxes against you, and you tighten your hold to shield it from the cold winter air.

You know your groceries won’t stretch far for the rest of the month, but your conscience won’t let you leave an injured animal out in the snow. Hugging the crow a little closer, you feel a small smile tug at your lips when it starts to coo softly.

You don’t notice the faint whirring sound beneath its gentle cooing, like the hum of tiny mechanical gears.

note: not sure where I’m headed with this tbh, but it’s kinda like an alternate universe of the game’s main story. still set in linkon and the concept of evols still exist, but mc is basically an average citizen. (lowkey gonna treat this whole thing as a massive projection of recent irl feelings teehee.) we’ll see how this goes!

nav: one (current), two, three, four, five, six or: read on ao3

check out my other works!

[luveline]

You mentioned in one post that bombshell!reader was furious with the team for not helping Reid with his addiction (as she should be)…. Would you maybe write about her helping him thru withdrawal or thru the cravings that follow? Maybe subtly at first, then just making sure he knew he wasn’t alone? Just some tender moments where Spencer starts to realize she actually cares about him, even if he doesn’t believe her flirting yet.

-🌕

I love every single thing you write, even for fandoms I’m not even in. You’re amazing!!

thank you for requesting my sweetheart!!! I really hope this is what you wanted, love you <3 fem!reader

cw past drug abuse

“Hi, Spencer Reid.” 

You perch on the edge of his desk with no further introduction. You’ve changed perfumes, to his immediate recognition, the rich smell of your usual parfum swapped for a less consuming scent. He detects apple blossom, and rose, the smallest hint of jasmine, a contrast to your usual vanilla and peony. The human brain can remember 50,000 scents, and Spencer can remember all of yours. Or, he could. 

“You’re not saying hi anymore?” 

“Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi. It’s nice to see you.” You put your hand on his. Spencer isn’t sure you’ve ever touched his hand before you took it at the hospital, he’s never really let you, but he doesn’t move away. A huge winding of tension between his shoulders begins to unspool. “It’s really nice to see you, babe. I’ve missed you tons and tons.” 

He looks up tentatively. “You have?” 

“I have. I haven’t really been invited, today. I’m just here to see you.” 

“Why?” Spencer asks. 

You tighten your fingers on his hand. “Missed you. Thought maybe we should, like…” And that’s unusual, for you to use filler words, Spencer doesn’t know what to think of it. “Well, I have something to say to you, and it’s going to either sound reassuring or ridiculous.” 

“Okay.” 

You give him a withering look. “Don’t make it any easier for me.” 

He laughs. The sound alone fosters your smile. “Sorry,” he says softly, “I doubt it’ll be ridiculous.” 

“Spencer Reid, we are friends. We are. But we never do anything outside of work, so I was thinking you could come over tonight and we’d make dinner and watch TV and stuff.” 

“And stuff.” 

“I’m a bit nervous,” you confess, looking down at your lap, then quickly back up into his face, “I’m worried you won’t want to.” 

You’re kind to avoid saying what he’s sure you’re thinking; you’re worried he won’t want to spend the night with you, and instead will look down the long barrel of a small needle. Or, he thinks that’s what you’re thinking. He does it to everyone. 

“What do you want to make for dinner?” he asks. 

“What are you enjoying lately?” 

“I… I don’t know. I’m not really eating.”

“Cereal?” 

“Yes,” he laughs. “Lots of cereal.” 

You tap the wheel of his chair with your heel. You’re dressed as though you aren’t working, wearing a sweet dark dress with a starched collar and baby sleeves, stockings, and a necklace at your neck that glows with a small white crystal. You look amazing. It never makes any sense to Spencer, why you’d taken an interest in him, and why you bother now. He knows he’s hard to care for. He knows he’s making it worse. 

You look up and down his face. You must see the purple half circles beneath his eyes, the crack at the corner of his mouth, the cut he can’t stop picking on his cheek. Every time it scabs, he opens it again. One second he’s sitting there and the next he’s got blood under his fingernail. 

“Hug?” you ask hopefully. 

He goes to stand. You move in too fast and wrap your arms around him, leg slotting between his, leaning over his shoulders with a distinct sense of protectiveness. You squeeze him, a little sigh escaping you that sounds loud so close to his ear. 

“How has it been this week?” you ask quietly. 

“It’s fine.” He cups your back in his arm carefully. The other wraps tight around the small of it. He soaks you up, scared you’re gonna pull away any second. 

“How are you feeling about it? Do you need any extra help?” 

He cringes. “No,” he says. “It’s really fine.” 

“When you texted me, about the cravings? What are they like today?” 

He wishes he could breathe in the smell of your perfume and your skin and tell you they’re all better now. It would make sense; there isn’t much in his life that hasn’t been made better by your attention. He’d struggle to do this without you. You’re his only friend who actually cared enough to say the problem out loud, but you’re just a woman, you can’t work the sort of magic necessary to kick this for him. 

“Spencer?” You pull away, nudging his cheek with the back of your finger. 

“They’re okay. I’m not gonna do anything.” 

“Good, honey. I’m proud of you. I know how hard this is.” 

He bites the inside of his lip, surprised at your caring. He shouldn’t be.

“What are you two whispering about?”

You and Spencer have different reactions to Emily’s sudden question. He flinches like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and you, still vaguely pissed with everyone for not telling you Spencer was struggling and not afraid to show it, keep your eyes trained on his face. 

“Nothing,” Spencer says. 

You turn to her with a small smile. You still like her, Spencer knows. Secretly, he’s pleased you’re angry for him. It’s nice to have someone so obviously on his side. “We’re just deciding what to get for dinner.” 

“Oh, nice. Date night?” she teases. 

You press your cheek to his forehead. “Date night,” you agree, your hand unmissable where it bunches in his sweater near his heart. 

[celestemona]

no because imagine their reactions when genshin dads felt their baby kick for the first time, i'd be crying imagine the 'i made this' or 'omgomgomgomg' reactions

no because i had to write it. thanks anon ♡♡

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

and they feel their babies kicks for the first time.

pairing: dad & husband! alhaitham, cyno, kaveh, kaedehara kazuha, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley + heizou x fem! reader

cw: original characters, slightly ooc to fit the plot, domesticity, fluff. pregnant reader. use of endearment names; arabic, japanese, farsi & french terms. approximately 4.1k words. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Alhaitham

The first time you and your husband felt your baby moving was in the comfort of your home. The soft glow radiating from the fireplace cast swirling shadows on the walls, highlighting the warm and inviting space. You and Alhaitham were snuggled comfortably in your favorite reading nook—an old leather armchair adorned with pillows and a thick-knitted blanket. You made yourself comfortable in his lap, with your back resting against his chest, while one of your husband's muscular arms cradled you tenderly. 

As reading was a crucial part in your married life, every night you and Alhaitham found yourselves sharing stories. This time, you narrated aloud an ancient legend to Alhaitham and the baby in your womb. The tale’s language, despite being dead and little known, was not foreign to him. In fact, the scribe delighted in the tales whispered in your serene and melodic voice. 

“According to the desert dwellers, the world was once ruled by a king named Al-Ahmar,” you began, your tone carrying a sense of mystery, “a king of warriors, horticulturists, and sages. He controlled the winds that whistled through the desert, the dunes turned bright silver by the moonlight, and the thousand and one Jinn that hid in the night and the calls of owls.”

Although he already knew the story very well, Alhaitham listened to you attentively—the subtle glow of affection in his eyes watching you lovingly as his thumb traced circles on your waist in a comforting gesture.

As your voice continued to flow, a subtle yet distinct vibration occurred within your being, making you pause reading for a moment. Your eyes widened in surprise as the realization hit you, drawing a loud sigh from you. 

“‘Haitham,” you said, voice shaking slightly with emotion, “I think… I think the baby just moved.”

Your husband's eyes widened briefly before a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He placed a hand on your belly and his baby's little feet stretching your skin were felt under his palm. It was a feeling that filled him with warmth, love, and joy.

“It's the first time?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper and his warm hand still under your belly. 

You nodded, your eyes shining in pure happiness. “Yes, it is.”

Alhaitham's smile widened, and he gently stroked your belly with a reverent touch. “It’s extraordinary,” he said softly. “Our little one is already making his presence known.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, and together, you savored the intimate moment. The book remained forgotten for now, overshadowed by the miraculous reality you were experiencing. 

In the peaceful comfort of your home, surrounded by the warmth of love and the promise of the future, you shared a precious moment of connection that would be treasured forever.

Cyno 

The soft, golden light of twilight filtered through the trees of the Avidya Forest as Cyno and you walked back home after a visit to Tighnari. 

Although the forest guard was against the idea of ​​seeing his very pregnant friend moving excessively and unnecessarily across the Sumerian plains, Tighnari knew that going against your stubbornness was a losing battle. Therefore, he ended up welcoming both you and your husband warmly into his dwelling. 

When you finally said goodbye after a day full of conversations and delicacies cooked by Collei, the birds were already back in their nests, and the serene environment of the forest was a welcome backdrop—although Cyno could see the exhaustion etched into your face. The weight of your growing babies seemed to be taking an increasing toll.

Cyno supported you as you walked, his arm around your waist. “You look tired. Let’s take it slow,” he said gently.

You nodded, your hand resting on your stomach. “It's just... The twins' weight is a little overwhelming today. I’m more fatigued than I expected.”

You walked slowly for a few more minutes until you arrived at an abandoned cabin nestled in the heart of the forest. Cyno helped you inside, guiding you to a comfortable seat by the window, where the soft light of the setting sun bathed the empty room in a warm glow.

As you settled into the chair, you shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a more relaxing position, although all you got in response was a dull pain shooting down your spine. A resigned sigh left your lips as you just accepted the situation you were in and waited for the discomfort to pass.

It was when your husband left the room to get something that could help with your relief that you felt a strange, soft vibration in your belly. It was as if butterflies were swirling inside you, bringing you a feeling of strangeness but delight. When you realized what it was really about, your eyes widened in surprise.

“What's the matter? Something wrong?” Cyno asks with concern visible in his expression. 

“I think the babies are moving.”

Cyno’s face immediately lit up in excitement, and he approached you, kneeling in your front. His hands were hesitant to touch your stomach and he looked at you. “Can I...?” he asked softly.

You smiled widely and nodded, placing his hand on the spot where you felt the movement. “Of course you can, hayati. You should be able to feel them now.”

Cyno closed his eyes briefly as he felt the small kicks and rhythmic changes beneath his palm. His expression softened into one of admiration and tenderness. “This is incredible,” he murmured. “They are already so active.”

“Tell me about it,” you say with a slight chuckle, “Now it is explained why I’ve been going to the toilet so much the last few days. These little jackals have been squeezing my poor bladder.” 

Cyno laughs along with you. However, his eyes were still mesmerized by your belly, his hands lovingly following his children's movements. 

At that moment, the world around Cyno didn't seem to exist. It was just him, you, and your babies. You shared a quiet, intimate moment, your connection with your unborn children deepening. The forest outside was peaceful, but inside the cabin, the air was filled with a palpable sense of joy and anticipation.

Kaedehara Kazuha

The sun shone high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the peaceful meadow where Kazuha and his family were enjoying the day. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees, their whispers blending harmoniously with the gentle melody of nature. Kazuha sat against a large oak tree with you resting your head in his lap, eyes closed in contentment.

Kazuha's fingers skillfully traced patterns on a windblown leaf, his serene expression a testament to his deep connection to the natural world. Your three-year-old son, Kazumi, ran around the field happily, his laughter mixing with the rustling of the grass as he played with a small wooden toy.

You, with your belly softly rounded with your second child, sighed softly—contentment evident in your relaxed posture. You placed your hands gently on your stomach, stroking it absently.

“I think she’s finally awake,” you murmured.

Kazuha's eyes softened as he looked at you. Until that day Kazuha had never witnessed his unborn daughter moving in your womb. The baby always seemed to be too sleepy to recognize her father's constant presence. “Is that so?”

Before you could nod, a precise kick hit the area above your navel. Your eyes widened at the force of the action, but an ironic laugh soon followed. “Absolutely. Looks like someone woke up to say hi to Papa.”

Kazuha's heart filled with an abundance of emotions. He carefully moved his hand to your belly feeling his little girl's rhythmic kicks. To him, the sensation was delicate, like the wings of a butterfly brushing his palm.

Kazumi, noticing that his parents seemed to be engrossed in something else, staggered towards you with wide curious eyes. He climbed into your thighs and his small hands also rested on your rounded belly. “What is it, ‘Kaa-chan?”

You smile gently, extending your hand to guide the boy's little ones to where the baby is moving. “It’s your little sister, Zumi. She’s saying hello.”

Kazumi's face lit up with wonder as he laid his head on his mother's belly, his little ears pressed against the gentle movements inside. His eyes widened in fascination as he felt the gentle, rhythmic kicks. “I can feel it! Kiki is saying hi!”

Kazuha watched the scene unfold with a soft smile, his heart full at seeing the pure excitement on Kazumi's face and the deep love in his wife's eyes. The night air was filled with peaceful harmony, his family united in this simple yet profound moment of connection and anticipation.

The sun continued to rise, bathing them in a warm, golden light that seemed to celebrate the new life they were eagerly awaiting. As Kazumi continued to listen to his sister's small movements, Kazuha gently brushed away his wife's hair, his pale fingers lingering on your cheek with a tender caress.

“I love you more than anything in this world. Thank you for making me the happiest and most complete man, my love.”

Kaveh

Kaveh stood in the middle of the room that would soon belong to his daughter, his eyes scanning every corner with a mix of determination and excitement. Samples of wallpaper, fabrics, and paint were scattered around him, along with sketches of various design ideas.

“I was thinking about using pastel colors,” he began, turning to you who was sitting in the only armchair in the empty room. “Soft tones of pink, yellow, and green. They are calming and will create a serene and peaceful environment for her. And look at this,” he took out a sample of fabric, holding it up for you to see and touch. It felt smooth against your fingers. “This is perfect for the curtains. It’s light and airy, and will let in just the right amount of sunlight.”

You watched him with a warm smile, allowing your husband to express his desires and thoughts openly, feeling your heart swell with love. “That sounds wonderful, azizam,” you add softly.

Kaveh continued, now walking a little and gesturing as he spoke. “I also want to incorporate some interactive elements. Maybe a mobile above her crib with small animals that move gently. Ah! And we could have a wall with different textures for her to explore as she grows. It’s important to stimulate her senses from an early age.”

As he spoke, you couldn't help but be amused by his reactions, also enjoying seeing this more relaxed yet excited side coming from him. Even though Kaveh considered your opinion as important as his ideas, you loved seeing the dedication the architect put into his designs—and when it came to something as intimate as creating his daughter's nursery, it was to be expected that his passion displayed twice as much. 

As he spoke happily, you listened to him in tender silence, but there was a strange feeling bubbling up inside you that left you momentarily intrigued. You attributed it to tiredness, or even hunger, but you ignored it, not wanting to worry Kaveh for nothing, much less interrupting his monologue. 

However, the vibration continued as constant, gentle but persistent movements below your navel, bringing you a slight feeling of alarm and surprise. When realization finally hit you, your breathing stopped and your hands immediately rested above your belly, feeling the movements more precisely.

“Kaveh,” you called him, your voice full of wonder.

He stopped mid-sentence and ran to your side seeing your static expression. “What? What’s happening? Are you feeling unwell?”

You shake your head, biting your lip in a futile attempt to contain your laughter. “I think she's moving. Our baby girl is moving!”

Kaveh's look went from worried to shocked in an instant, a wide smile opening soon after. He knelt down in front of you and gently placed his hands on your stomach. A light kick hit the area where his warm palm rested. 

“Hello, little one,” he whispered. “Guess you’re as excited about your room as I am, huh?”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. “She can already feel how much love you’re putting into this.”

Kaveh looked at you, his expression full of love and devotion. “I want her to know how much she means to us, from this moment until the very second she enters this world. Every detail in this room will be a reminder of that.”

You looked him in the eyes and smiled warmly. With some difficulty, you lean over and press a kiss to his lips to which he happily returns. “She's lucky to have a dad like you, Kaveh. And I am so grateful to have you by my side.”

He stood up and helped you do the same, quickly wrapping his arms around you right after. His head leaned against yours and you found yourself cradled in a hug filled with affection. 

“We will be the best parents we can be, azizam. I promise.”

Lyney

The soft glow of the night lanterns filled the room with a warm, golden light. The living room was filled with a pleasant mix of the smell of burning incense and the faint scent of fresh wool. Lyney was sitting at a small, ornate table, focused intently on a new magic trick involving his pyro vision. Flames danced gracefully around his hands as he wove them into intricate shapes, their flickering light casting playful shadows on the walls.

Opposite him, you made yourself comfortable on the couch, your pregnant belly prominent under your loose robe. You were diligently knitting a pair of socks, each stitch coming together with the precision of a well-trained hand. The rhythmic clicking of your needles provided a calming counterpoint to Lyney's fiery display.

Lyney's latest trick involved sending a small burst of flame through a series of arches suspended in the air. He was so absorbed in perfecting his performance that he barely noticed the absence of the knitting needles and the change in your expression.

Suddenly, you let out a loud sigh—a sigh filled with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. Your hand instinctively rested on your belly, the intricate strands of wool quickly forgotten.

Lyney's concentration broke and he turned towards you with a start, dropping all his tools and heading towards your way. “Everything is fine, sweetheart? Did you get hurt? I knew I shouldn’t train at home!” he blurted out the words in a frenzy, his voice tinged with worry.

You looked at him with your eyes shining with emotion. Your husband became more and more exasperated. 

“No no. That's not it. Quite the opposite actually,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “I can feel them moving!”

Lyney's eyes widened, a huge smile spreading across his face as he realized what you meant. His expression was excited, and he sit next to you. “For real? This is incredible, chérie!”

You nodded, your hand gently stroking your belly and Lyney's just above yours. “It’s such a strange and wonderful feeling. It's so subtle that it almost doesn't seem to be there. I never imagined it would be like this.”

As if they knew they now had the full attention of both parents, the babies lightly kicked the area above your navel, eliciting another excited smile from you and a look of admiration from your husband for being able to be part of such a beautiful and intimate moment for the first time. He would never admit it, but his purple irises sparkled with happy tears for a few seconds. 

With a tender smile, you shared this serene feeling in silence. The room seemed to glow a little brighter as you sat together, your bond deepened by this new shared experience. Lyney leaned over, resting his head on yours, hands still resting on your belly feeling the slight vibrations there. 

“How about we take a break from magic and knitting? Let’s just enjoy this moment together.”

You giggled softly, your heart warmed by his loving gesture. “That sounds perfect.”

Neuvillette 

In the calmness of Neuvillette's office, the dusk in the sky cast a warm light over all of Fontaine. Its golden and orange rays crossed through the windows of the room, creating a serene atmosphere. 

Neuvillette sat behind his desk, his usual composed expression softening into one of gentle contentment as he leaned back in his chair. Opposite him, you sat comfortably in the armchair, one delicate hand resting on your growing belly and a cup of tea in the other.

The afternoon was calm, with only the faint hum of the city beyond the window in the background. Neuvillette looked at you with a warm smile touching his lips as he observed your relaxed posture. You were talking about your day, your voice carrying a gentle melody. Neuvillette listened intently, his eyes never straying too far from your face, enjoying the simple joy of your shared moments.

As you spoke, a subtle change occurred in your expression that didn’t go unnoticed by his sharp eyes. Your eyes widened slightly, and you placed a hand on your stomach, your fingers gently tracing its curve. Neuvillette immediately noticed the action and looked at you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Is everything alright, mon amour?” he asked, his voice carrying a slight hint of alarm.

Your eyes glowed with a mixture of surprise and joy. “I think… I think Éveline just moved,” you respond, your voice shaking with emotion. 

Neuvillette's eyes widened as well, and he quickly moved to your side, his hesitant but gentle hand covering yours on your belly. “May I?” he asked softly, his usual formality melting in the heat of the moment.

You nodded, your smile growing as you guided his hand to the right place. For a few seconds, you both just sat, your breaths mingling in the silent space. Then, Neuvillette felt it—a gentle vibration beneath his palm, a small movement that was both fleeting and profound. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear.

“She’s already so active.”

A giggle escaped your lips. “Apparently yes. She’s letting us know she’ll be here as soon as we expect.”

Neuvillette took a deep breath, trying to savor the moment as his hand intertwined with yours. “I suppose this is one of those rare moments when words fail to capture the full depth of our feelings.”

“I couldn’t agree more, darling.”

Wriothesley

Wriothesley stood at the bedroom window, admiring the marine life outside, which was enjoying the sunlight reflected in the crystal-clear waters of the Fontaine's sea. He was already dressed in his usual attire, mentally preparing himself for another day of responsibilities at the Fortress or Meropide. Despite the weight of his duties, a small smile played on his lips as he listened to the sound of water running from the shower in the adjacent bathroom.

“Are you done, love?” he shouted, looking at the clock on the wall. “We have a council meeting in half an hour.”

Your voice floated back, warm and cheerful. “Give me two minutes, Wrio. I'm almost finishing.”

He shook his head, amused by your nonchalance. Even pregnant with your first child, you continued to be a pillar of strength and efficiency, working alongside him to keep the prison running smoothly. The thought of his unborn child brought a gentle warmth to his heart, a feeling he was still getting used to.

He began to organize some papers on his desk, mentally preparing himself for the upcoming meeting, when an abrupt, piercing scream crossed the air. Wriothesley's heart leaped into his throat, and he ran toward the door.

“Sweetheart, what happened? Did you get hurt?” his voice was full of panic as he walked in, expecting the worst.

Standing there in the shower, allowing the water to cascade over your naked body, your hands cradled your belly. Though your eyes were wide, there was no fear in them—just astonished joy.

“Everything is fine. I’m fine,” you reassured him, your voice shaking with emotion. “He kicked. The baby kicked for the first time.”

Relief washed over him, quickly replaced by a wave of wonder and joy. He helped you out of the shower and then pulled you into his embrace, not caring that he was getting wet due to your body that just came out of the shower. Gently, he placed his hand on your belly and waited a few seconds before he too could feel the slight movement under the curving skin.

“There he is,” he whispered, his expression melting in pure devotion. “Our son.”

You nodded, happy tears blurring your eyes. “Sigewinne said it was normal for some babies not to move in their mothers’ wombs, but I think he’s finally trying to say that he’s as eager to meet us as we are to meet him.”

Wriothesley leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I can’t wait to meet him too,” he said softly. “This is the best way to start a day.” 

Your husband held you for a while longer, just reveling in your presence and the magical feeling of your unborn baby being present under the palm of his hand before he reluctantly pulled away. 

“Although I'd like nothing else than stay here forever, we must dry and dress you. We have a meeting to attend and I want our little one to see how his mom looks like when she's doing what she does best.”

You waved in contagious joy. “Of course, Duke. As you wish.”

After a few more exchanges of caresses, you prepared for the day, your hearts excited for the new life growing. Fortitude may take a lot out of you, but moments like these remind you of the joy and love that made each challenge worth it.

BONUS

Heizou

Moonlight streamed in through the bedroom window, casting a soft, silvery glow over it. Heizou was lying comfortably behind his pregnant wife, his hand resting gently on your rounded belly. The room was quiet except for your steady breathing and the occasional rustling of the sheets.

Suddenly, the detective felt a slight movement under his hand. It was no wonder he was such a light sleeper given his job and all. And then, because he thought it was you constantly moving in your sleep, he chuckled softly, bringing you closer to his embrace. “Can't stay still, huh?”, he murmured playfully.

Feeling the same movement, you opened your eyes slightly and lightly pinched his thigh. “Stop poking my belly,” you mumble, still sleepy, “You know it tickles.”

Heizou smiled in the dim light. “I’m not poking you,” he replied, gently patting your belly. “Maybe you’re just dreaming.”

You sighed, momentarily awake, and turned to face him, narrowing your eyes in mock severity. “Oh, of course. Blame my dreams when you're always the one causing trouble.”

Heizou raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Me? Causing problems? I would never do that.”

You stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter, taking care that the loud sound of your voices didn't disturb anyone else's sleep. 

When you were coming back to him with another bicker comment, another subtle movement appeared and interrupted your joking time. You caught your breath in surprise and placed your hand over your husband's, which was already resting on your belly. 

“Did you feel that?”

Heizou's playful smile disappeared and was replaced by an expression of delight. “I did,” he replied, his voice now a mere whisper. “You think...?”

“It’s the baby,” you nodded, your eyes shining with joy. “Our little Ren is moving.”

Heizou's face lit up with a mixture of excitement and tenderness. “Well, it looks like our baby takes after me,” he said, his teasing tone returning. “It’s already causing a bit of confusion.”

You rolled your eyes but giggled, “Great, just what I needed—two troublemakers.”

Heizou leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “You love it,” he whispered, his eyes shining.

You rested a hand on his cheek, suddenly feeling a rush of warmth and love. "I do. I love you both."

You stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the shared joy of feeling the baby's first movements. “You know,” Heizou said thoughtfully, “if this is how our little one is right now, we might be in for some sleepless nights.”

You laughed a little louder this time.

“Well, I was already prepared for that. Besides, I have you by my side. So I think we will do very well.”

Heizou kissed you gently. “We will be the best team, my dear,” he promised.

[muntitled]

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫: 𝐑𝐢𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

★ ot7 x fem!reader

★ The Riize members who would respond the best at being called 'Daddy' (Shotaro, Eunseok, Sungchan, Wonbin)

★ warnings: nsfw, +18, dom/sub dynamics, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Phone sex

─── ⋆⋅ Shotaro

Your voice is stern and remarkably unimpressed when you call your boyfriend's name from the kitchen. Only a couple seconds later, and Shotaro is lazily strolling in... large hands buried in his pockets with that distinct smile stretching the corners of his full lips. His eyes swell with mischief as he leans against the fragile counter.

"Yes, my love?" He sings in a tone of voice that Shotaro weaponizes against you time and time again. When his voice was as airy as it is right now, drenched in literal honey, it proved significantly difficult not to give into his advances.

Right now, however, you're perfectly unaffected by his smile. Instead, you cross your arms over your chest, giving him a death glare as you lean against the counter adjacent to him.

Shotaro's smile is immovable.

"God, you're so sexy when you're frustrated." He pushes himself over the counter, slyly prowling his way to you. "Makes me wanna-"

You push lightly at his chest. Turning instead, to just your head at the pickle jar sitting idly on the counter beside you both. "Open it."

Your voice is stern and monotonous with all traces of jest gone. "I don't have time for your nonsense, Shotaro."

"Ooh!" He exclaims, "My government name? You must really be mad," he snickers before bending down to splay slow wet kisses along your cheek.

"Shotaro." You push at him again, but his hands immediately fly to your hips.

"I'll open it," he whispers, voice heavy, "Just ask nicely," therein lay the proverbial catch. Shotaro could never just be nice for the sake of it. There was always a catch.

"Just..." he places his index finger under your chin, dragging your face up until your eyes were piercing into his. "Just ask me nicely."

Your breathing grows increasingly labored because your boyfriend is unfortunately incredibly attractive and incredibly persuasive. You watch the longing in his eyes grow with immense skepticism.

"I'll just ask Sungchan-"

He cackles loudly, "Do that and you won't get to cum for a month." He's smiling with his head tilted but one thing you learned was that Shotaro rarely ever made idle threats.

"Now c'mon," he says, bending down to you, "Just ask."

You're slipping unceremoniously into your subspace because he's cradling your face now. His shoulders are hunched over you protectively and you close your eyes as you force those words out.

"Please open the jar for me-" You begin, but his grip on your face is unrelenting as he sings, "Aaaahh-"

"Please open the jar for me," Your shoulders slump and exhale in defeat, "Daddy."

"See! How easy that was?" He praises you with a big peck on lips before swerving to pick up the jar of pickles. The big dopey grin he sports makes your embarrassment worthwhile, and Shotaro watches as you munch on your pickles.

"I like it when you ask for my help!"

─── ⋆⋅ Eunseok

It happens during dinner, more specifically, a group dinner to which you were so graciously invited along with the other partners of the other members. Excitement flowed like an electrical current in the air and everyone seemed pleasantly tipsy, whether by alcohol or just the overly infectious and good vibe. Naturally, your inhibitions are on an all time low, as you lazily leaned into your boyfriend while a flurry of waiters brought forth the second course.

Eunseok had been comfortable extending his voice over the chatter in the room while still allowing you to keep a steady grip around his bicep. His hand lazily sitting atop your lap, rubbing dizzying circles on your exposed thigh.

You're not sure how long this had been going on, Eunseok's fingers gradually hiking your pleated skirt up higher and higher while he remained chatting with his friends.

You couldn't contain yourself once his hand finally slipped inside, up under your skirt...

Instead of stopping him, instead of pushing him away by the hardened contours of his bicep, you let it happen. Releasing a small, little exhale as you opened your legs ever so slightly.

Despite still in animated conversation with Shotaro, you could hear the smirk peppered in his voice as his fingers eased their way against your cunt.

The mewl that escaped your throat was downright ungodly, but it succeeded in lightly coaxing Eunseok away from his previous conversation.

His eyes are heavy with seamless intoxication as he looks down at you with a breathless, close lipped smile. It's as if him previously ignoring you, had been It's own thing, along with rubbing your soaking cunt under the table.

Eunseok's eyes are glimmering when he bends down to whisper,

"You good?"

You most certainly did not have the current brain capacity to tell him you were absolutely not good because you've taken to opening your legs even wider. You shift uneasily, trying to create as much friction while still appearing inconspicuous, and Eunseok's eyes only grow heavier.

He fucking adores seeing you needy. He loved pushing you past the bounds of your own sensibilities. When your relationship began, it had been a case of 'if'. Whether it was actually possible to have his overly smart, overly independent girlfriend, cock drunk to the point incoherence. Once Eunseok learned that you were a fan of forfeiting the power in the bedroom, his goalposts had shifted to 'how quickly' he could get you to become a messy, needy little slut.

Evidently, this evening, it did not take much at all and he thanked the alcohol.

Panicking, you chose instead to focus on what was in front of you. A plate of glazed skewers that remained untouched, "Um..." you begin awkwardly while viciously apptempting to stave off just how needy you were, "I didn't order that-fuck," Your sentence wavers into a haorse crack as Eunseok's finger swipes over your puffy, clothed clit. In your periphery, his giant frame bends over your like an umbrella, focusing on your each and every movements.

"I didn't ask for..." You're absolutely fargone at this point, stopping and starting sentences while your brain fought the pleasure, "I didn't ask for the glazed squid skewers."

"You were in the bathroom," he immediately adds, and a jumpstart in conversation from the rest of the room would have completely made his next words go unnoticed. However, because you were hanging over everything falling out of his lips, you most definitely heard it. "I ordered for you."

Eunseok's fingers finally push past the barriers of your drenched panties, making direct contact with your weeping cunt.

"Is that going to be a problem?"

"Fuck- no, Daddy."

You immediate slapped a hand over your mouth, letting yourself whimper into the palm of your hand as your heart raged in its cage.

His face is expressionless.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" There was a dangerous, heavy lilt in his voice that made you assume you wholly and completely fucked up. For all of 2 seconds you mourn your own dignity. That was made even worse when Eunseok pulls his fingers out of your cunt, and up from under your skirt as he patted the material over your legs.

"We're leaving." He said to the rest of the group, "She has a work thing,"

He pulls you up by your forearm, leading you to pass his members and their unsatisfactory rumblings.

Before you even mame it outside, he pulls you towards him, letting his warm breathe ghost over your ear as he hissed, "I need you to call me that shit again," he breathes out. "This time, with my dick inside you."

─── ⋆⋅ Sungchan

His brows are glimmering with evidence of pregnant beads of sweat, but still, his mouth is unrelenting. Sungchan eats you out with absolute zeal every single time without fail. Some nights, your sex would consist purely of Sungchan pulling your legs over the side of his bed, while his tall frame descended on your weeping cunt as if it were his second dinner. He was brash and incredibly passionate, as he locked his giant arms around your arms when he caught sight of you trying to escape.

For the most part, however, Sungchan's eyes are heavy-lidded with lust as he French kisses your pussy like he his life depended on it.

"Fuck, Channie-"

A sharp pinch on your thigh releases a very curt, very loud yelp from your throat, and you glare down at him. Sungchan's eyes are deadly as he pulls his head back ever so slightly. His lower face is glistening with your juices, but he refuses to wipe anything away.

"Am I not eating you out good enough?" He asks, head tilting as if he were genuinely perplexed. "Why would you call me Sungchan," he sneers at the very thought.

"Ew." He adds, before lowering his face back down to your center.

"The sooner you take what I'm giving you, the sooner we'll both get to cum," he did not clarify further as he reattached his eager lips to your cunt. Sungchan was not lying about the fact that he too was quickly approaching orgasm. He's pushing his cock into the side of bed, where he kneeled. Ab muscles tightening as he splays sloppy kisses on your cunt. His tongue, delving past your folds, as far into your hole as it could go.

"J-Just like that, Daddy," Your fingers curl into Sungchan's hair and he perks up like an overstimulated puppy. His eyes crinkle at the sides as he moans straight into your pussy.

Sungchan's hips thrust against the bed, almost at the exact same pace his tongue was fucking up into you. All you saw were stars, and your vision blurred as you pulled his face even closer against your pussy.

Although he enjoyed everything you gave him, Sungchan would admit in a heartbeat that this was his favorite part. This is why he loved eating you out. He loved the depravity of it. He loved watching you loose every shred of sinisibility, belonging to him and him alone.

"That's it, baby," he'd whisper, "Doing so fucking good for Daddy..."

─── ⋆⋅ Wonbin

Your heart is swollen in its cage when you realize he's most definitely tired. Instead of resting his undoubtedly tired muscles, letting sleep take him away into the night garden, he is up, talking to you.

"-That was probably my favourite part. Although I do think I could've probably done better in the second verse..."

Tedium is thick in Wonbin's voice. Almost as thick as the gruff tenor that flows from his mouth, through the receiver held to your ear.

"Didn't I say you're not allowed to do that," You scold lightly.

He sighs heavily through the phone, and you can almost imagine his dark eyes rolling, "I shouldn't focus on anything out of my control, I know that."

You nod. "What's done is done, and I think you killed it thank you very much,"

You may never really know of the cataclysmic effect your praise has on your boyfriend. Even when you were a billion kilometers apart, being connected by a single phone call, Wonbin still feels his body heat up as if you were right there, in bed beside him. He can practically feel the bed dip in the phantom presence of your curves shifting up against him. If he closed his eyes and listened to your praise bleed from the receiver, he could imagine you were right underneath him, taking everything he had to give.

"Binnie?" You suddenly ask, and Wonbin snaps his eyes open, gazing up at the ceiling. Although he is alarmed to find that his hand had drifted underneath the waistband of his Nike sweatpants, Wonbin's voice is stable. Giving nothing away as he breathes out,

"I'm here. I'm just..." His words do not trail off indefinitely because Wonbin does not gave the capacity to sound unsure about anything. In fact, he sounds very much in control.

"I need you to tell me where you are right now..." that causes you to sit up straighter against the headboard, a rush of excitement spanning through the undercurrent of blood in your veins.

"I'm at home," you whisper back, not quite sure why you were whispering but feeling the need to nonetheless.

"Hmmm," the sound reached your ears with the satisfaction of a very big purring cat, "Can you touch yourself for me?"

You obey without a second thought. Wonbin had never been easy to overstep. His overall aura practically coaxed you into obeying his every word and so it is of no surprise to you, that your hands are already firmly down your shorts, legs parted as you grinded against your palm.

Your labored breathing is enough to push Wonbin even further down his spiral of lust and he groans as he says, "Fuck yourself with your fingers, baby," how you adored hearing his pet names, especially when your mind was utterly buzzing with desire. "Imagine I'm there with you right now-"

"Oh, fuck," easing your fingers inside of yourself had been far too was given just how slippery your pussy was. Wondbin begins to stroke his cock faster as the lewd sounds of you fucking yourself with your own fingers, travel through the receiver.

You're a moaning and whimpering mess while Wonbin's only noise of enjoyment is his heavy, labored breathing. His mouth is open and his eyes closed shut.

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby," He says, kneedeep into his own fantasy, "Taking me so fucking well." He strokes himself faster. "Are you close, baby?"

"F-fuck yes, Daddy." The first real and raw sound of lust slips passed Wonbin's mouth.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me cum." He whispers with his mind still reeling. "Say it again... Tell daddy just how close you are to making a mess on your fingers..." He urged, now on the doorstep of his orgasm, "Fucking say it again, baby... Please?"

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

Astrology Observations 07/30/2024

🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿

Sign Parings That Annoy, Irritate, or Eaisly Upset Each Other

Aries — Scorpio

Taurus—Pisces

Gemini— Capricorn

Cancer — Libra

Leo—Virgo

Virgo— Gemini

Libra— Taurus

Scorpio— Gemini

Sagittarius— Capricorn

Capricorn— Pisces

Aquarius—Pisces

Pisces — Capricorn

A Sentence To Describe Your Moon Sign

Aries: This too shall pass, but when it’s here I’m going to act-up.

Taurus: I don’t feel like doing that, sorry.

Gemini: Hey everyone, this is my newest fascination.

Cancer: I want to eat my favorite food and scroll through my phone.

Leo: I need as much validation as possible right now.

Virgo: Let me do it my way or I’ll have a breakdown. 

Libra: I just want to go out and have a good time, let’s vibe.

Scorpio: I’m going to sit in the dark and overthink my entire life until I feel terrible.

Sagittarius: Fuck this, I’m going to go somewhere else where I’m appreciated.

Capricorn: I don’t even feel that way. You are the problem.

Aquarius: If I was to breakdown what I feel it would be that I’m just way too smart and people can’t understand me.

Pisces: Wait, what’s going on?

Signs That Have An Instant Connection

Aries & Leo

Taurus & Sagittarius

Gemini & Sagittarius

Cancer & Pisces

Leo & Pisces

Virgo & Aquarius

Libra & Pisces

Scorpio & Leo

Sagittarius & Aquarius

Capricorn & Scorpio

Aquarius & Scorpio

Pisces & Libra

Ascendant ( Rising Sign) & How It Relates To Your Personality

Aries Ascendant: Dare-devils, risk-takers, blunt. These people are easily noticed because they always have a unique or distinctive feature to their look. Loners. In a rush type of energy. Changes hair and looks a lot.

Taurus Ascendant: Chill, nonchalant, nature-oriented, needs to be in places with nice vibes. Luxury people. Quality oriented. Into their looks and will keep up on them. Can have really soothing or nice voices to hear.

Gemini Ascendant: Talkative and chatty, great at talking to others, feels the vibe of the room before interacting. Funny and loves to laugh and make others laugh. Thoughtful in their perspectives and mindful of how they come across. Can talk with their hands a lot.

Cancer Ascendant: Reserved, polite, funny, and has a lot of stories to tell. They can take time to warm up to others but are actually very talkative. Great story tellers and generous. Sensitive, but can reserve their tenderness for people in their close circles. If they gain weight it can be in their upper body.

Leo Ascendant: Talkative, always need a friend beside them or a main person, charismatic, funny, always knows how to put that shit on ( dress well), draws attention easily ( positive or negative), think of themselves well and really enjoy compliments ( changes their whole day). People with big hearts.

Virgo Ascendant: Simple dressers, nit-picky with a lot of things ( food, hygiene, looks, items). They can look/smell something and know if they like it or not. They can be super sensitive physically and enjoy alone time. Loners as well. If they’re interested in something they really are into learning everything about it. Great talkers and can capture people’s attention when they do open their mouth and talk. They can have either defined eyes or unique ears. They also might get an upset stomach faster than others.

Libra Ascendant: Alluring, has a striking beauty about them ( usually stand out beautiful features), these are the people who will strike up a conversation with anyone, they love flirting and love getting attention. Social chameleons they can blend in many environments, a lot of people tend to like them. Sensitive and easily offended, will strive to always have good relationships with others. May be prone to getting stressed easily.

Scorpio Ascendant: Observant, fascinated, obsessive, sensitive, private, sexual, jealous. They prefer to get to know people and build unbreakable bonds. They can be very stubborn to what people say about them, refuse to give people power over their own minds and self. Chooses what to share and usually shares information when they decide. Anything can hurt their feelings but they won’t tell you that. Has a super kinky mind and can be possessive over those in their lives. Can masturbate or enjoy it a lot.

Sagittarius Ascendant: The person who always seems positive and upbeat, a pronounced smile, talkative, expressive, always down for an adventure, open-minded, loves learning and always learning something new, a huge flirt, sexual, and says things that others won’t dare to say. They can be unpredictable and tend to try new things. Strong legs or a nice ass. They can be strong physically.

Capricorn Ascendant: They can be the type of person who follows rules and behaves well publicly and get wild in their private space. Brags a lot and likes to talk about what they have or do. Always having to look out for someone else either a sibling, a friend, or family member. They can mature fast physically and look older than their age or mentally mature fast. Tend to respect their parents a lot or at least can hold their parents dear to their heart. May feel like things take more effort in their life to get or that they have to work hard for all they get. Can have very nice skin or skin issues. Serious look when not smiling.

Aquarius Ascendant: Loves to stand out, the friend who works at a non-profit, social justice warrior, or goes to protests. Scattered brain with so many ideas. They are into unconventional ways of living. Probably interested in human psychology. Probably goes through many phases with their aesthetic and interests, depending on who they’re around. Whatever race or background they’re from they may not follow their tradition/culture. They are the type to find interest in unique people and niche groups.

Pisces Ascendant: The artist, poet, spiritual person. Sensitive, understanding, optimistic, loves being around others but always needs time for themselves. Can feel as if life is too much and prefers to escape into their own reality ( hobbies, having fun and pleasure, being apart of communities away from society, drugs). Loves so deeply and willing to sacrifice, friends with all different types of people. Naive and can fall into their own demise if not grounded. Can be eternally sleepy and ready for bed.

🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿

[heich0e]

you're almost giddy as you run your hands underneath the stream of cool water rushing from the sink's tap, an effervescence fizzling in the pit of your stomach as the sound of running water whooshes through your ears. you watch the soap suds circle the drain as your teeth bite down against the side of your cheek.

on the other side of the restroom door, you can hear the distant din of the restaurant creeping in, reminding you of where you are. the sound spurs you on and quickly, haphazardly, you shake whatever water is left clinging to the tips of your fingers away once the soap suds are gone—too eager to even bother with properly drying them. next, you fish your cellphone out from inside the little purse you'd brought with you that evening.

you tap the name at the top of your recent call log, and your roommate answers after two rings.

"date goin' so bad yer calling in the black ops squad for rescue? what's our story gonna be this ti—"

atsumu sounds entirely too pleased by the prospect of your date going badly, and it makes you all too happy to cut him off.

"it's going really well," you say, nearly breathless in your delight. it's been a while since you've been this... excited about a date. about a guy. "too well, actually."

"oh?" atsumu's voice lifts in surprise, but he doesn't say a whole lot else.

you hum affirmatively, reaching into your purse again to pull out a tube of lip gloss, pinning your phone between your ear and your shoulder to free up your hands to unscrew the lid. your eyes are fixed to the reflection of your mouth in the mirror as you swipe a thin coat across your lips. "i need a favour."

"'n what's that?" atsumu asks, his voice drying out into a monotone that indicates his distinct lack of trust.

"can you go in my room and shove any mess i left out into my closet?" you ask him before rubbing your lips together to evenly coat them in their lacquered shine.

atsumu guffaws from the other line. "'m i yer maid?"

"a second ago you were ready to go full boots on the ground as the black ops squad," you chide him. there's a moment of silence that passes in the restaurant bathroom, you can't even hear him breathing from the other line. finally, you speak again—softer this time, more sincere. "please, tsumu. i really like him."

he clicks his tongue behind his teeth in that admonishing way you hate, but there's a certain concession in the sound. "yer doing my laundry for a week."

"if the rest of the night goes as well as dinner, i'll do it for a month," you laugh, your cheeks pinching with how widely you smile.

"when are ya landin' here?"

"probably in like... an hour? we're just gonna have another drink or two." he grunts in recognition, even if he doesn't seem thrilled about it. "thanks, 'tsumie. i owe you one."

"ya owe me at least four," he grumbles. "try 'n keep it down once ya come stumblin' in all handsy and whatever, will ya? i don't need to hear all that."

"promise, promise!" you singsong. "you're the best."

"whatever," he answers with a stiff laugh, ending the call soon after.

you quickly tuck your phone back into your purse, adjust yourself one last time in the mirror, and then slip back out into the restaurant towards your waiting date.

the rest of your evening passes much the same as the rest had already unfolded—though something between you and the young man seems to shift as time goes on, turns more palpably yearning. it's no surprise that when you ask him if he'd like to come back to your place with you, he quickly agrees.

"is your roommate home?" atsushi—who you'd met at a work event a few weeks prior, and had been talking to ever since—asks quietly as you two step through the door of your higashiosaka apartment. he's pressed close to you in the genkan, a hand on your waist as he toes off his shoes, and his warmth makes you suppress a shiver.

you hum. "he sleeps like the dead though."

atsushi knows about atsumu, having revealed to him not long after you started texting that your long-time friend turned professional volleyball player is now your roommate. atsushi seemed to know who atsumu was, and even noted he looked forward to meeting him, but that would have to wait for another day.

there were more important things at hand.

you twine your fingers with atsushi's, using that grip to lead him towards your bedroom on the other side of the quiet apartment as your heartbeat thumps—hot and wet and noisy—in your chest. you close the door to your bedroom quietly behind you, and before you even have time to reach for the light switch you feel a soft pair of lips against your throat.

"oh," you gasp, your hands reaching up and threading through the silky strands of atsushi's hair.

it's an uncoordinated blur after that as you lead your date blindly towards your bed in the dark, tumbling back across it in a flurry of limbs and lust.

atsushi's hands slip up underneath the hem of your dress as he pants against your mouth. you wiggle a bit to help him ease it up over your hips, but there's something soft underneath you that makes it a bit awkward—a pillow taking up too much space. he goes to push the pillow off the bed, but it's bigger than either of you seem to anticipate.

he pulls back, squinting at it in the dark. he laughs, tugging the unexpectedly large mass up from underneath you. "what is this?"

you can't quite identify it, reaching over to your bedside table and flicking on the light to get a better look.

you really wish you hadn't.

in his hands, atsushi is holding a—not quite life-sized, but certainly much too large—pillow with atsumu in his MSBY uniform printed across it. you're so shocked by it that it takes you a moment to see anything else, but atsushi is not so fortunate.

"uh," his voice cracks a little as he peers around your room. "is this—?"

pasted on virtually any open space on your walls, and lining the various shelves and dressers of your room, atsumu's obnoxious face stares back. it's like the MSBY merch stall has set up shop in your bedroom—the only thing missing is the lineup of squealing teens fighting over the last sakusa jersey.

you're seeing red.

"i'm so sorry," you say, mortified, as you scramble upright in your bed and look at atsushi's startled face. "atsumu must have... i asked him to... oh my god."

you take the body pillow that atsushi still has clutched in his hands, more in shock than anything, and throw it onto the floor. he laughs a little, shaking his head.

"well, i definitely wasn't expecting that."

"this isn't my stuff, i swear," you insist.

he laughs again, but this time it's less strained, almost a giggle. he peeks over at you. "i believe you."

you bite your lip. "did this scare you off?"

he shakes his head, smiling shyly. "nah."

you sigh in relief as he dips down and kisses you again, cradling the nape of your neck as he leans you back in your bed once more. your head is spinning as he presses himself between your parted thighs, grinding gently against you. your eyes flutter open as you moan, but that sound turns into a small shriek of surprise that has him recoiling upright.

taped to the ceiling over your bed, almost perfectly mirroring your own position, an enormous poster of atsumu stares down at you.

that breaks you.

you slip out from underneath atsushi, standing on your bed and ripping the poster down as you reach up on your tiptoes. the sound of the glossy paper ripping is almost violently loud in the quiet of your bedroom.

"i'll be right back," you say, stiff but apologetic, to your bewildered date, before fleeing from the room.

you don't knock when you get to atsumu's room, throwing the door open and stomping inside.

he's sitting in his bed, watching something on his phone with a pair of headphones covering his ears. he looks up in surprise when you come storming in, and his gaze goes from amused to concerned when he sees the look on your face.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?" you seethe, struggling to keep your voice low in spite of your desire to scream. you're still clutching a shred of the torn poster in your clenched fist, and you toss it onto his floor angrily. he pushes his headphones down to rest around his neck.

"aw, c'mon," he laughs as he sits up a little straighter in his bed, but the sound is a bit forced. "'s just a joke."

"well, it wasn't funny."

atsumu's jaw twitches a little bit. "if the guy got scared off by a harmless little—"

"he didn't get scared off," you hiss, "no thanks to you."

that shuts him up.

"he's still in my room, by some fucking miracle." your hands are shaking, that's how angry you are. you feel sick. "i told you i really like him, atsumu. why would you do that?"

you wish you didn't sound so wounded. you wish atsumu's answering expression wasn't so blank in the wake.

"god," you say, with a mirthless laugh. "when are you going to grow up?"

if atsumu wants to say more, you don't give him the chance. you spin on your heel and head towards the door, but just before you exit the room, you look back at him one last time. your eyes are narrowed in resentment and sharpened with hurt.

"you're gonna wanna turn that volume up, because i don't plan on keeping it down for your sake."

atsumu says nothing in reply, just stares at you. there's something almost desperate in his gaze that you don't understand, and make no attempt to.

you leave his door open behind you as your final act of spite.

[teamatsumu]

wrong twin? (miya atsumu x reader)

summary: you have a massive crush on miya osamu. so the plan is to get closer to him through his twin brother. it’s genius. it’s bound to work. right?

word count: 3008

warnings: fem!reader, fluff, slight angst, swearing, maybe a dash of humor, atsumu being atsumu, him and reader bicker a lot

tags: @keiva1000

When you handed in your application to join the Inarizaki High School volleyball club as manager, you had a very clear agenda in mind, but nobody needed to know about that. You had a good knowledge of volleyball, you had good organizational skills, and you were responsible. They accepted your application in a heartbeat, and were none the wiser of your true intentions behind joining the team.

It was only when you cornered their blond setter after practice one day that you actually said the words out loud.

“Ya want me to do what?” He raised an eyebrow, shoving his volleyball shoes into his backpack.

“Help me get close to him!” You whispered in a conspiratorial tone, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to you two. Your eyes lingered on Osamu where he was helping Gin clean up. “You’re his twin brother. You’re closest to him. If we hang out more, that would inevitably mean I get to hang out with Osamu more too. And we can become friends. Eventually, I will get him to fall in love with me.”

Atsumu stared at you with a very distinct ‘what the fuck’ look, but you stared right back, determined.

“Yer insane.” He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and making his way to the gym door. You followed behind.

“Please, Atsumu!” You begged, following him out of the gym and down the path leading out of the school.

“No!” He responded, not looking back at you. “Ya wanna get close to him, just go talk to him! Why ya gotta drag me into yer crazy schemes?!”

“I can’t just go talk to him, it would be creepy! I need a way into his circle.”

Atsumu gave you another look. “Oh yeah, what yer saying right now isn’t creepy at all.” Sarcasm dripped from his words.

You huffed, scowling at the back of his blond head. Your eyes caught the lights of the corner convenience store, and you felt an idea forming.

“I will buy you an after-practice snack every day for a year.”

Atsumu stopped short, looking back at you. “Yer bein’ serious?”

You gestured to the store up ahead. “We could start right now. I have money on me.”

His answering grin meant you had a deal.

……………………

When you joined the twins for lunch the next day at Atsumu’s desk, Osamu raised an eyebrow.

“It was my idea.” Atsumu explained. “She’s cool so I said we should hang out more.”

Osamu seemed to buy it, shrugging and giving you a welcoming little smile. You felt yourself flush, giddy as you pulled up a chair and sat down next to Atsumu, opposite to his brother.

“Oh sweet, are those pancake rolls?” Osamu asked when you opened your bento. You nodded eagerly.

“I made them myself!” You replied, pushing the box closer to him. “Wanna try?”

You knew Osamu liked food (okay, maybe you had stalked him a little), and even though you sucked at cooking, you had meticulously made your lunch today for this very reason. You couldn’t help your grin when Osamu bit into a roll and moaned at the taste, saying it was delicious. You could feel how hot your face was, even the tips of your ears felt warm. Atsumu rolled his eyes in your periphery but you paid him no mind, striking up a conversation with his brother instead.

“Yer like a different person around him.” Atsumu commented later that evening, when you were sitting on the curb outside the convenience store and he was chowing down on a pork bun you had bought him. The rest of the team had gone ahead, most of them too tired to stop for a snack and just wanting to get to bed as soon as possible.

You sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. He makes me feel things.”

Atsumu chewed for a little bit, watching you stare at the moth circling the streetlight.

“Gross.”

You slapped him hard on the bicep at that, making him let out an ‘ow!’. He pouted at you as he rubbed his arm, while all you did was roll your eyes in return.

……………………………

Lunch became a normal thing with the twins after that. You would wake up at 5am, cook something new that you thought Osamu might appreciate, and you would watch him devour it, praising you for how good it was. One time, Atsumu had gotten curious and tried to reach for a piece of onigiri, making you smack his hand away. He yelped and clutched it.

“What was that for?!”

“You already get a snack out of me every day, Miya. Keep your paws off my lunch.”

Osamu had snickered at that, and your heart had skipped at the sound, effectively forgetting Atsumu even existed as your focus shifted entirely to his brother. Atsumu grumbled but complied, saying something about ‘’s probably not that good anyway’. You paid him no mind.

You got to know Osamu a lot better during your little lunch sessions. He didn’t talk as much as his brother, but he was perceptive, and a great listener. He seemed to balance out Atsumu perfectly, and you could see how close they actually were. You would often giggle at their banter, witnessing the many foul names they would call each other, but knowing they didn’t mean it at the end of the day.

You often went to their house, under the guise of tutoring Atsumu. At first, Atsumu had told you no one would buy it, but you were adamant to try. And you were right. When you told Osamu why you were there, he snorted in response.

“Figures. This dumb fuck needs all the help he can get.”

Atsumu had yelled and tried to swat at his brother, but Osamu expertly dodged him. You had laughed at their antics.

Your study sessions were often spent with you stealing glances at Osamu from the dining table where you and Atsumu were located. He wouldn’t stick around much, preferring to camp out in their shared bedroom, but you still appreciated every glimpse that you got of him when he wandered down to the kitchen for a snack. Atsumu would nudge you with his knee under the table.

“Be a little less obvious, will ya?”

You stuck a middle finger in his face in response. He grabbed your hand and twisted it a bit, just enough to make you yelp and try to push him away.

“Tsumu, you jerk! Let go!”

“Say sorry!”

“Over my dead body!”

Osamu had to break you two apart sometimes, while you glared at each other from either side of him.

At practice, you would stay late when they needed help perfecting their quick attack, throwing balls so Atsumu could set them for Osamu. On the way back, you would buy Atsumu his daily snack and offer to pay for Osamu’s as well, which he always refused.

“Unlike this tool, I’m not shameless enough to let someone else pay fer me.”

“Hey!”

With every passing day, you felt that you were getting closer and closer to Osamu. Where you had barely exchanged words before, you two could hold long conversations now, and you especially loved when you ganged up to shit on Atsumu, who would be overdramatic as hell about the insults and act like he just got shot. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed so much.

Then, Osamu got a girlfriend.

You didn’t learn about it until you saw a girl at the gym on one random Wednesday. You had raised an eyebrow at her, watching as she looked around for something.

“Can I help you?”

She shook her head. “I’m just looking for Osamu. He left some stuff at my place last night.”

Your brain short circuited. Her place? Last night?

Then he ran over to her. Greeted her and thanked her for bringing his stuff. And then he kissed her.

You were mentally tuned out of practice for the rest of the evening.

When Atsumu walked up to you after practice so you could make your usual trip to the convenience store, you had just silently followed him. You had bought him some yakusoba bread, and you sat on the curb, waiting to walk home after he finished eating.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You finally asked.

Atsumu sighed in return. “Didn’t want ya to get hurt.”

You turned to look at him. His attention was on the bread. “Did you expect me to never find out?”

He shook his head. “I was hopin’ to tell ya after practice. Just couldn’t think of the words.”

For some reason, you felt anger boil up inside you. You stood up abruptly. Atsumu paused his chewing to look up at you.

“I don’t need you to coddle me, Tsumu.” You grit out. “That was not the deal.”

Atsumu didn’t seem fazed by your tone. “Sit down.”

You glared at him. “I’m going home.”

When you turned to leave, you were stopped by his hand reaching up to clutch at the hem of your jacket, pulling you back.

“I know yer hurtin’. Just sit.”

You don’t know why that did it. Tears that had been building up all during practice were set free, rolling down your cheeks. Silently, you sat back down next to him. He didn’t talk as you cried, only shuffling closer until his side was pressed to yours. An unexpected comfort came to you with the contact. You leaned on him, resting your head on your knees, shoulders shaking.

When you had calmed down enough, you wiped your face with your sleeves, sitting up straighter. Atsumu extended his bread to you. You raised an eyebrow.

“When have you ever shared with me before?”

He rolled his eyes. “Ya want it or not?”

The bread seemed to melt in your mouth. Food did make you feel a bit better, but your mind was still on Osamu.

“‘M sorry yer scheme didn’t work out.”

You laughed a bit, taking another bite. “When you call it a scheme, it makes me think it was bound to fail from the start.”

Atsumu shook his head. “Nah. Ya made an effort. I respect that.” He stretched his legs in front of him, leaning back on his hands. “Yer a real catch. Yer smart and yer pretty. Samu’s blind ta not see that.”

You giggled, nudging Atsumu a bit. “Careful, Tsum-tsum. I might think you were falling for me.”

If your emotions weren’t so over the place, and if you hadn’t just tired yourself out from crying so much, you would’ve noticed how the older Miya’s eyes softened.

…………………………

Getting over Osamu wasn’t easy. Especially after having chased after him for so many months. It didn’t help that his little girlfriend seemed to come around more often, sometimes joining the team during practice. At times like those, you tried to stay as far away from her and Osamu, and that often meant you would find comfort in Atsumu, the only person who knew about your crush.

“What does he see in her anyway?” You voiced out loud, watching her laugh at something Osamu had said. You were sitting on a bench outside the gym with Atsumu, watching the two interact on the other side of the path. The rest of the team still weren’t done with their run. As usual, the twins were the first ones to reach the school.

Atsumu ran a towel over his neck, setting his water bottle down next to him. “Ya need ta get over him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never loved anything except volleyball.”

“Damn right. Has volleyball ever betrayed me? No. So suck it.”

You dug your elbow into his side, making him yelp and grab your head, pushing you away. His hand was massive and covered over half your face, and you struggled to get him off, digging your nails into his forearm.

“Tsumu, you asshole-”

You didn’t even notice when Osamu stared at the two of you, too absorbed in your little squabble.

So yeah, getting over Osamu wasn’t easy, but having Atsumu around helped a ton. Everytime he would see your eyes linger on Osamu too long, he would make some sort of comment, or change the subject, just trying to get your attention anywhere else. Too many times, he would physically grab you and turn you away from his twin, saying something along the lines of how you should be looking at the ‘better twin’ instead.

“Sorry but which one of you decided to dye their hair the color of piss?”

“It’s blond!”

“You ever heard of toner, dumbass?”

And you would grab his hair, messing it up and tugging at it a bit, giggling when he whined about you ruining his ‘hairstyle’. You also knew that Atsumu would kill anyone else who dared touch his hair, and the fact made your heart skip a bit. It also made you think, and once the gears in your head started turning, there was no going back.

Now that the fog of your infatuation with Osamu was lifting a bit, you seemed to notice his twin more. You would watch how Atsumu seemed to almost shield you from anything that reminded you of Osamu. How he had made it a habit after that one evening to always share half his snack with you, no matter how small it was. He would often say out of pocket shit, but rather than annoying you, it seemed to endear you more. It was like these little quips were a part of his charm, and you would giggle along instead of telling him to shut up.

He was awfully touchy too. You suppose he had always been, and you had just never thought about it. But now it seemed like none of his moves went unnoticed by you. He had a habit of gripping your head with one hand and turning your face to his when you weren’t paying attention. It used to annoy the crap out of you but now it made you pause and blink, meeting his caramel colored eyes. He would nudge you and poke you, he would drape an arm over your shoulders and whine about how tired he was. And your cheeks would warm up every time. You were forced to admit it.

You had a thing for Atsumu.

Deep down, you cursed at your luck, almost laughing in incredulity. What a joke this was, having a crush on both twins. But you knew that this was different. You knew this wasn’t just a silly crush.

Atsumu was more. He had always been more.

“Tsumu?”

He hummed in response, indicating he was listening, even if he was busy stuffing a chocolate bar into his mouth. You two were in your usual place, sitting on the curb outside the convenience store, lit up only by the light of the store behind you and the lamp post across the street. You watched his profile, the way his jaw moved when he chewed, his eyes trained before him, his undercut, and his dyed hair falling over his forehead slightly.

He was so painfully attractive. And you had never noticed.

He looked at you finally when you didn’t speak, raising an eyebrow.

“Everythin’ okay?”

You nodded hastily, turning away from him. You heard him pause, wrapping up what was left of his chocolate and placing it next to him before shuffling closer to you.

“Yer lyin’. What is it?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “You can read me so well.”

He shrugged in response, draping his arm over your shoulder. You closed your eyes, mentally accepting how the action now made you feel.

“I did spend the whole year hearin’ ya whine about yer feelings, so yeah. I can read ya pretty well.”

You sighed, turning your head to look at him. At this proximity, you could see the brown swirling in his eyes, and it reminded you of milk chocolate. You were nearly nose to nose with him, and you weren’t nervous at all. With Osamu, you would always be on edge. Your insides would squirm, your heart would race, and oftentimes, you would stumble over your words.

With Atsumu, you felt every muscle in your body relax when he touched you. Despite his chaotic personality and his crude language, Atsumu was so tuned in when it came to you. When you needed it, he was as calm as they come. There was such unprecedented comfort in his presence. When you were around him, it felt like everything would be okay.

“I love you.”

It came out of you involuntarily at that moment. But you weren’t scared to tell him. You should have been, but one look at him this close and all your fears were melting away. When Atsumu gave you a little smile, you couldn’t help but return it.

“I love ya too, sweets.”

His kiss was expected. Soft, slow, perfect. His lips were plush and warm, and he tasted like the chocolate he had just been eating. His arm around your shoulder tightened, and his other hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your head enough to deepen the kiss. You felt your head buzz, your hands fisting at the front of his shirt and trying to pull him closer, though it was impossible.

You whined in protest when he ended the kiss, making him chuckle slightly. The sound made your lips twitch up a bit, and you ran your eyes all over his face. He hummed in approval.

“There it is.”

You blinked. “What?”

He traced your cheekbone with his thumb. “Ya know how long I’ve wanted ya to look at me like that and not Samu?”

Right. Samu. You had forgotten about him completely the moment Atsumu’s lips touched yours. The thought made you giggle and pull at his jacket collar to tug him close, until his lips were meeting yours again.

[hai7ani]

also applies to Chifuyu & Shinichiro.......i think

It's late but I can't seem to think about anything other than the boyfriends who smell a lot like you. I think this applies very well to Rindou like. You're just together so often. His friends have already registered the smell as his own, and even though he sprays on his cologne before he leaves he still manages to smell like you for the rest of the day somehow.

A few have asked what his cologne or perfume is and he says the brand and then they go and compare it in-store but it legit smells nothing like him at all. Around his circle of friends he is notoriously known as the perfume gatekeeper and he doesn't understand it at all 一 has no clue what the big deal is around his perfume, because that's literally the brand he uses, what the hell more do you want from him? Not his fault the in-store oxidised-or-whatever samples don't smell like him. (He literally doesn't smell you on him because he's so used to it already. Like cat owners not knowing how their home smells like to a stranger. Yeah. You're the cat and he's the owner in this case.)

His friends can't quite place and recognise what exactly the smell is 一 especially the people he just met, and it always surprises them a little somehow during first impressions. It's just not very........common for a guy to smell like this. Especially not for a guy who looks like him 一 tall, tatted up, and eyes so fierce it could possibly kill 一 to smell a lot like flowers and bedsheets. The kinda scent that makes you feel at ease and you just want to fall asleep. A comforting one.

And I think that kind of explains why the elderly love speaking to him. Young kids like going up to him for help. The ladies holding their babies likes asking him to help with their stroller. All of that happens regularly despite the tattoos and chunky rings and dyed hair. He often wonders what the hell's so alluring about him that always attracts all these people in public especially when he's alone, but he does find himself doing kind, mundane things for them way too frequently. Not a single complaint on his mind, but just a thought. His girlfriend is usually the magnet attracting people all the time 一 he's more of the dog you'd walk when alone at night. But honestly it's just really his distinct smell from the rest that immediately makes him a safe zone to approach, but he doesn't know that of course.

Shion was over at his place one time to hide from the rain after dinner and he wasn't aware that anyone was home other than him and Rindou alone. The familiar scent of his friend suddenly lingers around in the air and he's quick to ask. "Yo, you got any beer in your fridge? I'm kinda thirsty." He doesn't look up from his phone the entire time 一 they're best buddies, he's been over a few times, and he just really wants something to drink.

A while later, a can of ice cold beer appears in his view next to his device and he grabs it swiftly. "Thanks."

And then he sees long nails and bracelets and fingers a lot more nimbler than his friend's一

Suddenly the smell of fresh flowers 一 something pretty famous from Armani, he recalls 一 floods his nostrils all at once and his brain short circuits. His friend fucking smells like you 一 your scent is just a lot more stronger and distinguishable.

"You're welcome." You have a nice smile on your face while he looks up in horror. "He's in the toilet by the way." You point to the door behind you.

"Oh. My bad."

[comatosebunny09]

As a result of watching more dramas, humor me.

You plan to go home for the holidays to spend them with your parents. 

Your mother’s been setting you up on blind dates in hopes of eventually finding you a match. She reasons you’re not getting any younger, so it’s time you settle down and start working on a family. Her intentions are good, but you just wish she’d stop badgering you. 

You don’t necessarily live the lifestyle where you can afford to have a partner right now.

You work for Onychinus’ leader, Sylus, as an assassin. You’re at the peak of your game, so much so that you’re considered his right hand by his enemies. You also secretly harbor feelings for your boss, but you know they’re fruitless because you think a relationship, let alone with you, is the furthest thing from his mind.

Anyways, you’re drinking at one of Sylus’ bars one evening, venting to him about your mother. He always humors you when you’re not working—you bring a certain flair to his life that he admits makes his days much more entertaining.

“Why don’t I pretend to be your boyfriend, then? Just to get her off your back,” he suggests with an amused crinkle to his eyes, watching you as he sips his whiskey.

You snort incredulously. Sylus and boyfriend are never two words you would imagine fitting in the same sentence. Still, you can’t deny entertaining the idea of what it’d be like to be something…more to him. 

You brush him off as just humoring you as usual, snatching your coat from the barstool and fixing your boss with a sardonic smirk. 

“Yeah, right. See ya around, bossman.” 

Your flight home leaves first thing in the morning. As much as you would like to stick around to shoot the shit with him, you need your rest to deal with your mother come morning.

Fast forward, and you’re back in your childhood home. You feel strange, being in your cutesy, innocent bedroom like there isn’t so much invisible blood on your hands and like you haven’t long shed the sheltered skin you once wore when you were younger. 

Your parents don’t know the full extent of what you do. They know you make a generous amount of money—you’ve bought them luxurious cars and clothes and sent them on exclusive vacations. You would buy them a plot of land with a beautiful home built from the ground up if they’d let you, but your parents insist on staying where they’re familiar.

An old childhood friend’s having a get-together. Your mother insists you go—this is the perfect opportunity for you to network and possibly find a future husband. Despite your protests, she pressures you, and you begrudgingly agree. 

You stick out like a sore thumb, donned in expensive fabrics at the party. Years of being an assassin and seductress have given you the gift of gab, so you’re the life of the party. Eventually, people start inquiring about your love life. Their questions become so invasive you step out momentarily to gather yourself. Just because you’re good at flapping your gums doesn’t mean you don’t occasionally become overwhelmed.

You decide to text Sylus to help ease your anxiety. You text each other quite often, and someone peering at your relationship from the outside would assume you’re just close friends. 

[ Sylus ]: that bad?

[ You ]: yeah. they won’t stop asking when i’ll get married. 

[ You ]: it’s really pissing me off. 

[ Sylus ]: lol

[ Sylus ]: well why dont you leave?

[ You ]: because i know i’ll never hear the end of it.

[ Sylus ]: hmm.

[ Sylus ]: would you like some company then?

[ You ]: 😏😏😏 what are you gonna teleport here or something?

[ Sylus ]: look up.

On cue, you glance skyward as the telltale shadow of a crow circles the ground around you. You squint your eyes against the sun’s brilliance, making out distinct iridescent feathers circling above. “Mephisto?” you suspiciously inquire.

You look down, only to be met with a familiar swatch of scarlet and white. “Sylus?!” you shriek, jumping back and clutching your pounding heart, almost having shit yourself.

He wears that customary smirk, looking so cool with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He wears a tailored, dark suit, his blazer hanging off his shoulders, ruffled by the summery breeze. “In the flesh.”

You swallow against the stickiness of your throat, wide-eyed and feeling like you’re dreaming. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Sylus examines his nails, his tone conspiratorial. “Well, I was just passing through—”

“Like hell you were!” You aim an accusatory finger at him. “We’re, like, 1,700 miles from the N109! There’s no way you’re just ‘passing through’!”

He shrugs, feigning innocence. 

A few of your high schoolmates, summoned by the commotion, gather in the courtyard behind you. The crowd oohs and ahs, whispering as they study your tall, devastatingly handsome boss. One of the women asks who he is, admiration evident in his voice. You know that tone too well: if you don’t claim him, I will. 

You swallow your resolve, seizing the opportunity to shut everyone up. 

You sidle up to your boss with a fake smile, encircling one of his arms with both of yours, your hands wrapped around his impressive bicep. You cling to him, playing up the theatrics of a docile lover. It makes you sick.

Sylus smiles down at you in your peripheral, the omniscient lift of his brow letting you know that he’s never going to let you live down what next comes from your mouth.

“This is my fiancé!” You pat his chest with a giggle pinched from your lungs, cold dread dropping into your belly. 

What the hell are you even doing?

[mapiforpresident]

Always in our hearts

alexia x reader

warnings: cancer, death

The morning was quiet, but Alexia felt the weight of the day. She had woken up early, as she always did, but there was a distinct heaviness in her chest today that she couldn’t shake. The two-year anniversary of your passing had arrived, and with it, an overwhelming sense of grief that still hadn’t completely subsided. She had tried to push it to the back of her mind, to focus on training, but she couldn’t ignore the ache.

It had been two years since you lost your battle with cancer. Two years since Alexia had woken up to a world where you weren’t by her side anymore. The memories of your laughter, your touch, your voice—they were still vivid, but now they felt more like echoes, fading just a little bit with every passing day. She knew it was part of healing, but the idea that life was moving on without you felt almost like a betrayal.

~~~

She arrived at training that morning, trying to put on her usual face. The team was buzzing with their usual chatter, but Alexia couldn’t shake the sadness, so she kept to herself. Mapi, her best friend, had been a constant presence, always knowing when Alexia needed to talk and when she needed space. Today, however, Alexia had chosen to be alone with her thoughts.

~~~

When she stepped onto the pitch, the team was already gathered, but something felt off. They weren’t just warming up, there was a sort of quiet anticipation hanging in the air. Mapi, who was always a little more perceptive than anyone else, had a soft look on her face as she walked up to Alexia, gently resting a hand on her shoulder.

“Everything okay?” Mapi asked, her voice quiet but filled with concern.

Alexia managed a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, just… thinking,” she replied, her gaze drifting to the empty space of the field.

Mapi didn’t press, but there was a knowing glint in her eyes. She turned Alexia toward the rest of the team, who had gathered in a circle at the center of the pitch. Patri, stepped forward with a smile that was warm but also tinged with something deeper. She gave Alexia a small nod, signaling her to come closer.

Alexia’s heart began to race, wondering what was going on, but as she approached, she saw the first sign: a banner hanging on the fence near the goal, with a picture of you smiling in the background. The words, Siempre en nuestros corazones — Always in our hearts — were written across the top in bold letters.

Then came the flowers. In the middle of the circle, a bouquet of vibrant blooms surrounded a framed photo of you and Alexia, taken during one of the many matches where you had cheered her on from the stands. The photo was candid, capturing a moment of pure joy, the two of you laughing together. It was the kind of photo that always made Alexia’s heart swell, and now it brought a tear to her eye.

“Alexia,” Patri began, her voice steady but full of emotion, “we know this day isn’t easy. We wanted to do something to remind you that you’re not alone. You’re still a part of this family—our family.”

Mapi stepped forward, holding a small, carefully wrapped gift in her hands. “This is from all of us,” she said, her voice a little choked. She handed the gift to Alexia, who took it with trembling hands. Inside was a necklace, a pendant shaped like a football, engraved with your initials and and the same photo from the bouquet. It was delicate and beautiful, just like the bond you and Alexia had shared.

Tears welled up in Alexia’s eyes as she clutched the necklace, her chest tightening as the flood of emotions rushed over her. She hadn’t expected this. She had thought that today, like every other anniversary, she would have to carry the weight of her loss alone. But the team, her family, had remembered.

“This is…” Alexia began, her voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I…” She paused, feeling the lump in her throat. “I didn’t think anyone would remember.”

Mapi stepped in, squeezing her shoulder. “We’ll always remember,” she said softly. “You’re part of us, and so is she. You two were inseparable. We all loved her, too.”

The team gathered around Alexia, each of them offering her words of comfort, hugs, and small gestures of remembrance. It was more than just a memorial for you—it was a reminder to Alexia that her love for you had created a ripple effect that was felt by everyone around her.

As Alexia stood in the center of the circle, feeling the warmth and love from her teammates, she realized something important: the pain of losing you would never fully go away, but she didn’t have to carry it alone. She had a family here, a team who understood her heart, and they would always keep your memory alive.

“Thank you,” Alexia whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. “I… I feel so lucky to have all of you.”

She looked down at the necklace in her hands, then up at the team, who were all standing with her, supporting her in this moment of quiet sorrow. And for the first time in a long time, Alexia felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, it was okay to keep moving forward, to keep living, and to keep honoring the love she had shared with you.

For you, for her, and for the people who still loved her.