#how did i know that i didn't know i knew that

[connorsui]

Marked in Metal

Caleb... loves ... buying you rings.

It wasn’t something you directly questioned—at least, not seriously. He had always been like that, always finding little things to slip into your life as a form of joy. Bracelets, necklaces, little earrings here and there.

But ...rings?

Oh, those were his favorite.

— Princess cut, Briolette, Trilliant, Radiant.

Oval and round. The entire catalog.

And it wasn’t just about the aesthetic. No, it was something else entirely—something unspoken in the way he always lingered just a second longer when slipping the ring onto your finger, something in the way his eyes darkened with quiet satisfaction whenever you lifted your hand, light catching on whatever new piece he had picked out for you.

Like now for instances.

"Here," he said one afternoon, handing you a small velvet box. His voice was casual, but his fingers brushed yours when you took it from him. "Saw this new piece on my way home and thought of you."

You barely glanced up from your work before popping the box open, the soft click of the latch followed by a quiet inhale as you took in the ring nestled inside. A smooth sterling silver band, sleek and polished, with fluted rose gold prongs holding a citrine gem. The cut was extravagant, the kind of thing that should have been reserved for engagement rings, but you had long stopped questioning Caleb’s taste.

"Caleb," you groaned, rolling your eyes but still sliding it onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as they always did. "You have to stop doing this."

"And why should I?" He smirked, leaning back against the couch, arm thrown over the backrest as he watched you admire the ring despite your protests. "Looks good on you."

You twisted your fingers, letting the metal catch the light. He could see it in your face—the way your lips curved slightly, the way your brows relaxed—that moment of pure, genuine appreciation. He memorized that expression every time.

Because no matter how much you insisted it was too much, you never turned them down.

And he never had to worry about you asking how much they cost.

But it wasn’t about the price anyway. It was about the way you wore them, the way your hands danced through the air when you talked, your fingers adorned with pieces he had chosen. It was about the quiet thrill of watching everyone else notice, of knowing that every time someone asked where you got them, your answer was always the same.

"Caleb, obviously. He’s the reason I have half my jewelry box."

That was enough for him.

But this one was different.

"Wait, Caleb?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, amused and lilting. "Did you know this was engraved?"

You held up the ring between your fingers, tilting it just enough for the small inscription inside to catch the light.

.C.

Delicate, subtle, almost invisible unless you were looking for it.

He raised a brow, feigning nonchalance. "Oh? …I don't actually remember seeing that anywhere?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You seriously didn't notice?"

"Guess not." He shrugged, and you huffed out a laugh, shaking your head.

"I don’t think I believe you."

He didn’t respond, only watching as you lifted your phone, snapping a picture. Within minutes, your messages flooded with the usual teasing.

"Another one? Does Caleb just collect rings for you now?"

"That’s basically a proposal, babe!"

"Correction. This is the one billionth proposal"

And, as always, your reply was the same.

"Of course it’s Caleb. Who else spoils me like this constantly?"

He loved that. Loved knowing that when others have noticed the rings on your fingers, they knew exactly who put them there.

But even when he adorned your hands, his own ring was different.

It never sat on his finger. It had its own place, strung securely onto the same chain as his tags, resting against his chest beneath the layers of his uniform.

Same material, same weight.

But the chain never left his body. It was there in the dead of night, cold against his skin. There in the thick of the day, clinking softly against metal. It was there when the world was loud and chaotic, when exhaustion pulled at his bones, grounding him with the quiet weight of something real.

Something that brought him back to you.

And when he returned home?

when he was finally home, the chain came off—but the ring never stayed in some forgotten drawer.

No, it belonged in the same place it always did.

Right where you were—pressed close against his heart.

[inkedinshadows]

First of all congratulations for 1000 followers 🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉 it’s honestly amazing and you deserve all the best❤️❤️❤️ also happy new year 🎆🎆🎆 secondly, all the prompts are super good it, I had such a hard time choosing from them cause they that are all amazing, anyway I think 19, 20 and 21 just fit together perfectly for an angsty Azriel fic.

Broken Vows

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

A/N: thank you so much anon, you're the sweetest! <33 And happy new year one month too late oopsie 🤭

Prompts: "I trusted you." + "Don't leave me now. Please. I still need you." + "Baby, please, just look at me."

Warnings: Az is not the best partner here (I promise he didn't cheat)

Word count: 1.3k

It must be a dream. A nightmare.

Whatever was happening, it wasn't real. It couldn't be. You refused to believe it.

Azriel was still talking, but you weren't listening anymore. His words blurred together in your mind, yet his first few sentences remained sharp, playing over and over in your head.

I've found my mate.

You had never been the jealous type, so it hadn't bothered you when he began spending more and more time with Madja’s new apprentice. It had started as small talk after her visits and you usually lingered too. Talya seemed nice enough—quiet and reserved yet friendly.

You hadn't questioned it when Azriel started visiting the apothecary for even the slightest headache. But then those visits became too frequent. He went there even when both of you felt perfectly fine.

You should have realized something was off when Azriel became distant. The signs had been there. You had just been too blind to see them.

But the problem wasn't that he had found his mate, was it?

I want to be with her.

A few simple words, and the whole world collapsed around you.

“Baby, please, just look at me.” His voice finally cut through your thoughts. “I know this is hard to hear, but let me—”

“You promised,” you interrupted him. Your eyes met his from where he sat at the other end of the couch.

“Baby…” he began, but you cut him off again.

“You promised,” you repeated, your voice rising as tears pricked your eyes. “You promised!”

Guilt flashed across Azriel's face, and he at least had the decency to remain silent as you pressed on.

“You said you'd reject your mate for me, Az,” you blurted out. Hot, angry tears rolled down your cheeks, but you barely noticed. “It was in your wedding vows, for gods’ sake!”

Azriel shook his head. “It's not that simple. I don't—”

“Isn't it?” you interrupted again. “Because it seems simple enough to me. You just reject the bond, like I did.”

His expression immediately hardened. “I don't want to reject the bond. If you would only let—”

“Why wouldn't you want to reject it?” you demanded.

“Because she's my mate!”

“And I'm your wife!”

For a moment, you just glared at each other. His shadows swarmed nervously around his wings, but then his shoulders slumped and his expression softened slightly.

“Can you let me explain?” he asked, studying you. “Please.”

With a sigh, you wiped your cheeks before crossing your arms over your chest. You simply looked at him, waiting.

“I don't want to lose you, baby,” he said softly.

“I don't see how that is going—”

Azriel stopped you mid-sentence. “Let me finish? Please?”

You rolled your eyes but gestured for him to continue. Listening to him was the last thing you wanted right now, but maybe he was going to surprise you. Maybe he was going to say it was all just a joke, a prank, and you'd be mad, but it would be fine.

You were grasping at straws, and you knew it.

“I still want to be with you,” Azriel said. He shot you a sharp look when you opened your mouth, and you sank back against the couch to let him continue. “But I also want to explore this bond with her.”

You scoffed. “So what? You think you can have both of us?” You shook your head, something vicious twisting in your gut. “That's not going to work, Azriel.”

You rose from your seat to head upstairs. You needed time to think, to figure out what to do. If you stayed, you would only get angrier. You had already cried and had no desire to do it again. But if you left, maybe you could spare yourself the fury.

Though the pain—the ache in your heart—could not be avoided, no matter what you did.

“Talya said that she understands the situation and she'd be willing to—”

You froze on the spot. Azriel must have realized he'd said the wrong thing because he didn't finish the sentence. His eyes dropped to your clenched fists as you turned back to face him.

Your restraint was gone. You wouldn't hold back now.

“You talked to her before you talked to me?” you seethed.

“Well, I…” Azriel seemed to be grasping for words. “She's my mate,” he repeated, as if that was explanation enough.

“And I'm your wife!” You threw your hands up. “I have been for the last two centuries!”

“I'm sorry, baby, but I—”

“Don't you ‘baby’ me, Azriel!”

He lowered his gaze, but you were too upset to care about the hurt look in his eyes. It was nowhere close to the heartache he was causing you.

“You know why I never worried about you finding your mate?” you asked. He looked up at you, but even if he had planned on saying something, you didn't give him time. “Because you promised you'd choose me. You promised you would reject the bond. And I believed it, believed you. I trusted you.”

You were well aware of what rejecting a mating bond felt like, how difficult it could be to deal with. Even without feelings involved, even knowing that you and your mate wouldn't have been a good match, it had still taken you two weeks to feel whole again. But Azriel had been there, filling the empty spot where your bond had been with his love.

You had never regretted your choice. You never had a reason to.

“And now I find out that not only did you spend time with her knowing she was your mate,” you went on, “but that you also want to be with her?”

Azriel’s voice was firm, edged with frustration. “I told you I want to be with you too, didn’t I?”

“Mother above, Azriel,” you snapped. “You think that makes me feel better? I trusted you, but you didn't even try.”

You had fought before. After two hundred years together, arguments were inevitable. But you usually talked it out and reconciled after a few hours—a day at worst. Maybe that was why Azriel didn't look particularly concerned.

Until you slipped the wedding band off your finger and tossed it onto the couch beside him.

His eyes widened in shock, and his usually restless shadows stilled behind him. You both stared at the ring, the silence stretching as your anger faded, leaving behind only a broken heart.

“You can't have your cake and eat it too, Az,” you finally said, your voice calmer now, resigned.

You turned on your heel again.

“I'm leaving,” you announced, already walking toward the stairs. You could go stay with your parents. They would welcome you without pressing for an explanation.

Azriel snapped out of his stupor and stood, reaching for you.

“Don’t leave me now. Please. I still need you.” His fingers closed around your wrist. “I still love you.”

You yanked your arm free, but didn't turn to face him. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as you bit out, “You should have loved me enough not to pursue your mate. You promised.”

He tried to stop you again, his shadows swirling around your legs as if to keep you from walking away from their master.

“Baby, that's not—”

You turned back one last time. Tears lined your eyes and your voice broke on the words. “I should have been enough, Azriel.”

You didn't wait to hear his response. You didn't try to go upstairs to pack some clothes.

Unable to stomach his presence any longer, you winnowed away.

a/n: technically, this is the end. I wanted to leave it open and hanging, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that I am a sucker for happy endings so I might write a part 2 bc I already have an idea :))

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

[roanniom]

There's Something About You

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, handjob, dirty talk, inexperienced!Eddie

If one thing is for certain, it's that Eddie has no idea how he's found himself here. In the bedroom of a cheerleader honor student goddess who shouldn't even know he exists. Yes, you've smiled at him from a distance in class. From time to time he's caught you giving him a little wave from across the cafeteria. But to be quite honest with himself, Eddie always assumed you were fucking with him. Throw a wink at the school freak and watch him get an embarrassingly unprovoked boner.

Yet here you were. Sitting next to him on your bed - disarmingly pink and covered in soft cushions and frills and all things girly and diametrically opposed to all that is Eddie Munson. Dark and crass and bumbling and weird Eddie Munson.

"If you flunk out of Mr. Flout's class one more time, what's going to happen to you?" you had asked him casually earlier in the day as you'd walked by him staring at his test marked with a big red F. Eddie had looked up at you, shock quickly melting into an indifferent smirk.

"There's always trade school, baby," he'd shrugged and thrown up a peace sign.

That was when you suggested he come by your place that evening for tutoring.

Eddie is no fool. He knows what girls like you want. So he'd made sure to come equipped with his trusty lunch pail full of treats that would take the edge off being Miss Perfect / Daddy's Little Girl / Goody Two Shoes - whatever mantle it was that you wished to pluck off your head and cast gently aside for one blissful night. He assumed maybe a downer, maybe an upper, maybe a combo of both. He didn't know you well enough to assume. You seemed happy enough when skipping down the halls with your gaggle of friends, but maybe there was a secret side of you that wanted to disappear. You seemed focused when you were working on papers or quizzes in your shared classes with Eddie, but maybe you needed something that would give you that much more of an edge. Something to help you lock in.

Or maybe you just wanted to be able to turn your brain off for a bit. Eddie knew what that was like.

Sitting in your room now, however, Eddie was less sure. You hadn't closed the door behind him and immediately asked to check out the merchandise. You hadn't proffered up cash in an attempt to speed along a transaction. Instead you'd sat him down with a textbook and a notepad and actually started studying. It was weird. Eddie wasn't used to this kind of drug dealer foreplay. He assumed you were just nervous, though, so after a while, he decided he would have to be the one to make the first move.

"What's your poison, princess?" he asks, after a few moments of silence has settled between the two of you. You look up from your own book and furrow your brow. When you don't speak, Eddie continues. "Upon which journey of medicated oblivion do you wish to depart?"

That doesn't seem to make it any clearer for you.

"Huh?" you ask. The way your nose wrinkles in your confusion is kind of cute, but Eddie does his best to ignore it.

"Drugs. What drugs did you ask me here to sell you?" He speaks plainly because apparently you aren't ready for euphemism. Wow, you must be really new to this space.

Surprise ripples across your face, followed by immediate amusement.

"I didn't ask you here for any drugs. But you're welcome to partake if you like, of course." You gesture to his pail, proving you had known what was inside all along. Eddie shakes his head.

"I don't sample the goods, sweetie. I just sell 'em."

You snort in response, a decidedly unladylike reaction.

"You and I both know that's bullshit, Munson. I've seen you in class. Nine times out of ten you're high as a kite."

Eddie smirks and runs a sheepish hand through his hair. Oh you'd seen him, huh? You were looking?

"Guilty as charged. Then what did you ask me here for?"

"To study," you answer simply. The look on your face, however, implies that isn't all there is to it.

"And...?" Eddie presses. Your smile grows wider and you close your book. You shift on the bed beside him in a way that shifts your skirt, baring your thigh. Eddie's eyes go straight to that exposed swath of skin, right on cue.

"And...if we fool around a bit, that's a nice bonus." You say it as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. Obviously that's an additional thing that would happen on a study night like this. As obvious as a round of flash cards or a homemaker mother coming in with a tray of cookies and juice.

Which reminds him...

"Aren't your parents around?" Eddie asks. He adds a lilt of humor to his voice, though he means the question seriously.

"They're in Indianapolis for the night. I'm here all by my lonesome," you say with a faux coquettishness that causes an ache to begin forming in his throat. "You're here to keep me company."

All of a sudden the closed door to your room emanates with a kind of vibrating anticipation. A rushing begins in Eddie's ears, followed by a high pitched ring. Is he going to pass out?

You take the book from his lap and place it on the floor.

"So what's your poison, Eddie Munson?" you ask.

This is it. Eddie is actually short circuiting. He swallows but the sound resonates as a cartoon gulp.

"We don't have to...that's...we don't need..."

You place a hand on his shoulder and it just about burns through the fabric of his shirt.

"I know we don't need to do anything. What do you want?"

Eddie hesitates, but you read it as him not wanting to push, so you take matters into your own hands. Literally.

'Wait, what are you - oh fuck." Eddie's eyes blow wide as you sink to the floor in front of him, kneeling between his legs with one hand on his thigh and one hand on his crotch.

"I'm narrowing down the options for you, Munson," you say with a grin. "Helping you make a decision. I know it was hard to decide what you wanted. Really hard, it seems." You put more emphasis on your innuendo as you begin to stroke him through his jeans. You're right. He's hard. Just from this fucking teasing conversation he is hard as a rock. His cheeks and ears burn with humiliation. 

“That’s…fucking…”

“Well I wouldn’t say it’s fucking. But maybe a version of it,” you chuckle. Before he even understands what’s happening, you’re unbuttoning his jeans and lowering the zipper. If he hadn’t been wearing relatively constrictive boxer briefs he knows he would have all but sprung out the moment you freed him from the denim. You cup him through the fabric of his underwear and slide your hand up and down. “Now what have you been hiding from me, hm?”

Eddie can’t speak. He truly can’t form words. This can’t be happening right now. The amount of times he’d fucked his fist to the thought of you…this was absolutely absurd. He must have smoked too much weed and slipped into a catatonic state, trapped in his own erotic fantasies because what the actual fuck. 

Eddie’s continued lack of response does start to unnerve you, though. You slow your hand on his clothed cock and look up at him, trying to keep humor in your voice. 

“What’s going on? You’re acting like you’ve never had a girl on her knees before.”

“Um…”

“Stop messing with me,” you snort. But when Eddie continues frowning, you drop your hand from his lap. “You mean to tell me…”

“You can get up for this conversation,” Eddie says quietly, reaching out a hand. He doesn’t like the juxtaposition of the power dynamics. You on your knees in front of him. A situation that should objectively make him feel powerful, and yet all he feels right now is small. You take his proffered hand and allow him to pull you up to your feet. When you take a silent seat beside him on the bed, Eddie knows he’s going to have to explain. 

“So…yeah. I’ve never ‘had a girl on her knees’ before.” You nod understandingly, but Eddie knows you can’t possibly fully understand yet. “I’ve never ‘had’ a girl…period.”

A beat passes.

Another beat. 

Eddie had been staring down at the leather bracelets encircling his wrists, fiddling with the frayed edges. But at the continued silence he looks up to find you watching him, eyes wide with comprehension. 

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize, I wouldn’t have pressured you -,”

“No!” Eddie says a little too emphatically, making you jump. He grabs your hands to keep you next to him. “You didn’t pressure me at all. I want…this. I want…you. I just…”

“You just…?” you prompt, dipping your head down to force him to meet your eye despite his dropped chin. 

“I just don’t know what I’m fucking doing here, babe,” Eddie forces out with a humorless chuckle. You bite your lip to keep from laughing along. 

This is uncharted territory for you. Yes you’re experienced, but you’d really only ever been with guys who had way more experience than you. It was kind of where your forced confidence and teasing personality came from - a little bit of a fake it till you make it mentality. It usually kept guys from bowling you over or taking too much if they got the sense that you knew what you were doing. That you knew what you wanted. 

This is a completely different situation. You look at the shaggy-haired metal head in front of you and your heart throbs. Before this evening you’d seen him as a fun little roll in the hay. A cheeky little ‘fuck you’ to your overbearing parents and to the pristine nature of your wholesome image. Eddie was brazen at school. A loud-mouthed, swaggering, innuendo-spewing class clown with a guitar and a million things to say. You’d thought he’d be a decent ride, if nothing else. But now you see him, uncertain and shrinking into your bed, and you realize that you don’t know him at all. And based on the way he’s looking at you with fear and shame, he clearly doesn’t know you either. 

“That doesn’t matter to me, you know. Especially since I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, that I can tell, sweetheart.” Eddie’s laugh is genuine this time. He adjusts himself at the crotch, an action that calls your attention to the bulge still protruding in his boxers through his open jeans. He’s still hard. In spite of all the embarrassment and discomfort. Eddie Munson must really want you. 

Well good. Because you’ve decided that in spite of everything, you really want Eddie Munson.

When you reach down and push aside his hand, Eddie recoils only for a second. Your hand closes around his cock and he melts into the touch. 

“Jesusfuckingchrist,” he exhales. 

“That feel good?” you ask. 

“That better be rhetorical. Because this feels better than anything I’ve ever felt in the goddamn world.”

“That’s an exaggeration, Eddie,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

“No, it reeeeally fucking isn’t.”

“Well then you’re gonna explode when I do this.” Before Eddie can even realize what’s happening, you’ve peeled down his underwear, exposing his cock to the cool air of your bedroom. Your hand wraps around his length, feeling the velvety skin over his throbbing hardness and Eddie all but yelps. 

“Holy FUCK.”

“Yeah?”

“Ok now that is better than anything I’ve ever felt.”

You lick your hand and bring it back down to glide more easily along his shaft. You watch Eddie shudder.

“You do realize it will only escalate from here. You can’t keep saying that.” 

Eddie grips at the denim on his own thigh and grits his teeth. Your hand has begun to pick up speed. 

“Little newsflash for you, babe. I’m not exactly in control of the words coming out of my - GAH.” 

You smooth your thumb over the mushroom head of his cock, pleased by the wetness gathering at the tip. 

“You touch yourself, don’t you Munson? This can’t be so revolutionary.” You’re teasing him but you love how responsive he is. Love the way he looks at you like you’re made of shining gold. 

“My hands don’t feel anything like this and you know it.”

You lift one of his hands with your free hand and smooth your fingers over his skin. 

“Yeah. These calluses from guitar?” 

He can’t believe you’re speaking so casually while still continuing to jerk him off into oblivion. He’s the one being stimulated, sure, but how can you remain unphased when it feels like all of the heat in the universe is being concentrated in this room right now. Surely he can’t be the only one whose every molecule is on fire. 

When Eddie doesn’t respond to your callus question, you decide to take escalation into your own hands. Or rather…Eddie’s. 

When you place his hand on your breast, it has the exact effect you think it will have. Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and his jaw drops to the floor. 

“Uhhh….” 

Dumbstruck. 

You decide that’s how you like him. 

“You gonna just sit there?” you ask playfully, dropping your hand and marveling at the fact that Eddie’s remains light and motionless when you left it. 

“What…can…how…?”

“Play with them,” you reply with a little shrug. When Eddie hesitates, you nudge him to move back up the bed. Once his back is up against your pillows, you straddle his thighs - just before his knees - and immediately get back to work on his cock. 

This time Eddie reaches for both of your breasts, and this time his grip is a little more firm. He begins to squeeze and release. When he finally gets adventurous enough to lightly twist your nipple through the fabric of your top and your unpadded bra you reward him with a moan. 

“So that…felt good?” Eddie asks hopefully. 

“You watch porn, Eddie. What do you think?” 

“I think I want to take these puppies out, let them breathe.” Eddie looks up at you with the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen, clearly finally feeling more comfortable. 

“Ah, there’s the little shit I know and love,” you laugh. Your words send a zing through Eddie’s bloodstream but he suppresses it. There are more pressing matters at hand. Like the way your blouse simply falls away after he unbuttons it. And the way your breasts sit up in your bra - plump and ready for him to have his way with them. 

And so he does. 

When Eddie’s hands engulf your breast this time, their grip is definitive. You inhale sharply with the strength of his squeeze. Finally some stimulation. 

“It does feel good,” Eddie smirks. Your pleasure must be clear on your face. 

“Don’t get cocky,” you try to admonish him. It’s time to up the ante, so you wrap one hand around the base of his cock and begin moving your other hand faster up and down. 

“Holy shit.”

“There we go,” you say, satisfied. You’ve enjoyed being in control. This is such a rare luxury for you and you’ve decided you like it. The wet warmth blooming between your thighs definitely indicates that. 

“Hey…slow down…”

“Too much?” you ask, immediately slowing your motions, worried you’d pushed him too far. Eddie’s hands grip your breasts, almost as if to ground himself. 

“No it’s fucking amazing I’m just…I’m gonna cum - oh!” 

You immediately pick up the pace right back to what it had been a second ago. 

“That’s the idea, handsome.”

Eddie is lost in a flurry of sensation. Nobody has ever called him handsome before. But nobody has ever jerked him off before either, so maybe that’s not the most pressing thing for him to ruminate on. There you sit straddling his thighs with your hands moving on his cock, your breasts bouncing in his hands. He feels like he’s going to pass out if you don’t stop immediately. 

“Take off your shirt.”

“Huh?” Eddie asks, squinting up at you. Your words make no sense in the haze of his pleasure. 

“Take off your shirt,” you repeat, relatively urgently. He does as he’s told, ripping his shirt off by the back of the collar. When the fabric pulls up and over his face, he is greeted by the sight of you now without your bra. 

“Holy fucking shit.” 

You spit in your palm and begin stroking him again in earnest. With both of your hands focused on his length, your arms push your breasts together. Eddie moans on the verge of agony. 

“I’m gonna fucking cum.”

“This your first set of tits, Munson?” you ask, amused. This language is much more crass than you’d usually use, but there is something about Eddie - his lack of experience or maybe his unabashed enjoyment - that makes you feel comfortable speaking this way. 

“The first set that I can actually physically touch, yeah,” Eddie replies with full honesty and roguish smile. He surprises you by getting a big handful and pushing them together. His thumbs play with your exposed nipples and your hips begin to move against him. 

“You’re so turned on right now, aren’t you,” Eddie says through gritted teeth. His eyes squeeze shut against the divine pleasure of knowing that you’re rocking against him just as much as he’s rocking into your hands. 

It’s a glimmer of the dirty talk you might eventually be able to get from him. You like it. Like the teasing quality and the way it matches up to the way you’ve been addressing him. It does things to you and you know it would balloon his ego to know that you’re soaking through your panties right now. 

So you say the one thing that you know will throw him over the edge. 

“I want you, Eddie Munson. I want you inside of me.” 

The sputtering of words catching in his throat matches the way his hips stutter, cum spurting up and over your fists. It splashes hot and wet against his abdomen, which you had thankfully had the foresight to make him bare. Eddie lets out a guttural, shuddering groan. 

“Are you…fuck…jesus…are you fucking kidding me?” His hands fly off your breasts to cover his face. “God DAMN it.” 

Surprised by the sudden tone switch, you lift your wet hands from his leaking cock. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s….that was…I didn’t get to…” Eddie sounds confused and frustrated and breathless all at once. When he drops his hands from his face he looks up at you with a crumpled expression. “What about you?”

You have to bite your cheek to keep in the laugh that you know would hurt his feelings. 

“You just had your first handjob and you’re worried about me?” 

Eddie furrows his brow. 

“Well yeah. I want you to cum.” 

You shrug and gently dismount him. Reaching for your bedside table you grab a couple tissues, one which you hand over to Eddie. 

“That’s a hit or miss kind of thing, so don’t even worry about it.” 

Eddie wipes gingerly at the cum on his stomach and around the base of his flagging cock. 

“You mean…you don’t always cum?”

“Not always. But that’s normal.” You glide around your room, picking up your discarded clothes and dropping them neatly in your laundry basket. You open the top drawer of your dresser and pull out a gauzy white nightgown that, when pulled on, floats just to the upper middle of your thighs. You drop your skirt off your hips, leaving you in just a pair of panties beneath the delicate fabric. 

Eddie watches from his seat on your bed, still bedraggled from your shared sex act, shirtless with his jeans and boxers pulled down and his member now resting on his belly. It twitches with interest, however, at the sight of your nipples peaked through your nightgown. 

“I…I’d like to help you with that.”

Your face, and heart, soften at the earnestness in his voice. This poor, sweet, inexperienced weirdo in your bed wants to help you cum. Something that countless jocks and hot guys never even gave a passing thought to. Eddie stumbles to his feet and pulls up his boxer briefs and jeans. 

You climb back onto your bed into the space he’s now vacated. 

“Yeah? You want to help me cum, Munson?” You tease him as you lay against the pillows, one hand on your breast while you plant one foot on the mattress to bring your knee up. Your nightgown just barely covers your center, meaning Eddie can see a small swatch of your panties. Light pink. He feels his jeans tighten immediately. 

“I do.” He’s eager. It’s adorable. Eddie places a knee on the edge of your bed, mesmerized by the way your hands move over your body. 

“We’ll get to that,” you say quietly. Your voice breathy and inviting. 

“We will?” 

“Want to know the first step?” you ask. Eddie nods emphatically, eyes still trained on your hands, one of which has migrated to the apex of your thighs. 

“You’re gonna go home -,” You’re interrupted by a disagreeable harumph from Eddie. You smile. “You’re gonna go home and I’m going to touch myself to the thought of your cock.”

You can physically see the way the wind is knocked out of him. 

“Okay?” you prompt when he doesn’t reply. Eddie shifts restlessly. 

“Or I could help you now.” 

“No,” you disagree firmly. “We’ll build up to that.”

Eddie frowns. You know he’s disappointed, but you can feel your heart rate increase as you swirl your fingertip over your clit through your panties. Orgasms are hard for you to come by - pun intended - so you felt the urge to chase this one without additional variables. 

“Next time,” you add, hoping Eddie can see the promise in your face. He watches you silently for another moment, committing the image of you laid out and touching yourself to memory, before he nods and takes his knee off the bed. 

“Next time.” 

When Eddie leaves a few minutes later, the sound of his noisy van shuddering to life and peeling out beyond your window, you finally indulge yourself in the feeling you’ve been waiting for all night. 

You enjoy sex, sure. It wasn’t something that you had given much thought to. You’re pretty in a small town. You’re a cheerleader. It came with the territory that you were an object of lust and desire. Other young men enjoyed getting you naked and emptying themselves of their pent up hormonal tension. You found pleasure in the weight of their bodies and the knowledge that you were wanted. But there had never been much more to it than that. They rarely focused on pleasuring you beyond a tepid rub at the general vicinity of your clit. Their cocks sometimes rubbed a long neglected place deep inside of you, but the friction was always short lived. The occasional orgasm was always welcome but always fleeting. Even in the privacy of your own bed you found that they were often more work than they were worth. 

But tonight, you’d had a different experience. The man was beneath you, not on top of you. You had helped him reach a peak he’d never known before. And he’d looked at you like you were a goddess. 

When your fingers delve deep inside of you, you’re barely able to reach the place that aches with the promise of deeper pleasure. But for once, you have the feeling that somebody might be able to get you there.

When you cum from vigorously pressing on your clit, you cum with the vision of Eddie Munson in your mind’s eye. 

Next time, you think as you ascend. Next time. 

~*~ 

-

--

---

I really hope you enjoyed this. PLEASE tell me if you did and what you liked about it. I want to see if it is worth doing a part 2 <3

[fanzou]

Here's an idea? The OP guys. Sanji, Zoro, Law, (separately, of course) with a reader who has a crush on them, and they KNOW IT. (But nobody else does) So he just messes with her and gets her to blush, as his was of saying that he likes her too.🤭

Big, Fat, Crush

✗ Pairing(s): Zoro Roronoa x Fem!Reader, Sanji Vinsmoke x Fem!Reader, Law Trafalgar x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: What do they do knowing you have a crush on them?

✗ CW: Reader is wearing a dress in Zoro's first half, Teasing... and it's RUTHLESS, Law makes reader cry but he makes up for it, it gets a little suggestive at the of Sanji's part [Let me know if I missed any]

✗ Total WC: Zoro’s Ver. (1.8K), Law’s Ver. (2.3K), Sanji’s Ver. (1.3K)

✗ A/N: Wow. If you couldn't tell I loved writing this. I didn't intend for it to get so long but here it is! Enjoy love.

ZORO RORONOA

“You want me to get you any more sake, Zoro?”

“Yeah sure, thanks.”

The bar is crowded, but not so much that it was unbearable. You and Zoro found yourselves at the little table across from each other in the very back of the room catching up and debriefing about today’s events. But the day wasn’t so very eventful, otherwise he’d probably be drunk by this point to alleviate and level himself. He liked to really enjoy the end of his day like this. It was a good day.

You were tipsy, but he on the other hand, always held his alcohol well.

“What do you wanna do tomorrow before we leave the island?” You ask him, he liked the silence between you two, even in a rowdy bar, but he didn’t hate when you talked to him either. You asked all the right questions, you weren’t obnoxiously dumb like the rest of the crew, even when you were under the influence.

“Not too sure yet. I didn’t get the time to check out what they had with your excessive clothes shopping.” He says so nonchalantly, taking a sip of the drink you got him.

You pout with your brows furrowed, cute, “I did not buy that many clothes!”

“It probably felt that way ‘cause I was carryin’ the bags all damn day.” He grinned at you, a mischievous one.

You roll your eyes at him, but then giggle into your own drink, “You’re insufferable.”

He doesn’t miss the way you blush at his harmless teasing.

He never does.

-

So…

You end up a little more drunk than anticipated.

And you can’t for the life of you remember what you did last night. Your head was pounding, like, real life pounding through your skull almost like it was angry at you being so reckless just a few hours ago.

But to your relief, your back on the ship, clothes from last night still on and somewhat in tact— a little wrinkled, and your dress was ridden up a bit more than you were comfortable with. You pull it down immediately in embarrassment. Hopefully Zoro didn’t see that. Anyway, you scope out the girl’s quarters to see that Nami and Robin weren’t anywhere to be seen, and there was none of the usual liveliness in the ship that you knew and loved, no running footsteps, bangs, booms, nothing. Assuming that the green-haired man probably took you back to the ship in your drunken state and took his own personal stroll into the small town at the island, you relaxed.

But you were probably gonna get an earful from the crew since Zoro had a tendency to get lost.

Your shame settles in, and you mentally curse at yourself for being so reckless when the team counted on you for being the more careful one of the two. But something about his energy was so comforting, and you felt so safe around him. The fact that he safely took you back to the ship was living proof of that and you got a little flustered at the thought.

How did he carry you back? Bridal? On top his shoulder? Were you faced forwards or back? Maybe not even carried at all, just arm slung around his shoulder— Whatever the case, the thought of the close proximity made you nervous to think about.

To your astonishment you hear a knock on the door to the shared room. “Come in!” You say, your head immediately punishing you for it.

To your surprise, Zoro opens the door, and comes in. He closes the door before he faces you. “You feelin’ alright? You kinda got a little ahead of yourself.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I have the worst head ache of all time.” Your head is in your hands and your hair looks ten times more disheveled than it did when you woke up. You fight the feeling of discomfort and look up at him through messy stands of hair, “What, you’re not going back to enjoy your time with out me? I wouldn’t be so offended.”

He thinks to himself for a moment,

“I was waiting for you to get up.” His arms are crossed onto his chest now. His words are so effortless when he makes your heart jump.

“Zoro, it’s gonna take me a long time to get ready, how ‘bout you just go on ahead?”

You push away the hair covering your face to get a good look at his; his expression is borderline unreadable. It looks foreign on him.

It was all-knowing, it was up to no good. And you can only imagine what that meant.

“I’ll wait.”

-

So, Zoro waited the hour and a half for you to get ready, even though it meant that most of the day was already wasted. He insisted on taking you with him to the town you guys went to only yesterday, stating that it was simply because the crew wouldn’t let him hear the end of it had you both separated. It’s funny though, because you could swear that he was moving a bit differently than he was just yesterday. Whether good or bad, it was off-putting nonetheless. You’ve never seen him act this way.

After dabbling in his fair share of store-visiting to try to tie with yours (Spoiler: he did not.), it was already sunset, and he wanted to go to the bar, but you insisted that you didn’t want a repeat of last night. In his surprising obedience, he listened. You did, however, both meet in the middle for a late night food-grab and settled on a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. You and Zoro quickly ordered and waited for the delicious meals that you knew you both were going to absolutely demolish.

You finally relaxed your form into the seat, taking advantage of the comfort you felt after walking around all day. You hardly exchanged a few words since you got into the restaurant, presumably because of how much time you spent together all day, so it was a surprise when Zoro opened his mouth to finally speak.

“Y’know, you talk a lot when you’re drunk.”

You halt in your comfort, God, you thought he was gonna forget about this already. Zoro teased you a lot but since you got on this island, it’s easily become relentless. And whatever your shenanigans were about last night were ground for it now.

In an effort to move away from the topic, “Hmm… yeah, don’t we all? Amirite? I’ve heard you say some crazy stuff when you were black-out drunk!” You laughed, lightly slapping the table to emphasize how “funny” it was. He seemed unfazed though, if anything, a little more confident in the words he would utter. His head was resting on his on the palm of his hand now, and that same smirk from earlier returned.

“Guessing none of them were love declarations, huh?”

Time stopped, save for your heart dropping down to your asshole.

Your eyes were wide, and you were praying to God that you misinterpreted the insinuation of what he just said.

“W-What do you mean?” He seemed so fascinated by the situation unraveling between the two of you, his grin never faltering. It was shocking, Zoro never really talked this much about nonsense, if you could call it that.

He chuckles at your shock almost sadistically, “You tried kissing my face the entire night and kept telling me how handsome I was, and how much you lo—”

“STOP!” Your hand not so subtly smacks his mouth shut, and the staff gives you both a weird look.

Great, now I’m making it everyone’s business!

You slowly remove your hand and try to avert your gaze elsewhere, while still fending for yourself. “I’m j-just a loving drunk... I-I guess…” The embarrassment is getting to be too much now, and whatever you say at this point is just going to look like a lie, a big fat lie. And you wanna crawl into the nearest hole and die there. How can you even face the crew anymore? How can you look at him in the eye? Where’s the nearest exit so you can just run far, far away from him?! It seems like you’re plotting for the rest of how your life is gonna be from this point on, until he puts an end to your thoughts.

“C’mon woman. Get real. Why don’t you just face up to it? I see the way you look at me all the time. Drunk or not.” Zoro is leaned all the way back in his chair when you look up, his arms are crossed just how they were this morning. And you just want to melt into your chair at this point. Get away from anything and every thing that exists. Especially Zoro, if it wasn’t obvious. “God, you're naive, naive as hell.”

Embarrassment subsided for a moment, you sit there with your brows furrowed, now trying to piece together his new and probably much more embarrassing revelation. “…What? Why do you say that?”

He scoffs at you, “Y’Really gonna make me say it?”

What?

Zoro was never the articulate type and you respected that, but if there was an instance where you really hated his lack of speech; It was now.

For a split second, he looks a little conflicted on what he was going to say next. Like he was fighting the next words to come out of his mouth, his arms twitch a bit and he lets out a little sigh, shaking his head in what looks like defeat. But before you can say anymore; he gets out of his comfortable position, leans toward you and over the small table, grabs your shirt and…

Kisses you.

It was short, but Zoro thought he was going to die inside trying to build up the courage to say I love you instead. And this, this was so much better.

He would’ve mistook you for a tomato across from him when you sit back from his attack on your lips. He’s a little flustered himself, he does well to mask it, but it was worth your reaction. And since it was late at night the restaurant was almost dead at that point, with you both once again, sitting in the very back. So he wasn’t too crazy about who was watching.

“I’m… I… Um…” you’re trying so hard to get your words together. What the hell just happened. “I…”

Before you can say anything, you eat your words again. The server comes with your long anticipated dinner. He chooses to disregard the absolute mess you look, and some of your lipstick on Zoro’s mouth— and puts your food down onto the table.

“Enjoy you two lovebirds! My, what a beautiful couple you both make!”

LAW TRAFALGAR

The Polar Tang was full of energy today. In the dining hall, the crew sat down and talked the night away.

Penguin and Shachi were laughing it up and finding comfort in their drinks, you and Ikkaku talked about personal affairs over the amazing meal you shared, then Bepo joined in and you three all got a little too into some dumb gossip amongst another pair in the crew.

Safe to say everyone was having the night of their life. Something the Heart Pirates couldn’t do a lot.

All except your captain.

Always buried in his books and studies, Law claims that he wish he could have time to spend with you all, blasé blasé bla, but there was always an excuse that was thrown in your faces. Always. You respected his time and effort, it was something that not a lot of people could do.

So that’s why after your conversation with your friends was drawn to an end and they either resorted to drinking with the rest of the crew or just enjoying more talk, you decided to slip away for a moment. You didn’t know what possessed you to do this, (you did, you just wanted an excuse) but you fix up another plate and swiftly make your way towards your captains room. The food was delicious so, why not? What’s the harm?

The closer you got to his door is the more an anxiety rose in your chest, and your hands were getting a little shaky. There was nothing to be nervous about!

Just maybe seeing his handsome face focused so strongly on a certain text, the way his rough, calloused hand grips the pen so gently, or your favorite part— his parted and unbuttoned shirt, where you can see a window of his chest, not a lot but just enough to leave some imagination to how the rest of his tattooed body might look... And you stop yourself for a second, physically and mentally.

I’m being such a pervert right now.

You resume your slow and anything but steady walk to his quarters and you finally meet face to face with the door.

You pull your first up to knock after taking a very deep breath, but before your skin could touch the surface his voice is already urging you to step inside. And so you obey.

Once inside you immediately start to scan the sight before you, and it wasn’t much different from the one you had in your imagination. Of course this meant that you were a bit flustered coming to him, but you manage, “‘Just wanted to drop off some food for you, in case you couldn’t join us tonight.” You say with a little softness in your tone.

“Thank you. You can put it down on my desk.”

And you obey, again. Walking up to his desk full of papers and books, you quickly realize that it was a little messy and not clean enough to set the plate just anywhere, and his hands scramble through the paper to find a place for you to set the plate down until you finally do. Then, another thought emerges from your fantasy world.

“Do you need help organizing your desk, cap? I have some time and I don’t really feel like going to sleep anyways.”

He smiles softly at you and calls your name in a way that you wish you could hear over and over and over again, and he thanks you once more, “You’ve done enough for me tonight. I appreciate it.” You hide your disappointment in his words, but nod and make your way to the door anyway.

You exchanged your good night’s and make your way to your room. And when you fall back on your bed, you take your pillow and scream into it like a crazed schoolgirl in love.

-

The next morning comes, and you can guarantee that the crew has already started on breakfast. You rub your eyes and start to get cleaned up and fetch a new pair of clothes for the day.

Once you’re all freshen up, you make your way to the dining hall, surprised to hear no ruffling and noise. Maybe everyone was suffering the consequences of last nights drinking challenges, you thought. But even so, it wouldn’t be this quiet.

Your met with Law’s figure in the dining hall and he’s making tea for himself. He notices you, “You’re up really early.”

“Did you even get a wink of sleep?” You say in concern.

He’s silent for a few seconds, and he makes his way to the table to enjoy his freshly brewed drink. “I couldn’t.” Or more like he wouldn't.

You sigh, yup, that was your captain. You thought for a second, thinking about what you could do in order for him to feel better about his own consequences from a lack of sleep. But you know he would just decline most of your suggestions. Instead, you plop yourself in the seat across from him. You both sit in a comfortable silence while you waited for your coffee to be made, and you take a second to scan his tired features.

He does well to hide it in his mannerism, but his face betrays him. You can tell he's deathly tired, and if he let's his eyes close for more than a second you're sure he'd plop right onto the table.

“Take a picture, maybe it’ll last longer.”

You blink, and you blink again. “O-Oh, sorry…” he’s not offended, if anything his face is smug. You’re quick to defend yourself with a little scoff, “Can’t a woman be worried for her captain? You don’t look the best anyway.” You quickly cover your mouth, seriously, how dumb did you have to be?

But he only laughs at your remark, he shakes his head and his smug expression does not leave his face. “It’s a little hard to not point out when you do it all the time.”

“I do not!”

“Do too.”

“I don’t!”

“Don’t what?” Shachi comes into the room completely oblivious to what you guys were bickering childishly about. He’s rubbing his eyes, “Why are you both up so early? Especially you,” he points at you, “You drank a lot.”

You roll your eyes, you hardly drank. And now you were a little embarrassed at his public revelation, (though it was a secret to nobody but Law,) and your face grows a little red.

The rest of the crew gets up one by one and soon enough breakfast is served. You barely pick up your head anymore out of shame of your earlier dispute, if you could even call it that, with your captain. Bepo is talking about something he encountered a while back while on an adventure with Law, usually you’d be invested, but you were far too in your zone.

And so you get up and make your way to your room, the gloominess practically radiating off of you. Your absence is barely noticed due to the focus everyone had on Bepo’s story.

Law notices, though.

He excuses himself and Bepo gets a little upset, but he understands and respects his captain, so he resumes his dramatic story that keeps everyone on the edge of their seat. You, on the other hand, were now face flat on your pillow mumbling self-deprecating comments to yourself after the terrible situation you were just in.

That was so embarrassing. My captain hates me. It’s so obvious. Why do I do this to myself. Why did I think that was okay. I’m going to escape. (You were under water) This is dumb. I’m du—

*Knock Knock*

You lift your head up even though you didn’t want to, “No.” is all you could manage.

“It’s your captain.”

As much as you wanted to tell him to piss off and let yourself drown in the shame you felt, you couldn’t. Because at the end of the day, it was as your captain proclaimed, though you wanted it to be much more, there was nothing you could do. Nothing, especially after today's consequences.

After a bit of hesitance and a lot of hurt in your voice, you tell him, “You can come inside.”

He cracks the door open a smidge to further observe your well-kept room and there you were, lying on your stomach with your arms crossed, face laying against them and your eyes away from his. It wasn’t the most appropriate sight for your captain to walk in on, but you two were close enough for him to get comfortable enough to let the door open and let himself all the way into your room.

He walks towards you and pulls a chair over, turns it around and manspreads against it to take his seat-- and you really wanted to take in the sight completely, but even that wasn’t enough to get your mood back up and running.

“You left.”

“Why do you care?” You turn your head the opposite way facing the wall beside you. Law doesn’t say anything for quite some time and you can almost bet on your tears slipping soon. He was making this so much more worse than it had to be.

He calls your name, and you just wanna melt into the soft fabric beneath you. “Look at me.”

You disobey.

After your reluctance to his order, he draws out a sigh. You always were the most stubborn of the crew. So with this, he thinks long and hard on his next words or actions, and finally lands on one possible outcome.

“You leave me no choice.”

“Wha— Law!” He turns you around by your waist and forces you up with just one hand. Then, before you know it, your body is slung across his broad shoulder while he finds his bicep tight around your thighs. You were facing backwards while he carried you. “Now you’re calling me by name, no captain anymore?" he laughs, "I think I’ve gone too soft on you.”

“What are you doing!?” You say, trying to get out of his grasp, but even with all of your strength, he was no match for you. “Someone will see!”

“No they won’t. I’m taking you to my room.” He opens the door in one swift motion and kicks it in another.

“And you’re not explaining why!” You hit his back in defiance. You were halfway through the corridor to meet his room already, so you just give up.

He takes no time in entering his room, finally putting you down and ordering you to sit on a spare seat in the grand environment. You were insanely nervous at this point, taken aback by his sudden action and the intimacy of it all. He’s peering down at you with a seriousness in his gaze that makes you put your head down in the worst shame you’ve felt since you’ve woken up.

You always thought that maybe, you might have had a chance with him one day. All that was thrown out the window now.

And it's time to swallow your pride. You take a deep breath, and build a whole lot of courage, and:

“I’m sorry, for saying that about you in the dining hall. And getting smart with you. And calling you by your first na—”

“You’re really stubborn, did you know that?”

And there it is, you feel the tears build up once again, and it hurts. Because the firmness in his voice is always the same. So demanding and... so difficult for you.

“And I don’t know why I’m attracted to you. I don’t understand why I tolerate the things you do.”

You start crying now, because you don’t know what else to do. You don’t know the sincerity of his words, and you hold yourself in the chair that you sat on, trying your best to look away from him.

He walks towards you and gets on his knees in front of you, It was a little bit of a blow to his own pride, and it wasn’t something he would do for anyone else at all. But you were different. You’re still crying and you weakly try pushing him away and looking to the side and the new guilt starts to form itself inside of him, but he insists that he stays where he is. He’s whispers an I’m sorry before his hands find solace on your jaw while both of his thumbs wipe your tears away. You look down at him with the most beautiful eyes he’s seen, your gaze softens at him and your crying calms down a little bit seeing that he wasn't so serious anymore, but instead his expression was a little desperate.

-- He’s still got a lot to make up for, and he knows now was not the time to press you on anything else— there was nothing to press anyways. You were perfect, in every aspect of the word. He just enjoyed the idea of teasing you, not anyone else, but he took it too far.

When he was sure that you were more comfortable in his arms, he pulled you down and pushed the chair away. He takes you in his embrace and whispers his apologies into your ear so genuinely.

“This wasn’t the way I thought this would go.” He lets the thousandth sigh out of his mouth today. You look into his eyes with a questioning expression, “I mean that, I fucked it up.”

It was your turn to feel guilty again, but you were tired of words.

You just take his face in your hands just as he did not so long ago, and you both look at each other for a moment. His eyes look to your lips for a second, and if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought he was just as eager as you, maybe he was. His lips inch towards yours and they take no time in meeting.

It’s slow, soft, sensual. And it takes a while for your mouths to part. When they do, all you can do is stare at each other.

You finally breathe, “Okay,” you face turns to the side to escape his beautiful one.

“Maybe all of that was pretty worth it.”

SANJI VINSMOKE

You’ve been avoiding Sanji all week.

And he can’t decide if he should talk to you about it or not, he’s leaning more towards the latter, just because he’s too into the nervousness that suddenly appears on your face when you’re in close proximity. Then; you’re scrambling to the nearest door and half-assing an excuse about where you need to be or what you need to do.

He personally loves when it’s breakfast, lunch, or dinner and he gets to not only cook your favorite meals and you can’t escape him, otherwise the crew would immediately worry for your absence. He also enjoys how embarrassed you get when you can feel him staring at you. Alas, he can’t stand the inability to talk to you and be in your unwanted presence anymore, he needed to make his move on you quick.

You see, earlier this week a battle occurred between you, Sanji, and an enemy that threatened the Thousand Sunny.

You and Sanji had both agreed to guard the ship while the rest of the crew had prepared their own duties on the foreign land, he insisted that there would be no good food supply and there was already enough stocked up from the last. It was a no-good devil fruit user, who wielded the ability to make its opponent confess a super big secret, to then throw them off completely, and defeat them. It was like a weak spot-- psychological warfare more so. And… he got you.

Can you guess what your secret was?

For certain, the devil fruit did its magic. And Sanji was surely taken aback, but adamant on defending the ship and more importantly, you, he did his part and tried with all his might to fight the bad guy off and made a mental note to immediately come find you afterwards.

You were close to passing out from shock after the bewildering confession, but when you came to, the blonde sat right beside you in a shit-eating grin, “So… you’re crushin’ on me, princess?” And you wanted to pass out again, but instead you just run for the ship and locking yourself in your room, ignoring his pleas to come back and talk about it.

Ever since that day, the atmosphere between you two had been a bit awkward. Conversations weren't as light and smooth, you tried finishing your food as fast as possible and managing a quick thank you before making a bee line to the girls room, and most importantly— everyone took notice of how distant you got from Sanji.

Usopp fell victim to the awkward encounters more often than the rest, and it was safe to say they were getting on his last nerve now. "Whatever you did, you should apologize, man!" He pats his back as a sign of encouragement. And for a second it almost felt like you and him were a married couple having problems, it brought a smile to his face.

Not to worry, he had a plan.

-

You joined Robin in a comfortable silence below the deck, praying to the heavens you wouldn’t hear from the blonde cook while the sun set so beautifully. Your original ploy was to just act like it never happened, but anytime you saw him it was like re-imagining the entire scenario over and over again.

Your head is hanging off the chair while you doze off and Robin is reading her book— appreciating your silence, the weather was just a little windy and the sky had a nice orange and red gradient to it. The waves were crashing against the boat but it wasn’t overbearing, it was just fine.

You asked Robin to read her book out loud, even though you weren’t following the storyline, you found comfort in her melodic voice and how softly she read it and sure enough she would be lulling you to sleep soon.

But before you could finally reach sleep like you intended, there’s a presence you can sense, and Robin puts her beautiful voice to a halt. You don’t want to open your eyes but it almost seems like you have to.

And you immediately regretted it.

Above you was Sanji. “Hi.”

“Sanji!” He moves a little back from you, and you straighten your posture, wide awake. “I was just leaving actually, I have to clean the girls room! I lost a bet a while back. So… I’m gonna go do that.”

“I don’t think that bet ever happened but, I’m not entirely opposed to you doing that for us.” Robin says smugly. You loved her but the betrayal on your face spoke volumes in that moment.

You’re already defeated and you’re trying to muster up another shitty excuse, “We can’t delay this anymore than we have.” He takes your hand and you can only burn eyes at the skinship. You’re lightheaded again, just like that day you confessed.

And he drags you into the kitchen with him before you can defy him a hundred times over, he locks the door to slow down your escape, and if anyone came in on the two of you.

He finally turns around to look at you with the most frustrated expression littered all over his face.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He asks you in desperation, and you kinda wanted to slap him out of your own mixed emotions, because it was pretty obvious as to why. He catches on shortly after, “Okay, scratch that. Why is it necessarily a bad thing that you have feelings for me?”

“Please Sanji, let’s just forget about i—”

“How do I forget something like that? Why are we holding this off? Are we just never gonna talk about it?” You sense some repressed anger boiling up inside of him, and to tell the truth you’ve never seen him speak to any woman like this, so raw and nothing to hold back. “Listen, the cat’s out the bag, right? What’s the point in hiding it if we both feel this way about each other?”

…

…

…

“You… felt the same way… and you’re just now telling me this?” You walk towards him, he looks away in shame.

“It’s not about how you feel towards me, I’m just not worthy of you. I don’t deserve you.” You push him out of sheer frustration, and he just lets you.

Sanji assumes you’ll just use him as your personal punching bag at this point with the amount of self-deprecating thoughts he’s already throwing at himself in his head, but all of them were replaced once you took him by the shoulders and pulled him into a powerful kiss. He was in shock, but he quickly melted into it, grabbing you by both sides of your face, and you pull away.

“All you did was tease me and taunt me and put me over the edge these past few days, for what? Just to reveal that you wanted me too?” You scoff, but your lips betray you. You lean back into the kiss and it’s so much more passionate than before. His hands find comfort in your hips.

After the kiss got a little too passionate, and Sanji already making his move on your neck, you all but gave into him. So willingly.

“You locked the door, right?” You ask.

He grins into the quick kiss, excited by your insinuation, “Yeah.”

meanwhile, on the deck

Chopper quickly becomes your replacement for Robin, although not as quiet, she does equally enjoy her time with you both.

Choppers stomach gives him away, “Robin, I’m hungry. Do you know if Sanji’s making dinner soon?”

Robin smirks, and pats Chopper on the head.

“He’s busy with something right now, I think it would be best if we didn’t bother him, either.”

[cherrybr4t]

pretty boys bring you to heaven - jeon wonwoo (m)

CONTENT WARNINGS: biker bf!wonwoo, jealous wonwoo (hehe.), SMUT!, unprotected p in v, oral (f rec), praise 😇, marking up (f rec), creampie, slightly possessive wonu, overused trope but! dom!wonwoo, sub fem!reader, kitchen counter sex 😔

WC: 2k

A/N: hello..fulfilling my inner teen wattpad days with a cliche scenario & trope. but. hot jealous biker bf wonwoo. one for me pls. i hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this 😔 (slightly inspired by real life events)

enjoy! <3

"sorry miss, excuse me... my friends and i were over there and we thought you were really pretty.. any chance we could get your digits?"

you were already freezing outside the izakaya restuarant, waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up. said boyfriend was about 10 minutes late from the arranged timing.

mustering up the kindest smile you could in that condition, you waved a hand politely, "no thank you, i have a boyfriend." with a curt nod, you shifted about 5 inches to the side.

expecting the guy to take his leave, he offered a cynical chuckle on that scornful face instead.

"come on, it's just your number, hm?" he inched closer, waving his phone in your face.

scoffing, you turned to him, "i'm telling you, i have a boyfriend and he's about to be here any minute now so if i were you, i would walk away,"

"well, i don't see that boyfriend of yours anywhere baby, how 'bout you stop lying—"

"turn around," your eyebrows raised at the familiar deep timbre. you gulped, knowing that you tried to give that poor guy a small warning.

"ah," the guy turned around, took one look over before shaking his head. "didn't peg you for a pretty boy kinda girl babe, oh, and pretty boy rides," he mocked after seeing the sleek black helmet wonwoo was clutching onto.

“yeah? this pretty boy right here s’bout to turn you extra pretty with this helmet right here if you don’t step away from his girlfriend,”

you looked at your boyfriend, sharp eyes daggering through the man, knowing that he meant every word. wonwoo was a rather mellow person, but when things came down to it, you’ve seen first hand how it’s never good to rub him off in the wrong way.

with the exception of yourself, of course. you could do no wrong in your simp of a boyfriend’s eyes.

you felt your insides churn at how he stepped in with such a sinister glare. lips threatening to break into a giddy smile as you were feeling so in love with your boyfriend at the moment, as well as satisfied at how the man is now avoiding his gaze, slowly backing off.

“got it dude, chill out. s’not like i can’t find another one of these bitches out there,”

something in wonwoo snapped and he lunged forward, grabbing onto the man’s shirt with his precious helmet now dropped on the pavement.

“what did you fucking say?”

you decided it was time to step in, not wanting to cause any ruckus — you just wanted the night to be over and done with and to head home, tucked in with your boyfriend.

“alright alright, wonwoo, it’s fine let it go, he’s not worth the trouble,” you tugged onto wonwoo’s shirt, hand reaching up to massage his nape, calming him down.

wonwoo’s muscles relaxed immediately at your touch, before turning over to look at you. taking a few moments before deciding to let go —which was for the better because you knew that guy stood no chance against your hapkido black belt man.

wonwoo pushed him towards the road before grabbing onto your hand, chuckling once he saw that you’ve already picked up the helmet. you shrugged, holding onto him tighter before dragging him towards his bike.

“i’m sorry baby, this wouldn’t have happened if i got here on time.. i swear the traffic lights just weren’t in my favour today,” wonwoo cupped your face gently in his hands, pecking you gently on your lips.

“stop, this isn’t your fault wonwoo.. there’re always gonna be pesky rats out and about, plus i still remember some moves you taught me,” you got into your fight stance, flailing your arms while making exaggerated ‘hah’s.

wonwoo let out a chortle, before patting down your head, “good girl, but… i can tell you’re slightly pissed, you’re calling me wonwoo and not baby,” he wraps his arms around you, lowering his face to rub his obvious pout in your face.

“gosh you’re such a baby, baby.” you kissed his pout to which he gladly welcomed and engulfed you into an open mouth kiss, tightening his grip on you.

“that’s more like it baby, now let’s go home, need to keep my pretty baby out of these dangerous streets,”

wonwoo has you up on the counter back home, between your legs as he kisses you so fervidly while his hands grip onto your waist tightly. you rake your fingers on his nape and across his scalp as you deepen the kiss, tongue entering to find his.

his deep rumble of groans as you run your nails through his scalp has you clenching and you let out a small whimper mid-kiss. he pulls apart and stares at you.

“my pretty baby, so fucking beautiful you got all these men thinking they’ve got a shot,” he groans as he peppers small kisses along your jawline.

“til they find out that you’re mine, hm? not a fucking chance,” he follows through, kissing his way down your neck, stopping at your sweet spot he knows all too well, and starts sucking lightly.

you let out a full fledged moan at this point, head tilting back – unable to control how your boyfriend makes you deranged just by a few kisses.

“wonwoo…” you whine.

“yes baby? needa mark you up all prettily so no one else dares to even make a move hm? all mine mine mine,” he goes down on the same spot, sucking harshly with a few bites before smoothing it over with his tongue. you squeak out in pleasure, loving how his tongue feels so strong yet so good against that bruised spot.

“i'm all yours baby, l-let them all know who i belong to,” you beg, wanting to feel his mouth all over your body, not wanting him to miss any spot.

wonwoo moves on to his next spot, sucking, biting and soothing. you feel so giddy, totally missing his hand creeping towards your core, until you feel him directly palming your cunt aggressively – and you realise just how soaked you are when you feel your panties stick to your cunt.

“fuuck baby, you’re soaking through your fucking pants fuck,” wonwoo pants, inner fire growing stronger seeing how you react to him marking you up. he hastily removes your pants and kicks them aside, licking his lips subtly at the sight of your drenched cunt through your thin panties.

“wo-baby, do something, please,” you grab at nothing desperately on the counter, needing him to do something to release the tension in your core that’s been growing – you feel the need to rub against air.

“yeah? whatever my pretty baby wants,” he starts rubbing on your clothed cunt, before pushing the destroyed fabric aside, fingers soaking in your juices as he plays with your folds.

his other hand grabs onto your jaw forcing you to look at him, “open up,” he whispers before taking his fingers out of your cunt to stuff them into your mouth. you moan at the taste of yourself, eyes fluttering shut.

“so fucking delicious aren’t you,”

he spreads your legs wider before ripping your panties off. getting onto his knees, he positions his face directly in front of your cunt before going in straight and kissing your growing bud.

“fuck fuck fuck,” you scream out as you feel him start to suckle on your swollen bud, before leaving kisses over your folds. he sticks his tongue out, teasing over them before going in through layers of your folds.

“wonwoo!” moaning out your boyfriends name with a cracked voice, you thrust your hips in his face, craving more.

“as always, fucking sweet and fucking delicious, god,” he moans into your cunt, looking like a starved man as he eats and laps at your cunt so ravenously.

he grabs onto your thighs, forcing them to stay apart as he continues diving deeper into your sweet cunt, that tall nose of his hitting the right spot, rubbing against your bundle of nerves at a consistent pace.

“w-wonwoo, i’m gonna cum, gonna cum, wanna cum c-can i,” you cry out, feeling the gates of your dam about to break open any time.

wonwoo looks up you, half-lidded and lustful gaze as he urges you, "cum baby, cum all over my face fuck, need you to,"

few seconds after, you grab onto wonwoo’s hair as you feel the last string break, feeling of numbness engulfing your whole as you feel all the tension pump out of you. pulling his locks as you release your juices, moaning out his name like a mantra as you came, and you feel like you've been to heaven and back.

wonwoo doesn’t stop, and continues drinking in all of you – every last drop of your release. you pushed his head away due to oversensitivity, and wonwoo stands up chuckling.

“you make the prettiest sounds when you cum for me baby, can you do it again for me?” wonwoo coos, and kisses your forehead, slowly removing the remaining articles of clothing between the both of you.

“only if i get to cum around your cock this time,” you shot back lazily, eyes still hazy and drunk on your previous orgasm, yet still greedy for wonwoo’s cock. always greedy for more of him.

“of course baby, gotta feed this pussy more of my cock and my cum to remind who it belongs to, hm?” he turns you around before bending you over the counter. you smirk, heart palpitating at being manhandled to one of your favourite positions.

wonwoo glides his hands down your spine, caressing your cheeks, playing with them before slapping his pink and bulging tip on them.

“perfect ass, perfect tits, perfect everything, my fucking perfect baby, you were made for me and only me,” wonwoo moans out, letting his tip drench in your juices along your folds.

“mm wonwoo, baby, put it in, please,” you wiggle your hips backwards, and after a few more slaps against your cunt, he finally slides his tip in, causing you to gasp and fall forward onto the counter more.

you feel your walls constrict and expand aggressively, trying to suck your boyfriends length in inch by inch desperately.

wonwoo has a hand wrapped around your waist as he slides his full length in, both of you releasing the airiest moan once feeling each other on every nerve ending.

wonwoo starts to find a rhythm, hips thrusting so deep in you feel his tip hitting your cervix so comfortably and so fully every thrust you can’t help but scream out every time his tip nudges against that spot.

“so fucking good, cunt was made for me baby, making me see stars and shit,” wonwoo rasps out, panting as he struggles to formulate a sentence without breaking into moans.

“nngh, it feels so good wonwoo, so big, s-so good,” you were mind-fucked. having his cock in you deduced your brain to having no thoughts but him. crying out for him with no other care in this world.

“my pretty baby, wanna see you cum for me again, need to feel you cum around my cock for me, can–ah fuck–can you do that for me?” with an arm around you playing with your tits, and another arm suddenly reaching towards your exposed and swollen bud, you feel all hairs stand and being the most stimulated you’ve ever been.

“argh! wonwoo.. fuck,” you wail out his name, feeling so close to that eureka moment once again as your boyfriend rubs sloppy yet tight circles around your clit.

“mm baby, its okay, just cum for me hm? come on, cum around your cock, cum for me, cum cum,”

with him voicing his encouragements right behind you, you feel your abdomen reach its tightest point, before you feel the tipping point pour over, letting the waves of ecstasy wash over you, trembling underneath your boyfriend. squeezing the life out of his cock, you hear him groan.

“good girl, fuck, so fucking good, gonna cum for you now baby,”

soon after your release, you feel wonwoo’s body lurch and fall atop yours as his cum fills you up to the brim, and you moan at the warm liquid blanketing your cunt and its walls.

wonwoo steps back to admire his cum dripping out of your swollen cunt for a good minute, before you whine out for him - needing your after-fuck hugs and kisses.

he obliges, but whispers as he nibbles on your ear lobe, "don't think i'm done with you yet baby, you've got a loooong night ahead of you,"

a/n: hit the reblog if you've enjoyed this my loves! thank you so much for reading <3 sending love and kisses to everyone!

[juniusgirl]

I had this giant golden when i was young that could open the sliding glass door. He'd get up on his hind legs, grab the door handle with his mouth (how...it was one of these:)

And then he'd push off the frame with his front paws. He was a clever dog, but a bit inconsiderate, as he never closed the door after himself. Still, the other dogs at the very least seemed to love it.

He would even try to do it when it was locked, and as anyone who has ever had a sliding glass door probably knows, the locks are pretty shit, and sometimes he could get it open just by trying hard enough. Eventually, of course, it broke entirely, and like in the video, or rather like anyone who has had a sliding glass door more than a year old, we put a piece of wood in the frame to keep it closed.

Of course, the stick method was far more effective, which meant our clever golden couldn't brute force it open if it were "locked" anymore. Which wasn't usually a problem, except for situations like this.

I more than once had been locked out of the house, sometimes on accident. Usually we had a spare key outside but in this particular incident it wasn't available for whatever reason. Naturally i tried to do this very thing with him. Like i said he was a very clever dog. He knew i wanted in! He tried the handle! But it just wouldn't budge.

I was reviewing my options, i couldn't get to a window i knew was unlocked without a ladder and we didn't have one. I had learned to pick one of my locks recently but i didn't have anything i could use for that on me. No one would be home for hours. My closest friends at the time, whose houses i'd just walked home from, lived 3 miles away. Looked like i might be stuck.

Then our other golden came to the door. She was also a smart dog, but more passive--a therapy dog actually--and she had some medical problems that meant standing up on her hind legs was difficult. But you know what she loved more than anything (besides disgustingly dirty scraps of old toys)? Sticks.

So i essentially started doing this, encouraging her to grab the stick, to show me her stick, get me the stick!

There was a lot of barking. A lot of tail-wagging. A lot of me getting more and more frustrated and desperate in the hot summer sun. But in the end....

She never figured it out. Luckily we had a big tree in our front yard so i climbed back over our fence and hung out in the shade until my mom came home. But i recognize sound effort, so we did play tug with a rank piece of what might have been a toy pheasant after dinner. She won.

This dog unlocked the door for his human

[i2sunric]

HAPPY VALENTINE’S, BABY (l.hs)

PAIRING: heeseung x reader (f)

SUMMARY: you decide to get your nails done for valentine’s day, fully expecting they’d be wrapped around heeseung by the time you got home.

WARNING: smut, blow job, established relationship, mentions of creampie and sex, hand job, dirty talking, pet names (baby), meandom!heeseung, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

WC: 1.1k

PUBLISHED: February 4th 2025

TAGLIST: @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @who-tf-soddhi @enhamonsterghoul

a/n: well, sorry for disappearing, but i’m into writing again nowadays and might publish small drafts i was able to finish! let me know if you liked it, and please REBLOG & SHARE!

You'd spent the afternoon in the nail salon, finding just the right shade of red-deep, sultry, the color of wine and desire. The little black "H" painted onto the ring finger of your left hand was inconspicuous, but meant the world. A little mark of him, a reminder that no matter what, you were his.

Heeseung was already home when you arrived, sprawled across the couch and scrolling through his phone. At first, he barely looked up, greeting you with a soft, lazy, "Hey, baby."

But then you moved closer, holding out your hands for him to see, “Got my nails done for Valentine's," you said matter-of-factly, watching as his expression changes.

His eyes landed on your fingers, his brow arched a little as he took in the color, the ribbons you had attached, then— his initial.

The phone fell onto his lap as he reached out and tugged you closer into him. The pad of his thumb brushed over the small "H," and his jaw slightly clenched.

"You did this for me?" His voice was lower now, the playful tone replaced with something darker, something more possessive that never failed to make heat pool at your stomach.

You smiled, all fake oblivious "Of course. Who else would it be for?"

Heeseung’s lips curled into a smirk, but his grip on your wrist tightened. His eyes flicked up to yours, dark and full of intent. "You know what I’m thinking, right?"

You did. Oh, you did.

He pulled you onto his lap, guiding your newly manicured fingers to brush against the bulge in his sweats. Even through the fabric, you could feel how hard he was getting just from the thought alone.

"Fuck," he muttered, his head tipping back for a moment before snapping back to you. "You knew what you were doing getting these, didn't you?"

You tipped your head, innocently . "What do you mean?"

Heeseung let out a low, amused chuckle, but there was nothing light in the way he reached out, grasping at your chin and making you face him.

"You wanted me to see these and think about them wrapped around my cock, mh?" His thumb traced your lower lip, pressing in just enough to make your breath hitch. "Wanted me to lose my mind over you?" He then pressed in between your lips, making you suck on it.

Your stomach had contracted at his words, the heat pooling between your legs. You loved how he was like this— when teasing turned to something more, more intense and overwhelming.

"You're staring really hard, Hee," you whispered, letting your fingers trace up his chest, your touch light and teasing. "You wanna test them out?"

He exhaled sharply through his nostrils, the hold on your waist tightening as he shifted beneath you. "Get on your knees, baby."

The order ran a shiver down your spine, but you listened, falling off his lap and onto the floor between his legs.

He leaned back, hips rising enough to tug his sweats down and free his cock. Already hard, the tip glistened with precum, and the sight alone had your mouth watering.

"Show me what those pretty nails can do," he murmured, voice thick with desire. You wrapped your fingers around him, moving slow at first, letting him feel the cool polish against his hot skin. His breath hitched and his jaw clenched as he watched your every move.

"Fuck, that's so hot," he groaned, his hand tangling in your hair. "You have no idea how much I love this, baby."

You smirked, leaning in to press a teasing kiss to his tip before flicking your tongue against it, savoring the way his grip tightened, his thighs tensing beneath you.

"Happy Valentine's, Heeseung," you whispered before taking him into your mouth, giving him exactly what he wanted.

The groan that tore from Heeseung's throat was guttural, deep, like he'd been waiting for it all day. His hand in your hair fisted tighter, but he didn't push, didn't hurry you. He wanted to enjoy it.

"Fuck, baby," he muttered, voice already breathless as you took more of him in, your freshly manicured fingers stroking what your mouth couldn't reach. The cool gloss of the polish against his heated skin had him twitching in your grasp, his thighs tensing beneath you. "I’m gonna ruin you.”

You hummed around him, making him curse under his breath. His head tipped back against the couch as his chest rose and fell unsteadily with your movements in slow, measured tempo, allowing your tongue to swirl around the tip before sinking back down.

His free hand was clutched on the edge of the couch, his knuckles white. "God, you're so good at this," he groaned, looking down at you with dark, hooded eyes. "Look at you— fuck, you love this, don't you?

You met his gaze, your eyes wide and innocent as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper. His grip on your hair tightened; his hips jerked up just slightly, just enough to make you gag. But you didn't pull away.

The wet sounds filling the room were sinful, your hands moving in sync with your mouth, twisting around his length with practiced ease. Heeseung was falling apart beneath you, his breathing ragged, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the muscle ticking.

“Shit, baby,” he panted, his head tipping back for a second before he forced his gaze to go back to you, dark with something almost feral. “You’re gonna make me come so fucking fast.”

You smirked around him, moving faster, your nails gliding against his sensitive skin in just the right way. His hips stuttered, his body going tense as he let out a strangled groan.

Then, he pulled you off him as his hand tugged at your chin, making you look up.

"Not yet," he huffed out huskily; his thumb made a swipe of your swollen lips. "I wanna come inside you.

You barely had time to react before he pulled you up onto his lap, his hands grasping your waist, his lips crashing against yours in a bruising, hungry kiss.

“Ah, you're in for it now, baby,” he whispered against your lips, hands sliding under your dress. “Gonna fuck you so good you'll be needing a whole new set of nails by tomorrow..”

And from the way he manhandled you onto the couch, you knew he meant every word.

[cloudyynebulas]

Hey hey, can I request Shadow Milk x Nerd!Reader? Reader was once a normal cookie and interested in supernaturals.

(if you know Gravity Falls, yes it's just like BillFord before breakup lol)

❝ 𝗪𝗘'𝗟𝗟 𝗠𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗜𝗡, 𝗬/𝗡 𝗖𝗢𝗢𝗞𝗜𝗘 ! ❞

shadow milk cookie x reader.

reader is gender neutral.

shadow milk cookie is referred to as shadow milk cookie in this story, both pre-corruption and present time.

⋆° .☾ ⋆ .ೃ ࿔* : ⋆

YOUR HANDS FLIPPED THROUGH THE PAGES of one of the countless books inside of the library of the famous Blueberry Yogurt Academy. Your research had gone on for hours, despite class hours having ended long ago that day. The moon had long since risen, and it's pale shining light illuminated the room of knowledge, lighting the words on the soft pages of what was most likely the ninth book you'd began reading that day.

You were the Librarian of this Academy - and this room was essentially your home. Students that came in and out of these chambers never once visited without seeing your face, whether it was behind the counter and assisting students, or suggesting different books of differerent genres.

You were an absolute bookworm, head swarmed with knowledge, but such a label did not bother you in the slightest. You enjoyed taking in countless stories, whether they were tales of legend, or fictional nonsense, learning and discovering more about the world of Earthbread through mere pages of countless writings was an art that you developed an immense passion for.

This world was full of secrets, so how could you not stick your head inside an open book that beckoned you with answers?

Your mind was so focused on the literature in front of you, you failed to perk up at the sound of the large library doors creaking open like they always would, acting as a doorbell of sorts for a door that lacked a bell.

"I thought I'd still find you here,"

His voice breaks you out of your trance, your head turning over towards the door, where the Head of the Academy stood - Shadow Milk Cookie.

Such a familiar face was a welcomed one. You and Shadow Milk Cookie had developed a deep bond, ever since your job application to this Academy had been accepted for the position of Librarian. The two of you shared a collective interest in knowledge, especially with him being the Virtue of Knowledge, it was to no ones surprise that you both clicked almost instantly.

"Ah, you.." you let out a lighthearted chuckle, closing the indigo cover book you'd once been completely focused on. "I had the slightest feeling you'd show up."

If anyone knew how to completely zap out your focus from reading of all things - one of your biggest passions, it was Shadow Milk Cookie. Something about him and his presence always changed the atmosphere of a room upon his arrival. It wasn't all too much of a shock, he was one of the divine Cookies first baked by the Witches, but his role as the Virtue of Knowledge didn't change the way you saw him in the slightest.

You just saw him as.. Shadow Milk Cookie. One of your closest friends. Someone you could connect to easily.

"..You do know how late it is, right?" Shadow Milk Cookie queries, raising a brow - his eyes briefly glancing over toward the moonlight shining through one of the many rectangular shaped windows of the library. "I'm all for late night reading, of course, but.. shouldn't you be getting home?"

You hummed, eyes glancing toward the antique clock.

Huh. No wonder it had felt later than usual - you normally would've left at least an hour ago!

You sheepishly chuckled, "I must've been too focused on this book, I completely lost track of time.."

Shadow Milk Cookie merely smiled, now standing just beside you as you stood up from your cushioned seat.

"I can see that. What were you reading this time?"

You slid the closed book over towards him, and his eyes skimmed the indigo-cotton cover with interest.

"Ah.. Histories of Crispia?" He spoke, his voice almost like a whisper as his hand briefly brushed over the cover. "This one is most definitely a classic - one I read long ago."

His head moved upwards, heterochromatic eyes looking back toward you.

"What do you think of it so far, Y/N Cookie?"

You weren't sure what it was, but you found the answer on the tip of your tongue unable to escape your lips - your eyes locked onto the taller cookie in front of you.

The moonlight reflected his dough near perfectly, his eyes practically glowing in the darkness.

The silence between you two went unnoticed by you- blissfully unaware you'd been staring, until Shadow Milk Cookie cleared his throat.

"Y/N Cookie?"

You blinked, nearly jumping in your spot as the original answer to his question finally escaped your mouth.

"Ah - sorry, sorry!" You blurted out a quick apology, feeling a small heat rise to your cheeks. "I.. I really like it so far! It's.. it's really good,"

You felt incredibly embarrassed for staring. Maybe it'd been the exhaustion getting to you?

Get ahold of yourself Y/N ... You mentally scolded yourself.

Shadow Milk Cookie gave you a reassuring smile. "No worries! It's alright, Y/N Cookie."

He slid the book back over to you, which you grabbed off of the table, holding it in your hands.

"Shall we, then?" Shadow Milk Cookie turned to the door, gesturing for you to follow him out.

You nodded, the two of you walking together out of the library and into the massive, dimly lit hallways of the Blueberry Yogurt Academy.

The walk between you two was quiet for the most part, your footsteps echoing across the reflective marble floor tinted with blues of different shades, with both of you standing side by side, awfully close - hands nearly brushing up against each other with every other step.

Your stroll to the front entrance of the Academy was about halfway through when Shadow Milk Cookie spoke up once again.

"How about you and I read that book together during the lunch periods this week?" He offered, turning to you. "If you have the free-time in your schedule, of course."

Your eyes lit up in excitement.

"Oh, I'd love to!"

Shadow Milk Cookie chuckled. "I thought you'd say that. In fact, I could definitely brew some of the tea that I've been meaning to use.. if you're in the mood for tea, that is."

You beamed, nodding your head - stars practically forming in your eyes.

"We haven't gotten to hang out a ton these past few weeks!" You grinned. "Exams have been pretty busy for us - not just the students!"

"Ah.. well, you know how it is." Shadow Milk Cookie shrugged. "I have greatly missed our hangouts together."

"Aww.. you missed hanging out with me?"

"Of course I did, Y/N Cookie."

You felt that heat rise up to your cheeks again at his words.

Shadow Milk Cookie smiled at your reaction, the two of you finally reaching the front doors of the Academy. He pushed open the doors, holding them open and allowing you to step outside, before following soon after.

Standing right outside the Academy, the two of you gazed up at the night sky for a few moments, eyes darting around at the patterns of countless stars that glistened through various sizes, dancing around the large moon.

Almost like a stage light, its shine illuminated the two of you in it's soft beam.

And for a while, it was quiet - nothing but the soft breeze of the night filling the air.

Slowly, you found yourself turning your gaze back towards Shadow Milk Cookie. Having felt your gaze, he soon did the same.

You smiled softly.

"Thanks."

He hummed.

"For what?"

"Everything."

Shadow Milk Cookie smiled, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

"You're too kind, Y/N Cookie. Far too kind."

You began to make your way down the small, white brick steps, the book still held close to your chest. As you quickly reach the end of the path where the walkway converges, you turn your head back one last time for the night.

You wave your free hand, waving goodbye to Shadow Milk Cookie.

"See you tomorrow, Shadow Milk Cookie!" you beam.

The professor waves a polite goodbye in return.

"Till we meet again, Y/N Cookie."

⋆° .☾ ⋆ .ೃ ࿔* : ⋆

The world was in chaos. Nothing but the yells of terrified Cookies, children and adults, filled the air - as fires spread throughout all of Earthbread.

The day had started out as it normally had - yet all of a sudden, screams rang out, your head shooting up from the book you'd been reading. You ran over to one of the windows of the Library, looking outside to see destruction raining down upon all sides.

You dashed out of the Library as fast as you could, the hallways once delicately crafted with fine marble beginning to take in the swift damage from the outside - small cracks and rubble staining the walls and floors.

"Shadow Milk Cookie?!" you yelled out, frantically searching every nook and cranny of the Academy as fast as you could, all while making sure you could get any students out of harms way. The ground shook and trembled with each passing minute, and every speck of your dough begged you to run to safety.

Yet the adrenaline that coursed through your veins prevailed through the fight, determined to find Shadow Milk Cookie, just to make sure he was safe.

But your desperate search was quickly cut short when familiar laughter could almost be heard from the skies. You froze, eyes darting to the front entrance of the Academy.

Eyebrows furrowing, you ran to the doors, which had nearly collapsed upon themselves from the damage and fires that spread quickly. Your head glanced in all directions, horrified at the sight of screaming, crying, or injured Cookies that were avoiding magical attacks of cards, strings and strange phantoms that wore jester-like attire.

"..what?"

"Y/N Cookie! Theeere you are!"

You froze. That familiar voice of the one you'd been searching for - why did he suddenly sound so.. off?

His voice seemed to echo throughout the sky.

You slowly moved your head up, your eyes widening at the sight of Shadow Milk Cookie high up in the sky, his form twisted - with a sinister grin of sharp teeth staring right back at you.

"I just knew I'd find you here!" Shadow Milk Cookie beamed, clapping his hands together. "Although what took you so long? You were almost late to our hangout!"

You stepped back in horror.

He tilted his head to the side at an unnatural angle.

"Awh.. don't tell me you almost forgot!" Shadow Milk Cookie pouted, fake sorrow laced in his tone. "Not to worry! All is forgiven, dear Y/N Cookie!"

Puppeteer strings suddenly formed in the sky, flying straight towards your form. You nearly had zero time to react from the alarming speed they flew towards your form, entangling around your limbs and hoisting you up in the air without an inch of effort.

You were quickly dragged up into the sky, floating idly beside Shadow Milk Cookie, who quickly placed his hands on your shoulders, shaking you with excitement.

"Oh, oh this is gonna be sooo much fun, Y/N Cookie!" He beamed. "Now, this hangout is gonna be a liiiitle different than just silly books and tea!"

You felt yourself being dragged along with him as he floated in the sky, the strings holding you tight forcing you along.

Words bubbled in your throat.

Feelings swarmed in your mind.

Betrayal? Shock? Fear? Anger?

You stared off into space, thoughts swarming and clouded with volatile emotions. How could this happen? This - this wasn't the Shadow Milk Cookie you once knew.

The one so kind, so caring, someone you related to on so many levels, someone who shared so many passions with you -

He had been acting off as the weeks went by, seemingly more stressed and exhausted as the days ticked by, but no Cookie, not even you, could've predicted such an outcome.

You wanted to cry.

Tears threatened to spill, pricking at your eyes.

Shadow Milk Cookie came to a halt, staring at you with those same, familiar heterochromatic eyes.

He clicked his tongue. "Oh, Y/N Cookie .. don't give me that look!"

His hand brushed away a small glob of semi-transparent tears that almost spilled down your left eye.

"Save your tears, bookworm." He grinned, patting the top of your head with twisted affection. "For the show's about to begin!"

⋆° .☾ ⋆ .ೃ ࿔* : ⋆

[waywardlampcookieturkey]

This just reminded me of a TikTok I saw of two girls who were roommates and kept finding mushroom(? looking transparent cups in the dishwasher. and both of them thought the other was just putting them inside but then they realized that none of them??? knew WHERE they came from. They KEPT FINDING THEM and they did not know how they even got in the dishwasher. It was a mystery haunting them for weeks.

And then they realized that the mushroom cups were just the normal plastic glasses, except that they melted with the heat inside the dishwasher and ended up looking Like That

This was hilarious because 1) the mushroom looking cups were, and I cannot stress this enough, IDENTICAL. The glasses melted in the exact same way every single time. And 2) people kept asking them if they didn't also notice they were running out of glasses. They didn't respond. This is the actual mystery

'not dishwasher safe' don't care i'm crazy. i'd put the holy grail in that thing

[hrrtshape]

EMMA±??±?±?±?±??!?!?!?!OMGORMGOGMG????? STORYTIME HELLOW WHERE DID U EVEN SHIFT TO

i spent 15 days in the upper east side and now i have an existential crisis about my real life (but in a hawt way)

unlike my previous shifts, where i’d spend 10 minutes, maybe 20, dipping my toes into a life so much better than this one, i spent fifteen whole days in my better cr. fifteen days ago, i woke up in my king-sized bed with 1000-thread-count sheets and realised i had, in fact, won in life.

i had done it. no brief glimpse, no fleeting moment before snapping back to my real-world peasantry. fifteen days. enough time for a full socialite saga and to meet my beau!?!?!??! enough time to wake up in pyjamas which might as well been the most comfortable thing i've ever worn, hear the distant clatter of someone else in the other rooms, and stretch luxuriously as if i were in a renaissance painting. i could smell money in the air FOLKS!?!?!!!! not new money, but old money, the kind that sits heavy in the walls (!??!?!?), the kind that makes people say your last name like it means something. and this was my life. MY LIFE. at last. took it long enough.

the first morning, and you have to understand my main character syndrome for this, i stepped out onto the balcony, the manhattan skyline.....mhmhmhmhmhm....mhm. mhm. mhmm. stretching before me like a personal prophecy, and i felt it in my bones!!!!!!: this was home. MY HOME. okay. so. then i went around, you know, exploring my little room (not little...) and girl the moment i stepped in front of a mirror.......WHO'S THIS BABE???? yea. yea. i even had a cat !!!!

then i went to school. sorry, went, i mean DRIVE. now, here’s the dealio. i had scripted myself into this effortlessly put-together, socially untouchable, well-adjusted manhattan teen heiress life. but there were gaps in my logic. big ones. like, for example: i couldn't drive. i didn't know how to drive !!!

and yet, there i was in the morning in my super super super sSUPPPERRR cutesie school uniform, keys in hand, standing in front of a car (a Porsche, people, a porsche!!!) that looked like it cost more than my entire life back in my cr. so, i acted like i totally knew what i was doing. slid into the driver’s seat with the confidence of someone who had done this a thousand times before, adjusted the mirrors like i had a clue, and started the car.

and then? i picked up lily-rose depp.

(she's not an actress in this dr, by the way. just my best friend. which is infinitely cooler.)

she didn't even question everything. just said i looked really hawt today. i was blessed. seriously. like i'm typing this and also screaming i want to go back.

somehow. miraculously. i got us to school in one piece. st. lazarus international college. it looked like a cathedraland felt like a warzone. we pulled up alongside a line of obnoxiously expensive cars (not a single honda in sight!?!?!?!?), and i barely had time to breathe before stepping out onto the pavement, uniform pristine, COACH. MOTHAUFCKING COACH TOTE bag slung over my shoulder like i was about to solve world hunger instead of sit through calculus (that shi fucking sucked btw !!!! but my school's classrooms were drop dead gorgeous).

anyways. i now have to brush upon something that made me almost let out a humongous squeal when i saw him. CORIOLANUS. yes. yes. yes. yes. yes,ewfygweuvbuihweiusvbgiweu`rs. i saw him. yep. yep. i had to slap myself. metaphorically.

SO. i had scripted that on my first day, i would give coriolanus snow a nosebleed.

and !?!??!?!?!!?! IT SUCCEEDED. when i first saw him, he was leaning against a row of lockers like he owned the place and i swear to god i almost moaned. crisp white shirt, tie loose, cheekbones sharp enough to wound, eyes narrowed. pray.

HO. HE WINKED AT ME. and then i walked past him with my bfffffff lily-rose and. and. and. nosebleed. bro. bro. bro. BROSKI. the way he blinked..........the way his breath hitched just a little as the first drop of blood slid over his cupid’s bow. the WAY he tilted his head back, tongue darting out briefly over his lip. oh my god. i was actively fighting to not go and jump on him and like do vile disgusting things.

i had won the war, but at what cost?

because he was so hot.

SO FUCKING HAWT.

uh. so. yeah. that was just the first two hours of my better cr, and it was already putting my entire existence to shame. like, objectively, scientifically, undeniably better than anything i have ever done in my cr.

ssssoooooo. IF ANYONE WANTS TO HEAR MORE…do let me know. because, hands clasped, eyes glistening, heart on the verge of combustion, i am being so serious. this was the peak of my human experience. i have tasted divinity PEOPLE. i have lived too well. i fear i must go back, or else i will experience genuine withdrawals from the lack of my paramour’s face in my daily visuals.

so yeah. if you’re curious… hit me up. (evil, knowing laughter echoing into the abyss)

OH AND. whenever i'd go to sleep there i'd like cry out of fear that i'd wake up in my cr but whenever i'd wake up just...there...i'd literally pray to god. BECCAUSE EIJISEJFEWUSHFIHEJI. i'm there.

anyway, i am so not okay about this. i keep coming back to edit, rewrite, relive. but okay. listen. if you ever had even a sliver of doubt about shifting, i am kneeling right now, hands clasped, eyes wide with conviction, telling you!!!!!!!

SHIFTING IS SO FUCKING REAL.

it’s real in a way that defies logic, in a way that makes the air feel electric, in a way that rewires your entire understanding of existence. so real. so unimaginably real.

[doriana-gray-games]

Sneaky peek -- W pov ✨

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Watson had seen the detective walk down these same stairs in many disguises, on many different days, in many different manners of dress.

And yet, nothing had prepared them.

Nothing could prepare them.

Not for this.

Not for you.

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The doctor knew their eyes were glued to your face.

But it was a damn better option than the alternative. Their eyes forced by all the politeness they may muster to not travel a gaze downwards where it may linger in places one may lose oneself for good.

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As if their heart was bare by your feet, sneered or trampled.

Yet, they did not mind such ownership.

You may take it all.

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Watson is a simpppppppppppppp

Coming soon ( next week on patreon -- ITS EVEN INTERACTABLE! I know. I didn't know I knew how to do interactable W pov either. To think I had such simpery in me.)

XOXO

~ Doriana 🌹

[he3ts]

GIVE YOU MY LOVE

squid game masterlist / part one — part two — masterlist

pairings: nam gyu x reader

warnings: angst, jealous!nam gyu, smut ( p in v ) less than the first part but i prioritized tension and sadness!! toxic relationship, sub reader, alcohol use. mild thanos x reader. this is part two, i recommend you read part one to continue reading. sorry if this is long, but i got too carried away. never mind the mistakes, i'm fucking tired

──────────────୨ৎ──────────────

and i don't see an easy way to get out of this,,

her diary, it sits by the bedside table

the curtains are closed, the cats in the cradle

who would've thought that a boy like me could come to this

oh i, i just died in your arms tonight

──────────────୨ৎ──────────────

This time, you would not come back

At first, he didn't pay him any mind; you always did that. You would walk away, disappear for a few days, then come back, slamming the door and insulting him for his way of doing things. It was your sick game, a cycle that repeated itself over and over again. He knew it, had always known it, and that's why he hadn't worried when, for the first time, you didn't answer his calls.

You're being difficult. He had told himself a thousand times, throwing the phone on the table with a tired smile. But then the days had passed. Seven, to be precise. A week without a message, without a call, without even your name lit up on the screen in the middle of the night. A week of total silence. And then the weeks had turned into a month.

Nam Gyu had begun to feel it on his skin, that emptiness, like an ink stain slowly spreading, staining his days, soiling everything. The phone had become an obsession. Every night he unlocked it, looked at your contact, but he couldn't call you. He was too proud. Too convinced that, sooner or later, you would give in. You. Not him. Just you.

Only you hadn't. As the months began to roll by, Nam Gyu began to change.

He was no longer him. Or maybe, he was more than before, but without your eyes to make him feel like someone better. Without your presence to balance his chaos. His nights were made up of never-ending cigarettes, of glasses left on the edge of the table, of pills melted under his palate, of days that blurred together without meaning. He did not sleep, or slept too much. He talked little, or talked too much and to the wrong person.

Girls came and went. Bodies without faces, kisses without taste. He looked for your scent on them and never found it. It irritated him. It drove him crazy.

One year. A year without you. That was how he measured time now.

No one was saying it out loud, but everyone was noticing. The way he reacted to things had changed, patience was in tatters, irritability a constant. Friends knew it, strangers who crossed his path at the wrong time knew it, but no one knew it as much as he did.

No one felt your absence like he did. Yet, he was no longer looking for you. Because inside him, though he didn't want to admit it, he understood. This time, you were not coming back. For your own sake.

The club Pentagon was still the same. Dim lights, pounding music, bodies moving too close, but never enough to fill the void. The air smelled of alcohol, sweat and stale desire, a perfect place for those who wanted to forget, for those seeking a temporary escape from reality. Nam Gyu had dropped onto one of the black leather couches, a drink between his fingers. The amber liquid swayed slightly as he stared blankly at it. He didn't even know why he was there. Or maybe he knew, but he didn't want to admit it. It had been months since he had heard from you. Months that had stretched into a whole year.

"May I sit down?" A female voice brought him back to reality. He looked up as his eyes rested on a young woman with dark hair, bold eyes, a smile that tasted of promise. She wore a black dress that swathed her body in a way that should have attracted him. It should have.

Nam Gyu did not answer right away; he already knew how it would end. It was going to be a night like many others, a night when he would try to forget you in the arms of someone else. It never worked, but he kept trying anyway. He nodded his head. She smiled, satisfied with his silent acceptance, and sat down next to him. Her scent was sweet, perhaps too much so.

"Are you alone?"

He gave a small, bitter smile. "For a long time"

The girl laughed, as if that answer was a joke, and moved just enough closer to reduce the distance between them. Her fingers grazed the rim of his glass, her red-lacquered fingernails tracing a circle on the cold glass.

"Can I buy you another drink?"

He finished what was in his hand in one slow sip, letting the fire from his drink trickle down his throat, and then set the empty glass on the table.

"That's not necessary"

She leaned even closer, her legs crossed in a studied way, her knee brushing against his. "Then maybe I can offer you something better"

Her fingers slid down the collar of his shirt, playing with the first open button. It was an inviting, calculated gesture, something that should have ignited a modicum of interest in him. Yet, he felt nothing. There was no excitement, no desire, just a sense of apathy that suffocated him.

But he did not back down. He could not go on like this. Maybe, this time, it could work. Maybe, this time, he would stop thinking about you.

The cab sped silently through the brightly lit streets of Seoul. Nam Gyu sat beside the girl, his head leaning against the window. He looked out, the reflection of the lights stretching across the glass, distorted like his thoughts. She was talking to him, but he wasn't really listening, occasionally nodding, occasionally hinting at a smile. He had gotten good at pretending.

When they reached his apartment, she took him by the hand and pulled him inside, without hesitation. She closed the door behind her, dropping her purse on the floor, and pushed him against the wall.

"Are you always this quiet?" she whispered, biting her lower lip as her fingers slipped over his shirt. He looked at her, searching for something in her eyes, something that might convince him she was doing the right thing. But he found nothing. Still, he let her. Her lips came to rest on his, the kiss was expert, voracious, but it didn't make him feel a single thing. Her hands touched him, sought him out, and he reciprocated out of pure automatism.

He let himself be pulled toward the bed, his breathing heavy, his body moving without his mind really being there. She pushed him down, lay on top of him, her lips tracing a trail down his neck. He closed his eyes. For a moment, just a moment, he tried to imagine that she was you. That the hands caressing him were yours. That the voice whispering his name was yours.

And then, without meaning to, without thinking about it. She had squeezed his hair vigorously. Only you could do that.

"Y/n, oh my god bunny"

The girl stopped suddenly, hearing that unfamiliar name. She stiffened and pulled away slightly, her breathing labored. "What did you say?"

Nam Gyu opened his eyes. Her own whisper still seemed to echo in the room. Your name. He had said it. He had whispered it against the lips of another girl. A heavy silence fell between them. She drew back, her eyes narrowing in a mixture of anger and disbelief. "Are you kidding?"

He did not answer. There was nothing to say. She stood up abruptly, hastily picking up her clothes scattered on the floor. "Take your ex back at this point," she spat, slipping on her jacket without even looking at him again. And then, without another word, she walked out, slamming the door behind her. Nam Gyu stood motionless, his gaze lost in the ceiling, his breathing heavy.

He closed his eyes again, but this time there was no illusion, no lie to take refuge in.

The bed was cold. And the emptiness he felt inside him seemed to have no end.

──────────────୨ৎ──────────────

Time had stopped making sense, your days had turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into a whole year without him. Without his burning gaze on you, without his voice to make you shiver, without his touch to always bring you back to where you started, without his caresses.

You had left without a trace, because you really needed it. Needed to change. You had changed areas, found a different job, away from those places that talked too much about him. You had deleted numbers, blocked calls, closed every door left ajar. You had even nipped relationships with people who could have brought you back, because you knew that all it took was one small crack to bring you down again.

It had been difficult at first. The sleepless nights, the phone that went silent but you kept looking at it anyway. The dreams in which he still appeared, vivid, real, with that damned ability to creep under your skin even when you didn't want him to.

And then there was the silence. Too much silence.

The mornings when you woke up with a heavy heart, a tight throat, and the knowledge that you were facing another day without him. The dumb ache of knowing that, deep down, no one had ever made you feel the way he did. Not even in the good, and especially not in the bad. But then it had become habit.

Silence had stopped being an enemy, and had begun to seem almost like a salvation, no longer having to explain to yourself why you always came back, no longer having to justify your need for him with excuses that no longer held up. And, little by little, you had begun to convince yourself that it was really over, that there was nothing left between you. That the love that had consumed you had died along with that old version of you.

But some days were harder than others. You simply woke up already in the morning in a crooked moon. You suffered from lifelong insomnia, but with him it was rare to happen, but that night it was past one, then two, then three. You were lying on the bed, the ceiling a white void that gave you no answers, darkness enveloping everything but your thoughts. Your chest ached, as if there was a weight on it, a tight knot that wouldn't untie.

You didn't know what had triggered that particular night. Maybe a familiar smell heard on the street, maybe "I Just Died in your Arms" played on the radio just that afternoon, his favorite song, maybe just the weariness of having to pretend every day that you had moved on. You had gotten out of bed with soft legs, head light. In the kitchen, the silence was deafening. You had leaned your hands against the counter closing your eyes, biting your lip to hold back the burning that rose in your throat. But it was no use. You could feel it coming. That silent pain, that grip that gripped your stomach and left no escape.

And then, without warning, the tears began to fall. Slow, heavy.

No sobs, no sound, just a silent weeping that seemed to never end. Warm drops on your cheeks, on your lips, falling onto the kitchen countertop one after another, as if your body was expelling all the pain that had been trapped inside for too long.

You felt stupid. You felt weak.

A year had passed. A bloody year. You should have been better off. You should have been free of all this. Instead, there you were, crying in the darkness of a kitchen you didn't even feel was yours, your heart still beating for him, his name trembling on your lips even though you didn't say it.

With the knowledge that, perhaps, you had never really forgotten him.

And that, perhaps, you never would.

──────────────୨ৎ──────────────

Rain was falling incessantly on the city's gray streets, slipping from the rooftops like tears that no one would ever wipe away. The sky was a cluster of dark clouds, and the air had that oppressive weight that precedes something inevitable. You walked aimlessly, your hands stuffed in the pockets of your jacket too light for that bitter cold, your mind clouded by thoughts that would not shut up. It was one of those days that seemed meant to break you down, no money in your wallet, no place to return to with a smile.

And now him, too. You had rebuilt your life, of course you had to, you were engaged and maybe in love but you didn't know for sure. You thought it centered on the theory that first love is forever, maybe that was why you couldn't open your heart easily to someone else. It was like a poison. But fortunately you had managed, however briefly, to be happy. It had all started that morning with a seemingly innocuous sentence, a joke said lightly, almost in jest.

"You are with me, but sometimes I feel like your head is elsewhere"

You had looked up from the empty plate, fingers fiddling with the now useless fork, your boyfriend was standing in front of you, a smile on his face, you knew him well enough to know something was up. And you knew yourself well enough to know that at that time you were not as spry as before.

"What are you talking about?" you had asked, trying not to sound defensive. He had shaken his head, the smile barely on his lips, but his eyes betrayed his frustration.

"About him"

Your breath had caught in your throat for a second. Yes, him. Nam Gyu.

He had said it out loud. Even though he had never spoken his name, that name that was no longer supposed to belong to you. You had set your fork down on the table with a clatter, trying to maintain control. "I don't want to talk about it"

"But you still think about it"

"I don't"

He had laughed, but without mirth. "Are you really sure?"

Were you? His words were a knife digging into you, slow and precise. "It doesn't matter," you had said finally, crossing your arms.

"It matters to me"

His fingers had drummed against the table, the sound rhythmic and nervous. Then he had shifted, leaning against the back of the chair, watching you with a gaze that made you feel naked, vulnerable. In that perspective, you had noticed how a little like him he looked. You were so screwed.

"I heard you in your sleep," he had said. "You call him. Not me. Him"

You had stiffened.

"No"

"Yes"

The air in the room had become heavy, unbreathable, and going back seemed impossible. "It's not my fault if-"

"If what?" he had pressed, raising his voice. "If he left you? If he destroyed you and now you think no one else can put you back together?"

You had felt your face heat up, your throat tighten. It was unfair. It was cruel. But it wasn't a lie. "If you think that, why did you stay with me?" you had retorted, your voice broken with anger and pain, "You knew my history, you ... You cannot hold my greatest weakness against me"

He had shaken his head, and for a moment had looked more tired than angry. He raised an eyebrow, not expecting me to respond that way.

"Because I thought that in time things would change"

A long silence had fallen between you. One that hurt more than words. Then he had sighed, grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, not turning around before leaving. Nothing more had needed to be said. He had been right. He could not be a replacement and you were still trapped in the past. Alone again.

You had left the house only three hours later, your cheeks streaked with bitter tears, your nose red with shame. You felt the air lacking inside the crowded subway, the air saturated with the smell of rain and dampness. You had sat in a corner, your hood up, your eyes fixed on your hands entwined in your lap. Then you had seen him when you hurried downstairs. A well-dressed man with an enigmatic smile and an expression of someone who always knew more than he was saying. He had stretched a smile at you in a casual, almost distracted gesture.

"Will you play with me?" he had said, and you had almost laughed. A game. It was almost funny, maybe he was trying to cheer up your depressed mood. He had shown you two cards, one blue and one red, and you immediately knew what the game was. Ddakji. You had accepted, perhaps just out of defiance. Maybe because you needed something to take your anger out on.

Every blow you gave against the card seemed a reflection of the chaos inside you. Every pop in the air, every defeat, every burn on your skin when his hand hit your face. But then you had won and the bills had slipped through your trembling fingers. It was not the money that scared you. It was the temptation, because you needed the money. And, perhaps, you had nothing left to lose.

You had returned home sadder than before, the room was a reflection of you, you had taken off your soggy jacket and dropped it to the floor with a dull thud, you sat in the armchair cross-legged looking at the damn note.

Then the music had begun.

"Oh, I just died in your arms tonight..."

You had frozen. A chill had gone down your spine, your hands had begun to shake. That song, that damn song. The radio croaked slightly, the sound imperfect, lived-in. An old gift. One you had kept out of habit, just because it was part of you, and like a slow poison, your mind had gone back.

To him.

To the first time you had listened to that song together, lying on the bed with the rain beating against the glass. To the way he had smiled, brushing your hair away from your face with a careless gesture. To the taste of his lips, to the unspoken promise that was in every kiss. To the anger. To the longing. To everything you had tried to bury. Your gaze had slipped to the note clenched in your fist. Maybe you weren't really free. Maybe you never would have been.

──────────────୨ৎ──────────────

The metallic sound of the doll's voice was still echoing in your head.

The field was littered with motionless bodies, some lifeless, others paralyzed with fear. Blood stained the dusty ground, yet adrenaline did not allow you to dwell on that scene of terror. Your heart was beating so fast you feared it might explode. You had survived. Where the fuck had you gone? Blood, too much blood, your beautiful face was stained crimson red, you could no longer breathe regularly. But you were alive. With hands still trembling, you had turned around slowly, trying to catch your breath, to process what had just happened.

Terror made your whole body shake in a ghoulish dance, you hid your hands in the pockets of that horrible green sweatshirt. You were breathing only because you had to, only because you wanted to live again. You could not die, you were young, poor, yes, but still young. Everyone seemed too interested in money, blinded almost to want to continue. You obviously voted X, how could you continue knowing that maybe you would die next?

The bed was uncomfortable, you couldn't even eat, you were terrified, and now you were forced to play again just because of someone else's greed.

Nam Gyu no longer knew how long he had been staring into space, the spoon trembled between his fingers, he was nervous, he was in withdrawal, the bland meal had now cooled before him, but none of this mattered. He was in withdrawal and thought it was just yet another vision he had before him. But no, he had seen you. You. Across the room, far away, your back slightly bent as if you wanted to make yourself smaller, more invisible. There you were, intent on eating in silence, not drawing attention to yourself, but your face, your movements, everything about you screamed your presence like a deafening echo in his chest.

The spoon almost slipped out of his hand. His lungs closed, as if the air had suddenly become too thick for him to breathe.

One year.

But it had only taken one glance. One bloody instant to shatter every lie. He had lost you. But he had never forgotten you. And now you were there. You were real.

Your hair was longer, slightly messy, but it still looked good on you, as if it belonged to that version of you he had never known. Your face was more mature, marked by something he couldn't define. Suffering? Weariness? Or was it just time that had left its mark?

You were even more beautiful. A kind of beauty that hurt the eyes.

You looked fragile, almost ethereal, as if the world had crushed you for too long. But he knew. He knew that inside you was still that flame, that storm that had always engulfed him. He watched as you brought the spoon to your lips slowly, with no real desire to eat, with no real taste to that meal. Your movements were mechanical, lifeless, and that realization hit him like a punch to the stomach.

He bit the inside of his cheek, holding back the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. A laugh at his side abruptly brought him back to reality: Thanos, the purple-haired boy, the rapper, always stoned and a little disconnected. Sitting next to him looking relaxed, as if they hadn't just risked their lives. He was saying something, a joke maybe, but Nam Gyu couldn't follow him.

Not as long as you were there. Not as long as your breath seemed to echo in every corner of the room. Thanos followed his trajectory, turning his head sharply toward Nam Gyu "Do you know her?"

"No," he had gasped, but he still stared at you with too much intensity, without shame or modesty. Your eyes met. One moment. A single, eternal moment.

Your lips barely parted. The spoon remained suspended between your fingers, as if you had forgotten what you were doing. Nam Gyu felt the blood freeze in his veins.

You.

It was really you.

Bunny.

He had missed you.

He had missed you to death.

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He did not know how it had started, but Thanos had set his eyes on you from the start. He had opened the cross necklace around his neck only to pull out what looked like an ecstasy pill to Nam Gyu. He scrutinized you as if you were a fun puzzle to solve, as if he had already decided you were worth playing with.

After the fight with Player 333 he seemed more fierce than ever, his had been a test toward him, he was plotting something, and Nam Gyu knew it. Maybe he had noticed the way he was looking at you? He didn't want to talk, didn't want to hunt for some weakness. But seeing you there again had ignited that flame in him that he was unlikely to extinguish now. He felt the fire sprinkle in him everywhere, how delirious.

Thanos was serious, approaching you with that relaxed walk of his, his head slightly tilted, as if everything was a big joke and he was the only one who knew the punchline.

Nam Gyu could tell from your eyes, from that little glint, that you were amused. Maybe from his dilated pupils. Okay it's done, it's going to be really funny.

He clenched his fists inside his pockets, his fingernails digging into his palm. Thanos was already in front of your figure, his face tilted in a theatrical gesture, while you were still trying to finish your cross-legged meal.

"Hey, Señorita"

Nam Gyu felt the blood boiling in his veins, you barely looked up from your meal, the spoon suspended in midair. You tilted your head, watching him curiously.

"Señorita?" you repeated with a smile that, however small, was enough to annoy Nam Gyu. That symptom of belonging. You had never been engaged, not officially, but at the club his friends always tried to stay away from you.

"Yes." Thanos nodded slowly, with that air of a sassy kid who enjoyed pushing himself. "I've decided I'm going to call you that. It sounds better than your number, doesn't it?"

"I don't like it"

Thanos clutched his shoulders. Nam Gyu forced himself to look away. He felt his own breathing becoming heavier, his chest rising and falling with effort. He had no right to be annoyed. He had no right to intervene. Yet, he felt the need to do so.

You chuckled, lowering your gaze to your meal.

"Join my team, and I will protect you at all costs"

Another laugh. Light, almost distracted. Yet every time Nam Gyu heard it, it was like a punch in the stomach. He hadn't heard you laugh like that in a long time. Not with him. Not for him. He was the one who knew every expression on your face, every nuance in your voice, and yet, there you were now, smiling with someone else.

And then, as if that were not enough, your eyes shifted to him. You were doing it on purpose, it was so predictable. You hadn't seen him in years. Years in which you had tried to forget the sound of his voice, the way his touch could burn your skin, the look with which he had always made you feel naked, exposed, vulnerable. You had vowed never to think of him again, to rebuild yourself, to erase his name from your mind. But when your eyes had landed on him in that bare, stuffy dormitory, time had stood still.

He had changed. Thinner, harder. His face seemed carved in stone, his black eyes were duller, more hollowed out. Did he have new tattoos? For a moment, you had seen a spark of something familiar before he looked away.

"So now you want to impress me?" you had told him, as Thanos sat down next to you just to talk some more.

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Nam Gyu sat in a corner, his body motionless, his hands intertwined in front of his face. He was trying to ignore it. He was trying to ignore the discomfort that knotted in his stomach every time Thanos spoke to you. But then, Thanos spoke.

"Strange," he said, with his usual arrogant smile, his eyes cast toward the piggy bank. "I didn't think you were the type to let a woman like that go"

Nam Gyu did not react. Not right away. Thanos understood. He was high and only wanted to annoy him.

"Or maybe," he continued, tilting his head slightly, "you never really had her?"

A deep breath. Absolute control. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"Why are you talking about things that don't concern you?"

Thanos laughed softly, with the confidence of someone who knows he has the upper hand. He leaned in slightly closer, as if deliberately trying to provoke him.

"Because it amuses me," he whispered. "Because I want her. Because you had her in your hands and threw her away like an idiot"

Nam Gyu clenched his jaw, still silence. Still checking. Yes, he was an idiot. Yes, he was wrong. Yes, his heart still burned for you.

"But maybe it was for the best," Thanos continued, the grin becoming more and more evident. "She is free now."

The bed creaked in an instant, Nam Gyu stood, his breath short, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes burning with pure rage. Thanos smiled even wider. "Ah, so you still feel something? What a surprise"

"Leave her alone"

Thanos stared at him, and for the first time a shadow of caution flashed in his eyes. He was only joking. "What is it you call her? Bunny? Bro, you're really fucked up to call her in your sleep. Maybe you should-"

Nam Gyu moved even closer, his gaze now a bottomless abyss. His sweatshirt sleeves were up, Thanos noticed his scars, from when he was piercing himself. He took his necklace with a dry gesture, opening it in front of him, Nam Gyu's eyes lit up with something all too intense.

Thanos studied him for a long moment, then tossed him the pill, the smile barely noticeable. "Don't worry, champion. I don't want any trouble. At least not yet"

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You could not sleep. The need to go to the bathroom had become impossible to ignore; you were so terrified that you hadn't thought about your physiological needs at all. You had risen cautiously, slipping away from your bed without a sound, moving like a shadow among the huddled bodies. You crossed the dark room, the faint red and blue lights on the floor were blinding. When you reached the door, the guard behind the glass looked impassive.

"You can't get out"

The metallic voice rang through the device, cold and impersonal. You paused, your breath suspended for a moment.

"I need to go to the bathroom." Your voice was firm, but your body tense, but the guard remained still. Not an ounce of sympathy. Clenching your fists, the idea of having to stay there, of being denied even that slightest freedom, made your blood boil in your veins.

"If you'd rather I do it here, be my guest and watch"

The guard did not move. He did not respond. Nervousness burned under your skin. Your instinct told you that you would never be able to convince him, because you couldn't even convince yourself. Do it in front of everyone, even if they were asleep? That was out of the question. But then, a presence behind you.

"What's the problem?"

His voice. Low. Deep. Strange. A shiver went down your spine even before you turned around. He was there, so close you could feel the heat behind you. His gaze, heavy as a mark on your skin, did not leave the guard in front of you.

"She just needs to go to the bathroom"

The guard did not move, "It is not allowed at night"

Nam Gyu took a step closer. "Not allowed?" His voice dropped a tone, becoming darker, more dangerous. "Either you let her pass, or we make a scene. But I guess you don't want to attract attention, right?"

The guard was impassive, as always, and he was so close, and you desperately needed the bathroom.

Nam Gyu looked at him as if he could break him in two with a single glance, resting his hand on your back. "Don't be an asshole," his voice was pure threat. "Open that door."

A second of absolute tension, then finally the guard opened the door. As soon as the door opened, Nam Gyu gently grabbed your wrist, guiding you out without another word. He walked in front of you, determined, his shoulders broad and tense. His grip on your wrist had barely loosened, but the contact between your skins was still there, alive, electric. Reaching the bathroom door, he stopped, you turned toward him, finally meeting his gaze. He was staring at you in a way that almost made you hold your breath.

His eyes were dilated, shiny, you remembered, because you had those eyes too, then you had decided that ruining your life was not the thing and stopped. Only when you had turned away from him had you felt the air lacking. So close, you could touch him, just reach out. All you had to do was ... No, you couldn't. Not now that you were both vulnerable.

"What an honor to know you still care about me," you barely whispered, he tightened his lips into a single line, he wanted to speak, he wanted to stop you. He wanted to... He didn't know anymore either. You had entered the bathroom not knowing that he had followed you quickly. You had done everything in a hurry, not wanting to upset the masked men.

Water ran over your cold hands as you rubbed them under the rusty jet of the sink, trying desperately to concentrate on the monotonous noise that echoed in the small room. But the only presence you could feel was his.

He was there, standing still against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his body relaxed in that silent arrogance that had always driven you crazy. His dark eyes watched you with an intensity that seemed to dig into you, making you feel vulnerable, as if he saw every thought hidden behind your impassive facade.

You knew he was watching you. He was devouring you with his eyes. You breathed deep, trying to find the voice to break that nerve-wracking wait.

"You can leave, you know"

The sound of your words echoed in the small room, but he did not move. Then he slowly left his position against the door and took a few steps toward you, slow, studied. Curse.

"Still playing hard to get" His voice was low, rough, with that undertone of danger you had come to know well. You felt your heart quicken as the reflection in the small mirror above the sink returned his figure to you, getting closer and closer. And then-the contact. His hands. Warm, sure, terribly familiar.

His hands rested on your hips with devastating naturalness, his fingers sliding lazily along the elastic of your sweatpants. A shiver ran down your spine, your breath jamming for an instant.

"Don't touch me. Back away," but you had arched your back so pathetically that your words betrayed themselves. He knew that your breathing had just changed. He knew that your body was already responding to his.

"Really?"

His tone was a challenge-laden whisper, his mouth close to your ear, his warm breath brushing against your skin. He moved even closer, his chest almost touching your back. The warmth of his body against yours made you shiver. And then, you felt it. His erection, how much he wanted you, and the tip of his thumb sliding slowly under the fabric of your panties. A very light, almost accidental touch.

You stiffened instantly, your fingers gripping around the edge of the sink tightly, as if it were the only thing holding you up.

"Stop it"

Nam Gyu smiled against your neck, a smile you couldn't see but felt all over.

"Lie"

His hand moved another inch, his fingers playing with the hem of the fabric, lazily caressing the soft skin beneath it. Your breath grew shorter, the heat spreading along your skin like a slow poison.

"You always said you hated it when I did that"

His voice was low, hypnotic, dangerously close.

"And I hate it." You tried to maintain control, to ignore the way your body responded to his touch. But he laughed softly, a deep sound that made you shudder.

"Stop your bullshit. Can't you hear how much I want you, bunny." That name. That damn name that had always made you melt.

You had bitten your lip, hating yourself for the way your body seemed to give out without you being able to stop it. Stop, stop, stop.

"Go away, Nam Gyu"

He did not move; rather, he let his lips barely graze the skin behind your ear, his hot breath making you tremble.

"Tell me you don't want this"

"Tell me you hate me"

You hated him. You hated him because he knew you would never say it. When his hand reached your opening, opening it with two fingers, your breath was ragged, you had rested your head on his shoulder you could see his face looking down at you.

"Is that a no?" he turned several times between your folds as he gave you pleasure and you closed your eyes. Maybe it was his twisted way of enjoying himself. Maybe he liked seeing you tremble under his intense gaze, knowing that he could destabilize you. Or maybe he simply wanted what he couldn't have.

"He's on you like a hungry dog," Nam Gyu had whispered, his voice low, laden with venom, as he kissed your neck. He was talking about Thanos, you knew; he was jealous because you were still his stuff.

"None of your business," you had replied, your heart pounding in your chest. He had removed his fingers from your pussy too quickly, grabbing your hair with a tug, you had already complained about his distance.  "Yes it is my business. I see your face in my nightmares, I can't touch a woman after you anymore.... bunny, don't you understand?" his eyes were black, damned, you felt your intimacy melt deprived by your orgasm. But you were bursting.

"You reduce yourself to this! I am not a piece of meat! I loved you and you just exploited my weakness, my love to your liking!" before he could continue torturing you, his hand let go of your hair, you were looking at your bodies through the mirror, him behind you, and you trembling in front. Your pants slightly pulled down over your legs, his hand continuing to pull them down.

"You are more than a piece of meat"

"You didn't give me a way to think that, though" you had turned around, now you were face to face. His cheeks red, his eyes half-closed, as he grasped your cheeks with his palms as if to lock them in.

"Maybe we won't get out of here alive, bunny," he sighed, playing with your hair; it was the drug, you knew. "Maybe I'll die. But at least I was lucky enough to see you one last time"

"You're not in you. That's the drug talking"

Your still damp hands clenched against the fabric of his suit. You stared at him, your breath short, your eyes struggling to stay cold, not to betray the fire he always managed to ignite. He smiled. A game. Always the same, the one where he pushed and you tried to resist. Only this time the bathroom walls seemed to close in on you, the breath of both of you was too close, and the air was thick with something you could no longer ignore.

"You're always the same," he continued, his tone softer, almost bitter. "Always ready to say no to me"

You didn't know what to say, you were like stuck, still too shaken.

"You like to drive me crazy, don't you?"

You didn't have time to answer. His hands closed around your face, "Please, bunny, kiss me" It was that closeness you knew, it was that you couldn't stand it anymore, to say enough. It was the fear, the fear of dying in a place like that. It was too strong, and painful but his lips touched yours without any warning. It was a violent, hungry, angry kiss. No gentleness, no attempt to hold back. Just years of anger, repressed desire and unspoken words exploding all at once.

Your fingers slid into his hair, squeezing hard as his body pushed you against the sink again. Your mouths sought each other, taking, biting.

He moaned against your lips, his tongue sank deeper into your mouth, as if he wanted to claim you, as if he wanted to remind you that, in spite of everything, he had never really let you go.

And the worst of it was that you didn't want to stop him. Never. Not even when he turned you over for the second time, and bent you over the cold sink, his erection pressing against your butt was just yet another signal about how much he was treating himself. How many times he had dreamed that you were the woman he had between the sheets, your face, your hair, your lips.

"Nam Gyu," you had said, trying not to wince as he slid down your sweatpants and panties. His body was pressed against your bottom, his hair in front of his face and his hands clasped around your hips.

"Do you know how much I've missed you?" was a rhetorical question, sure enough, your head was foggy and your legs gave out. You were all wet, he found it funny. It was sloppy, all so fast, his breath on your neck and the tip of his cock already inside you. You lifted your butt higher toward him, because you wanted more, you were addicted, "Fuck"

"How I had missed your voice" he muttered, as his hand grabbed your hair, pulling you back toward him kissing your neck. You weren't protesting, you couldn't do anything more, you were exhausted and confused completely loose under him. His hands were everywhere, reaching for your breasts under your bra.

"Hurry the fuck up, I'm going crazy"

Your breath took away as he began to giggle and then grabbed you with far too much force as he fucked you in that fatal position. It was your head spinning, sweat soaked into your forehead. You felt it all, his tongue on your neck and moans against your ear. You were so hungry for him but so little in control of your person, "We are both doomed, you know, bunny"

"I know"

You had been struck by time, out of control, and for that night you had been his again. He couldn't get enough of it. Then a soft knock against the door. There were a few thrusts, unrestrained like animals possessing themselves. He stepped out of your frustrated womanhood, pulling your hair back from your neck and laying a chaste kiss on it. You had rested your head on the sink, your cheek flattened, and your face formulated a small smile. Your legs completely filled with him. You were cursed, yes. You were alive, again.

"I love you"

MASTERLIST.

[deathofacupid]

you can't remember your last kiss with nanami kento. no matter how much you try, you just can't.

was it this morning? when he woke you up, newborn daughter in-hand? no, that couldn't have been it. because, after, he kissed you again, chaste, as he moved past you to get to the dishwasher.

and then again, when he set your breakfast on the table. another time after, too. when he settled on the couch with you and his baby girl.

but was that the last one? or, was there more after?

you can't remember. in your defense, you didn't have a reason to keep track. there shouldn't have been. the second you told him you were pregnant, he dropped the world of jujutsu. it was over, or it should have been.

speaking of, your pregnancy, it wasn't ever anything you really wanted. it was something he did. kids. it was his dream, you're pretty sure, the whole white-picket-fence fantasy.

and you? you didn't care, not much. as long as you had nanami, you were okay with anything. besides, he'd been so happy when you broke the news. it's not like you guys had been actively trying, which is why you were surprised to see his reaction.

but again, for him, you'd do anything. what did it matter, anyways? it was just a kid, right? and he'd be there every step of the way, right?

wrong.

it was another sunday, the three of you had been snuggled up in bed, just when he got the call.

"they want me to come in," he explained, softly.

"what?" you knew the answer.

"i won't go if you don't want me to. but, darling, i doubt they'd have called me in, if it hadn't been urgent."

you inhaled, watching him gently rock his daughter in his arms. "does- does that mean it's bad, then?"

"well, i'm sure it's nothing i can't handle," he informed you, paired with a soft smile.

"i don't know, na'mi. you said you weren't gonna go back." there was hesitance in your voice, one that trembled.

"honey, that's why i said it's up to you, okay?" nanami pressed his lips to your forehead.

if people really needed him, who were you to not let him go? what were you supposed to do? say no, let those people die? guilt gnawed at you. slowly, you nodded, looking up to meet his gaze.

so, as you stood there at the door, watching him kiss his baby what should've been a temporary goodbye.

you can't remember if he kissed you goodbye, too. he probably did, but you can't remember.

"promise you'll come back to me?" you'd buried your face into the crook of his neck.

"of course, baby. i promise."

fucking liar.

oh, god, and when they told you there wasn't even a body to recover?

too much. all too much.

you think that you would've followed him, had there not have been his baby stopping you.

kiss, kiss, kiss; why can't you remember? why?

the cries of his baby, the baby that yearns for her father, they are etched into your head. you can't get her to stop. you don't blame her. you can't stop, either.

you aren't her mother. she isn't your daughter.

she's nanami's, but he's gone.

the only thing he left you with is a child you never wanted, a living, breathing reminder of his absence, of his broken promise, of the kiss you can't remember — the kiss that might as well have never happened.

[reidsmanuscript]

Seven Seconds

Summary: when Katie Jacob's gets abducted in a Mall, setting the clock for the BAU, who needs a legal favor, and it's been a year since the A.D.A. has know anything about Spencer Reid. Pairing: Spencer Reid x lawyer!reader Genre: pinning, SLOW BURN, maybe right moment?, angst bc i love angst wc: 4.6k! (i know so small comparing to part 1 bear with me) TW: cm canon typical violence, set in 05x3 "Seven seconds" (obviously lol), sexual violence, implied reader's dark past, glimpses of female rage. A/N: my idea for the serie is be taylor jenkins reid and have you question if lawyer reader exists or not (delusional bitch), english is not my first language and let's pretend it's proofread part I - part II - part III - part IV

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Spencer sat on the park bench reading a book while playing chess with Ethan, brilliant kid for his age and good opponent, not good enough though because when he cheered “I see checkmate in 5, What do you see?” It took Spencer one glance to calculate all the movements necessary.

“I see it in 3” he answered looking at his book again, the kid turned around the board and moved the pieces

“We've missed you out here” he said, staring at the board amazed.

“Thanks. I, uh, I had to take a little break”

“How come?” His hands froze on the book for a second before closing it.

Spencer had been clean for over a year now, it was 14 months and 2 weeks ago that he had freaked out after noticing his stash of Dialud was gone along with his needle. Where could he find more? Who knew about his addiction? Where was his stash? Who the fuck is Dr. Fitzgerald? Did you report him?

His first instinct was confronting you, given that you were the only person who found out his drugs that he knew, the first days he was a complete paranoid, he jumped every time Hotch called his name, or that Gideon looked at him a little too long.

At the end of the week he was thinking where he could find more, and when that thought scared him, he called the number of the card you had left in the same pocket his drugs used to be.

“Hello this is Dr. Fitzgerald” said a calm voice, it was 10 p.m. so there was a higher chance of going to voicemail, but he got an answer and the tremor of his hands got a little worse. Was it the anxiety or the withdrawal?

“Umm hello.. this is.. Dr.. this is Spencer Reid and someon-""I've been waiting for your call Dr Reid” the other line interrupted, he froze for a second.

“I used to play with a co-worker friend of mine. He's probably the best mind I ever went up against. One day, he just decided that he didn't want to play anymore.”

Fast forward, she helped him get clean and stay clean after Gideon left, getting tested regularly, and gave him the contact of the help group of FBI addicts. He was better, he was alive.

“So you gave up, too?”

“Just the opposite. I attempted to play Through every permutation of moves on a chessboard.”

“That's an infinite number of games.”

“It's not infinite. It's just- it's exponentially large.”

“You couldn't have played through them all.”

“There's an average of 40 moves per chess game, And I'll tell you something– the more I played, The more I realized that every single match every single chess game, Is really just a simple variation on the exact same theme. You know? It's aggressive opening, Patient mid-game, inevitable checkmate, And I realized why my friend quit. He was tired of repeating the same patterns And expecting a different outcome.”

“That's because you haven't come up on Fridays or Mondays in a while” the way his eyebrows went up along his voice tone made him feel like he knew something that he didn't.

His eyebrows furrowed “What do you mean?”

“There's this great player who comes around those days, she even brings the best pastries, and her games is similar to yours, always two or three moves ahead, she always beats everyone here… i think her boyfriend called her Buzz or something like that, like the Toy Story character”

“Buzz?… i don't really remember anyone with that nickname”

“It’s probably not that one but you don't know her because she started coming like 8 months ago.. I'm sure you have a lifetime of chess strategy in your head that you're just sitting on, but when you meet her?” He made a dramatic pause “You'll have to play it.”

He glances at his watch to realize his 15 minute break is coming to an end. “I still use it. I just, uh... I apply it differently. I have to go. It's good seeing you.”

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That evening, the BAU was called in for a local case—a little girl, Katie, had been kidnapped from a busy mall. A week earlier, another girl had been taken from the same location and found dead hours later. Now, they were all racing against the clock.

Katie’s parents were desperate. As any parents would be in this situation, right? But when Hotch asked the father if either of them was having an affair—a routine question in abductions—the man took offense. Deep offense. So much so that he refused to let the FBI search their house.

Now, what kind of parent refuses to help the police find their missing child?

In a small surveillance room, Morgan and Reid sat with Garcia, who was visibly frustrated by the mall’s ancient security system. They were surrounded by screens displaying grainy footage from different angles—well, almost every angle. They had a single glimpse of Katie in one video, and then, seven seconds later, she was gone.

JJ and Prentiss were with the mother, aunt, and uncle, trying to get a read on the family dynamic. Meanwhile, Morgan and Reid had conducted a cognitive interview with Katie’s cousin. It had led nowhere.

“The family has refused permission to search the house,” Hotch announced as he stepped into the room.

“What do you mean they denied?” Morgan’s frustration was evident. “Your only child goes missing, and you refuse to collaborate?”

No one disagreed. They were all thinking the same thing.

“The cousin didn’t say much,” Reid added. “He was too distracted in the game room to notice anything.”

Hotch exhaled sharply. “I’ll speak to the detectives, see if we can get a warrant.” His tone was firm, but they all knew time wasn’t on their side.

Garcia adjusted her glasses. “Sir, I mean this in the best way possible, but it’s almost 8 p.m. I don’t think-”

“I’ll handle it,” Morgan interrupted.

All Reid and Garcia turned to him with identical looks. What do you mean you will handle it?

Hotch’s eyebrows furrowed, but after a moment, he gave a small nod and walked away. Morgan was already pulling out his phone.

“I have a contact,” he explained, dialing.

He put the phone on speaker. It rang once. Twice. On the third ring, a voice answered—sharp, direct, and all business.

“A.D.A. Woodvale.”

Reid went rigid.

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It was late in the office; most people had already gone home, including your assistant Molly. All but Austin, who was still there because he had a lead on one of your cases. You knew he was still hanging around because, over a year ago, when someone had snuck into your office to harm you, you’d become a little paranoid. You’d gotten better, but Austin insisted on keeping you company, especially since your car was in the mechanic’s.

You were reviewing a legal brief, pen in hand, skimming the margins to jot down notes when the desk phone rang. Without looking up, you hit the speaker button with the tip of the pen.

“A.D.A. Woodvale.”

There was a beat of silence before a familiar voice cut in—smooth, direct, urgent.

Morgan called your name “Hey. We need a warrant. Fast.” You blinked, setting the pen down.

Reid and Garcia exchanged glances as Morgan jumped in without hesitation.

“Katie Jacobs. Eight years old. Abducted from a mall earlier tonight,” Morgan started, all business. “Another girl was taken from the same place a week ago—she was found dead hours later. We’re working against the clock.”

You frowned, swirling the pen, going through the multiple scenarios. You had heard about last week’s case, and how slow the police had moved back then.

“We’ve got mall surveillance footage,” Morgan pressed. “At first, we thought she just vanished, but Garcia finally pulled something from one of the side corridors. Katie wasn’t taken by force—she was walking calmly with someone.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around her pen. “Someone she knows.”

“Exactly,” Morgan confirmed. “That narrows it down to family or close acquaintances.” They all shared a silent thought. Family.

We know they’re hiding something,” Morgan corrected. “We just don’t have the probable cause to kick the door down.”

Garcia watched as Morgan paced slightly, his tone firm but urgent.

“That’s thin, Morgan,” Your voice came through the speaker, steady and unyielding.

“We don’t have time for airtight,” Morgan countered.

Your jaw tightened. “You don’t have time for me to get laughed out of a judge’s office, either. Refusing a search isn’t a crime, and suspicion alone doesn’t cut it. I need more.” You understood where the suspicious came from, how are you supposed to help them if they had nothing?

There was a pause. A beat of silence. Then, another voice—one you hadn’t heard in over a year.

“99% of abducted children who are killed due within the first 24 hours” He cleared his throat, willing his voice to stay even. Spencer Reid. “75% within the first 3 hours, and what only law enforcement knows is Jessica Davis joined the 44% of children who are abducted and killed within the first hour. We’re already past the three-hour mark. If we don’t act now, statistically speaking—”

“The likelihood of recovery drops exponentially,” You sighed, already standing up, ignoring how his voice sounded. So different. So… clean.

Your gaze flicked to the clock. 8:06 p.m. Damn it.

You grabbed a blank warrant form from her drawer and reached for a pen. “Send me the address and everything else you have. Give me 20 minutes.”

Click. You didn’t have time for goodbyes.

Austin raised an eyebrow from his seat. “Guess you’re not going home anytime soon.”

You didn’t look up as you started writing. “I never was.”

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The courthouse was mostly deserted at this hour. The fluorescent lights hummed quietly, and the stillness of the evening was only interrupted by the sharp click of your heels on the polished floors followed by Austin’s boots toward the judge’s chambers.

“You sure you don’t want me to take this one? Sweet-talk her maybe?” he teased.

You shot him a look. “You think Judge Holloway is the type to be charmed? Plus, you’re a private investigator, not a lawyer.”  

“She’s not gonna like you showing up this late.”  

You didn’t miss a beat. “If she’s still up, she’ll make time for this.”  

Taking a steadying breath as you stopped in front of the door, you quickly ran through your notes, making sure you had every detail in order. Then, without hesitation, you pushed through the heavy wooden doors of Judge Evelyn Holloway’s chambers.  

Inside, the judge barely glanced up from her paperwork. “You have two minutes, Woodvale.”

Stepping forward, you set the warrant request on the desk. “Your Honor, I apologize for the late hour, but we have a child abduction case we’re working against the clock. A young girl, Katie Jacobs, was taken from a mall over three hours ago. We’ve obtained surveillance footage showing her walking with an individual—someone she likely knows. We believe the family is withholding information, and they’ve refused to allow us to search the residence.”

The judge narrowed his eyes, folding her hands on the desk. “And what do you propose I do about it? What evidence do you have to warrant a search?”

Alex kept her voice steady. “We have footage of the girl with someone who wasn’t a stranger, Your Honor. The parents are refusing cooperation, and the father was evasive when asked about possible affairs, which raises red flags about his involvement.”

Holloway sighed, leaning back in her chair. “That’s thin.” You were ready for that.

“I have the full footage from the mall security, including a timestamp showing the precise time the girl went missing. She is last seen walking calmly with someone she knows, most likely family.”

There was a brief pause, and for a second, you thought you were about to lose her. So you pulled Reid’s words from memory, adjusting them just enough to make them your own.

“Time is working against us. Statistics show that 99% of abducted children who are murdered lose their lives within the first 24 hours 75% within just the first three. And only law enforcement-”

She cut you off with a raised hand, signaling you to stop.

The judge exhaled through her nose, it was late and you were rambling about statistics and you knew she wanted you out as soon as possible when you started citing numbers. So pushing himself out of her chair with a slight groan. “Fine. Get me the paperwork. I’ll sign it—but you better have your ducks in a row.”

You nodded, her demeanor unflinching. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the hours ahead of you. But you were used to this—fighting against the clock.

“Let’s move,” motioning to Austin. He gave you a small nod. “You got it.”

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Exactly 15 minutes after the call, 5 minutes earlier than promised, Morgan’s phone rang. He answered it without even looking. 

"You got your warrant. I'll meet you there," Alex’s voice came through, crisp and businesslike, just as expected.

Morgan exhaled, his relief barely hidden. "Thank you, Woody."

He paused for a moment before adding, "I owe you one," then hung up, turning to Reid.

“Tell Hotch we’re heading to the Jacobs’ house,” he instructed, already moving toward the door.

Spencer had been timing her. It wasn’t the first time he'd gotten caught up in the tense waiting game of law and order, but the pressure of it had a different weight today. The memory of your voice, clear and resolute, echoed in his mind, sharper than before.

For Reid, part of getting clean wasn't just the physical withdrawal—it was the emotional weight of confronting his mistakes. The memory of how he'd lashed out at you a year ago still haunted him. How could he have been so cruel? The hurt in your eyes, the way he dismissed you, the way it all spiraled… it wasn’t just the drugs that had made him say those things. And the fury he saw when you looked at him, Dialuid in hand, how you looked like a timing bomb when he was trying to see if he could talk to you, the tension in your shoulders, the lock in your jaw, the grip on the file. He’d been battling so much more since then, in his mind, you saved his life by doing what he couldn't do.

He’d rather die than relive that moment again, than say those things. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of another chaotic case, still carrying that guilt with him. He stayed behind Morgan for just a beat before pushing down his feelings and moving quickly. 

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The engine of Austin's bike rumbled to a stop as they pulled up in front of the house, where Morgan and Reid were standing in front of the black SUV. You slid off the back with practiced ease, taking off the helmet and letting your hair fall loose.

Austin followed your lead, taking his helmet off with a groan. “So, what exactly are we looking for?”

You shot him a quick, sidelong glance, handing him the helmet, keeping your expression flat knowing he’s about to be a drama queen. “You’re not coming inside. The warrant’s for FBI and police only. Not P.I.s included”

Austin paused, a mock pout crossing his face. “Excuse me? I just got you here, through all that traffic, risking myself to get a speeding ticket and now I don’t get to search? This is the second time in the night that you P.I. shaming me. Do you hate me?”

“If I hated you I wouldn’t have bailed your ass out of jail… twice” you remark the last part. He had a talent for sticking his foot where he shouldn’t be, maybe that’s what makes him good at his job.

“You act like you wouldn’t do it a third time” he was mocking, but he was right, something you would never admit to him. 

You start walking to the house “Mhm.” you hum rolling your eyes, heading towards where Morgan and Reid were. 

You didn't expect him to be there, or maybe you did, maybe you wanted to see him and know what had happened to him since the last time you saw him. They were looking at you, Morgan with a curious already-profiling-you stare, while Reid expression was more… cautious. He looked so different, his cheekbones were prominent in an attractive way and not sickly, he had put on some healthy weight and was not fidgety. You were not mad anymore, because of course at the moment the hurt had turned into rage like it always does for you, but it was more because of phantoms than anything else. 

“Got your golden ticket” you said, avoiding Reid’s gaze as you pulled the warrant from the inner pocket of your gray coat and swung it toward them.

Morgan nodded “You staying?” He gestured with his head to Austin who was leaving.

“I have to make sure you find something, otherwise the judge will have my head for this,” you said dryly, shrugging as though the threat didn’t bother you, but there was a flicker of seriousness behind your words. You were only talking to him, which felt rude because Reid’s stare was locked in your profile. 

Reid was thinking how pretty you looked, how the black vest suited you, and he couldn’t ignore the fact you had changed your brown bag to a black one that looked nothing like his. Your white shirt and gray coat gave you an older, wiser look, but as Reid analyzed your features, he realized he didn’t even know how old you were. You couldn’t be older than him. Serious, sharp, and young... How was it possible for someone that young to be the A.D.A.?

Reid’s mind couldn’t let go of the numbers. The average age of an Assistant District Attorney in the U.S. is 36. You couldn’t be older than 25, and yet you were already in that position.

You glanced at him for a moment before stepping inside the house, feeling the weight of his stare. The look made him snap out of his trance-like state, and of course, his eidetic memory hated him, because for that brief second, he remembered how you had looked at him a year ago.

Morgan nodded and thanked you again before he and Reid walked into the house. You left the warrant on the hall table with a deliberate touch, your fingers lingering for just a moment—as if to remind yourself that you weren’t entirely done with this.

“Somebody lit a fire last night,” you heard Reid say.

“Well, there are dirty dishes for three in the kitchen, so they eat together as a family.” Morgan’s voice carried from the other room as they moved through the house, taking in the details.

If Katie was in danger, the signs wouldn’t be in plain sight. You had to look where they hid—where children kept their secrets. Their bedrooms.

“Hey, my favorite movie from when I was a kid.” Reid held up a DVD, turning it in his hands before pulling it from the player just as you passed by him, tugging on latex gloves before heading upstairs, you did feel a little guilty for not even looking or talking to him, but it was something you did unconsciously. 

“So they watch movies together, too,” Morgan mused. They were starting to build a picture of the family’s dynamic.

“By a fireplace in a house that’s straight out of a catalog,” Reid added. “Norman Rockwell couldn’t have painted this any cozier.”

“That’s what worries me.” There was weight in Morgan’s voice. A tension that sat between them.

Upstairs, you searched through the rooms with careful precision.

When you first became a lawyer, you made a promise—never ignore a sign. Since then, you have gone further. You didn’t just refuse to ignore them; you searched for them. Hollow eyes. Unexplained bruises. Small bloodstains. You looked for them in teenagers, in young adults, in the elderly. But nothing—nothing—was more painful than a child who couldn’t speak up.

Because they were small. Because someone older, someone stronger, was hurting them. There's nothing more hurtful than not being able to speak out, to say something and stand up for yourself. Except when someone did—someone saw the bruises, the fear, the signs—and they looked away deliberately. Because a child’s pain was inconvenient. Because it came with a mountain of paperwork no one wanted to touch.

You had spent your whole life making sure you never looked away.

That’s why you were hunched over the small desk in Katie’s bedroom, flipping through her drawings when Morgan and Reid entered the room. They started searching, their movements efficient and methodical.

“Katie’s been wetting her bed,” Reid said as he lifted the duvet, inspecting the mattress beneath it.

“A lot of six-year-olds do. Could be bad dreams,” Morgan replied, crouching beside you as he sifted through a pile of toys.

You considered that possibility—it was perfectly logical. In a perfect world.

“Some kids won’t get up at night because they’re afraid of the dark,” Reid added, his tone careful. Almost knowing.

“Or it could be a lot more complex than that.”

Morgan had found a doll. Not a Barbie missing a shoe or one that had simply been played with too much. No—this doll was different.

Its hair had been hacked off, jagged strands sticking out unevenly. Red marker smeared across its face like smeared blood. Its clothes were yanked askew, twisted, and wrong.

“Most girls covet their dolls like an extension of themselves.” He took the doll in his hands like it was made of fine glass. 

“Reid, I know these signs-— acting out on her toys, wetting the bed. She's obviously covering up something about that necklace.”

“And her cousin might be holding something back.”

“Well, this looks more like a man than a boy to me,” you said, holding up a drawing of a tall, shadowy figure towering over a small, crying child.

Morgan took it from your hands, his expression hardening as he analyzed the image.

“Psychology says drawing is a child’s way of channeling their inner world. Look at the strokes—how harsh they are,” you pointed to the dark, jagged lines forming the tall figure, then traced your finger over the smaller one. “And this looks like Katie to me. She forgot to draw the hands, which means she feels powerless… helpless.” 

Morgan took his phone out, dialing up “Hotch, we think Katie’s being molested,” Morgan said, his voice clipped. “And we both know the odds.”

A brief silence. Then Hotch’s response, firm and certain. “Most likely by someone under the same roof.”

He hung up, and both men started toward the door, their movements brisk with purpose. But you stayed behind for a moment, rooted in place, taking in the scene. Trying to quiet the distant sirens that echoed in your mind, the same ones always shouting when you were face to face with these situations. A loud pause—maybe out of respect for Katie and her pain, for everything she had been forced to endure.

From the doorway, Spencer glanced back. The dim light from the hallway cast your figure in stark contrast, outlining you in shadow—your form dark against the soft glow of the room. He couldn’t see your expression, couldn’t read your face. He focused on the way your hands curled into fists at your sides, the tight set of your shoulders.

And he wished—just for a second—that he could see more.

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You stood outside, leaning against the wall, arms crossed tightly over your chest. By your side were Morgan, Jeremy, Katie’s cousin, and Reid.

Turns out, Katie’s uncle, Richard, was her abuser. A disgusting son of a bitch who deserved to rot in hell. And you were going to make sure he did. He had destroyed Katie’s childhood, probably more than just hers, shattering an entire family in the process. His own son, standing right next to you, was collateral damage he clearly hadn’t spared a thought for. And then there was his wife. The woman who had chosen to look away. Who had taken Katie and nearly gotten her killed, all for the pathetic, desperate hope that it would somehow stop her husband from creeping into little bedrooms at night. She deserved the same hell he did.

A stretcher rolled past, Katie’s small frame barely visible beneath the blankets as the paramedics guided her into the ambulance. Her mother clutched her tiny hand, whispering something—words meant to soothe, to promise safety.

A young voice cut through the air. “I heard her call my mom’s name. That’s what I remembered before.”

You closed your eyes, your mind already racing ahead. Your attorney brain was piecing it together, sketching out the battle that was coming. If the kid had heard it, that made him a witness to the abduction. His own mother had committed the crime against her niece. And God only knew what else he had seen—what else had been happening in that house—without fully understanding it.

“We get it, kid. That’s your mom,” Morgan said, his voice steady. But you knew the truth: if Jeremy could barely say those words to them, getting him to the stand in front of a jury would be another fight entirely.

The boy shifted on his feet, staring at the ambulance. “What’s gonna happen to me now?”

If God existed, He had already been too cruel. He had let all of this happen. And you knew how these things worked—knew there was a very real chance that Katie’s parents, burdened with their own grief, would resent Jeremy by association. That they wouldn’t take him in. That he would be swallowed by the foster system.

You wouldn’t let that happen.

The sirens blared outside the mall, cutting through the air with urgency, but it was the ones inside your mind that were louder—screaming in the same rhythm, as if they were one and the same. Distant and deafening, they filled every corner of your head, drowning out everything but the grim reality unfolding before you.

“I don’t know, Jeremy,” Reid answered, his voice gentle. “But we’re gonna make sure you’re alright, okay?”

Jeremy didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the ambulance. “Is Katie gonna be all right?”

You wished—desperately, violently—that you could tell him yes. That you could say it with certainty and make it true. But how could you give him something you didn’t have?

“She will, eventually,” Morgan said, his voice firm.

You exhaled sharply. The words made your skin crawl.

“Is she?” The question slipped from your lips before you could stop it—low, bitter, nearly spat out under your breath. Just quiet enough that the kid wouldn’t hear. Just loud enough that Morgan did.

Before he could respond, you were already moving.

Your feet carried you toward the police car, toward the sick, selfish bastard they were shoving into the backseat. Your hand shot out, slamming the door closed—harder than necessary, just enough that it cracked against Richard’s face.

Morgan watched. So did Spencer.

And for the first time, he realized just how much of a puzzle you really were.

Partially because, throughout all of this, you hadn’t looked at him once. Not when he entered the room, not when he spoke, not even now, standing just a few feet away.

Partially because your eyes, when he finally caught a glimpse of them, were full of something he rarely saw outside of a case like this. Pure, undiluted rage.

Not just anger. Not just frustration. Something deeper. Something personal.

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Feedback feeds motivation! Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated <3

[chrishme]

Amazing | Billie Eilish x fem!reader

summary: you comfort billie after her recent loss at the grammies.

warning: crying, that’s it. pure fluff other than that.

a/n: i know this is really really short but this is how i cope lmao my poor girl deserved so much better :(

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You were heartbroken, to say the least. Watching your girlfriend cry at the Grammies wasn't on your 2025 bingo card, and your heart ached for her. The night was magical at first, with you and Billie posing for camera's on the red carpet, both of you backstage getting ready for her performance, the happy smiles and quick kisses before running off onto the stage.

But every time her name wasn't called onto the stage later in the night, you can see your girlfriends smile falter more and more. Billie was a good sport however, and definitely wouldn't express her disappointment, especially with the camera's watching her every move.

The Grammies after party was nice, you and Billie danced together and managed to meet up with a few friends at the party, but you could still tell the loss from earlier that night was weighing heavy on her.

The two of you parted ways with Finneas and Claudia, Finneas making sure to give his sister an extra hug along with words of reassurance before going home. The ride up the elevator to you and Billie's shared apartment was silent, and you couldn't wait to be behind closed doors to hug and comfort her. As soon as the door to the apartment closed, you turn and she sulks into your arms, wrapping them around your waist, head on your chest.

You two stood there for a moment, and you run a hand through her hair and place a kiss on her forehead. It's not until moments later that you hear sniffles escaping from Billie, and your heart pangs at the noise.

"Bils?" You voice comes out in a whisper, trying to make her say something, anything. A moment passes by and Billie's ocean blue orbes finally meet your own. Your thumb runs over a stray tear that stains her cheek. "Are you okay?" You know it's a stupid question to ask, but you need to know what was going on in that pretty head of her's.

She nods at your words, sniffling. You bring her into you again, rubbing circles along her back. You knew she loved it when you did, and soon enough her body begins to calm against your own. "Your performance was amazing." You whisper out to her, kissing her forehead. "Thanks baby." She responds back, appreciating your efforts to make her feel better. She pulls away, and you grab her by the chin, making her look into her eyes.

"Bils, you worked so hard on this album and I know how much it meant for you to win, but just because you didn't doesn't make you or the album any less amazing."

She can tell your words are genuine by the look on your face. She manages a smile, and you can't help but mirror one back to her. She grabs your cheek and gives you a gentle kiss. You kiss back, fingers lacing in her hair. "I love you." She says, smiling against your lips. You always knew how to make her feel better. You smile back, "I love you too, Billie."

She rest her forehead against yours, breathing in your scent, finally feeling somewhat at peace for the first time that night, embraced in your arms. "Ya'know, if it were up to me, you would have won everything." You say with a smile. She smiles back at you, letting out a little laugh. "I know, baby. I know."

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[lolazoel]

As a native german i am well aware of our history, trust me, i knew about the proceedings of WW2 before i could speak a word of english.

Now, as you talk about reading comprehension and education, where exactly did I excuse antisemitism? Because the only reason I posted this was because your post felt like you saying jews caused the germans WW1, or at least that being the rhetoric that lead Hitler to assume power and cause a mass genocide.

Also, translating quotes is not to shit on you for not knowing german, it's so everyone following this exchange can also know it. Because German history is as fascinating as it is tragic.

Speaking of tragic history, the great depression hit germany differently than other countries by 2 factors, 1 the country was paying damages to other countries after taking responsibility for WW1, still evident in our language even. Where I live we use words like Portemonnaie, Plümmo, Trotuar and Paraplue, all derived from French because they were mining for coal here. The people didn't feel humiliated, that would imply a stronger loyalty to the country than the county, something germany may be known for but historically barely has. And of course, 2 opprtunists. Germany like many other countries needed to learn democracy and we needed to do it the hard way. So when opportunity arose for a person to weaponise the situation and to end the Weimarer Republic people weren't too opposed, they didn't really know how democracy worked and how much good it could do. Their lack of information and interest was taken advantage of.

I don't want to fight you, we both oppose Trump because we can see history repeating itself. Let's let this rest please.

Yo, correct me if I am wrong please, but didn't Hitler rise to power because he promised to fix the German economy and people really liked that so they looked past everything else he was doing??? Like exactly what's happening in America right now???

So many people said they voted for Trump, put a truly evil person in power, because he said he'd fix the economy, and a little voice in my head is going, "Isn't that what happened with fucking Hitler??"

But I've seen no one point that out so maybe I'm miss remembering???????