#i wish we all lived closer so that i could just go hang out with ppl instead of being attached to my dumb phone

[famewolf]

my brain has been really out of whack recently (I think it's the time change among other things) so I'm going to try out some things to see if they help

I might not be on social media a whole lot in the next week or two, but if you're mutuals and want my discord, send me a message

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 2

in which fem!reader is feeling insecure about how inexperienced she is around spencer's friends and seeks his expertise to amend the problem

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, oral f receiving, (MUNCH!SPENCE RETURNS), fingering, (very) insecure reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, nipple stuff, kinda sorta implied age gap, god i'm probably forgetting things pls lmk if i missed something important a/n: i've been laboring at this bad boy every day for so long i had to immediately post once it was completed lol. there will be a part three ... maybe i already started it ..... anyway i love u guys and i hope this is a satisfactory part two!! PLS lmk if you liked it!! hearing from u makes my day :')

When Spencer dropped you off at Penelope’s apartment for your first girl’s night—the hostess had promised you, JJ, and Emily lots of gossip sans 'icky men'—you had been ecstatic. You wouldn’t stop rambling to him about how excited you were. 

When he picks you up two and a half hours later, he can hardly get a word out of you. 

It’s not his fault, of course—well, not really, anyway. It’s just that all the girls had wanted to talk about was sex. A topic on which you held very little expertise and had essentially nothing to contribute. Out of the four, you were the only non-FBI agent, the youngest, and undoubtedly the least experienced. It was like high school all over again, except you actually desperately wanted to impress Spencer’s friends. All in all, you weaseled your way out of sharing without giving away that you were still very much a virgin. Sure, you could have said ‘we did hand stuff two weeks ago’, but you had a feeling these women wouldn’t consider that very impressive. 

But you can’t easily relay that information to Spencer—even when he immediately picks up on your sullen mood. He asks you what’s wrong as you make your way down the echoey staircase, but you hold back, muttering something along the lines of we’ll talk about it later. 

Later doesn’t come on the sidewalk outside. It doesn’t come in the car, or at any point during the twenty minute drive, but you feel it rapidly approaching as you climb the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. He unlocks the door and holds it open for you, doesn’t speak as you kick off your shoes and wander aimlessly into the living room.

“Did you eat?” He finally asks, hanging his keys on a hook by the door and glancing over to where you linger in the center of the room like a ghost. 

“Not hungry.”

You both know that wasn’t the question, but he lets it go. 

“Alright... well, I was thinking—“

“Why haven’t we had sex?”

The question flies from your mouth before you can stop it. It tastes like metal and you wish you could take it back as you stand there, cheeks hot and awaiting a reply. It seems you’ve thoroughly astonished Spencer as he gapes at you like a fish out of water for several silent moments, eventually opting to shove his hands in his pockets and shake his head at the wall as he processes the question. 

“I… I don’t know. We just haven’t. Does that bother you?”

Suddenly your whole body feels intolerably warm. Your fingers twitch against your thighs. Of course it bothers you. 

“Do you just not want to? You aren’t attracted to me like that?”

God, you despise how fragile your voice sounds—how much you obviously care, how insecure you clearly are. Spencer picks up on it, despite your most fervent wishing that he wouldn’t, and approaches, stopping a few feet away. You stare at the span of oriental design on the floor between your feet. 

“That’s not at all what I said, angel. I wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, then… say something else,” you plead quietly, childishly, still unable to meet his eyes. Prove me wrong. 

He sighs, which does not bode well for you. You wonder if you accidentally triggered the early demise of your relationship and christ do you wish you could rewind. When he steps closer, when his hands find your arms, you’re not sure where to look. But the low, sweet tone of his voice entices you to finally meet his gaze, charmed like a snake as his eyes dart between yours. 

“You know that’s not how I feel.”

You shake your head earnestly, looking up at him with wide eyes as he slowly rubs your arms. 

“No. No, I don’t know that.”

Spencer frowns, glancing at your lips as he speaks. It’s impossible to not do the same when he’s standing so close. 

“But I’ve told you. I don’t understand how you couldn’t know how far from the truth that is.”

You think back to two weeks ago—the first and only time he’d ever done anything more than kiss you. A different kind of flush replaces the shameful one in your cheeks as you try to make your case and not get distracted by the memories of his hands all over you.

“So why won’t you prove it?”

It’d been intended to come out cool, but instead you sound a little desperate, a little out of breath as you realize you and Spencer somehow ended up so close to each other you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. 

“Is that what you need from me? More proof?”

He speaks so lowly, his fingers press into the flesh of your arms portentously, and you think maybe you’ve poked the bear one too many times. But you won’t back down now—not when you think you might actually get what you want. 

So you look up at him and nod, throat too dry to speak. His eyes are deceptively soft, but you don’t miss the big bad something lurking just beneath the surface of the placid hazel. 

“And how do you think I should prove it?”

“I told you what I want,” you whisper, speaking above your pounding heart. 

“Not tonight, honey. Choose something else.”

“Well—that’s not fair,” you stammer, “the whole point is for you to want to have sex with me.”

Spencer smiles a little, tucking hair behind your ear. “I do want that. I promise you I do. But there are other things I want us to do first.”

“Then I want to do that, too! I just—I don’t know what I’m doing, and you do, and I’m already out on a limb by asking for this much. I know this is what I want but I need you to take the lead here. I trust you, Spencer.” You top off the monologue with an imploring gaze—hoping it delivers even a fraction of the impact that his puppy-dog eyes always have on you. 

He seems to study every square inch of your face as you wait in suspense for him to say something. At long last, his lips part—to no avail for several more seconds as he regards you. 

When the words finally do come, they’re an immense relief of pressure. 

“You’re going to promise me that you’ll communicate honestly. That means telling me if we need to slow down or stop, or if you don’t like something—”

“I promise,” you say, perhaps over-eagerly, offering him your extended little finger. 

An incredulous smile narrows his eyes. 

“Is this a pinky-promise?”

“It is.” You wiggle the finger in emphasis, and he shakes his head, smiling wider as you link pinkies. 

“I left you with Garcia for far too long.”

You shush him, disentangling your hands to cup his jaw and press your lips to his. It’s sweet and smiley until it isn’t—until everything slows down like sticky molasses and his hand is ghosting over your cheek, your neck, the curve of your waist, finally substantiating itself on your hip—the other encouraging you to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss and you feel yourself melting under the heat of his touch. 

The pressure of his body against yours builds until you’re forced to take a step back, and then another, and another. Without question you allow yourself to be herded toward the bedroom, walked slowly backward as he keeps kissing you and blindly trusting he’ll make sure you don’t run in to anything. The bedroom door clicks shut behind him, and it is in all practicality a pointless gesture—but you find it incredibly comforting nonetheless.  

It’s too warm beneath your sweater and his hands are cool as they slip under the hem, sliding against the curve of your hip. Spencer’s never seen you without a shirt, you realize, as he pulls away from the kiss by only centimeters.  

“Off?” he mutters, thumbing at the knit fabric. And while you’re far from confident, you’ve certainly been making progress in this area. You help him tug it over your head without a word, noting a distinct and surprising lack of terror within yourself as you watch for his reaction to you. Hands glide slowly up your waist and you find yourself enchanted by the slight furrow of his brow, the parting of his lips. He traces down the lacy edge of your bra, skimming sensitive skin as he goes. 

“Pretty,” he murmurs. “You’re… so pretty.”

It seems you’ve rendered him uncharacteristically prosaic. The reaction might be underwhelming if it were anyone else—but Spencer Reid is a man who probably knows every synonym for pretty in the English language. Looking at you, he can’t think of a single one. In an odd way, it’s the highest compliment he could pay you. Your cheeks heat and your stomach flips as he drags a knuckle up the center of the cup, and you can feel it through the layers of lace and fabric. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours and continuing to run his fingers over the sensitive spot. “Do you know how pretty you are?”

This is one argument you will not be winning—one he’ll keep bringing up at the most inopportune times until he gets his way. 

“Spencer…”

“Don’t Spencer me. I’m asking you a question.”

The words don’t seem nearly as harsh as they really are when they’re delivered velvet-soft, with his lips and hands on you—when he’s so deftly popping the button on your jeans and dragging the zipper down with all the quickness of a slight-of-hand. It makes it hard to focus, even harder to speak. 

“We have… we have differing views on this matter.”

Generous handfuls of your hips and ass are taken as he helps you tug down your jeans before you kick them off, now left just in your underwear. 

“I thought I argued my point fairly well last time you were here. You didn’t learn anything from that?”

“Mm… maybe you just need to remind me.”

“Oh, I think I have to,” he agrees through a smile you can only hear. Gentle fingers skim up your back and tap the clasp of your bra. “How about this? Can we take this off?”

Any confidence from earlier crumbles and you loose a nervous hum—which is not the enthusiastic yes you’re sure Spencer will be seeking all evening. He pulls away, features etched with the beginnings of concern and a searching gaze. Asking would be unnecessary; the words simply come tumbling out of you. 

“What if you don’t like how I look?”

Spencer doesn’t even blink.

“That’s not going to happen.”

How you wish you could have the same assuredness in yourself that he seems to. 

“But what if… what if you’ve been with other girls who are more, like—I don’t know, just—better? Prettier?”

“Honey, you’re—” a sigh, a pause as he searches for the words—his eyes dart up and down your form, assessing, and when he looks back up at you, they’ve cleared and softened. He pulls you a little closer, rubbing circles into your back with his thumb. “I’m not thinking about anyone else right now. I’m not interested in anyone else right now. I already think you’re perfect, and I’m going to keep thinking that regardless of how you look. When I look at you, I’m not looking for things to critique. Do you understand me?”

As far as sentiments go, it’s a nice one. But the pressure of being seen still feels like an impossible burden. You whine, leaning your head against Spencer’s chest. He accepts your weight and runs his hand over your back as you look up at him. 

“But what if I’m hideously deformed?”

His eyebrows raise. 

“You’re not.”

“But what if I am?”

“Okay. It seems like you don’t feel ready yet, which is completely fine, we just won’t—”

“No!” you protest. “I am ready. I am. But… you have to promise to be nice to me no matter what. Or break up with me if you don’t like what you see so I don't have to wonder.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, kissing you, “and the only thing I’m willing to promise is that I’ll think you’re perfect. Me being nice will come as a natural byproduct of that which is very different than being nice by artifice. Take it or leave it.”

A moment of hesitance—but it’s short-lived. This is more important than your insecurities. Spencer is more important. 

“Take it,” you mumble against his lips. His fingers trace up the smooth skin of your back, all the way to the fabric and metal hooks on your bra. 

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have thought Spencer’s genius would manifest in being really good at undoing the clasp of a bra, but you can truly say you’re impressed by the ease with which he does it. It falls to the floor, leaving you completely shirtless for the first time in front of him. 

“Well?” you murmur, arms crossed defensively underneath your chest, because you understand overtop would sort of ruin the whole thing. “What’s the verdict?”

“You,” Spencer manages after a moment—you literally watch him memorizing every square inch of your body— “are ridiculously beautiful.”

The way his voice gets quieter makes your stomach flip. It sounds genuine. Too genuine to be faked. 

“So… no breakup?”

It seems that the more vulnerable you feel, the less likely you are to take a compliment. Spencer, who is always seeking patterns, probably recognizes this one, and doesn’t push you so hard this time. After a silent moment, he sighs and cradles your face in his hands. 

“You’re gorgeous. I hate how incapable you are of seeing that. We’re going to talk about this.”

“Yeah, but not right now, right?” you murmur, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

“Not right now,” he agrees. 

His lips are so soft and gentle against your own it feels like love, it feels like being talked down from the ledge of your own insanity. Somehow the way he strokes your hip feels more nurturing than sexual. It’s like he has sex and chaste affection on tap, able to turn them on and off at will. You’re happy to drown in either. Ideally, both.

After a while, his hands begin roaming farther, become bolder in their excursions over your flesh. Up, down, over your waist and ribs. Clearly Spencer had been trying to ease you into it, but you still can’t hide your sharp inhalation when his thumbs graze the sensitive skin of your breasts. He pulls his lips from yours, hands splayed over your sides. 

“Sit down.”

It’s much too gentle to be a command, but you frown. 

“Without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, lightly squeezing your waist. “Just sit. Utilize patience.”

You sit on the edge of the bed with an atypical reticence—you’re just a little too nervous for a snippy comeback. Spencer picks up on this, features softening sympathetically as he undoes his tie with nimble fingers. It lands somewhere on the bed and he leans over you, resting his weight on his fists and offering you a quick kiss. His voice is soft and designed to soothe as he speaks, mere inches away from your face, and so quiet it could only be heard at this range. 

“Are you nervous?” Cloth from the duvet pinches between your fingers. For a moment you don’t reply, dropping your head to watch when Spencer runs his hand over your thigh. “It’s okay if you’re feeling anxious, baby. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

You expel a frustrated huff. 

“I want to. Just because I’m nervous doesn’t mean I don’t want this. I can handle a little bit of anxiety.”

He hums, dropping to a crouch and inserting himself directly in your line of sight. 

“I know you can. But you don’t always have to push yourself so hard.”

“I’m fine pushing myself a little. I pinky-promised I would tell you if I wanted to stop, remember?”

“Oh, how could I forget a pinky-promise?” he smiles. 

How could you forget anything, you think, becoming flushed and silently insolent at his dulcet teasing. 

“Please, do something.” It’s a whisper, brushing his lips as you lean down until you’re nose to nose. His hands are on the back of your legs. 

“I’m working on it.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“You’re smart, angel. Tell me why I've got you naked on my bed and I’m kneeling in front of you. Where could I possibly be taking this?”

Oh, you have a pretty strong inkling—but you’re scared to voice it and be wrong. Instead of risking it you shake your head slowly, shyly. What you’re not expecting is for Spencer to duck his head down, slide his hands up the side of your thighs and press kisses to the delicate skin there. It feels good—better than you’d have thought. 

“You don’t know?” he asks, looking up at you through burnished gold-rimmed pupils. “No guesses?”

“No guesses,” you agree breathlessly, hotter than you were when you had your clothes on and all the energy in your body condensed into one point between your legs. Spencer hums like he’s considering your answer, smoothing his thumbs over the soft skin of your thighs so gently it feels like burning. 

“I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful. Lie back, sweetheart.”

You do as you’re told, scooting up on the mattress and falling back on your elbows. Spencer wastes no time in climbing over you, leaving you in much the same position as the last time you’d been in his bed. The sheets feel cool against your bare skin, but he is exceptionally warm and solid over you. 

“I’m being honest.” Lie. “I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

Lips find the most sensitive spot of your neck, dancing over it torturously. The front of his shirt brushes your chest. Your thighs clamp together. 

“I don't like being lied to. Just say it, baby. I know you know.”

“Spencer,” you whine, fists bunching the excess fabric around his waist. Warm breath condensates on the skin of your neck as he chuckles. 

“You don’t like being teased, huh?”

“Please, Spence,” you whisper. You notice the pattern of his breathing pause momentarily before it all comes rushing out at once—and you catalogue that particular plea for later usage. 

“I can’t say no when you ask me like that.”

You push your fingers into his soft hair. 

“I know.”

It was a lucky guess. 

He’s still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your hands in his hair, before darting up to kiss you. 

“I’m going to use my mouth this time,” he murmurs against your lips. Though you knew that was what he intended, your heart stumbles in its perpetual march. “Is that okay?”

“What if I…”

You trail off. This is a very intimate situation which you’re not quite sure you have delicate enough language for. Or maybe you’re just stalling. Either way, Spencer is eternally patient with you. 

“You need to stop worrying so much, pretty girl. I’d love to do this for you. But it’s your call.”

“Love is a pretty strong word.”

“Sometimes I think not strong enough.”

The way he’s looking down at you so tenderly, brushing hair from your face, makes you think maybe he’s not just talking about how much he would love to go down on you. Regardless, it fortifies your trust in him. Spencer is the kindest person you know. He’s so clearly an enthusiastic giver. Why not allow him to give you this? 

“Okay,” you breathe. “You can—yeah.”

As usual, you’re impressively awkward, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, you think he not-so-secretly delights in being the one to fluster instead of the other way around. Rarely has he mentioned his past romantic and sexual exploits, but gathering bits and pieces, you assume he was a fairly late bloomer. He probably knows what it’s like to be nervous and so deeply unsure of yourself. 

“Do you remember what you promised me?” he whispers, pressing butterfly-light kisses to your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips traverse down your neck, teeth skimming over the delicate skin while your breath catches. 

“Mhm.”

“You’re not gonna break that promise, are you?”

His voice, soft and muffled by your skin, is the most exhilarating and disorienting high. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation, satisfied only where his lips soothe and his body presses against yours. It takes a moment for you to remember to reply. 

“No.”

Reward comes in the form of his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast at the same time as he murmurs, “good girl.”

Your stomach flips at the endearment—you squeak and arch into him slightly. Spencer’s hand slides down your ribs as he chuckles, lips pressed just above your collarbone. 

“You’ve never called me that before,” you shudder as he continues kissing over your neck. 

“It’s not appropriate in most conversational contexts. But I can tell you’ve always been good.”

“Really? How?”

Spencer pauses, pushing himself up to regard you with searching eyes. The places he’d kissed feel cold without him. 

“I just can. You’re thinking too much, baby. I need your focus on me.”

“It is on you,” you huff. 

You watch his expression shift minutely. He loves games. Of course he’d love playing with you. That knowledge is why you’re only partially surprised when his thumb catches on your nipple again. 

“Is it? You’re only thinking about how it feels when I touch you here?”

A stammering nod. 

He toys with the sensitive flesh only a second more, amusement lighting his eyes, before dragging his hand down, down, down until it’s between your legs. Fingers trail over your clothed core, skimming the most sensitive part of you while your breath hitches.  

“Tell me how it feels when I touch you here.”

“Really good,” you admit, a heavy exhale escaping parted lips as he pins you with his gaze. 

“Really good, right. I can make it feel even better. Do you want me to make it feel better?”

Your thighs drop fully open and he adds just a bit more pressure until you’re pushing against his hand in search of more friction. 

“Yes please.”

“Then no more questions. I need you to trust me.”

Your answer is a breathy, dreamy sigh—you’d do anything, say anything for him. 

“Okay.”

Spencer kisses you, absorbing your noises of protest as his hand ceases between your legs and settles on your hip. But you’re trusting him. No whiny complaining. No unnecessary questions. 

Things go much quicker once you’re not interrupting him every twenty seconds to say something. His lips reattach to your neck, retracing their path (albeit quicker) until he’s below your collarbone. You watch in rapt fascination, twisted brows and parted lips as he peppers kisses down over your breast before dragging his tongue over your nipple. A jolted little moan spills out because you hadn’t been prepared to hold one in. Waves of hair fall over Spencer’s face, obscuring him from your vision, but you don’t think to push it away—your body is too busy processing the sensation to be much use on any other front. He darts his tongue over the peaked flesh, eliciting more little open-mouthed exhalations of pleasure from you. Earlier you hadn’t really thought it necessary for your bra to come off—you had no idea this could actually feel so good. A moment later he begins toying with the other nipple and you gasp as a bolt of heat goes straight to your core. 

You curse, further words catching in your throat as he suddenly switches, mouthing at your other breast and letting the cold air chill the other until you have goosebumps. It feels a little like hypnosis—you’re unable to move or speak as his tongue laves over you. Soon he’s replacing his mouth with a thumb again, sucking a mark onto your tit just above your nipple. You whimper a little at the pleasant brutality of it, hoping as he releases that it won’t soon fade. Spencer swipes over the stinging skin and presses a tender kiss to it, almost like an apology—but you sincerely doubt he’s actually sorry. 

Then he resumes his descent, leaving soft kisses down between your breasts, over your ribcage and stomach—when he reaches your hips, he doesn’t pull off your underwear all at once. Rather, he slides the fabric down centimeter by centimeter, kissing the revealed skin like it’s precious. 

This time you don’t need to be told to lift your hips. He helps you slip the final piece of clothing down and off of your legs, flinging it somewhere blindly before getting comfortable between your thighs once more. Your heart pounds with arousal and anxiety as his arms wrap around your thighs and his hands rub up and down the tops of them slowly. 

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, loosening his hold on one leg to thumb at your folds. They glisten in the dim light of his bedroom as he gently reveals your clit. A soft whine escapes you when he nudges at the aching bud, slipping over it a few times and alleviating a bit of the pressure that’s been building. “Shh, baby. I know. I’m gonna take care of it. You’re being so good for me.”

Fuck. The way he talks to you makes your brain turn to mush—you’re utterly incapable of forming an intelligent thought. Spencer has rendered you a complete idiot, and you’re not upset about it in the slightest. 

He presses more gentle kisses to the creases between your thighs, just above your clit—everywhere except for where you need him most. Everything aches for him in the best way and at least you’re too turned on to be very insecure anymore. All you want is relief. But you’re trusting him. 

Thankfully, he delivers. 

The tip of his tongue grazes so lightly over your clit that if you weren’t this worked up you may not have felt it at all. In your current state, however, the stimulation echoes through every atom of your being. Every muscle is tense, frozen in place—you can’t even breathe for a second. He does it again, a little flatter, with a little more pressure, and you whimper. It’s a delicate thing, almost pained and definitely overwhelmed as he gently begins working his tongue against you. Your head cranes up to watch, your jaw drops. Approximations of curse words try to form, but come out only as, “f-fu—oh,” so whiny and soft it doesn’t even sound like you. He hums sympathetically, but you suspect it morphs into a chuckle as you continue to gasp and mewl. 

There are times where you can hold back sounds of pleasure. When you’re by yourself, it’s typically not a problem. Two weeks ago when Spencer was knuckle deep in you for the first time, it had certainly been a challenge, and you’d pretty much given up. But this—this is something else entirely. It feels like religion. It feels like compulsion. Even if you had the slightest modicum of control over yourself, which you currently don’t, you wouldn’t want to keep quiet. You want him to know what he’s doing to you. 

So you let every cry, every whine and whimper drag from your lungs, unbidden and unshaped. You’re new at this, after all—every broad lick feels so good that you have no fucking idea what do to with your hands or how to stop rolling your hips or how to censor your sounds. 

“Spencer,” you keen in one of the moments you remember to breathe. He moans against you, taking you into his mouth and sucking lightly. Your hips buck. “Oh, my—fuck!”

The hand that’s still around your thigh rubs soothing lines up and down. The one that’s spreading you open pulls your folds apart a little bit further, granting him more access to your clit. He flicks his tongue and you almost come then and there, vision going gray for a split second. 

“Wait, wait, Spence—“ you squeak, writhing and trying not to squeeze your thighs together for fear of hurting him. He pulls back and looks up at you, lips shining with your slick and eyes glazed with lust. Fuckfuckfuck he looks so fucking good. “Please, just… slow down, or I’m gonna… or it’s gonna be over.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he rubs circles into your inner thigh. 

“It’s over when you say it’s over. You don’t have a refractory period. We don’t have to stop at one.”

“Oh—you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” you stammer. 

“I know I don’t have to. But if you want me to, I want to. You taste so good, angel girl.”

Well, shit. 

He looks absurdly sexy between your legs like this. You have no idea how you got so lucky, but you don’t plan on taking it for granted. Your fingers tangle in his hair. 

“I don’t know if I can do more than one,” you admit shyly, slightly embarrassed by how little you know about yourself and in general compared to Spencer. Hazel eyes sparkle in the warm light. 

“How about we start with one and see how it feels?”

Your voice is breathy when you respond, “okay,” already impatient for him to get back to it. Spencer seems just as eager, immediately kissing between your legs with a passion that makes your lips jealous. 

The flat of his tongue presses circles against you and your hips buck, already ramping up to that point you’d been at before calling a time-out. Slowly his fingers find their way to your entrance and he teases you with them, dipping in to the first knuckle before withdrawing again. If you could form words, you’d beg him to just do it already, but all you can manage is an affronted whine as you tilt your hips down, hoping he catches the meaning. 

Of course he does—pushing two fingers inside you at once. The intrusive stretch adds a sharp edge to the pleasure, makes it more interesting, as your brain short-circuits and you choke out a moan. It only takes a few slow pumps of his fingers in tandem with the pressure of his tongue until your hips are writhing and you’re and mewling desperately, more overwhelmed with pleasure than you’ve ever been. You push his hair back, able to see him for the first time, and fully appreciate the hollow of his cheeks, the way he looks up at you with perfect, glassy half-lidded eyes, the rhythm of his hand and tongue—he takes your clit between his lips once more, sucking lightly, and you’re done for. A pornographic sob escapes from deep within you as you come, but he doesn’t stop. The orgasm lasts longer than you knew one could—although, it’s only your second time, so you don’t exactly have a lot of data to go off of. Your entire body feels warm and floaty, and what he’s doing feels so good you want him even deeper—but you know he won’t give you that yet. Instead you focus on the slow burn of your orgasm, allowing him to carry on for a while until you begin slowly drifting back to earth and it becomes a bit too much. He recognizes the barely-there whine for what it is and pulls his fingers from you carefully, pressing one final kiss to your clit that makes your legs twitch and summons a weak little moan. 

Spencer’s lips find other avenues, over the delicate skin of your thighs and hips and stomach as he slowly drags himself up again. By the time you’re face to face again you’re still breathing hard. You sort of feel like prey underneath his weight, studied so scrupulously, known far more intimately by him than anyone has ever known you before. But there is so much light and kindness in the way he looks at you that you almost can’t make sense of it. 

Maybe it’s possible to be known and still wanted. The possibility spins like a coin on its edge in your mind. An idea you spent so much time trying to nurture and is only just now beginning to sprout. Maybe someone could see you at your most vulnerable, and still find you worthy of kindness. Appreciation. Affection. 

Spencer certainly could, it seems, as he ducks down to kiss you. You dodge it, turning your head demurely. He nudges his head against yours, speaking so, so softly, utterly cloying as he teases, “what? You’re not gonna kiss me now? Is that how it is?”

“No!” you balk, equally as quiet and especially bashful. “Not when you… no.”

“Let me kiss you,” he pleads, so earnestly you turn your head back to face him. His big eyes are hazy, reflecting all the warmth and dizziness you feel. “Let me kiss you. Please.”

You whine.

“I don’t wanna… taste… myself.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Hm. We’ll need to work on that. Because one day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.”

Something flickers in your core. 

Suddenly you’re not so squeamish. You really want him to kiss you now. But it seems he’s going to have his fun, first. 

“Open.” Without even thinking about it, your lips part. He really ought to be careful with what he tells you to do—you’re all too compliant. Even as his fingers slip between your lips, you’re obediently hollowing your cheeks around them, watching him with big eyes as his own mouth falls slightly open. “Oh, baby,” he croons. “What are we gonna do with you?”

That flicker has returned to a full-fledged throbbing once you open your mouth again, slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen. 

“Can you make me come again right now?” you whisper, grasping lightly at his shirt. He grins like he loves the idea—and you let him have his way, accepting his lips on yours with no complaint. After a few moments, (the taste is surprisingly unobtrusive), he pulls away.

“I would love to.”

-

part three

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Most Trusted

|| Ambessa Medarda x fem!reader

|| Warnings; brief swearing, brief mentions of killing but nobody dies, reader & Ambessa naked, hints at intimacy if you read between the lines, reader being absolutely smitten for Ambessa, little dialogue

|| Summary; with a slow morning, reader encourages Ambessa to stay in bed with her. Allowing her more time to admire her body. Scars and all.

Requests closed!

Started; December 3rd

Finished; December 3rd

HurtCember2024; Day 4, Scars

Author Note; dropping this one a little early! I couldn't wait that extra sixteen minutes. It's midnight somewhere, right? I'm really happy with how this one turned out 🫶

~~~

The bed was warm and comfortable as you snuggled up to Ambessa. Enjoying the small moment of peace the two of you shared. With Ambessa, these moments came rare and few. Comparable to scraps off a table. So, you cherished whatever ones appeared. Living in the moment to its absolute fullest. Your finger tips trailed along Ambessa's scars, having started on the ones on her face. Now trailing those on her shoulder. You couldn't help but admire them. The scars held memories and Ambessa often told you the stories of how she got them. She loved retelling her battles to you. Her many victories, how proud she made her ancestors. You'd hang on to every word. Taking the stories in full. You couldn't believe that Ambessa was your lover. She was strong, powerful, the embodiment of leadership and control. Whenever you heard how much she had achieved, it made you feel like you could be doing more yourself. Ambessa motivated you. She was your inspiration.

Her gaze fell to you, feeling your fingers against her skin. Trailing the old scars with nothing but admiration and love in your eyes. You often looked at her like she placed the stars in the sky for you. She would have, too. If they weren't already there. Ambessa found it adorable how simply you were entertained by her. You seemed to love everything she did. She could be killing someone and you would honestly probably look at her the same. The thought alone amused her. You really did love her and she really did have you wrapped around her finger. She cared for you. Protected you. You were hers just as she was yours.

"Darling... are you simply going to look at me all day?" Ambessa asked, amusement in her tone. Her hand wrapped around your waist. Resting to your ass. Bringing you in closer to her. Your eyes met hers, taking your gaze off her scars. Your head rested to her shoulder and your hand cupped her cheek. Feeling how she leaned into your touch. For a woman with the strength that Ambessa had, it was cute. Watching her soften up for you. Even if it was simply to humour you.

"Couldn't I?" You replied. You often did find yourself staring at her all day, without boredom. It wasn't often the two of you weren't at each other's side. You were her most trusted, after all. Ambessa could see clearly how deep your loyalty for her ran. Like you were sculpted just for her and her alone. She knew you would never betray. It was one of Ambessa's favourite qualities about you; the thing that caught her attention to begin with.

A small chuckle left Ambessa at your response. Couldn't you? She supposed you could. Though, she knew sooner or later the two of you would have to get to work. Maybe explore the local cuisine... she sighed, propping her elbow to the pillow. Fingers resting to the side of her head. Her eyes locking with your own," we have quite the busy day ahead of us. Though.. for you, perhaps we could stay in bed just a little longer. If only to humour you."

Your eyes lit up and you tried getting even closer to her. Sometimes you found yourself wishing the two of you could just merge. Being up against her wasn't enough. Your hand continued its journey along her scars. Only parting way for a moment to feel her lower abs. You could feel Ambessa watching your every movement, like she was calculating what you would do before you did it. You didn't mind. You loved when the tables were flipped and she would watch you instead. It made your whole body feel warm. In ways beyond just temperature. Ambessa allowed you to continue for a moment longer, before she reluctantly pulled herself away from you. Getting out of bed to begin her day. You couldn't help but pout just a bit as the warmth left.

Ambessa got dressed in front of you. Hardly caring if you watched, besides. It wasn't nothing you hadn't already seen from her. She was in no rush to get ready, even if she should have been. Enjoying the little show she was putting on for you. Once she was clothed, Ambessa looked to you. A subtle smirk dancing on her lips," if you keep your mouth open like that you'll swallow a fly," she teased.

You blinked, haven't even realizing that your mouth had opened slightly. You quickly closed it and scrambled out of bed. A blush dusting your cheeks. Looking through your drawers, you pulled out your clothes for the day. Ambessa would lean herself over your shoulder. Suggesting what she would like to see you in. You hardly minded. You loved dressing for her.

Once dressed, Ambessa gave you a nod of approval. You joined her at her side and she placed a kiss to your cheek. Her hand resting to your shoulder with a firm hold before the two of you left the room. Beginning your day.

[eccentricwritingbaby]

cooking up some fun with the sainz’

dad!carlos sainz jr x wife!mom!reader

summary - y/n sainz is a successfully famous chef with her own restaurant and ever since covid, she has been cooking on instagram live once a week. fans adore the sweet interactions between her and carlos and their little baby girl. 

masterlist

-

“mi amor, i am about to go live while cooking dinner,” you nod over from behind the kitchen counter, towards your husband whos sitting on the couch. he sets down his phone and turns to face you while you continue, “if you could just keep up with santana while i’m doing so, you know i still don’t want her face all over the media, porfa,”

“por supuesto, cariño. but you do know you don’t have to ask me to watch our child,” he lets out a chuckle as he stands, sauntering over to the kitchen where you are finishing wiping down the counters and adding extra tidiness to your lived-in kitchen. he slowly grabs both of your hands from the counter, removing the cleaning spray and rag, and intertwining your fingers. you inched closer to him and rested your head against his chest. carlos plants a soft kiss onto the top of your head as you begin your reply, “i know, carlos, but i just don’t want her running around the kitchen which is dangerous or having her face pop up more onto my screen than it already has. she’s four, she doesn’t deserve to be subjected to our lifestyle just yet,” you let out your vulnerable admission as carlos lets your left hand go and steadily strokes the back of your head instead.

“i know, i’ll keep a close eye on her,” your husband looks down at you with a quick smile before he eases you more, ”you have nothing to worry about,” with his last word he begins to bend down in order to place a kiss onto your lips.

“EWW!” your four year old yells out from the bottom of the stairs. she had very obviously just woken up from her nap with her dark hair flying in all different directions, her favorite meerkat plushie hanging from her grasp, and most importantly, a very happy piñon trailing behind her. ever since she was born, the dog followed santana absolutely everywhere. call it protection or just puppy love, it was still the cutest part of your little family. 

“and when did you wake up, señora?” you pull apart from your husband with a laugh in order to look at your daughter properly, but don’t miss carlos’ pleading gaze to ignore your daughters wishes and give him a kiss. you took one more glance back at him and kissed his cheek to meet in the middle as he released his signature smile and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. 

“ahora,” she responds while rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand and slowly beginning to trudge over to the couch. 

“mama is about to begin dinner, mija. why don’t you and i find a game to play while she does?” your husband proposes.

“okay, papi,” she says quietly before she gains some energy, “but only if we get to play hide and seek!” she squeals out in excitement. carlos laughs as you move around his hold to set up your phone and put away your cleaning supplies. 

his voice graces a higher octave, one saved particularly for your pride and joy, while matching her adorable enthusiasm, “hide and seek! santana, that is a great idea! how could i not have thought of it?” he laughs along with her as she pulls herself to stand up on the couch, legs bouncing underneath her.

“no se, papi! but i thought of it! so we do it?” she asks, looking up at him with her big, brown, wide eyes inherited from the man himself as he strolls over to her place. your husband easily scoops her up into a fit of giggles as he runs her into his office in order to plan out their game. you take this brief moment of quiet to begin the live, and continue to pull out your necessary ingredients as people begin to join. 

once enough people had joined, you share a bright smile and begin your discussion, “hola, everyone! today we are venturing over to italy for our dinner, and making some homemade pizza,” you begin to take out tomatoes and slice them as you carry on, “it sounds very simple, yet you can make it anything you want with toppings, which is the magic of cooking,” you glance up at the camera to notice the brief display of comments and continue to explain, “everything is going to be homemade here, the sauce, the dough, and the cheese! it’s a great meal especially when you have a little one who is just now becoming a bit picky,” you let out a chuckle as you think on to the many ‘no’s’ that came from your four year old as you presented her with different cuisines. one that never misses will always be pizza. 

“okay! i already made my dough last night since i knew i’d be pretty busy today, but i do have a video on how to make that if you want to know, it’s on my story in the highlights of my 'how to's',” you finished chopping up all your tomatoes and threw them into the pan with a bit of oil, “now we’re working on the sauce, so i just chopped up maybe a cup and half - ‘measure with your heart’ - as my abuela always told me, of tomatoes and toss it into a low/medium heated pan with some olive oil to cook it down,” you were about to continue, but instead were interrupted by a little giggle at your feet. you looked down at your smiling daughter as she reached a finger up to her lips in order for you to keep her location a secret. you shot her a wink and then pretend to zip your lips and throw away the key. your peripheral caught your husband sneaking around and looking near and far for the little fit of laughs that was sitting on your feet. 

“next up that i’ll work on is the cheese, we’re making mozzarella so im just going to start by putting some milk on heat using m-” 

“psst” carlos cuts you off from behind the camera, attempting, attempting, to not interrupt. once you give him a confused look he begins to mouth out ‘donde?” while confusion etches his face as well. you stifle a laugh and give him an obvious glance down to your feet in order to hint. his head falls back with a smile and he rounds the corner of the counter to catch his daughter. you view the scene playout and begin to stir around the wilted tomatoes on the stove, santana screeching in joy as carlos comes onto the screen of your live, picking up his daughter while reciting the chant, ‘i’ve found you, mija!’ ‘i’ve found you!’ and you just look on in awe. 

the comments begin to fly by at lightning speed due to the domestic bliss your family carried onto the screen. carlos, still holding a giggly santana, checks you over while looking between you and your phone, “lo siento, amor,” he stretches his puppy dog eyes towards you and you can’t help but swoon, “it’s okay, enjoy hiding from this little detective next, baby,” before carlos could even respond, a resounding sound of disgust is let out from the four year old and she squeaks out, “i your baby mama! not papi,” she holds onto her pout and crosses her arms tightly as she looks between you two. you turn the heat low on the stove for both your projects and head over to where your husband and baby are, slowly repeating back to her, “you are my baby, princesa,” bringing your hands up to her tummy you begin to make her emit her loud and infectious laughter to you and carlos. 

the comments poured over on your phone as you left your love-bubble to take a look at them, one stuck out and you replied, still holding a slight laugh in your voice, “yes, we are very happy,” and you went back to smiling at your beautiful family. 

[sethcertified]

Poly Billy & Stu x Male Reader

Where reader has been canceling plans and spending time with Randy when the three promised to hang out or just generally ditching them for him and they’re hella jealous? Like wanting to keep reader on a leash so he can’t run away anymore jealous.

「 JEALOUSY KILLS ! 」 . . . 📁

scream : billy loomis, stu macher

w.c: 3.2k

⊹˚.⋆ synopsis . . . Billy and Stu confront you, raging in jealousy, after seeing you with Randy at Stu’s party; the man you had been ditching Billy and Stu for

⊹˚.⋆ starring . . . billy loomis, stu macher, & male reader

Macher parties were your least favorite. They always consisted of the people you hated the most: snobbish highschoolers that didn't give anyone below their social standards the time of day unless it benefited them somehow. You were bare witness to this in real time as a highschooler yourself.

You could usually count on the company of Billy or Stu to keep you occupied. For a while, at least. Yet they developed the habit of seemingly forgetting your presence as the party raged on. They would hang out with you for the first couple minutes of the party, but leave you alone at one point or another. Usually to hang out with Sidney or Tatum. It had happened again and again, and by now, you were sick of it. Standing alone in the corner as people you hate surrounded you was not fun in the slightest.

So you invited Randy.

✁.

Billy sat on the living floor, beer in hand, as Stu sat beside him. Billy was used to having Stu as company, and don't get him wrong, Stu is his best-friend, but there's a limit as to how much Billy can listen to the other man ramble. "Can't believe Will was able to do that! A keg-stand with one hand? I wish I could do that. Whadda ya think, Bill?" Billy's name escaping Stu's mouth caused Billy to look to the blonde boy who had been talking to him for... awhile.

Billy felt himself down the last few drops of beer as he cleared his head. It wasn't common for him to zone out. In fact, he would consider himself to be a great listener. Although, you kinda have to be when being not only best friends but also boyfriends with Stu Macher. But today, something else had caught his attention completely.

Stu flops against the wall as he realizes just how much Billy had been listening for. His gaze flickers to Billy, catching a glimpse of what had ruptured Billy's attention for the past half hour.

You, in all your glory, sipping on your drink in the most angelic way possible. A dark blue sweater draped over your body in a simple but beautiful way. Blue is your color, Stu thinks. No wonder Billy was staring at you. He looks back over to said man, watching as his eyes darken and his jaw tense. Confused, Stu looks back to where you stood, noticing the thing that was bugging Billy. "Is that?"

"Randy," says Billy, in a way that makes it seem like what he's looking at is the most absurd and repulsive thing he's ever seen. Stu mouth falls agape as his eyes catch sight of you, laughing as you touch Randy's forearm. "What is he doing with [Name]?"

Billy lets out a sarcastic chuckle. "What do you think?" Stu's eyes narrow as you laugh at some joke Randy made. He had noticed you two getting closer recently. Hell, you even ditched Billy and Stu to hang out with him more than once! But there was no way you two were-

Maybe you were. "They're not- right, Billy? [Name] wouldn't date Randy." Stu asked, panic and jealousy apparent in his tone. Billy sighs as he lips press into a stern line. "I don't know."

"What if they are?" Stu asks.

"We kill Randy," Billy says nonchalantly but there's something dark underlying his words. "Give [Name] a shoulder to cry on, make him ours. Simple." Stu nods along to Billy's words, but doubt still clouds his mind. "What if that doesn't work."

"It will. And if it doesn’t… I’ll put him on a leash if I have to," is all Billy says before going silent once more. His gaze is glued to you and Randy. You are still smiling at him and talking. But that's okay, Billy reasons. When you're comfortable with someone, you love to talk. You could spend hours rambling about the latest movie you saw or the newest episode of your favorite tv show. That doesn't mean you're dating him. Right?

And smiling? That was nothing. You smile at everything. Something both you and Stu had in common. Hell, you even smile at strays. And, to Billy, Randy was extremely familiar to a stray, wild, animal.

Can't be wilder than you and Stu though. Or did you forget who you are, ghostface?

Billy frowns at the thought. You didn't know. Both Billy and Stu had guaranteed that. But what if you did? What if that was the reason you had started to ditch them for the likes of Randy? Everything you had done with them was stuff you were know doing with Randy, after all.

The first time you had ditched them for Randy was on your weekly movie night. After you had yet to show up after an hour, they had gone out looking for you. They eventually found you sneaking him into a movie theater to see the new Hellraiser movie. Something you had promised to watch with Billy and Stu.

As you began to ditch them more and more, they continued to see what you were doing instead of hanging out with them, and every-time you were with him. Doing stuff you always did and/or promised to do with Billy and Stu. Watching stupid movies to make fun of their absurdity, sneak onto the roof to just talk until the sun crept over the horizon, etc.

It drove them insane. Sure, you didn't owe the two anything. You didn't sign a contract saying you had to spend every waking moment with them. But that didn't make the two any less jealous. Especially when Randy wouldn't leave your side.

"Bill, I can't do this anymore, watching them is driving me nuts, man!" Stu whined as he chugged down some of his beer. For a second, Billy was taken aback. He had completely forgotten Stu's presence (again) while glaring holes into Randy's back. "Maybe we should go up to him?" Stu asks.

Billy clears his throat at the suggestion but glares at Stu. "Does it look like we could with Randy clinging to him? Don't be stupid." Stu pouts as he glances back at you and Randy once more. You're laughing at something he said, again. Stu's pout quickly turned into a frown. He was the only one to ever make you laugh that much.

Was he being replaced by Randy? Could Randy do everything he could? Better, even? The paranoia racking Stu's brain makes him sure he's going crazy. Surely, you wouldn't replace him. Right?

"I'm going up to him," says Stu. Billy gives him a pointed look. "Tell me how that goes."

"You should come with me," Stu replies. Billy feigns ignorance to Stu's words as he lifts the empty bottle of beer to his lips. "C'mon man, before it's too late."

Before it's too late.

The sentence echoes in Billy's ears. He didn't want to lose you. He couldn't lose you. Not to the annoying guys at school, not to the girl who always insists on being your partner whenever she gets the chance in English, and especially not to Randy. Billy wouldn't let that happen. Never. Not to anyone.

You were his and Stu's. No one else's.

Before he even can process what he's doing, Billy's standing up off the floor and walking to the kitchen. Stu right beside him with a satisfactory smile across his face.

You chuckle at something Randy says before you notice Billy and Stu walking towards the both of you. Your smile quickly drops. Now they chose to come say hi?

Stu swings his arm around your shoulder, "Hi, [Name]." His tone was flirty in the charismatic Stu way that would usually make your knees weak. Billy creeps up besides Stu. He gives Randy a quick glance before saying, "Hey" to you.

It was impossible not to notice your sour mood. Even Stu felt his confidence falter. You were pissed. Randy clears his throat, causing all three of you to turn your attention to him. "Sorry, Randy. Anyways, what were you saying?" You completely disregard Billy and Stu, focusing all of your attention on the brunette man in front of you.

Randy's gaze flickers to Billy and Stu before sending you a confused look. The two of you do a bit of eye communication as the tension between all four of you gradually increases. "So," Randy finally clears the air, "Have you guys seen the new Hellraiser movie? Me and [Name] saw it the other day."

As soon as those words leave his mouth, both Billy and Stu look like they want to rip his face off. They already knew of you ditching them for Randy, but to hear it out of his mouth made both men want to take you far, far away from the world. Make you theirs and only theirs.

"Not yet." Says Billy as his brown eyes lock onto you. The feeling of his stern gaze makes you swallow awkwardly. Randy didn't know you were going to see it with Billy and Stu. He also didn't know about your repeated ditching to hang out with him. Every word that could and had come out of his mouth was putting you one foot in the grave.

Randy laughs awkwardly, "It sucked. Didn't miss out on much." Billy just nods his head, not interested in what Randy had to say. "But [Name] can make any movie good. I never laughed so hard in a movie theater before."

"We get it." Billy says, annoyance clear in his words. Your eyes widen at Billy. You knew he never liked Randy that much, but he seemed to always tolerate him when you all hung out together. It made sense, so you never bugged Billy about it since Randy made his crush on Sidney very obvious.

Your gaze lingers on Billy, trying to decipher his abrupt aggressiveness. His face is contorted angrily. If looks could kill, Randy would be six feet under.

"So, Randy, you still got the hots for Sid?" Stu suddenly asks. It doesn't sound genuine at all. What were they up to? "Stu!" You whisper-yell at him. His blue eyes meet with yours. "Why would you ask that when Billy's right there?" It seems odd to you the fact you have to remind Stu that mentioning Randy's crush on Sid is a bad idea when Billy's right there. Unless he had something up his sleeve?

"Uh," Randy stutters, now slightly scared of what Billy will do if he answers truthfully. It doesn't help that Stu was staring down at him like a vulture. "A little, I guess." Your lips pull awkwardly back as Randy avoids eye contact with Billy and Stu. Why were the treating Randy like this?

Stu laughs at Randy, "I can't believe you would actually admit that when her boyfriend is right there!" His laughter quiets down but chuckles still escape his mouth. "Are you that stupid?"

"Dude! Stop being a dick," you whisper to him. Stu squints his eyes at you as if he's trying to figure out why you're defending Randy so hard. Stu frowns but continues on his taunts. "Is that why you came? To sneak a peek of her?"

"What? No!" Randy responds. "I came to hang out with [Name], so he isn't alone. He invited me in the first place."

You smile at his words. It didn't take much to notice; however, how Billy's jaw tensed and Stu's hand against your shoulder clenched. If the only people in the room were you four, you wouldn't doubt either of the boys breaking a beer bottle on Randy's head.

"Well, he isn't alone anymore, so you can leave." Billy says. Randy nervously chuckles, "I mean, I could. But I'm already here with [Name], and I like hanging out with him."

"I like hanging out with you too." You tell him, desperate to make him feel less uncomfortable when there's two men right in-front of him who look like they could slit his throat if given the chance.

"You know what's more fun to hang out with? The door. You should go check it out and while you are at it, get your ass out of here." Billy says without any hesitation in his voice.

"Billy!" You gasp. This wasn't cool anymore. "Can I talk to you?" Your gaze flickers to Stu. "Both of you. In private?" You send Randy an apologetic smile before grabbing both Billy's and Stu's hands and dragging them the hell out of here, without waiting for a response from the two.

Billy stops for a moment to speak to Randy once more, "The door is right there. Feel free to use it while we're gone." You curse under your breath as you pull him with you and take him up the stairs, eventually pulling the two into Stu's bedroom. Your hand doesn't leave theirs 'til you shut the door and can only hear the faint noise of the party raging on downstairs.

You let go of them to cross your arms over your chest, "What the hell are you two doing?"

Billy's the first to respond. "Showing Randy his place," he says, without an ounce of guilt for what he had done.

Stu nods and you glare at him. "C'mon, you guys. He's my friend. What's the problem with him hanging out with me? It's better than me being alone in the corner as I watch everyone around me make out and drink booze." It's your turn to be upset, and you hope your feelings get through their thick skulls.

"I don't care if he's your friend," Billy says, putting a strange emphasis on the word friend. Your brows contort in confusion and anger at his words. "What the hell is wrong with you? There was no reason for you to be that rude to him!" You snap. "I really like him, okay? And I don't want to lose him to you two being major assholes."

"Oh, so now you like him, huh?" Stu says and you sigh. Both of them were being so stubborn about this. "He's my friend, Stu. Of course, I like him."

"What about us? Do you like us?" Stu asks and your mouth falls open in shock.

"Yes? Why wouldn't I like you? You guys are quite literally my best friends."

"Then you shouldn't have an issue hanging out with us instead of Randy," Billy says. You close your eyes in frustration. The three of you were just going in circles at this point.

"Is it 'cause he likes your girlfriend? If so, that has nothing to do with our relationship." You ask and the expression on both of their faces makes you immediately regret your words.

"No. I don't care about Sid, okay? And it has everything to do with your... relationship." Billy pauses before saying the word like it's the most disgusting thing he's ever said.

"Yeah, man!" Stu chimes in. "He's weird. His hair is weird. And his clothes. And... and the way he looks at you! You shouldn't be around him."

"What? You two are behaving like children, right now! What is up with you two?" Your eyes widen as you suddenly put the pieces together. "You're jealous!" You place your palm over you mouth as your gaze flickers between the two. "You're jealous of Randy!"

"So what?" Billy says.

You inch closer to them, "You two are jealous because I've been hanging out with him so much. Oh my god. This whole time, I thought-"

"You thought what?" Stu asks.

"I thought you guys just didn't like him because he likes Sidney. But... why do you guys care that much if I hang out with him so much?" You ponder as you sit on the edge of the bed, no longer standing in front of them.

"Because you're ours, okay?" Stu says as he looms over you. Your eyes widen but he goes on. "We know you've been ditching him for us, [Name]. What did we do wrong?" He wraps his long arms around you as he moves to sit besides you on the bed. His hold is tight, possessive, but strangely enough, oddly comforting.

The room is silent for a moment before you speak. "You guys have been ditching me too, you know? At these parties, you'll talk and hang out with me for a little bit, but sooner or later, you leave me alone in some random room surrounded by people I don't know or don't like. Even at school! I didn't want to be clingy, so I made a new friend. I just didn't want to cling to you guys like some dog."

Your eyes show your hurt and Billy and Stu share a look. That was the reason? It never had even processed to them that that could've been the reason. But the same hint of relief in their eyes shone brightly. You didn't know.

"[Name]," Billy says as he walks to you. You gaze up at him as Stu rests his chin on your shoulder. He stands in-front of you before grasping your chin between his thumb and pointing finger. Flushed at the feeling of his intimacy, you avert your eyes. Before any of you know what's happening, Billy closes the distance between you. As your lips met his, everything else went into a standstill.

Too shocked by the action, you fail to respond to the kiss. This wasn't happening. There was no way Billy Loomis was kissing you. Did he-

Suddenly, all your worries turn into mush until the only thing you can think about is his lips on yours. And you finally realize this is what you had wanted for the longest time. To be with him. No- to be with them. They were the only ones in your heart. Stu's body warmth spreads through your body and captures your soul, making you part away from Billy.

Turning to Stu, your eyes bore into his, asking the question that wouldn't dare leave your mouth. Are we about to kiss? Stu answers the question immediately, pressing his lips against yours. The feeling that rushes through you is almost identical to the one you felt while kissing Billy. Your brain fogs, only focusing on him until the necessity to breathe arose, causing you to pull away.

"That was," you pause as your mind tries to find the words. "Unreal." You stare up at Billy dizzily. He takes the eye contact as a positive, sending you a rare but genuine smile. Stu practically jumps on to Billy as he springs up from the bed, wrapping his long arm around Billy’s neck, putting him into a headlock. “Sorry, Bill, but he was talking about our kiss. Not yours.”

Billy pushes him off and you can’t help but chuckle at the two. Billy punched Stu shoulder playfully but still with impact. “I can make them say that about more than kissing. Too bad, you can’t do the same.”

“And how would you know, smart guy?” Stu asks but you can feel the sexual tension start to build up between them. Billy suddenly pulls Stu’s head back by his hair, “Cause you can only take dick.” Stu bites his lip in arousal and you can tell that this was by no means something that they hadn’t done before.

Billy turns to you, Stu still in his grasp. “Do you want this?”

Your mouth opens in response, “I-”

✎ notes . . . to be continued… my favorite type of endings!! if this does well, I will write a part two that is SMUT AHHH

©️ sethcertified 2023

[opal-owl-flight]

I didnt expect to see Octavio in the Grandfest...and neither did 3, for that matter.

In my interp of the lore, Inkadia is aware of who he is. 3 and the platoon have been fighting for years with the Inkadian powers that be to recognize Octaria as a legitimate nation, for it to be held in equal regard.

That day finally came on the Grandfest. Or at least, the beginnings of it, anyway.

More on the two's convo below!

"Hm! |...Sir Octavio! Im...surprised to see you here.|"

"What. You think Octaria doesnt deserve to celebrate the biggest event in the continent alongside you squits?"

"|No! No! Im...|" they chuckle, a smile breaking across ther face. "|...glad to see that you made it!

But I dont remember arranging a pass for you...|"

"Aah. Well. Your old man pulled some strings. That, and the Inkadian and Splatlandian powers that be invited me themself."

Now 3s surprised. "|...Really?|"

"Mhm. I brought the dome-dwellers up here with me. Look around! Didnt you notice them in your matches?"

Are they dreaming?

They never noticed them at all. It wasnt even like there was much of a difference. For months there have been an increase of migrators and visitors. Allowed to turf. Allowed to stay. Allowed to...

Live in the sunshine.

They stagger, which made the Octarian king hold out a tentacle to steady them. "You alright, bucko?"

3 nods. "|A-a little overwhelmed, thats all.

All those patrols. All those deserters I helped to assimilate. All that struggle they had to go through to escape Octaria-

And now, its just...so...|"

"Easy?"

3 nods again, silently.

"Mmmm. I'll admit though, not everyone is keen on just letting people explore. Not everyone was keen on coming up here for this festival, either.

...too much, has happened for them to trust Inkadia again."

3 hangs their head low. He held their chin and made them look up again.

"...But you. You and your platoon of hooligans. Youve been changing that. You are Inkadians that went the extra mile in understanding us. Listening to us, respecting our decisions. Allowing us to rule our nation as we wished.

It means...a lot. More than you know.

To the point where even those who dont trust Inkadia are at least respecting it from a distance now."

The conversation is cut short by a couple of young Inkfish kids.

"Oaah...its the Octarian king!"

"Hes REAL!!!"

"Of course Im real, squirts! Who'dya think leads all the Octarians?"

"Yeah!!" squeaks another kid, who waddles closer. "Our king is so nice! He brought us up here to play!!"

"Woaah, really?"

"Mhm." He grunts. "Everyone deserves the sunshine."

The kids eyes all shine. Theyve had ex-Octarian friends who spoke much kinder words about the king. It was easy for them to accept the fact that hes just there, grinding wasabi peacefully. Talking to the Inkfish who wants merch. Having generally gruff but...daresay, gentle vibes.

Octavio grunts out a chuckle. "Are you enjoying the surface, little one?"

"VERY!! I made new friends!! The sun feels so warm, ah!! The music! The music!! Oh, so wonderful!!!"

3 smiles again...

"Oooh... wait, I can finally ask!!" squeaks one of the kids. "Mister king, sir! Did you really fight someone called Agent 3???"

3s smile becomes a nervous one. Octavio picks that up immediately.

"Why yes. Little hooligan, that one. Ack! Gave me a headache like nothing else!"

"Did they convince you? To be good now?"

"Mh. Its a little more complicated than that, kiddoes. But I..." he sighs. "...I guess, they did."

"Wooow!!"

"So cool...I wish I could meet them!!"

"Well..."

Octavio sees, from the corner of his eye, 3 making the subtlest movement of shaking their head.

"Its said...that theyre one of the top players in the leagues. If you look hard enough, youll find em."

The Octarian kid looks straight at 3, knowingly. The two other kids notice -- and look at the golden badge they hung around their neck.

"Oh! Oh! Youre a top player, right?"

"Do you think youve met them?"

Octavio is doing EVERYTHING he can to not laugh.

"|...Im not sure. Im not exactly sure what to look for.|"

"Ill help your search, all of you." Octavio grunts again. "What exactly to look for."

3 looks at him, eyebrow raised.

"Theyre ruthless on the field. Whether it be a real fight, or in the leagues. They think on their feet, move faster than most eyes can register.

But underneath that cold efficiency...

Is one of the gentlest, most understanding squids I know."

3s expression changed from nervous to...comfort? Theyre not sure what it is, but its warm.

"Watch for a player who goes out of their way to be nice to kids and beginners. One who's a good sport in the cutthroat top leagues. One who's willing to share their battle tech to anyone, something that most top players keep under wraps.

One who's motivated to help you become the best version of yourself.

No matter how long it takes."

Octavio sees 3s shoulders relax a bit. He smiles.

"Yeah, I may have fought them a lot, back in the day. But now, Id really rather think of them as a friend."

The kids start bickering about which player it could be. The Octarian kid already knew. Shes seen them before, after all. She points at them now.

"Hehee! Maybe you should try looking in a mirror, miss. That sounds a lot like you!"

The other kids stop bickering and take a closer look.

"Huh?? Them? Hmmm...now that you say it-"

"Shes right!!! Its right in front of us!! FOR3VRFRSH! Agent 3!!!"

Octavio grinds one of his wasabi sticks a little harsher on the table to get their attention. "Kids, kids! Remember what the legend says!"

That confirms it!! They shush each other, but are still sqealing quietly. They look up at 3 again, the new info putting the top player in a different light. They threw a glance at Octavio before squatting down to their level.

"Yes," they rasp. "Me and the king...were more friends now...than enemies. Time...passes. People...change.

Remember that, okay?"

"Yes miss! We'll remember!!"

They wink. "Good...now...Stay Forever Fresh!"

Octavio looks on, leaning slightly to whisper to the floating squid jerky next to him.

"You did good with this one, Cuttlefish."

He says nothing, like during this whole conversation. One thought was in his head.

He didnt do that. That...was all 3. They were better than he ever was. He only wished...

He didnt push them as hard as he did.

----------

HOO BOY THATS A DOOZY OF A READ. I didnt PLAN for the beginnings of the acceptance of Octaria to come this early but Nintendo gave me material!! A lot of this is still semi-rough so forgive me if the pacing is whack. I just had to make and write something!!

[sophsbookstore]

Sims Stream

Lando Norris x reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Word Count: 1,354

“So, what do you want to do today?” a shirtless Lando said, coming up and hugging me from behind as I make us breakfast.

I turn around, giving him a quick yet passionate kiss before turning back around, just finishing preparing a fruit salad for the both of us, his head nessling between mine and my shoulder, his arms wrapping around my waist.

“Your day off has barely started and you're already bored huh?” I laugh, a smile creeping onto his lips.

“I already trained, did simulator practice, took a nap, and now I want to hang out with you my love.” He squeezes me tighter as I nestle into him.

“Well I was going to stream sims today.” I make my final cut, mixing all the fruit together before putting some in a nearby bowl and handing it to Lando. He gives me a thank you, before turning to lean against the kitchen counter, now facing me.

“I could join you.” he states, scarfing down the fruit, taking a few pieces of fruit from my bowl as well.

“We cant join games” I frown, wishing he could stream with me today.

“I know, you always watch me play video games, I wanna watch you play something you really like doing” he smiles, placing both his and my empty bowls in the sink, wrapping up the leftovers and placing them in the fridge.

I take his hand in mine, leading him to my office/game room. I pull up a chair for him, placing a pillow on the seat as well as the back of the back of the chair for comfort. As I get settled, He takes the armrest of my chair, pulling it closer to him. I drape a blanket over both our legs and start the stream, the sims loading screen shining bright in the backlit room.

As we start talking both to one another and the stream chat, more and more people start joining, freaking out at the sight of Lando and I streaming together for the first time. Chat being so used to just hearing Lando, and never seeing him. Lando starts talking to chat, telling them how excited he is to play with me.

Soon the game fully loads, I choose to start a new game, not wanting to ruin any of the storylines I have going with my other sims lore. “Why don't you make us? We can live out our lives through the sims” Lando asks. Chat, all Lando fans, loving his idea and agreeing immediately.

Embarrassed, I go to my library and select the premade Lando I had made just a few months back on another stream. “Already did.” I blush with embarrassment, he turns to me with a big grin on his face, getting closer to the monitor screen to observe his custom made sim.

“You did so good love, thank you for making me look so handsome” he says leaning closer to me, giving me a forehead kiss. As he gets closer, he moves his hand from his lap to start squeezing my thigh. I lean into his body, moving the armrest out of the way, holding his arm that's squeezing my leg. Chat absolutely loses it at the interaction, spamming mom and dad in the chat.

Once we make some adjustments to our sims outfits we start the game, going into a random starter house, customizing the interior to our liking with what little funds we have, and finding jobs for our respective sims. “Can I be an F1 driver here?” he questions.

“No, but you can be an athlete” he makes a sad face, not getting what he wanted. “The good thing is, there's a lot of job options in the game” this perks him up. I continue to scroll though the list, showing and describing all the jobs to Lando.

“WAIT WAIT WAIT I CAN BE A SECRET AGENT” he practically screams. “Why didn't you tell me, that's way cooler.” 

Lando picks the job of secret agent, I settle with the streamer career, wanting my sim to be as accurate as possible. 

“Can you fuck in the sims?” Lanod says out of nowhere. I playfully smack him on the shoulder.

“Lando there's kids watching, also our sims aren't even dating yet, they are just roommates.”

“How come sim Lando hasn't asked out sim Y/N yet?”

“Maybe he's too scared, sim Y/N is way too hot for sim Lando” I shrug, Lando giving me a side eye. “Dont side eye me, I said what I said, chat did I lie?” chat clearly siding with me.

“Tell sim Lando to ask out sim Y/N, we have to date her before anyone else tries to steal my girl” Blushing, I click on my sim, making Lando's in game alter ego flirt with her.

Soon, my sim walks away from Lando's, moving away to talk to another nearby towns person. Lando watches in disbelief as my sim, against my control, starts talking to another man. “WHAT THE HELL” he stares at the screen, sitting up a little more. Chat going absolutely insane, clipping the moment to probably use for another couples compilation.

“I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING, SHE DID THAT ALL ON HER OWN” I argued back. Lando takes the controls, choosing my character and moving her away from the random sim man, to go back to talking to him.

“How do I kill someone in the sims?” he questions, going to the settings and looking around for a kill button.

“You can't, I dont have the mod.” I laugh, holding my stomach with laughter, pulling him away from the screen, to go back to cuddling me.

“Can we download it? I want him dead, he tried to take my girl” lando pouts.

We continued the game, Lando and I switching off the controls whenever we wanted our charters to do something. Soon enough, Sim Lando and Sim Y/N start dating. Lando and I both chanted “kiss, kiss, kiss” when they shared their first kiss with one another.

“Does this mean that we can fuck now” Lando turns to me waiting for my approval.

I sigh, a smile forming on my lips. “Yes lando, they can now.” he cheers, taking the mouse and clicking on the bed, happily selecting the woohoo button.

I take the mouse back from him, moving the game to show a different room. “I don't want to show it on stream, it's an invasion of privacy '' I look at him sternly, he silently nods in agreement.

We wait a couple more seconds, talking to chat about anything that comes to mind until finally seeing the notification that they are done. Lando grabs the mouse before I can, clicking on my sims and taking her to the bathroom. “Lando, what are you doing?” I ask confused.

“I wanna see if Sim Y/N is pregnant.” 

“LANDO WHAT!” I shout taking the mouse back from him instantly. We’re both waiting anxiously (for different reasons) for the notification of sim Y/N’s status. I let out a sigh of relief when she's not.

Lando slumps back in his chair. “Lando what were you thinking? They've only been dating for a day! It's far too soon for them to have a baby! They barely have any money, no space, do you need me to go on?” I lecture him, moving the controls slightly away from him so he cant make anymore rash decisions.

“I just wanted to see what a little us would look like” he said sadly, it breaks my heart, chat spamming awww’s in the chat. “I know it's too soon, I just got excited.”

“Lando it's ok, how about the next stream, we MAYBE have them try?” this perks him up.

“Really! You mean it? Everyone spam baby names in the chat, we’ll use the best one.'' Lando starts talking to the chat about how excited he is for the next stream, and virtual fatherhood.

As I watch Lando go on and on about this potential sim baby, I can't help but get excited for the day it happens in real life.

[nochukoo97]

we can’t be friends (wait for your love) - teaser

pairing: childhoodfriend!jk x childhoodfriend!oc

summary: you and jungkook have been friends since birth, and as you both grow into teenagers, you can’t help but have some sorr of longing feeling towards him. but after a turn of events, you move away from your home town, growing apart from the boy you onced were close to. almost a decade later when you decide to move back, there’s someone familiar yet unfamiliar waiting for your arrival… was this the universe giving you a sign about him?

warnings/tags: story starts off when the both of them are children, but most of the plot is when they are adults :)), eventual: kissing, an emotional rollercoaster 🥲, they’re stuck in a ‘what are we’ moment, playing a waiting game of who confesses first, a little bit of angst, smut, but fluff too hehe

a/n: IM BACK 🥲 after being in writers block sighhh but i am back hehehe hope u r excited for this!! anyways this is just an intro for the actual fic, its more of what happened before the present which will be in the main part hehehe

TAGLIST OPEN!!

(this is the introduction, the main part is coming soon :)))

MASTERLIST

23 July 2007

You’re currently wedged between two bookshelves in the living room of your house, eyes trained on the words in your book, giggling to yourself when the plot takes a funny turn. Meanwhile in the background, Jungkook and your brother Taehyung, both a year older than you, the two ten year old boys play fighting in your parents backyard, their game was way too rough for you to even watch, you decided.

That’s always the way it’s been since you were young, Jungkook’s mum dropping him off at your parents place as he spent time with your brother, mostly roughhousing like they are now, and you, at nine years old, simply tucking yourself in another fairytale, which to you seemed like a much better way to past time.

You never truly spent a lot of time with the two of them when Jungkook would come over, besides the once-in-a-while moments where your parents would make you guys bond a little through board games or card games which the two elder boys would never take seriously, the games always ending in them either throwing the board game pieces at each other or stacking the cards into a pyramid.

When it came to school, you tried your best to stay away from bumping into your brother at school, but you’d always end up being teased in front of your friends by him and Jungkook, making fun of your two pigtails or your very glittery pink bag you had just gotten as a birthday gift, but you were used to it anyways, having grown up with a brother.

12 August 2011

Four years go by and now you’re finally completing your last year in middle school, Jungkook and your brother having moved on to high school, and as expected, they end up attending the same school, as they have done their whole life.

But since four years ago, a lot has changed. You’ve grown much closer to Jungkook, having gone on quite a few trips with his family, and you could even consider him a close friend. Most importantly, he’d grown from being a kid to a teenager, even though he was only a year older than you, the 14 year old boy suddenly became someone you always wanted to hang out with. To you, you saw him as someone cool. Instead of teasing you along with your brother, he now would defend you from your brother’s teasing, treat you to ice cream on the weekends and even teach you the video games he played with your brother.

“And then he let me get as many toppings as I wanted,” You tell your friends, clicking the buttons on your phone to show them the picture of your ice cream, filled to the brim with all sorts of toppings because Jungkook said you could.

“You’re so lucky, I wish I had a boyfriend like that,” Jiyeon sighs, pouting her lips as she sulks.

Your face turns red, tip of your ears warm as you quickly deny, “He isn’t my boyfriend! Just a friend… In fact he was my brother’s friend first,” No, you couldn’t even begin to try and imagine Jungkook as someone more than your friend!

“Well, but you should definitely confess to him on valentine’s day, it’s in like six months,” Yuji twirls her hair, nudging your leg slightly as she giggled.

To the three of you, as 13 year old girls, having a valentine was a big deal, especially since the whole idea of a crush and all was new to you guys as teenage girls.

“No! I don’t have feelings for him! He’s just nice to me I guess,” You frown at Yuji, just because she confessed to her crush and now apparently has a boyfriend, doesn’t mean you need to do it too, you decided.

You didn’t have a crush on Jungkook right?

You push away the thought quickly, this whole topic was so taboo to you, it made you feel squirmy thinking about it. No, you didn’t have any sort of feelings towards the older boy, never.

-

So that day when you arrived back at home, spotting Jungkook and Taehyung sitting at the table and doing their homework, you decide to take a seat away from the certain boy.

“Huh? Why are you sitting all the way there? Come back here,” Jungkook hums, pulling out his earphones in bewilderment, you had always sat next to him whilst the three of you would do homework together after school, nudging him here and there to ask for help with a math problem.

“I- okay,” You scooch towards the chair next to him, dragging your books along the table as you avoid eye contact. Your cheeks heating up again as you remember your conversation with your friends in school earlier, it made you feel all tingly inside, but why were you being so weird in front of him?

“You’ve been staring at that math problem for ages, need help?”

You jump up in surprise at Jungkook’s voice , letting out a small yelp as your brother snickers at you from across the table, you kick his shin in response, sending his hands flailing to the injury, mumbling some cuss word you don’t understand.

“Yeah,” You only muster out a whisper, handing over your pencil to the boy, who finds your behaviour a little off but nonetheless, doesn’t comment on it.

And while he explains the solution and working to find the value of X, you can only notice his eyes, his nose, the mole under his lips, the scar on his cheek from when he fought with your brother years ago, his lips.

And then you for yourself to snap out of your daydream when his eyes lock with yours in confusion as to why you’re staring at him instead of your workbook.

03 January 2012

But then five months later, opportunity for valentine’s day didn’t even come for you anyways, as you pack your bags to move miles away from the place you once called home, since your father had been posted to a new country for his work.

The whole idea of leaving your life behind and all the people you’ve ever known since young was such an overwhelming feeling that you didn’t even think once about your feelings for Jungkook anymore, or maybe you did once, but it didn’t matter.

So when you tugged your luggage and watch your brother sadly hug his best friend goodbye at the airport, reality struck, you wouldn’t ever get a chance to even properly assess your feelings for Jungkook anyways, so you simply wave him goodbye, not looking back so you don’t think further than a goodbye.

He did make sure to exchange his Instagram and Facebook with you, promising you and your brother to keep in touch, which you agreed to. Maybe there was a part of you that wanted to cling onto the idea of him, but you didn’t let yourself believe that anyways.

[heegyukeluv]

love-battery (lhs) - req

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader

synopsis: Heeseung always would make you feel recharged just by being around. And you did the same to him.

my's note: hi hello here's a very fluff cute little thing! it's a request (thank you for requesting <3), so i hope you like it!!!! (have to say that when i chose the name of this fic, the jinyoung's song with similar name started to play on my head non-stop help)

warnings: skinship, established relationship, fluff, pet names, explicit language (i can't help myself. i'll always use at least one 'fuck' lol).

request: clingy gf with heeseung and it’s super cute and they’re in love, she really just misses him (here!)

wc: 3k

NOT PROOFREAD.

Even with your boyfriend’s tight schedule and the fact you both lived quite far from each other, you and Heeseung always managed ways to meet up and hang out for at least an hour or so – enough to work as a full recharge for Heeseung.

However, for the last whole month you only saw Heeseung three times. You were used to seeing him almost every day, either by going to his and staying for a bit or he coming to yours for the same reason, and it was pissing you off how annoying adult life was being so far, unabling you to do your daily basis chores, let alone drive to Heeseung’s studio to be with him.

Heeseung normally had a tough routine as a producer by spending long hours in his studio, staying up all night working on his music and constantly dealing with tight deadlines. Your favorite hobby was to grab a coffee and some snacks to surprise him by showing up unexpectedly; and of course, to sit on his lap while he kept doing his things. 

But now you were the one fighting against time, as you had to deal with your last year in college, struggling with your final project and with your respective project partners – who would have thought that working with people would lead you to be that stressed, huh?

Your life was a total mess at this point, your sleep schedule chaotic, your body aching, begging for a pause to get some proper rest, but you really couldn’t give yourself that luxury; all the submission dates getting closer and closer making you go crazy in desperation.

And on top of that, you haven’t seen your boyfriend, the main source of your happiness, in almost two weeks.

“This is so frustrating, Hee,” you said with a realistic sad tone, when you decided to ignore the blank page on your laptop waiting for a new plot to pop up in your mind, and give your love life a little more attention, calling Heeseung. “It’s almost like the world doesn't want us to be together.”

“Don’t say such things, my love. Not even as kidding,” he interrupted you to say with a gentle voice. “We’re going to figure out something, yeah?”

“I’m sorry, Hee. But– I’m dealing with a bunch of stupid assignments with stupid deadlines in this stupid degree I chose, and you’ve told me early this week that you were pretty chill with your work. But I didn’t even have time to invite you over the days you said you’re free! Not to mention that if you were here I’d be paying more attention to you and getting fucked with my project.”

“Y/N–”

“And when I’m free you’re the one swamped with work! And, please, I’m not blaming you, babe, please don’t take it the wrong way. I love you and I love that you can work with the thing you’re passionate about. I’m just… Frustrated,” you unloaded with a long sigh, voice trembling a bit since your feelings were, also, a mess and your heart aching. “And I miss you so much. I wish we lived a bit closer, so we could meet more often in moments like this.”

You heard Heeseung soft breathing through the phone. He decided to let you vent instead of cutting you off, because he, more than anyone, knew how overwhelmed you felt whenever you had to deal with submission dates and projects. It was your third project in your whole degree, this one being the most important one, and Heeseung saw you in shambles during your working time in the smaller ones, fully understanding how hard it has been with this final one.

“I’m sorry you’re having to go through all of this, pretty girl,” you could feel the comfort in his tender, sweet tone. You wiped out a single tear that tried to escape your eyes, curving yourself into a little ball on your couch. “But you don’t have to do this alone, my love,” you heard a weird noise through his phone, very similar to a door unlocking. Your door unlocking. You frowned. “Don’t freak out, bae. I’m entering your apartment right now.”

Your heart dropped in your chest. “What?” You whispered in disbelief, your phone falling off from your hand, your eyes widening as you watched your boyfriend walk through the front door, smiling big and bright at you.

His dark red hair was attractively messy because of the motorcycle helmet. He also carried a big backpack on his back and a plastic bag with the logo of your favorite food place.

“You’re kidding me,” your voice was barely a whisper at this point, your lips curving into a smile that grew bigger and bigger, still finding it hard to believe that the man talking to you on your phone was now in front of you. Your beloved boyfriend was now in front of you. “Lee fucking Heeseung!” You almost squealed, walking in his direction right after he put his helmet and his backpack on the ground, to jump on his open arms which were waiting to embrace you in a tight hug.

Your legs instantly wrapped around his waist and your arms on his shoulders, his firm hands gripping on your thighs to hold you close and steady as you buried your face on his neck, inhaling his scent as if it was your favorite drug. You heard Heeseung chuckling at your reaction and you finally noticed how fast your heart was beating, everything feeling unreal. All the frustration you felt waving off your body quickly.

“Hi, baby,” Heeseung said in an affectionate way, with you still hidden on the curve of his neck, making him let out a small laugh at your adorableness. He missed you so much.

Your fingers tangled in his soft hair, pulling him into yourself as if you could become one before you started to kiss every piece of his exposed skin, from his jawline to close to his ear, to his cheek, the tip of his nose and finally his glistening, dreamy lips.

Heeseung let out a contented sigh when he felt your sweet taste, walking carefully through the living room so he could sit on the couch with you on his lap, the contact never breaking. He deepened the kiss by slightly brushing his tongue on your bottom lip, electricity running all over his body once you let him in to feel him closer, so intimately; his hands sneaked into your shirt, caressing the bare skin of your waist just because he needed to touch, to feel you more.

“I missed you so much, my love,” you whispered when you parted away to catch your breath, pecking his lip countless times as you said “Missed. You. So. Much. Oh. My. God,” and the last one lasted a bit longer, making Heeseung giggle and kiss you properly one more time. 

“I missed you too, pretty.”

Heeseung was looking at you with so much love, his eyes sparkling in joy for finally having you that close, touching, kissing you. He caressed your cheek while his gaze wandered all your face features, as if he was trying to memorize every one of them, completely endeared by your beauty.

Heeseung looked at you as if he just discovered what love is. 

You weren’t different, though. Your soft touch on his strands of hair, scratching slightly as your contemplated every piece of your very good-looking boyfriend, not holding yourself when your fingers started gently to trace his face; his big deer eyes now turned into little crescents, his pretty nose that you loved to kiss, the little charming mole on his forehead, and his so, so attractive lips adorning the most beautiful smile you ever had the chance to see. You were so in love.

Heeseung felt like he could stare at you all day and he would never feel tired, actually to have you close always worked as a battery recharge. And for you, Heeseung did the same, making all your bad feelings wash away easily because you had him, and you knew you could rely on him.

Ironically, the sound of your laptop on the coffee table indicating that its battery was running out, pulled you both out of your little love bubble, startling you slightly. The reality check hit you with full force, and the bottom of your stomach sank immediately.

You gulped, looking at Heeseung with a hint of sadness before you sighed and said, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m super happy you’re here, but I–”

“You have things to do, I know,” Heeseung cut you off mid-sentence. His kind voice, the small peck on your cheek, and his cute smile making you shiver and melt. “But don’t worry about me, okay? You do your things, I’ll be around for whenever you finish, and then we can cuddle,” he said simply, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You’re staying?” You questioned with eyes sparkling in confusion. “I don’t want you to mess up your sche–”

Heeseung now stopped your talking with a sweet kiss, and then another, and another, and one more just in case. “I’m staying, baby,” he chuckled at your tilted head, expressing that you were very much confused. “As I said before, I’m pretty chill this week,” he explained with a warm smile, mirroring yours. “Anything I have to do, I can do from my computer or phone, so I’m all yours this weekend, my love.”

Heeseung fell even deeply for you when he saw your eyes shining like you received the best news of your life. And for you, you actually did. To have your boyfriend for a whole weekend after days without being able to see each other, you truly thought you were dreaming.��

So to have Heeseung feeding you while your hands worked on your writing was definitely something that you hadn’t planned for your friday. He was openly giving his opinion as well after you cutely asked him to, paying attention to every detail you shared with him about the plot you were working on. 

“So your idea is that after he leaves the house, you give an extra zoom on the door knob because someone is going to open, even though the house is supposed to be empty?”

“Yes! And then it’s revealed to be actually his ‘dead’ twin!” You explained excitedly, noticing Heeseung gazing very passionately at you. You blushed, feeling suddenly too aware, because your story now has been read by someone other than you. “I– I know it’s kinda simple and boring, but I mean– I got the approval to keep working on it, so…” You shrugged, trying to act cool, but your pout was showing how insecure you actually felt.

“It’s not simple or anything bad, my love,” Heeseung couldn’t resist the urge of kissing your small pout as he reassured you. “It’s impressive how your creative mind works, I’m really proud,” he said with his voice filled with sincerity.

You gave him a shy smile before going back to writing, heart beating fast with his genuine words.

Heeseung never left your side. You needed him around you every single second, not only to compensate for the days you were apart, but because Heeseung was really your source of energy. So to write on your computer while having his fingers intertwined with yours became a natural activity during the moments you were working on your project. You could feel Heeseung’s love stare at your face during those moments, completely in love by your focused expression. 

Sometimes he would leave your touch to reply to some of his co-workers on his phone, giving them the attention they needed, but in the meantime his head would be resting on your shoulder, completely addicted to your touch and to having you close – his hair tickling your neck making you lose focus for a few minutes.  

You both wanted and needed each other with the same intensity. Heeseung always loved your clinginess, emphasizing how lovable you looked with your pouty face whenever he had to leave the bed to go to the bathroom or grab some food in the kitchen and “leave you to die alone”, like you normally would say in a very dramatic way. Especially because he himself was pretty clingy too, holding you in a tight back hug whenever you had to go back home after visiting him at his studio, refusing to let you leave his side.

To move in together was a big dream. However Heeseung always talked with you about finishing your studies first before committing your relationship on that instance, so you could have your freedom without him disrupting your focus; he also knew that he wasn’t ready to have you so close for that long, afraid of scaring you off by how much he would be around you, maybe losing his own concentration on his work. 

And this behavior was being shown at that moment, by you doing the lunch and him hugging you from behind.

“I have to be honest, I don’t really see this as ‘helping’, Hee,” you said with a playful chuckle, not really bothered by his big hands resting on your hips as well as his chin on your shoulder while you did all the work. He was clinging like a koala, making it challenging to move around the kitchen.

“What do you mean? I’m clearly helping you,” he said with a babyish voice, making you giggle. You could tell he was pouting too. “What if you get hurt? I have to be close, y’know? To save you from danger.”

You laughed hard, throwing your head behind and profusely resting it on his chest. “The danger?”

“Yeah, the knife and fire and stuff…” He explained like it was obvious.

You turned down the heat on the stove, moving away from it so you could face your boyfriend, just to meet his big, adorable eyes looking at you with a dramatically pleading expression. “You’re right,” you said softly, cupping his cheeks and planting a kiss on his lips. “Thank you for protecting me from the dangers of my kitchen,” you added a hint of sarcasm to your very affectionate tone, without holding your smile when he nodded proudly, before pulling you closer to kiss you properly as now your self-proclaimed hero. 

After you finished cooking – with Heeseung’s help, of course –, you both shared the meal, doing constant “love shots” but with your food, just so you could feel each other’s touch.

Heeseung didn’t let you go back to work on your project when you finished eating, saying you needed a bit of resting time with him. And how could you oppose such truthful words? 

So you spend quite a long time of your Saturday afternoon embraced in Heeseung’s arms and scent all over you, making it difficult to choose anything different from being on the bed cuddling him. 

After changing positions many times, you now were on top of Heeseung, face buried on his neck while he hummed some random song, hands gently caressing your back and scalp, making you wonder if taking a quick nap at that moment would mess up too much with your project work.

As if a sense of responsibility hit you, remembering all your deadlines and especially that you had to finish at least the plot writing by Monday – in two days –, you forced yourself to try to move away. Your body refused, though.

“I should go,” you said, muffed into his skin.

“Yeah, you should…” Heeseung added, not moving an inch to help you with that. In fact, he held you closer. Your warm body against his own helping him to relax. 

“Like, reeeally gotta go…” You didn’t move as well, trailing kisses all over his neck as you refused to get up.

“Definitely you do…” His voice was a bit raspy in a sweet, tender way that made it even harder for you to leave. He was about to fall asleep.

You sighed, “I missed being like this with you.” You lifted your head just enough to see his serene expression; eyes closed, lips slightly parted and a calm breathing. You almost cried with the fact that you truly needed to go back to your life instead of staying there with Heeseung. 

Your hands caressed his face with all the care in the world, making him open his eyes, “I missed it too, pretty. I miss you every moment I’m without you, actually.”

You noticed a soft flush  on Heeseung cheeks and giggled at the sight of your ‘so cool’ boyfriend blushing in front of you. 

You always appreciated how Heeseung was not only a good listener to your worries and maybe overwhelming thoughts, but also unafraid to show you his most sensitive and vulnerable side in order to make you comfortable on doing the same. You cherished his presence in your life with all you had, not being scared of loving him so openly, because he did the same for you. 

“I love you,” you whispered, leaning in to tease a kiss. He smiled against your lips, closing his eyes again.

“I love you too, my love,” he murmured, mirroring your tone and capturing your bottom lip with his own, to pull you near and finally kiss you. 

You decided to stay for a bit longer, because Heeseung’s hands roaming your body with such care and tenderness, his sweet mouth working on yours, and his loving whispers against your skin were too irresistible.

The best excuse you found for yourself was that you were revitalizing so you could work better, your creativity would flow easily and you would finish it in no time.

And, well, he would be around you anyway, because he just couldn’t never get enough of your pretty face, or your joyful presence, or your addicting warm touches.

After all, Heeseung always worked as a recharger to your love battery, and for him, you were no different.

[washeduphazbin]

Could I get a one shot of, y/n is like Adam’s life ex gf she left after getting tired of his shit.. ended up falling in love with Lucifer.. (Mr. Steal yo girl thrice) and during the Adam and Lucifer battle Lucifer taunts that he stole all three of his lovers

YES. YES. I'm in love with Lucifer. Your wish is my command.

Sorry it's so short if we like maybe part 2

Also, poly luci x reader x Lilith (sorry, not sorry)

———

“Little duck?” Lucifer asked softly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You were holding onto one of his plush ducks rather tightly,

"I can't help but think...that this extermination is my fault." Lucifer let out a gasp and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, "Lulu-"

"I won't have that negative self-talk in my house." Your brow furrowed in distress,

"But-"

"No buts."

"Lucifer! Adam's absolutely moved up the extermination to spite Charlie and us!" You argued, "I...what if I go back to him."

"Excuse me, what?"

"I don't want to!" You moved away from him to the portrait of Lilith, you and Lucifer hanging in the corner of the room. "I really don't want to..." You raised your hand and brushed against Lilith's horns and Lucifer's staff in the portrait. "You know I don't belong here; I'm not a demon, a sinner, or an angel either. I'm just a human who fell because I fell in love with you and your family." You smiled sadly over at him, holding out your hand. Lucifer squeezed it tightly, "What if I can solve all of this by just going back with Adam."

"That's not happening; I'm not letting you go back to that fuckwad;" He scoffed, brushing a hand through your hair, "Do you think you'll be happier with him? Without us? Without Charlie?"

"No." You laughed bitterly, "Of course not, Charlie would kill me."

"She absolutely would. You're like another mother to her; she wouldn't let you go back to that hellscape without a fight. Neither will I; I have a few words I'd love to share with Adam."

"Oh yeah? What would you say?"

"I'm sure you'll get to hear it eventually," he mused, leaning closer to kiss your cheeks. "Just stay safe and stay away from the Hotel until Charlie or I give you the okay, okay?"

"Okay." You whispered softly, bending down to plant a kiss on his lips,

"Did you really have to bend down like that," He huffed, hitting you gently with his cane.

"Oh, absolutely."

---

"Stay home? STAY HOME?" You roared, grabbing Lucifer's shoulders, "Everyone dying, and you want me to stay home!"

"For your safety and everyone's safety. Yes." He squeezed your shoulders tightly, "If it's between you and Charlie, I-"

"You choose Charlie every time."

"I love you-"

"I know. I love you too." You smiled softly, "Kick Adam in the dick for me?"

"It would be my pleasure, my lady. Here," Lucifer handed you his phone, "It'll live stream the battle; I hacked a VoxTech drone." He puffed his chest out proudly, and you beamed, taking his phone from his hands.

"I can't wait to see Adam get dick punched in HD!"

"There's the bloodlust I love so much; if I didn't have to go save Hell, I'd totally fuck you right now."

"Then you better leave now so you can come back and fuck me as soon as possible."

"Yes, ma'am!" He gave the dorkiest salute before teleporting out of the room.

---

"I am going to FUCK you!"

"It's fuck you up...dad."

Your face palmed, curling up on the bed, Lucifer's phone in your hand, watching the live stream.

"What? What did I say? Oh Shit-" Lucifer burst into laughter as he transformed into a snake to avoid being hit by Adam, "So this is what you've been up to since Eden, huh? I gotta you really let yourself go, buddy."

"Are you judging me?" Adam snarled in a disbelieving laugh, "You're the most hated being in all of creation!" Lucifer snickered as he turned into a bird,

"Well, your first wife didn't seem to hate what I had to offer, or the second bow chica. Wow, wow!" He splayed his fingers out in a V shape and stuck his tongue in between his fingers, "Not to mention your third."

"I'm sorry what!" He snarled,

"Oh, you didn't know? (Y/n)'s a doll, the tightest pussy Lilith and I've EVER shared!"

You made a horrified sound at the phone, wanted to absolutely curl up into a ball and die, Charlie didn't look any better.

"Dad!"

"You are so dead!" Adam shouted, "And I'm gonna find that bitch, and I'm going to make her pay!"

"Sure you are," he snorted, "I'd like to see you try."

[satorulovebot]

THE GREAT WAR.

♱ genre. tragedy, WWI au, 18+

♱ summary. in the midst of world war I, satoru gojou drafted and sent off to the western front, leaving behind the love of his life with the promise of marrying her when he returned. he clings to the thoughts of a future with her and the letters she sends him in hopes of reuniting with her.

♱ pairings. satoru gojou, fem!reader

♱ word count. 8k

♱ tags/warnings. violence, suggestive content, major character death, profanity, mentions of drug use, weapon use, + more

♱ notes. this wasn't meant to be long or anything or fully fleshed out but i decided to share it anyways. i lowkey hate this but what can i say. i also made myself upset because of course i did. anyways likes and rb's always appreciated :)

December 1, 1917

My Dearest Love,

I hope my letter reaches you before we move further down the front and getting letters out becomes harder. I hope you’re sound asleep in our bed, enjoying dreamland with Charlie. 

I wanted to let you know that I think of you every day. I keep replaying our last night together in my mind. It was so precious, and I wish I could be there with you now. We talked about our future together. Even now, even here, I still dream of that future. It’s the only thing that keeps me going.

This war has shown me things I can’t forget, things I’ll never forget. I worry for Suguru too as he’s losing himself. Baby I can’t lie to you, it’s hard out here. If something happens to me and I don’t make it back, please remember how much I love you. I love you more than words can say. 

Please stay strong for me, my love. I’ll hold onto the hope that we’ll be together again someday.

With all my love,

Satoru

May 18, 1917

The radio crackles faintly as you twist the dial, trying to find the right station. The sound of distorted voices filled the small living room of your home. You are sitting on the worn couch that you and Satoru had spent countless nights on, talking about everything and nothing. Satoru sits beside you with his arm draped over your shoulders, his hand resting on your upper arm, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles on your skin. It’s a small gesture, one that he’s done a thousand times before, but tonight it feels… different.

You finally find the station you’ve been looking for, and the voice on the radio comes through, clear and steady.

“…the President has announced that the United States will be joining the war in Europe. All eligible men between the ages of 21 and 30 are to be drafted into military service…”

You freeze at the words, like a winter chill had seeped into your bones. You feel a sharp, involuntary intake of breath, your hand tightening around the knob of the radio as if holding on to it will somehow keep the world from spinning out of control.

“They’re really doing it,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry, and force yourself to speak. “We talked about this, but…” The words feel strange on your tongue as if they belong to someone else. “Hearing it…hearing it makes it real.”

Satoru nods, but he doesn’t say anything.

Finally, he speaks, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What are we going to do?”

The question hangs in the air, unanswered, because you don’t know the answer. How could you? You want to say something, anything, to reassure him, to reassure yourself, but the words would not come. Instead, you reach for his hand, lacing your fingers with his, holding on as tightly as you can, as if it might somehow keep the world from falling apart.

Satoru’s grip tightens around yours, and for a moment, you can feel the fear in him, the uncertainty. You’ve always known him as strong and always in control, but now, in this moment, he’s just as lost as you are.

“We’ll figure it out, baby. I promise,” He whispered.

Satoru pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you as you buried your face in his chest. You breathed in the familiar scent of him, trying to memorize every detail as if it was the last time you would ever get to hold him like this. His lips press against the top of your head, a gentle, lingering kiss that speaks of promises made and promises that will be broken.

June 3, 1917

Tomorrow is the day that Satoru is set to leave for the Western front.

The golden light of the late afternoon filtered through the windows, casting long, melancholy shadows across the bedroom. It was a room you had filled with so many memories—laughter, love, late-night conversations that had lasted until the early hours of the morning. But now, the only thing that seemed to be there was a half-packed duffel bag lying open on the bed.

You stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching as Satoru moved about the room gathering the the last couple of items he would need. He was quiet the entire time he packed his bags. You could see the way his shoulders were stiff and the subtle tremor in his hands as he reached for another piece of clothing.

Between the two of you, Satoru had always been the strong one. The one who could face anything with a smile, it was the thing that had drawn you to him in the first place.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He paused at the sound of your voice, his hands hovering over the duffel bag. Slowly, he turned to face you, His eyes met yours, and in them, you saw the fear he was trying so hard to hide.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Satoru finally admitted, his voice rough, like it had been scraped raw from holding back so much. “I don’t know how to leave you.”

His confession broke something inside of you like a dam of emotions had finally been let loose. Before you knew it, you were across the room, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you could, burying your face in his chest. His arms came around you instantly, pulling you close, holding on as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” you whispered. “Not with me.”

“I’m scared,” he admitted, the words muffled against your hair. “I’m so scared, and I hate that I’m leaving you and Charlie like this.”

Your heart ached at his words. It was a side of him he rarely showed anyone, even you.  You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands cupping his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to fall.

“I’m scared too.”

“Do you remember the first time we talked about the war?” Satoru asked suddenly.

You nodded, remembering the day that the news had broke about the conflict in Europe. It was just another story on the radio, something that had felt so far away. The two of you had been sitting in the same room, listening to the same radio, with your hands entwined talking about the life you wanted to build together.

“It felt like something that could never touch us. Like it was happening in another world, to people we’d never know.”

Satoru sighed, “And now, it’s all too real.”

When you looked up at him, you could see the same look in his eyes that you had seen when the draft letter first arrived.

You felt your tears start to fall as you reached up to touch his face, your fingers tracing the familiar lines of his features, trying to commit them to memory. “So do I,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “But no matter what happens, I’ll be here when you come back. I’ll be waiting for you.”

​​Satoru closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. I’m going to miss you so much,” he murmured. “Every single day.”

You pulled him down into a kiss, slow and lingering, pouring all of your love, your fear, your hope into that one moment, trying to convey everything you couldn’t put into words. Satoru’s hands came up to cup your face, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that made your heart ache once more.

“I love you,” you could hear him say as he continued to latch his mouth onto yours. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Without breaking the kiss, Satoru guided you towards the bed, his hands moving to your waist as he lifted you, laying you down gently on the mattress. The duffel bag was pushed to the side, forgotten for now, as he climbed on top of you, his body pressing down against yours, relishing the taste of his buttery lips on yours.

June 4, 1917

“Are you ready?” His voice broke the silence.

You turned to face him, your throat tight with the words you wanted to say but couldn’t find. Instead, you nodded, though nothing about you felt ready—least of all your heart.

Satoru approached you slowly as if he wasn’t sure how to comfort you without breaking down. His warm hand reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“You know I have to do this,” he said, his voice soft. “It’s my duty. I can’t—”

“Please don’t go,” you interrupted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. Your voice cracked, you were desperate to make him stay. You knew you were asking the impossible, that no matter how much you begged, he couldn’t stay. But the thought of losing him, of not knowing if he would ever come back, was too much to bear.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if he could shield you from the reality you had both come to face.

“I wish I could stay,” he murmured against your hair. “More than anything, I wish I could stay here with you. But I have to go. I have to.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his uniform as if you could keep him there, with you, if you just held on tight enough. “But what if you don’t come back? What if—”

“I will come back.” He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, the look almost pleading. “I promise you, baby, I will come back. And when I do, I’m going to marry you, and we’ll have that life we always talked about. We’ll have a family, a home...everything.”

“What if something happens?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What if—”

“Hey,” Satoru’s voice was gentle, and soothing, as he cupped your face in both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that were now streaming down your cheeks. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’ll be careful, I’ll keep my head down, and I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

His words were meant to comfort you, but they only made the pain worse. Because deep down, no matter how much he promised, there was no guarantee that he would come back. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say that. So instead, you nodded, forcing yourself to believe, if only for his sake. “Promise me you’ll write,” you said, your voice trembling. “Every chance you get.”

“I will,” he assured you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Every chance I get, I’ll write to you. And I want you to write to me too, okay? Tell me everything, don’t leave anything out. I want to know everything that’s going on with you, no matter how small it might seem.”

You nodded again, a small, shaky smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I will. I promise.”

Satoru sighed, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I have to go.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. Satoru gave you one last, long look as if trying to memorize every detail of your face before he finally turned and picked up his duffel bag.

You walked the man you love to the door, your steps were slow, each one feeling like a goodbye. When you reached the threshold, Satoru stopped, turning to face you one last time. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was full of everything you couldn’t say—fear, hope, love, and the desperate need to hold on to this moment, to him, for as long as you could. When he finally pulled away, you could see the tears in his eyes, tears he was trying so hard to hold back.

“I’ll see you soon.”

And then he was gone, walking out the door and down the path that led to the street, where a car was waiting to take him to the docks. You stood in the doorway, watching as he walked away. When he reached the car, he turned back one last time, raising his hand in a small wave, a sad smile on his lips.

You raised your hand in return, your vision blurred by tears, your body shaking with the force of the sobs you were holding back. And then he was gone, the car driving away, taking him further and further from you, until he was just a speck on the horizon, and then nothing at all.

Finally, when you couldn’t stand it any longer, you sank to the floor, your body shaking with sobs that you could no longer hold back. You cried for what felt like an eternity with Charlie at your side, your tears soaking into the wood beneath you, your cries echoing in the empty house. 

When you finally had no tears left, when your body was too exhausted to cry anymore, you lay there, curled up on the floor, clutching the memory of Satoru close to your heart, the only thing you had left of him.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” you whispered into the silence, your voice hoarse from crying. “No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here when you come back.”

September 7, 1917

My Dearest Satoru,

I hope this letter finds you safe and well. I wish more than anything that I could be there with you, to hold your hand and tell you that everything will be okay. But since I can’t, I’m sending you all the love I have, wrapped up in these words.

Life here is quiet without you. The days seem longer, and the nights feel emptier, but I’m doing my best to keep busy. I’ve been tending to our plants you always loved, you won’t believe how much they’ve grown! The roses have bloomed beautifully this year, and I think of you every time I see them. I imagine you coming home and us standing together in the kitchen, just like we used to, with Charlie at our feet.

Speaking of Charlie, he’s been such a comfort to me in your absence. He’s still the same playful pup, always chasing his tail and trying to catch the birds that come too close. But I think he misses you just as much as I do. Sometimes, he will sit by the door, staring out as if he is waiting for you to walk through it. I take him on long walks, and every time we pass by the places we used to go together, he pulls at the leash, looking around as if he expects to see you there. I can’t help but smile and cry a little at the same time. He’s such a good dog, Satoru, and I know he’ll be so happy to see you when you come home.

I dream about the day you’ll come home, the day we’ll finally be together again. I dream of the life we’ll have, the family we’ll build, all the things we talked about before you left. And until that day comes, I’ll be here, waiting for you, loving you with everything I have. I’ll keep writing to you, and I hope that these letters bring you some comfort, some reminder of the life waiting for you here.

Please take care of yourself, Satoru. Stay safe, stay strong, and know that I’m counting down the days until you return. I love you more than words can say, and I’m so proud of you. Come back to us soon.

With all my love,

Y/N

October 12, 1917

The train clacked along the tracks, the noise doing little to soothe the nerves of the men inside. Satoru was sat by the window, his thoughts a thousand miles away.

Satoru’s hand slipped into his pocket, fingers closing around the worn edges of a small, creased photograph. He pulled it out, his eyes softening as he looked at the image of the woman who had captured his heart. Your eyes held all the warmth of a summer day, and your smile—oh, that smile—was the beacon that guided him. He could almost hear your voice, talking about the latest gossip or news.

As the train jolted along the tracks, Satoru’s thoughts drifted back to the last time he had seen you, the way you had clung to him, the way your tears soaked his uniform as you begged him not to go.

A soft voice broke through his reverie, pulling him back to the present. “Is that your wife?”

Satoru glanced up to see the soldier sitting next to him, a young man barely out of his teens, with wide, innocent eyes. He was looking at the photograph in Satoru’s hand with curiosity.

Satoru managed a small, bittersweet smile, his thumb brushing over the face of the woman in the photograph. “No,” he replied softly. “We never got the chance to marry.”

The young soldier’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion. “Why not? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Satoru sighed, leaning back against the hard, uncomfortable seat. His gaze drifted back to the photograph. “I was going to,” he began, his voice distant as he spoke, almost as if he were talking more to himself than to the young soldier beside him. “We talked about it, even picked out a date... But then the war came, and everything changed. I didn’t want to leave her, but there wasn’t enough time.”

He paused, his eyes clouding with the memories of that fateful day. The tears in your eyes as you pleaded with him to stay to marry you. But he had refused, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you a widow, of making you wait for a man who might never come back. It had been the hardest decision of his life, and now, as he sat on this train bound for the front lines, he wondered if he had made the right one.

“She must be something special,” he said quietly.

“She is,” Satoru replied, his voice softening as he thought of you. “She’s everything. The strongest, most loving person I’ve ever known. She’s the reason I’m doing this, the reason I’m still standing.”

He fell silent, his mind drifting back to the countless nights the two of you had spent talking about your future. You had dreamed of growing old together, maybe moving out to the countryside and live in a little house.

“What’s her name?” the young soldier asked, his voice pulling Satoru back from his thoughts.

“Y/N,” Satoru said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he spoke your name. “She’s waiting for me to come back.”

“You’ll make it back to her. I know you will.”

Satoru nodded, though deep down, he wasn’t so sure. 

The train jerked to a stop, the shrill whistle signaling their arrival at the next station. The soldiers began to stand, gathering their gear as they prepared to disembark. Satoru carefully folded the photograph and slipped it back into his pocket, close to his heart, where it belonged.

​​As he stepped off the train, the cold air hit him like a slap in the face. The station was a bleak and desolate place filled with soldiers. Satoru pulled his coat tighter around him, his eyes scanning the crowd, searching for something, anything, that would remind him of home.

But there was nothing.

He glanced back at the train, at the young soldier who had spoken to him. Their eyes met for a brief moment, then the young soldier raised his hand and, in a small almost hesitant wave said, “Take care of yourself!”

Satoru nodded, though he couldn’t bring himself to say the words in return. He turned and began walking, the weight of his rifle heavy on his shoulder.

The journey to the front lines was grueling, to put it lightly. It was something that tested the physical and mental limits of every man in the company. The landscape was a reflection of the war: the fields now lay barren, scarred by craters and the remnants of past battles. Trees stood like charred skeletons against the gray sky, their branches reaching out like twisted fingers. It was a place that seemed to exist outside of time, where the seasons had no hold.

Satoru walked near the front of the column, though his thoughts were universes away. He had stopped trying to make sense of the war around him, instead, his mind clung to the thought of his girlfriend and his home. Every so often, his hand would drift to his pocket, where the photograph of his beloved remained safely tucked away. It was his anchor, the one thing that kept him grounded in a world that seemed to have lost all meaning.

Throughout the journey, there were brief breaks from the march. Moments where men could catch their breath and rest their sore legs. During these breaks, the sliders would drop to the ground wherever they could find space. Some lit cigarettes, the tiny glowing embers flickering in the dim light, while others simply stared into the distance.

Satoru usually found a spot a little apart from the others, leaning against the trunk of a withered tree or sitting on a flat rock. Once on a break, the company rested by the narrow road that cut through a ruined village. Satoru found himself staring at the crumbling remains of a church. The steeple had collapsed, the once-proud structure now reduced to a pile of rubble. A few scattered graves dotted the ground nearby, their markers leaning at odd angles as if they, too, had given up the fight against the ravages of war.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of voices approaching from down the road. Another company was making its way toward them, the soldiers’ weary faces reflecting the same one that Satoru saw on his men. 

Satoru glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the unfamiliar faces. Most of the men looked just as worn and weary as his own comrades, their uniforms stained with mud. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure that made him pause, his heart skipping a beat. 

It couldn’t be—but it was.

Suguru Getou stood a little apart from the rest of his company, his back against the remnants of a low stone wall. He was staring off into the distance, seemingly unaware of the world around him, lost in thoughts that Satoru could only guess at. His face was thinner than Satoru remembered, his features more drawn, but there was no mistaking those sharp, dark eyes, or the way his long, black hair fell in loose strands around his face.

For a moment, Satoru was frozen in place. He hadn’t seen Suguru since before the war before they had been sent away from their families and to different parts of the front. Suguru had been sent to the front lines before Satoru did and Satoru had often wondered if he was even still alive, if he had somehow managed to survive on the front lines. 

Now, seeing him here, in the flesh, was both a shock and a relief.

“Suguru,” Satoru called out, his voice breaking the silence between them.

Suguru’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as they focused on Satoru. For a moment, there was no recognition in his gaze, just the cold, hard stare of a soldier who had seen too much. But then something shifted in Suguru’s expression, and his eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Satoru, you bastard,” Suguru replied, pushing himself away from the wall and making his way over to where Satoru stood. There was a moment of hesitation as if they weren’t quite sure how to greet each other after all this time, but then Satoru reached out and clapped a hand on Suguru’s shoulder.

“Still alive, huh?”

“Barely. It’s good to see you, Satoru.”

“And you,” Satoru said.

Suguru’s gaze then drifted to the photograph clutched in Satoru’s hand. “Is that her?” he asked quietly, nodding toward the picture.

Satoru followed his gaze, his expression softening as he looked down at the image of the woman he loved. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s the one keeping me sane out here.”

Suguru nodded, his expression unreadable as he looked at the photograph. “You’re lucky, you know,” he said after a moment. “Not everyone has someone to go home to.”

“And you? How are you holding up?”

Suguru shrugged. “I’m still here,” he said simply. “That’s all that matters, right?”

Satoru wanted to say something, to offer some kind of comfort or reassurance, but the words wouldn’t come. What could he say that would make any of this easier? What could he offer that would ease the burden they both carried?

After a while, the call to move out came, and the soldiers began to gather their gear, preparing to resume their march to the front lines.

“Take care of yourself, Suguru.”

“And you, Satoru,” Suguru replied, his expression softening for just a moment. “We’ll see each other again. We have to.”

As the two companies parted ways, Satoru glanced back one last time, watching as Suguru’s figure grew smaller and smaller in the distance. He slipped the photograph back into his pocket, his fingers lingering on it for just a moment too long.

December 1, 1917

The trenches were a whole other world themselves. They were a labyrinth of mud, blood, and despair that stretched across the landscape like a festering wound. Satoru had been there for weeks now, but time had lost all meaning. Day and night blurred together into an endless cycle of fear and exhaustion. The air was thick with the stench of death and decay, a sickly smell that clung to everything, seeping into the very pores of his skin. 

Satoru had never imagined that war could be like this. He had heard stories, of course—everyone had—but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of life in the trenches. The constant threat of death, the gnawing hunger—it was a living nightmare, a hell on earth from which there was no escape.

He had lost count of how many men had fallen, their bodies left to rot in the no man's land between the trenches. Friends, comrades, men he had shared laughs and meals with—they were all gone now, their lives snuffed out in an instant by a stray bullet or a well-placed shell. And with each death, a piece of Satoru died with them, his heart growing harder, his soul more numb.

At first, he tried to keep up the letters, pouring his thoughts and fears into the carefully penned words he sent back to you. He had written about the camaraderie among the men, the small moments of joy they found amid the horror, and the hope that one day, this war would end and they would be together again. He had clung to that hope, letting it buoy him up when the darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the words had become harder and harder to find. What could he possibly say to her now, after all he had seen, after all he had done? How could he put into words the horrors that haunted his every waking moment, the nightmares that chased him even in the few moments of sleep he managed to get?

He had started a dozen letters, each one more difficult than the last. He would sit in the dim light of the trench, his hands trembling as he tried to hold the pen steady, the paper before him smudged with dirt and blood. But the words wouldn’t come. Every time he tried to write, the memories would flood back—images of shattered bodies, of men screaming in pain, of the deafening roar of the guns that never seemed to stop. And then he would see your face, smiling up at him from the photograph he kept tucked inside his jacket, and the guilt would crash over him like a wave, drowning him in its icy grip.

How could he write to her about any of this? How could he tell her about the nightmares that kept him awake at night, the fear that gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog? How could he explain that he wasn’t the same man who had left her behind all those months ago, that the war had changed him in ways he could never have imagined?

Satoru had never felt so alone.

The men around him were suffering just as he was, but there was a wall between them now, an invisible barrier that kept him apart from the others. They still laughed, still shared stories and jokes to pass the time, but Satoru found himself withdrawing more and more, retreating into the silence of his own mind. He couldn’t bring himself to join in their conversations, couldn’t find the strength to pretend that everything was okay when nothing was okay.

It was during one of these quiet moments, when the guns had fallen that Satoru found himself staring at the photograph again. He traced the outline of your face with his thumb, the edges of the picture worn and frayed from being handled so often. You looked so happy, so full of life—everything that he wasn’t anymore. He wondered if she would even recognize him when this was all over if he ever made it out of this hell alive.

The thought made his chest tighten, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart. What if he didn’t make it back? What if this was where his story ended, in a cold, muddy trench on the other side of the world? Would she remember him as the man he used to be, or would she forget him altogether, moving on with her life as if he had never existed?

He shoved the photograph back into his pocket, the thoughts too painful to bear. He needed to write to her, to tell her how much he loved her, how much he missed her, but the words refused to come. The pen felt heavy in his hand, the paper staring back at him like an accusation.

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see one of the other soldiers, a young man named Thomas, standing over him. Thomas had joined their company a few weeks ago, fresh-faced and full of energy, but the war had already taken its toll on him. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks hollow, and there was a haunted look in his gaze that Satoru recognized all too well.

“Hey,” Thomas said, his voice rough from disuse. “You alright, Satoru?”

Satoru nodded, though he didn’t trust himself to speak. He knew that if he opened his mouth, the words that would spill out would be anything but alright.

Thomas glanced down at the paper in Satoru’s lap, the empty lines stark against the dirty page. “Having trouble writing?”

Satoru sighed, running a hand through his tangled hair. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I don’t know what to say anymore.”

“It’s hard,” he said quietly. “Hard to find the words when everything around you is…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the trench, at the world beyond it. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be about all this,” he continued after a moment. “Maybe just…tell her you miss her. Tell her you’re thinking about her. Sometimes, that’s enough.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Satoru whispered.

Thomas crouched down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You can,” he said firmly. “You have to. For her. For you.”

He knew Thomas was right—he had to find the strength to write to her, to keep that connection alive, no matter how difficult it was. Because if he lost that, if he let the war take that from him too, there would be nothing left.

With a deep breath, Satoru picked up the pen again, his hand still trembling. He stared at the blank page for a long moment, his thoughts a jumble of emotions and memories, before finally, the words began to flow.

They weren’t perfect, and they certainly didn’t capture everything he was feeling, but they were honest. He wrote about how much he missed her, how he thought of her every day, and how the memory of her smile was the only thing keeping him sane. He told her about the men he was serving with, about the small moments of kindness and he told her that no matter how dark things got, he would find his way back to her.

By the time he finished, his hand was aching, and the paper was smudged with dirt and sweat, but the weight on his chest had lifted just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

The war had taken so much from him, had stripped him of his innocence, his peace of mind, and so many of the men he had called friends. But it hadn’t taken her. Not yet.

And as long as he had her, as long as there was still a chance that he could hold her in his arms again, he would keep fighting. He would keep going, one day at a time, one step at a time, until this nightmare was over.

Because he had to believe that there was still a future out there, a future where the two of them could be together, away from the mud and the blood and the death. A future where they could build the life they had dreamed of, where he could make good on all the promises he had whispered to her in the dark.

Satoru clutched the letter to his chest for a moment, closing his eyes and letting himself imagine that future—a small house, a warm fire, your laughter filling the air. It was a dream, maybe a foolish one, but it was all he had left to hold on to.

When he finally opened his eyes, the trench seemed a little less dark, the air a little less suffocating. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Satoru allowed himself to believe that he would make it through this, that he would survive this war and return to the woman he loved.

December 25, 1917

My Dearest Satoru,

Merry Christmas, my love. I wish I could say that it feels like the holiday season here, but without you by my side, it all seems so different. The tree in the living room is smaller this year, just a simple little thing I picked up from the market. I decorated it with the old ornaments we’ve collected over the years, though they don’t shine as brightly without you here to admire them.

Charlie and I spent the day together. He’s grown so much since you last saw him, you wouldn’t believe it! He still waits by the door every evening, his ears perked up like he’s expecting you to walk through any moment. I think he misses you almost as much as I do. We went for a long walk this morning, just the two of us. The air was crisp and cold, and there was a light dusting of snow on the ground. It reminded me of the first Christmas we spent together when you insisted on making snow angels and pulling me into that ridiculous snowball fight. I laughed so hard that day, and I haven’t laughed quite the same way since you left.

I cooked a small dinner tonight—nothing fancy, just some of your favorite dishes. I set a place for you at the table, even though I knew you wouldn’t be there to fill it. I like to think that, wherever you are, you can feel the warmth of home and know that you’re always in my thoughts. The house is quiet now, almost too quiet. I find myself talking to you sometimes, as if you were still here with me, sitting in your favorite chair with that mischievous smile of yours. I can almost hear your voice, teasing me, comforting me, telling me that everything will be alright.

But it’s hard, Satoru. It’s so hard being here without you, especially on days like this when the world seems so full of love and joy, and all I can think about is how much I miss you. I try to be strong, for you, for us, but there are moments when the loneliness is overwhelming. I lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering where you are if you’re safe if you’re thinking of me as much as I’m thinking of you.

I know I shouldn’t burden you with my worries, especially when you’re facing so much over there. But I promised you that I would always be honest with you, and the truth is my love, I miss you more than words can say. I miss your laughter, your touch, the way you would pull me close when the world felt too big and frightening. I miss the sound of your voice, the warmth of your arms around me, the simple comfort of knowing that you were near.

I don’t know what this Christmas is like for you, if you’ve had a moment of peace, or if the war continues to rage on, even on this holy day. But I want you to know that I’m here, waiting for you, loving you with all my heart.

Until that day comes, I’ll hold on to the memories we’ve made, and I’ll keep you in my heart, always. I’ll keep sending you my love, in every letter, in every thought, in every prayer. And I’ll be here, waiting for the day when you come home to me.

Merry Christmas, Satoru. I love you more than words could ever express.

Yours always and forever,

Y/N

January 1918

The flickering light of the oil lamp cast shadows on the rough, earthen walls of the trench as Satoru unfolded the letter with trembling hands. The cold bit at his fingers, but the warmth of her words was all he felt. He leaned back against the wooden planks, his breath visible in the frigid air, and began to re

He could almost see her, sitting by the small tree, Charlie at her feet, the house filled with the scent of pine and home-cooked food. The image was so vivid that he could hear the crackle of the fire, feel the softness of your hand in his, and taste the warmth of the cocoa you always made too sweet.

When he finished the letter, he folded it carefully, placing it back into the envelope before tucking it into his jacket, close to his heart. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, trying to hold on to the image of her, of home, for just a little longer.

"Someday," he whispered to himself, "I’ll go back to you."

But that "someday" felt so far away.

Satoru was exhausted. He was so exhausted. And despite the cold and the ever-present danger, Satoru found himself drifting off to sleep. He dreamed of you and Charlie, of a small house and a garden, a real one, and maybe a little one.

But that dream was shattered all too quickly.

The ground shook violently, and Satoru was yanked from his sleep by the deafening roar of artillery fire. The once-peaceful night had erupted into chaos. He scrambled to his feet, the world around him a blur of noise and confusion. Mud and debris rained down as shells exploded nearby, turning the trench into a hellscape of smoke and fire.

"Satoru! Get up!" A voice yelled from somewhere in the darkness, but it was nearly drowned out by the barrage.

His heart raced as he grabbed his rifle, instincts taking over. The letter, the warmth of her words, the image of her waiting for him—all of it was shoved to the back of his mind as survival became his only focus. He could barely see through the smoke, but he knew what was coming.

"Over the top! They’re coming!"

Satoru fought desperately alongside his comrades. The world had become a blur of smoke, fire, and the metallic scent of blood. He barely felt the cold anymore—only the burning need to survive, to push through the horror and get back to the life he had left behind.

But even as he fired his rifle, the enemy pushing ever closer, a gnawing fear settled deep in his chest. It wasn’t the fear of dying, though that was always there, lurking beneath the surface. It was the fear of breaking his promise to her, of never seeing her again, never holding her in his arms, never telling her one last time how much he loved her.

Suddenly, a blinding light flashed to his right—a mortar shell exploding far too close. The force of it threw him to the ground, his head slamming against the hard earth. Everything went dark for a moment, and when he opened his eyes, the world was spinning. He could barely hear over the ringing in his ears, his vision blurry as he struggled to push himself up.

But before he could regain his bearings, he felt a sharp pain in his side, followed by a searing heat that spread across his body. He looked down, his hand coming away sticky with blood. Panic surged through him as he realized the wound was deep, too deep.

"Satoru!" someone shouted, but it felt distant as if it were coming from another world.

He tried to move, tried to fight, but his body wouldn’t respond. His strength was draining away, the edges of his vision darkening as the pain grew overwhelming. He reached for the photo in his pocket, fumbling with weak fingers until he could pull it out. The edges were crumpled, dirtied from being carried with him through every battle, but her face was still there, smiling up at him.

"I’m sorry baby…" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sounds of battle. He wasn’t sure if the words were meant for her or himself, but they were all he could manage.

As he lay there, the sounds of war fading into the background, another soldier—a younger man from his company—dropped to his knees beside Satoru. The man was injured, blood seeping from a wound in his leg, but his focus was entirely on Satoru.

"No… no, no, no," the soldier muttered, his voice choked with panic. He saw the wound, saw the blood, and knew there was nothing he could do. "Satoru, stay with me, please!"

Satoru’s grip on the photo loosened, and the young soldier gently took it from him, his hands shaking. He saw the woman in the picture, the one Satoru had talked about so often, and his heart sank. "Is… is this her?"

Satoru nodded weakly, the effort taking everything he had left. He tried to speak, to say her name, to tell the soldier to take care of her, but the words wouldn’t come. His chest felt tight, every breath a struggle.

"Don’t worry, I’ll… I’ll make sure she knows," the soldier promised, though his voice cracked with the weight of it. He fumbled with Satoru’s jacket, pulling out the dog tags, and pressed them into his own pocket, along with the photo. "I’ll tell her… everything."

Satoru’s vision darkened further, the world slipping away from him. All he could see was her face, all he could think about was the future they had dreamed of. But that future was fading, slipping through his fingers like sand.

"I’m sorry," he whispered one last time before the darkness took him completely.

Weeks passed, though they felt like an eternity. The war continued on, but Satoru’s company was eventually pulled back from the front lines, many of them injured, exhausted, or worse. The young soldier who had taken Satoru’s photo was among those who were discharged, his leg injury severe enough to send him home. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the weight he carried in his heart.

When the company finally reached the docks, it was a scene of bittersweet reunions. Families and loved ones gathered, waiting anxiously for a glimpse of their soldiers. You were among them, your heart pounding in your chest as you scanned the crowd, searching desperately for Satoru’s familiar face.

But you couldn’t find him.

The minutes dragged on, and panic began to set in. Where was he? Had something happened? You tried to reassure yourself, telling yourself that he would appear any moment, that he was just delayed, that everything was fine.

Then you saw a man hobbling toward you on crutches, his face pale and drawn. You recongnized the man as in the letters Satoru had described him as a friend, a comrade. But where was Satoru? Why wasn’t he with him?

Your breath caught in your throat as the soldier stopped in front of you, his eyes filled with a sorrow that made your blood run cold. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled photograph, the one you had given to Satoru before he left. And then, with trembling hands, he held out Satoru’s dog tags.

"I’m so sorry," the soldier said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "He… he didn’t make it."

The world around you seemed to crumble, the ground shifting beneath your feet as the words sank in. You stared at the photo, and the dog tags, unable to comprehend what he was saying. It couldn’t be true. Satoru had promised you. He had promised he would come back.

"No…" The word fell from your lips, your voice breaking as tears welled up in your eyes. "No, he… he promised…"

The soldier reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder, but the gesture did nothing to comfort you. "He loved you so much," he said softly, his own eyes filling with tears. "He… he talked about you all the time. Right up until…"

You didn’t let him finish. The pain in your chest was too much to bear, and the sobs broke free, your body shaking as you clutched the photograph to your chest. The world around you blurred, the sounds of the docks fading away as all you could think about was him—his smile, his laugh, the way he had held you that last night before he left.

He was gone. Satoru was gone.

The soldier stayed with you, his own heart breaking as he watched you fall to your knees, your cries of grief echoing through the crowd. But there was nothing he could do, nothing anyone could do to ease the pain of your loss.

And so the war took one more life, one more love story cut short by the horrors of battle. The future you had dreamed of, the life you had planned, was gone—lost in the mud and blood of a distant country.

All that remained were memories and the cold, hard reality that he would never come home to you.

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[nocturnalrat]

Hear me out…

1610! Miles comforting reader after she get jealous because of how much he’s been around Gwen and he’s just touching and kissing her in all the right places and makes sure that reader knows that he loves her and only her 🙈💕

Thank you for the great prompt! I had lots of fun writing this. :p <3

---

It was truly infuriating.

You hadn’t seen each other in a week due to school work keeping you busy, and there had been a surge of criminal activities in New York, which is why Miles had been occupied most of the time as well.

And now, when the two of you were finally able to hang out again, he kept talking about someone else entirely.

You were lying on the bunk bed in his dorm room, listening to him ramble on about the adventures he had lived through last week.  

“You should have been there, the way Gwen incapacitated the guy was like something out of a movie.” He gesticulated frantically with his hands as he vividly described last night’s care chase.

"That sounds really fascinating," you grumbled.

After hearing your unfazed (and slightly sarcastic) tone, he looked up from his chair. "You don't sound very impressed, though."

How could you have told him that his constant stories and songs of praise about Gwen were starting to annoy the heck out of you?

Jealousy was an ugly emotion. To confess to it was shameful, exposing; you wanted to be the easy-going, cool and confident kind of girlfriend, but Miles was making it really hard for you to not seethe with anger and discontent.

"Everything okay?" he asked, and you avoided his gaze. Lying was easier when you didn’t look him into his eyes. They always were too honest and seemed to notice too much.

"Sure," you said.

He saw through your charade immediately, and climbed onto the bunk bed to be closer to you.  "There's something bothering you. I can tell."

"You can't tell shit," you said before you could stop yourself. There was anger in the pits of your stomach threatening to take over.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Yes.

"No."

"Then why are you frowning like that? It looks like you’re ready to kill someone. It better not be me."

Fuck. Were you really scowling that obviously?

"You and Gwen get along great, huh?”

"We certainly do." He tilted his head. You recognized that look on his face – it was the same one he had when struggling to solve complicated math problems. "Why’d you bring her up?"

"Why do you keep bringing her up?" you snarled. "We weren’t able to have a single conversation in the last few weeks without you mentioning her a dozen times. Not to mention the fact that you spend way more time with her than you do with your actual girlfriend.”

Shoot. Now you had done it; you had shown weakness.

Miles stared at you incredulously. "Wait a minute - are you jealous?"

You crossed your arms and looked pointedly at the ceiling.

"Absolutely not."

"Nuh-huh. That's why you're pouting." He grinned, and his lighthearted reaction only intensified the nauseating feeling of jealousy. "You know, part of me wishes you could come with us when we're patrolling, just so you could witness how much I talk about you when I'm with Gwen. But the other part of me is terrified of you being with us, as it would be incredibly dangerous for a civilian.”

"Yeah." Biting sarcasm. "I'm sure that's what you talk to her about."

"It is!" He scrambled over to you and leaned in close. "You don't have the faintest idea how important you are to me, do you?

"Can’t be that important, judging by your behavior.”

"Not that important!" he repeated indignantly. "I think about you all the time. How you're doing, what you're doing, if you need anything - always. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing when I go to sleep!"

"Well, you sure as hell don’t act like it,” you mumbled.

“What do I have to do to make you believe me?” He brushed an unruly strand of hair from your forehead, and the gentleness of his touch loosened the knot in your stomach the jealousy had caused. You had only recently started dating, so every little touch of his felt all the more exciting.  

You looked at him, and his wide eyes were filled with worry.

“Do you guys have to hang out so much?” you asked reluctantly. “How would you feel if I suddenly spent all of my time with an attractive guy who was single?”

He furrowed his brows. “Well, I wouldn’t be thrilled,” he began slowly. Then he shook his head. “Okay, scratch that, I’d be really pissed.”

You almost laughed. He was just like you.

“Then you know exactly how I feel.”

He kissed the corner of your mouth. "You really have no idea, do you?"

The almost-kiss had distracted you, and it took a moment for you to reply. “No idea about what?” you asked, a little breathless.

"About the things I'd do to make you happy." With a tender gesture, he took your face in his hand and caressed your cheek. "I love you more than anything in this world." The kiss that followed made any doubt you had disappear in an instant. He was telling the truth, that much was evident. “Next time, you can just straight up tell me what’s bothering you. Although I have to say, I kind of like it when you’re acting all jealous and cute.”

“Fuck off,” you said, but it was with a smile. You playfully tried to push him off of you, but he buried his face in your neck.

He was stronger than you, and his weight was pressing against you in a way that made it impossible for you to escape. Not that you wanted to - not when his lips had found your neck and left a sensation so new and good that you couldn't help but let out a sigh of contentment.

“I love you,” he said, His voice was so full of affection that it warmed your heart. “Only you. Always you. I won’t be patrolling with her as much in the future, I promise.”

At times, you wondered how someone as great as him had ended up with someone like you. The room was bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun. His eyes shimmered with an amber-like hue; the smile that graced his face was a breathtaking image.

He appeared radiant in the sunlight, and in his presence, you felt a profound sense of peace and trust overcome you.

[its-all-papaya]

okay for the prompt ask game: landoscar, the most cliche thing: only one bed, and getting together - go!

only one bedddd MY LOVE. I ADORE making the boys CUDDLE.

tell me what you wish I'd write

I will set the scene: Lando and Oscar are in their second year as teammates, now, and they’re proper friends, right? Much closer than they were the year before. Time to…. meet the family?

snippet enclosed at the end under the break just fyi :,)

Meddling Nicole. We know now that she will canon throw her son under the bus and expose him for a little laugh. She also knows that Oscar has been maybe a little obsessed with Lando for years, and getting to know him as a teammate has not dulled Lando’s shine for Oscar at all. He’s actually worse. Tries to be really lowkey about it, not bringing up Lando too often, only mentioning him when he feels it’s relevant, but Nicole can tell by the change in his voice when he talks about Lando, the way he edges Lando into conversations he doesn’t really NEED to be in. Anyway. A few weeks ahead of the Australian GP she’s on a call with Oscar and is like “You should bring Lando round when he’s here, honey. Have him stay a night, we’d love to meet him properly.” And Oscar is like… oh. uh. Yeah. Sure.

In what world is Lando going to say no to Oscar on that when Oscar’s got his soft Lando Smile on and he’s like “just for a night, my mom really wants you to”?

The day after the race perhaps? Because Lando podiums and Carlos wins so they go out and Lando is perhaps a little hungover and cranky when he arrives, but immediately goes soft for Oscar. He’s headachy and tired and reaches for Osc as soon as he’s in the doorway, wrapping his free arm around Oscar’s back and resting in the hug for a long, long second. They’re speaking in soft little private voices to one another and giggling and Oscar is smiling his hopeless, besotted smile, and Lando’s eyes are sparkling even through the hangover exhaustion. And then “Lando, so glad you could make it!” and they spring apart and Lando rubs at his cheek with his palm and Oscar rolls his eyes at his mum and gives Lando a little squeeze around the wrist as apology.

“Let me take your bags, Oscar can show you around a bit and you can get some lunch in you.”

They’d hang out all day, maybe with Oscar’s sisters (who love Lando obviously bc they can all team up on Oscar together), perhaps kicking around outside or whatever.

Dinner has Meet the Family (tm) vibes where Oscar’s parents are quizzing Lando about his own family and racing and how Oscar is at work. And maybe there’s some food Lando doesn’t eat and he feels really bad and is stressed but Oscar is like “you don’t have to eat that. Mum, I told you Lando doesn’t eat seafood.” Very Romantic. Very Domestic.

Afterwards, they all convene in the living room to play a game or something and Lando doesn’t understand the rules and doesn’t have the attention span to learn so he’s like “I’ll just be on a team with Oscar.” Except he’s really just leaning into Oscar’s side, looking at the cards but mostly just Oscar’s hands, and watching Oscar play. Eventually he kind of catches the gist and makes a suggestion about something right at Oscar’s ear, lips brushing skin, and the move… works? And Oscar is like “thanks, mate” all soft and Lando is like “I’d say we make pretty good teammates, yeah? someone should hire us that way” and yawns and smirks at the way it makes everyone giggle.

Eventually Lando starts nodding off against Osc’s shoulder, everyone’s talking and laughter warm around him. After it sticks, Lando’s cheek smushed against Oscar’s bicep, Oscar’s hand curled around Lando’s knee, Nicole goes “you should take that one to bed, honey, he looks exhausted.” And Oscar is like… simply why would you phrase it like that? but “okay, is he staying in the guest room?” and Nicole is like “oh! did I not tell you? we’ve got your grandmother there. huh. could have sworn I told you this. I figured Lando could just bunk with you, hope that’s alright!” and Oscar is like... well. I’m not going to make him sleep on the COUCH 24 hours after a race.

So he wakes Lando up sooooo gently and Lando blinks soft and sleepy and a little frowny because he was cozy there, actually. And everyone else feels like they’re intruding, as is prone to happen around Lando and Oscar.

Oscar apologetic explaining the situation, but Lando just shrugs and stretches and follows him up the stairs, because it won’t be the first time he’s fallen asleep in the same bed as a teammate, probably.

Oscar’s childhood bedroom hasn’t changed much since he left for boarding school, and Lando perks up once they get there so he can poke fun of Oscar about the posters and the knickknacks on his desk. And Oscar’s blushy and laughing and a little defensive, but mostly just fond fond fond having Lando in this part of his life.

They brush their teeth side by side, elbows knocking, and it’s… so domestic. Overwhelming. Oscar is scared of how easily they move around each other, Lando’s hand on the small of his back as he sneaks by to grab his face wash from the bedroom where he’d forgotten it, Oscar handing over a towel to dry Lando’s face before Lando can even ask.

Oscar’s stressed that it’s going to be awkward when it comes time to actually get in bed, but Lando just tucks himself in against the wall and curls up on Oscar’s pillow. Oscar dilly dallies a bit, but Lando huffs and pats the bed and goes “Oscar,” drawing out the last syllable, “turn off the light and come to bed, I’m tired.”

Which. Does THINGS to Oscar. But Lando asked nicely, so he flips the switch and crawls in next to Lando.

They don’t touch at first. And Oscar’s bed is only a full, so it’s like… intentional. And that lasts a few minutes. But Lando whines and pats at Oscar’s side until Oscar says “what“ and Lando’s eyes are big and soft even in the dark and he says “‘m not very comfy” with a small little smile and Oscar is… only a man. So he lifts his arm up and lets Lando crawl happily under and settle against his chest with a contented sigh. And from there it’s easy to pet Lando’s hair and let Lando practically purr into his chest about it. SOFT. CUDDLY.

Lando falls asleep almost immediately because he’s still recovering from the night before. Oscar watches his eyelashes flutter prettily and toys with his curls and strokes the side of his cheek and just. Yearns. Because Lando fits so easily here in Oscar’s life. Everything felt so natural and right. Feels even more right now, with Lando in his bed, in his arms. So Oscar presses a little self-indulgent kiss to Lando’s forehead. Except the skin wrinkles beneath his lips and Lando’s fingers flex where they’re tucked against Oscar’s waist. Lando’s eyes crack open and he looks. so! soft! but Oscar’s heart is racing because he just really, really thought Lando was fast asleep.

SNIPPET‼️

Lando doesn’t look mad, but he doesn’t really look anything discernible at all in the dim light filtering through Oscar's window. Mostly he just looks sleepy. From a distance, Oscar hears the familiar sound of the air-con kicking on.

“‘s nice,” Lando says after too long, eyes fluttering back closed. There's a little smile turning the corners of his lips up and his nose twitches a little where it's rested above the collar of Oscar's loose pajama shirt. He doesn't normally wear one, but he'd figured, given the circumstances, that it would be best to.

Emboldened again, Oscar places another light kiss, just to the left of the first. Lando's smile grows with it, and he turns his face into Oscar's chest, like he's bashful about it. Oscar wonders, if he turned his bedside lamp on, whether Lando's cheeks would be pink with his attention.

"Keep going," Lando says. Mostly breath, eyes still shut.

"Yeah?" Oscar's not sure what they're doing, where they're going with it, but it's been 18 months and he hasn't learned how to say no to Lando yet, so he puts his lips next to Lando's eyebrow, on the bridge of his nose. He pauses after that, and when he breathes in, he swears he can taste his own toothpaste on Lando's exhale.

"Os-car," Lando sing-songs. Oscar doesn't think it's fair, how Lando gets to hide behind his eyelids while they do this. Whatever it is.

"Lando," he gives Lando a scratch between the shoulder blades, "look at me."

It's bolder than he normally is, bolder than he feels, still, but it gets Lando to crack his eyes open. Lando's still smiling, but it's a little tighter again.

Oscar's heart is beating hard. He remembers suddenly, absurdly out of place, that he'd lost his virginity in this bed. He thinks that was easier.

"Are we doing this?"

Lando's fingers twitch at his side. Oscar can't tell whether they're curling into his side or into Lando's own palm.

"I mean," he's at least properly awake again, "yeah. If you want to. I want to."

Oscar's pulse hasn't slowed down. It feels like a final flying lap, one shot to get everything just right.

"I want to," Oscar confirms, "But not just to do it."

"Like how?" Lando says. He props himself up on his arm so he's looking down at Oscar. Oscar's hand falls to the small of his back. Keeping him close.

"Like not just to kiss, or whatever. Like I want to because I like you. And you're important to me. So I don't want to make things weird if it's not like that for you."

Something changes in Lando's gaze, and Oscar thinks it should probably be a look he hasn't seen before, but instead it's familiar, the way it settles over both of them.

"Os-car," Lando says in that same tone from before, "I'm in your fucking twin bed. Your sisters added me to a group chat while you were at the bathroom this afternoon. I learned a card game for you." He lifts his free hand to run a thumb under Oscar's eye, "It's weirder that I've done all that before we got here."

Oscar thinks that's a yes, but he has to be sure, so he catches Lando's fingers in his hand and brushes his lips over them.

"So?" Oscar says.

"So," says Lando, "your mum is going to be so happy when you tell her."

Like qualifying on pole. Like coming home. Lando kisses him.

And then every member of Oscar's family teases them endlessly and it's sooooo fluffy and cute and domestic xoxo the end

[seiya-starsniper]

SNIPPET - Dreamling Bingo (Robin Hood AU Retired Dream)

For @dreamlingbingo Square A3 - replacing Robin Hood AU with the Adoptable Prompt: Retired Dream

Snippet itself is rated General, actual fic will be Explicit

other snippets under the tag #retired dream is a fuckboy wip

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

“Before we go on,” Hob says, trying his best to get some blood back into his brain and out of his cock, “We need to set some rules.” 

Murphy, predictably, frowns in confusion. 

“Are you referring to play rules?” he asks. 

“Not quite,” Hob answers. “I mean rules for how things are going to be, after we have sex.”

This time, Murphy outright grimaces and sighs in frustration. The sour look on his face tells Hob he knows where this conversation is going. 

“Humans have such complex feelings about sex,” he complains. 

“And you didn’t before?” Hob shoots back.  “Mr. ‘I sent a woman to hell because she had regrets about being with me?’”

“That was—” Murphy wrinkles his nose and grimaces. Oh, Hob knew all about Murphy’s past relationships, at least, the ones while he was still Endless, and how poorly those had ended.

“Was—?” Hob asks, letting the question hang between them. Murphy may have been able to get away with not communicating clearly when he was still inhuman, but that sort of thing didn’t work in his new existence.

“I was different then,” Murphy says after a brief silence. “Everything was so much…more intense. My loneliness, my responsibilities, my entire existence.”

“And now?” Hob asks. 

“Now,” Murphy replies, sticking his tongue out playfully and shrugging. “Now I can just focus on my pleasure. My wants. My needs. And the world would not end for it.” Hob snorts and rolls his eyes fondly.

“Sure, sure,” he says with an easy smile. “Far be it from me to disagree with a fun time. But you and I both know that doesn’t mean you’re not breaking hearts along the way while you’re finding yourself.” 

Murphy’s face twists in discomfort, and Hob knows he’s plucked a sensitive string. He wonders just how many hearts Murphy has broken since becoming human. He feels kind of bad for them, really. Murphy was so pretty and so emotional. There’s probably a few songs about him out there in the world if Hob had to guess. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Murphy finally acquiesces with a sigh. “Just because I am no longer directly tangled with the collective unconsciousness does not mean I am not affecting others. It is just…different.” He looks distinctly uncomfortable now, like he’s expecting some sort of judgment from Hob about his behavior. But Hob knows better than to throw stones in glass houses. Part of the reason he’d even wanted to live forever was so that he could bed as many women as he wanted. And men too, once he realized he enjoyed their company as well. 

“You remember what I said when I first set you loose on the world?” Hob asks, more gently this time. Murphy tilts his head, thinking, and isn’t that a sight? His friend has to actually struggle to remember things now. 

“You said,” Murphy replies then pauses. Then his eyes widen. “You said that I should treat others how I would wish to be treated myself.”

Hob smiles. “Golden Rule of living forever,” he replies. 

Murphy snorts. “And how would you wish for me to treat you then?” 

“Not like a one-night stand, for one thing,” Hob replies easily, stepping closer into Murphy’s personal space. “I’m your friend, not some fling you pick up at a club.” He reaches a hand to caress Murphy’s face. “So you communicate with me all your needs, or we don’t do this, okay?” 

Murphy inhales sharply and sways into Hob’s touch. “Yes,” he replies, eyes fluttering.

[urdepressedslut]

You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part nine❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: After the events from the other day, you try and cope with the reality of what happened. The world is a lot less colorful than you remember. Bucky helps comfort you after you realize you have no one left.

♡ Warnings: heavy angst, flashbacks, abuse, mentions of parent death, hints to depression, reader doesn't know she has depression, anxiety attacks

Series Masterlist

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au

Italics are flashbacks

“I don’t know… I kinda like shirts that don’t hug me too tight.” You mumbled, scratching the back of your neck.

You heard a dramatic gasp, and you looked into her eyes as she shook her head, holding up the top she had been trying to convince you to buy.

“Babygirl— why can’t you see how gorgeous you are. Anything you wear, you’d make look like a million bucks.” You Mother almost whined, and you couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips from her antics.

“Ma you know that’s not true.” You argued, failing at keeping a serious expression.

“No baby— I know I’m right. That’s my secret.” She argues back confidently.

She walked closer and started combing stray hairs out of your eyes, smiling at you adoringly as she did so. Her eyes practically sparkled with love.

“What’s your secret Ma?” You asked quietly, leaning into your Mother’s delicate touch.

She cupped your chin and raised your face to her lips, the feeling of her pecking your forehead sweetly. The gesture made you all warm inside— her love filling you with so much protection.

“Mommies never lie. So you really are beautiful baby— and soon you’ll start to see that, and you’ll be breaking hearts left and right.” She spoke quietly to you.

“I won’t be breaking any hearts… because that means I’ll have to date people and well… that’s scary.” You admitted.

Your Mother lifted your chin back up, giving you another loving kiss on your forehead, stroking your cheek as if you were fragile and needed to be protected. In her eyes— you were her everything. Her little girl— she only wished you could live your life without any pain. She knew life wasn’t that perfect— but she’d do anything for her baby. She’s try as hard as she could to make her life perfect. She deserved it.

“It is scary baby, but if you never put yourself out there— you may never have the chance to meet people.” She cooed. “We learn a lot from everyone we meet, and if you don’t meet anyone— you won’t learn anything. It helps us grow into being a better person.”

You nodded in understanding, feeling comforted by her words. She believed that you could do it, so you started to believe you could. Your Mother truly did know best— she’d never put you in a bad situation. As much as you hated to admit it, she was almost always right.

“You’re so smart Ma. I’m glad I've got a Mama as good as you around.” You whispered as you hugged her tightly— forgetting that you were at the mall.

Her laugh vibrated through her chest as your head lay against her heart.

“You know your compliments always go straight to my head.” She joked and you snorted and playfully hit her hip.

“I’ll take it back.” You playfully warned.

“Please don’t— we were having such a nice moment.” She whined dramatically and you both went into a laughing fit.

The air was so cool— so breathable. Your limbs felt relaxed, your mind was at ease. Everything was so much easier with your Mother around, she truly was the light of your life.

"Okay, I'll get it." You finally gave in, pointing to the shirt that was hanging off her arm.

Your Mother eyes brightened and she smiled like the chesire cat, almost starting to jump up and down like a little kid. You forgot who was the older one sometimes. You just watched with a giggle.

"That's my girl." She ruffled your hair and headed towards the cashier.

You watched her walk away, happy that you could make her happy. Although the top wasn't what you'd usually wear— maybe your Mother was right. It was time to get out of your comfort zone— plus she was never wrong.

~

You cracked your eyes open at the sound of rain hitting your window, the peaceful ambience of a storm passing over the house. You let out a deep breath, a heavy feeling left sitting on your chest— the bittersweet memory still fresh in your mind. It was sweet because even the memory of your Mother could fill your body with the joy that you had been missing from life. Although it was bitter because they were only memories. Instead of staying in the moment with her, you were forced to be sent back into reality. Back to a world where she wasn't around anymore. That was the most painful realization you had to live through every day.

The days since her passing had been the same, but it was slightly different this time around. You were almost positive that because of the relationship between you and your Father was getting worse— had you desperately wishing to have your Mother back.

You wondered if it would've been easier to never know parental love, then live most of your life with it— then to not have it.

You hadn’t realized you had slept through the night, misjudging how exhausted your kind and body was. There was just a slight glow from outside, otherwise the sky was cloudy— the weather gloomy. The outside was currently how you felt, it seemed.

Glancing around the room, there was no sign of him. Which was the second thing that had come to your mind this morning. Bucky.

Pushing that thought to the side, you swung your legs over the edge of your bed— heading towards the bathroom. Your head felt heavy, your limbs feeling like there were wights tied to them. You overall felt like the walk to the bathroom was much harder than it should’ve been. You had hoped that a nights rest would ease the haze that covered your brain. But as you walked to the bathroom— you could still sense the thick fog within your head.

Switching on the light, you headed straight for the mirror without giving it much thought. You’d be lying if you said your reflection didn’t startle you. In fact the harder you looked— you doubted that was actually you.

Your eyes were puffy, red rimmed as they were the night before. Your lips were chapped, achey with how dry they were. All in all— it was the still irritated skin on your cheek that had you in shock. The palm sized mark had you staring without blinking— your breathing starting to come in rapidly. Almost instantly, the events from the night before began to play through your mind.

"You wonder why I don't want you around— do you not see how you act? Disrespectful fucking brat! I do all these nice things for you— I buy you a fucking house! I provide you with everything you need!"

The memory of his hand shooting towards your face had you flinching back in the space of your bathroom. The action startling you from just remembering.

You furrowed your brows, staring at your reflection in confusion. Puzzled at your body's reaction— the way you had jumped. Even though you were alone in the bathroom— you felt embarrassed. Your hand shot down to grip your thigh, squeezing the flesh until you could start to feel pain. Your nose burned again, your chest tight and uncomfortable— unable to expand fully. You gasped, almost breaking from this trance as you released your thigh— glancing down frantically at the now red and irritated skin. Your head felt fuzzy as you couldn't understand why you were acting like this. You felt like you were out of control of your body— your mind. You wiped your face harshly, drying your skin of any tears— any evidence that you had been a mess.

Without wasting another second, you headed from the bathroom and made your way downstairs— in search of Bucky.

Bucky had made himself comfortable in the grand office downstairs. The room seemingly untouched, obvious that you didn’t care for this room. That much didn’t surprise him. But what did shock him— was the stash of liquor that was kept inside the study.

Surely that wasn’t yours. He thought to himself.

He had sat by your bedside, guarding the room as you slept for awhile. After you started to mumble in your sleep— that’s when he decided to leave. He knew you’d want him to be there when you woke, but the words about your Mother escaping your lips seemed private. It felt wrong to over hear such information while you were unconscious.

He also just needed to excuse himself, needing to drown his thoughts with alcohol for awhile. His career let alone his life— was in jeopardy.

He didn’t want to fear Pierce— but he couldn’t stop the overwhelming waves of anxiety from crashing into him. Amongst everything else, you stuck out in his thoughts. Majority of his worries circled around you, the concerns about you being left alone— with Pierce. If it wasn’t his life he was worried about, it was you. He was only afraid of the outcome because if there was no him— he wouldn’t be able to protect you.

It continued to eat away at him— he knew he should do something. He let the thought pass by… I should run.

He raised the glass, downing the rest of the contents— enjoying the burn on his throat as he scoffed at the cowardly thought.

He’d would run for you… with you.

He stared at the empty glass as he attempted to digest the idea. Knowing deep down he wouldn’t be able to make a proper decision without talking with you.

“James?” You called out, grabbing his attention to the doorway.

You didn’t even attempt to send him one of your usual warm smiles, instead glancing around the room you completely forgot existed. For good reason.

“What are you doing in here?” You asked, but soon found your answer when you let your eyes drop to the bottles of liquor surrounding his empty glass. “It’s early.”

You pointed out, and Bucky lowered his gaze for a moment in shame before lifting his eyes to your face again. This was when he noticed how different you looked.

It was the little, subtle changes that no one else could distinguish. But he could— he could see it clear as day, and it broke his heart.

Your eyes were dull, missing the usual sparkle in them. Your face just seemed like it was longer, the way you didn’t even try to keep a smile on your face. He didn’t think he’d ever seen you so… not you. Lastly, what killed him the most— was the way you were standing. The way you were trying to seem so small, like you could be small enough to hide away from everyone.

“James?” You called again, breaking him from his analysis of you. It was then he realized he hadn’t responded.

“Uh… yeah guess I’m just a little stressed out.” He finally told you, not completely lying.

“You shouldn’t do that— it can cause a lot of issues.” You motioned towards the alcohol.

“I know.” He mumbled, lowering his gaze to the desk again.

“You should just talk to me, instead of drinking until you pass out.” You told him softly.

“I can hold my liquor well.” He tried to argue, glancing up and sending you a smirk.

You just shook your head, crossing your arms like you were a mom scolding her kid.

“I don’t care. You should still talk to me.” You told him sternly.

He couldn’t ignore the shock in your change in demeanor. Of course you’d be in a different mood from the events last night— but he wasn’t used to this solemn version of you yet.

“Okay.” He agreed finally, standing up to head towards another room— preferably one that didn’t hold as much negativity as this one.

You surprised him by reaching out to take his hand, holding it tightly in yours. You didn’t give him a second to show his shock— instead you held on, tugging him towards the direction of the library.

He hadn’t even talked with you yet, but somehow he already felt lighter— in a better mood. Just by your presence, let alone your touch— was enough.

Making your way through the library— hand in hand— you didn’t slow until you reached your spot. The same spot from the very first introduction you two shared. One that didn’t have that good of an ending.

The memory although had a sour end, you still looked back and wanted to smile. You two had no idea what was coming— so naive. Like you said— it almost made you want to smile. Almost.

“James, why are you drinking this early in the morning? I know you’ve got something on your mind.” You started, as soon as you two sat down in your spots.

He rolled his eyes, avoiding your stare. He knew you were right, but also he just didn’t want to have this talk. Though— he knew it needed to happen. He just wished he could have one more care free day. He hated himself for not enjoying them while they lasted.

“Doll, we know what’s going to happen.” He voiced lowly, body and mind defeated.

You flashed a fearful expression before attempting to harden your features back.

“What do you mean?” You asked him cautiously.

“I spoke wrongly to your Father— everything that happened yesterday… you know how this ends for me.” He hinted, hoping you’d understand.

You shook your head, while still glancing at him with a softened expression. You don’t think you’d ever seen Bucky so stressed, his face stuck in a concerned expression.

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“(Y/n)… your Father doesn’t give a shit about me! For all I know— he probably has a new bodyguard ready for you. I’ll be as good as gone soon!” He exclaimed, voice raising— but it was Bucky. You weren’t afraid of him like you were your Father.

“Nothing is going to happen to you— I’ll make sure of it.” You promised him, and for a second he paused and looked at you deeply.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in his seat with a frustrated huff.

“I don’t really care what happens to me… I just don’t wanna leave you. I can’t… I can’t let him keep doing this to you.” He whispered, lowering his head— his emotions stealing his voice.

You felt your heart start to beat faster, the same butterflies fluttering around your stomach once more. Every time he protected you, made an effort to want to be with you— it had you speechless. You never knew you could find something like this again. After your Mother had passed— you thought the feeling was lost.

“We should run.” He spoke again, breaking the thick silence that had blanketed the room.

You swallowed at that suggestion, wondering why a small part of you still didn’t want to leave your Father. Although he had proved to really not care about you— love you. You still loved him. He was all you had left.

But maybe that wasn’t true anymore, here was Bucky sitting in front of you— willing to risk his life just so you could live your happy ending.

“Where will we go?” You spoke back finally, shocking him that you wanted to go along with it.

As he stared into your eyes, his stomach rolled sickeningly at the fear that was evident in your eyes. But it wasn’t fear for yourself— it was for him.

“Somewhere far away— somewhere he won’t find you. I have a few places in mind… but are you really willing to do this? Leave your home?” He asked, happy that you were on board— but still wanted to respect your decision.

You immediately thought of that one cheesy quote you’d read somewhere— not necessarily believing it until now. Home can be a person too.

You felt your nose burn, tears welling into your eyes and this time you didn’t fight it. Everything had been building ever since you’d woken up. The only place you felt safe wasn’t even your home anymore— it was him.

“This place doesn’t really feel like home anymore so… yeah I’m ready.” You admitted, your voice getting quiet by the end.

Bucky’s hand twitched on his thigh, the way his instinct was to touch you— to comfort you. He fought against the side of him that itched to jump over to you, instead he stayed rooted at his spot.

“There’s something else I need to tell you.” He started, not knowing if you were mentally ready to handle this. “Your Father has been keeping this from you for awhile, and he had asked me to keep it from you as well but— you deserve to know. I wanted to tell you so many times I just— I should’ve told you… so I’m sorry.”

You got up from your seat and plopped down next to him, not hesitating to reach out and take his metal hand in your two. Your held it comfortably while also using the metal ridges to fidget with.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry about what you should’ve done— you’re telling me now. That’s all that matters, so I appreciate that.” You assured him, scooting even closer so that your thighs were touching.

“Someone’s been stalking you (Y/n).” He finally confessed, and almost immediately he could feel the weight being lifted off his chest.

You didn’t speak for awhile, just staring at him like you weren’t sure if you imagined him saying those words. Your brain was having a hard time processing what he had said— someone was stalking you? You were disturbed, your skin crawling with fear. One thing stuck out to you the most— it was the fact that your Father had yet to tell you.

Bucky took your silence as a bad sign, watching you stare blankly at your lap, where your fidgeting hands stilled on his metal one. It was his turn to wrap his metal hand around your wrist, applying a gentle amount of pressure to try and get your attention.

“(Y/n)?” He asked softly, growing more worried the longer you stayed quiet.

You still didn’t know what you were feeling, it was hard to distinguish it when you were already overwhelmed with emotions today. Your brain felt burnt out— your mind wanting to shut off completely.

“How long?” You whispered, still staring at your lap.

“Awhile, and they’ve gotten close. They have left stuff on your doorstep— and I found it before you could see it.” He told you, watching you shiver from the information. “They found your Mother’s necklace in one of the boxes that was dropped off at your door.”

That had gotten your attention, your head snapping up to his— your eyes wide with horror. You immediately started shaking your head in denial, knowing where this was going. You felt like you were gonna be sick, so you tried to swallow back the bile from rising.

“No… No I— I know what you’re going to say! My Mother died from a car accident. That’s how she died.” You rushed out, your vision blurring with tears.

“(Y/n) I’m not saying whoever is stalking you was involved with her passing— I’m just saying that there’s something darker to this than anyone knows.” He assured you, watching you nod in understanding.

His heart hurt watching your body start to tremble, your bottom lip quivering.

“Do you have it?” You whispered ever so quietly.

“What?” Bucky asked suddenly, confused.

You faced him, grabbing onto both his hands now— needing him to ground you from spiraling. Bucky had to hold in the gasp that wanted to escape, from how close you appeared to be.

“Do you have the necklace?” You asked desperately, voice cracking, “My Father he… he wouldn’t let me keep any of my Mothers things.”

Bucky’s heart broke again, his eyes softening at your broken expression. The way you were trembling holding onto him, your eyes red rimmed and lost looking. He had never held such hatred for someone before— fucking Pierce.

“Doll, I’m sorry— he has it.”

You nodded in understanding but couldn’t hold back the new wave of tears. You didn’t hesitate, and threw yourself into his arms. Wrapping your arms right around his middle, feeling the bulky muscles flex through his clothes.

He didn’t waste anytime and engulfed you in his protective embrace. He willed himself to stay strong— for you. But your cries and shakes of your body were killing him, he swore he was feeling physical pain from it all. He wanted to take it all away— all your pain.

Both your legs hung off to the side, while you practically were sitting in his lap. But neither of you cared— yes, it was intimate. But it was intimate in a different way, you both clung onto each other— escaping for a little while just in each others embrace. Being so close now, feeling each other pressed up on another— it felt right. It felt like home.

You felt one of his hands lift to the back of your head, cradling your head as his metal fingers weaves through your hair— just slightly scratching your scalp. You could feel yourself melt further into him. Your body sagging into him.

“I’ve got you (Y/n), I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered soothingly.

“I wanna hate him.” You whimpered, your fists fisting in his shirt.

His heart clenched painfully, hating that there was nothing he could do besides be here for you at the moment. But every cry and whimper only convinced him further that he was doing the right thing— the right thing by running away with you.

“Does that make me a bad person— that I wanna hate him? I want to but… but I can’t!” You cried.

Bucky shook his head, before he realized you couldn’t see him. He pulled you back away from him so he could face you— that was also when he noticed how close you were to him.

“No it doesn’t. He hasn’t been a Father to you. He hurt you— It’s okay to wanna hate him.” He assured you.

He held your gaze, waiting until you nodded to make sure you understood what you were feeling was valid.

“I really wanna hate him…” You whimpered again, trying to lower your eyes but you knew Bucky wouldn’t allow it.

He didn’t know if there was anything he could say to truly make you feel better, but he hoped that his comforting embrace was helping. Little did you know— your tight hold on him was ridding him of any and all stress.

“I know (Y/n), I know.” He breathed out.

Before he could stop himself, he was lifting his hand to stroke his thumb across her cheek— letting his palm rest on your jaw.

Your eyes fluttered shut from his touch for a second, before they opened and gazed deeply into his. His eyes shined with something unusual— something you had yet to see coming from his eyes. You felt intimidated from the intensity that was his gaze— the way your stomach fluttered nervously. You felt the same urge as before, your body leaning instinctively closer to him— you felt so safe in his arms, you couldn't help yourself from wanting to sink deeper into the ocean that was him.

"(Y/n)..." His voice broke through your trance, "Maybe we shouldn't."

God he wanted to slap himself for even voicing those words, because he so badly wanted to devour you whole— loosen every thread that was tied on you— unlocking every inch and part of you that he didn't know he craved. But the sensible side of him knew it wasn't the right moment... right?

You were so vulnerable, it felt wrong for him to even steal a glance in the wrong way when your walls were crumbled before him. He didn't want you to think for even a second that he was taking advantage of you. He respected you greatly, and he was not going to allow himself to have no self restraint. He wanted you to be in full control— and even then he felt hesitant to let you continue. The kiss on his cheek from before, he felt he hadn't deserved that— earned that. He was greedy however— and took any breadcrumbs he could.

You only darted your eyes down to his lips, watching his tongue poke out to wet them— your eyes watching the pink dampen the plump flesh. You found yourself biting your own lip— a sudden craving intensifying at the sight.

Despite your desires, you leaned forward and placed another kiss to his stubbled cheek— this time letting your lips linger on the skin longer than the last. Bucky could feel the heat rush to his face, knowing his cheeks were most likely bright red. He didn't know how he held so much power, but the feel of your lips against his cheek— god he wanted to kiss you so badly.

You sent him a small smile, and he could almost see the real you finally coming to light. The sight had his heart swelling, his own lips curving up in a cheerful smile— relived to see his girl coming back.

"Thank you James— I don't know what I'd do without you." You whispered, holding his gaze with hidden devotion. "I need you."

He had to fight back the huge smile he felt approaching from your words— he tried to ignore the bubbling joy he felt from your words. The way you needed him just as he needed you.

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[yunppeo]

was it so casual to you?

pairing: choi yeonjun x reader.

warnings: none…? its a bit suggestive but youll live, uhh, angst angst

word count: 1.0k :p

NOW PLAYING: casual by chappell roan🎵

a casual night out for you consists of being with yeonjun.

someone you dont want to keep seeing but you always find yourself driving over to his place, sometimes even in the car with him as he picked u up.

and here u are, strapping your bra back on in the backseat of his car.

his hands remaining on your body, not going anywhere. you were used to his warm touch, but sometimes it felt different. like today, something felt.. off.

he seems to take note of your odd expression and spoke up.

“whats up..?” he sits up, getting closer to your face as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

“nothing.” he stares into your eyes for a moment, as if he knows youre lying.

“okay.” he kisses your cheek. normally this would make u happy, you would smile brightly but after finding out what hes been saying… you werent so happy anymore.

you bit your lip to contain yourself from saying anything else.

it was quiet the ride back to the dorms, you both felt the awkwardness albeit still didnt speak up. the only noise you found comfort in was the rain. you looked out the window admiring the falling rain.

he stops in front of your dorm building. you dreaded the idea of walking into your dorm after hanging out with him, knowing your roommate will be disappointed.

all of your friends have told you how much he was a bad guy. you didnt listen.

you clear your throat and open the car door, hesitating to look at him. “ill see you later.”

he wanted to tell you something but you had already closed the door and gone to walk inside.

“y/n.” your roommate greets you as you walk into your dorm and lay against the closed door.

“i hate myself for letting this drag on for so long.” your voice starts to quiver as tears start to fall. you slid down the door as hugged your legs.

your roommate immediately goes to comfort you.

“its hard being casual.”

your roommate pats your back, hugs you, does anything to comfort you. she makes you stand up and sit on the bed. she wipes your tears before going to her phone to text all of your other friends.

“im convinced he put you under a spell or something.” she laughs awkwardly trying to lighten the mood.

you stay quiet before the door slams open.

“y/n. are you okay? did he say thing to hurt you? ill set his dorm on fire i dont care.” your friend, hanni, immediately goes up to you.

“im fine, hanni.”

“thats bs girl.” she sighs as she examines you as if you were sick. “its gonna be okay.”

“y/n, i know youre gonna hate me for saying this but you need to talk to him.” danielle chines in, she looks at you with empathy.

“ill think about it.”

-

“y/n!” yeonjun calls out. its been a week since u last saw him. you ignored him hoping he would take the hint.

he didnt.

he ran and stood in front of you to stop you from walking. “you havent been answering my texts.. or calls.. are you ignoring me..?”

you sigh, trying to look for a way out of this conversation.

“lets talk about it later.”

“talk about what?” there was silence. “y/n?..”

“later, yeonjun.” you walk off, looking at people whispering about your interaction with yeonjun just now.

-

as you were walking to your dorm you noticed him standing right infront of your door. you wished you could have turned around and left. but you knew you couldnt avoid this any longer.

“y/n!” his face lights up a bit. making your heart clench.

you dont reply and just open the door to your dorm. you knew your roommates werent going to be there for anytime soon. it was the perfect time.. to talk.

you silently invited him in and he obliged.

the moment he closed the door, his hands went straight to your waist, leaving kisses on your neck.

“no, yeonjun.” you politely shove him off you.

“whats up with you!?”

“whats up with me?! me?!?” you scoff stare at him, shaking your head.

“you said no attachment, yeonjun. why are we doing this?” you look him in the eye, waiting for a response.

“y/n.. i..”

“what, yeonjun? am i not ‘just a girl you bang on your couch’? hm?” his eyebrows furrow. he didnt know you had found out about the things he was saying.

“say something, yeonjun.”

“im sorry.”

“thats all you have to say?” you scoff. taking deep breaths. “after you told me ‘we’re not together.’ what were we then? friends with benefits? what?”

he stayed there silent. he didnt know what to say.

“i hate you, yeonjun.”

“y/n wait.. hear me out.”

“no?! why should i? you kept acting like we were dating, but then you go on dates with other girls? kissing them, buying them gifts…”

he licks his lips. he had been caught.

“we’ve been doing this for how long, yeonjun..? ive met your family.. your friends.. all for nothing.”

“but i do like you, y/n..”

“clearly not enough.”

there was more slience.

“was it so casual to you..?”

“it wasnt! no trust me, y/n.”

“stop lying, yeonjun. i know everything.” you finally had enough of him.

“just go, yeonjun. dont ever contact me ever again. i dont want to see you ever again. get out.”

“wait y/n please.” he pleads.

“get out.” tears start flowing, yeonjun felt the need to hold you close to comfort you but he knew you wouldnt want that. from him atleast.

he took one last good look at you. taking in all your beautiful features. before walking out never speaking to u ever again.

it was.