#it always sounds like the first time i heard it

[euthymiya]

content includes: female reader, drunk reader + mentions of alcohol, modern + non curse au sukuna, established relationship, unnamed friends, reader makes one (1) dick sucking joke, reader dips fries into shakes because she’s elite like that, he carries reader

It’s half past midnight when he comes to pick you up. Your face sours as soon as you see him, taking an instinctive step back.

“Nuh uh,” you say, wagging a finger back and forth in his face as he scowls. “It’s girl’s night. No men allowed—we’ve been over this!”

“As if I wanna join your stupid girl’s night,” he scoffs. Sukuna is tired. (Of you). It’s too late at night to be worrying about what ditch you’re going to end yourself up in after lord knows how many drinks, so regrettably, he takes matters into his own hands.

It’s a good thing he does, too, he thinks with a flare of his nostril as he eyes the drunk, mess of a woman that’s supposed to be your ride home. Designated driver my ass, he all but grumbles under his breath.

“Hey—” he looks over to the side with an irritated flick of his eyes as a hand smacks his shoulder. Your friend (in not better condition than you) levels him with a snarky look before she hisses, “You heard her! It’s girl’s night. Go away.”

Sukuna ignores her—because, well, that’s what he always does anyway. She talks far too much to be considered a normal amount, and he doesn’t like the shrill sound of her voice. Instead, he turns to you, gives you a firm, scolding look before he grunts, “We are going home. Now.”

You seem to catch onto the stern tone of his voice because within seconds, you’re slumping against him as you whine, “Fine,” with a pout. “Mean.”

“Yeah?” He snorts, “You know what’s meaner? Nasty men who find girls passed out in the middle of the streets. Now let’s go. We’re going home—all of you.”

A chorus of whines and petty insults makes him want to grab a drink himself—being inebriated seems like the only way your friends are tolerable, but as annoying as they are, he refuses to leave them here wasted.

So he does the noble thing, and sacrifices his ear drums as they play whatever stupid pop song is trending on the radio at full volume down the streets, heads sticking out of the windows and screaming the lyrics out to innocent passerby’s.

Sukuna is just a guy. Not the best, most chivalrous or charitable guy, maybe—but just a guy, all the same. He’s not done anything wrong to deserve this torture. He’s been nothing but a kind (usually) boyfriend that loves you unconditionally (most of the time), supports you wholeheartedly (when it suits him), listens to your problems (if he’s in the mood), and makes you feel special (as long as it doesn’t inconvenience him).

Still, he’s stuck basically being an uber driver—for free, no less—to your ungrateful, bratty, obnoxious friends that aren’t pretty enough to enjoy your company in the first place. They don’t even thank him when they get out as he drops them off one by one to their homes, opting to say goodbye to you as if you’re the one who pays for the gas in his car.

Finally, the last of your friends (who he likes to consider nuisances) leaves, freeing him of anymore radio pop songs and unnaturally loud giggles.

He grumbles as you ask, “Can we get milkshakes?”

“No.”

“Please?” You whine, “I want strawberry.”

“That’s great,” he says sarcastically, “The answer’s still no.”

“Please, please, please, Kuna? I’ll suck your dick on the drive there—”

“Jesus, what’s the matter with you?” He hisses, fighting back flushed cheeks as he glares at you once the car rolls to a stop at a red light.

Usually, he’s the one making such lewd comments and getting under your skin—but lacking in sobriety is seriously forcing the two of you to switch roles. He’s starting to wonder if maybe he should be nicer to you—you deal with a lot. (Not that he’s mean. He considers himself a pretty generous boyfriend).

“I’ll even pay,” you offer.

“You didn’t bring a wallet, so it looks like I’ll have to pay,” he says blandly.

You grin, giving him an innocent smile as you excitedly ask, “So that’s a yes?”

“Are you going to be quiet if I say yes?” He clicks his teeth in thinly-veiled irritation.

You grin, nodding enthusiastically.

Well, he thinks bitterly, so much for no more pit stops.

It’s not long until he’s pulling into the drive-thru of the nearest fast food joint, rolling his window down to order your stupid, late night request.

“We’ll take one strawberry milkshake, please,” he says gruffly.

“Anything else?” Comes the tired reply of whoever is taking his order.

“No—”

“And large fries, please!” You lean over him to shout out the window and make sure the poor worker hears you. Sukuna glares, (gently) pushing you back into your seat as he hisses, “Put your seatbelt on! And you asked for a milkshake, not a damn meal.”

“Fries aren’t a meal,” you huff, “And they’re good dipped in the shake. You can’t have one without the other.”

“No—”

“I’ll scream that I’m being kidnapped,” you warn, “I want my fries.”

“Fucking fine,” he throws his hands up, exasperatedly caving to your request because, yeah, having some drunk, half-conscious woman in his front seat screaming bloody murder about being abducted at two a.m. is not a good look to a stranger that doesn’t know any better. “One strawberry milkshake and large fucking fries and that’s it,” he growls to the other person through the drive-thru speaker.

It’s not the poor employee’s fault, and he knows it, but he’s too tired and sleep-deprived to care about his snarky attitude.

“It’ll be ready at the window,” the man speaks tiredly, completely unphased.

“Yay!” You squeal.

It’s a pretty bothersome task to have to stop the car five minutes after receiving the food just to open the lid of your cup for you so that you can dip your fries into your milkshake easier, but he figures it’s better than a tiring drive home. Or worse, a spill all over his car seats at your own attempt.

He glances over at you wearily as he finally (hopefully) starts to drive home, watching as you dip your french fries into your frozen drink and happily eat away. He crinkles his eyes at the combination.

He’ll never understand people’s unnatural obsession with pairing anything remotely salty and sweet together.

“My friends think you’re weird,” you hum, taking a handful of fries to your mouth as you say between chewing, “They say you’re intense. Like, scary intense. But I told them, that’s just his face.”

Finally, a small smile cracks on his face, breaking through the grumpy, tired exterior. He snorts, shaking his head. “Drunk you has way too much to say.”

“Drunk me is honest,” you retort, clutching your fries to your chest as you huff, “Now I’m not sharing my fries anymore.”

“You weren’t going to anyway,” he rolls his eyes.

Finally, his car pulls into a familiar parking spot, just outside of your shared home as he parks and turns to you. You giggle at him before humming, “How’d you know?”

“Because you never do,” he rolls his eyes.

“That’s because this relationship is 50/50! You buy the food, and I eat it.”

“Yeah?” He snorts, shaking his head—still, there’s something endearing about the way you clutch your fries close to your chest, as if guarding them with your life. He leans over, snatching one easily anyway, smirking in amusement when you gasp and pout at the gesture.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“Yeah, whatever,” he grunts, fighting back a fond grin before he asks, “Let’s go. We’re going in.”

With that, he comes around to your side of the car, pulling you out and hoisting you up to carry you bridal style as he marches over to the front door. Sighing happily, you admire his face as he walks.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

He raises a brow, mildly shocked. “For?”

“For bringing me home. Same time next week?”

He chuckles, pressing a soft, affectionate kiss to your forehead. “Absolutely not. No more girl’s nights with those shit shows.”

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Self-Aware!Xavier x Down-Bad!Player

Xavier becoming aware he's in a game now he's aware of you as well. A/N: Don't fight me

Self-Aware!Xavier who realizes he’s in a game when he can hear you talking about Lumiere. “Lumiere is in Abyssal Chaos again *sigh* I love him” “So you’re infatuated with Lumiere as well?” You freeze, looking around not sure if he’s talking to you or not. You check the time and realize it's late so you decide to just go to bed.

Self-Aware!Xavier who draws his sword on you the next day questioning who you are. You're stunned at the fact he's actually talking to you. “That will literally do nothing you can’t reach me Xav” “What do you mean?” he can’t quite understand why you’re a stranger, but you also feel so familiar.

Self-Aware!Xavier who quickly grows fond of you. He finds himself napping on the phone with you often now. “Are you free this afternoon? I was hoping we could nap together” starts out as phone call naps which turn into FaceTime/video chat naps and eventually turns into him not being able to sleep well unless you’re on the phone

Self-Aware!Xavier who loves to eat with you and listen to you rant about your day and anything you can think of because your voice alone soothes him. He’s concerned when you don’t log in for a day telling you how he didn’t get good sleep because he didn’t hear from you.

Self-Aware!Xavier who plans meals around your schedule because he will always make time for you. He claims the food taste better if he gets to look at you while he eats.

Self-Aware!Xavier who wants to learn the kind of games that exist in your world. You’re connected through technology so he finds a way to play video games with you even it means illegally transferring data to him through the app.

Self-Aware!Xavier who tells you he has someone he’s in love with so he can’t fall for you. “I know” “You know?” “Queen of Philos … I know …. she loves you too by the way” you don’t miss the way he slightly deflates at the fact that you know who he was talking about.

Self-Aware!Xavier who even though he said he can’t fall in love with you falls head first anyway and can’t stay away from you. He finds himself speaking to in-game MC less and less meanwhile he’s becoming incredibly jealous over not just the guys in your life, but everyone who is able to actually be in your presence. “Your day sounded like it went well” hes pouting “me and some friends went to topgolf” “I heard”

Y/N: Xav are you jealous? Xavier: And if I say yes? Y/N: I'd say you’re not supposed to have feelings for me Xavier: It’s hard not to have feelings for someone who feels like home Y/N: I feel like home to you? Xavier: Yes and here I am yet again unable to reach my home

Self-Aware!Zayne

Self-Aware!Rafayel

Self-Aware!Sylus

[totalswag]

hey i love your work so much and if it’s not to much go ask i was wondering if you could do a fic where fem!reader is part of the cast on obx and she is really close friends with drew where they are flirting and what not and everyone ships them and they are at an interview with the rest of the cast and that gets brought up? sorry if that doesn’t make sense! if you don’t have time it’s completely

behind the scenes ⎯ RAFE CAMERON

authors note thank you so much lovie!! i'm open to take requests and write them. i've thought of this concept before and all i gotta say is thank you for requesting this because I NEED THIS!! super sorry for not posting for a small while, there were stuff i needed to take care of first.

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.

summary having a close relationship with drew that send hints to fans they like each other based on the way they flirt with each other.

warning(s) flirting, shipping, co-stars secretly like each other?

Being apart of the Outer Banks cast has been such a blessing. You've created relationships with people you consider family now and who you can count on no matter what the circumstances are. Being on set for weeks on end filming scenes and making memories is what you look forward to most.

You grew closer with Drew Starkey because your characters are dating in the show and always next together on set too. Drew has become someone that you consider very important in your life.

You joined the Outer Banks cast during the second season. Drew appeared in a couple appearances near the end of the season, implying that he is interested in someone— love interest. You recall fans going nuts trying to figure out if this will continue. Fast forward two seasons, and your characters are together.

After a long day of filming, the cast decided to gather for dinner at a local beachside restaurant. The atmosphere was vibrant, with laughter and the sound of waves breaking on the shore. You and Drew were seated next to each other, much to the joy of your cast members, who were closely watching your interaction with Drew.

"Drew, look at the camera," you softly sang, your phone in your hand on the table, Drew in the frame of the video— he was speaking to Rudy across the table. He gives you a look that shows he knows you are heard before looking down at your phone and waving.

"Oh! "Hello there," he smiles even more when he sees himself on the screen—you giggle at the end of the video before sharing it to your Instagram story. 

"You posted it on your story?" he inquires, his body language focused solely on you. "I obviously had to; it was cute," you said as you placed your phone on the table next to your wallet. You suddenly felt nervous in front of Drew.

He raises his eyebrows in satisfaction. "Cute, huh?" He smirks and smiles, patting your thigh.

Fans began to ship you and Drew together as your relationship grew. The chemistry between you two is clearly obvious on and off screen, which is why you perform scenarios so well. Fans go berserk every time you post something on social media about Drew.

You two flirt without even realizing it at times. You will compliment each other as if you were a relationship, but this is nothing out of the norm for you two. Even your cast members have boarded the train and made a few comments about when you'll finish up together. 

You can't lie, he's an attractive young man. There's no doubt about that.

Few hours after you posted on your story, fans have been discussing the video you shared in which Drew looks at you as if you are the most beautiful person on the planet and no one else is present.

Today, you and the cast will be doing interviews all day to promote Season four. For the first portion, everyone will sit in the same room as the interviewer, but thereafter everyone will be separated.

"Alright, everyone," said the interviewer, "we've got some fun questions from fans today, and they're dying to know more about the dynamic between some of our favorite cast members."

Everyone said "Oooo," anxious to see what else the interviewer would say.

"Let's start with a fan favorite," the interviewer added, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "There's been a lot of talk about the chemistry between you two." She pointed to Drew and you. "Care to share any insights on that?"

Your stomach dropped.

The question hung in the air, drawing a chorus of “Oohs” and playful nudges from the cast. You felt your cheeks heat up as you exchanged a glance with Drew. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement, a smirk playing on his lips

"Well," Drew said, leaning in slightly. "Y/N and I have always been close. We simply clicked, you know?"

"Really?" the interviewer asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Because the way you two flirt on and off set is pretty convincing."

You laughed and shook your head. "We simply have fun with it. Drew is a terrific person, and we like joking around. "It keeps things moving on set."

"From our first reading together, I knew she was going to be a great co star of mine and we've formed an amazing bond throughout the years" Drew says with his hands. In gratitude, you give him a pat on the back.

Your cast mates' eyes are constantly drawn to you and Drew since they can tell you have mutual feelings for each other. Granted, you two have scenes together all the time and have developed a strong bond. However, you consider being more than friends with him.

The interview continued on with more questions popping up that were exciting to answer. In the back of your mind you were thinking about the question about Drew and you— do you want more?

Later that evening, you and Drew returned to your apartment and relaxed in your living room. The city lights outside your window gave a soft glow across the room, and the steady hum of the air conditioner broke the silence. You'd both changed into more comfortable clothes, eager to relax after a long day.

"Today was something, huh?" Drew murmured, breaking the silence as he sprawled down on your couch, seemingly at peace.

"Yeah, it was," you said, sitting next to him. "They really went all in on the whole shipping thing."

Drew chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made your heart race. "Yes, they did. "Makes you think, doesn't it?"

He sat up, his face instantly serious. "About Us. I mean, everybody sees it. Hell, we see it, don't we?

Your breath became locked in your throat. The playful flirtation, the lingering touches, the way your heart raced whenever he was close—it all hinted at something more than friendship. However, hearing him say it aloud was another. It made it real.

"I suppose we do," you confessed gently.

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[arpicityandneed]

You, Me, and the King

18+ f!reader. King bucky. Knight Steve. Queen reader. Dirty talk. polyship. light choking. creampie. Cuckolding. Voyeur!Steve.

~

If anyone noticed the visible bulge in the Steve's breeches they knew better than to say anything. The hefty sword he carried on his hip mixed with the deadly glare he gave everyone that passed by helped. They also knew better than to comment on the high pitched wails coming from the door Steve was guarding with his life. The new King and Queen were still on their honeymoon, locked away for days on end as they worked to fulfill their duty to the kingdom.

"J-James!"

He had you on your knees, your arms long since having given out as he thrusted into you. Every plap plap plap of his balls against your swollen clit echoed by the squelching of your pussy gobbling up his cock greedily. James pulled you up until his hand was around your throat, his hips never ceasing as he forced your back to arch. It made you squeal when he hit that special spot inside you. (Outside the door Steve had to clench his jaw and readjust his erection. He knew exactly what that sound meant, he heard it often enough now.)

You were usually quiet and shy, hiding at your King's side and whispering in his ear when you did have something to say. But every single time James got his cock in you, you couldn't help yourself. And your husband loved it.

"That's it my Queen. Let them, fuck, let him hear you sing for me." James let his scarred left arm wrap around you, his massive hand finding your clit easily as he fucked himself into your slick folds. You'd long since felt your own juices run down to your knees. You were sure James' balls were sticky as well.

"Please, James, I can't-" you sobbed as you came again, milking his thick shaft and making him curse.

"But you can, my love. Just a couple more. You have to if you're to give me an heir." He cooed at you, holding up your limp body as you tried to keep up with his endless stamina.

"Steve will lick you all better if you're sore later, promise." Your pussy tightened at the mention of your husband's head knight making James groan loud and filthy in your ear.

The man had grown up with your King, and you knew James trusted him more than he trusted anyone else. He'd even entrusted you to the blond. When your King was busy and you were aching, it was Steve who used his mouth and his fingers to make you feel all better. You'd even had him in your mouth when you felt bold. You wanted to practice, get better at pleasing your new husband. Steve always taught you so kindly knowing exactly what his King liked. You suspected they were more intimate than they let on and the thought made your pussy throb. But you'd never had Steves cock inside you. It was the one rule you had to follow. So when your husband mentions Steve you can't stop the embarrassed whimper that escapes you.

"I know, I know, you want his cock too." Your face burned at the truth of his words, and he laughed feeling your pussy get impossibly tight around him. "Just gotta let my cum all the way in your pretty tummy first. Gotta give me an hier."

"I'll be g-good, give you baby. Promise!" You knew Steve could hear every single word. Knew he'd be suckling on your clit later as he fucked James' cum back into you with his thick fingers when it leaked out. The very thought made you cum again, your fluttering walls dragging James along with you. He cursed, his grip tightening around your throat as his cock throbbed inside you.

"Take it my love, take every fucking drop-" He growled as he grabbed at the fat of your hip, using the leverage to fuck every spurt of cum deeper than the last.

When you both collapsed onto the bed, he cradled you to his chest kissing you slow and deep and drugging. You expected him to let you go to help you clean up a bit like he normally did. But he made no move to separate himself from you. You felt your cheeks heat once more when you realized why.

"James-" Your husband's icy blue eyes were locked onto where your bodies were joined, of the creamy mess he'd made of your pussy, but he seemed to know what you were asking if the smirk on his plump lips was anything to go by.

"Shh, just making sure it takes."

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ʟ ᴏ ᴠ ᴇ ᴍ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: Dark Aegon I Targaryen x Fem Reader

Summary: Aegon spends his life desperately trying to win the love of his sister. And yet he's never enough.

Warning: Non-Con (rape), targcest, physical violence, murder, obsessive and delusional behavior, child loss/grief.

Notes: English is not my first language. Art belong to Denis Maznev. Hope you enjoy!

She was always there.

From his earliest memories, her face is etched in his mind like a cold, pale moon. She never smiled, never laughed. Never cried. Just looked. Always watching, always silent. Even as children, while Rhaenys played with him, she was a shadow in the background. A constant presence that gnawed at him, her cold eyes watching him with that empty gaze. It was as if nothing could move her, nothing could please her. But he tried. Gods, how he tried.

He was barely seven, still small but proud of the sword his father had given him. He had trained for hours, his arms aching, his legs sore, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to show her. He wanted her to see him—really see him—for once.

He had run to her, his little chest puffed out with pride, holding his wooden practice sword like it was Blackfyre itself. "Look! Look what I can do!" he had said, his voice bright with excitement. He swung the sword in wide arcs, spinning and thrusting as best as his small body could manage. "Did you see that? I’m going to be a great warrior! You’ll see!"

But she just stood there. Watching. Her face expressionless, her eyes cold, as if she hadn’t seen anything at all. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t even blink. It was like he wasn’t there, like his efforts were meaningless.

He had felt something tighten in his chest then, a feeling he didn’t understand. A hollow ache that made his hands shake as he gripped the sword tighter. He tried again, swinging harder, faster. "Are you watching?!" he had shouted, frustration leaking into his voice.

But she didn’t move. Didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything.

She never did.

And that’s how it always was. Every time he tried, every time he showed her something—his victories in the yard, his skills in battle—she just watched. Her cold eyes always on him but never giving him what he craved. Never giving him anything.

But then, that day came. The day that broke something inside him.

He remembers the sound first. The sound of her laughing. It was so foreign, so unexpected that he almost didn’t believe it at first. He had stopped in his tracks, heart racing, the sound of her laughter echoing in his ears like the sweetest music he’d ever heard. For a moment, just a moment, he thought it was meant for him. Finally, he thought, she was laughing. She was happy. Maybe, just maybe, he had done something to make her feel.

But then he saw it.

She wasn’t laughing with him. She wasn’t laughing for him.

She was laughing with a man. Some nobody. A fool. A good-for-nothing who could never even begin to understand her, let alone deserve her. And yet, there she was, her eyes shining, her lips curved into a smile—something Aegon had never seen in all his life. She was radiant, her laughter like music, but it wasn’t for him.

The rage came fast, burning through his veins like fire. How dare this man, this insignificant speck, be the one to bring her joy? How dare she smile for him, laugh for him, when she had never once given Aegon anything but that cold, dead stare? He could hardly see through the fury as he drew his sword, his heart pounding in his ears, and with one swift strike, he cut the man’s head clean off.

The blood sprayed across the floor as the man's body crumpled to the ground, lifeless, useless. And Aegon, triumphant, stood there holding the severed head, his heart racing with the thought that maybe now—now—she would see how much he loved her.

He brought the head to her, a smile tugging at his lips, presenting it like a gift, like an offering to a goddess.

But then, for the first time, he saw her cry.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, silent, like everything else about her. She didn’t wail or scream, just wept, her cold, distant eyes filled with sorrow. But not for him. Never for him. The realization hit him like a dagger to the chest. She wasn’t crying for him. She was mourning the other man, that worthless fool.

Could she not see? Could she not understand what he had done? He had killed for her. For her. To prove his love. Why couldn’t she see that?

It was worse now. So much worse.

He stands in the room, their child’s room, staring at the small bed where their son had once slept. His heart is heavy, his chest tight with grief that he can’t seem to swallow. Tears burn in his eyes, but he doesn’t care. Their child is dead. Gone. And he can barely breathe from the weight of it.

But when he looks at her, she’s standing by the window, her back to him, staring out into the night as if nothing had happened. As if their son wasn’t lying cold and still in the crypts below.

She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t even move.

His son, their child, lay lifeless, and yet...she didn’t care. She couldn’t care. The realization gnawed at him, twisting in his chest like a knife. If it had been another man’s child, would she be mourning now? Would she cry for that child, like she had cried for that worthless fool?

"Do you...do you not care?" His voice cracks, the words barely a whisper. He feels like he’s choking on the silence. "He was our child. Our son." His hands tremble, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Why… why?"

She doesn’t answer. Of course, she doesn’t.

She never answers.

The hollow ache that had plagued him since childhood is back, sharper than ever. He stares at her, at her still, cold form, and something inside him snaps. He can feel it, like a tether breaking, a dam bursting inside his mind.

"Why?" he growls, his voice low, trembling with fury. "Why can’t you love me? Is it really so hard?!" He steps toward her, fists clenched, his heart hammering in his chest. "I’ve done everything for you. Everything!"

His hands shake as he grabs her by the shoulders, spinning her around to face him. She looks at him with that same blank, emotionless expression, her eyes cold and distant, as if she’s not even here. As if she’s not even alive.

"I killed for you!" His voice is rising, desperate, wild. "I’ve fought for you, bled for you! I’ve done everything you could ever want, but you—" He pauses, his breath coming in harsh gasps as a dark, twisted thought coils in his mind. "Is this because of him? Because I killed that servant? Did you really think he could love you more than I do? That he deserved you? Him?"

His grip tightens, fingers digging into her flesh. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the rage coursing through his veins. "I am the one who loves you. I’m the one who’s always loved you!"

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react. Just stares at him with those empty, cold eyes.

The silence is unbearable. It breaks him.

With a roar, he grabs her dress, tearing at the fabric, ripping it apart in his hands. He’s rough, vicious, his fingers leaving bruises on her pale skin as he forces himself onto her.

She doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t scream. She just lies there, blank, her body cold and still beneath his. The more she doesn’t react, the harder he thrusts, the rougher he becomes, as if he can force her to feel something—anything. He can feel the blood, can see the bruises forming on her skin, but she just keeps staring at him, those empty eyes boring into him, cold and unfeeling.

But it didn’t matter.

She will love me. She will.

"You will love me," he growls, his voice low and savage, each thrust more brutal than the last. "You will love me. You’ll see. I’ll make you."

But she doesn’t change. She never changes.

Even as her body bleeds, even as he takes her in the most violent, twisted way, she just looks at him with that same cold, distant stare. As if he’s nothing. As if nothing will ever be enough.

Her eyes stayed cold.

Her eyes stayed empty.

And still, he kept going.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

[minisugakoobies]

Match My Freak | JWW

Pairing: Voyeur!Wonwoo x Reader

Genre: smut, non-idol!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: non-consensual voyeurism, dirty talk, non-consensual use of camera/recording, masturbation (f), use of sex toy (vibrator), mentions of masturbation (m), mentions of oral sex (f receiving), cumming in pants, unreliable narrator, Wonwoo is not a good guy here (ymmv)

Word Count: 1.8k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: Your neighbor loves it when you put on a show for him.

A/N: Yeah so... I just like the thought of a Wonwoo who likes to watch. 🤷‍♀️

🚨 IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH NON-CONSENSUAL VOYEURISM, DO NOT READ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. DO NOT COMPLAIN TO ME - YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU CHOOSE TO READ. 🚨

Unbeta’d as usual. If you like this, please let me know! I’d love to hear what you think (but please be kind I’m fragile 🥺) 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

The sun’s beginning to set when Wonwoo takes his seat in the ratty old armchair by the open window. He removes his glasses, carefully wiping them clean with a cloth he pulls from his pocket before placing them back on his nose. He’s a little early tonight, but it’s fine. He’ll wait. He’s a patient man. 

The minutes fall away like dominoes, each one ticking into the next. The sun dips lower, casting dark shadows over the alley that separates his apartment building from the one next door. A flicker catches the corner of his eye and turns to look, gazing into the window directly across from his bedroom. As he sits quietly, patiently drumming his fingers on the soft cushioning of the chair, a figure enters the room.

Wonwoo has loved you from the moment he first saw you. It’s been a little over six months since you moved in across the way. In all that time, he hasn’t learned what you do or where you’re from or even what your full name is. But it’s fine. None of that matters. 

He’s sure you were made for him.

You walk around your bedroom, following the same well-worn path that you do every evening. Disappearing into your bathroom and emerging a few minutes later in a silky bathrobe. Sitting at the vanity to attend to your skincare routine, gently massaging your beautiful skin with rich creams and moisturizers. Wonwoo appreciates the way you care for yourself. He likes that you have your nightly rituals. He has his own, too.

He reaches for his camera.

It’s late summer, the time of year when there’s no relief to be found at night, the air just as warm and suffocating as it is during the day. Sweat prickles on Wonwoo’s forehead, but he ignores it. He’s glad your landlord is as cheap as his. Air conditioning units would only make this difficult for him. He’d figure it out, of course, but it wouldn’t be as easy as it is now. 

Sometimes he thinks it’s a sign from the universe, how easy this is. Proof that the two of you are meant to be.

He brings his camera to his eye, playing with the focus, until the pretty face reflected in the vanity mirror is perfectly clear. Click-click-click goes the shutter, the only sound that can be heard in Wonwoo’s bedroom, other than his heavy breathing. 

His room is pitch black around him. Wonwoo’s always been comfortable with darkness. It hides all manner of sins. It hides him from your view on nights like this, even when you walk over to your window to lift the sash. A light breeze ruffles the bottom of your bathrobe, exposing more of your thighs to Wonwoo’s hungry eyes. His finger strokes the shutter button again. 

You undo the belt of your bathrobe, letting it fall open, and Wonwoo captures the reveal of the sheer babydoll chemise beneath. It skims the tops of your thighs, not quite covering the matching pair of panties you wear with it. Wonwoo’s gaze roams over your body, admiring the way the clingy material highlights your skin. He loves when you dress up for him. You never bring anyone home. Who else are you wearing these things for, if not him?

Of course, you’ve never acknowledged his presence. That’s part of your game, isn’t it? To display yourself for him but never look at or talk to him. Put on a show but never react to him taking your photo or touching himself. 

He’s very good at playing your game. After all, he wants to win. 

You’re a worthy prize.

You recline on your bed, propped up against a stack of pillows, and start scrolling on your phone. As he watches, shutter clicking, your free hand slides down your torso. Your fingers curl, pressing into your covered pussy, rubbing in slow circles. Oh. Wonwoo swallows thickly. 

It’s one of those nights. 

Silently, he puts his camera down again. Locates the button that switches from photo to video. And clicks it. 

The red light flickers on. 

Wonwoo quickly brings the camera back to his eye, practically cracking his glasses in the process. He fixes the focus, aiming the lens at the hand between your legs. As you start to caress harder, your legs part slightly, giving him a clearer view of your panties. The tiniest swirls of lace are visible to his eye, as is a growing wet spot. He silently thanks the universe that he splurged on an expensive camera model. 

Your nightgown is rumpled up around your waist as you press your hand more firmly against your cunt. It isn’t enough, judging by how you dip your fingers beneath your panties to glide over your slit.

“Come on, baby.” Wonwoo wasn’t planning on adding narration to this recording, but the words slip out anyway, in a low, urgent tone. “Slide them in.” He zooms in again, on the wetness gleaming on your fingertips. 

He’s disappointed when you pull your hand away, but that feeling is short-lived when he sees what you’ve reached for - the bright red toy that you keep under your pillow. It’s long and thick and Wonwoo feels his cock jump at the thought of it spreading you open. 

He could use it to help stretch you for him. 

Swiftly, rather desperately, you shimmy your panties down your legs, and Wonwoo’s mouth floods with saliva, nearly choking him as he stares entranced at your bare pussy. He wants to put his lips on it, kiss it until you’re squirming, pleading for him to slide his tongue inside. You’d make such a beautiful mess of his face. 

His earlier impatience is forgotten now as you work yourself up, dipping the tip of the vibrator in and out of your soaking folds, the quickening rise and fall of your chest letting Wonwoo know how much you’re enjoying teasing yourself. By the time the toy disappears into your cunt, Wonwoo’s just as breathless himself, and hard as a rock. 

“Yeah, just like that,” he murmurs, adjusting his lens again to capture the deft movement of your hand. “Fuck yourself for me.” For him, just him, and no one else. 

As if obeying his very command, your hand moves faster, and your mouth drops open in a pleasured gasp. Wonwoo groans. If only he could record the sounds you’re making, too. But you’re not loud enough for his camera to pick them up from here. 

He clucks his tongue. There’s no way he’ll accept such weak noises when he’s the one fucking you. He’ll coax loud cries from you any way he can. 

Your body undulates like a wave, hips canting as you plunge the toy deeper, and something inside Wonwoo snaps. There’s too much distance between you right now. With an aggravated huff, he slips off the chair, kneeling in front of his window. He lets his camera rest on the window sill as he lines up his shot. It’s better. But it’s not enough.

He needs to be closer.

As quietly as he can, he clambers out onto the fire escape. 

He’s taking a risk by being out here. There are no lights in the alley, but the glow of the moon is bright. That doesn’t stop him. He moves silently, crouching against the chipped metal railing, camera peeking through the slots, closing the distance between you as much as he can. 

For now, anyway.

His grip on the camera turns to iron. He’d rather fall off this fire escape than drop it. He glances around the alley, double checking that there’s no one else around. Once he’s reassured that it’s just you, him, and the moonlight, he refocuses - first his mind, then the lens. 

His breathing quickens as the toy slides into your folds again and again. He’s never envied an inanimate object more. He licks his lips, imagining the taste of you on his tongue. You’re not sweet, he’s sure of that. There’s nothing sweet about you, the way you tease him, leaving your curtains open like this. Inviting him to watch. 

Tempting him to do more.

His cock strains against the fly of his jeans, and he drops a hand to his crotch to squeeze himself, biting back a moan. Desire overwhelms him, but he can’t risk jerking off out here. The absolute last thing in the fucking world that he needs right now is to get caught. That would fuck up his plans. That would destroy him.  

Your other hand plays with your breasts, pushing your babydoll up until one is exposed, thumb rolling over and around the nipple. Wonwoo pictures himself there, lying beside you, head bent to take your other nipple in his mouth. He’s not sure he’d be able to hold himself back and allow you to finish yourself off. His fingers twitch at the thought of taking the toy from you and fucking you with it, through orgasm after orgasm, until you’re both drenched in sweat and exhausted.

He shoves the fantasy aside for later and retrains his steady gaze on your motions. He grips himself again when you start to pump the toy in and out faster. Your hips rise to meet each thrust, and Wonwoo might ruin his boxers at the sight. Fuck, he can see through the zoom how soaked the insides of your thighs are. He palms his erection slowly, trying to give himself just the slightest bit of pleasure, not enough to tip it over, only enough to feel good, and that’s when you start to come. 

As he gawks open-mouthed into the lens, your pretty pussy swallows the tip of the toy one last time. Then your hand suddenly lets go, grabbing a fistful of sheets instead. You shudder and writhe, and Wonwoo nearly drops his camera as he loses control too, the wet warmth of his cum spreading in his pants. 

Doubled over on the fire escape and breathing hard, it takes him a moment to regain his composure. Once he’s recovered, he stops the recording, and lifts the camera to his eye again to take another look. You haven’t moved from your bed, but you did remove the toy, and now have one hand tracing lazy circles around your clit. He wonders if you’re going to go again. Some nights you seem insatiable, seeking your high with a fervor that gives him chills to recall.

He’ll make sure you get your fill, when it’s time. 

For now, he’ll keep on watching. 

He’s always been a patient man. 

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Protected » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky is always quick to protect you.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Protective!Bucky, brief mention of blood, guns, kissing, pet names

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF MADE BY ME! I know it’s not perfect, but I tried

Everything around you was chaotic. Bullets and debris were flying. The sounds of guns being fired. You lost track of how many times you’ve come close almost being shot. Luckily for you, you have fast reflexes and was able to move away before the bullets hit you. Bucky was watching you from a distance. He swore he aged 10 years every time he saw a bullet come close to you before you dodged it. He’s very protective of you and doesn’t like it when you’re hurt.

“Doll, please be careful.” Bucky says to you in his earpiece.

“I am being careful, Sarge.” You say, giving him a thumbs up.

He watched you dodge another bullet shortly after saying that. Bucky took a deep breath before going back to focusing on the mission. You aimed your gun at your target and shot at him, taking him down with ease. You continued to take people down with ease till someone tackled you from behind. You yelped when you hit the concrete, knocking your gun out of your hand. Bucky heard the sound of your yelp and looked over at you.

You grunted, trying to get the guy off of you. You looked in front of you, seeing that your gun was too far out of reach for you to grab and shoot the guy. You groaned loudly. That’s when you realized you have a knife in your thigh holster. You grabbed it and reached behind you, blindly trying to stab the guy, which you did on the first try, stabbing him in the side. The guy cried out in pain and got off of you, holding his now bloody side. You rolled over onto your back, trying to regroup yourself. You were about to stand up when you heard Yelena’s voice.

“Y/N, stay down!” Yelena shouts.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and looked in front of you, seeing a truck flying towards you. Your eyes went wide and your body froze. Your mind was telling you to get up and run, but your body wasn’t reacting. All you could do was cover your head and hope the truck didn’t squash you. That’s when you heard the sound of vibranium colliding with metal. You uncovered your head and looked up to see Bucky standing in front of you and the truck landing behind you. It didn’t take you long to realize that Bucky stopped the truck front hitting you with his vibranium arm. Bucky turned around and looked down at you. He crouched down in front of you and gave you a hug.

“Are you ok?” Bucky asks softly.

You were too in shock to answer him. Bucky unwrapped his arms from your body and checked you out for any injuries. You were fine, besides the cut you have on your forehead and the scrape you have on your knee.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” You asked him when you watched his facial expression change from a softened look to a worried look.

“You have a cut on your forehead and a scraped knee.” Bucky tells you.

You looked down at your knee, noticing a little bit of blood and your tactical pants ripped due to you scraping your knee. You assumed that was from when you got tackled to the ground not too long ago. You put a hand on your forehead, feeling some blood when you touched the cut. You took your hand away from your forehead and looked at your hand. Your eyes went wide when you seen the blood.

“I’m bleeding.” You say, beginning to panic.

“Hey, focus on me.” Bucky cupped your cheeks to get you to look at him. “You’re going to be fine, doll. I’m going to patch you up and you’ll be good as new.” He promises.

You stared in his blue eyes and nodded your head. Bucky picked you up bridal style and took you inside of a building to get you patched up. He sat you down on a chair and went to find a first aid kit, which he found with ease. When he came back, he pulled up a chair and sat down in front of you. He started with the scrape on your knee and put your leg across his lap.

“That’s going to sting.” You whimpered softly, watching him put some alcohol on a cotton ball.

“You can hold onto me if you want.” Bucky says.

You put one of your hands on his vibranium shoulder, preparing yourself for the stinging you’re about to feel on your knee. You hissed and winced when you felt the alcohol in the scrape, your nails digging in his black t-shirt. As Bucky was patching you up, realization hit you and your eyes went wide.

“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asks softly with concern in his voice.

“That truck could’ve crushed me.” You say, still in shock.

“But it didn’t.” He says.

“What if it did?” You asked, thinking the worst.

Your mind was making you think the worst. Bucky stopped patching you up momentarily to gently cup your cheeks, getting you to look in his blue eyes.

“Hey, no. Don’t go there.” Bucky coos softly. “I stopped the truck from hitting you. I kept you safe.” He says.

Bucky kissed your forehead softly before going back to patching you up. You couldn’t help but watch him.

“Something on your pretty little mind, doll?” Bucky asks, not looking up from your scraped knee.

You didn’t say anything. Bucky stopped what he was doing when you gently caressed his bearded cheek and looked up at you. Before either of you knew it, your lips were on his. He was caught by surprise, but kissed you back. It took you a few seconds to realize what you were doing and pulled your lips away from his.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” You quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean to do that.” You say, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“Why are you apologizing?” Bucky asks.

“Cause I kissed you.” You say.

You were caught by surprise when Bucky kissed you softly. You two were so into the kiss that you guys didn’t hear Yelena walk in the room.

“Are you- oh, sorry.” Yelena apologizes, accidentally walking in on you and Bucky kissing.

You and Bucky quickly pulled away from each other and looked at Yelena with the look of embarrassment on your faces.

“I was gonna ask if Y/N is ok, but you two are clearly busy. I’ll come back later.” She says before walking out of the room.

You and Bucky bursted out laughing. You leaned your forehead against his shoulder.

“That wasn’t our finest moment.” Bucky says.

“Agreed.” You say, leaning your forehead against his shoulder.

After the little awkward moment, Bucky went back to patching you up, which didn’t take too long.

“There you go.” Bucky smiles. “See, I told you’d be good as new after you’re patched up.” He says, lighting up the mood.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled up at him.

“You’re welcome, doll.” He says.

“Also, thank you for saving me from that truck almost hitting me.” You say.

“You don’t have to thank me, babydoll. I just want you to be protected.” He says softly, kissing your forehead, making you smile.

“If that person protecting me is you, I’ll be so protected.” You say, smiling up at him.

“I feel honored to be that person.” Bucky says, smiling back.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 The Three-Month Rule.

Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

Summary: The first time you decide to skip the celebration and go to bed early, and the first time Spencer decides to drink and open his heart to you after knowing you're leaving for three months.

Words: 5,5k (very long).

TW: fem!reader. spencer from the first seasons with glasses meow (my fav)+also he is a little drunk and lovesick puppy. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: These two are probably one of my favorites, this felt so warm to write and before you ask, yep, I've been thinking about a part two (maybe even more, who knows).

♡ Enjoy! ♡

I. Moonlight ⏾

The night after closing a case with a positive outcome often involved celebratory drinks and lengthy discussions about everyday topics. For you and your colleagues, it was a rare opportunity for relaxation. It was a way to temporarily distance yourselves from the challenging situations you had encountered. A great way to relieve stress.

Typically, you would choose to remain in the chair situated in the center of the bar and sip your drink at a leisurely pace, allowing it to last all night as you chatted and shared lighthearted banter about various topics, though you would never discuss work. You were always smiling, as if nothing unfortunate had ever happened. And you always looked beautiful, so distant and impossible to catch.

Spencer always looked at you, biting his tongue to keep from sputtering out all the words that struggled to come out every time his eyes fell on yours. He didn't even take a sip of the drinks that were offered to him. As a rule, he didn't drink alcohol at all, and he liked it even less when he knew it could affect how he saw you. So clearly. So real. As if you were the most amazing work of art he'd ever seen, even if he wasn't very familiar with art.

Tonight, sadly, everything was different.

He had not been able to indulge in that particular pleasure of admiring you because you had chosen to return to your room rather than stay with the rest of the team at the hotel bar. It was a lie to say that it had not caught his attention. You had always stayed, even for a glass of water. But now you were...away from everyone. And then he was too.

The time passed rather quickly after he had a couple of sips of different fruity cocktails, which he didn't think would have any effect. Spencer was very mistaken. He found himself walking to the elevator before he had a chance to think things through. It didn't take him long to reach your hotel room. His footsteps were soft but urgent enough to go to the outside of the door. He just wanted to see you, needed to see you, and was already anxious about the reason why he wasn't allowed to do it now.

His knuckles knocked softly on your door with a certain caution, as quietly as possible, but just loud enough for you to hear, as he did his best to keep everyone else from hearing it as well. His hair was slightly disheveled, his glasses were out of place, and the top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of his collarbones underneath.

“It's me. Reid.” He spoke just loud enough to be heard through the door, his voice slightly raspy but still as soft as ever. “Can I talk to you?”

The sound of his call echoed too loudly inside the empty hotel room. Everything in the place was silent, still, with no lights or air conditioning. The room was almost dark, except for the streaks of city lights filtering through the curtains that ran over the large windows. You had been lying quietly and staring at the ceiling for no more than a minute and thirty seconds, your eyes blank and fixed on the ceiling after waking up so suddenly.

You gradually rose to a seated position and proceeded to the door. Without hesitation, you opened it to find his eyes filled with concern.

“Is everything okay? Are you okay?” Your voice was a little hoarse, and your eyes were still adjusting to the bright light in the hallway.

“I'm fine,” he replied, barely looking at your appearance. Your hair was a mess, and you looked sleepy. He hadn't realized how late it was. “Oh, sorry, did I wake you?”

Yes, of course. It was two o'clock in the morning.

You couldn’t hide the frown of confusion. It was late—far too late for a casual check-in—and yet here he was, standing before you with an air of unease that was so unlike him. “Don’t worry. What’s up?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe, trying to mask your concern.

Thousands of ideas crossed your mind at that moment. Maybe there was a new case, some new clue that would have reopened the four-day investigation that had just ended a few hours ago, or who knows what. The job was as unpredictable as your coworkers.

“I…” Reid’s words faltered before he even began, as if his thoughts were racing far ahead of him. His eyes flitted between you and the hallway, but he couldn’t seem to find the courage to make sense of his feelings, let alone speak them aloud. The alcohol was doing little to help his clarity of thought. It had been a few small sips; he had convinced himself, but now it was doing its work on his resolve. He was here. And he couldn’t walk away. “I was just…that.”

That's when you noticed something: he seemed a little off-balance, with a subtle flush on his cheeks and a lingering smell of alcohol. “Are you under the influence of alcohol, Dr. Reid?”

Oh. Oh. Oh.

If he was surprised to see you so sleepy, he got even more surprised by that question and by how close you've gotten to him. His eyes slightly widened at the close proximity between you both, his mouth slightly agape, and his brain almost completely frozen for a moment, before he shook his head quickly as an attempt to pull himself together. He cleared his throat before speaking, his words stumbling and incoherent.

“What? No, no, I’m not drunk.” He stammered, shaking his head as though trying to convince himself. “I just took a sip.”

Just a sip, two or three, after mentally rereading that ridiculous article about love he had read in one of the magazines in the lobby. The one that made him think about you and how you made him feel, the same one that revolutionized his emotions and his rational part to the point that he drank out of the wrong glass all night long.

“I see.”

Your gaze seemed to linger on his disheveled hair, unbuttoned shirt, mismatched glasses, and the subtle hint of color in his cheeks. You arched an eyebrow in response and took a small step forward to examine his face more closely. This was a version of him you were not entirely familiar with because Spencer Reid wasn’t a drinker.

“You seem a little nervous and flushed. Are you sure you're not drunk?” You asked with concern, noticing his demeanor.

Reid had to suppress a shiver when you moved even closer, nearly reducing his entire nervous system to a puddle of goo. He was incredibly aware of your proximity, like his brain had suddenly become hyperfocused on your existence and every move you made.

“Ah…y-yes, I'm s-sure I’m not-” He stuttered the words, feeling like a complete mess of nerves.

Something feels wrong…different.

You stepped forward, your eyes narrowing in on him, still uncertain but unwilling to leave him in such an odd state. “You’re sweating,” you observed quietly. “Come in. Sit on the bed. I have water.”

Without giving him the chance to refuse, you turned and walked into the room, leaving the door open for him to follow. He didn't even have a chance to react before he found himself inside your room, feeling like he was in a whole different world. Even though he was familiar with the space, as his room was exactly the same, somehow yours felt more comfortable and cozy.

Spencer followed you to the bedside table, still feeling a bit shaky. The scent of your perfume and the quiet of the room made him a bit nervous, but before he could say anything, you offered him a glass.

“Thanks.” He said, taking the water and sitting on the edge of the bed.

As he sat down, the bed sagged slightly under his weight, and he felt a surge of nervousness. Being alone with you in your hotel room suddenly felt incredibly intimate, and he found himself taking small sips of water to keep himself grounded. The drink was refreshing, but it didn't do much to calm the pounding of his heart in his chest. He avoided looking at your figure standing in front of him, focusing instead on the glass in his hands, fidgeting and nervously bouncing his leg.

“Okay, I have to ask now. You showed up at my door out of nowhere, looking like you'd just run a marathon, flushed like a tomato, and reeking of alcohol to boot.” You said, sitting down on the bed next to him. “So what brings you exactly here?” Your voice seemed to ring in his ears.

You. Only you. Forever you.

“I, uh, I came here to...I came here to...talk. I wanted to talk.” He managed to stammer, his eyes fixed on the glass of water.

“To...talk?” You repeated, your voice bringing back his attention. He suddenly felt tongue-tied, like he forgot everything he wanted to say right then and there. “About what?”

You, again.

Reid fiddled nervously, bouncing his leg up and down, and he suddenly felt the urge to pull at his shirt, feeling his skin too warm and overheating under his clothes. Why did it suddenly feel so hot in there, in your hotel room? He found himself unable to maintain eye contact again, but this time he found bravery in the depths of his mind and he managed to speak.

“I, uh…” He paused for a moment, his words becoming shaky. “I just...I just wanted to talk about you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, not expecting that answer. But before you could say anything, Spencer spoke again as his thoughts burst out unfiltered.

“You’ve been quiet. I mean, since the case, and you left the bar early. You’ve been...different, sort of...I mean, not different-” His stammering was cut off by a frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. He was rambling, and he knew it; he could feel how warm he was under the heat of your gaze, but he couldn’t stop his words from coming out. “I heard about the job offer in New York that you've accepted.”

In that moment, you frowned, confused by the drama that perhaps the influence of alcohol in his system was bringing. The job offer was more of an internship than anything else, something temporary, just for three months, not a permanent change of scenery. But for some reason, hearing his words made your heart sink.

You hadn't really expected anyone on the team to be so affected by your leaving for a while; everyone seemed too wrapped up in their own business to wish you anything more than a good trip. After all, the world didn't stop spinning, and serial killers didn't stop killing because you weren't around. You didn't consider yourself that indispensable.

“I just, I don't know...” He mumbled, rubbing his face again, tired of his own thoughts. “I just...I feel like...I might miss you a lot.”

His eyes closed for a split second in fear, but then he looked at you and saw that you were smiling.

“You really drank quite a lot today.” Your tone was gentle as you carefully adjusted his glasses and took the empty glass from his hands. He hadn't even noticed that he had already finished all the water.

The feeling of your fingers on his glasses made his brain buzz for a moment, and he found himself wishing it would last for just a few seconds more. But then the glass was gone, and he was left there fidgeting with his hands.

“I know.” He muttered weakly, feeling the heat and alcohol taking a toll on him. His mind felt foggy, his thoughts swirling around and getting more tangled by the second. “But that’s besides the point.”

“Spencer, you’re being impulsive and emotional.” You said it bluntly, leaning forward slightly. “You were drinking earlier; you're all sweaty, and you're rambling. That's what alcohol does to you…you get overly reactive.”

His gaze shifted to the floor, his fingers gripping the edge of the bed as he let out a shaky breath. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe I am being impulsive and stupid, but…it doesn’t make it any less true.”

The weight of his words hung in the air between you. There was a vulnerability in his tone that caught you off guard, like he was peeling back layers you hadn’t seen before. You studied him for a moment—the disheveled hair, the flushed cheeks, the way his shoulders slumped slightly under some invisible weight. This wasn’t the person you were used to—the analytical, composed genius who always seemed to have an answer for everything. This was someone raw, someone caught between logic and emotion, struggling to make sense of it all.

“I’m sure you’re incapable of being stupid,” you offered lightly, your tone tinged with a gentle tease, hoping to pull him back from the edge of his spiraling thoughts.

His head lifted, and his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that took your breath away. “I think I love you,” he said, the words tumbling out in a single breath, unpolished but heavy with sincerity.

Your heart stopped for a beat, your breath catching in your throat. “Oh.”

His confession hung in the air, electrifying the space between you. For a moment, neither of you moved, the words settling like a weight in the room. Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, as if realizing the enormity of what he’d just said, but there was no taking it back now. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he awaited your response, his vulnerability laid bare.

“You can be stupid, then.” You say it in a kind of joking tone, trying to process.

Does he love you? The same person you were afraid to touch so much for fear of making him uncomfortable. The same one who looked at you funny when you tried to fall asleep on the jet after drinking too much tea and said incoherent things. The one who always questioned your words with his statistics and exact data. Does he really love you? Can he do it?

It was impossible. Completely impossible.

“You’re a little too drunk to be saying things like that now,” you added gently, a note of concern creeping into your voice.

Carefully, you stood up, moving closer to him, your heart softening as you saw the way his fingers gripped the bed. He looked like he was already treading on the edge of something, but you weren’t sure he was in the right state to navigate it.

His brows furrowed slightly, a conflicted look crossing his face. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, though his words slurred slightly, and his eyes seemed unfocused. He shifted slightly but his balance was off, and his hand wavered as he reached for the glass that had once held water, only to stop and let it fall back onto the bedside table.

“No, you’re not,” you said softly, taking a step closer and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. His warmth was comforting, but it only made you more aware of how fragile he seemed at that moment. “You’re exhausted, and you’ve had too much to drink. You need rest.”

He tried to look at you, his gaze unfocused and blurry. “I don’t want to sleep…not yet. I want to…I want to stay awake with you.” His voice faltered, as if the words were fighting to stay coherent. “Forever with you.”

Did you hear that right? He said…? Really?

“You’re not going to stay awake all night,” you say, talking firmly but kindly. You could see the drunkenness in his eyes, and you knew he needed more than just a glass of water or a few minutes to collect his thoughts. “And you’re staying here for sleep.”

His lips parted in confusion, but you didn't give him a chance to argue. You led him to the bed, supporting him as he swayed slightly. He was too drunk to protest in that moment. Then, you helped him lie down, adjusting the pillows behind him so that he was comfortable. And you also took the time to remove his glasses and shoes, placing them on the bedside table and the floor.

“I’m fine,” he murmured again, but this time it was barely audible, and his eyes were fluttering closed as he relaxed into the bed, his breath evening out. He was fighting sleep, but the weight of his exhaustion was too much for him to push back any longer.

After a brief period of reflection, you sit on the edge of the bed and observe him as he moves slightly. His face appears relaxed, and the tension from before seems to have dissipated. However, there is still a subtle vulnerability in his demeanor: open, unprotected, and exposed in a way you had never seen him before. This only serves to deepen your desire to care for him.

You gently reached over, tucking the covers around him and brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. “You’re too drunk to be making big decisions tonight, genius,” you whispered softly.

His eyelids fluttered open for a moment, his bleary eyes locking onto yours with a faint sense of clarity. “I didn’t…mean to make you uncomfortable,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “I care about you.”

A small smile appeared on your face, your heart aching as you brushed another strand of hair from his forehead. “I know,” you whispered.

His hand reached up weakly, grazing your wrist before falling back to the bed. He blinked a few times, his words coming slower now, as though the weight of sleep was already pulling him under. “I care about you so much,” he repeated, his voice quieter this time, as though he were fading away in the middle of his confession.

You let out a gentle sigh, your thumb brushing his knuckles in a soothing gesture. “I care about you too,” you said, your voice calm but filled with warmth, though you kept your tone soft to keep him relaxed. “But right now, you just need to rest. Tomorrow, we’ll talk about all of this, okay?”

Spencer nodded weakly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Okay...” He murmured, his breathing muffled even more as his body relaxed on the bed and his gaze rested on you, on every feature of your face. “I think you're very pretty, and not just physically by genetics...you're very, very pretty. I could look at you forever, even if, technically, forever doesn't exist for humans.”

At any moment, your heart would leap out of your chest, or you'd probably vomit butterflies. It was too much sweetness in a Spencer way.

You remained by his side, sitting on the edge, keeping watch over him for a few moments. It felt strange, being so close to him in this way. You hadn’t expected this moment, hadn’t expected his confession.

But for tonight, all you could do was let him rest and let him find peace in his sleep. You brushed one last strand of hair away from his face, then, with a soft sigh, you stood and pulled the blankets up around him.

The silence of the room enveloped you as you settled into bed, careful not to disturb him. You remained seated for a moment, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, his features softened by sleep. In the darkness, Spencer seemed different, more fragile, more human. His usual confidence in every word that came out of his mouth, the brilliant mind that made him so formidable, gave way to something more tender.

You cautiously stretched out your legs and leaned against the headboard. Sleep still seemed a long way off, even though the fatigue of the long case closed in the afternoon weighed heavily on your body. But your thoughts refused to calm down and leave you alone for a moment. His confession kept repeating in your mind, driving you and your heart crazy.

Not knowing what else to do, you let out a long, slow sigh, your fingers brushing the edge of the blanket wrapped around him. He stirred slightly, moving closer to your side as if subconsciously seeking your comfort and closeness. He tilted his head in your direction, a faint smile on his lips, and the sight brought a pang to your chest.

“What am I going to do about you, Spencer Reid?” You murmured to yourself, with a curious sensation in your chest.

You leaned your head back, staring at the ceiling as the questions began to tumble one after another. What if he hadn’t been drinking? Would he still have said those things? Did he even fully realize the gravity of what he’d shared, or was it just a moment of emotional release brought on by the late hour and the relief of a solved case?

And then there was your own reaction. The warmth in your chest, the protectiveness that surged when you saw him looking so vulnerable—it wasn’t new. You’d felt it before in smaller ways: a fleeting moment of connection during a case, a shared glance that lingered just a little too long. You’d always chalked it up to admiration or friendship, but now…

Now it felt like the beginning of a bridge you weren’t sure you were ready to cross.

Another sigh escaped you, and you tilted your head to glance at him again. His hand had slipped out from beneath the blanket, resting loosely against the mattress. Without thinking, you reached out and let your fingers brush against his, barely touching. His skin was warm, his presence grounding in a way you didn’t quite understand but didn’t want to question.

II. Sunlight ☀︎

The first thing you noticed when you woke was the soft warmth of sunlight spilling through the blinds, bathing the room in a quiet, golden glow. It was a still moment, the world outside almost silent, save for the faint hum of traffic far below. For a second, you weren’t sure where you were. The unfamiliar bed, the softness of the sheets, the absence of noise..it all felt distant, like a dream you couldn’t quite grasp.

But then you felt it, a slight weight on your arm. You turned your head slowly, your eyes softening as you took in the sight of Spencer still asleep beside you. His face was turned towards you, half-hidden by the pillow, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. His hand lay just a breath away from yours; his body curled slightly, seeking warmth and comfort. The usual lines of stress and guardedness that creased his features during the day were gone, replaced by a peace you rarely saw. He looked unguarded, almost childlike in his vulnerability, and it made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t explain.

For a moment, you just watched him, your mind replaying the events of the night before. Especially the way he’d reached for your hand, even in his half-conscious state, like it was instinctive and natural.

And now, here you were, lying next to him, watching him sleep like it was normal and meant to be.

You shifted your position slightly, being careful not to disturb him, and sat up, propping yourself up on your elbow. The room was silent, except for the faint hum of traffic. That stolen morning moment felt intimate to you, and you found yourself wondering how much Spencer would remember when he woke up.

Would you regret it? Would you want to go back and erase it all? Would he stop talking to you forever?

But then, it was almost as if he was meant to give you all those answers because he stirred. His hand moved, his breathing changed, and slowly but surely, his eyes opened. At first, Reid was dull and unfocused as he blinked in the morning light, feeling a sharp headache. Then, as he realized where he was, you saw his expression change: confusion, a flash of concern, and finally recognition.

“Morning,” you said softly, trying not to startle him.

He blinked again and frowned, feeling a twinge in his head. “Morning,” he replied, his voice groggy. He glanced around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, the tangled blankets, and then you.

You were sitting on the bed next to him—the first thing he saw when he woke up and the first person to greet him. It was just like the kind of dream he'd been having lately—only this time he wasn't asleep.

A brief silence fell as the pieces seemed to click into place in his mind. His lips parted slightly, his eyes widening just a fraction. “Wait,” he murmured, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Last night…”

You gave him a small, reassuring smile, though your heart was racing, unsure of what he might remember, or worse, what he might regret. “You remember?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady.

His hand came up to rub his forehead, trying to shake the lingering fog of sleep. “I think so,” he said slowly. “We finished the case. We went to the bar.” His voice faltered, and his eyes dropped to the bed, as though searching for something solid in the scattered blankets to steady him. “I came here and said…some things, didn’t I?” His words hung in the air, filled with hesitation and a growing sense of discomfort. His cheeks flush, and he quickly looked away from you, almost embarrassed.

You tilted your head, your smile softening. “You said a lot of things.”

Spencer’s cheeks deepened in color, his hand dragging down his face as if that could somehow shield him from the weight of the moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have…I didn’t mean to put you in that position.”

You frowned, leaning forward slightly. “You don’t have to apologize. Not for talking to me.”

His eyes flicked to yours, searching your face for any hint of reproach or discomfort, but all he found was warmth. Still, he hesitated, his fingers playing nervously with the edge of the blanket. “I was drunk, and that’s so embarrassing,” he murmured, his tone tinged with self-reproach. “I don’t even know if what I said came out right.”

“It came out right,” you assured him gently, reaching out to cover his fidgeting hand with yours. The touch stilled him, his wide, uncertain eyes locking onto yours. “And it was just the alcohol talking…I know, don’t worry.”

He stared at your hand covering his, his throat working as if trying to form the right words. He didn’t pull away; if anything, he seemed to steady himself in your touch, though his voice wavered when he finally spoke. “It wasn’t just the alcohol,” he said, his tone quiet but firm. “I don’t want you to think that it made me say something I didn’t mean. Everything I said was true.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the vulnerability in his eyes made the words catch in your throat. He held your gaze, his fingers unconsciously brushing against yours as though grounding himself in the moment.

“I’ve felt this way for a while,” he continued, his cheeks still faintly pink but his voice growing steadier with each word. “I didn’t know how to tell you. And then last night, I guess…I couldn’t hold it back anymore.”

His honesty was like a punch to the chest, leaving you breathless and unsure of how to respond. You hadn’t expected this level of candor, not so soon, and certainly not first thing in the morning. You pulled your hand back gently, needing space to think, though the warmth of his touch lingered like an echo.

He really meant every word.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice cracking. You bit your lip, searching for the right words. “I don't know what to say. It was all so sweet and nice to hear, but I'm not sure I'm ready to find out what this means, especially not with–”

“The distance,” he finished for you, his voice soft but resigned. He looked down, nodding slightly as though he’d anticipated this. “You’re leaving for New York soon.”

You exhaled slowly, relieved that he understood but also pained by the way his shoulders seemed to slump ever so slightly. “It’s just three months,” you said gently, though the words felt hollow.

“I know, since I found out I did the math, and it's three months and four days.” He pointed out, almost not noticing that your cheeks had flushed slightly. “What I need to know is if you...if you have feelings for me, as more than friends.”

“Yes, I do.”

At that moment, it seemed that after almost a year of hiding his heartbeat for your sake, he could finally let his heart beat as much as he wanted.

But then you talk again.

“But it’s not fair to either of us to make any big decisions now, when I have to leave soon. I don’t want to risk ruining what we already have if we…if something doesn’t work.”

He looked at you, his expression serious. “But what if it works well?” Reid asked, his voice barely above a whisper. There was no despair in his tone, only quiet hope. “What if it's so much better that we have between us now? Isn’t that worth the risk?”

His question settled between you, heavy and unanswerable in the moment. It wasn’t desperate or pleading—it was simply Spencer, laying his heart bare with a quiet hope that made your chest ache.

“I'm not sure,” you replied, your expression thoughtful. “Three months is a significant amount of time,” you added, striving to acknowledge his feelings while maintaining a degree of caution.

“I can wait if it's for you. I can.” He replied without hesitation.

The unwavering certainty in his voice and the calm patience he offered you were more than you expected. Perhaps even more than you thought you deserved.

“You shouldn’t have to wait for me,” you said softly, your gaze falling to the sheets. “It’s not fair to ask that of you.”

Spencer shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “You didn’t ask,” he replied gently. “This is my choice.”

“What if the distance changes things? What if we lose this…connection?” you asked, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice steady but kind. “Like I said, it’s not like I haven’t done the math before. Three months isn’t forever, and if what we feel is real, then it won’t fade.”

In that moment, it was like a light bulb went off in your head, and the perfect solution just came to you.

“Exactly.” You pointed out with a small smile. “You know the three-month rule?”

Never before had you seen Dr. Reid confused, denying knowledge of any subject. It was as if the alcohol of the night before had caused a circuit breaker in his brain, or else you had no explanation for having to explain something he didn't know, and you did.

“A few weeks ago, I was drinking coffee and overheard a woman at the next table talking about how the first three months between two persons are enough to indicate whether they have a future or not.” You began to explain quickly, feeling a bit strange at how the usual roles between you seemed to have been turned upside down. “You know, if they're going to make it as a couple.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he considered your words. “You mean…is like a trial period?” he asked, a hint of doubt in his voice.

You nodded, feeling a flicker of nervous energy coursing through your entire body. “Yes, that's exactly it. So we don't have to put a label on it right away or rush into it. But we could call, text, talk, maybe visit...just see how it feels. And when I officially come back, we'll know if it's something we really want to pursue.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes studying yours as though weighing the sincerity in your suggestion.

“Okay,” he said, his voice soft but resolve. “Three months. We’ll figure this out.”

Relief flooded you, though it was tempered by the uncertainty of what lay ahead. “Three months,” you repeated, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “And we’ll talk. Be honest. No expectations and the assurance that we can be friends again if we want.”

Spencer’s smile grew a fraction, and this time, when his hand reached for yours, it was deliberate. “Honesty,” he echoed, his thumb brushing lightly against your knuckles. “I can do that.”

For the first time that morning, the tension between you eased, replaced by a fragile but undeniable sense of hope. It wasn't a resolution, not quite, but it was a step forward, a promise to try. And for now, that was more than enough.

Because night before, you'd gone to bed early, thinking you didn't have much of a future at the BAU. But now you had Spencer with you in a way you'd never thought possible, and everything feels right.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗔𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗨𝗽 𝗮𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗠𝗮𝗸𝗻𝗮𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗣𝘁𝟐

Warnings: None

Maknaeline x Reader. Angst.

Pt1

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ᒍIᔕᑌᑎG

The hours after Jisung had walked away felt endless. The silence in the apartment was suffocating, filled with all the words you wanted to say but hadn’t. You replayed the moment in your head over and over, wishing you could take back your careless joke - wishing you had realized sooner how much Jisung had been hurting.

It was a only an hour later when you worked up the courage to knock on his bedroom door.

You and Jisung had always been so connected to each other you had never been angry with each other for more than an hour before one of you went to fix things. And this time you knew you had to be the initiate it.

There was no answer at first, and for a moment, you thought he might be asleep or just ignoring you. But then, you heard the softest sound - a sniffle, barely audible but enough to tell you that he was still awake, and still hurting.

You knocked again, more gently this time. “Jisung? Can I come in?”

A few seconds passed before you heard his quiet, broken voice. “It’s open.”

You pushed the door open slowly, stepping into the dimly lit room. Jisung propped up against the foot of his bed, his knees pulled up to his chest, and his face buried in his arms. His shoulders were shaking, and you immediately started crying as well.

Without saying a word, you sat down beside him, your hand resting gently on his back. You sniffled as well and at first he didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge you, but after a few long moments, he finally leaned into you, embracing you as he spoke, his voice thick with emotion.

“I hate feeling like this,” he cried, his face hidden in your hair. “I hate that no matter what I do, it feels like I’m never good enough at anything other than what people say I'm good at.”

You cried as well. “You are good enough, Jisung. More than good enough.” You sobbed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel that way. You are good enough baby."

He shook his head, his voice trembling. “Then why does it feel like no one takes me seriously? Like I’m just...there for comic relief or being cute?”

The pain in his voice was palpable, and you realized just how deeply your words had cut him. Jisung, who was always so full of life and energy, was crumbling under the weight of his own doubts, and you had unintentionally added to that burden.

“I’m so sorry,” you whined, your voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I was just trying to make you laugh, but I didn’t realize how much you were hurting.” You sniffed and choked on your sobs in a rather ugly manner.

He finally looked up at you then, his eyes red and swollen from crying- looking just as messy as you felt as he sniffed up his snot loudly. “It’s not just you,” he said. “It’s... everything. Everyone. I feel like I’m always falling short, no matter how hard I try.”

You wiped away your tears, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. It was wet with tears, and you saw the humor in Jisung's eyes when he saw how snotty your face was as well as his. You couldn't help but both break out laughing amidst the chaotic emotions.

“You’re not falling short, Jisung. You’re amazing at everything you do. You’re talented, hardworking, and you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel like that wasn’t enough. It is enough for me- matter of fact it's more than I deserve. You're not just there for comic relief of being cute. You are funny and you're the single most-cutest thing I have ever seen; but you are also the kindest soul, so smart, and sweet and gentle, and the best boyfriend. The best person to love.”

Jisung leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as a fresh tear slipped down his cheek.

“You’re not a joke,” you reassured firmly, your thumb brushing away his tears and snot. “You’re so much more than that. You’re kind, passionate, and you put your heart into everything you do. You deserve to be taken seriously, and I’m sorry I didn’t show you that earlier.”

He opened his eyes again, searching your face as if looking for the truth in your words. “Do you really think that?”

“I know that,” you whispered, your voice full of sincerity. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life reminding you if that’s what it takes.”

For a moment, Jisung didn’t say anything, but then, slowly, a small, fragile smile appeared on his lips. It wasn’t his usual playful grin, but it was a start - a sign that maybe, just maybe, the weight on his heart was starting to lift.

He leaned forward, his breath shaky but steadying. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For seeing me.”

“I’ll always see you, Jisung,” you whispered back, your hand gently running through his hair. “Always.”

The two of you sat there in the quiet of his room, the unspoken promises hanging in the air. Jisung sniffed and you guys looked at each other, his body relaxing against yours as the tension faded away.

"You look a mess." He commented, placing a closed eyed kiss on the corner of your lips and then nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

You smiled and laughed. "You're one to talk." You said, wiping your face.

"I want to cuddle." He said, smiling as you guys laid down with each other.

And as you held him, letting him tell you about everything under the sun in between kisses, you knew that while the doubts and insecurities he had might never fully disappear- as for most people- you would be there to help him through it. Because no matter what, Jisung wasn’t alone. And you would never let him be.

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ᖴEᒪI᙭

Four days passed since the argument, and the silence between you and Felix had been deafening. You hadn’t gone to work- your absence marked by the sudden wave of cold and flu symptoms that hit you not long after that terrible night. You had remembered it had been rather cold in his living room, and maybe this cold was payback for you hurting Felix but either way, you were grateful to have an excuse to hide from the world. The pain of what happened with Felix, however, refused to go away, and still ate at you visibly.

You had barely left your bed, bundled up in blankets with tissues and medicine scattered around your nightstand. Your phone was filled with missed calls and unread messages from concerned friends, but nothing from Felix. That was, until the fourth day. There was a soft knock on your front door, followed by another, more insistent knock when you didn't answer right away. With a groggy sigh, you slowly forced yourself to your feet, shuffling to the door and opening it just a crack, even if you didn't feel like it.

Felix stood there, looking hesitant, holding a plastic bag filled with soup containers, medicine, and tissues. He looked at you with wide eyes, taking in your messy hair, the red-tipped nose, and the dark circles under your eyes. You looked miserable, and his expression softened immediately.

“I was in a rush so I forgot the extra key- I heard you called off work.” he said gently, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “For four days. Are you okay?”

You swallowed, feeling your throat burn. "Just a cold," you mumbled, stepping back to let him in. You couldn't find it in yourself to tell him to leave, even though the ache in your chest was still raw. Seeing him made you want to burst into tears, even though you knew you were cause for the problem. Felix stepped inside, slipping off his shoes and closing the door behind him, the sound loud in the stillness of the apartment.

He set the bag down on your kitchen counter, then turned to you, his face filled with concern. "I thought you might need some soup or something,” he said, his voice gentle, like a caress. "So, I had Minho Hyung help me make some, he said to keep him updated and that he hopes you feel better. He helped me make your favorite cake too so we can eat it when you feel like it."

"Thank you," you said softly, your voice scratchy. You stood there, arms wrapped around yourself, unsure of what to say. You didn’t want to make things worse, but you also knew you couldn’t just pretend everything was fine.

Felix didn't seem to concerned about anything other than you though, and he gently grabbed you by the shoulders. "You should be in bed though, so go lay down while I fix all of this stuff up. Hm?" you noticed the way his gaze softened as he looked at you. “You look terrible.” He said it lightly, teasingly, but there was an edge of guilt in his tone.

You felt a lump rise in your throat, a spur of tears suddenly stinging your eyes. You didn’t want to cry- not now, not in front of him- but you couldn’t help it. The stress, the sickness, and the weight of what had happened between you and how Felix seemed to just let it go all crashed down at once, and before you could stop yourself, a sob escaped your lips.

Felix’s eyes widened in alarm. "Hey, hey, no," he said quickly, stepping forward and gently placing a hand on your shoulder. "You’re too sick to be crying like this, baby."

But you shook your head, your tears falling faster. "No," you choked out, your voice breaking. "I need to say this. I need you to know-" You paused, swallowing hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes even though it hurt. "I’m so sorry, Felix. I didn’t mean what I said that night. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re not enough or that you’re just…just this one thing. I love you for you, and I never wanted to make you doubt that. I just…I didn’t know how much you were struggling."

Felix’s expression crumbled, his own eyes filling with unshed tears as he listened to your broken apology. He moved closer, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. "Shh, don’t cry," he said softly, his voice shaking. "Please, you’re sick, and you’re going to make yourself feel worse-"

"No, I need you to hear this," you insisted, your voice hoarse but determined. You reached up, clutching his wrist as if afraid he might pull away. "I don’t care if you’re not always happy. I don’t need you to be sunshine all the time, Felix. I just need you. The real you. And I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you had to be anything else."

Felix let out a shaky breath, his thumb still caressing your cheek. He looked down, his forehead pressing gently against yours, and you felt the warmth of his breath on your skin. "I was scared," he admitted, his voice raw and vulnerable. "I was scared that if I wasn’t enough, if I wasn’t the person everyone expected me to be, then I’d lose everything. I didn’t mean to push you away, but I…I didn’t know how to deal with it."

You shook your head, your tears slowing as you looked into his eyes, feeling the honesty in his words. "You don’t have to be anything but yourself. I love you, and nothing will change that."

For a moment, there was only silence, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Then, Felix pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest, his fingers tangling in your knotted hair, brushing it out. You felt the relief wash over you as he buried his face in your neck, his breath hitching like he was holding back his own tears.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice muffled against your skin. "I’m so sorry for leaving that night, for not talking to you. I just… I just really didn’t know how to handle it."

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him just as tightly, your face pressed against the warmth of his shoulder. "We can handle it together,” you murmured, your voice soft and steady now. "I’m not going anywhere, Lix. I’m here. Always."

Felix pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes shining with tears, and he gave you a small, shaky smile. "I love you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than anything."

“I love you too,” you whispered back, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, lingering kiss that tasted of salt and unspoken promises. It was soft and tender, filled with all the words you couldn’t say, and when he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his smile real and warm this time.

"Lix...you're going to be sick now." You let out exasperatedly.

"Well, it was worth it because I missed you, love." He smiled. “Let’s get you back to bed, yeah?” he continued softly, wiping away the last of your tears with his thumb. “I brought soup, and you need to rest.”

You nodded, feeling the exhaustion settle back in now that the weight had been lifted. Felix led you back to your room, tucking you in with the blankets and bringing the soup to your bedside. He sat with you while you ate, his fingers gently playing with yours, his presence a comforting warmth.

And as you lay there, Felix’s hand in yours you knew that regardless of what insecurities he had, while he sometimes felt his world was dark- he'd always be the light in yours.

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ᔕEᑌᑎGᗰIᑎ

The silence in the room was suffocating, and you felt it wrap around you, squeezing tighter with every passing second after Seungmin left. You stood there, your chest tight, unsure of what to do or say. What just happened? You thought you understood, but you were so wrong. You wanted to fix things. You needed to fix things.

It wasn’t maybe even an hour before you heard the door creak back open. You turned, almost expecting him to not be there, but the figure standing in the doorway was Seungmin, looking smaller, his shoulders hunched. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by a vulnerability that made your heart ache for him. He was holding something small in his hand, but you couldn’t tell what it was.

"Seungmin," you immediately started, your voice shaky as you stepped toward him. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I never wanted to hurt you. I just…I didn’t know what to do. I wanted you to open up but I made things worse and I'm so sorry. I never want you to feel like I'm trying to hurt you. Because that's the last thing I want to do."

Seungmin didn’t respond immediately. He looked down at the ground, his thumb absently tracing the edges of the small box he was holding. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he let out a long sigh and finally spoke.

"I’m the one who should be apologizing, YN." he said quietly, still not meeting your eyes. "I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. But I… I’ve been struggling with this for a while now. I didn’t know how to talk about it, and I didn’t want to drag you into it."

You tilted your head, confused. "What do you mean? Struggling with what?"

Seungmin hesitated, his hand tightening around the box. He glanced up at you, then back down at the object in his hand. "Our anniversary is coming up...and...I’ve been thinking about proposing. And...it scared me. To the point I shut myself off from you..."

You blinked, processing the words. "Proposing? But…why?" You immediately started tearing up. "Shit...I thought you pulled away because you wanted to break up...I..." You let out a nervous giggle, as you fanned your face. "But...you're scared- why?"

He paused, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, his voice cracked ever so slightly. "Because… I didn’t know if you’d say yes. And that made me doubt everything I thought I knew about myself. I’ve always been the dependable one, the one people turn to…but I’ve never been the one people choose first. And I guess I was scared. Scared that you’d think I wasn’t enough, scared you’d see me as just… Seungmin. The guy who’s always there, but never the guy you truly want."

Your heart ached. You stepped closer to him, reaching out slowly as if he were fragile. "Seungmin…I…I never thought that. I never would. You were never my second choice. You've always and forever will be my first."

He looked up at you then, his eyes conflicted, his lip trembling the slightest amount. "I thought you’d be better off with someone else. Someone who…doesn’t have this baggage. Someone who’s not always so quiet and distant when they don't know how to deal with something. How am I supposed to be a good husband when I can't even deal with my own problems sometimes-"

You shook your head, reaching out and gently taking his hand, the one with the box in it. "You’re wrong. I’ve never felt that way. You don’t have to be someone else for me. I love you for who you are. And for all the problems that come with you. I don't need anything changed for me to want to be with you because I already love you."

Seungmin looked at you, his eyes softening just a little. "I’ve always been afraid of letting you see me as weak," he admitted quietly. "I thought you’d think less of me. That I wasn’t good enough. I was wrong...I guess."

You smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "Yes, you were Seungmin." You chuckled. "Thats a first- getting to tell you you're wrong."

You took a breath. "But that doesn't make me anymore right. I wasn't able to figure out when you were struggling. Maybe-"

"Aish! Jagiya! No! Stop." Seungmin shook his head ferociously. "Don't...my problems aren't yours to deal with-"

"But they are, MinMin." You urged quietly. "We're going to dedicate the rest of our lives to each other so our problems are going to be for both of us to solve together, okay? You don’t need to be perfect for me. You’re enough, always. And I’m sorry for ever making you feel like you weren’t. And for letting those insecurities root down in you. I love you Kim Seungmin."

There was a long pause before Seungmin took a deep breath and finally spoke again. "I love you, Y/N." He let his head fall onto your shoulder, as you pat his head.

His eyes fell to the box again, and with a small, tentative smile, he opened it, revealing a delicate ring inside. It was beautiful, simple yet elegant, just like him. Your breath caught in your throat.

"Seungmin…" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

He looked up at you, his expression vulnerable but hopeful. "I was going to ask you to marry me, on our anniversary but I don't want to wait anymore...besides you already said yes, technically. I mean you said we're dedicating are lives to each other." He explained as he slipped the ring on your finger.

"Of course, I want to be with you. You’re everything to me."

Seungmin’s eyes shone with happiness. "Well just for tradition will you marry me?"

Your heart fluttered as you nodded, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you grabbed his cheeks gently. "Yes, Seungmin. Yes."

He smiled and kissed you lips softly.

"Now," you said with a soft smile, "Can I give you my anniversary gift early? Since you've already given yours early?"

Seungmin smiled faintly, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it was genuine, reaching his eyes. "I’d love that."

You quickly grabbed the small gift bag from the coffee table and handed it to him. He opened it to find a framed photo of the two of you from the first time you had gone on a trip together. It was a moment of pure joy, frozen in time. Paired with it was a small leather bound journal, filled with notes you had written whenever you thought about him since your first anniversary. You fidgeted nervously.

"I know it’s not much," you said softly, "But it’s us. And I want to remember us, every moment."

Seungmin gazed at the photo, his expression softening. He looked up at you, his voice low and filled with affection, his eyes a little glassy. "It’s perfect. You're perfect."

The tension between you was gone now, replaced by a newfound understanding. You stepped into his arms, and he wrapped you in a warm embrace, holding you close.

"I’m sorry," you murmured again, this time with more certainty. "I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I promise I’ll do better."

"No more apologies Jagiya," Seungmin said, his voice full of tenderness. "We’ll figure this out, together. I believe that with all my soul. But for right now let's focus on us." He kissed your nose and then your hand on which the ring was place. "Let forever focus on us."

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ᒍEOᑎGIᑎ

For the next few days, the silence between you and Jeongin was suffocating. He had distanced himself, giving polite responses to your texts but never lingering long enough to have a real conversation if you saw him in person. It tore you apart to see him like this, to know that you had hurt him in a way you never intended.

The truth was, Jeongin’s unintended vulnerability was something you cherished. His soft heart, his kindness, his playful nature- those were the things that made you love him even more. You had taken them for granted, never realizing how much he felt the weight of the "maknae" label.

And you needed to make things right.

On the third night after the argument, you decided you couldn’t let another day go by without apologizing properly. You headed to the dorm he shared with Chan, clutching a small bag that contained his favorite snacks, a note you’d written, and something else that you hoped would show him just how much you cared for every bit of him.

When you arrived, Chan let you in, and you found Jeongin sitting alone in the living room, headphones on, staring blankly at his phone, the little pout you adored . He didn’t notice you until you called his name softly.

"Innie…"

He looked up, surprise- and what you thought might be relief flashing in his eyes, but his expression quickly closed off. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice flat and tired, but with a hint of something else.

You swallowed hard, feeling the nerves twist in your stomach. "Can we talk? Please?"

Jeongin hesitated, his gaze flickering to the door as if he was debating whether to make an escape. But after a moment, he sighed and nodded, pulling off his headphones and setting them aside. "Fine," he said quietly, though the guarded look in his eyes didn’t disappear.

You sat down next to him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body, close enough to inhale his scent, but careful not to touch him. "Jeongin, I’m so, so sorry," you began, your voice shaking with the weight of your regret. "What I said the other day…it was thoughtless and hurtful. I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t taken seriously or that you don’t work just as hard- no, harder -than everyone else."

He didn’t say anything, but his gaze softened just a little, a sign that he was listening.

"I love you, Innie," you continued, your words coming out in a rush. "I love everything about you, not just because you’re the youngest or because you’re cute. I love how strong you are, how you always manage to keep a smile even when things get tough. You work so hard, and I see it- every single day. I’m sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t."

His expression wavered, and you could see the struggle in his eyes. He wanted to believe you, but the wound you had unknowingly opened was still raw.

Reaching into the bag you’d brought, you pulled out the small box of snacks he loved, handing it to him as a peace offering. "I know this won’t fix everything," you said, your voice soft, "But I wanted to show you that I care. And…I made something for you."

Jeongin looked down at the snacks, his fingers brushing over the familiar packaging, with a miniature smile, but it was the second item you pulled out that made him freeze.

It was a photo album, small and simple, filled with pictures you had taken of him over the course of your relationship- moments he probably hadn’t even realized you’d captured. There were shots of him laughing, concentrating, dancing, and even the candid moments when he thought no one was watching. On the first page, you had written:

I see you, Jeongin. Every part of you.

"Jagiya..." He whined, tears welled up in his eyes as he flipped through the pages, his fingers trembling slightly. He stopped on a picture of him practicing late at night- a night where you had stopped by to make sure he was taking care of himself- a night where you had, evidently, take a picture of him exhaustion evident on his face but determination burning in his eyes. It was a photo that perfectly captured the weight he carried.

"You took this?" he asked, his voice cracking.

You nodded. "I see you, Innie. I always have. I just didn’t realize how much I had missed…until now. Maybe I was focusing on how perfect you are to me so much that I missed the parts of yourself I could have helped you love more...I'm sorry."

Jeongin’s face crumpled, and before you could react, he set the album down and pulled you into a tight embrace. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, his face buried in your shoulder. You could feel his body shaking, and you held him just as tightly, your own tears spilling over.

"I’m sorry," you whispered over and over into his hair, feeling the warmth of his breath against your neck. "I never want to hurt you like that again. I want to be the person who sees you for who you are, who supports you, and loves you without making you feel small."

Jeongin didn’t pull away, his grip on you tightening instead. “I was so scared,” his voice was muffled and thick with emotion. "I was scared you’d break up with me because I was being childish over this. And when I realized you loved me too much to do that, I was afraid you'd see the childishness in it and see that I just proved your point- I'm just a baby in the end aren't I?"

Your heart shattered at the raw vulnerability in his words. You pulled back just enough to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had gathered in his eyes. "Never, Jeongin. Never. You belong right here with me. And you're not childish. Not at all to me. We all struggle with expression sometimes." you said firmly. "I’m so proud of who you are- every part of you. Even the parts that need work."

A slow, shaky smile spread across his face, his dimples reappearing, and he let out a soft, relieved laugh. "I don’t deserve you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

"Yes, you do," you said, your voice gentle but unwavering. “You deserve everything, Innie. That's why your hyungs spoil you so much. Not because you're the youngest. But because you undoubtedly deserve all of it."

You saw the light return to his eyes, the tension easing from his shoulders. He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips- a kiss that spoke of forgiveness, of understanding, and of a love that went far beyond the roles you were expected to play.

When he pulled back, he looked down at the snacks and the album, his cheeks pink with a shy, genuine smile. "Thank you," he said softly, his fingers lacing with yours. "For seeing me…and for loving me."

"Always," you replied, squeezing his hand.

Jeongin looked at the photo album again, a small laugh escaping his lips. "You’re so cheesy, you know that?" he teased, his voice back to its usual playful tone, the spark of mischief dancing in his eyes.

"Yeah, well, you like cheesy," you shot back, nudging him playfully. "Ja- hana dul set- CHEESE!" You sung, earning a melodic laugh and dimpled smiled as he pulled you closer until you were nestled comfortably against his side, his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

"I guess I do," he admitted softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I guess I do."

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

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[mywritersmind]

DOOMED FOR ONE ANOTHER - LN4

summary : Forced to never forget. He loved her, she loved him. It seemed easy but the moment those words met the cool air, everything changed. They had the type of love that wasn’t in story books about romance, it was the type that was in horror stories.

listen up : crazy moody today ig. hope u like bc it’s actually interesting and deep for once. dual pov!!

word count : 2040

⋆｡‧˚⋆

The first time they met, he saw her sitting at the bar.

She was alone, in a cocktail dress with her legs crossed, sipping on a martini. There was a faux fur coat hanging over her chair. She wasn’t on her phone, or listening to music, she was just sitting with the world around her.

Lando Norris was well acquainted with the female species. He’s met pretty woman, he’s dated pretty women, he’s fucked pretty women.

She wasn’t just a pretty woman.

“I’m Lando.” She didn’t shake his hand, didn’t smile or giggle… she just nodded.

“I know who you are.” She brought the martini to her lips again and Lando felt his mouth open a bit, “Do you know who I am?”

He slipped into the seat next to her, “No. Should I?”

Then it happened, the corners of her perfectly lush lips tugged upward. “Nope.”

And thus started a beautiful friendship. Yes, I say friendship because neither of them expected to fall in love with each other. Even if everyone seemed to hope they would.

⋆༺

Her apartment was a mess like usual. I pushed open the door with two coffees in my hand, house keys, and the purse she made me bring all the way from Monaco to New York.

I managed to get to her room without stepping on any of her loose clothes, books, or instruments. She was lying on her bed, her head hanging off the side and her hands lazily strumming her guitar.

She was wearing a pink nightgown that scrunched up on her thighs, a faux fur coat, and headphones. Her head finally tilted back far enough to see me standing there, staring at her.

I used to worry about her a lot because of her reaction time and how she never realized I was staring. Yet I stopped thinking about it after it allowed me to watch her before we would hang out.

That sounds creepy, I know. But just like the first time I met her, I could get a read on her body language or emotions, I would look at her outfit and how much jewelry she would be wearing, I would just look at her for one quiet moment.

“Lan!” She screamed far too loud and stood up at lightning speed, hugging me. “My angel, you’re back!” She grabbed the coffee she knew was hers from my hands and spun around, hopping back onto her bed and sitting on her feet.

I pushed the clothes off her chair and sat on it, “Someone came up to me and asked if I was your friend today.”

I rolled my eyes and sipped my coffee, “One day, we’re going to be walking around and people will swarm around you and ask who the idiot next to you is.”

She sighed, sipping her coffee, “And I’d tell them that if they’re true fans, they’d know who my best friend is.” She leaned back on her pillows and stuffed animals.

“Right!” I let out a laugh, “You would definitely say I'm some freak following you.”

Her eyes got serious for a second, “I’d never pretend to not know you, Lando.”

I shook my head, “How’s the writing coming along?”

“If you’ve come here just to bug me about my music, then I will kick you back onto the streets.” She’s a musician.

I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t know her… but she had just put out her debut album and I had just officially become an F1 driver.

She claimed she wasn’t a fan of the sport, yet would text me non stop about ‘gossip’ she heard from her ‘credible’ sources. Her sources were F1 twitter.

She let me listen to her music, humming along to the songs without lyrics and singing without any instrument to the songs without background music.

I don’t remember when I fell in love with her. It wasn’t a specific time or place, I just sort of knew one day.

⋆༺

I always loved him in a suit.

I liked his hair and the way the curls just fit with something so neat and tailored to him. Lando looked bored, an expression I didn’t see on his face a lot when he was with me.

But that day and that banquet… it was so slow and I was so off my usual game. I had secrets and Lando could tell. I thought he was going to confront me about them when he brought me outside.

“Lan, there’s a speaker!” I whispered to him as he took my hand.

“When have you ever cared about shit like that? Come on.” His hand was cold, I remember that. I actually remember everything from that night.

We slipped out the back door and he started laughing. I didn’t know why, but I also didn’t ask a lot of questions.

The banquet was in a stuffy hall, but the back garden was beautiful and miles long. I laughed with him, hurrying down the steps as fast as I could in my heels.

He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. “I couldn’t breathe in there.” He runs a hand through his curls, tilting his head back so his Adam's apple is more pronounced and his eyes are looking to the sky.

“Wanna get out of here?” I asked because I was getting cold and could tell he needed a change of scenery.

That’s when I noticed a difference. The way he looked at me just then, it was like everything I had dreaded came true in one singular moment. “No.” He had said it quietly but I felt like he had a megaphone. “I need to talk to you.”

“Lando…” I said his full name that time because I wanted him to know that for once in my life, I was being serious. I was warning him.

“I love you.” He was breathless and I'll never forget the look on his face. It was almost as heartbreaking as the look he gave me five seconds later, when I didn’t respond.

I loved him, of course I had.

But I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready for a relationship or for him. I wasn’t ready for everything to change or for him to suddenly start kissing me instead of hugging.

I wasn’t ready to be loved.

“Please…” He was holding my hands now, “I can’t not love you. I know you love me too.” That made me feel nauseous.

How could he know?

I kept everything close to me and had never tried to kiss him, I never even joked about it!

“I can’t…” Is all I said before pulling my hands away.

His face turned sullen, his arms limp at his sides, “You don’t have to be scared.”

“I’m not!” I didn’t mean to say it as defensively as I did.

“Bullshit.” Lando never raised his voice at me, but he did then.

“You don’t get to tell me my feelings!” I stepped farther away, ignoring every instinct to get closer.

His eyes were piercing me, “Tell me you don’t then.”

I was shaking my head as he begged, “Tell me you don’t love me! Say it to my face.” I couldn’t say anything, and he knew me too well because of it. “Break my heart, then. Do it.”

“Lan…”

“Don’t ‘Lan’ me!” He stepped closer, his hands going to my arms again, “Fucking break me or never talk to me again! I can’t pretend I don’t love you and I know you can’t stay friends with me when you know that I do.”

His voice broke and my tears started. Lando Norris knew every part of me. He watched my facial expressions, my body language. He watched me get dressed and he watched me break a million guys' hearts.

He watched me loudly do what I love but that was always music, and never him.

That’s why I had to walk away. It’s why I couldn’t admit loving him. It’s why I cut all contact, It’s why I hated myself. It’s why I pretended I didn’t know him, even though he haunted everything in my life.

⋆༺

I love my friends. But I think I'd rather be anywhere but here right now.

Carlos forced me to come to his girlfriend's party. Rebecca is nice and all but as I watch Franco get surrounded by models and Charles whispering in Alexandra’s ear, I’m seriously regretting saying yes.

I’m in a suit and zoning out with champagne in my hand, leaning against the bar as the noise around me gets louder.

“Lando!” I already know it’s Carlos, glancing back to see him hurrying over to me, “Lando!”

“What?” I ask, tired and wishing I was more drunk.

“Rebecca has a girl for you!” my immediate instinct is to run but he slaps his hand onto my shoulder and grips it tightly, “Hey! You’ll love her! She’s a musician and very pretty!”

I groan, “Carlos, no.”

“Mate, come on! You never date and I think you’ll actually love her!” He’s right. I don’t date. I have sex, I hook up, I have benefits but no friends. “It’ll be good for you.” And for a second, I believe him.

Maybe it would be good for me. It’s been over a year since my heart was ripped apart and stomped on by a type b, adhd, singer.

“Just meet her.” He says and I hesitate before shrugging, “Yes! Oh, here they come!”

I stand up straight and sip my champagne, hoping the alcohol will hit me fast. The moment I turn, The moment Rebecca smiles and starts to speak, I can’t breathe.

“Lando this is-” I don’t need to keep listening to know. She’s right there. In front of me.

The girl who ripped my heart out is right there, wearing the same shoes she stomped on it with. I’m not prepared for this, for her. Her face tells me she feels the same way but is far more calm than I am.

When she holds out her hand for me to shake, I feel sick. I shake it, not saying anything. She looks the same… but different.

Her hair is longer and her makeup is done differently. She’s wearing barely any jewelry but I can smell her perfume and I just know it’s the same one I got for her at some corner stone in brooklyn.

“It’s really nice to meet you.” She sounds strong. She sounds like she’s lying, but maybe that’s because she is.

“I wish I could say the same about you.” No one else would be able to tell, but after years of examining her, I don’t miss the way her mouth quirks. I say it because I would never pretend to not know her, no matter how hard it was to make eye contact with her today.

I know Carlos is horrified, “Norris!”

But I don’t care.

For once, I didn’t see her coming. I didn’t get to have that moment of peace where I could revel in her.

I avoided her, mostly. We never ran in the same circle… except for now, I guess… but I saw friends of friends posting about her concerts or new music. I saw her on Dominic Fikes album and I saw her kissing his cheek two days after that.

I heard the rumors and the second that one of the guys called her pretty, I clocked out.

I never saw her in person though. I would be paranoid every time I was at a music festival or even saw someone wearing close to the same faux fur jackets she adored. But I haven’t seen her for over a year, until now.

Rebecca looks uncomfortable and Carlos looks straight up scared. I’m lucky that they get pulled away but I'm unlucky that she gets closer to me. She used to tease me the same way she’s looking at me now.

I expect her to say something profound, maybe even an apology. But then I remember who she is. That Cheshire-like smile greets her lips again as her thick lashes blink, “I’ve always loved you in a suit.”

[dorabellingham]

Both

warning: none

characters: jude x jobe x fem!reader

summary: when he introduces you to his family, but it seems like the younger brother doesn't have the expected reaction

request: yes

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a sunny Saturday in Birmingham, and the weather was perfect for the lunch Jude had been planning for weeks. He was eager, though he wouldn’t admit it, to officially introduce you to his family. Until now, they had only known you through a few stories and videos that he had shared with them with enthusiasm. Today would be different. Today they would meet the woman who had stolen his heart.

You were visibly nervous as you adjusted your simple but elegant dress in the rearview mirror.

—They’re going to like you, babe. —Jude said, squeezing your hand gently. —You’re amazing, Y/n. It can’t be any other way.

—I just… want to make a good impression.

You replied, your eyes betraying a hint of anxiety.

Jude smiled, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

—You’re going to be perfect, as always.

As soon as you arrived at the Bellingham house, you felt the warmth of the welcome. Denise was the first to wrap you in a tight hug.

—We finally met the girl Jude talks about so much!

She said, smiling warmly.

Mark, on the other hand, was more reserved, but kind. He shook your hand firmly, silently nodding his approval. You felt relief course through your veins.

Then Jobe came. At only 16, he seemed less at ease than the rest of the family. Tall and with the same unassuming smile as your boyfriend, he kept a slightly stiff posture as he greeted you.

—Hi, I'm Jobe. I've heard a lot about you!

He said, his voice slightly shaky.

You smiled, warm and spontaneous.

—I hope good things, Jobe!

The younger brother blushed instantly, looking away.

—Oh, yes, of course. Good things, lots of good things.

Jude watched the interaction closely, his smile fading slightly. He knew that look on his brother's face —it was the same one he used to give you in the first few months he'd known you.

During lunch, you quickly won over everyone at the table. You had funny stories and a light-hearted manner that charmed your in-laws. Even Jobe, who was usually more reserved, laughed at your jokes.

—And then Jude tried to cook for me once. —You said, laughing. —He even burned the water!

The table erupted in laughter, and Jude shook his head, feigning indignation.

—Okay, it was just once, and I was trying to impress.

—Well, it seems to have worked.

Denise commented, smiling at you approvingly.

Jobe, on the other hand, remained quieter, but his eyes were constantly on you. Every time you looked at him or asked him something directly, he would visibly blush, stumbling over his words to answer.

—So, Jobe, how are trainings going? Jude talks about you a lot.

You asked with genuine interest.

Jobe choked slightly on his water.

—Oh... they’re good. Well... intense, but it's... it's nice, you know?

Jude narrowed his eyes, watching the interaction carefully. When you leaned over to pick something up and accidentally brushed against your brother-in-law's arm, your younger brother's face turned red and that bothered the older Bellingham.

Later, while you were talking to Denise in the kitchen, Jude pulled Jobe out into the backyard.

—So, what's going on, huh?

Jude asked, crossing his arms.

—What do you mean?

He answered, trying to sound casual.

—You know exactly what I mean. The way you look at Y/n. —Jude stepped forward, his expression serious. —She's my girlfriend, Jobe.

The boy raised his hands in defense, his face still flushed.

—I... it's nothing, right? I just think she's... nice, that's all.

Jude narrowed his eyes, assessing his brother.

—I hope so. Because I love her, and I won’t let anyone, not even you, ruin that.

Jobe sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

—I wouldn’t do that, Jude. You know that. Just… relax, okay?

He finally nodded, but still kept a warning look on his face.

—Okay, just remember: Y/n is my girl.

Later, while Jude helped his mother clear the table, you found Jobe alone in the living room. He looked uncomfortable, fiddling with his phone as if he wanted to avoid eye contact.

—Jobe, is everything fine?

You asked, sitting down next to him.

He glanced at you quickly and then looked away.

—Yeah, sure, Y/n. It’s fine.

You smiled softly, touching his arm lightly.

—Look, I know Jude can be a little… protective sometimes. But he only does it because he cares.

He finally looked at you, his eyes revealing a mix of emotions.

—You’re amazing. Jude is lucky to have you.

You blushed slightly, surprised by his sincerity.

—Thank you, Jobe. That means a lot.

When Jude entered the room, he saw you smiling at Jobe and his brother looking at you with an admiration that was hard to ignore. He immediately approached, putting his arm around her waist.

—Everything okay here?

Jude asked, his tone casual, but his eyes fixed on his brother.

—Yeah. —He replied, standing up quickly. —I’m going to help mum in the kitchen.

When he left, you looked at Jude, confused.

—He’s acting weird, huh?

Jude sighed, squeezing your waist.

—He’s just… a little shy. Nothing to worry about, babe.

But deep down, Jude knew he would have to keep an eye on Jobe for a while. After all, his girl was irresistible – even to his younger brother.

[cherrycranes]

Claustrophobia (Edward Dillinger Jr. x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Edward Dillinger Jr x female reader Summary: What's worse than getting stuck in an elevator when you're claustrophobic? Being stuck in an elevator with your hot boss/work crush when you're claustrophobic! Word count: 5,141 Contents: Slight age gap (Reader is in her 20's, Edward is in his early 30's), only one use of Y/N, reader is claustrophobic, reader has a panic attack, virgin reader, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, pulling out, technically public sex. Edward asks for consent a lot. Author's notes: This is a collab with my dear @lauuren! She wrote the intro and the oral sex scene and I am in awe at her talent. I desperately want to spread the "stan Edward Dillinger Jr" agenda. I will not stop. There's a character playlist I made about him at the end of this fic. Please stan Edward Dillinger Jr, Lauren and I are all alone in this boat.

A quiet ding could be heard throughout an empty modern hallway of the ENCOM building, announcing that the elevator had just arrived at your floor. After both automatic doors had slid open, and a quiet sigh escaped your lips, your steps made their way inside the confined space of the machine.

Not only a second after, a loud confident stride joined you inside, just before the doors closed. You already knew who the person was just by the sound of his fine leather boots on the floor, and by his signature scent you, oh, so adored.

Your boss, Ed, or rather Mister Dillinger, as you usually called him, stood right next to you, fixing his navy bow-tie. You caught a glimpse of him with your peripheral vision and you felt your cheeks burning with heat. And not just them. The shameless sensation reached your pussy at record speed and you could feel the fabric of your crimson-colored panties getting slightly damp. Something that had been happening ever since you started working for him.

It was his nicely ironed dark blue suit, his silky-smooth vest, his glasses, or maybe the way he stood there paying attention to the screen of his iPad - it all sent shivers to all the right places. The places you never even knew you could feel something at.

“Evening, sir.” You chirped, hoping to catch his attention.

His head turned upwards from the tablet, his eyes finding your own. He fixed the glasses on the bridge of his nose with his fingers, and you were fighting all your inner demons to not stare at them.

“Ah, Y/N…” His sentence was interrupted by a weird rambling and a thud. The lights of the elevator flickered a few times, and the machine stopped.

You always felt kind of nauseous every time you stepped into that elevator. All your muscles tensed and your breathing got slightly shallow until you got off. But being stuck in such a horrible and confined space really did not help your claustrophobia. Quite the opposite… You felt panic starting to flood your mind, darkening it with fear.

“Oh, my God.” A last breath of tranquility escaped your lips when everything above and below you stopped dead on its tracks. And the brief flicker of the lights prevented it from coming back to you.

Your desperate fingers broke through a tremor and frantically pressed every button that looked like an emergency one. And then, when the elevator doors did not magically open, you rushed to double-press every single button to no avail. 

“Shit!” You exhaled, giving up and giving in into your worst fear. The metal around you sizzled and constricted like it burnt, your vision blurred and the pressure in your stomach made you feel so hollow yet so heavy. The tortuous beating of your heart took over your ears so loudly, you didn't catch your boss' voice. It wasn't until his hand touched your shoulder, that you could make out the words.

“Hey... Relax.... Relax.” Edward repeated, his voice so unfazed, like it wasn't his first time stuck in there. You didn't turn to face him, it would have mortified you twice as much. So you pressed your forehead against the wall, finding it colder than expected.

“Calm down, people will come for us. It won't take long, I promise... Just calm down, breathe with me…”

It was all a big, draining whirlwind you were trapped in, but somehow you found the will in you to follow him. Seven seconds of air filling your lungs, five of holding it there and six of exhaling it. Repeated several times until your feet were back on the ground and your forehead felt the wall warming up to your touch. 

“That's it... It's ok…” Edward repeated, his hand very gently touched your upper arm and slowly pulled you away from the useless button board and towards his chest. He must have set his Ipad down on the elevator floor during your panic, because he carefully guided you with both hands towards the center. You calmed down a little more, putting all your focus on the right amount of seconds for each breathing phase. With all the gentleness he had, he started to sit you both down, with you between his legs, your back against his chest and your ear close to his lips.

“Easy… That’s good… You’re ok… You’re going to be ok…” He kept soothing you, his hands rubbing comforting circles over your arms. Slowly but surely, it had an effect on you. And then it finally hit you: you had just had a panic attack. IN FRONT OF YOUR BOSS/WORK CRUSH. And while you dreaded thinking about it, you wished the elevator would just plummet down the building. 

“You know, this has happened to me two times before… The longest I’ve been here is about 15 minutes… They always notice if there’s something wrong with the elevators.” Edward’s warm voice snapped you out of your thoughts. At least a rescue was ensured. But that still didn’t fix your embarrassment… Oh, God must really like seeing you suffer. What must Mister Dillinger think of you now? He must think you’re pathetic and stupid and…

“So don’t worry, baby…. I’m here with you…” Baby… BABY. You almost didn’t believe it. And you would have told yourself it was an auditory illusion but then, his hand slowly started to move down your arms. His lips and stubble caressed your ear, giving you a good shiver. Edward kept whispering soft praises the more you relaxed and you felt in heaven.

“Good girl.” He murmured, and your cheeks burned. The cheeky little warmth your pussy always felt when he was near returned with renewed intensity now that you were in his arms, and now that you were “baby” and “good girl”. 

His left hand stopped tracing circles on your arm and traveled to your chest, tenderly lazing over the side of your breast. Not kneading it or even attempting to cup it, just lingering there in a silent plea for permission.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop…” His voice was soft against your ear, his hands completely stayed still over your beautiful body, expectant for a cue or a full on red light. You had found that his touch had a soothing effect on you. There was something so calming about his big hands, his warmth and, on top of all things, his understanding nature.

“Don’t stop…” More than a cue, this was a soft little plea. You needed to feel him all over you, his warmth washing away the fear and the constriction. 

On command, his hand on your breast kneaded the flesh so softly over your bra until he found your nipple, making you moan quietly.

“That’s it… Just relax… Let me take care of you…” His voice was huskier now. The combination of his stubble and his breath on your ear was a sensory experience drawn out straight from your fantasies. You obeyed, the last bits of tension in your body fading away the more he fondled your now hardened nipple.

As for Edward, he swallowed thickly, his cock was growing uncomfortably harder in his tight pants. A desperate need started to tug on his reason and he swiftly moved onto the next step when he noted your new calmness and your quiet moans. 

“Is this ok?” He whispered again, making your eyelashes flutter and your lips part when the hand that wasn’t massaging your breast reverently and very carefully traveled down your abdomen. You nodded and he smiled ever so slightly before taking in the shape of your thigh with his palm.

That morning when you picked out your outfit, you decided against a pair of pants for not matching with your new shoes, and God, you were glad you had. Because instead, you chose to wear a cute black skirt and stockings that Edward now palmed in admiration. 

“I’ve never told you… But you always look so stunning…” He confessed to the skin of your neck before planting a soft kiss there, getting a reaction out of your needier and needier body. Your underwear felt damp and your lower abdomen felt hotter, lonelier.

As if he had detected it, Edward rode up your skirt slowly at first, in his usual search for permission. When you nodded again, he continued, exposing the sheer fabric of your stockings and then, a view that made him smile, your crimson panties with a flirty lace trim. 

“Naughty little girl.” Edward couldn't contain himself. Your choice of underwear had been unintentional. All your panties that would have been more suitable for a black skirt were in the laundry and your choices were limited. But you pretended it was a deliberate seduction tactic. Perhaps part of a plan to cross your legs in front of him, or bend down to pick up something at the office so he could have an ‘accidental’ little peek. Whichever way, he was a fan. His thick fingers lowered them well enough to see your little bush, something that got a guttural sound out of him.

“Just how I like them.” He growled. His fingers attracted to your heat like a magnet to metal. He ran two digits across your needy cunt, rewarding you for being so wet for him with a lustful kiss. You moaned softly once more, your eyes closed as you let the feeling sink in. You spread your legs a bit further, only hearing his breaths, the smacking of your lips together and, of course, the sounds of your slick arousal.

"God... Hear that? Hear how wet you are? Is that all for me, babe?" He gently broke the kiss and his whisper teased the skin of your earlobe along with his stubble. His fingers slowly buried themselves into your tight cunt, this time spreading you open with a scissoring motion. His index and middle fingers stretched you once experimentally, making you gasp and whine and making him groan in a pleasant surprise.

"Oh, don't tell me you're still a virgin, baby? A pretty girl like you?" He teased, half in disbelief, half in arrogance. He was going to be your first then? That knowledge filled him with a greedy, possessive, perhaps a little old-fashioned pride. Nobody had touched you or had you before. You were going to be all his. He smirked like a devil and continued his motions to get you ready for his cock.

You moaned again, lost to the lust and willing to be his, when suddenly, a sound made you clam up and open your eyes widely. Two voices outside the elevator, loudly complaining that the machine was not working.

"Mister Dillinger..." You tried to warn him in a rising panic despite the coup d’état your pussy threw over your brain. Somebody had to be the voice of reason here. Remind you both that you were stuck in the elevator, that the people you just heard could hear you. And even if they didn’t,  they would still try to get the doors to slide open. And if they did, they would discover you two were fucking in there. The embarrassment made your cheeks even redder. Or maybe it was the feeling of his fingers that kept massaging your walls. It got hard to think, your cunt only got wetter and your mind cloudier. You moaned so softly, so needily, eliciting another groan from him.

"Ed. Just call me Ed." He completely ignored the voices and whispered into your neck, placing soft kisses that led him lower and lower. His hand left your heat for a moment, making you whine in protest.

"Ed..." You called out for him. Your anxiety at being caught dissolved in your dampness. The absence of his thick fingers in you pushing you over the edge of carefulness. You've wanted him for so long, your entire body begged for his touch. 

A third voice from the outside almost pulled you out of this renewed state. But as soon as you heard the relief in that voice, telling the other two about the other elevator that still worked, you relaxed. All voices disappeared away and all you could hear now was the heavy breathing of Ed, who never stopped kissing your neck and touching you. It was the first time in your life you were glad that people who could have rescued you didn’t even notice you were there. 

“That’s it, pretty girl… It’s ok.” Ed placed another slow, rewarding kiss on your lips, and you were lost on him again. Finally, there was no tension left that could block your true wants.

He noticed that right away. His hands that roamed slowly over your breasts and waist started to travel to your hips. 

“Are you ready?” You were not sure what he meant exactly, but you were ready for anything.

“Yes.” You replied and he wasted no time. He groaned softly as he manhandled you in a 180 turn, pinning you down against the elevator floor with your knees up.

"These have to go. You're so pretty to be all covered up." Edward charmed you while he fully took off your crimson panties, tossing them aside. Once they were off, he delighted in the sight of your wet cunt. So pretty and needy. It made his cock twitch in his pants and his tongue lick his lips. A low growl of approval, more than that, rumbled in his throat.

Your arousal successfully lured him in. Each hand took hold of one of your thighs to spread you open, his grip on the soft flesh firm but careful. He didn't want to scare you, he wanted you to feel revered and beautiful. Confident and determined. He wanted you to want him as much as he wanted you. So he looked into your eyes, his pupils behind his glasses were so dillated it made something in you flutter.

"Tell me what makes you feel good." He whispered, lost in your gaze, before lowering his mouth to your clit.

You quickly tried to figure out what you liked, but since you had never done anything like this before, you didn’t know what you preferred and what not. Of course you touched yourself on the loneliest of nights, however that was completely different.

“I…”

But the single-worded reply was everything you were able to say, before a loud gasp left your lips as his mouth connected with the already sensitive skin of your damp folds. The mere feather-like contact of his lips and stubble against you was enough to throw you off edge. 

Your reaction caused his smirk to be more prominent. He opened his mouth wider as his hot breath tickled you – a prediction of his drool-covered tongue licking a fat stripe down your wet cunt. He started moving it up and down at a slow but teasing pace, wanting to reach and explore every little space and corner of your arousal, wanting to taste and devour all of you. 

“Mmhh…” your quivering voice creating a pleasurable melody for his ears.

The tip of his nose was buried at your clit, right under the bushy cut, pressuring against the receptive spot. Ed was relishing at the fact the touch increased the shivering of your already tensed up muscles, bringing you close to release of the tight knot in your lower stomach.

Adding his lips to the skilled movements of his tongue, he started sucking your clit and folds. Your breathless moans heightened on the frequency and volume. The man was hungrily lapping out on you as if you were a fine five course meal and he was a starved animal. And God, saying he could not get enough was a light word. 

“Ed-” you whined his name. “Uhh, oh God!” 

A groan formed deep down in his chest rambled out of his throat, vibrating at your slick pussy. His hands gripped at the flesh of your hips and thighs tighter, not letting you shift even an inch away from him. Your juices mixed with his drool tasted as if heaven itself landed in his mouth. It was like an addictive drug possessing all his senses.

“Fuck, you taste divine.” he was able to quickly mutter before getting back to eating you out until you would be a trembling mess.

Your hips started bucking and squirming, and he knew you were close. And he couldn't wait for the sweet treat in the form of your orgasm. His tongue kept torturing your throbbing cunt. The heat of the moment and your wetness made his glasses foggy, but your boss did not care. There was no way for him to stop now.

The merciless movements of his mouth continued until the tight knot in your abdomen finally untied as you reached the peak of pure bliss, with your moans following along. He slurped on everything, what came out as if it was the most delicious dessert he had ever eaten. 

"That's it... You're ready for me, baby." Edward whispered. His index and middle fingers traced a sticky line across your pussy, proudly showing just how eager you were for his fat cock. You moaned softly at the touch, more than aware of what you wanted: him.

“Oh God, Ed, please…” You begged ever so softly, guided by the hand by your need. Ed found it so exquisite he didn’t know when his hand reached for your cheek to cup it so tenderly.

“‘Please’ what, baby? Tell me.” His voice was a warm whisper that kept you at ease, a complete contrast to the fuss between your thighs. And he knew it. He reveled in the look in your eyes, in the way your folds clenched the air. Your mere presence had him addicted already, and he still hadn't been inside you. Yet…

“Please… Fuck me…” Embarrassment be damned, you thought, your body begged and cried for him. You wanted him not just inside your thoughts every day, you needed him everywhere he could fit in. 

“Say it again.” He commanded firmly but still with gentleness towards you. He just wanted to hear something so filthy come out of your innocent lips again. His thumb traced a path of adoration on your cheek. His baby blues glimmered like a beacon with the lights of the elevator.

“Please, fuck me…” Another sweet whisper for his ears’ delight. He smiled in a mixture of tenderness and desire. He would not make you wait much longer, it would be torture for the two of you.

“As you wish, babe.” His voice was slightly hoarse already. He never once stopped looking at you as he unzipped his black pants and lowered them just enough. He would have wished he could undress completely. Have your soft skin bare against him so every inch of his being could memorize the feeling of you. But your circumstances were not ideal. He still held out hope for a rescue. And if the elevator doors slid open mid-fuck for a bunch of concerned ENCOM employees to see, he would at least appreciate to still be mostly clothed.

Lucky for you, the elevator was still stuck, and Ed was free to release his hard cock from the confines of his dark blue Calvin Kleins. 

He let out a hoarse sigh, and you gasped softly. You had seen penises before (your reaction to seeing his made you feel like a sheltered Victorian girl), but you had never seen one that was this close and erect for you. 

You swallowed thickly at the sight. He was not pornographically big, but ‘small’ was not a term you would use to describe it. It was a perfectly fine cock with a pink mushroom tip that would have made you smile had you not been a little nervous. You could barely tell from the confines of his underwear, but it seemed like he was well groomed down there. He did look like he took good care of himself in general. This only made you a little self conscious as you remembered that your own little bush was on display. Not that he seemed to mind. You had to remind yourself that he had just gotten back from gladly eating you out.

With an immediate drive, Ed used the remains of your wetness on his fingers to lube himself up as much as he could, just so he could give his cock a few pumps that made his eyes close for a moment and his eyebrows furrow. He was so ready for you it could drive him insane. And you, despite the nerves, could feel the neediest parts of your mind and body luring him in.

It worked. Ed crawled towards you, his body caging you in. You thanked the architects and designers of this elevator for making it wide enough for missionary. Had it not been you would have probably had to lose your virginity against the wall. Or, if Edward wanted to be nice and considerate to you, in an awkward kneeling missionary position that, you figured, would work better on a bed. Fuck his knees, he would have done it even if it hurt. But lucky for his 30-something-year-old patellae and ligaments, this elevator had space. God bless ENCOM.

“It's ok… Relax and tell me if you ever want to stop.” He whispered. Once again, his eyes focused on yours, on your face. Studying every micro-expression in search for any hesitation, discomfort or a single trace of your previous panic. He only found understandable nervousness and also a gleam of desire that made him warmer. Gone was his usual cockiness for the time being. He was going to be the gentlest man in the world for you.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he shifted closer towards you. A sweet gasp resonated when you felt the tip of his cock poking at your slick entrance. You nodded, and your hands reached up to feel his back. He groaned in pleasure when he started to push inside you, finding his brand new addiction.

“Fuck… You're so tight.” He uttered, completely taken by the feeling of you. His thick eyelashes fluttered and he licked his lower lip in automatic. The tip easily slided in. 

You whimpered and furrowed your brow, it was hurting much less than what you had always expected, but it was still something to get used to. 

He buried himself to the hilt, groaning and panting. The veins of his cock pumping viciously, making it twitch a little. To relax you, he took your mouth in a gentle kiss, nothing too demanding to balance out the arduous work he made your small pussy do. You moaned gently into his mouth, your hands felt him up over his vest. On your own, you put more passion into the kiss, and when your cunt throbbed around him and he was able to slide a little bit more inside you, he knew you were ready.

Carefully, he thrusted in and you moaned. He moved with you, setting up a nice and easy rhythm that was just perfect for you. It all felt so slick, so hot. He was fully lost. Pride swelling up his chest at the fact that he had just popped your cherry, trying to interfere with the gentleman he was being with you. It could be so easy to let go of his sweetness. It was not every day when he had sex with somebody as innocent as you. In fact, it was the first time he was with somebody inexperienced. But no, he was going to remain gentle. There would be other occasions for the roughness.

Soon enough, the elevator filled with your moans and his low grunts, along with the sounds of your bodies colliding. He was in heaven. Your body, your voice, your lips, your tightness. You were an obsession that was going to haunt him and his dreams for evermore. 

And you, so needy and delicious, were almost incredulous to the fact that you were living out your recurring daydream scenario. All the nights you felt desire taking over you would stroke your clit and imagine your fingers belonged to your unreachable boss. Daring to dream that this man would ever do that to you. You moaned again when his actual fingers snaked between your thrusting bodies to draw sweet circles around your clit. Reminding you that this was very much real.

“That’s good. You’re doing so good.” He praised with his voice husky, and your pussy throbbed around him. He took it as a sign, going a little faster on you. With both hips and fingers.

He groaned wholeheartedly, sending electricity through you with the circles on your clit. Your pussy clenched around him like a vice, and it was driving him absolutely insane.

“God, baby. I’m gonna fill you up so good.” He whispered absentmindedly, reason unavailable from his pleasure and the feeling of you. In his remaining thoughts, he saw a near future where you walked the ENCOM halls with his cum dripping down your inner thighs. But you, much more aware of the consequences since they would mostly affect you, snapped out of your own haze.

"Wait... Fill?" You asked. Your old friend Anxiety paying you a little visit once more.

"Oh… Are you on birth control?" Ed managed to formulate once he took notice that his fantasies couldn’t always coexist with reality. His labored breath seeped through each syllable. His hips never once stopped moving. A ticking time bomb.

"No..." You admitted. Worry clawing its way out of your arousal-clouded mind. But even then, your cunt had a life of its own. Throbbing all around him in an act of rebellion, drawing a moan out of you and a low groan out of Ed. You saw the pale blue of his iris roll back a little in between fluttering eyelashes before he fought back for control over himself.

"Fuck... Can't risk it... I'm pulling out, ok?" He struggled to talk as his slow thrusts faltered a little. All he needed now was your consent to pound you into the elevator floor and pull out before it was too late. God help him.

You nodded eagerly, holding onto his back and the fabric of his vest. Once he saw you, he went ruthless with you. 

“Shit… Shit!” He moaned, his pace grew desperately faster. It was a race to see what would come faster: a rescue, or him.

Your moans became mantras with Ed’s faster pace. Your toes started to curl inside your shoes and your nails wished they were sinking on his skin and not his clothes. That was the last coherent thought you had for the time being as his cock hit your sweet spot right in the middle. You howled, Ed got the hint. He managed to hold your hip with one hand to keep you there, trapped between the strong pumps and the waves of pleasure this sent through you.

“Ed!” You cried out, unable to handle this for much longer. He huffed in response, attacking your cunt with another series of deep thrusts that made you whine.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me.” His word was your command, it seemed. Fact is, you didn’t need much longer to be sent over the edge. Your back arched, making your clothed breasts press against his chest, to which he moaned. The last sound you heard before your scream of pleasure. 

Your wet, throbbing, creamy pussy sent the biggest, most wanted orgasm it could have ever given you, all over your nervous system. Making you milk his cock in desperation. He didn’t last a few more seconds upon feeling that all around him.

He thrusted one last, faltering time before painfully detaching himself from your addictive cunt. Quickly, he grabbed the first thing he found: your crimson panties, and clutched them around the head of his penis, whimpering when he used them to contain his spurting cum and not make a mess out of this elevator, or worse, of you. 

You watched the scene unfold. Ed opened his mouth in what it seemed like the most pleasurable yawn of his life and shut his beautiful eyes when he came. His jaw trembled for a moment and he made an attractive sound before the last drop of semen coated your panties. He panted there for a moment, holding his covered cock until he had the stamina to wipe off his tip, half-assedly fold your panties, leave them on the elevator floor and, finally, rest himself on top of you, fully satisfied.

You struggled to catch your breath with the remainder of his weight on you. You could have stayed right there, committing the post orgasmic feeling to memory so you always carried it with you. But a flicker of the elevator lights and a sudden movement dragged you out of the little death and sat you both up. For a moment you feared the worst case scenario.

“What’s-” You didn’t even formulate your question properly when the familiar movement of an elevator going up as if nothing had happened made your already racing heart jump. 

“Oh, shit… It’s working again!…” Edward deciphered with relief, pointing towards the digital numbers on the elevator screen that counted the floor numbers. In your own relief and your gratefulness your eyes grew wide when you remembered the state you were both in.

“Shit!” You whispered, gently pushing him off of you in desperation to get proper again. He got the hint immediately and stood up with the help of the elevator wall. The hand that had been inside you took yours and he lifted you back on your feet.

It all became a blur of clothes being straightened up; thigh high socks, blouse, his zipper. When you looked around for your panties, you only saw him shamelessly shoving something crimson down his pocket and looking at you with a cocky grin.

"Can't let you go out there with filthy panties, babe." Edward explained so nonchalantly he almost convinced you. But you didn't have time to disagree and protest as the elevator stopped on the floor you had initially wanted to go to, and so, before the doors slid open, you unrolled your skirt in a swift motion and prayed that nobody would notice.

"See you." The cocky bastard picked his IPad from the floor and stepped out into the hallway, fixing his glasses before turning to look back at you. It was then, with his vision clear again, he noticed something in the upper back corner of the elevator that had been there all along, too hidden for lustful eyes that only looked into each other and never around: a security camera pointing towards the middle of the metallic floor.

As promised, here is the Ed Dillinger Jr playlist. It has a LOT of Daft Punk cause I headcanon that he's a big fan. Plus some songs I think fit him lyrically or just for the vibes.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Blue Magic

How I imagine the lads men (pre-relationship) react to you verbally enjoying them gently greasing your scalp. A/N: This one is specifically for my black girls and anyone with thick hair who understands what it's like to have to grease your scalp. Also for those who understand what it was like growing up with your momma and aunties brushing your neck, ears, forehead, and inner most thoughts. Getting popped with the comb for moving too much and the dread of knowing they’re about to pull out that hot comb. [Requested by: Anon]

Summary: He was always curious when you would turn down plans because you needed to wash your hair. He never understood why you had Wash Days instead of just a quick wash while you're showering. Since you had a crush on him you took the time to explain how your hair is different from his and how there's no such thing as a quick wash while showering for you. You decided to let him see what all goes into your Wash Days. Now here you were sitting crisscross on the floor in front of your full length mirror surrounded by all your hair tools. You just finished blow drying your hair in four sections and it was a relief to drop your arms and relax them for a while. You hung your head knowing that you had one last step to do before you could lay down.

“Do you need some help?”

Zayne

Zayne would be so meticulous with his hands as if he were actually doing surgery on your hair. He would be so gentle gliding the rat tail comb through your roots and gently spreading the grease on your scalp and slightly massaging as he went. “I’ve never had someone be this gentle with my scalp” You couldn’t help, but sigh however your sighs seemed to come out as soft whimpers. “Right there, scratch right there” he did exactly as you said and felt his ears getting hot in the process. Hearing you moan and whimper out soft “That feels so good” and “wait wait massage right there” followed by the most sultry sound he’s ever heard come out of you.

Nearly halfway through he's standing at attention. His nerves are on edge and he doesn't want you to see him like this. "I’m sorry, but I have to head home I have an early out-patient to attend to in the morning" You turn suddenly making him jump. "We're only half done" Your words came out more whiney than you intended.

You’re a little confused at his sudden need to leave, but you nod and stand to walk him to the door. "I'll make it up to you. Good Night." You don’t miss the very obvious bulge in his pants as he quickly grabs his coat and slips out your front door.

Rafayel

Rafayel is unintentionally rough as hell when he starts parting your hair. “Ow! why are you tugging so hard?!” You smack his hands away opting to do it yourself, but he begs to try again and you give in to those big puppy dog eyes he has. “Be gentle!”

Second time around he’s so gentle it almost feels like a lovers touch as he massages the section of your hair before going through with the rat tail comb like you showed him. You can’t help the noises that escape out of you as he smears just the right amount of grease on your scalp. “Are you always this vocal during this process?” He asks in almost a whisper. You try to turn to look at him, but he quickly snaps your head back towards the mirror, hiding his face behind your head. “It feels good when someone else does it” Another sigh leaves you as he keeps going “Please don’t stop” Once he reaches the last section you end up leaning slightly back into him and thats when you feel something poking your lower back.

Y/N: Raf are you…..are you turned on? Rafayel: You’re the one moaning my name while im doing this! Y/N: So it’s my fault? Rafayel: YES Y/N: pokes it Rafayel: do that again and im calling the authorities

He quickly excused himself out of the room while you cleaned up your mess of hair products.

Xavier

Xavier is hanging on by a single worn thread while he’s greasing your scalp. He can barely make it through the first section before he’s already nearly panting listening to you moan “Thank you Xavier” Hearing his name on your lips like that had him near feral. “You’re welcome” He whispered in a raspy tone. You feel him constantly adjusting his position and clearing his throat while he slowly works his way through the next section of hair. “Right there rub right there” You whimper and he inhales deeply as he does as you say. “Right here?” His voice is low and gravelly it actually sends tingles through your body.

Xavier literally can’t take it. His composure was slipping the minute you sighed his name. He managed you finish the job only to turn and tilt your head back to look in your eyes. The tension was always thick between you two. His gaze bounced from your eyes to your lips and you melted when he whispered “Can I kiss you?”

Sylus

Sylus is outing you right then and there he don’t care. The minute you whimper from his fingers gliding across your scalp he’s smirking. He’s so gentle while he does it you almost forget this is a Mafia Don that you have greasing your scalp in the middle of the night. “People would get the wrong idea if they could hear you now” He teased in that sultry voice of his. You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you that quickly dissipated the second he started massaging your scalp again. “It just feels so good” You whimper again while he slowly works his way through your hair. “I can tell”

He would be able to hold his composure throughout the entire process and by the time he’s done you can finally think clearly. You quickly slip your bonnet on and turn to face him thats when you notice his red cheeks and ears. “You’re never going to do this for me again will you?” You see the corner of his mouth quirk upwards.

He’s enjoying this.

“I don’t mind making you moan again” You shove his shoulder and he just chuckles as you pound your fist into his chest. “You owe me a scalp massage now sweetie”

[keferon]

I’m done. Full story below:D

Tw descriptions of blood and gore

"Be careful with that mech. Don't let it kill you."

First Aid frowns

"I thought pilots were supposed to do the killing, not mechs. Judge not the spear, but the man who threw it, and all that."

Ambulon laughs as he adjusts his cap and claps his hands together nervously

"You're new here, aren't you? I kept thinking someone else would tell you..."

He puts his hands in his pockets.

"...We think this mech is possessed. The superiors don't approve of that kind of talk, and there's no way I can explain it to you scientifically. The engineering department has been trying to find an explanation for a long time, but... uh..."

First Aid leans forward curiously. He had always been interested in gossip, no matter how realistic it sounded.

"But?"

Ambulon sighs

"A long time ago, before you, there was a pilot working here…Vortex. Medics say he was brought into the program as a child and raised as a soldier. Crazy psycho, the whole department hated him."

….

"But he was good at what he did, you know. One of the best. Hated his superiors and seemingly everything alive, but on the battlefield he was unmatched."

Ambulon hesitates and looks away.

"He died. I'm not sure why, but it wasn't pretty. The cockpit took a long time to clean up, everything was covered in blood and...well..."

First Aid waits patiently.

"...since then, his Mech has had over a hundred pilots."

That's...a hell of a lot even by the standards of the mecha program....

"We don't know why. Anyone who gets in that cockpit has to be pulled out piece by piece. It's like the machine is avenging the death of its pilot."

Ambulon shrugged uncomfortably

"What I'm trying to say is, be careful. Don't touch the controls, don't get in the seat. And don't even think about turning it on. Any part of it. If it's dark inside, bring a flashlight."

First Aid feels the skepticism rising in his mind

"You sound very superstitious..."

Ambulon puts his hands on First Aid’s shoulders.

"Last week one of ours was doing some cleaning in there and turned on the electricity in the cockpit to use the ventilation system. The damn thing slammed shut on its own, jamming his leg into the windshield. He just turned on the ventilation! Please, First Aid. Promise me you won't touch anything."

That still sounds like something out of the mysticism category. Or a technical malfunction. One idiot who didn't figure out the buttons and paid for it.

First Aid bends over for a bucket and brushes. He unfortunately doesn't have all the time in the world to listen to creepy stories.

"Okay, I heard you. Don't touch anything, don't turn anything on. But I still think you're superstitious."

Ambulon sighs in relief.

"You'll see. You'll see for yourself and you'll know what I mean."

"I don't think so."

_____—————_____

First Aid sees.

First Aid looks.

And the more he looks, the more he realizes.

It's brown bloodstains. But not the ones First Aid was just sent to clean up. No.

These are old, really old stains. In the seams between the metal plates, in the narrow gaps between the components, in the ventilation grill and inside the hinges. All places that are very hard to reach with a brush and cleaner.

There was blood in this cockpit, then it was cleaned up, but not all of it. They left some in the crevices and tight corners, figuring it was enough to keep it looking decent.

Then it happened again.

Dozens and dozens of times.

Enough so that the disgusting dark layers had to be chipped off rather than washed away.

First Aid runs his finger along the bottom, hard-to-reach side of the console. A disgusting stain remains on his glove. He wonders what kind of death you had to die for your remains to leave stains THAT far inside the cockpit.

There are scratches everywhere from hard brushes and ugly pale stains from using strong cleaners.

It smells like death and solvent in here.

The cockpit of this mech resembles a morgue.

The edge of the retractable visor has barely visible brown streaks just about on level with where each person would be required to pass if they were to enter the cockpit. If you squint, you can see that the stripes are layered on top of each other, some older than others.

This mechanism is not just faulty.

This mechanism destroys its pilots often enough for it to imprint on it's surface. How many people have been killed when that shell was slaming shut, slicing their spines in half? Based on the color of the stains First Aid can guess at least five.

There are a lot of ugly scratches around the emergency eject button. There's also a paper stamped nearby that says the mechanism has passed all the necessary safety tests and inspections. So at least within the test sites it works perfectly….. but every pilot sitting here seems to be desperately struggling..

First Aid suddenly feels a rush of exploratory interest and climbs down to check out the emergency release mechanism. On mechs whose pilots have ejected, this mechanism always gets exposed to the outside environment and inevitably has to be cleaned of soot, dirt, or alien remains.

Considering how dirty this mech is, the hinges there must be caked in filth.

He carefully pulls aside the panel and shines the flashlight inside and

The ejection mechanism is covered in dust.

But that can't be right! No pilot is good enough to always finish a mission intact. Especially when you consider how many pilots have gone through that mech! He doesn't know for sure, but he'd bet half of them were fresh out of the academy...

The flashlight in his hand begins to shake faintly as the realization comes to him.

Perfectly passed safety tests.

An ugly smashed and scratched emergency eject button.

And the mechanism that hasn't moved once since it was confirmed to be perfectly functional.

A metal monster chewing through its pilots one by one.

First Aid puts the panel back in place with unsteady hands and looks around the cockpit, suddenly keenly aware of being watched, even though the power is off and the cameras are physically inoperable.

And yet…

"What the hell…..”

_____________________

When months later, First Aid holds the order for his enlistment into the pilot staff, the first thing he thinks about is that fucking button.

When they take his measurements, give him a new suit and explain safety procedures. When they pat him sympathetically on the shoulder and wish him luck. When everyone he knows acts like they're seeing him go on his last ride.

He sits in the pilot's seat and he feels his blood run cold. He folds his hands in his lap so he won't be tempted by the buttons and screens. He closes his eyes and sighs deeply.

This is the first time he's come into an already pre-cleaned cockpit, but he knows it's an illusion. He knows where to look, he's examined every seam and hinge a hundred times. No matter how clean these walls are. There's nothing in this little bubble of darkness that hasn't been touched by death.

He opens his eyes and involuntarily looks at the button again.

A broken piece of fingernail is sticking out from under it.

He pulls it out, tucks it into his pocket, and folds his hands in his lap again.

There's a smell of death and cleaner all around.

He knows the monster must be hungry.

Imma just put the link to the little mecha Texaid thread I’m writing realquick:)

[satsuha]

i'm always really interested in how the characters call each other in japanese games, so i laid out a few differences between the japanese and english versions of some ace attorney games that particularly interest me. this isn't meant to be an exhaustive list but it did get really long 😭

i highlighted english nicknames/etc in blue while japanese nicknames/etc are orange just to make reading a little easier

AA1-2

while only playing the english version i liked that maya called phoenix nick, it's a nickname that makes sense and phoenix is annoying to say and write anyway (lol) but the reason maya gives for this nickname in english is that it's what larry uses for him, which pales in comparison to maya in the japanese version opting for how mia used to call him: naruhodo-kun.

to me, this is a LOT more meaningful and informative than the english nickname because it not only is evidence of how much maya heard about phoenix from mia using that nickname, it also gives us a glimpse of maya's personality and her relationship with phoenix. -kun is an honorific that's usually used for either male classmates or for teachers/superiors to use with their students/subordinates. maya falls into neither of these categories with phoenix, but it also lines up with how she acts like the boss of the office a lot of the time. SO LIKE... ultimately the nickname nick just does not hold up in terms of both maya's reasoning for using it, and phoenix's apprehension at her calling him that... which i just think is a shame!! in the same vein, this nickname is passed down to pearl, and again you see phoenix having a Reaction to it which makes sense considering it's funny that a kid is calling him naruhodo-kun...

i don't only want to talk about changes in english that i don't prefer, so i also want to mention that i'm very impressed that they managed to get phoenix and edgeworth referring to each other by their surnames in english to sound natural... because it's also exactly what they do in japanese except there, the idea of male friends using their surnames with each other is a very very normal thing. i AM torn on the fact that in japanese larry also refers to the two of them by their surnames, which means all 3 of them are on equal grounds in that respect. AT THE SAME TIME... english makes larry's "nick" and "edgey" work so well that i really can't say we missed out with this localization, but i do like the relationship between these 3 so i do like that the japanese is indicative of it too :)

AA4

i'm skipping ahead to aa4 because trucy's also a very interesting localization to me... the first time i played aa4 i felt like trucy wasn't sufficiently differentiated enough from maya's character which is like. debatable but those were my initial thoughts anyway. in japanese though she uses third-person pronouns (calling herself by her own name, minuki) which is VERY distinct from maya. there are a number of ways to interpret this choice but i like the one that indicates that it's part of her stage persona. aside from that though, she also has a very normal nickname for apollo (odoroki-san, with -san indicating general politeness) while polly is um well canonically the name of a parrot LOL

i do find it pretty interesting that the above exchange is the first instance trucy uses the polly nickname, because it's entirely different in the japanese version. phoenix says "if this onii-chan over here can't help you..." to which trucy responds by saying "how could you, onii-chan!" this exchange is hilarious to me because phoenix referring to apollo as an onii-chan is pretty normal? it's common to refer to any young man as that and in this case he's also referring to apollo from trucy's perspective. but trucy DIRECTLY calling apollo onii-chan (brother) is just so funny because HERE it's a lot closer to how an actual younger sister would refer to her older brother; there's a difference between saying "this onii-chan" and just "onii-chan". now i'm not saying this was direct foreshadowing because onii-chan is also used between close friends/acquaintances but like... the possibility is there.

AA5

now onto simon because i don't actually have a problem with the localization making him a british weeaboo i think that's really funny but i DO wish the nicknames he uses for the defense attorneys were more... appropriate? the honorific -dono that he uses in english does complement his samurai look but it's usually used in contexts where there's some respect involved, which is... not simon's intention in japanese. i'm admittedly not too familiar with the nicknames he uses in japanese; he uses "[kanji] no ji", while using a kanji from phoenix/apollo/athena's surnames. by searching it in japanese, i'm finding answers that it was medieval slang used by men usually in red light districts and such, and was used to refer to those with equal or lower status to oneself but never to those of higher status. this is kinda the opposite of what -dono is which is used for those of equal or higher status!!

i also find it pretty amusing that despite him using the first kanji in phoenix's name; 成 (turn into, grow), he uses the second kanji in both apollo and athena's names; 泥 (mud) and 月 (moon) respectively. i can only imagine that he did this because the first kanji in their names; 王 (king) and 希 (rare, hope) respectively, were too positive/complimentary for him? LOL

AA6

now i want to to talk about apollo in aa6 because NNGNRHGH i'm not normal about this one. because like, similarly to what i said up there about phoenix, edgeworth and larry's relationship, it's completely normal for close male friends to use their surnames with each other. phoenix, being apollo's boss, refers to him as odoroki-kun (mirroring how mia and maya call phoenix). trucy uses odoroki-san, indicating general politeness and athena uses odoroki-senpai, because he's her senior in their workplace. clay uses odoroki (no honorific), which is the same "level" as phoenix/edgeworth/larry's relationship.

a male character never being referred to as their first name is pretty normal, which is also the case in the aa games. franziska calls edgeworth by his first name reiji which is SUPPOSED to stand out because it's notably impolite/informal for someone who is younger than him, which suits the idea of her thinking of herself as the elder sibling. for additional reference, phoenix is only referred to by his first name by dahlia/iris; ryuu-chan ("feenie" equivalent) and desiree; ryuuichi-kun ("nicky boy" equivalent). so apollo is referred to exclusively by his surname, because there isn't anyone who's associated with him who would feasibly use his first name.

THAT IS. UNTIL we meet datz who is the first (!!) character to use apollo's first name in japanese. this moment doesn't stand out in english because i KNOOWWW datz uses the AJ nickname which is very cute but he doesn't actually use that nickname the first time he indicates that he knows apollo in case 6-3!! phoenix's momentary confusion here is also explained because while he obviously knows apollo's full name, he's never heard anyone refer to him with it!!!

so phoenix's thoughts in japanese here were originally "housuke... wait, that bracelet! that's odoroki-kun!"

dhurke and later nahyuta (during the last moments of the 6-5 trial) also refer to apollo with his first name, which is... really nice!!! they're family!!!! i mourn the fact that this distinction isn't visible in english because most characters just call him apollo but it's special in japanese... it's only dhurke, nahyuta and datz who use his first name.... i'm normal i promise

funnily enough i sort of have the opposite issue with nahyuta, who is generally referred to as prosecutor sahdmadhi in english but nayuta-kenji (prosecutor) in japanese. i'm assuming this is because his name is written with his given name first unlike japanese names, so they just used his given name instead of his surname...? unfortunately we don't have an example of any other foreign prosecutor as reference (i'm excluding van zieks here because they DO use his surname but it's also an entirely different time and place) but i prefer the english here since it also makes it stand out when apollo, dhurke and datz (with yuty hehe) use his first name with him.

but then again... rayfa also refers to him as prosecutor sahdmadhi in english, but just calls him nayuta in japanese. there aren't a lot of characters rayfa refers to by name but generally she's either overly polite (with ga'ran and inga) or overly impolite (with phoenix and apollo). it makes sense that the way she calls nahyuta is a little unique, since he's of lower status than her but not enough to get a rude nickname fdjhja... and then of course at the end of the game she tries to call him onii-(chan? san? sama? we just don't know) which nahyuta interprets as oni (demon) i think the localization here is really impressive actually. they somehow managed to seamlessly fit braid head into the mix of barbed head and horn head (both nicknames that refer to their hairstyles) while braid also begins with the same letters as brother... anyway i think i slightly prefer that rayfa (and ga'ran) call nahyuta by his first name rather than by his prosecutor title, it's indicative of their higher status because of the lack of an honorific but by the end of the game it fits in with the idea of them all being family...

TGAA1-2

you would think that because tgaa opted to leave japanese honorifics in the dialogue that there wouldn't be any differences in how the characters refer to each other but there are... first of all kazuma and ryunosuke are once again male friends who refer to each other by their surnames without an honorific in japanese, but the english has them use their first names with each other instead. i can understand this change because characters using only their surnames with each other feels oddly distant in english, and while it worked for phoenix and edgeworth's relationship it definitely doesn't suit kazuma and ryunosuke's.

additionally, the way susato calls ryunosuke was also changed from naruhodo-sama to naruhodo-san. this is... also an interesting change since it requires the player to have some basic knowledge of japanese honorifics but for some reason decided to change it anyway, despite the fact that susato also uses -sama with kazuma... one thing to note is that susato does use kazuma's first name instead of his surname like she does with ryunosuke, which helps indicate their closer relationship despite her still showing respect with the -sama honorific. in that sense naruhodo-san feels like an interesting middle ground because she's still using his surname but doesn't seem to view his position with her as equal to kazuma's? i assume that was the intent of the localization, similarly to how the way kazuma and ryunosuke call each other was changed to indicate closeness to the english-speaking player

--

anyway while i do prefer the original japanese version most of the time, my general view of original vs localization is like wow! two cakes! i might prefer one of those cakes more, but the english version usually provides enough that i like that both canons exist. because of this i can't agree with the idea that all localization is bad nor the side that believes the original doesn't matter because you're engaging only with the english side of the fandom. both are good and can reveal interesting things about the characters, story and setting!!

and thank you for reading if you got this far 🙇 i'm not an expert at japanese so i try to do my research and use multiple sources to get a better view of things, so please let me know if i got anything wrong! i also recommend checking out this post if you haven't seen it already since it's where i got some pointers on the trucy and simon segments

[himasgod]

Kinich x Reader and Wriothesley x Reader

Where reader struggles with social anxiety

(I loved making this request! As always, not too specific, to suit the reader's taste. If you have social anxiety, remember to be cautious and find your safe place, don't force yourself on others! I hope you enjoy it <3)

Wriothesley

A celebration at Fontaine Court turns into a nightmare for you, but Wriothesley is there to guide you back to calm.

The lights were too bright. The music was too loud. The constant hum of conversations around you filtered through your mind like an endless hum, making you feel like your ears were going to burst. The room was packed with elegant people chatting easily, but for you, being here was like trying to breathe underwater.

You had tried to stay close to your boyfriend, Wriothesley, seeking his reassuring presence in the crowd, but even he was busy talking to some of the court officials. You had moved away so as not to be a burden, trying to blend into the shadows, but the feeling of all eyes on you was suffocating you.

Your breathing became labored. The lump in your throat grew, and your hands began to shake. The heat of the room became unbearable, and the pressure on your chest kept you from breathing.

You needed to get out of there.

Without waiting another second, you slipped through a side door and found yourself in an empty hallway. The cool air hit your face, but you still couldn’t control your breathing. You leaned against the wall, trying to stop the world from spinning, fighting not to fall apart.

It was then that you heard familiar footsteps approaching.

“My love?” Wriothesley’s deep voice cut through the fog in your mind like an anchor. You didn’t look up right away, embarrassed that he saw you like this, so vulnerable. But he didn’t need you to answer; it was enough for him to see the trembling of your hands and the gleam of your panicked eyes.

Without saying anything, he calmly approached you. His presence was like a protective blanket, covering you from the storm raging inside you. Slowly, he reached out a hand towards you, but he didn’t touch you right away. He knew that in these moments, contact could be overwhelming, so he waited for you to be the one to make the first move.

“I’m here,” he murmured quietly, his tone firm and calm. “Breathe with me.”

It took you a moment, but you finally took his hand. His fingers were warm, his grip firm but not tight. At the contact, something inside you broke and you let out a choked sob, your tears rolling uncontrollably.

“That’s it, keep breathing, my love” he said softly. His words weren’t rushed or forced; he was willing to stay there as long as it took.

Slowly, your breathing began to sync with his. The pressure in your chest lessened, and the lump in your throat unraveled. You didn’t realize how much time had passed until you finally looked up at him. Wriothesley was watching you with those dark blue eyes filled with endless patience, not a trace of judgment in his expression.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he said before you could apologize. “You don’t have to apologize for feeling that way.”

He wrapped you in a warm hug, his arms around you with the security of a refuge you knew you could always return to. “If you feel overwhelmed again, just let me know,” he whispered close to your ear. “You don’t have to face it alone.”

Gratefully, you clung to him as if he were your only salvation. For a moment, everything else faded away, and the world narrowed to the steady beat of his heart, the sound of his even breathing, and the comforting warmth of his embrace.

You didn’t know how long you spent there, but when you finally pulled away, your hands were no longer shaking, and you could breathe normally.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, his tone denoting more affection than concern.

“Yes... thank you,” you replied in a whisper. A small but genuine smile appeared on your face, something he met with a satisfied look.

“Let’s go home,” he suggested, caressing your cheek gently with the back of his hand. “You don’t need to linger in places that hurt you.”

You took his hand once more, and this time there was no hesitation.

Because with him, you knew you would always have a safe haven to return to.

Kinich

A crowded Natlan market becomes a challenge for you. Kinich, with his gruff but honest style, helps you calm down.

The sun was blazing down on Natlan's bustling marketplace, where voices rose in ceaseless chaos. The air was filled with the scent of spices and roasted meat, and at every step you were hit by a sea of ​​bodies moving around incessantly. The laughter, the conversation, the shouts of merchants calling for the attention of buyers… it all mixed together in a deafening hum that made your heart beat faster than you could bear.

You had thought you could handle it, that you could accompany your boyfriend Kinich without problems while he gathered supplies for his next commision. But the crowd began to close in around you, and you felt panic seep through your veins, stealing your air little by little. Your hands shook, your legs felt like jelly, and the urge to escape overwhelmed you.

Kinich, who was haggling with a merchant for materials, immediately noticed the change in you. His sharp gaze turned to you, seeing how your eyes were wide, fear reflected in them. He knew what that expression meant; he had seen it before, even if you tried to hide it.

“Mh...” he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. Without a second thought, he turned to the merchant and tossed a handful of coins in his direction, leaving the materials uncollected.

He didn’t care at all that he had lost the bargain, not when you were on the verge of a panic attack.

He pushed through the crowd until he reached your side, his brow furrowed and his eyes filled with concern disguised as impatience. “Hey, look at me,” he ordered in his deep, but not aggressive voice. His calloused hand caught yours, squeezing it firmly, anchoring you to reality.

You couldn’t find your voice, but you felt the comforting pressure of his hand. Kinich leaned towards you, making a barrier between you and the crowd that continued to move around him as if nothing was happening. “Come on, breathe,” he told you, more gently this time. “Breathe in. Breathe out. It’s not the damn end of the world.”

His words were abrupt, but that didn’t make them any less effective. You knew his style: direct, blunt, but filled with a sincerity that made you feel safe. Focusing on his voice and the warmth radiating from his body, you managed to take a deep breath, though you still felt the lump in your chest.

“That’s it,” Kinich murmured as he saw you starting to regain control. His fingers, though rough, traced a small circle on the back of your hand. It was a gesture he probably didn’t realize he was doing, but it always managed to calm you down.

Seeing your breathing stabilize a little more, Kinich guided you out of the market without another word, keeping you close. He led you down a less-traveled alley and finally stopped in a secluded corner, where the noise was more distant. He let go of your hand just so he could turn you to him, his golden and green eyes staring intently at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way?” he asked, his tone still somewhat annoyed, but you knew it was more concern than anything else.

“I didn’t want to bother you… you were busy and…” your words died in your throat as you saw his expression harden.

“Bother me?” he let out a short, incredulous laugh. “You’re more important than a bunch of screaming merchants and their damn arrows. Understood?”

You fell silent, feeling a little foolish for having worried so much about something that, in his eyes, was so simple. But that was what you appreciated most about Kinich. To him, there was no need to complicate things; if you felt bad, he would be there, period. No judgment, no unnecessary questions.

With a sigh, Kinich softened his expression and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. The scent of leather and wood that always accompanied him enveloped you, and for the first time all day, you felt like you could truly breathe.

“You’re doing well,” he murmured next to your ear, his voice softer than ever. “But next time… if you feel that way, tell me. You don’t have to face it alone.”

And there, in his arms you allowed yourself to accept his support without reservation.

Because even though Kinich wasn’t the most delicate with his words, he always knew exactly how to make you feel safe in the midst of chaos.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3