#on one hand i should probably just wait until i do

[blairxbear]

When they realise they are in love with you.

MHA Class 1A Head cannons

Izuku Midoriya

• He doesn’t realize it at first—it hits him like a train when someone else points it out.

• You’re patching up his wounds after a battle, scolding him like usual, and he just stares at you.

• “They care about me so much… I don’t ever want to lose them.”

• That’s when it clicks—his face turns beet red, and he literally short-circuits trying to process it.

• He starts writing about you in his notebooks, not just as a hero, but as his hero.

• Tries to confess a dozen times but ends up stammering and running away.

Katsuki Bakugo

• He freaking hates it when he realizes he’s in love.

• He notices he gets jealous when you talk to others too casually.

• He starts training even harder because he wants to be stronger for you.

• The moment it fully hits him? You defend him from someone bad-mouthing him, and his chest tightens.

• “Shit… I don’t just like them. I love them.”

• He won’t say it out loud but becomes insanely protective overnight.

• If someone flirts with you, he glares daggers and pulls you closer.

• His confession is awkward but genuine—probably blurts out “I love you, okay?! Now deal with it!”

Shoto Todoroki

• Love isn’t something he understands right away—it’s foreign but comforting.

• He notices he trusts you more than anyone else and actually wants to be around you.

• One day, you brush a strand of hair from his face, and his heart skips a beat.

• “Why does my chest feel warm? Is this…?”

• He spends weeks thinking about what this feeling means.

• His father’s influence made him fear attachment, but with you, he feels safe.

• He realizes he loves you when he catches himself smiling for no reason just because you exist.

• When he confesses, it’s simple but deeply meaningful—“I think I love you. No, I know I do.”

Eijiro Kirishima

• He’s the type to fall fast and hard, but he won’t admit it until it hits him like an explosion.

• You do something small but meaningful, like fixing his hair or remembering his favorite drink, and suddenly, he’s melting.

• His brain just goes: “Oh no. Oh NO. I LOVE THEM.”

• The moment he realizes it, he becomes the most obvious person alive—grinning like an idiot, blushing when you compliment him.

• Denki figures it out first and teases him relentlessly.

• He confesses spontaneously—probably during training or when you’re just hanging out.

• “Hey… I, uh, love you. Like, really love you.”

Denki Kaminari

• He thinks he’s just crushing on you, but one night, you laugh at one of his dumb jokes, and his heart flips.

• “Wait… why do I want to make them laugh forever?”

• He starts noticing the little things—the way your eyes sparkle, the way you say his name.

• Suddenly, every love song reminds him of you.

• He realizes he loves you when you comfort him after a bad day, holding his hand without judgment.

• He panics—freaks out and tells Sero before he even tells you.

• Ends up blurting it out without thinking—probably during a sparring session.

• “Oh, shit—did I just say that out loud? …Well, I meant it.”

Henta Sero

• Realizes it slowly but surely—love creeps up on him like his tape until it’s wrapped around his heart.

• It happens during a casual hangout, maybe when you’re laughing at one of his dumb jokes.

• “Damn, I’d do anything to hear that laugh every day.”

• His friends notice before he does because he starts bringing you up in every conversation.

• “Oh, Y/N likes that movie too!” “Y/N would totally win this game.”

• When he realizes, he’s cool about it but lowkey dying inside.

• He confesses casually but sweetly, probably while sharing a snack.

• “So… I’m kinda in love with you. Thought you should know.”

Fumikage Tokoyami

• He doesn’t see it as love at first—he calls it “a deep admiration”.

• Dark Shadow calls him out first: “Dude, you’re OBSESSED.”

• He realizes he loves you when he misses you more than he should.

• The thought of you being hurt makes his blood run cold—he becomes fiercely protective.

• He confesses in a poetic and dramatic way—probably quotes some gothic literature.

• “My heart, once shrouded in darkness, now finds solace in you.”

• He’s nervous about whether you’ll accept him, but when you do, he’s deeply devoted.

Tenya Iida

• Love is logical to him, so he doesn’t understand why his brain short-circuits around you.

• Realizes it when he starts worrying about you more than necessary.

• “Are they drinking enough water? Did they eat today? Should I check on them?”

• The real moment? You tell him to relax, placing a hand on his arm, and suddenly, his heart is racing.

• He denies it at first—tries to rationalize it.

• But one day, you cheer for him in a match, and it clicks—he wants you by his side forever.

• His confession is formal but flustered—“I have come to the realization that I love you. I hope you will accept my feelings.”

Mashirao Ojiro

• He falls first but doesn’t say anything—he’s the quiet type about his feelings.

• The moment he realizes? Sparring with you, when you pin him down and smirk.

• “Oh, I’m completely in love with them.”

• He acts normal but becomes a little more protective, a little more soft-spoken around you.

• His tail wags when you’re near, and he hates that everyone notices.

• He confesses simply but sincerely—probably under the stars or after training.

• “I love you. I don’t need anything back, I just wanted you to know.”

Mezo Shoji

• Realizes it when he starts looking forward to your voice every day.

• He’s always been reserved, but you make him feel safe.

• The moment he knows? You tell him he’s beautiful, and he nearly chokes on air.

• “They… they actually see me.”

• His confession is quiet but meaningful—probably late at night when you’re alone.

• “You’re the only one who makes me feel like this. I think… no, I know I love you.”

Rikido Sato

• He realizes he’s in love while baking—he catches himself making extra portions just for you, even when you’re not around.

• One day, you sneak into the kitchen to help, and he watches you struggle with frosting a cupcake.

• Instead of laughing, he just smiles fondly and thinks, “I want to do this with them forever.”

• The moment it really clicks is when you try his baking and get so excited, giving him the biggest grin.

• His heart pounds, and suddenly, the sweetest thing in the room isn’t the cake.

• Becomes super flustered around you after that, fumbling with ingredients and spacing out.

• His confession is adorably shy, probably over a homemade dessert.

• “I, uh… I made this for you. And also, I think I love you.”

Koji Koda

• He falls slowly but deeply, and it takes a while for him to understand his feelings.

• He realizes it when he notices the way animals react to you—his rabbits love you, birds always fly near, and even skittish animals trust you.

• One day, you rescue a tiny injured bird, and as he watches you care for it so gently, his heart swells.

• “They’re so kind… I never want to leave their side.”

• The next time you smile at him, his whole face turns red, and he gets so nervous he forgets how to talk.

• Starts getting extra shy around you, but his actions speak louder—always carrying things for you, making sure you’re safe, sitting near you quietly.

• His confession is soft but heartfelt, maybe while watching the sunset with you.

• “I… I think I love you. You make my world so much brighter.”

[rizzanon]

Normalcy

a cassandra cain and batsis! reader oneshot | m.list

Summary: you took your sister out for fun to help her relax

The Batcave is quiet.

Unusual, but not unwelcome.

Cassandra Cain steps lightly as she descends the last few steps, the dim glow of the monitors casting shifting shadows across the stone walls. The usual hum of activity—voices, movement, the occasional sharp exchange of mission details—is absent.

She pauses, scanning the area.

Empty.

Normally, someone—Bruce, Tim, or even Alfred—would be here, but tonight, it’s just her.

They must still be out.

She exhales softly, rolling the tension out of her shoulders. Her muscles still carry the echoes of the night’s fights, the familiar ache of movement, of action, of force met with force.

She turns toward the training mats, deciding to run through a cool-down routine before heading upstairs.

She takes one step forward—

And then catches the hand reaching for her shoulder.

It’s instinct. Reflex. The motion sharp and fluid, a perfect counter to an unexpected approach. Her grip tightens around the wrist, prepared for a struggle—

Until she hears your voice.

“Damn it, Cass,” you groan, exasperated. “Again?”

She blinks, recognition settling in an instant.

Her hold loosens immediately, fingers pulling away from your skin as she takes a half-step back. She hadn’t even looked. Hadn’t checked. Just reacted.

Cassandra tilts her head, watching you closely. You’re smiling, eyes bright, but there’s something softer underneath. She looks for it—the way your weight shifts slightly, the way your fingers rub against the faint mark on your wrist.

The way you always do this. Pretend like nothing hurts even though it probably does.

She presses her lips together, but she doesn’t apologize. You wouldn’t want her to. You wouldn’t want her to feel bad about this.

So instead, she asks, “Why are you here?”

You perk up. “Because you are here.”

Cassandra raises an eyebrow.

“I mean,” you amend, shifting your weight, “I was waiting for you.”

She stills, surprised.

“For what?”

You grin. “To take you out.”

Cassandra stares. “Out?”

“Out.”

And before she can form a proper response, before she can say I should stay, before she can think—

Your arm loops through hers.

The movement is smooth, practiced, like you’ve done it a hundred times before. The warmth of your skin against hers is solid, grounding. Familiar.

“I mean, you could say no,” you say, already dragging her toward the exit. “But I’m gonna be real with you, Cass—I’m not letting go until you get changed and come with me, so we might as well cut out the middle part.”

Her first instinct is to refuse. There’s no point.

But then—

Your fingers curl around her wrist, warm and steady, not dragging but guiding. Not demanding, just expecting her to follow.

Like it’s natural. Like she belongs.

So she lets you pull her along.

The streets of Gotham are loud.

Not in a way that bothers her, necessarily, but in a way that contrasts sharply with the silence of the Cave. The distant roar of traffic, the murmur of voices, the occasional bark of laughter from someone passing by—it all blends together into something normal.

Something alive.

Cassandra keeps pace beside you easily, hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, letting the rhythm of your steps guide hers.

You’re relaxed.

She can tell in the way your shoulders sit loose, the way your head tilts slightly as you glance around, taking in the night air like it’s something new.

Her eyes trace the slight bounce in your step, the easy sway of your arms as you walk. There’s no tension, no weight dragging you down.

It’s nice.

She notices the way you keep glancing at her, like you’re making sure she’s still with you. Not because she might disappear, but because—

You want her here.

The thought sits strangely in her chest. Warm and unfamiliar.

She doesn’t know what to do with it.

Cassandra watches as you casually step onto the edge of the sidewalk, balancing on the curb as if it were a tightrope. It’s a game—one you don’t acknowledge out loud, but play anyway, arms out slightly for balance, eyes focused ahead in exaggerated concentration.

Cass huffs, amused.

You flash her a quick glance. “Bet you can’t do it.”

A challenge.

Cassandra lifts a browbefore stepping onto the curb beside you, mirroring your stance perfectly. She doesn’t even wobble.

You groan dramatically at her effortless precision. A smile tugs at her lips as Cassandra watches the tiny gears in your mind turn.

Without warning, you jump, reaching for a nearby street sign, swinging yourself up with an exaggerated effort before dropping back down, grinning.

Cassandra stops.

Raises an eyebrow.

“Impressed?” you ask, waggling your brows.

She blinks.

Then, without a word, she mirrors your movement perfectly—gripping the signpost, swinging herself up with ease, landing silently beside you.

You groan once more, half-admonishing.

“Show off.”

Before you can let the moment settle, you nudge her elbow. “Race you to that crosswalk.”

Cassandra gives you a blank stare.

Your grin turns mischievous. “What, scared I’ll win?”

She doesn’t answer. Just bolts.

Your laugh rings behind her as you sprint after her, shouting, calling her a cheater. She slows just enough to let you think you had a chance before stopping at the crosswalk, completely unbothered, calm and composed as ever.

You, on the other hand, are panting.

“You suck,” you mutter, out of breath. You glare half-heartedly before tugging her forward again into a building.

It’s a small café, tucked between taller buildings, newly opened. The warm light spills onto the sidewalk, inviting, soft.

You push open the door, glancing over your shoulder with a playful tilt of your head.

“My friends and I used to do this all the time,” you say, settling into a booth by the window. “We’d check out new places and rate them based on the food, the vibes… and, of course, whether they had cute waiters.” You pause, grinning as you see Cassandra’s eyebrow lift in mild surprise.

“What? It’s an important factor,” you add, your tone light and teasing.

Cassandra doesn’t roll her eyes, but she wants to.

Instead, she just watches you—the way you lean into the warm air of the café, the way your fingers tap against the table as you pick a seat, the way your grin softens, just slightly, as you glance at her.

Like you do this all the time. Like this is normal.

Cassandra sits across from you, watching, feeling the weight of the moment settle over her.

For once, she lets herself believe—

That maybe, she could have this too.

She huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head, and something in her chest eases.

It’s strange.

This.

The way you talk, the way you gesture, the way you slip into conversation so easily. The way the world feels soft in your presence. The way you give her something normal, something outside the constant demand of everything else.

She isn’t used to it.

Not yet.

But she thinks—

She thinks she wants to be.

You’re still talking, still animated, your fingers idly tracing patterns against the side of your cup of your drink that you ordered, as you recount some old story about a café that had the best hot chocolate but terrible seating.

Cassandra listens.

She doesn’t interrupt.

She just—watches.

Your expression shifts with every word, every memory, the crinkle of your nose when you recall something unpleasant, the way your lips quirk when you’re about to deliver a punchline. You speak with your entire body, your hands emphasizing certain points, your shoulders rising slightly with amusement.

It’s not just words.

It’s motion.

And Cassandra is fluent in motion.

She catches the way your fingers flex unconsciously around your cup, the way your thumb taps a steady rhythm against the ceramic, the way you lean in—closer, like you want to make sure she’s still listening.

She is.

Of course she is.

She doesn’t think you realize how easy you are to listen to.

Then, you pause—your focus shifting suddenly as something catches your eye.

Cassandra follows your gaze.

There’s a small counter near the register, displaying a few take-home pastries in neat little boxes. Your eyes linger, just for a second, before you shake your head slightly, looking back at her.

You open your mouth—probably to pick up where you left off—

But Cassandra is already standing.

You blink. “Uh—Cass?”

She doesn’t respond, just moves toward the counter, scanning the selection. The girl behind the register offers her a polite smile, and Cassandra gestures toward the box you had been looking at before handing over a few bills.

By the time she returns to the table, you’re staring at her, brow furrowed.

Cassandra sets the box in front of you, sliding it across the table without a word.

You glance down at it.

Then back up at her.

Then back down.

“…Did you—” You clear your throat. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

Cassandra shrugs. “Wanted to.”

Something flickers across your face.

For once, you’re the one caught off guard.

And she sees it—sees the way you swallow slightly, the way your fingers brush against the edges of the box, hesitant, like you’re not sure whether to open it or not.

Then, you exhale, a slow, measured thing, before smiling.

Soft.

Not playful. Not teasing. Just—warm.

“…Thanks, Cass.”

Cassandra nods, but she doesn’t reply.

She doesn’t need to.

Instead, she lets herself take in this moment—the quiet hum of the café, the distant chatter of other customers, the steady rhythm of your breathing across from her.

This feeling.

This normalcy.

It still feels strange to her.

Still feels like something outside of herself, something distant.

But she’s trying.

Trying to be used to it.

Trying to be used to deserving it.

Trying to be used to you.

And as your fingers finally curl around the box, as you pop it open and grab one of the pastries, making an exaggerated mmm sound just to make her laugh—

She thinks that maybe, just maybe—

She’s getting there.

Cassandra watches as you take a bite, your face lighting up dramatically as you savor the taste. You close your eyes for a second, pressing a hand to your chest like the pastry has just saved your life.

“Oh my god,” you say, exaggerating every syllable. “Cass, you have to try this. I think it might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Cassandra raises an eyebrow. “Ever?”

You nod, completely serious. “Ever.”

She doesn’t bother arguing. She just reaches over, and without hesitation, you break off a piece, handing it to her.

She takes it. Eats it. Chews.

It’s good.

Not life-changing, but—good.

You’re still watching her, waiting for some kind of reaction.

She shrugs. “Okay.”

Your jaw drops. “Okay?”

She nods. “Okay.”

“Cass, this is a masterpiece. A work of art.” You gesture wildly at the pastry like it should be in a museum. “I feel personally offended that you’re just calling it okay.”

Cassandra just smirks, sipping her drink. “Dramatic.”

You gasp. “Me? Dramatic?”

She doesn’t say anything—just tilts her head slightly, eyes glinting with amusement.

You point at her. “I know what you’re doing. You’re messing with me.”

Another shrug. Another sip of her drink.

You sigh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.” But there’s no actual frustration in your voice, just that same warmth, that same ease that Cassandra is still—still—trying to get used to.

Because it’s moments like these—quiet, insignificant in the grand scheme of things—that make her feel like she’s learning something new about herself.

Something beyond the fighting. Beyond the missions.

Something human.

You go back to eating, still muttering about her “bad taste” under your breath, but you don’t actually seem upset. If anything, you seem… happy.

Comfortable.

And for Cassandra, that means everything.

She looks down at her own hands, flexing her fingers slightly. It still feels strange—this kind of connection, this normalcy, like wearing a new pair of gloves that don’t quite fit yet.

But then you nudge her foot under the table, just lightly, like a reminder that you’re here. That she’s here. That this moment is real.

She breathes.

And when you look up at her again, grinning like you’re already thinking of what to drag her to next—

Cassandra thinks she could get used to this.

this is finally out omfg 😭 this had been in my drafts for way too long bruh 💀 it’s kind of shorter compared to the other days, but i like how this one turned out 🥰 hope you guys enjoyed this 🫶

taglist (open): @k1arar3 @kingshitonly @rainnyydaysworld @ceridwyn3 @darkfaethedestroyer @blueiones @strwberryglass @lithiumval @thephantomdanny @eli-mayhaveatencats @rockyeatrock @dreaming-of-the-reality @shirp-collector-of-fixations @gneepgnorpsneepsnorp @skerbablo @dind1n @gwyneveire @yukixies | ask to be added <3

[ghost-proofbaby]

For your Valentine’s Day Event what about a mini-blurb about spending your first V-Day as Eddie’s partner

❤️❤️❤️❤️

the image of your first v-day with eddie and both of you being such nervous messes is so endearing to me i love him your honor. i need to be a nervous wreck with him please.

wc: 2k+

When the day had first started, you were determined that it had to be perfect. 

You thought that your outfit needed to be faultless, and destroyed your room in the process of rummaging your closet for a specific shirt you just had to wear. You thought your makeup had to be flawless, and you’d redone it nearly three times, leaving your skin raw and irritated after the third removal of eyeliner. You were convinced your plans for the night had to be exemplary, and you and Eddie had changed your minds too many times to count in the weeks leading up to the day. 

Nerves. And stress. And picking at the beds of your nails until you’d made one bleed and took it as the Universe’s sign to cut it out. 

The day of love had morphed into something twisted, a terrible buzzing beneath your skin that was less than comfortable rather than the warmth in your chest that you had come to associate with adoration. 

“You should have seen his face, sweetheart,” Eddie cackles as he continues to recount a story from the latest Hellfire session, one hand clinging to yours as they swung between your walking bodies and the other holding up a cone of ice cream to match your own, “I told him to leave that damn NPC alone, and he just wouldn’t listen.” 

“Serves him right,” you mumble, feeling miles away and hating it. 

Normally, you’d be entirely enthralled by Eddie’s stories. Latching onto every last word, waiting with bated breath for every turn of his tales. And yet, right now, all you could focus on were your nerves. 

Is he having a good time? Is he enjoying himself? Is the night perfect for him, at least? Is he sorely disappointed about me, and realizing that this is all a mistake? Not just this date night, but everything-

“Hey, are you feelin’ alright?” 

Eddie stops in the middle of the sidewalk suddenly, and you only notice by the tug of his hand halting you in the process as well. 

“Hm?” you hum, trying to drag yourself back down to Earth. Trying to quiet all the voices in your head panicking at full volume. “Me? Oh, yeah, I’m fi-”

“Don’t say you’re fine,” he rushes to interrupt, quirking a brow, “You’ve hardly said shit the last hour. Did I... Is something wrong?” 

This is the part where he lets me down gently. This is the part where he admits he’s having the worst time of his life, and that we should break up. 

You force out a laugh, giving his palm a pathetic squeeze, “I am fine, Eddie. Just… just…”

This is the part where he realizes what a terrible partner I am, because I can’t even make Valentine’s Day fun. 

Except, he doesn’t. 

His entire face softens, and he takes a step closer before his voice drops to just shy of a whisper, “Just in your head?” 

Your stomach sinks. He had noticed – he had noticed, and probably stopped having any fun because of it. 

On instinct, you start to shake your head, but he only gives you a knowing look. 

“Look, I know I’m kind of a dumb ass half the time, and I know I can be a little oblivious, but…” he motions vaguely at you with the hand holding a melting scoop of rocky road, “I can tell what’s something up. With you, at least. So… what’s up?”

You want to correct him. Either tell him how even on his worst days, the days where he’s been the most annoying pain in your ass, you’d take him over someone else on their best days – or make a joke about how he’s definitely a dumb ass more than half the time. Jest how it’s okay, because you’re a full-blooded idiot almost all of the time with him. You want to reassure him, staring at you with puppy dog eyes, how it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. 

It’s only been one month. A measly month of dating Eddie, adoring Eddie, getting to know the endless labyrinth that is him inside and out. 

It’s only been a month, and you’re still sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Insecurity is a bitch to kick. 

“It’s not you, it’s m-” you begin before realizing your mistake in an instant. His face breaks so solemnly, and heartbreak is painted across the heights of his cheeks and dark brown pupils clear as day. He thinks you’re breaking up with him. “Wait! No, okay, no, I- That sounds like I’m breaking up with you. I am not breaking up with you.”

He sighs out in relief, a breath you hadn’t noticed him holding, as his shoulders relax, “Jesus H. Christ, you scared the shit out of me-”

“I’m scared you’re going to break up with me,” you blurt out before he can simmer too long in the relief. “I’m just- I’m terrified that this date night is going to shit, and I’m so fucking nervous, and I… I don’t know,” your voice trails off, dropping in volume with each word before you slowly blink up at him, bracing yourself for impact, “I’m scared that I’m fucking up our first Valentine’s day together.”

You wait for him to confirm all your fears, or to make fun of you, or to burst with relief at finally being able to agree that you were ruining the night. 

No such thing when it comes to Eddie Munson. 

“What?” he laughs a little breathlessly, dulcet eyes locked in on you, “I’m sorry, you think you’re ruining the night with your nerves?” 

All you can do is nod. 

Because it’s true. It’s why he hadn’t kissed you the entire night, scared you might jump at the press of his lips surely. It’s why you had to be the one to grab his hand initially, probably so jumpy that he was convinced you’d run like a scared animal if he moved too close. 

“Baby,” he’s smiling ear to ear now, smooth like honey as he sighs out in more relief. The pet name sounds nice on his lips; if you weren’t so in your head, you might go dumb in the head at the way it tumbles off his tongue, “Oh my God. Are we both idiots?” 

What? 

“I never said you were-” 

“I’ve been rambling for the past hour, non-stop,” he cuts you off, taking a step closer to you, “I spent nearly three hours getting ready when I’d usually take an hour tops, freaking out over what you’d think about my goddamn t-shirt. Wayne nearly kicked me out of the trailer when I started pacing about whether I got you the right kind of flowers,” as the confessions spill out into the air between you, you notice some of the buzz beneath your skull dulling. The voices in your head turning down the volume, notch by notch, “I haven’t even kissed you yet tonight because I’m so fucking nervous – you had to grab my hand first, for fucks sake. If anyone is fucking up this date by being a mess, it’s me.” 

Little, by little, by little. The voices go silent. The buzz leaves, and the warmth tickles at the back of your throat. 

He was just as nervous as you were. 

All you can do is laugh.

It starts small, the teeniest of bubbles bursting from your chest, but it quickly descends into something borderline concerning. Giggles overflowing from you, making you bend at the waist just a bit from the force of them, eyes tearing up at the ridiculousness of it all. 

“I-” you gasp out, and Eddie just beams at you. Heart eyes and all as he watches you finally unravel from all your stress that’s strangled you the entire night, “Oh my God-” another little hiccup of a laugh, and he joins in a bit, “We’re so…. So…. dumb.”

There’s not a better word for it. Only the plain ones, simple ones.

Dumb, stupid. Idiots. The two of you were such idiots. 

“Wanna know a secret?” you’re finally able to hoarsely whisper once you get control of yourself once more, Eddie leaning in eagerly, vibrant eyes locked on yours, “I thought you weren’t kissing me because I’ve been all jumpy, so nervous and shit. I… I thought it was because of me.” 

Something melts. Slowly, warmly. Frigid and icy nerves between the two of you run away in rivers as he looks at you, so soft and so enamored, half his lips twitching up in a barely-there grin. 

“Well…. We can’t have that, can we?” 

Each movement is intentional. A little sure, but you can still taste the hesitancy when his lips first meet yours so feather light. Just a taste, a quick test of the waters. 

And immediately, whatever hesitancy lived within both your bones, leaves along with the nerves. 

He starts to pull away from the peck, but you’re quick to drop your ice cream cone of cookies and cream just to bring both hands up to the nape of his neck properly, racing to press him back into your space. A sharp chuckle falls from him at first, trying to get a look at your discarded cone, but you won’t let him get too far – you need his lips back on yours, and you need to just… laugh. 

Laugh about how stupid you two had been. Laugh because neither of you ever had any reason to be nervous. 

“Your cone!” he gasps into the kiss, and teeth clash a bit as you smile widely and shake your head.

“Forget the cone. We can get new ones.” 

He drops his cone as well, right on queue, as he pulls you hard into him. Lets your chest meet his, your hips melting against his. One cold and sticky hand, one warm and sweaty palm, and a whole lot of skin he’s been restraining himself from exploring the entire night. 

Eddie Munson kisses you in the middle of the sidewalk until your knees are about ready to give out. Until your lungs have shrunk a few sizes with all the air he’s stolen from you. Until you can’t even remember why you had been so nervous to begin with. 

This? This is nice. This is what you’d expected of your first Valentine’s day with the fool kissing you like his life depends upon it. 

“Hey, Eddie?” you finally break the ongoing kiss a bit, his forehead chasing yours to stay pressed up against you. 

His arms circle around your lower back to hold you tightly as he hums in response, eyes still shut and a goofy grin overtaking his aching cheeks. 

“Wanna just… have a redo of our first Valentine’s day?” you offer, making his eyes flutter wide open, “No nerves fucking things up this time?” 

Is a month long enough to fall in love with someone? 

It sure feels like it as you trace over the dimples, all the creases beside his eyes. It feels a lot like love, when you’re being honest with yourself. 

“Thought you’d never ask,” he teases so gently, thumb tracing arcs against your spine, “Where do we start, sweetheart?” 

“Well, I think we need to get some ice cream…”

You trail off and look to the ground where broken cones are scattered amongst melting sweet treats. 

One might argue that that’s the true mess of the night, but you hardly care. It’ll clear away with the rain due next week according to the weather forecast. 

Whatever is happening between you and Eddie, though? That’s going to take a bit more than one stormy night inside both your heads. 

“Absolutely,” he quickly presses a chaste kiss to the tip of your nose, and you let out a snort – something that a few moments ago, might have embarrassed you straight to your grave. Not now, though. “Say… I know this killer ice cream shop that we’ve just got to try. One you’ve totally never been to before.” 

“Really?” you play along, leaning further back against his arms. He still refuses to let you go as he nods so assuredly, “And I’ve never been there before? Not even in the, let’s say, last thirty minutes?” 

He bites his lip to stop his smile from growing any larger, but it’s a hopeless effort, “Definitely not. Trust me, sweetheart. Best rocky road and cookies ‘n cream in town. Swear it.”

Maybe perfect looks a little different than you’d imagined in your head, and maybe that’s alright. 

“Lead the way, Munson.”

[eclipixels]

Masterpiece

Rafayel x Reader

Content: Rafayel invites you over to help him paint…

Wanings: 🍋

[2,560 words]

      The first thing you say when you walk into Rafayel’s studio is, "I’m here, where’s the problem?"

      He had called you earlier, his voice laced with urgency, telling you to come over as soon as possible. Something important, he had said, something he needed your help with. You barely had time to process before he hung up, leaving you with nothing but curiosity and mild concern.

      Now, standing at the threshold of his creative sanctuary, you take in the familiar chaos—the scent of drying paint, the scattered brushes, half-finished canvases lining the walls like whispers of unfinished thoughts. But strangely enough, you don’t see him at first.

      You step further inside, weaving past a large easel and a worktable cluttered with palettes and sketchbooks, until finally, he emerges from behind a tall canvas.

      “Oh, Y/n. Finally, you’re here.” His voice carries a hint of relief, but there’s also something else—something playful. He’s grinning, his hands dusted with dried paint, as he turns from where he had been settling two buckets of paint on the floor.

      You eye him suspiciously. “Yeah… what’s so urgent?”

      He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he wipes his hands on a rag, tossing it aside as he steps closer. Then, with absolute nonchalance, he says—

      “Strip.”

      Your breath catches. “W-what?” You blink, certain you misheard him.

      But Rafayel doesn’t waver. If anything, his smirk deepens, the mischief in his gaze undeniable now. He closes the distance between you, tilting his head slightly as he studies your reaction.

      “Take off your clothes.” He repeats, slow and deliberate, as if daring you to challenge him.

      Your heart kicks up a notch. The room suddenly feels warmer, the air heavier.

      He can’t be serious. Can he?

      “Uh—why?” you ask, crossing your arms.

      Rafayel looks genuinely shocked that you even needed to ask. His expression reads like Really? Do I need a reason to see you naked? You should know this by now.

      “I told you, I need a little help.”

      You narrow your eyes. “What could you possibly need help with that requires me naked?” You ask, probably too stupidly, because the way he looks at you makes it clear he thinks the answer is obvious.

      Before you can say anything else, he grabs your wrist and places your hand right below his pelvis.

      “Can’t think of anything?” he whispers against your ear, his voice laced with something dark and delicious. His breath is warm against your skin, and despite yourself, a shiver runs down your spine.

      Your face heats up instantly as you yank your hand back. “Rafayel! You can’t just call me like that—I thought something serious happened to you!” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

      He rolls his eyes. “So, are you gonna take off your clothes or not?” His impatience is showing now. Usually, he was the bratty one, so he clearly doesn’t appreciate you flipping the roles.

      You pout, tilting your chin up. “Make me.”

      The audacity of him calling you in the middle of the afternoon just to fuck. Actually… okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but still. So demanding.

      “Strip.” He commands laced with magic. His eyes glint hypnotically, and before you even realize it, your fingers are working on their own, undoing buttons, pulling fabric over your head, sliding off anything keeping you covered. You don’t expect him to actually use his siren abilities on you.

      Your heart pounds as you suddenly find yourself completely bare. “Hey!” you frown, crossing your arms over your chest in protest. “I would’ve given in! You didn’t have to cheat!”

      “Stand near the canvas for me.” He motions toward an area where a large tarp covers the floor, and an even larger blank canvas stands waiting.

      Where the hell did he even find a canvas that big?

      You watch, transfixed, as Rafayel unbuttons his own clothes, letting each piece slide off his frame and fall onto the pile of your discarded garments. Your breath catches as your hungry gaze traces the sharp lines of his abs, the taut muscles of his arms, the little veins running along his forearms. Every beauty mark, every ridge and dip of his sculpted body—it’s mesmerizing.

      For an artist, it’s almost unfair how perfect he looks, as if he had been carved straight out of marble by the hands of the gods themselves.

      He doesn’t acknowledge your obvious staring. Instead, he moves past you with quiet intent, stepping toward his worktable where an assortment of paint cans and brushes sit waiting. You expect him to grab something grand or dramatic—maybe something sensual or even mischievous—but instead, he simply dips a brush into a pot of deep reddish-pink paint.

      Your brows furrow as he walks back to you, the brush dripping slightly.

      “Turn around.” His voice is soft, almost coaxing.

      You hesitate for only a second before complying, facing away from him. A sharp, cold sensation kisses your spine as he drags the paintbrush down the curve of your back, and you shiver, heat prickling at your skin from the contrast.

      “What are you doing?” You murmur, glancing over your shoulder.

      Rafayel tuts in amusement. “Shh. Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?”

      You glare at him playfully, but you hold your tongue as he continues. The brush moves slowly, deliberately, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you with each stroke. The scent of paint mixes with the natural musk of his skin, the intimate silence between you filled only by the faint sound of bristles against flesh.

      Once he’s finished covering your body in the warm, flushed hue, he goes back to dip another brush in blue. You watch as he covers most of himself in it, biting your lip at how insanely attractive and delicious he looks. You tilt your head as he walks towards you once again, handing the brush to you. You blink, confused, but he simply gestures toward himself. “Cover the spots I can’t reach.”

      Your fingers tremble slightly as you dip the brush into the paint, bringing it up to his skin. You mirror his slow, reverent strokes, watching the way his muscles tense under your touch. His eyes flicker with something dark and pleased, but he remains still, letting you work.

      By the time you're both completely painted, your heart is hammering with anticipation.

      Rafayel doesn’t give you time to question him again. His large hands find your waist, gripping firmly as he guides you toward the canvas laid out on the floor. He steps onto it first, the tarp crinkling beneath his weight. Then, with gentle insistence, he pulls you down with him, positioning you over his body until your bare, painted skin meets his.

      A gasp escapes you at the sensation—warm flesh, slick paint, the slight stickiness as your bodies press together against the blank canvas.

      “This paint is body-safe, right?” you whisper, because it’s the only coherent thought you can muster.

      Rafayel hums, his lips curving into a lazy smirk. “Of course.”

      Then, without another word, he captures your lips in a kiss.

      It starts slow, teasing, his lips moving against yours with practiced ease. But as the paint smears between you, as your bodies mold into one another, the kiss deepens—breathless, desperate, entirely consuming.

      The canvas beneath you begins to transform, capturing every movement, every press of skin against skin, every shift and slide of color blending together.

      And suddenly, you understand exactly what he was doing and why he needed your help.

      Your tongues entwined, as your bodies pressed together. You could feel his hardness, the evidence of his arousal, against your thigh, and your own desire rose to meet it.

      His lips move against yours with an intoxicating slowness, teasing, tasting, savoring. The slickness of the paint mixed with the heat of your bodies makes every touch feel more intense.

      You can feel the texture of the canvas beneath you, the way the fabric catches onto the paint, imprinting your bodies onto its surface. Every shift, every movement leaves behind a trail of color, an abstract masterpiece forming beneath you.

      “See?” he murmurs against your lips. “I told you I needed help.”

      A breathless laugh escapes you. “This is your idea of help?”

      His fingers dig into your waist, grounding you against him. “It’s a collaboration,” he corrects, his voice deep, sultry. “And I take my art very seriously.”

      His mouth finds your neck, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. You tilt your head back instinctively, eyes fluttering shut as the sensation sends warmth pooling in your stomach. Every movement, every kiss, every brush of skin against skin adds to the chaotic beauty beneath you.

      The colors smear together, pinks and blue mixing to make streaks of lilac, hints of his own undertones swirling with yours. It’s intimate, messy, passionate, and utterly unique.

      “Look at what we’re making,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

      You open your eyes just enough to glance at the canvas beneath you. It’s breathtaking, the way the pigments blend together in erratic yet harmonious strokes, the way the imprints of your bodies tell a story.

      You shift against him, feeling the way he tenses beneath you, the way his fingers flex against your hips. The teasing power shifts between you, and you take advantage, grinding down ever so slightly just to hear the sharp inhale he takes.

      His grip tightens.

      “Careful,” he warns, though there’s no real edge to his tone, just hunger. “Unless you’re ready to be my muse in more ways than one.”

      You smirk, leaning in so your lips brush just against his. “I thought I already was.”

      His eyes darken, his smirk growing. “Oh, you have no idea.”

      And just like that, you’re lost again. Lost in him. Lost in the heat of his body, the feel of his touch, the art you’re creating together.

      Rafayel trailed kisses down your neck, sending shivers through your body. He positioned himself between your legs, his eyes filled with intense desire and mania. His eyes never leave yours. You feel the heat of his body against yours, and the anticipation was almost unbearable. You arched your back, inviting him closer, as he guided himself to your entrance.

      The moment he entered your, you gasped, the sensation both exquisite and overwhelming. Your eyes locked, and his pace started slow, building to a rhythm that matched the beating of your hearts. Rafayel's lips found yours again, your kisses deepening with each thrust.

      The room was filled with the sound of your moans and the collision of your bodies meeting. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper inside. Your lovemaking became more fervent, driven by your growing need for release.

      “More” You whimpered, not satisfied with how gentle he was being.

      “What a greedy little muse I have,” He smirks before flipping you over on your hands and knees, his arms wrapping around your waist and hips as he filled you up. You looked down at the canvas beneath you, eyes scanning the imprints of your body. Handprints, footprints, the outline of your curves, breasts, thighs, and you could even make out bits and pieces of your face on there.

      Rafayel's grip on you tightened, and you felt him grinding against you, the pressure building inside.

      “F-fuck! You feel s’good” He groaned, throwing his head back in elation as his movements grew rougher and sloppy. His breathing became shallow the more you tightened around him, sucking him inside of you like a vice.

      “Rafa– ah!– y-yel, I’m gonna come,” You cried out, gripping onto the canvas. You almost had the air knocked out of you as he flipped you both into another position once again. This time, you were both on your sides. He pulled one of your legs up so he could fit himself inside you once again before going at the same, harsh pace.

      He nipped at your shoulder, his hands sure to leave bruises after from where he gripped you.

      “You sound so beautiful– shit!” He growled, the sugary sweet noises that fell past your lips driving him insane. Your passion reached a crescendo as you both collapsed, shuddering in unison as you experienced the bliss of your climax. You mewled at the feeling of warm, hot ropes of cum spilling inside of you followed by Rafayel’s sinful moans. Your shallow breathing doesn’t stop once you’re done though, both your chests still rising and falling heavily as you try to catch your breaths.

      You lazily scan the canvas one more time, hald of it covered by your tired bodies but from the parts you could see, it was beautiful. You’re both completely spent, lying tangled together in the middle of your own creation. You realize that this might just be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever helped him make.

      The room is thick with the scent of paint and the lingering heat between your bodies, still pressed against him, still tangled in the mess of colors smeared across the canvas. The air hums with the quiet satisfaction of something both chaotic and beautiful.

      Rafayel lays beneath you now as you crawled on top of him after finishing, one arm draped lazily over your back, fingers tracing mindless patterns against your skin. His other hand reaches out blindly, fingers skimming across the canvas.

      “This might be my best work yet,” he murmurs, voice deep and laced with amusement.

      You huff a small laugh against his chest. “I don’t know if you can even call it a painting, it’s just smudges and prints.”

      He tuts, tilting your chin up with paint-streaked fingers so you meet his gaze. “It’s a masterpiece.”

      You roll your eyes but can’t help the warmth spreading through you at his words. His pride in the piece, in you, is unmistakable.

      With a sigh, you push yourself up slightly, glancing at the disaster surrounding you. Your bodies have turned the once-blank canvas into an explosion of color—redish pinks blues making various shades of purple bleeding together in a chaotic but oddly perfect way. Even the floor around it hadn’t been spared; streaks of paint mark the places where your limbs shifted, where your bodies collided.

      “We made a mess,”

      Rafayel chuckles, stretching out beneath you, entirely unbothered. “The best art is messy.”

      Your fingers brush against his cheek, still smeared with paint. “And what now? You gonna hang this up in some gallery?”

      He grins, catching your wrist and pressing a kiss against your palm. “Something like that.” Then, a wicked glint flashes in his eyes. “Or maybe I’ll keep it for myself. Hang it right above my bed. A unique piece, just for me.”

      You flush at the thought, swatting at his chest. “You’re lovesick.”

      He laughs, easily catching your hand again and pulling you back down against him. His lips brush against yours, slow and teasing. He doesn’t answer, but the way your fingers tangle in his hair, the way you melt back into his warmth, says enough.

      Rafayel hums. “So, when are we making the next one?”

      You gave him a look of utter disbelief, which he found amusing.

      “Should I make it into a collection, then? Have multiple pieces?” He continued to tease you, adoring the way you reacted. You groan, burying your face in his chest as he chuckles, utterly pleased with himself.

[lucy90712]

My valentine forver- Jude Bellingham

5 years old 

"Y/n I want to ask you something" Jude said as we were playing together during lunchtime 

"What is it Judey?" I asked 

"Will you be my valentine?" He asked 

"Sure but what's that" I said 

"I don't really know but my mummy and daddy keep talking about a Valentine's Day and being each others valentine so I guess it's just something best friends do" he said 

"Ok I'll be your valentine as long as you push me on the swings" I said 

"Deal let's go" he said grabbing my hand to help me up 

~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey sweetheart how was your day?" My mummy asked when she picked me up after school 

"It was good Jude asked me to be his valentine" I said 

"He did what?" She exclaimed 

"He said its something best friends do and he's my best friend so now we are each other's valentines" I said 

"That's exciting we'll have to talk to Jude's parents about that" she said 

9 years old 

For what feels like the first time in forever it's nice enough for us to be allowed outside at break time. Me and my friends all wanted to play football with the boys as they always think they are so good but we think we are just as good. There wasn't enough of us to make a full team to play the boys but we drew straws and organised ourselves into two teams. I ended up on the same team as Jude which is what I was secretly hoping for as we've played together before and we worked really well together so I was happy to get to play with him again. 

The years of friendship mean that Jude and I are pretty in tune with each other especially on a football pitch. Today was no different we didn't really need anyone else on our team as we both managed to run round the kids on the other team and pass back and forth until the ball went in the back of the net. It was so much fun but most importantly I was glad to make the other girls proud as maybe now the boys will take us seriously and let us play with them more often. Sadly we didn't get to gloat for too long as the bell rang meaning we had to go back to class. On the way back in I went to grab my water bottle but before I could Jude grabbed it for me as his was right next to mine.

"You played great out there you should really join a team" Jude said 

"My mum won't let me she says I can't do both football and dance and I'm committed to dance this year but maybe next year I'll do football" I said 

"Maybe you can join my club and we can play together" he said 

"That would be fun" I said 

"Wait y/n before we go into class I need to ask you will you be my valentine?" He asked 

"I'm sorry Jude I just don't like you like that I like being friends but that's it I'm sorry if that hurts your feelings" I said running off to go back into class 

Jude looked a little sad for the rest of the day which made me feel awful but I just don't like him that way in fact I don't like any boys that way because that's gross. I like our friendship we play together at school and he's taught me a lot about football but that's it nothing else. 

13 years old- Jude's POV 

Come on Jude you can do it. It's not that difficult just say the words. What's the worst that could happen. Well she could say no but she's done that before and I survived but this time it feels different we aren't 9 anymore and dating isn't something to be sneered at anymore. Being rejected now will probably hurt a lot more but I can't be thinking about that or else I'll chicken out for like the 5th time. 

I've had a crush on y/n for years but this past year it's only gotten worse. She's just so beautiful I can't stop myself from staring at her from across the room when we are in class together. I'm not the only one who has a crush on y/n all the guys in our year and even some in the year above are always talking about how pretty she is. I'm not as popular or as attractive as some of the guys who also like y/n but I'm hoping that after our many years of friendship she'll feel the same as me and if I can ask her first then I think I stand a good chance, at least that's what I'm telling myself. 

After school today we have football practice and y/n will be there as she plays with the team when she's allowed as the school doesn't have a girls team. I made sure to get changed quickly so I could be the first one out there so as soon as y/n was ready I could ask her out as we warm up. As she made her way outside she was talking to one of the other guys in the team Jack and she had a big smile on her face which isn't unusual but it did make me a little nervous. 

"Hey Jude" she said as she came over 

"Hi you seem extra happy today what's going on?" I asked 

"Jack just asked me out so we're going to go on a date this weekend as long as my parents let me but they like Jack so I'm confident" she said 

"Oh wow I didn’t know you liked him" I said trying not to give away my disappointment 

"I've liked him for a while but I never told anyone a I only ever get teased for saying I like anyone so I kept it to myself" she explained 

"Well I'm happy for you" I said completely lying 

It really broke my heart that she's with someone else but I really should've seen it coming she's the prettiest girl in school it was only a matter of time before someone asked her out. That doesn't mean it hurts any less but I'll get over it and at least we are still friends even if she can't be my girlfriend I can still hang out with her. 

15 years old - Your POV 

Maybe love just isn't for me. I've been with two guys over the last few years and both have cheated on me with one of my friends so I've lost a lot of friends but luckily I still have Jude. Since all the drama I spend a lot more time with him as I know he won't betray me and there's no drama surrounding him which is exactly what I want I don't care about being popular and having lots of friends anymore I just want true friends. I call Jude my friend but that's not really how I feel about him after spending more time together I realised that I truly enjoy Jude's company in a way I've never enjoyed being around anyone else. I'm not entirely sure when my feelings started to change but it must've been before my last boyfriend cheated on me as it hurt but I wasn't as upset as the first time because I just wasn't as emotionally attached anymore. 

I've had many chances to tell Jude how I feel but I just haven't been able to make myself do it. I'm not stupid I know there was a time when pretty much all of the guys in school had a crush on me Jude included but I don't know if he feels the same now. He used to get awkward around me which is what gave him away but he doesn't act like that anymore which makes me think that he doesn't like me that way anymore. Jude has been such a good friend to me since we were 5 but especially the last few years we are always together whether it be at lunchtime in school or kicking a ball around down the park at the weekend. I value our friendship so much that I can't bring myself to tell Jude how I feel, the possible rejection isn't worth our friendship to me.

I've put my feelings aside for a few months now but as it's approaching Valentine's Day and I hear my friends talking about that their boyfriends are doing for them it makes me a little sad and maybe a little jealous that I don't have that with Jude. In a completely genius move I'm spending the next few days with Jude helping him get some extra training in as he's playing a big match soon and he wants to play well and he likes to test his skills against me. Our plan is to go straight from school to the park where they have football pitch we can play around on until it gets dark. 

~~~~~~~~~~

"You're going to do great in that match you are definitely too much for me to be able to keep up with" I said 

"You're still coming back from injury though" he said 

"You still beat me fair and square like a million times trust me you've got this" I said 

"Do you have any plans Sunday?" He asked out of nowhere 

"Thats Valentine's Day right definitely no plans for that day" I laughed trying to make a joke of how sad my love life has been 

"Then would you like to go on a date with me?" He asked 

"What" I said completely in shock 

"That was stupid I'm sorry forget I ever said that" Jude panicked 

"No I would love to go on a date with you the question just took me by surprise I had no idea you still felt that way about me" I said 

"Wait, still you knew I had feelings on you" he said 

"Yeah you weren't exactly subtle a few years ago but now you are definitely better at hiding your feelings I had no idea you still liked me" I explained 

We laughed about it before actually planning our date after texting our parents to make sure they'd be willing to take us and make the reservation at the restaurant we wanted to go to for us as we aren't actually old enough to do that. On the way home from the park I couldn't stop smiling thinking about going on a date with Jude after all these years of friendship and feelings on both sides but never at the same time. When we got to my house Jude grabbed my hand and leaned in to kiss my cheek which made me blush like I've never blushed before but it felt right being with Jude in this way. 

19 years old 

I'd have never guessed that the airport would be so busy on Valentine's Day but I guess it makes sense with people going away or going to visit long distance partners which is what I'm doing so I guess I'm part of the problem. Since Jude went to Germany our relationship has changed quite a lot but we are still just as happy as before. Originally I was supposed to move with him and join Dortmund's women's team but I tore my acl over a year ago and haven't been able to play again since so instead I opted to go to university instead. Last year we couldn't be together to celebrate so we had a date over FaceTime but this year I'm surprising Jude as he has no idea I'm coming. With the help of some of his teammates who I knew well from coming to visit as much as I can I've planned dinner at a nice restaurant and then we are going to a show at a nearby theatre but most importantly I'm going to Jude's apartment to wait for him to come home from training to surprise him with it all. 

My flight landed a bit late but I got through the airport quickly so I managed to get to the apartment with about half an hour to spare before Jude is due home. I spent my time freshening up a bit and setting out the presents I got him on the coffee table. When I heard him opening the door I got up and ran to hide somewhere to really make it a surprise. He came in and saw what I'd left for him on the coffee table and started to read the card which is when I came out from the room I was hiding in and snuck up until I could sit next to him. I managed to make him jump then he just stared at me and didn't say anything. 

"What are you doing here?" He asked when he was able to speak 

"I thought I'd come and surprise you as we didn't get to spend valentines together last year" I said 

"I've missed you so much I'm so happy you're here" he said 

"I'm here for a few days so we can spend plenty of time together but tonight I have things planned for us so we need to get ready in an hour" I said 

"What have you planned?" He asked 

"We are going to dinner at that restaurant that you said is really nice and then afterwards we are going to the local theatre to watch a show" I said 

"That sounds amazing I'm so impressed you've managed to pull this off" he said 

"I had a bit of help so hopefully it all goes to plan" I said 

"As long as I get to be with you it doesn't matter what goes wrong I'll have a good time" he said 

21 years old - present day 

The last year or so has been a rollercoaster once Jude moved to Madrid and settled in I joined him to do my masters degree instead of staying home for another year. Because of all this last year we didn't celebrate valentines at all really as Jude was away for a game and I had exams but this year he's promised me he's going to go all out to make up for it. I have no classes today so Jude booked appointments for me to get my hair, nails and makeup done so all I have to do is pick an outfit when I get home which is already a lot but he made sure to make it clear that this is only the beginning. 

My first appointment was my hair appointment so I just got a trim and got it styled then came makeup which I left up to the makeup artist as she definitely knows better than I do. I already looked so much better just after that but I still had one more appointment. Jude remembered where I like to go to get my nails done so he booked the appointment with the girl I always go to so we got to catch up as it's been a while since I've had someone other than me do my nails. Usually I have ideas of what I want to do but this time I didn't so she suggested some someone French tips so that's what we did. My nail girl is good but today she took extra care in making sure they were perfect and wouldn't let me leave until she was happy but it was so worth it. 

After all of my appointments I felt really good about myself even more so when I got home and got dressed in the dress I decided I wanted to wear. Jude also put on his outfit which he looked so good in so I insisted that we take pictures together before we leave as we never both look this good one of us is always having a bad hair day so we have to take advantage of both feeling good about ourselves. After taking pictures Jude told me we needed to leave as there was a car waiting outside for us which was I was expecting to just be an Uber or something but it was actually a really fancy car. The driver greeted us and offered us glasses of champagne which is definitely not what I was expecting but Jude did say he was going to go all out so I should've seen it coming. 

The car took us to a really nice restaurant which surprisingly wasn't too busy despite it being Valentine's Day. The place was definitely decked out for the occasion as there were candles on all the tables and lots of roses all around including a few rose petals on each table. Dinner was lovely all of the food was amazing and we had a great time but that wasn't all Jude had planned so we got back into the car which took us to this beautiful park in the city. As it was dark no one else was around so we walked around for a bit and then made our way to the big lake in the middle of it. 

I was enjoying the view looking at the reflection of the moon in the water when I felt Jude's hand slip out of mine so I looked over to see if he was ok. When I did I saw him down on one knee holding a ring box. I really didn't expect Jude to propose tonight so I was shocked but also incredibly happy as he truly is the love of my life so getting married to him is something I've dreamed of a lot. Jude grabbed one of my hands while my other one went to wipe the tears that were falling down my face completely out of my control. 

"Y/n since we met when we were little kids we've had a connection that I've never experienced with anyone else and when we started dating I realised I was the luckiest person on earth get to be with my best friend and soulmate now I think it's time to ask if you'll marry me and be my valentine forever" he said 

"Y-yes of course I'll marry you" I managed to stutter out as he slid the ring on my finger

"Thank god I was so nervous you'd say no" he laughed 

"Why would I ever say no" I said 

"I don't know I was just worried you'd think this is too much or a bit corny to do it on Valentine's Day but this day has been important throughout our relationship so it felt fitting to get engaged on the day we had our first date all those years ago" he said 

"Its perfect it means so much to me that you thought so much about it that's what I really care about" I said 

"I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you" he said 

"Me too" I smiled 

[starcharmed]

୨ৎ .ᐟ.ᐟ - unnecessary feedback

summary : sukuna might be an asshole but at least he's nice (sometimes) ◞ cw : modern au, some playfully mean comments, cursing, 1 (one) suggestive comment (it's sukuna c'mon), abuse of commas, word rot no.3 ◞ wc : 0.5k+

“The fuck are you doing?” Your boyfriend’s sweet and kind and caring tone reached your ears as you squared your shoulders up and tilted back the notebook to block out a view he could still see at his height. 

“Nothin’.” Sliding from his gaze, you rubbed your fingertips across the abnormally unmessy sketch across the page, “You wouldn’t even be interested in this anyways.” Okay, you deserved that eyebrow raise but it wasn’t completely false. Sukuna hardly looked at your art whenever you were working, maybe it’s because he figured you didn’t like to be perceived while working. 

“If you sat there for ten fucking minutes staring at me like I grew four arms or something, then it’s not nothin’”, pitching his voice to mock your tone, Sukuna tried swiping at your notebook, “Let me see.”

“No, you freak.” Raising your notebook up in the air was a pointless move. Overestimating your physical prowess against Sukuna all of people, you let go once his hand grasped the notebook. You’d rather have him see than tear the entire thing in half trying to squabble with him. 

“Sukuna, please, they look horrible and I didn’t even draw your nose right and it’s bad-”

He was going to kill you (ignore you for about ten minutes until he wanted attention), then hide your body in the basement (you don’t even have a basement), and tell the police that it was your weird neighbour Satoru (he looks like a guy that would hide bodies, to be honest). 

“They’re not bad.” Oh my god you were living with a döppelganger. 

You winced at the uneasy tapping of the notebook upon the top of your head, “I mean it, dumbass. They look fine. You’d know if I was lying, anyways.” You would. Sukuna sugarcoating anything was as possible as diamond rain on Earth. 

Sukuna let you grab your notebook again, making a face when your lead-smudged fingers left an ant sized stian on his hand. You muttered a half-hearted thanks for the returnal of your lifeline, watching him rub his hands against his charcoal black hoodie. Did he even know that he was just smearing the lead against his hand further? He probably didn’t care.

“You were right about my nose, though.” Here we go.

“It’s the angle”, poor defense but not a lie. It was not that easy to capture the full structure of his nose at a sideways downwards tilted type of angle. 

Sukuna snorted, the displeasing noise earning a scrunched up nose from yourself, “You’ve seen my nose from plenty of angles. Especially at a downwards view.”

“That’s why it’s a sketch!” Practically screeching out the words fastly you hoped to save yourself some face, “Get out of my room you hoe.” Discarding your notebook someone amongst the mountains of throw blankets upon your bed, pushing Sukuna out of your shared bedroom was harder than moving, well, a mountain.

“You’re so weird”, grabbing your hands, Sukuna stopped your movements flawlessly, “Very weird. Why am I dating you again?”

“Because you love me?” You wished you could verbally add more question marks without seemingly speaking oddly. 

“No, I hate you.”

“What the fuck? Die.” Cringing away from the kiss on top of your head, you felt the urge to draw him as ugly as possible.

Wait…maybe you should draw him with four arms next.

[phantomdreamgirl]

Every time He smiles, My Heart Breaks

(18+)

Familyvideo!steve harrington x reader

After Steve broke your heart back in high school, you spent the next few years avoiding him until you found yourself leaning against the video store counter, falling for his charms all over again.

Standing in line at Family Video, you clutch the two VHS tapes you're holding to your chest. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, as you eye how many people are ahead of you. You knew coming in on a Saturday night was a bad idea, but you were in need of one of your comfort movies and would risk waiting in an obscenely long line to get it.

You sigh before you see an overwhelmed Robin yell for Steve to come to the counter.

Shit.

You weren't expecting to see him tonight or ever, as every time you'd been there in the past, you had just missed him. A cold sweat forms on your brow as you reluctantly take a step forward. A simple trip to the video store was quickly turning into your worst nightmare, as you inch closer and closer to the guy responsible for the worst heartbreak of your life.

You try to stay to the right, where the line branches off, in hopes of ending up with Robin instead. Your hopes are soon crushed however, as the person in front of you chooses her to rant at over their late fees.

"I can help whoever's next," you then hear a familiar voice say.

You look over at him and he flashes a faint smile, as recognition registers on his face. You smile politely in return as you approach the counter. You set the tapes down in front of you, now aware of how clammy your hands are.

"Hey," he greets as he assesses the tapes. "How have you been?"

"Good, just busy. What about you?" You ask, as your eyes meet his.

You forgot just how mesmerizing they were. So many memories suddenly flood your mind as you force yourself to keep a neutral expression.

"Same, actually, as you can see it can get pretty crazy in here some nights," he replies, scanning one of the tapes. "Oh, Flashdance, nice. I remember how much you liked this one."

"You should, that was one of our best dates," you say with a laugh.

"Yeah," he smiles. "It was. Then you played the soundtrack in your car nonstop afterwards."

"I still do sometimes," you reveal.

Steve averts his eyes from yours before asking you for the store rewards card. You hand it to him and he holds it for a second before handing it back to you.

"You know what? These are on the house," he says, handing the tapes back to you.

"What? I don't-" you begin to protest when he's leaning over the counter, closer to you.

You then instinctively lean against the counter, towards him. He's so close you can smell traces of the minty gum he was chewing earlier.

"Would you mind waiting until after I get this line down? I wanna talk to you about something," he whispers, causing your body to tense up.

"Yeah, sure," you quickly reply, earning another smile from him.

You step to the side of the counter, again clutching the tapes to your chest as you wait. Your mind's racing with a million possibilities for what he would want to talk to you about. Maybe he's finally going to apologize for how he treated you back in high school. Would he even care about that now? Should you still care about it as much as you do? Why do you still let him get to you? The questions are endless until you hear Steve softly saying your name.

He steps out from behind the counter and stands next to you.

"Can I walk you out to your car?" He asks, pointing to the parking lot. "It's too crowded in here."

You nod, and he gestures for you to walk in front of him. He hurries ahead of you to get the door, holding it open so the two of you can exit into the chilly, February evening.

He follows you to your car and waits as you toss the tapes into the passenger seat.

"So, what do you want to talk to me about?" You ask, after turning to face him.

"I, um, have been thinking about you a lot lately," he begins, slightly nervous, "and I know that probably sounds really weird since we haven't talked in years, and I know that's my fault, but I... I just want to apologize for how shitty I was to you when we broke up-"

"You mean when you left me for Nancy?" You interrupt, folding your arms across your chest.

"Yeah, I was a total jerk about it, and I'm sorry," he replies, with a pout. "You deserved a better guy than me anyway."

Your expression softens as you notice the sadness in his eyes.

"I wouldn't go that far," you console. "You were a good boyfriend, we were happy."

"Its hard for me to remember sometimes," he admits, kicking some of the loose gravel beneath his feet. "Sometimes all I can remember is how I hurt you."

"That's all I can remember sometimes, too," you confess, meeting his sad gaze.

"I'm just so sorry for all of it and I want to make it up to you," he continues, hopeful. "Valentines day is coming up and I was wondering, if you'd want to go to dinner with me? If you don't already have plans..."

"I-" you start to reply, as his proposition has seemingly rendered you speechless.

"I'll totally understand if you don't want to, since you probably still hate me," he adds, now just rambling. "I'd still hate me too."

You then reach out and lightly grip the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "I don't hate you, Steve," you assure.

His face instantly lights up with a smile that still gives you butterflies.

"You don't?"

You shake your head. "I could never hate you."

"Would you be willing to go out with me, then?" He asks again, noticing how you're still holding onto him.

"I would," you quietly answer, as you feel him wrapping his arms around you.

"Yeah?" He questions, still with a smile.

You nod.

He pulls you into him, against his warm, broad chest and whatever thoughts of protest leave your mind.

"I won't mess this up again," he breathes, gazing into your eyes.

Your hand moves from his sleeve to his green vest as he leans in close. You grip it so tightly, turning your knuckles white. His nose brushes yours before he presses the softest kiss to your lips.

You should be embarrassed by how easily you melt into his arms, but in the moment, you can't bring yourself to care. His lips feel so right, everything about him feels right. It's a feeling you've never felt with anyone else and its all encompassing.

The intensity of his kiss grows as he pins you against the side of your car. He presses more of his body against you, as it seems he's just as caught up in how good it feels to have you back in his arms.

"I've missed you," he murmurs, into a kiss.

Before you can respond, you hear Robin calling out for him.

"Steve! Stop making out with the customers and get your ass back in here!"

"Just give me a sec, Rob," he replies, looking over at her. "This is kinda important."

She rolls her eyes before noticing you're who he's with. "Oh... just make it quick."

You each exchange awkward smiles before she disappears inside the store.

"Sorry about that," Steve apologizes, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

"Its okay," you assure, sweetly. "I should go, anyway. Wouldn't want you to get in trouble with the big boss."

He playfully scoffs. "Don't worry about that. Keith needs me and he knows it."

He leans in again, and asks with his thumb caressing your cheek, "Can I call you later?"

"Yeah, I just need to give you my new number," you reply, while digging into your purse for a pen. You pull one out, excitedly, but then realize you don't have anything to write on. An idea flickers across your face as you tell him to hold out his hand.

He does so, with a smile, before you write your number on his palm.

You then smile up at him and see a familiar glint in his eyes. You remember how he used to look at you like that all time and it always made you dizzy with love.

"You're adorable," he breathes, pulling you back to him for another kiss.

You whine his name against his lips, gently pushing him away, knowing that if you didn't stop him, you'd never leave.

"Alright," he huffs, pulling away. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay," you smile, as he takes a few steps back allowing you to get into your car.

He watches you leave, standing in place until your car disappears into the distance.

You have a dumb smile plastered on your lips the whole way back to your house. Only in your dreams could you have imagined such an interaction with him. You only wish he would've come to this realization sooner, but you're grateful nonetheless.

He makes good on his promise to call you that night, as the phone rings around ten.

"I didn't wake you up or anything, did I?" He asks, sweetly.

"No, I'm still up," you reply, smiling into the phone.

"Okay, good."

You both then talk for the next hour and a half, until you're both almost dozing off.

"I'm really glad you came in today," he quietly admits.

"I am, too," you say, holding the phone close.

"I've been wanting to say all that to you for so long, it was eating me up inside," he continues. "I miss what we had and I'm sorry for ruining it."

Your heart melts at his admission.

"It means a lot to hear you say that, but you don't have to keep apologizing," you say with a laugh.

"I know, but I still feel so guilty, like, you really loved me and I threw it away for someone who never could," he counters.

"Yeah," you sigh, "but you're making up for it now."

"I didn't expect you to be this forgiving," he admits, also with a laugh.

"Neither did I, but I guess that's part of growing up."

"I guess so," he agrees, with a relieved smile.

You lay on your side, switching the phone to your other ear, imagining his pretty face across from yours.

"I really wanna kiss you right now," he breathes, his voice soft and sleepy.

You smile, burying your face in your pillow. You're about to reply when you hear light snoring and quickly realize he's fallen asleep. After quietly giggling, you listen to him breathe, closing your eyes and pretending he's laying next to you. You almost doze off yourself until the phone slips out of your hand.

"Goodnight Steve," you whisper before turning over to hang up the phone.

Steve calls you every night leading up to your date. It amazes you with how easy it is for him to become a part of your life again.

The night before, he's still vague on the details about your date, saying that it's a surprise. He does tell you to wear something nice, so that probably means that you're going somewhere fancy. You already have the perfect outfit in mind, as you've been saving it for a special occasion.

The following evening, you're getting dressed in your room. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you gently pull black tights up and over your legs, covering the black lace underneath. You then shimmy your way into your black, velvet long-sleeve dress. Walking over to the mirror, you adjust it and make sure it fits just right. You smile at the little red hearts embroidered on it, thinking how this was the perfect dress for Valentines Day.

Turning away from your reflection, you slip into matching black heels before putting on your favorite pair of earrings. You then look over your appearance one last time before you hear the doorbell ring. Long dormant butterflies flutter back to life as you hurry to put on your burgundy coat and sling your purse over your shoulder.

Upon opening the door, you're met with a ridiculously handsome Steve, seemingly also dressed in all black, under his charcoal colored coat. You can't help but gasp at the sight of him.

"Hey," he greets, with a smile, reaching for you.

"Hi," you reply, as he wraps his arms around your waist.

He pulls you to him, pressing his lips to your cheek, as to not ruin your lipstick. Your eyes close as you inhale his cologne. It's different from what he used to wear, but you think it suits him even more.

"You look gorgeous, as always," he breathes, with his lips still at your cheek.

"Thanks," you dreamily reply, "so do you."

"Thanks," he echoes, nuzzling his nose against yours.

You're already consumed by the warmth that radiates from him, that you momentarily forget about the chilly night air around you. You weren't aware how much you missed it until then.

"Ready to go?" He softly asks, between planting little kisses across your cheek.

You nod, dreamily smiling up at him when he pulls away.

He then escorts you to his car, opening the door for you and making sure your coat didn't get caught in it once you get inside.

After he gets in and begins driving out of town, you playfully question where he's taking you. "So, can I at least have a hint about where we're going or...?"

He softly laughs before answering, "I've kept up the suspense long enough. There's a new Italian place that just opened up in the next town over, so I thought we'd go there. Believe it or not, my parents actually raved about it, and they don't like anything, so I'm guessing it must be pretty good."

"Oh," you smile, relieved. "That sounds great then."

"I told you I wanna make up for everything, so I wanted to take you somewhere nice," he adds, glancing over at you and gently taking your hand.

You smile in return as he squeezes, affectionately.

After he parks in the overflowing parking lot, you start to open your door when he stops you. He quickly hops out and hurries over to the passenger side of the car.

"Allow me," he says, helping you out of the car.

"Such the gentleman tonight," you tease, as he wraps his arm around you.

"Um, excuse me, I'm always a gentleman," he reminds, with faux annoyance.

"I know," you agree, leaning into him.

Once inside, you both quickly see how crowded it is, with angry wives and girlfriends, furious that there's no tables available without a reservation. You nervously look to Steve who assures you that he has it covered. He strolls up to the host stand and tells the frazzled hostess that he has a reservation for two under Harrington. She checks the leather bound notebook in front of her and smiles when she finds his name. After grabbing two menus, she looks up at him and says to follow her.

You could feel the hateful looks as you and Steve walk into the dining room. The hostess seats you at a secluded booth, complete with candle lit ambience.

"I must say I'm pretty impressed so far," you admit, while taking off your coat.

"That was the goal," he smirks, while also shedding his.

When he glances up at you again, he's taken aback by how you look in the soft light.

"God, you're beautiful," he quietly laments, reaching across the table to hold your hand.

Both his words and his constant need to touch you has you blushing. He wasn't like this when you were together before and it's a welcome change. He really has grown up a lot in these last few years, you think, as he gazes at you so adoringly.

"You say that like you're just now realizing it," you smile.

"In a way, I am," he replies, seemingly lovesick. "I was such an idiot before, letting you go... I'm not gonna make that mistake again."

He's looking at you with an intensity that makes your heart race. You know he means every word.

While you ate, Steve couldn't keep from staring at you. His honeyed gaze was soft at first but soon darkened as his thoughts drifted to your perfect lips. He longed to see them parted and slick from his kisses before you breathed his name in the delicate way that he loved. He discreetly reaches under the table to adjust himself, willing himself to make it through the first half of your date.

His staring doesn't go unnoticed, as it makes you feel so desirable. You haven't felt like this in years, and it has you clenching the napkin in your lap. You can see the deliciously filthy thoughts hidden behind his eyes, and you're fighting the urge to drag him out to his car and fuck him in the backseat.

You both struggle to maintain your innocent facades for the remainder of your meal. After paying the check, Steve escorts you out of the restaurant with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. He has you pulled so close that your hips brush his as you walk.

When he has you alone in the parking lot, he presses your back to his passenger side door. A surprised gasp slips from your lips before his body engulfs yours. He kisses you so deeply it literally knocks the breath out of you. In a daze, you wrap your arms around him, with your hands curling under his coat's collar, at the back of his neck. You're almost afraid to touch his skin, fearing it'll be as searing as his kiss.

"I want you so fucking bad," he finally pants, allowing you to breathe.

"I want you, too," you reply, still gasping for air.

"Wanna go back to my place?" He asks, slipping his hands under your coat.

He squeezes your hips, making you whimper up at him.

You nod, and he kisses you again.

During the ride back to Hawkins, you reach into your purse and into your makeup case. Once you have your tube of lipstick in hand, you flip the sun visor in front of you down and open the lighted mirror on the back. Steve curiously watches as you reapply the sultry shade of crimson you wore earlier that night. He's not entirely sure why, but he feels his pants tightening at the sight of your painted lips.

After parking in his parent's driveway, he reaches for you, wanting to pull you in for another desperate kiss. You put your manicured finger to his lips, stopping him.

"Wait until we get inside, handsome," you smile as he looks at you with pleading eyes.

He nods, before pressing a kiss to your fingertip.

He then can't get out of the car fast enough, still going around to the side to open your door for you.

Once the front door is unlocked, you pull him inside, towards the living room. You're both surprised and glad that the house's layout has remained virtually unchanged since you were last there. You lead him to the couch and gently push him down, onto it. He gazes up at you, completely enamored as you straddle him.

You teasingly grind against him while his hands settle on your hips. Your hands move from his shoulders to his hair as you lean in close. His eyes close as he anticipates your kiss only to be surprised when your attention drifts lower, to his neck.

You nuzzle your nose against his skin, allowing his cologne to intoxicate you again.

"I've really missed you," you breathe before pressing a kiss to his freckled skin.

"I've missed you, too," he replies, breathless, "so fuckin' much."

"I don't ever want us to be apart again," you continue, between more crimson kisses.

"We won't be, I won't let it happen," he assures, as he shifts underneath you.

You smile against his skin before kissing your way to his collarbone.

"You promise?" You ask, peering up at him with doe eyes while you unbutton his shirt.

He swallows clumsily as he nods. "Yeah, I promise, honey."

After his shirt is unbuttoned halfway, you glide your nails through his newly exposed chest hair. The prettiest sounds fall from his lips and you can feel how he's throbbing underneath you, growing more desperate by the minute. You lean into him again, this time nuzzling your face to his chest. You flick your tongue over his nipple making him shiver above you.

"Christ, honey, I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep teasing me like this," he warns, raggedly.

You look up at him again, proud to have scored a rare victory over Steve Harrington.

"Am I too much of a tease for you?" You ask, after raising your head to fully meet his gaze.

"You already know the answer to that," he breathes before pulling you into a passionate kiss.

You move your hips again, subtly grinding against his strained bulge. His move instinctively with yours, still so desperate.

"Wait," he pants, after breaking the kiss. "Before we go any further, we need to go upstairs. I wanna do this right."

You look at his disheveled hair and lipstick stained lips and smile.

You reply with a soft kiss before he guides you to the stairs.

You instantly feel like a teenager again, following him to his room for the first time. That room holds so many memories that it feels surreal being back there.

Steve saunters to the bed, with his hand still entwined with yours. He stops in front of it and begins undressing. Your eyes travel his body, noting how he's definitely improved with age. When he's only left in his tight, black underwear, he sits on the edge of the bed and looks up at you.

The hungry look in his eyes is your silent cue to also undress. You slip your arms out of the sleeves of your dress and shimmy out of it. You try to take off your tights as seductively as you can, as the heat from his gaze is overwhelming.

You toss them to the floor, leaving you in your lacy, black lingerie. You then take a few steps closer to him, standing between his spread legs. His hands are immediately on you, roaming your body like it's already his.

"So fuckin' gorgeous," he laments, in awe of the sight before him.

"You're not so bad yourself," you reply, combing your fingers through his hair.

He smiles before leaning up to kiss you. Before you know it, he has you on your back, trailing kisses across your chest. You whine his name, fingers curling into his hair when you feel him leaving hickies on your sensitive skin.

"Every inch of you is fucking perfect," he pants, as he kisses down your stomach. "I want you to always remember that, okay?"

He glances up at you, his eyes consumed with desire. You nod, breathless and dazed. He returns his focus to your hips, nibbling on them before kissing lower, to the waist of your panties. He teases you by kissing around the soft skin of your thighs, before pressing his lips to the black lace. He presses his tongue against the soaked fabric, tasting your arousal. He moans into you before pressing more kisses to your clothed core.

His large hands grip your hips, holding you in place as you writhe against the bed. You whine and cry his name, begging for more. He soon releases his grip long enough to rip your panties down your legs and throw them to the side.

His mouth is on you again, greedily licking and kissing the most delicate part of you. Your fingers claw at his scalp, pulling at his hair when he fucks you with his tongue. His nails are digging into your skin as he moans into you. He's so painfully hard now that he's grinding himself against the bed.

You whine his name again, your body trembling around him. Moans and cries of his name echo off his bedroom walls as he brings you closer to release. He's relentless in how he's devouring you, vowing not to stop until you make a mess on his face.

He gets his wish when your thighs clamp around his head and your voice is practically horse from screaming his name. He keeps lapping at you, moaning loudly as well, though it's muffled. He finally looks up at you, pretty face grinning and glistening. He rests his cheek against your thigh, while you catch your breath.

"You're even sweeter than I remembered," he smiles, making you cover your face with your hands.

He then crawls up your body, hovering his face over yours. You reach for him, eagerly pulling him into a kiss. He presses his body to yours and you feel an unfamiliar dampness on your lower half.

"Did you...?" You ask, pulling away slightly.

"I think so, yeah," he cringes.

"That's so hot," you breathe, before kissing him again.

He whimpers into it, his sweaty body melting into yours.

"You should take them off anyway," you say, running your finger along the waistband of his underwear.

He immediately rolls onto his back and pulls his sticky underwear down his legs. He throws them to the floor then lays next to you. His eyes stay fixed on you as you sit up just enough to unclasp your bra. Once it slips off onto the floor, he's on top of you.

"So fucking pretty," he breathes, with his lips brushing yours. "Still want me, honey?"

"I want you," you whine. "I need you Steve, please..."

He rewards you with a kiss as he reaches between you and strokes himself.

"Say it again," he breathily commands, against your lips.

"I need you, Steve," you repeat, with your hands cradling his face.

"I'm yours, honey," he pants, as he eases himself inside you. "I always will be."

You gasp, your hands dropping to his shoulders as he slowly pushes in.

"Steve, I-" you say, your nails digging into his skin.

"I know, but you can take it," he assures. "I know you can, honey."

He kisses you again, distracting you from the stretch of him now deep inside you.

"See? Like I said, so goddamn perfect," he praises, between kisses.

You struggle to kiss him back, as you're already overwhelmed with pleasure.

His thrusts start out slow, letting you acclimate to him. Memories of all the times you were together like this in this room, in this bed, flood your mind. It's almost too much as tears well in your eyes.

"Hey, what's going on in that gorgeous head of yours?" He softly asks, stilling his hips.

A light shade of pink covers your already flushed cheeks as you gaze up at him wistfully.

"This just feels so familiar, you know?" You explain, slightly embarrassed. "Like, remembering everything that happened here is just hitting me and it's a lot."

"I know what you mean," he admits, surprising you. "Being here can be too much for me sometimes, too."

He leans in and just nuzzles his nose against yours.

"I just really loved you and you broke my heart, and I almost never recovered," you reveal.

"'Loved?' So you don't feel that way anymore?" He questions, his lip starting to quiver.

"I still do," you answer, tearfully. "I love you, Steve."

He blinks away his own tears and sighs your name. "I love you, too, so goddamn much it hurts."

He presses his lips to yours excitedly. He breathes how much he loves you with every kiss as his hips start to move again. Once he sets a good rhythm, he buries his face in your neck, flicking his tongue over your skin before leaving little reminders of his affection.

You whimper his name, as you tighten your legs around his waist. He raises his head to kiss you again while his hips roughly meet yours. You know neither one of you is going to last much longer, as you're crying his name again and he's moaning more words of praise.

"Fuck, honey, I love you...I fucking love you so much..." he pants, before collapsing on top of you.

"I love you, too," you reply, combing your fingers through the ends of his hair.

He moves to lay next to you and quickly pulls you to him. You feel the scratch of his chest hair against your cheek when you rest your head against him.

After you each just lie there, listening to the other breathe, he finally says, "This is how it always should've been. It was always meant to be you."

You raise your head and look into his soft, hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it," he continues as you smile.

"It doesn't matter now. All that matters is that we found our way back to each other,"you reply, reaching to cup his cheek.

"Will you spend the night with me?" He then asks, bringing his hand up and placing it over yours.

You nod, moving closer to his face. "Tonight and every night."

He smiles before pulling you into a sweet kiss.

What started out as your worst nightmare turned into a dream come true, as you were reunited with the love of your life. And it was all because of a simple trip to the video store.

❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️

🏷: @donaweasley @allergictosoup @daisy-is-a-writer @saddiesthings @yourfavoritewitchbitch @the-fairy-anon @kassy-djomunson @elsas-wife

[beomiracles]

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒����𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 TAPE 05

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ Moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. Though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder. ⸝⸝

𝓹airings criminal!beomgyu x detective!reader 𝔀arnings references to sexual encounters, blood, mentions of injuries, drinking, red-flag reader (?), no warnings just vibes idk man leave me alone im going to cry.

📼 THE TAPE RECORDINGS

𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓢𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 contains dark themes portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships and substance abuse. reader discretion is advised ! — this story is partly told in flashbacks, beware of timestamps as past/present are mixed throughout the story.

#serene adds ✎.. the last scene was so god awful hard for me to write for some unknown reason... oh well! I got it out, I'm alive, all is well :3

[ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။| TAPE 05 ] — Bloody Bodies recording legnth; 6.4k + PLAYLIST

⸝⸝

📼 — April 29th 2022

“So… What happens now?” Your hushed question feels loud when it passes your swollen lips. Gingerly pulling your panties back on, you cringe at the sticky feeling of the damp fabric against your skin. Beomgyu remains silent next to you as he leans back against the brick wall. For a moment, you wonder if your question had been a stupid one to ask. 

It’s not until you move closer to him, your arm brushing against his that he tilts his head your way, one of his brows tugging upward. “Is something supposed to happen?” He echoes in an almost monotone voice. — Confused, you glance between him and the door only a few steps away. “Are you not going back inside?” 

For the past ten minutes you had been trying to come up with an excuse, rather an explanation to deliver in front of Kayla once you walked back inside the club with Beomgyu. She would be mad, undoubtedly so and your mind raked with different scenarios and outcomes. What would you tell her? Would you even get the chance to introduce him, would he even want you to? Maybe he would just take off as soon as you stepped inside. 

“No.” 

His sigh is like a stone brick thrown right at you, hitting you across the face and leaving an ugly bruise. You blink, in complete disbelief as your gaze darts back toward him. But you had just spent ten whole minutes worrying about what to say. And he wasn’t even going back in? — “You’re not?” It was impossible to hide the disappointment in your voice and you’re almost certain he picked up on it. 

Beomgyu shakes his head before letting it tilt back against the wall behind him. You knew that he was waiting for you to leave, and perhaps you should. Any other day you probably would have, but today it wasn’t enough. The sex only gave you a temporary fix, you needed more. 

“Where are you going?” You straighten out your back, hands falling to your sides as they clenched into fists. You were determined to draw at least a half-assed answer out of him. Beomgyu doesn’t look at you when he replies, “Work.” 

Ah right, work. It was an easy excuse, given that you knew little to nothing about what he did for a living, or anything else regarding him for that matter. That was bound to change. 

“You work nights?” 

He hadn’t expected that question, you could tell by the way his jaw subtly clenched, his hands digging deeper into his pockets. He nods, but his eyes are fixated on something far away, something you couldn’t see. “I do sometimes”, he hums. 

Sometimes? He must work quite odd hours, for night shifts were usually on a tight and regular schedule. “Is it okay for you to drink before work?” You ask with a small frown, silently questioning his move to come here if he knew he had somewhere important to be shortly after. — But Beomgyu merely shrugs as he pushes himself off the cold wall. “I am my own boss, dollface.” His lips curl into the ghost of a smirk when he leans over to kiss your forehead. 

And just like that, he was gone again, and you were left with what seemed even more questions than you’d started with. 

⸝⸝

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 22th 2024

“He was a freelancer… Of sorts..” You quietly state and Yeonjun glances up from the files in front of him. “Freelance?” He repeats and you nod as your gaze returns to the photos of the crime scene before you. Your finger drags across the image of the bloodstained cough, cringing as you imagine Beomgyu, covered from head to toe in blood as he lunges at the poor victim. 

“Do you know what kind of freelance?” Your senior then wonders as he flips a page. You did. Though Beomgyu rarely, if ever, discussed work matters with you, you had still caught on to enough where you knew what kind of connections he held, what kind of person he was. — For some reason your lips betray you, “I don’t.” 

You then hastily continue, “He was gone a lot, worked odd hours, came and went.” You shrug, trying your best to divert from the topic you had brought up yourself. You don’t know why you defended him, why you felt the need to take his side. You want to be honest with Yeonjun, hell you want to be honest with yourself. Why did he have to make it so hard? 

Your last conversation a mere two days ago was still fresh in your mind. You wondered if his words actually held any weight. Was it true? Were you still loyal to him, after everything that had happened… Maybe you always will be. The thought was a scary one and you quickly pushed it away. 

Choi Beomgyu was going to prison. He had no alibi, no witnesses, and all evidence pointed at him. All you lacked now was his confession, but that proved to be more than difficult. 

“Why did you do it?” 

Your question is left hanging in the open air, and your fingers curl around the pencil in your hand as you grip it tightly. The all too familiar metal table in front of you gleams under the bright lamp hanging above, the sterile lights reflecting off of its surface. — Beomgyu sighs, sounding tired as his gaze shifts from the wall behind you and over to meet your own. But when his eyes fall on you, they seem to regain their almost mischievous glint. “You’ve got to be a little more specific than that, dollface.” 

Feeling your jaw clench as you fight to stay composed, your gaze flickers to the window on your left. As much as you wanted answers, you couldn’t risk anything with Yeonjun on the other side, listening intently to the conversation taking place. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as you watch your reflection through the dark glass, you looked as scared as you felt. 

Following your hesitant glance, Beomgyu smirks. It was like he fed on your uncertainty. Every step you faltered allowed him to take at least three forward. You swallow, and then your attention returns to him. “Why did you kill him?” — “Hm?” He attempts to run a hand through his hair, cringing slightly when he realizes that they’re both tied together by the metal cuffs around his wrists. With the small roll of his eyes he continues, “Thought I already told you, I was cleaning up a mes-” 

“No.” 

He pauses, cocking an eyebrow as he watches you with an impassive expression. You draw in a sharp breath. Never had you interrupted him before, never had you dared to. His brows pull together, his vision narrowing if only slightly. “No?” He huffs, the disbelief in his tone evident. — You shake your head softly, the movement small, so minimal that only he could pick up on it. 

“Why did you kill him?” 

Within the four confined walls the already thick air suddenly shifted. You recognized the smirk that tugged across his lips, the way his eyes glimmered with recognition. Beomgyu leans back, his hands clasped neatly together as his thumbs roll over one another. And even though it felt as if the two of you spoke completely different languages, where words were all but an endless game of cat and mouse.. — Sometimes… It was like he could understand you perfectly, as long as you gave him reason to. 

His tongue prods against the inside of his cheek, his lip twitching and for a second it looked like he was holding back laughter. “Dollface”, he drawls, metal cuffs rattling against the metal table when he leans forward. “Why?” He echoes, “Is that what you’re dying to know?” 

Yes. But you never say it out loud. You swallow, your grip on the pencil so tight that it might just snap in half. Beomgyu picks up on it, his eyes flitting down for a second before snapping back up to yours. — You knew that Beomgyu had killed people, you knew that he had blood on his hands. You have seen it yourself. 

⸝⸝

📼 — May 11th 2022

The hotel room is dark. The expensive silk beneath you is cool to the touch and the large bed is cold, for it misses the warmth of another body next to your own. You try to swallow down the lump in your throat, but it won’t budge. It’s quiet, eerily so, and your stomach doesn’t tingle with butterflies as it usually would on a night like this. Instead it twists with dread. 

You reach for your discarded phone, its bright light stings your eyes when you re-read his message. The address was correct, the room number too. But the time… 11:45 pm. Your heart drops when your gaze flickers toward the time indicator on your screen. 

2:31 am. 

He was nearly three hours late. But Beomgyu was never late, in fact, he was always there before you. Often you had wondered how he managed to get from one location to the next, how he never seemed out of place, no matter when and where you met. But tonight things are different. — Had he changed his mind? Did he not want to see you after all? Maybe something had come up… 

Your attention fixates on the shut door. You imagine him walking through it, his dark hair falling across his even darker eyes, the everlasting smirk plastered on his lips. You imagine his voice, the nickname he had for you rolling off his tongue when his arms wrap around your waist. You imagine him kissing you, with a longing that perfectly matched your own. 

But Beomgyu never comes. 

You bite your lip, the idea of going home crossing your mind. It would be rather pathetic to wait here all alone, no? But then he would have spent money on a room left unused. Perhaps you should stay the night.. You could order room service in the morning before leaving. 

The bed frame rattles under your weight when your back reaches the mattress with a thud. Exhausted and anxious, you let your eyes fall shut as you beg for sleep to take you. Even if you worried that he would continue to haunt your nightmares. — Beomgyu always left you clueless, he kept you in the dark. But naive as you were, you thought you would one day get answers to all of your questions. If only you stayed long enough.. 

You don’t know how many hours had passed, perhaps it had been mere minutes. But it was still dark outside when the small click of the door lock startled you awake. Quickly shooting up from the bed, your back presses against the headboard as you grab onto a pillow, not that it would aid in any defense. 

The thick darkness prevents you from making out who the person lingering within the shadows was. Your heart thumps against your ribcage and your free hand blindly searches for your phone, only to freeze in your tracks when his voice cuts through the silence. — “Fuck, are you still here?” Beomgyu’s short breath instantly makes you relax and you slump back against the bed. 

Lowering the pillow from your chest, you swallow. “Sorry, should I have gone home?” You quietly wonder as you shift awkwardly on the mattress. In the everlasting darkness it was impossible to make out his expression, but you hear him heave a sigh. “No it’s fine, I… Fuck I’m sorry, dollface.” 

He takes a couple of steps forward, finally emerging from the shadows and becoming engulfed in the pale light of the moon. You find your gaze lingering by his dark figure, regarding him like it was your last chance, you never knew if it was. — The cold metal of his rings send sparks down your spine when his fingers wrap around your chin. He tilts your face back, his other hand finding a place atop your head as he studies you with a small frown. 

“I got held up at work”, he explains and your eyes widen. It was unusual of him to share as much as a word about his life outside of your encounters, even if it was just a simple apology for his tardiness.

You find yourself leaning into his touch. “It's alright”, you murmur, your eyes half lidded when you peer up at him, “You can always make it up to me.” 

Beomgyu chuckles, his hands sliding down your sides as he guides you back onto the mattress. The kisses he places to the side of your neck and down your collarbone are warm and familiar. That very warmth seeps into the cold vines that have tightened around your chest, gradually loosening them up.

You don’t question where he had been or what had made him take so long, you knew that you would never receive an answer. Instead you clung onto this fragile moment of intimacy, for you never knew if it were to be your last. 

Letting your hands trail along his still clothed chest, your fingers toy with the hem of his shirt, tugging on it as you pull him closer. Just as you’re about to push the garment up above his torso, do you freeze. There was an undeniable wet patch on the soft cotton. But when your lips part in an unspoken question, Beomgyu’s sudden kiss to your open mouth makes you lose your sense of direction. 

Allowing him to kiss you for a moment, your hands halt as your fingers nervously fiddle with his shirt. But when you find that the damp spot only grows, you can’t ignore it anymore. — “What’s that?” You half-hearted whisper against his lips, torn between satiating your burning curiosity and saving this sacred moment. 

“Hm?” Beomgyu hums against you, his kisses becoming all the more persistent in an attempt to sway your curious mind elsewhere. He ignores it when your hands brace themselves on his chest, and it’s not until you speak that he finally pulls back an inch. “Beomgyu, there’s something on your shirt..” 

With an outstretched arm you flick on the small light on the bedside table. Given a second to adjust to the warm glow, your eyes widen as soon as they fall on the dark crimson stain covering his grey shirt. — Was that… blood? 

Immediately you jerk back, your gaze flitting down to your now stained fingers. It was fresh. “Oh my god”, is all you can muster and before he has the chance to object your hands are insistently bunching his shirt up above his chest. — “Dollface”, Beomgyu tries, his fingers gently wrapping around your wrists but you merely shrug him off, all too focused on the blood smeared across his skin. 

“What happened- Are you hurt? Why didn’t you say something?” The words all come bubbling to the surface, passing your lips without crossing your mind twice. It’s not until your trembling fingers swipe across his very much untainted chest that a brief silence falls over the two of you. He doesn’t wince or draw back at your finger’s probing, because he wasn’t hurt in the first place. 

Beomgyu sighs, his hands brushing along your forearms. “It’s not mine”, he says, his voice is low, calm, as if trying to reassure you that everything was fine when it quite clearly wasn’t. How could he say something like that so casually? And what did he mean by not his? Who else if not him… 

You swallow, the sound near deafening in the otherwise quiet room. All previous desire and longing has now washed off, the heat of his kisses and his touch no longer linger. You felt cold, left with an uncanny feeling in the deepest pits of your stomach. — You refuse to look him in the eyes, “What happened?” 

He doesn’t answer right away. Was he thinking of an excuse? Was he conjuring yet another lie? Maybe he was debating on telling the truth for once. His thumbs rub soothing circles across your wrists, the small action however, had an opposite effect. You couldn’t tear your gaze from the blood, there was so much of it. 

“Told you I got held up at work didn’t I?” He finally says, pulling you close in order to press a kiss to your forehead. His words didn’t matter, they couldn’t erase the uneasiness that had begun to build inside of you. Instead you draw in a deep breath, shifting on the bed as you lean back to peer up at him. “What exactly do you do for work?” 

Beomgyu lets go of your wrists as he bites the inside of his cheek. He runs a hand through his dark hair and you intently follow the action. Whilst studying him under the faint glow of the bedside lamp, you notice just how rough he was looking, and that didn’t have to do with the blood tainting his chest. His hair was disheveled, his eyes sunken in, his skin was pale and there was a small cut on his upper lip. 

He looked exhausted. 

“It’s a business”, he begins in a low tone, drawing his words out as he talks slowly. His gaze flickers over the deep frown etched across your face and he presses the palm of his hand to your cheek. “I merely make sure that deals go through”, he says as his thumb slides between your furrowed brows, as if trying to ease your expression. 

You shake your head, unconvinced by his vague response. “What kind of business ends in you looking like that?” There’s an underlying sense of accusation to your question and despite the subtle clench of his jaw, Beomgyu continues his soft caress to your face. “Our client hurt himself, pure accident. — Had to get him help, it took longer than I expected.” 

He sends you a small smile, and you want to believe him, you really do. You want to believe that Beomgyu was just your average person, living an average life. But you knew that he wasn’t And you knew that he was lying to you right now. Beomgyu lied a lot. What you didn’t know was if his lies were good or bad intentions. 

It scared you. 

⸝⸝

📼 — May 11th 2022

You didn’t think Beomgyu was a murderer. No, that would be extreme. Yet you found yourself ignoring his messages. He’d sent two. Just like usual they had contained two separate addresses, two separate times. You’d officially stood him up twice. He told you that he was okay with it, that he didn’t mind, so you took his word for it. — On the fourth day you think he might stop, that he might grow tired of your persistent no-shows and move over to the next woman waiting on his call. But as you sit in class that very afternoon, your phone vibrates with the indication of yet another text. You felt your stomach twist. 

Of course, you were right. The second your eyes fall on the short message you completely lose track of your surroundings. He was insistent, you’d give him that. But surely this would be the last time he’d ask for you. You had spent weeks, almost two months chasing after him. Suppose a small part of you thought of this as payback. 

Perhaps that was what caused you to act without reasoning as you turned in your seat. A light tap to Taehyun’s shoulder makes his eyes divert from the board ahead and over to you. “Hm?” He asks as he taps his pencil against the pages of his notebook. You feel your lips tug into a smirk that’s familiar yet most uncharacteristic on you. 

“Do you want to go clubbing tonight?” 

Taehyun sputters at your words, his jaw slacking as he glances around like you’d just asked him to go down on you. “T-Tonight? Me and you? Clubbing?” He seems almost baffled at the proposal, even more so when you quickly nod. — “Sure why not?” You drawl as the smirk on your lips only grows. You trusted your classmate enough to share a drink or two with him. Besides, Taehyun was a good guy, there was no harm in getting to know him better was there?

He hesitates for a moment, gaze flitting between your professor by the front of the classroom and back to you. “But what about class tomorrow?” He wonders and you shake your head. “Class is canceled, didn’t you hear? Mrs Yang is ill.” — His mouth forms into a small ‘o’ shape as he hums. 

“Sure I guess… Do you have a place in mind?” 

“Are you sure you know where we are?” Taehyun sounds wary as he trails behind you, he’s like a skittish animal, ready to jump at the tiniest of sounds. He briefly stops to inspect an old street sign, only to jog after you like somewhat of a lost puppy. You, on the other hand, walk with long and determined strides, your feet carrying you through the narrow alleyway with a confidence you couldn’t quite recognize. — “Don’t worry, I’ve been here before.” 

Sure enough, the familiar entrance soon floats into vision. The same cold purple hues dance across the dark brick walls, casting the street in an eerie glow. You don’t know why you had picked this place, why it had seemed like a good idea, but now there was no going back. — You swallow the lump in your throat as images of you, walking down this very path not long ago, flashes before your eyes. 

You recognize the bouncer, the one who’d refused your entry last time. Part of your worries that he might do so again, this time you had no Beomgyu to rely on. The concept was both terrifying and freeing. This was the very first address he’d ever sent you, perhaps that was why the memory was still so vivid in your mind. Something about this place was different, special.

The sharp light of your phone screen illuminates your face as you check the message one final time. ‘Address, room number, 11:00 pm.’ You glance toward the clock on top of your screen, indicating a menacing 2:37 am. He would’ve left by now, surely pissed off with being stood up a third time, which means… Your gaze drifts toward the entrance mere feet away, the thumping rhythm of bass already drumming through your chest. 

You wanted to see Beomgyu, that was the truth. You just didn’t want to see him. The chances of catching a glimpse of him were slim, but if there was anywhere you’d be able to find him, it would be here. Why? — Well because your gut told you so. 

Taehyun grabs ahold of your arm when you make a move to approach the bouncer. “Why don’t we just go back?” He murmurs, the words coming out hushed. You shrug him off, shaking your head as you march toward the large man. This was it, you would give it your best shot. — Straightening your back, you push out your shoulders as far as they would go, your gaze narrowed when you glance up at him. 

The bouncer peers down at you through his dark sunglasses, then he frowns, lifting a finger as he pushes them down on his nose. His eyes meet yours and there’s a flash of recognition. “Miss”, he drawls, a small grin splayed across his otherwise stern face. “How delightful of you to join us tonight.” — He steps aside, allowing you both inside, though not without sending Taehyun a harsh glare. 

“Do you know him?” Your classmate asks as he stays close to you. — The smirk on your lips grows and you shrug, “Sort of.” 

The interior of the place was just like you had remembered it. The large dancefloor, the purple lights, the booths shoved against the walls, not to mention the lack of a bar as drinks were being passed around by the many waiters. — Somewhere behind you Taehyun lets out a short breath, gawking as he takes in his surroundings. But your eyes were only in search of one thing, of one person. And when you don't find him, you pull your friend along as you scour the outskirts of the crowded floor. 

Upon passing a waiter on bystand, you snag two glasses off of his plate, handing one of them to Taehyun. He seems skeptical as he peers down at his drink, “Do you even know what’s in these?” — You shake your head, “Nope.” That was the least of your concerns. 

Your eyes fall on the grand staircase when you bring the cool glass to your lips. The steps looked much different tonight than they had back then. Tonight they felt untouchable. There was no way you would be getting up there… At least now without a little help. 

“Where are you going?” Taehyun calls for you, and you hear him rushing after you as he pushes past the people in his way. You know that you should stop and give him at least a half-assed explanation, maybe even ask him to wait somewhere else. But your mind is entirely preoccupied with the sight before you. — “I’m serious, what are you-” He cuts himself off when he crashes into your shoulder, stumbling backward as he grips his drink tightly. 

You’ve stopped in front of one of the many booths lining the walls, and Taehyun peers over your shoulder as he tries to make sense of the situation. The unfamiliar faces to him are ones you recognize with fright. 

“No way”, a deep voice drawls, “Dollface, is that you?” 

Duri leans forward, his hand, previously on the thigh of the girl next to him, withdrawing as he runs it through his short hair. You feel your stomach draw into knots at the persistent use of that nickname, the one that sounded so sickeningly wrong coming from his lips. — Duri chuckles as he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“We seem to bump into one another quite a lot”, he muses, even though he knew that tonight had been no coincidence. You had come with clear intentions in mind, you were certain he could tell. — “Yes.” You send him a tight lipped smile, “So it seems.” 

You could practically feel the confusion radiate off of Taehyun as he shifts awkwardly behind you, his eyes darting between Duri and the men surrounding him. You try not to pay his presence any mind as you focus your attention on the target before you. 

“Say”, Duri leans forward as he grabs one of the drinks set aside on the table between you, “What can I do for you tonight?” 

Your lips part, the grip on your glass tightening significantly as you throw a glance over your shoulder, your eyes automatically landing on the staircase. The steps seemed to shimmer under the purple lights. Duri hums behind you, snapping your attention right back to where it should have remained all along. 

He brings his drink to his lips, taking a long sip as he peers at you over the rim of his glass. “Pray tell, what business do you have there?” He wonders as he busies himself with another sip. You shake your head, your gaze unwavering as you say, “That’s none of your concern.” 

Duri chuckles, the sound rough and raspy as it builds in his chest. His friends all join in, their laughter echoing off of the booth’s walls. You ignore them, patiently waiting them out as you twist the foot of your glass between your fingers. — After a long minute Duri finally nods, “He’s rubbing off on you.” 

The comment makes your face burn and you resist the urge to avert your gaze. Painfully, you watch as he leans over to share a kiss with the woman next to him, parting for a moment to whisper something in her ear. Then he sits back, slamming his drink down on the table with a little too much force. “Fair”, he agrees as he rises to his feet. 

Bewildered, you watch as he makes his way around the table, giving your shoulder a harsh pat before making his way toward the staircase. — “Come on”, you urge Taehyun as you hurriedly follow Duri’s tall frame through the ocean of people. Your classmate’s complaints are audible as he whines behind you. “Have you really thought this through?” He questions, his breath warm against the back of your neck, “I mean, look at the guy! We should not be following someone like him to-” 

He’s cut short when Duri suddenly stops by the first step. “Ah”, he exhales as he turns on his heel, his piercing gaze falling on Taehyun. “Seems I have yet to introduce myself, pardon me.” — He extends a rough hand and you watch as Taehyun gingerly takes it in his. “Duri”, he says, the menacing smirk on his lips making your friend cower as he mumbles out a quiet, “Taehyun..” 

It looked as though Duri was holding back laughter when he turned back to you. “Shall we?” He glances in the direction of the grand doors atop the stairs and you nod. 

When you had first climbed these steps, with Beomgyu’s hand on your lower back, the world had been spinning. Each step had felt like one closer to the edge of a misty cliff, where the fog was so thick that it had been impossible to deem the trauma of the fall you might take. — Tonight it felt different. The cliff was no longer enveloped in mist, you saw things clearly now. You saw him clearly. That’s what you had told yourself. 

Each step you take feels both empowering and deafening. The moment lasts forever yet it’s somehow over in a second. And before you know it, you’re faced with the grand doors leading into the VIP section. — Duri stops, his hand on the door handle as he sends the guards a small look of acknowledgement. 

“I think you’ll be fine from here”, he states, the finalization in his tone evident. Wordlessly he pushes the large doors open, motioning for you to step inside. You do so without hesitation, not sparing Duri as much as a second glance when you pass him. 

It’s quiet here, the air is lighter, cleaner. Just like you’d remembered it. Taehyun’s presence is hard to ignore as he clings to your side, the heat radiating off of him as his skittish eyes dart around the room. Almost all booths are occupied already, but you manage to find an empty one by the very edge. 

“Did you know him?” Taehyun whispers when you sit back against the soft cushions. You nod, your gaze still roaming the open space as you absentmindedly bring your drink to your lips, “Sort of.” — Your classmate frowns, and you knew all too well from the look on his face that he was far from satisfied with your answer. 

Your eyes jump from booth to booth, quickly skimming the people populating them as you fervently search for your target. But it’s not even been a full minute when Taehyun interrupts you again. — “Why are we here?” His voice is even quieter now, as if hesitant to even ask the question out loud. “Are you looking for someone?” He then adds when he notices your distant gaze. 

You hum, shaking your head as you lean back against the velvety cushion. “No.” But that was a lie, your first of many. And just as the simple word leaves your lips do you finally find him. All the way across the room, shielded by the man standing before him, yet you could clearly make out his dark hair amongst the rest. 

Suddenly your throat feels dry, and you gulp down another mouthful of your beverage. He’d come here after all. A small, naive part of you had hoped and wished that he would stay, that he would linger within the empty hotel room as he waited for your arrival. But it seems he’d moved quickly. 

It doesn’t take long for you to notice the unfamiliar woman draped on his arm. The sight shouldn’t surprise you anymore, but your heart still skips a beat. She was your replacement. And though she was far from anything you represented, he’d still turned to her when you were a no-show rather than wallowing his sorrows alone at night. — You shouldn’t have expected anything less of him. He was Choi Beomgyu after all. 

He hasn’t noticed you and appears preoccupied with whatever conversation he was currently indulged in. You wish he would notice you. You crave his eyes on you. You long for the way a simple glance from him could make you feel. 

You’d stood him up a third time tonight, and it had made you feel in control. For once you were deciding, and not him. So why was it that you felt so utterly powerless at this very moment? Why was it that your eyes searched his when he couldn’t be bothered to even gaze your way? 

You turn to Taehyun, he was watching you with a small frown. “You don’t like it here?” You ask, the tension falling from your face as you regard his awkward frame. Taehyun shrugs, his warm eyes flitting to the drink in his hand. “It’s alright”, he says, but you catch the hesitation in his voice. 

He chokes on the liquor when your hand brushes along his thigh. “Don’t worry”, you hum as you settle against the booth wall, “We can leave again if you’d like.” Taehyun swallows as he glances between the smile on your lips and to your fingers splayed across his leg. An unfamiliar tint spreads across his cheek when he clears his throat and you find yourself enjoying the sight. 

“It’s fine, really.” He assures you as he takes another small sip of his drink. Though he makes no attempt at shrugging you off. You could still sense his confusion, and you didn’t blame him. You were acting far too uncharacteristically even for your own liking. You had barely recognized yourself when you’d approached Duri. The sudden surge of confidence was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, and the rush it had left behind still tingled in the depths of your stomach. 

It was the length you were willing to go in order to see him, to see Beomgyu. 

Your gaze drifts toward him on its own, and it’s not until his dark eyes fall on yours that you realize just how long and intently you’d been staring at him. He pauses mid sentence, his expression being struck with something you couldn’t quite decipher from this far away. Any other instance you would’ve probably looked away, hid behind nervous laughter or pretended like you hadn’t noticed him in the first place. 

But tonight you don’t feel like yourself. — So you hold his gaze. You want him to see you, all of you. You want him to know that you were here, that you had come without him and that you weren’t planning on changing said fact. 

Beomgyu shifts where he stands on the other side of the room. His fingers, that had previously been drawing small circles on the waist of the woman next to him, stopped. She’s talking to him, her lips move but you can’t make out what she’s saying, and you’re certain that he’s not listening either. 

You can’t tell if he’s angry, you hope he is. Was it selfish? You wanted to pull any other emotion besides lust out of him. You wanted him to feel what you felt every single moment spent in his absence, was that so wrong? — You think you might have succeeded when his hand falls from her waist. 

“I want to go home.” 

The words escape before you can stop them and you lean forward to place your now empty glass on the table before you. Taehyun’s frown returns, and you feel him shift under your hand. “But we just got here? I thought you wanted to-” — “I changed my mind.” You firmly state, not tearing your gaze from Beomgyu as you watch his jaw clench. 

You had gotten what you came here for. A small, but noticeable reaction, one that you’d created. Now all that remained was to safely evacuate before he had the chance to approach you. — With that you rise to your feet, blinking as blood rushes to your head. Taehyun is quick to follow as he gulps down the last of his drink. 

“Hey, wait are you-” His protests are lost on you as you head for the door. Through the corner of your eye you catch Beomgyu’s dark figure moving, coming closer. You quicken your pace, desperate to get away from a situation you had caused yourself. And you were so close, the door handle almost within reach when suddenly, a hand wrapped around your wrist.

You freeze. Their grip is firm, unwavering and demanding as they tug you backward. This was it, this had been a mistake. One temporary rush of confidence had led you to believe that you were actually in control. And now you were about to pay the price for your foolish actions. With your heart in your throat, you turn. 

It’s Taehyun. 

His expression is tense and guarded. It seemed he finally reached his peak. The warmth in his eyes feels distant as he regards you with a narrowed gaze. “What’s going on with you?” He spits the words out, and though you can tell that he’s trying his hardest to appear stoic, you can see the concern swirling in his irises. 

“You want one thing then the next, you’re making no sense and I…” You stop listening, his rambling becomes background noise when you catch Beomgyu not far behind him. Dark strands falling across his face, the rings on his fingers glimmering under the lights as he runs them through his hair. He’s stopped, and you wonder why. 

Your gaze shifts between Taehyun’s worried expression and his motionless one. In that moment, you realize just how much power Beomgyu holds over you, the extreme lengths he makes you go to just to end up hurt in the end. — You didn’t want to feel like that anymore. 

“Taehyun.” His endless rambling is cut short when his name leaves your lips. His eyes, despite the conflict buried within them, are nothing like Beomgyu’s. No, his eyes are gentle, even like this, even when they shouldn’t be. Even when you didn’t deserve it. Your gaze flickers over to Beomgyu one last time before they return to him. 

“Can you kiss me?” 

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[weneeya]

do you think you could write the “jacked and kind” prompt with suna or tsukishima, it’s so cute ahhh

jacked and kind pt.1 / pt.2 m.list | rules

pairing. haikyuu x reader

characters. suna, tsukishima, atsumu, aone

note. ofc i can! i decided to use your request as an excuse to make a part 2 so i put both suna and tsuki lmao, hope you'll love it as much as the first one <3

⎯ Suna Rintarou

Of course he saw the trend multiple times himself, you were well aware of it. He was the one to ask you if you wanted to do it with him, which made you laugh a bit. 

“Kind? Since when?” You asked him, and it made him roll his eyes with an amused grin. You might be right on this point, but no one needed to know that he was, in fact, a real menace. “Come on, don’t be like that,” he told you and you raised your hands in the air to claim your innocence. After all, you weren’t the one who needed to make any effort for this. 

Suna might not seem so jacked, but he was still a volleyball player after all. All the training wasn’t just to know how to play. You were nothing more than a feather with someone like him, but you didn’t expect to be lifted up so easily. It made you gasp in surprise, you had to admit it. 

When he put you down and you walked to turn down the video, he waited beside you with his arms crossed and his stupidly annoying grin. “Didn’t think I could do it, uh?” You glanced at him before rolling your eyes, which made his grin go wider. 

Yes, you knew he could do it, but you hated when he was right and so full of himself. Well, not really. It made him hot, even if you would never tell him that.

⎯ Tsukishima Kei

“I’m not doing this.” 

You knew he would say this the moment you would ask him to do the trend with you. Tsukishima wasn’t a show off, so he didn’t see why he should be doing as stupid as showing anyone he could carry you on his shoulder. It wasn’t that he couldn’t, he just thought it was stupid. 

But you kept on begging him, day after day, until he finally accepted. He had nothing to prove, he was just tired of hearing you asking him this anytime you could. So he let you install your phone, putting everything as you wanted. 

“Ready?” He asked, and you nodded. The moment after, you felt his hands grabbing you to carry you on his shoulder. You knew your boyfriend was tall of course, but you never realized how much until you were up there. He put you down not much longer after, and you quickly got to grab your phone. 

You had a bright smile on your face that made him sigh before looking away, putting his glasses back up on his nose. Perhaps it was stupid, but if it made you so happy, it was clearly worth it.

⎯ Miya Atsumu

“I could do it too,” he said with a pouty face while looking at your phone from above your shoulder. 

It wasn’t the first time he saw you looking at this trend, all kicking your feet and all. It wasn’t so impressive, you had a boy who could do it too. Why didn’t you ask him to do it? He didn’t want to be the one asking, but he tried to leave you messages so you would ask him. 

“Wanna redo it?” You asked with a little smile, clearly understanding that he wanted to show off what he could do too. He nodded and moved away from you to stand up straight. It made you chuckle, how eager he was to prove things to you. 

He remained cool the whole video, wanting to be your handsome and cool boyfriend for anyone who would see this. He held you like nothing on his shoulder, putting you down after flexing his other arm to show that you weighed nothing for him.

He was clearly too proud of himself for a stupid trend, but you would never be the one to break down his joy, so you let him proudly show off while watching the video, an amused smile on your lips. 

⎯ Takanobu Aone

The boy was the definition itself of being jacked and kind. He was probably the sweetest person you had ever met, even if he might have scared you a bit at first, like anyone else. He was huge and impressive, never really speaking a lot. But you quickly learned to discover the cute boy Aone was really, the boy you loved so much. 

He did not quite understand what you were asking him to do to begin with. Well, putting you up on his shoulder didn’t seem so difficult, but why did you want him to do this? Yet, he could never refuse you anything so he simply accepted without more questions. 

Aone let you put everything in place before you walked closer to him. He waited silently the whole time, his hands resting on your hips and his eyes locked on you while waiting for you to tell him he could go. 

In no time, you were already on his shoulder, his arm around your legs to keep you there safely. His eyes were never leaving you, and you didn’t know if it was because he didn’t know what to do or simply because he loved looking at you ; because yes, Aone was the type to stare. 

You gently patted his arm with a smile, and he simply put you down on the floor as easily as he carried you. You couldn’t help but to chuckle a bit while looking at the video. He really was looking at you like a lost puppy ; a big puppy, yes, but an adorable one. If one thing was sure, it was that Aone only had eyes for you.

thank you for reading!

[eyesof-kkomi]

Emergency Valentine

Emergency Valentine - Zayne

This is the first time I write a Love and Deepspace fic. My idea is, it's Valentine's day. As they were both busy on that day, so they both agree to have simple dinner together after work and have a reservation for romantic dinner. MC has finished her work early, so she waited for him to finish their work.

(Note: author is sleep deprived in between night shifts, so…)

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

Emergency Valentine - Zayne

It was Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s Day had never been anything special to Zayne, but this year, he had made plans. A quiet dinner tomorrow—just the two of them. First time everything together always made his heart melt.

But then Zayne distinct hospital's ringtone rang - He had been called in for emergency surgery at the last minute. Right when MC had just arrived, sat down, and carrying warm cooked meals, hot cocoa, and assortments of their favourite macaroons.

Zayne shot an apologetic glance to her and pinching his nose bridge.

"It's 5 years old kid with protocore syndrome and recent MVA accident-"

"It's okay Zayne, no need to explain. Do your job well. I will be waiting"

"Promise that I will be quick and do it well, don't wait for me to start eating so you won't get sick."

MC just smiled reassuringly and waved at him dashed through the door"

MC understood, of course. They both had mutual understanding the nature of each others' job.

But surgery took longer than expected.

She had meant to stay awake, but exhaustion settled in, the warm air lulling her into a deep sleep on his sofa.

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

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

By the time Zayne returned, it was almost midnight. But the patient had pulled through. Has she left yet? The room had already dark. Good for her, he hoped she could get rest properly at home.

He put down his ID card on table and about to collapse onto his sofa with tired sigh, until he saw her.

There, curled up on the sofa, was MC.

His gaze swept over the scene—food containers neatly placed on the table, untouched. A set of macaroons still neatly wrapped with ribbon. A thermos of hot cocoa and two clean sets of mugs. Her bag rested on her foot, her coat draped loosely over her shoulders, and she hugged a snowman plushie.

She had waited.

Zayne’s lips parted slightly, as if about to say something—though to no one in particular.

Instead, he walked over, crouching beside her.

A small crease formed between his brows. Her breathing seemed uneven.

Carefully, he reached out, the back of his fingers brushing against her cheek.

…Warm.

Zayne’s expression shifted.

Without hesitation, he pressed a hand lightly to her forehead. Too hot.

He took out a thermometer, the reading beeped at 39.5 C. A fever.

He moved quickly to set up IV and medicines. Blankets. He adjusted the room temperature, turning on the heater for good measure.

She barely stirred.

Zayne pulled up a chair beside her, arms resting on his knees as he watched her carefully.

His fingers curled slightly.

She had waited, in the cold, without eating. That was probably why her fever had worsened.

A quiet sigh left his lips.

Now he waited. And regularly checked her ear temperature.

"Zayne…?"

She woke half an hour later, blinking groggily.

"How's the kid?"

“You’re awake,” he noted, voice even.

"He's okay now but we still need careful observation on PICU." He paused, "But I seemed to get another new patient admission."

He reached over, pressing the back of his hand against her forehead again. Still warm, but slightly better.

She let out a small, weak chuckle.

"He's okay now. But I seemed to get another new patient admission"

“Did I fall asleep…?”

“You have a fever,” Zayne said simply. He proceeded to take out warmed foods from microwave and put down on table."

She gave a small, sheepish chuckle. “I just wanted to wait for you.” “You should have eaten first.”

She opened her mouth, but before she could argue, he blowed air and lifted a spoonful of warm soup to her lips.

“Eat, my love.” he said gently.

A pause. Then, she smiled.

He was always like this—quietly taking care of her in ways that truly mattered.

She let him feed her, her body relaxing with the warmth of the meal.

He measured her temperature once again, it had gone down.

"How do you feel? Any nausea or stomach discomfort"

She shaked her head. " I'm alright now, thanks to Zayne and doctor Zayne."

Zayne smiled softly. "I bet you skipped lunch during your mission today. You should take care of yourself well."

After a while, he spoke again.

“I’m taking you home.”

His fingers lightly brushed against her forehead again, checking her temperature. Still warm.

His voice was softer this time.

“You’ll recover faster with me.”

Her heart fluttered.

She reached out, lacing her fingers through his.

“You feel guilty, don’t you?”

Zayne didn’t answer immediately. He simply squeezed her hand.

"If you get sick, I feel like I get sick too", Zayne said sheepisly while looked away.

“Tomorrow, we’ll have dinner. I promise. If you had recovered, of course.” He brought her hand and kissed it.

She smiled, squeezing his hand back.

“Okay. Tomorrow. We have all the time in the world together.”

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

I still have ideas for other LIs, maybe I will upload it once I've finished edited it.

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

[wittywords]

hi so a lil update. for those of you who don't know my whole thing is reading the oxford dictionary. like I'm not just picking random words on the internet, I actually plan to finish OED. I started last spring and I'm almost done with letter H (still haven't made the posts but I have the words saved in a document). it's going a bit slower that I wanted because I'm still in school but I want to finish it by the end of the year

there's also the problem with me not having an OED subscription which means that I can't see longer definitions. like the website only let's you see the beginning which sucks because I have a document full of definitions I need to complete. my plan is to wait until summer when I'll have more free time to pay for a subscription and search all those words. there's no way I'm paying for more than a couple of months I just can't afford that right now. because of it I'll probably start posting words starting with A again which is ruining the whole vibe of the blog but oh well what can you do

also when I'm done like DONE with everything I want to start making lists with words in different categories (like words that appeared in the 90s, love-related words, words starting with letter whatever, you get the idea). and maybe post some writing tips and resources as well in the meantime

I'm debating whether I should make a Patreon or make a blog with WordPress and earn money through ads. like on one hand I don't really like ads but on the other I know what it's like to be a young writer and rely on free resources posted by other writers and I don't want to put my stuff on Patreon and demand payment for other people to be able to read it, but I have over 3,5k followers and I had a link to my ko-fi for months in my bio and I haven't seen one dollar so relying on donations is out of the question

I spent over a hundred hours on this project and who knows how much longer it's gonna take me to finish it and I feel like I deserve to earn something after all this work. and also I need money. so yeah. tell me in the comments what you think

edit: I think I'm gonna go with the second idea and make a blog with WordPress or some other platform

[frommybedroom]

revelations

for @chetbakr for @outsiders-gift-exchanges

It’s not until he’s bashing in Sodapop Curtis’s nose, covered in mud, soaked from rain, a bruise surely blooming on his cheek, that Chet begins to wonder what the hell are you doing?

He has that thought, coming to him in a quiet voice that sounds strangely like Marcia that somehow breaks through his haze, and his fist stutters. The hesitation lasts only a moment, but that’s all Soda needs. He flips them around so now he’s on top of Chet, crushing his windpipe. He watches Soda pull his fist back, almost in slow motion. He closes his eyes, and a second later feels the impact hit his jaw. He waits for the pain to come, but it doesn’t. All he feels is a weight lifted off his chest, and when he opens his eyes, he sees that Soda has moved on to the next boy, disappearing into the darkness.

With Soda gone, he doesn’t know entirely what to do with himself now. He should probably get up—he can hear Brill next to him cursing out whoever he’s fighting with—but it suddenly doesn’t seem worth it. The realization of what they’re doing weighs on his shoulders, and he droops. It’s like someone dropped a garbage bag of stones into his stomach. They’ve gutted him, and now they’re preparing to throw him in the river to see whether he’ll float or drown.

He feels like he’s drowning right now.

It had been drizzling lightly on their walk to the park, Brill and Trip pounding on their chests and hollering about how the greasers weren’t gonna know what hit ’em, but the real rain started after the rumble began, making everything slicker and slippery and that much more dangerous. It makes Chet wish he had suggested postponing their fight till the weather was kinder to them, but he was worried that Brill and Trip would share a look before calling him a pussy. They’d been sharing looks a lot lately, and it always made him insecure, wondering what he had done out of line that they disapproved of. And anyway, he already felt like he was on thin ice after the incident at the fountain.

Nobody understood the precarious ledge he stood on, always one foot in and one foot out. The person who should’ve understood the tightrope he balanced on, Marcia, actually had the nerve to visit him the night before, pleading in a shaky voice, “He doesn’t listen to me, but you can get through to him. Tell him not to fight tonight. Please, Chet.”

Clearly she had severely overestimated how much her boyfriend and his friends valued his opinion. It was kind of funny.

“What makes you think I have any control over what they do?” he asked.

She blinked, obviously not expecting this. “Well, I just thought that since you guys were friends…”

Chet swallowed down another laugh, shaking his head. “It’s different with boys than with girls. You ask one other for advice on how to curl your hair or what dresses to wear or whatever, and the other one actually listens. Guys don’t do that.”

“Is that really the only thing you think girls talk about?” Marcia asked scornfully before she threw her hands up in despair. “What’s the point of any of this?”

“To avenge Bob,” he responded, repeating Paul’s words from earlier. “To get justice for his murder. You really want a bunch of murderers walking around wherever they please?” Then he shook his head. “Trip’s right—you really have been hanging around Cherry too much. She’s getting in your head. Messing with your emotions.” Messing with mine, too.

“Maybe our emotions need messing with,” she said, but that was that. She hadn’t said anything else and left soon after, quietly accepting that there was nothing she could do or say that would convince him otherwise.

Now, sitting on the ground, cold seeping into his pants and hair clinging to his forehead, he wishes he’d listened to her.

How has it even come to this? When he tries to trace it all back to the beginning, he keeps getting lost. Did it start when they attacked Pony at the movie house? Or maybe it started when they beat up Pony’s friend. The small, dark one. Johnny. The one who stabbed Bob. Could Cherry be right after all? Or perhaps this doesn’t actually start with any of them—maybe it’s their parents who led them here.

After all, wasn’t it his parents who dutifully brought him and his sisters to church every Sunday morning? Wasn’t it because of them that he sat in the uncomfortable wooden pews and listened to the pastor talk about the importance of obedience to God, of following His orders, because He knew best? Psalm 128:1—Blessed are all who fear the Lord, who walk in obedience to Him. It wasn’t his fault that Bob Sheldon had been their God and that Chet had been born afraid.

But then, if it actually was their parents’ fault… who had taught them? Their own parents probably. And who had taught them? How did it all get decided this was the way life was in Tulsa? Suddenly, it all seemed terribly arbitrary.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hears someone yell, and before he realizes what’s happening, before he’s even fully snapped out of whatever downward spiral he’d been rapidly approaching, Brill is grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet. “Retreat! Retreat!”

Chet’s feet seem to understand the order before his brain does, and by the time his brain decides to start working again, he’s sprinting with the rest of them. He can barely make out Melvin’s blond hair a few feet in front of him. It occurs to him how dangerous this is. The roads are so slippery. All it takes is one misstep, a fractured ankle or a broken knee, and he could kiss any potential football scholarships goodbye.

Once they’re a safe distance away, Paul whirls around to face them, chest heaving. “What the fuck happened?” he snarls. “I thought we had the upper hand.”

“We did,” Brill says after he’s caught his breath, fixing Chet with a stony look. “But then I look over and see this jackass here just lying on the ground and staring at nothing like a goddamn zombie.”

“What?” Paul looks at Chet to confirm.

Realizing now is probably a good time for him to come up with some excuse or reason why he stopped fighting—a blow to the head maybe?—he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He realizes he’s too tired to lie.

“Well?” Paul asks, raising his brows.

So tired. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this tired.

“Whatever,” Trip mutters, and they all start to limp away, hugging the parts of their bodies that ache.

Chet remains where he is, watching the receding backs of his friends as they disappear into the darkness of night. He reaches a hand up to cradle his throbbing jaw—he’s starting to feel where Soda’s fist had made contact—and doesn’t know if the wetness pooling under his hand is from the rain or his tears.

What he does know is that when he tilts his head up and closes his eyes, he feels clean again. Pure. Whole.

[actual-changeling]

part 1 || part 2 || part 3

———

she's always let her guard down too easily around him. it takes only a week for the memory of saltwater and bleach to pass, and while she doesn't forget about what he said in the hospital, she no longer expects him to repeat it.

a one-time mistake, an untimely confession they have both silently agreed to leave behind. he chose the possibly worst moment to confess to her, and she wanted to hear it—still does, if she's being honest with herself—but not like this. not in the aftermath of death and adrenaline when she's barely holding herself together.

and, foolishly, she assumed mulder would realize that, at the very least, and give her what she needs: space.

she was wrong.

the cup of too-bitter diner coffee in her hands is almost empty, and she tries (and fails) not to enjoy that he's paying attention to what she's saying, trusting that she knows her science, trusting her. after months of petty doubts about her integrity as both a person and an agent, the weight on her chest is finally beginning to lift.

without an isolated office, they search for anonymity in the masses and tend to find it, usually right in the middle of a busy diner. they should get to work soon, but his eyes on her face keep her sitting.

"once we're finished reading through the reports, skinner wants to talk to us." she idly taps her nails against the ceramic and lets her gaze wander while she speaks without any urgency. outside, colours flicker and faces blur, and it's almost soothing to watch, like a river that never stops running. "i think—"

"scully?" mulder interrupts just loud enough for her to hear, and she should sense the weight in his voice, but she looks right past it. she knows she shouldn't and does it anyway, simply to keep the bubble from being popped for a few more precious seconds.

seconds that tick and tick and tick as she faces him. she had lowered her walls too quickly, hadn't she? once more, she doesn't see it coming, doesn't want to see it coming, and this time it's half her fault for forgiving him—for trusting that he would not shatter the fragile peace settling between them. for trusting him despite knowing better.

"yes?" she looks at him, almost innocently, and she feels lighter than she has in weeks for one last moment.

time runs out.

"i love you." easily, like he has said it before, like she's used to hearing it, like it's world-changing and trivial. not like they're both making the same mistake twice.

there's no fall.

scully hits the ground, paralysed from the initial impact, and he's still staring at her with wide eyes and a hint of a smile. all heat leaves her body as the air is knocked out of her, and a painful current tingles through her limbs when she slams the cup down on the table. it doesn't break, and she barely resists the urge to throw it against the wall.

she stands up. she burns.

bright, angry, a spark of hurt igniting her skin that's starved for touch, for kindness, but not like this. not when she knows he will watch her burn and blame her for becoming a shadow of smoke and ash. her mouth tastes like salted bleach.

mulder's smile slips, his voice dipping into something that's not quite disappointment—not yet. confusion.

he dares to be confused, and she doesn't have anywhere to put the pain. her hands curl into fists, her nails dig into her skin, and she simply stares at him with white knuckles and blood coating her palms.

why? remains stuck in her throat. she knows he doesn't know, probably hasn't even considered it. why say it again? why hold a lit match to her and wait until she catches on fire?

why, why why, why?

(because she lets him. he doesn't realize that, either.)

"scully?"

she's afraid if she opens her mouth, she will do nothing but scream, so she grits her teeth, locks her jaw, and runs.

(she lets him follow her.

it's the only thing she knows how to do.)

———

writing while super tired is seldom a good idea but have more messy angst anyway. i should really just write the whole damn fic at this point.

[ishgard]

Okay this is not going to be a very official looking post because 1. I don't have the steam for it and 2. I think the timing with Dawntrail's release would probably not be great.

But I did a while back make a "WoL-y" (pronounced like the fish "walleye" to sort of rhyme with "July") monthly prompt list. Normally I'd attempt to make a nice little graphic for it, but after trying a couple of times and feeling dissatisfied I've woefully given up :'D (If anyone feels possessed of the desire to do so, by all means feel free!)

Alternatively if you want to just pocket these for later once the DT hype has cooled a bit, go for it! OR trim a couple out and make it a countdown to DT, I'm just setting them free. So without further ado:

A Warrior of Light Month of Prompts!~

Morning Routine

Adventure

Companions

Fond Memories

Patron Deity

Origins

Specialty

Laughter

Adventurer's Guild

Favored Weapon

Discovery

Secret

Echo

Beach Episode

In Another Life…

Best Friend

Dungeon

Holiday

Habits

Darkest Hour

Victory

Crafting & Gathering

Allied Tribe

Haunting

Beloved

Beloathed

Sanctuary

Family

Bad End

Perfect Day

Bedtime Rituals

[torchickentacos]

I just got an email from a professor notifying me that it's the last day to submit the first assignment, and this is somehow the first time that anyone's actually called me out on my habit of getting stuff done 6 hours before it's due. huh.

[disagigglebilities]

Fuck it. I'm buying a wheelchair when I move. We have one small step inside which means if it's a light one I can probably get it up and down by myself so. At the very least it might make it easier for me to get out of the house.