#somewhat simple ig

[mausirot]

i'm absolutely spiraling about having to work tomorrow but i found my клонопин so at least i'll be able to sleep

[kuntprodukt]

DOLL PARTS

Death Island Leon S. Kennedy x reader | 18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, KIDNAPPING, DUB CON SEX, SMUT, female reader, age gap, abusive relationship, guilt tripping, Stockholm syndrome, dumbification ig, rough sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, choking, creampie, finger sucking, bruises, implied physical violence, internal conflict, teasing, guilt, implied obsessive behavior(Leon) i think, dirty talk, pet names, degradation.

Summary: There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is close to lose after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. For him, to kidnap you is to save that part. Cause life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Of course you don't understand.

notes: this is a mess I fear, but I had a blast writing this tho so idc LOL!!! Also thanks @writingwisterias for letting me bother you with my rambling and my indecisiveness with kidnapper leon（╹◡╹）I don’t condone anything here in real life. :3 uhm, reblogs, asks or comments and any kind of feedback are really appreciated!

tags: @melanchol1cs

Clocks are ticking, not only in real time but in his mind - a disturbing reminder of how at his age Leon wasn’t even able to settle down. Tick - tock. Of course, men can always find a young woman, and two or three times of unprotected sex would be enough to impregnate one. Still, Leon doesn’t believe that applies to him - alcohol is not only a boner killer but also of fertility. Neither does he crave babies, he can be considered a dad to Sherry, also they would only show how time flies. She is enough of a reminder, no need for more.

He found you on the dating app - Sherry suggested he try, as a joke, probably not expecting him to follow the advice.

For him, you looked like a doll. Almost a godsend. Pretty, young, and easy to manhandle. Almost drooled at the prospect of having your legs wrapped around his waist. He should feel guilty or disgusted at the idea to fuck you… at the images of the material of your panties clinging to your hips, wrinkling up with every movement before his fingers would curl under it to tug them down. Right? No-no, he is only 38 years old - at his age men are already bald, Leon is having an easy time here. He has a chance, always had.

While he was unsure what to do, was a simple ‘hello, how are you’ enough for you? Or would it be too simple? Or repulsive? Why is he even worried about that, you probably matched him on accident.

You texted him first, something he didn’t expect from a young woman - even women of his age don’t text him first, they are dry and uninterested. Like sex with them.

“hiii ^^” This forces a smile out of him. Again, three dots appear. “You didn’t swipe me as a mistake, right?:3”

He hesitates, his thumb floats on the digital keyboard for a moment. No, it wasn’t a mistake, still, he needs to gratify his ego. “If it was, would it get you sad?”

“yep, actually, very big big sad!”

That was it. Easy and quick to get closer to you. He expected more obstacles, maybe times changed indeed or you are into older guys. All he needed to do was to open his wallet, be nice enough, and show how a ‘real man’ should treat a woman.

Leon knows a lot about you. He knows too much information - where you live, your college, and where you work. Not in a creep-like way, no-no. You were the one asking him to drive you there. Maybe your youth is the only problem to blame on - you were a chatting box endlessly and easily sharing anything with him, maybe things you should not have to. Somewhat, this only attached him to you.

There are always some subtle hints and hidden alarms, no one usually gives a shit about. Also, understandable, to ask anyone who knows him - hard to find someone with a bad opinion of Leon.

“He is okay”

“A hero. Not everyone is capable of saving the president’s daughter” or a simple shrug.

Outside his work, Leon is… just a guy most of the time. Yes, of course, not the luckiest one with the ladies, but it is unlikely someone would describe him as the type to kidnap a girl. No one understands how middle age crisis is going to be hard to handle, he is pushing 40, surely enough it is already waiting for him at the edge of the doorstep - and Leon had enough of bullshit in his life, a pretty and young woman is the panacea for this. The godsend pill to erase his problems.

And finally.

Finally, the tremendous loneliness will disappear, leaving it behind him like a bad dream. The feeling that everybody in the world is doing something without Leon. He can’t stand this ever-consuming loneliness to spread anymore, today IS the day.

He can let himself be selfish just once. Right?

To reach his goal, there is a small step though, a sacrifice to make. That’s why he set a date, in a good and expensive restaurant too.

And today is the day. This shouldn’t be forgotten. The biggest day. The most important one. No, doesn’t do the justice. The absolutely, positively biggest day, may be the right choice of words for Leon.

On the spot already, waiting for you. This time he isn’t late. That bad habit since 1998, but for once he didn’t struggle with his punctuality - too petulant about what will happen, checking clocks every second. Almost like a goddamn teenager, shifting the weight from one foot to the other on the spot. Nothing can go wrong, he tries to calm himself, there are so many ways to cover your disappearance. Perks of the job.

He didn’t notice how you arrived here too until your perfume brought him to senses. Your face is soft, your eyelashes flutter and you are so untainted. Your younger frame reminds him of himself your age. 21 years old, 1998. When he was at your age he had already witnessed horrors, you don’t realize they still exist. Leon shakes his head, that memory never brings anything good, but today his mood is not ruined and the memory has only strengthened the urge to keep you close.

Leon needs you, untouched by horrors and he knows much better how life can be terrifying.

“You ready?” He flashes a smile, his mood is more upturned than it has ever been - you can’t help yourself, a grin spread across your face too. It is infectious.

“Mmm, I am” you nod, curling your hand around his elbow, to keep yourself closer to him. And he is ready too, god, he has never been so fucking ready in his life.

“Not late this time,” His heart clenches at your words, and he looks into your eyes with a cocked eyebrow - awaiting whatever you came up with. “not like you at all, should I expect a surprise?”

“Maybe, maybe not” He brushes off with a shrug, a smile is still on his lips as you get closer to the car, but he can feel your excitement.

“A ring maybe?” You giggle. He opens the car door for you to get in, you don’t want to let go of his arm.

“A ring? Already?” He says and shakes his head. No, not a ring, but a different surprise. He kisses your lips in a chaste way, hoping you will not try to harp on this topic. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart, wait for it”

…

After dinner was different. A drop of temperatures and an easy flow of the air, dull lights of the street lamp illuminating your figures, inhaling the air in your lungs for the last time. The street is empty; no drivers, no smell of cigarettes, just you and him. And… silence fell upon you both.

Until his hand presses a tissue around your nose. It is suffocating; your nails dig into the arm, trying to worm out.

“Shhh, sweetheart, easy there” His voice brushes against your ear, soothing and intimate. The one he used when he fucked you. “Don’t make it worse for yourself...”

The warm body pressed against your back and kept you close until your body became pliant in Leon’s embrace on the silent night.

Tied up and unconscious. He is considerate enough to not let you experience the narrow space of the car trunk. With heaviness in his chest and like a scaredy cat, driving to his apartment - guilt shifts to euphoria in no time. You wanted this, no? Why would you stay with him after all? It doesn’t matter anymore. He was successful, finally. It worked. Today is his luckiest day, it should be highlighted on the calendar.

While this is the uncomfortable memory of your last date.

…

Every time you are alone, there are little things to do - you could have done some projects for college, maybe talk to friends and go to clubs. To catch a pretty guy, to have sex in the bathroom of the said club. Or fall in love with a guy of your age. It fills you with love and excitement like your hypothetical phone is going to ring as if you aren’t forced to be in Leon’s apartment.

Leon says you are a doll. Not those plastic bimbo dolls you see on social media with plastic acrylics that are longer than their eyelashes. Those reeks of cheapness by trying to be expensive, Leon has explained the difference to you. You are not Barbie or Bratz, those are ones you’d probably played with in your childhood, for Leon, you are another kind of a doll.

He is the one controlling you, making those dumb rules you’ve never memorized and you aren’t really going to. His grip around you is tight and your skin blooms with darker colors after playing with you.

Pretty, that word lives rent-free in his mind, almost becoming the most used of his. Favorite word. Your presence urges him to dress you up. A glance into the closet, most of it contains dresses and other items he has bought you. To take care of you, Leon almost emptied his wallet entirely for you a lot after getting you. It excites him. Admiring outfits he put you in and the same night, he is the one raising the fabric of your dress - two fingers or a dick inside you are enough to make you busy with moans and squirm.

He loves it, oh, he adores it. And your pussy is the best. It calms him, centers him - being someone’s center of the world is delightful, the only one time of the day in which he doesn’t feel insane. You make him feel sane, on the days when your mouth doesn’t run free.

From your point of view, he looks like he is trying to play house with you. In a wrong way. Playing house didn’t include tears or forced silence. Or forced participation. It should be fun, usually, it had been, at least in your childhood. Leon acts like this is normal like he didn’t just kidnap you during your date and force you to be here. He is still sweet, still spending his money on you (even though he doesn’t care about your preferences now), there is food on the table too. During the dinner, the silence is filled with stories from his work - names of people you don’t know. They don’t know you either, you aren’t the most famous captive girl on the planet after all. This is the bare minimum.

What’s more to ask for? Freedom, you are full of his shit actually, you would have preferred ignorance to be bliss cause his farce makes you feel insane. More unanswered questions flood your mind, they stick to your mind like a leech on the skin after a fresh swim on the summer day. You need to wash away this feeling, the only way is to question him. Right. First, you played nicely, still pitying him and holding him dear to your heart.

“What are you talking about, sweetie?” And a confused expression was his answer. He doesn’t even process what you said, just moves on. This didn’t work. Nothing fucking works here.

Now you prefer to poke those facts at him - like a harsh whiplash, a cold water against his face to bring him back to reality. You shouldn’t live like this alone.

Under your flesh there is a hidden hole filled with turbulent waters, almost tearing you apart - suffocating you with confusion. You wish hatred was the only reason to keep you sane, but the deep affection towards him still emerges like a bad dream. His tired eyes with loving and sweet nothing words come from his mouth, peppering your body and face with kisses when everything is right. The memories of nights with him flash in your mind: he is nice enough not to break you, while your body reacts in natural ways. You get wet, you feel pleasure, and his fingers know just the right spot to make your back arch.

This tears you apart, it confuses you too. Maybe there is something you don’t catch on, something missing. Conditioning? You aren’t a mindless idiot, nor a Pavlovian dog, but your body reacts like one. Maybe that’s a lie to reassure yourself. Still, you can’t drive yourself close to orgasm when he is not home. Your fingers aren’t enough anymore, almost with tears trying to get yourself off. To feel like your own person without him.

But something. Is. Always. Missing. You are incomplete.

…

It is already late, really late. Leon is a busy man, at least his job seems to be really important - so important, that he has always refused to tell you, avoiding the topic like the plague and switching to that honeyed tone, talking to you like a dumb puppy. Maybe it is some government shit job, something dirty - suitable for him.

But when he is late, many hopeful scenarios emerge, the most common is his car crushing to death. Good girls get gifts, their wishes get accomplished also, and they end up in heaven too - Leon told you that and to him, you are a good girl. Corny shit. Could he be right though? What if your wish was heard finally? Then remained trouble in your life would be to get out.

And the same dreams are crushed every time the sound of the car engine goes off, the jiggle of keys reaches your ears. You know it too well, you can recognize these little details and they fill you with dread. The sound of his steps, they are so different from others. The sound of his car doesn’t sound like those outside his house. Maybe you are insane, but everything he does is so recognizable it makes you sick.

And Leon is back.

His face is the only one you see, even in your dreams. There is nothing changeable in it. Light stubble, but still him. Shaved and it is still him. Different cologne. And still him. Leon sickens you, this little play often pushes your buttons, urging you to break this act and get yourself into trouble. Maybe the remains of hope are to blame, maybe Leon would change his mind and stop this.

He plops down on the couch, drawing your attention to him - impossible to ignore, if you did, you wouldn’t stop hearing the end of his complaints. His black shirt strains across his muscular body, the fabric is not shy to outline his big chest. Black suits him, but Leon looks good in everything forcing more dread stir in your chest.

“Finally, home” Leon sighs, his hand creeping up to pull you into his lap, acting unbothered. Your legs straddle his hips, facing him. Don’t forget, you are captive. And this is the part of the routine. He is going to watch those old movies from his childhood, or work silently(maybe he will nudge his cock inside you, to keep himself warm) and then he will fuck you. A tearful routine.

“…yay..!” You try to smile, forcing it to please him. Ignoring conflicting feelings in your body, anticipation to feel his dick mixed with dread. A yearning for change. Leon kisses your forehead.

His blue eyes feel heavy on your face, making you feel so little. “I missed you” Leon cooed with a honeyed tone, pulling you even closer. That light smell of beer coming from him forces your skin to crawl. His fingers pinch your cheek, tugging it briefly too. “My doll felt lonely today, right? Without me?”

Again, that mocking sweetness. The one you’d use for puppies. You nod with a hum “Mmm”

“I had a bad bad day today, those reports dried my eyes, god” he groans, his head tipped back, rubbing his eyes as to emphasize his words. But still gripping your waist. You don’t have the mood to be nice to him, his smile and relaxed expression stir dread and hate towards him. And yourself.

“You look like you had a bad day and not me” Leon comments, raising an eyebrow before his thumb tugs on the corner of your lips - smile. You had a bad day forever, your day can’t be compared to whatever he had today. His voice is sweet, but condescending, like he knows what is better for you. Leon doesn’t know shit.

“I don’t think you have reasons to be upset, huh? Your life is easy, baby” He snaps his fingers. Like an order. “pretty smile for me, no one likes grumpy girls”

“You are fucking sick… you know that?” Words spill out quickly and mindlessly, ignoring his distorted expression - you just want him to be in pain. Like you are. There is a hint of fear in your voice, subconsciously aware of what is going to happen after your words. “… you KIDNAPPED ME and you want me to play along with this act?…” A bittersweet pause. Adrenaline rushes through your blood, like after a good shot of vodka. “That’s fucking smart… asshole”

A hard swallow, trying to ignore the growing lump in your throat. Anxiety. This time, your voice is much quieter, you feel so small. Involuntarily shrinking away to shield yourself from what is coming. “I hate you”

There is an uncomfortable silence and his face is not blurry anymore - it is the only thing you can see right now. There is no slap, which is worse, silence is much scarier than a reaction cause you need to know what is going on in his head. You should have stayed silent instead, maybe Leon was right - you can’t stop but back talk and try to get yourself into trouble. You got yourself into this, not him.

Maybe an apology… wouldn’t it be late? Would it save? God, you MESSED this up. There is no way back.

His eyebrows furrowed, looking down at you with a clear discontent painting on his face, his fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks - uncomfortably keeping you still. This time being pretty and batting your eyelashes like a dumb doll is not going to save you.

“You are so spoiled. No one likes ungrateful bitches like you” Leon shakes his head, not giving a space to you to talk back again. “I buy you pretty things, I spend my time and money on you… and you repay me like that?”

He tilts your head, the grip is bruising, almost. Leon doesn’t give you flowers, but bruises look like them quite enough. His words hit you like a slap, making you feel like there is something tremendously wrong with you, not with him.

“Is it so hard to play nice and stay pretty for me?” He adds with a raised eyebrow. His thumb caresses your lower lip, playing and tugging it down, before pushing the digit past your soft and tender lips.

“And quiet.” He tsked, feeling warm saliva clinging to his thumb as it pressed down onto your tongue. Lucky for Leon, one of his wishes is accomplished - you can’t really talk, only muffled words, while your mouth is occupied with his digit. He keeps the grip on your jaw, before replacing it with two fingers. Pointer and middle finger. You are so pretty when you keep your mouth shut or around his fingers. Or dick. The latter is much preferable.

Your mouth is always warm, inviting, and wet. Hard to hide how such act affects you, your breathing catches in your chest, as his fingers keep rubbing the front of your tongue - messy and slick, not wetter than your cunt right now. Your mouth can not be compared to your pussy though, it has much more pros than disadvantages, the only con is the lack of wetness sometimes. Not something unfixable at the end of the day, a spit or lube (if he is in a good mood) can fix anything.

Your eyes are closed, feeling his other hand keeping your head pointed up where he can see you. To be honest, you don’t really know if you are just trying to illude yourself and hide from the truth - both options are useless, they bring you back to him. Every time his fingers are in your mouth, keeping you quiet and forcing you to suck on them - your pussy gets wet quickly like it is connected to your throat. His fingers delve deeper, moving in and out slowly. You can’t help yourself. Your clit throbs uncomfortably, urging you to do something about this, and your inner walls flutter around nothing - your mind reminds you of how good his dick feels. You probably look so pitiful to him, your eyes reflect well what your body begs for while drooling around his fingers.

Your thighs try to snap close, to rub them together and get that sweet-sweet stimulation, but they end up straddling his hips tighter - feeling the outline of his hard cock press against the damp and thin material of your underwear. It isn’t a big obstacle right now, the burning heat can be felt easily. A choked whine escapes from your mouth, realizing that his pants are still on him.

“Uh-huh, you want my attention?” Leon asks, not trying to be subtle with his tone, laced with mocking sweetness. His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop, leaving a trail of droll connecting you both. It is so empty without him filling your senses. His eyebrows curl up, glaring down on you like at kicked puppy. He mocks you, another squirming heat crawls in your cunt. Embarrassingly wet, dripping, and staining his jeans with your slick. God, you ARE getting off when he is being patronizing with you. “You ruined my day, baby. Do you really think you deserve anything right now?”

Your mind is screaming at you to do something, you need that relief. His cock. Anything that will fill the emptiness inside you with pleasure. You shiver when his fingers brush across the hem of your underwear, clearly amused by how wet you are. They push aside the fabric, already wet by your saliva - slowly stroking your drenching folds. So warm and puffy, even the light touch of his fingers on your clit makes your body jolt like you are in pain.

“Leon…” Your voice sounds cloying, it goes straight to his hard dick, as you look under your eyelashes at his face - it makes you feel dumb. Any sentences or words are thrown away into the bin under his glare, he doesn’t even try hard to make you feel like that, there is no need cause you are dumb. And you ache for his cock, ignoring alarms in your head. You are just a dumb, aching doll.

And his. He told you that.

“What?” Leon pressed, already withdrew his fingers from your cunt, wanting to see you more desperate. Your hips try to grind against his hard cock, to get a light stimulation. You stay silent, words aren’t enough to formulate what swirls in your mind. Somewhat, his presence and words are always tied to that deep feeling of owing him something. What? Not clear, but it is still here, even if his cock empties your mind.

You are still his after the dramatics you pulled, right?

You swallow hard, the sight of his unmoving hand on the belt makes your cunt painfully ache, ignoring your mind screaming at you to hit him. You don’t deserve this, it whispers. The guilty part of your brain won a long time ago, it overwhelms that soothing reminder - canceling it completely - you need to hurry up him. You are at fault, it whispers. “…Please…” Forgive me, I need you.

You gasp as in rasp motion he changes your position, shoving you and you end up with your back pressed down flatly on the soft material of the couch, while Leon hovers over you. And he kisses your forehead, with the same tenderness and affection he has given you before - like a couple, married couple on honeymoon. Your mind misses the bullseye with this conclusion, but whatever helps, right? The spot burns hot, as a reminder that you have to please him.

Clink-clink! It snaps you out of your thoughts. The sound of his belt makes your skin crawl, and more slick pools in between your thighs like at the unvoiced command. You try to buck your hips up, only to end up restrained by his hand - it grips tightly your flesh, in a bruising hold, and the signs will bloom into another purplish collection in the morning. His hand pins your hips down, - silently denying the control over your pleasure. Couldn’t be even wetter at this point.

It isn’t really visible, but his breathless sigh signaled you that his hand is, probably, wrapped around his cock. You squirm, to prop yourself to look down and maybe get comfier - again, he pushes you down with a head shake.

Your legs shake when his cock presses up in between your drenching folds, the slick clings to the skin, and his cock head nudges against your aching clit. And this hits so good too, his hard cock slides across your cunt. You can’t help but let your hips buck up back, again - to get your own control on the pleasure. Tsk. Your attempt gets easily interrupted again, as his hand pushes your hips down. His cock gets harder after every slow and agonizing rut, the wet sounds of your slick pressing and smearing his cock is like music to his ears. No wonder it is so easy to get lost, thank god your attempts to worm out of his grip snap him out of that pleasure.

You are so impatient. But for Leon, sex is so much simpler, cause he is a simple man. With age many things change, they get uncomplicated. Of course, Leon likes good stuff; tasty food, keeping you pretty, watching how your tits bounce with every thrust and feeling your flesh under his hands, how you react to him. But the sex isn’t the lovemaking or a way to satisfy you, for him, it would be useless to keep you here then. There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is so close to lose touch with after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. Life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Every time he sees you so confused, depending on him - he can’t lie, it makes his cock jolt. He wants to see every little expression on your face, - desperation, affection, confusion, misery, everything - to etch the sight into his memory.

“Baby, you don’t know what’s good for you..” Leon says, there is no answer from you and he doesn’t really need one. His eyes are focused on his cock nudging your hole before slowly pressing in - now watching your spasming and drenching hole swallows his cock. And you gasp.

Without fingers, without any preparation, but wet as hell, you still feel tight as sin. It is easier to get through though. The velvet softness of your fluttering cunt is addicting as your walls clench around him in a vice grip with every inch pushed inside.

It is dizzying how your mind empties together with your body, any remains of conflict regarding this situation is gone. Focusing on how his cock stretches your walls, leaving you breathless and trembling at the slow-filling sensation in your cunt. Your hands creep to rest on his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

His cock pushes through, until its tip presses against your cervix - he is deep inside, his hips nestled right against your ass - and your pussy is so overwhelmingly full, for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

“That’s okay” Leon cooed again. His hand brushes across the skin of your collarbone, caressing it. Burns and you are hot, to the point his touch felt cold. You shiver, his hand is always pleasant to feel, but at the same, the feeling of it is accompanied by something else, you can’t ever catch it. It is brief but always gives you awareness.

Your chest rises up and down unsteadily, looking probably pathetic right now as his hips start moving. Already overwhelmed without a way out.

“Awww, you are just a dumb thing, not knowing anything better” Leon drawls with an amused smirk.

The pace is set, rhythmically rocking against you, using your cunt like a toy. You want to roll your own hips back, to do something but today isn’t your day. You already forgot about your earlier lash-out, as the only sounds reaching your ears are flesh-hitting ones mixed with your moans. His lips are parted on a soft stream of pants.

“N-no..” This attempt of protest slips out easily from your mouth, without giving too much thought into what may happen. Your nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders. His hand creeps higher, to rest on your neck in a loose grip, a silent warning perhaps. Pretty faces don’t need to do anything other than being pretty, but tonight you let your mouth slip out too often.

The hand on your hip pushes it down again, the grip hurts actually. Feels like there are already bruises forming and he is clearly not pleased with you. He isn’t at all, your comments ruin his fun. They distract him from your tight pussy, how hot it is, and engulf him, begging him to thrust ruthlessly and fill you.

Unspoken rule, you should be silent and let him use your cunt without other noises than incoherent moans.

“Oh, no-no” Leon mocks you, a sharp, unexpected thrust, his cock head grinds against your cervix. To punctuate his words his grip on your throat tightens. Or you are imagining this? Another thrust, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hips start dragging his cock out of you, then he pushes it back deep inside. “I know what’s better for you.”

Every deep thrust into your spasming cunt, your thighs shake, and muscles in your body flex every time your hips connect. And his hand squeezes your throat, you can clearly feel the outlines of his fingers on the skin of your throat. God, is the grip getting tighter? Is he trying to cut the air? This fills your body with panic; it writhes even more, ignoring the painful grip on your hip and becoming more aware of the one that’s getting tighter around your neck.

Yeah, he is angry at you.

“Doll, you brought this… on yourself” Leon whispers breathlessly, watching your expression twist with a mix of pleasure and fear. Your hands travel from his shoulders to his wrist, nails dig into its flesh. “don’t resist”

His hand angles your hip better, losing the rhythm of the pace as his cock pounds into you in quick and deep thrusts. It hits your g-spot too, but the lack of air is the biggest of your worries right now. Your cunt flutters, getting tighter with the less air incoming, and more tingly wave of sensation rides over your body. The tips of your fingers feel weird, and your entire body starts to drown in numbness. It is weirdly pleasant but at the same time scary. Deep down you like it, not realizing it.

“Come on,” Leon grunts, his grip on your neck doesn’t lessen, and you try to focus on something else other than the possibility of passing out. Your walls clench around his dick tighter, and your mouth opens uselessly as a dumb fish trying to speak, but the only sound coming out is a muffled one.

“If you are so smart… fuck…” He moans, you feel so good, your walls clenched tight around his dragging cock and your body is so easily letting him use your pussy. He can get drunk on it. “…use your big mouth”

His grip tightens, and another choked moan tries to drawl out of your mouth. Nothing comes out other than a quiet, pathetic mewl. It feels like you are going to die.

“Use your filthy and smart mouth” He taunts again, the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. His hips thrust into you in rough and hard movements. It feels like just his presence is overfilling you. Maybe the lack of oxygen is to blame. “or you can only use it for my dick.. huh? Like a whore, not a doll”

“A…m, S-s” I am sorry. You try your best, but it is hard to do multitasking when your head is so lightheaded and his dick inside you feels so good. Your body feels numb like it doesn’t belong to you anymore, writhing and squirming every time his cockhead hit your cervix - a pang of tingling mixture, something so new and pleasurable, but at the same time foreign, with the hint of pain. But it is a delicious kind of hurt, toe-curling one.

You are going to pass out, trying to swallow down the saliva pooling in your mouth and your nails dig into the skin of his bicep - begging, unawarely your eyes sprinkle with tears. “S-..sor-r—” This is your best attempt.

Orgasm has always been different with him, it is warm, still keeping your turmoil. This time it is crushing, but feels shorter than it was actually. It hits your body unexpectedly, filling to the brim with the feeling of his cock spouting cum inside you, while every patch of your skin is numb and burning hot.

Confusing your mind more when his hand slipped away, so close to pass out and the quick rush of air fills your lungs almost choking you, overwhelming the pleasure of your own orgasm. You are so sensitive, at the brink of tears - not having any strength to keep them in, they easily well in your eyes, blurring even more the vision before rolling down. It doesn’t hit like it should cause you are too focused on the fading numbness and shaking while inhaling the air - unreasonably afraid(to Leon) that he is going to take it away again. Breathing feels much better than sex, right now at least.

He pulls out his dick, and his cum slowly oozes out of your hole, while you are still recovering. Not hiding where his gaze is directed. It is hypnotizing, urging him to shove it back into you with his fingers and keep his cum inside you for a little bit longer. You snap him out of this trance with your sobbing and incoherent words.

“I am so—sorry!” You sob, tugging onto the fabric of his black shirt to pull him closer to you. Seeking comfort in him, you don’t have any other options. He can’t deny this to you, his arm wraps around your shoulders. And even if you had other choices, still you would crawl back to Leon. “I was mistaken… I am so-so sorry. It was a mistake!”

God, you shake like a leaf right now. He huffs as if your words were the most obvious thing. Like the sky is blue or two plus two is four. It is hard to push you away, the trembling and teared-up mess. Leon enjoys that.

“There you are, baby. I got it” Leon sighs, the crease in between his eyebrows deepens. His hand brushes away your hair from your face, to get a better glance of your state. Mistake. Everything is a mistake here - your presence, getting off only of him, texting him first, and letting him take you on dates. Leon can’t help, but chuckle. “Of course. Indeed a mistake, doll”

[amiaclone]

hiii, can I request a fluffy and angsty college au of jealous Semi(player 380) x reader like where the reader is younger than Semi and has a crush on her for a long time. However, Semi rejects the reader’s confession or like doesn’t care abt the reader bcoz of her popularity or for other reasons (you may choose). Then, the reader starts spending time with someone else, which makes Semi(player 380) jealous and prompts her to try to win the reader back. Thank you so much in advance, and I love your writing!!!

Thank you! I’ll try mixing the two a bit cause it sounds interesting

Tw: angst ig? And maybe some

Cursing

Se mi x gn! Reader

College au

You sighed in the hallway tugging your books

Should you do it? Should you tell *her*?

Se mi your first and only ever crush maybe you were delusional I mean she was only like two years older then you but still! You have a chance

You were friends with her…..to an extent I mean

She stared at you for more then three minutes that one time! There was hope maybe-

“You aren’t thinking about Se mi again are you?”

Your friend piped up walking towards you seeing your sighing they could swear they saw hearts in your eyes

“Shh! She might hear you!” *You hushed them down they laughed a bit in amusement*

“Y/n no offense or anything but you make it so obvious you stare at her all the time you stumble and stutter when she asks you simple questions you’re just….” *She looked at you up and down* “A mess.”

You rolled your eyes “Well no help from *you* I’m finally gonna confess to her!” *Their eyes widened a bit like they were just told the most unbelievable news then erupted into laughter* “Your humorous…y/n”

You rolled your eyes ready to give a glare then they punched your shoulder “I’m just messing I’m just glad you’re *finally* going for it how long has it been since you’ve liked her?” *You pondered in thought taking it seriously* “Eight years?” *F/n gave you a thumbs up* “Then why don’t you give her……eight roses, to show her how long you liked her?”

You smiled at the idea “Genius……what if she doesn’t accept?” *Your friend immediately covered your mouth* “Don’t you DARE start thinking about that stuff listen here y/n you’re gonna go up and confess…..when exactly?”

You shook her off “Ok ok! I’ll do it this afternoon where am I gonna get the roses?” *They gave you finger guns* “I’ve got you covered babe.”

Just as they said that the bells ringed signalling time for class i waved back with a knowing look and head to chemistry

Ahh chemistry

Se mi was in that class!

You headed in and there Se mi was leaning on her seat hanging around most of her friends

Well half were just people wanting to be her friend but honestly you couldn’t blame them Se mi was well…..there was a lot of things you could say about her

For one she was extremely pretty…..she was awesome at well everything even the stuff she was bad at and she was popular but not mean…

Lucky for you, you were seatmates! Which is why you’ve gotten somewhat close…..in your eyes anyway you often wonder what those pretty eyes of her see you as

The other students headed off to do there own business and the teacher was heading in soon so you smiled at Se mi and she smiled back

“Hey y/n what’s up?”

Your stomach fluttered with butterflies by her simply acknowledging your existence

“Hey Se mi you….busy later?”

She pondered in thought as if she was thinking deeply then she smirked

“Messing I’m not really do anything why, you need something?”

You felt nervous but you already went front you can’t go back “Can we meet at the backyard later? Yk….nothing bad or anything”

She twirled a bit of her hair

“Sure why not”

“Alright class!”

That sound cued you both to take your seats she winked at you and class begun

*Time skip to where you meet up with your friend*

Your heart began to race heavily time was getting nearer you really weren’t sure if you wanted to do this….

Your friend noticed your shaky behaviour and shook their head “Hey, you don’t have to do this….except you’re definitely gonna regret it if you back out now.”

You shook your head “I’m fine. I just…need some….did you get the roses?” *Your friend winked playfully and handed them out to you*

“Thank you” *You stared at the eight roses for how long you’ve liked her….wow you really have liked her too long huh*

“What time is it now?” *You spoke out of the blue your friend pondered in thought* “Some time between the afternoon definitely” *Panic began to erupt in you* “Shoot! I asked Se mi to meet up with me around this time I’ve gotta go!”

You ran out before your friend could even comprehend what happened

You reached the backyard of the school and Se mi…wasn’t there? That relieved you for a second….maybe it was early?

You realised your phone was in your pocket so you checked the time and it was……”3pm?”

You noticed Se mi walking with some of her friends and you instantly hid the roses behind your back while walking up to her

“Hey Se mi…could you excuse us for a bit?” *You tried to ask her friends nicely a load of them seemed confused or irritated but they shrugged off and walked off Se mi quirked an eyebrow*

“Um Se mi remember i asked you to meet up? It’s okay if you forgot! Was asking”

Se mi looked confused then realisation came upon her and laughed a bit

“Oh yeah i forgot about that….sorry about it can’t be that serious though like you said what is it?”

It honestly kinda hurt you even though you told her it didn’t when she said she forgot but whatever…..”Um well….” *You handed her the roses and she stopped staring at them* “I’ve liked you for…..eight years. I’m not good with romantic lines so….i just want you to know if you….perhaps feel the same way?”

Se mi then sighed thinking and pacing “Fuck y/n this is….kinda..you’ve liked me that long?” *You nodded almost shamefully* “This is….kinda awkward i…..I’m sorry but i…..you…I’ll be upfront cause i trust you but I don’t feel the same way”

If your heart could it would have shattered in the moment but you just stood there your brain was screaming with random things you couldn’t make out “Oh….” “I’m sorry…”

You forced a smile “No it’s okay we can still be friends i hope….right?”

She smiled back “Yeah I don’t let things like this get awkward with friendships welll see ya later…I hope you’re okay these roses are pretty though”

The two of you walked separate ways and just as she led the tears threatened to spill you felt like a fool a dummy a stalker all bad things and you couldn’t get them out of your head

You met up with your friend who was ready to cheer excitedly then noticed your gloomy behaviour

“Oh no babe….that happened I’m sorry-“ *The second you reached to her you began to sob uncontrollably. You felt like a crybaby that you couldn’t just take it well maybe then she would have liked you….*

Your friend walked you back to you and their dorm and gave you a bunch of blankets and tissues and whatever else you like

“I’ll…give you some time.”

You lied down in bed and processed everything i mean it’s not like she humiliated you or anything it’s just…….i mean what were you expecting honestly? “Now she probably thinks I’m a freak for liking her that long….” *You couldn’t help but say and think these things are true i mean what if they are?!*

Eventually you got worned out and passed in a blissful sleep

Eventually once you woke up you felt a sudden dread…..why?

Oh yeah your crush rejected you

And that you had to face her today

I mean you said it right? You don’t wanna make it awkward honestly you regret saying that maybe avoiding her was better….

You honestly didn’t know

*As you got up and brushed your teeth and hair and got ready your friend was tying their shoes and went up to you*

“Heyy y/n….you doing okay?”

*You simply stared at them and they got the hint were you supposed to be okay?*

“So…do you plan on talking to her?”

*You sighed*

“I mean I told her it was fine so….i don’t wanna make it awkward so i might as well try to act like I’m fine”

*Your friend stared in empathy*

“Well…I’m sure after this day you’ll be fine…it’s just a day right?”

You sighed and forced a small smile

“You’re right”

You headed out and even if people weren’t it felt like people were staring at you…is it anxiety is it real? You didn’t know and that made you even more scared….

Luckily one of your later classes were with se mi so you had all day to prepare to see her which you did

*Time skip to your second or third class*

It was time. You were gonna see Se mi

You took a breath and walked into class trying to seem as normal as possible and there was Se mi

Leaning on the chair just talking to her friends she noticed you and smiled like usual

“Hey y/n we were just talking about the teacher giving us an extra strict lecture….teachers sure are funny”

You force a smile you didn’t wanna make things awkward she didn’t deserve that

“Really? Wow they probably just want us to learn…”

Se mi snorted a bit and talked to you as if yesterday never happened….

It sorta relieved but upsetted you at the same time like wow it hit hard

She really doesn’t like you back. A truth you finally have it fully hit

After some time the teacher came in and you sat next to Se mi you’d normally be thrilled to be seatmates with her but right now? You don’t feel like you’re ready to face her….

*Another time skip I’ll just make it short*

The day was mainly just you trying to make se mi know or atleast think things were cool between you two eventually the day ended and you felt drained and you barely did anything

You layed down in bed thankfully tomorrow was a weekend most people would leave to visit families you planned on staying you can use this to relax all day

Eventually that day came by and well you were a mess

You groaned as your friend turned on the lights in your face

“Oh come on y/n that’s enough petting! It’s been two days you have to be strong now”

You only stared at her blankly

“Well what am i supposed to do? Get over it?”

You friend pondered like what if they were about to say was bad “Well you could you know get over it..”

You sighed “Well obviously I should but….i loved her….”

Your friend had a small pitied look

“Well…there’s plenty of people around I don’t know try making a new friend or something…”

You sighed then got up as if you suddenly got a burst of energy “Okay”

You got ready and headed out and went outside in the backyard and a student happened to be sitting on your usual spot

You mentally decided this was the perfect time to make a friend! Who knows maybe something else could happen….

“Hey this is my usual spot nobody usually goes around here….names y/n”

The person shot there head up “I don’t see your name on it.” *they smirk a bit jokingly*

You scoff smiling a bit “I basically claimed it please….you got a name?”

They smiled “I’ll let you guess starts with A ends with Z”

Se mi’s pov

Se mi just left her dorm ready to do whatever she wants in her free time

Her mind wandered to y/n oh y/n…..was interesting

Se mi wondered why she was so interested in being around them….they confused her in a good way

Like she felt like she missed something rejecting them and still wanted them around her? Usually if she rejected someone she’d atleast distance herself a bit for their sake

But for y/n? She wanted them around even more…..strange

Speaking of y/n wonder where they are anyway….might catch up a bit she was worried where they were yesterday

Just as she thought that while heading outside she saw y/n! And…..some person she’s never seen

She wouldn’t have been bothered if it seemed like the two or atleast the other person was…..flirting?

Wait why is she bothered! Y/n is free to do whatever they want!

But….eh whatever

She headed over anyways

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

The two turned to Se mi

Y/n laughed a bit “Uh hey Se mi this is….a new student”

“Hey! I just said I’ve been here awhile i just didn’t talk much to others”

Y/n rolled your eyes playfully Se mi quirked an eyebrow

“Well what classes are you in?”

She couldn’t help but question

“Clearly in none of yours” They laughed a bit”

Se mi tried not to frown she didn’t like this persons attitude

“Hey she asked you a question!” Y/n playfully giggled

Se mi tried to hold back whatever these feelings were “Hey so guys wanna hang out?” She mainly gestured it to y/n

Y/n nodded smiling while the other person shrugged giving a small smile

Oh boy

It’s been a week now and the two pair have gotten really close each time Se mi saw them her stomach twisted in a way she didn’t seem to get was she jealous? If so why? She rejected you why-

“Hey y/n” *Se mi approached them*

“Oh hey Se mi barely talked in awhile” *Y/n smiled while Se mi felt bad*

“Yeah it’s just that guy has…..what’s there name?”

“Won’t say it’s a joke of theirs!” *Y/n giggled a bit Se mis eye twitched*

“Yeah well have they ever said anything? Like about you know serious stuff just…….looking out for you”

Y/n quirked an eyebrow “Not sure it matters but there flirty a lot but I’m assuming their jokes most of the time..”

Se mi deadpanned you “most?”

Your pov again

Se mi kept on backing you into a corner asking you questions about you and him you had enough

“Okay Se mi you’re acting weird just why are you so bothered?!”

“Cause I like you!”

Your heart paused

Se mi seemed confused by the words she said then had a serious look

“Yeah i do and I’m sorry it took me a simple jealousy fit to figure it out…”

You didn’t know what to say was this a dream all you did was kiss her

“Will that help you figure it out?”

She nodded smiling “I’m sorry for whatever pain i put you through”

“Shut up! I’m still thinking whether if this is a dream or not”

Soo the ending is kinda rushed but i hope it’s worth it also happy late new years!

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

laughter like honey dribbles ◦ l.f

-an inexperienced Felix tries to impress you by forcing his voice deeper. What do you do when it cracks mid-through?

Paring◦ Lee Felix x Fem!Reader

Words◦ 1123

Genre ◦ The fluffiest smut you'll ever read, awkward sexual situations, realistic sex where life isn't all butterflies, orgasms, and rainbows.

Warnings ◦ Reader is described as having a vagina, laughter during sex, Felix being a big baby, embarrassment (what's new), ruined orgasm ig? Ngl i feel like half of this is just a bunch of me yapping and terrible punctuation (if you find any errors PLEASE let me know, thank you).

A/N ◦ This was the very first thing I've ever posted on my tumblr literally ever and so I'm going to be reuploading all of my stuff back onto this account 😃 so why not start off here

~CookieCreates🍪

You can feel him all around you, chest to chest, skin to skin, heart to heart. Your bodies melded together flawlessly, as though you were molded to fit into each other's arms, and, well, each others…

He pumps in and out of you ruthlessly, perfectly tipping you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his rutting hips, wanting him closer, harder, deeper,

Fuck.

“What do you want, baby?” He slams his hips harder into yours, prodding all the perfect places. You choke, a rush of pleasure vibrating through your bones. “Use your words.” He pants, nibbling on the soft skin of your neck, his voice deep and low, the seductive sultry tilt sends shivers up your spine and tingles to your core. 

“Say something, anything, your voice drives me crazy,” you whine, throwing your head back in bliss. A shrill moan rips from the back of your throat as you feel your orgasm quickly approaching, electric hands reaching out to you. You brush the tips of its fingers; trailing rings of fire seem to be tickling your skin, raging beneath your bones. 

So close.

So close.

So close.

You reach, all you need is,

“Good girl.” Felix doesn't know why he did it, forced his voice lower, deeper. At the time when ecstasy was rushing through his veins, it didn't seem like such a bad idea, until he went so deep it cracked.

He wants nothing more than for the earth to crack open and swallow him whole.

He stops.

You stop.

The world stops for a moment, and all you can see are his big, brown eyes blown wide with shock. The room is completely silent; the only thing being heard is the rough pounding of your hearts and the hard blinking of your eyes which seems like all you guys are able to do. You stay like that forever. Watching. Waiting. For one of you to take one for the team and cut through the growing tension in the room. You curl your lips into your teeth, breaking the awkward stand-off on whose either going to laugh their ass off or pretend that nothing happened and continue to fuck, but with your orgasm long forgotten and the previous raging heat of the room now dwindling to nothing more than a few flickering embers, the laughter that bubbles up in your throat is beginning to be too hard to contain.

Heat floods his cheeks as he blinks, still in this weird form of fight or flight mode. His muscles tense beneath your traveling fingertips, overcome with the humiliation that burns through his chest, and figuring no matter how much he's praying for the earth to swallow him up, Mother Nature is not coming to save him, so he shoves his face into the crook of your neck, hiding from your amused stare instead. 

“Baby,” you chuckle softly, sympathetically, the sound reminding him somewhat of delicate strings of honey that float through the air. Even with the regret coursing through his veins, the sound sticks to parts of his brain that only you are allowed to occupy, so basically, all of it.

He could sum up his life with you in one simple sentence: cotton candy kisses and laughter like honey dribbles. He groans, digging his face deeper into the soft skin of your neck, the same neck that's littered with the love bites he bestowed not even moments earlier.

Oh, how the world changes. 

You can't help the spree of giggles that spill from your mouth.

“Can you come out now, please?”

"No, I'm good. I think I'm going to live here, die here, eat here, sleep here. You might as well get comfortable, baby, cause I'm staying here for the rest of my life!” He says erratically, digging his face deeper into your skin.

“My dramatic baby,” you coo, running your fingers through his hair, still damp with sweat. Time seems to trickle by as soft bouts of breathing fill the air. The heat of his cheeks burns into your neck as you attempt to coddle him out of the embarrassed home he's made in your body.

"S'embarrassing,” he mumbles, voice muddled by the depth in which he has burrowed into your flesh.

“What was that, baby? I couldn't hear you from the home you've made in my neck.” You tease, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. He lifts his head, shooting you an equally playful but unamused glare. You have to push back the laughter that threatens to leave your lips as you take in his red cheeks and shy eyes. He looks so adorable and yet so sexy at the same time. You don't know if you want to jump his bones or bake him a batch of cookies. The best part is that you know you're going to be able to do both. You lift your eyebrows, sending him a look that states, "You have to admit that really was funny," which he reciprocates with a bashful smile, not quite meeting your eyes, giving you a look back that states, "I know it was funny, but right now I'm too embarrassed to say that currently."

That's what you loved about your relationship with Felix—you didn't always have to communicate with words. Your hearts did the talking for you.

“Come on,” you giggle, “you have to admit it was kind of funny.” He rolls his eyes, a wide smile creeping onto his face. "Yeah, I guess it was kind of funny.” 

You snicker, “Thank God, cause the laughter wasn't going to hold itself in for very long.” 

"Ugg, I hate you.” His words were as soft as silk, holding not even a centimeter of malice. He buries himself back into the permanent place he's made his home. 

“But I love you.” You whisper, your lips grazing the crown of his head, soft hairs tickling your chin.

You loved Felix, and he loved you, and even though the mood was ruined and hope for an orgasm was gone, you wouldn't trade it for the world. How could you when he was exactly that. Your world. 

“Okay, as much as I hate to say this, you can't live inside of me forever; my pH levels have to be screaming right now.”

When you were a girl and the coughs started coming, your mother used to give you honey in a spoon and a tickle to the stomach, telling you that laughter was the best medicine, but mixed with the slick amber liquid, your laughter would always sound like honey dribbles, the perfect cure, but with Felix, you never had to worry about being sick because laughter was all the two of you ever spoke.

©CookieCreates (posted: June, 2nd 2024) All rights reserved. Do not translate, copy, or claim my works as yours! I only post on this platform so if any of my works are elsewhere, report and notify me immediately.

[callme-darling]

work tensions

or; you’re a prosecutor working a trial vincent is defending and your colleagues get the feeling there’s some underlying tension between the way you’re at each others throats

word count: 3.3k

warnings: smut, like genuinely filthy shit, fem reader, hate sex (kinda), sex in the workplace (so like semi-public ig), vincent and y/n are rivals/enemies, this actually somewhat has a plot lmao, hellllaaaaa tension, so much teasing, degradation (he say slut once), cocky vincent, begging if you squint, throat holding/light choking, fingering, no protection, p-in-v, not proofread, friendly ending (bc i’m a big softie)

a/n: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY LADIES!!!! hope you enjoy🤍🤍

you were amongst the youngest of the attorneys in the city courthouse. you were fortunate in the opportunities afforded to you, but you also worked your ass off to get where you were today. which is why you, for the life of yourself, can’t understand what the hell you did to earn the contempt of vincent renzi.

from the first time you both stood in the same courtroom, it seemed like his eyes were always set in a hard glare when they saw you. so whose to blame you for reciprocating the hostility? your colleagues usually give you well-intentioned advice to at least talk to him, something you haven’t even done outside of casework. who knows, they’d shrug, maybe it’s just ill-concealed intrigue.

you were young, but you weren’t naive enough to think the esteemed defense attorney didn’t absolutely hate your guts.

some of your colleagues, however, seemed hellbent on taking matters into their own hands after a minor scuffle that left the judge’s office suspended in a tense battle of wills. the case wasn’t even that serious—just a petty case of ‘he-said, she-said’ neighbor dispute. but the simple judge’s meeting quickly fell apart to a dispute that devolved to obviously personal jabs.

when the judge finally had enough, she dismissed both you and vincent from the room with the stern instruction to “talk out whatever issues you two obviously have, and get your shit together”.

you’re on vincent’s heels as he speeds out of the room. as soon as you hear the door click shut behind you, you’re glancing up and down the hallway. vincent runs a hand through his hair, annoyance etched across his features.

“what the hell is your problem?”

you gawk at him, “MY problem?!” you chuckle at his audacity. “you’re the one who started all this-“ you wave your hands in the space between you two like some enigmatic boundary separated you.

his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek, and a roll of his eyes had you seeing red. before you had a chance to properly rip his throat out, an older man poked his head out from another room, face stern as he recommended you find somewhere else to continue whatever dispute you deigned important enough to have a tempermental yelling match in the middle of the office.

with a noise that could only be chalked up at pure irritation, vincent began strutting down the hall. you were quick behind him, wordlessly keeping in step with his long strides. you weren’t done with your conversation, and you’ll be damned if you let him walk away now.

you were in an unfamiliar, and rather desolate, wing of the building when he spun around to face you, his face inches from yours as he ducked down slightly to glare into your eyes. “quit following me like a damn dog!”

your eyes widened before a hard scowl settled on your face. “not until you tell me what your problem with me is.” you fume, “ever since i got here, you have had some personal vendetta against me. you’re going to tell me why.”

his jaw clenched as his eyes scanned your face. “your feelings are hurt because i don’t like you, is that what this is?”

you roll your eyes. “that’s bullshit and we both know it. the truth. now.”

“i need a reason to dislike you?”

“you can make one up for all i care, but i’m tired of your attitude fucking with my job.”

he chuckles dryly, “oh, i see. that’s what this is about.”

your brows scrunch together. at your look of confusion, he takes a step closer, breath fanning your face as he whispers through tight lips, “it’s my attitude fucking with your job, hm? that’s what drives me so fucking crazy- you’re so blind.” he rubs a hand over his mouth, taking a breath before his eyes are hard set on you again. “don’t think i don’t see it—the way you’ve charmed our colleagues, how you bat your pretty little eyes at the judges to get your way-“

you cut him off, disbelief dripping from your words. “excuse me?”

he scoffs, “oh don’t be coy.”

“you know what, vincent,” you clench your fists, nails biting into your palms as they shook, “you can fuck right off.”

you go to turn and walk away, but a thought of venom penetrates your mind and you whip right back around, nearly nose-to-nose as you whisper low, “just say you’re threatened by me next time.”

you watch as something akin to rage flash across vincent’s face. he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but his eyes bore into yours with a silent threat that chills your spine. his tone is low, dangerous. the rasp makes the hair along your arms stand on end. “i suggest you choose your next words wisely, y/n.”

maybe it was your stubbornness, or a fleeting air of confidence, but you hold his stare, your own voice quieter but just as menacing. “vincent renzi is threatened by the fresh-faced competition and can’t stand the thought that i may be the better attorney.” were you being childish in taunting him? yes, probably. but the months of tension were reaching critical mass, and whatever thoughts crossed your mind were being said.

what had just slipped through your lips, though, was definitely the wrong thing to have said.

a hand harshly grips your bicep as he drags you to the nearest room. he flicks on one set of lights and slams the door shut. he’s fuming, you note. however, you don’t fully register just how angry he is.

he’s silent for a pregnant moment, the air suffocating as he watches you with an analytical glare, his body seemed almost animalistic in how he stalked towards with with silent strides. you feel a new form of anxiety quicken your breathing.

he’s close now, so close you can smell his day-old cologne like it were freshly applied. his voice is quiet, but it makes you jolt under his intense gaze. “you want to know why i hate you so much?”

you feel as though you’re trapped in a stupor, your mind dizzy with this newfound suspense. you give him a small nod, not trusting your voice to remain firm in this intensity.

you swear you feel his lips just barely ghost over your cheek as he speaks, nearly growling in your ear. “i hate you because you’re so infuriating.” he pauses. “the way you walk around the courtroom like it’s yours to own, how you always make the most nit-picky points. and what pisses me off the most, is how i’m so attracted to you because of it.”

you were holding your breath. you felt your mind reeling as silence settled over the room. only the sound of your own breathing and the blood rushing through your veins reached your ears as you held vincent’s gaze.

his ferocity seemed to have diminished a fraction, but his jaw remained clenched. words escaped your brain as you tried to wrack together some coherent response, anything to quell the heat burning you from the inside out.

when no such words came, you decided ‘to hell with it’.

your eyes flicked to vincent’s lips, rubbed a pretty red from his hands and teeth. then you looked back into his eyes. an exchange that required no voice.

‘do it then,’ you silently dared. do it.

and so, he did.

his palm was warm on your cheek, fingers wrapping around the back of your head as he crashed his lips to yours. the force of the kiss had you stumbling back before vincent’s other hand caught your hip.

impatient. that was the best word to describe the way vincent kissed you. you tasted his lips on yours, body humming as you become acutely aware just who you’re kissing. and the mere thought has your thighs clenching together.

there was no room to speak with the way his mouth trailed down your chin, dipping into the curve of your neck. a shudder rushes through your muscles when you feel his teeth nip at the skin of your throat, eliciting a soft gasp to fall from your kiss-swollen lips.

you can feel the faint press of a grin to your collarbone. he coaxed your legs to walk back a few steps, securing your body between the table and his own.

his breath was warm as he spoke against your shoulder, “tell me to stop.” the featherlight touch of his fingers sent jolts of electricity through you as they skimmed down your arms and over your waist. “tell me you don’t want this, and i’ll let you walk out that door.”

your lungs burned when you finally released your breath. you could feel the heat pooling in your stomach, and the deep octave of his voice was doing little to soothe it. you were surprised by your own voice’s clarity, “shut up and kiss me again.”

you felt his body melt deeper into yours as your palms pulled him in by the side of his neck. you allowed yourself to be more eager, greedier, as your tongue teased his bottom lip.

he pressed his hips firmly against yours, his rasping moan nearly making you whimper in response. he was breathless when he pulled away. the pad of his thumb stroked your bottom lip, his own shining with a mixture of yours and his spit.

“i’m going to ruin you..” he murmured, leaning down again, his lips brushing over yours as his thumb holds your chin in place.

you prop your hand on the table behind you, not trusting your legs to hold you for much longer. your voice is meeker this time as you whisper against his touch, “you can try.”

vincent kisses you with an assured hunger. his touch dominating as he grips your hips, the fabric of your skirt gradually bunching in his hold. you can sense the apprehension in him, his internal battle of morals. your hand cradles the back of his head, nails stroking his scalp as you use your other to guide his hand under your blouse. blue eyes meet yours as you chide, “you don’t have to play nice with me, vincent.” the lull of his name from your lips paired with the way you brought his palm to grope at your chest, he needed no more convincing.

“such a little fuckin’ minx.” he muttered under his breath. your skirt was bunched up to your waist, your panties shoved down your legs. he had your back flat on the tabletop, hips slotted between your thighs as his eyes raked over you.

you could feel yourself slowly dripping onto the table below you, cheeks flushed with both lust and embarrassment.

vincent smirked. seeing you laid out like this, on display for him has his dick twitching in his pants. he appraised your needy pussy, a tentative two fingers teasing your folds as your thighs trembled. he watched how you grew shy, hand hovering over your mouth as you whine at the fleeting touch.

finally, you feel the pair of fingers slide into your soaking cunt. a whimper escapes you when he’s knuckle-deep in your clenching heat, the palm of his hand grazing your clit.

his gaze is attentive as he makes note of every little reaction you have to each stroke of his fingers. he bites his lip as he witnesses your eyes softly roll back when his fingers find the spot that has your chest heaving and hips shuddering. he leans down so his ear is next to your mouth, intent on hearing every single needy little whine he lures from you. he presses his lips to yours when he feels you creep up to your climax. “are you going to come on my hand?” his eyes find yours, half-lidded and glassy, and the sight alone makes him groan as his cock aches.

“is this all it takes to have you all pretty and compliant?” the teasing lilt in his voice only makes your cunt flutter around his fingers. “not so smart now when i have two fingers in this little pussy of yours, hm?”

you swear you felt like you were going to pass out. the combination of his fingers and palm against your pussy, his degrading mocking, and taunting eyes has you keening under him in a newfound desperation as you teetered precariously on the edge. so, so close to being rendered incoherent with only two fingers.

his touch leaves you.

you whine loudly, pouting as you attempt to catch your stolen breath. you move to sit up, but a large firm hand across your collarbones keeps you sprawled on the table. you squirm under his hold. “vincent.. why?” under any other circumstances, the needy pitch of your voice would’ve made you cringe, but your depravity gave you little to care about aside from satisfying your incessant lust right now.

his voice was sickeningly taunting as he cooed down at you, his other hand brushing the hair from your face. “come on, you have to work for it.”

you could feel that familiar animosity sit on your tongue, but you hold it. though, based on the sly smile looking down at you, you got the sense he could feel it too.

“how ‘bout this..” he sighs instead. his eyes trailed over your face, blue irises harboring a certain warmth that had anticipation swirling in your stomach. “if you say a simple, little sentence, i’ll give you what you want.”

you chew on your bottom lip, mulling over what was no doubt a trap. “what would you have me say?”

the way his smile widened had your pussy clenching around nothing, the cold air making you shiver. “i want you to say: ‘only vincent renzi can make my pussy this wet’.

“oh fuck y-“

his hand catches your jaw before you could finish your crude remark. his fingers lightly dig into your cheeks as he comes nose-to-nose with you. his voice is dangerously low but a softness keeps to the edges. “would you rather me leave you here, like this? your pussy is practically weeping.” as if to reinforce his words, a hand lightly slaps against your folds. the wet sound had your face turning a new shade of red, lips pouting as his other hand still holds your face close to his.

you don’t say anything, internally battling with yourself. the tip of vincent’s tongue pokes out to wet his lips, your eyes following the minute movement with bated breaths. then his soft voice buzzes in your ear. “c’mon.. just say how i make you drip like a needy slut. let me hear that pretty voice of yours, the one you like to use so much.”

you felt a whine croak in your throat as the hand between your thighs gave your clit another tap. “i’ll give you three seconds.” his low tone warned.

“three..”

you felt your breath stutter, eyes searching his. there’s no way he’s serious.

“two..”

he wouldn’t actually leave you like this, would he?”

“on-“

“okay.” you cut him off, words rushed as you grip the wrist of the hand holding your face.

he peers down at you expectantly. the corner of his lips upturned slightly, and you hated how attractive it was.

“only vincent can make me this wet..” he’s never seen you so timid and meek than in that moment, something that only added to the building heat of the room.

“now, was that so hard?” he quirked a brow, fingers playing with your aching cunt as he notes the way your slick soaks his palm. “you’ve done your part, so be a good girl and take what i give you, yeah?”

you nod dumbly as his hand drops from your jaw. your body felt like it was buzzing, heart hammering in your chest as you watched him fumble with his pants, pulling his leather belt off with one hand.

he plants a searing kiss to your lips, a trained dominance permeating his movements. you moan against him, hips twitching as his pants brush against your bare core. a hand slides between your bodies to free his leaking cock from his slacks. you swallow any sounds he makes as his hand strokes his dick a few times. “you got to stay quiet. think you can handle that?”

you ignore the obvious taunt, hand on the back of his neck as you pull at the ends of his hair. “just fuck me already, vince.”

he chuckles dryly, but you sense the anticipation crawling under his skin. next time, you’ll be the one making him beg.

a drawn out gasp fills the room as you feel him slowly begin to sink into your tight heat. fuck, you felt dizzy as your cunt pulsed, sucking him in deeper.

you both moan in with quiet sighs when he bottoms out. he starts slow, but eventually finds a rhythm that has you whining with each thrust, your whimpers gradually growing in volume as his thumb toyed with your sore clit. he curses under his breath, a large hand gripping the sides of your throat.

his voice was labored but firm, “you want the entire firm to hear how you sound with my dick in you? be quiet.” he warns again.

you try, you really do. your hand is over your mouth, eyes watering with unshed tears as his pace quickens. your other hand flies to his shoulder, nails biting into his shirt in a silent plea. his voice floats back to you. “but staying quiet was never your strong suit, was it?”

“fuck, oh shit-“ you whimper, eyes screwing shut when you feel the start of your orgasm wrack through you. “vincent, please, oh-“ your eyes fluttered as his grip around your neck tightened a fraction.

“i told you, you would eventually start begging.”

you can barely hear him over the erratic pulsing in your ears. your entire body tenses, cunt clenching around his dick like a vice. he hisses above you, teeth gritted as he watches you come undone.

he pulls out of you, stroking himself a few more times before he’s coming on your pussy and thighs.

you lay on the table, breathing hard as you come down from the orgasmic high. you stare at vincent who’s already watching you, breaths sharing a calming rhythm. when you feel more like yourself, you start to sit up. he hands you a box of tissues, eyes daring to glance at the mess he made on you.

you attempt to straighten your blouse, the collar of which looks as though it had gone through a windstorm. your eyes scan the floor for your panties.

vincent’s palm offers the small ball of satin into your fingers. your gaze catches his as he suppresses a grin. “wouldn’t want to be caught without these, would you?”

you glare at him, though it’s void of the usual hostility. you finish straightening your clothes, blouse retucked into your smoothed-out skirt. you turn back to vincent who’s been put back together for a couple minutes already, leaning against the wall idly.

your mind screamed at you to fill the silence, to say something to settle the oncoming disquiet.

to your surprise, it was vincent who broke the silence first. “who would have thought that this is something you’re into?” his eyes appraised you again. there was no adversity in his jest, only a gentle prodding.

“you can’t say that like you didn’t just fuck me the same.”

he nods, toothy grin starting to crack through his lips. you can see the way his fingers twitch, itching to hold a cigarette between them.

“want a smoke?” you offer, testing the waters.

his eyes catch yours, and he holds your gaze for a moment. then the first genuine, true smile you’ve seen from him is directed at you.

“i’d like that, yes.”

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Started writing this on a whim when I saw some fan arts with Sebastian where he has long hair, y'know my heart simply couldn't resist. So yeah, enjoy this short little thing ig <3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Soft yandere content, kidnapping mention, gn!reader.

"Bastian, I have a silly request to make." You already feel your face heating up, thinking of better ways to say what you've been thinking for the last few minutes. Asking for stuff was still new and somewhat difficult after all those months being deprived of everything.

Sebastian knelt gracefully on the soft carpet before you, the sound of the embers in the fire being the only sound to be heard other than your breathing, his usual predatory glint replaced with a rare softness. Well, it wasn't that rare - on the contrary, you didn't like that look when you saw it. At least, you won't for a few months. Now, that look brought a warm feeling to you. A good feeling.

"What do you need, my dear?" He asked, his voice a melodic blend of curiosity and amusement. His gaze never wavered from your face, capturing every nuance of your expression.

Every anxious thought behind your eyes, how you swallowed as if he was forcing to eat sand, the subtle way in each you were breathing. You were nervous.

"Ah, well, you see... I was wondering if you, like, can grown your hair with your powers so I can braid it?" A small, hopeful smile started forming on your lips as his held your face on his hands, massaging your cheeks with his thumbs. Sebastian used to do this to soothe you.

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The request was simple, yet it held a profound intimacy that made his black heart beat just a bit faster. He wondered for a second if you could hear it beating, so loudly and so quickly. He wouldn't mind if you did.

"Anything for you, my love," Sebastian whispered as a silken promise. With a graceful wave of his hand, his ebony locks began to lengthen, cascading down his neck like a midnight waterfall, each strand gleaming in the soft light of the chandelier and the embers.

You looked at him, a bit surprised by how eager he was. Months ago he'd laugh at such request - or, and now you thought, maybe not. If you behaved well, he wouldn't act with any kind of rudeness and violence. He was sweet in every one of his gestures.

You began to braid it, your fingers working deftly through his hair, weaving intricate patterns with practiced ease. Sebastian hummed, accompanying each and every movement you did with a different tune. Each touch, each gentle tug, sent a ripple of pleasure through him, igniting a possessive fire that burned fiercely within his chest.

You got up from your spot by the fireplace and positioned yourself behind Sebastian. Almost instantly you started to gently run your fingers through the silken strands, marveling at their smoothness and the good smell. Sebastian remained perfectly still, his eyes half-closed as he savored the sensation of your touch. There was a possessive glint in his eyes, one that spoke of a deep, unwavering devotion and hunger for any kind of touch you offer him.

He was greedy for you and your love - or your hate. He didn't mind much, any kind of attention was positive for this demon.

What I did was right, he mused. Giving you a better place to live, cooking every meal for you, bathing you in his love. And I'll do everything again if needed. You had come around just like he knew you would.

You couldn't see but Sebastian's lips curved into a contented smile, his usually stoic demeanor softened by the tender, spontaneous moment you shared. He could feel the warmth of your affection in every movement, in every glance you stole at him when you thought he didn't know about, in every smile you send his way. He could almost purr contently.

Finally, you tied off the braid with a delicate ribbon, the color matching the deep red of his eyes.

"Perfect," You whispered, admiring your handiwork with a satisfied smile.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, wanting nothing more that you felt comfortable enough to ask him for anything else no matter how silly or mundane you thought it was. If it's for you, he wouldn't care.

Sebastian's eyes glinted dangerously, there wasn't a mirror nearby but nonetheless he loved the result. He reached out, cupping your cheek gently, his touch as light as a feather.

"Indeed, my love," He murmured while looking at you over his shoulder, his voice a tender caress. "Perfect."

[asshole-rebel-psycho]

The older I get the more I realize these things about dating.

I have been trying to have deep connections and stimulating conversations for some time.

This doesn't seem to work. Especially on dating apps for I guess obvious reasons.

But as an observant, shy, lonely and somewhat intelligent person ( who happens to be gay) I have unfortunately never found love or relationships myself.. I have only seen it through other people

It's pretty apparent that dating is for simple people. I don't mean this in an arrogant way but a majority of individuals seem to not take the question asking part of dating seriously. Idk if this is due to them not being attracted, busy, simple minded or a more narcissistic culture but it is apparent to me that the closer these people are to my location, the less they are willing to learn more about me.

I wonder why that is? 🤔 I've had plenty of engaging online, non dating app conversations with people all over the world.

So part of me thinks that this is due to our new emotionless, soulless culture. Because this problem only exists when I engage with potential matches that can turn into reality.

The need for connection is still there. Fear is holding us back.

Why are people so afraid of reality? What are they running from? Themselves? Other people? Is the world in such a bad place right now that we feel like if we make a connection we know it will probably end up broken like the society we live in? 💔

The more I observe dating and other people's love lives the more it is apparent to me that deep, intellectual, stimulating conversations are not a part of the game AT ALL.

( take it as a grain of salt but from my observations dating goes like this)

One, attraction is the 1# thing! Because if you don't have it there is no fuel to get anything going. The car won't even get out of the lot. Especially off apps.

Secondly, the man usually takes action by getting the girl on the date as fast as possible..he has to woo her by showing her a fun, spontaneous, adventurous, humorous, and flirtatious time.

It is usually filled with banter, funny nostalgic stories, flirting and none of that would even matter if the two ( especially the man who usually carries the convo) was not attracted.

You can seriously make anything work with mutual sexual attraction. I've seen two plain and boring people talk for hours about nothing but because they had those saucer eyes for eachother it just worked! They definitely don't talk about work or deep concepts.

So the man drains his ( or if hes in his 20s) his daddy's resources on the girl to have a "fun" time..meanwhile his sexual motivation is keeping it going because she obviously has many other options.

The girl then looks pretty and vets if he is worthy for a LTR.

If so, she gets brought into this new, advantageous, silly, successful man's life and uses him as a tool to get away from her boring and domesticated life. She uses him for fun, community, hobbies and eventually family.

She uses his resources as a way to post on tiktok, fb and ig to show off to all of her friends " look at the amazing, good looking and successful guy I am able to get" mostly to show status as a woman and to make her friends jealous..because they were mean to her in the past.

None of her *connection* to her man has pretty much anything to do with conversation. ( sounds harsh I know but hear me out)

If you doubt this why do men and women immediately separate at Christmas parties and work events?

Have you ever observed a straight guy talking to a straight girl before? At any age?

It's usually a girl talking with her friends about things that doesn't interest him and his eyes roll over astrology and the girl eye rolling about video games or sports banter. Exc...

It's pretty obvious how for 95% of the population..male and female worlds have NOTHING to do with eachother. And want NOTHING to do with eachother except for what each gender lacks...

Emotional support from the woman and financial stability from the man. What binds them is sex and what keeps them together is family.

This is why my nerdy lesbian ass has such a hard time with dating. Lol

In the typical female way I am relying too much on talking, not much action. And in a very unfair lesbian way I can't seem to find my opposite.

I am trying to find an intellectual match when I should just be finding my feminine opposite. I'm treating dating like lunch dates with friends, Like men discussing politics on the Titanic while smoking cigars.

Unless I want to talk to a mirror long conversation isn't the way to go.

Because it never was to begin with. This is the code I finally cracked. Lol 😆

I'll leave the cerebral banter and philosophical insights to the lonely, individualistic writer side of me..the side of many great minds in history...But even a great writer will drop his work like a hot potato as soon as he finds a woman he is undeniably in love with. 🥰

My point is to find my opposite not my reflection. And my opposite might surprise me with what they can give or know...even if it's not deep or extremely interesting to me. This goes for any gender. Love doesn't work that way.

[thescreaminghat]

just thinking about tf armada optimus after unicron is defeated (spoilers), when he's been battered by fighting and is now drifting aimlessly amidst the debris in space and comes across the matrix of leadership, the very symbol of authority and hope for the autobots---the symbol that he chose to discard before accepting a final fight with megatron---and how he resignedly says, "i dont deserve it".

like ig there's the interpretation that he somehow "stooped down" to megatron's level by engaging in the 1v1, but i dont really get that vibe, and it feels a little too simple, even for the often questionable dialogue choices for the eng dub. i dont get the impression that somehow optimus is now "bad" because he accepted megatron's challenge, because he's been fighting megatron for fucking 10 million years, and it's presented as a "necessary evil" even though the whole point with the minicons is that conflict and war and fighting is, probably, more of a harmful thing than a good one, because megatron's purpose is to control and exploit the minicons for his own ends (i.e. the series series is still a kids' show, meaning certain tropes, like "the good guys ultimately need to come out on top", are still going to be used even if moral complexities are explored).

rather, i get the sense that optimus's somewhat mournful/regretful rejection of the matrix comes from the fact that he didn't fully acknowledge all sides of him and never got the change to. despite the fact that his obsession with op clouds his judgment like 99% of the time, megs knows himself way too well---there was no way on god's green earth that he and op were going to hold hands and kumbaya and that's what he lived by his entire life. bro held onto an infatuation of the millennia but also held a level of animosity and craving that likely rivalled the level of forgiveness and generosity of primus himself. and megatron accepted this, accepted that he wanted to battle and feel in control and in the end, when the only thing he had left to prove was to his forever rival, that was all he wanted: one good fight and he would be at peace with the outcome of the entire universe (im counting what happens in tf energon as its own thing at this point, it's way too messy of a direct continuation of armada). imo megatron stayed true to his own feelings without the necessity of hamfisting a redemption arc, he went through notable growth (biggest example being his shift after starscream's death) but in the end, there were parts of him that were never going to change, so in a way, he saw his journey through to the end and made the choice to sacrifice himself for optimus because of that acceptance

in contrast, i get the sense that because optimus must constantly act as a figurehead to the autobots, he's not truly able to be 100% honest with what he wants, and who he is. not that there's any doubt that he truly believes in his mission, and that he hasn't been deceitful or dishonest, but i got the sense throughout the series that optimus keeps a lot to himself because he can't be anything less than the protector of the matrix (e.g. when starscream leaves the autobots, hotshot, furious and hurt at the betrayal, starts yelling at optimus and doubting why he made the choices that he did, op doesn't say anything. instead he just walks away, with this pained silence following him out the door, leaving scavenger to chew out hotshot for "disobeying orders"---which seemed kind of, idk, a weirdly ironfisted way (at least from the autobot side) to shut down some genuinely good and earnest questions. and that specific moment of tension never really gets resolved, because optimus sacrifices himself to, in a way, "make up" for his and starscream's mistake). why doesn't he defend himself? if he truly believed in starscream and the inherent goodness of all cybertronians then why not express that directly to hotshot with passion, with conviction, with acceptance of all aspects of his own beliefs?

ig what im trying to say is, being the bearer of the matrix seems to instil (at least to me) this sense of "purity" or "virtuous aloofness" in optimus, whether out of duty or a genuine belief in those qualities as being the ideal. so when optimus discards the matrix specifically to fight megatron, and subsequently tells himself that he "doesn't deserve" that symbol of leadership, i think what he is berating himself for is having enjoyed a fight just a little too much or at the wrong time, having chosen to do something that wouldn't have fit the mould he had held himself to. his first response to megatron's reminiscing about how their fight reminded him of the "good old days" is denial ("i can't say that i enjoyed it").

tldr my interpretation (definitely wrong) is that op has a lot of responsibility and it seems to create a kind but also distant version of him in armada; it feels like op is repressing a lot of who he is and the rejection of the matrix brings him into the daunting realization that yeah, maybe that was for the better. maybe it's ok to not deserve that honour. he'll have to accept that and live with it, but it's ok.

[rebelwheelssoapbox]

As a disabled activist, I often say I'm disabled AF or "as fuck" as an expression of disability pride & liberation. But in these times I feel like AF should also stand for anti-fascist. On a side note, originally I wasn't going to go with bright neon colors, but just as I was about to work on the art piece, my brain remembered how much as a kid I used to love wearing neon-colored clothing. You have to be really proactive in finding joy in these times so I thought fuck it, let's make it neon. Inner child approved lol. [IG: art. Protest graphic. Background. neon green square. Over that is a hot pink and smaller square so the neon green becomes a thick border. Over that and somewhat in the middle is a bright yellow square. The text is artsy and each letter which varies in style has its own vertical black rectangle behind it. The letters are yellow and a medium orange. The text reads: Disabled AF as in proudly disabled AF as in anti-fascist. The largest text is disabled AF, probably disabled, anti-fascist. They are also centered. The lines as in and AF as in are much smaller and towards the right. The line as in has a horizontal red rectangle behind it that goes midway into the green background. The line AF as in has a neon icy blue horizontal rectangle that goes towards the left instead of the right. Lastly in the lower right hand corner and a very faded black and simple font is the text: @ rebel Wheels NYC but with no spaces and no capital letters. ]

[jmdbjk]

No hurricanes.

We have 4 days left in August but it looks like there will be no hurricanes for us. We are typically waiting for one to arrive about this time every August. Definitely a welcome calm because there was already too much shit packed into this past month as it was so thank you to Mother Nature for not adding that extra layer of a shit show.

That being said, there is always next week for a hurricane. We wait. In the meantime, Episode 5 of Are You Sure? drops after I go to sleep tomorrow night.

Namjoon has been active on his IG account, he just tweaked his bio, changing the title "right place, wrong person" to all lowercase. We are holding the ship on a steady course, Captain. Seas are rough but we see the signals.

In case you didn't know, Miss Karma came back from her vacation. As of today, Min Hee Jin has been terminated as CEO of Ador.

She is being given the choice of remaining as director/producer for NewJeans but all of her stock options and whatever went poof. Good luck bitch, fighting your sexual harassment lawsuits without your CEO salary or perks. On your way out, please fumigate your office and leave the keys with the security team.

In other news, Billboard executives meeting this week to discuss major changes to Billboard Hot 100 and minor changes to Billboard 200. Can't wait to hear what this new round of fresh hell will be.

Also, Billboard having an event in Seoul to fiNd ThE nExT BTS!

Ya know... after all this time... how has no one ever realized its not the NEXT BTS anyone needs to be searching for? Yes, to the part about finding an authentic artist who can craft their own (really good) songs with lyrics that resonate. But the real key they need to find is...

... the next FANDOM that is like Army. Globally diverse from different walks of life including young, old and in-between. Loyal, loving, smart, organized, even if at times we seem to struggle to come together.

If an artist can cultivate a relationship with their fandom which consists of mutual respect and trust between them only THEN can the artist do anything, be anything, even untouchable. Hasn't anyone been listening at all? BTS has been saying for years they couldn't do anything... wouldn't be where they are... would have no reason to exist WITHOUT ARMY.

Seriously shaking my damn head. No one listens. No one.

Some other random things that are constantly doing a hit n'run inside my head...

I hope Jimin’s time with Dior menswear is finished because good lawd that shit is fugly. No. Just no:

It looks like an outfit they would be forced to wear as a penalty for losing a Run BTS game. Isn't that the same way Koreans tie up what they call a "lamb head" towel around their head to go in the public baths?

I haven’t talked about Jin at all this month. Shame on me.

He's been very very busy endearing himself not only to Army but to middle-aged men, women, kids, moms, future spouses, actors, idols, foodies, gamers, fishermen, grandmas, grandpas, the world.

Hobi will be coming home in 49(?) days!

Jimin and Jungkook are sending off their fellow soldiers with autographs as they are discharged. I guess it is somewhat comforting to read these simple messages they write to their departing comrades. It's all we have for now. I hope they are doing ok way out there in the boonies. 9 months and 15 days left.

[loveless-arobee]

Being Loveless

Because there’s a lot of demonisation going around still and people really gotta learn to chill down about the way other people describe their emotions.

I identify as loveless as both a personal identity, as well as a somewhat political (? For lack of a better word rn) one on top of it. I’ll explain what I mean by both.

This is only my personal experience, not every loveless person feels the same! If any other loveless person wants to share their experience in the notes, feel free to do so! I enjoy hearing about other people :)

Long post incoming. I tried to keep on track but my mind is messy whenever I’m writing something that’s not a book haha.

So, why I personally identify as loveless is actually the most obvious reason: I don’t really feel anything I’d label as "love". This ties into my low empathy, I think, and my inability to really understand my own emotions, too (alexithymia) (though I see both of that as the same thing, really; to me it just feels like my own low empathy extends to myself, too, not just other people. (But that’s just me, ig))

I don’t really feel like the word love accurately describes any of my feelings, there’s always better phrases to describe what I actually mean. "Love" is a muddy word that can mean almost anything; it just doesn’t make any sense to me. I prefer to use precise language. Like, "I enjoy your company/I like spending time with you", "You’re my favourite person", and "I’d die for you" etc., all carry so much more meaning to me than just a simple "I love you"; because that could mean all of the above or none of it.

For me, it’s just an inaccurate word that doesn’t serve what I want to say at all, almost all of the time. It either can mean everything or it’s just some thing people say, so what am I supposed to expect when someone says they love me? And what do people expect from me when I say I love them?

People also try to give me shit then for "not loving my pets"; as if my dogs and cat and mice would care how I label my emotions! I cuddle them when they want to, give them food and water and entertain them, get them to the vet when they need it, let the one mouse who likes it crawl all over my body, and make sure they live the best life I can offer them. Because I care for them! I chose to get pets; so it’s my responsibility to make sure they are healthy and happy, even when they piss me off from time to time. That’s a lot more than what I see other pet owners do that repeat again and again how much they "love their pets" but that’s a whole other can of worms I don’t want to open here.

The point is: why do my emotions mean so much more than my actions? What, because I don’t have the good and right emotions behind something, my actions are automatically bad? Because you love your pets your obvious abuse of them doesn’t matter, because you just mean well, and you feel the good and right emotions?

Which ties into why I think being loveless is also an at least somewhat "political" identity. At least in the culture I grew up in (European, but I’m very interested in people’s experiences outside of western culture!), love can be and is used to excuse all kinds of abuse and harmful actions.

We can see that a lot in parental abuse; children get told over and over again that their parents just mean well, that they didn’t mean to harm them, that they love them and isn’t that so much more important than the harm they’re doing? And when it gets "to far" (all abuse is to far), they turn and say well, they didn’t really love you if they did those things!

And isn’t it just so romantic that they loved their partner for so long before and stalked them and didn’t take no for an answer and pressured them until they finally agreed? So much love!

And so much more examples.

But of course when I point that out, people are going to hound me with stuff like "well if they’d really love them they wouldn’t do that" or some other variation of "that’s not real love, then!"

But that is just ignoring all the harm that can be and actively is done in the name of love. It is ignoring how love is used far to often to cover up suffering and harm by keeping it on that pedestal of can do no harm, only good. And that is bad. That is very bad.

Love is an emotion just like every other. It can cause both harm and good; and acting like people who love you are incapable of harming you is setting yourself up for abuse. And acting like loving someone means you could never harm or hurt them is making you ignorant to all the hurt you might be causing.

Being loveless, on a political level, means taking "love" down from that pedestal. It is about decentering love, and it’s about freeing myself from the societal expectations put on everyone. It’s about rejecting other people’s reading of my emotions.

And I honestly do not trust people who act like you can only care for someone and want to help them if you love them (or have empathy for them!)

Because basing your support on your own emotions for a person—or a group of people—will often times lead to you being a horrible ally. Because if that person, or some people from that group, do something you don’t approve of, or have an experience you can’t relate to, emotionally, do they not deserve your support anymore?

And why is my support worth less simply because I can’t feel other peoples’ feelings, or even fully understand them for the most part?

Of course, I’m not saying that labelling your own feelings as love is bad in general. But you shouldn’t act like loving someone absolves you fully from ever doing any harm to them, just because you obviously meant well (and they should be thankful you were even trying to help them!)

And you shouldn’t push your definition of emotions onto other people, or act like people with different experiences than yours are inherently evil. I am loveless, and I don’t care for love at all. If that makes you uncomfortable, if that makes you feel attacked, that is your problem, not mine. Take it out with yourself.

Love is not necessary to make a good human. And love can make some people absolutely horrid humans, too! Feelings are feelings and have absolutely nothing to do with one’s morals. Please stop acting like it does.

Thank you for reading this.

Some pet pics before someone asks:

(The last mouse does also have a friend, don’t worry. I would never keep a mouse alone! His friend is just asleep in their house rn and I don’t have a photo of them both. I found him sitting behind a house like this just now.)

[skinomyteethh]

Hey!! i was wondering if you could write something on izzy maybe i don’t know if this will make sense but he gets embarrassed during sex? you know, trying to normalise things that happen during sex that arnt spoke about (in most) of the fics i read but it’s totally cool if your not comfortable with it!💞

₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘ first time nervousness

pairing: izzy stradlin x fem! reader.

summary: accidents happen!

contains/warnings: reader and izzy's first time. fingering. slight nipple play ig. little pussy slapping. oral (f. receiving). etc.

authors note: OKAY SO i tried my best to like execute the idea of izzy getting embarrassed and like mixing it with the fact that accidents also happen while having sex sometimes and that it doesn't have to kill the mood. I hope I did good! and uh hope y'all like it!

sexual thematics or even the simple thought of sexual relations were somewhat frightening to them, throughout their prolonged relationship they had only shared a few promiscuous touches and kisses, yet they desperately wanted to take a more intimate step in their relationship, feelings of nervousness seemed to block their ability to express their true desires.

[name] laid against the beige bedsheets, her eyes glancing down at izzy's pale hands as they trailed down up her torso carefully and gently as if she were fragile and delicate, made of glass. his right hand advanced up to her tits, cupping one of them, squeezing it rather roughly. a wince of pain parted her lips, izzy quickly removed his hand, leaning down to place soft kisses around her perked nipple. it wasn't his intent to hurt her, he just got carried away.

soft, almost desperate apologies escaped his light pink lips, it somewhat embarrassed him, he was supposed to make her feel pleasure not pain. he continued to apologize while she reassured him that everything was fine, accidents happen.

he slowly sat back up, slotting his face in between her thighs, he brought his left hand up, spreading her folds with his pointer and middle finger, dragging his tongue down her cunt. both the bridge and tip of his nose occasionally bumped into her clit whilst he began to eat her out causing her bruised and bitten red lips to part, pleading moans spilling from them.

shortly after he removed his head from the snug spot in-between her thighs, gently slapping her cunt, coating his fingers in her arousal. each and everyone of his moves were all experimental, he wanted to see what exactly felt pleasurable to her. her soft, warm fingers wrapped around his wrist, bringing his hand up towards he mouth.

[name] slowly opened her mouth, breathing heavily. she slowly began to lick and suck his long, pale fingers. he promptly slid his fingers out of her mouth, carefully trailing them down and inserting them into her, a mantra of moans spewing from her lips. he steadily pumped his fingers in a back and forth motion, speeding up his pace once in a while.

just as she was on the brink of her orgasm he pulled his fingers out, lovingly placing kisses on her lower stomach, inching closer to her inner thighs before sitting on his knees, lining up his painfully hard, pre-cum covered cock with her entrance. steadily, he slid in, causing her to tighten her grasp on the beige bedsheets, tugging on them as a loud, almost pornographic moan echoed through the bedroom.

Izzy maintained a rather calm, loving pace. he was worried about somehow hurting her again, he didn't want to hurt his precious jewel, at least not anymore. she grasped onto his forearm as his grip on her waist tightened, begging for him to go faster, harder. he skeptically obliged, fasten his pace.

the most desperate, adorable groans and whines escaped from his pink lips as he felt her warm, velvety, wet walls around him, her cunt seemed to lore him back in for more every-time he pulled out. he felt as if he was on cloud nine, he never expected these sinful acts to feel so euphoric. a keen, loud, and pleasure-filled cry whimper erupted from the back of [name]'s throat as she finally reached her awaited orgasm, it was a completely inexplicable feeling.

as he continued to thrust into her, a white, sticky ring of her orgasm appeared around the base of his cock, each time he pulled out, lines of her arousal mixed with her cum would connect them, causing lewd wet sounds to now accompanying their sounds of pleasure. with every thrust and every groan Izzy breached closer and closer to his orgasm, he soon haphazardly pulled out of her, pumping his length in-front of her face.

thick white spurts of cum ejaculated from his cock as a loud, low groan escaped his lips. he smiled, carelessly laying down next to her, catching his breath as he mumbled soft praises into her ear.

[dendrofiles]

if f!xf! is on the table,,, perhaps something with sydlar? maybe sydney tutoring her again? idk let your imagination run wild (absolutely no offense taken if this doesnt inspire u)

tutoring session

hi anon!!! HELL YEAH f/f is on the table!! i may be a gay man but i am extremely invested in wlw fics and i am always happy to give the lesbians some food :) anyways i hope you enjoy this!! also i hope the history stuff isn’t too out of left-field… ig we’ll see

f!sydney x f!kylar. corrupt sydney (somewhat ooc i think). hate sex, public sex, dom/sub, degradation, fingering, the french revolution??? i guess??? 1466 words.

Sydney taps her pen impatiently against the table. She would rather be doing literally anything else right now. Fuck, she wouldn’t even mind cleaning the bunks at the temple, and that’s something that not even Sister Jordan can convince her to do. Sydney is supposed to be helping her mom at the shop today, but Leighton strong-armed Sirris into having Sydney tutor the school’s resident freak, Kylar.

Kylar. Sydney’s former best friend and current worst enemy. Sydney glares at her from across the table. Kylar’s sweating buckets as she frantically scribbles on her history worksheet, desperately trying to answer all the questions before time runs out. Her uniform is worn and ratty, and her hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in days. Sydney doesn’t condone bullying, obviously, but she really can’t blame her fellow students for avoiding Kylar. The girl is a mess.

The sound of Sydney’s relentless pen-tapping echoes across the library. She catches Kylar glaring at her hands. It only spurs her on.

A few minutes pass, and the timer sounds. Sydney sighs and snatches the worksheet out from Kylar’s hands.

“Alright,” she mutters. “Let’s see how you did.” 

Sydney quickly grades the worksheet, her red pen marking furious strokes across the page. All the while, Kylar fidgets, her clammy hands twitching in her lap.

When Sydney’s done, she stands up and slams the worksheet down on the table. Kylar flinches.

“Fifty percent,” Sydney hisses. “Seriously, Kylar. What the hell is going on?”

The other girl peers up at her, her green eyes wide and anxious. “I-I don’t know…”

Sydney puts her hands on her hips, unsatisfied with that answer. “Sure you don’t,” she snaps. “You’re really smart, Kylar. My mom says you’re the best student in her class. Why the hell can’t you focus on a simple history worksheet?”

Kylar casts her eyes downward, unable to hold Sydney’s gaze any longer. She looks like she wants to crawl into a hole and die. Sydney’s not one to be unnecessarily cruel to people, but she’s been pissed at Kylar for years, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t take this opportunity to berate her.

Sydney takes a step towards her rival, towering over her. “You’re not dumb, are you?” she hisses. “We both know you don’t have a life, so why can’t you take a little extra time to study?”

She slams her hand down on the table, caging her in. “Oh, I think I know the answer to that, actually,” she mocks. “You’re a filthy fucking porn addict. All you do is sit in front of your computer and get off to the creepiest shit imaginable. You goddamn heathen.”

Kylar still won’t look at her, and Sydney’s had enough. She grabs the shorter girl’s chin and twists her jaw harshly, forcing her to meet her gaze. Sydney’s about to continue her tirade, but then she notices something. 

Kylar… is blushing.

Her cheeks have turned cherry red, and her pupils are blown wide. There’s even a small rivulet of drool running from the corner of her lips. Sydney glances down. Sure enough, Kylar’s thighs are pressed together beneath her skirt.

“Oh my god, you’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” Sydney murmurs.

Kylar tries to shake her head. “N-no! I’m n-not-” she begins, but quickly trails off when Sydney starts to run her fingertips along her lips. 

Sydney has never felt so conflicted in her life. Despite how much she hates the girl, she can’t deny that the sight of Kylar like this, debauched and at her mercy, is so… alluring. So tempting. So utterly sinful. 

The holy pendant around Sydney’s neck glints in the low light of the library. She reaches up to touch it on instinct, then tears her hand away. Fuck it. She’s already committed every sin in the book. What’s one more?

“Stand up,” Sydney commands. Kylar scrambles to her feet—way too obedient for someone who’s supposedly not getting off on this, but whatever. Sydney sits down in the chair, then yanks Kylar down onto her lap. Kylar lets out a surprised squeak, but doesn’t try to wriggle away.

Sydney pries her enemy’s thighs apart. She reaches up her skirt and palms her clothed pussy through her panties. Kylar lets out a small gasp.

“You’re all hot and bothered,” Sydney whispers into Kylar’s ear. “Liar.”

Kylar whimpers and tries to grind into Sydney’s hand, but Sydney uses her free hand to grip her hips, keeping her in place.

“No,” Sydney says firmly. “You have to earn that. Show a little respect.”

“S-Sydney,” Kylar whines. 

Sydney hasn’t heard her say her name in years. She can’t help but groan at the way she says it now. “What is it?” she mumbles, her breath hot against Kylar’s neck.

“I-I need you to touch me, Sydney,” Kylar babbles. She cranes her neck to look up at Sydney, her eyes wide and pleading. “Please. Please t-touch me.”

Sydney hums and yanks her panties down. “Don’t be crude,” Sydney reprimands her. “This is still a tutoring session, you know.”

Sydney leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to Kylar’s neck. She lets her tongue trace her veins, swirling against her pulse point as she squirms in her lap. Her fingers make their way to Kylar’s cunt, gently spreading apart her folds.

“If you want to cum, you’ll have to earn it,” Sydney murmurs. Her other hand smacks Kylar’s hip.

The smaller girl shudders, her body convulsing in Sydney’s lap. “H-how?”

Sydney hums in consideration, then replies. “You can start by telling me what year the French Revolution started.”

“What?”

Sydney smacks her hip again. “Don’t make me repeat myself. What year did the French Revolution start?”

Kylar pants, her little brain kicking into overdrive. “Um… it was… 1789…”

“Good,” Sydney says. She presses a finger against Kylar’s clit, giving it a few small strokes. “Good job.”

Kylar moans as Sydney finally starts touching her. The noise is loud enough that it can certainly be heard across the library, but right now, Sydney doesn’t care. And, let’s be honest, who’s going to stop her? Certainly not Leighton, that pervert.

“Next question,” Sydney says. “Who was Robespierre?”

Kylar swallows. “Robespierre, aah, was the deputy of the National Convention,” she manages, “and the leader of the Jacobins.”

“Correct.” Sydney’s fingers leave her clit and move lower, teasing her entrance before sliding in. Kylar cries out at the stretch. Sydney has to admit that she’s enjoying herself, too—Kylar’s walls are soft and velvety around her fingers, clenching down on them like she wants to cut them off, like she wants Sydney’s fingers to get lost in her body. Sydney can’t say she minds the thought.

Her thumb plays with Kylar’s clit as she relentlessly finger’s her pussy, angling her fingers so she hits her sweet spot over and over again. Kylar pants and whines on her lap like a bitch in heat, her legs spread sinfully wide. Sydney lifts up her other hand and shoves her fingers into her mouth. Kylar accepts them readily, taking them further until she gags. Drool dribbles down her chin. Tears stream down her cheeks.

“You look like one of those girls from those hentais you watch,” Sydney remarks. “Is that what you want?”

Kylar can only respond with a moan. Sydney can feel her walls fluttering around her fingers, and she realizes that she’s about to cum. Sydney abruptly stops her movements and yanks her fingers out of Kylar’s mouth.

“Last question,” Sydney breathes, “and then you can cum. You ready?”

Kylar nods frantically. “P-please, Sydney, please-”

“Patience,” Sydney chides. Really, she’s just as eager as the other girl is, though she’ll never admit it. The image of Kylar on her lap, moaning like a whore, will be seared into her memory forever.

Sydney asks the final question. “How many people died in the Reign of Terror?”

Kylar looks panicked as she tries to think of the answer, her brain so thoroughly melted by now that all thoughts of the history lesson on the French Revolution are far from her mind. Still, she pushes through. Sydney sees her eyes light up with joy as she thinks of the number.

“17,000!” she cries. “I-it was 17,000!”

With that, Sydney curls her fingers, and Kylar finishes with a loud moan. She collapses against Sydney, totally boneless as she comes down from her high. Sydney rests her head in the crook of Kylar’s neck. She can’t believe she just did that. She just fingered her nemesis in a public library.

In the past, that thought would have given her a heart attack. Now, it only excites her.

When Kylar comes back to, she looks up at Sydney, a tiny, desperate smile on her lips. “S-Sydney,” she mumbles, “would you tutor me again tomorrow?”

[generalsdiary]

Interwoven

Mydei x Phainon

word count: 6k

description: our favorite couple is finally in the future at the same time and it is time to talk about what Mydei did during his time (Chapter 2)

a/n: welcome to another chapter- took a bit more time than the previous chapters, but this one is over 6k words so I guess yall stay winning lol we are sticking heavily to the canon with this one (no plot spoilers for 3.1), all the canon stuff was revealed in 3.0 via in-world books and stuff - so don't worry if you haven't played the newest main story. the only thing from 3.1 would be Mydei's pov on things ig which was spoken about in 3.0 but not in heavy detail. have a fun read!

ty to my beta readers; citrus, rice cake and Sav <2

Chapter 3: Is it written in our stars?

Silence filled the air. “Husband? Married … as in we exchanged vows, signed a parchment, and kissed?” Phainon tilts his head, bewildered by the fact.

“Yes, Deliverer, married . Do keep your voice down, we have appearances to keep.” Mydei adds in a hushed tone. This is the first time Phainon has ever heard the loud man speak so quietly, he takes a few moments to quietly process. They’re both fine, Phainon quietly thanks Kephale , both alive in the future. Moreover, that they both made it in one piece. Phainon’s eyes widen, his breathing grows shallow as panic floods him, “Is the artifact with you? If you already collected the information on Thanatos’ location, then we should head back.” Phainon gestures with his hand.

Mydei shakes his head, “The artifact isn’t with me. I only woke up in this body, nothing I had in my arms traveled with me… Much like how you only arrived days later.” Mydei’s words make sense. After all, they were separated, despite holding hands. He was holding Phainon’s hand in the last moment of the present.

Blood rushes to Phainon’s cheeks as his mind fills with various thoughts. The adrenaline of their last moment together combined with the sudden warm hand that held his reminds him that Mydei has been here for several days longer with his married counterpart. What did Mydeimos do with his future husband? Did he kiss him, hold his hand, share his bed, how far did he go—

“…and as for the Death Titan, I have gathered the only intelligence that was written here. The artifact takes priority. Deliverer, we should get this done and get back.” Mydei groaned, pinching the skin on the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t slide past this, you lived with the version of me that is… married to you. We are screwed, we should try asking Tribbie or the others—“ Phainon’s eyebrows furrowed and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, balancing two lines of conversation at once.

Mydei sighed, “Absolutely not. That would simply uncover us. Furthermore, it seems the timeline doesn’t work that way. We need to figure out how we won the war and find a way back to our time. Regarding Lady Tribios, it would only raise even more suspicion—“ 

The doors open abruptly and a clearly nervous guard barges in, interrupting their conversation, “My King, the council has started,” he looks cautiously between them,  “D-do you wish to join?” Mydei sighs and glances at Phainon with irritation in his eyes. The conversation cannot be continued; the usual obligations must be upheld. 

“We will talk later, Deli—“ he clears his throat, luckily he managed to catch himself, “my Prince.”

Phainon is somewhat shaken by the turmoil of his new reality. On top of it all, being called my prince by the man he feels so strongly for doesn’t make any of it easier to process. Without an idea of what to do next, or even the simple of how to behave, he calls out the name of one of the servants, “Aulus!”

The woman with short brown hair rushes in, “Yes, my Prince?”

“Escort me to my chambers, I’m feeling… dizzy and I’d hate to bump into a column and make the King worry.” Phainon flashes a weak smile. All he can hope is that his lie was believable enough. Aulus gave him a quick nod and slowly guided him to the large room. Stealth check successful. Or was it charisma? Phainon can’t remember, he will have to ask Caelus once he returns to the present. … If he returns to the present.

Two guards posted nearby their quarters open the large, heavy door for him and Phainon finally gets a moment to let his guard down.

His eyes scan the large room, admiring the sight. The white marble tiles are covered up by a dark brown carpet, akin to a bear’s fur. Transparent white curtains hang above the windows and the archway to a balcony. Two large tables are placed in the leftmost part of the room, opposite of each other, both messy and filled with various documents. The right side of the room is set apart with a single step and an enormous canopy bed with cream white sheets. It's fixed, pristine and crisp as if no one slept in it this morning. The bed curtains are tied up out of sight, matching in the same cream shade, with Kremnos’ signature red lining drawn through them. Phainon has been to Mydei’s room before – that man isn’t neat per se, hence he is certain the servants made the bed after his future self and his Mydei left in the morning. They’re both messy and he is certain that didn’t change, even with the years between this present and theirs.

The room feels comfortable. Safe, even. Despite that, worry fills Phainon’s mind. What if Mydei is in trouble? What if he can’t keep the act up? Nonsense, he spent days here… Still, what if something comes up? Something worse than what he had to deal with? …Like living with… his husband. Separation anxiety at its finest.

Drawn by the mess on the tables, he snoops over the parchments. Both tables offer nothing particularly interesting, various affairs, nothing personal, nothing this snooper wished to read. Not to mention some writing on both tables is in Kremnoan, making them inaccessible to him. Sitting down on the floor, he opens the drawers of what he concluded is his table, based on the handwriting, despite half of it being in Mydei’s mother tongue. Phainon’s eyes sparkled when he finally struck gold.

A small pile of letters, tied in a bunch with yellow string, catches his eye. Why would he keep government letters in colorful string in the last drawer? There's no reason for these to be personal letters when regular communication is done over teleslates. It piques his curiosity...

The fragile parchment unfolds to reveal a letter written in surprisingly neat handwriting. The loops and curves make the writer look as if they put a lot of effort into making it readable and inviting. Readable in the way Phainon finds the easiest, his mind running over the words before he can even fully comprehend them.

Beloved,

Days without you are utterly painful. No person here can even come close to presenting a challenge in a spar, nor do they dare to attempt. They would've never been a match for me even before I reached godhood.

Your side of the bed is cold. I find myself holding your pillow. As I've said, you should have taken me on your special expedition. The city can run without its King for a few days, right?

Return safely. Or else.

your husband

Phainon's jaw might as well be on the ground. He has to restrain the urge to go through Mydei's drawers in pursuit of the return letter, knowing he’s far too eager to see what his future self had written back. His mind has gone fully blank, completely and utterly unable to register the yearning and sheer neediness of his future husband.

Seeking the next letter like an eager reader flipping to the next page, screaming for the next chapter, it only bares its fangs back at him when his eyes skim over the second letter far too quickly. 

I dreamt of you last night. My fingers glided over your neck and the plush skin of your thighs. I woke up before I could lay a single kiss down. Do return sooner, the real thing is better than anything my imagination and subconscious may offer—

Phainon peeled his eyes away and closed both letters using muscle memory. “No~ nope.. nope... eh- heh. I mean yeah, yes, of course, but! not... no.. uh... whoa... maybe one more peek...”

Clumsily he opens the second letter, scanning it quickly like he will get caught reading a lewd book in the Grove by Professor Anaxagoras. 

“No— I shouldn't. It is not meant for my eyes. I should put it away~” Phainon narrates his actions, convincing himself of what he deems to be right. Devoid of any pure thoughts and completely distracted, he tries to redirect his train of thought. He’s madly clutching at straws in an attempt to find something, anything, that may distract his brain, until it lands on the way Mydeimos called him his prince . If he wasn't sitting down, his knees would have buckled at the sheer memory. Would he whisper it at night... blowing air against his ear—

“No, Phainon. Stay focused!” The Chrysos Heir shakes his head, platinum locks ruffling in turn. Coming to a decision to leave the letter behind, he heads to the wardrobe.

Phainon’s heart beats proudly at the sight of simple cotton clothing of various colors. He is quick to strip out of the armor on his body and put on comfortable clothing that reminds him of his home. He had barely put on the pants when someone barged in. He held back a squeak, arms flinging up in front of his chest, wielding an invisible sword— it could have been anyone, he doesn't know this city or its people, consumed by uncertainty and insecurity unfamiliar to him.

The familiar heavy step and clanking of armor, along with a peach gradient wavy hair puts him at ease. 

“Mydei…” Phainon smiles, shifting the warm-toned shirt in his hands before he puts it on.

Mydei waits until the doors close with a thud before he heavily exhales, “Deliverer.” He is quick to discard his forearm and hand armor, flexing his phalanges and rubbing his elbows. 

“Did something happen?” Phainon rushes to him, feeling quite light in the unexplainably cozy clothing.

“Nothing of our concern. Leading the city, laws... I see you made yourself at home. Already in pajamas.” Mydeimos quirks an eyebrow in his direction and slumps onto the bed, practically jumping onto his back with a guttural groan. His eyes closed for a few moments before he opened them to stare into the space of the canopy bed’s ceiling.

“Pajamas? I thought these were daily clothing...?” Phainon quickly examines his shirt, pulling at the seamless lining. 

“Your assumption isn't wrong, however, your future self wore them to bed. Well, except the shirt.” Mydeimos closed his eyes, rubbing his temple in circular motions. “I am still in disbelief of how my body, a few decades in the future, gets migraines post council meet-ups.”

Phainon sits down on the sofa at the foot of the canopy bed. Mydei indeed shared the bed with his future self... who only sleeps in pants. Noted... noted . Don't panic... don't get flustered~ No, no, no...

“What was your... body... doing when you... got here?” Phainon fidgets with his fingers, eyes focused on his own lap. Unlike their every conversation where they both stand tall and exchange quips and blows, having only one room, only one space where they can be themselves in this future, does make both of them let their guard down. One space where they can share their thoughts and not worry about the act they have to put on. Less space… and more wherever the other one is, is the place where they can let their guard down, the separation anxiety they both obviously have rising tremendously in turn.

“Does it matter, Deliverer?” Mydei asks softly while stretching his legs, the strong muscles flexing, shadows highlighting the curves of his quadriceps, the calves forming the letter V as he turns his hips to the side and rubs his lower back with a small groan. Phainon’s eyes did shift shamelessly to… admire the sight.

Phainon looks back to his lap, recalling the immense pain he had felt when he got here. Unlike Mydeimos, for Phainon only an hour or so had passed. “I got here through pain and deafening noises. I think I was taking a walk? I'm unsure.”

“He was out to pick pomegranates.” A simple answer to a rather complicated question. Something goes off in Phainon's head when Mydei refers to his future husband as he rather than you . Food for thought when he isn't in the middle of trying to find out information from the most unwilling man.

“And you?” Phainon’s hands still and he looks over to the heading of the bed.

“I think I was asleep. It was the middle of the night. I presume I stumbled out of bed, fell to my knees, and nearly attacked... the prince.” Mydei avoided eye contact and softly yawned. He gently rubbed his abdomen in a soothing manner and brought his free arm under his head.

Phainon’s mind took it upon itself to imagine the scene; Mydei stumbling out of bed, being comforted by his husband, confronted as to what was going on. Did Mydei just go back to bed and sleep with him ? Anxiously, he nibbled on his bottom lip and the moment he raised his head to question the older man, the paced breathing of the tired warrior made him keep his thoughts for later. A slow rise and fall of his chest revealed the sleeping state of the man who Phainon could spend hours admiring.

His fingers itched for him to reach out, feel his hair, and caress his cheek—an urge he could barely control when he was lying right there. Peaceful, undisturbed, safe… and trusting Phainon completely. He yearned for more. Yearned for Mydeimos and his attention. Phainon exhaled, which sounded more like a needy whine, and quietly left the room. Before the guards could even greet him, he whispered harshly, “The King is asleep, do not bother him at any cost. Should you need him, come to me.” The guards nodded with a slight tremble of their chins; he had played the role of his future self to the T. Phainon did assume that he would hold himself a bit taller and would respond a bit harsher from the protectiveness he already feels for Mydei. Or rather, the worry which he assumes grew into protectiveness.

The best thing to do next is revise his knowledge of Castrum Kremnos, Mydei’s history and perhaps try to sniff out any clue regarding the artifact’s possible location. 

With Castrum Kremnos revived, every hallway, room, and courtyard is safe, unlike the first time Phainon saw it; covered in vines and shrouded in shadows. Dust-filled rooms that stuck to one’s clothing and thick spider webs that would tangle in one’s hair. The heavy mist carried stories he wished he could learn, and life has presented him this chance. Although, he is approaching this studious expedition as a means to shield himself with the knowledge he would have in this position in the future.

The majestic city stood once more in its old glory. Phainon’s shoes echoed in their step along the hallway. Every entrance had a guard standing post and greeting the Prince of Castrum Kremnos. Phainon barely managed to beg his servants not to follow him on his walk. It’s just a walk is what he said, concealing his, rather exciting, tourist trip through his future self’s Kingdom. 

Along the sturdy columns, floors lined with gold, and various leafy greens decorating every possible surface, something else caught Phainon’s attention. Amethyst-like gemstones floated throughout the city. He faintly recalls Caelus mentioning seeing them everywhere, especially in Okhema, despite them not being visible to anyone else. They supposedly show scenes from the long-lost past. Being met with them himself, he believes the quirky fellow now. Fragments of Recollection, memoria residues of bygone days. Surprisingly, they were recent events, well, not recent to his lifetime, but recent enough to be relevant.

Phainon’s jaw hung open when he touched the first fragment he saw. It portrayed a mirror-like group of people and a strange setting. One of the previous Kings of Castrum Kremnos, however, that is not what caught his attention; rather, it was the fierce and ferocious woman that gave him goosebumps.

Gorgo. She stood proudly, like a tree refusing to bend in the north wind, standing relentlessly against all judgments thrown at her. Mydei’s mother, Queen of Kremnos: Queen Gorgo.

Defending her name and her right to be there, claiming she killed a lion with her bare hands and therefore named herself after the founder of Castrum Kremnos. An awe-inspiring accomplishment. Phainon knows of the story she mentioned, however, founder Gorgo had a group of people with him and they hunted the lion down. From the future queen’s words, she didn’t ambush the lion nor did she have help.

The following scene portrays Eurypon holding a sword against Gorgo’s neck and Gorgo piercing her spear through his thigh. They fought for days and nights without a victor and ended up calling for a draw. Phainon narrowed his eyes, a memory coming to the surface as he heard the next line; “Gorgo, would you wear the crown as Queen of Kremnos…” Much like Mydei’s parents fought, so too did he and Mydei; they fought for ten days and nights on end only to end up calling a draw.

Phainon gulped, the parallels were too obvious. His hand trembled as he reached up to deactivate the fragment whilst looking around to see if anyone was watching him. Alas, no one could even see the Fragments of Recollection—Caelus wasn’t here after all.

Continuing his walk, he stumbled upon more fragments. Phainon was shocked to find out Eurypon thought the world of Mydeimos—even promising to end the long line of patricide, well… before he heard of the prophecy. The traitorous excuse for a king didn’t take long to decide that he will kill his son and, through hidden schemes, poison and kill his wife.

Phainon walked around the scene that the fragment showed with tightened fists and a clenched jaw. Utter betrayal, dishonesty, and cowardice. Mydei deserved better.

As the night embraced the bustling city and a blanket of stars covered the sky, Phainon was sitting down in the library of Kremnos. Most of his armor lay shed to the side, surprisingly nicely organized. At the same time, he was surrounded by various open parchments; old, burnt, and torn. He took the ones he could read, the ones not written in Kremnoan. Alongside the yellowed paper, dark grey tablets covered in dust were tucked neatly next to his thigh.

In his left hand, he held one of those stone tablets, and in his right, a transcript which translated it into common tongue.

It was a letter Queen Gorgo wrote to Mydei. She was warning him, reassuring him, trying to tell him the truth, and still telling him that he is great and would be even greater, despite what others claimed. Her words showed her pain, her worry, and her pride.

Surrounded by the history of Kremnoans… or truthfully, by Mydei’s past, his parents and what happened, has put Phainon in a zone of pure focus. The terrific warrior became unaware of the tremor in his hands, the soft candle flame that lit up the room, making his eyes strain as he tried to read, and the tears that fell down his cheeks, landing between his crossed legs on the floor.

Thrown in the sea, left to drown. Survived and reemerged from the Sea of Souls after nine years of drifting and growing up. Phainon’s eyes kept looking over the same sentence Queen Gorgo had written to Mydei, stuck in the whirlpool of emotion and unable to swim out. Stunned into place in the mess of various reports of the past around him.

He failed to notice the sharp golden gaze from the shadows. Mydeimos was observing him rather curiously. He quietly told the archivists to leave, with a gesture of his hand as soon as he came. His brows furrowed in confusion, wondering what could Phainon be reading that would make him cry that much and be unable to move on. Mydeimos stepped closer, the heaviness of his armor echoing in the large room as he approached his comrade. He felt uncertain about what he should say, how to comfort him, or even what to ask. “Deliverer, I see you’re burning the midnight oil. I didn’t know you had such an interest in the history of Castrum Kremnos.”

Phainon looks up, surprised by the sudden intrusion, he quickly smiled brightly and wiped his tears away. “I was refreshing some facts, plus being in the future and a prince~ Well, I should know things to avoid being caught as an imposter.” His smile stayed perfect and it icked Mydeimos. The words to call him out and confront him were dancing on the tip of his tongue.

“It is getting late, you should be going to sleep, Deliverer.” Mydeimos, the unlikely coward he was, decided not to speak up on it. He leaned towards Phainon and offered him his hand. “Leave it. The archivists will organize it in the morning.” Phainon accepted his hand, and Mydei pulled him up to his feet and out of the pile of documents. Their sudden proximity left little room for Mydeimos’s usual overthinking, and he blurted out the words on his mind before he could stop them…maybe he didn’t even want to stop them, “What facts about Kremnos have made you cry and look like someone killed your significant other?”

Phainon’s smile fell, they were standing too close, the privacy of the room and the silent curtain of the night which made men more honest kept him away from empty lies. “Your past. Your parents, and everything that had happened, I never knew the details and—“ Phainon’s voice breaks and he looks away.

Mydeimos cursed at his choice of words when it ended up being about him. Then as he heard the rest, he slowly inhaled. He looked up at the ceiling and nodded. “It is… rather grotesque. Why would you want to read about that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? It is about you .” Phainon looked at him with a determined gaze, which sent a shiver down Mydeimos’ spine.

“I could have told you— you should have asked me.” Mydeimos shook his head gently.

“You already have. Everything about you and who you are screams it. Remember what you say to me when you lose our spars? There’s no shame in losing to those who conspire and plot in secret. A blunt man like you doesn’t say such things easily or jokingly, you’re never thoughtless. I have read… how your mother lost that duel for you. It all makes sense.” Phainon looks down and shakes his head, “You wear it all on your sleeve. Your pride, your traditions, your culture, your past , and everything you have been through. It is all there with you, and to an observing eye it is obvious.” He turns his head towards Mydeimos, “The way you carry yourself, the way you talk and how you judge things, you carry everything with you. Yes, your past has made you who you are, just as it does everyone else. However, I can see it, every single detail, it is written along every line of your body and face, every flaw and every virtue. You’re an open book, and I… have learned how to read the language you’re written in.”

Mydeimos is left speechless. For once he is seen, observed with a non-judgmental eye, from the one he… cares about the most. The tears he hates—for they remind him of the waves he drifted in—prick at his eyes, but he blinks them away. He stands firmly in front of Phainon, not budging or showing any weakness, glaring at him as if he is his prey. A lion watching an antelope.

Phainon turns completely towards Mydeimos now and steps closer, unwavering in his gaze, unapologetically observing the Kremnoan, standing his ground and not turning back. Mydeimos realizes this man was never his prey but rather what he always saw him to be, his equal.

A lion was being glared at by another lion. Phainon dares to stand tall and puff his chest out, all-knowing and undefeated, roaring at Mydeimos, unafraid of the consequences. And Mydeimos… falters . He opens his mouth to speak and yet his voice is far from how he looks like, only a broken murmur spoken like the most treasured secret in the comfort of the night; “Phainon.”

Phainon’s eyes fill with tears for a moment and he swallows them away, the very first time Mydei called him by his name and it tugs at his heart. 

Like an orange cut open in half and left on the table, both of them stand vulnerable and raw. The flesh uncovered, left exposed to the elements of the world, filling the space with a crisp orange scent. The cards; though not all of them, are laid out on the table and both men struggle to say more. Minutes pass in silence, looking into each other’s eyes like lovers, unrushed and seeking comfort neither of them dares to give yet.

“It is late. Let us go to our chambers.” Mydei is the first one to whisper, to which Phainon nods and they leave the Archive.

The walk back is slow, with each step they both walk even slower, prolonging the heavy silence and personal time for as long as they can.

Entering their shared chambers, Mydeimos glances at the bed and walks past it. He slips off the bronze gloves of his hands and sets them aside. Stopping under the arch leading to the open balcony, his eyes lazily look over the red moon and the golden moon, basking in their glow, seeking their guidance. Sleep isn’t calling him and too many worries weigh on his mind.

Phainon follows suit, taking off some of his armor, and steps a few paces behind Mydei. The silence stretches out, seemingly something they both need.

“… this isn’t what I wanted for Kremnos,” Mydeimos utters breathlessly, Phainon barely hears the whispered words against the crown.

“It’s not?” Phainon answers in the same hushed tone and steps closer. Despite it being a private conversation, it is regarding the very city they’re residing in the current future. Blasphemous words like that should not be heard by any eavesdropper.

“No.” The Kremnoan shakes his head gently. “The glorious traditions that went on for two millennia, the blood, the needless sacrifice—“ Phainon listens attentively, as he always does. He knows how proudly and defensively Mydei speaks of his culture and people, yet he tilts his head curiously at the word needless . “—living just to die on the battlefield, valuing life less than bread and disrespecting death itself. I refuse to let such a bloody tradition continue.” Mydeimos sighs, his hands come to rest on his hips and his head dips down. Crickets fill the silence of the warm night.

“Don’t the Kremnoan people deserve better? A chance to live – they might be alive, but they aren’t living. How much more innocent blood must be spilled for the sake of glory, how many unnecessary sacrifices were made in the name of honor, how many people rushed to die in battle so they might not need to experience the shame of a happy or sorrowful return?” Mydeimos’ voice is filled with pain and defeat. He is far from defeated, but upon seeing this future he hopes he can still somewhat change it. Kremnoans deserve better.

“What would you change? How would you change the future? I am sorry, I do not know what advice I could offer…” Phainon looks into the distance, beyond the lookout onto the balcony. “It isn’t my place to butt in my opinion.”

Mydeimos keeps one thought hidden. Perhaps this is the only version of the future where they end up happily together. Maybe changing the future for something better for his people means no Phainon by his side. A reality too painful to bear, he buries those thoughts deep inside. Sadly… his people take priority.

“And about the Titan Nikador, I know who I am, I know how people perceive me and I am well aware of…what I present. Moreover, I bear no affections for the kingdom.” The words slip off his lips heavily, hushed, undaring to be spoken loudly. Only existing to flow through the air to the ears of the man standing behind him.

The undying immortal, undefeated warrior, everything every Kremnoan wishes they could be is Mydeimos, here in the flesh. Yet he goes above and beyond, wise and collected, intelligent and thought-out, seeing further than what he was presented with. Asking questions that no one dares to ask, even when he is met with the human equivalent of a wall for an answer. 

“I don’t want to be what I am perfect for. I don’t want to sit in the mold fate has prepared for me. I fit in it more than I fit anywhere else. I was shaped and molded for it.” Mydeimos speaks almost every thought that weighs on his heart and mind, and Phainon… listens.

“This is why you refused to take the Coreflame? I will take the trial for the Coreflame of Strife, do not worry, Mydei.” Phainon attempts to reassure him. Mydeimos does not feel reassured. Despite the trust he places in Phainon, he is painfully aware of the bigger picture.

“I hope you can succeed in the trial.” He raises his head and looks back at Phainon—the last hope he has to change his fate, the last straw. If Phainon fails, he doesn’t know how he may help his people and change where fate seems to obviously be pushing him into.

“The perfect warrior, the perfect soldier wants nothing with any of it. I don’t want to be nobody’s soldier.” Mydeimos exhales heavily.

Phainon smiles, “Well, you’re not that perfect if you see beyond the commands and seek to disobey them.” He nudges Mydei with his shoulder.

Mydei smiles, chuckling dryly at the tease, “Deliverer, you truly hold different perspectives.”

A cough beyond their room interrupts the intimate conversation. Both men stiffen, and Phainon fixes his posture. “Best to go to sleep, roomie.” Mydeimos glances at Phainon, wary of the noise from the guards. “I know a spot outside the city where we will have enough privacy to talk about this. We can leave in the morning.”

On the fifth night, he sleeps beside his Phainon, yet not in his arms. Maybe one day he will, or perhaps the only chance to do so was with the future Phainon. Will he one day regret dodging the kiss and avoiding affection? It keeps him awake for another hour, the worry and regret. Until he hears Phainon softly snore, he smiles. But he doesn't dare to turn around and look at his peaceful form next to him. The snoring provides a safe cocoon and white noise for him to be lulled into sleep.

Salt fills Phainon’s nostrils, and the rustle of dried leaves on the tree branches, along with the crushing of the waves against the sharp rocks, provide a pleasant cacophony to his ears. “We are far enough, wouldn’t you say?”

“Almost there. Don’t complain, Deliverer, we barely lost the guards. They are truly persistent.” Mydeimos huffs and continues on down the cliff and towards the rocky beach. It has been years since he emerged from these waters. Years of drifting among them made him detest the same waves that kept him afloat.

“Ah, I understand now, the sea will snuff out any noise if someone had managed to follow us, and not get caught by us.” Phainon triumphantly shares his discovery as Mydeimos comes to a stop.

“This is the place where I swam out, and the place where I first died. When my father threw me off that cliff.” Mydei simply adds, gesturing with his chin towards the cliff, as if he said the sky is blue.

“I see. We could’ve gone anywhere else, Mydeimos.” Phainon looks at him with a pleading look, swallowing hard to ignore the churning feeling in his gut. 

“No need, this will do fine.” The water sprinkles Mydei’s body with each wave and he sharply inhales, a bitter nostalgia fills him when faced with the hell he grew up in. Living in it for so long makes one unable to recognize the awful living conditions; even hell gets comfortable when one gets used to it. Yes, there was pain and death, but he got used to it. Used to the routine and suffering, so comfortable that change was terrifying.

“You will succeed in the trial, and regarding my people… they still want a king. I am the successor to the throne. The last crown prince.” Mydeimos speaks loudly against the waves, matching the turmoil inside him that he can finally tell someone. Someone, who feels much like him in comparison to his own people—an outsider.

“You are the King, Mydeimos—“ Phainon smiles, proud of the title Mydei has. However, it only rouses the man.

“I am… but the King who has never claimed his throne.” He counteracts with gritted teeth.

“Wouldn’t more change occur if you sat on the throne? Or do you claim changing their ways isn’t something you would be able to achieve? Perhaps, it is truly more complicated than it seems.” Phainon falls into deep thought and is quickly snapped out of it by the sharp words Mydeimos shouts against the sea.

“I never wanted the throne!” He brings his hands up to rub his face and shakes his head more, “I only sought revenge for my mother, my friends in arms— I never wanted the crown.” 

Phainon’s heart drops and his breath gets stuck in his throat. Fate has written out the road for him and forced him to walk down it. Death won’t take him, and there is no means of escape. “Mydeimos…” Phainon stills his hands, smoothing out the fabric on his thighs as he steps closer.

Mydei gestures with his hands, firm and stable. Shaking his head, “I’ve lost so many. I have buried too many people with my own hands. This war should be enough, even without this bloodied tradition.” He looks at Phainon. Pain is written out on his face from the years of suffering and fighting. “Something needs to change.” His gaze hardens, the glint of the tears passed by, and the air of a warrior's back.

The sweat on his brow coupled with the lion-like piercing gaze shake Phainon to the bone. He looks just like his mother. The calm but cut-to-the-throat tone of voice, the choice of words, the way he holds himself, and the things he has pride over—it all screams Queen Gorgo. And specifically, the words she said;

“If there is no Kremnos without the crown… then I shall seize the crown and smash it to pieces to bring the people to their senses.”

Phainon has seen many Fragments of Recollection, and read far too many parchments throughout Kremnos; the man before him is truly the son of Gorgo. Yet, he is probably unaware of how much he is like his mother. Phainon feels proud in his stead, to be like the one he never met, yet respects the most—truly an achievement only Mydeimos could accomplish.

Phainon’s hands shake, so he curls them into fists, “I will pass the trial for the Coreflame of Strife. I will bear the duty of the God of Strife, and you will have an easier time figuring out how to help your people in the present, past… our present.”

“If anyone is fit for that, it is you, Deliverer.” Mydei nods and steps away from the growing waves.

“Aww, is it going to rain? I have received praise from the last Crown Prince himself~” Phainon is quick to smirk and jab at the taller man, attempting to ease the air.

“Hmph. Do not get blinded by glory.” Mydei snorts.

Phainon smiles, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and swaying his shoulders, “I sense a need for a spar~ shall we see whose future body has gotten stronger? Perhaps we are no longer equals~”

“In your dreams, Deliverer. We can go to the sparring room—“ Mydeimos turns on his heel, ready to head back and eager to get some of this frustration out in a physical manner as well.

“Sparring room? When has the location ever stopped you from sparring?” Phainon stands in place, the cocky smirk on his face making Mydeimos narrow his eyes and his chest fills with excitement. Phainon truly knows his partner well.

“You asked for it.” The undying warrior doesn’t even try to hide his smile before he lunges at Phainon.

divider cr: @saradika-graphics

[layniapetrovnaaa]

Atticus Finch x Pregnant reader

You ever reread your work over so many times you cant even tell if you like anymore... yeahhh. lmk if this sucks i havent written in forever lol. Only four years late but here it is, thank you for requesting, and I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: pregnancy, one swear word, lots of anxiety, idk its pretty tame but reader is written mad angsty. overall tho its pretty fluffy ig

word count: 4.9k (yikes)

***

First, it was the missed periods, then the swollen breasts and fatigue, and finally, the morning sickness. That's when you knew. It was definitely time to make that doctor's appointment to confirm your suspicions. You had hoped the kids and Atticus had not picked up on your bizarre symptoms, not because you didn't want them to know but because if it was true, you wanted to tell them in your own way and time. 

You had finally finished emptying the contents of your stomach when there was a knock on the door. "Just a second!" you scrambled, trying to find the toothpaste. You heard Scout call your name in a long, drawn-out drawl. "Jem's hoggin' our washroom! I'm gonna be late for school!" 

You put the toothbrush in your mouth, and the peppermint taste was somehow a relief while simultaneously almost triggering you to upchuck again. Gaining some composer, you opened the door and allowed her to come in. 

You had married Atticus about a year ago after having known the family for a bit. You both wanted to make sure the new adjustment was suitable for the children before you came and settled into their home and lives. Their needs came first. Lucky for you and Atticus, Jem and Scout adored you. There was no replacing their mother, and none of you wanted that, but all of you were glad the children had a maternal figure in their lives (one who was not Alexandra Hancock). Not that Calpurnia wasn't there for the children, but there was only so much she could do for them, having a family of her own. 

It had been a few years since the Tom Robinson trial. You hadn't been around for it but moved to Maycomb shortly after and quickly became close with the family. You had a job working as Atticus' secretary/assistant, and that's where it all began. Fast forward some years, and here you were as his lovely new wife. Things were simple; you'd keep up the house while your husband and the children worked and went to school. Going into town to do some shopping and keep up social pretenses. No one in the immediate family cared too much about how the town saw the Finchs, but it was a small community, and connections were important. 

What would a new baby do to this routine? How would the children react? And Atticus, too? Never mind what Stephanie Crawford would think, or better yet, say. It didn't matter, at least not until you knew for sure. You spit out the toothpaste and rinse the brush as Scout fumbles in the cupboard for a towel. 

"Well," Atticus drawls, standing in the bathroom doorway. "My two favorite girls. How are you this morning, Scout?" 

"Good morning, Atticus!" she responds as she splashes water on her face, then aggressively dries it with a towel. You both chuckle at her intense antics. She quickly tells him she's doing fine this morning and rushes to her room to get dressed. You smile at your husband and turn to him to embrace him. 

"And you, my dear, how are you on this fine morning?" His hands are on your waist, and all you can think about is how perfect this is…until you remember the missed periods, swollen breasts, fatigue, and morning sickness.

Atticus woke earlier than you most mornings, starting his day by readying himself in his office. Getting things together and finalizing paperwork. Once you and the kids awoke, he would join you in getting ready and having breakfast. While it did bother you somewhat that you woke up alone most mornings, you were grateful for it as of late. Truthfully, though, you didn't know how much it helped hide your symptoms since Atticus' office was right next to the bathroom. If he did know anything, he hadn't let on, and once again you were grateful. Somehow, he always seemed to know what was best for you before you did. 

"I'm better now that you're here." You grin and lean in to give him a peck on the lips. As you do, Jem flies by but not without making a fake "UGH!" puking noise. Atticus shakes his head. 

"Sooner than he realizes, he'll understand." He sighs with a small smile and separates from you. Jem was really starting to come into the throes of his teenage years. It was not as bad as you remember your brother's being, but you knew the transition was hard on him and Scout, for that matter. Scout was still very much a kid and probably always would be at heart. Jem, however, was beginning to act more and more like his father (aside from his occasional outbursts). 

Atticus starts on his routine of freshening up when he asks what you have planned for the day.

"Well, I have to drop that pie recipe off to Maudie, and we need more flour." 

You debated telling him about your plan to drop by Dr. Reynolds's office but figured you should in case he happened to run into him or if he tried to call home and you weren't there. "I also have to stop by Dr. Reynolds later." You hoped he wouldn't ask, but frankly, you would be upset if he didn't either. He stops and turns to you. 

"Are you feeling alright?" You could see the concern on his face and hadn't even considered the possibility of him remembering the tragedy of his late wife. And now you felt like crying, Christ almighty, you needed to get it together.

"I'm fine, Atticus. Just a check-up, no need to worry." You make eye contact in the mirror and place a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

"You know I do." 

*** 

"Well, Mrs.Finch, your suspicions are correct. You're pregnant." 

You let out a deep breath at that, and you weren't sure if it was one of relief or anxiety. It was good to know what you practically already knew, but the thought of having to now break the news to the family was more than anxiety-inducing. 

"It's a little too early to tell exactly how far along you are, but I would say right around two months." The doctor says as he packs his tools back up. "Make sure you're getting enough rest and eating enough. I'm sure I don't have to tell you, but pregnancy can take a lot out of ya."  

You nod, even though you weren't really listening. 

"Thank you for your help, Dr. Reynolds," you stand. "Please say nothing to Atticus or the children. They don't know about any of it yet." 

"You have my word." He smiles. "We should schedule an appointment for your next visit. I'd like to check up on you every couple of weeks. It's recommended at the very least once a month."   

You nod again and follow him to the front desk to schedule your next appointment. 

On your way home, you thought of all the ways to break the news to Atticus. You'd think about the kids later; he would know best how to tell them. You were worried, to say the least. It wasn't just the shift in dynamics that was nerve-wracking; it was also the fact that it was no secret that Atticus was older, and he was starting to feel increasingly more his age each day. Having a new baby in his fifties was probably not something he had planned on. You two had talked about children once or twice, not censuring or encouraging the thought of having a baby of your own, but it was never something either of you had given too much thought to considering your husband's age. And now here you are. 

Thank God you had gotten your errands out of the way before your doctor's visit. You were practically out of commission now, having burnt the roast you were supposed to have for lunch. Atticus and the children were supposed to be home any minute now, so there was no time to fix something new. You did your best to salvage what was left of the lunch and set the table for the four of you, trying to allow yourself to picture a fifth setting. 

You hear the door and pull yourself out of your daydreams. The children, of course, come bursting through. Contradictory, Atticus follows calmly after them, removing his hat and greeting you with a kiss. 

"How was your visit with Dr. Reynolds?" he asks. The two of you are alone in the kitchen now. Jem and Scout were clearly starved, having already sat at the table and started dishing out their food, no doubt earning a scolding from their father when he eventually would sit down for lunch. They knew better than to start eating, at least. 

"All healthy, but there is something I need to tell you." You twist and pull your fingers nervously. "Later, tonight." 

He would have looked almost impassive to someone unfamiliar with his mannerisms and expressions, but you could see the concern and curiosity in your husband's eyes. All of the doctor talk must have made him nervous, but then his eyes flicked down to your stomach and back to yours, and you felt your heart leap. You took his hand despite your nervousness. "Let's go have some lunch." 

***

You were in bed now, and you still had not told Atticus. After your short conversation in the kitchen earlier that day, he refrained from asking again about the visit to Dr. Reynolds, though that didn't mean he had stopped thinking about it. Despite your husband's stoic disposition, he tended to worry quite a bit, part of the reason why his ulcers were constantly acting up. This was a sliver of why you had not told him when he came home for lunch, when he returned from work, or after dinner. The main reason– which you knew but didn't want to admit– was that you were scared. You continued pretending to read your book, but you should have thought about the decades of experience Atticus had as a lawyer. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks quietly, not looking up from his literature. 

"Nothin'. Just readin’.” You quickly dismissed but cringed at your lack of courage. 

"You haven't flipped a page in 15 minutes." And you realize you're caught. 

He finally turns to you and takes your book, setting it down with his own. He takes your hand, giving it a long kiss while he looks at you somewhat expectantly. The kiss, you could tell, was meant to reassure you. He would never force you to discuss your visit, but you told him you needed to talk with him and wanted to be true to your word. He finally releases his mouth from your hand, and you give him a small smile. Timidly though, you look away and try your hardest to have faith that this will all be okay.

"What is it, sweet?" 

You let out a small sigh and turn your focus back to him. 

"Atticus?" you sounded like a child. 

"Yes?"

"I'm pregnant." 

Your voice was thick. The silence that followed was heavy, and you couldn't help but hold your breath.

He had broken eye contact with you, but his grip on your hand was firm. He raised his eyebrows and took a deep breath, turning his head to stare down the end of the bed frame as he let it out. There was another pause, and then slowly, the corners of his mouth started to turn up and a grin came on his face as he shook his head slightly. 

"That's what you were so mighty worked up about tellin' me?"

"Devil." was all you said as you crossed your arms. He chuckles, placing his now vacant hand on your leg. 

"The way you were behavin' had me worried you were one foot in the grave." He tried to joke, but you could tell he was serious. "I've known about you feeling sick. I assumed that's what the visit was for, though somehow I didn't even consider the possibility of you being with child. I suppose it's been a while." 

"I didn't mean to worry you." You spoke softly, unfolding your arms and risking a glance at him. He nods faintly, accepting your silent apology. He had yet to react to the news, so you were still a bit apprehensive. 

"What are we gonna do?" you finally ask.

"How do you mean?" He raises an eyebrow. 

"Well, this isn't exactly something we planned on." you shrugged. 

"While it is quite the surprise, I must say it's not uncalled for, my dear." He gives you a knowing glance, which you can't help but give a small smile back to. Perhaps the two of you would have been more cautious if it was such an unwanted thing. Somehow, this was the first time you had thought of this, and while it did slightly ease your nerves, you still wanted to know what he thought of all of this and what you were going to do about it. 

He says your name seriously. "Do you want this baby?" 

In all the time you had spent worrying about what Atticus and the children would think, you hadn't even stopped to consider how you truly felt about the situation. It didn't take you long, however. The thought of a mini version of the two of you running around with their older siblings had already convinced you. 

"I do."

"Then it's settled." He smiles, and so do you. He brings you in for a kiss, and you feel the weight of your secret roll off your shoulders. When he pulls away, you can finally see his excitement get the better of him. "Do you know how far along you are?" 

"The doctor said about two months, but he can't be sure until I'm a little further along. I have an appointment for next month." It feels good to tell him these things. Somehow, you can't believe you were so worked up before, especially now that he hasn't stopped smiling.

It had been about six months since you had found out about your being with child. Things had gone on as usual for the first few months after the morning sickness subsided– relatively speaking. About a week after you told Atticus, the two of you took the children into town after supper and got them ice cream, trying to lessen the blow. Scout was excited right away, but it took a bit for Jem to come around, and you couldn't blame him. He was never cold to you; Atticus respected you, therefore, he did as well. Besides that, there was no denying all the support you had given him the last few years. He just seemed nervous, you all were, but you could tell there was something specific bothering him. 

It was not unusual for the children to talk about their mother, and it never bothered you; most often, you encouraged it. Even before Scout confessed on his behalf, you had an inkling that his timidness about the new baby had something to do with his mother. You empathized with him; not only was their father having another child, but Jem was also more than a decade older than this baby. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you didn't want to ever make him feel unwanted. You had spoken to Atticus about this one night after Jem was particularly quiet during dinner; Scout, on the other hand, took the whole meal talking about how she was going to show the new baby all her favorite things. 

"I think you might need to talk with Jem." You spoke up from your vanity as you brushed your hair. It was late; the children had gone to bed already, and you and your husband were settling in for the night. Atticus was undressing on the other side of the room, but you could see him behind you in the mirror. He hummed as he continued to put away his clothes. 

"I think it has to do with his mother." You said much more quietly this time. 

"Jem is like I am, is all. He needs time to sit with this new information and settle into how he feels about it." He spoke matter-of-factly. "He'll come around. He just needs time." He says with a little more tenderness as he comes up behind you and rests his hands on your shoulders. Atticus knew his kids better than you did, so you were not one to argue with him about how he dealt with these kinds of situations. He could still see the concern and apprehension on your face as you continued brushing the same spot you had been for the last five minutes. So, as he swoops down to plant a dry kiss on your temple he says softly that he'll talk with him. 

After supper one night, Scout had been told to wash up for bed early, and the three of you sat in the living room. You sat silently, listening to Jem and his father talk. You could tell he felt a little lighter after a progressive conversation about how he regarded the situation. You had remained silent for the most part but assured him this baby would never replace him, Scout, or the place that his late mother still had in the house. You also made sure he knew that if he had any questions or concerns, all he had to do was ask. 

Now, here you were at eight months, feeling like you were about to pop. Everything was a struggle now. It was hard to get comfortable, and being so pregnant in the summertime in the south was no easy feat. You had become practically incapacitated and cried to Atticus one Sunday morning before church that this would be your first and only pregnancy after not a single pair of shoes fit your swollen feet. He tried his best not to find humor in your drama and told you to stay home that morning and that he would return later with a proper pair of footwear for you. What would you do without that man? Most days, he helped you dress and prepare the nursery. You felt spoiled knowing how hard he worked in addition to coming home to work some more on the room or assisting you with tasks you could no longer complete alone. He never once complained; every time you asked him about it, he would simply smile, give you a quick kiss, and assure you that he was happy to help. The man was a godsend. 

It seemed that the last month or two of the pregnancy dragged on. This baby never wanted to come out, you thought to yourself when you woke up one morning. Atticus was already in his office, gathering his things for work that day. It was summer, the kids had no school, and you could hear Scout outside talking across the street to Miss Maudie. She was still staying with Stephanie Crawford. When asked if she was ever going to find a new home or place to stay, Maudie would simply roll her eyes and say it was better for her and Stephanie that she stick around. Though she never explicitly said, it was apparent that the two ladies didn't want to be alone. While Stephanie Crawford was not your first choice for help if you went into labor and Atticus was not home, it did bring some comfort that there were so many women close by to you during this time. 

You had gotten ready for the day and dressed as best you could before heading to the kitchen for some breakfast. Atticus and Jem sat at the table reading the paper; Scout had just returned from outside and was fixing herself a plate. You greeted them all with a good morning as well as Cal and thanked her for the scrumptious-smelling breakfast she had prepared. While Atticus was definitely a godsend in all of this, Calpurnia felt like God herself. She had been with you every step of the way when your husband could not be. Any strange symptom, she would reassure you; any craving– she would whip something up right away. She knew all the tips and tricks for getting on dresses with too many buttons or sleeping comfortably. There was nothing she couldn't do, and you swore this pregnancy would have been the end of you if she wasn't there. 

After finishing the section he was reading in the paper, Atticus rose from his seat and came over to you, offering to get your breakfast together so you could sit down. You thanked him with a small peck and heard Scout whisper to Jem that all you two do is kiss. He quickly told her to hush and returned to his paper (not because he disagreed, he just wanted to read the paper in peace). You couldn't help but chuckle as you walked over to sit beside her. She asked you how you were feeling as Atticus set down the plate before you and returned to his seat. 

"Scout, I swear this baby oughta to get here soon or I'm done for." You responded, circling a hand over your full-term belly. The look on her face makes you remember the girl had never really been around many pregnancies before, and so quickly you add, "I'm like an overfilled balloon!" so as to not alarm her so much. It seems to work as she giggles slightly and takes another bite of her food, and you do as well. Something you did not tell her about, though, was the cramping feelings you were getting this morning. You had false contractions before (the last two months, to your misery) and so you didn't really think anything of it. Boy, were you in for a surprise. 

As Scout finishes her breakfast and Jem with the paper, they declare they will be at Barker's Eddy to meet some friends and cool off on this hot summer day. When Atticus asks how they will be getting there and if they need a ride, they inform him that one of the boys on Jem's football team had gotten their license and would be picking them up. He tells them to be careful, and they run to their rooms to get their things. As they do, you feel another contraction coming on and brace yourself for the pain. After it subsides, Atticus asks if you're okay, to which you grumble and wave him off. He chuckles and goes back to reading the paper. Those boys and their goddamn paper, you think to yourself. The two of you make light conversation as you finish up your breakfast. You stand to take the plates from the table when you feel, yet again, another contraction. These were starting to become regular, every 20 minutes or so. It's just as you come to this realization that you feel a trickle down your leg. Your water had broken.

"Atticus…" you call to him in a shaky breath. "I think my water just broke."

He's out of the chair and next to you before you can even blink, coaxing you to sit down and hurriedly saying he's going to call the doctor. It all felt like it was happening so fast.

You had waited, obsessed, and waited some more for this day to come, and it was finally here. The times when you and your husband stayed up too late talking about what the baby would look like or fixing up the nursery were finally over, and the day was here. You thought the baby would be a boy with his father's disposition, similar to Jem. Atticus disagreed and assured you it would be a little girl with dark hair like Scout. You'd be finding out soon.  

Your daughter was born July 26th at one in the morning. She was 6.13 pounds, 20 inches long, and perfect. So absolutely perfect. Atticus had been by your side every step of the way until the delivery (not by choice; the doctor recommended it, and truth be told, you were a little glad he didn't have to see you in that state). He was back in the room to meet your daughter as soon as possible; you'd never seen him look so giddy. He comes and sits next to you on the bed, the entire time admiring the little girl bundled in your arms. He cradles her little head in his hand as you offer her to him, the tight-lipped smile he had never leaving his face. 

You place your daughter in his arms, she stirs and coos slightly as you do. Once the two of them are settled in, he wraps an arm around you and kisses you on the forehead.

"I'm so proud of you." He says quietly so as to not disturb the baby. You take his hand resting on your shoulder and lean further into him, both of you never once taking your eyes away from the little girl. 

"I couldn't have done it without you."

The two of you sit there in peace for a short while, taking in the moment as much as you can. Soon, he hands the baby back to you and declares that it's time for Scout and Jem to come meet her. He promised to keep their visit relatively short as you were hardly hanging on to consciousness at this point.

The children had gone to bed a few hours ago as it was late, and it was hard to tell how soon it would be before the baby came. They had gotten quite the shock when they came home from swimming to hear your cries and screams from the bedroom. They had wanted to see you and make sure you were okay but instead had been told to busy themselves helping Calpurnia and getting things ready for the next few days as your time would be taken up with all things baby. Atticus made sure to inform you that they were quite concerned for you and very anxious about meeting their younger sibling. 

At first, they enter the room groggy, but as soon as Scout sees you, she books it for the bed. Atticus tells her to calm herself and not to spook the baby. He walks with Jem over to the bed, his hand resting on his son's shoulder. Jem and Scout admire the child momentarily before they start asking about her. You tell them it's a baby girl and how much she weighs, how she doesn't have a name quite yet, and yes, they can hold her. You scoot over on the bed and make room for Scout, tiredly instructing her on how to position her arms. Atticus had moved to be by her side at this point, it was the first time she had ever held a baby. 

"Hey there, little one." She coos to the baby, running her index finger over the infant's soft cheek. "Nice to finally meet you. You got hair like mine!" she says sincerely before turning to you and exclaiming in a whisper: I knew it would be a girl! You chuckle at that, and her father does as well. Atticus was right, go figure. 

"You're a big sister now, Miss Jean Louise." You spoke as you softly stroked her hair. 

She held the baby for a few more minutes before passing her over to Jem. 

His reaction was much more subtle than Scout's, but the little smile that remained on his face and the look in his eye was enough validation for you. He wouldn't stop staring at her; you couldn't blame him. 

Much to your dismay, you were starting to drift off to sleep. It had been a very long day, and your body was exhausted. Atticus noticed this and made his way to take the baby from Jem. As he did, you regained consciousness long enough to see the boy place a very gentle kiss on her head. You couldn't help but lazily smile at the interaction.

The children bid you goodnight and return to their rooms, already giggling and chatting about their new sibling. 

You motion for Atticus to give you the baby after he closes the door behind them, but he shakes his head instead.

"I'll take care of her for now, sweet. We'll be alright." He let out a small sigh and gave the little girl a tight-lipped smile; you could tell he was also tired. "Rest, you need it." 

You were too tired to argue. "Let me give her a kiss goodnight." He obliges and leans down so you can gently kiss her head. 

"And one for you too." 

You guide him down to you by his tie and press your lips to his. It was a long road to get here, but you made it, elated to have your little family. The moment ends shorter than you would have liked but you tell him thank you, and with that, you allow yourself to drift into slumber.

[nottinmyheart]

"I deserved it."

Theo Nott/Brothers bsf x Reader/Malfoy

Part two of "She just fell"

Fluff? Kissing

Writers note: I'm really loving writing and the moment and would love people's feedback on this current 'series,' I guess. But, I enjoyed writing this so much. Love yall!

Summary: When both you and Theo are struggling to get any sleep, it turns out you both have the same place in mind. Feelings are finally confessed, but what will happen now?

Entering the great hall, which was now overflowing with people bussying to get seated with their food, you couldn't help but feel your heart leap into your throat. Of course you had previously been back to your dorm before making your way over, and you had taken that time to make yourself presentable once more, but the thought of everyone's eyes on you never left your head. Obviously everyone's eyes weren't on you since they were all busy doing other things, but not to your knowledge, one person's tempting eyes had been locked onto your nervous, fidgeting figure as soon as you had entered the hall.

As Pansy and Luna rushed to grab some of the delicious feast that was currently being served, you awkwardly stood in silence, brushing your gaze over the clusters of slytherins, searching for one curly haired brunette imperticular. Having lost your appetite hours ago, there was not much point even being there, but your friends had insisted on you coming as it was, in their words, "Good exposure." Plus, you couldn't go back on your promise.

Having had found a place to seat yourselves, you caught a glimpse of Theodore sitting with his friends.. and your brother. Your eyes instantly met his, causing your heart beat to quicken, and it truly felt like there was something pulling the two of you closer together. You both sat there for a few minutes just admiring eachothers features from across the room. You felt at peace, like there wasn't anyone else in the great hall, but that didn't last very long as Theodore ripped his eyes from yours when Matteo, who was sat beside him looking annoyed, hit I'm across the back.

"THEO!" Matteo yelped, bringing Theoodores stare away from you and his thoughts back to the present. He stared at his friends' with those beautiful dead eyes of his, "Huh?" Was his only response. "Dude, we've been tryna talk to you for the last 5 minutes! What are you even looking a -" He quickly silenced himself as he followed Theos gaze, which was once more set on you and your small group of friends. A massive grin spread across his face, but before he could open his mouth to say something stupid (or something true that could alert Draco), Theo desperately, but discretely, kicked him under the table. That thankfully seemed to send Matteo the message. Quickly changing the subject before the rest of them could catch on, Theo began discussing quidditch practices. "Right, well, if we want to beat them next week, then we just have to be better. It's simpl-" "Are you alright, mate?" Enzo spoke up, seemingly worried. "What? Of course, why wouldn't I be?" Theo was beginning to feel anxious at the thought of him not being as secretive about his feelings for you as he thought he was. "Nothing, it's just you seem.. off. Has something happened?" Before Theo could reply, Blaze interjected, "yeah." He agreed."You're in your own world or something. " Theo had now become somewhat flustered by the accusations that were being thrown his way. "Look, guys, I'm fine, I'm just.. tired. " It was a blatant lie and thry could all tell, but to Theo's relief, nobody seemed to push the subject further.

As night fell and everyone was peacefully asleep in their dorms, you lay there, awake and cold. It was nearing the end of winter, so the temperatures had dropped drastically, and although you had covers on the end of your bed, you just couldn't bring yourself to get up and fetch them. You led there for atleast half an hour longer before you couldn't bare it any longer and came to the conclusion that you weren't going to get any sleep anytime soon so the second best thing would be to visit the astronomy tower.

In hindsight, not changing out of your pyjamas beforehand was probably not the smartest idea, as that decision led to you shivering the whole walk. You debated going back and changing out of your shorts and top but decided against it as you were already nearing the end of the staircase and there was no way in hell you would waste that time just to come back again and be exhausted.

Theodore, who also couldn't sleep at all that night due to how many overwhelming thoughts had been racing through his mind constantly, decided the only thing that was going to get him through this night was to have a smoke break. There was only one place Theodore liked to go when he needed to relax or clear his mind, and that place was the astronomy tower.

Walking towards his destination, Theodore still could not rid his mind of thoughts of you. There was one time in 3rd year where he was convinced you must have been dosing his food with armontesia, but being the smart boy he was, he decided not to confront you and rather look into it in the library. That year he spent months visiting the library at night just to read about the affects of the potion he suspected you were using on him, but after realising there was no way he had been experiencing the same symptoms, he finally accepted that maybe.. just maybe.. he had really fallen deeply in love with Y/N Malfoy.

As you sat with your legs dangling off the edge of the tower, you decided to just allow your thoughts to wander the possibilities of what it would be like if Theodore precipitated the feelings you felt so strongly for him. Deep down, you knew there was no use in doing this as it was only fueling your delusions which was what your friends had told you countless times, but it was still nice to have that slither of hope. You had loved him for over 5 years now, and it didn't seem to be going anywhere over the 'we know of each other' line. But the way he didn't take Dracos side it just.. - Before you could question it further, you heard footsteps in the distance that seemed to be closing in on your location. When you turned your body to see who could be coming, who else would be stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall with his hands stuffed into his pockets, but the man you had just been endlessy thinking about. Theodore Nott.

You both just stared at each other for a while, getting lost in the eyes and beauty of one another before the silence was broken by his deep, husky voice, "May i join you?" Yes yes a million times yes you thought but if you said anything along the lines of that you knew your chances with him would be out the window along with him who would probably think you are a total weirdo, so instead you replied softly, almost a whisper, "sure".

Theodore couldn't believe it. The exact girl he came up there to stop thinking about was sat innocently in front of him. Of course, he wasn't complaining, nor did he want to be anywhere else in the castle, in the world other than sat next to you. He tried his best to keep his cool and lifted himself off of the wall to your side. Dropping to your height, he observed every moonlit feature across your expression, which he was yet to decipher. He didn't know how to begin a conversation until he noticed you shiver under his gaze.

"You're cold." He murmured, it was more of a statement than a question, and it sent chills down your spine, which led you to shiver once more. Before you could reply with anything, he had already removed his robe and lent over you to drape it over your bare shoulders. You honestly had no idea how to react or respond, but you managed to say a shy "Thank you, Theodore."

"Theo.. I mean, you can call me Theo." He hesitated, "if you want to, of course." You giggled at that, in all your time you had known Theodore, he had never once acted so unsure or shy infront of anyone, let alone a girl. I mean he was literally one of the schools major flirts and EVERYONE or every girl was head over heels for him, except from your little group of friends who had known about your crush on him for years. "Okay, Theo."

"I'm sorry," He said with an extreme look of guilt on his face, and you could see the vulnerability flicker in his gaze. But you were also extremely confused as to why, or what, he was apologising for. "For what, Theo?" The way his name rolled of your tongue felt so natural, and he couldn't get enough it. "Well, you know, for letting Draco speak to you like that. In such a foul manner." He sounded so sincere, and it broke you. "Oh Theo, it's not your fault at all. You did defend me somewhat, and, anyways, it was my fault. I deserved it." You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth because the change in Theo's demeanour was instant, but you could've never guessed what he said next. "Your fault? Y/N, amore mio, never say that again." His voice was stern but also soft, and you felt your heart rate increase further, if that was even possible. He continued, "You didn't deserve any of that. You could never do anything to deserve to be called such horrible names." His expression visibly changed to one of pure disgust as he recalled the memory that had been repeating through his head all day. But he wasn't done yet, "you are the most thoughtful and understanding person I have ever met, your beauty is one of pure magnificence and you should never be made to feel as if you are the problem.. because Y/N.. you could never be a problem."

Knowing this was his only chance to be completely honest with you and express his feelings he spoke, extemly quietly, "I like you Y/N" You weren't even sure if you had heard what he had just said correctly but when he repeated it once more "I really, truly like you" you thought you must be in a dream.

Hearing his words and the pure vulnerability in his tone stunned you. Not having any response that could convey how much what he had just said meant to you, all you could do was sit there and stare into his loving eyes, which were now filled with nothing but adoration. "It's okay if you don't feel the same way Y/N, I just couldn't go on without letting you know how I feel." You were still stunned. But as the words he had just spoken to you processed through your mind, which was scrambling for a response, you decided to just move towards him.

And within seconds, your lips had connected with his in a loving, heart-felt kiss. As your hands made their way to his hair, the kiss deepened. He reached for the back of your neck in one frisk movement. He positioned you head upwards further towards him. You couldn't believe what was happening. The boy of your dreams was currently passionately kissing you in your favourite place after confessing his feelings for you.

Little did you know that Theo was feeling just as dazed as you currently were. He thought he must have hit his head or something because this was something straight out of one of his fantasies.

You suddenly felt a large hand on your lower back, and before you knew it, you had been positioned to sit on Theo's lap, and you couldn't get enough of this night. Breaking free from the kiss, you rested your four head on his and stared right into those gorgeous eyes that you had dreamt about so many times. They were even more stunning up close. Theodore chuckled, a deep growl almost as he carresed your jaw with his leathery yet soft fingers, connecting his lips to your neck, "You have no idea what you do to me cara mia" You found that somewhat amusing and giggled in response, "Oh Theo, I've loved you for so long."

As the night led on, you and Theo sat at the top of the astronomy tower, entangled in one another's embrace. You were led against his chest and could hear every quiet breath he took, but their was still something gnawing at you, and Theo could tell by the way you fiddled with the end of his robe. He drew soft patterns on your back and then spoke up, "Amore mio, what's wrong?" You looked up at him and could see the concern in his eyes, but you had to ask the question. "What about Draco?" You could feel Theo tense at the question. He hadn't thought of that, and if he was being completely honest, he didn't know. "We will figure something out. It might just take some time." And with that, you snuggled against him, not ready to let go and face your brother. Neither of you were prepared to even think about that right now.

@augiemyers79