#the last question was why are you still here

[viaisms]

twenty questions

summary: penelope accidentally mentions that someone has a crush on you, she can't say who it is but you make it into a game so she can :) warnings: spencer reid x bau!reader, gn reader, mentions of drinking wine, pg-13 language, talk of bugs?? its a nickname,,, lots of use of pet names lol, fluff, no mention of y/n yeehaw, pining, you're completely oblivious about how much spencer wants you, not proofread </3 authors note: first fic!! i haven't officially written a fic in. gosh, years?? since the pandemmy :( i really want to get back into writing, so have this little blurb that i thought of! by all means i am here for any constructive criticism you may have<3 wc: 2.7k

The clatter of fingertips tapping against a keyboard filled the dimly lit BAU office. You sit at your desk, eyes fixed on the glowing screen as you scroll through reports, cross-referencing case files and taking notes. The quiet hum of the building has long since settled into a lull; you barely realize how deeply you've fallen into your work,

The distant ticking of a clock finally breaks your trance, but it wasn't until you feel the hairs arise on the back of your neck that you become fully aware. You slowly blink with a quiet groan, glancing at the time at the bottom of your screen.

10:58 PM. Shit.

You align your fingertips atop of your keyboard, the soft clatter filling the office once more before you hear the all-too familiar voice.

"Babes, what are you still doing here?!"

You turn and see nobody else but Garcia, finally emitting from her bat-cave. Her arms cross against her chest, a disappointed hum coming from her pressed lips. "You, my love, should be at home in a nice hot bath with a glass of wine."

Your lips splay a lazy smirk as you lean back in your chair, stretching your body with a quiet groan. "I was just about to wrap up, Pen, I promise..." You assure your colleague, feeling the strain of staring at a screen all day every time that you blink.

"Good deal my beautiful bug," Penelope chirps as her arms drop to her side. She's just as tired as you are, having spent all of her day digging through databases to find information on a potential UnSub. Her heals click as she goes to turn away, walking back towards her office.

"You know, you have to get your beauty sleep for your lover boy in the mor..." Her once confident words grow timid as she begins to trail off.

Penelope's breath catches in her throat as she realizes the words that so effortlessly flew off her tongue, her blood running cold at her grave error. Spencer is going to kill her.

"My what?" Your eyes narrow, scoffing in a confused manner.

She stills, yet she doesn't turn to you.

"Nothing! I... I didn't say anything..." She mutters with a nervous stammer of your name, the rhythmic clicking of her heels continuing as she speeds to her office.

You stand, the wheels of your office chair sliding out from under you as you feel a weakness in both of your legs. You stretch once more, trying to think of when the last time you even stood was.

"Penelope Grace Garcia!"

Her hand is resting on the cold, slick material of the doorknob that has the potential to separate her from this deep abyss that she just dug herself into. Instead, she stills for another moment before turning to you once more.

Penelope has to think of a lie, and quick.

"Obviously... I was talking about Morgan!"

There is a reason why she does what she does for a living, and is rarely out on the field with the rest of the crew unless her technical skills are needed.

Your eyes squint with a tentative hum. You don't believe Garcia, not for a second.

"You do know I'm a profiler..." A grumble of amusement comes from your chest at Penelope's attempt.

"Right..." She murmurs, her voice quiet as she breaks your gaze. She's mentally kicking herself for blabbing, such a rookie mistake in the game of workplace gossip.

Your eyebrows raise as you await Garcia's confession. However, she stays strong, not uttering another peep from her velvet-painted lips.

"So...?" You sing after a beat of silence, stars of hope glistening in the pools of your eyes.

With a whine, Penelope's shoulders drop.

"Look... I love you, sweetness, I do..." Her lips droop into a frown. Penelope's eyes greet your own somberly with a shake of her own head. "But I promised I wouldn't tell..."

You feel a weight of disappointment on your chest, and with a sigh, you decide to drop it. Penelope sees the way the sparkle in your eye begins to dim, eliciting a whine from her barely audible to your own ears.

"But!" She chirps, trying to share some of her own light with you. Penelope shouldn't be doing this, and she knows it. However, she is far too nurturing to let a beautiful smile like yours falter for even a second. "If you guess it... it's not technically me telling you, right?"

"You know? I like the way your mind thinks," You hum, reveling in the fact that you got your way. "Twenty questions?" The cold sensation of the faux-leather hits you as you sit back in your chair.

The corner of Penelope's lips twitch upwards as a combination of guilt and excitement course through her veins. "You know I love a good game, hit me..." She murmurs, her voice self-assured as she pulls a chair from a nearby desk, her legs crossing as she sits next to you.

"Okay..." You mutter with a shaky sigh. The pounding of your heart fills your entire body, your stomach slightly cramping with nerves. "Is it someone I know?"

"Uh, duh?"

Your eyes flutter shut, raking through potential victims that fell for whatever love trap you didn't even intent on setting. "Male or female?"

"Acht! That's not part of the rules my curious friend and you know it," Her dark eyes narrow as she playfully scolds her colleague. "I'm totally counting it though, eighteen more questions..."

With pressed lips, you weigh out the obvious individuals who are least likely to be a contender. Penelope sees how deep you are in thought, and she can't help herself but quietly scoff.

How can you not know it's Spencer? She thinks to herself. Everyone around the office sees it -- everyone but you, apparently. As you think, her mind wanders to about two months prior, where Spencer came to her for love advice. Penelope, being herself, already knew he was fawning over you. She picked up on it the moment the genius somehow grew more awkward every time he were to speak to you.

However, also being herself, she refused to give him any sound advice until he spilled who the lucky contender was; which just so happened to be you.

The sound of your voice pulls her out of her own mind.

"Do I see them often?"

The corners of her lips prop upwards, almost tauntingly. "Very," she affirms.

Someone you see very often... you mentally walk through your day-to-day routine, retracing every step no matter how minuscule. You awake every morning to nobody in your apartment but your cat, besides the occasional sleepover with a friend every now and again. You ready yourself for work alone, your first stop in the morning being the local coffee shop down the street...

"Ooh! Is it someone from the coffee shop?" You chirp, your heart beginning to race at the idea of an unspoken stranger admiring your beauty from afar. Individuals you see there on a day-to-day basis flood your mind, although it completely falls empty for the exception of one person; a barista behind the counter, roughly your age who is not bad looking in the slightest.

"That would be a negative..." Her red-painted lips press together, a slight pang of disappointment hitting you in the gut that it wasn't the barista.

"Darn..." You tut, your mind trying to silently place the pieces of the puzzle together. Someone you know, someone you see often, not someone from the coffee shop...

Penelope can't believe how oblivious you are. How do you not pick up on the fact that Spencer follows you around the office like a lost puppy? Or the fact that when the two of you are on the field together, he insists you go with him or vice versa because he feels the need to protect you?

"No way that it's a colleague?" Your brows stitch together, your head slanting as you throw the inconceivable idea into the open.

Penelope's head slightly tilts downwards as she gazes at you through the top of her frames. She flashes you a sly, almost flirtatious grin at your not-so-far-fetched theory.

"And if it is?"

The feeling of your heart hammering in your heart is felt throughout your entire body, your cheeks warming as you feel blood rush to your brain.

"Who?!" You exclaim, completely forgoing the rules to the game. This narrows your options to about seven. Your hands fumble with the cotton on the hem of your shirt as you narrow your options down even further, a shuttering breath falling from your lips.

"How do you not know?!" Penelope is quick to match your energy, an actual pain shooting through her chest at your own naivety. Her brows raise as her eyes widen, her fists balling as she folds herself back from blurting it out.

Your lips part as you're about to exclaim something quick and witty back to your colleague when it hits you. Like a fish gulping for water, you feel the soft skin of your lips quickly snap shut.

The memories hit you all at once: the mornings you're in a rush and you forget your coffee - Reid excusing himself for a moment with a muttered excuse before returning with it minutes later, the nights you return home from a case and he offers to spend time with you because it pains you being alone after what you saw, the countless facts he will ramble to you on the plane because damn it, you're the only one that actually listens to him.

"Oh my god, Reid?" Your jaw drops as you gasp, your arms numbing as your nerves shoot past the roof and to the stratosphere.

With a relieved sigh, Penelope's palms slap against her thighs, planting her leg down onto the floor with her other one. "Finally!" She groans, almost feeling a sense of comfort that you know and the weird tension around the office while the two are around would soon come to an end.

"Since when?!" Your heart ticks against your chest so hard that you can hear it in your ears. Never in a million years would you assume it would be Spencer that would be silently pining over you. Reid?!

"Since like... forever, buttercup!" Penelope giggles. She can see the dots being connected in the pretty little brain of yours, and god, she loves it. Her voice softens, a warm, almost maternal intent behind them. "We really should be getting home..." She groans, her gaze flicking to the clock on the wall. "Since you two are totes madly in love already, let me know when one of you decides to make the move, okay?"

With a roll of your eyes, the back of your hand ever so gently strikes the side of Garcia's arm. She notices the way blush speckles across your face, a knowing grin playing against her own. You can't ignore the way your chest fuzzes over at the thought of Spencer feeling about you the way you feel about him, it makes your stomach ache with desire; you don't know if you love or hate the sensation.

"Goodnight, Garcia..." A mix between a chuckle and a sigh of contentment is emitted from you. She mumbles a quick 'good night' with a quick, playful wink before standing from her chair, returning it to its original home.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

The next morning you're in a hurry to get to work, oversleeping by a long shot as it took you forever to wind down last night due to your wandering thoughts.

You get to your desk with merely minutes to spare, a tired, overwhelmed groan falling from your lips as you place your bag in your desk and splay your jacket against the back of your chair.

"Long night last night, agent?"

You don't even have to look up to know who it is... your body freezes for a moment, not sure if you're prepared to deal with this; not yet, anyways.

With a soft sigh, your gaze is lifted and immediately greeted with Spencer's. His large, curious and caring stare. His hazel eyes almost bare into your own, causing a tingle to run down your spine. You try to ignore the butterflies that patter within the walls of your stomach, yet they're hard to confine.

"Yeah... I'm fine, Reid," You nod, your lips tentatively pressing together. "Just didn't sleep worth the damn last night... just... thinking about the case..." You trail, the sound of your voice growing softer and quieter like a beautiful decrescendo.

His lips part for just a moment, an inaudible 'ah' coming from him before giving you an understanding nod.

"I figured... Garcia told me you were here late last night and I kind of... presumed this may happen," He muses with an awkward chuckle. "Which is why... I brought you this..."

Reid's tall frame trails away from your desk for a moment, which draws out a soft hum from you as you tap your fingertips against the smooth, cool material of your desk.

His long stride is quick to return, your heart almost leaping out of your throat as he sees what's within his long, slender fingers.

Your favorite coffee.

You accept the gesture, your stomach doing flips as you take the cup within the confines of your own grasp. You mumble something quick and playful, telling Spencer that he is your favorite person in the world right now for such a small action.

The feeling of someone else watching you is burned into the back of your skull, a sensation churning in your gut that you can't shake. Your gaze flicks over to the side, in which you're immediately greeted by Garcia.

She not-so-subtly flashes two thumbs up at you, her nails painted a shade of dark purple. "Go get 'em!" She mouths in approval, your gaze quickly turning over to the male in front of you in attempt to hide Penelope's matchmaking attempt.

"Hey... do you um... maybe want to get coffee at this place together sometime?" You attempt to thickly swallow down your nerves, trying to soothe the heartbeat creeping out of your chest.

Spencer is silent a moment, his lips twitching upwards in a sign of approval at your suggestion. You see the thoughts shifting through his mind, the rates of his blinks increasing in a sense of disbelief that you're actually asking him this.

"I-- um... yeah! Let's do tomorrow before work? If... you're okay getting up that early, if not we can totally do a different time, perhaps--"

"Tomorrow it is..." You cut him off, something you rarely do. He nods in agreement, a quiet 'tomorrow' mumbled from his lips as he attempts to conceal his excitement.

You’re not sure how to shake off the butterflies in your stomach, but Spencer’s shy smile is enough to make you feel warm all over. You take a sip of your coffee, letting the moment linger. Before you can say anything else, Garcia’s voice breaks through your thoughts, louder than life.

"You two better not cancel on me! I want details!" she teases from across the room, flashing a mischievous grin your way. You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips.

Spencer, now fully aware of the matchmaker’s antics, lets out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair, looking even more flustered than before.

You meet his gaze again, a new kind of tension settling between you—a mix of nerves, excitement, and something deeper that you’re not ready to name just yet. You take a breath, feeling that the next chapter of whatever this is has already started, and it’s thrilling.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you murmur, unable to stop the grin that’s threatening to split your face. Spencer nods, his smile small but genuine, as he turns to head to his desk.

As he walks away, you catch a glimpse of Garcia again, this time with an exaggerated wink. You shake your head, but you can’t suppress the warmth blooming in your chest. Tomorrow’s going to be interesting, to say the least.

And maybe... just maybe, things are finally falling into place.

[kbwrites]

Breaking up is hard to do!

synopsis: breaking up with the jjk men.

⚝characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

⚝content: heavy angst, gaslighting(Gojo's), depression (Suguru's), mutual breakup(Nanami's)

⚝wc: 3.5k

Satoru Gojo

“Yeah so then Yuji popped out of the crate and surprised them all! You should’ve seen it baby!” Satoru wheezes holding his stomach as he recalls the event from the day.

No matter how hard you try though, you can only muster a small smile.

It had become really hard to do much else recently. With the weight of the hundreds of tasks at work taking its toll. Satoru looks over at you, waiting for a laugh—but it doesn’t come.

“Hellooo? Everything alright princess?” He questions giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Mhmm!” You nod.

He looks at you for another moment, unreadable expression on his face. Satoru shifts, clearly expecting more from you. “You sure? You’ve been quiet tonight. That’s not like you,” he says, his voice still light, but there’s a hint of curiosity now.

You try to hold back the frustration, but it bubbles up anyway. “I’m just tired, Satoru.”

“Tired? Seriously?” he mutters, pulling his hand away. “You work, what, a nine-to-five? You act like you’re running yourself into the ground.”

You blink, taken aback by his dismissive tone. “Satoru, it’s not just about the hours. It’s everything piling up, and—”

“Piling up?” He cuts you off with a scoff, already reaching for his phone. “Why didn’t you just say something sooner? You know I could’ve hired someone to handle that for you. I’ve got the money. You shouldn’t be stressing over... whatever this is.”

The words sting. You knew his mind would go there. It always does—like money could just make the exhaustion disappear, like hiring someone to take care of the smaller details would magically solve everything.

“It’s not about the money, Satoru.” you snap, trying to hold onto your patience. “I don’t need someone else doing my job for me. I just... I need you to listen.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Listen? What do you expect me to say? You’re tired. I get it. But don’t act like you’re drowning when I could have fixed this a long time ago. Hell, I could’ve bought you time off or flown you somewhere. You're sittin' here sulking like I can’t take care of things.”

You clench your fists, the exhaustion now compounded by frustration. “It’s not about you fixing things, Satoru. Sometimes I just need support—not your money.”

He stares at you, eyes narrowing. “Right. So you want to feel miserable instead of letting me help. That’s real smart, princess.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you shove clothes into your bag, the sound of zippers and drawers slamming echoing through the room. You can feel Satoru’s presence behind you, hovering, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Not after that.

“C'mon, princess.” he says, his voice exasperated, like he’s the one who's supposed to be annoyed. “What are you doing? Where do you think you’re going?”

You don’t answer, your hands moving faster, yanking more clothes off hangers, ignoring the sting behind your eyes. You’re so angry you can barely breathe.

“I’ll book us a trip,” Satoru tries again, a hint of desperation creeping into his usually arrogant tone. “How about Paris? We’ll stay at that five-star hotel you like, the one with the private balcony. You love that place.”

Your jaw clenches. “This isn’t about a vacation, Satoru,” you snap, stuffing the last of your things into the bag. “It’s not about your money or your fancy hotels.”

“Then what is it about?” he shoots back, his voice rising with frustration. “You’re acting like I haven’t given you everything. "What more do you want?"

You freeze, bag halfway zipped, your body trembling as you turn to face him. His icy blue eyes are wide, confused, and maybe even a little hurt, but you’re beyond caring. “I want you to see me!” you shout, the words tearing out of you, louder than you intended. “I don’t need you to throw money at the problem! I need you to actually understand what I’m going through!”

Satoru stares at you, speechless for once. His mouth opens, but no words come out. He looks almost... shocked, like he can’t comprehend that his money, his status, can’t fix this. That he can’t fix this.

“Do you even care?” you ask, your voice quieter now, but no less angry. “Do you care about how I feel? Or is it just easier for you to throw cash at me until I stop complaining?”

He’s silent, his gaze hardening as he crosses his arms. “I’m trying to help. What else do you want me to do?”

“I want you to listen!” You throw your hands up in frustration, feeling more alone than ever. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want trips or fancy dinners. I want you to care about me, Satoru. Not just the idea of me.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he says nothing. The silence is louder than any of his words.

As your hand grips the doorknob, ready to leave, Satoru’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and bitter.

“Right, run off to Shoko’s.” he scoffs, his arms crossed defensively. “You always do this, don’t you? The moment things get tough, you bolt. Guess it’s easier to complain to her than actually deal with me.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, stopping you in your tracks. You turn slowly to face him, disbelief clouding your vision. He’s standing there, arms folded, arrogance in his posture.

“I always do this?” you repeat, your voice trembling with anger. “I’ve stayed through everything, Satoru!"

“You’re just like Suguru.” Satoru spits out, the words dripping with bitterness and desperation.

Your hand freezes on the handle. You weren’t expecting that. Slowly, you turn to look at him, and the mask of arrogance has cracked. His eyes are wild, wide with something close to panic. “Running away the moment things get hard,” he continues, his voice shaking slightly. “Is that it? Just gonna leave like he did?”

Your heart skips a beat, anger fading for a moment as something else stirs inside you. You’ve seen Satoru angry before, frustrated, even cold—but this? This is different.

“That’s not fair.” you say quietly, though the anger still simmers beneath the surface. “I’m not leaving because things are hard. I’m leaving because you’re not listening.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow, his lips pressing into a hard line. Then he snaps, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade, sharp and cold. “Well, fine. Go. I survived him abandoning me, I’ll survive you too.”

His words sting, burning through the air with a finality that makes your breath hitch. It’s a challenge, a defense��his way of masking the fear that’s clawing at him from the inside out. He’s pushing you away before you can leave, just like he’s done with everything else that’s threatened to crack his carefully controlled world.

You stand there, frozen for a moment, staring at him as his walls rise higher, shutting you out. This is what it’s come to. He’s too scared to let you in, too scared to admit that you leaving isn’t something he can just survive—that it’s something that terrifies him.

But he won’t say it. He won’t ask you to stay.

And that’s when you know.

Suguru Geto

You rest under the comfort of your blanket. How many days have you been in this bed? Three days? Four? 

The world was just too much right now, and your room was the only security available. It had been a week since Suguru vanished without a word, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and broken trust. Principal Yaga’s words still echoed in your mind—a whole village slaughtered, his parents among the dead. 

And not even a text.

You weren’t sure if he was even alive, maybe it would be better if he wasn’t. At least then you wouldn’t have to come to terms with the fact that the love of your life was now a wanted killer.

You took another tissue from the box, blowing into it and tossing the crumpled mess into the garbage can.

Satoru hadn’t responded either, was he okay? Did he know?

Your mind screamed for silence, for the thoughts to stop, but they kept coming, relentless.

“Angel?”

That voice… no it couldn’t be. You lower the covers from your face.

It was

“Hi baby...” his normally soothing voice does little to alleviate the ache in your chest.

“You…” your voice barely a whisper, threatening to break. “I thought you were dead.”

He moves closer, his footsteps barely making a sound on the floor, and you finally take him in. Despite everything, despite the horrors you’ve been told, he looks… normal.

How could he look so much like the Suguru you knew, the Suguru you loved, when everything inside of you was shattered?

Was this the same man who held you close? Whispered sweet nothings in your ear—promised to protect you with his life? 

“It’s me, (Y/N).”  he says softly, his voice cutting through the silence as if he had read your thoughts.

The tenderness in his tone feels like a knife twisting in your chest. How could he say that—so casually, so easily? Like everything was normal, like your world hadn’t come crashing down around you. You blink, trying to force the tears back, trying to find the right words, but nothing comes.

“Are you?” your voice is small, barely more than a whisper. Doubt lingers in every syllable.

He doesn’t respond to your question. Instead, his gaze softens, and without a word, he pulls the covers off of you. The cold air rushes over your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you had buried yourself in, and for a moment you flinch, instinctively clutching the blanket before you let it slip from your fingers.

His eyes trace over your fragile form, and there’s something in them—a flicker of sympathy, regret, even—but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s the reason for your downward spiral. He knows it too. The weight of it presses on him, though he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he moves with a gentleness you hadn’t expected, sliding his arms under you and lifting you up as if you weighed nothing.

You want to protest, want to ask what he thinks he’s doing, but you’re too tired, too drained to fight. So you let him carry you. His arms are steady, and despite everything, you can’t help but melt in his embrace.

He takes you into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the space as he sets you down gently. You can feel the cool tile under your feet as he kneels in front of the tub, turning the faucet on and testing the temperature.

You had so many things you wanted to say. You wanted to yell at him, curse him, ask him why. But you couldn’t.

He dips his hand under the stream, adjusting the temperature until it’s just right. His movements are deliberate, methodical, as if this is the only way he knows how to show you any kind of care right now.

You stand there, numb and silent, watching him. The man who destroyed your world, now kneeling before you, acting as though he can piece it back together with something as simple as a bath. It feels absurd, almost cruel, but at the same time, you don’t have the strength to stop him.

Suguru rises to his feet, his presence towering yet calm as he began to undress you. Gentle hands pulling his t-shirt off of you, the one you had been clinging onto for days.

His hands brush lightly against your skin as he lifts the shirt over your head, sending a shiver down your spine.

He had seen you in this state before, many times. But this….this was different.

Suguru guides you to the shower, washing your body with a gentleness you missed so deeply.

You close your eyes, letting him take care of you, even though you don’t understand why or how he can. The silence between you grows heavier with every passing second, filled with words unspoken and emotions too tangled to sort out.

Finally, you speak, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “Why are you here, Suguru?”

His hand pauses for a moment, the washcloth resting against your skin. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, but when he answers, his voice is low, steady, like he’s speaking more to himself than to you.

“Because I….I love you” His voice almost too quiet, as if he’s afraid to say the words out loud.

“Then why, Suguru?” your voice trembles, almost breaking under the weight of your next words. “Is it true? You killed those people?”

The washcloth falls from his hand, splashing into the water as the silence between you deepens. He doesn’t speak right away, and the hesitation in his silence is an answer in itself.

You swallow hard, the air thick with the weight of the truth you already know but can’t bear to accept.

“They were… in the way,” he finally admits, his voice low, almost hollow.

You step out of the shower, the warm water sliding off your skin in slow rivulets. Without thinking, you reach for the towel, wrapping it tightly around yourself like armor.

This isn’t the man you loved, the one who spoke of protecting the weak, of valuing life. Yet, there’s something so heartbreakingly familiar in the way he says it—like a twisted version of the Suguru you knew, now wrapped in darkness.

“But those were people, Suguru,” you say, your voice fragile, as if you’re trying to reach the man you once knew beneath the monster he’s become. “Innocent people. How could you…?”

He takes a deep breath, stepping closer to you, his hand brushing against your skin, cold and distant. “Because this world is broken.” he murmurs. “And I need to fix it. I had to do it. Can’t you see that? We—sorcerers—we’re meant for something greater. And they… they were holding us back.”

You shake your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I don’t understand, Suguru. I don’t understand any of this.”

He steps closer, his hand cupping your face gently, as though trying to reassure you with his touch. "Come with me." he whispers, his voice softer now, pleading. “Run away with me. Together, we can build something new. You don’t have to be a part of this broken world anymore. We can leave it all behind.”

Before you can respond, his lips press against yours, a kiss that’s both gentle and urgent, as though he’s trying to pour every unsaid word, every plea, into this one moment. It’s the Suguru you remember—the Suguru who once made you feel safe, loved.

But the reality of who he’s become crashes down on you.

You pull away, your hands pressed firmly against his chest, creating a wall between you. “No.” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I can’t.”

For a moment, Suguru just stands there, staring at you, his dark eyes searching yours for something—some kind of understanding, some sign that you’ll change your mind. His hand lingers on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant, as though he’s trying to hold on to whatever connection is left.

But then, slowly, he withdraws, his hand falling back to his side. He straightens up, his expression hardening as he steps away from you, giving you the space you so desperately need. The softness in his eyes fades, replaced by the cold determination you’ve seen before.

“You’ll see,” he says, his voice quiet, but there’s a sharp edge to it now. “One day, you’ll understand. When you see what I’ve seen, when you finally understand the truth about this world—you’ll come around. I know you will.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and without another glance, he turns and walks toward the door, leaving you standing alone, trembling in the silence.

Nanami Kento

Kento was an honest man. There was nothing he ever kept from you. Other people might view him as a hard shell, but you could read him like a book.

So when he came to bed that night, holding you just a little tighter than usual—you knew something was up.

You shifted slightly in his embrace, his grip tightening instinctively as if he feared you might slip away.

“Kento?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the room. 

“I’ve decided to talk to Gojo tomorrow.” he said quietly, his voice steady but with a hint of resolve. “I want to return to being a sorcerer.”

The words hung in the air, sinking into you like lead. You stiffened, a sharp sting blooming in your chest as you processed his decision.

“Are you seriously considering this?” Your voice trembled with a mix of hurt and disbelief. “You know what that life entails. You’ve seen the consequences. Are you really willing to go back to that danger?”

Kento’s silence was heavier than any response he could have given. His arms, though still holding you close, seemed distant now, as if they were reaching out from across a chasm of uncertainty.

“I’ve thought it through,” he said finally, though his tone lacked the conviction he tried to project. “I need to do this for myself. I can’t keep pretending I’m satisfied with where I am.”

The last words echoed in your ears their weight sinking deep into your heart. “So you’re not satisfied with me?” you whispered, barely able to speak past the knot forming in your throat.

Kento’s eyes widened in shock. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then what is it, Kento?” you demanded, frustration and hurt sharpening your words. “We have something good here. You have a good job. You left Jujustu High for a reason! What about Haibara—”

At the mention of Haibara, Kento’s face hardened. His eyes, which had been searching for the right words, now burned with anger and frustration. “Don’t.”

Your eyes widen at his tone. He sighs, trying to catch himself. “This…isn’t about him, or his fate. It’s about my own path, my own choices. You think I’m risking everything without knowing the cost?”

 “And what do you expect me to do, Kento?” Your voice cracked, raw emotion rising as you slid out of bed, unable to lie still any longer. “Sit at home and worry about you? Not knowing if you’re going to come back in one piece? I can’t live like that! I can’t live every day with the fear that you might not come back, that you might be hurt or worse?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. You paced the room, your emotions boiling over, while Kento sat still, his gaze following you but offering no solace.

“You’re asking me to accept a life where every day is a gamble with your safety!” You stopped, turning to face him, your chest heaving with emotion. “How am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to pretend everything’s okay when the reality is that you might not come back to me? This isn’t just about you, Kento. It’s about us, our future!”

Kento ran a hand through his blond locks, frustration etched into every line of his face. “I’m not asking you to pretend it’s okay. I’m asking you to understand that this is something I need to do for myself, even if it means risking everything.”

You blinked, tears blurring your vision as his words sank in. “And what if everything we have is the cost?”

The question lingered, echoing in the space between you. Kento rose from the bed, standing tall before you, but the weight of the moment seemed to bow his shoulders.

He stepped closer, his hands trembling slightly as they cupped your face. His eyes, filled with a deep sadness, searched yours, looking for understanding that he knew might never come. “I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You need to know that.”

You shook your head, your voice breaking. “But that isn’t enough… is it? It never will be…”

There was a heavy silence between you, the weight of your words pressing down on both of you.

“I… can’t watch you throw your life away, Kento.”

He took a deep breath, the sound heavy with resignation. "Then… we’ve both made our decision."

His hands, which had held you with such tenderness, felt distant as you pulled away. You took a step back, a sob catching in your throat.

He opens his mouth, but no words come out with a trembling breath, he stepped forward and gently pulled you into his arms. The embrace was tender, filled with the weight of finality.

He buried his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent one last time as if trying to imprint it into his memory. The warmth of his body, once a comfort, now felt like a dagger in your chest.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, his voice strained. The words were barely audible, but the sentiment hung heavy in the air.

Kento lingered for a moment, his hand sliding from your back to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed away the tear you hadn’t realized had fallen, and his expression softened with a promise you weren’t sure either of you could believe.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered, his voice strained but resolute. “Somehow… I’ll find my way back to you. One day.”

You clung to him for a moment longer, feeling the ache of goodbye in every fiber of your being, before he slowly pulled away. Leaving you.

[chiscaralight]

nsfw kinich x fem reader. i love him, i miss him, choking, repaying favors iykyk

i’m so sorry but you know the part at the end of the last scions of the copy tribal quest where kinich says:

'promise me, if you need anything in the future you’ll come to me.’

so on a particularly tough night where your fingers aren’t doing enough, and humping your folded pillows insnt helping, you find yourself stumbling towards his home in the dead of the night. he swings the door open when he realizes it’s you, questioning why you’re here at such a weird hour.

“you said if i need anything i could come to you..”

“yeah, i did. what do you need?”

kinich is very precise with his work. it's something he's well known for, but you weren't too familiar with. but now, with his fingers expertly plunging in and out of your cunt as you struggle to keep your legs up, you understand what everyone means now. his face is inches from yours, breath fanning over your face as he studies your pleasured expression. your back is arching off the smooth wood of the door that he had you pressed against mere moments ago after you smashed your lips against his in the doorway.

his tongue is hot against your neck. you're desperately gripping at the wrist that's assaulting your sopping hole, weakly attempting to push it away from the sheer pleasure that's blooming throughout your lower half. you're whining, cries of his name dripping out of your lips as your thighs start to clamp down around your hand. and he's trying to ignore the throbbing in his pants because you came to him for help this time. you'd done a great deal for him, and it would be unfair to take something from you again so soon. but those eyes of yours, they're pleading, begging for him to just fill you up, as much as that perfect body of yours could take.

and he was right to trust his instincts because your cunt is sucking him in so well. his fingers are tight against your throat, pressing down as his free hand moves to wrap around your waist. he has perfect leverage like this, pulling your back against his chest as he fucks into you sharp and hard. your hands are gripping at nothing, the feeling of his cock combined with the lack of oxygen reaching your brain sending you into a sweet spiral. you can't even feel the words leave your mouth, soft whines and pleas surging into his ears as you mindlessly beg.

"i-inside, kinich. please, please-"

it's the least he could do, after everything you've done for him. he's also trying to convince himself that he's doing this for you, not because he's been thinking about pumping you full of his cum. sure, he'd finish his commissions early so he could drag mualani to come and hang out with the two of you, or purposefully rile up ajaw so he'd have a reason to put him in time out, giving him enough privacy to pump his length to the thought of you. but no, this was entirely about what he was willing to give back to you. so he'd free up your neck, letting your body softly drop to the bed, before securing your hips with both of his hands before ruining you. you're fisting the sheets, squealing hard as the sound of his skin slapping against yours fills the room, his thrusts are messy and uncalculated, warmth painting your walls as his orgasm waves through the two of you. he's still smacking into you with such fervor, that you can't hold back your own climax, releasing around his still-hard length with a yell.

and he's obsessed with the white ring that's starting to form around the base of his cock from your orgasm. your pretty hole is still fluttering around him as he continues to move. he stills for just a second, then mutters an apology. he knows he's supposed to be assisting you here, but he just can’t help himself. he's going to have to take one more orgasm from you tonight, but he’ll make sure to give you one right back.

[heretherebeturtles-comic]

Hello! Many people have said this but ill say it too, I LOVE YOUR COMIC SO MUCH ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

I really wanted to ask you about how you do the backgrounds? (Something i struggle with) whats the process? Like from start to finish, also, to do the rise backgrounds do you use reference from the show and generally real photo of ny? Or do you come up with them? And last question- The shadow and light on the background- Like HOW

i know it’s a lot of questions but i’m just so curious qwq and wanna learn to be better, thank you again in case you read this and respond, in case you don’t, i hope you have a nice day and a wonderful life uwu keep up the great work! (≧◡≦) ♡

Backgrounds are a really broad subject and I'm always a little overwhelmed when asked this question. Just like drawing the human body, backgrounds take time, repetition, and practice!

My answer got a bit long, so it's going under a read more :) but if you digest info better in video format I found this on youtube

It pretty much goes over everything I wanted to say, but in a much better way. I wish I had found it before writing all this out lol

ok, first of all, I'm not a teacher nor was I built to be one of those cool helpful art tutorial people who do a full coloured tutorial filled with illustrations. This is just going to be a messy "how I do backgrounds / environment layouts from start to finish." kinda thing.

... lets start with a sight tangent.

Sketch from Life!!!

If you want to get better at backgrounds I recommend doing some sketching out in the real world!

When I was first getting into doing backgrounds I went to cafes and parks to just sketch the buildings and objects. Sketch rocks, flowers, clumps of grass, garbage cans, bottles, tables, street signs, etc. If you are drawing a tree observe how the trunks twist, how the bark flows, or how the leaves are bunched.

If you can't leave the house the same still applies! Sketch the interiors of your house, the walls, or common objects like chairs and bookshelves. How are objects stacked? items on the floor?

If you aren't comfortable with drawing outside or in public you can take some photos to draw from! They are good for practice and you can use them again as references later. Alternatively you can find pictures online of buildings and objects to sketch as practice.

All spaces have objects in them, it becomes easier to draw those kinds of spaces when you already have spent time observing and sketching them.

ALSO! They don't have to be good sketches! It's just to build out your mental catalogue and strengthen your perception of perspective.

now the actual thing...

BACKGROUNDS

(the pictures used for this are my own. I dug them out of my 2022 folder)

Backgrounds have slightly different rules based on what you are making them for. Videogame Environment Concept Art vs Animation Layouts vs Comic Backgrounds vs Illustration backgrounds.

They all follow the same basics, which I will go over here, but the intention and function of those designs are going to be different. It's all about how you set up the scene and what it's purpose is!

Brainstorming and Thumbnailing

I like to think about a location as though it is a character. An abandoned old house with creaky sagging floorboards is very different from a futuristic space ship with sharp metal floor panels. A gas station has a very different feeling from a library.

I usually start by asking what is this location's story? Why was it built and for what purpose? What kinds of things does this room need to fulfill that purpose? You don’t need solid answers, but its good to be thinking about it while you are working.

Next, sketch some ideas for how this place is going to look. For me, this usually involves drawing the idea from multiple angles and then making lists & small sketches of the objects I think should be filling the space.

Example: The main character of my original work is a Wanderer. They collect a lot of things on their travels, but those items have to be small enough to be easily carried in a backpack. I wanted his room to be in the corner of an attic, walled off by curtains, and filled with trinkets. You can see some of my brainstorming above.

References

I only look for references after I've done some sketching and planning; this is to solidify my idea first so that I don't accidentally copy anyone else's work. I will make a moodboard with pictures of lighting, colours, items, rooms with specific ceiling beams, old chairs, etc. basically whatever I feel fits the vibe.

Honestly, I don't use references as much as I should. For ROTTMNT fanart I look at backgrounds and screenshots from the series to study the style. I also reference actual photos of NYC to get a feel for how Rise condenses the visual information.

In general, it's good to have references of real life objects/locations, because there are so many details like cracks in pavement, stickers on polls, crowning on buildings, fancy fencing, weird chair legs, etc. that you might not think of. It's the imperfect details that can make a location feel more alive.

Perspective

Once you have your chosen sketch we move to.... the infamous perspective boxes. Doing backgrounds is just learning to be comfortable drawing So Many boxes and carving items out of them.

Many better artists than myself have made videos on perspective, vanishing points, and all the technical bits. Videos like THIS ONE and THIS ONE are helpful (this post is great too!!). There are probably a lot of classes to be found on Skillshare or Schoolism. I learned a lot of this in my college art course, so I can't give you a specific video which helped me.

You can get by and be a good artist without learning this stuff. There are quite a few successful artists who have admitted they never bothered to learn perspective (one of these people even made a whole graphic novel series).

I personally avoided properly learning this stuff until I was in my 20s because I thought it would be boring and difficult to do. tbh I really wish I had learned it earlier because it's so much fun to make those silly little boxes imo. It looks scary and complicated but, just like drawing humans, it just takes time, repetition, and practice to develop the knowledge and skills.

Cleanup

You have your boxes and lines! Cool! Now to make a scene out of it. Fill in the details, get everything placed were you want it! Generally, the lines of each item will point back towards the horizon line, but they can have different perspective points.

Generally you would want to clean it up and get your room completely sketched before doing the lineart. I tend to combine the steps (not recommended)

Lineart

I've mentioned how I do this before. Closer objects have thicker lines and more detailed inside. Further objects have thinner lines and less detail. I didn't quite achieve that balance with the image below, but it's close enough.

Colours and Shading will have to be a separate post. In the meantime, I highly recommend the book "Color and Light" by James Gurney. I used to borrow it from my local library and a good chunk of my knowledge was learned from it :)

[thewritetofreespeech]

pairing: Aemond x Reader

summary: your husband leaves for a hunting trip, but before he leaves he provides you with a gift to keep your fealty secure.

tags: heterosexual sex (m/f), chastity belt [fictional c. belt usage, don't come for me], oral (female receiving), cowgirl, aemond is a meanie to his wife, but also a sweetie, mentions of the other members of the Green but not present.

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

The bells seemed to have not stopped ringing for days now.

First, to herald the new prince, Maelor, into the world. Then to call his father home.

Aegon had overheard of the Baratheon tradition of going hunting before the birth of a child. Claiming a new stag and presenting the pelt to the mother, which he thought was a splendid tradition. The hunting, not the presents for the mother; although any excuse to get out of the castle was Aegon’s ultimate goal. He assembled some of the finest hunters he could find, or at least on such short notice, and sped off into some forest while his wife labored through the end of her pregnancy and had her toil finally ended in the wee hours of the morning.

You were happy for Helaena. To have her child here & health and her agony ended. But also, selfishly, that your own agony might be ended too.

Your husband had gone with hers. Aegon insisted that family should be involved in this new process he was creating, and made his brother come with him for the hunt. Aemond did not fight him too hard. He too would look for any excuse to leave the castle, particularly when his half-sister & her family were around, and enjoyed hunting like any man of arms might when the opportunity struck.

However, before the princes left your husband presented you with a gift that had turned your ill-planned parting into a tortuous affair.

“I still don’t see why any of this is necessary.”

Aemond paid you little mind as he fastened the last strap and locked it. Admiring his work as he sat back on his heels. “I feel that my fidelity is being called into question.”

“It is not your fidelity, dearest one.” He told you. Standing to his full height above you as he slipped the key into his pocket. “A beautiful woman, alone, for some days’ time without her husband. I am protecting you from those less virtuous than you.”

You frown and drop your skirts. “Oh please.” As if anyone would dare touch you, or even glance in your direction too long, with Aemond the Fierce as your husband. Even before your marriage he had managed to scare off any suitor or admirer that came near. Deciding that you would be his and he would not have competition on the matter. His jealousy had not gotten any better since you were married, but luckily you found it endearing; in an odd, Targaryen ‘take no prisoner’ kind of a way. “I will be with your sister most of the time anyway whilst you are gone. Unless you think her a threat now?”

Aemond smirked. “I don’t know. Helaena does have a weakness for the oddest, cutest things.” He leaned in to give you a kiss, which you return despite your sulking pout.

“How am I to relieve myself with this thing?”

“There is a small hole.”

“Charming.”

“The point is that you, nor anyone else, can relieve you.” His hand came up to cup your cheek. “Not until I get back.”

You frown at Aemond again. Once again feeling your fidelity was being called into question, but now also your virtue. “Please. You think I am some nymph unable to curb my baser instincts while my husband is away? That the moment you leave I’ll just start humping the couches like a dog.” The prince scoffed. Amused by your joke. “I will be fine Aemond. I am sure I can last a week without ‘relief’ as you put it.”

“See that you do.” He gave you another kiss. Longer this time and you kiss him back properly, without the pout, as you realize this was your goodbye kiss. “Tell Helaena to push out that babe sooner rather than later. I’d hate to have to miss you by the time it’s all said and done.”

That had been a tenday ago, and you had been eating your words since the sixth.

At first, it was fine. You were indeed busy tending to Helaena. Keeping her comfortable. Keeping her entertained. You had not yet known the joy of being with child, but from where you were sitting across from her it seemed not to bring the joy often described. Your situation did not get problematic until night fall.

Alone in your bed, you had trouble falling asleep that first night without Aemond beside you. His gentle breathing not at your back. Had your bed always been this big? The second night sleep came a little easier, though you still missed your husband. By the third night, you really missed him. You suddenly realized that since your marriage not more than three days had gone by without Aemond sliding to your side of the bed to lay with you. He was not the braggart like his brother or other more crude lords at court, but he was quite the vivacious lover; when properly motivated by affection and praise.

Now alone, you were suddenly aware of your body and how much it had changed since being with Aemond. How, in a way, he had conditioned you for him. Before it would have been no problem for you to go without such pleasures, but now you seem unable to make it not 3 days without touch. Coupled with the fact that you couldn’t do anything about it with the damned belt on you were all the more frustrated in your situation and desired nothing more than for Aemond to come home.

You watched as the gates opened and Aegon’s party rode in. The horses galloping to a halt before the procession stage. No dragons this time. Aegon said it would take the sport out of.

The newly anointed father leapt from his horse and bounded up the steps of the small stage to Helaena. His eyes & smile bright as he looked on his newest son, Aegon took Maelor from her arms gently to hold him for the first time. It was all rather endearing.

Your attention turned from the happy scene to the steps again as they creak under foot. Aemond’s tall, lean frame now in full view. You find it difficult to breathe all of a sudden. As if your chastity belt was suddenly wrapped all the way around you like a corset. You grip the arms of your chair tight to stay strong and stay still. Aware that you were still in public and in front of your family after all.

“Look brother! Look at my new son!” The second prince walked over to his brother to look upon their newest addition. Giving his new nephew the smallest hint of a smile as he looked down at him. Your core quaked violently.

“Congratulations brother. Well done, Helaena.” The princess smiled shyly at her brother, and their mother seemed pleased for once at this happy moment.

Aemond snapped and made some sort of gesture at a servant, who scurried up the steps and handed him some ivory pelts from a chest that Aemond then gave to Helaena. Foxes, perhaps. Or maybe rabbits. You couldn’t be sure which as your sister-in-law gushed over their softness and color while you smiled & nodded along. Your mind completely focused on Aemond. He was so close now. You could practically smell him. The iron. The leather. The sweat & sun from riding back this afternoon. You have to swallow to keep the drool pooling in your mouth from leaking out. You had to get out of here. You had to get out of this…thing!

“If you’ll excuse me, I must wash the road off and rest in a proper bed if I am expected to entertain later.” Aemond’s voice cut through your thoughts. As if he heard you.

“You do not wish to stay and see the babe?” Aegon asked. Holding his new son up with a look of ‘what could be better than this?’. You could think of a few things, but as a lady you held your tongue.

“He’s not going anywhere, is he?” Aemond jest. To which his mother rolled her eyes and he kissed Helaena on the cheek. “I will see him at the feast, I’m sure.” He turned and finally looked at you. You felt your heart stop and your skirts grow moist before he offered his hand to you. “Come wife.”

You take his hand, digits trembling almost as much as that first time you took it, and stand. You kiss Helaena’s cheek on the other side, wishing her congratulations again, before Aemond lead you off the stage and into the palace. Luckily, by fate or design, the procession meeting ground was near your apartments. So it was a quick walk before you were at your door. They open for you, and Aemond only let out a stern “get out” to the servants, who only have mere seconds to flurry away before you were on each other. Your lips crashing against Aemond’s along with the rest of your body as you back him into a corner against the door like you felt you had been backed into all week.

“Get this fucking thing off me.”

“My, my, such language.” Aemond was grinning maliciously, but pridefully, down at you. “I leave for just a week and my sweet wife’s lips turn into that of a Braavosi sailor.” You gasp, nearly pant, as Aemond brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. Seeming fascinated by them. As if they were some intricate puzzle for him. “Did you miss me, issa jorrāelagon?”

You whimper as the High Valyrian rolls off Aemond’s tongue. Your thighs shivering as at the thought of it and those delicious purrs between them again. “Yes. I did.”

He seemed pleased. “I missed you too.” He kissed you again. Slower, sweeter, deeper this time, rather than tongue & teeth. It was a good thing Aemond’s arms were securely wrapped around you as his kiss made you swoon. “I would think of you every night.” His lips brush against your lips, your cheek, your chin. His hands caressing you softly everywhere as you stared dimly up at Aemond. Drunk from him. “While Aegon and his pack rutted with their camp followers, I would go to my tent and think of you. Stroke my cock along with your key around my neck, think of you waiting for me, until I could no longer take it anymore.”

You whimper & whine at Aemond’s words. A part of you elated to have that effect on your husband, but part of you also extremely jealous. You had been forced to wait while he had not. That seemed entirely unfair and should be corrected immediately.

“Aemond…please. I’m tired of waiting. Please take this off me so I can be your wife again.”

Your prince smiled at you. Pressing you back now as you kiss this time towards the bed. You had intentionally worn the simplest dress you had to the arrival. Beautiful in design and beadwork, but nowhere near the detailing of lacings and ties most of court lady fashion had. All with the intention of Aemond being able to get it off you quickly, which he succeeded at, and lay you on the bed. “Hells. You look radiant.”

“Aemond please…” You beg again. Bosom heaving. Your skin on fire at even the briefest touch of his fingertips against your calf. Tingling in your nakedness in front of him, save for this accursed belt.

He took pity on you it seemed and opened his vest with a few quick snaps. Producing the key from around his neck. He still kept it there, it seemed. Aemond gave you a long look, as if holding on to this final, torturing moment with some perverse pleasure at your suffering, before he undid the lock and helped you out of your ties.

You moan, loudly, with your head tilted back as it finally came off. Release from the belt was almost as pleasurable as the full release you were surely about to receive. Your skin able to breathe fully. Your limbs one with themselves again. It was enough to make your head spin, only to be brought back to you when you felt Aemond spread your thighs and kneel before you.

“A-Aemond! Wait! I haven’t washed properly in---mph!” He doesn’t seem to care.

Though you had bathed regularly since your parting, the belt made it difficult to clean yourself fully. Trust in this, you had tried. Every angle. Every side. Every idea imaginable to get around this accursed thing, but to no avail. Aemond seemed unbothered by this as he devoured your cunt like a starved man. That skilled Valyrian silver teasing your clit. Making you squirm on the bed, to the point that Aemond had to hold your thighs apart to the point of bruises. Gods, you hoped for bruises. The shift from no attention to this sudden onslaught was enough to drive you to madness. Overstimulated, you cum quickly with a sharp cry. “Oh Gods…..!”

Aemond doesn’t leave you until your walls stop quaking around him, then he lifted slowly from between your legs. “Still sweet as ever, issa jorrāelagon.”

The prince stripped out of his clothes with a speed you did not think possible of their usually intricate clothing. You bit your lip. Core throbbing even though you had just climaxed at the sight of your husband. Lean form. Alabaster skin. Pure white save for the hard, blushing cock pointed out at you. “Aemond…”

He chuckled. Probably finding your lust blown eyes and subconscious spreading of your legs for him amusing. “So needy.” He was enjoying this. Enjoying tormenting you with his fine figure and devilish smirk. People often whispered about how cruel Aemond was. You never believed them. But perhaps you would have to amend your thinking on the topic as it was cruel to have him on offer now and still make you wait.

He crawled on to the bed and on top of you. Your lungs filling with air and releasing in a sigh as you feel his weight on top of you. How you had missed even this part. To be close to your prince. To have his presence mix with yours. Not just the sex, but the intimacy was something Aemond had trained your body to as well. You hope to never be parted from it again.

“I’m rather tired from the journey.” He whispered to you. Panick welling up in you as he stroked your hair & cheek sweetly. He wasn’t going to stop, was he? You would punch him in that beautiful face if he stopped now! No a judicator in the land would convict you. “So, you will have to do all the work this time, sweet one.”

He gripped your hips then and flipped you over. You yip at the sudden change in equilibrium, but then moan as you felt his hardness brush against your sex. The length of it perfectly aligned to slide between your folds. By fate or design you could not be sure, but what you were sure of was that you needed it inside you.

“Take from me what you want, issa jorrāelagon. Let me see your rapture now that I am home. You deserve it.”

You whine at Aemond’s words and kiss him desperately. As a thank you? Just the burning need to touch him?

You lift up and line his cock up properly with your entrance. The wetness from your sex and anticipation allowing him to slide in easily, and you moan like a whore at the feeling of him inside you again. “You have to move, issa jorrāelagon.” Aemond reminded you. His tone sweet and teasing. This spell he had on you working over your mind as you are unable to think, just obey, and start to move your hips.

Aemond watched you from below. His eye and sapphire fixed solely on you as you writhed in pleasure on top of him. Every bit the nymph you claimed not to be just a short while ago as your body and mind were lost to you in the sole pursuit of pleasure.

“Aemond..! Aemond…! So good!”

“I know, my love.” He must be close. The grit of his teeth, and the fact that he used your nickname in common instead of High Valyrian, his tell. “I’m close. Just a bit more.” You weren’t sure if you could last that long as you were suddenly bursting all around. Body shaking. Gasping for air. Luckily, it seemed just enough for Aemond and his hips arched up to push deeper inside you as he spilled his seed.

You collapse on top of your husband. Sweaty, wanton, spent. Aemond, for his part, seemed to catch his breath rather quickly and flipped you back over. “What are you doing?”

“Truly you did not think that would be the only time I had you.” You cry out when Aemond thrust his still hard cock into your sensitive sex. “We have near a week to make up for.”

It was much later in the afternoon by the time Aemond felt he had properly ‘balanced the scales’. Your body was exhausted, but content. Laying with your husband in the afterglow, and your ruined bed, a tonic for your soul you didn’t know you needed. “I have a gift for you.”

“Another one?” You tease your prince, who smiled and untangled himself from you to go over to a chest you hadn’t realized was in the room. You recognize it though as the chest the servant had brought to Aemond at his command when he presented the pelts to his sister.

“I caught this one when I was out on my own. Aegon & his troupe were off to the east with their wine and crossbows. I went west, as no quarry would come with their revelry. Seemed only fitting that since I found it on my own, my wife should have it.”

It was a pelt of pure onyx. Soft, but not nearly as soft as what Helaena had gotten earlier. This was the pelt of a beast, not prey. “Aemond, it’s beautiful.” Your fingers sift through the fine hairs. Feeling the power of its former master almost transfer into your fingers. “Thank you.”

“I am glad you like it. Perhaps I shall have to find you a new one, in nine months.” You glance over at Aemond out of the corner of your eye. Quick to understand his meaning. Quick to realize that Aemond wants his own son now that he’s seen Aegon with his second.

“Perhaps.” Time would only tell. You move your beautiful new fur to the side and crawl into Aemond’s waiting lap. “But if you leave me here for a week while I suffer alone, I will kill you. Do you hear me?”

Aemond laughed in the face of his own danger. “No. I would never leave you. This tryst was amusing, but I will be damned before I follow a Baratheon’s tradition before our own.” He lifted your hand and kissed it softly. “Our kin will have dragon eggs in their beds, not pelts.”

“Good.” You agreed and kissed him fully.

You make love again. Slowly, intimately this time. The kind of joining you both hope brings children. You would have to bathe and get dressed for the welcoming feast later that evening. Aegon’s welcome home and Maelor’s official presentation, along with all the spoils the men had caught on their hunt. But for now, it would just be you and Aemond. Enjoying each other and being back in one another’s arms.

Your last present though mysteriously vanishes. You have no idea where the belt went to, or what was done with it. Aemond had no answers. But you have a sinking suspicion it was moved somewhere for safe keeping; lest you find it and burn it, as was your threat long after.

[flemingsfreckles]

Drunk Dial Pt. 3

Read the rest of the series here

Warnings: mentions of sex, illusions to sex, cursing, verbal argument, basically Jessie and R yelling at each other for the majority of this chapter

WC: 3.4k

A/N: this is the end of this little series, i have a feeling some of you won’t be too happy with this being where i leave it, but this is sort of a left up to your interpretation ending… don’t forget some of you voted for this ;) (unknowingly, but you did)

You stood looking at yourself in the bathroom off of Haley’s bedroom. Across your body, a sleep shirt from some college, not one you attended and it wasn’t the familiar UCLA logo you had grown to know. On your bottom a pair of sleep shorts you didn’t recognize either. You had just woken up but you were ready to go home, you didn’t need to stay here, you felt out of place being here. That’s when you see your phone light up, Jessie’s face across it.

“Shit shit shit.” You scramble to grab your phone.

You quickly pop your head into Haley’s bedroom. “Uh, sorry, phone call, I should take this. It’s um, work.” You lied, she nodded and pointed out the door toward her living room.

Once the door is closed behind you, you take a deep breath and answer the call, bringing the phone to your ear.

“Hey.” You whisper.

“Hey, why are you whispering?” Jessie’s tone immediately turned accusatory.

“Um, no reason.” You say, clearing your throat and trying to make the hush in your voice less obvious. It’s not like you could tell her where you were, she didn’t need to know the choices you made last night and how regretful you were about them this morning.

“Okay, well I’m on my way over, we need to talk. About last night, about the other night, we need to talk about all of it.”

“Um.” You frantically look around the living room, finding your sweatshirt that had been haphazardly thrown off last night, slipping it over your head. “I’m not home right now. So just give me a little bit.”

“Where are you? It’s 8 in the morning.” You could hear traffic in the background of Jessie’s call, an indication she was likely already on her way.

“No where, I can be there in like 30 minutes.” You hang up before she can ask you any more questions about your whereabouts. You open the bedroom door, Haley is now sitting up in bed, the covers pulled up around her body.

“Hey sorry, I um, I have to go, work calls.” You play it off with a smile and a shake of your cell phone.

“Oh no worries.” She waves a hand at you and gives you a polite smile.

My clothes?” You question the girl.

“Should still be out by the couch.”

“Right, thanks.” You hurry out toward the couch, grabbing the pile of clothes before heading back into the bathroom, quickly taking off the shirt and shorts you had been lent, putting your own jeans and shirt from the night before back on. You walk out of the bathroom, giving Haley another look. “I put the dirty ones in the basket.”

“Got it, thanks.” She gives you a nod. “Have a good rest of your day, I’ll text you. Good luck with, ya know, everything.”

“Thanks.” You give her a tightlipped smile before excusing yourself and heading out her bedroom door and down the hall out of her apartment. You hopped in your car, barely letting it turn on before you threw it in drive. Driving faster than you should have, you raced to your place, hoping somehow you would be able to beat Jessie there.

Your heart drops when you turn the corner toward the entryway of your building and there stands Jessie. You can see the expression on Jessie’s face turn sour, nearly a smile at the start before she examines you and she’s suddenly sporting a scowl. “So I guess that date must have been better than you lead on.” Jessie states as she looks you up and down once you’re a few feet from her.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Are you sure? You clearly went to see someone after you left me.” She gestures to your clothing, you suddenly wish you had spare clothes in the car, or you had worn Haley’s clothes home, you could’ve played it off that you had bought new ones, that Jessie just hasn’t seen them before. But you were wearing the clothes she had touched and seen last night, she knew. “I have a feeling it was her. You left me, for her, for someone you barely know.”

“Jessie, that’s not what happened.” You notice your voice raising, trying to defend yourself in an unfortunate situation.

“You sure? Because that’s how it feels and that’s what it fucking looks like.” Jessie raises her voice right back at you, something she had hardly done when the two of you were together, occasionally during an argument but the Canadian held her temper and emotions close most of the time. She waved a hand up and down reminding you that you were in fact still in your clothes from last night.

“Can we do this inside?” You look around at the pedestrian traffic that is passing by the two of you. A couple giving you looks as the two of you argued.

“Sure.” Jessie says, rolling her eyes but following you silently as you open the door to your building and walk to the elevator. The ride up is quiet, as is the walk down the hallway. Once inside your apartment you find your way to the dining room, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

“So we should talk about what happened, all of it.” You say, a twinge in annoyance in your voice.

“Where do you want to start?” Jessie says, propping herself against the wall, her arms crossed across her chest.

the way she stood, arms crossed in defense as if you were the only one in the wrong here, pissed you off. “Oh I don’t know Jessie. Maybe the part where you hid the fact that I told you my feelings when I was drunk? Or how when I left the next morning you told me you weren’t in love with me anymore, only for you drunkenly invited me out last night only to drop the bomb on me that you do in fact still love me? Or how you were trying to get me to take you home and fuck you last night? We have options Jessie, where do you want to start?”

“Where do I want to start?” She stares back at you, raising her voice slightly. “You’re the one who broke the no contact that we had agreed on in the first place calling me after you got stood up! You’re the one who hid these feelings and were too scared to tell me all this time. Then you confess them while you’re drunk, leaving me in a weird spot. I didn’t know what to do. Not to mention your little “gift” you gave me. I’m sorry for calling you yesterday if that’s what you want to hear. But coming yesterday and then pawning me off to Arnold was a shitty move.”

“I didn’t pawn you off, jez Jessie, I wanted to make sure you were safe! You were drunk, it wasn’t the right time for us to talk, or sort this out.” You throw your hands up at her, fists clenched in frustration.

“But it was the time for you to go fuck some girl you hardly know?!” Her cheeks were starting to turn the familiar red that you used to tease her for, you always thought she looked adorable with the slight blush, only now that blush that was caused by compliments or teasing comments was now being caused by the way she yelled at you.

“I didn’t fuck her!” You scream back, your hand coming down to hit the table. You had never yelled at Jessie like this, not when you argued or fought, not when you broke up, never.

Jessie scoffs, “I find that hard to believe.” She’s still defensive in her tone but it’s quieter, almost as if she’s scared.

You immediately drop the anger from your voice. “Jessie I didn’t. I wasn’t in a good mood last night when I left the bar, I panicked, and I called her because I needed someone. I got to her place, and when she let me in, we watched a movie and talked and I broke down about you to her. I was hysterical, I didn’t know what to do.”

That was the truth. You had been embarrassed about it, you showed up to Haley’s door. You knew she was likely expecting sex, that you had called her for a late night hook up. Instead what she got was you at her doorstep, asking to talk.

You started off by apologizing for wasting her time on your date earlier that day. You told her you weren’t ready to commit to anything, and you should’ve realized that before trying to date again. She had been understanding, not making you feel any worse for what had happened. The two of you agreed friendship could be the path you take instead. The more you two talked the more you told her. You told her about Jessie, your past and your current feelings. She offered as good of advice as she could and when you cried about it, she comforted you, offering you to stay the night due to how late it was. You took her up on the offer for the couch, and also for the pair of old shorts and shirt to sleep in. You thought nothing of it, no one would know, it wouldn’t be a problem. You hadn’t expected Jessie to call you bright and early the next morning demanding to see you instantly.

“But you spent the night, you were there this morning, that’s why you were whispering.”

“On the couch! I spent the night on the couch!” You exclaim. “Jessie, I don’t know how to prove it, nothing happened between her and I, we didn’t even kiss. She was being a friend, that’s all I see myself being with her.”

“I find that so hard to believe!”

“We didn’t do anything, nothing!”

“Fine, let’s say you didn’t fuck her, did you go with the intention of fucking her? Did you plan to use her to get over me, to get me out of your head?”

Her question catches you off guard. “I-” you stutter, unsure of what to say and unsure of what your answer even should be. The truth was, you didn’t know. Maybe some tiny bit of you thought maybe you’d get laid, maybe some bit of you just wanted attention, the comfort of another body on yours, some part of you wanted someone to rant to, complain to. You just wanted someone.

Jessie clicks her tongue as you struggle to find the right words. “That’s all I need to know.” She nods slowly before starting to turn away from you.

“No Jessie, wait!” You stand up fast, knocking your chair out from behind you, creating a loud crash that has Jessie turning back to see what had happened. You leave the chair, climbing over it to make your way closer to her.

“No, because clearly you don’t know what you want, I can’t get involved with you again if you don’t know what you want.” She says walking away and towards the door.

“I know what I want.” You say as you walk after her, you couldn’t let her walk out of that door on you, you couldn’t lose her for a second time. You reach your hand out, catching hers stopping her in her tracks. She shakes her hand from your grip.

“I’m leaving.” Her hand turns the doorknob and as she steps out she turns back. “Call me once you have your head on straight and can actually talk with me.”

Being beyond frustrated your anger comes back and you shout at her as you watch her head down the hallway. “Fuck you Jessie, you invited yourself over, no warning, nothing, what if I wasn’t ready to talk?!”

She doesn’t answer, she doesn’t even turn back, doesn’t lift her head. She ignores you. The door to the stairs is swung open and her figure quickly disappears as she leaves out of your building.

“Fuck.” It wasn’t going to fix anything but shouting made it hurt less for the time being, so did the swift kick you gave to the door as you closed it.

That was your chance. That was your chance and you fucked it up.

You sent the rest of the afternoon spiraling, unsure of what to say, what to do, nothing felt right. You had cried, your eyes and head both still throbbing as a result. You spent a fair amount of time staring off at the wall, feeling numb to your surroundings. It wouldn’t change anything, you had the opportunity and you failed to win her back. When you tucked yourself into bed early, you tried everything in your power but to think of that brown eyes girl.

But you couldn’t get her out of your mind, she was in every thought, every emotion you had.

“This is so stupid.” The same words you had mumbled to yourself as you got out of your warm bed you repeated to yourself as you started walking. You were walking down the streets of Portland at quarter to midnight, not your brightest idea but you couldn’t stop thinking about her. You should’ve driven, probably safer and faster, but walking cleared your head and that’s what you needed, a clear head.

You walked yourself all the way to the doorstep of Jessie’s townhome, banging on the door. Raising your fist again to knock the door swings open and you nearly punch the Canadian.

“Sorry.”

“What are you doing here?” Her voice is raspy, a little deep, you realize you’ve probably woken her from a sleep. She steps onto the porch closing the door behind her.

“I shouldn’t have let you leave earlier. I should have never let you leave. I still want you Jessie, I was stupid before, so stupid to let you ever go, I should’ve fought for you, I should’ve figured something else out, I should’ve tried something else before we called it quits.” You confess to her.

“So what, are you still in love with me?” The silence between the two of you after she asked was painful, you could practically hear your own blood pumping through your body. You definitely hadn’t expected such a direct question right off the start with her, but at least you’d get straight to the point.

“Are you?” You stare blankly back at Jessie, throwing her own question in her face. The two of you stand eye to eye, neither of you answering.

“What did I tell you at the bar yesterday?” Jessie finally says.

Squinting at her you’re not sure if it’s a rhetorical question or if you should answer, you take the safer option and just reiterate what she told you drunkenly last night. “That you were, you still loved me, you were still in love with me, that you had been too scared to tell me.”

“Then there’s your answer.” Jessie says, as if you were supposed to have assumed that on your own.

The longer you stared at her face the more you felt your anger and frustration with her fade and replacing it was the overwhelming urge to complete her request from last night, push her softly inside the door, kiss her against the wall, lift her into your arms and make the blind walk to her bedroom that you knew so well, take her to bed, make her yours again. Easier said than done and you knew taking her to bed would just complicate the already confusing situation the two of you were in.

“Then you know my answer too Jess.” The nickname slips out of your mouth, it wasn’t something you had called her in a long time. “I don’t know how to prove it, but please just trust me, nothing happened between me and that girl, nothing, Jessie I love you too much to do that.”

Bringing her hand up, she lets her fingers run through her hair before she pulls at the bottom of her sleep shirt. She releases a sigh and looks at the ground.

“So what does that mean for us?” She looks up at you, her brown eyes have a small glisten to them from the moon above both of your heads. You missed her eyes. You missed how she’d wink at you across a crowded room and your stomach would flutter, how she’d look up at you when you came to the side of the pitch to say hello after a game, how she’d steal glances at you when you sat snuggled into the couch. Those eyes made you feel seen in a way no one had before.

“What do you think it means?” You knew what you wanted it to mean, but you didn’t know if she felt the same.

“God some things never change do they?” Jessie fights back a smile as she looks at you with a small shake of her head.

“What does that mean?” You feel yourself starting to get defensive, your tone changing.

“You, the indecisiveness, you could never make choices when we were together. You could never pick a movie, never could pick a board game to play, never pick a restaurant, you never wanted to be the one to make the call, you could never pick anything.”

“I picked you Jessie. And I’d still pick you, everyday.” That was the truth, that was what you had been trying to say to her all along. She was your person, she was it for you, you just hoped she’d feel the same.

“If you’re actually choosing me then do it, pick me and tell me what you want to do, don’t put this on me, make a damn decision for once.” Jessie’s tone had shifted, less angry, less frustrated, it was soft and almost needy as if she was begging you.

“I’m not saying we're dating or that we even go on dates, or hook up, or anything. I’m also not saying we will ever go back to dating, we didn’t work the first time, who’s to say we would now, but I want to try, with you because I still love you, I’ve never stopped loving you. So maybe we start with removing that no contact plan we had? We talk again, we text again, you know, baby steps?” You feel yourself hold your breath when you finish speaking, as if you’re scared you’ve made a poor choice, that she’ll be mad at your proposal.

“Baby steps.” She gives a slow nod of her head, looking you up and down. “Okay, yeah, we can do that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll uh, I’ll text you then.” You can feel the happiness blossoming in your chest.

“Sounds good, get home safe.” Jessie says before turning back to her door. You practically skip down the stairs and down the street all the way back to your home, feeling elated that you might have a chance to finally fix what you had broken months ago.

Jessie turned back, resting against the door, eyes closed. She perked up at the sound of footsteps coming in her direction, straightening up and blinking her eyes quickly as she made out the figure coming toward her.

“You alright? Who was that?” Jessie’s eyes fell on the dark haired girl standing in front of her who was wearing her old grey UCLA shirt that she had always let you borrow and a pair of her boxers. Jessie didn’t know her well, she hardly remembered her name as she stood looking at the woman. The dark red hickey that she had sucked into the unknown girl’s neck just hours ago was peeking out of the collar. Jessie knew there were a lot more hiding under her shirt as well. A wave of guilt flashed through her body, she had just been trying to get even. She hadn’t realized she’d woken her by leaving the bed, she had barely heard the knocking on the door.

Jessie shook her head at the girl. “No one. Wrong house number. You can go back to bed, I’ll be there in a second.”

[wolverigrl]

Request for Hugh story.

The reader gets a little jealous when Hugh has to spend some time with his ex wife and kids, so to show his girlfriend just how much he loves her. Hugh makes her romantic dinner just for them.

Jelousy

Hugh Jackman x reader

!A/N! I hope you like this requested story! <3

Warnings: jealousy, cheesy, nothing more!

Enjoy!

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It had been a year and a half since Hugh and I had started dating. The first year had been incredible - dream-like, really. But things had changed. It started slowly, creeping in like an unwanted shadow. His work, the endless promotion for his new movie, had taken over our lives. We barely saw each other anymore. And when he wasn’t jetting across the globe for press junkets, he was here in New York - spending time with his ex-wife and their kids.

I knew it was important for him to be there for them, to maintain that family bond. And I understood that. I tried to understand it. But lately, it felt like I was always waiting. Waiting for him to come home. Waiting for some kind of sign that I still mattered.

And today? Today was the final straw.

I had seen the photos online—Hugh and Deborra-Lee with their kids, laughing, looking so perfect together. Like nothing had ever changed between them. It wasn’t rational, I knew that. He had been married to her for years, and they shared a lot of history. But no matter how hard I tried to suppress it, the jealousy kept bubbling up inside me, threatening to spill over.

So when Hugh finally walked through the door that evening, his face lit up with a tired but warm smile, I couldn’t hold back anymore.

"Had a good day?" I asked, my tone far too sharp for what was supposed to be a casual question.

He dropped his keys on the counter and looked at me, confused by the edge in my voice. "Yeah... spent the day with the kids. It was nice. What about you?"

"Great." I replied, unable to mask the bitterness. "Saw the pictures. You all looked... happy."

Hugh's brows furrowed. "What do you mean? Of course, we were happy. I was spending time with the kids- "

"And your ex-wife." I cut him off, my arms crossing defensively. "You’ve been spending a lot of time with her, haven’t you?"

He stared at me, his confusion deepening. "Y/n, she's the mother of my kids. We’re not together, you know that. You have nothing to worry about."

"I don’t?" I scoffed, shaking my head. "Because it feels like I’m the last thing on your mind these days. I’m starting to forget what it’s like to even have you around."

Hugh stepped toward me, his voice soft but firm. "That’s not fair, y/n. You know how crazy things have been with the movie, and I’m trying to be there for the kids. It’s complicated."

"Yeah, it is complicated!" I snapped, my frustration boiling over. I could feel the words tumbling out of me, unstoppable now. "I would never ask you to choose between me and them, Hugh, but I’m not asking for much. I just want to feel like I matter too."

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated but trying to stay calm. "You do matter. You know you do."

"Do I?" I shot back, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to stay composed. "Because lately, it feels like I’m just here. Waiting for you to remember I exist!"

Hugh’s expression softened, his frustration giving way to something more vulnerable. "Love, come on... it’s not like that."

But I couldn’t listen anymore. The flood of emotions was too much, and I needed space. "I need to get out of here." I muttered, grabbing my coat and heading for the door.

"Y/n, wait!" Hugh called after me, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I just needed air, space - anything to clear my head. The door clicked shut behind me, and I found myself walking aimlessly through the streets of New York, my emotions swirling in my chest like a storm.

The crisp night air hit my face as I wandered through the city. My mind raced as I replayed the argument over and over. Why had I let it get this far? Why hadn’t I talked to him sooner, before it all exploded like this? I knew he wasn’t intentionally pushing me away, but lately, it felt like I was invisible.

After an hour of walking and stewing in my own thoughts, I realized I needed to head back. I couldn’t avoid this forever. We needed to talk - really talk. And maybe I needed to apologize for being... well, dramatic. I sighed, turning back toward the apartment, my steps slower, more thoughtful.

When I finally reached the door, I took a deep breath, expecting tension. But as I stepped inside, I was met with something completely unexpected.

The lights were dim, and there was soft music playing in the background. I slipped off my shoes and walked towards the kitchen. The smell of something delicious - my favorite dish - wafted through the air. Candles flickered gently on the dining table, which had been set for two. The entire room felt warm and inviting, a strong contrast to the storm that had been brewing between us earlier.

I stood frozen in the corridor, blinking in disbelief. Hugh emerged from the kitchen, his eyes soft and apologetic as he wiped his hands on a towel.

"Hey." he said gently, his voice carrying a tenderness that tugged at my heart. "I, uh... I made dinner. I figured we could use some time, just the two of us."

I stared at him, the earlier frustration slowly melting away. "Hugh... you didn’t have to do all this."

"Yes, I did." he said, stepping closer. His eyes searched mine, and the sincerity in them made my chest tighten. "I’ve been so caught up in everything - work, the kids - that I forgot to make time for us. And that’s not okay. You’re right."

I bit my lip, guilt washing over me. "I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I just... I was feeling- "

"I know." he interrupted softly, his hands reaching out to gently hold mine. "And I get it. I should’ve been more present with you. I never meant to make you feel like you didn’t matter because you do, more than anything."

I swallowed hard, my heart swelling as I looked up at him. The anger, the jealousy - it all felt so small now. He had always been the man who showed up, who cared, even when life got overwhelming. And right now, he was standing here, showing me exactly how much I meant to him.

"I’m sorry." I whispered, my voice trembling as I squeezed his hands.

Hugh shook his head, his thumbs brushing over my knuckles gently. "I’m sorry too. I love you, y/n. I never want you to feel like you’re anything less than my priority."

The weight of his words settled over me, soothing the ache I’d been carrying for days. I let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension between us dissolve. "I love you too." I said softly, my heart swelling with the truth of it.

He smiled, that familiar, warm smile that made me feel like everything was going to be okay. "So... how about we start over? No more fighting. Just... dinner."

I nodded, smiling despite myself. "Yeah. I’d like that."

We sat down at the table, and the moment was so simple, so intimate. Hugh had made my favorite dish - pasta with that special sauce he always made when we had date nights at home. The food was incredible, but what made it even better was the way we kept stealing glances at each other, the quiet joy in the air as we ate.

By the time we were done, my heart felt lighter. We moved to the couch, and I leaned into him as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. I could feel the warmth of his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.

"I missed this." I whispered, resting my head against him.

Hugh pressed a kiss to the top of my head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "I missed you. I hate that I made you feel like I wasn’t here. I’ll do better, I promise."

I tilted my head up to look at him, my eyes meeting his. The tenderness in his gaze made my heart skip a beat. "You always show up when it matters, Hugh. I just... I need to know you’ll keep doing that."

"I will," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. "You’re not an afterthought, Y/N. You’re my home."

Those words wrapped around me, filling the cracks that had formed over the past few weeks. I reached up, cupping his face as I kissed him softly, pouring every bit of love and gratitude I felt into that kiss.

When we pulled away, I couldn’t help but smile. "You really went all out, huh? Cooking, candles... the whole deal."

Hugh grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Well, I figured you deserved a little romance after putting up with me."

I laughed softly, leaning in closer. "I think we both deserved it."

He tilted his head down, kissing the top of mine softly. "I don’t ever want you to doubt how much I love you. I know I’ve been distracted, but I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere."

My heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around me like a promise. I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "I know." I whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. "And I love you. I just... needed to hear it."

He smiled, a lazy, boyish grin that made my stomach flutter. "Then I’ll make sure you hear it more often."

He leaned down, brushing his lips against mine, slow and sweet, like he had all the time in the world just to kiss me. It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was full of everything - love, reassurance, and that deep, quiet connection we shared. When we finally pulled away, our foreheads rested against each other, and I could feel his breath against my lips.

We stayed wrapped up together on the couch, the warmth of his body melting away any lingering tension. His arm was draped protectively around my shoulders, pulling me close, while I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was comforting, grounding. Every time I shifted, he pulled me in just a little tighter, like he couldn’t stand the thought of even an inch between us.

"You know." he murmured, his fingers lazily tracing circles on my arm, "I’ve missed this. Just being here with you. No noise, no schedules. Just... us."

I smiled into his chest, feeling the softness of his words settle over me like a warm blanket. "I’ve missed it too. More than I realized."

We sat there for a while longer, the quiet of the apartment settling around us. Hugh shifted slightly, pulling a blanket over us and tucking it in around my shoulders. He kissed my forehead again, lingering as though he couldn’t help himself.

"And you know." he whispered softly, his voice like velvet against the night air, "you’re my favorite part of everything. Of coming home, of my whole day. You’re it."

My heart melted. I snuggled deeper into his embrace, closing my eyes as I felt the warmth of his love surround me. "You’re my favorite too." I whispered back, feeling safe, cherished, and so completely loved.

We stayed that way, wrapped up in each other, letting the world fade away. No more jealousy, no more distance. Just us, together. And in that moment, everything felt perfect - like this was exactly where we were supposed to be.

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I'd appreciate feedback! <3

xoxo

[cosmonauter]

ahh, i hope you like it @liv-does-stuff !!

bestfriend james who has no boundaries with you!!

james potter thinks you are the best friend he's ever had. normally people tell him that he's too clingy, and they don't like him hanging around them all the time. and it's not a problem for him, but he just wants someone to let him hug and touch without being awkward about it.

so when you two met, he felt like the luckiest person on earth because you don't think it's weird when he hugs you from behind and kisses the top of your head.

you don't judge him for demanding cuddles and sleepovers at least two times a week. you even encourage him to be touchier!

his favourite thing to do with you is bathing together. since he's a headboy, he has unlimited access to the prefect's bathroom, which means that the two of you bathe together as often as possible.

he's especially excited to meet you today because he was informed about a new couple in school, and he really wants to gossip about it with you!

so while he is cleaning his bed of sirius' socks and peter's sweets, because you're sleeping over today, sirius decides to ask him a question, "are you meeting up with them again? don't you think it's a little weird that you guys bath at the same time in the same room, even though you're 'just friends'?"

"why would it be weird? they wash my back and i condition their hair for them. it's logical and they don't mind it aswell. it's actually really nice, and besides, don't act as if remus and you don't shower together!"

remus sighs, "james, sirius and i are in a relationship with eachother. aside from that, i totally agree with pads, it is weird that you take baths together. what's even weirder is you touching while being in said bath!"

"you guys just don't have the connection that my dove and i have. it's okay though, don't be sad about it! maybe one day you'll reach the same trust we have in each other.", james throws a towel over one shoulder and picks out a shirt for you to wear, and matching pants, so everyone you come across in the halls knows about your superior friendship (and that you're his, but he wouldn't admit that to anyone, not even under torture).

"i'm going to the bath, padfoot don't eat anything on my bed, my dove complained about the crumbs last time, and i promised them to change that! they're sleeping with me today. bye bye!"

he closes the door before any of them can say anything and runs to the bathroom as fast as he can.

-

as soon as he arrives in the prefect bathroom, he already sees you taking off your clothes.

while you are struggling with unzipping your pants, he comes up behind you and grabs your waist, pulling you into an embrace. your naked back against his broad chest sends electric shocks down his body and he shivers against you and presses your body closer to his.

"jamie, can you help me with my zipper? it isn't moving any further and i can't get out of my pants like that."

james would do anything for you, if you never stopped looking at him with those puppy-eyes, "of course, sweetheart. stay still."

he moves his hand away for a moment to turn your body facing his. while his one hand moves towards your zipper, the other one steadying your body by holding your hip, he grins at you and you smile back up at him.

he tugs a few times, but the pants don't budge. you notice his forehead getting sweatier, so you suggest to "take off your shirt jamie, it's to hot in here for you to be wearing it!" while tugging it up his back a little.

he pulls it off and throws it to the side, giving you a grin, "if you wanted me naked, darling, you just had to ask."

you scrunch your brows together, "if i wanted you naked, you would already be.". he snorts, and keeps tugging at your jeans.

suddenly an idea blossoms in his head. what if your zipper got stuck on something from the inside of your pants. so, of course, he sticks his hand down your pants to find a little string, connected to your underwear, being held hostage by said zipper.

"darling, you just have to pull your trousers down together with your panties. see, just like that..", he slowly eases your trousers over your butt, enjoying the feeling of your body under his hands.

you shiver against him and moan out," thank you, jamie. i should've thought about that." you blush and hide your head in his chest.

"don't worry about it, my love. i'm happy to help you as much as you need.", he smiles down at you, while you start tugging down his zipper to take of his trousers.

as soon as they fall to the floor, james picks you up by your waist and throws you into the water.

" james, you idiot!!", you scream at him while trying to splash him with the water. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry angel! i'll jump in okay? will that make you happy?"

-

"they are definitely fucking, i'm telling you!"

"sirius, calm down! what if they hear you, huh?"

"oh come on remus, they wear matching pajamas and use silencing charms every single time they have a 'sleepover', they won't hear a thing, trust me!"

"you're right, love, but still."

"wormy, what do you think?"

"i think they're both idiots, who really don't get why it's so weird."

please tell me if i need to change something, or if you have some tips on getting better. i hope you enjoyed it :))

[yunwangja]

undercurrents | signal no. 17

masterlist

"i’m alisa. i was kuroo’s partner for his project."

you freeze. this is her. the girl from the date. your heart sinks as you picture them together, imagining all the worst possibilities.

did he leave his phone? why was she the one who picked up the call? is he still there? your mind begins to spiral, creating scenarios you can't control, each more painful than the last.

"oh," you manage to say, struggling to keep your voice steady. your throat feels tight, and your words come out slower than usual. "can i ask for kuroo?"

"uh, actually, kuroo left his phone here with me," she replies, "it’s a good thing you called - i couldn't open his phone on my own because it's password protected. i was thinking how to get it back to him. im at my place right now."

her place. your thoughts race, filling in the blanks with every worst-case scenario.

what does this mean? what the hell is happening? and what happened before this? and how could kuroo possibly accidentally leave his phone with her? the more you think about it, the harder it becomes to breathe.

"i can let his friends know," you force out, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. "they can come get it from you."

alisa agrees without hesitation, without ending the call, you quickly message the others, your fingers trembling slightly as you type.

after alisa says yes to the arrangement, you both settle to the conclusion that she'll call you back when she's arrived at the campus lobby where bo would be meeting her.

you sit in silence after the call ends, staring at your phone, thoughts swirling in your head. the quiet of your room seems louder now, every second stretching longer than it should.

where is kuroo right now? since she picked up the call at her place, was kuroo there before he left his phone? if they did, what did they do? does this mean he was that interested in her?

you try to shake off the uneasy thoughts, but they linger. you tell yourself not to jump to conclusions, but that’s easier said than done. your mind can’t help but imagine things of what might’ve happened after their date. it’s a battle between rationality and your emotions, and right now, the latter is winning.

then, your phone vibrates, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. kuroo's name appear on the caller id, and you assume it's alisa calling back, just as she promised.

“hello?” you answer, your voice a bit shaky but still composed.

“hey, i’m in the campus lobby,” alisa says. “bokuto isn’t here yet, but i’m sure he’ll be along soon.”

“thanks for letting me know.”

the silence stretches for a moment. it feels awkward, hanging between the two of you, and you can’t help but feel like you should say something - anything - to fill the void.

you fidget with your fingers, unsure of what to talk about. after all, you barely know this girl, and under any other circumstances, you wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.

alisa breaks the silence first. “so... are you and kuroo close?”

her question catches you off guard. “uh, yeah, i guess you could say that. we’ve known each other for a while.”

“that’s nice!" alisa replies, her tone friendly. “he’s been super focused on this project. it’s kept him really busy, huh?”

you nod again, though the weight of her words makes your chest feel tight. “yeah, he’s been juggling a lot.”

the conversation stalls again, leaving you with your thoughts. you’ve known kuroo’s been busy, but hearing it from her, someone who's been spending that time with him, feels like a punch in the gut. you hesitate before asking, “where is he, by the way?”

“oh, he didn’t say,” alisa responds casually. “he just told me he had to go and left. i noticed his phone when he was gone already, and i was going to chase after him but it was too late...”

you thought nothing suspicious about her answer, but nothing that assured you that nothing happened between them. the quiet between you both stretches again, heavy and uncomfortable, and you find yourself scrambling for something else - anything - to fill the silence.

“how’s the project been for you guys?” you ask, trying to make small talk.

“oh, it went really well!” she says brightly. “we worked hard, but it all paid off. i think kuroo was really happy with how it turned out.”

you try to smile at her words, but your curiosity is eating away at you. you feel the urge to ask more, even though a part of you is scared of what the answers might be.

your thoughts drift back to earlier, to the idea of them spending time together after their date, and your stomach knots with unease. but you have to know, even if the answer hurts.

desperate to distract yourself from the silence and your spiraling thoughts, you finally blurt out, “so... did you guys have a good time?”

it feels like a casual question, but the weight behind it is unmistakable to you.

alisa chuckles softly, "oh, it was nice. he’s really sweet, isn’t he?"

you force a smile, even though she can’t see it. the words feel like a punch to the gut, as if someone else is confirming how amazing kuroo is. "yeah, he is."

there’s a brief pause, and the silence returns uncomfortably. your mind is racing as you struggle to keep the conversation going.

"i’m glad you were with him while he was so busy. as i said earlier, he seems to take on a lot by himself." you say, trying to fill the void, but the words come out weaker than you intended.

"he really does," alisa agrees, her voice light, as if she’s completely unaware of the storm raging inside you. "we ended up spending a lot of time together because of it. it’s been fun. and he really knows how to make you feel at ease, doesn’t he?"

the words twist in your gut, and you have to bite your lip to keep from letting out a sound of distress. you know exactly what she means. you’ve felt it too; the way kuroo can make you feel seen and heard.

and now, to hear someone else describe it, to know that she experienced it too, feels like a betrayal, even though you know it’s not.

"yeah," you manage to say. "he’s always been good at that."

the conversation drags on, each passing moment feeling like a slow unraveling of everything you thought you knew. your heart sinks deeper, weighed down by the uncertainty, the fear that maybe you’re too late. the realization that someone else has shared in those moments with him, that she knows things about him you might never know, is almost too much to bear.

"i’m happy you guys enjoyed your date," you say, trying to sound normal, but there’s a slight tremor in your voice.

alisa laughs again, this time with more amusement. "he told you it was a date too, huh?"

you blink, caught off guard by her response. "wasn’t it?"

"no, not really," alisa explains, her tone light as if it’s no big deal. "i just asked him out to coffee because of the success of our project, nothing more. he thought it was a date until he thanked me and mentioned it. so i cleared things up."

you don’t know what to say, the relief washing over you in waves, but mingling with confusion. before you can ask what happened after, alisa interrupts.

"oh, bokuto’s here," she says, her tone signaling the end of the conversation. "i’ll give him the phone. thanks a lot,"

"okay," you reply, still dazed, your mind racing with all the things you didn’t get to say or ask. bo takes the phone and tells you everything’s good, but his words barely register. you nod, barely listening, too caught up in your own thoughts.

you’re left with a thousand questions, but no answers. you want to know more, to ask her what happened next, but you guess you won’t get to know anymore.

did they talk about you? was kuroo relieved when she clarified it wasn’t a date, or was he disappointed? the uncertainty gnaws at you, leaving you with nothing but doubts.

all of a sudden, there’s a knock on your bedroom door. your heart jumps into your throat. you hesitate, then get up to answer it. you bid bo goodbye on the other line and end the call as you approach closer.

maybe it was one of your roommates checking up on your or asking for an update about what has happened. you wondered who it might be as you opened the door.

and there he was.

kuroo, breathless and panting, his hair slightly disheveled as if he ran the whole way. his eyes lock onto yours, wide with urgency.

"kuroo," you begin, confused. "what are you doing-"

"i want you, y/n."

notes

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

next signal will be LOADED also bc we will see kuroo's pov !!

idk if this was a long update or not (than usual) but yeah

i had to edit this a lot of times bc i had to make sure that everything would be laid out well

taglist: @lvtilzs @rarararararq @iamfontenlos @kurooswifeyy @secretsunsetsociety @kagsnumnine @yumiecheesecrackers @tojirin @jaynawayna @noxva08 @zahrawr-writes-fanfics @mawenskiblue @smellysluna @cccccccccccleo @winniethepooh-lover @akirqx @cupidsblonde @kukkurookkoo@emotiandon @urslytherin

[adoresia]

— Cold Truths

⋆.˚ CHARACTERS : Megumi and Toji Fushiguro

⋆.˚ SYNOPSIS : In which Toji opens up about how he got the scar on his lip

⋆.˚ WARNINGS : none

⋆.˚ SIERRA SPEAKS : first jjk fic kinda scarttt😣 this was requested by a new friend of mine!! 😋😋 (everybody clap for @mistymuimui ) anyways i got kinda lazy towards the end so i might change the ending a bit later but, HERE YOU GO!!,

“HA, beat you again. You know what that means, right?”

Toji exclaimed proudly before leaning back onto the couch with the smuggest look on his face, still playing around with the toothpick in his mouth from dinner previously. Both he and Megumi had been abusing the new console ever since Toji got it for Megumi’s recent birthday, although it seems Toji got it for himself considering he used it more than Megumi did.

This particular evening both the boys had been going for rounds on rounds playing a PVP game together. But you know Toji HAD to make a bet for whoever wins.

“Whatever, you cheated so it’s not fair.” Megumi protested. This was the 5th time this week he was on dish duty for losing against his father.

“Not my fault you’re so bad at it, get better.” Toji said while he relaxed his head back on both his arms, “Your hands are gonna grow wrinkles from washing these plates so much.” He laughed, although Megumi wasn’t all that amused.

“You say that every time but the bet is always whoever wins has to wash the dishes, it’s like you want my hands to grow wrinkles.” With his hands spread out in front of him, he looked at what essentially everyday dishwashing was doing to him cursed under his breath. His eyebrows unconsciously furrowed in protest.

“Like I said kid, get better.” Toji yawned the last part tiredly as he closed his eyes in victory, glad that he made it another day not having to wash any dishes.

Megumi just shook his head in annoyance, honestly how did it get to this point? Toji was such a kid he took back Megumi’s birthday present without actually saying it. Although Megumi wasn’t that annoyed, at least he got to spend time with his dad after all this time of not having him around. As he pondered this he recognised, that there wasn’t that much he knew about Toji. Only the fact that he was once part of the Zenin clan but escaped, barely… Megumi didn’t care, not until now at least.

“Your scar, why do you have it.” He questioned out of the blue.

“What? This isn’t gonna get you out of doing the dishes by the way.” Toji’s eyes blinked open from his light nap in confusion.

“Well that would’ve been a good idea but if I don’t do them unfortunately nobody won’t.”

Toji laughed at his response “You just called me lazy. No play station for you anymore.”

“You use it more than me? Can you just answer my question?”

“I was thrown into a pit with cursed spirits, fought them all and got this scar. They didn’t expect me to survive that but I did and now I got something cool to remember it by, wanna take a closer look?” He pointed at his scar, unphased by how serious the situation was.

“Why?”

“Why what, you ask too many questions ‘gum. I just answered you.” He waved off his other question and got comfortable on the couch again.

“Well, okay then,” Megumi answered, stacking the plates on top of each other while carrying them to the kitchen.

While Toji ‘rested his eyes’ as his head fell back onto the couch. Unwanted memories filled the void of his mind. Recollections from the past about the Zenin clan and their treatment of him as a child led to his current situation. The reason he could no longer continue to live while carrying the burden of the zen in name plastered to him. The reason he took Megumi’s mother’s last name. Fushiguro. The reason he had a constant reminder of his childhood every time he looked into a mirror, or a camera, or the photo of him and Megumi which sat on the Lock Screen of his phone.

All of these reminders manipulated him into not bringing any of his past up to Megumi, of all people. He didn’t want his son to think any less of him because he was treated so weakly as a child. That didn’t matter to him, the only concern he had was his future. But if Megumi had questions about his past, not answering them made him look even weaker.

Toji’s eyes had been glued on the ceiling for a while now, thoughts still lingering while time was ticking. He wasn’t aware of how much time he had spent sitting in all these memories of his past, and the sun was sinking as it lowered. The sky, was ablaze, with the fire of the setting sun.

During the time Toji drifted and circled in his ruminant flashbacks, Megumi had already cleared the dining table, cleaned all the dishes (against his own will), fed his dogs and was already in bed.

Toji grumbled in fatigue, pushing himself off the couch, and stretching his muscles into a more comfortable position as he stood up. After sitting all day and playing on Megumi’s console his whole body was sore, and seemed to have moulded into his sitting position. Simultaneously, he jaunted drowsily to his room, not before involuntarily stopping at the open doorway of Megumi’s bedroom.

Megumi played lazily across his bed in the company of his divine dogs beside him, with whatever book he was reading in his left hand while he used to other to soothingly pet his dogs.

“Why are you still here?” Megumi had noticed his dad staring at him for the last 2 minutes but eventually, it started to creep him out, because the lights in his room were off and Toji looked like a heavily muscular cursed spirit standing in the doorway.

“Why are you so rude I’m litterallyour dad.”

“I’m waiting for you to explain why you’ve been standing there staring at me for so long.”

Megumi was met with silence, Toji leaned on the doorway staring at the ground while scratching the back of his head trying to find an answer somewhere in his mind.

“Hello…”

“The zenin, pushed me into the pit” He blurted out.

“They didn’t like me much, thought less of me cause I had no cursed energy so I guess they didn’t want me ruining their reputation or whatever.” He yawned out.

It took a while for Megumi to process what he had just said and so the aroma of the room was quiet for a bit. Toji’s mind turmoiled into possible reactions from Megumi.

“Okay, thanks for answering my question.” Megumi returned before going back to reading his book.

“Why are you acting so nonchalant, you were the one who was so curious.” Toji questioned, was his awsome story not that interesting to Megumi?

“Yeah but I got my answer now so thanks I guess.”

“Wow that’s it? You don’t think I’m weak for letting them basically bully me?” Toji asked, questioning if maybe he put it off for so long for no reason at all.

“No? You were a kid. Aren’t all kids weak?” Megumi said still following the lines in his book.

“Nah not me, otherwise I would’ve been dead ages ago but here I am! With a cool scare on my lip. Do you think it’s cool?”

“If you say so”

“Just admit it ‘gum.” Toji walked away from the door towards Megumi attacking him with fake punches, messing up his hair with his fist.

He was glad that Megumi didn’t care as much about his past, however it did feel nice to finally share some of what happened to him as a kid.

“Okay okay fine it’s cool or whatever.” Megumi admitted, playfullytrying to fight off his dad secretly loving the time they got to spend together.

“Thank you for sharing it with me though, I was close to finding you a therapist” Megumi admitted jokingly.

“A therapist? The hell do I need a therapist for?” He argued.

“You were sat on the sofa with the meanest mug on your face, I know you were thinking about what I asked you.” Megumi admitted.

Toji grew embarrassed, he had not realised how wrapped up in his thoughts he had been. So much so that Megumi knew why he was so tense.

“Don’t watch me like that again. Let’s play another round of that game. Loser washes the dishes for a month.” Toji’s heavy figure jumped off of Megumi’s bed and ran out of the room like a child before he could get an answer.

“It’s not like I have a choice.” Megumi sighed in defeat, picking himself up and walking out of his room to see his dad, controller already in hand ready to beat his ass again.

“Hurry up and grab the controller boy, it’s about to be a whole lot of washing dishes for you this month.”

[jmdbjk]

We are sure.

WARNING, SPOILERS.

I have no doubt that every now and then, especially in the beginning, at the end of a long day or when they are tasked with doing something they've never encountered... they look at each other and say ...

And it allows them to laugh it off. They said they were making memories they could look back on while doing their service. What a fantastic period of time they had to create these memories.

This ending scene of the last episode of Are You Sure? has changed the way I think about that moment of them from the Bangtan Bomb of their enlistment day.

On their enlistment day we were so sad and were convinced they were too. And they were. But at that time we had no idea the fun they had during these three fantastic trips, they ate some wonderful food, drank a lot of beer, saw sights they don't have time to see when they are traveling for promotions and performing, spent a lot of "just being" time together which is obviously something they enjoy doing.

And knowing that at the end of Jungkook's I Am Still documentary, there was a scene of him showing Jimin his shaved head... it's as close to seeing it all play out as we're ever going to get. Piece it all together and you have a clear picture of this strong connection they have with each other.

Like Hobi said in his recent Weverse letter, I hope Jimin and Jungkook have come to realize by now it will all be ok. 27 days left until Hobi is back. 8 months, 23 days until Jimin and Jungkook are back. 38 more Mondays.

And they gave us a tiny bit of hope that this isn't the end of Are You Sure.

Delulu time: They have a lot of time to scheme and plan a reboot. Planning the next trip can also help them have something to look forward to. Like Jin did, they can do a quick live at the Hybe building before jetting off to Bora Bora or Alaska to start filming the reboot of AYS. They can make it happen if they want to. It will be another ten days after their discharge before Yoongi is free too and the group can be one again. They can go away for a few days, get comfortable with cameras and civilian clothes again. Get busy, Universe! Please?

All along, Jungkook was expressing his love for these trips, his excitement for the experiences, his enthusiasm for the good food and his easy-going vibe because he's with someone who fits him so well. Jimin enjoys the vibe of being with Jungkook and enjoys watching Jungkook be immersed in everything that brings him joy. He said if we watched these episodes, this is what its like at home.

They made it clear there are no other people on earth either of them would rather be with than each other for these trips. Jungkook said it himself: these were the best trips of his life. Jimin teared up a little when it was time to head to the airport. This was a chapter closing in their lives. If it impacted them this much, they will for sure somehow try to do it again after military service.

Besides the fact the two loved creating this, the series has been ranking high in viewers which would help sway any decisions as to whether a reboot is worth the expense. Of course it is!

Questions: I guess the behind episodes will also be on Disney? Why would they be submitted for ratings if they were only going to be on BangtanTV? Or maybe they'll be on Weverse too?

With the purchase of the photo book, there is a digital code for 52 more minutes of footage. We'll begin seeing clips of that on Sept. 29 when people begin receiving their copies. Got mine! Can't wait for it to get here!

[haikyu-mp4]

Vexing

Suggestive workplace romance as an athletic trainer with your rival and secret lover Iwaizumi, for my workplace romance event <3

requested by anonymous. word count; 721 – gn!reader

Everyone wants Iwaizumi Hajime (27) athletic trainer. Seemingly everyone but you.

How could you like someone who competed with you constantly while you both studied in California, only to end up in the same line of work but for the opposing team?

As you headed to the Olympic Village gym with some of your volleyball players, you passed by the Japanese team on their way out. You recognised some of them, like Bokuto, whose eyes widened as he looked between you and Iwaizumi, who squinted in your direction like you had spit in his protein shake that morning.

None of them knew why the two of you always had such tension, but they didn’t dare question it further at the risk of getting penalty rounds during training.

You made a face, facing forward and clutching the training file you held closer to your chest. When he passed, you did your hardest not to turn around and check him out, hoping he might turn around for you and find you completely disinterested.

As if you couldn’t walk the road from your assigned room to his with your eyes closed.

You knocked on the door, crossing your arms and making sure that anyone who might happen to pass by would think this was an involuntary visit. In reality, the lust clouding your mind made your body shiver as you hoped he would open this door quickly.

Iwaizumi opened up and you lifted an eyebrow in response to his eyes widening. “This is not a good time-”

“Who is it, Iwa-chan?” a lighter voice said from inside his room before one of your team’s players, Oikawa Tooru, came up behind his best friend. “Oh, hi! I didn’t think I had training tonight.”

While the man you were actually here to see seemed to stay quiet in the face of potentially revealing the only secret he kept from Oikawa, you tilted your head and smiled evilly.

“Didn’t you know me and Iwa-chan studied together? I’m here to compare notes.”

You leaned on the table, Oikawa yapping away across from where you sat next to Iwaizumi, his hand not so innocently placed on your leg under said table.

“I need your opinion on something. Kawa, get up,” you requested, walking around the table to the setter and turning him around. “For his jump serves I wanted to work here, but I’ve been so careful of his bad knee-”

Your hand stroked down the back of Oikawa’s thigh, already knowing the athlete didn’t mind from working together the last couple of months. However, your eyes were set on Iwaizumi.

Skilled in acting quite indifferent, you watched the man for any reactions. Both of you knew the name of that muscle very well, there was no need to demonstrate. Yet here you were, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, Oikawa smirked over his shoulder as if Iwaizumi hadn’t felt your touch before.

He cleared his throat, making you smirk in victory. “I used to help him with that, could send you some notes later.” He looked down again to spare you his attention and waited for you to sit down before explaining how he would approach it.

“You two sure seem close.” Your back was pressed against the bed after Oikawa left, your rival all over you and your shirt somewhere on the floor. Oikawa hurried out after one of the Japanese players asked him to join some party, but you had a sneaking suspicion Iwa had a hand in that request.

“I’m close with all my players. A trust-based relationship with your clients will make your programs more effective, and-” Iwa finally had enough of your attitude, holding his hand over your mouth and tucking his face into your neck, planting lustful kisses that might still be visible by morning.

“You’re such a nerd.”

“You wrote that part,” you argued after prying his hand off your face, only to suck his thumb into your mouth and circle it with your tongue.

Iwa straightened up to look at you with bated breath. “You vex me.”

“Take your clothes off and prove it.”

“You know the drill,” he said with that annoyingly attractive smile, already getting his pants off while you scooted over to adjust the lights.

“Whoever taps out first loses. May the best athletic trainer win.”

masterlist

for the requester: thank you soo much for your kind words! I can't believe I'm your favourite, that's such high praise<33 I hope this was okay!!

[propertyofemilyprentiss]

Soft skin and soft lips

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x non-bau fem!reader

Category: Fluff

Summary: Emily coming home from a case late at night, finding your stubborn form still awake (but not for long).

TWs: none

A/N: wrote this last week to cure my writer’s block (safe to say it did wonders). anyway! here’s my first fluff fic. enjoy <3

Word count: 1.5K

The sound of keys rustling into the door got you out from the half-asleep daydreaming state you were in after eliminating every possible distraction from boredom you had - a random TV show, scrolling endlessly on your phone, even cleaning the apartment. Normally, you would’ve gone to bed by now, but it was a Friday night and your girlfriend was coming home from a case, and you knew she would be exhausted after six days of tracking down another criminal. The least you could do is be awake when she gets home, though she always insisted that you didn’t need to do that.

But one thing was for sure - your stubbornness could almost compete with hers.

So here you were at almost one-thirty in the morning on your couch with a blanket over your legs, waiting for that magical sound. And as soon as you heard it, it felt like you’ve slept all day - you were wide awake, with a stupid smile on your face as you got up and went to greet Emily.

’’Hey, you”, came along with a long embrace as soon as she closed the front door behind her. 

You immediately noticed the corner of her lips moving upwards, her exhaustion temporarily fading when she got you back in her arms.

”Hey, I thought you'd be asleep by now”, she murmured, not really letting go, but pulling back enough to look at your face. That beautiful face of yours, those eyes that always made her heart skip a beat because of the look of pure adoration that engulfed them every time you saw her.

”And miss the opportunity of going to bed with my girlfriend tonight?”

The way you say that word, the way it lingers perfectly from the tip of your tongue, it’s almost embarrassing how you perfectly know how to tease her - she still gets flutters from it. She’s already sure by now that she will never get tired of hearing it, always making her feel like a lovesick teenager instead of a very capable FBI agent, for God’s sake.

”I missed you”, she whispers, her voice hinting the vulnerability she was feeling in that moment.

And that’s when you knew - the case was a lot tougher than usual. You didn’t need to ask questions, didn’t need any profiling skills to read the look in her eyes - the love, the worry, the exhaustion, the relief of your presence. It was all there.

That’s why you’ve always loved her eyes.

You smile affectionately, cupping her cheeks and planting a kiss on her forehead. And then you felt the urge to do more, continuing your kisses on both her soft cheeks to the tip of her nose, your own heart fluttering in your chest when she scrunched it adorably in response.

“I missed you too, love. Now how about a nice cup of tea while you go change, hm?”

Emily nods reluctantly, hating the thought of letting go of you in this perfect moment, but she knows that she can’t stay glued to you forever - though she would happily do it if she could. So the next best thing was a hot shower and a fresh pair of pajamas, knowing that you were waiting for her in the bedroom afterwards.

Her hands linger on your back for a moment before she forces herself to move away, but not before stealing a kiss, her lips tender against yours. 

“You missed that spot”, she teasingly whispered before heading towards the bathroom.

You couldn’t help the silly grin that emerged on your face, the flutters in your heart only increasing with her gesture. The way her lips are perfection, always in unison when they meet yours, the way she slightly squeezes her hands on your sides in a comforting way, the way her breath feels against your face-

‘God, get a grip on yourself’, you shook your head as you made your way to the kitchen, trying to do the impossible task of not falling in love even more as you made that cup of tea.

Searching through the top cabinet, you grabbed the only box there was, analyzing it for a moment. Berries, raspberries, strawberries - this should do it. You got one tea bag out, moving automatically around the kitchen with a comfortable familiarity as you gathered the rest of the supplies needed. And as you were waiting for the water to warm up, you inspected the mug with another stupid smile tugging at your lips.

“I ❤ my girlfriend” , was written with black font on a white background - you and Emily got a matching set after Garcia subtly suggested it at a girls’ night, rambling non-stop about how adorable it would be. And though you never thought you were that type of person, the idea immediately grew on you once you spotted Emily’s proud grin as she looked at you the whole time Penelope was talking.

Needless to say, those mugs were the most used ones in your apartment at the moment.

Fifteen minutes later, you were sitting on your side of the bed, Emily’s mug waiting patiently for her on the nightstand while you were not so patiently waiting for her to come out of the bathroom. You leaned against the headboard and sipped from your own matching mug, but soon put it back down when you felt your eyelids grow heavy. This was not the moment to fall asleep.

But maybe five minutes wouldn’t hurt, right? You will definitely hear when she gets out, or when she joins you in bed. So you closed your eyes and melted back down on the soft mattress, sighing tiredly before unconsciously succumbing to sleep in record time.

—

Emily was humming a gentle melody as she got out of the bathroom, feeling much more refreshed and excited to see you again. She was already dreaming of that cup of tea and the thought of finally sleeping in the same bed as you instead of an uncomfortable hotel room without your presence.

”Dar-“, she stopped talking as soon as she saw you fast asleep, adorably gripping the blanket, your hair laying messily all over the pillow. She swore her heart just melted on the spot.

Carefully, she tiptoed to her side of the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible to avoid waking you up, and picked up her mug, another smile creeping on her face as her eyes landed on the words on it. Yes, this was indeed her favorite one. 

Well, everything that included you was automatically her favorite. 

A few sips later, she placed it back down on the nightstand, turned off the lights and compensated with her nightstand lamp, and slowly got into bed, rolling on her side to gaze at your sleeping form. Then, almost subconsciously, her fingers gently started tracing all the lines and features in sight, your slightly parted lips, your cheekbones, nose and eyebrows, taking in your peaceful expression. It’s almost unfair how beautiful you look even when you’re sleeping. 

“How did I get so damn lucky?”

With an even gentler motion, she snuggles up next to you under the blanket, letting her arm loosely around your waist while she buried her face in the crook of your neck, the familiar scent of your shampoo filling her nostrils. She lets out a long sigh, leaving all the stress and tension behind with it and setting herself present in this moment. With you here next to her, in your shared apartment, feeling your skin against hers and listening to the sound of your breathing, Emily finally feels the familiar sense of comfort and contentment - finally feels at home.

And God, how she missed this - she sometimes wished she could stay like this forever.

So, even if she can already feel herself starting to drift off, she forces herself to stay awake for a few more minutes, just savoring the moment of being close to you.

”I missed you”, she repeats against your chest. “I love you so much, it sometimes becomes scary, you know? When I’m away for more than usual, I dream of you…every single night. And somehow I wake up with my heart aching more for you”, she kept rambling in a whisper, taking advantage that you can’t hear her. “It’s like it can feel your absence in every place I go without you. And now I’m home and everything feels right again. Because you are here…thank you for being here”, her voice slightly trembled at the end.

And a few minutes later, after her breathing became deep and regular, signaling her asleep state, you let the smile finally break onto your face. You were definitely going to bug her about it in the morning.

”I love you too”, you said it back with the softest voice, placing one final kiss to her temple.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Hi could I request a drabble please?

I recently found out that apparently Asra and MC shared a bed (I assume it’s because it’s implied they were together pre-plague, and they just never got another one after MC was revived) so could you maybe write something about like their nighttime routine post-resurrection/pre-relationship?

Here's your drabble friend! And if you're curious, here's my take on Pre-Prologue Asra and MC and a quick overview of my best guess at what their relationship was like. (Though of course, it's purposefully vague so each reader can decide what their MC's journey was lol)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Asra?"

"Hm?"

"Why do we share a bed?"

Your mentor pauses, the outline of their shoulders stuttering as they reach for the last candle lighting up your bedroom. You give them a moment to collect their thoughts as they silently snuff out the flame and sit at the foot of the bed.

"Would you ... rather not?"

You shrug. "I don't mind. I was just curious."

You see his silhouette heave a deep sigh against the window's block of starry sky, one hand reaching up to run through his hair as you've learned he does when he's facing a problem. His body slumps in defeat and he responds ... oddly cheerfully.

"You remember your first few days here ... you needed a caretaker. There isn't enough space for another bed, and you couldn't see me when I slept on the floor, so ... that's why." You watch the shadow of their head turn in your direction with a bittersweet chuckle that's been the soundtrack of the last few years. "I guess I never broke the habit."

"Did we share a bed before?"

"Did we -" He trails off and stands, walking slowly around the bed to his side and thoughtfully smoothing the tattered old blanket lying there, still not climbing in next to you. His voice is thick when he speaks again. "Are you sure you want to remember?"

You grimace at the thought of your recurring migraines. "No." You toss in place, uneasy at your friend's hesitance to sleep when their presence at your side is one of the most constant things in your life. "I was just curious if ... you remember."

He responds with an airy laugh and climbs into bed, tone light and carefree. "Even if I didn't, would it matter?" With your eyes adjusting to the light, you're able to see the relieved smile on his face and the genuine joy in his eyes. "We're both here now, aren't we? These memories are a gift ... and we're still here, with more to make."

You barely catch the way they whip their old blanket under their pillow, one colorful faded corner left out to tuck under their chin. You'd asked who the baby was that it belonged to once, and don't remember getting an answer. Speaking of questions and answers -

"Aren't people who share beds usually lovers?"

His eyebrows shoot up in awkward surprise. "Yes ... yes, they are."

"But we aren't."

"No, we're not." A firm confirmation with a studied poker face - this isn't something they're up to talk about right now.

You think to the lonely moments in the shop when he's away on a trip, the sight of couples walking by outside with linked hands, the one time an attractive tourist paid you with a wink and left you with an unexpected blush. "Do you think ..." you mumble softly into the dark room, "do you think I could ever have a lover?"

They smile so gently your pillow feels softer. "I'm sure you will, if you want one."

"And if I do?"

He burrows deeper into his pillow, fingers tightening around the old baby blanket. "When you find one ... I'll be right there, celebrating your happiness."

[strayrockette]

My Sunshine Girl: A Healing Home

Masterlist❤️Previous Part

Summary: Having Benny around changes things for the better.

Themes: Family drama, underlying grief, and finding comfort in your favorite person

A/n: I didn't realize I was writing in first person and by the time I noticed I was already too deep in the process 🤷‍♀️LMK if you wanna be part of a taglist for this series, or for all my works!!

The weeks following the fight at the bar were a blur of quiet days and slow healing. Benny had told me to stay home until the bruises and scrapes faded, though he never really explained why I needed to lay low or how he planned to smooth things over with the cops. I didn’t press him on it. I trusted him enough to just listen, even if the silence that came with being cooped up sometimes felt too heavy to bear.

I called my uncle to let him know I was taking a few weeks off, spinning some story about needing to clear out the attic and sort through old boxes that had been collecting dust since my childhood. It wasn’t a lie, exactly; the attic had been long overdue for a cleanout. But what I hadn’t expected was how many old memories would come flooding back during those quiet weeks at home.

Some days, the house felt haunted by the past—pictures of my mom tucked away in forgotten corners, trinkets from a time when life felt simpler. I’d find my old pookie bear, the one my ma had made me, and all at once, the grief would hit me hard, like no time had passed at all. I’d crumble under the weight of it, tears streaming down my face, and Benny would be right there, no questions asked. He didn’t pry when I broke down, didn’t push for explanations. He just wrapped his arms around me, letting me cry it out until the storm passed.

He was my buffer, my anchor, the one constant in a sea of emotions I wasn’t always prepared to deal with. And even on the hardest days, he made it easier just by being there.

But it wasn’t all sadness. Sometimes, between the dusting and sorting, we’d stumble onto something that would break the tension and remind me that joy still had a place in this old house. Like the day Benny found my middle school diary—tucked away in a box of yearbooks and scribbled notes, full of awkward confessions and childhood crushes. I was mortified, scrambling to snatch it out of his hands as he held it above his head, flipping through the pages with a devilish grin.

“Number one: Mr. O’Connell, your eighth-grade math teacher? Really?” Benny read aloud, his tone dripping with mock horror as I jumped, trying and failing to grab the diary back.

“Oh my god, Benny, stop!” I begged, my face burning as I reached up, but he just laughed, lifting the diary higher, making a game out of it.

“You had a thing for math, huh? Or just guys with glasses?”

I groaned, mortified but unable to keep the smile off my face. “Give it back! I swear, I’ll—”

Benny kept reading, amused at my futile attempts. I shoved a nearby box over, using it as a makeshift step stool, only for it to collapse under me, sending me tumbling to the floor. The crash echoed through the attic, and for a second, everything went silent before Benny’s laughter broke the tension, deep and infectious.

I looked up, sprawled on the floor, and started laughing too, the kind of uncontrollable, belly-aching laughter that leaves you breathless and teary-eyed for all the right reasons. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed like that in this house.

We spent the rest of the day making new memories, each corner of the attic becoming less about the past and more about the here and now. Benny helped me pack away the old pain and fill the empty spaces with something lighter, something new. The house felt different by the end of those weeks, less like a museum of all the hurt I’d carried and more like a home that was ours.

Every time I looked at a corner that used to be filled with sadness, I felt gratitude instead—a quiet, blooming joy that wrapped itself around my heart. I wasn’t forgetting my mom or the pain we’d both gone through, but I was finding a way to make room for happiness too.

The midday sun streamed through the kitchen window, casting warm, golden light across the countertops as I moved around the stove. The smell of homemade tomato soup filled the air, mingling with the buttery aroma of the grilled cheese I was making for lunch. I knew Benny was supposed to be out the door over an hour ago, but here he was, his arms snug around my waist and his head resting comfortably on my shoulder. I could feel the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing against my back, his presence grounding me in a way that made the entire world feel right.

“Weren’t you supposed to leave an hour ago?” I whispered with a giggle as he kissed the sensitive spot on my neck, his lips lingering just long enough to make my skin tingle.

Benny hummed, his voice low and lazy, full of that warmth that always sent shivers down my spine. “You’re holding me hostage,” he murmured, nuzzling into my neck like he had all the time in the world.

I scoffed, flipping the sandwich in the pan, the bread sizzling as it turned a perfect golden brown. “I hope that’s not what you’re tellin’ the boys,” I teased, trying to keep the smile off my face as his kisses grew more persistent, more playful.

“They’d believe it,” he said, his lips brushing against my skin as he grinned. “You were a sight of fear for them that night.”

I nudged him gently, still caught off guard by the way he made me feel so seen, so known. “No way they fear me,” I said, laughing at the absurdity of it. The idea of those big, greasy, tattooed men being scared of someone like me was ridiculous. I was a lot of things, but intimidating wasn’t one of them—not to them, at least.

Benny chuckled softly, his voice a warm rumble that I felt all the way to my bones. “You were a force,” he said, and I could hear the pride mixed with amusement in his tone. “Five women tried to pull you off, and you broke through them—teeth, nails, and limbs flying everywhere. Like a little monkey.”

I gasped, feigning offense as I pushed him back playfully, though his hold on me didn’t loosen. “Rude!” I scolded, my cheeks warming as I turned the sandwich again, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the way his words made my heart race.

Benny laughed, the sound deep and peaceful, wrapping around me like a favorite song. “I never want to think about that night ever again,” I sighed, shaking my head at the memory. I’d gone to the bar looking for some fun, but it had turned into anything but that. “Eat your grilled cheese and leave me alone, Benny Cross. You’ve made enough rude comments for one day.”

He dipped lower, his lips brushing my cheek, then my jaw, peppering soft kisses along my skin until I was practically squirming from the attention. “I’m waiting,” he murmured, his voice smooth as honey, and I knew he was enjoying every second of this.

“Your plate was already made,” I said, my tone dripping with disbelief as I tried to keep my composure. I pointed to the counter where his sandwich and soup were sitting, perfectly plated and ready to eat. “Right there.”

“For you,” he whispered against my ear, his hands roaming my sides in a slow, soft caress that sent jolts of pleasure through me. He was relentless, every touch deliberate, every kiss a gentle tease that made it hard to think straight.

I bit down on the wave of heat that spread through me, refusing to give in completely. “If I hear someone make a comment about me keepin’ you hostage the next time I’m at the bar, I swear I’m chucking an 8-ball at ‘em,” I warned, trying to sound stern, but my voice came out breathless, betraying the effect he had on me.

Benny grinned, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “Let ‘em talk, Sunshine. You’ve got nothing to prove.” His hands continued their slow exploration, skimming over my hips and up my back, a mix of comfort and desire that made my knees weak. “Besides, I like being held hostage by you.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and free, bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me. “Yeah, well, you better behave,” I said, turning just enough to look at him, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or I might just let you go.”

He pulled me closer, his grip firm but tender, holding me in place as he looked down at me with that lazy, cocky smile I’d grown to love. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried,” he said, his voice low and rough, filled with something deeper than just teasing. “I’m right where I wanna be.”

I leaned into him, letting the warmth of his body and the comfort of his words wrap around me like a blanket. His stubble tickled along my neck with each kiss he placed. I shivered and inched away from him with a giggle, "At least let me finish plating my dish."

He grumbled as he stepped away, grabbed his plate, and moved to sit at the table. I glanced over my shoulder and found him staring intently at me, his eyes dark and.. "Oh my gosh, Benny, are you pouting??" I squealed, "I'm so telling-"

My teasing quietened as a rapid knock broke our moment. The knock wasn’t just loud—it was aggressive, rattling the walls with an urgency that made my heart jump. Benny stood up from the table, his easy smile fading as the tension in the air thickened. I watched as he walked to the door, his shoulders squared and ready for whatever trouble was waiting on the other side. I barely heard the door open before a booming voice echoed,

“Where is she?”

Uncle Harold boomed, his voice filling every corner of the room. Benny instantly stepped in front of him, his stance protective and his jaw clenched tight. I could feel the anger radiating off Harold in waves, each word landing like a blow.

“You need to back off, Harold,” Benny said, his voice edged with warning as he kept his body between me and my uncle. “You can’t just come in here like this.”

But Harold was past listening. He shoved Benny aside, his eyes searching the room until they found me, just as I stepped around the corner from the kitchen. I froze, the intensity of his glare pinning me in place. Benny quickly moved to close the door behind Aunt Gina and stepped in front of me, blocking my uncle’s line of sight. His broad back was a shield between me and the onslaught of Harold’s rage.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice shaky but defiant. I tried to look around Benny, but he held his ground, his presence a firm line of defense.

Harold’s face was twisted with anger, his fists clenched as he pointed at me. “You’ve got this boy living in your mama’s house!” he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. “And I’ve got Old Man Harry telling me you’ve got a bunch of Vandals vouching that you weren’t in a fight when six women described you in detail!”

The words hit like a slap, the sheer force of his anger pressing down on me, but as his accusations rang out, something inside me snapped.

Benny glanced back at me, his eyes searching mine, but he didn’t move from his spot in front of me. He was there, steady and unflinching, even as the storm raged on. “Harold, you need to calm down,” Benny said, his voice low and tense. “She doesn’t need this from you.”

I stepped around Benny, frustration boiling over. “DO YOU EVEN HEAR YOURSELF RIGHT NOW?” I yelled, my voice trembling with fury and years of bottled-up hurt. “You used to be a biker too! You still have your bike! You know what that life is like!”

“That’s different,” Uncle Harold snapped, his anger flaring again as he tried to reel himself back, but I wasn’t about to let him off that easy.

“No, it’s not!” I shot back, my voice breaking. “When you met Aunt Gigi, you’d just gotten out of jail! She still gave you a chance. She saw something in you that no one else did. How is it any different for me and Benny?”

Harold’s face tightened, his anger battling with the guilt that flickered briefly in his eyes. “It’s different because your mama made me promise,” he said, his voice straining, shaking with unspoken grief. “She made me promise that I’d protect you. I gave her my word that I’d be the father you needed.”

Pain gripped my chest, sharp and unforgiving. My throat tightened as I tried to hold back the emotions that threatened to swallow me whole. “Don’t bring her into this!” I shouted, my voice cracking under the weight of it all. The mention of my mom felt like a knife, twisting deep. The hurt was suffocating, choking me with memories of promises I never asked for.

Harold’s face contorted with pain and fury, his voice shaking as he continued. “You’re running around with this boy, getting into trouble, doing things you shouldn’t. You aren’t the little girl we raised.”

I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady myself, but the grief and anger were a tidal wave, pulling me under. I tried to step around Benny, desperate to confront my uncle face-to-face, but Benny’s arm shot out, his hand gently tucking me behind him. His body was a shield, protecting me even when I was ready to charge headfirst into the fire.

“Harold, enough,” Benny said, his voice like steel, unyielding and protective. “You don’t get to judge her. You don’t get to make her feel small.”

I peeked around Benny, the tears burning in my eyes as I stared at my uncle. “You never knew me,” I said, my voice cracking with the raw truth I’d kept buried for years. “Because the little girl you raised was broken, scared and angry. You never saw that, did you? You never saw how hard it was to keep it together, how much I was hurting.”

The room was thick with tension, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken pain. Aunt Gina stepped closer, her face etched with sadness as she watched me unravel. “Sunny, we’re just trying to help,” she said softly, her voice a calm presence amidst the chaos. “We love you. We don’t want to see you get hurt.”

But I was too far gone, too tangled up in my own grief and anger to let the words soothe me. “I know you love me,” I said, my voice trembling as I fought to keep control. “But you don’t get to decide what’s best for me anymore. You don’t get to come in here and throw around all your guilt and promises like they’re weapons.”

Harold’s face fell, the anger draining away, leaving only the hollow ache of regret. His shoulders sagged, and for the first time, he looked at me not with fury, but with a kind of desperate sorrow. “I’m scared, Sunny,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared I’m failing her. Failing you. I don’t want to lose you.”

The admission hit me harder than any of his accusations. I could see the guilt and fear that mirrored my own, the weight of promises made in grief and love and uncertainty. But this wasn’t just about him, and it wasn’t about my mom. It was about me.

I took a shaky step forward, Benny’s hand still resting on my shoulder, grounding me. “You’re not failing me,” I said, my voice softening as the anger ebbed away, replaced by something gentler. “But you’ve got to let me live. You’ve got to trust me to make my own choices, even if they’re messy.”

Aunt Gina reached out, squeezing Harold’s arm, her touch a quiet anchor pulling him back. She looked at me, her eyes filled with a sadness that was heavy and old, and nodded slowly. “We just want you to be happy,” she said, her voice choked with the weight of everything left unsaid.

“I am happy,” I whispered, looking up at Benny, who watched me with those steady eyes that had been my rock through it all. “Because I’m finally living for me.”

Uncle Harolds expression softened, the lines of his face deepening as he looked at me, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own failures. “Forgive me,” he murmured, his voice breaking with raw vulnerability. It wasn’t just an apology for tonight, but for everything—for every time he’d let his anger and grief overshadow his love for me.

Harold bowed his head, the pain etched deep into his features, and without another word, he turned away, his broad, hulking figure seeming smaller, more fragile as he walked toward the door. He moved slowly, like he was dragging the weight of the world behind him, every step heavy with the sorrow of a man who’d tried to do right but hadn’t always known how.

Aunt Gina lingered for a moment, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and quiet reassurance. She reached out, squeezing my arm gently, her touch warm and grounding. “We’re still here, Sunny,” she said softly, her voice laced with a kind of fierce love that made my chest ache. “No matter what, we’re still here for you.”

I nodded, feeling the sting of tears that I refused to let fall. “I know,” I whispered, my voice catching as I met her gaze. “Thank you.”

Gina gave me a soft, reassuring smile, the kind that spoke of years of shared memories, both good and bad. She glanced at Benny, her expression shifting to something like cautious hope, and then back at me, her eyes full of unspoken promises. She turned to follow Harold, her footsteps light but purposeful, and with one last look, she stepped through the door, closing it softly behind her.

With the door closed and my aunt and uncle finally gone, the weight of their words hung heavy in the air, settling deep into my bones. The playfulness of our earlier mood had completely vanished, replaced by something darker and more somber. I stood in the middle of the room, feeling lost, unsure of what to do with myself as the emotional turmoil that always seemed to follow me crept back in. I had thought I’d managed to escape it these past few weeks, hiding in the warmth of Benny’s company, but now it was back, clawing at me with a vengeance.

I sniffed, trying to swallow down the lump in my throat, the familiar sting of tears threatening to break free again. “I need a nap,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at Benny, my gaze fixed on the stairs as I rushed past him, desperate to get away, to hide from the flood of emotions crashing over me.

I stumbled into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me and collapsing onto the bed. I curled up into a tight ball, pulling the blankets around me as if they could shield me from everything swirling inside my head. My uncle’s voice echoed, relentless and unforgiving, each word like a dagger twisting deeper. ‘I promised your ma I’d take care of you.’ The guilt, the pressure, the overwhelming sense of being a disappointment—it all wrapped around me, suffocating and relentless.

I buried my face into the pillow, my chest tightening with each shaky breath as I tried to keep it together. But it was no use. The tears came anyway, hot and uncontrollable, spilling over as I silently sobbed into the fabric. The pain of my past, the weight of everyone’s expectations—it was too much. All the anger, the sadness, and the unresolved grief came rushing back, drowning me in a wave of emotions I didn’t know how to handle.

I didn’t hear Benny come in, but I felt the bed dip as he sat beside me, his presence a quiet, grounding force that I hadn’t realized I was desperate for. He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask me to talk or try to pry me open. He simply wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close, his body fitting around mine like a protective shield. I felt his head nestle into the crook of my neck, his breath warm and steady against my skin.

He didn’t let go, didn’t pull back when I tensed, just held me tighter, his arms firm and unyielding. Benny’s embrace was like an anchor, something solid and real in the middle of my storm. His touch was gentle, each stroke of his thumb against my shoulder a silent reassurance that I wasn’t alone, that I didn’t have to carry all of this by myself. I felt the trembling in my body start to ease, the frantic beating of my heart slowly matching the calm, even rhythm of his.

Benny’s presence was more than just comforting; it was life-saving. He grounded me in a way that nothing else could, pulling me back from the edge of my own despair. The panic, the guilt, all the things I kept locked away—they didn’t feel so unbearable with him there, holding me through it. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the warmth of his embrace, feeling the tension slowly begin to drain from my muscles.

He kissed my shoulder softly, his lips brushing against my skin in a gesture so gentle it almost broke me all over again. I felt the tears well up once more, but this time they were softer, less frantic, as if Benny’s presence was slowly unwinding the tight knot of pain inside me. I turned slightly, pressing my face into his chest, breathing him in—the scent of leather, smoke, and something uniquely his that always made me feel safe.

“I’ve got you,” Benny whispered, his voice low and hushed, like a secret meant only for me. His hand moved up to cup the back of my head, his fingers threading through my hair as he held me close. “You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, the words breaking through my defenses in a way that nothing else had. Benny didn’t try to fix me, didn’t pretend that he could make everything better, and that was exactly what I needed. He was just there, unconditionally, holding me as I broke down, no judgment, no expectations—just a quiet, unwavering support that made me feel like maybe I could keep going, even when everything felt impossible.

I pulled back just enough to look up at him, my eyes puffy and wet, but his gaze was soft and full of something that made my heart ache. I saw the way he looked at me—not with pity, but with an understanding that went deeper than words. He brushed his thumb across my cheek, wiping away the last of my tears, and I felt the flood of emotion rise up again, but this time it was different, warmer.

“I love you,” I whispered, the confession spilling out before I could second-guess it. It was raw and unguarded, the truth laid bare in the quiet space between us. For the first time, it didn’t feel scary to say. It felt right.

Benny’s face softened, and a smile tugged at his lips, gentle and filled with a quiet joy that made my heart flutter. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine, his eyes closing as he let the words sink in. “I love you, too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “More than you know.”

I melted into him, my arms wrapping around his neck as he held me tighter, his embrace a sanctuary from the world outside. The chaos, the pain, my uncle’s harsh words—they all faded into the background, replaced by the steady, calming presence of Benny beside me. I buried my face against his chest, letting myself be small and vulnerable, knowing that with Benny, I didn’t have to be anything but myself.

Taglist: @storiesfromafan@aleemendoza2425-blog , @preciouslilmonster , @iamaslytherin0

[lilsoftext]

•~* BACKSEAT BAN *~•

-chris sturniolo x female reader

- summary: new rule on videos and streams for chris “front seat only” for being to clingy

——————————————————————————

“Alright, guys, buckle up!” Matt called, starting the recording. “Let’s see what weird stuff the fans want to know this time.”

Sof and Chris were already in the back seat, and predictably, Chris had his arm around Sof’s shoulders, pulling her closer.

Nick glanced back from the front passenger seat, immediately sensing trouble. “Nope! Nope! You two—cut it out,” he said, his voice sharp but amused. “Chris, front seat. Now."

Chris rolled his eyes, but a playful grin spread across his face. “Come on, man. We’re just sitting.”

Matt glanced over at Nick, who shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. “Yeah, no. We’ve been down this road before. You can’t be trusted in the backseat.”

“Remember the last stream?” Matt chimed in, laughing. “We got so many comments. ‘Hey, are they gonna breathe in between making out?’”

Sof giggled, pushing Chris away playfully. “It wasn’t *that* bad.”

“Oh, it was that bad,” Nick retorted, scrolling through his phone. “Anyway, new rule: Chris, front seat always. Non-negotiable.”

With a defeated groan, Chris reluctantly slid out of the back seat and into the front next to Matt, who was still holding the camera. “Fine, fine, I’m up here. Happy now?”

“Very,” Nick said, twisting in his seat to give Chris a satisfied grin. “Let’s get this Q&A started, shall we?”

As Matt started driving, Nick read the first question. “Okay, here’s one. ‘Who’s most likely to get caught doing something embarrassing in public?’”

Everyone burst into laughter, immediately turning to look at Chris.

“Come on, man!” Chris protested, throwing his hands in the air. “Why’s it always gotta be me?”

Sof smirked. “Because it *is* always you.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Remember last week at the coffee shop?”

Matt burst out laughing, almost swerving the car. “Oh my God, I forgot about that! You were all over Sof, and that poor barista didn’t know where to look.”

Chris grinned sheepishly. “I was just… showing affection.”

“Dude, you were *devouring* her face,” Nick said, stifling a laugh.

“Alright, alright, next question!” Chris hurriedly interrupted, eager to change the subject.

Nick looked down at his phone again. “Alright, here’s a good one. ‘What’s everyone’s pet peeve about each other?’”

“Oh, easy,” Sof said, leaning forward to rest her chin on the front seat. “Chris’s inability to chill for like, two seconds.”

“Hey!” Chris shot back, turning to face her. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s true, though,” Nick chimed in, turning to Matt. “You know it’s true.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, dude, we literally had to start sitting between you two on streams.”

Nick added, “And the backseat thing? That's not even a joke anymore. You’re banned from the back.”

Chris threw his hands up in mock defeat. “Alright, fine. You guys win. I’ll behave.” He turned to Sof and whispered dramatically, “For now.”

Matt caught it on camera and shook his head, laughing. “Yeah, for now.” He glanced at Nick. “Keep an eye on him. He’s always plotting.”

Nick smirked. “Oh, I’m well aware.”

The car filled with laughter as they continued their Q&A, teasing Chris at every opportunity. But despite all the jokes, the group’s dynamic was undeniably fun and full of energy.

Chris leaned back in his seat, smirking at Sof through the rearview mirror. “Just wait until this ride’s over.”

“Chris, I swear—” Nick began, but his laughter cut him off.

“New rule,” Matt said with a grin, keeping his eyes on the road. “No making out on video, ever again. Period.”

Everyone agreed, but Chris winked at Sof anyway.

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i hope you enjoyed it. if you have any requests, leave down below (actually i don’t know what to write about, i iost my ideas)

lilsoftext<3