#the summer that was never supposed to end

[sofivison]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ fools gold — sophia laforteza

“I know the difference between what you say and how you feel

I know when it's real”

pairing ₊⊹ sophia laforteza x fem!reader

synopsis ₊⊹ two childhood best friends who fell for each other without knowing the complexities of love. you feel her pulling away and don’t know what to do, but you need her. you can’t lose her.

genre ₊⊹ angst, hurt no comfort

tags ₊⊹ not really gfs, unrequited love(?), sad ending

a/n ₊⊹ first post woohoooo hi guys!! starting off with a good angst (no happy ending sorry) my requests are very open so go fill up my inbox!

The first time Y/N realized she loved Sophia, they were twelve years old, lying on their backs in the grass, staring up at the stars. It was summer, and the heat still clung to the earth even though the sun had been gone for hours. Crickets hummed in the distance, the air thick with the scent of pine trees and turf.

Sophia pointed at the sky, tracing constellations with her finger. “That one looks like a dog,” she said, voice dreamy.

Y/N squinted. “It looks like a cat.”

Sophia huffed. “You just think everything looks like a cat.”

“That’s because cats are better than dogs.”

Sophia gasped, turning to look at her with exaggerated offense. “Take it back.”

Y/N grinned. “Never.”

Sophia tackled her then, their laughter ringing through the night as they rolled across the grass, wrestling until they were out of breath. When they collapsed again, Y/N turned her head to look at Sophia. Her cheeks were pink from the heat, her hair messy and full of little bits of grass. She was beautiful, even then.

Y/N didn’t have the words for what she felt at the time, but she knew, with a child’s certainty, that she wanted to be beside Sophia forever.

—

The beach was always their place.

Their parents took them every summer, and every summer, they raced to the shoreline the moment they arrived, kicking off their shoes and letting their feet sink into the sand. They built castles with moats deep enough to trap the tide, collected seashells in buckets, and dared each other to swim out farther than they were supposed to.

One year, when they were thirteen, a storm rolled in while they were playing in the water. It came fast, turning the sky dark and the waves rough. Their mothers called for them to come back, but before they did, Sophia grabbed Y/N’s hand and squeezed it tight.

“Don’t be scared,” she said. “I’ll hold on.”

And she did.

They ran back to shore, hand in hand, the wind whipping through their hair, the rain soaking their clothes. When they made it to safety, Sophia turned to Y/N with a wild grin. “That was fun.”

Y/N laughed, heart pounding. “You’re crazy.”

“You love it.”

Y/N did.

—

At fourteen, they camped in Sophia’s backyard, staying up all night whispering secrets under a sky full of stars. Y/N brought a flashlight, and Sophia stole her dad’s old radio, tuning it to some station playing love songs from decades before they were born.

Sophia curled against Y/N’s side, their arms brushing as she hummed along to the music.

“Do you think we’ll ever fall in love with people?” Sophia asked.

Y/N swallowed. “I think so.”

Sophia turned her head, her face close enough that Y/N could feel her breath. “What do you think it’ll be like?”

Y/N didn’t know how to answer without saying this. This closeness, this warmth, this feeling in her chest that made her stomach flutter and her head feel light.

Instead, she shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Sophia smiled like she already knew.

—

They had their first kiss when they were fifteen.

It was late, and they were in Y/N’s room, curled up under a blanket, watching some terrible movie they’d already forgotten the name of. Sophia turned to her suddenly, a look in her eyes that made Y/N’s breath catch.

“Can I?” Sophia asked, voice quiet.

Y/N nodded, and then Sophia cupped her face, and kissed her, soft and slow.

It was nothing like the movies. There were no fireworks, no dramatic music swelling in the background—just the warmth of Sophia’s lips, the steady beat of Y/N’s heart, and the knowledge that something between them had changed forever.

When they pulled away, neither of them said anything. They just looked at each other, eyes searching, waiting for something neither of them knew how to name.

Sophia smiled first, pressing her forehead against Y/N’s. “I love you.”

Y/N’s heart nearly stopped.

“I love you too,” she whispered.

They never talked about it after that.

—

The years passed, and they kept kissing. In secret, in quiet places, always just between them.

They said I love you more times than Y/N could count. In text messages, in hushed voices at sleepovers, in laughter after shared jokes. It became as natural as breathing.

But they never talked about what it meant.

And now, at twenty, Y/N was starting to think that Sophia had stopped meaning it.

It was in the little things—the way Sophia took longer to respond to messages, the way she pulled away first, the way her laughter didn’t sound quite the same anymore.

At first, Y/N told herself she was imagining it. That she was overthinking, being paranoid, reading too much into things.

Maybe I’m crazy.

But even a fool can tell the difference between pyrite and real gold.

And Y/N was no fool.

Sophia was slipping away, and Y/N didn’t know how to hold on.

But she needed to.

Because Sophia was the enormous sun, burning bright and untouchable, and Y/N was just a candle, melting away in the heat.

And now, that sun was dimming before the candle had even burned out.

It wasn’t fair.

And it didn’t make sense.

Y/N didn’t know when it started—when the distance between them became something real, something tangible, something more than just paranoia creeping into the corners of her mind.

Maybe it had been slow, a shift so small it could have been mistaken for growing pains. Or maybe it had happened all at once, sudden and irreversible, like a fire burning through everything they had built together.

Either way, Y/N felt it now, heavy in her chest, in the spaces where Sophia used to be.

They still saw each other. They still talked, still laughed, still exchanged I love you’s like they meant something. But Y/N could feel the difference. Sophia’s touch wasn’t the same—not as lingering, not as sure. She pulled away too quickly, smiled too easily, as if she were performing a role she no longer wanted.

Y/N told herself she was being dramatic. She told herself that if she just held on tighter, things would go back to the way they were.

So she tried.

She sent the first text. She made the plans. She reached for Sophia’s hand, even when Sophia’s fingers barely curled around hers in return.

She kissed her first.

Sophia still kissed back, but it wasn’t the same.

It wasn’t the same.

And Y/N couldn’t ignore it anymore.

—

One night, they sat on the beach, just the two of them. The waves rolled in gentle and slow, the air cool against Y/N’s skin. It should have felt like every other summer they’d spent here, but it didn’t.

Y/N watched Sophia instead of the ocean, memorizing the way the moonlight hit her face, the way her hair moved in the breeze.

Sophia was quiet, running her fingers through the sand absentmindedly.

“Do you ever think about when we were kids?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sophia glanced at her, smiling softly. “Yeah. All the time.”

Y/N swallowed. “Do you miss it?”

Sophia hesitated. It was only a second, maybe two, but Y/N caught it.

“Of course I do,” she said, but there was something in her voice that made Y/N’s stomach twist.

It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the truth either.

Y/N looked away, staring out at the waves. “Sometimes I wish we could go back.”

Sophia was silent for a long time. Then—

“Why?”

Y/N clenched her jaw. She could feel the answer sitting on her tongue, bitter and painful.

Because back then, I didn’t have to wonder if you loved me.

But she couldn’t say that. She couldn’t say any of it.

So instead, she forced a laugh, shaking her head. “No reason.”

Sophia didn’t push.

And somehow, that hurt the most.

—

Y/N spent the next few weeks trying to convince herself that things weren’t falling apart.

She clung to every smile, every touch, every fleeting moment that felt like before.

But the doubt never left.

Because now, every time Sophia said I love you, Y/N wondered if she meant it.

And even worse,

She wondered if she ever would again.

—

The sand was cool beneath Y/N’s fingers, a familiar comfort against the stark fear blooming in her chest. The waves whispered secrets to the shore, a constant, rhythmic reminder of time slipping away. Beside her, Sophia threw pebbles into the ocean, her movements fluid and careless, a world away from the turmoil brewing inside Y/N.

For twenty years, Sophia had been her sun. A radiance around which Y/N’s world revolved. Their lives were intertwined, woven together with shared secrets, laughter, and a love that was beneath the surface, never explicitly acknowledged but always there.

Y/N watched Sophia, the way the setting sun painted her skin gold, the way her brow furrowed in concentration as she aimed for a distant wave.

“Sophia,” she started, her voice barely a whisper against the roar of the ocean.

Sophia glanced at her, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah?”

Y/N swallowed, the lump in her throat feeling like a jagged stone. This was it. The moment she’d been dreading and obsessing over equally. “We… we haven’t really talked about… us.”

Sophia’s smile faltered. ”I mean… we never have.” She stopped throwing pebbles and turned to face Y/N, the ocean reflecting in her wide, uncertain eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Y/N struggled to find the right words, the ones that wouldn’t shatter the fragile peace between them. “I love you, Sophia. You know I do. But sometimes… sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who feels it this way.”

The silence that followed was deafening. The waves still crashed, the wind still howled, but Y/N could hear nothing but the frantic beating of her own heart.

“Maybe I’m crazy,” she rushed on, desperately trying to backtrack, to convince herself that her fears were unfounded. But Y/N knew, with a sickening certainty, that the gold in Sophia’s eyes was no longer mirroring her own.

“I just…” Y/N forced herself to meet Sophia’s gaze, the truth of her words a bitter pill on her tongue. “I feel like you’re not… here anymore. Not really. And it makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong. That I’m making you not love me.”

It was pathetic, she knew. Begging for love. Exposing herself so vulnerably, tearing down the walls she’d so carefully built. But she needed to know she’d tried everything. She couldn't face the years to come, wondering if a single conversation could have saved them.

Sophia was silent again, her expression unreadable. Y/N had to tell herself that it was Sophia’s fault. That something she did, not Y/N, was the reason for this shift. To think that she was the reason Sophia’s love was fading was too much to bear.

“Please,” Y/N choked out, tears pricking at her eyes. “Please, just… love me again.”

Sophia reached out, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s cheek. Her touch was gentle, but lacking the warmth it used to hold. “Y/N,” she said softly, her voice laced with a sadness that mirrored Y/N’s own. “I just… don't know if I can be what you want me to be.”

Y/N anxiety clawed at my insides. “What do you mean?” Y/N choked out. “What do I want you to be?”

"Someone who loves me the way you do.” Sophia’s hand retreated, leaving Y/N’s skin cold.

The truth hung heavy in the air, suffocating her. She was a puny candle, desperately clinging to the enormous sun, even as it imploded before her very eyes. It wasn’t fair. It didn’t make sense.

Y/N closed her eyes, the salty tears streaming down her face. She knew what came next. The goodbye.

“I… I need you, Sophia,” she whispered, the words a raw, desperate plea.

But Sophia didn’t respond. She just stood there, silhouetted against the dying sun, a beautiful, unattainable ghost.

“I can’t,” Sophia finally managed to say, her voice barely audible. “I just… I can’t.”

The words ripped through Y/N, severing the last thread of hope. She opened her eyes, staring at Sophia, trying to memorize every detail of her face, knowing this was the last time she’d see her this way.

“Okay,” Y/N whispered, the word a broken promise to herself. “Okay.”

She stood up, her legs shaky, and turned away from Sophia, away from the ocean, away from a future that no longer held the light she’d always known. She walked away, leaving Sophia sitting alone on the beach, a solitary figure against the expanse of the sea. And as she walked, she knew that the sun had finally set on their love, leaving her lost and shivering in the darkness.

[lo1k-diamonds]

A woman's best friend 💜 Part 2

PAIRING: Taehyung x (f)reader

SUMMARY: After falling into temptation once, you and Taehyung tried to navigate the aftermath as best as possible. It turns out none of you can handle it, so your friendship is bound to end one way or another.

WORD COUNT: 7,127 

GENRE: f2l, smut (uni AU setting)

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: mutual pining, angst, dirty talk, body worship, nipple play, oral (m receiving), fingering, protected sex

A.N. I know part 1 was bittersweet, and I am a sucker for happy endings, so here is part 2 with a shiny new ending for this couple 😚 I think it has the right vibe for Valentine's Day, enjoy! (Thank you to @eerieedits again for the awesome banner 💜)

Masterlist | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs | AO3 | Wattpad

The rhythmic thud thud on the window made you pull the curtain and look out the window. It was storming outside, and the night lights glistened as cars passed in the roads below and people enjoyed their Saturday night. 

Not you, though. Once, you had two types of Saturdays: the ones you’d go out with all your friends and the ones you’d stay home hanging out with Taehyung. Lately, you had neither, and it was all your fault.

You still remembered a night like this one. Turning away from the window, you let your gaze wander your living room. Back then, Physical: 100 kept playing on the TV screen for a long time, serving as background noise as you stayed in Taehyung’s arms. You lost track of time, then, staying awake and worrying about what that night would change.

You never discussed it further with Taehyung. He had fallen asleep, breathing gently with his arms around you, and you stayed perfectly still, aware of every ticking second. The conflict inside your chest was paralyzing — you didn’t want that night to end, but you also feared it continuing. The more you touched or interacted with him intimately, the harder everything would get. 

Those thoughts kept you awake, staring at the ceiling. So you recalled when the TV timed out and switched off, prompting you to go to the bathroom and come back only to find Taehyung exactly where you left him, naked with a blanket partially covering him as he slept. You didn’t regret slipping back into his embrace; you’d never get another chance. He wouldn’t know you had decided to return to his arms or how much you needed his warmth to calm down and fall asleep.

When you woke up, you found out a summer storm had broken out. It rained so much, then, but the same thud thud from the windows was unable to draw you away from his arms. All you could do was linger in his warmth for one second longer while you worried. Dreading and fearing how you’d ever look at him and not remember. How you’d brush each other and fake not having butterflies in your stomach. What if you saw him with someone else? How were you supposed to be his wing-woman again?

Of course, Taehyung had reacted the way you expected him to when he woke up. He chuckled at the pouring rain outside, happy that he had his leather jacket with him, and smiled dazzlingly when he saw you in a robe with your morning hair.

Then, before he left, he reassured you again, “Don’t worry about it.”

But you were yourself, and you had been right to worry. The problem wasn’t that you had slept together but that it had changed something inside your heart. Those feelings you once thought buried refused to vanish, the hope you once thought dead was alive and kicking, and to make things worse, you couldn’t forget.

Taehyung invited you for an ice cream, and you remembered what his eating you out felt like. He told you about this movie he wanted to see, and you knew what his baritone voice teasing you would sound like in the dark. He was excited about the new classes he was taking, even more so because you were there, too, and you shuddered at the memory of him kissing you as he came deep inside you, holding you so close you felt like a treasure. He promised to take you home when your group of friends decided to check out a new club, and you dreaded the whole night, both because he could choose to hook up with someone and because you wished that person could be you. Finally, he invited you to work on a group assignment together, and as you listened to him passionately go on about the topic, you wondered if you’d ever be able to reel your feelings back in.

You screwed yourself up over that one single weak moment. That yes had turned your life upside down, and while Taehyung kept his promise of being your best friend, you couldn’t.

So you did the only logical thing — you started avoiding him. It was inevitable — if his proximity made it impossible for you to get over him, then the only natural solution was not to have him close.

You weren’t sure he noticed, but you knew he was understanding. He never mentioned the situation and treated you like nothing happened. He never pushed to know why you started saying no to night outs or confronted you about being tired every time he invited you over. You were never able to invite him to come over and be alone again in that very same living room, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why, so it didn’t surprise you never asked about it.

In the end, it hurt you more than anyone. You were frustrated with yourself; you asked for this, it was all your doing. But you were helpless. Sometimes, you could act normal, and your interactions were playful and warm, as always. He poked you under the table? You knew there was a joke coming. Or he’d lean into your ear to whisper something, and your heart wouldn’t somersault and expect a caress. However, other times, you couldn’t help but withdraw your hand or avoid sitting next to him and letting such interactions bloom. Because you’d read into them or remember or wish for things to be different, and you hated it. Hated it all.

You were about to turn on the TV and search for something that could take your mind off him when the doorbell rang. You wondered if the neighbor had put the wrong door number on the food delivery again, but Taehyung was outside your door like an apparition. 

Despite his black leather jacket, he looked drenched and dejected. He raised his dark eyes to yours. “Hi, can I come in?”

You didn’t hesitate to reach out to pull him inside. “Of course, let me grab a towel!”

You let him enter your place first and close the door behind him, then rushed to your bathroom to get a towel. Only when you came back to the living room did you realize it was odd that he was there.

“Weren’t you supposed to go out with the others tonight?” you asked as you threw the towel over his head to dry his dripping hair. “How come you’re here?”

He grabbed your hands and pulled the towel away so he could face you. “I can’t take this anymore. We need to talk.”

“Alright! Who wants to drink what?”

Taehyung barely heard Jimin's question as your group of friends sat around on the couches and loveseats. That was their corner; they always sat there, and as he waited for everyone to settle down, his heart dropped. The loveseat you always shared with him was empty. You weren’t there again.

Taehyung asked about you quietly, trying to conceal the way his heart was squeezing inside his chest.

“She’s not coming,” Jimin answered, then shrugged. “Something about being tired.”

“She’s always tired lately!” Hoseok huffed as he sat next to Jungkook, who hummed.

“Maybe she’s sick?”

“When’s the last time we’ve seen her?” Jin wondered, and Namjoon sat on a beige pouf.

“Couple of weeks? Anyway, why are you asking?”

“You would know better than us,” Yoongi croaked with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Don’t you have classes with her?”

“Aren’t you best friends?”

Taehyung nodded absentmindedly as they resumed choosing their drinks, and the weight inside his chest didn’t relent. Yes, he saw you; he should know about you. He should be able to understand, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t. You were slipping between his fingers, and he just couldn’t sit idly by and watch it happen anymore.

“I gotta go.”

He rushed outside without hearing their protests, and the pouring rain greeted him. It wasn’t enough to dissuade him; he raised his leather jacket’s lapel to cover his neck and made his way in between the people trying to reach the nightbars and get cover from the rain. You lived fifteen minutes away; you were just within reach.

It was all his fault. He should have thought twice about crossing the line with you, even when you said yes. Not just for you, but for his own sake. That night was branded in his memory, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move on from it. And he tried. He tried doing everything right. He tried pretending nothing happened, that he didn’t want anything more than friendship with you, that it wasn’t a big deal. He tried looking at you as purely as a friend would, and he tried looking at other people the way he knew he shouldn’t look at you. Yet, even in the few moments he was able to entertain the thought of someone else or get engrossed in a conversation with them, it was always the same. The moment you crossed his mind, he was reminded why it wouldn’t work. He’d be talking with someone clearly interested in him and instantly thinking about your kiss, your smile, your gaze as you kneeled before him, your teases. The person in front of him would touch his thigh, hinting at something more, and he’d instantly raise a wall. You were on his mind, and even if being friends was the only thing you wanted, it didn’t mean his heart or body wanted anyone else.

He craved you. That night wasn't just a dream or a type of heaven he wished had become permanent. It was a risk in every sense. He knew he wasn't just fucking you. He didn’t want just to leave you a slobbering mess, he wanted more. He wanted to look into your eyes and see it — the moment you'd realize how good you felt together. How perfect it was and could be. He wanted to look into your eyes and see the moment you'd fall in love with him.

And that was his biggest mistake. That one moment of pure greed — it wouldn't happen, he knew that. Even if you were curious about him, that wouldn't just happen. Best case scenario, you'd scratch the itch, be it for sex or curiosity, and move on. Worst case scenario, you'd regret it and never look at him the same way again.

He suspected the latter was happening despite his efforts. The whole night he had you in his arms, he struggled to enjoy it after the way you revealed your worries. His heart burned with a discomfort he couldn’t voice while he prayed that he wouldn’t lose you. That, no matter what happened, you'd stay in his life.

But he should have known. It was worse than a drunk one-night stand with someone from your friend group. You were best friends; of course, it was hard for you.

You started pulling away, and he instantly noticed. At first, it was the little things. You'd withdraw your hand from his or flinch ever so slightly when he leaned in closer. You didn’t invite him to spend time or the night in your apartment, just the two of you, and he understood why. The worst was that you withdrew from your typical antics and cut your smiles short. You’d be sitting next to him and not even look his way, and it withered his heart. Of course, when you did turn to him, he always had a smile for you. He wanted to be a comforting presence no matter how fleeting your interactions were, but still, it only got worse. 

It hurt when you avoided sitting next to him or dancing, and then you started disappearing. You didn't show up to all classes anymore, and you didn't hang out with your group of friends, at least not when he showed up. Then he'd text you to ask about it and notice that even through messages, things had changed. You texted less and less, and the distance was breaking his heart. 

He kept running through the stormy weather with his hair dripping down his forehead. He didn't care; nothing mattered at this point. It had been two weeks since he last saw you, and there were only three or four texts in between. What he feared was happening, it was undeniable, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. He needed to see you and try one last time. It would be his dying breath, but at least he'd try. For once, he'd bare his soul and hope you'd do the same and forgive him. He just didn't want to lose you. He loved you so much.

He crossed a delivery boy at your apartment building entrance and ran upstairs to consume some of that nervous energy. Then, he rang the doorbell, and you opened the door for him, and his heart convulsed. God, he missed you so desperately.

“Hi, can I come in?” he mumbled, lost in the sight of you in your robe that brought him such bittersweet memories. 

You pulled him inside without hesitating. “Of course, let me grab a towel!”

You closed the door behind him, and he took his shoes off so he wouldn’t make a puddle in your living room. Yet that was the last thought he had before where he was hit. That couch, that place. His heart ached again as he turned to you, and you threw a towel over his head.

“Weren’t you supposed to go out with the others tonight?” you asked as you patted the towel to dry his dripping hair. “How come you’re here?”

He grabbed your hands and pulled the towel away to face you. “I can’t take this anymore. We need to talk.”

He saw the second you tensed as the towel fell to the floor, but you didn't withdraw your hands, and he was not holding back.

“You said you didn't want things to change, and I'm trying. I'm trying so hard to hold onto you,” he said, pain lacing his voice. “But I can't if you keep pushing me away like this.”

He paused, looking at your startled and tense expression, waiting for you to say something, but you were frozen.

He lowered his hands but kept holding onto yours. “I'm sorry if I ever hurt you. If I pushed you to do something that made you uncomfortable with me. It's my fault, I got carried away with my own selfish feelings,” he confessed, tearing up with a sad smile. “I promise I won't ever touch you again or bring up anything inappropriate, so please.” He let go of your hands gently. “Please forgive me. Please say we can still do something about this because I can't— I don't want to lose you.”

His voice wobbled, and you frowned, shaking your head. 

“I’m the one who is sorry,” you managed to say despite the tears pushing to get out. “Because it’s my fault. My selfish feelings, not yours. I'm the one who said yes and then couldn’t handle it. I'm so sorry, I— I should have told you, but I— I’m so sorry—”

You stammered, rubbing your face in embarrassment, distraught. You needed to tell him; you couldn’t let him think he did something wrong. But what if he thought staying friends would worsen things and decided to end everything?

“Told me what?” he asked, anxiously stepping closer to you. “Please, tell me,” he requested softly, but you kept hiding your face. “Please.”

Your hands started shaking over your face, and he suddenly realized you were holding back your cry as you trembled.

His heart sank. “Did I hurt you? Fuck, I’m so sorry!”

You uncovered your face to look at him. “No, you didn't.”

He held his breath as he observed you cleaning your cheeks. “But you’re crying,” he pointed out, desolation tearing his chest. “I'm so sorry! I promise I won’t ever do it again!”

You wiped your cheek annoyedly and reached to grab his jacket. “Stop!”

“I never wanted to hurt you, I—”

“Stop it!”

“I won't ever touch you again, I just—”

“Stop saying that!”

He stayed put, no matter how angrily you held onto his jacket. “I’ll never forgive myself if—”

“STOP!” You had to shout and pull him to you so firmly that he stumbled in your direction. Desperation was taking hold of you as sobs shook you, but his disheartened eyes kept you focused. “You never hurt me, I don't want you to think that for a second!”

“But… you've distanced yourself from me.”

“I know,” you croaked, looking down at his lips curved sadly.

“You said you didn't want things to change.”

“I know…”

“You said you didn't want it to ruin our friendship.”

“I did…”

Taehyung waited for you to say something or look into his eyes again, but you didn't.

So he asked, “Did it?”

“Yes.” Your eyes finally rose from his lips, and you had to be truthful. “I can't be your friend anymore.”

Taehyung paled and stared at you, speechless, livid. His heart broke; his worst nightmare was—

“I look at you, and friendship doesn't begin to cover how I feel.”

“What?” He blinked, befuddled as his thought process stumbled on itself.

“I should have told you, but I never thought you’d— I knew it would be risky, but—” You licked your lips, having a hard time ordering your thoughts. “At that moment, when you asked, I just— Of course, I said yes, I— I’ve wanted you for so long, I— I should have known it would mess me up— I begged you not to let things change because I knew— I knew they would change for me, and—”

You were struggling to breathe and say everything you wanted, and he supported your arms as you held onto his jacket.

“You wanted me?” he asked softly, and you nodded. “What changed? Please… Please tell me.”

His gentle expression and supporting hands gave you the courage you needed. “Everything— everything changed,” you confessed. “I can’t look at you the same way. I can’t look at you without wanting to touch you or kiss you. I’m sorry, I—”

He cradled your cheeks suddenly and crashed his mouth to yours, and you whimpered ever so softly. You gripped him closer by his leather jacket and kissed him back, not hesitating for a second to meet his tongue with yours. You wanted to lick that taste back into your life, that warmth, that comfort you missed terribly.

You thought he felt the same way when he halted your kiss to a simple press of your mouths as though he needed to feel it. When he pulled away, his eyes were red and glistening, eying you with such emotion your heart trembled.

“You wanted to kiss me?” he asked, still cradling your cheeks.

“Yes.”

“To touch me?”

You nodded anxiously. “Yes.”

“That's what changed?”

“No.” You looked at his lips again before facing him. “I've always wanted to, but we were friends. Now, I just can't pretend anymore.”

“You mean… you don't see me as a friend?”

You shook your head still in his grasp.

“So you don't regret it?”

You could see him relaxing, his features soothing as you two talked, so you shook your head again. “I don't. Do you?”

“No,” he replied instantly, smiling. “I did when I thought you pulled away from me because I hurt you, but—”

“You didn't,” you assured again, pulling him closer. “Do you… Could you see us as more than friends?”

“Fuck yes,” he rasped, brushing your cheeks gently. “I want to be yours. I’ve wanted it for so long. There’s nothing else I want.”

“Really?”

Your eyes watered as you looked into his. Was this a dream?

He smirked. “Really. You better start believing it because if you let me into your bed again, I’m not leaving. Like ever.”

You chuckled and bit your lip. “If I invite you, I expect you to never leave. We cross the line and get rid of it. We say things that make us feel like more than just friends because we are more than—”

He crashed his lips into yours again, letting go of your jaw to pull you closer by the waist until your chests were glued. His leather jacket was still dripping from the rain, but you didn't care. If he kept kissing you like that, he wouldn't have it on for much longer anyway.

“Say it, then,” he mumbled between kisses. “You know the drill.”

You chuckled. “Do I?”

He hummed, chasing your lips.

“I only know the one to give you the green light to fuck me into a slobbering mess—”

His groan as he dragged his lips to your neck made you clench around nothing, and you bit your lip.

“But what if I don't want just to fuck?”

He pulled away to face you, with blown pupils and wet lips, held in check.

“What if I want to be yours?”

“I'll make you mine,” he promised, grabbing your hair on the back of your head so you'd face his dark eyes. “I'll make you forget ever not being mine.”

“In one of those five ways you thought of?”

Your whisper was not simply a tease, and you suspected he knew it when he groaned and leaned in to peck your lips.

“I've since thought of many more.”

He licked and nibbled your lips, and you had to close your eyes with the shudders.

“You thought about fucking me?”

“I haven't thought of fucking anyone else ever since I met you.”

Your cheeks burned as you snapped your eyes open. “What?”

“You heard me,” he murmured against your chin.

“But— I helped you— with that other guy—”

He shrugged. “Nothing happened. We got outside the bar and went our separate ways.”

“You never told me that!”

“Well, what could I say?” he said, speaking close enough to you that you could feel his breath on your lips. “That I wasn't really interested and went home to fuck my fist while I thought of you? I didn't think you'd appreciate that—”

It was your turn to grab his hair and pull him down to kiss you again, consuming just a little bit more. Your tongue darted out to lick, tease, and take, and he fought you with a low groan. Whatever you wanted, he wanted it too if it meant you were going to kiss him like that.

“You have— no idea— how much— that drives me crazy,” you managed to say between kisses. “The thought of you— thinking of me— fuck—”

He seemed to get an idea because his hands lowered to your ass to squeeze it, catching you when you jumped into his arms. You never stopped kissing, even as he walked with you in his hands, until your back hit a wall.

You didn't care how or where he fucked you as long as he did. Of course, your mouth was busy as you opened it more so he could deepen the kiss, so you couldn’t tell him. But you could show him in the way your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him close. Your heavy breathing matched his as your hands explored and tried touching him everywhere you could, but his jacket was in the way. He likely felt the same, seeing the way he fought to open your robe and tried getting it out of the way so he could kiss down your neck into the cleavage of your pajama top.

You chuckled; the two of you were making things harder by trying to undress each other at the same time. His eyes crinkled as he matched your smile and gave you the lead. His lips trailed your jaw as you pulled your robe open and shrugged it back to give him access to your neck and collarbone. Your skin instantly drew his lips, allowing you to push his jacket off him while he was happily distracted. 

You tried to get rid of his sweater, too, but couldn't. As soon as his jacket hit the floor, he wrapped his arms around you again and buried his face between your tits, squeezing you to him so firmly you couldn’t breathe. However, you could feel the way he was rutting into you and it drew a quiet moan as you fisted his hair. 

Goosebumps ran over you as he licked your cleavage, dragging his tongue over every inch of skin he could reach, and you needed more. You released one hand to reach in between your bodies with the single goal of touching him, and it wasn't easy. His ruts were unpredictable, not leaving any space between you, but you needed to grasp his desire for you, feel it in the palm of your hand.

When he raised his lips to kiss you again, it gave you the opportunity to unbutton his jeans. His tongue pushed through your lips, deepening his kiss so much you moaned quietly, muffled. Yet it just complemented and amplified your urge to grab him, and you did.

Your hand finally reached inside his boxers to grab his dick and pull it out, and he groaned. Your hand clamped shut around him, fisting him unapologetically, and he had to break your lips apart to moan softly. You adored the way he held his breath, letting his forehead fall to yours as he closed his eyes, taking in everything you gave him. His sweet expression sparked your desire even further, so you kept pumping him, delighted with the precum dripping around your fingers and his knitted eyebrows.

You'd go to the last consequences of this with pleasure, but he suddenly grabbed your hand away and pressed himself to you. You were squished between the wall and his body, but you had zero reservations about it, especially when he kissed you like that. His mouth crushed yours as his hips thrust into you, jumpstarting a carnal hunger that consumed you. His hand dug under your pajama top, scratching your skin up to squeeze your tits, and you moaned, bucking your hips to match his. His tongue was so deep in your mouth that you were drooling, both desperate to moan and feel the tip of his cock rubbing against your unfortunately still-covered cunt. You were fucking desperate to have him, and you'd gladly cum right here and now if he filled you up.

“Tae,” you tried, barely able to part your lips from his. “I need you inside me, please.”

He moved in a flash, checking his pants were open enough to give him space before letting you stand to pull your pants down your legs.

You gripped his shoulders for support, then sighed when he leaned in to nip just under your ear. His fingers skimmed your wet folds before pushing two fingers in roughly, unleashing your moans as he touched all the right spots inside you.

You were so ready to blow you could feel the enthralling pleasure tingling in your nerve ends.

But somehow, you had a discerning thought. “Condom… Tae… Grab a condom.”

He stopped suckling on the skin of your neck to eye you with a lustful gaze.

“I'm not on the pill,” you whispered, brushing his luscious hair off his eyes. He looked absolutely dazzling, and you wanted him to fuck you till you couldn’t even stand, but you did not want accidents. Not yet, anyway.

He blinked, his hand pulling out of you to feel his pockets. “I… I don't have one. The last time… I never got another one.”

You chuckled and he pouted, and you could read his thoughts.

“Not like I planned for this to—”

You kissed him, then pushed him back to have space to move away from his hold. “I know, I'll get one.” He tried to catch you, but you jumped over your clothes gracefully, only turning back to tell him, “Bed. In my bed.’

You got to your roommate's room to search for condoms. Hopefully, she had some, even though she spent more time at her boyfriend’s than there.

It wasn't hard to find them on her nightstand, and you took the whole box with you. It was not like she'd need them tonight.

You wondered how Taehyung would greet you but still staggered at your bedroom's entrance. He was lying on his back, arms spread over your bed sheets as he stared at the ceiling. Having heard you come in, he raised his head and promptly sat up. 

Even though his pants were unbuttoned and his clothes drenched, nothing would have given away what you were doing just minutes before. Except perhaps his dark glistening eyes running up and down your figure before they set back on yours.

You were naked from the waist down, yet suddenly, it wasn't enough. His eyes were curious and electrifying, and you wanted to keep going. Your heart was thumping loudly inside your chest, the thrill of that moment making you tremble, but you waited.

He raised his hand for you to grab, and your heart finally settled as you took it. Your fingers fit in his perfectly, and as he hugged you to him, resting his head on your chest, you finally stopped trembling. On the contrary, you caressed his head calmly as he held you. It felt like reaching home at long last. It was the first time you were touching each other like that, with such vulnerability and with all the cards on the table, and yet it was the best type of feeling.

He pulled away to look up at you, and you caressed his face gently, letting that ease echo between the two of you. It was real — his hands on your waist, his sparkling eyes, and the adoration in them. You knew then that it was as validating and fulfilling for him as it was for you that you were finally in each other's arms.

“Did you find one?” he asked hoarsely, and you nodded. “Do you want to stop?”

“Hell no.”

You frowned, and he wetted his lips. “I don't want to move too fast and mess this up. I care so much about you.”

You brushed the back of your fingers down his cheeks sweetly. “Me too. But we're not moving too fast. Right? We've been friends forever, and we want to be more than that.”

He nodded, his eyelashes fluttering as he enjoyed your touch. “Please.”

“Then let's,” you whispered, leaning in to nuzzle him. “I don't want to wait.”

“Then we don't.”

He was ready to get up and touch you, but you simply smiled and pecked him before getting on your knees. You could see how his lips parted expectingly as his eyes transfixed on you, making you giddy. You gave him an excited smile and reached for the hem of his pants, and he helped you get them off. Then you bit your lip as you reached and grabbed his erection again.

His head dropped back at the softness of your touch as he mumbled your name, and you nodded. “I want to suck you off.”

You never thought you'd get another chance to grab that juicy cock, let alone delight yourself in its smoothness and taste. You would have admitted to Taehyung how much you thought and fantasized about a moment like that one, but the words evaporated from your mouth. Your only thought was his taste, and as soon as a precum drop glistened over his slit, you dove in.

You sighed as he groaned above your head, instantly grabbing your hair out of the way as you sucked. You didn't even realize how intensely you were doing it, bobbing your head so he'd touch the back of your throat, because you were out. His cock pushing inside your mouth made you anticipate how he'd feel inside your tight walls, and his moans made your mind soar high, elated. Taehyung, only the one you had wanted and had feelings for forever, was right there, losing his mind with you. Because of you. Because he wasn't indifferent to you. He actually wanted you just the same, had feelings for you, thought of you, longed for you—

“Fuck— Wait—”

His voice was strangled, but you weren't listening. You here so dazed, clenching around nothing and high on your desire, that you only realized the reason for his warning too late.

His warm taste invaded your mouth, and you moaned, gushing between your legs at the thought of him losing control. Yet, in a split second, his hand wrapped over yours around the base of his cock so tightly it was almost painful for you.

Only then did you stop blowing him and pulled away, confused, and looked between him and his delicious cock. You had tasted cum for sure, and yet despite the way his dick twitched in front of you, there was no more coming out. He was groaning harshly, almost frustratingly, but you knew by his expression that pleasure was assaulting his nerve ends.

When he finally stopped groaning, his dark eyes opened. “What do you think you're doing?”

His voice was quiet, almost annoyed, and you just blinked up at him.

“You didn't tell me to stop.”

“I told you to wait.”

You simply shrugged. “You did say something like that, I just… I told you I wanted to suck you off.”

“And I told you I'd make you mine.”

“You still can,” you argued as he grabbed your hands to pull you up and get you on the bed.

“Not if I came fully.”

You shrugged and let him pull your legs around him as you leaned back on the sheets. “We have all night.”

“We have forever,” he underlined, making you chuckle as he got on top of you in between your legs. “Starting right now.”

You could only be amused and giddy with his assertiveness about making you his, and he smiled too. He brushed his hands along your naked legs, then leaned in to kiss your neck as his fingers got tantalizingly close. You tensed under him, gripping his shoulders. You waited impatiently, expecting to feel his touch any second and wondering how he'd react when he found out how ready you were. 

“Holy shit,” he almost whined when his fingers slid along your slit. You moaned back, shuddering with his touch. You knew you were slippery and dripping, and now he did too. If the pool between your legs wasn't obvious, the sounds surely gave you away. “You're so ready for me.”

You moaned your agreement as you gripped the sheets. His fingers weren't eager like before; this time, he patiently dragged his digits along your folds, pressing gentle circles on your clit now and then. Your whole body trembled every time he did, letting his kisses and nibbles on your neck build you up so intensely that you didn't know what to do anymore. You were hot and trembling, and moaning just wasn't enough.

You gripped his hair in search of something, and his answer was to crash his lips to yours. The kiss turned consuming instantly, and you moaned into his mouth, completely overwhelmed. His fingers entered you and hooked, pressing into your sensitive flesh with lewd sounds, and you couldn’t hold on anymore. You tried whimpering his name in between kisses, and if anything, he firmly kept going with his fingers, both inside and out, over your clit. It drove you to pull his hair harshly back, parting your mouths with strings of saliva between you, yet you didn't notice. Your orgasm burst through you, and you lost sight of yourself, moaning desperately in his hold, gripping his hair so tightly, you surely pulled it painfully.

You noticed this when you came to, blinking at him sluggishly. Your fingers instantly relented their hold, yet absolutely nothing in his expression indicated any pain. On the contrary, he was enticed. He was looking at you as though you had bewitched him.

He raised his hand to brush the hair out of your face, careful not to use the fingers still covered in your slick. “You're so beautiful.”

You would have blushed if you weren't already hot and bothered. Instead, you met his lips with yours, kissing him more calmly than he was able to. You melted a bit more with how he matched your gentleness, careful not to push or impose. He was adorable, and you were not done yet.

“Too hot,” you whined when the kisses picked up steam. “Get rid of it,” you asked, pulling on his sweater.

He firmly pressed his lips to yours before rising to his knees and pulling the sweater off. Then, he saw you struggling with your robe and helped you. Your pajama top met the same fate as his clothes on the floor, and you giggled because before it could even happen, he was already grabbing your tits and licking a nipple wildly. 

Moans interrupted your laughter as he licked and pinched, slurping your hardened nipples inside his mouth one at a time. You squirmed under him, trying to both grab him close and escape the onslaught. The more you writhed, the more you felt his hard dick pressed to your thigh, leaking against it as he rutted.

It drove you fucking wild because no matter how much you enjoyed having him eat your chest, you craved him inside you so much more right now. “Make me yours,” you begged, locking your glistening eyes with his when he looked up from the drooling mess he was making on your chest. “Don’t wanna wait, I need you.”

You noticed the red spots his lips were leaving behind on your chest, but you didn’t care because, in an instant, he was kissing you again. He stole your breath, diving in while you relished his hands tracing your curves until they caught your legs, spreading them so he could press his dripping cock and grind against your soaked cunt.

You groaned, unable to control your bucking hips to match him. The quiet moans out of his mouth burned you from the inside out, setting you on a path that could only end in you both consuming that passion sizzling between you.

But he pulled away from your lips, hiding in your neck and panting heavily as you moaned. 

“Tell me where the condom is, or I’ll fuck you without it.”

You whimpered, feeling the way he slid across your folds length and rubbed your clit deliciously. “I’m so close.”

He uttered your name in a scold, the warning lingering as you kept bucking your hips. You opened your eyes to face him and bit your lip, so fucking close you could see it. You were tempted to throw all caution out the window and have him raw. To raise your hips so he’d get inside you right as you came around his thick cock, creaming him from tip to base. The very thought was risky; his current expression was already pure lust, holding on by a single thread. If you pushed him, he’d fuck you raw and right, just like you craved.

But you let your hips fall to the mattress and relented. “Right pocket of my robe.”

He felt the robe still under you and ended up raising his hips away from you before you’d both lose it. It made you sigh and feel beneath you as well, finally finding the crumpled part of the robe that had the pocket you both needed.

He tore the wrapper open with his teeth and got the condom on as fast as he could. When his eyes raised back to yours, and he grabbed your legs, pushing them to your sides, you clenched. His expression was dark and unreserved, as though the brakes had come off, and it made you shudder.

Yet when he aligned his dick with your entrance and sank in, he was nothing but respectful and careful, almost solemn. The way your tight embrace left him adrift was evident in the way his eyebrows knitted and his jaw hardened, but he didn’t ram inside you or let that feeling overcome his control. He waited for you to adjust to his size, but you kept clenching around him, prompting him to look at you. 

You had felt him before, but it was just as earth-shattering as the first time. You simply shook your head as you sighed. “You feel so good— Don’t hold back!”

He almost growled as he let his hips snap to yours, and you let your head fall back. Your hips matched his, increasing the intensity of each thrust, and it was wild. You got lost in the sounds of skin slapping and moans and the heat overwhelming you from the inside out. He adjusted your legs to bend further, perfecting his angle to one that simply unleashed your voice with every slam and let him guide you to the finish line. 

He knew you were close by the way your pussy sucked him in, tightening like a vice that barely let him move away. It made him tremble from head to toe as he groaned in your neck. “Just like last time— I've dreamed of this for so long,” he confessed, trying to kiss you, even as you both heaved and tried keeping that hallucinated rhythm.

“Me too,” you whimpered, searching for his eyes in the midst of it all. His hand wrapped around your hair, keeping your eyes on his as though he needed to look at you, too, and you squirmed with watering eyes. This time, you didn’t need to hide. This time, you could lose yourself because he was yours. “Please.” 

You mumbled his name between moans as you begged, and he listened. He was lost in the pleasure, but he was attentive to you, noticing all the little cues he was only once privy to. You moved with him as your eyes rolled back closed and your nails dug into his shoulders, and he felt the shattering orgasm start around his cock before he heard your moans.

Your orgasm started his out of nowhere, but as he grunted and trembled in your arms, he had only exhilaration radiating from every pore. He spilled his cum as deeply as your quivering heat allowed it but quickly and eagerly opened his eyes to look at you. You were still trembling and moaning breathily with your lip between your teeth, but then you looked at him, and he knew.

He’d never catch the moment you fell in love with him, because the truth was, you already had.

[ruershrimo]

I’m not in love, so don’t forget it- jason todd x reader

Jason never got to visit playgrounds very much. Growing up, he’d been spending time doing everything but, all to make ends meet enough for him to keep his head afloat— until he’d got past that age, tried to get tires from a car, and then ended up in a casket with fumes heavy in his lungs and slight body. By the time he fully awoke, he’d been too consumed by a drive for revenge to do so.

He supposes it’s worth it, though. There’s the sight of your smile as you stand on the swings, elated like a child with candy. It’s late at night— the time period between an embrace and a brief exchange of ‘goodnight’s, right before he wears his helmet, scarlet and metallic like blood from a fresh wound. When you’d first seen him don his Red Hood gear, you’d told him it was a noble thing, whatever he was doing. And at that time, he would have said yes if not for your smile holding him back, a balance with his morals and their contradictions on either side, both a part of him, and both amplified around you.

You’re too good to him, he thinks, and he wonders if he deserves having you in his life. Watching him watch you, you propel yourself forward on the swing before leaning back to continue. Like this, he wonders if you can see your reflection through his eyes, or if they’re stuck there with nothing to show you like amber trapped in resin. Like this, you wonder if he’ll ever understand that you’re grateful enough to have a full view of his eyes at all.

Here’s the thing, though: Jason and you are just friends. At least, the two of you think you are, though not quite.

The two of you had met after he saved you one night, and you’d kept trying to return the favour in any way ever since.

He may not care about you— you don’t know if he does, but to you, there’s something kind in his eyes, something gentle in the way he holds things as he would a child’s tiny wrist, something warm in his voice when he speaks. You hope he never leaves you.

But to him, there’s nothing he’s cared for more. There was never a debt you owed him or needed to settle— whatever he did for you, he was doing it as part of a mission— and he doesn’t remember when this happened, with no traces of when this development started, yet you’ve become his lifeblood in some way.

He had his injuries patched up at your apartment before. His blood drained out of him in rivulets, his body curled into itself and crumpled like a rag soaked in and dripping with dirty tap water, besmirching the pristine sofa and the spotless carpet floor. He thought himself a broken faucet. The whole time, you kept a towel under him, brought damp cloth to add pressure to his wounds, dressed them with expert adroitness, almost as if you were shielding him somehow. As he was blanketed by his bandages, you’d asked about his day, about the book he was reading, about how life was treating him. You held his hand the entire time, ran your fingers and the skin of your palm against his callouses as if they were mountains you could cross for his sake and that doing so came easily to you. You stayed by his side the entire night, and when he woke up the next day, you were still there.

You stand on the swing seat again. Jason is warned to catch you, else you’d lose your balance and fall face into the solid ground floor. Not everyone’s a crime-fighting vigilante with near-superhuman levels of physical ability, after all. When he does, he sweeps your hair out of your face. You want to catch it and take hold of his hand, so quickly and so intensely, until he’s filled with your presence. Until you’re not the only thing he knows but the only thing he remembers, at least for a little while.

The thing about Gotham is that the weather sucks nearly all year round. Even in summer— with the new season comes sweltering heat, horrible levels of humidity and days spent in the claggy heat driving out of the city for vacation. At night, the breeze awakens, passively making its way around the cramped lots and housing areas in Crime Alley and the Bowery, the rebarbatively uniform apartments in Midtown, all the way down to the waves crashing into Gotham Harbour. It’s a bustling city, filled with pollution of all sorts, people sequestered from each other by social status, and modern lights added onto old buildings in an effort to stand out in the night, but it’s home. And yet no matter how long it’s been here, there’s still sweat gathering on his brow when summer rolls around, even in the night when the weather is chillier.

Every time you notice it, you take something— a handkerchief, the fabric of your jacket, your fingers— and wipe it off. “It must be uncomfortable,” you usually say.

He wants you to be comfortable: are you comfortable? Do you feel safe? He fears as if he does too little to repay you sometimes, too much taking and not enough giving. Like him, you think that there was never anything he had to repay you for.

He wants to give you everything he can: to let you have everything you’d like to have, even if you may not ask for much in the end. Anything that made you happy— he’d do it a thousand times over for your smile.

When you inevitably fall forward from the swing, he catches you and you feel the sweat on his chest as it touches yours. You sense his hand cradling the back of your head, fingers tangled within the strands and intertwined like they do for prayer stances. All that you see in his eyes are his honeyed brown hues and that’s all you’ve ever wanted to see. All he sees in yours are pupils widening with a shallowing of your breaths, something deep-seated in them he doesn’t dare to decipher yet, but he knows that it’s with you he wants to stay.

“Are you okay?” you ask breathlessly. There’s something about uncertainty that only strengthens any emotion you want to subdue. You don’t know how long he’s going to stay, how long until he’s going to leave; that makes you all the more pathetically desperate to stay locked in such a tight embrace, despite the sweat and the heat and the depressive atmosphere that clouds around Gotham every waking moment.

“Yeah,” he replies softly. He wants to stay with you forever, so he won’t let go— the only way he could bring himself to let go was if you expressed that you were uncomfortable. Then he’d pull away immediately. “Should I continue—?”

“Okay.”

It would be nice to have the moonlight shining above you, and yet all the two of you have are the harsh city lights obscuring the stars in the horizon, and the old-timey street lamps constructed more than a dozen decades ago: the city remains bleak, yet not one inch of it is entrenched in darkness. In the distance the hum of silence drifts through the air; the city never sleeps and yet everyone is so quiet that it sounds like so anyway. There’s the ever-present stench in Gotham along with his sweat and the clinical scent of his multi-use body soap creating a mix you’d step away from any other night.

Neither of you knows how the other feels— that’s a sure fact. These feelings are troublesome; a tightrope walk with a blindfold on and no clear destination on the other side. If it’s love, it scares you. The word itself is easy to throw around, for you to say that you love your bed, or for him to say that he loves his books. Crushes can come to either of you easily, and yet it’s different this time; not as simple as with other people. Yet still, whatever you feel, there’s a thumping in your heart and an uneasiness in your stomach when the two of you are like this, nerve-wracking and wild, driving your feelings out of control to an insane degree.

But this is nice. You like it, if only for being able to swing like a child again, or to have someone come around and stay.

If only he knew if you felt the same way he did— then he’d stay, over and over again, and he’d bring you here or anywhere else you’d want to go on your nostalgia-fueled adventures and hold you like this every night, any time you wanted it. You and him are a snug fit, like jigsaw puzzle pieces latched onto each other.

“I like this,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” he goes, “Me too.”

“You’ve got to patrol soon, right?”

“...it can wait.”

Neither of you let go.

this is probably the only time I’ll post dc x reader on tumblr haha. title taken from “I’m Not in Love” by 10cc just because I was listening to it while writing

[cherryblossompink303]

Patience *Bonus Chapter*: ~degrees of seperation~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: Oceans apart can be very far away, and Kyoya never expected how far it would actually feel ➼ what to expect:  "If i didn't know better Kyoya Ootori I would think that you miss me" ➼ warnings: n/a

A/n: when someone comments that the next chapter will be y/n and Kyoya being masterminds and I already had this chapter written T-T

You had to admit that the flutter that you felt in your chest when you heard the familiar jingle of the video call on your computer. The summer is going incredibly since you left Japan for an internship in Italy, you found yourself counting down the hours for Kyoya to call.

"Hello?" it is already dark for Kyoya when you answer, a symptom of the time difference. "Hi" you smile, still unpacking your bag as you had only just got in from work that day. "How did talking with that competator of your father go?"

Kyoya takes a sharp inhale at the mention of the meeting "As well as we could hope. I've sworn them to secracy even if they do not accept our offer" you nod "Good, I'm sure they will, they've been looking for a way to get back at the ootori group for years" Kyoya laughs through a hum "Very true"

"How was work?"

"Alright, in full honesty if they were paying me I probably could have fixed half their issues by now, but I also don't want to work for them long term so what would be the point?" Kyoya smirks "Sounds about right"

A comfortable silence overcomes the two of you as you both basque in your combined success. "Are you being well looked after?" you roll your eyes "Yes, you know that I am" Kyoya had insisted in you staying in one of his families properties while you were in Italy.

"Do you have enough money?" you laugh "I don't think money has ever been an issue" it is kyoya's turn to roll his eyes. "I am just making sure, the less you have to rely on your parents money the better”

You huff “yes Kyoya I am fine”

“Good.”

You shake your head at kyoyas expression “what’s got you so worried?”

“Your father called today.”

Oh.

You try to seem unbothered, looking away “oh really?” Kyoya hummed, leaning back in his seat “he’s wondering why you haven’t gone home”

You raise an eyebrow “and he called you?”

“He thinks I’ve kidnapped you” you laugh at the reply “in a way he’s not fully wrong” Kyoya scoffed “like you didn’t leap to stay at the villa instead of with your nonna”

“What did you say?”

“That you are extremely busy with work placements”

“Good”

Kyoya cleared his throat “he also mentioned something else”

“Hmm?”

“Now that we’re going into third year…he said that the l/n and ootori group are going to release a joint statement confirming our engagement by the end of the year”

“What?”

This was a strange move, even for your fathers of all people.

“I would have thought that they would have waited until we graduated to announce….why move it up?”

Kyoya hums in agreement “something must have prompted them”

You wrack your brain for any idea on what would trigger them to hasten the arrangement. “Well if my father is the one that is moving it up…possibly he is sensing that your father is getting cold feet?”

He raises an eyebrow “I mean possibly but I don’t know where he would get that idea, I must admit I haven’t really spoken to my father on the matter”

It is only now that is hits you exactly what you had just been told. “Wait Kyoya, if the engagement is announced what about the host club-“

“I’ll handle that, don’t worry”

You sigh, leaning back, shaking your head “I mean…I guess if it’s moved up then it’s still happening…that’s good right?”

“I suppose, it does mean that you won’t be with them for as long after we graduate” Kyoya sighed, taking out his notebook and scribbling something down that you can't see onscreen.

You keep forgetting somehow that this engagement is actually going to end in marriage despite that being the entire point. It makes you wonder actually what life being married to Kyoya would even look like.

You always used to picture it as being cold, that the two of you would just live in the same house and for the most part mind your own business. But that was before you actually started talking to each other now you have no idea.

"How are the host club?" Kyoya groans, leaning back in his seat "As infuriating as ever, they're even harder to handle without you here to keep them in check"

You laugh "It is still the summer I am sure that they haven't been that bad" you shake your head, taking a sip of your coffee. "Tamaki's delusions ae unfortunately not seasonal i'm afraid"

"I can imagine"

"That does remind me however, our said great leader has asked for your proposed events calendar for the next semester" You have to restrain yourself from laughing midsip at kyoya's newfound nickname.

"Ok, I'll have to get started on it then, I've been a bit busy planning corperate sabotage to work on it"

"It will work out, I am sure of it"

You pause. "There is...still one more thing that we still don't know"

"Hm?"

"What exactly my father is covering up for the ootori group"

Kyoya sighs "yeah, I've been trying to look into that, the problem is trying to investigate within the ootori group without exposing our plans"

you hum in agreement "true, it is just concerning that if the group is so desperate to cover something up that your father would arrange a marriage with the head of a media empire for his daughter then it is serious, the ootori group is in medical..."

"I dread to think aswell"

Things were just going to get messy this next year, you just knew it.

"When....are you returning to Japan?"

You're head shoots up at the question, surely he already knows, a detail like that does not slip under Kyoya's radar.

"I...my placement ends on the nineteenth, you know that"

"I know...I just...thought I have may have gotten my dates wrong"

"Why would you think that? your notes as meticulous I know that much"

"I know it's just, it feels like you've been gone for a long time so..."

You raise an eyebrow "If i didn't know better Kyoya Ootori I would think that you miss me"

"More like I need someone else to deal with tamaki and the twins" You roll your eyes "You love them don't be so mean"

"If you say so"

You roll your eyes "Okay well if they are that unbearable it will be one more week until I am returning to Japan, and then your torment will be over don't worry"

Kyoya lets out a small chuckle "Good"

"Goodnight Kyoya"

"Goodnight y/n"

The room all of a sudden feels all too quiet as the call ends. One more week.

Next time on patience 'Kyoya's reluctant day out!'

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor @rebirthbunbun @bbybubbles @blueberry19000 @katgirl05 @smellslikelovinglies @veras-fanfic-reblogs @sadprimrose @mirtalikesdr @sleeplesssskeleton @ritzes28 @crackpeole @rory-cakes @renjunniex @II-kita-san-II @angelicwillows @missbrebre1012 @sleep-7372 @strawberrbitch @reticent-writer @eternal-dokja @meme848 @mistyhydrangeagarden

[backwardshatnick]

=ᗢ= the catastrophe =ᗢ=

01 |

prologue

character introductions & headcanons

pairing: pet shop employee!matt x cat café employee!reader wc: 1.6k notes: not much of matt is mentioned in the beginning, but he will make more of an appearance towards the end and in future chapters :) i highly recommend you to read the prologue and headcanons to get a gist of what's going on

it was one of those cool autumn nights. people in the streets had their flannels buttoned up, cardigans tightly wrapped and hoods from their jumpers covering their heads as they strolled the streets of boston, still evident with the presence of summer refusing to leave as the trees stretched within the pavement were still laden with its green leaves. in the distance, you could hear cars roaring signifying that people were slowly returning to their homes after a long day of work. you took a glance at your watch, the hour hand nearing 6 which meant that you had to start locking up the store. as you exited the toasty kitchen, you could see your coworker cleaning the tables at the dining area of the café with just a rag in her hand. this is strange, you thought to yourself.

"hey gwen... aren't you supposed to be taking care of the cats? i was just about to clean the tables," you asked, eyebrows contorting in confusion at the blonde girl.

she finally looked up at you with her hazel eyes, "yeah, i was going to but i have to leave in like 10 minutes and i don't think i can manage it tonight. can you help me out? i really have to go." seeing that you were starting to itch your neck, she added, "it's simple really. i've already mopped the floor beforehand, so all you really have to do is remove all their poop and replace the litter, refill their water and food and make sure that all 9 of them are there. just be careful with cecé, the white one with grey stripes, she's too playful and tends to follow us when we're about to close the doors. i know you've never dealt with them at night, but i really, really have to go."

your silence was starting to frustrate the girl who is in desperate need of leaving, but you took a deep breath in and let it out slowly and finally nodded. "you owe me a big one. what is it that you're in a rush for anyway?"

the lanky and tattooed girl blushed in response and giggled, "remember how i told you about the guy who was tutoring me for childhood education?" oh boy. "he finally asked me out on a date! we're going to the diner's and he's gonna wait for me when i'm done. i think that's him."

both of you glanced over at the window, where a boy with round glasses and dark hair stood all uptight and jittery as he held a bouquet of white and purple tulips behind his back. upon seeing him, gwen immediately started wiping the last few tables rapidly, shrugging off the fact that crumbs could still be seen in some of the tables as she rushed into the staff area to put the cleaning supplies away and retrieve her coat and bag. before leaving, you pulled out a small lip tint from your pocket and handing it to her, "wait. you gotta do some light touchups."

grinning, she looked into her reflection on the mirror bolted next to the coat racks for the customers and started to fix her hair and apply the tint on herself. when she was done, she took a whiff of the tint again and smiled, "thank you so much. how did you know that he likes raspberries anyway? i gotta go and i will absolutely return the favour!"

with a quick squeeze, she hugged you, leaving you all by yourself in the still setting of the coffee bar. while it was slightly dim, you carried on with your job and continued cleaning the tables that your coworker did not get to wipe and made sure that everything was in its place. soon after, you headed to the cat's area where the windows had to be slightly left ajar to let in the fresh air, as well as to ensure that the café does not reek and affect the kitchen and dining area. remembering the blonde-haired girl's words, you immediately counted the kitties and made sure that all 9 were there, alongside the infamous truant, cecé.

the litter boxes were finally spick and span and food and water bowls all scrubbed from the previous food and refilled with new ones after a gruelling 20 minutes. you extended your arms out wide and stretched your back, wiping the sweat off your forehead and made your way to the light switches, flicking off each lever and leaving the light on only at the main door where you are about to make an exit. the faint light was too lustreless, it did not shine its way to the cat area and thus, when ensuring that each and all of the 9 cats were well-fed and hydrated, you took a brief peep over to cecé who was in her cage alongside two other marmalades and their small similarly coloured dolls being sound asleep. or so you thought.

when you finally slid your left arm into your pink cardigan, you repositioned your tote bag on your shoulder and started looking for the keys to finally close the coffee shop and go home. with the vision of your cosy and snug pillows and your mum's rich beef stew looming over your mind, you can't help it but to just put an end to your shift and call it a day. at such hastiness, cecé who was disreputable not only for her constant flights, but also her quietness, had made her way out through the small crack of the door that was left agape when you were fiddling with your shoulder bag fishing for the keys. you texted everyone in the group chat that the shop was finally closed and that everything was "going perfect." pulling out your wired earphones, you took your everyday path back home while humming to the melodies welcoming your ears and started planning about your morning shift tomorrow.

unbeknownst to you, poor little cecé had made her way to the next block opposite of your direction, a narrow alleyway known for its constant presence of homeless cats where a pet shop-shelter operated, its dim backlights providing a warm glow to the murky passageway. cecé, together with the other cats were standing still on the rear door of the shelter, a typical activity and manoeuvre from them when waiting to be fed by either the balding middle-aged man with a tiny frame or the brunette blue-eyed boy. with a gentle creaking sound, the door was opened revealing the latter with a grilled cheese sandwich in his mouth and both hands occupied with two large green bowls filled to the brim with water and solid food. while the white-and-grey cat usually attempted her bolt for freedom, she never really managed to leave the block of the café and was generally caught immediately by the other coworkers, therefore her presence was not a typical sight for matt.

"and who do we have here?" he voiced, putting down both bowls and finally holding his sandwich in his free hand, the other being held out to let the little kitten sniff and gain his faith before gifting her chin scratches. the smell from matt's grilled cheese had awoken cecé to trust him and thus, both cecé and matt were immediately smitten with each other, matt constantly showering her with pets and cecé rolling around his feet and rubbing her cheeks on his uggs and jeans. "you know what, i'm gonna let you in, little fella. i bet you're cold."

matt wiped his greasy hands on his dark jeans after finishing his snack and straight away scooped the furry feline into the pocket of his chequered flannel to at least warm her up. "mr. and mrs. evans, we have a guest!"

upon listening, both the older couples who were just about to leave made their way to matt where cecé finally let out a soft mewl, rarely heard by the personnel and patrons of the coffee shop, her tiny paws fidgeting around matt's pouch striving to jump out and venture around the new sight. the shelter was quite spacious, where animals in their transparent enclosures wait for their new trusted owners stood on one side of the interior while the other was filled with shelves stocked with humongous bags of feed, different types of litters, toys, collars and cleaning paraphernalia.

"she's adorable! and matt, we told you that you can just call us eugene and amanda. we know you enough to treat you more than just colleagues. i think we can let her rest in the office since it's getting a lot chilly than it usually does tonight. i don't think a kitten this small will blend that well with the other adult cats outside anyway," mr. evans, or eugene, voiced out in reply, his gentle and homely smile emanating towards the brunette, whose cheeks started to burn crimson while scratching his nape in awkwardness.

"sorry about that, eugene. i was about to ask you anyway if i could let this little furball in while she grows up. we have an extra couch in the accounting room so i will get going and set up the place for her with the food. i have the keys with me and i'm heading home once i'm done," matt answered, taking slow steps into the office where there was indeed a tattered sage green sofa, its age visible through the chew marks and scruff from previous animals.

he took an extra pillow they had from their stocks and his own dark blue quilt and folded it into a smaller blanket for cecé, stuffing the white soft creature in it. when the small bowl was finally refilled with treats and water, matt finally stood up and gave cecé her last pets before leaving and turning off the lights, uttering in dulcet tones, "good night, kid. whoever lost you, his loss."

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧

taglist: @sturns-mermaid

first chapter posted! i feel like this will be a short series of no more than 5 parts because my new semester just started i kinda want to make more blurbs of them at their jobs and whatnot. do reply if you want to be tagged and thanks for reading! hope you have an amazing day and stay hydrated, folks ☕︎!

xx, loveolive ᨒ ོ ☼

[thewholekittyandkaboodle]

(reblogging cause tumblr glitched)

"This wasn't supposed to happen..." you hear your double grumble as you chase them. He lets out a yelp when you finally send them and yourself tumbling to the ground. You notice that when he turns in your direction their visible eye is completely closed. You're too fast for him to get up and get away so he holds up his hands in surrender and stays put. He doesn't open his eyes even as he faces you.

"Howdy stranger!" they said in a sugary sweet tone desperately trying to dodge your question.

"I'm just a humble traveler passing through. Lovely day isn't it? Like a perfect summer afternoon that you never want to end~!" They were really starting to get on your nerves, but they continued.

"I think a better question is, what did you do? What are you hoping to accomplish lurking around the edge of town like this? You clearly can't go 5 seconds in civilized society without running for the hills at the sight of other people so why even bother staying? You're just like a donkey following a carrot being pulled out from you over and over!"

Begin

(Optional background music)

You awake in a void pitched lightless surrounded by bright stars and astral bodies. Your body feels like mush, but it's quite weightless as you drift through the empty space. You hear a voice.

"…Oh!" "Oh ho ho, hello there!" "It seems you've come a long way from home haven't you?" "Hmm…What to do about this?" "I'm afraid I can't send you back to your own world in the shape I am right now." "…" "…Perhaps this could be just what this world needs." "But, if something were to go wrong-" "-This could very well destroy the space time continuum…" "But that probably won't happen! And anyways, it seems like there's no choice but to get outside help in this situation." "Alright now listen carefully, if you please." "You are about to be sent to a world a bit different than your own." "Don't worry it's quite similar to your own in a lot of ways, but…" "Well, I guess you will just have to see for yourself." "Before that though, why don't you get yourself reoriented a little bit?" "Why not start by…" "…Telling me a bit about yourself?"

(Here's where you choose your character. If you are playing an OC either leave a description in reblog or comments or tag the character sheet of the character you want to rp as. Same is true for an AU version of a canon character.)

[youryurigoddess]

The summer that was never supposed to end

You’ve probably noticed how in Good Omens 2 Crowley’s eyes are brighter, more saturated, as if glistening with liquid gold. We’ve already covered his hair. And it’s not only the visual aspect of him — even in objectively stressful conditions, Crowley appears mature and put together, way cooler and more protective than before. Even his faults are heavily romanticized in the past and present scenes, reminding of the S1 body swap, when Aziraphale projected his love to him on the way he played the demon in Hell.

It’s not just the demon. The whole season is more vibrant, bolder, filled with sunshine. Just like a summer that was never supposed to end. Like a memory of a loved one seen through the eyes of someone who thinks of them every day until the end of the world.

S2 seems ridiculously saturated, whimsical, and full of red and gold, just like a certain demon. Aziraphale not only painted his bookshop in his image, but literally colored the whole world in Crowley’s colors. It was such lush and saturated and blooming with warmth and hazy light.

It’s either that all the newest events are just another memory seen through a certain angel’s eyes, or said angel actively made it appear this way — as in, his feelings grew so strong that they’ve started to warp the reality around him. And it’s a well-known fact that Aziraphale has a tendency to affect his surroundings, either unconsciously, when his presence in the bookshop literally lightens up the sky seen through its windows, or very much consciously, when he takes over the position of a master puppeteer and manipulates people with or without the help of his miracles.

S1 was more dramatic and apocalyptic, but not particularly gray — at least not as much as the color grading typically used in portrayal of similar apocalyptic narratives. S2, at least as seen through Aziraphale’s own La Vie En Rose lens, is vibrant and saturated. And those colors drastically fade in the heavenly light of the elevator during the credits, suggesting that they won’t be as visible in the course of S3.

But I don’t want to ramble about the apocalypse sandwich and the three-act structure here, so let’s circle back to S2.

Good Omens 2 was really set in a summer that was never supposed to end. But it did, autumn crept in, and there was no chance of hearing the nightingales sing. They all had left by the time an angel and a demon finally kissed.

In the most literal sense: the very last nightingales usually migrate from the UK to their wintering grounds in Sub-Saharan Africa in the first days of September.

Aziraphale was right that nothing lasts forever — and the passage of time on Earth is marked by subtle details invisible to the immortal eyes.

The main thing about autumn migration is how sudden and hard to predict it is. The birds start disappearing gradually, often without notice, until at some point they are no longer here. Much like the angel leaves the bookshop — their shared nest — to spread his wings and fight.

And it was basically announced on the poster.

Can you see the migratory formation of birds up in the sky? It looks like Aziraphale is the last one to get off the ground and fly.

[bookalicent]

yeah so this was insane

[helloimtired]

never being anyone’s best friend or the most important person in anyone’s life, ever, can really fuck you up emotionally

[youryurigoddess]

This is so extremely important in the grand scheme of things and now you have no excuse not to know it.

Good Omens: behind the camera!

With DoP Gavin Finney.

I gathered together all of the interviews I could find where Gavin Finney discusses his work for Good Omens: including how he framed certain shots, the filters used for some scenes, how Aziraphale has a constant halo and celestial shots. (Even a camera that only exists for filming the Gavotte).

There are even more things dealing with CGI and VFX in the articles. So do give them a read if you can!

I also added some things he mentioned for The Ineffable Con 4.

Here are all of my sources:

British Cinematographer Season 1

Good Omens DP Gavin Finney on Earthly and Otherwordly In-Camera Delights

British Cinematographer Season 2

How Cinematographer Gavin Finney Brought Heaven and Hell to Life in ‘Good Omens’

DP Chat: Good Omens cinematographer Gavin Finney

Definition Magazine: Raining Men, Omen

On Shooting Good Omens

Maggie Service: ‘The Good Omens Universe Is A Lovely Place To Inhabit’ – Interview

Tweets because I do now know how to call them anymore:

About the kiss.

Blurring the edges.

Intentional Lighting.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[mercymaker]

two hours ago had an existential crisis moment in a bath

ten minutes ago it started raining like crazy, just absolutely pouring at 10pm so i ran outside and just enjoyed getting soaked in seconds. it was warm and made me feel alive so yaknow.. sometimes you truly gotta will yourself to enjoy the little things

[chasing-the-persea]

Imagine Percy having a really rough day. His power, what he’s done, who he’s had to be to do those things, are weighing on him. Frankly, he scares himself. He doesn’t know how any sane person would want him around, much less around kids, especially as a counselor.

He puts on a brave face. Maybe if he looks happy no one will remember there’s a person behind that face who can’t look at himself in the mirror.

He doesn’t know how it happened; maybe he agreed to it when he was lost in his mind, putting on the “chill older counselor” face everyone expects, but he finds himself in the sand volleyball pit on the team of campers from the less populated cabins. The Demeter and Hermes cabin teamed up on the other side.

The game itself is a fog to Percy. The only breaks in his gloom come in the form of reminders: that’s only a volleyball (images of a giant hurling rocks at him flash in front of his eyes). they’re calling the ball (the sound of campers crying out for help in countless battles echo in his head). that’s just sand (the phantom touch of Gaia’s earth brush his legs)

Before he knows it his team is cheering: they won. He doesn’t know how–or if–he contributed any. He chastises himself. A good leader wouldn’t let themselves be distracted. Wouldn’t…his shoes are gone.

He could’ve swore they were right there? If he wasn’t so caught up with himself he would know where he put his shoes, that’s so stupid what would have happened if he was in battle and he got distracted, then it’d be on his head if another camper got killed again because of him, he shouldn’t have even played what was he thinking—

A Hermes kid was holding them up, taunting him, retaliating for their loss. He took one step towards them and they took two steps away. Their face was…playful? This was a prank. They’re pranking him. Don’t they know what he’s done, why their cabin is so empty now?

He took another step. This time the kid let out a excited laugh and ran a few feet away. This was a game. For fun. The kid knows but doesn’t care. They just want to have fun with an older counselor. camper. cousin. whatever the relation, they genuinely just want to mess with him.

But why would they—unless. Unless they aren’t afraid of him.

They see him as a leader, and like any other rotten kid, they want to tease whoever’s in charge. The kid is just being a kid, doing kid things. Like stealing someone's shoes and knowing they won't be hurt because of it. Because they believe Percy is good.

He tries to ignore the similarities on the kids face to one he knew so well, one he thought was good when he was the kids age.

I'm not Luke, he reminded himself. A tiny whisper in a corner of his mind hissed how are you any different?

He looked at the kid again, who was still holding out the shoes, attempting to lure him into a chase. The kid took a couple more steps away, grinning wildly as Percy’s face set in determination.

I’m going to be the person Luke needed, and the one he never was for me. We deserve better.

He sprinted after the Hermes kid, laughing lighter than he had in months.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[clits-and-clips]

Didn't wake up bawling my eyes out today so that's a plus

[doodlingwren]

Hiatus

I am going on hiatus for a bit more. I really really hoped the stuff that have been going on lately were already "sorted out" but, uhm... they aren't. I need to take a bit more time offline once again, and try to work things out.

Thank you for your patience ❤

Wren