#anyway I am still obsessed with them I fear

[radpool]

Atomic Fission/Fusion

once again I am imagining what it would have been like for them to atomically hold themselves and one another together in the immediate aftermath of the Time Ripper blowing... what could be more intimate I ask you 👀

[klutzytomb]

if I ever mysteriously disappear one day with my account deleted, becoming the missing mutual, rest assured that it'll probably be because I have continually lied about myself IRL and find this account to be attached to that mentality. I will one day return

[sweetcalebb]

Catching reader listening to nsfw audios hehe 😼

They catch you listening to NSFW audios ! ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

wc: 1.9k (~350 each boy)

a/n: there wasn't a specification on which boy, so i did my take on all of them. also a special thanks to @beaconsxd who helped me with raf's dialouge (directly quoted!!) and mannerisms. i hope it was okay!! :(

content: caleb/ zayne/ xavier/ sylus/ and rafayel x reader, some of them are pouty and whiny, obsessive, possessive, making your own videos together! <3

––

Caleb

You thought you were careful. How were you supposed to know that Caleb's earbuds would connect to your phone?

You sit there for a second, dumbly—brows furrowed with annoyance and fingers nudging at the volume button.

"What the hell?" you murmur.

You check your Bluetooth status. It says connected. But when you look closer, your cheeks burn.

They're connected. To Caleb's earbuds.

Before you can disconnect, you hear footsteps padding to your room.

Then there he is, brows furrowed and lips parted.

"What am I listening to right now?"

You scramble, turning the volume all the way down. Then you just sit there, blankly. What are you even supposed to say?

"How often do you listen to this stuff?" he asks, his voice edging with curiosity and something darker as he steps closer

"Not often..." you murmur, shrinking back into your bed like the pillows will erase the fact that you've been caught red-handed.

You want to die. This has literally been one of your worst fears since you stumbled across these NSFW audios—for someone else to connect as you're listening.

But for it to be Caleb of all people?

"I just—Sometimes I..—"

"Do you want me to make those sounds?" Caleb sits down next to you, hand twitching at his side. "Because I can. I can groan and grunt all you want. I can make videos for you."

Your chest tightens at that.

"N-no, that's not—"

"Then you wouldn't have to listen to that," he says, his voice caught between something equal parts soft and rough. Like he can't decide whether to be sweet or jealous.

"You could have me in your ear instead."

Your breath hitches. "You would seriously... make audios for me?"

Caleb nods, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours, then your jaw, then your neck. Then his hand finally slides up your side.

"I would do anything for you."

(BONUS)

Caleb really followed through. Of course he did.

Anything for you.

You could tell he had fun—could practically hear the lopsided smile in his breathy sighs and moans.

Especially when he'd grunted out the words, "M'mhah. Is this what you wanted, Pipsqueak?"

Oh yeah, he was cocky.

But the pure possession and jealousy started bleeding in through the cracks. So painfully shameless, too. He started saying things like "I'm the only one you need pips," and "Just me, just me, just me," through grunts the closer he got.

And you ate it up.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Zayne

You had a routine. Connect to your earbuds. Check once. Check twice. Check thrice.

So the last thing you expected when Zayne asked if you guys could talk was for him to bring up the NSFW audios you were listening to earlier that day.

Your cheeks burn. You don't even want to look at him.

Zayne's lips press into a thin line, frustration sharpening the edges of his face. He isn't one for jealousy. No, he's composed. Rational.

Usually, anyway.

But this?

Something about it irks him.

"What do you use it for?" he asks, his voice rougher than he intends.

"Sometimes I just listen.."

Zayne's eyes narrow. "And other times?"

You stay silent, and that's all the answer he needs. He waits a beat, like he's contemplating what to do before carefully pulling you into his lap.

"Is there something.. I lack?" His voice softens in a way he can't hide.

He brushes his lips against your temple, then your cheek, then lower still until they're at your neck, sweet, but hesitant.

"If that's what you need... then let me be the voice you listen to."

You melt, guilt flaring in your chest.

"No, you're enough.. It's just something.. for when I miss you," you say, tilting your head. "But I shouldn't use it at all."

Zayne lets out a small sigh against your neck. "No. You shouldn't. Not when I can help you."

You pause.

"In what way?"

"I could... make those for you."

"What—?" You can't help the excitement that creeps up, but you quickly beat it back down. "You don't have to—"

"I want to." Then quieter, "Will you let me?"

(BONUS)

Zayne didn't spoil you. He's too strict (he's really just shy) for that. But he did leave you one video—him gasping and huffing as he worked himself over.

Again, he's too strict (shy) to be overly vocal, but he did slip in some lines.

"I need you..."

"I... I miss you."

Then casually, after sending the audio, he texted you.

Zayne: I hope you'll listen to that when you need me.

When you need him.

Such casual wording, like he hadn't just wrecked you even more with that.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Xavier

You've never seen him like this. Not since the last time you mentioned Lumiere. And you don't even try to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.

It's not even from being caught.

It's from the way he looks you—brows set in an irritated line, lips pressed in a tight line, his jaw ticking from how hard he's clenching it.

"Why do you listen to that?" he questions, carefully grabbing your phone and shutting it off. "When I'm here?"

His eyes soften a fraction, his hands slipping up your sides and pulling you close. "I don't like it.."

Your chest feels heavy. "I didn't think it mattered," you murmur.

His hold on you tightens, and you can feel the heat of his stare even though you can’t meet his eyes.

“It matters to me,” he says, softer now.

You nod, cheeks burning. “Okay… I won’t anymore. I’m sorry, Xav.”

Xavier huffs, the sound caught between relief and something else. He nudges his head against yours. "Is that what you like?" He asks, his voice quiet, like he's not sure he really wants the answer.

Quickly, he decides he doesn't want the answer. He just kisses your head and murmurs, "I can make those for you."

It almost sounds like a plea, but that edge of possessiveness comes creeping back in. "You don't need anything—or anyone else."

(BONUS)

When Xavier actually sent you the video, it surprised you. But when you listened to it, you nearly lost it.

Because the sounds?—God, the sounds.

He whimpered all soft and needy. Then, halfway through, he started asking things like "is this okay?" and "am i doing it right?" between ragged breaths.

You felt a small twinge of guilt though. When you saw him at work again; he averted your gaze and his cheeks tinted a cute pink.

Then later, when you were alone, he asked, "Did I do it right..?"

When you nodded, he smiled and said, "I'm glad."

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Sylus

"Sweetie."

You briefly glance up at Sylus as he enters the bedroom. "Yeah?"

Nothing could've prepared you for when Sylus holds up his phone, the NSFW audio you listened to yesterday on the screen.

"What is the meaning of this?"

You glance up again as he stops in front of you. Heat rushes to your cheeks. You open your mouth to explain, but all that comes out is a small breath.

Sylus tilts his head and smiles. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

"I don't... How did you..?"

"I'm not judging, sweetie. I'm just.." he glances at the screen, still smiling, "intrigued."

"I.. I just missed you."

Sylus chuckles, the sound low and rumbly. He places his phone on the nightstand before carefully dragging his hand up your arm and stopping at your cheek.

"So you imagine me when you listen to that?"

"Yes.."

Sylus hums in acknowledgment.

"Well, why listen to this when you can have the real thing?"

He thumbs at your lip, his chest tugging at the way you look right now—cheeks tinted red, eyes big and pleading, like you're praying he won't be mad at you.

"What do you mean?"

"If you listen to audios when you miss me, then perhaps I should give you something to use while I'm away." He leans forward, his breath ghosting over your lips. "Would you like that, kitten?"

"Yes.."

"Good. If you want something, just ask for it." Sylus kisses you slow. "I'll give you anything you desire as long as you talk to me."

(BONUS)

Sylus spared no expense. He didn't just send an audio. He sent a video too—claiming it was for when your mind needed a little more stimulation.

The audio—that was a whole thing on its own—soft grunts and groans that made heat pool in your stomach and your legs squeeze together.

But the video?

The video made you think he missed his calling on some raunchy site with the way he worked himself over, deliberately slow at first, then faster, your name spilling past his lips like it's sacred.

Then came his text.

Sylus: Will that suffice?

Sylus: If you ever need more—of anything, not just this—say the word and it's yours.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Rafayel

Rafayel hasn't talked to you in 30 minutes. He's been sitting there with his arms crossed and his lips pursed in his signature pout.

Then finally, "Do you even love me?"

You let out a quiet breath. "Of course I do!"

"What does that faceless man have that I don't?" he presses, eyes narrowed in a way that makes guilt curl in your chest.

"Nothing, Raf..! I—I'm sorry.. I only listen to that type of stuff when I miss you.."

"You should call me if you miss me so much.." he mutters, the tension slowly bleeding out of his shoulders when he sees the way your frown deepens.

He can never stay mad at you too long.

Rafayel sighs, gesturing for you to come closer. When you do, he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. "So that's the kinda stuff you like, huh?"

"Not necessarily... I just—I picture you."

There's a beat of silence, then he pulls back to look at you. "You picture me?" he echoes.

You nod.

He smiles, briefly. Just briefly. Then it's gone again, like he's still trying to hold on to whatever semblance of a grudge that he can.

"But I can give you everything you need," he murmurs. "You don't need to look anywhere else."

"I know, I'm sorry. I won't do it anymore."

He seems to soften even more at that. Then quietly, with his lips pressing into your collar, he says, "We could make our own audios." His lips trail up your neck. "Together."

You practically melt into a puddle right then and there. "You'd want to do that?"

Rafayel nods, lips traveling higher now. "So we can both have something to listen to when we miss each other." His grip on you tightens. "Maybe we can make more than just audios."

Your heart beats wildly in your ears. "Now?"

Rafayel nods, slowly grabbing your phone from your pocket and handing it to you. "When else, cutie?"

(BONUS)

You didn't just make audios together, you made videos too.

Plural.

Videos.

Rafayel wouldn't admit how much it actually bothered him that you listened to another guy's voice just to... what? He didn't even ask what you used them for. But it bothered him.

So, you guys made lengthy videos together.

He didn't stop after that, though. No, he started making more audios just for you. You didn't ask, he just did it.

You had a full album's worth of them.

And after that, the only NSFW audios you listened to were his.

––

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tags: @exe-toby @seungkwansflower @floatinginaer @halfawakeblobbu @heartyluv @starryeyed-apple @asiatic-apple @walrusbreath @sylvieisoffline @awquaz @purpleamethyst25 @pinksaiyans @haleaf @politefawn @colonelpantysniffer @villainessobsessed @lioria @inlovewithsylus @tired7o7 @justwinginglife @itsmysmut @bitewiththis @littleboomerang @aenishas @inzayneforaj @opalesquegirl @sudenuryg @lamogliedizayne @rurushow @viviiswrr-d @rina-lidou @puppytruther @animegamerfox @00haru00 @thelittlebutton @lilacsandhysteria @syncaleb @meulilac @honeymoonfleur @stargirlygirl @peachlycheetea @calebsbabyapple @goochfiddler99 @lewdcifer778 @minivia @bidisasterforevermore @c-l-stinnett @thesevro @mindnumbed @alysaria @destinysrequiem @twilightsmissingfur

(some of u only wanted to be tagged for certain boys. do u still want to be tagged for these types of post where it's all lads boys? let me know 🫶🏻)

[cuzxai]

I’m obsessed with your work 😩

Is it possible for me to request the filthiest sluttiest smut with Spencer talking you through it? Maybe you’re shy about asking him to try new things in bed?

It can be any scenario, just a lot of dirty talk, you know Spencer is a yapper anyway ❤️‍🔥

Thank youuuuu!

full of you - nsfw

spencer reid x afab!reader

a/n: lately i havent been good with the filthy stuff, please i tried— i really tried. soft girl at heart. small warning but if anyone has an issue with sleep sex, just scroll💔

Spencer doesn’t really sleep after cases, you’ve learned that by now.

Even when he’s stretched out beside you. He’s quiet and still, you can tell he’s not truly gone. His breath doesn’t settle the same way, his fingers twitch every so often— reaching for something that isn’t there. Tonight’s no different. You’re curled against him in his bed, the blankets tangled from the way you pulled at them earlier. Sex-dazed and too warm from his hands on your skin. And even now, way later— you feel the heat of it clinging to you. His hand rests on the back of your thigh. Not moving but there in its comfortable presence. The case ended earlier that afternoon. It hadn’t been the worst kind but there was a kid involved. That always gets him in a specific way. He hadn’t said much at dinner nor did he needed to. You’d just slipped your fingers between his under the table and let your knee press into his, steady as you could.

You reach down now and brush your fingertips across his wrist. His pulse is steady, Soothing. “You’re still awake,” you murmur.

He hums, just a soft sound against your shoulder. “So are you.”

“Barely,” you admit. “I think your mattress is trying to swallow me.”

He shifts a little to face you, voice quieter. “I can stop buying books and start saving for a new one.”

You laugh into the crook of your arm. “You won’t.”

“No,” he agrees. “I won’t.”

You smile in the dark, letting the quiet settle again. There’s something special about this part of the night. After everything’s been said. After all the armor has dropped. You’re bare in more than the physical sense— no barriers, no pretending. Just the two of you in the hush of late hours, breath mingling, limbs twined. And despite everything, there’s something sitting on your tongue. You’ve been thinking about it for days now. Maybe longer. It started with a dream— hot, desperate, confusing and it lodged itself in your mind like a splinter. You haven’t been able to shake it. You’ve imagined saying it to him. A dozen different ways. A dozen different times. But with your skin still tingling faintly from the way he touched you earlier, you feel bolder. The words hover on the edge of your lips like they might slip out without you meaning to.

Spencer’s fingers trace soft circles against your thigh. “You’re thinking hard.”

You let out a low breath. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to me.” He pauses. “You don’t have to say anything but I’m listening if you want to.”

You swallow. It’s not a matter of wanting to. It’s the fear of what he’ll think once he hears it. Still you press your cheek to his chest and whisper, “I’ve been thinking about something.”

His hand stills, giving you his full attention. “Okay.”

“It’s a little…” You groan, half-laughing into his skin. “I don’t even know how to say it.” Spencer doesn’t push. Just waits all patient and steady. He always gives you space to get there on your own. “It’s not bad,” you say quickly. “It’s not— I mean, it’s not something I’d need or expect or anything and you can say no.”

His fingers start moving again—reassuring, not prodding. “You’re safe. I’d never judge you.”

You nod against him. “Okay. Just… okay.” Another breath. Then so soft you’re not sure you mean to say it, “I had this dream. About you— us.”

You feel his smile against your hair. “Was I wearing the scarf again?”

You snort. “No, not that one.” You take a breath. “You were inside me. I was asleep at first but you were there. Like—I guess the idea is… you woke me up by being in me.”

There’s a pause. A soft silence, not an awkward one. “And you liked it?” he asks gently.

You nod. “I think so. I keep thinking about it but I wasn’t sure if I should even tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because… I don’t know. It feels like the kind of thing I’m supposed to be embarrassed about.” You hesitate. “Isn’t that kind of weird?”

Spencer lifts his head enough to kiss your forehead, then rests his chin against your temple. “No,” he says firmly. “Not weird. Intimate, maybe but not weird.”

“You really don’t think so?”

“I think you’re the person I love most in the world,” he says, voice warm. “And if you trust me enough to say that out loud, the least I can do is treat it with the respect it deserves.” Your throat tightens at his words. “Besides,” he adds, a little quieter, “you might be surprised how much I like the idea.”

You blink. “Wait. Really?”

He laughs softly. “I mean… yeah. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about before but waking up with you like that? Being that close? That connected? That sounds… kind of incredible.”

You shift to look at him, uncertain but hopeful. “You don’t think it’d be too much?”

Spencer brushes his fingers along your cheekbone. “You’d still be able to say no. You’d still be you. I wouldn’t do anything unless you were okay with it. I promise.”

“I know.” You take his hand and press it to your chest. “That’s why I thought maybe I could tell you.”

His eyes soften. “What made you think of it?”

“I think I just wanted to feel like you wanted me that much. Even when I wasn’t all done up or trying or… anything. Just… me. Sleepy. Barely awake. And you’d still want me.”

Spencer kisses you— slow, grounding. “I always want you.”

You yawn then smile, curling against him again. “I don’t expect it,” you say, half-asleep. “I just wanted you to know.”

“I’m glad you told me,” he whispers. “We don’t have to do anything. Not unless you’re sure.”

You nod against his chest. “I know. But… maybe one day.”

He kisses your hair again, one hand cradling your hip. His voice is quiet, almost like a secret. “One day,” he says. “Only if you want to.”

He doesn’t rush. He could’ve. There were moments he almost did. Moments in the quiet of the past week where you’d fallen asleep with your leg tangled over his or stepped out of the shower with your skin still damp and sweet, wrapped in one of his towels, looking up at him like you forgot what you’d said. He remembered every word. Every breath. The way your voice went quiet when you told him you might like waking up to him already inside you. Like it was a fantasy you weren’t sure you were allowed to say out loud.

He hasn’t touched himself in days. He wanted this to be more than a reaction. Not a hungry impulse. Not something quick and shameful. He wanted it to be real. So when you fall asleep early on Friday night, curled under his sheets in one of his soft old shirts, he doesn’t act on it right away. You’re worn out. That much is obvious. You didn’t even finish your dinner, just sighed and curled into his chest, mumbling something about being overstimulated by the week. You barely kissed him goodnight. No performance. No prelude. You’re just tired. Spencer brushes your damp hair back from your forehead. Kisses the space between your brows. Watches your eyes flutter beneath closed lids. He doesn’t move for a long time. He lays there beside you, motionless, listening to the rhythm of your breath. The silence between each inhale. The way your body curls into his without prompting. You smell like citrus and honey and something raw, something soft. Like skin after sleep. He’s hard. He has been since the moment you sighed his name and tucked yourself under his chin. But that’s not the point. Not tonight. He waits.

And when the city outside your window is finally quiet, when your breathing deepens and your body shifts even closer in sleep, that’s when he moves. Slowly. Gently. His palm coasts over your side, down the line of your hip, thumb brushing against your bare thigh. The shirt has ridden up around your waist. There’s nothing underneath. He exhales. His whole body trembles with it. Spencer shifts behind you—carefully, reverently— and pushes the covers down to his waist. He presses one hand flat to the mattress, steadying himself, the other resting lightly on your hip. Just to hold. He grinds against the curve of your ass once— slow, cautious. Testing. Your breath stutters. But you don’t wake. So he lines himself up. He doesn’t use his hand to guide. Doesn’t need to. You’re already soft, already open. He pushes forward with the gentlest roll of his hips and you give under him like you were made for this— like your body never forgot what it said yes to. The stretch is slow, careful. So damn slow it feels like prayer. Spencer’s mouth falls open. His forehead presses into the back of your shoulder, and he almost gasps out loud. He’s inside you fully.

You don’t stir, not all the way. Just a twitch in your fingers, a faint shift of your spine as he bottoms out and stills. He bites back a groan. This is what you asked for. He doesn’t move or— he can’t. You’re so warm around him, so wet, so snug it borders on unbearable. He feels like if he even breathes wrong, it’ll be over too soon. He’s waited a week. He can wait a little longer. So he just stays. Buried inside you. Letting the warmth of your body surround him. He kisses the back of your neck, then your shoulder. One arm wraps around your middle. The other presses beneath the pillow where your hand is curled. Spencer closes his eyes and waits.

You don’t dream but you know you’re not fully asleep anymore. Something is different. Your breath catches in your chest before your mind can form the why of it. Your thighs are already warm, your skin flushed. You feel held and heavy and anchored. You twitch in your sleep and a wave of sensation floods you. Too deep. Too much. You freeze. And then you feel it—him—pressing inside you, slow and solid and real. Your eyes blink open, dazed. But it’s not a bad feeling. It’s thick and full. Like you’re already mid-dream, like your body got there before your brain. You shift slightly and he groans.

“You’re awake,” he whispers. His voice is rough and frayed. So unlike how he normally sounds that it sends a flush down your neck. You don’t speak yet. You’re trying to process what’s real. His breath fans against your skin. You can feel his chest shaking where it’s pressed to your back. “I couldn’t wait anymore,” he says, like an apology. “You looked so perfect.” You close your eyes again, moaning low. The sound of your own voice makes your chest ache. He hasn’t moved. He’s just inside you, so deep you feel dizzy.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

You nod before you can speak. Then you whisper, “Don’t stop.”

His breath shudders. “I’m not moving,” he says, “not yet. You were so asleep. I wanted to feel you before you even knew it was happening.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “I needed to know what it felt like to be part of your first breath.”

You whimper. He’s still trembling behind you, one hand firm around your waist, the other reaching up to brush your hair off your neck. You reach back for him—grab at his thigh, his hip, anything. But when you can’t find purchase, you just arch your hips back while whimpering, “Spencer—move, please—” He stills. Then groans deep in his throat, barely holding it in. Your voice is raw. Wrecked. Like you’ve been wanting this longer than you even knew. “Please,” you whisper again, helpless. “Want you to move.”

You don’t need to say it twice. Your hips jerk up into him the moment he moves. Just a little. Not fast. Not harsh. Slow, steady. His body tenses with the shift, a rough groan caught deep in his throat.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice thick and ragged, “You feel so good like this. So full…”

You shiver, curling your fingers into the sheets, nails digging in as he starts to rock forward inch by inch bottoming out with each roll of his hips. His hand slides down to cup your cheek, thumb tracing lazy, trembling circles over your skin.

“God, you’re perfect,” he whispers. “So warm… so soft…”

Your chest tightens, your breath catching in a sudden hiccup as he pulls out just a fraction then pushes all the way back in again, slow and deliberate, making your body sing in response.“Spencer,” you whimper, voice barely more than a broken sigh, “Please… don’t stop.”

His breath hitches. You feel him press a little harder, tilt his hips and you know he’s chasing that feeling. The one that curls like fire in your belly and spreads out into your thighs, making everything go soft and wild. “Damn, you’re so tight,” he groans. “I can’t get enough of you.” You arch into him, desperate for more, needing to feel him deeper, to never lose this closeness. “Tell me what you want,” he breathes, lips brushing your ear, voice low and rough like gravel.

You try but it catches in your throat. Instead, your fingers wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him flush against you. “Spencer,” you gasp, “Please…” The sound is barely a whisper but it’s enough.

He groans and starts moving with more urgency. He’s not rough but not gentle either — like he’s trying to hold himself back from breaking. His hips roll into yours, slow but steady, a rhythm that sends heat flooding through your veins. You moan, the sound raw and needy.“God, you sound so good,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. “So fucking beautiful.”

You can’t stop yourself — your hands run down his back, over his waist, desperate to hold on as his movements deepen. “Spencer, please,” you whimper, “I need you…”

He grunts, letting go of the last scraps of control. “You have me,” he pants, voice thick, “I want to hear you, baby.”

Your nails dig into his skin, your hips rising up to meet his every movement as your breath hitches in short, ragged bursts. The bed creaks beneath you both, your bodies slick with sweat and desire. He leans in, kissing the side of your neck, sucking a dark mark there and you cry out a needy, desperate sound that fills the quiet morning air.

“Fuck,” he moans, “So beautiful. So fucking perfect.” You’re trembling, caught between the ache in your hips and the fire burning low in your belly. His hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and circling it with slow, relentless pressure. “Can you tell me what you want?” he whispers, voice shaking.

You can’t form words—just moans, whimpers, gasps—but he understands. He presses closer, hips snapping forward in a pace that’s still patient but building, a promise that he’s not letting go. “C’mon, you can tell me,” he breathes, fingers moving faster now, “Tell me— fuck— you feel so good.”

Your hands find his face, pulling him down for a kiss that’s messy and desperate, tongues tangling, breaths colliding. You taste yourself on him and it makes you shiver. “Spencer…” you gasp, voice breaking, “Please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

He’s groaning now, every inch of his body straining toward you, a desperate hunger that matches your own. His hips roll faster, fingers circling your clit, and you feel the coil in your stomach tightening, winding closer to the edge.

“Moan for me,” he pants, voice raw. “I want to hear you.”

“Spencer…” you cry out, voice trembling, “I love you.”

He catches your gaze, eyes dark and wild, and whispers back, “I love you. So much.”

Your walls clench around him suddenly, a shockwave ripping through your body, and he groans deep in his chest. You tremble all breathless as he holds you tight, thrusting slow and deep, grounding you in every moment. His hand leaves your face to grip your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as your moans turn to gasps.

“Look at me,” he says, voice barely a whisper. “You’re mine.”

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks, overwhelmed by the heat and the feeling of being seen, held, loved. “Yours,” you repeat, desperate.

He kisses you one last time before burying his face in your neck, thrusting deeper and harder, pushing you over the edge together. You cry out, fingers tangling in his hair as your bodies move as one, lost in the messy, beautiful chaos of it all. The moment lingers like a slow-burning flame, both of you gasping and shuddering, clinging to each other.

[livingsurreal]

More thoughts and theories about our favorite Necromancer

My darlings, I have too many thoughts and my obsession is running wild. (How I missed you, hyperfocus). If you have read my last meta post about our Emmrich, here it is: First Meta Post

That is not a required read however. I am still wondering why anyone is reading my word vomit U_U

Anyway, I love reading other peoples theories, so please, send me yours. <3 And a lot of thanks and love for all you darlings who make this fandom such a beautiful and nice place. Especially to @jaal-ama-daravv - who makes the most beautiful videos, and writes such wonderful character studies.

Warning, from here on there will be spoilers as well as mentions of sex. If you don't want to read about any of that, do not read the rest.

Also pictures and way too many words. This is a ten page word document, save yourself while you can. I tend to go off on a tangent once I start writing. I am also well aware that not everyone will agree. This is just my personal read on Emmrich.

Now, after my first essay I have some more thoughts on Emmrich and Rook and specifically their intimate relationship.

Emmrich is such an interesting and baffling contradiction. On the one hand he is confident, self-assured, all manners and poise. He is smart, and he knows it. He has special gifts, and he knows it.  He is confident without being proud. He likes to teach others without being arrogant. He still likes to learn about new things and is, as far as I’ve seen, never judgmental about different beliefs and ways of life. (Unless someone treats him with disdain or bully him)

He is a man who is confident speaking of his thoughts and feelings and fears. How he just casually drops his thanatophobia is just astonishing. He is honest and open-minded in the best ways.

And then there is the other side of him. The wet kitten side of him. As open and honest as he is about his emotions, when we get to the meat of it, to the scary bit, the real feely bit, he locks up completely. As long as it is surface level (or he can pretend its surface level), everything is up for discussion. But once we reach deeper and touch *love* he gets so scared and refuses to admit and commit to his feelings. And as much *death* scares him, love scares him more.

So how does that influence his intimate relationship with Rook?

According to the banter with Lace “everyone knows about it”. He was rather surprised by that.

That tells us two things:

They were trying to be sneaky or at least keep their private business private.

They failed, massively.

Add to that Laces comment about them moving rather fast (when, where? I would have loved to have seen that. Comments like that just give me the feeling that we should have had some more cutscenes after the dinner date, to show us those two besotted fools).

But back to them moving rather fast. I would guess that they both did a lot of gazing lovingly at each other, blushing, spacing out while watching their darling, stollen kisses in the hallway when they thought no one was watching, stuff like that. Just being to besotted fools.

But moving fast usually includes sex. Lots of needy, sweaty sex. The inability to keep their hands of each other.

That moves us to the question of the day – did they have sex before their coffin time?

Let’s look at what we know about Emmrich. Emmrich is no virgin. That man has experience. He had past lovers. But what he tells us at that sweet diner date – “nothing serious for years.” We know not much else besides his crush on a boy in his youth and his fling with the Orlesian Art Lady. He is not someone to kiss and tell and that is appreciated. That man has class, and we love him for it.

So - nothing SERIOUS for years. If he hadn’t had ANY relationships in the past years, he would have said so. But what he says is that he did, in fact, have UNSERIOUS relationships in the last few years.

I would read that to be somewhere along the “fwb, lovers, affairs, paramours, companions, a fling, a little romance” line. Something not purely, but mainly physically driven. Someone you like and respect, you can go out and have a good time with, have lots of amazing sex with (b/c he is a living being and has his needs). Spending time with people he liked, was sexually attracted too, but nothing as serious as love. A physical relationship. A little thrill, some fluttering, but never that deep.

Not to say that those situationships would not have been romantic. He is (buried under all that resignation) a deeply romantic man. I am pretty sure he went on nice romantic dates with his previous paramours too. That this is something he just enjoys too much. Treating a companion with some quality time, not just in, but also out of the bedroom.

But after he’d given up on his dreams, he did not have any notion of those flings being more than a “enjoy the moment”. There was never the expectation of deeper feelings, beyond friendship, attraction and/or respect. All those romantic gestures were nothing more than a little bit of “play pretend”. To give himself the illusion of true romance, just for a little time.

Take the fact that you can go a “everything you do is creepy but I still flirt with you and I want you to throw me over that tombstone” and his comment on “the attraction of the forbidden”? This is not a relationship born of mutual respect and deeper feelings but out of purely physical attraction. And he is OK with that.

I want to repeat – Emmrich is very much okay with a casual, sexual affair. He does not require love to have a relationship with someone.

And then think about that Johanna calls Rook specifically his “paramour”. Which is a lover, especially an illicit one. This word was very specifically chosen by Johanna. For various reasons, I would think.

For one, I do believe that it is a dig at his dreams of the eternal flame. It’s a dig at him, that Rook is not his love, but his paramour. A lover for a time. To be parted from soon enough. B/c that silly dream of his, as if it ever would become reality.

Second, I think it is a comment on the way his relationships often went, especially in the past years. Those unserious flings of his. Never to amount to anything substantial.

Did he try to have something serious in the past? Oh yes, for sure. But it never worked out. Then he gave up his dream and just let himself have a good time with people he found to be nice and attractive.

To pick up my point of self-sabotage from my last meta post – I’ve come to a point where I believe Emmrich is a kind of chaser. I know someone like that and it’s so fucking tragic.

Emmrich feels deeply and strongly. When he falls in love with someone it’s a lot of emotion. But at that point it’s all dream, want, wish. As soon as someone returns these feelings - those dreams, wants and wishes become reality. And reality is scary. In this wishful dream about the eternal flame, there is no fear. No fights. No loss. But that is not reality. As soon as it becomes reality, he gets scared. Before, his feelings were no threat, because you can’t lose what you don’t have. Once those feelings are returned, there is a clear possibility of losing, of being lost, of being left behind.

Emmrich is not a chaser because he enjoys the hunt. He is a chaser because being loved by someone is scary. So damn scary. So, he starts to pick fights and is looking for excuses. From being the chaser, he becomes the chased. He is hunted by his fears, and his fight or flight instincts go all flight.

After years of this cycle he gives up. Resigns himself to flings and little romances without even thinking of more. Or so he thinks. Dreams like that don’t die, they just get buried.

And I’d think that there was not many, even of those short term flings, lately. His life revolves around work and Manfred.

Now remember he comments on Rook “showing unexpected interest in a new companion”.

First of all – unexpected.

They are a daring adventurer. He thinks of himself clearly as the more boring one, compared to Rook. He never expected any of those flirts. But he is clearly flattered.

Second – companion.

That was such a weird way of saying “hey do you like me?”. This whole “companion” thing does not scream “I have FEELZ for you/you have FEELZ for me” but rather, “I think you might want to spend some quality time with me”.

The possible answers - dashing good looks, kindness, his way of words.

He feels he is fortunate if Rook thinks him good looking. Hallo, Mr. Professor, sir… Have you looked in the mirror lately? Consider that he is meticulously grooming himself, takes his exercises daily in the morning. That man does not like himself aging. I think it is a reminder of how his pending death is a step closer every day. But it shows, to him, that his efforts of taking care of himself are not in vain. Or maybe it shows him that his age does not matter. Rook finds him attractive despite (or because) of his physical age.

Rooks comment on his very charming way of putting things makes him hope his years behind the lectern have proved useful. Hey *years* behind the lectern. Again, this is a way of saying his age is NOT a problem but a benefit.

If Rook remarks his kindness, he answers “you humble me”. It’s the one answer that does not touch his age/experience/looks. It’s a remark on an innate character trait he possesses. Kindness. His whole demeanor in this option shows he is actually touched. And maybe a bit baffled. He did not expect this, at all. Its like he sees his kindness not as an attractive trait. Which he should. He is nice without TM and its sexy as hell.

The next part is his statement “If your attentions go beyond charming flattery… that would interest me, indeed”. This reads to me not necessarily as “do you have feelings for me” but as “do you just enjoy the flirting, or do you want to do more than flirting?”

And oh boy, does he want to do more than flirting. I want to repeat my earlier statement – this man has given up on love. But some little fling with an exiting young adventure who was constantly, awkwardly flirting with him? Hell, yeah.

(I want to remind you that we were able to have mutually enjoyed flirts with Dorian as fem!Inky. You can flirt with someone and still never want to fuck them. And you are also perfectly able to want more than flirting without having deeper feelings. Like sweet, dump Shepaloo said it so eloquently “Lets bang, okay?”)

Again, I want to pick up a point of my last post, that this is all surface level thoughts. I do believe that their emotional attraction and depth of feelings go deeper, from the start. But how often does it take quite a bit of time to realize one’s own feelings. Especially this wonderful, silly man whose modus operandi is running away.

Now, an interested Rook can answer in an open “lets see where this goes” way. Mirroring his rather open idea of a little romance, a fling, some quality time. Something that does not have to end in an eternal flame, but a simple enjoyment and exploration of the moment.

Rook can also reply with a “I think they do.” – What Rook actually says is “I think they already…”

And conveniently Rooks answer here is cut short by our sweet boy Manfred. They get cut short, no matter what answer you choose, but in this specific case, I am convinced this was very much on purpose. What would the whole sentence have been?

“I think they already go way beyond flattery.” (?!?) Something along those lines. But that goes into danger zone. WAY into danger zone.

If Rook had finished that sentence, at that point in their budding romance? It would have been over before is all started. Too much, too soon. Too much for him, period.

Now we have the hard lock – their sweet romantic moment in the Memorial Gardens. And he is smitten. He fell hook, line, and sinker for his own play pretend. Just a little romance, but that man is falling, fast. (Not that he would admit that to himself).

A beautiful date, all arranged by Emmrich, to spend time with Rook. Because a couple should have a quite moment to get to know each other. I mean there were menu cards with gilded edges, ffs. And, oh yes, they were “lets dig into the feelings”, he said couple. He is falling, falling, falling fast. But it still hasn’t hit him, how deep he has fallen for his darling Rook. Poor Emmrich.

Then a fight, where we really see the wet kitten side of him for the first time. A little wet, feral kitten, hissing at the hand that’s trying to feed it.

Emmrich is lashing out for no good reason (or no good reason for anyone but himself). There is no real confidence there but a desperate act of pretending. An iron (slipping) grip, trying to control himself and the narrative. Shoulders squared, back straight, an arrogant stance, raised chin, turned half-away from Rook, and a condescending way of talking to Rook.

Like I said in my last post – he is working his way up to breaking up with them. And he tells himself it’s like ripping off a bandaid. Be strong and confident and say what you have to say, and they will see the wisdom of that.

It’s only that, they don’t. Because there IS NO wisdom in what he is doing right now. They don’t take his bullshit but throw it back at him. They don’t accept his mock excuses.

Look at him here, how he looks down ON them. I can’t recall any other time he looks down on Rook, despite him being a tall king.

Especially the route where Rook throws it in his face that he DOES in fact love them. Speak what he can’t even think.

“I can’t… At my…”

“I can’t love you. At my age…” Why not? Does he not deserve love, just because he is a bit older? It’s just heartbreaking how he views himself.

And again, he lashes out.

“I am perfectly serious.” So is Rook.

“One of us has to pay attention to these things.” As if Rook is not paying attention. They got to the meat and bones of his problem in just a few seconds.

No matter what route you go here, the gist is the same. He is scared shitless, treats Rook like a child, and goes on how the is the only one thinking the important thoughts.

When Rook in reality way ahead of him. They thought about it and came to the conclusion that being with Emmrich is a really good idea.

Rook knew they were falling for someone older than them. (Even if that age difference is just a decade, with a mid-40s Rook.) They knew it, and still went with it. They are not a child who is too inexperienced and stupid to make decisions about their (love) life.

But now, here, at this moment? Emmrich treats them with disdain. Like a silly little person, who does not think things through. He holds himself above them. Physically and mentally. They are too young, he knows better.

And not once has he done that before. He always treated them as an equal. He follows them into the most dangerous situations ffs. He trusts them with his life in a fight against would-be gods.

All that fear and anger at himself that reaches a new high get redirected at Rook.

The next day they are off to Tearstone Island. That night must have been hell. For both of them. But its going to get much much worse.

In any case, Emmrich seems to have come to some conclusion or realization, because on that island? He apologizes.

They both did react very emotionally, but he came at Rook with superiority and, to a certain degree, dishonesty. All fueled by his fear. So that he is the one to take the first step and apologize to Rook instead of doubling down? An important step. As I said in my last post – he NEEDED to be called out. A sweet and nice counterargument would not have had the impact Rooks raw an honest emotion hat on him.

Emmrich “Rook? Darling? I wanted to say-“

Rook “Yeah, about that argument…”

Emmrich “(Sighs) It’s no time to apologize, is it?”

And here we have the most heartbreaking line, in hindsight. “We’ll talk back home, Emmrich. I promise.”

(Narrator: but they would, in fact, not talk about it back home. Because someone would not go home.)

One fight and weeks of horror later, they find themselves in a private crypt and finally they do more than share a kiss.

Now - to the point I originally wanted to explore with this post – is this in fact their first time? (I am sorry, but my brain is a circle and nothing makes sense)

Let’s look at what evidence we have from the cut-scene.

Rook did not know he is an early riser.

That leaves two possibilities:

They never had sex up until that point.

They did have sex, but never spent the night together.

Now what does that mean?

This depends a lot on your personal Rook and how they feel about sex in general. If Rook wants to wait, or is not ready, he will absolutely accept and respect that.

But for the sake of this analysis lets go with the idea that Rook is not opposed to sex at an earlier date.

They never slept with each other

Why? He clearly was not opposed to casual relationships in the past. What would hold him back now? Especially if you recall Laces comment about them moving fast. Why not jump into the bedroom?

Now my first crack theory is that they get interrupted, like every time. (Rook interrupted The Dread Wolf, and now he cursed them to always be interrupted when they want to have some private time)

But now, in all seriousness, maybe it’s just that part of him DOES realize that this goes beyond a very unserious relationship. That they both have deeper feelings, that spark of something greater, something beautiful.

So, he holds back. He does not give his all. He is charming, he is flirty, he takes Rook on dates. But it’s all very technical. Very performative. Yes, he is a very romantic man, yes he enjoys those moments. But there is always a feeling of control.

Those moments when you see him let go a bit (that kiss beneath the eternal lovers, “I think, sometimes you indulge me”), are so beautiful and you glimpse a bit of the man behind those walls.

He has a tell, you see. (I am telling you about it further down)

But generally, he feels very much in control of himself. And to lie with Rook? To go all the way? Too dangerous. Who knows what happens in that sweet moment after la petit mort? What secrets would his lips spill?

2. They slept together, but did not spent the night together.

They do have sex, but sleep alone in their own beds. Casual sex is fine, but to fall asleep in each other’s arms? Too much. Too real. Sex okay, but sleepy post coitus cuddly? Woah, slow down your horses.

So, they have sex, preferably in Rooks bed. First, does he even have a bed? Second, it’s way easier to leave Rooks bed after the act, than throwing them out afterwards.

Oh, and how many reasons he has. Rook needs their uninterrupted sleep; they are stressed and must have proper rest. He wants to get some reading done before he retires. He needs to look after Manfred.

Oh, he is a bad liar, for sure. He is lying more to himself than to Rook. I would think that (if this is the build up to their fight) Rook realizes that he is giving poor excuses.

And the sex itself? A technical 10/10. He knows his anatomy, after all. But his heart is not really in it. He can’t allow himself to. He holds back, keeps a tight lid on his emotions. They both are well spent afterwards, but like so much else, it’s performative. Technically very well executed, but rarely do you see HIM, the real him, behind all that performance. Whenever something slips through, he reels back and closes up.

And then we are in that crypt. Rook was gone for weeks. The last thing they said that night before were words of anger. Rook called him out on his feelings and from that point on there was no possible way of lying to himself anymore. Those feelings were there. They were real. Rooks feelings were real. And those weeks spent in desperation, trying to  get them back? Those walls came crashing down.

His true face, when all the walls are gone? You see that face when Rook leads him to the coffin. There is no pretense anymore. No performance. Just him, and all his love for Rook. The amount of emotion the animation team packed into those short moments in the cutscene? Mindblowing. Who ever crafted that expression on his face? They are the GOAT. I watch this part of that scene on repeat, and it never gets old.

So, I told you about how he has a tell, yes? Okay, two actually, but we all know surprised pikachu Emmrich. In that last scene it is resolved in the most beautiful way.

He looks down, when something touches him deeply, when he goes into his feels.

A few (way to many) examples:

And the worst wet kitten look? After the fight, when Rook leaves.

Its a look of shame. Of hurt. This man is hurting so badly.

Now here at the end we have that moment when Rook leads him to the coffin. His face turns down, like before. But here he looks up at Rook. He does not turn his eyes away but looks directly at them. Ahhh my heart.

Now, think about the fact that ROOK is leading in that moment?

In those moments where Rook leads or startles him (or is simply annoying enough so that the truth slips out), you see the most emotion from him.

Rooks flirting startles him, and he has a pikachu face reaction every time.

Their first kiss? Rook leans against the monument, and leans up, telling him without words that NOW is the time for a kiss. How can he not go for a second kiss?

That moment when Rook calls Manfred “our son”? He very conveniently ignores the word “OUR” and goes in defense mode over the word “son”. But called out on his feelings for Manfred? How can he deny them? He has tears in his voice when he says how he would not exchange this moment for anything? A real, deep emotion.

In their fight Emmrich is again all technical, all performance, so logical (or what he sells himself as logic). But Rook wrestles that moment from him and takes lead, calls him out on his bullshit.

In the crypt Rook pulls him up into a kiss and then leads him to the coffin, guiding him, taking him with them.

Most of the other times he takes the lead, very much in control. But the most emotions you get from him, are those times Rooks leads, when he lets go of this tight control over himself, or he is startled in to a reaction. For all the age difference that is played up in their relationship, in the important moments Rook is the one who guides. And he follows where they lead.

Those little moans he makes? If they did have sex before, I bet he did not make those sounds then. Where they did have some incredible sex, now they are making love. Open, vulnerable. He gives in.

And then they fall asleep together. Skin to skin, arms and legs intertwined. Their hands caressing, no sound but that of their heartbeats and soft breaths. Pure and utter contentment. In that moment nothing exists but them. Can you imagine that moment he woke up? The amount of emotions he must have felt then? This need to speak those little words? Those huge little words. He does not say them, not yet. But he is almost ready.  

Finally, they stand there, on the battlefield of Elgar’nans madness. And he tells Rook. The last wall falls. Gives the most precious thing he can give to anyone.

“I love you.”

[vintagecandy]

Now for the 1920s reimagining of Jonathan Crane ! sorry this explanation is even longer lmao

As everyone's been saying, I should do the rest of the Dork Squad to match 1920s Jervis, and so here is my Jonathan! Easily the hardest to draw out of the three-- but I must say! Despite being outside my expertise, I'm a little surprised how much it looks exactly like I was imagining! Even if it took me ages but that's just procrastination lmao.

Anyways! What is his deal? Well, for one, design wise I did go a more drastically different direction from his usual look by doing a literal scareCROW. He's much more bird like, with a plague doctor mask being common imagery in steampunk, but he's still very southern themed with his messy broken overall strap and patchwork coat. Even his wings are rustic. ( he can't fly just glide btw lol ) Also! I leaned hard into the color orange instead of his usual green gas because it..... bugs me that both Crane and Nygma have a bright green in their color palette. I just want them to have distinct colors if they're going to be a trio. And look how vintage halloweeny he looks !!

So why is he so well dressed out of costume? Well! This Jonathan Crane is not a psychologist at all, here he is the very successful grandfather of horror movies in the silent film era. ( An illustrious origin, i hope canon Crane would be proud lmao ). This is referenced in how his face looks, he's wearing white powder and black makeup that's usually meant to emphasize key features on blurry film like his upper lip and around his eyes. And yes, he just keeps his makeup on during most events, and people just accept he's a little on the... eccentric side.

To me, the archetype of the mad artist fits Jonathan's vibe perfectly. When it comes to striking fear, he's a perfectionist, a trait that drove him to learn every single skill necessary himself, from costume design to props to making his own cameras to mechanical engineering, to.... a "fear gas" that was supposed to gently encourage immersion in the audience but ended up becoming a dangerous chemical weapon.

For his origin crime I am thinking !! Full blown Scooby Doo style monster mystery!! With some nuance! Crane, as a first impression, gives off an immediate air of pompous, aggressively impatient, pretentious director type. His presence is big and dramatic, but its distinctly not southern-- in fact, he seems to play up something between a hollywood accent and a thespian one. But this is all to cover for his farm hick background that he was once very ashamed of.

As a child of a failing farmhand during an infamously dry and dusty era, Jonathan developed an extreme resentment for his country existence from both the bullying of other children for all his strange quirks and the severe verbal and physical abuse of his father, driven to alcoholism by the stress of poverty and the loss of his wife. Originally offering his artistic ideas as a means to help them, he grows sick of their closed mindedness and berating and runs away to learn about the emerging potential of film in Gotham City.

Its been many years, Jonathan now in his early 30s, he finds himself surrounded by the shallow, champagne aristocrats that reflect his childhood bullies. Feeling wrong in his own skin, he develops a sightly unhealthy obsession with the escapism he finds in performing as the monsters in his movies.

But upon discovering that the corrupt rich of Gotham plan to push legislation that would negatively effect farmers like his own history, and that they expected him to be amongst those who support it, his irritation with the shallowness of society reaches its limits. In day, he would feign support for their behavior to cover his tracks, but at night he would don the mask of the Scarecrow, rumored to be the vengeful spirit of a farmer who was hanged, and who he believes to be a more freeing expression of himself than his true face, targeting not just the rich but striking fear in their laborers to scare them off land. And it works. So, he tries bending the will of society more.

Is he doing this out of any moral conviction or just spite and a love for the role? It's... hard to say.

As the Scarecrow, his methods are so effective he's near uncatchable, even by Batman. Its only by solving the mystery of who is under the mask are they able to catch him. They surprise him during one of his screenings, jump him in the dark, and prove his subtle use of fear gas in the theater to the police once he's cornered. Instead of being angry, he goes to the mad house applauding Batman's performance.

What an interesting character they play. He's very inspired.

[houseofaegon]

ENCHANTRESS ╱ BOB REYNOLDS SERIES

✷ ─── +18 MINORS DNI 𓏲  ◟ ♡ ˖ ࣪ emotional trauma, mentions of death/grief, witchcraft, blood magic, violence, necromancy, ritual magic, body horror (mechanical corpses), mental manipulation, emotional intensity and tension, supernatural possession, canon-typical violence, found family themes, bucky being a big brother, psychological instability (enchantress/void dynamic), unspoken desire, sexual tension (non-explicit), battle trauma.

✷ ─── AUTHOR'S NOTE. i cooked served and ate yall!!! damn okay chapter 2 came fassssstttttt im so excited and so inspired to write arabella and bob omg ughhh i love my babies. my soul probably left my body while writing this chapter because wtf just happened!! i'm sick. i want void so bad and i'm so obsessed with the whole enchantress x void dynamic filled with sexual tension and obsession and need. and yet they still haven't even touched each other. i'm crying. i'm pacing. i'm shaking with anticipation and anxiety. all of the above. we're already deep into the spiritual feral monsterfucker territory and i fear it's only gonna get worse from here. void is obsessed with enchantress, and i am obsessed with them both. i'm unwell. grab your tea, your candles, your crystals because it's about to get darker and hungrier. more chapters coming soon!! i love you all smm and thank you for letting me being unhinged and insane and always cheering for what i write. i appreciate you all so so so so damn much. thank you for reading and giving this unhinged little series a chance. love always, bri.

✷ ─── ENCHANTRESS SERIES. chapter one: beauty in tragedy. chapter two: the devil you know. chapter three: the witch. chapter four: moonlit waters. chapter five: divine hunger. chapter six: to burn & be burned. chapter seven: of teeth & tenderness. chapter eight: bound by blood. chapter nine: ashes between us. chapter ten: salt in the wound. chapter eleven: blood moon. chapter twelve: whispers in the dark. chapter thirteen: the witch and the void.

Life in the Watchtower was easy.

Or maybe Arabella just made it look that way.

Two weeks in, and she was already barefoot in the hallways, leaving salt trails behind her like breadcrumbs. Crystals littered every windowsill and shelf. Vinyls spun on her old record player each morning, Fleetwood Mac echoing through the tower as she cooked breakfast barefoot—black silk robe, bedhead curls, and a wooden spoon in her hand like a wand.

The lights stopped flickering when she passed. The air smelled like herbs and something sweeter. The walls stopped groaning. Dead plants came back to life.

It wasn't magic.

Or maybe it was.

She adapted faster than Bucky ever thought she would.

He’d built her a room the day she arrived—no questions, no ceremony. Just like Tony had done years ago. It wasn’t as high-tech, but it was safe. Warded. Quiet. Full of windows and her favorite things. And it felt just the same.

Felt like home.

Arabella had looked at it once, eyes shining just slightly, and said, “You remembered the salt in the corners.”

And Bucky had replied, “Of course I did.”

Because he did remember. All of it.

The way she couldn’t sleep without her crystals arranged just so. The smell of her cleansing incense, like pine and burnt clove. The soft hum of her chants in the dark, the way she muttered in Spanish when she was half-dreaming.

She slipped back into his world like she’d never left.

Yelena adored her.

Of course she did.

From the first day, they were chaos and fire, two halves of the same wicked coin. They sparred in the gym, Arabella casting misdirection charms mid-fight while Yelena laughed and tackled her anyway.

They had a running tally written in chalk on the kitchen wall. Yelena: 6. Arabella: 7. The last win was a draw, after they both ended up hexed, bruised, and breathless with laughter.

At night, they painted each other’s nails in wine-dark colors and gossiped in three languages. They danced barefoot on the roof under the moon, music blasting, hips swaying, Arabella’s dark hair catching the light like smoke.

“You’re my favorite war crime,” Yelena whispered one night, drunk on cheap vodka and found sisterhood.

“Right back at you,” Arabella replied, clinking their glasses together.

Ava was different. Quieter. Sharper. But not distant. She didn’t speak much—but with Arabella, she sat.

They trained together in silence, matched in precision and grace. Arabella stitched protective sigils into Ava’s gloves and never mentioned it. Ava slipped her protein bars and flowers in return and said, once, quietly, “Your presence is... grounding.”

Arabella had smiled, slow and soft. “So is yours.”

Sometimes they sat on the balcony together, watching the sun rise. Neither said a word. Neither needed to.

Alexei was absurd and endearing.

He doted on her like a second daughter—called her "my little shadow witch" and brought her strange, wonderful gifts from his past: pocket knives with history, books with blood-stained corners, a hand-painted flask from the Soviet years.

He taught her how to shoot with antique pistols even though she didn’t need to.

She taught him how to ward his whiskey with a hangover charm.

Once, she asked him why he always brought her things.

“Because daughters should have gifts,” he said with a shrug. “And you? You are special. You are mine now.”

She’d laughed and hugged him, just long enough to make him sniffle and pretend it was allergies.

Walker surprised her.

Not because he was charming. Because, honestly, he wasn't. He was irritating, loud, too rigid, always a little bit out of sync with her energy.

But there was something… earnest beneath it. Something human.

They argued constantly.

She called him Walmart Captain America or Walker-Red-Flag. He called her Witchypoo in retaliation. But there was a rhythm to it. A low hum of mutual tolerance that slowly grew into something more.

She read his tarot one night after he muttered something about not believing in “that bullshit.”

The next morning, he left an extra cup of coffee on the table for her. Black. Just how she liked it.

He still groaned when she walked into a room.

But he always walked in after her.

And then, there was Bob.

Bob Reynolds, who barely spoke above a whisper.

Bob, who watched her like he was trying not to fall apart. Like he already had.

He was quiet. Almost scared of her at first—not in a way that made her bristle, but in a way that made her ache. He looked at her like he knew she could destroy him.

And he kept showing up anyway.

Bob started coming to her room after midnight.

He started sitting with her at night. Quietly. Without words. She’d be pulling her tarot cards under the moonlight, charging her crystals on the sill, Stevie Nicks humming in the background—and Bob would just be there, reading a book in her chair.

Sometimes he fell asleep on her couch. Curled up like he was afraid he’d take up too much space. She never told him to leave. He never asked to stay. They didn’t talk about it.

But he started bringing his own mug for her tea. Started asking her what the cards meant when she shuffled them slow, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

He never touched her. Never tried. But he looked at her like she was something holy. Like she was the only thing in the world that made sense.

And the Enchantress?

She whispered. Not in hunger. Not in warning. But in awe.

“He sees us.”

Arabella didn’t answer. She never did. But she felt it—deep in her bones, under her skin, in the quiet hum of her breath when Bob looked up from his book and met her eyes.

There was no fear there. Not anymore. Just… recognition.

Like they were made of the same broken thing.

And when he fell asleep on her couch, breath even and hands unclenched, she watched the rise and fall of his chest and whispered ancient words beneath her breath—not to keep him out.

But to keep him safe.

One night he broke the quiet.

“What does it mean,” he asked softly, “when—when the uh, cards keeps showing up upside down?”

Arabella didn’t look up. She was lighting a candle. Her fingers moved with purpose.

“It depends on the card,” she murmured. “But usually? It means something’s resisting.”

Bob swallowed.

She glanced up then, sharp and knowing. “Are you resisting, Bob?”

He didn’t answer. But inside his mind, The Void stirred.

“She’s not afraid of you,” it whispered. “She’d let us in.”

Bob’s breath hitched.

Arabella tilted her head. “You okay?”

He nodded once. Too fast.

She smirked. “Liar.”

The Void purred.

“She’s ours,” it whispered slowly. “Let me speak to her. Just once. Let me see how much her darkness glows.”

Bob gritted his teeth. Looked away.

Arabella didn’t press. She just reached out and gently placed a crystal in his palm—warm from her skin.

“For when it gets too loud,” she said.

Bob didn’t let go. Not for a long time.

Three months had already passed, and life seemed easier for Arabella. The kind of ease that came slowly, after years of unrest. The kind that settled in her bones like warm tea and candlelight.

She still walked barefoot through the halls. Still lined doorways with salt. Still played Fleetwood Mac on her record player every morning like it was a ritual—because it was. Still danced under the moonlight like no one was watching, even though Bob always did. She laughed more. Slept better. She was healing, quietly, completely.

But The Enchantress never slept. She whispered, always. A constant thrum beneath Arabella’s skin. Like wind at the back of her neck.

And every time Bob walked into a room—every time his eyes found hers across the kitchen, across the training mat, across the quiet of her candlelit room...

The Enchantress screamed. Not in pain. Not in rage. In want.

“He carries so much darkness and pain in him,” she hissed. “Let me taste it.”

Arabella had kept her buried. Chained beneath crystal grids and ancestral spellwork. But Bob made everything crack open. Bob felt like her. And the Enchantress was starting to see freedom.

Not to destroy him.

To touch him.

To speak to the Void and be spoken to in return.

It was warm in the kitchen. Sunlight spilled across the floor, soft and golden, washing over the table where the team had gathered.

Arabella was humming under her breath, barefoot and wrapped in a black silk robe that fell off one shoulder. Her hair was a halo of curls, her eyes half-lidded with sleep. A record played in the background—Stevie, again.

The table was loud.

Yelena was trying to argue that vodka counted as a breakfast food while simultaneously sneaking bacon off Alexei’s plate.

Walker rolled his eyes. “You people are unhinged.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Ava muttered, sipping her coffee.

Alexei grinned over his mug. “In Russia, we ate meat for breakfast. And sometimes men.”

“Okay, Hannibal,” Yelena shot back.

“Enough,” Bucky said, laughing into his cup. “Let the witch serve the food in peace.”

Arabella smirked as she walked over with a plate of pancakes—perfect, golden, stacked high, topped with warm berries.

Then—she stopped.

Her body went still mid-step.

The plate slipped from her hands. Fell. Shattered against the tile at her feet like a crack in the world. Syrup and fruit and ceramic scattered across the floor.

Silence slammed into the room.

Bucky shot to his feet. “Bells?”

She didn’t answer.

Her eyes glazed—then turned black for the briefest second. A flicker. A flash.

“Arabella.” His voice sharpened. “What’s wrong? Bells, talk to me.”

She blinked slowly. Her voice was barely a breath. “There’s something happening.”

Yelena was on her feet. “Bella—?”

But Arabella was already moving.

She crossed the room like she was sleepwalking—barefoot across shards of porcelain, bleeding but unaware. Her eyes locked on the console in the corner.

The tower’s tech wasn’t hers—but her fingers moved like it was. Smooth. Instinctive. Like the codes were written in her blood.

“Arabella,” Ava said, voice tight. “What are you doing?”

"You're bleeding," Bucky whispered.

She didn’t answer.

Everyone followed—hovering behind her as screens lit up, one by one. Her eyes flickered, scanning feeds, fingers dancing like she wasn’t even thinking.

And then—

The screen froze.

And her heart dropped.

Security footage from an old, sealed-off subway station. Flickering light. Smoke curling from the stone. Runes—her runes—scratched into metal. Twisting. Burning.

And in the far corner—machines.

Half-dead. Half-alive.

Stirring.

Moving.

“Oh my god,” she whispered.

Yelena grabbed her arm. “What is that?”

Arabella stepped back, hand pressed to her lips.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream.

But her voice was hollow when she said, “They’re using dark magic. Twisting it.”

Her pulse thudded through the room like a war drum.

Bucky looked at her. “What do we do?”

Arabella turned toward him slowly. Her eyes still rimmed in black. “We stop it,” she said. Her voice was calm.

But the floor beneath her feet had already begun to hum.

The energy was different now. The warmth of the kitchen was gone—snuffed out by what Arabella had seen. What she felt. The shattered plate still lay back on the floor, forgotten. Everyone filed into the briefing room in silence. Even Yelena, usually muttering curses under her breath, said nothing.

Arabella stood at the head of the room now. Not Bucky. Not this time.

The screen behind her glowed—static-edged footage looping in jagged, grainy frames. The subway station. The runes. The machines.

Her runes.

Bucky leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed. His gaze never left her.

“Tell us,” he said.

Arabella’s jaw was tight. Her hands didn’t shake—but her voice was colder than it had been in months.

“There’s an old network of sealed tunnels under Brooklyn,” she began. “The MTA shut them down decades ago. No access. No cameras. But something got in.”

She clicked the screen forward.

Close-up footage. A sigil burned into metal. Corrupted lines of spellwork. Smoke curling in unnatural shapes.

“This isn’t just tech. It’s necrotic magic—dark, ancient, and bound to blood.” She looked up. “My blood.”

The room went still.

“They’re using resurrection rites. The same one's I learned from my grandmother. Something’s trying to merge death magic with..."

She hesitated. Her hands hovered above the console, fingers trembling.

“Merge it with what, Bells?” Bucky asked gently, stepping forward.

She swallowed. And then she clicked one more frame forward. The screen froze.

A metallic body, half-rebuilt, cables woven through bone, its chestplate still glowing with a dull, rust-colored arc reactor.

Stamped in silver, unmistakable:

Stark Industries.

Arabella’s mouth parted. Her eyes filled instantly. A sharp breath caught in her throat, and her knees wobbled slightly. She reached for the table like it might hold her up. She stared.

At the logo.

At what it meant.

At what it was

And what it wasn’t.

“They’re using his work,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Tony’s work. They’re—he’s gone, and they’re using what he built to… to raise the dead.”

A tear slipped down her cheek.

“I spent years learning how to put spirits to rest. How to honor them. And they’re using his code to trap them. Trap the souls of the dead. To force them back into metal and ash like—like it’s a tool. Like it’s not sacred.”

She shook her head.

“It’s not just my magic,” she breathed. “It’s his name. His legacy. They’re twisting everything.”

Bucky moved without hesitation. He reached out, gently rested a hand on her back. Didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

Arabella didn’t cry—not fully. But her shoulders trembled.

And when she finally looked up, her eyes were dark. Not black, not yet.

But close.

“I’m going down there,” she said, voice low. “And I’m burning it to the fucking ground.”

The silence held like breath.

Arabella stood in front of the screen, her shoulders squared, her hands still shaking. Not from fear. But from rage. The kind of fury that lived in bone and had the power to crush them. The kind passed down through the blood of women who had always been told their power was too much.

“We’re going with you,” Bucky said, his voice stern.

Arabella blinked. Her mouth parted. “No,” she said, voice hoarse. “You don’t understand. This magic—it’s not meant for you. It’s old. It’s dark. It’s not made for you.”

She turned to face them all. Her eyes shimmered, rimmed with black. “It wants to hurt. It feeds on what you love. You step into that circle unprotected and it will devour you. I’m the only one who can walk into that circle and survive it. Alone.”

Bucky’s expression didn’t change. His voice didn’t waver.

“You’re not going in alone, Bella.”

She exhaled, sharp. “Bucky—”

“No.” He stepped forward. Firm. Grounded. “We’re a team. A family. And family sticks together.”

Arabella opened her mouth—but Yelena cut in before she could speak.

“You think I’m going to let you crawl into hell without me? Bitch, please.” She crossed her arms. “If you die and I’m not there, I’m going to hex your ghost. Badly.”

Alexei nodded solemnly. “I will bring vodka and blessed grenades.”

Ava’s voice was soft. “I'm in."

Walker looked like he wanted to protest. Arabella raised an eyebrow.

He immediately nodded. “I’ll… drive.”

Arabella almost laughed. Almost.

Then—he stepped forward.

Bob.

He didn’t speak at first. Just moved, slow and deliberate, until he stood beside her—close, but not too close. Not touching. Never touching.

Arabella didn’t turn her head, but she felt him like a second heartbeat. The weight of him. The pull. The thrum of his power bleeding into the air between them, brushing against her skin like smoke.

Too close.

Inside her chest, The Enchantress stirred.

“He’s here,” she purred, velvet-smooth and low. “Let me taste his darkness.”

Arabella’s breath caught. She held herself still, fingers curling tight at her sides. If she reached out, even a fraction of an inch, she knew she wouldn’t stop. She knew the Enchantress would rise with want, not war.

And in the stillness between them, The Void whispered inside Bob’s mind.

“She burns. I want to feel how hot.”

He didn’t move either. Not even a breath out of rhythm. But his jaw clenched, his eyes locked on something distant, her, and his hands flexed once like they ached to lift and couldn’t.

"I'm going with you. You can't do this alone," Bob whispered.

Arabella didn’t answer at first. Couldn’t. The words hung between them like smoke, like a spell half-cast and waiting.

She exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the glowing screen. Her jaw clenched. Her voice, when it came, was barely a whisper. “You don’t understand what this kind of magic does, Bob.”

Inside her chest, the Enchantress curled tighter, more awake than ever.

“Let him come,” she whispered. “Let him see what I can do with a god in my hands.”

Arabella blinked hard. Shut her eyes. Shut the voice out.

“I’m still coming with you,” he whispered. The Void stretched just beneath the surface of him like it recognized her.

And Arabella, after a beat, nodded. Just once. She didn’t say thank you. She didn’t say don’t.

She said, “Then stay behind me.”

And prayed to everything she knew that he would.

The tunnels beneath Brooklyn were colder than they sould have been, not the kind of cold you could feel on your skin, but the kind that settled into bone and memory. Haunted. Like a nightmare. The air was thick with rot and cooper, and the deeper they went, the more the city above felt like a distant dream.

Ava and Yelena took point, flashlights flickering across crumbling tile and twisted metal, weapons steady. Bucky and Walker kept a slow, even pace behind them, eyes always moving, always watching. Arabella hung back with Bob, her steps silent. She didn't speak. She couldn't. The walls were already whispering.

They’d passed the third tunnel junction when Bucky turned his head just slightly, enough to glance back, voice low. “You sure you wanna do this?”

Arabella didn’t even blink. “I’m the only one who can.” Her voice carried, calm and sharp, no room for argument.

The further they went, the worse it got. The walls began to hum—not with electricity, but with something else. Something dark. Something old. The kind of hum that lived in ritual circles and the mouths of the dead. Arabella’s fingers twitched at her sides, power prickling just beneath her skin. Her breath shortened as she walked, every step dragging her deeper into the echo of magic that felt too much like her own.

Bob shifted beside her, breath stuttering, his hands flexing open and closed. He didn’t say anything, but she felt it—his power swelling beneath the surface like a wave waiting to crash. And then came the sound. Not footsteps. Not breathing. Scraping.

They didn’t have time to react before the tunnel erupted around them—metal shrieking, bone cracking, a dozen bodies dropping from the shadows like meat puppets sewn together with cable and magic. They moved wrong—jagged, broken—eyes glowing red, limbs clicking as if trying to remember how to be human.

Yelena cursed under her breath, blade already drawn, her voice snapping out like a gunshot.

“Well, shit.” Ava phased just in time to avoid a clawed hand, her body flickering with static as she reappeared behind it, driving a blade into the base of its neck.

"What the fuck—" Walker muttered, firing his gun. It did absolutely nothing.

Bucky barked out orders, trying to pull them back, keep the team together, but they were splitting—forced apart by sheer chaos.

Arabella didn’t move.

She walked into the center of it all, slow, deliberate, untouched by the panic around her. One of the creatures lunged and froze midair, stopped by a sudden, invisible force—its body cracking in place like glass. Her voice was quiet. Almost kind.

“Enchantress.”

It wasn’t just a name. It was a summoning.

Her eyes flicked black, her pupils blown wide, and the transformation rolled through her like a flood. Her body straightened, her hair lifted in a wind that didn’t exist, her lips curled into something that was not a smile but close enough to frighten. Glowing sigils ignited across her skin—runes carved into flesh, ancient and burning.

The Enchantress rose with her breath, her voice shifting into something layered, rich, older than anything alive in that tunnel. She didn’t blink as the corpses charged again.

She lifted her hand and whispered in Spanish, a language soaked in blood and moonlight. “Your magic doesn't belong here. Give it back to the earth were it came from."

The wave of enemies collapsed like dominos, falling with a sound like wet bone and shattering metal. One screamed, high and broken, before bursting into smoke. Another reached for her and disintegrated mid-motion. Enchantress didn’t flinch. She smiled.

Bob staggered back a step, eyes locked on her, chest heaving like he couldn’t quite breathe. Inside his head, the Void surged awake, not angry, not violent—fascinated.

“She’s like us,” it whispered. “No—she’s better. She was born like this.”

His hands sparked with light, gold bleeding to black, his vision dimming at the edges. The storm within him pulsed, and he reached toward it, toward her, even if his hands never left his sides.

Enchantress turned her head, eyes glowing black. She looked at him and smiled.

Enchantress didn’t speak, but Bob heard her anyway.

“I see you. I see what's inside you. The darkness. Let me taste it.”

And inside him, the Void growled in response.

“Take it. I want to see what you’ll become when you touch me.”

The words weren’t said aloud, but Enchantress heard them. Felt them.

Her smile deepened, slow and sharp, and she tilted her head like a cat watching prey twitch.

“Oh,” she purred, voice a syrupy echo only he could hear, “you’re going to beg for it.”

And Bob, shaking from the inside out, didn’t dare say a word.

Bucky moved, boots crunching over scorched stone and broken machines as the smoke settled. His voice was low, careful. “Bells, come back to me.”

But she didn’t move.

She was still standing in the center of the carnage, still Enchantress, still glowing faintly with that ancient, seductive light. Her eyes, black as ink, weren’t on him—they were still locked on Bob. Fixed. Fascinated. Her mouth was curved, wicked and slow. The runes on her skin pulsed like a heartbeat.

“She doesn’t want to come back,” the Enchantress whispered, gaze still locked on the man who hadn’t moved, who looked like he was barely breathing.

Bucky stepped closer, steadier now. He’d done this before—held her through magic comas, pulled her back from the edge more times than he could count—but this was different.

She’d never resisted.

Not like this.

“Arabella,” he said again, firmer this time, closer now. “It’s me. It’s Bucky. Come on, baby witch. Don’t make me beg.”

The Enchantress tilted her head, almost curious, but didn’t turn. Didn’t flinch. She was too deep in it, too close to something she hadn’t felt before, and Bucky’s chest twisted.

He took another step. “Bells. Come back.”

And then—Bob moved.

One slow, shaking step forward. Not threatening. Not demanding. His voice was rough and low. “Bring her back.”

Her eyes flickered. Just slightly. The light dimmed.

The Enchantress blinked, and for a moment, there was something soft behind her expression—like a memory. Like regret. She looked at Bob as if she were memorizing him, and then she smiled. It was all teeth and hunger and something ancient and beautiful. Her lips parted, breath curling in the air between them.

“Next time, I’ll let you touch me.”

And then she collapsed.

Bucky was already moving, catching her before she hit the floor. Her body went slack in his arms, her head falling against his chest, her breath shallow but steady. He crouched with her, cradling her like he’d done too many times before.

“Bells,” he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face, “hey, come on—look at me.”

Her eyelids fluttered. A soft groan slipped from her throat. “What… happened?”

“You stopped it,” Bucky murmured, voice rough around the edges. “You brought it down. You did good.” Her lashes trembled, her eyes opening slowly, brown again. Human again. But tired. So tired.

Behind them, Bob stood frozen, hands still trembling at his sides, gold and black flickering faintly beneath his skin. His throat was dry. His pulse too loud. He couldn’t move—not yet. Not when the echo of her magic still clung to the air like perfume and fire, not when her voice—her other voice—still rang like a bell behind his eyes. He could still feel her. Like a storm on the edge of touch.

And then, deep in his mind, the Void stirred.

It didn’t roar. It didn’t rage.

It purred.

“You brought her back. Why?”

A pause. A shiver up his spine.

“I would’ve let her stay. She wanted to stay. She wanted us.”

Bob swallowed, jaw tight.

The Void curled around him like a shadow, low and amused.

“You’re lying to yourself, Robert. You want her too. The way she sees you. The way she smiled.”

Bob clenched his fists. Didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

But he didn’t deny it either.

And the Void laughed—soft and satisfied.

“Next time, you won’t send her away.”

𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐅𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐍 © 2025. DO NOT STEAL, REPOST, OR COPY THIS STORY TO TUMBLR, WATTPAD, AO3, OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM. Moodboards and graphics made by @houseofaegon DO NOT repost or reuse without credit. chain divider by @cursed-carmine

♱ ˖ ࣪ . taglist: @the-a-word-2214 @favestxrboy @uraesthete @abbysbenchpr @sammystarswrite @pey2618 @qardasngan @lunaoieoie @orithyia-eriphyle @amatiswayland @madzzz6958 @all-by-myself98 @dark-silhouette @ghost-ghost-13 @wyvernthekriger @gayfiretruck @watermeezer @lvmxla @novausstuff @mommymilkers0526 @natureartisian @feralgoblinbabe @misaki-evans @uracowboylikemee @sxlsvv @stillinracooncity @deltamel (if you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know in the comments. love, bri.)

[luvhcarly]

YOU KNOW HOW TO BEG.

Every summer since you were born, you and your parents go to your friend’s house to a small town near the beach. Sunghoon which is their son, is your best friend since you can remember. You both know everything about each other. Every secret, every fear, everything. You were inseparable. But this summer is different…

PAIRINGS: dom!Sunghoon x fem reader

GENRE: smut, childhood bestfriends to lovers

TAGS: 18+, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t!), swearing, teasing, fingering, angst, rough sex?, jealousy, pet names (good girl, baby…), edging a little, Sunghoon is mean to reader, insults, arguing, they are over 18+!!, lmk if I missed anything, not proof read

WC: 9K

A/N: Hii! :) Summer is coming and I am kind of getting obsessed with this kind of trope like during summer if u know what I mean hahah. Requests are opened.

!reminder English is not my first language!

July was the month you looked forward to all year. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, but what you loved most was that you could finally see him. Every year since you were born, you went with your parents to their friend's house, who had a son named Sunghoon. You and him, since you were little, were like an inseparable pair. Your laughter could be heard throughout the house, you told each other every single thing that happened. Every single secret, every single fear, every single crush. Everything. But you had a feeling that this summer would be different.

You were sitting in the car, your head leaning against the window and your eyes watching the surroundings. You had your headphones in your ears and were enjoying the summer song ‘Xo (only if you say yes’. When you saw the familiar houses and streets, a smile came to your face. It reminded you of how you and Sunghoon used to cycle through these streets since you were little.

The car stopped in front of a familiar house that held so many memories. Immediately, you took off your headphones and opened the car door without hesitation. The familiar smell of summer, cherries and the sea, which you loved so much, hit your nose. For a moment you closed your eyes and took a long deep breath.

Your father muttered something under his breath, but you overheard and opened your eyes, immediately scanning the terrace. And there he stood. Leaning against the door frame, his hands in his pockets, his figure taller than you remembered, his white T-shirt loose as usual. But something was different. His posture was closed. No emotion. His expression almost unreadable. The worst part was that he didn't even move. He just stood there, unsmiling. Without any reaction.

"You look like you grew another foot, Sasquatch." You let out a teasing laugh, but he ignored it. You expected something like "Still shorter than your ego," or "You look like a drowned cat in that travel hair." But nothing came out of him. He didn't even laugh, nothing.

"Hey." That was all Sunghoon let out, no emotion, no enthusiasm in his eyes. You were taken aback by his reaction and furrowed your eyebrows.

"That’s it? Just ‘hey’? After eleven months?" Sunghoon looked away from you, as if he didn’t even want to look at you. As if he was forced to stay here. You didn’t understand why he was acting so strange. So measured. Every summer, when you came, he would wait for you with a big smile on his face, his arms wide open, waiting for a hug. Now…? Now you felt like a burden to him.

“Didn’t know we were counting.” A small laugh escaped your lips, unsure.

“Well, I was.” Slowly, you walked over to him. Your chest felt tight, like maybe anxiety? Or something else? But you tried to act normal. “Anyway, I brought snacks this time. The good ones. You still inhale those sour candies, right?” You added, pointing to the back where your luggage was, a smile playing on your face.

"Not really into them anymore." Sunghoon didn't even look at you, while you expected him to laugh and say he was kidding. That he was just playing with you, but nothing came out of him.

Suddenly, his mother appeared from behind him, her usual sweet, friendly smile on her face.

“Oh, sweetheart! Look at you! Taller every year.” Immediately, she pulled you into a warm hug and you returned it. His mother, who was also like your second mother, had always been very kind and friendly to you. She tried to understand you as much as she could. She pulled away from the warm hug and really ran her eyes over you again.

“And more beautiful every year!” She added, placing her hands on both of your shoulders, while you just laughed at her sweet words. “Right, Hoon?” She turned her head to her son, who was staring at his phone this time, uninterested.

“Hoon?” His mother spoke again and he looked up, one eyebrow slightly raised.

“What?” She sighed at his rude reaction and rolled her eyes, her gaze shifting back to you.

“Boys…” She joked and you pursed your lips and cleared your throat. You had never felt so embarrassed as you did now… Sunghoon’s mom took her hands off your shoulders and gave you a warm smile again, while you kept your attention on him. Something about it didn’t sit right with you. His detachment was terrible. You didn’t understand what had changed between you. And you wanted to figure it out as soon as possible.

So when you put your things from your luggage in the closet, you looked around the room. A small sigh escaped your lips and your eyes noticed the small polaroid photos from last summer hanging on the mirror. With slow steps, you walked to the mirror and one photo, where you both lay on some field full of yellow flowers, with a smile on your faces, you took it in your hand and smiled softly at it. You didn't understand Sunghoon's behavior, why was he so cold towards you…

“Y/n, honey!” Your mother's soft voice came from behind the door and she opened the door, you quickly put the photo back in its original place and without hesitation you turned around, your eyebrows raised.

“Yes?”

“Dinner is ready. Come on.” She announced to you and you nodded at her words and nervously ran a hand through your hair. You took a deep breath and tried to convince yourself that maybe he just wasn't in the mood, that maybe it just seemed to you that he was so distant towards you. But the opposite was true.

You didn't say a word to each other the whole evening during dinner. His gaze was still fixed on his phone, trying to ignore your presence. But you suppressed the bad thoughts and tried to join the conversation between him and your parents, hoping that the bad feeling that was squeezing your chest would stop. Sunghoon barely touched his food, he ran his fingers over the screen of his phone, his expression neutral, which was unusual. Sunghoon was always the one who joked during dinner, had funny sarcastic remarks towards you, but now it was different.

He didn't even look at you out of the corner of his eye, he didn't want to look at you. He tried to ignore you as much as he could. And he was doing well until his mother spoke to him.

“Hoon, put the phone away and talk to y/n. I am sure that you have a lot of things that you want to say to each other.” It was the first time he had looked at you during the dinner, giving you a cold look. His eyes scanned you, as if searching for something in you, but then he suddenly stood up from his chair and put his phone in his pocket.

“I’m tired.” Sunghoon let out in a cold, deep, annoyed voice. Everyone watched as he walked to his room, leaving surprised looks behind him…

“I’m sorry about him. He is just acting weird lately.” His mother's voice came out, sad and disappointed. Your mother just waved her hand at her words and said that it was okay and that he was probably just not feeling well. And you hoped she was right.

After dinner, you helped put away the dirty plates and then went to your room. The Park’s house was huge, that's why you had your own room, which was small and cozy, it had everything you needed. Tired, you lay down on the bed and looked up at the ceiling of the room. His strange behavior kept running through your mind. You were inseparable, best friends… You must have been lying like that for an hour, thinking about what you had done wrong.

You took your phone in your hand and started scrolling through Instagram, watching stories of your friends having fun at some party. You laughed at a funny video that your friend shared. Then you slid to your contacts and started to scroll through them, when his name caught your eye, you stopped.

Active.

You got up from the bed and quietly crept out of your room. You directed your steps towards his room and when you appeared in front of his door, you hesitated. But then you knocked softly three times and his deep voice spoke with the words “come in.” You gripped the doorknob tightly in your hand at first, you still hesitated but then you opened the door and saw him sitting on the bed, his hands resting on his knees, his phone still in his hand, his hair messy and he had an expression on his face that you couldn’t read.

“Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d come bug you like I always do.” He looked up from the phone at you, but then he shifted his gaze back to the phone. You cleared your throat and walked slowly towards him, as if you weren’t sure if you could do it.

“It’s late.” He spoke in a deep tone of voice and you sat down next to him, a little embarrassed at your appearance.

"Since when do you care about sleep? You used to stay up with me till sunrise bingeing the dumbest movies." He didn't answer. He remained silent and continued to swipe his finger across the screen of his phone, uninterested.

"Okay, seriously. What’s going on with you?" This time he finally put down his phone, but he still didn't look at you. His voice was cool. Controlled. Like he was completely sure of what he was saying.

"Nothing's going on. I'm just not in the mood to talk." His words stopped you and you knew he was lying. Sunghoon had never lied and he certainly wouldn't lie to you. So why now?

"You've been 'not in the mood' since I got here. You've barely said two full sentences to me. Is this how it's gonna be now?" You threw your hands up nervously and he shook his head at you, his eyes still fixed straight ahead.

"You're overthinking."

"Don't do that. Don't make me feel crazy for noticing the shift." You cut him off immediately, he could hear in your voice that you were quite sad and hurt by what he was saying.

Sunghoon took a deep breath through his nose, scratching the back of his neck, while you watched his every little move, looking for something - anything - anything similar.

"I missed you, you know. I was counting down the days to this trip. Like I always do. I thought… we’d pick up where we left off." Your voice was quieter than usual this time and he finally turned his eyes to you, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, but his expression still uninterested.

"Maybe that’s the problem, y/n.” Your heart stopped at that moment. His words were quiet, but loud at the same time.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" He shrugged, as if he didn’t even know what he meant by that.

"Maybe we’re not the same anymore. Maybe it’s not supposed to be like before." You had a puzzled look on your face, watching him speak with complete calm. You remained silent, not knowing what to say to him. The anger in you rose a little, you were angry. Downright pissed off at him for throwing your long-standing friendship in the trash like that.

"So you just…” You stopped, searching for the right words. “decided that on your own? Without even giving me a chance?" You threw your hands in the air angrily, while he rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw tightly.

"I’m tired, okay? Can we just drop it?” A tired sigh escaped his lips, he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with it tonight. Actually, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with it at all. And that made you angrier.

"No. We can’t just drop it. You’re pushing me away and acting like you don’t care about throwing our friendship away just like that.” You stood up from the bed angrier than before, but he just stared at you, at first without saying a word. But then he let out something that felt like a slap.

“Maybe I don’t.” Loudly, you swallowed, surprised, staring at him, as if you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly. For a moment, you stared at him without saying a word. Your eyes were starting to get a little glassy, ​​but you refused to cry. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room between you, but then you broke it.

“So now what, Sunghoon?” As you said his name, his gaze lifted to you. “we just... stop talking? After everything?” You crossed your arms over your chest as he watched you, watching the anger rise in you and the sadness as well.

“It’s easier this way.” You didn’t understand his words. Why was he saying that? Why was he acting like he didn’t care about your friendship?

"For who? Because it sure as hell isn’t easier for me” Bitterly you laughed, to make him feel that what he was saying was stupid and wrong of him. That he was hurting you. But Sunghoon didn’t even need to hear you, because he knew how your heart was breaking into a million pieces. That you felt like he had stuck a knife into it, and slowly and cruelly twisted it. He remained silent. And that was what you hated. Silence. And he knew it. The intensity between you was tight, suffocating, and took every breath away from you.

“You used to tell me everything. I knew what you were thinking before you even said it…” There was sadness in your voice, it was shaky, like you wanted to break down and cry, but you didn’t. “Now you look at me like I’m a stranger.” Finally, he got up from his bed and walked over to you, but there was still enough distance between you, his voice rough and cold.

"Maybe you are." At that moment, everything around you stopped. Your heart shattered, and for a moment you felt like you were literally choking.

“Wow.” You said in a low voice and put your hands in a defensive gesture, taking a step back as if his words had physically pushed you away.

"Okay. I get it. You don’t want to talk, you don’t want me here. Message received." When you turned around and were ready to leave, your hand resting on the doorknob, firmly, his words stopped you.

"I never asked you to come." He told you with a reluctance in his voice, as if he was telling you to get out right now and that he never wanted to see you again. You froze at his words. Your heart was pounding, despite the fact that you felt broken, hurt and taken aback by his unpleasant words. Then, you slowly turned around, your eyes more and more glassy and that was when he realized that he had crossed a line.

"You didn’t have to. I came because I always do. But maybe this is the last time."

And with those words you left, closing the door firmly behind you, not caring that you would wake yours or his parents. And he… and he just stood there frozen as if he was only just now starting to realize how horrible his words towards you were. Sunghoon didn't mean to say it as nasty as it sounded. He wanted to stay away from you, but he didn't realize that by doing so he was destroying everything you had built between each other over the years. He tried to protect your friendship at all costs, but he didn't realize that by doing so he was destroying it. He had completely destroyed it and there was no going back.

-

The next day you didn’t speak at all, nor did you look at each other. You just walked around, without saying a word, ignoring each other’s presence. You, you sat on a chair, looking at yourself in the mirror, wondering if you were should go to the bonfire. You and Sunghoon always went to the bonfire together, you spent every single year wrapped in a blanket, sitting by the fire with his friends. Well, now… you didn’t know if you were coming, since you broke off contact and ignored each other the whole day.

You took a deep breath and nervously ran your hand through your hair. At that moment, your mom appeared from behind the door, a sweet smile on her face, but her eyebrows slightly raised, curious.

“Are you not coming to the bonfire with Sunghoon, honey?” She stepped into your room and you made eye contact with her through the mirror.

“I’m not in the mood…” She saw in you that you were sad about something, hurt. And she also saw how you and Sunghoon were acting, you weren’t laughing at the whole house, you weren’t sneaking up to the roof like usual to look at the stars together.

“Is everything okay between you and Sunghoon?” Her voice was soft and careful, she was afraid that she was interfering where she didn’t belong. You turned to her and let out a deep sigh, but then you smiled, pretending that nothing was happening and that everything was fine between you.

“Yes, everything is fine.” Even though she wasn't sure what you were saying, she nodded because she didn't want to dig into it any further. So she placed her hand on your head and caressed you, her touch gentle and loving as always.

“Okay, but I think you should go. Have some fun a little? You always loved bonfires and that was the most thing you were looking forward to.” At her words you nodded and smiled, it was true. You always loved bonfires, the pleasant atmosphere, the roaring sea and its salty smell. Why would you let someone like Sunghoon ruin your favorite event? And so you went, listening your mother’s words without hesitation.

The fire crackled in the center of the circle, sending sparks spiraling into the sky. Everyone’s gathered — drinks in hand, voices blending in laughter and stories. The air smelled like smoke, salt, and summer. The night felt alive. You sat near the fire, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, a red cup of water in your hand.

Then Jay, one of Sunghoon’s longtime friends, made his way over, holding two marshmallows on sticks, offering you one with a crooked grin.

“You still burn them black on purpose, or have your roasting skills improved?” He joked and you laughed at his words, your eyes shining with surprise.

“Jay? I didn’t even see you earlier!” With a laugh you replied.

"You’ve been ignoring me, obviously."He said teasingly and winked at you, sitting down next to you and you graciously accepted the marshmallow stick from him.

"Please. If anyone’s been ignoring anyone, it’s your best friend over there." You nodded at Sunghoon, who was sitting not far from the two of you, a red cup held to his lips, sipping. Half-involved in another conversation but his eyes were watching. Always watching. He clenched his jaw tightly when he heard his name, even though you didn’t say it directly. His fingers tightened around the cup.

“Yeah, he’s been in a mood lately. Can’t figure him out.” Jay spoke up, agreeing with you. Sunghoon was acting strange around him too, which Jae didn’t quite understand. He was measured and colder.

“Join the club.” You pressed your lips together and then you laughed together. Jay smacked your shoulder playfully a little and you did the same. Nothing more intense. No flirting between you. Just two people enjoying each other's presence, friendly. But for Sunghoon it was something more. Even though he didn't admit it, his look said it all.

He couldn't stop staring at how you always slightly leaned closer to Jay when he said something and how your lips always curved into a small smile and then into a gentle and sincere laugh. The way Jay smiled at you and observed every single detail of you and the way your knees gently touched.

"Still remember the summer you beat all of us at Mario Kart and wouldn’t let it go for weeks?" Jay reminded you of the summer two years ago, when everything was still fine and Sunghoon didn't see you as a stranger.

"Obviously. That was the peak of my existence." You laughed at that and he did the same, tilting his head back a little but then looking at you with a big smile.

"You peaking at seventeen is so tragic." He joked and you rolled your eyes at him, but then you burst out laughing.

"Says the guy who got destroyed with a blue shell and threw the controller." Your laughter was loud, which made Sunghoon turn away. You teased each other more and he didn't like that. He didn't like that you were sharing something you once shared with him. His fingers wrapped around the cup more tightly, then just like that he threw the cup away and stood up. Annoyed, he stormed over to you both, you both looked up at him, not understanding.

"Didn’t realize we were all here to relive middle school memories." He let out and the circle around the fire quieted down a bit.

"Didn’t realize you were paying attention at all." You replied coolly, while Jay looked from you to him. He saw the intensity and anger between you, so he stood up and put his hands in a defensive gesture.

"Okay, I’m just gonna… roast my marshmallow now." He spoke and Sunghoon glared at him.

“Yeah, you should.” He said in a low voice and Jay sat down on the other side of the circle and you shook your head and put the marshmallow stick aside, your eyes burning with disgust and anger. But his eyes burning with jealousy, guilt.

You couldn't take it anymore, the anger, so you stood up and directed your steps towards the beach, which was nearby. Your feet sinking into the warm sand, leaving a pleasant feeling. The laughter and music blur in the distance. You just wanted to breathe — to get away from his eyes, his voice, the way he still gets under your skin with nothing but a sentence. You wrapped the blanket you had wrapped around your shoulders tighter and stopped by the seashore, watching the waves. Your nose was immediately hit by a familiar scent that you had always loved. This was exactly what you needed.

Then suddenly you heard footsteps and you didn’t even have to turn around because you knew it was him.

“Of course you had to follow me.” You muttered with an annoyed laugh and he just walked closer to you without a word, his steps heavy but quiet at the same time. “What? You’re not done embarrassing me in front of everyone yet?” You quickly turned around and he looked at you in surprise, but then just stared blankly again.

“You didn’t seem embarrassed.” He shrugged at that and you furrowed your eyebrows at it.

“Oh, screw you!” You shook your head and looked away but then you looked back at him, his lips in a thin line, his eyes dark as if there was nothing in them.

"You’ve been treating me like crap since I got here. Ignoring me, pushing me away, pretending like I don’t even exist — and then suddenly, the second someone else talks to me, you act like I’ve committed some crime?" Your tone of voice was raised and the anger in you was rising again and he was aware of it. He put his hands in his pockets, uninterested, but he answered you anyway.

"Didn’t realize a marshmallow was that intimate." Teasingly he joked and you threw the blanket you had wrapped around your shoulders at him.

“God, you are such an asshole!” You yelled at him and he just looked at you, his attitude calm, too calm.

"Maybe I just got tired of pretending we’re still who we used to be." He shrugged uninterestedly and you sighed furiously.

“I don’t get it. You used to tell me everything. And now? Now you won’t even look me in the eye unless you’re making some stupid comment to piss me off." Your voice was shaky again, but you were still angry. Sunghoon looked away from you as if he couldn’t even look you in the eye.

“And I’m standing here, trying to understand why the person I’ve known my whole life suddenly acts like I’m a stranger. And you just… act like it doesn’t even bother you.” Again, your eyes were glassy, ​​your chest clenched with that unpleasant feeling like before.

“Maybe you should stop fucking trying. It’s annoying.” He let out a measured, cold sigh and looked at you. He could see from your expression that he had hurt you even more than before.

“Wow…” You took a step back. “If you want to pretend we never meant anything to each other — fine. I hope it keeps you warm at night.” And with those words, you walked away, leaving him alone again. And then his form broke for a moment, but then he put the mask back on and sighed. He watched your figure slowly disappear from his sight. And he, just staring, trying to come to terms with the fact that it was really all over now…

A week had passed since you last talked on the beach. You continued to ignore each other's presence and others, not just your mom, had started to notice it. You were all sitting in the garden together, grilling, laughing at silly things and other things. After a long time, you felt relaxed, sitting on a chair, a glass of lemonade in your hand. Sunghoon was sitting right across from you, his attention focused on his phone and nothing else around interested him.

“Your mom mentioned that you are leaving earlier than them?” Suddenly his mother asked and your smile slipped, and he looked up for a moment but then redirected his gaze back to the phone, but he still listened attentively.

“Yeah, I have some stuff that I want to finish before the school starts again.” You said, pulling your legs closer to your chest and taking a sip of your lemonade, which you then placed on the table.

“Oh, really? Or is there some boy in it?” She leaned closer to you, curiosity in her eyes, and as you were about to answer, Sunghoon surprised you with his sharp words.

“Nah I don’t think so. She’s got options, though. Trust me. Guys lining up to feed her marshmallows." The whole table laughed at his words, not knowing if he was serious or just joking. But you didn't find it funny.

"What's your problem?" You asked him in an angry voice. This was the first time in a week that you had looked at him properly again.

"Just trying to participate. You're the one who hates when I stay quiet, remember?" He teased with mockery in his eyes and voice.

"Better than saying something stupid." Your parents noticed how your mutual nagging sounded different than before. It was more intense and more like a snarl. And they weren't wrong.

"Guess you'll have to pick your poison." He shrugged at that.

"Kids-" his mother said, but you both ignored her.

"Can you just stop acting like a jerk for five minutes?" You furrowed your eyebrows and snapped at him, your voice raised and everyone could feel the immense anger coming from you.

"Can you stop acting like a bitch and sticking your nose into things that don’t concern you?” His eyes narrowed, as if he was watching you, watching you react to his words. Everyone remained silent, surprised by the whole situation. You, you shook your head at that and quickly stood up, staring at him.

“I’m done. Thanks for the dinner. It was lovely.” With those words you left, leaving everyone surprised and saddened at the same time by what had just happened before their eyes. Sunghoon stayed seated, clearing his throat to at least lighten the air a little but didn’t say anything. He just watched you walk away, holding tightly to the glass of water that would probably shatter in his hand if he squeezed it even tighter.

A cold breeze enveloped your body and you immediately grabbed yourself by your shoulders and hugged yourself, hoping to warm up. The sand on your feet was cold, but that was the least of what was bothering you right now. Your gaze was fixed on the sea again and you were enjoying the last moment you were here. In two days you are leaving back home, and you will probably never come back here. And you will forget everything that was. All those memories, the friendship you have built over the years. That hurt you the most. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes for a moment, trying to enjoy the moment of silence and the smell of the salty sea.

"You’re really leaving?" His voice surprised you and you flinched at it. But you didn’t look at him, even though you felt his intense gaze.

"Why do you care?" Coldly you asked him and he swallowed loudly.

"Because I didn’t think you would." Bitterly you laughed at his words and turned to him, your arms crossed over your chest. Sunghoon had an expression on his face that you couldn’t read. Did he look disappointed? No, you were probably just imagining it.

“Well, I got tired of being somewhere I clearly don’t belong.” He stayed silent. He didn’t even know what to say, because anything he said would be inappropriate and wouldn’t fix it, but he tried anyway.

“I’m sorry. About dinner. I shouldn’t have said that.” He scratched the back of his neck and bit his bottom lip, nervously. Finally, you could feel a different energy coming from him… which felt strange.

“You’ve been saying a lot of things you shouldn’t lately.” You took a deep breath and broke eye contact with him, your attention shifting back to the sea in front of you and he did the same. You both just stared, speechless, Sunghoon deep in thought. But then a thought hit his head.

"If you’re really leaving…” Softly he started speaking, as if he was afraid of your reaction. “We should swim in the sea. One last time. Just like we used to.” When he mentioned the last time you were here a year ago, you swallowed loudly, turning to him, surprised. Sunghoon chuckled at your reaction.

“What?” He slowly touched the fabric of his shirt and took it off, while you remained frozen. A smirk playing on his features, as if it wasn’t even a matter of importance that he was undressing in front of you. Your eyes were immediately struck by his chest and his tones abs, which you swallowed loudly at.

“Come on.” He pointed his head at the sea and you blinked, hesitating.

“You think some swimming in the sea like we used to will fix anything?” He paused at your words, but then let out a long sigh.

“No, but maybe we could try to remember how we used to be… before everything” You could hear the sincerity in his voice. It was strange. He had been cold towards you since you arrived, and now? Now he was trying to make up for it….

“I don’t have a swimsuit.”

"Me neither." He shrugged and slowly started unzipping his jeans with his fingers, and your eyes immediately slipped in there and you widened in surprise.

"Are you fucking serious?!" You said with a slightly panicked tone and he flinched. He found it funny how you acted like you'd never done this before, that you hadn't swam in the sea. Even though you were wearing swimsuits then, it wouldn't be any different now except that you'd be naked. But it's dark, who cares? He won't be able to see anything.

"Dead serious." Before his jeans and boxers could completely fall off the sand, you quickly turned around and closed your eyes, a blush immediately rising to your cheeks. He ran into the water without a word, laughing.

"Oh my god! You're actually crazy." You laughed and immediately the hot water touching his skin made him sigh. You moved your hand away from your eyes a little and looked at him out of the corner of your eye. Once. The first time and the third time you put your hand completely down and looked at him, still hesitating. You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath and slowly started to take off your shirt. Sunghoon didn't even have to be told to turn around because he did it automatically.

When you took off your shirt, your body was immediately embraced by the evening breeze and a chill ran down your spine. Sunghoon, even though his back was turned to you, watched you slowly undress out of the corner of his eye, leading his thoughts where they shouldn't be. But he immediately suppressed them.

You put your pants aside and hugged your body and slowly started walking into the water. The water was cold at first, but then it became warm and pleasant. When you were fully in the water, Sunghoon turned towards you completely and you both looked at each other without a word. For a small moment, you both felt like a year ago, where you were here together. When you almost kissed and that summer, there was something more between you. Something more intense, more romantic than ever before.

Sunghoon disappeared under the water for a moment, his hair completely soaked and he ran his hand through it. Drops of water slowly ran down his cheek and there was still silence between you, but you interrupted him.

"Why did you throw everything away? Our friendship.” After a moment of silence, you asked him, while he just watched you. He watched as the moon fell on your shoulders, which were sticking out of the water. “Why are you acting like nothing happened? Like we didn’t almost kiss last summer? Like that didn’t mean anything to you?” Sunghoon was most afraid of this question. Exactly at this point, you almost kissed… When you were already expecting silence to remain, he spoke.

“It meant everything to me.” He said quietly, as if he was only talking to himself. But you heard him quite clearly, and you blinked at him. “I thought about it every damn day after…” He admitted and paused for a moment, took a deep breath and then continued. “I wanted to tell you. I wanted to call… But I panicked. I didn’t know what to do with it.” His words surprised you, but you still didn't understand why he had pushed you away so suddenly. "With you—with how you made me feel." Even though his words were as honest as ever, you still felt hurt. Broken into a million pieces.

“So you just… cut me off?” You spoke with a shaky voice and Sunghoon saw the drops running down your cheeks, not knowing if they were tears or just drops of water.

“I was scared. That I’d ruin it. That if I told you I wanted more, you’d look at me differently. And then I’d lose the only person who ever really knew me.” Sunghoon finally said everything that had been bothering him all year. He expected you to yell at him, to hit him, to cry, whatever. But he didn’t expect you to just stare at him silently, without a word. What he said couldn’t fix what he had broken, he knew that himself.

There was silence and the only thing that could be heard was the sound of the sea and your intense beating of each other’s hearts. You couldn’t handle it. You slowly got ready to leave, ignoring that he would see you, you didn’t care. But you didn’t expect him to grab your wrist and pull you back into the water.

“Wait—wait.” He let out a panicked sigh and you shifted your eyes from your hand to his face. He had a broken and frightened expression on his face.

“Don’t go.” He swallowed loudly, fear in his voice. “Please…” His heart was beating at an incredible pace and his breathing was heavier than usual. “I’m sorry. For everything. For messing this up.” Even though he knew that one stupid apology wouldn’t be enough, he tried, hoping you’d give him another chance.

“I don’t want you to leave thinking I didn’t care. I never stopped caring.” Your breath hitched at his words and his grip on your wrist tightened, as if he was afraid that if he loosened even a little, you would leave.

“Then why did you make me feel like I was nothing to you?” Your voice was soft but heavy, full of mixed emotions.

“Because you were everything. And I didn’t know how to hold on to that without breaking it.” He whispered, searching your eyes for anything that would tell him that you wouldn’t leave. That you would give him a chance to make it all right. That you still saw him the same way you did before. The waves of the sea touched your bodies and you shifted your gaze to your hand where he was still holding you tightly.

“You don’t get to say stuff like that after pushing me away. After making me feel like I imagined everything.” You raised your eyes and looked into his, his eyes were sad, full of longing and begging for your forgiveness and for a kinder hope.

“You didn’t imagine it.” He admitted and swallowed loudly and you bit your bottom lip, nervously.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it either. That night… the almost kiss. I tried to forget it. Tried to convince myself it didn’t mean anything.” To keep from collapsing, you stopped and took a deep breath and then continued. “But it did. It still does.”

Sunghoon stared silently, not knowing if he had really heard correctly. His grip still firm, his heart beating intensely. He slowly lowered his hand and swallowed loudly, thinking. While you, you stared at him without a word, waiting for him to say or do something.

“Then why are we still standing here like this?” His words surprised you and without further hesitation you closed the distance between you and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft, full of unanswered questions. You pulled away for a moment, but this time he pressed his lips first, his hand immediately slid to your waist pulling you closer and your arms wrapping around his neck.

He deepened the kiss, his other hand gently cupping your cheek. The ocean waves lapped softly against your skin, but all you could focus on was the warmth of his body pressed against yours. He pulled you closer, and you could feel his heartbeat racing in sync with yours. Sunghoon couldn’t believe it that he is holding you like this, kissing you.

A small sigh escaped from your lips and for a brief moment you pulled away, looking deeply into his eyes. But then he in an instant pulled you back, kissing you harder.

"Don't run away," he whispered against your lips, one hand tangling in your wet hair. The moon above cast a gentle glow on his face, making his features even more beautiful. He kissed you again, more passionately this time, his strong arms securing you against him.

“I’m not-“ You mumbled into the kiss which made him smile softly against your lips, cutting off your words with another tender kiss. His hands began to explore your body more freely, tracing the curves of your back and hips. The ocean water swirled around you both, adding a sensual rhythm to the moment. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“Do you… do you want me to stop?” Carefully he asked, as if he wasn't sure if that was okay.

“No.” But your words reassured him and he pressed his lips to yours again. Sunghoon's hands slide down to your hips, pulling you even closer until there's no space between your bodies. He kisses you passionately, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger he's never felt before. The ocean waves crash softly against your naked bodies.

His hands move from your hips to grip your backside, lifting you up and carrying you to the shore, carefully he put you down on the sand, his mouth never leaving yours. Your fingers slowly made their way to his hair as He positions himself between your legs, his muscular body hovering over you as he continues to completely devour your mouth. The moonlight casts a silvery glow on your intertwined bodies, highlighting every curve and muscle.

Sunghoon pulled away from you, both of you gasping for air. His eye admired every part of your body. "You're so beautiful." Fuck, you really were. The moonlight casts highlighted every part of your body. Your body was like a heaven to him. A small blush appeared on your cheeks, as his voice was soft and gentle.

When he leaned to kiss you again, you felt his hard cock press slightly against your naked thigh, making you let out a little gasp. Your body was trembling beneath him from it and he could feel it so he grinded against your thigh again, intentionally this time, wanting to feel your reaction again. One hand trails down your side, tracing your hip bone while the other supports his weight.

"Is this okay?" There was worry heard in his voice, like he was making sure that every move he made was okay with you, that he wasn’t going too fast on you.

“Yes.” A soft groan escapes Sunghoon's lips at your response, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. He leans down to capture your mouth in a searing kiss again, his tongue dancing with yours. His hand on your hip slides down between your legs. Your mouth fell wide open when his fingers gently started to explore your folds, testing your readiness.

"So soft," he murmured against your lips, his fingers slowly circling your clit, making you let out a sigh of pleasure. The wetness between your legs increasing by it and it only served to fuel his desire. He broke the kiss to look at you, his eyes dark with lust.

“I want to make you feel good.”

“P-please.” With a pleading eyes you said, begging him to do something about it. Your begging face made him groan.

"Fuck, your sounds..." He murmured, applying more pressure as he continued to circle your sensitive bud. His cock throbbing against your thigh, desperate to be inside you, but he's determined to make sure you're properly prepared. Slowly, he slided one finger inside, testing how tight you are, your eyes widening at the feeling.

Fuck, how he loved how you responded to his touch. He stared into your eyes, watching your reactions as he slowly pumped his finger in and out of you.

"So tight," he groaned, adding a second finger to stretch you out. Immediately a loud moan escaping from our lips, his thumb continuing to circle your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your hips buck against his hand.

“Sunghoon~” The sound of his name on your lips nearly breaks his control. Again, he kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans as his fingers continued their steady pace. "You're doing so well, baby," His voice was soft but as he whispered it against your lips, his thumb increasing pressure on your clit. "I want to make you come." At his praising words, you hid your face in the crook of his neck, as the pleasure was too much.

“Mhm-“ A muffled sound came out of you as you wrapped your hand around his neck, bucking your hips more forward to his hand. He chuckled softly, his fingers curling upwards to hit that spot inside you that made you see stars.

"Look at me," he demanded gently, his thumb rubbing faster, making you gasp. He nuzzled your face back into his neck, trying to get you to look up at him. You obeyed to his words and you pulled away from his neck, locking eyes with him. Sunghoon felt your body trembling, your eyes were more and more watery from the pleasure. And fuck… how he loved seeing that.

"You're so close, aren't you?" He asked, his fingers pausing inside you to torment you further.

“W-why did you stop?” When he stopped you in an instant blurted out, trying to catch your breath, his fingers still inside but not moving at all.

"Because I want to watch you fall apart," Seductively, he whispered, his fingers starting to move again - slower this time - drawing out your pleasure. His thumb circled your clit again, knowing exactly how to touch you to drive you wild.

"Let go, baby. Let me see you come." Sunghoon leaned closer to your ear, whispering as he kept pounding his fingers into you, enjoying how you responded to him.

“F-fuck-“ As the pleasure was too much for you, you squeezed your eyes, throwing your head back a little. In an instant he buried his face in your neck, his fingers moving faster and harder as he felt your body tensing.

"That's it, come for me," he encouraged, his own breathing growing ragged. Your mouth opened in an ‘O’ as you felt your climax reaching. He wanted to watch you, but he was too focused on giving you the release you need.

Deeply, he groaned, feeling your walls clenching around his fingers as you came undone, making you moan loudly. Your moans like a music to his ears. He slowed down his movements, gently riding out your orgasm until your body stopped trembling. He pulled his fingers out slowly, bringing them to his mouth to suck off your wetness.

"Fucking beautiful.” Without breaking eye contact with you, he said, watching how your cheeks were flushed red, your breathing heavy. Your eyes slowly slid down to his red cock, pre-cum leaking from it, asking to be inside of you. Sunghoon noticed your hungry stare and without hesitation he grabbed you by your hips, roughly.

“Fuck, flip over.” At his words, you switched your gaze to him, surprised.

“W-what?”

"On your stomach," he repeated, his voice lowering as he gets more impatient. He wanted to be behind you, to wrap his arms around you and pull you onto him. When you saw how he was getting more impatient, you flipped over, supporting your body with your hands.

"Good girl," Left from his lips as he watched how you obeyed to him without a second thought. He lifted your hips up so you're on your knees. "Look at you," He murmured as he pressed his hard cock against your bare ass, making your mouth fall open. Sunghoon noticed how your body tensed when he pressed his cock against your ass. To tease you even more, he took his cock into his hand and gave it a few pumps before teasing your entrance with his tip, making you let out a little cry at the feeling. He chuckled darkly, teasing your entrance with his tip but not pushing in.

"You're so wet and ready for me," He whispered, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He pulled back slightly before pushing forward again, just enough to spread your wetness around but not entering you fully yet.

“Hoon… fuck- please don’t- don’t tease me.” You were struggling with your words and he enjoyed it, and he groaned at your plead, his grip on your hips tightening.

"Fuck, you know how to beg," He said, finally pushing just the tip inside you. He pulls back out slowly, teasing you again. "Is this what you want?" His voice strained with desire.

“Yes! Please Hoon, I- please fuck me with your cock. I-I swear I’ll be-“

"Shut up," Without mercy he slammed his entire length inside you in one go. He stayed there for a moment, letting you get used to his size before pulling back and thrusting forward even harder. "You’re gonna shut that pretty mouth of yours and just take my dick, alright?" A loud whimper came out of you as he leaned down, pressing his chest against you back, whispering into your ear. “Alright, y/n?”

At his question you nodded your head and you squeezed your eyes shut as he began to move, making you open your mouth into a little ‘O’ again. He groaned in satisfaction, seeing your reaction.

"Fuck, look at you taking my cock so well," He praised, his hips moving faster and harder, one hand gripping your hip while the other reaches around to rub your clit in sync with his thrusts.

“Mh- H-Hoon~”

"Fuck, you're so fucking hot when you say my name," The fingers over your clit moving faster as he continued to pound into you from behind. "I’m gonna fuck this pretty little pussy until you’re screaming my name," he threatened, his voice low and rough.

“P-please I’m gonna-“ Again, you started to feel the familiar pleasure, and he felt it too.

"That's it, keep making those fucking noises," Sunghoon encouraged, his fingers pressing firmly against your clit as he continues to fuck you hard and fast. "You’re gonna come all over my dick, aren’t you? You’re gonna squeeze me so tight when you come." His dirty talk was like heaven, you couldn’t even think properly so you just nodded at his words, his cock hitting every right spot inside you.

"Come on then, I wanna feel you come apart on my dick," he urged, his hips moving erratically as he chased his own release. "I’m close, fuck I'm so close," You moaned as he groaned into your ear, his fingers moving in tight circles over your clit.

With every deep thrust you felt your body trembling, feeling like you would collapse from the pleasure.

"Fuck, can you feel that?" His hips were slapping against your ass with each thrust. "I’m hitting that spot deep inside you, aren’t I? The one that makes you see stars?" He leaned down to whisper in your ear, his breath hot and ragged.

“Mhm-“ Even though you tried to say a proper word, nothing came out. Only moans, which were like music to his ears.

"That's it, take it," He growled feeling your pussy clamp down around him as you got closer to your orgasm. "Fuck, just like that." Gently, he bit down on your shoulder, marking you as his, his cock driving into you relentlessly, hitting the right spot. Suddenly your walls tighten around his veiny cock and you came, making a mess on his cock as he wanted. Oh, and he loved every bit of it. But still he kept thrusting into you, trying to case his own high, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back onto him even harder.

"Not done yet," You cried as he kept his ruthless pace, not stopping at all, his hips jerking erratically as he got closer.

“Sunghoon, I-I can’t-“

"Shut up and take it," Sunghoon snapped, his control completely gone as he fucked you through your sensitivity. His fingers dig into your hips harshly, holding you in place as he slammed into you over and over. And with one final thrust, he came, filling up your pussy, his hips jerking slightly with each wave of his release. "Jesus," He muttered, pulling back slightly then pushing back in again slowly, like he can't get enough. Even though your pussy was hurting from his ruthless pace, you moaned as he still kept buried inside you for a while.

"Goddamn, that was intense," Fnally stilling his hips as he catches his breath. He leaned forward, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder blade while still buried deep inside you. His hands gently caressed your sides, a stark contrast to how roughly he just held you.

You were out of breath, your body hurting because of how rough he was, but you enjoyed it. Then he slowly pulls out of you, sudden emptiness rushing over you and slowly you flipped back into your back, trying to catch your breath. Sunghoon laid his body down next to yours, your fingers slightly brushing against each other.

After a few moments of just lying there, Sunghoon turned his head to look at you. His eyes soft and warm, a stark contrast to the intense, almost angry way he looked at you during sex. He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, making you smile. You weren’t expecting him to fuck you so good after you just found out why he shut you down. But honestly, you didn’t care. You were happy, you felt loved and that’s what mattered.

Sunghoon leaned in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before resting his head back down. For a few moments, he just stared at you, taking in your peaceful face and the slight flush to your cheeks.

“What do we tell our parents?” You broke the silence between you two. He let out a small chuckle, brushing his fingers through your hair gently.

"I don’t know yet, but probably best not to mention the fact that I just fucked you senseless…”

[rosenclaws]

rainy days | Leopold Mountbatten x reader

summary: You run a small bookshop and expect a slow day when a storm rages through New York, until a very handsome stranger walks through your doors.

a/n: I watched Kate and Leopold and I am certifiably obsessed and totally normal. I apologize if any of his dialogue sounds off I'm not used to writing the way he talks. Anyways please indulge my new obsession and I hope you all like it!!

part 2

You sigh as you listen to the rain hit the windows of your little book shop. A hot cup of tea is sitting by your side as you flip through one of your books. You love your bookshop but today is definitely a slow one.

Though you do see people hustle past with their umbrellas, clutching their bags and dressed too nice for the rain. So for now you settle down for a quiet day. That is until the little bell rings, a sign someone has ventured through the storm to your little shop.

"Hello, Welcome in!" You say cheerfully as you look up from your book.

Your eyes widen as you see a man, a very handsome man, standing in the entrance way. His clothes soaked by the rain. Still he looks as put together as ever as he stands tall at your door. You notice the weird clothes he's wearing. It almost looks like a costume. His wet hair sticks to his forehead and you wonder how he got stuck out here without an umbrella.

"Forgive me, I am still unfamiliar with my surroundings and I appear to have gotten lost." You clock his accent immediately, a tourist perhaps? Though he smiled kindly you could tell he was confused.

"It's no problem, here come in." You hurry around the counter.

He silently shivers as he tries to stay away from the many books you have around your store. Fearing that he may ruin them with how much water was dripping off him.

"I have a few towels upstairs if you don't mind waiting." You offer, taking pity on the man.

"Not at all." He bows slightly as you leave the room which you think is a little weird but polite nonetheless. You grab a towel and rummage through your drawers before finding a pair of sweatpants and an old hoodie an ex boyfriend had left a while ago.

"Okay, I have a towel and some clothes that I think will fit you..." You trail off as you look up and see that he has taken off his jacket as well as his shirt.

Your brain short circuits for a moment as he turns around and it takes everything you have not to gawk like a creep. Water drips down his chest as he shakes his head to try and rid some of the water from his hair.

He meets your eyes and you both share a look. You can only hold his gaze for a moment before looking down at the ground, attempting to save yourself from any more embarrassment. You hand him the towel and clothes and gain the courage to look him in the eyes again.

"I apologize profusely, I did not hear you come down." He quickly grabs the clothes and you cough awkwardly, stealing a look at his bare chest.

"Bathroom is down the hall, you can change in there." He thanks you again and leaves you alone.

Oogling strangers isn't exactly polite or great for business but god was he handsome. Handsome and polite and an accent? It's almost too much. You hear a loud rumbling of thunder and watch the sky grow darker. Looks like the storm isn't going away anytime soon. You hear the bathroom door open again and you quickly try to busy yourself, choosing to go back to your book.

"I must apologize again, It was highly inappropriate for me to be," His neck turning a slight shade of red as he scratches the back of his head. The clothes fit him and it's almost a crime how nice he looks in a shirt and sweatpants.

"In such a state of undress."

"It's okay, you were probably freezing in those clothes so.." You smile warmly which he reciprocates.

"I truly appreciate your kindness." He glances around your shop, admiring the collection of books on your shelves.

"So, are you a tourist?"

"Oh, I have yet to introduce myself how rude. My name is Leopold, I grew in England but moved to New York." So that explains the accent, the ridiculously charming accent.

"Well Leopold, it's nice to meet you." You introduce yourself and hold out your hand. Instead of shaking it he takes it and kisses your knuckles. You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face.

"What a beautiful name, Is this your store?"

"Yeah, I bought it a couple years ago and well, I'm still here. All my friends think I'm crazy for opening a bookshop but I love it."

"Books are a wonderful thing, as a child I relied on books to occupy my time. Such intricate and beautiful worlds created from words on a page at the tips of our fingers. I think it's a very noble profession." He speaks so eloquently, his eyes filled with passion.

You rarely meet a man who has such an appreciation for books. He notices the book sitting on the desk.

"May I?" You nod your head and he picks up the book.

"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," He smiles fondly as he flips through the page.

"I picked up a copy myself when it released before I left England. I thought it was one of the most imaginative and fantastic stories I had ever read." He flips through the pages, admiring the colorful drawings that adorn your copy. Gently, he closes the book and sets it down.

"Though I must admit, I have a new found respect for the book myself." There's humor in his voice though you don't quite get the joke.

"When it came out?" You question. The book came out in the 1800's, unless he just means a new release.

"Yes, It was quite difficult to get my hands on one but I managed."

There's something more to this man for sure. Even the way he talks is unlike anything you've heard before. The pieces start to fit themselves together as you take notice of every oddity surrounding this man. The clothes, the way he speaks, claiming to have been 200 years ago.

"You're not from here are you Leopold? Like 21st century here " You ask, he seems surprised at your question. He's surprised that you aren't calling him a lunatic. He admires how quick you are to accept the unknown. It's admirable.

"Quite the perceptive one, smart and beautiful." He flashes a smile and you swear you almost melt on the spot. He doesn't deny your claim and it makes you want to know more.

"I must admit it is a long story but seeing as there appears to be no end to the rain, perhaps I could tell you." You lean on the counter and rest your chin on your hand. He mirrors you, his brown eyes not shying away from yours.

"Tea?" You ask playfully. He stands up and offers you his hand. A spark electrifies your whole body as your hands touch.

"It would be my honor."

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hi! It's me again! 🤗

I was reading about the awful things that happened to Aegon in the brothel. Him so desperately trying to be taken care of and only finding more abuse broke my heart 🥺 and also got me thinking... What if he doesn't have a good, loving wife to make it all better? 😭 What if instead, one of the workers (Reader) finally takes pity on him and treats him the way he needs so much? Taking him away from the awful workers and under her wing? I imagine he would become instantly addicted. Never letting other worker touch him again. Only accepting her services. I bet he would get possessive as well. Paying an enormous amount of gold to be the only one that can touch her.

Do you think he would dare bring her to live in the castle? Or even more scandalous, actually MARRY her? Or he would be too scared of his pious mother's reaction (as well as the rest of the kingdoms') to a whore becoming queen? There is also the possibility of him just gifting her a big house with servants, close to the castle, so he can visit whenever he wants needs... Sooooo many possibilities! 😳

What do you think?

Oh my god. Are you sure you don't want to take over this blog because this is INCREDIBLE??? I am obsessed. I actually think I'm gonna tag this with 'subby Aegon!au' so that we can discuss this more and you guys can easily use the tag to find everything about this because I fear this may be my new obsession.

Anyway, NSFW sub!aegon that starts very angsty but has a happy ending under the cut!!

So for anyone who missed the post that inspired this, we were discussing how Aegon would know he was a submissive and go to a brothel to submit to the workers there. He desperately wants to just be loved and cared for and feel like a good boy but none of the workers will do that and he doesn't quite have the language to explain what he wants/needs. So instead he just ends up going through all this abuse and humiliation and degradation just to hear them say he did well at the end. He always goes into subdrop afterwards and he feels so terrible but he also can't stop going because it's the only time that he actually feels like he's good enough.

For this AU, I think it makes the most sense that you first encounter Aegon after he's had a scene with someone else? Cause Aegon always pays very VERY well and so the brothel workers who have dominated him always ensure that no one else can lay with him because they want all that money? Like maybe the madam of the brothel you work at has a very strict rule that no one other than her is allowed to lay with the king. Of course there's plenty of rumours going around the brothel about what he likes he and pretty much everyone knows that the madam dominates him.

You first encounter Aegon after he finished a particularly brutal scene with the madame. Half an hour later when the madam wants to use that room again he's still laying there? He hasn't even gotten dressed, is just laying there with a thin blanket wrapped around himself.

The madam does not want to deal with him because she knows from experience that he gets all clingy and weepy after a scene and so she sends you in to kick him out. Well, she tells you to kick him out.

But then you walk in and he just... he looks so small? You slowly walk over and gently place your hand on his shoulder. He jumps up and scrambles off the bed, mumbling apologies because he knows the madam told him to leave and he still hadnt.

You quickly tell him it's alright, that he's done nothing wrong and the look he gives you is just so heartbreaking? He's all wide eyed and shocked and there's a very very small smile on his face when he whispers, "Really? I... you're sure? I'm good?"

Which, yeah there's no way you're kicking him out now. You help him get back into his clothes and then take him to your private room. The rule is supposed to be no clients in the personal quarters, but this is quite literally the king so you don't see anyone complaining.

You keep an arm wrapped around his waist, guiding him like that and he just leans against you? You can't believe that the madam doesn't stay with him after she dominates him, especially because he's just so sweet? He's leaning against you, mumbling thanks and letting you lead him without complaint. He's so sweet and vulnerable and you can't believe the madam would leave him and not care for him.

He's so shocked when he finds himself in your private quarters, and he's even more surprised when you wet a rag and gently clean the tears off his face. He leans into every one of your touches, trying to soak up as much attention as he can.

You ask him if you can undress him again so you can clean him properly, and he just starts sobbing and throws himself in your arms because he can't believe how lucky he is. You just hold him and tell him that he's doing so good, that you just want to get him cleaned up a little more and then he can take a nice nap with you.

He closes his eyes and cries silently as you clean him. There are welts on his back from the madam's whip so you have to ensure you clean them properly or risk infection. You expect to have to clean dried cum from between his thighs but to your surprise there's nothing?

When you ask, he just wines and mumbles, "Wasnt good, couldnt cum" which just breaks your heart because you refuse to entertain any possibility that this sweet little thing wasnt absolutely perfect.

You finish cleaning him and you're about to help him get his clothes back on when he just kinda collapses onto the bed. You don't even bother with that then and instead you just get into bed with him.

"Come here," you tell him, opening your arms and he immediately dives right in. You hold him tight and when you press a kiss to the e top of his head he just melts into you.

When he wakes, he's hard. He tries to apologise for it but you won't hear it, and you ask if you can help him. He tries to shake his head and say that he can't go through that again, but then you interrupt him and promise him that you only mean helping him cum and do nothing else.

He's so sweet when you stroke him, mumbling how good it feels and begging to cum and after he does, he even takes your hand and licks it clean? He's just the bed boy and he's clearly trying so so hard to please you, so you make sure to praise him constantly because the poor thing deserves it.

The next time he comes to the brothel, he tells the madam to get lost and asks for you. He won't even consider another, not after you cared for him and praised him and made him feel safe. Of course the madam is not happy about this, but she cant stop him and so he goes to the room and waits for you.

When you walk in and ask why he's asked for you, he just says that he really liked you from before. And then he actually looks nervous? Like you might tell him that he has to go back to the madam.

You tell him that as much as you'd love to, you can't do what the madam does to him. You explain that you can't degrade him or slap him or anything like that. But then he just smiles even wider and tells you he doesn't want that, he just wants what you did last time.

He seems all blushy and nervous and there's a very obvious tent in his breeches. You smirk then and say, "Aw, do you want me to take care of you? Yeah? Let me do all the thinking and you can just be my pretty good boy?"

Instantly he's slipping from the bed and down onto his knees, kneeling and nodding comically quick because yes. That's everything he's ever wanted and more.

And he's just so good for you? He listens to every single order, and he begs so prettily and his sounds are just insane. When it's over, you pull him into your chest and kiss his head and tell him he did so so well for you. He's just on cloud nine, because this is absolutely everything he's ever wanted and more.

When he leaves, he pays you double what he pays the Madam and when you tell him that's too much, he says that there's no amount of gold in the world that could be enough to thank you for how you looked after him. He asks if he can come back, if you'll let him do that again and of course you agree to let him.

The madam isnt happy with you of course, but she can't exactly force the king to lay with her instead. For about three weeks things continue like that, with Aegon visiting every few days and paying you very very handsomely. He always stays for a few hours after this, just getting cuddles and kisses.

After a while, the madam comes to you and is unhappy that Aegon will not be with anyone else. Aegon pays very handsomely and he also lets them basically beat him up, so of course the madam is unhappy that she no longer get aegon's time. Aegon, meanwhile, will not even look at another.

The next time Aegon comes to the brothel, you're with another client? As much as you wish that you could just see Aegon, if you did that then the madam would kick you out. The madam is overjoyed when Aegon walks in and you're with another client, because it means she can swoop in and tell Aegon you're busy but that she'd be more than happy to do it instead.

And Aegon just... he knew that obviously you had other clients, but knowing and actually being there while you were with someone else are two different things. His smile falls instantly, and he says that he doesn't want anyone else. The madam tries again, maybe even touching him and telling him to think about all the good times they had, which prompts him to stumble backwards and very firmly say that he won't be seeking the services of anyone else.

He ends up leaving the brothel and then comes back the following night and is so so relieved to find that you are free. He's much more whiney and clingy than you're used to, to the point where he cries if you even let go of his hand. You end up having to pull away o ask what's going on, because he seems very distressed. You hadnt seen him like that since you took care of him that first night.

He gets quiet and then eventually asks how many other men you see every day. You sigh, because you knew this question was coming and you're not sure what to say to him. You end up just saying that this is your job, and that the madam is already upset with you for being the only one he goes to so you can't risk only seeing him because then you'd almost certainly be kicked out of the brothel entirely and have no wear to live.

Before you had even finished speaking Aegon had already made up his mind to give you enough gold that you never have to be with anyone else. You try to tell him that's not necessary, but for him it absolutely is. He will not allow the only person who makes him feel good in the entire seven kingdoms to struggle to earn a living when he is quite literally the king.

At first you turn him down, stating that you have to earn your own way and that you can't rely on him.

And then he goes quiet for a moment before he just softly says, "But, I rely on you? We can rely on each other?" Which is just the sweetest thing you've ever heard. You kiss his head and let him curl against your chest, giving him a little squeeze before telling him that you won't let him pay everything, but you will ket him pay enough to the madam that she will allow you to only take clients of your choice and also to set aside 4 nights every week that are just for him. It's not everything he wanted, but it's pretty damn close. And Aegon is so obsessed with you that he will absolutely take 4 days a week of your undivided attention.

It carries on like that for a while, with you and him being together 4 nights a week and he's just... he's so sweet and he's so perfect and he loves being with you so much. Maybe sometimes he doesn't even want anything sexual? Which yeah is wild cause Aegon is pretty much always horny, but when he's getting so thoroughly fucked every second day, sometimes he just wants to be with you.

Even when he doesn't want something sexual, that is not at all to say he doesn't still want to come be with you. Aegon would sleep in the same bed as you every single night if he could. He also just loves being able to talk to you about his day? You always listen to him and offer him advice. He's never really even able to feel like he can decompress at the end of the day, but now he's always able to with you. He knows that the moment he walks through the doors, you will know how to help him.

I think that eventually you'd accept his offer of him being your only client, and the day you tell him that he is smiling and giggling for the entire day. He definitely buys you a little cottage close to the keep, and as much as you try to say he doesn't need to, he won't hear it.

In fact he actually loves providing for you like that? You do so so much for him and he knows he'd never be able to function without you and so to know that he can do something to help you is just amazing and it makes him so so so happy.

I absolutely adore this concept!! This ask is already insanely long so I'm not gonna go any further here but if anyone else has thoughts about this let me know!!! I'd love to discuss it more :))

[revelboo]

I 100% am writing fic because of you. You planted this bug in my head. Lol. It's taking over my life.

Do it! Tell your stories if it makes you happy 😊

Clumsy Hearts Scenario

Soundwave x Reader, Shockwave x Reader

• “Shockwave.” Head lifting from where you were napping at the low growl, you sleepily blink at Soundwave before shifting your attention to Shockwave. Looming over you with a scanner in hand. Blinking up at the purple mech as your skin prickles, you push up. Antenna folding back as he looks at Soundwave, before slowly extending the scanner and letting light play over you anyway. Then Soundwave makes a noise that flicks some primitive switch in the back of your mind that remembers being prey and you’re lurching to your feet, heart racing.

• Venting in aggravation as Shockwave glances at his readout while you back away from both of them, your fear jangles through him. “I still don’t understand why you don’t want me to improve the human,” Shockwave mutters, pointing with his cannon. “Wouldn’t they be better as a cassette?” Growling because no matter what he says, Shockwave isn’t going to understand, Soundwave uses his hand to herd you away from the edge of the desk. You don’t need improvement.

• “I don’t want to be a cassette,” you whisper, eyes wide and Shockwave hesitates. Torn between the fear in your voice and that it’s wholly illogical to not wish to be better. Don’t you understand that it would be safer for you? That you’re far too fragile and helpless as is? Your fear sparks through him, leaving him uncomfortable as his antenna flatten back.

• Shivering as your bare feet slide on the top of the desk when Soundwave slides you further from the edge, Shockwave rocks slightly to make your skin crawl. “No one is becoming a cassette,” Soundwave growls sounding more tired than you’ve ever heard him. Turning to cling to his servos and to keep from being slid over to Shockwave in one of Soundwave’s now familiar ‘make nice’ gestures, you press your face against his palm.

• “It’s illogical to remain organic when you could be more,” Shockwave growls, pursing away from the desk to leave them alone. Frustrated, Soundwave rubs a servo against your spine and you peek up at him. Why this obsession with your life span and improving you? There’s something there in the chaos of broken memories he can’t untangle. Something spurring this behavior that needs to be ripped out before the scientist acts without his counsel. Or yours.

[alive-gh0st]

❝Hearts Don’t Miss❞

Omni!Mark Grayson x Cupid!Reader➶

•♡🤍♡🤍♡🤍♡˚₊‧ ꒰ა 💗 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚♡🤍♡🤍♡🤍♡•

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❤︎ summary: he keeps showing up. you keep letting him. the door stays unlocked. tea is made too sweet. silence becomes routine. bruises go unspoken. goggles go missing (oh no!). there’s a question you probably shouldn’t ask. and a room you were meant to find. he doesn’t stay. not yet. but maybe you’re done waiting for him to ask permission first.

❤︎ contains: sfw. emotionally repressed omni!mark (maskless). cupid!reader (tired). slow burn ache. tired divine girl walks. locked doors left ajar. silent truces. half-fixes. domestic ritualism. tea with three honeys. blanket tucking. casual couch intimacy. proximity tension. flinching in sleep. jaw bruises. voice cracks. the goggles are off. he lingers. he doesn’t speak. reader asks anyway. he doesn’t answer. room reveal. red blanket. pink cat plushie. near-confession. almost staying.

❤︎ warnings: emotional repression. abandonment issues. mutual yearning framed as silence. soft things made heavy. unspoken hurt/comfort. past violence (vague). exile. grief, unsaid. omni!mark. fear of being too much. fear of not being enough. self-worth in question. unresolved trauma. villain origin foreshadowing (again). silence that says too much. furniture used as metaphor. someone leaving before they’re asked to stay. no identity reveal yet. no closure either.

❤︎ wc: 5289

prologue, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: i blacked out somewhere around the goggles and woke up crying in the tea aisle. also, if you’re wondering whether writing slow burn angst about two disaster beings tiptoeing around intimacy while pretending not to be emotionally codependent is healing—no. it’s not. but it is honest. anyway. if you’re emotionally devastated, that means it’s working. yay! (also yes—i am obsessed with cats).

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The air is clean.

Too clean.

Like someone ran it through a filter before letting it touch your skin.

The grass is suspiciously green, the kind that looks like it’s never learned how to die.

Every tree is perfectly upright, every shadow perfectly drawn—like this place doesn’t even know how to be haunted properly.

You walk anyway.

The boots you bought with Invincible don’t fit quite right. Cupids don’t wear shoes. They don’t need to. But you sport them like you belong here.

Like this street is familiar.

Like you’re not counting cracks in the sidewalk and silently noting that there are none.

This planet—this corner of it, anyway—feels artificial in the way all utopias do. Pretty from far away. Quiet when you need it to be.

But there’s something in the stillness that feels designed.

Engineered to feel peaceful instead of actually being it.

You’ve started taking these walks more often. Around the same time. Through the same streets.

You like routine.

Or maybe you just like pretending this one’s yours.

It started the night the door stayed unlocked.

After that last silent almost-fight—after you’d said something too bare and he’d left without answering—you found it open again a few days later.

Just slightly ajar. Like a breath half-held. A silent truce.

No message. No invitation. No apology.

But not closed either.

You didn’t question it.

You just started leaving. Not running—just walking.

Getting used to wielding your feet. Letting your legs carry you away for a while.

It’s not a door if it’s never shut.

And it wasn’t shut now, either.

You spot Invincible’s apartment up ahead, half expecting the knob to turn under your hand before you even reach it.

You pause outside like you’re trying to give the moment enough time to reverse itself.

It doesn’t.

You push the door open.

The air shifts.

And there he is.

Sprawled out on your couch like a ghost that doesn’t know how to haunt properly.

One leg hooked over the armrest. Mask off. Suit wrinkled.

Hands tucked behind his head like he owns the place—or at least like he’s given up pretending he doesn’t.

Invincible doesn’t look at you.

Doesn’t flinch.

Just murmurs, deadpan—

“Hope you don’t mind.”

You don’t answer.

Just shut the door gently behind you and toe your boots off like it’s any other day. Like this is normal.

Like he’s normal.

Your hands grab the grey fuzzy blanket from its usual place—folded on the side of the couch where he never sits but always ends up anyway—and you toss it over him without a word.

He doesn’t thank you.

You don’t expect him to.

This is how it goes.

He shows up.

Takes your silence as permission. Rests like he doesn’t trust his own bed anymore. Leaves again before the sun rises, usually bruised, always quiet.

And you don’t ask.

Because asking might make it real.

There’s food in your fridge you don’t remember seeing. A drawer that used to stick now slides open like someone greased it.

The blanket smells a little like smoke. The shampoo bottle is lighter than it should be.

Someone keeps fixing things. Replacing things.

Staying.

No one says anything.

But you haven’t been alone in days.

And for some reason—you don’t want to be the one to ask why.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The TV plays something you’re not watching.

Something with bright lighting and soft background music. A romcom, maybe. One where the main couple bickers until they fall in love.

You’re not really paying attention.

You sit at opposite ends of the couch like a rerun.

It’s the same position every time—your back half-angled toward the armrest, legs tucked up under you; Invincible’s frame sprawled out, one boot still planted on the floor, elbow hung lazily over the cushion’s edge like he might float away if he doesn’t anchor himself to something.

A safe distance.

The TV is still on, but neither of you is watching. Some late-night romcom loops gently in the background—cheesy music, quiet laughter, the sound of a couple kissing through a rainy window.

You couldn’t even name the movie if you tried.

Your eyes flick over to him.

His suit’s ripped at the neck, collar slack, the line of his throat just barely visible beneath a faint bruise you know wasn’t there yesterday.

You don’t ask about it.

You haven’t asked about any of them.

Invincible hasn’t asked about your silence either.

Or your shoulder, which still twinges if you move wrong. He noticed once. Didn’t comment.

The unspoken pact between ghosts—haunt, but don’t possess.

The flicker of the screen lights the edge of his jaw. It’s sharper when he’s tired.

He hasn’t shaved in a few days.

There’s a moment—barely a second—where your hands brush as you both shift, and neither of you reacts.

Your fingers graze his knuckles.

He moves first, subtly curling his fist like that’ll erase it.

You pretend not to notice. Invincible does too.

It feels like ritual now. An old habit you both slipped into without realizing.

His gaze is heavy when it lands on you—so you make sure to keep yours elsewhere.

At the corner of the screen.

The chipped paint on the wall. The tea cup in your hand.

He thinks you don’t see him watching.

He’s wrong.

You move before the moment can thicken—rising with quiet steps toward the little kitchen, opening the drawer that still sticks sometimes unless you tap it twice.

Invincible’s fixed it before, but only halfway. You wonder if that’s on purpose.

The tea shelf is full. Again.

You didn’t fill it.

You can’t.

Cupids don’t even know how to buy groceries. You’ve tried, once—stepping into a corner store and instantly freezing when the automatic doors whooshed shut behind you.

Everything was too loud. Too artificial. Too far from your world.

Your feet carried you out with nothing in your hands.

But the next day, there were peaches in the fridge. Almond milk. Jasmine rice in the cupboard. Your favorite toothpaste.

A thank you never left your lips.

You think he prefers it that way.

Your fingers reach for two tea bags at random—peppermint and something floral—and toss them into a chipped mug like you know what you’re doing.

Add a splash of honey. Then two. Then three.

Stirring it with dramatic flair, your shoulders squared like a chef about to present a masterpiece.

You quickly return to the couch, set the mug down beside him with a smug look.

“Don’t say I never do anything for you,” you say dryly—trying—and failing to suppress your excitement.

Invincible glances at the drink like it might fight him.

“…What is it?”

“Tea,” you say, like it’s obvious. “My personal blend. Extremely advanced.”

He doesn’t ask for clarification. Just picks up the mug and takes a sip like he’s bracing for poison.

He swallows once. Then again.

His jaw flexes.

You narrow your eyes, waiting. “Well?”

He clears his throat. “…It’s good.”

A hum leaves your mouth, skeptical. “You hesitated.”

“I didn’t,” he easily lies.

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

Mark takes another sip, visibly forcing it down like it’s a dare he can’t back out of.

You smirk, leaning back against the couch cushion like you’ve claimed something that was never yours to begin with.

And the movie keeps playing—but he’s not watching it.

The tea tastes like you.

Not literally—Mark wouldn’t even know what that means, not really—but it carries the same weird quiet comfort you do. Like warmth that comes in the absence of cold. Like something you don’t realize is anchoring you until it’s gone.

He watches you from the corner of his eye.

How you tuck your legs under yourself. How you pretend to care about the movie you’re not really watching. How you don’t ask why he keeps showing up like this.

You never do.

And it should make things easier. It should.

But it doesn’t.

His hand brushes the rim of the mug, and he realizes he’s gripping it too tightly. Like the ceramic is the only real thing left in the room.

He doesn’t say anything.

Not yet.

You don’t either.

And maybe that’s the worst part of all.

Mark doesn’t tell you the tea was so sweet it made his jaw ache for ten straight minutes.

Or that it tasted like someone melted candy in hot water.

Or that he drank every drop anyway.

Because you made it—and looked proud doing it.

And Mark would rather burn than disappoint you.

Even if it means swallowing something sweet enough to rot him from the inside.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The sky is darker than it should be.

There’s no real night here—just a soft, polite dimming of the artificial stars and a hush that feels designed instead of earned.

The kind of darkness that waits for permission before settling in.

Mark doesn’t fly away.

He could. Should. There’s a ripple of air along his back that says go, muscle memory in his calves aching to launch.

But he doesn’t move.

He stays.

His hand rests flat against the outer wall. Fingertips curled just slightly, like pressing hard enough might let him feel the warmth inside.

He keeps his suit on. Black goggles blocking the light.

Not because he needs to—but because he doesn’t want to see clearly. Not this time.

Not you.

You’re asleep. Again.

On that couch.

Same position he left you in. Legs curled under that grey fuzzy blanket, one arm loosely draped across your stomach like you’d planned to move but never got around to it.

You look small like that.

Smaller than you are.

And softer, in a way you never let yourself be when you’re awake.

Mark watches.

Not like a creep, he tells himself. Not hovering.

Just… lingering.

One more second.

Just one more.

He doesn’t blink.

Doesn’t breathe.

There’s tea on the table. That stupid chipped mug you made him drink from—still warm, left in the sink where you rinsed it out before falling asleep.

It had been way too sweet. Disgustingly so. Like candy syrup and dishwater.

But you’d smiled when you handed it over.

So he drank every drop.

Even lied when you asked if he liked it.

Because you looked proud. And he hadn’t had anyone make him anything in a long time.

Not without a reason.

Not without strings.

Not without expecting something back.

But you didn’t ask.

It’s not in your nature.

And he doesn’t know what to do with that.

You just made the tea. Sat beside him. Watched that stupid romcom like it meant something. And let him sit in the quiet.

Mark swallows hard.

Closes his eyes.

He doesn’t deserve that kind of quiet. Not from anyone.

Especially not from you.

His knuckles brush the wall once before pulling away. Like if he touches it too long, it’ll feel too much like home.

He hates himself a little for thinking that.

His jaw clenches.

You shift in your sleep, just slightly—one hand twitching near your chest, your face turned toward the cushions, breath soft.

Mark exhales, through his nose.

He should leave.

He always does.

But his feet stay where they are. Anchored to the cold floor like gravity’s been rewritten just for him.

His chest tightens. Not painfully. Just… noticeably.

Like something folded in half, waiting to be flattened.

His voice doesn’t rise. It barely even escapes.

But the thought is there—soft and brutal.

I should get her a real room.

Not because you asked.

Not because you need one.

But because you’re sleeping on a couch that wasn’t meant for you, under a ceiling that still echoes like a stranger’s home.

And he’s the one who brought you here.

That… realm you rarely talk about dropped you into this plastic quiet, into a planet that doesn’t know how to love gently.

Mark watches you a moment longer.

Then disappears before the sun starts to rise.

Like always.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

You don’t expect him to be here.

Invincible hasn’t come by in three nights, and you told yourself you weren’t counting.

But the quiet started to feel different. Not heavier. Just… colder.

The door opens like normal—and you freeze.

He’s there.

Not lounging like usual, not pretending it’s casual with one arm thrown over the backrest and some dumb remark halfway out of his mouth.

No.

He’s asleep.

Fully out.

Curled awkwardly into the couch—the same one you claimed as your own—like he didn’t mean to fall asleep here but couldn’t quite help it.

One leg bent, the other half-draped off the cushion. Arms folded up toward his chest, almost protective.

The hem of his suit is wrinkled from tension, and you can still see faint cracks in the chest area where something—or someone—must’ve hit him too hard to dodge.

But it’s not the damage that makes you pause.

It’s the fact that Invincible’s still in the full suit—

—except for the goggles.

They’re missing.

The black lenses he never takes off—not even around you, not even in the dark—aren’t there.

No visor. No metal band curled across his brow. Just skin. Just face.

His face.

It stuns you for a moment. Not because he looks unfamiliar—but because he doesn’t.

Because without the armor of it all, he just looks… tired.

Tired in the way you’ve only felt.

Not seen.

His jaw is clenched even in sleep, like he can’t turn the tension off completely.

His lashes are long—unfairly so. Dark, fanned across the top of his cheek like someone drew them there on purpose.

There’s a faint shadow of a bruise near his temple, another one blooming just below his collar.

You spot a thin trail of dried blood near his neck, right along the seam of the suit, and the breath you didn’t know you were holding leaves your lungs all at once.

Quietly, you set your things down. Move toward the couch with practiced care.

Invincible doesn’t stir.

You crouch beside him, hands already reaching for the small, beat-up first aid kit you keep tucked next to the sofa—hidden, like it’s not just for him.

The zipper barely makes a sound.

Your hands unfold a wipe, press it between your fingers, and dab gently at the shallow wound near his collarbone.

He flinches—not enough to wake—but just a twitch, like even in sleep his body knows to brace for contact.

You move slower after that.

More careful.

When you reach to brush a stray lock of hair from his face—to better see the scrape just above his eyebrow—it’s softer than you expect.

His hair, you mean.

Less stiff. Less angry.

It falls like it forgot to spike up. Like it’s resting too.

You hesitate.

Then, without meaning to, your thumb gently traces the line of a dark lash resting against his cheekbone.

A single one strays downward, and you brush it away.

It feels like something sacred.

Like something you weren’t meant to touch.

You don’t know why you do it.

Maybe because you’ve never seen him like this. Not just unmasked—but unguarded.

Invincible looks younger somehow.

Not exactly innocent—but less sharp.

Like the blades in his voice and posture have dulled in sleep. Like the weight on his shoulders paused long enough to let him breathe.

You don’t realize you’ve whispered aloud until the words are already out.

“…What happened to the spikes?”

He doesn’t open his eyes.

Doesn’t move.

But he answers—voice low, frayed at the edges from sleep and everything that came before it.

“Didn’t feel like pretending today.”

The sentence hits harder than it should.

Your fingers still. Hovering near his temple.

But you don’t press.

You just nod once—silent—then pull the blanket from the back of the couch, tucking it carefully over his chest.

Your hands fold it at the corners. Straighten it where it’s bunched.

Avoid looking at his face again.

Not because you don’t want to—but because you might.

You settle into the other side of the couch.

Not touching.

Just… near.

Your back hits the cushion. The contact still stings, but you swallow the pain—afraid to disturb the peace he never lets himself have.

With your legs tucked beneath you—for the first time in what feels like too long—you let the silence feel safe.

Like maybe it doesn’t always have to mean something’s wrong.

You stay like that.

For a while.

Just breathing.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Mark wakes up slower than he should.

That never used to happen.

But now—curled half on your couch, suit still clinging to his skin like armor that forgot how to protect—Mark blinks against the dimness of the room and realizes two things at once.

First: he stayed.

Second: you’re still here.

You’re not asleep anymore. Not exactly.

Haven’t been for a while, if the stiffness in your posture is anything to go by. Your legs are curled close, arms folded under that same grey blanket he always ends up under first.

You don’t look at him.

Not right away.

Not even when you know he’s awake.

For a second—just one—he thinks maybe you’re angry.

And that’s what gets him.

You’re quiet, but not asleep. Distant, but not gone.

Still here.

Still letting him be here.

Mark shifts, the movement barely loud enough to count. His joints ache in a way that has nothing to do with injury.

He sits up, slowly—testing the weight of his own body like it might fight back.

He doesn’t say thank you.

Doesn’t say sorry, either.

“…You should’ve kicked me out,” he mutters, voice rough with sleep and something else.

A shrug is all he gets, you’re still facing away from him.

“Didn’t want to.”

Simple. Bare.

The kind of response that should make things easier.

It doesn’t.

The room quiets again—that kind of quiet that hums.

The silence between you stretches, drawn tight as a bowstring.

No TV now. No faint music. No fake laughter from some rerun about people who know how to say what they want.

Just the hush of morning pressing soft against the windows, the kind of light leaking through the blinds like it’s trying not to intrude.

You still haven’t looked at him.

And then Mark realizes why.

He’s not wearing his goggles.

He must have taken them off himself before you arrived—half-conscious, muscle memory tugging them free the way it does when he’s alone.

But he wasn’t alone.

Not this time.

And you noticed.

Of course you did.

But you haven’t said anything. Haven’t asked who he is. Haven’t turned to see what you could easily steal with one glance.

You’re giving him the space to keep it hidden—even now.

Even like this.

Mark shifts, slowly straightening his back, pushing a hand through his hair to buy a few seconds.

It feels clumsy.

Too human. Too seen.

Your body stays still.

Silent.

And then—too soft, too offhanded—

“…Are we friends?”

He hears it.

The question hits him like a pulse.

He’s sure it wasn’t supposed to.

It leaves your lips too lightly. Like a joke. Like maybe you won’t care if he doesn’t answer.

But he knows better.

You don’t turn your head. Don’t meet his eyes.

You’re giving him privacy, even now.

Letting him keep the one thing he never gave you in return.

Mark goes still.

Completely, utterly still.

The words don’t register right away.

Not because he didn’t understand them—but because there’s no version of that question that doesn’t set something inside him alight.

Friends.

He doesn’t know what that word means when you say it.

Doesn’t know how to measure what this is supposed to be—this cycle of showing up, breaking, disappearing, returning.

You don’t say it again.

Neither do you look at him.

Just keep your eyes on the loose thread at the corner of the blanket, twisting it between your fingers like you’re trying to undo the moment.

He should say something.

Anything.

But his mouth doesn’t open. His voice doesn’t come.

The silence grows heavy, like gravity forgot where it’s supposed to land.

Mark doesn’t answer.

Can’t.

Because the word doesn’t fit. Not the way it should.

Not when he’s slept on your couch more nights than he can count. Not when you’ve bandaged him up without a word.

Not when his silence hurt you, and you swallowed it anyway.

You twist the blanket’s frayed corner in your fingers.

Wait.

Then you nod to yourself, barely—just once.

“Right. Cool.” A forced, small smile he can’t see forms on your lips. “Thought I’d just ask.”

You get up.

Slow. Quiet. Practiced.

Like you’ve done this before.

Your figure moves toward the kitchen like it means nothing. Like you weren’t waiting for him to say something back.

Mark watches you cross the room, your shoulders just a little too squared.

You busy yourself with something in the kitchen. Open a drawer that still sticks. Turn your back like it’s enough to end the conversation.

Like if you don’t see him not-answer, it won’t hurt as much.

You don’t look.

And somehow, that makes it worse.

You’re protecting him from a truth he hasn’t earned.

Because he didn’t take the goggles off for you. He just forgot to put them back on.

And you—of course you—chose not to take advantage of that.

He stays where he is.

Doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop you.

Mark wants to.

God, he wants to.

But the truth sits sharp in his throat, and he’s not sure what’s worse—telling you he doesn’t know what this is, or admitting how much he wants it to be more.

Neither of those things are safe.

And by the time his mouth catches up to his guilt, you’re already gone from the room.

The only sound left is the drawer that still sticks when you open it.

And the silence that follows when you don’t fix it.

Not for you.

Not for him.

So Mark says nothing.

And watches you pull away, one careful step at a time.

Like you’re learning how to leave first.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The blanket still smells like him.

Faintly. Barely.

Not blood or sweat—not that sharp, metallic scent he drags in after every fight.

Just… warmth.

That strange, musky ozone your brain now registers as him.

Something heavy. Something lonely. Something that doesn’t know where else to go.

You don’t pick it up at first.

Just glance at it, folded over the couch where he left it. Clean enough. But used.

Like the weight of Invincible’s body still lingers in the fibers, curled between stitches like a ghost too tired to move on.

Your figure sits down slowly.

Right where he slept.

The cushion dips under your weight, like it remembers. Like it doesn’t want to forget.

With your fingertips pressing into the armrest—you let them drag along the edge, where his wrist had hooked the night he didn’t mean to stay.

Your thumb grazes the pillow he used.

It’s faintly wrinkled.

Still shaped like him.

You don’t know why that makes your chest tight.

Drawing your legs up slowly then pulling the blanket across your lap. You simply breathe in.

God… Why does everything feel softer when he’s not here?

His hair had been softer, too. You remember that.

Not just the way it fell—relaxed and flattened like he couldn’t bother—but the way it felt when you touched it.

When you brushed it from his face. When you cleaned the dried blood near his temple and saw the boy underneath the suit.

You hadn’t meant to stare.

You just hadn’t known what to do with the version of him that didn’t flinch.

And even now—days later—your fingers remember how it felt to brush the lash from his cheek.

That single, dark eyelash straying too far, waiting to be swept aside like a wish no one dared to say aloud.

You hadn’t asked Invincible who he was.

Your eyes didn’t look at his face again.

Because if he didn’t want to be seen—really seen—then maybe that’s the only thing you could give him.

Silence. Space. Respect.

Even if it hurt.

The room is quiet now. Colder. Dimmer.

The kind of quiet that fills your chest too fast, settles in your ribs, and presses outward like it wants to be let out.

And for some reason, without meaning to, you find yourself whispering into the dark—

“…You’re not a monster.”

You don’t say it like a confession.

It feels more like a promise.

Like it’s a thing that can still be true, even when he’s not here to believe it.

You sit there for a while.

Breathing.

Not expecting an answer.

You ponder if he’s gone. Maybe he is.

Maybe he never came back this time.

So you let your body relax against the pillow he used. Let the blanket stretch over your legs. Let the stillness settle like it’s supposed to.

You don’t think Invincible heard.

But he did.

Mark hears you before he even lands.

He’s been hovering outside the window for minutes. Maybe longer.

He didn’t mean to come back. Not tonight. Not this time.

But the light was still on.

And your figure—small and soft on the couch—was too much to look away from.

He didn’t come in. Didn’t knock.

Didn’t press his palm to the glass like he sometimes does when he needs to feel close without getting close.

He just stayed above. Floating. Waiting.

Then you whispered it.

And it was like the world dropped out from under him.

You’re not a monster.

The words left your pretty lips so gently.

So simply.

Like it wasn’t up for debate. Like he didn’t have to earn it. Like it could just be true because you said it was.

Mark presses his fingertips to the window frame.

Not hard.

Not loud.

Just enough to ground himself.

You don’t know he’s there.

You think you’re alone.

And maybe that’s the only reason you said it.

But now it lives in him.

Pressed like a burn into his memory.

It doesn’t just stay with him—it brands him. Quietly. Like truth he didn’t think he could be worthy of.

He doesn’t respond.

Doesn’t dare.

Because if he does—if he breathes too loud or moves too close—you’ll know.

You’ll see him.

And he doesn’t think he can take that right now.

So Mark floats just a little higher. Lingers another second. Lets the weight of your words stay where it landed.

You don’t think he heard.

But he did.

And Mark will carry it for as long as he can.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

˗ˏˋ 𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 ˎˊ˗

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌The room isn’t much.

Not yet.

Just a shape. A space. Four quiet walls and a light switch he doesn’t know if you’ll ever turn on.

But Mark stands there anyway.

Motionless in the doorway, shoulders tense, flight gear still clinging to him like he forgot to take it off. Like part of him still doesn’t believe he’s allowed to rest.

There’s a blanket folded on the bed.

Pale red.

The soft kind—the one he noticed you always gravitated toward in stores but never touched for long. Like you’re afraid it’s not yours to want.

There’s no lock on the door. Not because he forgot.

Because he didn’t want there to be one. Not between you and the rest of this place.

A drawer’s already half full.

Mark filled it.

Quietly. Clumsily.

Things you might need.

Things you mentioned once, offhandedly—like the brand of lip balm you didn’t think they made on this Earth, or the socks with clouds on them, or the one book you kept pretending you weren’t trying to find in this dimension’s upside-down library system.

They’re all there now.

No explanation. No receipt.

Just… waiting.

He doesn’t know what this room is. Not really.

It’s not a bedroom. Not a guest room. Not even a safe house.

It’s a maybe.

A pause.

A space between questions neither of you are brave enough to ask yet.

He swallows.

There’s a plush toy on the shelf. A dumb one—round, pink, vaguely cat-shaped.

Mark picked it up as a joke, some impulse buy on a night when he couldn’t sleep.

Now it sits between a lavender-scented candle and a folded hoodie that still smells a little like you.

He didn’t mean for it to look lived-in.

But it does.

And that’s what scares him.

Because this isn’t supposed to be a home.

He never let himself build one.

But now he’s standing in the doorway of something soft.

Something yours.

Something that says stay in a voice he’s never let himself believe in.

Mark’s fingers curl against the frame.

He should close the door.

Should walk away, fly off, burn the room down with distance before it turns into something real.

But the air is warmer here.

And for the first time in forever, he lets it be.

Leaves the door ajar.

Just slightly.

Just enough.

And disappears before you see him do it.

You walk the neighborhood with quieter steps now.

More sure-footed. Not confident, exactly—but less foreign.

Less like a thing that doesn’t belong.

The grass still looks too green. The sky still shifts a little too smoothly from day to dusk. But you’ve stopped flinching at the sound of hovercars overhead.

Stopped pausing when the air hums wrong.

You’re slowly getting used to it.

Not by choice.

Just by necessity.

Because you’re here.

Because the realm you knew is gone, and this one—their world, Invincible’s world—is the one you’re learning how to breathe in.

You’ve started calling the route familiar. Not out loud. Not even in your head.

But your feet follow it anyway.

And today, when you reach the apartment, you don’t brace yourself before opening the door.

You hadn’t meant to go inside.

It was meant to be just a pass through—you would drop your shoes off, maybe pour some tea, pretend like this wasn’t the fourth night in a row you hoped Invincible would be here.

He’s not.

But something’s different.

The apartment feels warmer. Not lived-in, exactly—but less borrowed. Less like he’s waiting to vanish.

You toe off your boots, run your fingers along the wall out of habit.

Pause.

There’s a door that was never open before.

Always locked. Or maybe just… closed. Out of bounds in a space that never really felt like yours.

But now it’s cracked open.

Slightly ajar. Like a secret held too long.

You hesitate only for a second.

Then step forward.

Your fingers graze the edge. Push gently.

The door opens without sound.

And everything freezes.

Because the room—

—it’s made for you.

You don’t need confirmation. Don’t need a note or explanation.

You just know.

The bed isn’t too big, but it’s made. With soft sheets. The kind you’ve only ever touched in stores and never dared take home.

There’s a nightstand. A little drawer half-filled with things you haven’t seen in weeks.

That lip balm. That one book. Your socks. The hoodie you thought you lost after only wearing it twice.

Your steps are slow.

Like you’re afraid it’ll vanish if you breathe too loud.

Plushies line the shelf. Some you recognize. Some you don’t. A ridiculous pink cat with crooked ears stares at you like it’s been waiting.

There’s a small lamp on the desk. A candle that smells faintly like lavender and something you can’t name.

You run your hands over the blanket.

Red.

Warm.

Your chest tightens, just a little.

This is not a room for someone passing through.

This is not a room for a ghost.

It’s for someone who stays.

And for the first time since landing in this strange, too-perfect version of Earth—you feel like you have a place to belong.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, you let your fingers curl around the blanket’s hem. Let your breath settle in your lungs like it knows how to stay now.

Invincible’s not here.

But somehow, it still feels like he is.

And that makes your throat ache.

Your eyes sting.

You look around one last time—taking in every softness, every intention he didn’t say out loud.

And your lips form into a smile.

Not because it’s funny—but because it’s real.

Because you don’t have to ask if this is for you.

You already know.

And for now? You will keep sitting quietly in the room he didn’t think he could give you.

And maybe let yourself feel wanted—just a little, just this once.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ongoing TAGLIST: @f3r4lfr0gg3r @pumpkin-toffee @aloflapse @helloimamistake @brokeaesthetic @mileskisser @lonely-entity @coquette1core @w-starshine @demonsvessel @feminii @marinefreaakk @moleannan @amidrinksti @irlandajacquelinne-blog @beep-boop-baby @flowerwithnomind

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

ᯓ❤︎ requested by: @lycheee-jelly

taglist sign up: 𓊆ྀིhere𓊇ྀི

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌With Love, @alive-gh0st

[privitivium]

I don’t tend to request because I fear *everything*. But, however, yet, nevertheless. I am so fixated on that pathetic!nerd!boy x Yandere!jock!dude it’s insane. I don’t know why, I have no reasons, but they are stuck in my brain and I can’t find anything to scratch the itch.

Soooo…if it’s okay, could I maaaybe request a little more with them? Whatever ya want! I’m not picky! I just like them, a lot. Like…I might make OCs I like them so much.

Thaaank you. <3

pathetic loser nerd, yandere jock reader ꉂ ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

yess syes yes yes ;; reealallyuy really hope you meant the linked fic. so sorry if this Wasnt what you meant. i forget the fanfiction i've made even if i've looked for it. Ignore this...

;; being a total gross weirdo... ! stockolm syndrome, dubcon, graphic gore? you beat someone up in the name of love.

;; a jock who embraced his affection for a sorry little loser who doesn't know how to handle your overbearing love and overall ickiness. you had to remind yourself, over and over, to be gentleㅡto take your time ; he's still a virgin afterall... but you easily claimed it for yourself! you weren't afraid of threatening to hurt him either - merely squeezing his wrist when he gets a little mouthy, staring at him, using your height as leverage... he's compliant. if only you'd known it was this easy, you would've took him ages ago when your obsession first started!

taking care of him... shenanigans. pulling his dainty little fingers from his mouth when he's nervously nibbling his nails... licking them, coating them with your own saliva over his. "enough of that..." - "fingers outta your mouth." coming up with remedies... stickin ur own fingers in his mouth... hows that taste?

and i mean... would he mind if you started dressing him up? of course not!! you're absolutely positively sure he loves you treating him like a doll. making him feel all weird inside when you're cooing at him, holding his hand so gently in your much bigger ones... painting his nails so daintily for a mean, rough man who's forcing him to be his boyfriend. reminding him who you are when you're pulling your hand away to nonchalantly stroke your tumescence because you get off on taking care of your darling boy

you were just protecting him. taking care of him from afar... stalking him. and you're so fucking glad you did instead of obeying his quaint little request of leaving him alone - to give him space because apparently he was comfortable enough to ask for it. what? alone time? what is that !! is he fucking stupid? of course not - he's super smart... maybe he knew you'd ignore his meek demand and follow him anyway!

;; woah... wha? whuh...? blinking, rubbing your eyes as you near your little boyfriend who you were only looking out for - were you seeing that right?

ㅡsome chump picking at your boyfriends clothes... flicking his hair... h-his papers, books slapped out of his hands by a hulking freak who thought it'd be funny to pick on your darling! who did this guy think he is? t-to tease your boyfriend...

,,, blinded by white hot rage, coming to with your knuckles bloody and a blooming purple;red mess of someone's face. hnn. unperturbed... grunting as you haul him up by the collar of his shirt, slamming his back into the wall for good measure - right then! the assailant squirming in your grip, choking on his spit; whines pitifully. a noise that could not ever compare to your darling lovers; no matter how similar they sound in terms of being scared...

"think," you tell him, gritting your teeth. the fucking audacity he has to pick on those tinier than himelf... disgusting. hypocritical, but you aren't one to dwell... "fucking think before you act, do you hear me?" reprimanding him in a neutral tone... all that anger boiling hot just underneath the surface of indifference. 

your little nerd. your gentle, darling lover; incapable of protecting himself... eyes blown wide, trembling where he stood. oh, darling,,, you were only protecting him. watching from afar, keeping right up his ass turned out to work out huh? what was he gonna do? just brush off some creep messing with him without confronting? not on your watch...

sighing, wiping your hands off on your shirt as you let the man fall to the ground, sobbing as he crawls off. and now, having to deal with calming him down was nothing new - it was a real art. which was just you forcing him to take your affection. shoving it down his throat and wiping his silent tears with your hand ,,,

ㅡ"i-i'm sorry." you exhale shakily, stepping forward tentatively as if testing the waters. beating up someone in front of him in his honor... to see in real time. oh. "i'm sorry you had to see that. i-i just couldn't stand the way he was messing with you-!!" you whine, trying to get him to understand why you did what you had to do...!! "... are you okay?" seemingly stressed out... your darling feels a sharp twinge of guilt stab his heart for seeing you in such distress...

;; and irritably... your little nerd was dealing with a dilemma. staring at you starstruck, his heart blooms with affection that he could no longer deny. fuck. reading all that fanfiction really paid offㅡnow he can really appreciate you and all the psychotic things you do for him. like he should've been doing from the start, isn't that right? forcing him out of his comfort zone and all...

ㅡ"y-you..." he swallows shakily, hugging himself, having a little trouble speaking... he shuffles forward. you easily embrace him, no matter the discomfort he's outwardly expressing. brushing your lips to the crown of his head - sighing before deeply inhaling the scent of his soap he washes his hair with.

you smack your lips, nodding against him - your sweet little man, shaking as he leans into your chest... smells so good... ㅡ"my sweet pretty thing... me what?" knowing exactly what he was talking about without the pitiful little thing having to say anything at all. you saved him. you're fucking amazing. can't he see how much of a charming character you are? bullying the bully. ;; "thank you."

oh... oh ! how... unexpected!

"you're mine..." mumbling lazily, biting into your darlings' shoulder harshly. sure to leave a mark - sure to make his pretty blemished skin break and drool blood. fuck. you really couldn't help yourself. he- he just thanked you, showed you gratitude so prettily - you couldn't help but reward him in your own way.

;; "n-no, nngh, i-i can't go anymore - i-i have very low stamina, pl-please mmf-!!" your darling cried, scratching along your back desperate for you to ease up on his smaller frame. memories echoing in the back of your mind as he takes what you give him. endurance increased, ten-fold...

"mmh-mmhm..." - yours, he nods weakly in agreement; if he were coherent no way would he be agreeing - right? darling squirming, wanting to show defiance despite being cockdrunk... too weak; restless for something in particular you were depraving him of after bullying your weeping bulbous cockhead passed his lube lathered ring of muscle, his walls remembering you quite well.

"use your big boy words, baby, 'mm-hm' what?" cooing at your darling lover, giggling mischievously ; balls deep and belligerently not moving an inch. hnn - fuck. his walls flexing around your prick soso deliciously. but no!

no matter how badly you wanted to move, to fuck angrily into his hole like he was nothing but a doll to be used for your amusement and pleasure - this was punishment for him too! for what?

ㅡf-for... letting himself be bullied and teased without a word! that's it! but... he was clearly waiting for you to swoop in and save him... such a good boy. despite this being a reward; you still managed to be cruel. only because he looked so cute when he scrunched his nose in frustration... denied friction, how cruel of you.

;; "p-please." no time to register the embarrassment of begging his hulking, murderous - violent ... lover does not describe you. he can't even begin to explain the intricate, complicated feelings he felt for you ; his self-proclaimed boyfriend - knowing one thing, above all. frail heart palpitating harshly against his ribcage, a pitiful cry escaping his lips ; "p-lease," he implores you, mewling your name for good leverage - the little darling learning how to get what he wants; "ㅡm-move... move, please - hic... i-i need you, s-so bad-!"

fuuuck, you exhale slowly. the way he says your name... so, so pretty. your darling... he needs you to move. he needs to feel your thick, veiny lengthy cock fill him up, over and over andoverandover-

you pause, letting the plea set in before slowly pulling your hips from his... yes, fuck, he deserves this - anything and everythingㅡ"so good - y-you're so, so good for me. i love you - i love you so much," you go on and on how good he is for taking you so easily. how he succumbs to your touch, no longer shies away, begs for it even.

;; babbling nonsense while your little nerd writhes to meet your desperate pace, sobbing from pleasure - looking so pretty with tears glazing his downturned eyes; saliva glossing his perfectly shaped lips. "you're perfect." doing so good, not fighting me anymore. ;; mumbling sweet praise, humping into the frail little thing at a relentless pace, eyes closed to focus on the way his gummy walls spasm around you, sucking you in for more.

... and making him cry with how heartfelt you sound - and feeling guilty for liking how pitiful you yearn for him. this was wrong... all wrong. 

prom queen by ICP ?? i fuck with yandere readers so bad

[sgiandubh]

When anger is not enough

These have been the worst, most difficult six months of my entire life.

Seeing your entire career questioned.

Seeing your own twenty-two years of public service openly despised by a Screeching Nobody, who promised DOGE style purges. The lists were ready and I was on one of them.

Seeing your firm options and principles pressured. Faust is a lifelong obsession, yet I never imagined I'd feature in a Balkan remake of sorts. Not giving in is harder that you'd think. I didn't.

Seeing people you once called your friends ready to turn coats and sell themselves - and to whom (two cheap crooks), and for what (empty promises that were never happening, anyways).

Planning to do the unthinkable: sell our house, pack our belongings, leave for France. We even found a charming fisherman's cabin near Quimper....

... which, I am so fucking relieved to write, will not happen, after all.

It's been six months we don't sleep properly. It's been six months we eat whatever junk food we can manage to order. It's been six months we live with the humiliating fear of inevitable doom that was never to be, anyways. Except we had no idea and no way to tell for sure.

Tonight, the vote of fear uncharacteristically trumped the vote of anger:

I started my day with Bella Ciao, I am ending it in the same vein, with this:

There are two wonderful Portuguese shippers who know very well what this song means to me, on a very personal level. And they know it because we sang it together, in front of the Paris Landcon venue, on April 25th, as we were picking our damned passes. We sang it like the powerful spell it is, for all the good reasons, spoken and unspoken #cravos. I will never forget that moment - you both know who you are 💖😘.

We now took our lives back, even if much of it might be shattered, still. That is not important today: we have tomorrow to think about it.

....'And they did not win'.

My deepest, heartfelt thanks to all of you who wrote, phoned, asked, prayed, sang, comforted, joked and simply cared. I never expected such an outpouring of empathy and I am humbled, again.

I love you, too. We love you, too. We simply hope you know that.

With this solved and behind us, I can go back to SC, which is far easier and more pleasant than having to deal with a potential Fascist coup in my own backyard.

Later edit: for those who still stress and in case it wasn't clear - WE SURE WON!

[pacifymebby]

Modern! Peaky blinders with a reader who really likes stuffed animals like they make them bring them to Build-A-Bear to get new ones. like how would they act if the reader wants to make them put a voice recording in the bear that says I love you in their voice. ☺️

Obsessed with this cause it's adorable!!!!! It has been yearsssss since I was in build a bear ngl so I don't know how accurate this will be!

Tommy

🌿 Thinks you're very sweet and that the fact you're still in touch with your inner child is a good thing. He's very precious about the idea of you keeping your softness and so he is more than happy to let you run riot in build a bear or any other toy store...

🌿 When you say you want to make him a build a bear he humours you with a small smile, pretending not to know what you mean. "I don't need a teddy bear angel, whenever I want a hug I find you..." Which of course makes you giggle as you protest. "No I mean I want to make you as a bear..."

🌿 Tommy's not sure how he feels about that, he's not sure the aesthetics of love, peace and hugs that they have at build a bear are really going to be able to capture him however... You're looking up at him with your big, undeniable eyes and he's not one for saying "No" to his girl over trivial things like this....

🌿 And anyway it's worth saying yes and letting you give it your best shot just for the way you squeal and throw your arms around him, jumping up so that he has to catch you whilst you thank him over and over covering his face in kisses as you promise him his bear is going to be the best you've ever made....

🌿 "Well I don't doubt that for a second love, it seems you're the expert..." He's teasing you on purpose because he loves to see you frown, the cute way your brows crease as you try to work out whether he's being rude to you or not. You all hands on hips like "I am, actually."

🌿 Tommy's a little concerned about being seen in Build a Bear, mostly because it's the kind of cheap shot some daily mail pap will take and plaster all over their website beneath unfortunate headlines about him having gone soft or getting "stuffed." It's not going to get to him on a personal level but it could be bad for business if his rivals see it.

🌿 So he takes you out of town for it, drives you to some nowhere seaside town which has one on the high street, where no one will recognise him and you'll be able to do your bear building in peace. He's really banking on British high street shopping having died out completely and luckily for him the shop is empty but for you and him... Sure he could probably have taken you to a bigger store in London after hours, let you have free reign over the shop, but this is nicer... It feels normal and Tommy revels in any opportunity he gets to feel "normal" with you.

🌿 He's thinks it's all a little bit intense, he doesn't really go for "forced happiness" himself, but Tommy is very much driven by the want to keep you happy and so he takes a breath and holds his tongue as you step inside the store together and you squeeze his hand excitedly.

🌿 You take foreverrrrr to pick out what kind of bear you're going to have, holding different skins up next to Tommy who just has to stand there and take it whilst you compare which one you think is most "him" and then when you finally do choose you gasp and say "wait no, I want you to be surprised, you can't see!"

🌿 Which is inconvenient because it means he'll have to either follow you round blindfolded or miss the rest of your bear building... In the end you send him off to choose clothes for Tommy bear... "Tommy bear?" He raised his brow at you with a smirk but when you double down he just chuckles and says "fine, as you wish love..."

🌿 So he has to wander the clothes section peering quizzically at the little outfits and well as he suspected, none of the clothes on offer really scream "feared and revered organised crime leader..." So instead he has to lean into his creative side, tries to imagine who he would be if he wasn't a violent, murderous criminal. He pictures himself sitting on the back of a vardo, stopped by a babbling brook, peace and quiet, far away from any city...

🌿 When he hears your gleeful, sweet call from across the store asking him to come back he sighs, braces himself for whatever crazy little whim has taken you now...

🌿 "Close your eyes," you instruct him when he gets closer, he was making a song and dance of not looking at your bear anyway but you want to be absolutely certain he isn't peaking. "Need you to do something for me Tommy, pretty please with cherries on top..." He knows from the sweetness of your tone you're about to ask him something he's going to want to refuse... And he knows from the sweet way you've kissed him on the cheek and said it again "really pretty please..." That there's no way he's going to be able to say no. Because you sound so happy, the hint of a giggle in your mischievous voice and there's no way Tommy would ever dream of cutting your fun short...

🌿 So when you ask him to record himself saying "I love you y/n" he just chuckles, if anything he's relieved you're not asking something more difficult for him to give you. Making a little voice recording is easy... "That all eh sweetheart? Had me worried for a second... Thought you were gonna ask me to buy you the whole store..."

🌿 He's also morbidly aware that the bear will probably outlive him... So why shouldn't you have a little voice recording just in case something ever happens...

🌿 So with one hand over his eyes he makes the voice recording, completely serious as he says the words, "I love you y/n" completely unaware of the fact that you're filming him on your phone camera as you do. Now you know you'll get into trouble for that but you also can't resist. You never thought you'd get Tommy through the door let alone this...

🌿 You're ever so sweet to him when he's done, giving him the tightest hug, leaving him with a kiss before you inform him that he's going to have to leave again now or he'll ruin the surprise. So he sighs and teases you for being so bossy, tells you to mind your manners and gives you a little pat on the cheek before he turns away and tries to find something to occupy himself with.

🌿 he sets himself down on a child-size stool and rests with his chin in his hands, gazing up at the stuffing machine. He lets out a sigh and smirks at what a strange scene it must look like for an outsider looking in. A man wanted in some places for murder, perched on a primary coloured stool, gazing up at a cartoonish machine designed for filling teddy bears.

🌿 Honestly though he's weirdly mesmerised by the fluff machine, he could stare at it going round and round all day long... In fact that's where you find him when your bear is all boxed up and waiting to be paid for. Tommy just gazing at the fluff being spun slowly round and round, his wide eyes almost holding a childish kind of innocence.

🌿 You refuse to let him see Tommy bear until you both get home, delighting in coming up with all sort of stupid excuses why you can't just show him the bear... "He's shy Tommy... You're putting too much pressure on him, he's got big shoes to fill you know, it ain't easy being the bear representative for Thomas Shelby..."

🌿 And then when you finally do show him the bear you've built for him he's a little bewildered...

🌿 "Y/n love, why am I am otter..." "I don't know... Vibes, it was a vibes based decision and I decided you give me ottery vibes, or the otter was giving me you vibes... I don't know, isn't he cute though, personally I love him!"

🌿 And he supposes that actually your choice was really rather fitting since after all he'd been sitting in that shop imagining himself by a river in the middle of the woods, enjoying the peace and tranquility of nature... So perhaps an otter really did match his vibe. "Aye love, he's great, I think I quite like him myself... You're a very clever girl."

🌿 You have many many cuddly toys but Tommy has one rule, you're only allowed one of them in the bed. It's a fair enough rule really because if you kept all of them in your bed there'd be no room for you and Tommy... But it does leave you with the really rather tricky decision of whether or not you want to evict your current favourite cuddly toy from the bed in order for Tommy Bear to move in...

🌿 Tommy doesn't find out about that little video you took of him in the shop for awhile, only a little later when he catches you watching it by yourself. He hears you giggling and comes to see whats so funny, when he sees himself on your screen he inwardly cringes though he can't help but chuckle at your mischief. "Tut tut y/n, that wasn't very good of you was it?" He asks and though you can tell you're in trouble you can't keep your smirk off your lips, bursting into a premature giggling before you go to make a run for it...

🌿 Tommy isn't the sort to let you pretend you're faster or stronger than him so he's going to have you trapped in his arms in an instant, only agreeing to release you if you swear on Tommy Bears life that you'll never show anyone that video.

🌿 "But it's so cute!" You try to argue. "And so is Tommy Bear y/n you wouldn't want him to lose an ear now would you?"

Alfie

🐻 "don't see why you want to build the bear yourself ziskiet, there's plenty good bears already been built what about them eh?"

🐻 You're not sure Alfie really understands the concept of Build a Bear... Alfie's pretty honest about his confusion too.

🐻 "Now let me get this straight my little ziskeit... You go into this shop yeah? And you pick the teddy bear you wanna build, and then you stuff it yourself, and you put it's little sound effects in there yourself, and then you dress it yourself?" "You give them a heart too don't forget, that's important..." "A heart? Oh yeah I suppose that is pretty important ain't it ziskeit..." "And then when you're done you give it a name and you get a little birth certificate and..."

🐻 "And then you pay them? For the privelige of having done all the work yourself? That right yeah?" You huffing and sighing and glowering up at him because the glint of amusement in his eyes has just let you know that he's been deliberately "not getting it" on purpose just to tease you.

🐻 "Pleaseeeeeeeee" you say as sweetly as you can, blinking up at him with your most adorable doe eyes. Now of course Alfie was never going to say no to his little ziskeit... He just wanted to hear you beg like that, because he finds it absolutely adorable when you beg him for anything. But this... Begging him to take you teddy bear shopping, well it's just about the cutest thing you've ever done... So of course he says yes.

🐻 He cups your cheek in the palm of his hand and strokes his thumb over your skin, still teasing when he coos at you softly before telling you that you can have anything you want, even a trip to this so called bear building factory.

🐻 "Ziskeit I'm a very wealthy old man yeah, and it was actually my intention yeah that you, my dear, would never have to work a day in your life..."

🐻 Now Alfie is a theatrical, dramatic kind of man, and he has absolutely no qualms about shutting the store down so that you can have free reign over the place. He'll take you to the biggest one in London so that you'll have lots of choices and can truly make the most of your trip.

🐻 He hires the place out for the whole evening and tells you you can spend as much money as you want. If his girls dream in life really is to go to work for one evening in a bear factory, or whatever this place is, then he's going to make sure she gets to do it right...

🐻 He wasn't expecting you to want him by your side every step of the way though... When you get there you actually get a bit overwhelmed at the fact that you've got the whole store to yourself and you can choose whatever you want. All the staff are there purely to serve you and its actually a little bit intimidating... So you snatch Alfie's hand in yours, "you have to help me!"

🐻 He doesn't chastise you for being demanding however because he can tell you've suddenly gotten a bit shy, so instead he chuckles, kisses your head and plays along, "of course ziskeit, there's a lot of big decisions to make, can't expect you to make them all by yourself..."

🐻 But he wants you to choose your bear, since you were so excited to come in the first place, so he refuses to make any decisions for you... Just keeps you tucked under his arm and meanders through all your options with you until your shyness starts to fade.

🐻 "So you like the bunnies and you also like this little fella? What is he anyway, some kinda cat?" "That's a lamb Alfie..." "A lamb, well, yeah I reckon you could make quite a cute little lamb... Then again I reckon you could make a cute little bunny too... You know precious I did say didn't I, that you could spend as much money as you liked... Technically yeah, you don't actually have to choose between the two..."

🐻 But you do have to choose because you want to make one perfect teddy bear, one that will be extra extra special and remind you of this very lovely evening forever... And when you tell Alfie that his heart swells as he is reminded once again what an absolute angel he has found in you.

🐻 Eventually you settle on the bunny and you take it to the stuffing machine which Alfie is really fascinated by, "oh well now this is impressive ain't it Ziskeit, what do they call this then eh?" You delight in telling him all about it, losing your shyness and coming out of your shell completely as you try to show him what to do and get him to help you.

🐻 Alfie definitely puts on a show of being confused and clumsy so that you'll have to keep putting your hands on his hands to help him. "Yeah that's better you help me out darlin, you've got delicate fingers yeah, you're much better at this than me..."

🐻 When you go to pick the heart out to put it inside you pause and bite your lip, really carefully considering which one to pick even though they're all the same, so Alfie gets you to close your eyes and guides your hand to delve in nice and deep, "kismet y'see little one, fate..."

🐻 Then you make him give the heart a little kiss before you tuck it inside your bear. Now he knows he looks daft as anything and soft as hell doing that for you, but you held it up to his lips so sweetly, and it gave him the chance to kiss your fingertips too... So he plays along, if not just to see you blush when he lets his kiss linger on your finger tips and scatters them across the back of your hand too.

🐻 When you tell him what you want the voice recording to be he's stunned, coughs to hide his surprise and then shakes his head. He'll do it... Because he wouldn't dare break your heart with a no, not when you've finally started really enjoying yourself without being nervous at all... But first he clears the store. Sends the staff away because he wants to have a "private moment with my girl if you don't mind yeah... An anyone I catch eavesdropping yeah..." He doesn't really need to make a threat, they all know who he is, they wouldn't dream of disobeying him.

🐻 So when everyone else has gone, he pulls you in very close to him, his hand resting on your lower back, and then he asks you again what it is you'd like him to say... "I love you!" You grin up at him and he can't resist the opportunity to make the obvious joke, "I love you too my dear but what exactly is it you'd like me to put in this message specifically?"

🐻 By the time he actually makes the recording you're blushing furiously from all his terrible teasing and your pink cheeks look utterly adorable. And of course Alfie being Alfie he can't stick to such a simple script, he has to add some embellishments here and there. "I love you little ziskeit, all the way to the moon and sun and stars..."

🐻 If there's a time out on that recording it's probably going to cut him off mid sentence.

🐻 When it's time to stitch your bear up he stands over you at the table admiring the nimble way you move your delicate fingers. It reminds him of all the times you've wound up stitching him up after a meeting with a rival gang has turned sour. Softens him up a bit and makes him feel very grateful to have you for his own.

🐻 You spend a really really really long time looking at all the cute little outfits you could buy for your bunny, you keep hovering in front of fairy dresses and cute little t-shirts, your wide eyes blinking up at the different options, totally overwhelmed and spoilt for choice... And Alfie's there reminding you once again that you don't have to choose just one thing, you can buy as much as you like...

🐻 But in the end the only thing you choose is two pink ribbons for her little ears. Alfie is a bit puzzled by her apparent lack of clothing but you absolutely insist that she's perfect just the way she is and he knows better than to argue with you once you get the stubborn voice out.

Arthur

🍂 No one has ever looked more unnatural in a Build A Bear Workshop than Arthur Shelby... he looks totally out of place. With his frown etched deeply into his face and his low grumbling gruff old voice. The way he stands there looking at the place with this creeped out kind of uncertainty in his expression... he knows he shouldn't be there and he knows everyone else knows he shouldn't be there....

🍂 But then he looks at you and he sees just how happy to be there you are, and he knows he's going to have to go through with this... Because apart from anything else you look like exactly the sort of person who should be in this shop, in fact you look like build a bear was designed specifically for you.

🍂 Makes you laugh when you ask him what's wrong and he tries to pretend that everything's fine, "Arthur you look like you've stepped into a horror movie" you tease him but his answer just makes you laugh, how he blushes when he says it, "Well it's just... Everyone seems so happy and uh... Nah it's just that actually... Just feels weird..." He admits realising how daft he sounds as he says it, making you laugh more when he trails off and gives in.

🍂 You're determined that he's going to get involved and help you make your bear because you know that secretly he's going to end up enjoying it, you just need to prove that to him before he'll admit it.

🍂 And he does enjoy it... After he's moved past how unnerving he finds the boxes full of empty bear skins. You think it's funny how he doesn't really want to even go up to them to have a look, how he's trying to hide that he obviously finds them a bit creepy, because he doesn't want to reveal himself as being scared of a toy shop...

🍂 So you end up picking out which kind of bear he's going to make with you. He swears too much for a build a bear work shop and you have to keep reminding him to mind his language because although you've picked a relatively quiet time to come to the store there's still some little kids about.

🍂 Still, when he sees the fluffer machine he stops dead in his tracks and breaths out the phrase "what the fuck is that..."

🍂 I think you'd spend most of this trip with Arthur giggling at him and his dramatic reactions to everything. The way he genuinely seems disbelieving when you tell him it's a machine for helping you fill the bears. You can tell he's kind of intrigued and on the verge of begging you for a turn, the way he watches you filling your bear up slowly... He's watching you and the machine so carefully his eyes full of fascination but when you turn and offer him a go he's hesitant.

🍂 "I don't know love I wouldn't wanna ruin your bear like..." "Don't be silly Arthur, if you help me it'll be ten times better..." Now he has to try and hide the fact that he's gotten strangely emotional about you wanting him to make your bear with you... He covers it up by teasing you and grumbling about "well alright love anything for you eh... Don't say I didn't warn you though lass..."

🍂 But obviously Arthur does a wonderful job because the whole process is designed do that basically anyone can do it, "see easier than it looks isn't it..." You tease him. But he's too focused on what he's doing to be bothered by your teasing.

🍂 He actually finds the stuffing part pretty therapeutic. You can see him get quite absorbed in the process, trying his best to get it just right. He's really concentrating.

🍂 I think he'd be quietly quite into giving the little bear a heart, I'm thinking like Tin Man complex here.

🍂 When it comes to doing the stitches he gets a bit frustrated because it's more fiddly and he's not exactly the most nimble man...

🍂 Now, he definitely blushes when you ask him to do the voice recording... He sort of gets a stutter on him like he wasn't expecting you to ask him that, and also isn't sure why you want his gruff grumpy voice to come out of such a cute bear... Definitely says something along those lines to you...

🍂 "What do you want me to do that for love?" "Well I'm not gonna ask the bloody shop assistant to do it for me am i..."

🍂 He will do it, but he is going to be a little bit embarrassed about it. Not just because he's supposed to be a tough and scary gangster with a tough and scary reputation to uphold but also because it seems like a very soft and very gooey romantic thing to do and not only does he not view himself as someone capable of being soft and romantic (even though he wishes he could be that way) (and even though you do see the ways in which he can be that way sometimes) but he also knows for a fact that other people don't see him as being capable of those things...

🍂 So he feels ridiculous, like everyone's secretly thinking "what the fucks he doing making a fool of himself, who's he trying to kid we all know he's a monster..."

🍂 That's the real reason he double checks to make sure no one is around that might be listening in, he's so paranoid that other people in the shop are going to laugh at him for even trying to be soft and romantic with you.

🍂 Anyway he does it and he goes bright red like a tomato and you think he looks so so so adorable, and when you say this to him he goes even more red and you can't help but kiss him on the cheek and thank him a million times.

🍂 You want to call the bear Arthur and he's like "but that's my name" and your only argument is "well surely you don't want another man to be telling me he loves me..." Which he can't argue with, even though he knows it's a ridiculous argument that doesn't make any sense.

🍂 Will tell you he's never setting foot in that shop ever again... Will obviously immediately capitulate the next time you ask.

John

🌼 Laughs when you ask him to come with you... He thinks you're joking at first and then when he realises you're being serious he chuckles almost nervously and asks "What really? What do you want me to come with you for, you know you can just take my credit card whenever you want flower..."

🌼 "Well yeah, and I would but... I have an important job for you..." "Oh aye?" He grins. He agrees to come, he loves spending time with you and getting to spoil you, and honestly he thinks this will be a right laugh.

🌼 He will not take it seriously at all, even when you tell him how very serious it is... In fact the more stroppy you get with him about how serious it is, the more funny he's finding it... he does want you to have a good time though so he's not too much of a windup merchant with you.

🌼 It's just that he can't help but giggle when you step inside the shop and it's full of kids and you're there taking it more seriously than the 7 year old whose been dreaming of a build a bear for years.

🌼 When you're struggling to choose which bear you want he keeps reminding you that it's going on his credit card anyway and you don't even have to choose, you can have the whole store if you want... "John!” you whining to him, "be serious!" "Flower I don't joke about Build a Bear, this stuff is serious..." "John! Stop taking the piss out of me..." "Eh don't swear flower, there's kids around!" He really loves hearing you whine his name so this could repeat and repeat for hours...

🌼 Every time you do come close to making a choice he spots a different type of bear that you haven't noticed yet and his "what about this one flower?" Makes you have to start reconsidering your choice all over again.

🌼 He doesn't have the cocentration/patience to do any of the little bear building steps, he's too easily distracted pointing out different things, asking what "this thing" does and pointing at some random part of the shop. "What's that for? Eh give us a go..."

🌼 You have to put the heart in and he's giggling about it and you're like "John come on..." Whining at him to be real for a second, which he thinks is extremely cute but that makes him chuckle more. You kiss the heart before putting it in which he thinks is insane but also extremely cute and of course he teases you for it. "Aw flower ain't you a little sweetheart..." Pinching your cheek and fluffing your hair...

🌼 Definitely not afraid to do the voice recording, isn't sure why you want him to do it but will do it simply because you've asked him to.

🌼"So this is the important job is it flower?" He chuckles when you tell him what you need him to do. "Whats the matter girl I not tell you enough? Feeling neglected or somet? You gonna use him to make me jealous?" He is only teasing of course, just trying to make you blush in the middle of the shop to distract from the fact that he's about to make a voice recording of himself being a soppy git.

🌼 But you said it was an important job so he puts his whole chest into his performance. Makes a show of preparing himself for the moment, really playing up his deep breath, closing his eyes and theatrically crossing his hand slowly down his face to prepare for his line... anything to make you giggle.

🌼 Then he holds eye contact the whole time he's doing the voice recording, deadly serious, actually gives you butterflies for a second there... but the second the recording is off he cracks a laugh and starts pissing himself, making you giggle too because his laughter is very contagious and you do also feel a little silly after watching his oscar winning performance.

🌼 Is absolutely going to be a nightmare when it comes to dressing your bear... Will be making the most ridiculous suggestions, just picking up the funniest items he can find or suggesting the wildest fashion moments for your bear... "What about this, for if he ever fancies attending the met gala... Or this for when he's feelin like Sid vicious... Or what about this for when he's uh... Feeling like a princess?"

🌼 Your head will be spinning with all the suggestions he's making and actually you won't be able to pick just one set of clothes, your bear is going to be coming home with a whole wardrobe.

🌼 He's definitely picking the bear up and like holding it up to his face, putting on a squeaky voice and shaking the bear to make him talk to you... "please y/n I've always wanted to be a pro footballer... And a fire fighter... And a sugar plum fairy and a..."

🌼 You will probably need to lie down in a dark room with some peace and quiet after this experience, you'll definitely question whether you ask him to come too next time... He actually brings up next time, "next time you should go in blindfolded and let me make all the choices... It'll all be a surprise..."

🌼 This is the bear I think you'd end up picking with John, cute and eclectic, she ain't no average bear she's literally an elephant... You let him pick the shoes.

Bonnie

🍀Will have a moment where he questions whether its really a good idea for him to risk being photographed in build a bear workshop... he's a semi famous boxer with a cute little face so the paps do try to follow him sometimes, especially when he's out with you because then there's the added gossip of him having a girlfriend... still, he figures that as long as he stays by your side the whole time so that they can't possibly get a shot of him where it looks like he's there alone... then it will surely be fine.

🍀He definitely feels a little silly but goes along with it to make you happy because you're his girl and he's smitten with you... It's not like the bears for him... Then again I do feel like out of all the guys bonnie is the most likely to engage with his softer side, or his inner child... He's not going to feel imasculated by a teddy bear.

🍀 Especially not when the bear in question is a frog!! He definitely sees the frog in the window and gets genuinely boyishly excited. "You didn't tell me there were frogs y/n! Oh my god look at him! He's class, that's class!"

🍀 He doesn't tell you you have to get the frog, but he also won't stop gazing at it lovingly and so you know you have got to get the frog... And he'll be so happy that you're getting the frog.

🍀 Will make little jokes about his bosses to you, pointing at one bear and saying "here, this one looks like Tommy..." Both of you laughing quietly with eachother, coming up with stupid scenarios about which bear Tommy or Arthur would pick and how they'd dress it.

🍀Definitely secretly a bit of a nerd and kind of loves the fact they do Pokémon build a bear... "Y/N can we get this?" He asks stood next to a giant charizard...

🍀When you ask him to help you he doesn't complain, he rolls his eyes at you and tells you you don't really need his help, but he kisses your cheek and helps you anyway. He's pretty good at the stuffing and stitching but he pretends its much harder than it looks and jokes that you're making him do unpaid labour.

🍀 Definitely blushes a bit when you tell him what you want the voice recording to be. Tries to tease you to play down the fact that it's made him self conscious, "I don't know little dove, I don't speak frog y'see so it won't be Attenborough Documentary standard..."

🍀Is too awkward to ask the shop assistant to leave you be for a bit so he ends up having to do the recording in front of them!! Which he is shy about because what do you mean this random stranger is watching him do this...

🍀 A bit like John when it comes to picking the clothes out, very kid in a candy store just flitting from thought to thought at a million miles an hour, a bit over stimulated... Thinks the shoes are class but also... "He's a frog what does he need shoes for, won't that hinder the jumping?" "To protect his feet from all the shit you leave lying around Bon..."

🍀He also picks the frog up and makes him speak, makes him say really stupid stuff to you about how he's a free frog and he doesn't want to be confined by human standards of decency, "Let me be a frog y/n, let me be free" but in the end you settle on a cute little tshirt.

🍀When you get the frog home Bonnie has more fun with him than you do... He'll leave these frogs around the house set up in different poses doing different activities for you to find each day. Sometimes mirroring whatever he knows you've got to do that day. If you've got a long day of studying or working on your laptop you find your frog sitting using the laptop... usually watching David Attenborough documentaries or weird videos about frogs. You inadvertently learn so much about frogs...

🍀 if Bonnie ever gets you a gift he usually sets it up so it looks like the frog is giving you the gifts... Sometimes this is very cute and sometimes it looks incredibly funny... Like sometimes Frog is sitting on the table with a little box from your local bakery, and then sometimes Frog looks like he's about to down a bottle of red wine indie sleaze style... Depends what kind of week you're having.

🍀You start doing this too, leaving little gifts for bonnie with Frog, sometimes you leave eachother little messages and Frog becomes like this daft little way for you to communicate.

🍀Then one day you find Frog waiting for you with a little jewellery box and a note attached that just reads, "will you marry me?"

🍀Now obviously your heart soars and you can't stop smiling, but you can't put bonnie out of his misery straight away...

🍀"So am I marrying you or the frog?"

Isaiah

🐁If he didn't already know you better he'd be surprised at you asking him this... you don't come across as the kind of girl who should want to go on a Build a Bear date... but he does know you so really hes been bracing himself for the day you ask him this...

🐁 He isn't going to go quietly and he's definitely going to grumble about it a bit. "You do know who you're man is don't you love?" He's going to roll his eyes and be so sulky... "What're you willing to do to make it up to me?" But he's only really teasing, putting on a show of being extra grumpy to preserve his "dangerous gangster" persona.

🐁He knew before you asked him that he'd go to the "hellhole" with you one day.

🐁"Didn't realise you were such a softy babe..." And it's a fair point he's making because you do not give off the vibe that you'd be crazy for cuddly toys... You're a woman who matches Isaiah's sulky and arrogant nature, you give major Scorpio/Capricorn vibes, dark makeup, sharp eyeliner, always dressed to seduce and kill... He thinks that as a couple you're going to look very out of place...

🐁But then he's surprised because you really don't look out of place... You light up the second you're in there, sure you seem to have that effortlessly cool poker face on you as you peruse the rails of bear skins, and you definitely don't meet the high as a kite happy the shop assistants bring to the room... but you do soften up in there, especially once you've chosen your bear...

🐁You look so quietly pleased with yourself when you hold it up to show him which one you're getting and he grins... He's surprised actually, he thought you might go for the little mouse... Afterall, you're still his Little Mouse even if you are a femme fatal...

🐁But he loves this choice too, it's very you... "You are fuckin trouble to be fair love..."

🐁He humours you when you ask if he wants a go, it's not that you need his help you just don't want him to be bored and he's looking around that store with a look of bewilderment on his face so you think perhaps he needs some guidance...

🐁So he has a go on the stuffing machine but only for a moment, "Don't wanna ruin your fun mousy, this is your day like..." You know he just doesn't want to run the risk of looking like he's actually into it and enjoying himself.

🐁"You have to give it a heart?" Him raising his eyebrow when you ask if it should be red or pink, "Do they have any black ones?" "Saiah! What are you trying to say about me?" "Oh don't act innocent mousy you're the coldest woman I know!" He's joking with you, he has this running joke that the first time he offered to buy you a drink you said no... That you're really hard to impress and that you did not make it easy for him to get you... But he loves all that about you... He secretly loves how hard you made him work...

🐁Anyway this triggers you having to explain this whole story to the shop assistant who is honestly just baffled to have a peaky blinder in the shop let alone to be hearing about their love life...

🐁 Definitely protests when you tell him about the voice recording... You spring it on him in the shop so that he doesn't have time to think of a good reason to back out. You've been a little calculated and you can see that he is livid you've managed to trick him again!! You always manage to trick him!

🐁But all it takes from you is one little pout and an "I'll make it worth your while" before he is stepping up to the recorder ready to give the performance of a life time.

🐁Teases you and stalls the recording making out like he's about to and then recording some stupid message instead that has to be erased. Messages like "I do not contain contraband goods" "I have the right to remain silent..." "Y/N made me do it..."

🐁But eventually he records the real message and it's lovely, personalised too because he says "I love you little mouse"

🐁 "Don't be too good with them stitches love, never know when we'll have to undo em..." He whispers to you and you bloody well hope he is joking. "Isaiah!" You hiss back, "my teddy bear is NOT going to be involved in any criminal activity..."

🐁Isaiah is the one who picks out the Too Hot To Handle t-shirt. At first he makes out like he's joking but when you hmm and say "Yes, I see the vision, I love it..." He tries to pretend he was being serious all along.

🐁Obviously makes some sly little comment about you being too hot to handle...

🐁 One day you go to give your bear a little cwtch and you think he feels kind of lumpy and kind of sharp in places... So you investigate the stitches on the back and oh my god you're going to KILL Isaiah.

🐁 You open the bear up to find diamonds though so maybe this is a secret you can keep... For now.

Michael

☘️ "you're fuckin kidding me..."

☘️ Out of all the blinders Michael has the biggest chip on his shoulder when it comes to masculinity... He really frets and worries about his image as a violent, dark and mean criminal. He likes to come off as slick and professional, an elite... But also as cold and dangerous, not to be messed with. Wants to command everyone's respect at all times...

☘️ "How the fuck am I meant to come across as respectable buying teddy bears y/n"

☘️ You just pout back at him all, "I don't know, hire the place out, show everyone how minted you are..." You shrug your shoulders and then refuse to look at him or speak to him until he caves... And if there's another thing that bothers him deeply it's the thought of not being man enough for his girl... So he has to cave... He can't have toxic masculinity literally be the thing making him seem like "less of a man"

☘️ You weren't actually expecting him to hire the store but he does, he shuts the whole place down for one night, makes them open for you when the rest of the mall is closed for the evening so that it's just the two of you in the whole building... That makes you feel extra special and also guarantees that he's safe from the eyes of anyone who might use this to ridicule him.

☘️ And because the place is shut down and because he's given very clear instructions that the staff are to leave you alone until you're ready to leave he is safe in the knowledge that if he wants to be soft and cute to you he can be... So he is... Of course he's still Michael, he's still a little brooding and serious... Still wants to have authority and control... But he shows that authority by being extra generous and spoiling you rotten in there...

☘️ You get to make multiple bears for sure, every time you say you can't choose you just have to turn and pout at him and be a little bit cutesy and he caves and gives you exactly what you want, and it comes with little kisses on the forehead or cheek. Holding your hand or walking round the store with his arms around you.

☘️He helps you with the stuffing but mostly because if he doesn't you'll be there all bloody night, you've got way too many bears to make all by yourself. So you put him on stuffing duty and you get to work putting their little hearts in and stitching them up.

☘️"Wouldn't have brought you here if I'd known how much work we'd have to do love, y'know I was hoping to be in bed before 5am..." He's only teasing you and really deep down he does love to see you so happy. And you are so happy, you're so sweet and content stitching up your little bears...

☘️ Which is funny because you're usually quite a feisty, hard to please woman, you come off as so chic and badass, he definitely isn't used to seeing you so calm and soft... But he likes this look on you and definitely decides he wants to try and bring it out of you more often...

☘️ Now, whilst Michael was busy concentrating on his task, you made sure to hide your favourite bear, which has gone unstitched because you have big plans for it... And big plans for Michael too.

☘️ Which of course absolutely floor him when you reveal them to him. "You want me to what..." He looks at you so deadpan you almost question whether he's going to give you what you want.

☘️ And he definitely puts up the biggest fight... "Fuckin no y/n... I'm not doing that... Imagine if that gets into the hands of my fuckin cousin eh... Family meetings will be unbearable!" He doesn't hear the pun until you start to giggle and he is so unamused by your laughing at him. But you can't help it.

☘️ "come on Michael please" you pout at him, giving him your best puppy eyes... He isn't budging though and you know you may have to go to an extreme... You drop to your knees, wrapping your arms around his legs, nuzzling into his trousers, then you look up at him again and it your darkest, sweetest voice you ask him again, "pretty please Michael..."

☘️ Makes you stay down there begging a little while because he enjoys hearing your voice when you get a little whiny, and he enjoys looking down on you from that angle...

☘️ but he does cave and he does do the recording, "I love you y/n..." He sounds a little grumpy but he does do it and you are happy. You reward him with a big kiss and promises to thank him properly later.

☘️ Michael literally locks this bear in a safe inside a cupboard whenever family visit, there is no way he's ever having one of his cousins find that by accident. "You're so dramatic Michael it's just a teddy bear..." "Y/N I would sooner lock myself in a burning building and slow roast myself than have Tommy find that fuckin bear..."

☘️ And that's good to know because it means you've got an excellent bargaining chip now for future arguments. One little video of that bear and Michael's little message, it would take seconds to post it in the family WhatsApp and he'd just have to deal with the consequences... Now obviously this is not why you made the bear... Definitely not.

Luca

🪽 I shouldn't but I picture modern day Luca as being Sopranos esque... Not like Tony's family but the actual New York mafia and how they're portrayed in the show.

🪽 And whilst I think the peaky blinders would be on like the New Jersey mob tier, Luca is above all that... he has so much power and such a serious reputation that he actually does not need to worry about being seen in a build a bear with his wife...

🪽 No one is going to say anything about him, not without literally losing their balls or something. People are very careful with what they say about Luca Changretta and his wife.

🪽 So when you ask he just smirks affectionaly, beckons you over to him, holds your cheeks in his hands and places a lingering kiss on your lips. "anything for you my little lamb..."

🪽 He has a flare for romance and he's a passionate man so he's going to turn the whole trip into an occasion. He will close the shop down but not so that no one sees him going into build a bear... people are going to know he did it... it's just so you can have free reign and take your time without feeling rushed... he knows if he took you there during opening hours you'd just keep letting little kids skip past you in the line and then you'd be there all day..

🪽 And he wants you to feel like your trip is all about you, no one else... so you get the store to yourself and he reminds you that money is no object... "But space is Piccolina... We don't want to have to build an extension just for your teddy bears..." He's teasing you of course... he probably would do that if he needed to.

🪽 He's very cool about being there, browsing slowly, though he's watching you the whole time rather than paying much attention to the bears, admiring you from every angle as you concentrate on your choices. Every time you turn to ask his advice he simply tells you "Whatever you think is right Angioletto, you know best..."

🪽 And then to your surprise he sends you off on your own for a little while, and whilst you're busy wrapped up in your little tasks, stuffing your bears just right and putting their little hearts in, he's picking a surprise out for you... a teddy you completely missed!

🪽 When he comes to join you at the heart station he's hiding something behind his back... and when he presents it to you you gasp and clap your hands together so touched by it.

🪽 "A little lamb for my little lamb..." he says it very suavely and you can't help but blush and get butterflies. "Now why don't you show me what to do next?" So you tell him about the little hearts and how you have to give the teddy a voice and how you can do the little recordings... you don't outright tell him you want him to record something for you but he knows you well enough to know that you'd just love it if he did...

🪽 So he takes the heart from your hand and holds it to his lips, eyes locked with yours ever the romantic... and then when he does the recording he thinks carefully about what he's going to say...

🪽 "luce dei miei occhi, amore della mia vita, finché morte non ci separi..." (light of my eyes, love of my life, til death do us part)

🪽 And of course he's holding your cheek in his hand as he says it and of course he kisses you passionately the moment he's finished up... and of course he can't keep his hands off you holding you by the waist... almost getting carried away... and youve melted like butter at his beautiful words.

🪽 Honestly for awhile there you probably get a little distracted from the task at hand (shopping for bears) and spend a little too much time being desperately in love with your husband...

🪽 Your little lamb bear does not look like something that should belong to a mob wife... She's so cute, and Luca finds this a little amusing... That his wife, who is always so chic and styles, so...well... Mob wife... Has gone and made herself the most adorable, very pink, little teddy bear...

🪽 When you get to the checkout you have quite the little hall, the bears you made yourself all in a little basket, and your new favourite little lamb clutched tightly in your arms. You've already decided this little lamb is your most treasured possession...

🪽 At home you hardly let it out of your sight, you're so proud of it, and you can't stop listening to Luca's confession of love, he keeps warning you to be careful not to wear the batteries out but you're too giddy and in love to listen...

🪽 Luca doesn't tend to travel anywhere without you, but on the odd occasion that you have to be parted you like to listen to his little recording before you go to sleep, it makes you feel safe and loved.

Aberama

🦔 I guess there's a bit of an age gap here and Aberama is getting pretty used to hearing you say things he doesn't really understand...

🦔 For example when you ask to go on a trip to build a bear workshop, he really thinks you mean a literal bear building factory... He's a bit confused as to why you'd want to visit a production line... And when he asks and you giggle he quickly realises that this is one of those things he's misunderstood...

🦔 But he's willing to learn he supposes, even if the idea sounds a little mad to him...

🦔 And Aberama is too old to be worried about looking too soft, he doesn't care one bit what anybody else thinks of him, he only cares that his girl is happy and getting all the love and little treats she deserves...

🦔 Will do some research as to which is the best build a bear store in the country and plan it into the route you're travelling... He won't tell you that's what he's doing, so by the time he surprises you with the little day trip you will have forgotten that you'd asked him about it...

🦔 Your reaction when you see where he's taking you is so sweet, how at first he can tell you're a little uncertain, that you have your suspicions but clearly don't want to get your hopes up too much... But then you're sure that he's taking you there because you're standing right outside the shop and he's waiting for the penny to drop and you turn to him with these wide sparkling eyes...

🦔 "This is what you meant isn't it sweetheart?" He asks with a chuckle when you nod your head and squeak with excitement ever so adorably...

🦔 He lets you lead the way because as we've established he's got no idea what goes on here or what the deal is at all... But he thinks it's so sweet how you explain all the steps and give him a little walking step by step tour/tutorial.

🦔 You ask him to help you pick which teddy to get because there are so many you love but you really do only want to get one and besides you both like travelling light... One of Aberama's many nicknames for you is "duckling" and so you end up getting a little duck, which you name "buttercup" another one of his nicknames for you...

🦔 You think she's perfect because she matches your woodsy little aesthetic and also she's just undeniably adorable!!

🦔 You want him to help you with each step so that he can be involved too, "Cause I've done it before but you haven't and I don't want you to miss out!" You insist, and that is partly true... But it is also partly down to the fact that you find it entertaining to watch him struggle to get his head around everything.

🦔 He's pretty good with his hands and very nimble fingered though so he'd be very good at the stuffing and stitching... When you show him the little hearts to put in the bears he can't help but chuckle... He's not exactly cynical in his old age but he definitely thinks that somewhere there's a very rich man because of this "experience" they've managed to sell to people...

🦔 But how can he fault them when you're revelling in that "experience" right before his eyes and you look so so happy...

🦔 He laughs again when you show him the bit where you do a voice recording, "God they've really thought of everything haven't they sweetheart..." He chuckles, you giggling when you scold him for spoiling your fun...

🦔 But of course he does it... I kind of imagine Aberama has quite a way with words, can create quite sentimental homely poetry off the cuff, something very short and sweet... And like honestly my apologies for not including this but my brain is not capable of writing a little poem right now

🦔 Anyway, he reads it beautifully and so calm and slow that you get a little bit worried the recorder is going to time out and he'll have to start again. But luckily the poems very short and sweet.

🦔 Thinks the birth certificate is absolutely insane and does laugh about it, humours you but you do both have a good giggle about it...

🦔 You can't find anything you want to dress your little duck in in the store because you're very fussy about your woodsy little aesthetic and you want her to dress like you dress... And Aberama can see you're a little disappointed you couldn't find anything that felt right so...

🦔 He works away in secret each night after you've gone to sleep to make a tiny replica of a Pinafore you own, one that's the perfect fit for your little duck... Each night he has to wait until you've fallen asleep, sneak out of bed, sneak your cuddly toy away from the bed too, and then work until the early hours in very dim lamplight so as not to wake you...

🦔 There's a couple times where you wake in the middle of the night and he has to be so quick to hide his work and pretend that he was simply getting a drink of water...

🦔 Then one morning you wake up to your little duck sitting by your pillow in this perfect little pinafore... Your heart absolutely bursts and you're genuinely amazed. "Oh my god... Did you do this?" You can't believe how sweet and thoughtful a gesture it is and you're also incredibly impressed by his handy work...

🦔You show her off to everyone you possibly can which does of course mean that poor Abe does in fact wind up getting the piss ripped out of him by some of his friends... And bonnie, god bonnie won't let him live it down saying things like "here the bairns need new clothes da, what're you doin making clothes for a teddy bear when your own flesh an blood are cuttin about with holes in their jackets..."

🦔 But you're so proud of your little bear and so thrilled that Aberama gave it that sweet little finishing touch, he's not bothered what anyone else has to say...

Finn

🌸 is going to say no... Definitely is bothered about looking soft, definitely will be extremely paranoid about being ripped into by his older brothers and his mates...

🌸 Already knows the things they'll say to him, all the comments about if he needs that for when he has nightmares... All the comments about how whipped he must be if he's building teddy bears with you.

🌸 But he's also definitely young enough that he will just so whatever his girl wants, he's a bit of a pushover and if you tell him you're going and he needs to go with you or he's dumped (not even really a serious threat) he will go...

🌸 But he will be massively awkward about being there, he'll be proper skulky constantly checking his periphery for anyone who might know him... Definitely puts his hood up when you're walking into the store, definitely keeps his hood up the whole time.

🌸 The whole time you're in the store he's got this semi blush on his cheeks, his freckles shaded with a slight pink glow behind them....

🌸 he finds it all a bit uncanny, thinks the bear skins are a bit "fookin weird..." But he goes along with everything because the quicker you get on with it the quicker it's over and the quicker he can get out...

🌸 You spend a lot of this trip laughing at him and taking the piss out of him because he's being a baby... "You're being daft Finn, lighten up babe... You don't gotta be so serious all the time you're Finn Shelby not Tommy..."

🌸 You try to get him to do little bits with you, he just laughs nervously when he's doing the stuffing and then gets awkward about the heart...

🌸 He definitely is a bit mortified when you ask him to do the voice recording... "Seriously babe? Do I have to?" "it's not like I'm askin you to kill someone Finn jesus..." "I'd fuckin rather you did love I'm better at that!"

🌸 he does do the recording in the end but it's quiet and muffled because he mumbles it, he's too worried about other people in the store over hearing him...

🌸 You let him dress it and it winds up looking like this...

AN // happy Valentines day my lovelies, hope this brings you some fuzzy cosy vibes this evening!! This took me like two whole weeks to write :o sorry they don't all come with a bear, there will be more bear analysis soon I think... And sorry some are shorter than others, I really only threw poor Finn in there because the thought of him sulkin in build a bear made me giggle.

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[trumpkinhotboy]

honeymoon | j.b

pairing. jacob black x reader

type. requested (thank youu)

warnings. none

word count. ~ 2000

a/n. i just had a twilight marathon and uhm yeah 🧍‍♀️ my obsession with jacob black and this whole universe is very much so still alive lmao. got this request and it made me want to scream and cry and throw up because can you imagine marrying him??? RAAAH anyway, hope you all will like this mwah xx

Ever since you said I do to the love of your life, a permanent smile illuminated your face. So much so that your cheek muscles felt sore but you wouldn't trade that pain for anything else in the world.

The reception had been everything you could have ever wished for. It was intimate, only your families had been invited, people from the tribe and a few friends. You had the wedding on the reservation, and Emily made sure the whole setup had been turned into a magical fairy ambiance and you danced the night away surrounded by your loved ones. Jacob seemed on top of the world, his eyes never leaving your face, pure adoration shining in them. When the night came to a close, your excitement only grew as you headed to your own little home. It was a project you had been working on all summer. A quaint house, built in the woods of the reservation, close to your family. It was the house of your dreams and your heart squeezed in your chest at the sight of it and the future it promised you. Jacob carried you in his arms from the party, bridal style, insisting on holding up with the tradition. You crossed the threshold and stared adoringly at the scene in front of your eyes. Your friends had decorated the whole house with flowers and little presents to make sure you would feel all their love and happiness for your union.

You looked at the man holding you up like you weighed nothing, his eyes already locked on your face. The softness and intensity in his gaze made your organs quiver. "Aren’t you going to put me down?" you asked quietly.

"I'm not quite ready to let go yet," he murmured with a little grin.

"We’re married now, I really can’t escape you anymore, you know," you teased but felt his hands imperceptibly tighten on your body at your words. You smiled softly, lifting your hand to cup his warm cheek. "Not that I would ever want to." He nodded before you brought your lips to his, unable to wait any longer. You melted into him, feeling his grip tighten as you deepened the kiss while your breaths synced perfectly. You felt him start to move and hoped he would bring you to the room of your desire. When you heard the door of your bedroom open and felt him sit on the bed, you smiled in the kiss. Softly he pulled away, his breath ragged and fast.

"You okay there hubby?" he nodded with his eyelids shut tight, as if he was trying hard to focus. "Jacob, look at me." He finally opened his eyes and what you saw in them wasn’t what you expected. Fear and uncertainty tainted his gaze. In a heartbeat worry replaced your prior elation. You wiggled in his arms until you were sitting on him, straddling his legs with your wedding dress trailing down. "Is everything okay? Are- are you happy?”

The twinge of uncertainty in your voice seemed to shake him out of his previous state. "Of course I am." He trailed his hands up your arms in a reassuring motion.

"Then what’s going on?"

"I can’t believe this is real. I’m still not grasping the reality of it, I think." Your hand wandered in his short hair, softly pulling at strands of it. "But it is real," you insisted.

"I know, but this is all I've ever wanted. Never in my deepest dreams have I ever thought I could get this, that I could get you."

Ever since Jacob and you started going out he had trouble believing any of it was real. You didn't mind, you would tell and show him over and over again how much you loved him. Even if you didn't think he would still doubt your feelings or the depth of your relationship on your wedding night, you understood what he meant. Even you felt that 'pinch me' urge a few times in the night. "I’ve been in love with you since I was old enough to know what being in love means. I also have a hard time believing this is real. But it is Jake, we have our whole lives in front of ourselves and I can’t wait to do it all with you by my side."

This time he initiated the kiss, his strong hands applying soft pressure on your shoulder blades to bring you as close as possible to his body. You felt his hand on the zipper of your dress and shivered at the thought of him undoing it but he waited and looked at you for a second before you nodded your agreement. Softly, he untied your dress. You stood as he helped you step out of it, leaving you in nothing but your white lace underdress. With his eyes glued to your body, he sat there motionless. You giggled and stepped between his legs to slowly undo the bow at his neck. Once that was done, you unbuttoned his shirt, loving the way his breath accelerated with every touch of your fingers on his tan skin. You softly kissed his neck and chest as you pulled the shirt from his body, feeling your core tighten at the sight of his muscular body. You wished to kiss every inch of his plush skin and promised yourself you’d get to do it.

"I- I've never done this you know."

You stopped to look at him, "Me neither but we can figure it out together."

He nodded at that, his hand trailing the curve of your back. "Are you scared I'm going to hurt you?" He stopped the movement to bring his hands palms up on his thighs. You slid your smaller ones in his. You always loved Jacob's hands. They were strong, diligent hands. Yes, they were able to break and hurt things if needed, but these were also soft and delicate hands able to give the warmest caresses and hugs.

"Not even a little bit." Bringing one hand to rest on your cheek, the other to your mouth, you closed your eyes and rested in the warmth they diffused. Jacob was completely silent, hypnotized by the frenzy every touch from you started in his body. "We'll guide each other, okay?"

"We can do that,” he agreed in a hushed voice.

Big hands slid down to grip the back of your thighs, bringing your chest flush to his titled up face.

One kiss on your sternum, another on your ribs, another on your belly. Shivers danced on your skin, head lolling back as you surrendered to his touch.