#AND THEN THE RAIN SLOWLY STOPS FALLING AS A SOFT SMILE ADORNS HIS FACE

[mynameis-a]

when neuvillettes story quest comes around i want it to be less like ayatos and more like jeans

and by that i mean i want him to have a day off. no running around solving other peoples problems, no entire mystery cases with a court trial to boot (that can be for furinas quest), no nothing. just hydro dragons day off.

we go to his office to say hi to him, its raining, he feels overwhelmned but wont admit it, we take him away from his work, we (along with some melusines probably) take him to some pretty places to relax, it stops raining. if thats not the plot of his story quest im going to be disappointed.

[anxiouspineapple99]

Read to Me, Mesh’la

Pairing: Tech x Fem!Reader

Summary: A rainy day in turns spicy

Warnings: PiV sex, oral (f receiving), edging, Tech being an assertive king, established relationship, minors DNI

Word Count: 1300

A/N: I watched an Instagram reel and was consumed by the smut bunnies

The Coruscanti rain pelted the windows of your little apartment. You sat in your cozy reading chair, legs tucked beneath you with a blanket draped over your lap. Tech sat at your table quietly muttering to himself as he tinkered away on some new project. You’d had plans to visit the botanical gardens but the unexpected downpour forced you inside.

You didn’t mind though. You loved the domesticity of sharing your space with Tech this way, you reading a book and him working on whatever had captured his attention this week.

You were so engrossed in what you were reading, you didn’t hear him put down his tools and walk to you. You hadn’t even noticed he’d firmly gripped one of the arms of your chair and was hovering over you until his nimble fingers plucked the book from your hands, flipping through it curiously.

“Fascinating…” he mused as he skimmed the pages briefly. He then looked at you, his eyes dark, sultry, and intense behind the yellow tinted goggles adorning his face. You knew that look and heat immediately roused in your core. Your tongue flicked out to wet your lips before offering him a knowing smile. He placed the book back in your lap, opened back on page one.

He tapped the page. “I would like you to read this to me. From the beginning. If you hesitate or stumble? We start over. From the beginning. Do you understand?”

You swallowed thickly, your breath catching as the smoky desire resonating in his voice soaked your panties.

“Words, meshla,” he growled assertively.

“Yes, Tech.”

“Good girl.” He dropped to his knees in front of you. His fingers slipped under the blanket in your lap and tugged the hem of the skirt you wore. “Yes. This should do nicely. Now read, cyare. I would like to know how long it will take before you are falling apart on my tongue.”

He briefly dragged two fingers along your panties, humming with delight at the arousal that had soaked through already before returning his hand to your thigh.

Your mouth felt dry and you trembled as he drew lazy circles along your inner thighs patiently waiting for you to begin. You already desperately needed him. Just the thought of him fucking you with his tongue had you falling to pieces.

You took a breath steadying yourself and began reading. You spoke slowly and deliberately, trying to focus on not stammering. Meanwhile Tech pushed your blanket up around your waist. He began placing languid open mouth kisses to the inside of your knee as he kneaded your thighs with his skilled fingers.

As you read he moved his way up your thigh, peppering your sensitive flesh with soft bites, laving the small marks left behind with his tongue.

Three pages in and you stumbled over your words. Tech looked up at you from between your thighs.

“Start over,” he ordered as he moved back to where he’d started at your knees.

You whined, almost crying as your pussy ached for some contact of any kind. You turned back to the beginning, silently cursing yourself.

“Good girl. Try again. You read until I decide you have finished,” he purred from between your legs. He knew how badly you needed him. He could see and smell it. His eyes were blown wide with lust but his impeccable self control stopped him from diving into your pussy face first.

You began reading again. His bites became more aggressive, he left marks you knew would be there for a week at least. He was beginning to moan as his tongue danced along your skin, moving ever closer to your burning core.

You made it until his finger slipped just beneath your panties, grazing your folds. A lewd groan slipped from you, causing you to stumble over your words once more.

“Again.”

“Tech, I'm sorry. Please don’t make me start over. I’ll be good. Just let me continue.”

A dark smile flashed across his face, “I do love hearing you beg, cyar’ika. Now. Again.”

You hissed a curse as you returned to the beginning, tears burning in your eyes as your body screamed for relief.

Tech’s ministrations were becoming more animalistic as his own self control was beginning to crack. His fingers had a bruising grip on your thighs as his mouth sucked, licked, kissed, and bit your overstimulated skin. You wanted to squeeze your thighs together for relief but Tech wouldn’t allow it. It felt like ages but finally Tech was back at your aching core. Your eyes hurt from the intense focus you had on each word, fighting through every urge to make unholy noises that would interrupt your reading. Once again his finger slipped into your panties. This time you didn’t stumble. Slowly, he stroked your drenched folds. And you continued on, reading as if your life depended on it.

“Good girl,” you heard him whisper.

You inhaled sharply as he dipped one finger inside you. He paused, waiting to see if you would trip over your words. You didn’t. He lazily dragged his finger along the spongy spot inside you that instantly made you see stars. You pushed through. He finally pulled his finger from you, licking it clean. You maintained your composure holding in the cry pressing at your throat from the now throbbing emptiness you felt.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me,” he crooned as he ripped the thin fabric of your underwear with his bare hands, exposing your soaked pussy to the cool air of the room. “You may stop reading now.”

Without hesitation he threw your legs over his shoulders, thrusting his tongue deep inside you, devouring you like a wild animal. Tears streaked your cheeks as the relief you’d desperately needed finally washed over you. You bucked your hips into his face as you gripped fists full of his hair. Lascivious wails left your body, urging on his ravenous thrashing of your pussy. He pressed a finger to your clit, circling softly, pushing you to the peak of pleasure. You screamed his name as your vision was blinded white. Euphoria washed over you as his tongue worked you through to overstimulation.

You looked at him, hair a mess and ready for more. Wordlessly he flipped you onto your stomach, shifting your hips upward. You whimpered as he dragged the tip of his cock through your folds, before sliding in. You keened, rocking your hips into his pelvis. He grunted, hands gripping your hips as he began to thrust. He started slowly, the drag through your walls making both of you groan.

“Such a good girl. You take me so well. You read that book so beautifully with that beautiful voice.”

Every thrust pushed you both toward the crest as the room was filled with the symphony of sighs, moans and soft praise.

“So close, mesh’la,” he whispered into your hair before releasing your hips, one hand drifting you your breast to tease your pebbled nipple. The other moved to your sensitive bud, his fingers stroking your delicate bundle of nerves pushing you to your second release. Your pussy clenching around his cock was enough to push him over the peak, his hips sharply and erratically thrusting as he spilled into you.

He gently guided you into the seat of your chair once more, stroking your cheek before walking to the bathroom. He soon re-emerged with a soft towel. He knelt before you, this time to gingerly clean you up and pepper you with more kisses.

He tenderly picked you up, taking your spot in the chair, and placing you in his lap. You curled up, nuzzling your head under his chin. He pulled your blanket over you both and wrapped you tightly in a loving embrace.

“Ni kar’taylir darasuum,” he uttered into your temple as he drifted off to sleep.

“I love you too, Tech.”

Ragu List: @secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino @dystopicjumpsuit @mooncommlink @moonlightwarriorqueen @sunshinesdaydream @starrylothcat @starqueensside @mandos-mind-trick @multi-fan-dom-madness @808tsuika @msmeredithrose @trixie2023 @wolffegirlsunite @mythical-illustrator @wings-and-beskar @wizardofrozz @ladyzirkonia @eyeluvmusic21 @523rdrebel @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @isthereanechoinhere96 @littlemissmanga @sinfulsalutations @freesia-writes

[exhoetic333]

white ferrari

JJ Maybank x fem!Reader

[1k words] A late night smoking session in your car reveals many old secrets.

The tip of your joint was the only thing that brought light to the night.

Outside the cozy car you’d borrowed from your father, rain was falling continuously as though it was trying to flood the island, wash off it all that was wrong and ugly. The windows were soaked and you could barely see the exterior of the Château from where you’d parked in its pressed-dirt driveway.

Usually, you and JJ would sit on the front steps and exchange smokes until the light went off and a pair of smiles was permanently plastered on your faces. Nevertheless, the unpredictable island weather couldn’t stop your midnight escapades. Everyone inside was probably already asleep, so you didn’t care that the music was blasting. It was a soft song anyway, the kind that rattled your bones with nostalgia. And with the rain in the background, you’d probably end up falling asleep in that white car.

A cough, then a laugh. You looked away from the rainwater condensed on the window to find JJ holding the smoke out towards you. The fingers of his other hand danced on your knee.

“Hey, Jay?” you mused, bringing the joint to your mouth. He nodded, adjusting his body so his cheek was pressed to the back of the passenger seat. “Where would you go if you had to spend your entire life in one place?”

The blonde boy genuinely thought about it for a moment. He’d never traveled before, the only trips he’d never made was up and down the island. He had the entire map of it hardwired into his brain. JJ had many places he dreamt on visiting, all housing some type of shore, beach or lake, some near and some very, very far away.

The moment stretched out endlessly, but you didn’t seem to mind. You took a couple drags of the joint as he thought, his eyes on you the entire time. He examined the curve of your lashes and the way only half your cheek was illuminated. He only came up with an answer when you shot him a bright smile, damn-near a grin, and held out the smoke to him.

“Where would you go?” he replied, his fingers brushing with hours.

“That’s not what I asked,” you laughed. You rested one of your hands on the steering wheel, but did not look away from him.

“I know,” JJ said, “but that’s where I’d go.”

You froze. Ever so slightly, your lips parted and you drew in a sharp breath. You couldn’t beat the smile that slowly crept up your face, brightening it. “What does that mean?” Your voice was barely a whisper, but you couldn’t keep the question in your throat.

“It means”—he exhaled the smoke in rings—“if I have to spend the rest of my life in one place, you’ve gotta be there.”

Another pause. He shook his head, laughed, then asked you the exact question.

You’d glanced at his hands, watching the way bracelets you’d made adorned his wrists. He took it as a request for the joint and casually placed it in between your lips, barely brushing them with the pads of his fingertips.

“Yucatán,” you replied. He spoke of that place so much the desire of visiting it had seeped in his skin.

If he’d been smiling then, he was grinning at the sound of your answer. You blew the smoke on his face and both of you exploded in a fit of hushed laughter. The hand on your knee stopped fidgeting, electrifying over bare flesh. You’d held your breath and you were pretty damn sure he was, too.

Slowly, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, then twirled the end of it between his fingers. JJ’s eyes did not leave yours, not for a second, and you’d begun to drown in the ocean surrounding his pupil. His Iris was reduced to a thin ring you could barely see due to the low lights. It told you so many things, more than his words ever did. You assumed you looked just as entranced as him.

“I’m gonna clean up my act. I’ll stop drinking and make things right with my dad’s. I’ll even listen in school and shit,” JJ promised. A tuff of blonde hair cast shadows over his face, but you could see that he was unmistakably looking at you. “I’ll get you off this island.”

“Running away together, you mean?” you queried, unable to stop the small smile peaking on your lips. You’d long forgotten about the smoke by then.

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Just me and you.”

You laughed. It was only when you looked back up again that you realized just how close his face had gotten. The hand in your hair brushed your cheek and forgot all about the curl it had been toying with. With your free hand, you reached for the bottom of his shirt and balled it up in your first.

“Hey, JJ?” you whispered. Both of you were breathing heavily and the music was still low and slow.

You didn’t think the blonde boy could get any closer, but he did. “Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

Hand at the nape of your neck, he crashed your lips together. You hadn’t expected his lips to be so soft and the moment he pulled away, you’d both craved more. There came a lingering moment following the long-awaited kiss during which neither of you opened your eyes. You basked in the moment only lit by the tip of the joint he’d rolled in a hurry. The rain was your choir.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he confessed like he was talking to a priest or something. He opened his eyes first and couldn’t look away from you.

A moment, then another. You started laughing first, a series of giggles, and buried your head in his shoulder. It shook as he chuckled, which eventually turned into laughter just as loud yours. His cheek pressed against the top of your head; your hands still clinging onto his shirt.

If you could entrap this moment forever, you would. Who would have known your favourite memory would be in that fucking white Ferrari?

[morganski-19]

A Movie I’ve Seen Before

It was cold. The trees rustled behind Steve, the breeze making him shiver. Pinks and Oranges painted the sky as the sun started to set. It was peaceful, Steve felt peaceful. He doesn’t always quite remember what it’s like to be, so he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting his feet dangle over the edge of the cliff.

“I don’t think that’s exactly safe, Harrington,” a voice teases from behind him. Steve can’t help but be confused as to who it is. Suddenly, there is a cold beer being placed in his hands and a person sitting down next to him. Legs adorned in black jeans join his over the cliff's edge. “I mean, wouldn't want you accidentally falling off now would we?”

Steve turns his head to find Eddie Munson taking a long sip from a beer bottle, something in him making him turn away fast. “If it’s so dangerous then why are you here sitting next to me?” he finds himself responding.

Eddie snorts as his face breaks out into a wide smile. “Maybe I like dangerous.” Steve can’t find himself disagreeing. He lets them fall back in silence, looking back out over the quarry, only hearing the soft clinking of Eddie’s rings on his beer bottle. “So,” Eddie starts slowly, “bring all your dates out here, Harrington?”

“Is this a date?” Steve looks back over at Eddie, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“Well, isn’t it?” There is a softness in Eddie’s eyes that Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

Steve finds himself staring at Eddie, thinking about the question. It does seem like a date, not one he’d choose for a girl, but maybe one he’d choose for Eddie. Seems like something he would enjoy. Nothing big or romantic, but small and thoughtful. Away from the noise of the town and the wandering eyes of gossip. Just the two of them, together, alone. Steve can’t find a reason as to why it wouldn’t be one, or why he actually quite likes the idea.

“Yeah,” Steve says while meeting Eddie’s eyes, a small smile forming on his face. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Eddie matches Steve’s smile, bumping Steve’s shoulder as he adverts his eyes back to the water. He feels a small warmth build on his face. Steve takes a sip of his beer, the slightly bitter taste lingering on his tongue. Not much is said between them, neither of them wanting to break the peaceful bubble that surrounds them.

Soft rain starts to fall on Steve’s shoulder, but he can’t seem to care. He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to have this moment end. It might not be his decision to, as the soft rain picks up, and starts to turn into a downpour.

Eddie stands, reaching out his free hand down to Steve. “Probably should go, don’t want to get too soaked.”

“Probably.” Steve grabs Edddie’s hand, letting himself be pulled off the group. He leads Eddie over to his car when he feels a large splash on his lower legs. Turning around, he finds Eddie looking back at him with a wicked grin. Taking his opportunity, Steve kicks at the puddle forming at his feet, spraying the muddy water all over Eddie’s legs.

A bark comes out of Eddie at the contact. “Playing dirty, are we now, Stevie?”

Steve holds his hands up in defense. “Hey, you started it.”

“That may be true, but that doesn’t mean I won’t finish it.” Eddie bends down and swipes his hand through the puddle, spraying the water up higher at Steve. He responds by kicking at the puddle again, hitting Eddie’s chest this time.

They go back in forth like this for a while, letting the rain fall around them while they splash around like children. The weirdest thing about all of this is how Steve doesn’t want it to stop. He hasn’t had fun like this since he was a kid, barely even allowed to play in puddles then. But something about the way Eddie is laughing is electric, fueling him to keep going even if that means his car seats will get covered in mud. Steve thinks he’d do anything to hear Eddie laugh like this.

Somehow the two of them get close, breaking into uncontrollable laughter. Eddie rests his shoulder on Steve’s, holding onto him while he tries to catch his breath. Steve doesn’t know why, but he has the urge to pull him closer, but he doesn’t.

“Thank you for humoring me, Harrington. This was fun.” Eddie brings his head up to meet Steve’s eyes.

A small line of muddy water runs down Eddie’s cheek, Steve reaches out a hand to wipe it away, leaving it resting there. “It really was,”

It occurs to him how close they are standing, their faces only inches apart. For some reason, Steve finds himself leaning in, brushing his nose against Eddie’s. “Steve, you have to wake up.”

“What.” Steve pulls back confused.

“Steve, wake up.” The figure before him fades.

Continue on ao3

[rosenongrata]

Heart of the Sea

⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 Summary. A serene jazz songstress slowly makes her way through the artistic ranks of Fontaine—hoping to eventually connect the dots to her past and lost memories through music. And as she always says, "People come and go as the tides of the sea do."

⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 A/N. a mostly sweet chapter <333 we love soft neuvi

⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 AO3 Link.

⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 Chapter W.C. 1873.

⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 CW. Fluff. Blood & Injuries. Angst. Character Death.

Chapter 4 — A Friend of a Friend.

For the past two days, Kafka's mind stirs endlessly—not that it is unusual by any stretch of the imagination. But that presence at the graveyard that she felt drape upon her grieving mind weighs heavy on her shoulders still. To her, it was no ghost that haunted her there that day. It had to be someone daunting, imposing, and with a position higher than heaven itself (she's convinced, even if it's the paranoia talking.) She's been so plagued by this sensation that she simply couldn't sleep.

…Or perhaps that's an excuse for her to avoid sleep some more?

She mindlessly disregards the potentiality of that concept. She'll learn sooner or later whether staying awake for two days straight was a wise decision or not.

On the third morning of staying wide awake, she barely rises from her bed with a huff and a push—she had been writing in her journal. All her paranoid thoughts and mild delusions fill the pages. She sighs, turning to the side to stare down at her leather-bound diary. Her eyes are heavy as unrefined stone, hardly even open anymore.

But she can't rest. Not now.

…Not when she has groceries to buy.

With the sudden reminder of that chore needing to be attended to, she groans and her head dips low as she feels her energy sink further.

(I should've done groceries yesterday…when I had more energy.) She grumbles nonsense to herself when this thought passes through her mind. (…And it's raining. Again.) She glances out through the windows attached to her balcony, seeing the light raindrops dance upon the polished city.

While she doesn't dread the rain by itself, it's certainly not pleasant to get groceries during such weather either. She sighs at the thought of getting soaked to the bone when running home later. There's that chance of the rain stopping by the time she arrives at the store, but she's not that faithful in the weather.

Without wasting more time, she gets into a modest dress with a sheer shawl adorning her shoulders. She then sits down at her vanity set, staring into the mirror only to see a disheveled man with a twisted grin and blood smeared across his right cheek. She yelps and jumps so far in her chair that she sends herself tumbling back onto the ground.

…She briefly forgot about her less-than-spectacular curse with mirrors.

Without looking even once into her vanity mirror again, she gets ready for the day. Although, her makeup is a bit messy thanks to the lack of, well, a mirror. Once she's proper to go outside, she drags her feet down the stairs of her studio loft with a basket in hand.

Today is going to be rough.

———

Kafka—sleepily dragging herself through the wet streets of the Court—ends up found leaning against a building…asleep. How can one fall asleep standing up? Who knows… Neuvillette certainly doesn't know when he finds himself as the one finding the poor, sleep-deprived woman. He's terrified to wake her, one hand partially outstretched to tap her shoulder.

His icy eyes dart around from one end of the street to the other. There's no one else here. Not even shopkeepers. He sighs a little, figuring it'd be best to wake her and escort her home—so he taps her on the shoulder.

"Mademoiselle Kafka?" Neuvillette whispers, his head tilted as he leans in a little to watch her face closely—to see if she wakes up any time soon. He feels his gut turn when he uses "mademoiselle" for her like it's some sort of insult to her lost relationship.

It doesn't appear she will—

A gasp.

And a wicked yet broken smile tears through her expression. But, it only lasts for a split moment before it's gone with the wind. Neuvillette noticed it, though—how couldn't he? He's not quick enough to ask her what's wrong, either.

"O-Oh… I'm so sorry…" Kafka mutters, still on the verge of falling asleep—that much is obvious with how her eyes flutter. "I-I'll get out of your way, Iudex." Her eyes screwing shut and her hand bracing itself against her forehead as she tries to trudge out of his way.

"Hardly necessary, Mademoiselle Kafka…" He stops her in her tracks the moment she moves past his side. Worry strikes his pale features more than before despite his usual stoic demeanor.

"I'm sorry you had to find me like this, haha." She laughs weakly, her hands raising in defense and shaking side to side a little bit. "It's improper to fall asleep in the streets like some drunkard—"

"Please." Neuvillette intercepts. His expression shifts to something more stern—eyebrows knitted downward with a thin frown. "No need to put yourself down. I hope you believe me."

"I-I…" Kafka sputters haplessly, her fatigued, half-working mind unable to conjure the right excuse. Her hands slap against her face with a wet sound, letting herself let out dry, but quiet sobs. "I'm so sorry… I haven't slept in days…" She chokes.

His eyes dart away, noticing her abandoned basket on the pavement next to where she had fallen asleep earlier. He picks it up and approaches her once more.

"…Is it because of Lubin?" He whispers, effectively tearing her out of her own mind to answer his simple question. He wasn't sure how else to ask, so he decided to be as blunt as he could manage while still maintaining gentleness.

"…I…" She blinks rapidly, arms flopping to her sides. She stares at the ground with soft pink eyes full of distant, forlorn longing. All she wants is Lubin.

"Here." He hands her the basket, her trusty basket that's decorated in ribbons and fake flowers. When she takes it, he smiles a little that she isn't posing much of a brat right now. "No need to answer my question, I…believe I know the answer. Now, let me escort you home, Mademoiselle." He offers his arm to her.

"Thank you… You're far too kind to me…" She murmurs pitifully, her arm looping around his own before she stumbles home alongside him.

"Ah. I think it's an apt amount of kindness I'm giving you. I also like to think most would help out given it wasn't raining." He reasons, his voice soft as a feather again. He believes he's upset her enough for one day.

"…You'd be surprised at the cruelty of humanity, Iudex." She retorts, shaking her head. "But… I concur. I like to think so as well." She smiles, but it's so very thin and fragile as cracked glass.

"Ah, trust, I am aware of some people's…cruelty." He sighs, "It comes with the job."

"Hehe, I suppose it does."

"I will say that you should have stayed home today." He lectures softly, "If I were not here…"

"I-I know." She mumbles, "I'm not sure what's wrong with me anymore… Haha…" She shakes her head.

He nearly sighs at her self-deprecation. In his eyes, she's done nothing wrong to warrant such words. But, while he may be the Iudex, it's still not his job to judge how others treat themselves no matter how much he would like that otherwise. In a perfect world…

Arriving at the doorstep of her studio and loft, he takes her inside. He turns the dim lights on before sitting her at one of the tables, his large hands leading her around by her shoulders.

"Here you go. Allow me to get you some water." He strides away to the bar. At first, he's confused and nervous about touching anything, but when he notices she's starting to doze off again, he pushes away his current plight.

It's the last bottle of water that he grabs. And it's rather warm, too… He brushes the thought of lukewarm, flavorless water off for now. Returning to the table, he opens the bottle and sets it next to her. She giggles—causing one of his white brows to raise.

"What's so funny?" He inquires.

"You're just…so darling." She laughs more. He begins to think she's delirious.

"Ah… Well…" He clears his throat, knowing it's not the time to reject her compliment, "Thank you, Mademoiselle Kafka. I am touched by your words." He smiles. (Even if I don't quite understand what you mean by "darling…") He thinks briefly to himself.

"Uhm…" She begins, staring up at him with laden eyes and parted lips, "Can you stay a while? It's okay if not… I know you're more than busy."

"Hm? Me?" He blinks. It's a rare occurrence that a stranger wants him to sit down with them for a while.

"Yes—" She stops and blushes, "Sorry. You just…feel familiar to me." She nods, glancing up at him with a broken smile. (Familiar as Lubin…almost. Is it because they were like coworkers?) She sighs inward.

"No need to apologize." He shakes his head as he takes a seat across from her. "We hardly know each other and yet…" He attempts to register her sentiments, but it isn't quite coming to him. At least, not right now.

"I know, I know… It's a bit weird. It's that…" She trails off, taking a sip of the water he got her. "It's that you worked close with Lubin, I'd imagine… So, it's like… a friend of a friend, I suppose?"

"Ah, I see now." He doesn't. "Lubin was a good man and a spectacular lawyer." He nods.

"Hehe… He thought you were pretty weird."

"W-Weird?"

"Oh, don't worry. He prefers weird people. It's why he wanted to marry me of all people…"

"You are not weird—"

"I couldn't remember even so much as my name when he found me on the beach outside of the Court."

"…Point taken." He sighs lightly, "Although… I'd argue that is more concerning than weird."

"Heh, I suppose so. He named me Kafka that day, too…" Her elbow props itself on the table, her chin resting in her calloused hand.

"He's the one who named you? That…is not unlike him."

"I agree. It's very in character!" She giggles. "I…have a small question." She mumbles, brushing some hair behind her ear with her spare hand.

"I will answer to the best of my ability—"

"Did Lubin ever talk about me?"

Silence.

"Ahem. He did, yes." He had to get over his initial surprise at the question. "I do not recall him mentioning you by name, but he often praised you otherwise. Some days you were the only person he would talk about. He was always very animated those days." His pale eyes soften, "Sometimes it seemed like he didn't have a care in the world, but it was always evident how much he cared about you."

"Ah…" She blushes, a soft pink dusting her cheeks. "Thank you for telling me. I'm…a little flustered."

All he can do is smile.

They end up talking well into the evening, the topic hardly shifting from Lubin and their experiences with the lively young man. When Neuvillette finally realizes what time it is, he feels his heart jump into his throat. Much to his dismay, he ends up parting from the lovely conversation with Kafka.

…And when he leaves, he finally understands what she means by, "a friend of a friend."

[muutos]

ofttimes, he can still feel the pressed tendrils of his clerical collar, winding too tight around his throat. & tonight is one of those nights. vein adorned fingers curl ‘round the handle of an ornate candlestick, & with a soft bounce, the father shakes rain water from a too large coat. matching set of digits carding through his slightly greying hair, in the meantime.

duke pauses to peer down the corridor, to the chapel. reservation present in the oceans of his eyes -- like the coward he is. what a laugh! god’s weakest soldier having left the ranks, to join satan’s. but it’s all he knows, in truth. the organization, the routine. so even if he might not belong here, here he stands. hand having found it’s way into his pocket, to finger the key ring there, idly. they’re here. he feels their presence... as sure as he felt god’s, that day. knew from the moment he first smelled precipitation in the air. it’s not fair! the ghouls’ presence in the past elicited nothing but stolen & awe filled glances, with shudders of something he couldn’t quite place. knowing something about being feared, from his first few years at the diocese. but this one -- this one knows he’s soft. after making quick work of his coat while performing a mild juggling act, duke steps slowly down the corridor. the candle in one hand, & the ring of keys in the other. one is held at chest level, while the other’s soft jingle hangs from fingers. lightly brushing his thigh, once he stops about centre aisle. bending over a pew, to place down his light source. yet a deliberate creak from the altar accompanies a flash of lightning, through stained glass. thunder rolling, his expression is slow to form. staring open mouthed, his bend eases slowly. feeling hot, whilst he flushes beneath the collar immediately. despite his expression being more fearful than bashful, just yet. cigarette smoke clings to his clothes & dusts his breath. hitting nostrils, duke finds himself worried about it, for nothing. muscle memory, perhaps. duke straightens fully & steps into the centre aisle. facing the ghoul standing above him, with whatever resolve he has left. bow lips press closed, clearing his throat while that aforementioned bashfulness takes form. fingers curling unconsciously around jagged edges of metal, while the others white-knuckle the ring. for blinking soft eyes, he tries to keep them trained. falling away a few times, despite himself. cheeks flushing hot, as well. “rain -- ” he calls him by the name he’s bestowed. by the name he’s heard him referred to by his friends. it almost looks like he’s suppressing a smile, yet it’s a nervous one. & with his heart hammering in his chest, words are spoken his his deep yet goofy accent. “ -- you shouldn’t be here.”

@raiighn    /  /     oc only

[hobisfavoritespritecan]

BIKE RIDES AND CIGARETTES

Brad Pitt X Reader

Biking around the city with your husband!!!!!

Just a little drabble I wrote while I find the motivation to finish my other fanfictions :)

The spokes of your bike tires made cute little noises as the cards you had stuck to them flapped in the wind. Your footing on the pedals loose as you allow yourself to fully relax and enjoy the sunrise coming up from the east overhead, creating a nice yellow/blue tone over everything you saw. It was a perfect temperature; the petrichor from the rain that morning had left a dewy feel to everything you touched and made it perfect for a light sweater and ripped jeans. Your hair blew around in soft movements as you pedaled faster down the edges of the Seine River, the cool breeze being picked up from the water made its way to your face as it gently caressed your skin. Today was perfect.

Following suit, your husband of a year and half was behind you, looking out towards the scenery and the hazy light of the sun stretched across the sky. His hair was a perfect mess and his smile was brilliant as he flashed his lovely teeth. Brad loved bike rides almost as much as he loved you; being able to participate in both loves at the same time was the best feeling in the world to him. He was also clad in dark jeans and a light beige cardigan. He looked like he was straight out of a Renaissance painting.

Continuing down the cobblestone paths and around the bridge, you push through the soft wind to try and get to the spot you and Brad often shared your coffees on a park bench. The Eiffel Tower was on full display and there was something about it that looked extra breathtaking today, although you didn't know if it was because you were genuinely very happy or if it was the weather.

"Babe!" You slowly started to stop your bike as you waited for Brad to catch up with you. Wind blowing his sweater around him, he stopped his bike next to yours and took in the sight before him. You were beautiful and he could've sworn that if he had the opportunity to, he would fall in love with you in every country the two of you traveled to. Being a bit of a movie star definitely helped him with travelling.

"What's wrong?" You asked, voice laced with a slight worry.

"Nothing, everything is absolutely perfect." Brad smiled to you and leant in slightly as he delivered that line.

"May I ask why we stopped then?"

"There's a bookstore that you missed in your hurried attempt to escape me." He smiled and went to kiss you softly on your cheek before mounting his bicycle once again and kicking the stand back.

Excitedly, you hop back on your bike and feel for the pedals, pushing the flyaway strands of hair away from your eyes and allowing a smile to adorn your features. Taking one last glance at the edge of the river, you turn towards the direction of your husband and follow him on your bike to the little corner store you happened to completely glance over.

A worn out and faded sign was placed outside the front of the store, reading the name of the shop: "The Delicate Spine- used and renewed books of all sorts." It was a hand-me-down bookstore so there was definitely some treasures to be found on it's shelves. Itching in anticipation of what you might find to add to your book collection, you chain the front of your bike to the stand out front next to Brad's and the two of you walk in.

Wooden shelves scattered in no particular order were all around the entirety of the small place, a staircase leading to the basement which presumably had more of the same visual. The walls were a light yellow with a white trim and the paint was chipped and faded. The bell sounded above your head signalling your entrance to the older man who worked at the front desk and a sudden exhilarating smell of coffee filled your nose. It was a quaint and beauteous little place; you wondered how you could've possibly missed it before.

"All hardcovers are 20% off." The man stated with a smile as he shuffled around grabbing a box of books and walking towards the back of the store. Brad looked to you and grabbed your hand, leading you immediately down the stairs to the more abandoned shelving units in hopes of finding books of odder taste. It was funny how even a place full of items people didn't want anymore had a place within it that was even more abandoned by the public eye. With your free hand, you lightly touched the chipped paint on the walls with the tips of your fingers, gliding your hand along the wall as you made your descent; noticing the way the paint turned into a flowery wallpaper. The air was significantly cooler down here, giving you the notion that you were finally underground in the basement as you took in the plethora of books and scripts in front of you.

"I'll start on the left, you on the right?" Brad asks as he makes his way to the opposite end of the room.

"Sounds perfect to me." You replied and found yourself rummaging through the spines and loose papers. The smell of the basement was so nice, the earthy scent and the ink on paper would be one that you would remember for a long time. You wished you could encapsulate it into your memory for forever, going back to this moment whenever you felt so.

While searching through the faded titles, you come across an old favorite. Pulling out the familiar art deco cover, you notice the giant coffee stain on the front of it. Snickering to yourself, you flipped through the pages of The Great Gatsby by Scott F. Fitzgerald. There were highlights and notes in the margins signifying that whomever owned the book previously certainly got their use out of it. Grinning at the familiar name Jay Gatsby, you remembered your love for his character.

Eventually, you found yourself running your fingers over more and more titles, some of which were familiar and others that went by names you'd never heard of. Amidst your gazing, your fingers brushed over Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. However, it seemed that someone else had a similar idea and your hand grazed Brad's. Meeting his gaze, he flashed that brilliant smile once more and flipped his sunglasses above his head to push his hair back, allowing for his bright blue eyes to be on full display. Everything about him was enthralling.

"Why hello, sir. I do believe that I had my hands on Kafka first." You grinned.

"Hm...but it seems to me that you've already read this one. Therefore, I feel like I deserve the book more," He gently pulled the book off the shelf and held it out to you, "Or a pretty lady could read it to me and I'd call it a truce."

"Something like that could be arranged." You added the book to your small stack in your hands as you walked back up the stairs to pay for them. You insisted on paying for Brad's too, despite the fight he put up against you doing so.

You won, of course.

Placing your books into small paper bags, the shop owner printed out your receipt and handed you the items with a knowing glance. "You're a collector." He said with an eyebrow raise.

"Yes! How did you know?" You asked, now intrigued by what this man had to say.

He smirked. "All of them have outrageous stains and writing on the inside. My wife and I enjoy collecting the outcasts too."

You felt an admiration burning in your chest. It was nice to meet someone who also had an appreciation for things like this.

After you had finished at the desk, Brad helped to unchain the bikes. He had a determined look on his face as he busied himself with the task at hand, allowing for your leisure time to be spent searching for the cigarettes in his jacket you were wearing. You knew he always had a pack on him, yet you couldn't seem to find it anywhere in any of his pockets.

"Looking for this?" Your husband asks you, holding out his half-empty pack which he presumably took out from his back pocket.

"Why, yes actually." You go to reach for one of the cancer sticks, but he pulls it back from you.

"These things'll kill you, you know. You should really quit." He said with a teasing laugh.

"Oh yeah? And you're going to quit anytime soon?" You rebutted, knowing you were already winning this mini battle against him. Brad smoked way too much, for him to tell you to stop was complete ridiculousness.

"Fine, you got me." He pulls out a lighter and lights the end of both your stick and his, both of you deciding to take your drags while sitting outside the bookstore on the curb. Brad's cardigan was pooling below his waist now that he untucked it from his jeans, and you watched as he exhaled the smoke ever so delicately. Brad doing anything was graceful, but nothing compared to the way he smoked. The cylindrical spirals of grey coming from the edges of his mouth reaching up towards the sky and creating pretty patterns.

After a time, he sighed and looked in your direction. You were currently staring across the road, lost in your thoughts. Your face was pressed into a hard gaze as you pondered over whatever was going on in your pretty little mind; completely oblivious to your husband's staring. Brad felt his heart lurch ever so slightly as he watched you finish your cigarette and stomp on it to put out the burning embers.

"Ready to go?" You asked, motioning towards the bikes.

"Yeah."

Brad didn't say it in that moment, but he went over the reasons he married you in his head. The way you looked at him when he supposedly wasn't paying attention was one of them. He was so in love with you, he would buy you all the libraries in the world and had offered to do so. However, the little library full of misshapen and ragged books you had at home was perfect enough for the two of you.

He couldn't wait to continue these bike rides and cigarette stops all over the world.

[3st4r]

[dae-su x reader] ; angst ; during apocalypse ; dae-su's singing, so kinda songfic?? : sfw

[summary] - [reader] has wanted to confess their love to dae-su for the longest time, though they knew he had loved the courageous ha-ri. [reader] wasn't strong, but they weren't as weak, either; they had lived most of their highschool life living in the shadows of ha-ri. once they had finally told dae-su their feelings, they felt a painful bite on their shoulder.

[content/trigger warning] - blood, cursing, physical affection, [reader] death

[k-drama] - all of us are dead

as the ember escaped the fire, the group bitter-sweetly sang dae-su's song; all the moments and memories still stored deep in their heart. their close friends had already left their grasp, resulting in the classmates to only rely on eachother.

"let's go once it's over,"

the melodic words had escaped dae-su's mouth.

"let's go anywhere,"

[reader] leaned their head onto dae-su's shoulder, closing their eyes; dae-su leaned his head onto the top of [reader]'s head.

"once we're studying 12 hours a day,"

[reader] let a soft smile emerge from their face, though it had stung a bit from the scratches and injuries on their cheeks. [reader] squeezed dae-su's hand and he continued singing.

"once the annoying sounds are over,"

[reader] lifted their eyelids, and turned to dae-su, only to be met with his, also. [reader] couldn't help but get lost in his kind eyes, the eyes they had grown to adore.

"let's go hand in hand,"

"let's not run,"

more voices had joined in with dae-su, only leaving a homey comfort in the [reader]'s heart.

"let's try walking slowly,"

"is that drool or sweat pooled on the book?"

"no one notices the plop, plop."

[reader] joined in as well,

"the plop, plop,"

"the falling rain drops,"

"what is boiling? simmer, simmer,"

[reader] swung their head to the rhythm of the music.

"it's mom's doenjang stew,"

"mm-hm, a bowl of instant noodles,"

"in front of the tv which plays nothing but static,"

"let's go anywhere together."

[reader] sat in a few minutes of silence, only to stand up. dae-su and a few others glanced at [reader] with a quizzled expression adorning on their faces.

"i wanna see the stars behind the mountains before i go to hell," [reader] chuckled. [reader] stepped away from the group and took a deep breath, they carefully sat on the edge of the roof. they miss ha-ri, even if they were jealous, they wouldn't mind it if they could see her again.

[reader] wouldn't mind if dae-su got with ha-ri, they wouldn't mind it they got married. [reader] just wanted everything to be normal, could it be normal? the thoughts flooded [reader]'s mind, distracting them from the situation that was going on.

they felt a hand tapping their shoulder, they turned to meet dae-su's face.

"hey, dae-su," [reader] began. dae-su let out a 'hm?'.

"dae-su, i really love you." [reader] confessed.

before dae-su could respond, [reader] felt a sharp hand pull them off the roof, and teeth sinking in on their shoulder. [reader] look towards dae-su as they let tears escape their eyes.

"[reader]! NO! S— STOP!" dae-su screamed. the others turned to dae-su and they sprinted towards the figure, gwi-nam.

"gwi-nam!" cheong-san gritted his teeth as he bit his tongue to stop tears from escaping.

gwi-nam threw [reader] back onto the roof, "that was just a warning bite, cheong-san. now give me your fucking eye!"

[reader] began gasping for air, "am i gonna die? dae-su? i wanna live.. i want to live!"

"[reader].. no.. no.." dae-su held [reader] into their arms. woo-jin let a tear slip, but turned to cheong-san to help him fight.

"i don't care if you love ha-ri, please.. i don't want to leave.." [reader] sobbed, gripping into dae-su's shoulders.

"[reader].. don't go.. i love you! only now.. only when you leave.. now i realize i do. don't leave me, please." dae-su bear-hugged [reader].

[reader] twitched, they felt the blood drip from their nose.

"i.. i have to.. i can't let you guys die.." [reader] cried.

[reader] pushed dae-su with all their might, and ran to the edge of the roof.

"please.. tell ha-ri i said goodbye." [reader] closed their eyes, and let themself fall.

"NO! NO! NO NO NO NO.." dae-su sprinted to the edge, attempting to grab your falling body, had gotten hold of your hand

[reader] looked up to dae-su, continously twitching. "dae-su.. live for me."

dae-su shook his head.

[reader] fought back the urge to bite dae-su.

"i'm so sorry."

[reader] smacked their head against dae-su's hand, allowing him to let go.

the classmates turned to what had just happened, nam-ra screaming at gwi-nam and gwi-nam trying to convince her to join his side. nam-ra threw him off, anger bubbling her body.

"dae-su.." woo-jin sadly looked to dae-su.

"[reader]..." dae-su sobbed.

[maomao-words]

Hi!

Would you be willing to write something fluffy for Luke? How about cuddling on the couch while his S/O reads?

Of course, I would be willing my darling! ｡◕‿‿◕｡

I added the rest of the boys since it was such a lovely scenario! I hope you do not mind.

Inspiration taken from these prompts (✿´‿`)

(Tears of Themis): Cuddling with the boys:

Luke Pearce: (This is was written with my soulmate @shizenushi in mind! I hope you read this and smile for a bit, love!)

You felt the couch slightly dipping underneath you, a familiar soothing scent slowly filling the air, as coral eyes peeked from behind the book you were holding. A soft chuckle escaped your mouth but your eyes did not leave the inked pages. The couch dipped again and you sensed the alluring scent getting closer to you.

‘He's definitely pouting’, you secretly thought to yourself as Luke brought his face closer to yours, a small frown adorning his features this time. His fingers moved silently, successfully pulling the book out of your reach while simultaneously flipping your body upside down.

In one fluid move, your book was discarded on the floor and you were lying on Luke's chest. ‘This child’, you internally sighed and shook your head in fond exasperation before glancing back to locate your poor book.

“Look at me. I love you.” The words were spoken softly, close to a whisper, but they safely reached your ears. You stopped in your tracks, heartbeat abruptly speeding up at the sudden words of love, and turned your gaze back to your lover.

Luke was grinning. A wide, toothy and tender grin was on his face; the one he always wore as a young boy, and you swore that your heart melted in a puddle at the precious sight. “I never thought I’d be so lucky, especially not in this lifetime," Luke's eyes twinkled with every word he uttered. His hands moved again, enveloping your waist and bringing you closer to his chest.

He won't ever let go.

Marius Von Hagen:

“What took you so long? I missed you, one-san…” The lights were still on when you stepped into your apartment at the brink of dawn. Marius' whisper that immediately followed your arrival sounded loud in the dead silence. You weakly smiled at his familiar whining and slowly moved towards the couch where Marius was snuggled up under some blankets.

Your lover blinked his tired eyes and put one hand out of the blanket towards you. The exhaustion of a full day of difficult cases seemed to crash on you that instant and you let Marius gently drag you beside him. Marius' arms were around your waist in a heartbeat, gently enveloping you, before he closed his eyes again.

You softly sighed, feeling sorry for keeping him up until this late hour, waiting for you to safely show up at your house. Your fingers moved before you could think. You gently caressed Marius' cheeks, lightly squishing the soft flesh, and chuckling at the low whine he let out.

After a few minutes passed with you playing around with Marius' face, your young lover reached the limit of his patience and started pouting. “Don’t play around, just kiss me,” Marius' voice was thick with sleep, causing a light shiver to pass through your back once the words reached your ears.

Marius' body was so warm underneath your touch. You pulled yourself closer to him and slowly closed the rest of the distance between your lips. The kiss was tender, quiet and so achingly gentle that you felt yourself melt.

Marius will always kiss your worries away.

Artem Wing:

Artem’s arms were tightly wrapped around you as you both snuggled on the living room couch. Outside of the window, thunder roared and rain continuously fell down from the sky, making it impossible to step out of the door. You shifted closer to your lover, seeking more of his warmth. The body against you responded to you as Artem sleepily tightened his hold around you, softly humming to appease you.

“I love you,” your lover’s voice echoed in the silent room just as you were about to fall asleep. Your eyes immediately opened and you looked up at Artem in slight confusion. Is he sleep talking? You genuinely thought to yourself. You brought one hand closer to the older man’s face and lightly tapped his cheeks. Artem chuckled at your touch before holding your hand in his.

“I will love you forever and when ‘forever’ ends, I will love you some more.” Artem’s voice was as steady as ever, successfully convincing you that he was fully awake. Yet, the hand holding yours was slightly trembling, betraying the deeply-rooted fears Artem was desperately hiding away from other people’s eyes.

Only to you. Only to you did Artem reveal his true self and give up trying to fake perfection. At times like these, when no soul was in view and you were there all alone in his arms, did the real Artem come out. The broken, shy and quiet Artem in your embrace was so precious to you.

You gently closed your eyes and sighed in utmost satisfaction. You quietly let Artem hold you tight and whisper words of love, guilt and doubts in your ears until he felt like he could breathe properly again.

He will always love you, undoubtedly. 

Vyn Richter:

“Will you love me like this forever?” The question, spoken as a light whisper, came abruptly. You stopped breathing for a short while, mind racing to grasp at the meaning of the softly-uttered words, before you stirred in Vyn’s arms. You tried to meet your lover’s eyes but Vyn kept his head buried in the crook of your neck, refusing to look at you.

“Don’t think about anything. Just tell me that you love me and hold me tighter.” His voice sank lower and you felt your heart race at the raw love you heard. You moved closer to Vyn and hugged him tighter to your body. The older man wordlessly obeyed, snuggling closer to you. You stretched your hand and threaded your fingers in the silky silver hair in front of you, gently playing with the strands.

You have never felt as happy as when you were with Vyn. Being cradled gently and treated respectfully felt so fucking good that you swore you were becoming addicted to it. Vyn slightly shifted in your embrace, distracting you from your thoughts, and you hummed in response.

Your lover’s familiar and soothing scent enveloped you from all directions and you felt your body melting. All stress and exhaustion from your terrible week seemed to vanish in a heartbeat when you were enveloped in Vyn’s strong arms.

It was like coming home to a warm embrace and delicious food after staying in a bitterly cold storm for endless hours. One glance was all it took for Vyn to put down his research papers and open up his arms for you to hide in.

Lean on him. He will never betray you. 

[danniburgh]

Evergreen Intrusion (Frankie Morales x f!reader)

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x f!reader

Summary: You never knew what happened or why it did; at nights, when you wrapped yourself around his body and he held you in place so you wouldn’t slip away from him, you talked about it, always coming to the same conclusion right before falling asleep. It was real.

Word count: +8.2k

Warnings: angst, hints of grief, smut, unprotected p in v, oral sex (f receiving), this is my attempt at magical realism, bear with me.

A/N: okay guys, this took me over 2 months to finish, i left it incomplete bc sex with frankie intimidated me but i sat today and said "youre gonna get done bitch" and it did, with major changes, but it did. anyway, thanks <3 and i wanna thank @mouthymandalorian​ because since the start i ranted everything to her and she read it in april and said “its good bitch” and wow, i love her so much i wanna cry

Masterlist // Read on ao3 // playlist // ko-fi

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

moodboard by me // gifs: @pajamasecrets and @conveniently-available

Many years later, when Frankie thought of the smell of the thick fog making contact with the grass, petrichor, is called, he would recall the time he spent with you on that place, in that time, and he would remember the eerie aura that you had carried with you during your stay, you glowed. It wasn’t like the feeling the rain gave him when he heard it. It was something else, something he couldn’t name, even decades after it happened.

“We’re lost, aren’t we?” you sighed out, looking around you and seeing nothing but thick high pine trees.

Your feet ached because of how long you two had been walking together; Frankie decided the previous day that as you both had your weekend off, maybe some hiking would do you good. He had found a location he liked three and a half hours away from the racket and hustle of the city; he had driven you both in and guided you both inside. The air inside the forest was chilly, the ambient was silent, and at the height you were currently in, a thin layer of fog was roaming and settling right above your heads.

The view was breathtaking, though. The trees made a shelter high above your bodies, the leaves and tweaks and small bushes under your feet were soft, almost mushy, the moss around the tree trunks adorned them in different, formless patterns that you could make out if you were close enough to them, and if you touched them, they whispered the secrets of their host.

It was a weird time in your relationship with Frankie, he had just finished his therapy sessions and he had just recovered his pilot’s license, but he could still get lost into himself at times, he could still sit silent in a room full of people, thinking and thinking and thinking.

He had changed, the Frankie you knew and loved had changed since Santiago had practically dragged him to Colombia for a job. And when they came back, Santiago sent to you pieces of a man, poorly glued together.

Helping Frankie re-build himself was a challenge in itself, first you had to help him find himself among the mess that he was when he came back home. And slowly you had to help cleanse himself from the metaphorical dirt he had carried with him, dirt that was so embedded into his skin; under his nails, behind his ears, entangled in his hair, between his fingers, under his feet, that you had found yourself taking off time from work, and basically life to help him scrub it all off.

All to aid him become himself again. Not lost time. Completely worth it. Because when you had finished helping him, he had looked at you, deep in the eyes, and he had thanked you in the best way he knew how.

But he could still get lost into himself at times.

“No, we are not lost, babe,” Frankie’s voice was low, he was trying to get the map on his hand in some other direction to locate himself.

“Frankie, we are lost,” your hand dropped to his shoulder and he raised his eyes to you, his gaze glistening with the soft light that shone through the pine branches that hovered feet above you, making them look like fine pieces of dried amber, almost hypnotizing.

“Okay yeah, I have no idea where we are,” he sounded resigned to admit it, his shoulders dropped as his head moved so he could take your surroundings in, taking his cap off, brushing his curls back and putting it back on. His eyes for a second got fixated on something far away and you tried to follow the direction his gaze was going, finding nothing but trees, dirt and bushes. His head turned slowly back to you and he left out a sigh when he saw you smile at him.

“What?” Frankie muttered, you bit your lip as you saw his preoccupied quirk, his eyes were trying to find some reassurance in yours, as if he thought you had an answer to a question he had yet to ask.

“We can always walk back from where we came, don’t we?” you suggested, shrugging lightly, trying to get Frankie to loosen up a bit. If he started to freak out, then you knew everything had gone to shit. And you didn’t want that.

Frankie looked at you and he looked behind you at the path you had come from, considering the suggestion.

“I mean, yeah,” his eyes fixated again on something or somewhere and then his brow furrowed, you followed his eyes and yet again, you found nothing but trees, “I jus–what the fuck?” you widened your eyes.

“Frankie?” your voice was as thin and disperse as the fog above you and it seemingly didn’t reach Frankie’s ears, because you had to find your air and put it all in your diaphragm to almost shout at him “Frankie!”

He looked around him slowly, his brown eyes were roaming around trying to locate something, anything and his worried stance and his shocked face made your stomach churn in something closer to fear than expectation.

“I can’t find the way we came from,” he whispered, and you saw the fog slowly turn into a transparent arm and reach to his mouth, eating his voiced words. Delightful, the fog said.

“Don’t play with me,” you pleaded, shivering as you felt as well the fog’s arm feel out the confines of your mouth, tasting your words, not liking them and spitting them on the floor.

Frankie looked at you, his eyes telling you he wasn’t lying, his brows were almost touching each other and his mouth was open in bewilderment, he shook his head slowly a few times and you felt your legs flutter and a heavy weight fall onto your shoulders.

“Look for it,” you mouthed, Frankie saw you breathing heavily and he rushed to you, he dropped his backpack to the floor. His hands on your body felt electrifying. His touch was heavy with preoccupation, his face was quirked in confusion as he guided your breaths in and out, in and out, in and out.

Once the air entered your lungs and exited them as food for the trees around you he tried again to look for the narrowed path you two had walked into the forest.

“C’mon, I think is this way,” he pointed in a random direction and you whined. The fog’s arm rejected it as well, and it fell in front of your feet; you looked at it and found out why the fog didn’t like it, it was stale, incorporeal, bland.

“Are you sure?” your question felt like a prayer and a plea and a beg. Frankie nodded. He wasn’t but he nodded.

Frankie took your hand and turned around to put on his backpack. But the backpack was gone and the ground where it was thrown onto before was ruffling about it.

“Fuck,” he swore and brushed a hand on his forehead to wipe the thin layer of fog that was clinging to his skin, mimicking sweat. “let’s go,” you nodded and gripped his hand as hard as you could, your other hand gripped the shoulder strap of your own backpack and for a second you glanced at the space on the ground that had eaten Frankie’s and it growled softly.

You and Frankie walked for what it felt like hours upon hours upon hours. And you got nowhere. 

At that point the forest looked like a carbon copy of itself, the moss was showing the same secrets and you started to be sad, and angry, and scared, and Frankie noticed and the forest noticed.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Frankie muttered to you, you felt an ever so known and unwelcomed sting in your throat, “I’m so sorry,” his arms found you and he held you close to his chest, he kept muttering apologies. For getting you two lost, for choosing that place, for wanting to hike, for not giving you the time you needed, for making you lose a piece of yourself in the works of putting him together. He was sorry. And you felt it. And the forest felt it too.

You cried, as everything felt like you weren’t going home anytime soon.

And Frankie held you, because he was the only piece of home you had left, and you were the only piece of home he had left.

Your tears escaped your eyes and the fog’s arm feasted on them, and you let it. It was the only delicious thing you could offer to it, anyway.

You didn’t know for how long he had been embracing you and letting you damp his shirt with the tears that the fog’s arm didn’t choose to eat when you heard it.

But you didn’t hear it, you felt it entering your head, roaming around your ears and getting itself settled in your mind. 

A whisper from the forest. It sounded like a tree’s secret, but sadder, needier, stronger, bigger, heavier, darker and lighter.

“I wanna go home,” you whispered out, to him. To Frankie.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he broke the embrace and his hands slid to cup your face, he brought you to him slowly and took your lips in his. 

He kissed you with gentle desperation. His mouth moved at the rhythm of an unheard, newly made up song, chordless, lyricless, soundless; his grasp on your head felt like the silk of the sheets you never lied on, the sound of his tongue sliding into your mouth was lewd and warm and happy and there. You grasped his wrists and held onto him as if he were your home. Not letting you go. Not letting him go. No one was going anywhere.

You kissed for what it felt like hours upon hours upon hours and when he stopped kissing you; you chased his mouth and kissed him again and the songless song began again, and the never owned softness stayed in there, and the ever so present warmness became warmer.

When the air of your lungs faded into the leaves and the pinecones screamed at you and the moss stopped whispering their host’s secrets at the surprise of you kissing for so long, you stopped.

And Frankie’s big, warm, brown eyes felt ever more present, as if they had been there for years and years.

He smiled at you. And you were sure the thin fog that invaded the space faded away because of it.

“You wanna try again?” he asked softly, and you nodded, replying to his smile with one of yours.

So Frankie grabbed your hand again, and you two started walking in whatever direction you two felt like walking.

Soon enough you would be home.

“Oh” Frankie let out, tightening the grip on your hand, you looked at him with anticipation and question in your eyes. His gaze seemed to be fixated on something and you, yet again, followed his eyes, not really expecting to find anything. But you were surprised at what your gaze encountered.

“Wow,” you sighed out. You felt Frankie's eyes on your face and you turned to see him. His eyes bewildered, his smile giddy, contagious, child-like. His. It was him.

“Shall we?” he asked. You nodded enthusiastically, giving him the brightest smile he thought he had ever seen in all his years on the earthly plane.

You had found a house.

A small, old-looking house.

The outside was battered, the pass of the life’s years had darkened its wooden walls, made them look like wrinkles in an old person’s face, the small, squared windows on the front were foggy and covered with white, fine dust and an even thinner layer of mist, it had a small rot-wooden deck, moss and mold and a bright green vine covered the steps. From the spot you were standing at, you could see the way the climbing plants and the secret teller moss adorned the single slope roof. 

Tiny droplets of water that had grasped and clung tenaciously onto the roof edge from the fog that had faded into the sky were succumbing to the gravity and fell onto the floor, sounding like some form of a song you were sure you knew but never heard.

As you two walked hand in hand, you noticed the open door. The house felt old; it felt weak; it felt blight, yet so warm, so bright, so inviting, so welcoming.

So you entered.

Frankie let out a soft gasp at the sight.

The inside was even more tainted.

The walls were partially covered with the remains of a rotten, tattered, poorly kept wallpaper, the color had faded and the only noticeable feature of it was the flower print that seemed to adorn it after years and years of exposure to everything around you.

The wooden floors looked long-lived; some of the wood tiles were cracking, some of them looked sturdy, some others were rotten and there were a few places around where there were no tiles and it was just wet, dark dirt.

You looked at Frankie with a smile adorning your face and he was looking at the ceiling; you looked up as well and saw the wooden beams above you, angled and darkened, some weathered and damp, some robust and dry. They looked relaxed, yet hefty. Soft yet firm. Some of the climbing plants you had seen creeping on the roof had crawled and slithered and found themselves at home in the beams.

It was beautiful.

“C’mon,” you tugged at Frankie's hand and pulled him further inside. He followed close. The first room, the biggest, had on one side a worn out, misted loveseat in the middle of the space and a stone fireplace that the time and the weather and the forest and the fog had taken care of turning green. On the other side there was a small table, topped with fallen leaves from the climbing plants, a wood stove right below a window and a legged stained sink with a copper faucet.

You bit your lip and narrowed your eyes, thinking.

“What?” Frankie asked when he saw your face, you smiled and walked towards the sink, with him following you, with your free hand you reached the faucet handle and twisted it. The pipes started moaning in protest after being awakened so rudely and without notice and then, clear water started pouring from it.

Frankie barked out a laugh. And you smiled at him, your eyes bright and shiny as if the moon was stationed inside them.

You got rid of your backpack and left it on the floor while Frankie washed his hands and cupped them to gather water and drink it, after he finished he left them under the faucet and nodded his chin to them. You leaned down and drank from his hands. The water tasted sweet; it tasted like rain; it tasted like a summer night breeze, and the early days of winter before a snowstorm. It tasted like home.

Frankie’s skin was warm at the touch, despite the outside's brisk temperature. When you finished drinking, your throat happy and satiated, you smiled at him as he twisted the handle to stop the stream of water. You wiped your mouth dry with the sleeve of your shirt and your eyes meandered around the space, taking in the colors of the wood, the small crevices of the teared wallpaper, the way the window adorned herself with tiny specks of dust that formed a thin yet thick white cover all over the glass, and the way Frankie seemed to fit like a puzzle piece in the middle of the room. As if he was part of it. As if he was meant to stand in the middle of the rotten wooden floor, among the fallen leaves of the climbing plants that never seemed to die.

“You’re really pretty,” Frankie muttered, his brown yet amber eyes glistened with the anticipation of what was about to come but you didn’t know yet. The great something-about-to-happen. You smiled at him and his chest fluttered, swollen with the extensive, deep love he had for you.

“Let’s go see the rest,” you suggested, Frankie nodded as he saw your voice eagerly come out of your lips in crescent waves of light, and smiled back at you when you took his hand again, intertwining his fingers with yours, sending his spine a few shocks of loving electricity.

You walked to the center of the big room that functioned as both an impressively functioning kitchen and a rotten living room and at the end, on the wall, there were two doors, both medium tall, dark, mahogany doors, one of them closed, the other halfway open.

Frankie followed you as you tugged gently at his hand, you walked first to the one closed and the doorknob felt like room temperature butter when you twisted it open, it was a plain and simple bathroom, the three essentials, a misty, foggy, dusty mirror on the wall and a misty, foggy, dusty window in front of you, you smiled to yourself when you saw the way the climbing plant was creeping its way inside the room from a little crack on the upper left corner of the window.

Walking back you stepped towards the halfway open door and you pushed it open with two fingers. The hinges howled softly as the door moved to the side and let you enter through it. You scoffed as you saw a double, tubular bed in the middle of the room, the green bedding seemed plush and cozy, it looked like a giant sheet of that secret telling moss that gave you the warm welcome when you were walking towards the house.

Directly next to the bed there was a bigger window, still covered and hidden by the dust and the fog and the white mist that apparently covered every single glass surface around the house, as if it was its job, but it still let the light come through to the room, illuminating it with the smiles of the little sunlight that the trees allowed to enter their space.

In front of the bed there was a dusty mirror, the frame of it was bigger than the glass but fitting, and it reflected the tiny, thin, imperceptible sun rays that the window happily let through.

The room felt colder than the bigger space outside and you didn’t like it.

“Let’s take that outside, it feels like a freezer here,” Frankie said and you nodded. Both of you walked and each one grabbed an edge of the bedding. You looked at Frankie with your eyebrows raised and asked without asking if he was feeling the same thing around your hands.

The sheet felt like velvet and moss and the single petal of a rose that fell on a table when you put its owner on a small vase, it felt soft as the whispers of love you would give Frankie when he slipped inside of you, soft as the whispers of the forest you had heard earlier, but happier, relaxed, lovelier.

Frankie then looked through the window and he narrowed his eyes a bit.

“I think the sun is about to set, baby,” he mumbled, you agreed with him without looking at the window “come on, we have to rest.”

You two walked outside the room with the thick sheet on your hands and let it fall carelessly on the floor of the rotten living room, between the tattered loveseat and the green stone fireplace.

You felt Frankie’s hand leave yours and find its place on your waist, soothing you even when you didn’t need to be soothed. Caressing you, knowing you always wanted to be caressed.

You turned your head to see him and he reached in to grab your lips in his, his mouth tasted sweet and earthy, his lips told you what he was thinking without saying it and you turned around so your bodies could talk to each other.

“I love you,” he inserted in your mouth the words without having to break the kiss, you wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the curls that escaped eagerly from his cap and your skin felt like it was melting and mixing with his, your scents got to know each other again and for a brief, brief moment, it felt like you were floating several inches from the floor.

A soft crack above you interrupted your kiss and you and Frankie turned your heads up to follow the sound, one of the ceiling beams was moving, slowly. Frankie moved you gently, pushing your waist and you stood there, watching how the middle of it cracked itself open from two different points. The soft noises the wood made as it opened itself sounded like an egg hatching, you narrowed your eyes when the cracking stopped and then, a single, almost perfectly squared piece of the ceiling beam fell to the floor, landing next to your feet with a soft thud.

Frankie let go of your waist and leaned down to pick the piece of wood up with curious eyes.

“Oh, shit,” he whispered to himself and to you.

“What?” you questioned, narrowing your eyes in amusement at his soft expression and his small smile.

Frankie then reached inside the beam and slowly pulled out a thin, small purple flower.

“Oh,” you gasped, covering your mouth with one hand, Frankie, ever so delicately finished taking out the flower from the wood with everything and roots and admired it closer, smiled to himself and then gave it to you.

“Una flor para otra flor,” (a flower for another) he whispered and you both chuckled, taking the small flower from his fingers.

“So fucking cheesy,” you teased, reaching to his cheek to cup his face with your other hand, brushing softly over his patchy beard with your thumb, taking in the sight of your boyfriend’s face, the dimmed light that the windows allowed to get through them gave him an aura of safety and his skin seemed like it was sparkling.

You looked down to the small flower, still cupping his face, and you smiled at the way the purple petals danced on the stem, stirring as if the wey stretching after a long while dormant and encapsulated inside the wood of the beam. You brought it to your nose and the petals brushed the tip of it as you inhaled softly the scent of its core.

The flower smelled like the garden of your childhood home, like the perfume that your grandma used. It smelled like the mixed berries Frankie liked to munch standing in front of the open fridge in the middle of the night, it smelled like the dream you had the night Frankie came home after Colombia and that you couldn’t wipe out from your head.

You looked back at Frankie; he was grinning at the way the flower seemed to hug your nose as you smelled it.

“What?” you asked him, reciprocating his smile. He shook his head. Nothing. He inserted in your mind without parting his lips. You slid your hand to his neck and pulled him softly to you, he reached out, knowing what you wanted. Frankie always knew what you wanted.

When his lips brushed yours, you lifted your other hand and pushed the small flower between your mouths.

Frankie let out a chuckle at the action and sighed into your mouth when the flower opened up its petals to kiss you both back.

You let the flower fall to the floor when Frankie’s hands found their home on your waist again and pulled you to him, bringing you flush to his broad chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

Frankie’s lips tasted like the flower’s pollen and a faint hint of the fog that had tasted his words

His lips stole a moan from your throat as he used his tongue to open yours and you both heard the way the flower imitated your moan on her newfound place on the floor, making you both smile at the soft, almost imperceptible sound.

The air became warmer, thicker with all the love that exuded from your bodies. You both heard the secret teller moss yell at the way he was kissing you so the forest found out and it made you incredibly proud to have a man like him devouring your lips ever so softly.

“Make love to me, Frankie,” you whispered on his lips, carefully reaching into his throat and pulling out a soft groan out of it with your words. He just nodded in response and slowly guided your body to kneel on the sheet and kept kissing you.

Your mind reeled at the way Frankie used his lips to make you feel safe, protected, loved, cared for. By the way he, with a few movements of his lips, could make you feel like you had been kissing him and kissing him and kissing him for years and years and years.

Frankie’s hands roamed around your waist and the small of your back, without hurry they got under your shirt and you sighed at the warmness, soft roughness of his touch on your skin, you took his cap off and let it fall on the floor, next to the flower.

The flower crawled towards the cap as you continued praying against Frankie’s lips and snuggled next to the brim.

He broke the kiss, and you felt a gentle, faint breeze cover your body when Frankie took off your shirt, it felt as if it was caressing you softly, and it made the hairs on your skin rise.

Frankie stole your kiss again and hands trailed to cup your tits over the fabric of your bra and you let out a low whimper when he teased your nipples over it. You slid your hands from his neck to his chest and worked slowly to unbutton his plaid shirt. Your feathery touch on his warm, sun kissed skin made him moan softly, and the flower mimicked the sound again.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured on your lips when you made him take off the shirt. You smiled on his kiss, with him on you, on any part of you, you always believed him.

His lips traveled down to your chin, where he left a soft bite and ripped another soft moan out of you.

As you helped him to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans, Frankie liked a stripe of skin from your chin to your neck and you smiled, your eyes were closed when his plush lips started nibbling at your tender, fog tasted flesh and once his belt was unbuckled and his pants were unbuttoned, he slid them down.

“Take off yours, baby,” he whispered, you bit your lip and did it; you undressed as he did and once you were completely naked, bared and vulnerable in front of him, he stopped his own movements to admire your body, “gorgeous.” the word slipped from his lips like thick, raw honey and fell onto the blanket, smearing on it, the fabric sensed it and absorbed the word and your eyes, as he reached for your naked waist, saw it disappear inside it.

Frankie brought you to him once again and his kisses fell on your skin like soft, summer rain; warm and light and all over you; your hands found themselves caressing any part of his body they could reach, making him drop little moans and whimpers on your skin, marking it, leaving it tainted with the soft noises that he produced as you enjoyed the softness of his body.

He laid you down on the sheet and it made itself cushioned under you, it was fresh, comfortable, soft and stirred ever so slightly under your body; it made you shiver softly.

Frankie’s lips went down your neck, his warm, soft tongue played with your nipples as his hands roamed up and down your torso, you buried your fingers inside his curls; scratched his scalp gently with your nails, making him grunt against your breast.

“Frankie,” you whispered out, his name floating all the way up like an inflated balloon and crashing onto the wooden beams with an unhearable thud, Frankie hummed in response with his mouth worshipping your other breast, his beard making the most gentle burns onto your skin “eat me.” you begged, closing your eyes when he smirked against the tender, already sensitive flesh of your chest.

Without saying more words his kissed trailed down your body, several of them on your lower abdomen, you chuckled and opened your eyes, lifting your head to look at him; Frankie was already looking at you; his deep, brown and amber looking eyes telling you without hesitance what he wanted, what he had been asking for months and months and months. You threw your head back on the sheet with a smile adorning your face as he took your thighs and gently opened them up for him; his face buried inside you and he inhaled the scent of your deepest corner.

With kitten licks, Frankie started tasting you; making you moan when his tongue went deeper, he opened you further and buried his tongue inside you, prompting a groan out of you; guttural, soft. Frankie smiled against your folds, proud and enamoured of the sounds he was making you produce.

Your hand pushed him further deeper inside you, Frankie eagerly opened his mouth around your core and started sucking and licking and nibbling and tasting. You threw your head to the side and your heavy lids opened just enough for you to look at the small purple flower that was snuggled right next to the seam of Frankie’s cap. It was lying on the floor almost lazily, its roots were stirring and stretching and you smiled at it; it was feeling it too.

Frankie’s fingers found your entrance and pushed inside, starting to curl and press and push to the sides and upwards, making you lift your back off the sheet and hatch your hips on his face, you moaned as he pulled his fingers out and in again at a tantalizing rhythm he knew you loved; his lips nibbled at your clit and his tongue teased at it in synchrony with his fingers, you let out a long moan and Frankie groaned against your core. The vibrations of his voice against your tender, swollen pussy made you stiffen and hold your breath, you gasped when he sucked at your clit rather hoarsely and the air that left your lungs through your lips traveled like a feather falling through the air and fell directly on the purple flower.

Frankie sucked and curled his fingers inside you and you rolled your hips against his face, he had built a coil inside you that was getting warmer and warmer with each wet lick on you; your hand fisted his hair and as the coil snapped in half, you pulled it, making Frankie grunt against you. He helped you ride your orgasm and as you came down from one of the highest climaxes he had made you feel in what it felt like years and years and years, he crawled slowly upwards between your legs, covering you with his body.

“Hey,” he whispered above your face, you opened your eyes and smiled when you saw his eyes, those beautiful eyes of his inches from you “you okay?” he asked. You nodded and cupped his slick covered face with both your hands, closing the distance between your mouths and tasting yourself in the process of devouring his lips.

Frankie whimpered at the depth of your kiss and when he broke it, you heard the slightest of sounds; a yelp that sounded both from afar and up close. You turned to the side at the same time and you let out a soft chuckle when you saw the purple flower standing. Its roots well planted into the wood tiles of the floor. An almost imperceptible coat of transparent slick covered its petals.

You turned to Frankie and he smiled at you, falling onto your lips once more.

Your hands wrapped themselves around his neck and your legs opened up for him to brush the underside of his duck against your wet folds; you shivered, feeling the way he was throbbing for you.

“I love you.” he whispered without whispering and you rolled your hips closer to him. He slid inside of you with any other intervention than the sole need you had for each other; he moaned softly against your mouth as his hips started thrusting inside you at a gentle pace you didn’t know he was capable of going at.

You stopped kissing him and pulled his body to rest on yours; one of his hands rested on your hip as the other moved to frame your head and he ground into you slowly; deeply; harder while his rhythm wasn’t strong.

Frankie hid his face in the crook of your neck and you wrapped your legs around his waist, changing the angle for both, you moaned when his cock started grazing a soft spot inside you that made you close your eyes and see the stars up close.

“More.” you heard a voice that wasn’t yours but sounded like you, and Frankie whined against your skin, licking you. He picked up the rhythm and went faster enough so you gushed around him and the noise of him pumping inside you inundated the room; as he drove into you and your throat made the most sweet and soft noises he swore he had ever heard you make, you heard the fog creeping into the house; it slithered in through the small openings the creeping plants were watching you make love from. You felt the weight of the fog falling on top of you and when it covered you whole, Frankie started pounding into you.

“Oh, god.” you moaned out. Frankie held you in place with a hand on your head and another on your waist and went impossibly faster, the noises that your skins made when they clashed together were being muffled by the fog, whose arm formed once more and caressed you both in places you wouldn’t let anyone else touch.

You heard another yelp from afar and your eyes looked for it in the purple flower, but it had turned its back to you and you noticed how, from the seams of the wood tiles on the floor, little purple nubs and buds started growing.

You gasped when Frankie changed the angle, sliding in and out faster than before, hitting your g-spot with more strength, and your breath hitched when he started grunting inside your neck. You turned your head to the other side and saw more of the purple buds. Some of them were opening already, and you felt your eyes water when you saw several small, slick covered purple flowers stretching their petals to the ceiling.

A deep, particular thrust of Frankie into you made your legs tremble. He started kissing your neck and your jaw and your chin, still driving into you at that murdering pace of his you had never felt before. You felt his beard tickling your skin, and you grew aware of every inch of sweaty, fog covered skin you owned; when he kissed your lips and ate the small moans you didn’t realize you were letting out, you grew aware of everything that rested inside your body, and you felt it move, grow, swell and deflate at the same time.

“Frankie,” you whispered against his lips, his cock driving into you and making you squirm beneath him “Frankie.” you gasped, his mouth trapped yours and you felt him throb inside your cunt.

“You’re here.” he muttered against your lips. The sudden, overwhelming emotion of being wrapped around him made you cum almost immediately with your eyes closed shut and your mouth opened at the fog’s mercy, that ate your moans with fervency.

Frankie slid in and out of you for more time than he had ever done before after your orgasms, he was whispering to you words you didn’t understand; you felt your eyes shed the tears they had held as you came at the sight of all the nubs and buds opening as Frankie thrusted into you. All of them opened as beautiful, small, slick covered purple flowers; carbon copies of the one he had found inside the piece of beam and gifted to you.

“They’re ours,” you gasped, Frankie hummed in affirmation, his brow furrowed in concentration, his mouth agape, his breath hitting your face, you cupped his face. “let go,” you whispered to him, caressing the flush skin of his face. “it’s enough, let go.”

Frankie moaned out and grunted, locking his hips with his cock fully inside you as he filled you with himself as deep as he could. He opened his eyes once the last drop of his seed was poured into you and gazed at you.

“How are they?” he asked, panting and trying to recover from his orgasm.

“They’re beautiful.” you replied with a teary smile, Frankie kissed you softly and turned his head to the sides, still inside you, looking at all the precious, tiny purple flowers that surrounded you.

“They’re ours.” he said with a smile adorning his face.

__

“Where the fuck have you been?!” the scream Santiago let out made you flinch, and you fisted and gripped Frankie's dampened clothes. His hold on your body tightened, and you felt another errant tear escape from your eyes.

“Pope.” Frankie could only let out that sole word, his throat was closed shut and the only thing that was keeping him from falling knees first onto the floor was your body and your need to be supported so you didn’t fall to the floor as well.

“Fish, what the fuck, man?” Santiago frowned at the look you two were carrying; your clothes were soaked wet and dirty, your hair was dripping muddy water. Frankie had wet knots on his hair and for Santiago it was odd looking at him without his cap on. You were shaking and almost climbing onto Frankie’s body.

Frankie didn’t answer. Santi looked at your feet and neither of you were wearing shoes.

“C’mon, c’mon in,” he stepped to the side and Frankie whispered in your ear to move, but he ended up almost carrying you inside. “you need a shower,” Santiago muttered when the both of you got inside and the swampy smell that clung to you brushed his nose. Frankie nodded and slowly walked inside Sant’s home towards the bathroom “Fish,” he heard the voice of his best friend behind him and stopped walking, not bothering to turn around “man, it’s been a year, where were you?”

You sobbed into Frankie’s shoulder and lifted your head to look at Santiago, who frowned when he looked into your bloodshot eyes.

“Living.” you whispered out, missing the fog’s arm, that was not there to eat at your words.

__

After a thirty-minute shower; in which both of you sat on the shower’s floor and Frankie attempted to unknot your hair as gently as he could while you shared furtive glances, feathery touches, kisses of understanding and heavy; painful tears, you were sitting on Santiago’s dining table wrapped in his clothes and a blanket, gripping each other’s hands as hard as you could.

“Where were you?” Santi asked, his voice soft, his eyes on you and the way Frankie didn’t seem to separate an inch from you.

“The forest.” Frankie muttered. Santiago sighed and tried to look away from you.

“For a year?” he let out in an incredulous whisper.

“It didn’t feel like a year.” you murmured, your voice thin as a thread, your eyes on Frankie’s side, you leaned to rest your head on his shoulder.

“What do you mean it didn’t feel like a year?” Santiago raised his voice and immediately caught himself and tried to calm down “we were about to pronounce you dead,” he tightened his jaw and his finger pressed on the wood of the table, you smirked at the parallels; his finger almost looked like Soleil, the first flower that you and Frankie gave birth to “both of you.”

“You wouldn’t get it, Santi.” you whispered, looking at him from Frankie’s shoulder.

“Explain it to me, then.” he said, crossing his arms on his chest, Frankie let out a huff.

“No.” Frankie said.

“We got lost,” you started. Frankie stiffened next to you and turned to the side to face you; he looked at your pleading face and with his eyes asked you if you were sure. You cupped his face, scratched his short beard and nodded ever so slightly; missing the way he would slip his words inside your mind when he didn’t feel like talking, “we got lost in the forest.” you said, still looking at Frankie.

Santiago stirred in his chair. He had never seen you do that, look into each other’s eyes so profoundly it felt like you two were sharing not only the same air, but the same brain; the same heart.

“And we found a house,” you turned to see him, teary-eyed and a soft smile adorning your face. Frankie hid his face inside the crook of your neck and breathed in deeply, your hand caressing his nearly knot-free hair. “and we stayed there.”

“For a year?” Santiago deepened his frown, you huffed and shook your head gently.

“For a week.” you whispered.

Santiago stood up from the chair and closed his eyes, he scratched his beard for a few seconds and turned to you.

“How?” you shrugged.

“We tried to make sense of it as we walked home,” you muttered. Santiago noticed how your eyes got lost in the space between you and him. “we don’t look like a year has passed, right?” you blinked a few times and focused on him. He shook his head “we were supposed to stay there until the sunrise, we just got lost.”

“What made you stay a week?” he asked, hesitantly.

You choked down a sob and felt Frankie’s hand slip out of your entanglement. He wrapped his arms around you.

“The babies.” he let out, his voice deep, his tone hurt. Santiago closed his eyes and rubbed them with his thumb and index.

“What babies?” he whispered out. Frankie scoffed at his friend’s reaction.

“Ours.” you let out.

Santiago sat down again and you felt yourself stiffen with the memory of them.

Frankie started talking, but his voice sounded far off and distorted. 

Your mind could only focus on the hundred little flowers that were born out of you and Frankie, on how they would make space for you and him to walk around them, on how, if you stopped, they would wrap themselves around your feet, burying them with their soft petals and bathing you in their pollen.

You felt your throat clench at the memory of them waking you up in the mornings as your limbs were wrapped around Frankie’s body, of their smallest voices laughing at his bad jokes or at them bathing in the sheer sunlight that entered through the windows.

They were yours.

They were yours and Frankie’s.

“They died.” Frankie let out with a shaky breath. You felt your face wet with the tears your memories had brought to your eyes and Santiago looked at you; his face quirked in worry, his eyes wet with sympathy.

“How?” Santi dared to ask.

“A storm.” Frankie let out.

You buried your face in his shoulder and cried.

Frankie looked to the seamless ceiling of Santiago’s home and felt his chest turn and burn at the sound of your sobs.

The morning they died, Frankie woke up by the sound of a loud thunder that shook the house; he gripped your body absentmindedly, the memory of the hard rain burning inside his mind made him reach to you, he didn’t like the sound of pounding rain. He loathed it, but you were sleeping next to him and your body was giving him the warmth he didn’t have before.

You were woken up by the second thunder that made the flowers shake their pollen off in fear.

The two of you were naked and the dreadful sound of big drops of water made you sit on the blanket. You turned to look at each other just as the rumbling of another thunder made the misty, foggy, dusty windows shackle on their frames.

At the fourth roar of another thunder several windows broke and the sharp curl of sturdy wind came through the windows, you screamed to him and you dressed quickly and went to look for anything to cover the broken windows.

You tore the blanket apart in several pieces to cover some of the now opened windows, rushing to stop the ferocious wind from coming inside the house, but the storm was strong and gripped at the pieces, snatching them away from your hands every time you tried to use them as a barrier.

Frankie yelled at you to try to use the parts of the loveseat that you had moved to the middle of the kitchen space, and when you tried the deafening, thunderous sound of a sky-tearing thunder made the front door fly open and the rain to flood in.

You were soaked to the bone and you looked down at your feet; the flowers were trying to climb up to your calves but failed each time. The water started streaming into the house from invisible tears on the ceiling and the water level was rising quicker than either of you would’ve liked.

“They’re drowning!” you gasped, covering your mouth with your eyes to prevent from scaring them more than they already were; the tears you knew you were shedding had mixed with the rowdy water that came from each broken window. Frankie acted out of his own fears, he frowned and kneeled on the floor, trying to pick them up, but each time he picked up some, they fainted on his hand. “stop!” you yelled at him. He did it again, not listening to your pleas. You rushed to him and pulled him back “you’re killing them!”

“They’re already dying!” he yelled back at you, his eyes reddened and his jaw tensed in pain. You pulled him back again when he tried to pick up more. “stop!” he yelled, pushing you away from him “let me save them!”

“You can’t!” you screamed at him under another thunder that made the ceiling crack, both of you looked at the beams trying to hold together but they swell with water and were about to give in “Frankie!” you called him, he stood up and took your hand in his.

“Let’s go!” you nodded and let out a sob when you saw the purple petals of the flowers floating on the muddy water, lifeless. Frankie pulled you towards the open door and forced you to run out.

Your feet landed on puddles of swampy water that were ankle deep and you gripped Frankie’s hand as he pulled you away from the house; he tried to regulate his own breathing, the feeling of mud burying his bare feet reminded him too much of another time in his life he didn't want or liked to remember, the rain fell on your bodies like needles and stuck to your clothes, tainting them with a green, dirt color that made you feel disgusting.

You walked together for what felt like hours upon hours upon hours; the secret telling moss was dead as well; the floor that had eaten Frankie’s backpack was flooded with the sharp water that fell from the sky. Corpses of bushes and moss and bugs and birds floating around your legs. It smelled like life. It reminded Frankie of war.

“And then we got out of the forest.” Frankie sniffed out.

Santiago was looking at the both of you with sympathy and pain in his eyes. He stood up from his chair and walked around the table. He stood behind you and wrapped his arms around the both of you.

“I’m so sorry.”

You sobbed out louder.

__

Many years later, when Frankie thought of the smell of the thick fog making contact with the grass, petrichor, is called, he would recall the time he spent with you on that place, in that time, and he would remember the eerie aura that you had carried with you during your stay; that aura that wrapped your naked body and that followed you wherever you walked to, you glowed.

Whenever you played with the flowers, or their tiny petals wrapped themselves around his fingers and you let out the lightest, freest, most liberating of laughs; you shimmered.

You never knew what happened or why it did; at nights, when you wrapped yourself around his body and he held you in place so you wouldn’t slip away from him, you talked about it, always coming to the same conclusion right before falling asleep. It was real.

And the love you had for each other grew because of it. And the love you felt for your babies existed. And the feeling of peace that it made you feel was still there.

It wasn’t like the feeling the hard rain gave him when he heard it. It was something else, something he couldn’t name, even decades after it happened.

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[sallyf4ce]

wolves

chapter I

-> sally face x f!reader

-> enemies to lovers

-> previous | next | character index

cw: drugs, cigarettes, abuse

*does not follow original plot of sally face*

summary: seventeen year old y/n and her bitchfaced mother arrive in nockfell. in her first few minutes at the addison apartments, she’s already made new enemies and escaped her home for a quick stroll.

The poisonous yet familiar smell of smoke filed out the car window as you neared addison apartments.

“This place looks like a shit shack.” you mumbled, clearly displeased with your mother’s housing choice.

“What was that, brat?” Her blond hair whipped around to face you. She was a dirty woman, her hair indefinitely damaged from box dye, eyebags as dark as night, prominent cigar butt scars and heavy wrinkles adorning her discoloured face. Every single piece of clothing she owned was either laced with the smell of cigarettes or was stained, too.

Not that you were much better. You reeked of weed and smoke, but at least you knew how to maintain proper hygiene. God, you were gonna have to shower after this. The stench of the car had already ingrained itself into your skin, but hey, it was worth a try.

“Get the boxes, i’ll be right there.” she huffed and pulled out her phone.

“What, are you not gonna help?”

“Get the fucking boxes!” she snarled at you.

“Alright! Alright.” you slung your black duffel over your left shoulder as you hopped out the car. A few moments later, the trunk popped and you could hear your mom’s annoying laughter coming from the front seat. She was probably on the phone with some scumbag again. Pulling your bluesville zippo lighter out of your jacket pocket, you quickly lit up a smoke before grabbing a box. The keys to your apartment, 404, already hung from your belt loop. They jiggled slightly as you made your way to the front doors.

When you walked in, you were hit with a strong, unpleasant smell. It was like mildew mixed with the smell of peroxide on blood; maybe some heavy chemical cleaner as well. Your eyes traced the sickly green coloured doors as you made your way to the elevator. Quickly remembering the cigarette still in your mouth, you hastily remove it and breath the smoke out. It slowly seeps into the ceiling. Seems like the building was used to this kind of neglect. Heading into the elevator, you heard two muffled voices coming from behind you. One was deep and gruff, the other a more soft, emotionless tune.

“They said there’s gonna be a new album next year.” the softer voice exclaimed. Great, they were probably headed to the elevator too. You tried to speed up and close the doors on them, but alas, your effort was wasted as a pale, thin hand with painted black nails stopped the door from closing. You soon learned that it belonged to a just as pale, electric-blue haired boy. He was around 5’6 and dressed in a simple black sweater and red ripped jeans. The only thing that stood out, apart from his hair, was a white prosthetic. There was a light pink stain in the top right corner, but apart from that, it was plain. There was not a single emotion visible on it either. The only thing that could hint to any sort of feeling was the boy’s ice blue eyes peeking through the eyeholes.

He cleared his throat and you moved over begrudgingly. Following him was another boy, around 6’0 with long brown hair and brown eyes. He noticed you looking at him and shot a wink which you completely disregarded. They both looked at the giant box in your hand. You took your chance and put the cigarette up to your lips again. They looked up at the sound of an inhale.

“That’s not good for you.” the shorter one muttered in his annoyingly quiet voice. You pulled it out and huffed the smoke into his mask.

“Shut it, pigtails.” you growled quietly. God, why was this fucking elevator taking so long?

Larry grimaced at the nickname and began making his way towards you. He thought you looked cool at first, but apparently he was wrong. Sal’s hand made contact with his chest before he could confront you.

“Sal, what-”

“Why not the mask?” sally was amused now. it was usually the mask that people pointed out, that they picked on him for. so why didn’t you?

The elevator dinged and you quickly walked out with your box in hand, cigarette in your mouth. quickly, your free hand slammed against the buttons of the elevator. the metal against metal clanged loudly as you pulled away. You chuckled at their astonished faces. “See ya, fuckers!”

Sal’s face lit up a bit under his mask.

“Larry, she’s like me!”

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

By the time you finished sorting your boxes, it was around 11 pm. Your mom was already knocked out on the couch so nothing was stopping you from going out on a stroll. Quickly throwing on your army green windbreaker, you grab your skateboard and slip on your boots. God, you hoped those weirdos weren’t still out there. Making sure to slam the door extra loud, you run out your apartment and quickly make your way down the stairs. Your mom’s faint screaming only earned a giggle from you as you opened the door. A cool, rain-fresh breeze filled your nose and you set down your skateboard. It was a nice change from the tainted apartment air. The sky was navy, fading into a baby blue as it reached the ground. Nockfell was a small town so you’d finally be able to see the stars. A few were already peaking out at you. Turning your attention back to yourself, you pull out a cig and light it as you kick off.

Across the street from you were larry and sal, hoods on and shivering as they quickly walked back to the apartments. Larry was rambling about todd’s parents and their weed or something, but sal couldnt find it in him to listen. His attention was stuck on you. It was rare to see another kid with a prosthetic here in nockfell. Actually, he was pretty sure he was the only teen with one. Except you, of course. He remembered your metal hand shining in the light of the elevator as you trotted away, unbothered and chuckling to yourself. Him and larry were stuck in there for around five minutes after you spammed the buttons. Larry was pissed, but sal found himself smiling. At your chuckle, at your prosthetic, he didn’t know. Maybe both.

“Anyway, some kid said they were better than san- sally face, you there? Dont tell me you’re still hung up on that chick.'' Larry sighed.

“No!” the tips of his ears turned a little pink at his sudden reply. “I mean, no.”

“Man, i still dont get why you’re not mad. She’s a dick!” The brunette really was confused. She called him names and was just mean in general. She got them stuck in the elevator! Just because she had a metal hand didnt give her special bullying privileges.

“She’s just a little roughed up is all.”

larry looked across the street to the sound of a skateboard.

“Speak of the devil. Wait, isn’t that a sanity’s fall shirt? Man, for a dick, she’s got a good ass music taste! Come on!”

[crackheadgeminibby]

forever and a day

pairing: chris evans x black!reader

warnings: language, age gap, fluff fluff fluff

word count: 1.8k

a/n: was feeling disgustingly soft so enjoy this nice bowl of fluff

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape or form or reposted on any other platform

not my picture

You’re putting the last items in the picnic basket when you hear the front door open.

“Y/N? Are you in here?”

“In the kitchen!”

You hide the picnic basket in one of the cabinets as you hear Chris’ footsteps making their way to the kitchen. You finally see Chris entering the kitchen and your breath slightly hitches.

God, he’s hot.

Chris smiles as he puts his hands on your hips.

“Hi.”

You smile back at him and bite your lower lip as you put your arms around his broad shoulders.

Chris leans down and gently kisses you before letting out a soft sigh. You weave your hands through his hair, exactly how he likes it, before asking,

“So, how was your meeting?”

“Hmm, fine. But no work talk today.”

Chris smiles from ear to ear as he reaches into his back pocket with one hand with an eyebrow raised.

“Close your eyes.”

You giggle at Chris’ attempt to be mysterious but close your eyes, nonetheless. You can feel Chris letting go of you as he shuffles around for a couple of seconds before he says,

“Okay, open them.”

You grin as you see that Chris is holding a long, blue velvet box in front of your eyes. He smiles back at you before kissing your cheek and saying,

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

You reach out to take the box into your own hands. Chris looks at you while biting his lower lip. You open the box and slowly gasp when you see what’s inside.

In the box lies a beautiful and elegant golden necklace adorned with your birthstone sitting on top of a folded piece of paper. You smile up at Chris before saying,

“I love it so much, baby, thank you.”

You gently kiss him before tilting the box towards him, silently asking him to put it on you.

Chris nods excitedly and you turn around as you reach for the folded paper at the bottom of the box. You close the box and set it on the counter next to you. You unfold the paper as you turn back towards Chris who has the biggest smile on his face.

At first, you’re confused when you open the paper. There’s a bunch of arrows and symbols on it that you don’t quite understand before you spot it: Arrival June 10th, Los Cabos, Mexico.

You squeal loudly as you understand and scream, “Holy shit, Chris, you did not do that!”

Chris laughs loudly as you practically throw yourself in his arms.

You had been talking to Chris about wanting to go to Cabo ever since your first date but as a student about to graduate with a JD, time and money were two resources that hadn’t been particularly abundant in the past couple of years.

“I know you’ve been really stressed lately with graduation and everything after so I thought we could go and just take a break together before you start working.”

You look up at Chris with small tears in your eyes, “I don’t even know what to say. Thank you so so much Chris. I love you.”

Chris’ eyes twinkle as he bends down to kiss you. He gently bites your bottom lip, making you moan softly. He takes advantage of this to slip his tongue between your parted lips while his hands that were roaming your body stop at your hips for an instant before he hoists you up on the counter.

Chris slips between your open legs and leaves a trail of kisses from your lips to your cheek before he finally settles on your collarbone. One of his hands strokes your lower back while the other sneakily makes it way to your inner thigh. You let out a loud moan as Chris starts sucking on the sensitive spot at the bottom of your throat while one of your hands tugs at his hair. You let your head fall on the cabinet behind you when you suddenly remember your own anniversary surprise.

You let go of Chris’ hair and let your hand slide gently to his chest before you whisper out of breath, “Chris… Chris, wait.”

Chris hums inquisitively as he tilts his head up to look at you. He raises an eyebrow at your sudden hesitation: he could feel that your body that had previously been relaxed had started to tense up.

You let out a large breath, trying to control yourself, before fake pouting at him.

“You didn’t let me give you your gift.”

He laughs softly before smirking and asking, “Am I not receiving my gift right now?”

You roll your eyes at him as you push him off you before sliding off the counter. Chris whines softly as he realizes that you were actually killing the moment.

“Calm down, you big baby. You can kiss up on me all you want tonight but right now, we have to head to my surprise before it gets dark.”

Chris tilts his head in confusion at you. You turn around and open a drawer to pull out the blindfold you had gotten. You turn back around and show the blindfold to Chris while beaming at him.

“Well, I like where this is going.”

You laugh as you roll your eyes at him. “It’s for the car. You have to put it on so you can’t see where we’re going.” Chris smiles at your excitement before turning around so you can blindfold him.

You secure the cloth around his head before waving your hands in front of his face to make sure he can’t see. You push him to the side slightly to get the basket from the cabinet behind you. You take it in one hand as you put the other between Chris’ shoulder blades to guide him outside. You stop him in front of the car, making him sit down in the passenger seat, before putting the basket in the trunk.

15 minutes later, you get to your destination. You stop the car before turning to Chris.

“Okay, wait here while I get everything ready.”

He responds back with a low hum.

“And no peeking!” Chris chuckles softly in response.

You head to the trunk of the car and take the picnic basket in one hand before reaching for the red and white checkered tablecloth you had chosen. You close the trunk of the car and head to Chris’ door before opening it.

“Okay, you can get out but be careful because the ground is soft.”

You see Chris’ face scrunch up in confusion under the blindfold. You hold out your hand so he can be more stable. You start to walk towards the tree under which you were going to set up your dinner with Chris’ hand in yours.

“Okay, stop and umm cover your ears, otherwise you’ll hear the surprise.” Chris snorts and does as you say.

You smile at the large tree over your head.

This was the tree under which Chris had told you he loved you for the first time. You had gone on an ice cream date that afternoon and you could feel that Chris was particularly anxious that day. You had thought that it was because he wanted to break up with you and he was nervous to hurt you so after him not saying anything more than one-word sentences to you for over an hour, you had stopped under this tree. You had gone on a 10-minute rant to Chris about how he could always tell you anything but this had morphed into you getting angry at Chris for stringing you along while crying your eyes out. Finally, he had tried to get you to stop talking before resorting to making you shut up by kissing you and softly whispering that he loved you, which you obviously said back.

You start to set up the picnic by laying out the tablecloth and setting up the various dishes you had prepared ranging from sandwiches to fruit salad and cupcakes.

When you finally finish setting up, you smile at your work. You head towards Chris and softly lay your hand on his cheek as to not startle him. He slowly uncovers his ears and lets himself be guided by you towards the picnic. You stop him right in front of the setup and smile from ear to ear as you say,

“Okay, take the blindfold off.”

Chris hurriedly unties the blindfold and cringes slightly as his eyes adjust to the sunlight. When he starts to see more clearly, he gasps as he takes in your arrangement.

One of his hands comes up to his mouth, in astonishment as he slowly turns towards you before spotting the tree. His eyes widen before he whispers softly, “Oh my God…”

“This is great, Y/N, thank you.”

He envelops you in a hug and squeezes you tightly before kissing the top of your head and letting you go. You smile warmly at Chris and say, “Well, let’s eat then.”

After eating and talking for what felt like forever, Chris and you had cleaned up everything but left the tablecloth to lay down on as you watched ducks in the pond, the sun setting in the distance. Chris’ hand was drawing shapes on your hip as you played with the fingers of his other hand.

Suddenly, you feel a drop of water fall between your eyebrows.

“Chris, are you sweating or something?”

Chris snorts loudly and replies, “What?”

You look around trying to find the source of the water on your face when you feel another drop, this time on your cheek. Then another, on your neck. You finally realize that it’s raining when you see a rainbow in the distance.

You hurriedly get up and drag Chris with you as the rain starts to pour down on both of you. You reach for the picnic basket and run to the car. You put the picnic basket in the trunk as Chris jogs towards you with a sopping tablecloth in hand. He throws it in the trunk as you walk towards the pond and admire as the mother duck navigates her ducklings to safety. You smile at the scene as you hear Chris faintly scream, “Baby, come on!”

After he realizes that you probably didn’t hear him, he runs to you and takes your hand in his. He tugs you towards the car, but you stop him and make him turn towards you.

You smile up at him, eyes half-closed to prevent the rain from falling in them, as you cup his face between your hands.

Instinctively, Chris’ hands land on your waist.

“Promise me this is forever.”

Chris smiles at your cheesiness. He bends down until his lips are ghosting over yours.

“Forever and a day, baby.”

[implexedactions]

Penance is a virtue

Yandere!Enji Todoroki x Reader

Enji Todoroki is many things; kidnapper, lover, sadist, hero, villain, husband. He is many, many things. But he isn’t delusional.

Beta-Read by best person: @absolute-flaming-trash

Warning: Yandere content and themes, Angst, Heavy emotional themes, Suicide, Stockholm syndrome, Kidnapping.

---

You wake up, eyes dashing to the clock.

5:55 AM - SUNDAY

Okay, good, you hadn’t slept in. Enji always wanted you to wake him up. He got...mad if you didn’t. You turn over to him in bed, expecting to find him still sleeping.

Teal eyes stare back at you instead.

“Ah!”

His face takes on a sorrowful expression.

“Did I frighten you? Sorry. I could not sleep.”

Not leaving you time to respond, he pulls you into his chest, under the covers. He sighs in content, and you press into him, not wanting him to forget your devotion.

After some time, he pulls you up to his face, kissing your forehead gently.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“U-uh, what do you mean? Are you okay?”

Enji sighs, failing to meet your gaze.

“I never do compliment you that often...”

---

He carries you to the breakfast table, adorned with pancakes, your favourite.

“What’s going on Enj- I mean, dear. I’m meant to make you breakfast?”

He fails to answer you, instead sitting down with you on his knee. He takes a fork and puts some pancake on it.

“Eat.”

And so you do.

When you finish, he moves to wash up.

“W-what are you doing? You told me that was my job.”

Your memory wanders back to your first few months here, when you disobeyed his every command...and received due punishment for it.

“Are you going to punish me again?”

It escapes your lips before you can stop it. The thought of being punished again, like before, makes your veins cool with fear.  Your breathing increases and you move down on your knees onto the cold kitchen floor.

“P-please, I swear, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t-”

“Stop.”

He walks over, his thighs the same height as your head. You move to undo his belt, but a hand puts a stop to that.

“There is no punishment. I am just doing an acceptable act for my spouse.”

The words “but you never do that” get stopped in your throat. You instead swallow and try to weakly smile. Looking up at Enji from your position on the ground, sunlight bathing him in a warm glow, to contrast the unsettled expression on his face.

---

He places you on a stool while he washes up. You fiddle with your hands, nervous. This isn’t how Enji usually acts. He’s so...vulnerable. In all honesty, it’s scary.

“Do you like the sunrise, my sweet?”

You look out to the orange glow emanating from the windows.

“Do you want me to like it, my sweet?”

Enji simply sighs and continues washing up.

“I’m sorry you cannot enjoy it. One should always appreciate what they have...”

---

After breakfast, he walks silently to the study. You follow behind him perfectly, like he trained you to.

He walks into the study, sitting down at his writing desk, and you take your place in his lap. He pulls out pen and paper, and you avert your eyes. 

It isn’t for good spouses like you to read.

He spends the better half of 6 hours writing. You entertain yourself by tracing the pattern of the wallpaper. This evolves into focusing on Enji’s breathing, noticing how he breathes in more, not less when he becomes frustrated with something on the page. You eventually move on to thinking about all the things you miss from the outside world, like ice cream, and human connection. You finish out the last hour by thinking about how angry Enji would be if he knew such a perfect little spouse were thinking such nasty little things. 

Shuffling about, he motions for you to hop off his leg, and then stands and leaves the room without speaking to you. You get the feeling he’s coming back, though; he left the door open.

You’re worried. You’re scared beyond belief. This isn’t like him, this entire day is wrong. You’re hoping he’ll burst in and start yelling, the anticipation feels worse than any potential punishment. You consider that maybe this is the punishment and that you should perhaps just start apologising regardless. He didn’t take well to that before though.

This day has made little sense. Enji is acting so far out of his usual behaviour that it doesn’t just scare you because he might hurt you. It scares you because you don’t know what is even happening. It takes you back to the days you first came here—a blurry, hazy mess. You struggle to even remember it. You remember bits and pieces. Chains, fire, the cold, the scent of sex. Small things like that.

You turn your head to the papers on the desk, intrigued by what took up so much of his time. Before you can look away, you see what they are. Letters, addressed to countless people, your parents, Shoto, Rei, Hawks, various news stations.

You glance towards the open door...surely what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him right?

You pick up the letter to the Hawks. 

 Keigo, I write this letter to you as a mentor, and I presume a father figure. I know that in some capacity, you looked up to me. You were just a scared kid, and I helped. That said, if what I have done becomes public knowledge, do not defend me. I do not know how much you know of my dealings, but for the sake of your future, throw me to the dogs. Do not say that I was perfect, or that I did no wrong. When I turn and look at my darling, I see my mistakes for the damning judgments they are. You will be a fine no.1 hero, just let go of your predecessor. Please.

 That alleviated little concern. Undeterred, you move onto the letter to the media.

 To all the news channels and gossip rags that haunt this city like the festering ghouls you are, I detest you. You created division, turned heroics into a popularity contest, seeded doubt during a time where we needed hope, and fought so hard to bring us all to our knees. I know my story will vilify me, so I accept my place in the burning flames of hell. Just know that when you get down there, I will be waiting to enact justice.

 You are practically hyperventilating now. You grab the letter to your parents. You don’t know what these letters are, but they seem like-

The letter is snatched away from your hands. It appears you forgot to watch the door.

Turning around, tears in your eyes, fear in your veins, half-baked excuses running rampant in your mind. You expect to see vengeful Enji with a glint in his eye, telling you it is time for your punishment. Instead, you find an apathetic Enji, eyes soft and watery, stance broken and exhausted.

“I did not want you to see that. I am sorry that you did.”

Enough is enough, you want answers. Pushing against your instincts, you stammer out a question.

“W-What is going on? Why...why are you like this?”

He seems taken aback, eyes opening wide. This minor act of defiance, of speaking out when not spoken to, is enough to break you. Falling to your knees, you look away from him. Aghast that you even thought of defying his wishes.

“I’m sorry! Please, forgive me! I didn’t mean to question you like that! Or read the letters! Please! I didn’t- I don’t-”

A calloused hand grips your shoulder.

“Please. Stop.”

You look up to see Enji’s eyes, dull and watery again.

“Sorry.”

“Trust me, I am sorry too.”

---

The afternoon is spent on the couch, watching TV in Enji’s lap. He seems to notice your nervous disposition, as he slowly envelopes you in a hug the more the hours go by. Eventually, he gets up to make dinner by himself, much to your unvoiced dismay.

You simply stare as he makes it. Both of you silent. He occasionally looks over to you, as if to make sure you haven’t merely vanished into the ether. You feel like you might vanish into the ether, honestly.

You move to the dining table, and a couple of minutes later, he brings out dinner. Silent, he sits down beside you, but a hand stops you from eating.

“Tell me, do you remember when we first met?” he sounds...hopeful.

“Is...Is this a trap?” you ask cautiously. This entire day has put you on edge.

“No. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“I...I can’t remember it, really. Most of those months are...blank, I remember a few pieces of my first couple of months here. They’re admittedly not pleasant memories.”

“I see.”

“I mean, I appreciate that you did those...things you did to me! If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be any good at my job.”

He turns to you and raises an eyebrow.

“Your job?”

“Yeah, loving you, being your spouse.”

“Ah.”

Both of you go quiet. You wait on the signal to start eating. It doesn’t come.

“It was a gala event. You told me how much you hated them, and I laughed and agreed.”

“Ah. Gala’s sound so wonderful, don’t they though? Being outside, getting to dance, to listen to beautiful music.~”

You sway slightly thinking that you could have once been permitted to be a part of such a magical event.

“You may eat now.”

Enji’s command breaks you out of your daydream. He watches as you take your first bite, and follows in kind.

---

When you finish, he seems restless. He gets the plates and puts them in the sink. He then takes you to the living room. He fiddles with a speaker for a couple of seconds, before classical music emerges.

“You said you cannot remember our first meeting, and by extension our first dance. I was wondering, would you like to dance with me?”

Confused, but delighted, you join Enji in the embrace. Softly dancing around the living room, you try to imagine what it was like meeting Enji for the first time. He must’ve seemed so sweet, right? That’s how Enji would come off to a stranger, right?

You lose yourself in the moment, allowing yourself to imagine a life outside of these walls. You would’ve met Enji at the Gala. He would’ve laughed. He would’ve given you his number, the gentlemen that he was. He would’ve taken you to a fancy restaurant for your 1st date. You could’ve shown up at his agency while he was buried under paperwork once, and it would’ve made his day. You could’ve kissed him under the rain, snickering as you pulled away and saw droplets evaporate on contact with his blushing face. He would’ve proposed in a quiet place, with a brilliant ruby. You would’ve met Shoto, and figured out what his deal was. You would’ve grown old together.

But this life is just as beautiful, right?

Enji leans down during the dance and kisses you. Softly, unlike all those times before. It’s beautiful to you. And based on the silent tears running down his face, it’s beautiful to him too.

He pulls you down onto the couch, staring into your eyes as the soft music plays.

“I’m sorry, my love.”

“What for?”

“For a lot of things. For kidnapping you. For...training you. For punishing you. For breaking you, beyond belief. For so many, many different things. You are not the person I fell in love with, you are hardly a person. I broke you, I gutted your personality until all that was left was a shell, echoing any command I gave it. You do not have a soul anymore.”

He pauses, seemingly debating over this next part, ignoring your shaky and scared reassurances.

“And I am also sorry for the poison in our food tonight.”

Your world shatters at that.

“The fatal effects should kick in soon enough. It will not be a nasty death. Even in death, I intend to remain dignified. Or at least, I wish to preserve your beauty.”

You cannot vocalise anything, your mind is failing you. From either the poison or situation, you are unclear.

“There is an antidote on the kitchen counter. If you can get there and drink it, you will live. And if you are feeling ever so generous, you may even give some to me.”

He turns and looks you in the eyes.

“My only command is that you do not get that antidote.”

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me. Disobey me, and save yourself. Or obey me, and die.”

He shrugs.

“I did say I was sorry.”

“I-I...why?”

“Like I said. You are a shell. If you get the antidote, maybe I have not entirely broken you, maybe you can still be saved from my conditioning. If you do not get the antidote, I get to make Dabi just that little bit happier.”

You try to get up and into the kitchen. You really try. Your arms try to push up. You try to move off the couch. But...that feeling of fire licking at your body...it’s paralysing.

You instead collapse back onto the couch, and Enji sighs.

“Can you hold me?”

“Sure, my sweet.”

His arms pull you into his body. You feel yourself getting more and more tired.

“I’m sorry...I couldn’t be...what you wanted...”

“I am sorry I could not be what you wanted either...”

[eternalsimp]

Cursed Fears

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 3096

Warnings: aged up Megumi, use of female pronouns, swearing, mentions of violence, spoilers for episodes 5 and 6, mention of character death, slight sexual themes toward the end, angst, minors dni.

The sound of the rain steadily increasing was the only sound in your apartment as you waited patiently for your boyfriend. Your laptop displayed that it was midnight as you lazily scribbled statistics solutions onto the notes app of your tablet. Once you felt you reached a stopping point you got up to find a long sleeve to stave off the cold that seeped into the apartment from the storm. Striding over to your closet to pull out something to remind you of him. As you grabbed his signature grey shirt, you were immediately hit with the soft scent of cedar-wood. It was thin and soft from years of use. It hung loosely and brought you a sort of comfort as you counted down the minutes ‘til he got home. You weren’t a sorcerer, but you were well aware of the dangers that your friends went out and faced, and the panic in the back of your mind grew louder as the hours passed since Megumi had walked out of the door.

You stifled a yawn as you finally heard the lock to your front door click open and shut. You closed your eyes and stretched your back to loosen the knots that formed from doing your homework on the living room floor. As you made your way to the door to greet your boyfriend, he was frantically kicking his shoes off and stripping himself of his jacket.

“Hey love, how was it?” you said softly while reaching for his rain-soaked torso. He flinched away from your touch, eyes wide and afraid. His blue eyes scan your confused face before he blinks slowly and takes a shuddering breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect you to still be up.” He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before retreating to the bathroom. The smell of blood, dirt, and god knows what else isn’t lost on you as he tries to pass you quickly. You bend to pick his jacket off of the floor where he had tossed it in his haste, and walk to your shared bedroom to put it in the laundry basket. You open the drawers to his side of the dresser to pull out his favorite sweats and a plain white tee-shirt, before gently placing them on the bathroom counter where he is aggressively scrubbing his face. 

“You’re gonna get sick if you stay in those wet clothes much longer,” you say oh so matter of factly before pushing up on your toes to kiss the corner of his jaw. Your movements take him slightly off guard, which you use to your advantage to nudge him to a sitting position on the bench next to the shower. You run a washcloth under the warm water of the sink, move to stand between his legs, and gently brush the cloth against his temple. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch. You both sit in silence as you wipe the remnants of sweat and blood off of his face and neck. You notice the way he's holding your waist, hands so light his touch is barely there. Like he’s afraid you'll break if he makes a wrong move. After you finish wiping his face and neck, you tug at the hem of his soaked shirt and he complies with your wordless command to take it off. You step back out of the bathroom to toss it into the basket with his Jujustu Tech jacket.

When you walk back in, his head is leaning against the cool wall, letting you fully take stock of the bruises and cuts adorning the top half of his body. The worst of it looks like a slight split at the corner of his bottom lip and a shallow cut above one of his brows. You stride over to him and run your fingers through his black hair. “Baby,” you crooned softly. He gave a soft hum in acknowledgment as you nuzzled your nose into the top of his head. “I love you but you smell like a sewer, can you please shower before you fall asleep?” He sticks his tongue out playfully as you back away from him so he can stand up and move towards the shower. 

Though his normal stoic behavior wouldn’t concern you, you still can’t shake the terrified look on his face when he first entered the apartment. How tense he’s holding himself and the way that he’s obviously trying not to worry you. His eyes linger on your face like he’s trying to memorize every aspect of it before he drops his gaze and shakes whatever thought he had out of his head.

You settle back on the living room floor between the coffee table and the couch and turn your attention back to your college notes. You only have time to pick your stylus back up before your phone starts vibrating in your pocket. You look down and see Itadori’s name scrawled across the screen along with a picture of him smiling next to your grouchy-looking boyfriend.

“Hey Yuuji, what’s up?”

“Hey y/n, I know it's late but I just wanted to make sure Fushiguro got back okay.”

“Yeah, he’s in the shower. Do you want me to have him call you when he’s out?”

“No… I just… did he seem okay when he got back?”

You chewed on the corner of your mouth for a second, “I mean, he seemed kinda unsettled but that’s not unusual for when he comes back from your guys' missions.”

“Yeah… yeah you’re right. I don’t know, he just seemed off after everything. Never mind.”

You hear the water shut off in the other room and quirk a brow. “Yuuji you better spit it out or else I’m gonna come over there and start cutting your fingers off! What are you not telling me?”

“On that note, I gotta go. Just talk to him, okay?”

“Wait Yuuji-” the line goes dead before you can press him with more questions. You stuff your phone back into your pocket and tap your stylus on your tablet for a couple of minutes. Just talk to him. Gore and violence are nothing new to Megumi, and he isn’t easily fazed, so what would shake him so bad that even Yuuji is worried?

You’re pulled from your thoughts both literally and figuratively when you feel a pair of muscular arms lift you onto the couch behind you. You are once again settled between your boyfriend's legs as you’re pressed against his strong chest. You yelp and try to wiggle out of his grasp but his years of training with the other Jujustu Sorcerers, even after graduating, leave him with an iron grip on your hips. 

“Hang on let me grab my notes,” you protest. He presses his face into your neck and whines. After a few moments of struggling against him, you manage to snatch your tablet and pen off the ground and open it to your last question. You adjust yourself so your shoulder is against his chest and you can lazily drape your legs over his thigh. He rests his cheek against the crown of your head and readjusts his arms around you so he can still hold you tightly while not blocking your view of your classwork. You scribble notes for a few more minutes before deciding that him falling asleep in this position will mean him complaining of a sore neck in the morning, what with the awkward way it's twisted to lean against you. You could feel his body getting heavier against your own. You remembered what Yuuji had told you, and in an effort to keep him awake, you decided to ask what had been nagging you since he got back home. 

“Are you okay?” All you get in response is another hum from your barely awake boyfriend. You shift again and reach up to run your fingers through his still-damp hair, “‘Gumi, baby, you shouldn't fall asleep here. Let’s go to bed.” He chuckles lightly at the nickname you gave him way back when you first started dating, and how you save it for private moments like this. 

“I just wanna hold you for a bit longer, I promise we’ll get up soon.” Megumi finally murmurs. You don’t miss the way his jaw clenches as you try to fix your gaze upon him. You sigh and set your tablet down before turning to straddle Megumi’s lap and force him to look at you. 

“What’s wrong, you’re more distant than usual?” You rest your hands on either side of his face and turn him to look at you. He avoids eye contact and suddenly you’re looking at the guarded 16-year-old boy who refused to open up to anyone when you first met. You lean to rest your forehead against his as he focuses his gaze somewhere between your jaw and the base of your throat. “Please talk to me? What happened out there?”

Megumi struggles internally on how much to tell you. You mindlessly stroke his cheeks with your thumbs and he finds himself settling his hands back on your waist again, with the same feather-light touch that you would use with glass. Finally, you get his answer in the form of a whisper.

“I’m scared I’m gonna lose you…”

You immediately pull your head back to look at him straight on only to be met with a faraway gaze. You furrow your brows together and squeeze his face just enough to get his attention. His eyes snap to yours and you can see the tears starting to prick at the corners. “I’m not going anywhere ‘Gumi.” You smile at him before pulling him closer to you and he buries his face into your neck.

“Fuck, that’s not what I meant. I’m scared I’m putting you in danger,” his voice is starting to waver, “You didn’t ask for this, any of this. I’m gone all the time, always on missions constantly putting both our lives in danger. I can’t even imagine what would happen if one of the special grades were to find out about you. It’s bad enough Sukuna knows you.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence and you feel his chest shudder.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him. You nudge his face away from your shoulder and see the tears he’s been holding back finally fall. The only other time you can remember him crying like this was when he thought Yuji died. You go back to stroking his face and shushing him but it's too late, the dam is broken and he can no longer hold back the sobs. 

“What if I can’t protect you?” He continues to choke out his fears while you keep stroking his face lovingly and whispering soft reassurances to him that everything is going to be okay and you’re both safe. You let him cry into your chest until his strangled sobs slowly turn into soft sniffles.

“Feeling any better baby?” You gently push at his shoulders and lean him back again so you can look at him. He nods hesitantly and lets you wipe any remaining tears from under his now puffy eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just tired and I guess everything kinda boiled over all at once,” he sighs. You lean down to press a soft kiss to his lips and he instantly melts into it.

“Don’t be sorry Megumi, you can talk to me about anything.” You press another kiss to his forehead and continue rubbing small circles into his jaw to loosen the tension there. After a few moments of holding each other silently, you pipe your voice up again. “Yuji called, he seemed worried. Did something happen tonight?”

You felt Megumi go stiff underneath you before quickly relaxing into your touch again. “Itadori started to lose control and Sukuna was just being a dick, per usual.” You inhale sharply and try to remove yourself from his grasp, you are gonna kill those two one of these days. As if he could read your mind Megumi quickly grabbed your wrists effectively pinning you against his chest once again. “Okay no, stop it. Nothing happened, he was just being mouthy and trying to wind me up. Obviously, it worked...”

“I don’t give a shit what Sukuna says and neither should you. If by some miracle he is able to get out of their pact, Gojo and Yuji would never let anything happen, and neither would you.” You press your forehead against his again since he still has a firm grip on your wrists to keep you from moving away from him. “I don’t care what you think, the safest place for me is right here with you. Sukuna is just bitter that he’s in a cage so he’s decided to make it everyone else's problem.” Megumi chuckles lightly again before releasing your hands and replacing his arms around your waist. 

“We should go to bed, you have class in the morning.” He sighs. You crane your neck to see it’s well past 2 am, you stretch again to release the last couple of cracks in your spine and your boyfriend takes the opportunity to nip at your collarbones and make you squirm against him. 

“If you stop doing that I’ll stay home with you instead, deal?” He jerks his face away from your chest and gives you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. 

“Are you sure? You have exams this week right?” 

“There’s no point in going to a lecture if I’m just gonna fall asleep. I’ll study for my exams tomorrow after I wake up, but I’m planning on sleeping in tomorrow. Both of us need it.” He hums in agreement before trying to lift himself off the couch with you still in his arms. You gasp in surprise as you feel him wobble and stumble back into the couch cushions, tucking you into his neck with a hand to the back of your head to keep your faces from colliding. 

You look at each other and let out a chorus of laughter. You shake your head before pinching his nose gently. “For someone so smart, you are so fucking dumb sometimes.” He scrunches up his face and swats your hand away as you peel yourself out of his arms and off his lap.

“You know, I’ve done it before and I was confident I could do it again. Also, I gotta keep my pretty girl on her toes.” This time it was your turn to swat his hand away as he grabbed at your thighs and rear. You rolled your eyes comically at him and moved towards the bedroom. He jumps up, throws you over his shoulder, before unceremoniously plopping you on the bed with a speed you’ve only ever seen him possess. He hovers over you as he presses his mouth against you in a rushed, teeth-clashing kiss. You push at his shoulder so he can dramatically flop on his back and open his arms expectantly. 

“Give me a sec to change, I’ll be right back.” He whines like a child when you grab your pajama shorts and a tank top from the top of the dresser and stride into the bathroom. You’ve never known anyone to be as handsy as Megumi. He hates PDA and would never in a million years let strangers see through his cold, tough exterior. In the comfort of your home though, you quickly learned that he can never keep his hands to himself and they tend to wander on their own. He always wants to be touching you when you’re home together and he’ll whine and pout if he can’t. You can never find it in your heart to turn down his affection, especially on nights like this when he is feeling vulnerable and needs reassurance. Those nights are few and far between but you indulge your boyfriend in anything he needs whenever his facade starts to crack and you get glimpses of the version of him that he keeps carefully tucked away. 

You pull your jeans and his sweater off and quickly throw your pajamas on. You toss your clothes into the basket from the door and find your boyfriend sprawled on your side of the bed scrolling through his phone. You poke the middle of his back and yank the blanket, covering him from the waist down, to what's supposed to be his side of the bed. His jaw drops in mock offense before he's pulling your front flush against his chest once again. 

His lips latch onto yours again as he's tangling his legs with yours and threading his hands through your hair. You bring your hands under his shirt to stroke your fingertips lightly against his sides as his kisses grow needier and more urgent. One of his hands leaves your hair to grip your hips as he rolls his own into you desperately. You bring one hand to press against his chest lightly and move away from him for air. 

“Baby please…” he looks like he's on the verge of begging. His heart pounds heavily under your fingers on his chest. You press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose.

“‘Gumi, you’re exhausted and very emotional right now, just go to sleep.” His bottom lip sticks out in a cute pout and you lift your hand to run your thumb over his protruding bottom lip. “I promise I will be here in the morning and we have all day tomorrow to hang out and do anything you want.” 

His brows quirk up and his mouth pulls into a smirk. “Anything?” He drops his head to try and catch your lips again but you evade him.

“Anything, if you go to sleep right now and wait ‘til morning.” He scrunches his nose up and huffs pathetically before moving to tuck one arm under your head and wrap the other around your waist protectively. You nuzzle your face into his chest to breathe in the usual smell of cedar-wood and a lingering scent of rain. One of your hands is tucked under his jaw while the other slips back beneath his shirt to keep tracing patterns up and down his sides. He shivers at the featherlight touch of your fingertips but melts into the hand you have on his face.

You can feel his breath growing more rhythmic and you glance up to see his eyes fluttering shut. You press one last kiss to his jaw before murmuring a quiet “I love you” into his chest. He squeezes the arm that's around your waist to pull you impossibly closer to him before you drift to sleep.

“I love you too baby. I promise I’ll always protect you.”

[onlyfreds]

Dancing in the Rain on a Summer Day | F.W.

Title: Dancing in the Rain on a Summer Day

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: During one summer at the Burrow, Fred and Y/N go dancing in the rain.

A/N: This is for @acosmis-t​’s writing challenge with the trope “best friends to lovers” and the prompts: “I want you” and “If we keep kissing in the rain, one of us will catch a cold.”

I woke up at the crack of dawn to the unusual silence that filled the Burrow.

Looking over to the side, seeing that Hermione and Ginny were still fast asleep.

I slowly got out of bed, careful not to wake up the two as I headed downstairs.

Walking out towards the garden, I settled down on the grass, watching the impending sunrise.

“What are you doing awake at this ungodly hour of the morning?” The familiar voice of one of my best friends, Fred Weasley, asked as he sat down beside me.

“Well, I woke up, couldn’t get back to sleep. So here I am.” I said as I rested my head on his shoulder, trying to calm down my racing heart and the butterflies that were starting to come to life in my stomach.

He chuckled, putting a hand around my waist as he pulled me closer to him.

“It’s rare, isn’t it?” I asked, breaking the comfortable silence that has been lingering between us.

“What is?” Fred asked, slightly confused.

“The silence.” I responded as he ran his fingers through my hair.

He licked his lips, “It is. It’s very rare to have quiet moments here.”

“So, you must’ve been staying over here for a long time to get used to all the noise.” He joked.

I playfully rolled my eyes as I smacked his on the arm, “Well, how could I resist the invitation when my favorite Weasley invites me over.”

A cheeky grin adorned his already handsome features, “Oh yeah? Who’s your favorite Weasley then?”

I scoffed, “Isn’t that obvious? My favorite is George.”

He bit his bottom lips, hands dangerously hovering over my sides, “You sure? You still have the chance to take it back sweetheart.”

I giggled, “Okay, okay. I’m pretty sure Ron’s my favorite.”

His hands inched a bit closer, “Sweetheart.” He warned.

I braced myself on one knee, not being able to keep the grin off my face, “Fine, the truth about my favorite Weasley, it’s Ginny.” I said, before standing up and dashing away from Fred as fast as I could.

“Oh, you’re so going to regret what you just said sweetheart.” Fred said before chasing me around the garden.

Being taller and having longer legs, Fred had the advantage of catching up to me even though I had a head start.

He grabbed me by my waist, spinning me around as I erupted into a fit of giggles.

“Not so fast sweetheart.” He said, through laughter as I turned around to face him, resting my arms around his neck.

We stood there, facing each other, breathless from our little chase.

I noticed his eyes flickering from mine down to my lips as he slowly started to lean forward.

My heartbeat started to speed up, I was about to meet him halfway when we heard George’s voice say, “Oi Lovebirds! Quit snogging and let’s get some breakfast.”

Fred groaned under his breath as we pulled apart, walking towards the Burrow.

When we entered the kitchen, Ginny could be seen smacking George at the back of the head, scolding him about something under her breath.

I gave her a confused to look, to which she just gave me a soft smile.

I sat down in between her and Fred as we started to have breakfast.

“What was that about?” I asked her quietly.

She took a bite of her toast, “What was what about?”

I shrugged, “When Fred and I came in, you were scolding George about something.”

She bit her lip, trying to hide a small smile, “Oh, it was nothing. Just another one of his shenanigans that’s all.”

I raised a brow at her, telling her that I didn’t believe her, and just letting the matter slide.

--

Later that day, all of us were sitting in the living room. Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Ron talking amongst themselves. While George, Fred and I were secretly brainstorming products for the shop.

“But what if we put the antidote on the other side of the sweet instead of having it on a separate piece?” George said, looking at Fred for his opinion, but he was just looking straight at me, obviously lost in paradise.

George looked at me, a smug smile a he shook his head, waving a hand in front of his twin.

“Hello! Earth to Freddie!” He said, but it seemed to have no effect on Fred.

I placed a hand on George’s shoulder, “Let me try.” I said before kneeling in front of my best friend.

“Fred, I’m pregnant and you’re the father.” I said as I kicked George’s foot to stop his laughter at what I said.

Fred’s eyes suddenly widened, “You’re pregnant? I’m the father? But, how- when-“

But he relaxed when he saw George and I suddenly burst out in laughter, holding onto each other to keep ourselves from falling over.

“Not funny guys.” He said with a fond smile, “That’s a terrible joke.”

“It’s hilarious! You should’ve seen the look on your face.” George said before bursting into another fit of laughter.

After we had calmed down, George continued, “As I was saying…”

--

After a few more hours of brainstorming, it started to rain outside.

Fred and George exchanged a look that I couldn’t exactly read.

“Wanna go dance in the rain sweetheart?” Fred asked as he stood up, offering me his hand.

I smiled, taking it, “I thought you’d never ask.”

We peeked into the kitchen to see if Molly was busy before running out into the rain.

As we started to get soaked in the rain, Fred said, “May I have this dance?”

I giggled, “Of course you may.”

Our laughs filled the air as he twirled me around.

I rested my arms around his neck, just like the position we were in earlier that morning, before George had called us for breakfast.

Fred pressed our foreheads together, droplets of rain falling down from our faces as I stared into his eyes. The eyes that I would love to spend my whole life getting lost in.

He took a deep breath before whispering, “I want you.”

“What?” I asked, not sure if I heard him right.

“I want you.” He repeated, looking at me, desperation and longing filling his eyes.

“I’ve wanted you ever since I accidentally bumped into you at Platform 9 ¾ when we were eleven.” He said.

I giggled, “I’ve wanted you ever since I fell into your arms and you offered to share your train compartment with me.”

He smiled, leaning forward slightly and I got the gist.

Tip toeing slightly as I met him halfway, connecting our lips together. The moment we had been waiting for had finally arrived.

Cheers can be heard from the rest of the Weasley family as they watched from the kitchen.

We pulled apart, a huge grin on both our faces as the pouring rain continued to soak us from head to toe.

After catching our breath, we leaned in again for another kiss.

“You know,” I said, running my hand through my boyfriend’s ginger locks that was sticking to his forehead, “If we keep kissing in the rain, one of us will catch a cold.”

He chuckled, “It’s worth it anyway.”

We went back to the Burrow as Molly started fussing over us, wrapping a blanket around the both of us as she dried us off with a wave of her wand.

“This is why I had to stop interrupt them this morning Gin.” George explained to his sister with a proud smile on his face.

Ginny rolled her eyes, “You’re right. This ending is more romantic.”

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

@lumosandnoxwriting​​ @wand3ringr0s3​​ @famdomhideout​​ @nova-darling @gaycatlord-stuff​​​  @pandaxnienke​​​ (If you are crossed out, that means I can’t tag you)

[nanamins-kitten]

First kiss

note: I've been thinking about this for daaaaaaaaaays and I finally procrastinated studying to do it

no warning, just soft core Nanami lover

Being dragged to church in itself sucked. Being dragged to church for multiple hours sucked even more. Being dragged to church for multiple hours at night sucked dick and balls.

At least the service was over, after like 2 hours of keeping yourself occupied with watching your candle burn and the wax travel down until there was no more string to keep the light alive, and the church was surrounded by nature, lots of trees and a whole row of blossoming magnolia trees.

But it was still after midnight. And it was slightly chilly.

And it started raining.

You grumpled. You had no umbrella and no hood on your white overcoat and stopping somewhere would just take more time to get home. Swearing inside your head, you continued your walk along the magnolia trees.

'Excuse me...'

Suddenly no water was hitting your head anymore. Looking up, and towards the voice that came behind you, a umbrella was now shielding you from the falling water, held by a young guy with blonde hair and bangs falling into one side of his face. You slightly compared it to those of the emo guys that were all over quotev and wattpad covers when you were still active on there, but it was suiting him and his slightly tired, yet defined, face. He seemed to be wearing some sort of uniform, a school uniform.

'You, um, seemed not prepared for the weather.' he said once you two locked eyes.

'Yeah, I made the mistake to not check the weather forecast' you laughed nervously, a little shy at talking with a stranger and slightly intimidated by him. He was tall, very tall, and he was really pretty, and very close to you, sitting under the same umbrella. But he seemed a little shy, or stand off-ish, unsure in his movements, like an awkward teenager. That comforted you.

He looked away for a second, seemingly thinking, pondering something, before looking ahead the magnolia trees again. 'There is a bit of a walk till the gate. Let me walk you there.'

'Oh, thank you! You shouldn't have, but thank you.' Starting to walk on the road again, at a comfortable pace, you continued to look at him and smiled genuinely. 'You're really nice to do that.'

That seemed to make the boy blush a bit, making you smile more, keeping a giggle inside. He was really cute, wasn't he?

'I think that you also look very nice.'

Now it was your turn to blush. It was nice to be complimented by someone you were attracted to.

'Thank you.'

He hummed and the two of you continued to walk quietly. It was actually nice now that you were covered. The smell of rain and spring flowers in the air, the soft nightlights and no busy noise around felt actually close to a date, a perfect date. Step by step, you observed the boy had slowly gotten closer and closer to you, enough that he was in your personal space now, not uncomfortably so, but just enough like someone that you are close to. His hand with the umbrella was between the two of you, his upper arm touching yours. You liked the closeness and tried to swiftly bump your shoulder into his (which was pretty hard, since he was so tall and you could only touch his arm with your shoulder) and it was nice. It felt warmer, even if it had actually gotten slightly windy, but the silence in his presence was actually comforting, and he didn't mind when you lowly hummed a tune.

Finally, the gate was reached.

You turn towards the boy, smiling softly. The rain is much gentler now, but the wind started picking up. 'Thank you again for being so nice.' The gate was right there, a few steps ahead. But you felt the need to do something. So you stepped on your toes and leaned to peck his right cheek, on the spot that wasn't covered by his hair. It was closer to the corner of his mouth than you had planned, which made you blush and bite your lip nervously when you pulled back and were to continue to walk away.

Until he caught your hand.

His face was adorned by a rosy pink and his face was scrunched in some kind of confusion. Was it because you kissed you him? Was it because he didn't know how to react?

Stepping again closer to him, so his arm dropped, but his hand still in yours, you looked him in the eye and waited for him to make the next move. To see what idea is in his mind, what is he planning.

He locked his eyes with yours. He looked determined, a little intimidating, but there was no feeling of fear around you, he didn't want to hurt you. So you didn't move. His head leaned closer to yours and his hand, the one that one second ago was grabbing your hand, reached for your cheek, his knuckles caressing blushed skin. When your noses touched each other, he stopped in his tracks, unsure if to continue or not, if you changed your mind or not. You could feel his anxiety cascading out of him.

So you moved your head forward, your noses rubbing onto his this time, as consent to go ahead. It was a soft peck on the lips, just as gentle as the kiss you left on his cheek. His lips were slightly chapped and felt salty, like he just ate something very recent, but it melted your knees from how gentle it was when he cupped your face with the one hand.

You felt a sudden weight on you, looming, and you opened your eyes in shock to see him stumbling over you.

The wind had picked up suddenly and powerful and stole the umbrella away, exposing the two of you to the rain again. You broke apart to take the image of the umbrella flying away at big speed in, but then your vision went black as a piece of cloth went over your face and a yelp escaped your lips. Turning back to the boy, you understood he took his uniform jacket off and put it over your head to protect you from the rain, while he was completely exposed to the water droplets carried aggressively by the wind. His face was flushed more and more, and he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

'I don't want you to get wet.'

You weren't sure why that sentence hit you in the guts as hard as it did. Was it the gentle way he was holding the jacket so he could still see your face? Or maybe it was the way he was looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world and was afraid of accidentally bruising you?

Maybe it was all of it that made you smile cutely, cup his face with both hands and tug him down, where you kissed him lovingly, like he was the love of your life. He was surprised, shocked, but his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you there.

You felt something soft under your hands, but it was not his face, it was softer and lighter, easily to grab and squeeze.

You woke up, eyes slowly fluttering to the morning sun. There were no more rain, no more night, no more church, magnolias, and the boy disappeared completely. Just you naked under the duvet.

Two arms squeezed your waist and a pair of lips left a kiss on your cheek, and then the face all those limbs belonged to nuzzled against yours. "Did you have a good sleep, darling?"

He didn't disappear.

He just grew up.

"Kento," you whined in your sleepy voice, turning in his arms to face him, "I had such a beautiful dream. And you were there too?"

His eyes were still closed, but he hummed as a sign that he was listening. "Is that so?"

"Yes, but actually it wasn't you... it were you when you were still a student, like I saw in the pictures when Gojo showed me."

Nanami groaned. "Please don't mention him first thing in the morning, kitten."

You giggled a bit. "Sorry, sweetheart. Will not happen again." You kissed his nose in apology. "And I was a student too, I think, and we met one silent, rainy night and you walked me with an umbrella and then we kissed."

He squeezed you closer to his chest at your words, kissing your forehead. "I like your dream, kitten."

"Me too." A dreamy sigh left your lips as your fingers were leaving circular patterns on his shoulder. "You know, if that would have been reality, you would have been my first kiss."

"Was I a good first kiss?"

Looking up to him, his eyes were still closed. You continued with your skin patterns, pointedly ignoring his question.

Immediately, his eyes opened and he lowered his head to look at you. You continued with your silly little task, trying not to smile when he moved to ask you again. "I believe I asked you something, kitten."

Damn him and his sexy morning voice, even deeper than usual, and his strong arms grabbing your naked skin so expertly.

"I mean..." you knew teasing Nanami had its limits, but it was way too fun sometimes. Like right now. "It was as good as a kiss as a dream kiss could be. You were really cute and shy then, all blushy and hesitant." Finally, you left a giggle out, remembering how cute he was, you wanted to squeeze him to your chest.

The Nanami you had with you then and there, however, was nowhere near the shy awkward teenager from you dream. He easily flipped you on your back, hands softly pinned on each side of your head, the duvet uncovering your body as he loomed over you.

Going for your right ear, he trailed kisses down to your neck, biting the skin near the shoulder. You moaned and bit your lip, embarrassed by the sound, even after so much time of dating Nanami.

"Aren't you the shy one now?" the whisper in your ear sent shivers down your spine, and warmth shooting through the whole body.

"Kento..." you started, intertwining you fingers with his while he held you down, staring you down.

"What is it, kitten?"

Your eyes travelled to his lips and stayed there for a few seconds, not saying anything.

"I need words, kitten."

Locking eyes with him again, you whispered "Kiss me like it's the first and last time, please."