#and today he will laugh and cry reminiscing

[0ransje]

We may be going extinct but at least we have each other.

[gojossocks]

We can't be friends

Gojo x Reader Summary: You decided to erase Gojo from your memory.

“Who is Gojo Satoru to you?”  

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, before giving the doctor a tight-lipped smile. “W-we were together for 6 years.” 

He’s no one important really, just the love of your life. 

There has been an on-going trend all over the world— technology has upgraded enough that you can erase someone entirely out of your memory, as if they’ve never existed. If they do, it wasn’t like how you knew them. 

You weren’t sure what dragged you in this clinic with all of the most important things that remind you of him. Maybe it was the way he ignored you like the plague, the way the familiarity in his eyes disappeared just earlier last week when he spoke to you so freely like you’ve never been together. It was clear that he got his memory of you erased after that incident. You were just another colleague. Perhaps, the pain in your heart is too much to handle. 

You don’t remember the way to the clinic that much. It was a surprise you even got there in one piece considering you were sobbing the whole way there. So even if you aren’t entirely sure whether you’re ready to let go of Satoru, you signed the consent form anyway. 

If he’s got you erased completely from your life, then what’s the point of living in hell remembering him? You didn’t want to mourn for someone alive and well. 

You never really understood why he left because everything was just working out between the two of you. Satoru provided you with no explanation and packed up his things to leave you behind to your own devices. You almost wanted to back out when you started reminiscing vividly of everything you once shared with him. 

You remembered falling in love with him, how it feels like the first day of spring, how his kisses taste like daylight. How he squeezes your hand three times before you part ways for a mission.  How he holds you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world. How it was always you and him against the world, him making you laugh while you tended to his wounds. He would tell you that everything would be okay because he has you and only you. 

The bad outweighed the good that you had forgotten that loving him and being loved with him is something that you never wanted to forget, even if your relationship with him crashed and burned. You don’t want him to be a stranger you can’t recognize anymore.

But it had already been done and everything faded into nothingness as you try to grasp with whatever you have left of him.

-.- 

You have been working with Gojo for quite some time now, maybe about six years. But you’ve never directly initiated conversations with him outside work. He’s the only one you don’t know much about in Jujutsu High. Today is no different as you’re waiting with him in the clinic for your mutual friend Shoko. 

“That’s a beautiful necklace you have there.” He acknowledges you for the first time since you got there. Even if you’re just a few meters away, he doesn’t talk to you. You find that a little bit weird because everyone tells you that he’s obnoxious and loud. Somehow with you, he’s always quiet. 

You didn’t remember much of how you got the necklace. You figured that the reason why Gojo’s asking about it is because it matches the color of his eyes. There was a hazy memory though— you were crying, telling a doctor to ‘let me keep it, please. Just this one.’ but you didn’t think much of it. Maybe it was all a dream. 

You responded with a laugh before toying with the pendant of the necklace. “Yeah, It was a gift to me.” 

“Oh?” He looked at you through his glasses, his intense gaze making you feel a little nervous. “Mind telling me who?” 

“I forgot.” You replied,  slowly relaxing in your seat while looking around at Shoko’s clinic. He nodded at you, a small smile adorning his lips and he didn’t say anything more. 

You missed the way his eyes linger on you for a moment before putting back his blindfold on or the apologetic look that Shoko gave him before he leaves. 

“So, who’s Gojo Satoru to you?” 

“He’s the strongest of course.” 

But to him, you’re still his everything—because he didn’t really remove you from his memory. Maybe if he was braver, you’d remember him. 

a/ n: part 2? :0

[ghettogirly]

how do you think armando would react if he and the reader have their first child (they turn Mike into a grandfather lol) and Armando wants to do things right

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑!

━━��━━━━━━━━━━━

-> synopsis: how would armando be once the child is born?

-> format: headcanon.

-> theme: fluff + comedy.

-> warning: none.

-> authors note: finally catching up on requests! hope you enjoyed! this is not proofread. 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝! 🌸

part 1 is here!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-> you was currently at the hospital, laying in the bed.

-> Armando and the baby was beside you, holding your son as he currently sat down in the chair next to the bed.

-> rocking his son backwards and forwards while you was relaxing.

-> you would never of thought it was your son as well, both attached to each other like glue. he looked exactly like Armando as well.

-> reminiscing back to when he was first in your arms, you noticed all the similarities the two had. The same head shape, same eyes, same wavy hair that was already apparent, same little smirk they do.

-> it was like they were twins.

-> marcus was right, that lowery dna is a bitch.

-> the door slightly opened to the left of you and you noticed the two older males slowly creep in, not wanting to disturb you guys, especially if the baby was sleeping.

-> “oh my god. Mike hold me, i’m about to cry man!!” Marcus exclaimed while trying to fall into Mike’s arms who just pushed him off.

-> “can you shut up!”

-> walking over to armando, mike put his hand on his shoulder. “I’m really happy for the two of you.”

-> armando nodded, “thanks.”

-> retracting his hand, mike just watched the interaction between Armando and his grandson. Not wanting to pry too much and allow the two to have their moment.

-> Marcus walked up behind him before putting his hand on his shoulder. Already knowing the reason for Mike’s obvious distance.

-> “¿quieres sostenerlo?” the latino asked his father, looking up at him.

-> “of course.”

-> Armando gently placed his son in his Mike’s arms, who embraced the tiny human. Looking at his features, Mike gently chuckled. “Man he looks like you bad.”

-> Marcus who looked at the little man, laughed along also. “What did i tell you?”

-> the baby then smiled and cooed in Mike’s arm causing a tear to slide down his cheek. “Man…”

-> “¿Te estás ablandando conmigo, papá?”

-> lightly shoving him, Mike laughed. “Don’t forget how i kicked your ass that one time.”

-> You giggled slightly in your hospital bed, continuing to now scroll on your phone.

-> “You’re not supposed to laugh at me baby.”

-> A gasp suddenly appeared from within the room. Marcus with his hands over his mouth, stared at one specific section of the hospital room. “Y’all about to make me cry up in here today.”

-> “Man what you bitching ab-“

-> Upon the crib was a golden sign that had words inscribed upon it. ‘This little boy is called: Alejandro Micheal Lowery.’

-> Mike whipped his head between you and Armando several times in disbelief, tears welling up in his eyes. Looking straight up at Armando whose eyes was also slightly glossy.

-> “Thank you son.”

-> “ Lo estoy haciendo bien por los dos, papá.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“¿quieres sostenerlo?”: Do you want to hold him?

“¿Te estás ablandando conmigo, papá?” : You getting soft on me dad?

“Lo estoy haciendo bien por los dos, papá.” : Im doing it right for the both of us dad.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @shurisgf @milliumizoomi @tyneshaaa @yeahnohoneybye @wizewhispers @amplifiedmoan @5tarlan7 @thedarkworldofhananerea @deadpool15 @armandosbabymama @sarcasticbitchsblog @dyttomori @believeinthefireflies95 @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful

[hwangism143]

𓆩♡𓆪 how skz would propose to you. 𓆩♡𓆪

BANG CHAN

he would invite you over (or sneak, i should say) to the studio for a date cuz you both do this all the time

sometimes, he plays you snippets of songs he's working on, other times, you're just talking the night away while getting some work done

anyways, today he's playing you one of his songs

you're just completely immersed in the music and when it ends the lingering feeling of wanting more is left behind

how could it not? the song was about spending an eternity with you

you're about to turn around and profess your love for chan for the millionth time when you see him

he's on one knee and lets out a choked, "i meant everything in that song. i didn't know what love was before i met you, but you have shown me love and so much more. marry me?"

ofc you say yes (i mean, i would) and just end up falling asleep on his couch

LEE MINHO

you guys go to your favorite cat cafe, and bring the kids (cats?) along with you too

suddenly, soonie comes along with a note stuck to her back - "will you be our parent? i mean, for real?"

you look at minho who's playing with the cats on the other side of the room, confused, but he doesn't see you

(actually, he's blushing like crazy and is too scared to make eye contact lmao)

that is until you walk over to him and give him a nudge

he's beaming at you (this boy istg) and gets down on one knee

"we can't let our kids be a part of a dysfunctional family. they another parent, and they love having you around. actually, no, they love you. and they wanna grow old with you. so. will you, uhm, marry me? their father?"

(pls im giggling at this myself)

SEO CHANGBIN

you guys are out on a date at a fancy restaurant and changbin's acting extra giggly

now mind you, this is seo changbin. extra giggly is far more than what you would imagine

you're finally done eating and slump against your chair when the server brings another plate of food

you look at changbin with a "bro. i'm full." but the bro in question is just looking at you.

you look down at the tray placed in front of you.

"will you marry me?" it says with a ring in the middle?

"be my permanent gym partner?" asks changbin hopefully

and you say yes (bcuz who in their right mind wouldn't ???)

HWANG HYUNJIN

we all know how extra this man is, so when he insists that you two go to the bookshop where you first met, you don't protest

you're scanning the bookshelf, reminiscing about how you both bonded over monet and jane austen at this very shop

then you here a little gasp in front of you

naturally, your first instinct is to turn around and check on hyunjin

and he is down on one knee, a sobbing mess (but still cute, y'know)

"you have, and always will be my muse," he says, "so will you make me the happiest man alive and do me the honor of being your husband?"

he slides the ring onto your finger and pulls you into a hug and you're both crying and laughing and

(i'm sorry this is so cute, goodbye)

HAN JISUNG

you had made up your mind - is jisung wasn't going to propose to you, you would propose to him

(get it, queen or king or gender non-identifying reader!)

and so you're on your rooftop building when he goes "i need to tell you something" and funnily enough, so do you

(i wonder what that's about... hehehe)

after a series of 'you first', 'no you'. jisung admits defeat and slides you over the ring box

wordlessly, you slide over your box

the two of you just start laughing because, idiots in love

and then you squish jisung and start peppering him with kisses

LEE FELIX

it's a beach date!

absolutely perfect, all complete with bokkie's brownies

but felix is acting kinda nervous.

(and by nervous i mean his face is beet red and he's stuttering like crazy)

(what can you say, my boy is in love)

you're eating the last brownie when he says "close you eyes"

you do and you hear some shuffling.

you open your eyes to a sniffling felix propped up on one knee. "can I be your personal brownie chef for the rest of forever?"

who can say no to an offer like that?

KIM SEUNGMIN

you both were coming home from one of your numerous dates

it was the perfect night to be walking outside, but seungmin seemed really shifty

he was NOT enjoying himself

"are you cheating on me?" you ask jokingly

"far from it actually," he retorts, suddenly letting go of your hand.

you turn to find him in the middle of the street with a ring in his hand

"marry me. will you? please? i've had this ring with me for months and i didn't know when to propose but now i know, well like i always knew-"

you promptly shut him up with a kiss and a breathless yes

YANG JEONGIN

nothing was going according to plan for innie. you spent too much time picking an ice cream flavor and he knew that he was spending too much time at this clothing store

but they just got a new collection

and so he waits until you both are done so that he can take you to that really drmamtic fountain in front of the mall and propose to you

but watching you pick out your clothes, he realizes he wants to do this for the rest of forever

so this man promptly plops down on one knee in the middle of a department store and screams, "WILL YOU MARRY ME AND BE MY SHOPPING BUDDY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE? WE CAN BE EACH OTHERS PROBLEMS"

you just look at him confused holding up a t-shirt, "UH OKAY I'LL MARRY YOU AND WE CAN BE EACH OTHERS PROBLEMS"

you both are so loud that you nearly get kicked

(later he makes you buy him ice cream because he's a baby who's done a good job and deserves a reward)

[professor-beaker]

(Warning: very long rant about growing up religious and aroace. Might delete this in an hour. Idk)

Dear mom and dad,

Do you remember when i was 14, and had my first kiss? You probably dont- for you, it was just another sunday. He was one of my only church friends, and he pulled me, alone, into one of the music rooms after sacrament meeting. You encouraged me to go with him, because you could read the signs i couldnt. He was very polite, but when we kissed and he grabbed my hand on the way out, it felt more wrong than anything id experienced before. I ran back to you, crying, and you walked me through rejecting him. You basically told me that i was just too young, that it would get better, but it certainly didnt feel that way at the time. Every time youve reminisced on it since, it was only to laugh at my expense. At my naievety.

I tried to take your words to heart. I tried to listen each time our church would preach about how essential families were and each time you told me how happy you two were. It didnt work.

Do you remember when i was 15, and i told you, mom, that adopting sounded way better than having biological kids? You got so offended, and i had no idea why. I still dont. You told me it was a natural part of life, that we were supposed to bring children into this world. I tried to explain my reasoning- why would i want my own children when there are those who are suffering on their own? When the thought of procreation made me sick?- but you dismissed it. It was just another day.

Do you remember the brief period when i was 15, when i dated a girl? I assume you dont, because you never found out. I lived in constant fear, because the comments you would make at the dinner table described lgbtq+ as an affront to God, as unnatural. I had thought that men were the problem, and she was my first real partner. But nothing changed, it still felt wrong, and we fell back into only being friends. I hadnt told you about that until today, because i knew exactly what youd say about it. I knew exactly what youd say about me.

Do you remember the boy i met when i was 16? The one with the curly hair and the kind smile. You were always pushing me toward him, because you saw how he looked at me (i saw, too- and i didnt like it). He took me to homecoming, and prom, and danced too close to me for my liking. You always asked if we were a thing yet- and when i said no, you smiled knowingly. I hated that smile. And you smiled that smile for years.

I reconnected with him when i was home over winter break. We hung out once, i told him my sexuality, and he barely reacted. When you asked how it went, i told you i rejected him romantically, but we were still friends. Do you remember what you said, mom? You said, "so you broke his heart and left." I cried that night.

Do you remember when you found my aroace pins a month ago? Im at college in a different state- a religious college you wanted me to go to- and you still made it your priority to berate me for it. I dont know if you could tell how angry i was over the phone, but when you said "asexual and things are just looking for attention", it broke my heart.

Because i figured it out when i was 17. Because it took me two years to finally accept it in a religion that very strongly emphasized the family unit. Because i finally felt accepted, i felt heard, i wasnt being dismissed at every corner. Because i had something to explain why i was like this.

Because i finally didnt feel broken.

I never doubted that you loved me- not once, ever, in my life. Not until you started degrading me for something i couldnt control. Not until you started pressuring me to date people i would much rather be friends with. If youre not going to love all of me, then do you even love me at all?

I hope you know that i still love you, despite everything. But i hate the way you talk to me now, the way you talk to others about me. And i hope that one day, you, too, will realize that im not broken, or affronting God, or unnatural. I hope you realize that im still your child.

I hope you realize im still human.

[dollfacefantasy]

okayokay so i was hoping you could write something for leon x chubby!reader? i swear there is not enough of that genre out there- i was thinking the reader could be feeling insecure about their weight and leon comes home to them upset on the couch :(( after some comforting and fluffy stuff he CARRIES reader to the bedroom. (as a chubby girl i fold for anyone who can carry me lol) any leon would work for this hes so precious i just wanna keep him safe and sound in my pocket ☹️🫶 anyways i tried to keep this broad enough for you to use your imagination,, i love you writing!! <3

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!chubby!reader

summary: you're feeling down about yourself and leon just can't have that

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), face sitting, features reader's weight insecurities and people being critical of her weight

word count: 3.6k

a/n: thanks for the request! i hope it was what you were looking for :) reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

You didn’t expect today to be a good day, but now, in your position curled up and wallowing on the couch, you wish your intuition had been wrong. You lie on the plush cushions, face pressed against a pillow, limbs retracted and held close to your body. You weren’t crying, but it felt like every couple minutes your eyes began to sting with the threat of tears falling. You tried telling yourself to get a grip, to grow up and just move on. This shouldn’t still hurt you so much.

But, like always, beating yourself up didn’t do anything to improve your emotional state. You continue half-paying attention to the movie you put on. It was your comfort movie, one that you put on whenever you were down. Right now though, it wasn’t helping. Your partially unfocused eyes fixate on the screen and watch the lead actress move about. She looks good constantly, her outfits flatter her figure and flaunt her features. All you’re left thinking is why can’t I look like that?

The story playing out in front of you has a bitter taste this time and only serves to remind you of all the words you heard today. Whenever you were around your family for extended periods of time, the conversation moved in this direction. One moment you’d be laughing over a funny story or reminiscing about the past, and then the next, you were being recommended diets or invited to come to the gym in what was your relatives' version of subtlety. And no matter how many times it happened, it still hurt like it was the first.

Sometimes, Leon could spare you from it. When he came around, all the attention would be on him, a newcomer who they didn’t know so much about. But on days like today, when you had to endure their company on your own, it was bound to happen.

Leon didn’t even know he was protecting you with his mere presence. You’d never told him about the passive aggressive remarks or the whispers across the room. He had enough problems of his own to deal with. You didn’t want to pile on by weeping to him, sounding like some shitty after school special. So instead, you resigned yourself to this, sinking into your self-pity until you were distracted enough to forget about it until next time.

Not much more of your movie plays before you hear the familiar sound of Leon’s keys outside the door. He comes in, offering you a small smile as he takes his jacket off and kicks his boots aside. You straighten up a little bit but not too much. Normally, you’d try to conceal all of this from him, but you were just too worn down today.

He’d been out dealing with some last minute things for work before he got a little time off for a couple weeks. He walks behind the couch to the kitchen, taking a moment to ruffle your hair as he goes by.

“How’s your day going? You had to go to that thing with your family right? Everything went well?” he asks from the kitchen.

“Yeah. It was fine,” you respond simply, “How’s yours? Get everything done?”

“Mhm,” he hums. You couldn’t see him, but he was watching you. He could tell something was up. He takes a few swigs of his drink before heading to the couch and sitting down with you. Glancing over at you a few times, he observes the way you’re watching the movie. The slight frown on your lips, your uninterested eyes.

“Hey, c’mere,” he says gently, “I missed you today.”

With a gentle tug of your wrist, he guides you across the couch. You slide over on the seats so you’re leaned against his side looking up at him. Like always, you put your head on his chest, his fingers find their way to your head and stroke it lovingly. His other hand makes his way to your side, tenderly squeezing your waist, and in-turn, gripping the plump flesh there. You loved the touch, but right now, it further amplifies your self-consciousness. You’re painfully aware of the shape of your body at this moment.

“You feeling ok?” he asks softly.

You simply nod in response, but it’s like he can see the gears turning in your head, cranking out one bad thought after the next.

“C’mon, tell me what’s wrong, pretty girl,” he coos, dragging his thumb over your cheek.

He called you that a fair amount, but in your current state, it just grated on your already frayed nerve endings. You swallow around the lump forming in your throat. “Nothing’s wrong,” you reply.

Your answer doesn’t satisfy him though. He’s not convinced. Any other day you’d talk his ear off about how you couldn’t believe someone did this or how there was no way another said that. You’d be all over him too. It seemed like you could never get enough of kissing his face or nuzzling his neck. But today you were quiet. Quiet and stiff.

“I know it’s something, baby. You can tell me. There’s nothing in this world I’d judge you for,” he murmurs before kissing your forehead.

You really wanna tell him. It shouldn’t be hard. The rational part of your brain knew all he’d do was make you feel better. Give you some smooches, whisper compliments against your skin as his hands rub you all over. The other part of you though, the irrational, scared girl hidden inside, kept you anxious. She kept you believing that this was something you had to bear alone. Even the fact that you were insecure in the first place was embarrassing.

In a move that made you feel overwhelmingly pathetic, you just shake your head. You push your face against his chest and remain silent. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat helps a little to calm you, but you still can’t force the words out.

He only grows more concerned as you shy away. He thought you just didn’t feel good, maybe a little gloomy, maybe had a headache. But this was clearly something deeper. His arms tighten around you, rubbing your back.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” he asks, “Talk to me. Breaks my heart seeing you sad.”

You can’t even stop the hot tears from sliding down your cheeks at this point. Sucking in a harsh breath, you cling to him. He sees you’re crying even though you’re quiet. He whispers a few more reassurances, trying to coax you into sharing what’s the matter.

“It’s just… do you… are you… are you attracted to me?” you choke out. Even the way you phrase it makes you wanna curl up and die.

He’s stunned. Honestly, that’s the last question he expected to hear between your soft gasps.

“What? Of course I am,” he says without a second thought.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to lie to me. I can take it,” you sob, keeping your face shielded against the muscles beneath his shirt.

“Yes I’m sure. Hey, hey,” he says. His tone drips with worry as he guides your face to look up at him, “Where’s this coming from, baby? Did I say something that made you think that?”

“N-no,” you cry, tears wetting his shirt by this point, “I- it’s just… I don’t…”

“Take a deep breath. It’s ok,” he whispers, “I just wanna know why you would be worried about that, babe?”

You follow his advice and get yourself calm enough that you can speak, but again, you can’t actually get the syllables out without losing it.

“Cause just look at me,” you weep and gesture at your figure.

“I am looking at you,” he says, still not understanding the issue.

“You’re telling me this is what you want?” you cry. You say it almost like an accusation. Like the word liar is on the tip of your tongue.

“Yes? I can’t help if you don’t tell me what the problem is, and I’m really not seeing a problem,” he says. He’s such a sweetheart. Doesn’t get defensive with you, doesn’t tell you to cool it. He’s understanding as ever, and it just makes you feel worse about your blow up.

“You really like me even though I’m chubby?” you finally blurt out.

His eyes soften when the words reach his ears. 

“Oh, baby…” he coos and pulls you onto his lap. It makes you uncomfortable at first, being on top of him, but he doesn’t even react to your weight on his thighs. “I love your body, every single part of it. You never need to worry about that.”

After that, everything comes spilling out. Every derogatory comment, every side eye, every single condescending smile. You ramble on about all of it through your tears. He nods along and shakes his head in disapproval when you tell him about your cousin’s birthday party when someone asked if you really needed a slice of cake. Or Christmas when your aunt cornered you to sell you on these diet shots her doctor prescribed her and how she could get you some easily.

“I never want you worrying about that kind of shit,” he tells you once it seems like your rant has come to a conclusion.

You sniffle and nod, burrowing into him further.

“I mean it. Cause for one, you're more than that. You’re sweet, so fucking sweet. You’re smart, funny. You’re you, and that’s what I love. I love talking to you, can’t get enough of your voice,” he murmurs as he kisses your cheeks and temple, “I notice all that before I’d ever notice whatever bullshit they tell you to feel bad about.”

“I know,” you whimper. Before you can say anything else, he keeps going.

“And you asked me if I’m attracted to you? That’s an easy answer, babe,” he says. He lifts you a little, shifting you on his lap so you’re straddling him. His hands squeeze your hips and rub up and down your sides. “You don’t understand how attracted to you I am. I cum harder jerking off while I think of you than I ever did fucking anyone else.”

You gaze down at him. Heat rushes through you at that admission. Your crying has come to a halt now as you hang onto each word of his.

“I mean, really honey? What wouldn’t I like?” he purrs, “You seriously believe I wouldn’t love how soft you are? All the curves I feel press up against me when you give me a hug or you wanna cuddle?”

His hands run along your skin with more teasing now.

“Your tummy? Fucking love it. Love how you get all squirmy when I rub and kiss it how you like,” he breathes as he tugs you forward so your front is against his. He kisses your lips softly. “Love feeling those round cheeks covered in tears and drool when you start losing it for me. And your thighs? I can’t get enough of ‘em clamped around my head when I’m eating your pussy. Fucking things squeeze me till I think I’m dreaming.”

Well, didn’t you feel stupid now. As Leon continues preaching about your body like he’s referencing a divine being, his hands roam your body, sending shivers up your spine. His fingers knead the flesh of your ass before coasting around to your tits and taking handfuls of them.

“I can only say so much, dolly. Think you should just let me show you how much I love it,” he breathes against the shell of your ear.

“Ok,” you agree. So simple it draws a small chuckle from his throat.

Without the slightest hesitation, he stands up, taking you with him. He hoists you up and doesn’t even let the smallest grunt slip from between his lips. You let out a tiny squeak which turns his chuckle to a full laugh.

“Leon…” you start with uncertainty.

“Nope. None of that,” he shushes you.

He boosts you up, getting you comfortable in his arms. Your legs lock around his waist just as he starts to move. Padding away from the couch, he takes you to the bedroom. He’s not straining himself at all. He glides through the doorway with you cradled against his abdomen like this was the most natural thing in the world. In all honesty, you weren’t too much for him in the slightest. All the training he did for his government job had prepared him to carry more weight than you.

He sets you down on the bed, crawling on top of you. His lips meet yours as he leans down and connects the two of you in a series of wet kisses. His hands glide beneath the fabric of your shirt, feeling your skin and the warmth of your body. After making out for a while more, he pulls back. He kneels above you, breathing heavily as he peels off his shirt. His toned abs and chest come into view. You’re still taking in the sight of him as he starts undoing his pants. To match him, you slowly begin to remove your own attire.

Soon enough, the both of you are nude. You expect him to get back on top of you and drill you into the bed until you’re seeing stars. But instead, he flops down next to you on the mattress, looking at you with a lopsided smile.

“You want me on top?” you ask as you begin to move yourself into position.

“I do. But not how you’re thinking.”

You pause, trying to figure out what he meant. It clicks in your mind suddenly as you're looking at his smug expression. He wanted you to sit on his face. He’d asked you to once or twice before, but you usually got out of it by playing up your neediness and acting like you needed his cock that very moment or you would explode.

There was no excuse that would spare you from this now though. You look him in the eyes and shake your head. His only response is to playfully nod at you and give your hips a little tug, urging you up his chest.

“Leon…” you whisper nervously. You wanted to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Don’t give me that,” he teases. His tone transitions to a more genuine one as he says “Let me do this for you.”

You hesitate once more, but another light pull of your hips has you tentatively scooting forward on top of him. You brush by his chest and neck until you’re hovering above his head. He lets out a sigh just from feeling the heat of your thighs on either side of him. His elbows bend around your thighs, keeping you in position. He looks up at you and finds your nervous eyes to give you a comforting look.

“I’m gonna crush you,” you say as if to warn him.

“You better,” he responds.

And that’s all the talking he needs to do before pulling your hips down and mashing your cunt against his mouth. You gasp as you feel his tongue licking you up and down already. He groans when he tastes your slick. Diving in further, his mouth opens and closes as he pleasures you. He sucks on your clit and massages your entrance.

Your arm shoots out to hold onto the headboard for balance. Your hips involuntarily rock back and forth, smearing your arousal over his chin and lips. He keeps you in place for the most part, but he doesn’t restrain your movements. If anything, he devours you with increased fervor.

“That’s right, baby. Ride it,” he mumbles against your folds.

He tightens his grip a bit as he licks broad stripes over your pussy. His nose nudges your swollen bundle of nerves, ripping sharp whimpers from you. You roll your hips into the sensation. He nearly whines while feeling the fluid motion. He keeps lapping at you like it was the task he was born to perform.

Then you feel a thrum on your hip, his fingers tapping. You look down, at first worried he needed you to get off. But looking down, you find his hooded eyes gazing back at you and his index finger gesturing behind you.

You turn to look and see his cock, rock hard, flushed red, leaking a few drops of pre cum onto his abdomen.

“You see how attracted to you I am?” he asks.

You moan loud as he returns to eating you out like it’s his final action. Seeing him so worked up from merely pleasuring you drives you wild and has you gushing all over his chin. You whimper and grind down onto his mouth some more. Your head falls back, your chest heaving and bouncing as you accept the euphoric feeling below. You reach down and tug at his hair. He practically growls and continues to work you to the edge. He pays some special attention to your clit and fucks his tongue into you to finally get you there.

“Be a good girl and cum all over my face,” he commands between licks.

You release with a yelp. Your hips buck as your body spasms. Thighs tremble violently before tensing and pressing against his ears. He smirks against the velvety junction and keeps going through the high.

Once you start to come down, he releases you from his grip and gives you a firm smack on the ass. You slump over and crumple up next to him on the bed. His face is shimmering with your release. His fingers swipe across his chin, collecting your slick that had coated the skin there. He sticks the digits in his mouth and hums in satisfaction as he licks them clean.

“Could eat that pussy for hours, it tastes so fucking sweet,” he says as he starts moving towards you again.

Now, it’s actually time for him to crawl on top of you. He rocks his hips against you as he goes in for more kisses. His cock drags against the smooth skin of your thigh, the sticky tip sliding back and forth. His wet fingers hold your jaw and keep your lips puffed out for him to kiss.

While he kisses you more, he spreads your thighs and slots himself between your folds. He moves himself up and down through the wetness that had gathered.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he murmurs against your lips, “My gorgeous love doll.”

Teasing himself and you by gliding his tip over you a few more times, he then moves it down against your hole and enters you fully. He moans, his breath hitching as he sinks into your warm, wet embrace.

“Good girl. Squeeze around me just like that. So fucking tight,” he grunts.

He takes a moment to just feel you. Feel your walls pulsing around him. Feel your heated, squishy form against his firm one. But then he starts to move. He slowly works his shaft back. A long drawn out “fuck” leaves his mouth before he whispers a crisp “good god” while pressing back in.

He begins to pump into you with an even pace. He strokes nice and deep, keeping his movements consistent for you. You flutter around him and squirm slightly as he prods at your most sensitive spots. He leans back to look down at the spot where the two of you connect.

He watches his cock slide in and out of you, disappearing into your cunt time and time again. He’s obsessed with how your slick coats his shaft, dripping down to the base. His thumb comes to swipe over your clit quickly and give you some extra sparks of euphoria. You whine and arch your back at the touch.

“I know you have the perfect pussy. Made all for me,” he breathes, grinning as you shiver from the pleasure he inflicts upon you, “So responsive and sensitive just for me.”

You whimper and nod. Your hands claw at his back, digging into the muscles across his shoulders. He keeps slamming into you. His eyes roll back as his release builds. He mutters more praises and collapses on top of you again. He grinds and rolls himself into you rhythmically while you start to cling to him. It becomes harder to keep still as pressure mounts inside you, begging to burst.

“Wanna see my beautiful girl cum for me,” he mumbles while pressing sloppy kisses to your neck.

You pant and nod again. It was impending. All you needed was a few more thrusts. He swivels his hips, angling himself and swiping across more spots that drive you wild. It’s just a few moments later when your body seizes again and you let go with a loud cry. He can’t hold it either as he starts to shoot ropes of cum in you. You’re both shuddering, faces tense with absolute pleasure. He’s softly whimpering in your ear while your nails make deeper crescents on his shoulder blades.

He continues bucking into you, fucking his cum deeper. It’s almost like he can’t stop. It just feels too good. He can’t pull himself away even though the high is over and he’s already started to tumble down. You’re so blissed out that you don’t even complain of overstimulation, just let him go the few extra moments till he’s satisfied.

Once he is sated, he doesn’t pull out. He just stops moving his hips. His arms tighten around you, and he nestles his face in the crook of your neck where he can take in your scent with every breath.

“See what you do to me, baby?” he pants, “Wouldn’t change a thing about you. My girl, think you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

[anniebeemine]

cocktail hour- s.r x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer makes every wedding unbearable, but at least he’s fuckable.

Warnings: 18+, dom!Spencer, slight choking (once, nose pinching), hate/anger sex, p in v smut, a little bit of degradation

The first time you met Spencer Reid was at a mutual friend's wedding. It was one of those picturesque spring weddings with blooming flowers and soft, warm sunlight filtering through the trees. You had arrived at the venue, feeling excited to celebrate love, and ready to dance the night away. Little did you know, that day would mark the beginning of a complicated and often frustrating relationship with the man who was now standing across the room, glaring at you.

As you reminisced about that wedding, you couldn't help but smile at the memory of your first encounter with Spencer. You had noticed him immediately, standing awkwardly by the punch bowl, looking out of place but endearing in his own way. His tousled hair, mismatched socks, and slightly wrinkled suit gave him a charm that was hard to ignore.

Feeling a sudden burst of confidence, you walked over to him, striking up a conversation. To your surprise, Spencer had been incredibly engaging and intelligent, his eyes lighting up as he talked about his interests. The two of you had spent most of the evening together, laughing and talking. By the end of the night, you found yourself looking forward to seeing him again.

You both agreed to go on a date the following week, but it turned out to be a disaster. Everything that had seemed charming about Spencer at the wedding now seemed irritating. His endless stream of trivia felt like he was showing off. The date ended with a curt goodbye and a mutual agreement that it was best not to pursue anything further.

Since that ill-fated date, your paths had crossed mostly at weddings and funerals of mutual friends and acquaintances. Each encounter was marked by snarky comments and thinly veiled jabs, a far cry from the initial connection you had felt.

Today was no different. You were at another wedding, and as you observed Spencer from across the room, you felt a mixture of irritation and amusement. He was deep in conversation with one of the bridesmaids, his expression animated as he gestured with his hands. You rolled your eyes and turned back to the conversation you were having with a friend, trying to ignore the way your heart rate had picked up.

Later in the evening, as the guests moved to the reception area, you found yourself standing by the bar, nursing a drink. Spencer approached, and you braced yourself for the inevitable exchange.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You smiled sweetly, not missing a beat. "Well, it's not like I can avoid you forever. You seem to show up at every single one of these."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. "I could say the same about you."

The conversation continued, each of you taking subtle digs at the other, the tension between you palpable. Despite the animosity, there was an underlying current of familiarity and, dare you admit it, a hint of attraction. It was as if that initial connection had never fully dissipated, lurking beneath the surface of your interactions.

You found yourself wandering away from the main hall, needing a break from the noise and the incessant small talk. As you strolled through the corridors, you stumbled upon a window overlooking the gardens. The moonlight bathed the flowers in a soft, silvery glow, creating a serene and almost surreal atmosphere. You leaned against the windowsill, enjoying the quiet and the view. It was a perfect moment of peace, a rare respite from the chaos of the wedding. But it didn't last long.

"You're in my spot," a familiar voice said from behind you.

You turned to see Spencer standing there, his hands in his pockets and a bemused expression on his face.

"Your spot?" you replied, raising an eyebrow. "Are we really doing this?"

Spencer shrugged, stepping closer. "I've been coming to this spot since I got here. It's the best view of the gardens."

You sighed, shaking your head. "That's a bit childish, don't you think? Claiming a spot at a wedding reception?" He stood his ground. You rolled your eyes and began to walk away. “Whatever.”

Spencer smirked, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. "What's childish is you leaving because I'm here."

You opened your mouth to retort, but found yourself at a loss for words. Instead, you turned back to the window, deciding to stand your ground. "Fine. I'll stay."

The two of you stood there in silence for a few moments, the tension between you as palpable as ever. Yet, in the stillness of the night, something shifted. You barely had time to react before Spencer closed the distance between you, his lips crashing onto yours with a rough, needy intensity that took your breath away. His hands cupped your face, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you closer. The kiss was urgent, a fierce expression of pent-up emotions and unresolved feelings. Your own hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as you matched his fervor, losing yourself in the heat of the moment.

Spencer pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your lips. "My room's upstairs."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "Lead the way," you replied, your voice breathless with anticipation.

Without another word, Spencer took your hand and led you through the corridors of the venue, his pace quick and determined. You followed eagerly, your thoughts racing and your body thrumming with excitement. The distance to his room felt like an eternity, but finally, you reached his hotel door.

He fumbled with the key for a moment before pushing the door open and pulling you inside. The door barely closed behind you before he was on you again, his lips capturing yours in another searing kiss. This time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. The urgency between you only grew as you stumbled towards the bed, your hands exploring anywhere you could reach.

Spencer pushed you away, causing you to land on your back with a flop. The motion sent blood rushing to your core.

“Look at you,” he cooed, his tone condescending. He yanked his tie off of his neck. “Hold ‘em out.”

You shook your head. “That’s not how this is going to go this time.”

He chuckled darkly, leaning over you. His hand came to land on your throat, one hand pulling yours over your head and holding you there. His hips kept yours in place. You shuddered at the sudden contact of his knee against your core.

“I bet you’re fucking soaked,” he added.

He’s right. You shook your head. “You keep me dry as a desert.”

You tried to budge against his arms, roll him over so you could straddle him. He’d gotten surprisingly stronger since the last wedding. Your lips parted to make a reply but all that came out was a pathetic mewl as his knee pressed against your core.

He snaked one hand up to your neck and pulled you up by it, choking the air from your throat. “That’s right. I’m gonna show you who you really belong to, who fucks you to a sloppy mess every time. Do you wanna see?”

He made a guttural sound in his throat before kissing you so roughly, you felt his perfect teeth clash with yours. He held his hand there, wrapped around your throat more lightly now, waiting to see if you would consent to this. Your mind was spinning so much, you couldn’t even think of the quickest way to do so.

“Show me,” you sputtered helplessly, feeling like a rag doll in Spencer’s commanding grip.

He dove at your collarbone with his mouth, biting you so hard you shrieked and leaving behind glaringly obvious bruises and hickeys. You began to move your hips, grinding on his knee. The layers of fabric blocked you from feeling him. He groaned, his left hand coming up to palm one of your tits. His right hand never left your throat as he continued his attack on your neck and collarbone. You smelled his cologne that lingered from the night and it was getting you drunk, you were sure of it.

“Dirty fucking whores don’t get to cum until I say.” His wild mass of curly hair, made even more wild by the night, fell into his ever-darkening eyes. You traced his body, lean and taught, with your eyes, right down to the suit he was still wearing. His cock was already straining against his slacks.

The two of you made quick work of ridding yourselves of all clothes. With the dress kicked to the side and left in your underwear, you pulled Spencer onto the bed. You positioned yourself over his torso, hovering your core over him. His hands came down to your waist. You quickly did what he had done to you and held his hands on either side of his head.

“You always get to be in charge,” you whined.

Spencer bucked his hips. “And that’s how it’s going to stay.” He ground into your cunt with his still-covered cock and you let out an unholy moan.

You let him sit up and place you on your back again. He pulled your underwear off, tossing them to the side.

“You’re so wet.” Spencer’s fingers expertly curled and reached into all the right places. “So wet. Who’s this for?”

You murmured something unintelligible, so blissed out you couldn’t think straight. He cleared his throat, although his eyes had gone just as cloudy with lust as yours had.

“I said—” He ripped his fingers out of you and shoved them deep into your mouth. “Who. Are you. So wet for?” It seemed that for a second, he forgot himself, his jaw dipped slightly as he watched you suck yourself off of his fingers. Then, with a small shake of his head, he recovered. He held his full bottom lip in his teeth, watching you squirm with need beneath him. He had withdrawn his hand from your mouth, placing it back around your throat instead. “That’s what I thought.”

“Dick,” you grumbled

“Tell me who it is that fucks you the best,”—he began removing his boxers—“who makes you scream the loudest,”—the boxers were discarded on the floor next to your dress—“and who’s dick you just can’t wait to come all over.” He thrust into you, forcefully but not rough.

“Oh my god,” you whined. “Spencer!”

He smirked. Spencer grunted with effort of moving out of you slowly. He stilled for a moment, allowing the blinding pain and pleasure to subside, and then immediately slammed back into you, now fucking you incredibly hard.

You moaned and wove your fingers into his hair, tugging to anchor yourself. Spencer hissed out a curse at the feeling and went down to his forearms to fuck you from a new angle. This allowed you access to his mouth, which you took eagerly. He was still rambling almost incoherent filth when you pulled him into a searing kiss.

The feeling of his cock stretching and pounding you was driving you crazy. Your orgasm built up so fast you thought it had to be a false alarm, but before you had prepared yourself, a scream was ripped from your body involuntarily. He squeezed your nose shut with his thumb and the side of his finger, and suddenly you had no air at all; you didn’t even care, you didn’t need air anymore, you just needed this.

It just kept getting bigger and bigger, it kept twisting in your core and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. He let go of your nose and you took a deep breath in, hearing the most deranged noise break out of your throat and peter out in your mouth with his hand keeping it inside. You were crying out his name, at least you were trying to, but it was all just incomprehensible sobs muffled under his hand.

It was too much, it was far too much, but you could already see yourself tomorrow morning, staring at the phone, trying to decide if it’s worth your pride to call him.

“Who fucks you good,” he panted.

You cried out his name followed by a loud moan.

“Let everyone hear how much of a whore you are for me,” he grunted.

He could fuck you in front of whoever he wanted if it was always gonna be like this; he could fuck you in front of your grandmother and you wouldn’t stop him— you were whipped.

“I’m almost there, Spencer,” you whined, starting to lift your hips up to meet his thrusts, to help him to the edge, not that he seemed to need it. But he readjusted his position, hands wrapping around your hips and using his entire weight to press down on them, effectively stopping your movement. You could tell he was close, his rhythm faltering and just as you were about to accept that wonderful, naughty, downright dangerous heat, he pulled out, which stunned you.

Spencer stopped to breathe and push his hair away from his face. The soft glow of the lamps highlighted the sheen of sweat over him.

“Awww, did you want something?” The condescending nature of the question made you moan in disgruntlement. He met your eyes.

“Then beg for it.”

You complied, shocked at the lewd nature of your pleas. “Please, Spencer. I need you back inside of me-”

He smirked, running the underside of his cock against your clit. You began to tremble again.

“So fucking needy,” he taunted.

Your chest heaves. "That's mean. You're mean."

"I never claimed otherwise. Here, middle and marriage." He guides your hand to your entrance. You push your fingers inside with his guidance. He leaves you to work on yourself and you do. You weren’t surprised that it led to this. The sensations build again, another orgasm on the horizon.

“Are you gonna cum already?”

You nodded. His hand came up, rubbing slow circles just around your clit.

“Please,” you panted. “Please let me cum.”

The words had slipped out in the haze of pleasure. His eyebrows raised in shock, a light chuckle escaping his lips. Completely and utterly whipped for him.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he smirked, pushing your hand away.

A sob of frustration escaped your lips. He was laughing at you and the shape he’d gotten you in; if you weren’t so hazed out from lust, you could have killed him. “Spencer, I am begging you to-”

“I want to watch you ride me. You deserve a treat.”

Despite being completely exhausted, you let him help you into his lap. He was surprisingly gentle as he helped you straddle him. He lined your pussy to his cock, and upon your nod of consent, he lowered your hips so that you could take him. You both cried out in pleasure as he filled you, stretching your walls with his length as you sank down fully. You looked down at him, and he was still smirking at you as his hands found yours, holding them behind your back with one hand. He began fucking into you at a rapid, hard pace, hitting every single spot perfectly. You were squirming over him. Your hips bucked in rhythm with his, your head thrown back. His free hand pawed at your chest, rolling one nipple before the other.

You began to tremble even more violently than before, the coil in your belly so impossibly tight as you braced yourself. You whimpered, bucking against him for any type of added friction, unable to get enough even with everything he was doing. The flutter of your walls around his cock made his eyes roll back in his head.

Spencer moaned violently, cursing as his fingers dug into your wrists with bruising force. It was the only warning he gave you before he came, a warmth spreading deep in your core with the sporadic thrusts he couldn’t seem to stop. He cut himself off with another vicious grunt when you came too. The flutter of your walls around him left him speechless, gripping your skin so tight you were sure there’d be bruises. He bucked once, then twice before stilling.

You both took a second to catch your breath. He let your hands go and you leaned forward, wincing as you placed your hands on his chest. Spencer let his arms fall beside him. He hadn’t moved, and he wouldn’t, and he didn’t seem to be particularly inclined to in the next few minutes either. You lifted your leg, looking at the mess you’d made on him. As the tip of his softening dick slid out of you, so did a white strand of his cum, leaking out of you in physical evidence that what happened actually just happened. Spencer groaned at the sight.

“I’ll get you a washcloth, just let me…” His head fell back again.

You collapsed beside him, closing your eyes in an attempt to ground yourself. “So who’s getting married next?”

“Next month on the 20th? Clyde and..." he huffed. "Can't remember her name."

You smiled to yourself. “I guess I’ll see you then.”

[auras-moonstone]

the one — jack champion

word count: 940

pairing: jack champion x interviewer!fem!reader

summary: y/n interviews her boyfriend jack at the sundance festival and they reminisce their last interview where they met a year ago.

warnings: fluff. this is a continuation of one of the first stories i wrote, it’s called enchanted to meet you ! i recommend you read it first to fully understand.

After Jack asked Y/N out for dinner, the two of them became inseparable and started dating soon enough. The fans were ecstatic, having been cheering for them to get together the moment that interview was made.

Now, a year later, they were both flying to Salt Lake for the Sundance Festival, where Y/N would be interviewing and Jack’s new movie Freaky Tales would be screening. They were both excited for it because now they would be there supporting each other as a couple.

“Hi! You seem familiar.” Jack spoke with a teasing smile as he approached his girlfriend for an interview. The feeling of deja vu warmed his heart.

“Hi, Jack. Looking very handsome today.” she smiled tenderly. “Are you going to show me your socks this time?”

“Ugh, stop it.” he laughed as he covered his face in embarrassment.

“So, tell me about Lucid.” Jack started telling the viewers more about his character, and Y/N watched him with a smile on her face. She was so happy to be sharing this with him that she felt like crying, “What’s your favorite thing about the movie?”

“I absolutely love that it is set in the 80s. I actually have been trying to get in the mood during the filming, I made this playlist filled with punk music from that decade.”

“I’ve seen some pictures. The outfits were super cool.” his girlfriend added. “Are we going to see you covered in blood again?”

“Guess you’ll have to see for yourself.” he smirked. Y/N threw him a pleading glance. “You can’t use your girlfriend powers against me. That’s not fair, you know I can’t resist that look.”

“I’m doing it for the people. This was a highly requested question on twitter.” Y/N shrugged.

“Fine, just because it’s you.” he said with a grin. “Yes, I will be covered in blood.”

“Yes!” she exclaimed excitedly.

“What is it with you and blood?” he shook his head laughing.

“I’ll answer that when there’s no camera.” she blushed and he raised and eyebrow in amusement. “Moving on, is there something on your schedule for the next months?”

“Well, the shooting for Avatar 4 starts in a couple of weeks. Other than that, no. Just enjoying my time with my family and my very gorgeous, lovely, and very amazing interviewer, girlfriend.”

Y/N actually giggled, in front of the camera, like a schoolgirl with a crush. He was going to be the death of her. “Well, good for you, Jack. Thank you for your time.”

“For you? I always have time.” he winked. “Text me when you’re done with the interviews, remember you’re also here as my date.”

“How could I forget.” she laughed. “I’ll see you later. I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you, too. I love you.” he wanted to kiss her so bad, but that would definitely be inappropriate so he settled for a tight hug.

“I love you.” she answered right before he left to take pictures.

An hour later, they were finally able to be together again. They were both dragging their feet towards the hotel, absolutely exhausted and drained. Plus, it was so cold that their fingers itched and their toes were practically numb.

“The interview made me a bit emotional.” Y/N spoke. Jack looked at her, urging her to go on. “It made me think of our last interview together, the day we met. I was so nervous that day, and when you appeared it both got worse and better.”

“Why?”

“On one hand, you were so gorgeous that it made me panic. I was scared that my tiny crush would ruin my first interview. And then, you started talking and subtlety guiding me through it… it instantly felt natural. I don’t think I would’ve been as good if I had to interview anyone else.”

“I think you’re wrong. You were just nervous because it was your first, you would’ve figured it out anyways. Yes, we did have an instant connection, but you’re an amazing interviewer. You love your job, you are passionate about it, and that makes people feel comfortable, because you make it like less of a dread.”

Y/N’s sight got blurred by the tears. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I’m just telling the truth, love. I watch every single interview you’ve done, and not once you had made people feel uncomfortable. You’re respectful, sweet and understanding. And you’ve grown so much, I meant it when I said I’m proud of you.”

“I meant it, too. That I’m proud of you and that I love you.”

“I love you, I’ll never get tired of saying it. And I got emotional, too. The deja vu hit me like a truck. I can’t believe it’s been one year. It seems so long ago, but at the same time it feels like time flew by so quickly.”

“Right?!” she exclaimed in agreement. “The interview I was dreading ended up changing my life for the better.”

“You’re so sweet.” he pressed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I was smitten from the start, literally everyone called me out.”

Y/N laughed. “Maybe I wasn’t as obvious as you, because of the nerves and everything, but I was too. You were so charming.”

“Did I enchant you with my Ghostface socks?”

“Oh, most definitely. That was what made me know you were the one.”

“Am I the one?” he asked, losing the playful tone they had been exchanging.

“I know we’re only nineteen, but I feel like you are it for me.”

The words made his chest clench, in the best way possible. Looking down at her adoringly, he said “You’re it for me, too.”

haunted.ethan i didn’t realize how much i missed this🥺

fearlesslandry one year apart, same expressions of awe😫🫶🏻 best couple ever.

aurasmoonstone okay but i want to know what’s the answer to “what is it with you and blood?” 🤨

y/n.y/l/n that he looks so hot covered in blood😫

jackchampion oh? ☺️ y/n.y/l/n

y/n.y/l/n yes you should only take roles where blood is involved 😙 jackchampion

jackchampion consider it done y/n.y/l/n

y/n.y/l/n okay sidney prescott jackchampion

[spectr3inl0ve]

we cry together is so toxic relationship with dick grayson coded

ESPECIALLY VERSE 2!!!!! (I skipped some lines to fit the story and changed a few words to better fit dick's character </3) also this specific dick is gonna be known as "toxic relationship!dick grayson" (tags)

tw: arguments, toxic relationship, on again off again relationship vibes, allusions to dick cheating on reader with babs

It was inevitable that the two of you would get into another argument - about her. Barbara Gordon. The beautiful, fit, intelligent and witty daughter of the police commissioner James Gordon. Fuck, you were jealous of her. Of what she meant to Dick. You knew that they were a thing before the two of you got together, and yet almost every time he bailed on you it was to see Barbara.

"R/n I swear that there's nothing on between us. It's just work and friendship. I wouldn't do that to you." Dick tries to reason with you, albeit angrily.

"Oh really? Cus I know for a fact that you've cheated on someone with that redheaded hoe!" You hiss, your hands on the island bench as you stare into the guilty eyes of the man before you, your keys resting a few inches from you. He throws his hands up and shakes his head in disbelief. As if he didn't do exactly that to Kori.

"For God's sake, why are you making this so difficult? All we're doing is working. On. A. Case. What don't you understand about that?" Dick annunciate the last part in a slow, firm voice, reminiscent of the voice that one would use to talk to a misbehaving toddler.

"Nah, you're just a lil dick-ass slut that's tryna go big. Tryna make a name for yourself as Gotham's resident whore or what?" with a mirthless chuckle, you use your hands to gesture.

Dick's annoyingly perfect eyebrows furrow, and he smirks, "But you were suckin' this dick though.". This comment throws you off momentarily, but you quickly clap back.

"Well, shit, I shoulda sucked his." who's cock you were referring to? You don't know, and it didn't matter. What mattered right now was pissing Dick off to the point that he'd apologise and to promise to never see Barbara without anyone else present.

This wiped the smirk off of Dick's face immediately, the sudden change was hilarious. If you weren't so infuriated, you would've laughed in his stupid stunned face. "What? Fuckin' repeat what you said."

"I shoulda found a bigger dick." you make sure to punctuate each word with a crisp, satisfying clap, astounding your boyfriend even more. His expression quickly turns sour and bitter.

"What? You mad? Because you can go text that raggedy bitch and tell her you all that she got." You gloat, pointing at the phone in his left hand. With a huff, Dick quickly snatches up your car keys, moving towards the living room to inevitably get away from you. Fuck, you still need to get to work.

"Dick, give me my keys, Imma be late for work." with furrowed eyebrows you follow him, where he stops near the coffee table, arms crossed.

"Fuck your job, today's gonna be the day you walk to that bitch." he scowls, eyes narrowed as he glares at you, giving a quick glance at the clock. 7:58 AM.

You sigh inwardly, pinching your eyebrows, "I need to leave at 8, give me my keys, bro." and the devil that is Dick Grayson lets out a bark of laughter.

"On God, you aren't getting these keys." He raises the keys out of your reach when you make a grab for them, leaving you to accidentally swipe at his upper arm.

"Give me my fucking keys!" You yell, fruitlessly trying to reach for your keys again, to which Dick laughs at again.

"Ah, now you mad at me, I got you hollerin' for nothin'."

"I do the same when we fuckin'."

"Acting like that pussy ain't loose."

"I'd rather act like I'm cummin'."

"I'd rather fuck off that juice."

"I'd rather fuck on your brother."

Dick was about to retort back but he paused. Wait, what? "Bitch, you said you're gonna fuck who?" he hisses, an ugly frown adorning his face and his breath heavy. At this point his arms are folded again, your keys tucked into a large hand.

A bitter smirk on your face, you reply, "You heard me, bitch, it's nothing.". Your heart is racing, was that too far? Definitely, but if it makes him feel even a fraction of how you feel when he's with Babs, then it's worth it.

Dick carelessly chucks your car keys onto the coffee table behind him, stalking backing you into the couch as he stares you down. Fuck, you're in for it now. You're forced to sit, with how in your face he is and you cross your own arms. Two can play that game. You glower up at him, daring him to say or do something.

"That better be nothing. No one knows you better than I do. No one." he scowls, moving a hand to cup your cheek.

[pinkiemachine]

GOTHAM FILES: MOVIE FINALE

THE TIME HAS COME! BRUCE IS GETTING MARRIED!!!!!

Somebody get some flowers! 💐 Somebody get a ring! 💍 Somebody get a chapel and a choir to sing! 🎶

Somebody get an organ to play! Cause somebody’s getting married today! 🔔 💕 🔔

This literally could not be a bigger deal! No one, and I mean NO ONE expected Bruce to ever get married. Alfred is so proud of him. He’s come such a long way. They all have.

Buuut…

Guess who’s slighted that he wasn’t invited? It’s Joker.

He’s pretty ticked at Batman. He’s taken Harley, he’s taken half his vision, he’s taken most of Gotham from him… and now he’s gonna stand up at that alter, being all happy? No no no… he’ll give him something to REALLY smile about…

So, the film goes about how you’d expect. Relationship drama, family drama, trying to put the wedding of the century together drama, and in the background, Joker’s ramping up to cause trouble. But also also in the background… Bruce is reminiscing hard on his past. He goes to visit his parents in the cemetery. He says he thinks they’d be proud of their grandkids. He just wishes… he’d finally been able to find the man who did it… who took them away from him. But then… he decides to take another look at that case… there might be some new evidence that’s come forward recently…

Anyhoo, that doesn’t last long, because: Joker.

Naturally, he hijacks the wedding, nearly stops the marriage entirely, but this time… this time, it’s not about the whole family coming together to fight a common foe. I mean, they’re all there, helping in their own ways, but… when it comes to Joker… this is it. This is the final showdown. Just him and Bruce. The way it was always meant to be. And this is the last time he tries to murder his kids, or his soon-to-be wife, or his friends. This is the last time he escapes Arkham. This is the last time he attacks Gotham.

Technically, it was Joker’s own fault… but Bruce didn’t exactly go rushing in to save him…

Either way…

…the Joker is finally dead.

Thus marks the end of an era.

The wedding continues (everyone’s a little banged up, but otherwise okay) and Bruce and Selina are officially husband and wife!

Later, at the reception, Bruce looks around at everyone… all his friends and family… and he can’t help but feel overcome with a bittersweet joy. He stands and makes a speech. He says that… when he was a boy, he thought he had lost everything. He thought his life was meaningless. He thought he would get lost in that darkness forever. But it turns out, he was never truly alone. And now, life had blessed him tenfold.

Alfred, who had never wavered once over the course of his life, and had always been there with a shoulder to cry on, or a pat on the back, or a quick scolding. The man who always believed Bruce no matter what, and who had become a father to him. He wouldn’t be the man he was today without Alfred.

Dick, the goofy kid he found years ago, and who barrelled into Bruce’s life so unexpectedly… he had been Bruce’s first guiding light. His first Robin. His first son. And he had made Bruce so proud, seeing the man he had become. A far better man than he was.

Barbara, his first Batgirl, and an unwavering ally in the fight. Her bravery and quick-thinking had saved Bruce on numerous occasions, and she had become a good friend. Not only that, but a good mentor as well. She would surely go on to do many more amazing things.

Jason, who never once stopped making him laugh. (Something Dick was always jealous of.) Jason, who they almost lost… but found his way back home. He doesn’t regret taking him in for even a second. He’d do it all over again the same way, just to see that smile of his… and although they differed in philosophy… he was proud of Jason, too.

Tim, who barged in unannounced, but ended up being the most welcome. The light he needed most during the dark days. Without Tim, Bruce might never have recovered… if it weren’t for his intelligence and determination… this wedding might not even be happening. So thanks, Tim. Thanks for all your hard work and sacrifice over the years. Bruce couldn’t be more proud.

Steph, the bravest, boldest, and loudest of them all. The glue that held them all together when all else had failed. The last bit of energy and optimism that he and Tim needed to get over those hurdles… she was just as much a blessing as any of the other Robins, despite how short her time with the title was.

Cass, who was hiding in the darkest corner of the room because she’s very antisocial, was another welcome surprise. She was growing into a fine superhero, and a wonderful person, and Bruce was happy for her.

Duke, the newest member of the family, who had never stopped working hard to help them achieve their goals and who single handedly helped keep Gotham afloat while he was away. He was proud of him too.

Of course, there were all his friends in the Justice League—Clark and Diana especially—not to mention Lucious, and all his years of hard work, Commissioner Gordon, Luke, Catherine, Harper, Claire, and so many more…

…but the person he was most thankful for was Damian. He had grown so much over these last five years. He had matured and made difficult decisions, had taught Bruce more lessons than he could count, had brought many new animal friends with him, and he had made Bruce so immensely proud to call him his son. If Thomas and Martha could see him now… Bruce knew that Damian would continue to grow into a great man. A good man. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind about that.

So here’s to family. Here’s to the long nights and the hard conversations. Here’s to the breakups and the reunions. To the first kisses, the newborn babies, the long walks and good times. Here’s to love… and here’s to the future. If it’s anything like these past 17 years… then Bruce can’t wait for it.

And now, there’s one final loose end.

After the speech, Gordon takes Bruce aside. He says, he’s got his wedding gift with him and he might want to take a look at it now. They’ve finally been able to determine who the Waynes’ killer was.

Bruce discreetly excuses himself from the party for a moment…

He goes to this quiet part of Gotham and the address listed brings him to an apartment… there’s a woman inside… and a baby… The file says that this man had been arrested for various unrelated crimes and went to prison for a total of thirty-five years. Now it seemed like he was trying to get his life together. He didn’t at all resemble the man in the alley from that night. And now that Bruce had found him… he was faced with a big question. What should he do? He watched the man eat dinner with his wife and clean up after his baby boy… they were living in a low-rent district… they looked like they didn’t have much… but they were trying. Trying their best. As much as it hurt… Bruce was happy for them. Happy that this man was in a better place. Happy that he had faced some form of punishment and had taken that as a good wake up call.

He left the apartment, no one having seen him.

Back at Wayne Manor, the reception was still carrying on down on the grounds outside. Bruce was in his study. He seemed tired. Tired, but happy. Selina came in, wondering where he had disappeared to. It was time to take off for the honeymoon. Bruce just smiled and took her hand, leading her back out. As we pan down to Bruce’s desk, we see Thomas and Martha’s case file… and on that file are written two words:

Case Closed.

Part 9 👇

[star-centric]

Ooo somewhat angsty request: when would be the first time MC saw each of the obey me brothers cry, and what's the best way to support them in that situation?

PAIRINGS: Obey Me Brothers x Gender Neutral!Reader

NOTE: *rubs hands together menacingly* I’ve been waiting for this one 😈 I definitely see myself exploring this idea again in the future (or even redoing this, idk yet tho 👀)

CW: angst (but not soul crushing), all of the guys are very vulnerable in this, gender neutral reader, minor spoilers for the first game (don’t worry, it’s not about *that* scene), no NB spoilers since I’m behind in the game </3

When you see LUCIFER cry for the first time, it was late at night, where he believed that he was the only soul awake in the house- until you poked your head in the study, concern etched on your face.

He had one of his cursed records playing, the gentle music softly filling the air as he poured another glass of Demonus, gloves long forgotten. The simple smile he wore on his face only was a mask of what he was feeling.

He looked so…tired. So defeated.

“I try to give my brothers a good life- a life not only reminiscent of the one they lost from before, but a life even better than that. A life that they deserve.” He began, finger toying with the rim of his glass. “But I failed.”

You remained quiet as Lucifer let out a bitter laugh, “I failed- I let all of them down. I let down my brothers, I let down Lord Diavolo, I let down Michael, I let down my Father- all of them. I‘ve became a disappointment in the Celestial Realm, and I’m continuing to do so even now in the Devildom.”

You’ve never seen Lucifer so vulnerable before- you’ve always seen him act so unbothered, his pride refusing to let him reveal too much. He’s always been the one to lead, the one his family would go to for anything, the one that would sacrifice himself without a moment’s hesitation. He was the glue holding everything together, but everything wears thin with time.

He picked up the glass, swirling it around before setting back down with a harsh thud, sighing.

“I’ve let you all down. And that in and of itself is unforgivable-“

Lucifer flinched when he felt your hand on his cheek, thumb gently wiping under his eye. He was confused for a moment before he felt something wet trail down his other cheek. He wiped at it only to notice his vision getting a bit blurry-

How long has it been since he cried?

A few of his tear drops landed on his documents below, yet as he glanced up at you, you didn’t say a word. You didn’t point out how unguarded he was being, you didn’t interrupt him- you merely listened and wiped away his tears with a gentle smile lining your cheeks.

Lucifer couldn’t stop his tears after that, and he found himself grasping onto you as they continued.

When you see MAMMON cry for the first time, it’s in your room.

He was avoiding everyone today including you, and while it left you worried, you gave him some space. When you got back to your room, you noticed the door ajar- and when you opened it fully, you noticed a figure curled into your bed, a mop of messy white hair poking out from your blankets. You peeked over to see if he was asleep-

You didn’t have time to react as he grabbed and pulled you down to him.

Mammon buried his head into the crook of your neck and tightened his arms around you, hiding his face completely.

You wanted to ask what was wrong- what he was going through, for him to talk to you- but no words needed to be exchanged as he shook in your grasp, feeling your shirt getting damp. You didn’t have it in you to ask anymore.

All you did was comb your fingers through his locks as he quietly sobbed.

You’re not sure how long you stayed there, curled up against one another, but he eventually went still, soft snores passing through his lips.

It didn’t matter what the issue was- whether it was just a bad day or worse- you would always be there for him.

When you see LEVIATHAN cry for the first time, it’s in the privacy of his room.

You were binge-watching a new anime, one that had you both invested. It was about an immortal finding love after centuries- you were surprised Levi wanted to finish watching it after discovering it was a romance, but you were glad nonetheless (even if he couldn’t hide his flushed face).

You were nearing the end of the series when you heard sniffling.

You glanced to see Levi with tears building up in his eyes, threatening to fall.

You tried to look away but he already caught you staring.

The tips of his ears were burning red as he flinched, “Don’t- don’t look at me MC!”

“Levi, you know there’s nothing wrong with crying right?”

“Sti-Still! It’s embarrassing!”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about! It’s sad, it’s emotional-“ you explained. “If it makes you feel better, I kinda want to cry too.” Which wasn’t a lie- your eyes were starting to sting a little. You knew how the outcome was going to be for the main characters, but it still felt like a gut punch to see.

You didn’t want to overwhelm Levi, so you gently linked your pinkie with his. You were happy that he didn’t flinch away from you this time.

“Just know that you’re not alone, okay?”

Levi shyly nodded his head, and you felt him slightly squeeze your pinkie. He knew that he wasn’t, but that wasn’t what got him emotional.

What got him emotional was seeing the immortal, holding their elderly lover in his arms as they passed on. The lover aged as time passed, but the immortal stayed the same- except they were alone again like how they were centuries ago.

No matter how many happy moments the characters had in the show together, it was bound to end in tragedy.

And it brought Levi back to reality.

Back to the reality that he would eventually lose you in the same way.

When you see SATAN cry for the first time, it was in his demon form.

You’ve seen him before like this after he lashed out in the past, spiky tail whipping furiously behind him, green eyes showing nothing but fury. You know that he tries to keep his anger under control, but it still got the best of him at times.

But you didn’t see any anger this time.

You only saw anguish.

There Satan was, kneeled on the ground with tears welling up in his eyes with ripped and scattered objects tossed around the room, a result of destructive rage from before.

“I’ll never been seen for myself, will I?”

Satan’s eyes stayed on the ground, never meeting your own. “I’ll only ever be seen as my sin, as an extension of my older brother- never as myself.”

He shoulders trembled as he let out a bitter laugh that filled the room.

“I know I shouldn’t expect anything different. I should be used to it by now, but- why does it still bother me?”

His smile did nothing to hide his pain, crystal tears cascading down his cheeks.

“Why does it still hurt MC?”

You joined him on the floor and pulled him in your arms, holding onto him as he broke down.

When you see ASMODEUS cry for the first time, you thought it was a ploy at first.

You’ve seen Asmo bring tears to his eyes on a whim when he’s trying to get his way or be dramatic, so to see the same thing happen now wasn’t anything new. You were painting each others nails when you asked him if he’s ever been in love before-

“Of course MC! I love all of my fans dearly and they love me-“

“No, not that kind of love. Like true love- has someone ever told you they love you genuinely?”

“Hm, I don’t…”

When you saw the dejected look in his eyes, you became aware that it wasn’t a ploy at all.

You didn’t look up when he went quiet, concentrating on finishing the final coat on his nails. It wasn’t until you saw something wet drip onto his hand that made you glance up, seeing a single tear roll down his cheek with a forced smile.

“…I don’t know.” He choked out.

Asmo always soaked in the admiration from his fans- but that’s all it was, admiration. They loved the Asmo that they saw in the Fall, the Asmo that they saw on Devilgram- they loved the Asmo that they saw, but did they really know him enough to say they truly love him?

Did they love the Asmo you see or Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust?

“People love me and I love my fans, but why does it still feel so empty?” The smile on his face that he was so used to flashing soon fell, more tears steadily rolling down his flushed cheeks.

Despite what his sin is, Asmo did believe in true love. He believed that one day he found find someone to pour his heart and soul into and get the same in return. Even after he fell and lost his beautiful wings, he still held on to his wish of finding that person.

He started to imagine that person was you.

But he was scared that you didn’t picture him that way. That you only saw him as the Avatar of Lust.

For once, Asmo felt insecure, and he could do nothing but soak in the warmth he was afraid of losing as you held him sobbing.

When you saw BEELZEBUB cry for the first time, it catches you off guard.

You only went to grab some water, waking up and walking to the kitchen in your dazed state.

It wasn’t a surprise to see Beel there with a meal- but it was a surprise to see him wiping away tears, food untouched.

Any sleepiness washed away when you rushed to him, already by his side, asking him what’s wrong.

“I had another nightmare.” He sniffled, refusing to make eye contact with his body tense. “About Lilith.”

Your breath hitched- Beel told you once about his nightmares, but never what it was about. You only assumed how horrible it was from the faraway look he had in his eyes. It never crossed your mind that it was about his sister-

“I saw her MC- it’s always the same,” Beel balled up his fists, baring his fangs. “I’m always too late to save her- why couldn’t I save her?!”

He was no longer hiding his frustration or tears, which were freely rolling down his cheeks. All you could do was listen as he tried his best not to break down under the kitchen lights.

“You protected her, Beel.” You softly spoke, reaching to hold his hand. “You all did more than enough to protect her, and I know that she doesn’t blame you.” You lightly squeezed his hand, “She knows that it’s not your fault. None of it was.”

You’re not sure how long you sat there holding Beel, sobbing out broken apologies to his dear sister who would never hear them.

When you see BELPHEGOR cry for the first time, it was in his sleep.

You spent the night in the twins room, bundled up next to him as you were beginning to doze off. Belphie clung on to you, mumbling something incoherent as he slept. But before you could get lost in your dreams, you felt his grip growing tighter around you.

You brushed off the minor discomfort, only turning to then hear something that truly woke you up-

Belphie whimpering.

You blinked away any sleepiness, turning to see his face twisted in pain, fresh tear staining his cheeks. His hands were clenching onto you tight, whimpering soon turning into a chorus of “no” and “please”.

You shook him awake before he could continue, hair stuck to his forehead as his eyes shot open, panting. He scanned the room before landing on you, pulling you closer into him, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. No doubt he had a nightmare.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Belphie took a long pause. “…Everyone hated and blamed me for everything, for all of our problems. You all forced me to leave, and I was casted out of my home- again.”

You did nothing but soothe him as you felt him tremble again, your neck becoming damp as he started to quietly sob. “You know that won’t ever happen Belphie-“

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Just- stay with me…please?”

“Of course.”

You felt his tail wrap around your waist as he sobbed out a thank you. You combed your fingers through his locks, lulling him back to sleep- hopefully to better dreams.

[lullaebies]

Request: Aegon really trying to get along or at least be in good terms with Jaehaera but she's still grieving for Jaehaerys and her mother too much (and the years don't seem to ease the pain) that she can't fully accept him yet

a/n: ok so this ended up a bit longer that i expected! i was trying hard to think how to go about this. hopefully this will read well <3 tomorrow i will continue with the rest of the reqs sent!

He sits quietly by his wife during the feast, their lips both red with the dark of wine.

It is a celebratory night, The Feast of The Father Above demanding grandness, lest the septons decide it a fair night to accuse the Crown of not being pious enough. It mattered little to Aegon, but it mattered to his subjects; meaning he had little ways to object.

The septons say this holy day to commemorate the Father is a day of just rulings, a day of auspicious decisions. Perhaps if he had been more pious he would’ve trusted his judgement auspicious enough to shut their mouth with some coin and tell them to celebrate down their streets instead of his halls, but alas. 

He looks at Jaehaera. As of two days prior, she is six and ten. The spring of youth, if one is to go by how the singers describe maidens of similar ages. Girls that age absorb the sun and hold its beam in their smiles, warming the room around them in cheer and dance. 

You wouldn’t be able to tell so, with his wife. She looks a painted doll, with an even line to her red lips that refuses to bend. Jaehaera doesn’t celebrate her nameday; when it comes, she usually refuses to leave her rooms for days after. Her ladies-in-waiting had once tried to prepare her a surprise, and in return, she had raged.

The court never quite understood her. He still remembers Myrielle Peake weeping at Jaehaera banishing her from her rooms. Her father never quieted about it since, he thinks grumpily. But when he was told of this great injustice the Queen has inflicted on her well-meaning ladies, he had to hold himself from laughing at the complainers in their face.

As if she would like to celebrate the day she remembered her own twin is lost to the afterlife, while she is lost here. 

He dismissed the complaints with some platitudes. He had felt similar enough when his regents assumed him to be ever thankful for them sitting him on the Throne, as if the death of his mother and older brothers hadn’t been the sole reason a crown is on his head. Let us celebrate your coronation and our hard work, your Grace, the dimwits had said. It is a joyful occasion. 

They wouldn’t know how to make him joyful if they tried, and his wife even more so. 

Yet still, there is a pang in him, seeing her so muted. There are rare days, where they align in their routes, and her words are reminiscent of his. Where they walk down the same route silently and it feels more natural than the forced conversations he is met with from anybody else. She always scurries away after, avoids him after, but...

She is his wife, and as much as they were sewn together, they are of similar enough cloth. Smiling like the sun is not something he’d expect of her, but he doesn’t wish she’d never at least feel its rays. 

He may have drank too much today. Her wintry form had been much on his mind. He supposes he finds ways to be melancholic no matter what, but he looks at her and sees himself, from a long while back; from before Viserys came back, before he could hold onto his sisters again to cry.

The dance floor had been filled with duos dancing to string instruments gracefully. It is not something he does often, but had seen her dancing before. As a child, granted, before it all, but she had seemed happy to do so before. And who would ask her to dance again, but her husband?

“Jaehaera,” he mumbles her name before he can regret it. She turns to him, heavy brows lifting in wonder. “Should we dance too?”

It should help, in more ways than one. Seeing them being amiable would calm the many lords here, he thinks. Or spring some hope to their souls, or more importantly, some respect for Jaehaera’s being. Wouldn’t that help, having the world know she is no jilted girl? It would do her good. It would do them good. 

He never wanted a divide between them to haunt them. They have enough things haunting them. Is this a good decision? He knows not, but The Father may as well sanction it auspicious, after all the hard work put into this damn feast.

Jaehaera’s tentative fingers fiddle with her wine cup. She puts it down softly. “If his Grace should like that,” she answers, building her wall from him again as her eyes shy away from direct eye contact. The rings on her fingers drag across the marble table, clinging to the cold of stone as they approach him. 

Aegon notes her offering. He doesn’t quite like that it's simply complacency, but then again, he had been simply complacent when everyone else goaded him to do anything, even if he did find enjoyment in it in the end. And if she doesn’t find enjoyment in it, at least she would have a spring in her step for the singers to sing about, and mayhaps that will soothe her.

He reaches for her offered hand, picking it up gently from the fingers. The table, her rings, they’re cold, but her bony fingers are warm. It is almost surprising, with how distant she seems at the moment. They rise from their chairs to the surprise of the people around their table. Viserys looks at him crookedly, but he pays it no mind - Jaehaera seems to go along with him well.

His thumbs fiddle with her knuckles nervously as he attempts a squeeze of reassurance. He truly doesn’t dance often; Baela sometimes forces him and he looks a fool, Rhaena sometimes does so too and becomes his harsh, smiling critic. He shouldn’t be able to reassure his wife in regards to dancing, he has little talent in his lanky limbs, but he has to try, he thinks.

A spot is cleared for them in the center of the floor. She thanks the lord and ladies who move in a mannerly way while he simply nods. The musicians switch a song, and he vaguely remembers the form for it, reaching for Jaehaera’s waist. After confirming from those nearby he remembered correctly, of course. 

As for Jaehaera, the form they should be in dawns on her quickly, and her fingers curl over the peak of his shoulder easily. She looks at their feet when the song begins. He does too, to see his are well placed. He wants to brighten this night some, but he doesn’t want to look like an oaf doing so.

Despite that, however, he can’t imagine he doesn’t look like one. He is unsurprisingly rusty, and the length of his limbs lend to a taut gait and especially dance. Jaehaera is surprisingly fluid in her movements, on the other hand. He nearly steps on her foot once, but she evades it simply. “Sorry,” he whispers. 

When he hears a soft snort coming for her, he almost thinks it had been for the better.

She is not without faults — she does step on his foot. He huffs at her in some vindication he is not the only one with two left feet. She finally lifts her eyes to him, supposedly to apologize too, but then the dance calls for her twirl. She holds his elevated hand throughout it. He does notice a hint of a crinkle to her eyes, and he even meets it with his own one.

When he stops her, hand finding her waist again to hold her in a secure manner, he thinks he shook off that rustiness. But then Jaehaera’s eyes land on him in a strange gaze, and her limbs suddenly feel tense.

Jaehaera swallows, and looks down again, her grip on his shoulder digging into his bone. “I think…” she stops them from moving. “I feel ill,” she says abruptly. “I think I should retire for this night, Your Grace.”

He blinks at her. He is not convinced; her face only gained some warmth to it as they danced. Still, he draws her away from the dance floor to its side, knowing here too, there is little to object to. She feels all too rigid in his hold, and something had her gaze become cloudy.

Most of the room seemed to cheer at them joining the dance floor, so that couldn’t be it. The taste on his tongue is sour, feeling somewhat jilted himself. Perhaps because he himself hadn’t hated the dance all that much. He offered this for her and still… Fine.

“Then go rest,” he allows, trying to keep the bitterness behind lock and key. She says her farewell to some key courtiers and leaves, quickly disappearing to the dark, gloomy parts of the castle. 

For a while, he returns to his spot at the table. When they strike a conversation, they ask of the Queen; some of them deem her rude for her abrupt departure. He finds their voices offensive, for he would rather like to retire to his apartments himself at the moment.

“‘Tis a holy day, for us all. Ill or not, even a Queen must be respectful—” Lord Peake grumbles by his ear, and he wonders why he hadn’t let him go ages ago.

Irritated, he decides that it wasn’t quite fair for her to leave him this way. Especially with everyone around looking at him like this in pitiful wonder. And with these halfwits, surrounding him around the table and offering their daughters as dance partners instead.

“Pay my respects to The Father and preside over the rest of the feast, Lord Peake,” he says, and comes up again from his place. “I should see how the Queen fares.”

He gets up and walks in long strides out to the dark, gloomy hallways himself.

—

As he approaches Jaehaera’s apartments, he finds himself hesitating to actually come in. 

His wife hasn’t asked for any kindness, even if he had attempted to offer it. He does think the wine had made him rather rash if not overtly sentimental; he wouldn’t have asked her to dance in the first place without it, and he certainly wouldn't have come by her door.

The Father Above might be laughing at him from the dark skies. Auspicious decisions, my arse. 

And he is about to turn on his heel, when he hears a sob from the inside of her room. 

He reaches for the knob of the door and twists it open. 

Jaehaera is by the window, too close to the damn window, the dying light of the fireplace showing bloodshot eyes and tears trailing down her rounded cheeks. She is frantic in her movements until she stops in place when she sees him, holding a quivering lip from saying a thing. 

“Why are you…?” he tries to ask, but some anxiety spikes in him and he can’t find a way to articulate himself. 

“Your Grace, please leave,” she manages out of her system. That lights a visceral feeling of rage within him. 

“You will not order me to leave,” he says plainly. Your Grace, your Grace, she tells him the entire day, but she won’t force that distance upon him when he plainly sees there is something foul at play. “I don’t know what I have done, but I did not mean harm to you and you know this.”

“I know,” she answers, the glisten on her lash line more noticeable. She’s shaking like a leaf; what has rattled her so? “But you more than all know that matters little.”

Fuck. He had been irritated, but now he is properly upset. All had been well, what has he done wrong? 

“If you tell me what it is I can fix it,” he says. It is the wrong choice; she turns to look at him with a sharper gaze, even with her tears. 

“I used to dance to that song with Jaehaerys,” she says, and Aegon already understands he has lost here. Of course, the times he remembered her dance as a child, it had been with her brother. “Mother taught us the steps. It was her favourite. Jaehaerys was determined to learn it well, even though I always had to escape his clumsy steps. He wanted to show mother he listened to her.” 

She wipes her cheeks with her hands, holding herself. 

“We never had the chance to complete the dance without missteps.”

Aegon shuts his eyes. “If I had known I wouldn’t have…” he begins. What is the point in saying what she knows already? “I’m sorry. I thought it would make you happy.”

He foolishly assumed he would know any better than anyone else in the Keep how to do so. They are adjacent to one another in pain when the court already assumes it knows everything about them. And he thinks, there had always been some truce between them, in regards to that — perhaps that had all been in his head, too.

That dance felt like a moment of peace to him. He wanted it to be a moment of peace for her, too, for them all. He is so tired of fighting and guarding his own self; he simply wants to relent to the calm that he feels could exist between them.

Jaehaera’s hand reaches for the seven-starred necklace upon her, swallowing. “It had, for a moment,” she sniffles, shame in her voice. “It made me happy. But my brother can’t be, and my mother can’t see it, and I…”

That he does know, the guilt of being alive. The guilt of continuing on despite having the world shattered, despite witnessing so much death. And Viserys returned from the dead, and when he confessed it all, his brother had told him simply one thing.

“You’re not at fault for that.”

And if Jaehaera has resentment on her tongue, any hatred she wants to spit out about those who were at fault — she doesn’t say it. Simply looks at him with guarded eyes, keeping her distance. 

He can’t ask her to close it, just for the sake of his own peace. He wouldn’t ask her to, either. The ghosts that plague her on her namedays, day to day, they are there, he knows what they whisper — plenty had whispered to him day to day.

“You need not to dance, but you need not hide what plagues you, and what would make you at ease,” he says. “Her Grace the Queen has her voice in court, and if she’d like it, the King’s ear.”

Jaehaera looks at the floor, as she does, and let all the tears that had been unshed out. She needn’t close the distance, but she does need to know she can, if she’d like. He lets her sob until she tires herself out, helping her to the bed and tucks her in. 

Even if winter plagues them, forever piercing cold, as long as her skin is warm on this earth, she should have her own dream of spring. 

If one day she should choose it, he’d be willing to help her find it.

[itstimetojellyfish]

I’ll hold you if no one will . ( Dan Heng x reader)

This is another post! Critical advice is welcomed! And it’s sorta long!

It’s…. Been a long day ….. from fighting Mara- struck to dealing with entitled people trying to gas light you into doing something you don’t want to . Nevertheless, you still help people .

It’s a good way to forget . All the memories of the past , essentially, everything . You don’t want to remember. You’d rather feel safe and warm instead of reminiscing the times where the so-called friends you had left you for dead .

So , you keep to yourself and never reveal a single thing about your past , it was a defense mechanism to you . Also , to further ensure you never have to look back on the past , you read books , taking in tons of information, hoping you’ll finally forget every single thing.

It doesn’t work , but it helps you stall time and helps you get lost in an imaginary world where no one would judge you .

Now don’t get it wrong , you love the astral express and its inhabitants, including the fluffy , bunny-like conductor ! But

This is sensitive information that’s really hard to open up to people . So , you stay away and hide who you used to be underneath a bubbly and happy mask .

Because of how often you read , you find yourself in the archives half of the time , Dan Heng , the guard of the astral express, lives there , and dutifully writes down information.

On multiple occasions you interact with him , though most of the time he just listens to you and occasionally hums an acknowledgment.

Soon enough , you’ve formed a bond and he allows you to barge into the archives whenever you like .

Today was not your day . From people trying to guilt trip you to having the people of the past haunt your mind as you constantly try to forget .

At night , the nightmares come . Haunting laughs and shill screams echo in your mind as you toss and turn , trying to get the noise out of your mind .

However , the effort you put in is fruitless. So you tumble out of bed , put on some casual clothes and head out of your room to the archives at 10 pm .

When you open the door , Dan Heng isn’t there , he’s probably just collecting data then . So you plop yourself down in a corner and curl up in a ball .

You take some books from the shelf and start to read , but the voices progressively get worse and soon enough it was too much to handle .

Everything seems to hate you at this point . Fat droplets drip down your cheeks as you start to cry . Why was everyone out for your blood right now?….

In midst of your crying , the door creaked open and you came face to face with Dan Heng . Your eyes widen as you scramble to compose yourself and wipe away your tears . You stare at each other for a while , but then Dan Heng breaks the silence .

Starring at your disheveled state , he asks in a gentle tone. “ Are …. You okay?…. You seem sleep deprived and you look like you were crying earlier….”

You look down and sniff . “ I’m sorry for disturbing you….”

He stares at you for a bit before kneeling down to your height and asking you ,” Did you have a nightmare?”

You look up at him before nodding sheepishly. “ it’s fine though!”

Before you could argue about your feelings any longer he gathers you into his arms and starts to cradle you as if your porcelain.

This triggers something on you as more painful memories rush back full force . Tears fall down your face , how long has it been since someone held you like this? Actually, how long has it been since someone affectionately touched you?…

As you begin to sob , Dan Heng gently rubs your back and continues to shush you , calming you down and letting your emotions out , he doesn’t pet about what troubles you , only lets you know he’s there for you as he hold you close to him .

You let out all your emotions and thought and everything about you and how your friends didn’t feel like friends when they left you for dead and used you as a meat shield .

You didn’t notice it in midst of your crying but as more and more information tumbled out of your mouth , his expression got darker and darker , with his teal eyes glowing softy.

Soon enough , your tear ducts are dry and you begin to tire out . You curl into him , and he lets you , cradling your figure even tighter . You making a mental note to thank him when you wake .

When you’re fast asleep , a tail curls around your waist and the fluffy end gently caresses your face , careful not to wake you up . Dan Heng gently presses his forehead against yours , nuzzling you as his more draconic instincts show .

“….. I won’t let anyone hurt you again, you’ll be safe in my arms and if anyone does try to harm you . They won’t see daylight again .“ He whispers to you , gently rocking you back and forth .

Nobody will hurt you . He vows his life upon it .

[stnkiconverse]

Hiii!!! Swanon back again 🦢

Could you do Toby x Oblivious Childhood Friend!Reader?

I wanna see this man sweat 😨

- 🦢

SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO ANSWER THIS 😭😭😭

Toby x Oblivious!Childhood Friend!Reader

1. Nervous Reunions:

- When you and Toby reunite after years apart, he's a bundle of nerves. His heart pounds, and he finds it hard to keep eye contact without feeling like he'll melt.

- He tries to act nonchalant but ends up fumbling his words and stuttering more than usual, making you smile at his perceived clumsiness.

2. Sweaty Palms:

- Every time you're close, Toby’s palms sweat profusely. He constantly wipes them on his jeans, praying you don’t notice how anxious he is.

- He dreams of holding your hand but can’t muster the courage, worrying that his sweaty palms would gross you out.

3. Awkward Compliments:

- Toby attempts to compliment you, but it usually comes out awkward and half-formed. “Uh, your, um, hair... it looks nice today,” he mumbles, turning red.

- You laugh it off, thinking it’s just Toby being Toby, completely missing the sincerity behind his words.

4. Jealous Outbursts:

- When others show interest in you, Toby can’t hide his jealousy. He becomes quiet and brooding, his tics worsening as he tries to suppress his frustration.

- You notice his mood swings but assume he's just having a rough day, never connecting it to his feelings for you.

5. Protective Instincts:

- Toby is incredibly protective, always making sure you're safe. He walks you home, stays by your side at crowded events, and watches over you with a concerned eye.

- You appreciate his vigilance, thinking it's just his caring nature as a friend, not realizing it stems from deeper affection.

6. Dorky Gestures:

- Toby leaves small gifts for you, like your favorite snacks or hand-drawn sketches. He never admits they're from him, watching your reaction from a distance.

- You find the mysterious gifts sweet, suspecting but never confirming that Toby is behind them.

7. Heartfelt Confessions:

- When Toby finally tries to confess his feelings, he becomes a nervous wreck. His tics intensify, and he struggles to find the right words, often trailing off or changing the subject last minute.

- You think he’s just being shy, never realizing the depth of what he’s trying to say.

8. Lingering Looks:

- Toby often finds himself staring at you when you’re not looking, his gaze soft and longing. He memorizes your features, from the curve of your smile to the way your eyes light up.

- You catch him staring occasionally, but he quickly looks away, and you dismiss it as him being lost in thought.

9. Subtle Touches:

- Toby craves physical contact but is too scared to initiate. When he does, it’s always subtle—a brush of your hand, a pat on your back, a quick hug.

- You enjoy these moments, finding comfort in his presence, but never suspecting the underlying feelings driving his actions.

10. Hidden Notes:

- Toby writes you heartfelt notes expressing his feelings but never has the courage to give them to you. Instead, he hides them in his room, rereading them whenever he feels down.

- You have no idea these notes exist, continuing to be blissfully unaware of Toby’s internal turmoil.

11. Shared Memories:

- Toby often reminisces about your shared childhood memories, hoping to find the right moment to express his feelings. He brings up old stories, trying to gauge your reaction.

- You love talking about the past, enjoying the nostalgia, but you never realize he’s using these moments to build up the courage to tell you how he feels.

12. Silent Support:

- Toby is always there to support you, whether you need a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on. His unwavering presence is a constant in your life, though you take it for granted.

- You think of him as your rock, not realizing that his steadfast support is driven by a love he’s too scared to confess.

Seeing Toby struggle with his feelings while you remain oblivious adds a layer of tension and sweetness to your interactions, making every shared moment between you two a blend of nervous excitement and unspoken affection.

Hope this was good enough!!

[dazed--xx]

🥀Little Do You Know..🥀

Summary: Little do you know, How I'm breakin' while you fall asleep. Little do you know, I'm still haunted by the memories. Little do you know, I'm tryin' to pick myself up piece by piece. Little do you know ……I need a little more time

Member: Lee Minho x Reader

T/W: ANGST..,crumbling marriage, mentions of divorce. Mentions of anxiety, mentions of panic attacks. Mentions of neglect in a marriage, crying, begging etc

Word Count: 2.7K

Little do you know, How I'm breakin' while you fall asleep.Little do you know, I'm still haunted by the memories….

The darkness of your bedroom held a heavy silence as you lay in your bed. Words you wished to say sat on the tip of your tongue while you stared at the ceiling. You hear your husband's calm steady breaths as he sleeps, his back facing you. How are you?… You wondered Did you eat? Is practice going well…the album? All questions you couldn't seem to find the bravery to ask. Your breathing grew heavier as he murmured something in his sleep. You wished that you could ask him, you wished he didn't leave before daybreak only to come back well after you should have been asleep. On those days you did manage to stay up and wait for his arrival, such as today, he'd ignore your presence and go straight to the shower and then bed. You couldn't help the wave of nausea and anxiety that washed over you as you turned to stare at your husband's back.

You reminisce, knowing that only 6 months ago, he'd have held you in his arms as he was lulled into his slumber. You couldn't remember what exactly prompted your husband to change, only that things began to feel different around the middle of his last tour. His calls came in less, video chats no longer happened, and he all but forgot about you for the last two weeks only messaging you his flight number and time of arrival to Incheon International. You had been ecstatic at your husband's return, finally being able to wrap your arms around him and hold him close once again. You remember the butterflies that fluttered around your stomach as you sat at baggage claim waiting for Minho almost giddy only for him to stare at you tiredly; not saying a single word he grabs his bag and continues on his way out of the airport. It took you a moment to realize what had happened, and your heart broke when you realized his eyes didn't even light up when he saw you as they once had. The drive back to your shared home was silent, and it had remained that way for two days. You had attempted to talk to him many times during those two days, only to be met with a small shrug or wave of his hand. He'd finally spoken to you on his third day home, informing you he had to go back to work the next day and he'd be leaving early. You could only nod in response, and denial that this was happening.

You had missed the times when he'd smile at you. Oh, how you prayed for your husband to speak to you the way he once had. Or acknowledge you at all, yet here you lay Besides a man who had made it clear he no longer was interested in the marriage and you. You place your hand over your mouth as tears slowly begin to stream down your cheeks. You wish you could find it in yourself to say something anything to Minho and question why he was doing this. Why did he just pull away? What happened?

Little do you know I'm tryin' to pick myself up piece by piece…

You contemplate your next steps when you awaken to an empty bed once again. What was this life? How could things be this bad?…. What should you do? You remain in bed for a while placing one hand over the other and resting it on your abdomen, you let out a disappointed sigh. You run your hand over your hair before pulling yourself out of the bed. You couldn't remember the last real conversation you had with Minho. You wished to hear the sound of his laugh, see the squint in his eyes. You miss waking up to butterfly kisses all over your face, you have begun to slowly cope with the truth of the situation. Minho no longer loved you….you kept denying that fact but you couldn't anymore. You couldn't continue to hold onto him, you needed to let go and learn to function without him.

It had taken you a few more days of not seeing your husband, as you've stopped making him dinner and waiting for him to come home, to finally prepare yourself to make this decision. It had taken two weeks to find a lawyer and begin the process and now here you sat, divorce papers signed and placed on the neatly made bed with your wedding ring lying right on top of it. You reminisced about the 10 years you had spent with Minho. There were wonderful memories as you pulled the items from their places; packing up the memories in a separate box from your things you placed it in the closet where your suitcase once sat on the shelf. You thanked God that Minno worked long hours, for once, you were happy that your husband rarely saw you.

The tears that had streamed down your face as you continued on your mission to pick up the pieces of your failure in your marriage. You knew no matter how hard this was you needed to go. You stared at the home you had shared, it was a bittersweet feeling. The past 10 years played like a movie in your mind, you saw your whole life with Minho. You hate that forever wasn't long but you knew you'd both be better for this. You smile sadly to no one “Goodbye Minho”

Little do you know I know you're hurt while I'm sound asleep Little do you know All my mistakes are slowly drownin' me 'Little do you know I'm tryin' to make it better piece by piece. Little do you know I….I love you 'til the sun dies

Minho felt off as he made his way home from practice, he could feel it in the pit of his stomach all day. He’d figured it was just the amount of time he'd been pouring himself into his work to be able to get time off. It was ironic how much could one pour into their work just to get a vacation. But Minho knew he needed one, he'd been on overdrive since the mistakes he made on tour. Hyperfocused on perfecting every new song Chan had brought before him, learning and engraining the choreography in the member's heads time and time again all so he could sit back and finally relax and enjoy time with his wife. He'd missed her so much and even being home with her didn't satisfy his need to be with her. He felt as if he needed to reward her for how much he'd probably put her through these past few months.

He knows he was distant and was acting abnormally but he couldn't help it. How could he let you see him fail? How could he let you see the part of him he keeps hidden away? It’s a ridiculous thought he knows that but he couldn’t help it. He needed to fix things at work first then his marriage. You would understand once he explained tonight. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have finished everything. It had taken a lot longer than he had planned but finally he could just relax with his wife for once. He knows how much she’s been hurting, he knows how much she probably missed him. He’d heard the silent cries from behind him, he’d bite his lip to hold back tears himself. The sound of your cries always broke his heart, he hopes that he can finally make you laugh again.

Getting back to his house he could immediately tell something was off. Just the whole vibe of your shared home was different, he shook his head blaming it on simple paranoia as he made his way inside. Being greeted with nothing but darkness was nothing new to him these days. He could tell when you had stopped waiting up for him you were slowly becoming frustrated with his behavior, but nothing could prepare him for the way his heart dropped when he walked into the bedroom and your sleeping figure was not there. He dropped his dance bag almost stumbling backward as he rushed out of the room toward the living room hoping to find you sleeping there. “H-Honey….” He called his voice panicked and hesitant as he made his way around the apartment checking the guest bedroom. The weight of the situation finally crash landing on him as he made his way back to the room you shared. Turning on the light he saw the large envelope, your wedding ring sitting on-top of it, lying on the bed.

His breathing quickly picked up as his hands shook at his sides. He knew what was in there, though he wanted to deny it, he knew as he pulled the documents they would read ‘Dissolution of Marriage Agreement’. It didn’t hurt any less once he saw them, the salt on the wound was seeing your signature at the bottom. This wasn’t a threat….You were leaving him.

Feeling the air completely leave his lungs Minho gasped, he struggled to catch his breath as his eyes began to water. This couldn’t be happening…Not like this…Not right now. He pleaded to no one, he held your ring in his palm closing his fist around it. He closed his eyes as he imagined the smile on your lips when he had placed it on your finger 2 years ago. You looked ethereal, he could remember every detail of you from that day. The memory brought more pain to his chest. Where did he go from here? What should be done? How can he get you back? Would—No, Do you want to come back? He stared at the documents, reading through each stipulation, his blood boiled as you requested nothing. Not the house, not any money, not even the cats. You wished for you both to just disappear from each other's lives, and it broke his heart.

The more he stared at the document; the more it felt as if it was laughing at him. Laughing at his stupidity, of course, you would leave… what person would stay when their significant other began to act the way he did? He couldn't count how many times he read the forms, nausea growing stronger and stronger as he stared at your signature. How could this happen? Why didn't you talk to him? He knows..he knows it felt almost impossible to talk to him about anything. He knows he was practically a ticking time bomb at this time and that's why you wouldn't question his behavior. He scoffed to himself, his jaw clenched in frustration. He tore up the documents, resigning to not make this process easy for you. Hold you to him and somehow figure out how to fix this.

His hands are shaking as he grabs his phone from his bag. He rests on the floor on his knees as he's confronted with his wallpaper; Your bright smile shining at him. You looked ethereal, his vision growing blurry as the tears overwhelmed him. He prayed as he called you that you would answer. He hoped you would listen and let him explain. He wished you'd know he'd do anything to fix this, his heart was absolutely shattered and scattered on the floor along with the stray pieces of the divorce papers. He felt his throat closing as he is greeted by the sound of your voicemail.

“Fuck….” he sobs as he drifts off to a restless sleep on the floor.

I'll wait (I'll wait), I'll wait (I'll wait) I love you like you've never felt the pain I'll wait (I'll wait) I promise you don't have to be afraid I'll wait Love is here, and here to stay So lay your head on me

You had spent two weeks avoiding Minho's calls and visits. He'd found you so fast knowing you'd go stay with your older sister if anything happened. As much as you still loved Minho you felt things were going to be for the better as you made your resolve to be with someone who truly loved you and wouldn't neglect you. Someone who wouldn't be able to go months on end with mundane conversations, and a lack of any romantic provocation. You felt as if you were only roommates with your husband for the better part of a month. You were ignored for 6 months while he toured the world. You were left behind and forgotten about by your husband. You had been lucky for those two weeks, unlike today.

Coming home and seeing your soon-to-be ex-husband seated on your sister's couch and her and her boyfriend nowhere to be found, made your blood boil. You scoffed as you turned to walk out of the door once again. “W-wait honey!” Minho called; the crack in his voice made you halt your movements.

“Lee Minho, what could you possibly want right now?” you growl before turning to face him. You were shocked by his appearance; he was thinner in his face, and his eyes held bags under them. His hair was messy and he wore just sweatpants and a T-shirt. He sighs as you eye him, your eyes meet for a moment before he looks away from you. His eyes glue themselves to the floor as he tries to catch his breath. “You…I want you to come home,” he states hesitantly “I didn't mean to—You didn't mean to?” you cut him off, he places his hand up to stop you from interrupting him. “I didn't mean to neglect you and ignore you for months on end…I fucked up the choreography a lot on tour and let it get to my head and I didn't want you to know how much I was failing…how I was falling…I didn't want you to not see me as the amazing guy you've always seen me as” his tone is somber, his shoulders are slumped and you could feel defeat radiating off him.

“I made a lot of mistakes but please…I love you, I want to be with you and I'm so sorry I'm so fucking sorry.” He meets your eyes as you stand there with your arms crossed over your chest. “Minho, I don't think I can be with you anymore…” you murmur. He looks at you in horror as he drops to his knees bringing himself in front of you and taking your hands in his. “Please I love you I'll do anything, I'm sorry please let me fix this I'm sorry” he cries. You shake your head sadly at him “I just—I can't trust you. I can't put my faith in you anymore, you couldn't trust me with your problems Minho after 10 years. You couldn't find it in yourself to rely on me, your wife. It would take way too much time and effort that you don't have to fix this… I need time I need space right now”

“I can give you everything! I can dedicate myself to fixing this—us. You're right for being scared to give me another chance. You can take as much time as you need if you want but I just want a chance to fix this. We can just hold off on the divorce… can't we? I don't want to get divorced I don't want to lose you. I'll wait…I'll wait for you. I can be here for you, I'll support you in whatever you want to do. I love you, I'll always love you. Please even if it's just to yell at me and tell me how much of an asshole I am, I'll be there for you so please…” his words are cut off by him burying his face in your abdomen; his body trembling harshly as he cried. You felt your tears welling up in your eyes. You stare at the ceiling for a moment, knowing your resolve is already completely shattered you rub his head softly. You soothe him trying to calm his breathing. “Shh…W-we can figure things out p-please calm down” you coo knowing he'd give himself a panic attack if he couldn't calm down. He stares up at you with those guilt-filled eyes. You felt pathetic, almost stupid as you pressed your lips to his forehead. Doubting your own actions, while Minho felt his trembling, aching heart settle.

Cause little do you know he'll love you 'til the sun dies

⏪|⏸️|⏩

Taglist: @yangbbokari @havenwithleeknow

[heiznx]

PRINCESS ARRIVAL — III

∗༝*◦✦ missed texts.

BEFORE READING, this includes mentions of yuu's attachment to mc, brief mention of book 5 and 6 events, and slight yandere things.

|| ◀BACK || NEXT▶ || HEADCANONS ||

You can remember how you clung to the tiny hope that your team would win despite the incident with Vil and how it left a physical impact on all of you, but mentally for both you and Rook, who appeared to be in a better state than you.

Kalim said before that Neige and the seven dwarves’ music couldn’t get out of his mind, because the song was targeted for children to listen and adults to reminisce on; it had the arrangements of a children’s song in Shaftlands.

The glances you threw at Vil and how you followed him and—you sighed and sunk in your bed, your head splitting from the emotional ride you went through in just one day, but you had to process a lot of things today.

Royal Sword Academy won, Rook cried because he met Neige, and you remembered the way Neige spared him a minute or two of his time before quickly going to you, clinging on your arm as if he was a lost animal—or maybe one or two minutes is enough to talk with someone and you were just overthinking it.

“What’s wrong with Neige?” you can’t help but think.

When they won, you felt your dislike towards him coming back despite the competition being fair—not exactly fair since most of the people voted on their own schools because they want to support it and not because they think the dance or song was good.

Even though you wanted to cry at that loss, you held back because Epel and Kalim started crying themselves and you ended up laughing at them for it despite your own frustration.

Everyone was surprised at how Rook got quiet after meeting Neige, but turns out his tears were gathering in his eyes and he introduced himself as the #0000002 member of Neige’s fanclub; you weren’t exactly surprised as you remembered how he said ‘I wish I was you’ when you nearly got in a rumor of having a date with Neige.

Now about Neige, where do you even start?

It wasn’t obsessive, the way he’s all up on you, at least you think it wasn’t, it was just plain overbearing, especially when he texts you each time he has a break, tells you all the stories of his practice, chats you about meeting up without specifications where and when, and then clinging to you in real life.

Still, you felt like disliking him for something that you could most likely change by communicating with him was not justified, at least you should try to, you thought, perhaps tomorrow, since the cultural fair was two days.

You paused your thoughts when you gazed at the mirror and remembered that you promised the big-eared creature that you will find your friend to show if he can see Mickey in the photo you took of him earlier.

You scooched to the edge of the bed and went to look for Grim, not knowing how your stress levels and mental state will worsen with how you will see your friend, whom you are attached to, protecting a stone and will physically harm you in the process.

Neige looked at the paper bag by his table and sighed again, prompting the dwarves to pat his back again and trying to comfort him for forgetting to give you the gift he planned on; they were swarmed with reporters, his fame held him back in meeting you.

He sinks on the small table, listening to the words of the dwarves as they rub his back or try to point out the features they saw on you earlier at the cultural fair and some bringing up the trophy they received from the competition.

Not only did he fail to give you the paper bag, he also failed to bring it in the first place; he wasn’t even able to say goodbye because you retreated to Ramshackle dorm so early and the school was about to close. He really didn’t have a choice.

You were not even texting him right now; he always had to be the first to reach out.

Was it hopeless after all? To chase after you, because you always sabotage yourself by thinking if he was simply being nice to a person who helped him from falling back when someone pushed him. Did he accidentally return the favor when you called on him for help and he broke the rules for you?

He didn’t even see the cameras directed at him or people who caught the scene on video and posted it on socials, but he definitely saved it, moreover, he liked it; the only time he hesitated on actually liking it was when you seemed to be troubled over the fact.

When it got taken down permanently by your friend, he had never been so relieved that he had saved it prior, but even without that video, he surely still remembers the incident and the feeling of your hands as he held it and happily asks for your time.*

“There’s still tomorrow…” Shelpie whispers as his head leans on Neige’s shoulder, slowly dozing off and waking up repeatedly.

“We can visit Night Raven College tomorrow,” Dominic says, having forgotten to remind the human about the paper bag as well because of how nervous he felt since it was competition day today. “I’m sure [name] will be happy to receive it.”

“How would you know? You don’t know them like I do.”

Neige looked up and smiled; he had gotten accustomed to his thoughts by now. It’s a reflection of his feelings and innermost self, but he had grown to accept it already as a part of him—because those thoughts were because of concern.

Ironically enough, he himself doesn’t even know how you would react to the gift, but he visions your flustered expression upon receiving it and hoping—hoping that you’d hold his hand and openly express your gratitude.

Though it would be lovely if you were to give him more than he invisions.

“Yes, there’s still tomorrow!” the ever joyful dwarf says, smiling brightly. “We can help you look for her!”

“Or… or you can ask your other friend,” Timmy says.

“Ah, Vi…” the lovestrucked student murmured, his eyes looking wide and innocent as he looked at Timmy as if being enlightened by his suggestion. “I hate him.”

“Vil Schoenheit,” Dominic said in thought. “It would be nice to, especially with how he seemed close with [name]-san. I think he would be able to help you.”

“Help? Help,” his heart felt numb and empty as he smiled while looking at Dominic, because when did that model ever help Neige when it came to you? When the model visited the front of his dressing room, did that model actually go to give him the drink or flaunt the concern you had for him?

“I—ah—I think so too!” Snick chimes in but nearly sneezing in the process of talking so Dominic handed him a handkerchief.

Neige remembered the amount of glances you sent Vil’s way and it was less than the seconds of glances you gave him. The way your obvious concern for the model was there, and it’s suffocating to think that the model seemed to look at you fondly.

It was tolerable, the dwarves’ liking towards you, because they had no ulterior motive unlike the always-ranked-second model; the one you were with when he dozed off after meeting a certain fan who wanted to be looked at straight in the eyes.

“It would be good! I’ll give him a chat… or I can ask [name]-san myself!” the ebony haired student smiled brightly as he sat up properly, reaching for his phone and nearly knocking off the paper bag in the process. "Sending a letter to R might take too long…"

For hours from when Neige slept with a racing heart to when he woke up happily, expecting a reply after sending it during dinnertime and now he woke up to breakfast, because you usually reply in between; he knows you sleep later than he does.

There was no response from you.

Still, he hurried to dress up in a casual outfit since he didn’t need to wear a uniform because he currently wasn’t representing the school for anything—he was just there for you, and possibly needing the help of anyone he sees first for you.

It took him hours to sit down and perfect his appearance in front of a mirror, waking up Dominic and the other dwarves because of how the contour stick kept falling off due to how much he repeated the lines on his face.

All that time for preparation and leaving without the dwarves to go ‘early’ to meet you alone without them; all of that just to be met with a redhead that firmly told him that you were not feeling well to meet anyone or to be outside at all.

Riddle Rosehearts, familiar—no, Neige knew the name because this was another person that greeted you nicely at that one call, and a person that respected you, but doesn’t this dorm leader seem to be closer to you than he was?

Ace and Deuce were also walking by when they saw from the second floor that Riddle was talking to Neige; it was the spade that panicked and ran down because the dorm leader seemed to be losing his patience with Neige’s persistence.

It was just that Riddle didn’t want to disclose what happened to you. The you who was lamenting over the fact you won’t be able to see your companion for hours or days, and the you who had red-shot eyes and scars on the arm.

“Oh, it’s you!” Neige took his attention off the nearly fuming prefect to look at Deuce. “You were with [name]-san near the Beach!”

The beach that nearly had you get a bruise if it hadn’t for this blue haired student that was shouldering most of the hits from imbeciles that wanted a taste of the blastcycle.

“Sorry, cutting in,” Ace was the one to reply, causing Riddle to feel an ick that it was Ace who replied instead of Deuce, who was being talked to. “Are you looking for the prefect? [name]’s not doing well right now… they need a lot lot of rest, but if you need something to tell them, you can text them instead.”

“I’ve been doing just that, but for some reason…” Neige says, but he stopped before he could say that you stopped replying.

Why did this person recommend texting you as if you were capable of replying? He would never be able to understand it if you replied to everyone but him.

“Ah, you see, [name] is feeling unwell today,” Ace said, causing Riddle to shoot him a look, a warning for him not to reveal more than he knows. “They might be resting, it’d really help if you send them texts so they won’t miss anything you wanna tell them when they wake up.”

“Ah,” his eyes widened slightly. “[name]-san is sick.”

It’s the first assumption Neige has, of course, because what else does he know about your background other than knowing you as who you are right now and not your past? He accepts you anyways.

He thought that Heartslabyul’s dorm leader was quite silly for not starting with that as his mind goes to the thought of being able to see your flushed face and in need of someone to rely on, or to be able to take care of you.

His heart races at the thought of it as he keeps his bright smile on—that dimmed once Deuce said, “Yes, but… they’re not really accepting visitors. It makes them… dizzy, you know…?”

“It’s completely normal to feel nauseous when you’re ill,” Riddle said to save Deuce’s informal wording, and he felt his anger simmer down when Ace was able to tame Neige’s persistence. “If you have something to give the prefect, it’s best to leave it to Pomefiore’s housewarden.”

“Vi?” the ebony student asked as he felt his heart empty out again, keeping a smile though Ace winced involuntarily at the thought that Riddle quite messed up there. “Why Vi?”

“Oh, because Schoenheit…” Deuce started, only to quiet down because he cannot give proper reasons since he doesn’t know the situation well, only having a gist of it through Epel.

“Why? Why? Why him? Again?”

“Pomefiore is attempting to provide [name]-san the best healing they could,” Riddle explained, not truly lying when he said it, though in reality Pomefiore is only offering you skincare for your plump eyes and your scar. “And he is the closest—”

Ace was satisfied with the first structure of Riddle’s words until nearly adding that Vil was the closest to you so Deuce quickly gets ideas from Riddle’s words and cuts in, “—closest to Hunt, who is part of the science club so Schoenheit gets entrance there to make potions for [name]-san!”

Riddle would’ve scolded Deuce for that; Riddle was the one who can barely catch up to what Neige was feeling and was prioritizing getting through Neige’s mind that you cannot see anyone at the moment.

The ginger felt relieved by Deuce’s save that they both placed their palms by their mouths as if to breathe deeply; they can’t believe how they have to save Riddle from more questioning by Neige.

“I see… how thoughtful…” Neige murmurs as he looks downcasted, nearly causing Riddle to wince at how openly he showed it. “I’ll… text Vi…”

“Or… or we can hand it to him for you!” Deuce chimed.

It doesn’t satisfy Neige, but he didn’t feel like seeing Vil and remembering the times he witnessed you with him; he wanted to see you, that’s what he dressed up and came for in the cultural fair.

He clenched on the strap of the bag before he looked up and smiled, handing it to Deuce as he said, “Thank you! I’ll make sure to text [name]-san about it so they will be prepared to receive it!”

You put the phone down before you glanced at the paper bag, just because you mustered all the energy you had to feel energetic to respond to Neige doesn't mean the hole in your heart was fully healed.

The Shroud brothers had Grim, but even they won't tell you what happened with him even if you were close to the brothers in a way; Idia was closed off and Ortho was apologetic towards you.

You looked up at the group that was looking back at you before you sigh and say, "I feel better."

Kalim is happier to hear that and you smile a little; the entire group of the representatives of Night Raven College during the competition was there.

It took you a few minutes of talking by Rook before you mustered the courage to reply to Neige; he bribed you with money that he says could be for cat food in cans for your companion's return.

"It was a lot," Vil says as he looked back at the amount of fruits piling up on the table and how Jamil was currently in Ramshackle's kitchen and making juice.

"His sincerity is incredibly touching! He truly is kind," Rook says as you lean back on the couch.

You can't believe that Kalim was happy despite donating his money to Ramshackle, but you can't believe that even Jamil donates his own; you assumed he would have problems, but perhaps being Kalim's servant pays well.

There was still stinging in your eyes when you remember that Epel even donated his own and said it's for Grim's return; you can't help it, Grim was the first one to be there when you arrived in an unknown world.

"How many spoons are still in the freezer?" Vil asked after glancing at your puffed eyes that was the result of their kindness and you missing your companion.

"There's still six... seven..." Deuce counted.

— C R A S H !

"That..." you muttered before you looked up immediately.

The sound was nerving, and it came from outside. In that same day, you let your heart control your actions; it was the day you learned about 'Hepta Team' and when prefects had a meeting.

Rook was an enabler more than anything when he chose that he wanted to follow where the robots took certain people, people who overblotted, were taken to. Moreover, you learned more about why the Shroud brothers refused to return your companion.

And the next day, you were did not show up in the cafe to meet Neige.

THIS IS HEIZNX, each time i type, i would accidentally out * before any actions and after because i’ve been using character ai on my laptop and i got used to typing with asterisks. Its taking too long again im so sorry, even i am thinking ‘omg when am i gna put [insert important scene for next time that i dont wanna disclose rn]??’ mc's texts were 'replied' to but they werent showing when i previewed them while editing. i had to edit the replies so it would be a little understandable, i never had ihpone so i didnt htink that 'messages' (?) would remove them.