#everything is so beautiful... I missed home so much...

[h66nki]

just the tip ⋆. 𐙚 ̊ step!bro park sunghoon.

your stepbrother comes back from his tour after months and you let him fuck you, just with the tip. warnings; stepcest, unprotected sex, kinda angst?

sunghoon can't deny it... he knows he hasn't been present in your life at all these past few months, and even if he really wants to deny it, it wouldn't be right.

the brief, dry messages he sent you while he was away weren't enough, not even a little. he wasn't a good brother, he wasn't a good man to you, and he's so, so sorry that he doesn't know how to make it up to you.

"princess, look at me," he asks, his voice breaking.

sunghoon is nestled between your legs, caressing your face and collarbones, awaiting your reactions.

since he came home, you haven't even bothered to greet him with more than a chaste kiss on the cheek. you haven't chatted with him, you haven't run into his arms like you used to... you haven't even taken the time to look at the gifts he brought you.

material things weren't and never would be a consolation for you. you wanted him, his affection, his attention. you wanted him to love you like before, when he'd sneak into your room and fuck you until you were dumb and whining; when he would finally hold you and shower you with kisses and caresses.

you didn't want a damn gift. none of the expensive material things he brought would serve as consolation to erase how alone and abandoned you felt.

"baby, look at me..." he asks again, curling his lip in a small pout. he didn't like you being so distant. not when he missed you so much, not when he needed you so much.

you look at him, defeated.

"im really sorry, i mean it." you nod, not entirely convinced.

it's just work, you console yourself in your head. it's not that your stepbrother didn't love you anymore, he was just busy.

his eyes look at you with love, with longing. you can't hold your shell, your shield any longer. you collapse, and sunghoon puts you back together, as usual.

"we're okay," you sigh, finally hugging him. it's been so long since you last saw him that you can tell the muscles in his back have changed, grown.

"you can't imagine how much i missed you," he murmurs sincerely, pressing himself against you. "i was going crazy."

"it was the same for me," you confess.

your stepbrother pouts again, and your heart clenches. you don't like that he's sad, especially not for you. you tilt your head and kiss him softly, letting him know everything you can't express out loud.

the man kisses you, just as tenderly. his hands go to your waist, caressing you until you tremble on his lips.

"you look so beautiful," he emphasizes, sincere. your hair is longer, your features look more delicate.

he kisses you again, deeper this time. your legs open out of inertia, pressing your crotch against his. you rub against him because god, you've missed him so much.

he's no slouch either. his cock is hard and uncomfortable inside his pants and he uses the friction to ease some of his discomfort.

"god, baby. you're going to kill me." he murmurs against your lips. you make him feel dizzy, weak.

you need him, but still a small part of you is aching, hurting.

"let me fuck you," he begs, kissing your neck. his tongue runs down the length and his lips leave wet kisses there. he can't mark you, he can't leave you hickeys. if he did, your parents would know. they can't find out; he can't allow them to take his princess away from him. the bruises on your skin always have to be where no one but the two of you can see them. never on your neck.

you ignore his request, rubbing yourself even harder against him. your underwear feels uncomfortable, too wet and sticking to you.

"you don't deserve that."

your words hit him hard, waking him from his reverie. he pulls away from your neck, his lips swollen and red.

"i know... i know i don't deserve anything, but i really need it."

you moisten your lips and look up at him. he's going to have to work hard to reward you, you both know that.

"just the tip," he proposes, looking at you desperately. if he has to beg for it, he'll do it, without a doubt. "come on, baby, just the tip... nothing more. i promise i won't try anything. just my tip in your pussy."

you nod, giving him permission to remove your pants and panties. the fabric of your underwear is so sticky that sunghoon has to force himself not to kneel and eat your pussy out for fear of going too far and making you regret this.

he unbuttons his pants and pulls them down a bit, as well as his boxers. he's so hard that you feel sorry for him; you've rarely seen him as needy as he is now.

"open up for me..." he asks, his voice breaking. your legs part a little further, allowing him to enter.

his hands take his cock and he uses it to rub it against your folds, moistening it until it's full of your juices. sunghoon knows what drives you crazy; his dripping head hits your clit a few times, playing with you.

"don't tease," you say breathlessly.

your stepbrother laughs and finally aligns his head with your hole, barely penetrating you. "heavenly," he praises. "i missed being in this cunt. always so wet for me..."

sunghoon finds your lips and steals a messy kiss. his hips barely move, fucking you with just the tip, like he promised. "you're so tight," he murmurs. "you haven't let anyone fuck you, do you?"

"no..." you moan, feeling one of his fingers slip out to rub your clit. "since you left..." you try to put together a coherent sentence.

he understands, smiling at you.

"good princess," he praises you, placing a kiss on your nose, his hips still moving. "only i can fuck this hole... im the only allowed to, even if it's just with the tip."

m sorry if there are grammatical errors, i have to sleep NOW. tomorrow they will be corrected. xoxo :*

[himasgod]

Hi!

How are you? I hope you're okay. Well, this is the first time I've asked you for something, so I hope I'm doing the right thing… Anyways.

How about a story where the only way to Yuu/reader's heart is through food, but not just any kind of food, but homemade food, not fast food, not restaurant food, just homemade food? Imagine the boys discovering, either through a casual conversation with the reader or through Grim, that the only way to your heart is through food, because, for you, food represents a form of love, one in which feelings and emotions come out transparently and sincerely.

This story could be for both dorms and overblot + kalim, just thinking about the food the boys will prepare makes me hungry.

I hope my request didn't bother you, and I apologize for any spelling errors. Have a nice day/afternoon/evening.

Bye!

OVERBLOTS + KALIM X READER

Where they find out that the way to your heart is through home-cooked food.

When he hears from Kalim—loudly—that the only way to your heart is through homemade food, Jamil nearly drops his spoon.

"What? Yuu likes homemade food? Like, emotionally likes it?? Like—falling in love likes it??"

He wants to scream. Because food is his thing. Cooking is his chore, his comfort, his language—but he’s never done it for love. Always for duty. Always because someone expected it.

Now, the idea that you’d cherish a meal he made with intention—just for you—makes his heart skip a beat and his stomach twist.

So he stays up late one night in the Scarabia kitchen, making a dish his father once made for his mother during festival season: stuffed vine leaves with lemon, turmeric rice, and sweet tahini-drizzled dates.

The moment he places it in front of you, he does not meet your eyes.

“This isn’t a big deal,” he mutters. “It’s just something I made. You can throw it out if it’s not your taste.”

But then you try it. And close your eyes. And smile.

“This tastes like someone missed me before I even left.”

Jamil stops.

You look up at him gently. “Did you make this with your heart?”

His voice is low. Raw. “…I don’t know how to make it any other way.”

Malleus doesn’t understand at first.

“You prefer homemade food… over grand feasts? Even over royal delicacies?”

You nod. “Because homemade food carries emotion. If someone makes something with love, you can feel it in the taste. It tells you you’re cared for.”

Malleus becomes quiet after that. Thoughtful.

That night, he visits Lilia.

“…May I ask you to teach me to cook something… simple?”

The next few nights are a saga. Things are burned. The Diasomnnia kitchen is almost destroyed. Sebek has a meltdown. But Malleus persists.

Eventually, he brings you a single, quiet offering: a small bowl of barley porridge sweetened with honey and fruits—a common fae breakfast.

“It was my mother’s favorite,” he says softly. “Lilia told me she usually made it, once, before she… before the end. I’ve never tasted it. Until now.”

You sip the warm spoonful, and your throat closes up with feeling.

“Malleus,” you whisper, voice trembling, “this… is beautiful.”

His gaze softens—more tender than you’ve ever seen it.

“If food is a way to your heart, then allow me to offer mine first. One dish at a time.”

“Oh! You like homemade food? THAT’S AMAZING!! I love making food for people!!”

Kalim’s the one who runs full speed toward your love language without hesitation. He doesn’t even blink. His whole soul lights up with the idea of cooking for you—not because it’s a strategy, but because it’s pure joy.

He shows up the next day with a whole spread: lamb biryani, stuffed flatbreads, saffron rice with raisins, and a homemade rosewater dessert. Everything’s hand-cooked with a little too much enthusiasm and not enough restraint (he may have set off the dorm smoke alarms three times).

He watches you dig in like it’s the best moment of his entire life.

“You actually like it?!”

“It’s… incredible,” you say between bites. “Wait, did you make all this yourself?”

“I had some help from Jamil, but I really tried to do the important parts!” He leans in, grinning. “I wanted you to know I care. With every bite.”

You're about to respond when he just blurts out: “I’d cook for you every day forever if you let me!”

You choke. Grim laughs. Kalim beams. Jamil sighs in the background.

He panics. Absolutely loses it when he hears from Grim that you only open up to people who feed you something homemade.

"They must be joking—homemade, here, in NRC? That’s entirely unsanitary without proper kitchen regulations! You can’t just cook anything—"

He gets flustered. Because what if you don’t like his food? What if it’s improper? What if it has a lot of sugar?

Lots of sugar...

But you mention once, offhandedly, that your favorite kind of food is when someone makes something they ate growing up. A comfort dish. Something from childhood. And that makes Riddle think of strawberry tarts. Before everything changed.

So he makes you one. Follows the old recipe not from his mother’s strict cookbook, but from memory.

When he hands it to you, it’s in a porcelain dish with little red ribbon tied around it.

He doesn’t look at you directly when you taste it. But your eyes light up, and your expression softens, and Riddle feels something in his chest crack wide open.

“You made this just for me?”

“…Yes. I thought… well, if it’s your love language, then it should be done right, shouldn’t it?”

And suddenly, he’s not as scared of breaking the rules as he used to be—at least, not if it means winning your heart.

Internal screaming.

He overhears it from Ortho, who cheerfully tells him, “Yuu says food is their love language! Homemade food especially! You should make them something!”

SYSTEM ERROR: PANIC MODE ACTIVATED

“ME?! Cook?! Are you trying to make me perish in fire and humiliation?!”

Idia spends three days researching recipes on deep cooking forums and “how to not burn your dorm down”.

He programs a tiny kitchen assistant bot. He tries and fails to make something edible five times.

But eventually… he remembers a meal he used to eat: miso-butter ramen with soft egg and nori strips. Something warm and soft and kind. So he makes it. Shaking the whole time. Heart racing.

He doesn’t give it to you in person. He leaves it outside your door in a sleek bento box with an embarrassed little note:

“⚠️ WARNING: Contains feelings. Eat at your own risk. Is this too much cringe?–Idia”

You eat it. It’s clumsy but perfect. And you text him one word after:

“Home. <3”

He doesn't respond for a full ten minutes because he’s lying on the floor having a full-blown meltdown—but it’s the good kind.

Later that night, you find a pixel heart flashing on your phone.

You say homemade food equals love, and Vil hears:

“If it’s made with thought, emotion, and care… that’s what matters to me most.”

At first, he’s horrified. Not because he disagrees—but because he's never allowed himself to cook anything imperfect. For Vil, food is calories, presentation, discipline. Feelings? That’s… far too vulnerable.

But then he sees you. The way your whole face lights up when Grim gives you a sloppy sandwich he threw together with help from Trey. The little smile you get when someone talks about their family recipe.

He starts thinking: Have I ever cooked for someone without a camera crew or an aesthetic in mind?

So he visits Epel’s family cookbook. He goes rustic. Unpolished. Just him. He tries to recreate something his father made for him when he was young and sick: potato soup with dill and cream.

When he brings it to you, it’s in a plain ceramic bowl. No garnish. No edible flowers.

He clears his throat. “It’s… not glamorous. But it’s mine.”

You take one spoonful and exhale like you’re home.

“Vil,” you murmur, eyes shining, “this tastes like someone wanted me to feel safe.”

He’s silent for a long time before saying softly, “That’s exactly why I made it.”

At first? He scoffs. "Tch. Food? That's easy." But when you clarify—not takeout, not dining hall food, definitely not something a servant made—his expression falters.

“Homemade food,” you say quietly one afternoon, helping Grim finish his bowl of stew. “You can tell when someone put care into something. It’s… honest.”

Leona doesn’t say much in response. But that night, he sits awake in the botanical garden, tail flicking. The next few days, he’s just gone. Vanished between classes. Ruggie says he’s been in the kitchen wing of the dorms. That’s weird. No one ever uses those.

Eventually, he shows up with something in a wrapped container. It smells like a dish from the Sunset Savanna— stew, if you're not mistaken.

Leona thrusts it toward you. “Here. Eat it. Or don’t. I don’t care.”

But he watches. He definitely cares. You taste it. It’s a little salty, a little smoky. The meat’s tender. The spices are strong but familiar. It’s clearly not professional quality—but it’s his. You glance at him, and for once, he doesn’t look smug. He looks nervous.

“It’s… perfect,” you say softly. “You made this?”

Leona shrugs, ears twitching. “Told ya. Easy.”

But the smile tugging at the corners of his lips gives him away.

Azul takes this personally. He prides himself on having everything—the Mostro Lounge, the service, the charm, the business sense. And yet, you don't fall for any of that?

“Oh no, no. They want homemade food? I can do that,” he mutters, spiraling into business-planning mode.

At first, he thinks he can buy it. Hire a good chef to cook in the Lounge’s back kitchen. But when he tests the idea with you, you immediately frown.

“…Did you make this?”

Azul’s face freezes.

“Homemade means from the heart, Azul.”

The next time he tries, he doesn’t tell you. But he spends hours in the kitchen, burning his fingers, cursing the oven, covered in flour. Jade walks in, offers to help. Azul glares. “This is something I need to do myself.”

Eventually, he presents you with a beautifully imperfect serving of seaweed soup and grilled rootfish—a Coral Sea traditional dish.

“It was something my grandmother used to make,” he says softly, hands trembling as you take a spoonful.

You blink, surprised. “It tastes like the ocean. But… comforting.”

Azul exhales, suddenly sheepish. “That’s exactly what she used to say.”

You smile, eyes warm. “Thank you. This means more than you know.”

[m-jelly]

Jelly can I request a military levi x baker fem reader?

The sweet smell of home

Levi x fem reader

Modern AU, established couple, proposal, reunion, fluff, romance.

While working a normal day and missing your boyfriend Levi, it appears your wishes are granted. Levi surprises you by pretending to be a customer at your bakery. He whisks you away on a date and proposes to you.

You hurried out the back with a fresh batch of lemon slices that reminded you of your boyfriend. You placed everything in the case and cleared up the area. As you changed your things you paused a moment and thought about your boyfriend and felt a longing inside you.

Your worker called for you making you snap out of your thoughts. "Mm?"

She smiled sweetly. "You have a customer asking for you."

You frowned a bit. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, we just need you."

"Coming." You dried your hands and walked out to see which customer wanted you. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw your boyfriend in his military uniform, flowers in hand and a bag no doubt filled with gifts. You felt tears sting your eyes. "Levi?"

He smiled sweetly. "Hey, beautiful."

You hurried around to him causing him to drop his bag and hug you tightly. "I missed you so much."

"Fuck, I missed you too, darling brat."

You cupped his face as tears ran down your cheeks. "Are you okay?" You gasped. "You have a scar on your face!"

He hummed a laugh. "I do, but it was a minor injury." He turned his head and ran his lips against your skin. "Is it off-putting?"

Your cheeks heated up. "Oh, no, not at all. In fact, it makes you sexier, which I didn't think was possible."

"Thank you." He kissed your hand. "So, I would like to buy a few things."

"I made lemon slices."

He hummed in delight as he looked at the display. "Sounds perfect."

You put a selection of cakes in a box and placed it on the counter. "That should be enough. It's on the house."

Levi shook his head. "No, no, I'm paying."

"Oh, thank you."

He paid and smiled. "I would also like you to come on a date with me."

"I'd love to. Let me put change a bit and we'll go." You hurried around taking your apron off and swapped your shoes. You chatted to your staff before hurrying off with your boyfriend. You squeezed Levi's hand a little. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"I wanted to surprise you."

Your cheeks burned. "I'm surprised and excited. I just want to cover you with kisses."

He kissed the back of your hand. "Later." He pulled you closer. "For now, we have a date." He moved you through the small town to a beautiful spot on a hill, under a tree with views of the lake, mountains and forests. "I brought a few things."

You smiled as he placed a blanket down from his bag. "You really did come prepared, huh?"

"I have a few more things." He sat you down before getting a few things out of his bag. "Lunch together."

You cuddled up to Levi and ate with him. The two of you chatted for a long time about what he did and how things had been for you. While you were texting your team about locking up the bakery and thanking them for working hard, Levi was moving about and doing a few things.

You placed your phone in your bag and looked up at Levi to see he was nervous and blushing. "Levi, what are you up to?"

He released a long sigh before saying your name. "I love you so deeply."

"I love you too."

"You're my whole world."

You caressed his cheek. "You're mine too."

He gulped hard. "I've talked to work and I'm no longer going to be sent out. I'm going to stay here, do training instead so we can be together."

Your heart raced. "Really?"

He nodded. "I can't be apart from you anymore." He shifted closer. "Especially, when I want to marry you." He held up a ring and said your name. "Will you marry me?"

You dove at Levi knocking him onto his back. "YES!"

Levi chuckled. "You've made me the happiest man in the world." He closed his eyes as you showered his face with kisses. "You're so cute."

You crashed your lips against Levi's. "I love you."

"I love you too."

You sat up and bounced on his lap as you held your left hand out to him. "I can't wait to marry you."

He slipped the ring on your finger before rolling over onto you. He kissed you and sighed through his nose as he felt complete. "Mm, you're incredible."

You linked your arms around his neck. "I want to eat you up like one of my signature cakes."

Levi purred. "I should be saying that, but I'll leave it for tonight." He kissed your neck and bit a little. "You're all mine."

Tags under

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously @dreamerofthewest @abiatackerman @minminroie

[bxllxebxtch]

Counting Stars

Fluff (this was kindly requested by @billsdollie)

The cold night breeze flowed through you hair as you admired the stary night. Billie glanced at you, smiling tenderly and lovingly.

"enjoying the stars my love?"

She says softly with a slight tease in her voice. You turn your head looking at you with a bright smile on you face.

"I just love stars...it's so beautiful"

Your eyes basically sparkled as you talked about the stars in the dark blue in that covered the sky. You've always enjoyed the night, more than the day. You enjoyed the cold breeze, the quietness and the tender moments you shared with you gorgeous girlfriend, Billie, at night.

"The stars just make the night so much better.."

Your voice is soft and tender, you began to just talk about the stars not seeing the way Billie's eye sparkled with love every time she looked away from the road just to watch your face. Her eyes were filled the the brim with love.

"And some time...the stars makes me think of...you"

She mumbles softly, her cheeks flushing pink but a smile on her face.

"Hu-"

The car stopped making you think you were home, but that's when Billie turned to you with loving eyes and a wide smile.

"everything about you, just sparkles and shines just like the stars in the night sky.."

"so every time i miss you i look at the stars"

You could see her eyes glitter as she talked about you, your heart melts and you smile. You feel genuinely loved.

"I would love to stargaze with you"

You say softly and a soft giggle escapes Billie's pink plump lips.

"Baby look outside"

You turn your head, looking out the window and your face lights up. You are on a hill, and the only thing you could see is stars. Your jaw drops at the beauty of the sky, a tear threating your eye.

"Everything ok. my-"

She tries to ask you but you stop her, kissing her lips softly. The kiss is tender and slow, your hands hold her face with care and love. She pauses for a second but kissed you back, her eyes fluttering shut as she melts.

"I love you.."

You lean your forehead against hers, mumbling these three simple words that just makes her heart flutter.

"i love you more.."

Her voice is almost a whisper, but filled with with pure, raw love.

"and i love you most"

She smiles at your words.

"impossible."

She giggles softly.

"now, ready to count the stars my love?"

Her voice is low as her face is lit up with a soft smile

"anytime I'm with you, I'll count stars forever"

[noiranamnesis]

There were small things in life which gave Marinette joy: animals, melodies, Tylio’s hands in her hair, pâtisserie…and hosting. So long as there were ingredients to prepare and conversation to be had, she found herself content. It was in the moments when her English improved most- casual, flowing chats where she could stretch into nuance and pick up regional phrases. And yet, there was always something which managed to trip her up: a turn of phrase, a pun, a cultural idiom. When it happened, she instinctively leaned on the nearest familiar anchor, whether Nadja or Tylio.

As far as guests went, she found Jeremy quite pleasant. Polite. Attentive. He was easy to talk to and not shy about carrying a conversation, which certainly helped. His knowledge of her prior work, particularly her French filmography, caught her a little off guard, but once he touched on his interest in French cinema, it made more sense. She had smiled and asked if he’d ever consider working in France someday. If he was serious, she’d be happy to pass his name along to the right people once she was home again. That led to his next question: Did she plan to stay in Los Angeles long term? Marinette hesitated, then admitted the truth. While she was grateful for her projects in the U.S., ideally she would like to alternate- one project here, one in France. But long term? Her home was France.

Jeremy didn’t react outwardly, but inside, the confession sent him spiraling. Half of him had been counting on her staying in America. It made the logistics easier. But hearing she planned to return, possibly permanently, recalibrated everything. It wasn’t a dealbreaker, he told himself. Just a challenge. Besides, he was already learning French. How else would he speak to her family? To their future children? Did she want kids? She must. With the way she hosted. With the way she cooked. It was housewife-coded, absolutely. Though a housewife implied a marriage, and Jeremy couldn’t picture one between her and Tylio. Sure, the man was less of a hardass with her and seemed to defer to her, which wasn’t nothing, but it was the bare minimum. She was half his age and rich- of course he’d go along with her. He’d be an idiot not to. But it didn’t mean he was the one for her. Marinette, while beautiful and welcoming, was undoubtedly naive. And naive people needed protecting. He wasn’t sure Tylio could offer that. Not really, considering he was in their home, sitting here like it was normal. These thoughts looped in Jeremy’s mind as they worked through the reshoot notes. The talk was dry, the planning tedious, but it offered more glimpses into who Marinette was. He learned she didn’t care for wine, but adored Limoncello. That she drank it with surprising consistency. That her tolerance was lower than her confidence suggested…All of which was useful. All of it confirmed what he already suspected: she needed someone to look after her. Someone who understood her and noticed the things she missed.

When the lighter slipped from Jeremy’s grasp, Marinette was already moving, kneeling to retrieve it. “Non, non- it’s okay.” Her hand brushed his, returning the lighter, but there was a flicker of worry in her eyes. While she was tipsy, she was no stranger to it, plus Tylio was used to looking after her when she got this way. Jeremy, however, was different. He was a guest. Her guest. “Tylio, I think I gave him too much.” She glanced over her shoulder, then back to Jeremy. “Let’s get you some food and water, okay?” She rose to her feet, switching to French without a second thought. “Est-ce que tu peux lui prendre quelque chose dans le frigo? Quelque chose avec du pain et des protéines?” Her fingers pressed lightly to the back of Jeremy’s neck. He felt overheated, but what she didn’t realize was it was her who was flushed, not him. “Maybe I should not have given you the limoncello. I’m sorry.”

When Tylio returned, Jeremy accepted the water with a grateful nod, nursing it in slow, deliberate sips while Marinette fluttered about. She looked adorable like this: cheeks flushed, bright blue eyes flicking around, dipping in and out of her mother tongue…She was fussing now, insisting he stay the night in one of the guest rooms. He caught only fragments, but the intention was clear. And yet, despite the concern lacing her words, she kept glancing toward Tylio for confirmation. As though she needed his blessing. It was her home. Her invitation. Why did she keep deferring? “I think this has been enough,” Jeremy tried, managing a weak chuckle as he moved to rise. “Really, I can just-” But she was already at his side, her hand resting on his shoulder. The warmth of it, the softness of her smile…made his chest tighten in a way that was hard to shake. She didn’t have a clue what she was doing to him. Of course she didn’t and that was half the beauty in this.

“Non, non. You stay here,” she said softly, reaching for a piece of toast from the plate. “Finish this first.” Her voice was gentle, coaxing, as she held it up to him. “Then you go to the guest room, d’accord? It has a private bathroom- you can take a shower, rest. I even have pajamas you can borrow.” She placed the toast into his hand with a little smile, already stepping away, her focus shifting to Tylio. Though there was a small hush to her tone as she reached him, smoothing his shirt where it rested against his shoulders. “Ça va pour toi, si Jeremy reste ici ce soir?” she asked gently, light hues lifting to meet his. “Je crois que je lui ai donné trop de limoncello…Je me sentirais mieux s’il ne conduisait pas.”

Tylio walked through the door first, with papers in hand, reviewing his own notes. He had Jeremy write them down while he drove them here but reading them back now, he almost wondered whether Jeremy had paid attention because half of the things he said were missing. It was unusual, but Tylio chalked Jeremy's distraction up to the fact that they were nearing the weekend. Besides, his colleague might be a little bit starstruck. It was not unusual for even the people who worked with her to be impressed with Marinette's fame. Usually it went away after a while, when they realized that she was not just a star but also a person.

'Bonsoir!'

Marinette's voice greeted them from the kitchen and Tylio finally looked up, noticing the familiar scent of Marinette's cooking. As always, it brought a smile to his face and he finally closed the folder in his hands, gravitating toward the kitchen doorway. He halted there when she told him to go shower first, provoking a small laugh but no defense from him because she had assumed correctly that he'd planned on continuing work right away. "Laisse-moi au moins te regarder un moment", he replied, removing his coat while Jeremy appeared beside him in the doorway. Also watching.

Standing there in the kitchen, carefully preparing a delicious meal for the three of them, Marinette almost looked more beautiful than when she was all dolled up for the movie. Jeremy smiled. In a way, she was doing it for him—his presence in her apartment tonight was not planned, he was the reason she had to adjust the meal she was making. And she was putting so much effort into it. He was a bit shocked, it was hard to find women nowadays who knew how to cook, especially younger ones.

Tylio turned after a few seconds, handing the folder over to Jeremy. "I'll be right back, I think I have an idea for how we can do a reshoot that doesn't take up another three days", Jeremy was told, but he barely heard Tylio anymore because now he was focused entirely on Marinette. Tylio might as well have been a ghost, passing him by in the hallway, silently disappearing into some bathroom somewhere. And then it was just him and Marinette in the kitchen. Who knew he would get into her kitchen so soon?

He chatted with her, complimenting her dedication to the meal she was making. Complimenting more things about her, although she didn't know it. He told her that he hadn't yet asked out the girl and she told him in no uncertain words, that he shouldn't wait too long. Was she flirting with him? Hinting, maybe? Had she told Tylio to go take a shower on purpose, so the two of them could have a moment alone? Jeremy put down the folder on the kitchen island. It remained ignored for now, while he took a seat on one of the chairs. Drinking. Watching. "Y'know, I can help set the table", he offered, but as he turned around to glance into the living room, he realized it was already set. She was on top of everything. In the time it took him and Tylio to finish up at work and drive here, she had gone to the store, then gone home, changed into the lacy number he requested, set the table and got started on a meal for three. Was this what it was like, coming home to Marinette?

While Jeremy's crush on Marinette intensified by the moment, Tylio finished up his shower. By the time he returned to the living room, Jeremy and Marinette were already seated at the table and the folder...where did it go? He glanced around for a moment, searching, but then his eyes locked with Marinette's and he realized it was time to shift focus now. She'd prepared a meal for them, and not a simple one either. Some of the dishes on the table were things he knew took time. For a moment, he almost felt a bit bad for inviting Jeremy and giving her extra work. It wasn't like he expected this of her. If it had been up to him, he would've just offered Jeremy some coffee, ordered some food and gotten right into the project. But he forgot, Marinette was a dedicated host. She never let people enter their home without offering them something. He finally sat down with them, taking the chair beside Marinette. "This smells wonderful", he told her with a smile, touching the back of her shoulders and briefly leaning in to kiss the side of her head. "Let's eat. I promise I won't talk about work during dinner", Tylio chuckled, and it was probably the most Jeremy had ever seen him laugh in this short of a timespan.

Jeremy was sitting across from them with a deceptively polite smile on his face. There was something almost offensive to him about this picture of domestic bliss and that was the fact that for now, he was not a part of it. Tylio was alright. He was kind of a hardass, and Jeremy probably wouldn't have befriended him if it weren't for Marinette but he was fine. However, right now, Jeremy felt something close to contempt for him. Did he realize how lucky he was?

Throughout the meal, conversation was nice but very surface-level. Jeremy asked Marinette a few things about other movies she'd done, making subtle references to a few scenes because he could not resist revealing himself to be knowledgeable about her projects. He wanted her to know that he'd seen her movies and paid close attention to the plot. But of course, he didn't want to come off as too obsessive so he also mentioned a few other french movies he'd seen, proclaiming his interest in french cinema. He also asked her about Conques and she had a lot to say, which made him think that a part of her probably missed it. He felt he could get away with not asking Tylio anything—after all, they worked closely together every day and in Jeremy's opinion, Marinette's life was objectively more interesting. During certain moments, he could almost pretend as though it were just the two of them dining together.

After dinner, Tylio suggested they have some coffee and go over the reshoot, and Jeremy had to feign interest. He was far more interested in hearing more from Marinette but he was smart enough to know that he had a particular part to play. At least for now. After Tylio fetched their work papers from the kitchen, they all migrated to the couch area and spent the next hour going over all the director's notes. At some point, Jeremy requested the limoncello that Marinette offered earlier, joking that it might help inspire them. As the sunlight slowly drained out of the sky, he realized that sooner or later, one of them would suggest he go home and he wasn't quite ready for that. Especially now that he knew what Marinette was wearing. Every time she shifted around and her sweater would slide down her shoulder a little bit, Jeremy's eyes would linger. His plan had been to watch her undress through one of the windows but when he got here, he realized the windows were tinted now. Such a shame...or perhaps a blessing in disguise, because now he was here. Much closer to her than he would have been from outside the building.

While the evening progressed, Jeremy pretended to drink several glasses of limoncello. In reality he only drank about half of what was poured, tossing the rest into a nearby potted plant whenever no one was looking his way or one of them left the room. He still drank some of it, just to make it seem more realistic, but it wasn't enough to get him as drunk as he pretended to be once it had gotten dark outside and the time for him to leave was creeping dangerously closer.

"Thank you for coming over on such short notice", Tylio started, and Jeremy knew that this was the beginning of a polite little dance that they were going to do around the subject of his departure. "I'm glad we could agree on a plan for monday." Jeremy smiled—a half smile that he tried to make look intentionally messy.

"Oh yeah, no worries. I'm glad I got to see your lovely home", he was addressing Marinette too now, slurring some of his words just a little bit. Just enough to make it believable. Hopefully. "Guess I'd better hit the road...", he nodded at his own words, briefly pretending to look at his watch. He already knew what time it was. "If I could jus' use the bathroom first?" He looked up, spying the look of mild concern on Tylio and Marinette's faces. Bingo. Jeremy didn't wait for an answer before he got up, pretending to lose his balance. Tylio jumped up to grab his shoulders as he pretended to nearly stumble into the coffee table and he let himself be caught, feigning a drunken chuckle to really drive his point home. "Wow, okay...sorry about that, lemme go drink some...some water", he suggested, but didn't protest when Tylio shook his head and guided him instead to sit back down.

"I'll grab you a glass", Tylio announced with a surprisingly understanding tone that Jeremy was not quite expecting. Maybe it was because Marinette was there. Or maybe it was because it was nighttime. If this had been during work hours, he probably would have been scolded. When Tylio left the room and Jeremy was left alone with Marinette for a moment, he decided to pour it on a little thicker. "Don't worry, he's exaggerating, I'm fine. I jus' need to have a smoke, and I'm good", he waved his hand dismissively and then went on to grab a lighter from his pocket, pretending to drop it on the floor. "Ah shit. Oh, my bad. Don't mean to be crass in front of a lady", he chuckled, and he was actually starting to find himself obnoxious now. But he needed to make her really think that he was drunk. Too drunk to drive home.

[sheerfreesia007]

Masked & Blooming

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Word count: 876

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: When you spot your boyfriend, Hyunjin, standing outside your work building, you mistakenly think he's acting suspicious, leading to a moment of panic before he reassures you that he simply wanted to walk you home before leaving for tour. To make up for the surprise, he gives you a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and the two of you share a sweet and loving moment as you head home together.

SKZ Taglist: @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @inlovewithstraykids, @channiesrightasscheek, @kaiyaba

@bookswillfindyouaway, @m-325

Walking out of the building where you work you’re a little distracted as you dig through your bag looking for your cell phone. As you continue walking you nearly plow right into two women who had been walking in front of you but had stopped after spotting something up ahead.

“Oh my god, do you see that creep just standing there waiting outside the company building?” asked one of the women causing you to frown softly as the words caught your attention.

“He’s been for at least an hour, I heard. Just standing out here waiting. No one seems to know who he is either.” the other responded.

“Do you think we need to call security? Like is it safe to walk past him?” asked the first one and you frowned harder just as you looked up and saw how close you were to both of them as you continued walking.

“Sorry.” you say softly as you quickly veer off your path and nearly miss colliding into the two of them. You look at them suspiciously as they don’t respond to you and continue whispering to each other as their eyes stay trained on something ahead of you. Turning your head you spot what they’re looking at and your eyes widen, there standing a few feet away is a tall slender figure dressed in baggy blue jeans, white and black sneakers and an oversized dark gray hoodie with the hood pulled up and a face mask covering half of his face. Narrowing your eyes you take in the person as a sense of recognition hits you and your eyes widen as you realize who it is that’s standing there.

Panic hits along with confusion as you rush over to him and you watch his eyes squint with happiness as his cheeks move up from under the mask no doubt probably smiling widely as he sees you. You reach him and gently grab onto his arm pulling him away from the front of the company building.

“Hyunjin? Are you okay? Is everything okay?” you ask hurriedly as your eyes dart up and down his frame while the two of you move to a more secluded spot further away from the building and the prying eyes of the two women.

“I’m okay. Sorry I didn’t mean to worry you.” he says quickly as his eyes widen as your worry and concern for him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I wanted to stop by and walk you home tonight before our date. Wanted to spend as much time as I possibly could with you before I have to leave for tour tomorrow.” he explains in a rush and relief washes over you and your whole body sags.

“Hyunjin.” you coo at him and he bashfully gazes at you causing you to smile softly at him while leaning in towards him. “A text next time would be nice. I panicked when I recognized you and thought something had happened.” you tease him gently and he ducks his head before peeking up at you.

“You love me so much you panicked when our routine changed?” he asked softly in awe of your reaction and you scoffed at him softly.

“Of course I love you. And yes I love you so much that I panic when something changes.” you reassure him and he envelopes you in a tight hug while swaying you from side to side. You look up at him and he’s pulling his mask down under his chin causing your eyes to widen slightly before he’s pressing a few quick kisses to your temple.

“I love you too. So much.” he whispers to you and you chuckle softly while beaming up at him. You hear something crinkling behind you and you begin to pull away to look behind you but Hyunjin is quicker as he moves his arms from behind you to your front and you see a large beautiful bouquet of flowers in a red theme. Your eyes widen as you stare at the flowers before looking up at a now masked Hyunjin who squints his eyes once more at you as he grins behind his mask. “I got you flowers to remember me by while I’m tour.” he explains softly as his eyes dart around your face. You reach up and cup his face while staring up at him not even looking at the flowers anymore.

“You wonderful loving adorable man.” you gush out to him softly and his eyes widen slightly at your words. “I can’t express appropriately how much I adore you.” you tell him and grin wickedly up at him as his eyes widen slightly before narrowing on you with devilish intent.

“Then let’s get home so that you can express it to me there.” he says in a sultry tone that makes you shiver slightly before nodding your head quickly. You take the flowers from him and he takes your work bag off your shoulder before slinging an arm around your shoulders and guides you towards the subway that will bring you home quickly. As you both pass the two women from earlier Hyunjin waves at them while smiling under his mask and you bury your nose in the sweet smelling flowers as you grin.

[sammick]

i know people hc remmick haunting sammie even after he's dead and it's so southern gothic catholic guilt i love it . hear me out though what if it's still remmick haunting sammie but it's remmick before the vampirism. sammie feels so much about it because he's seeing sides of remmick that were so vulnerable and sammie feels like he shouldn't be seeing them at all. sammie learning things about remmicks past before and after the colonialism. the guilt eats away at sammie, he thought remmick had always been cold hearted. and sammie feels for remmick even more, when he knows he shouldn't. sammie would have told the twins about it ,they would have giggled at him being down bad or some foolishness. it never does gets easier missing his cousins. now when remmicks ghost appears before sammie he is still startled, even if its remmick beckoning him into his arms. pressing kisses to his neck, begging sammie to never let him go. every night he hopes remmick cant feel his heartbeat. what sammie can never seem to notice is remmick just as flustered, holding him so tender. remmick holds sammie tight through dawn until the morning and hes okay with it. prying remmicks arms off gently when he has to get up. soon enough the company started to remind sammie of home, warm, gentle feeling like the young lovers that come to his shows. sammie hopes it heals something deep in remmick . and oh my god the way remmick feels about it!! he loves to hug sammie from behind when he's making food or standing on the side of the stage, looking so longingly at sammie. never hearing a voice as beautiful and full of emotion. fighting the urge to float his way into sammies arm mid performance and kiss him right there. remmick had never felt so in love with someone, and he never would after sammie. even when his ghost is still on earth his heart will cry out for sammie. when sammie holds him it feels like everything he's endured was worth it for those sweet moments. when sammie spins records he can't stop himself from looking right into sammies eyes, feeling every note of a sweet song just for him. saying sweet nothings in his language and secretly wishing it was about him. they were comfortable and sammie wouldn't know what he'd call it but it was definitely deep in his heart, remmick could feel it too. everyday he felt it and it never had to be said, remmick always whispered i love yous in sammies ear when he was asleep. and sammie hoped remmick knew every love song he performed was for him.

[oddsnendsfanfics]

We're All Gonna Be All Right

Genre: Fan Fiction (The Last Kingdom)

Pairing: Finan/OFC

Warnings: Death, Blood, Mentions of Abuse

Rating: G

Length: Short Story

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Back in 2019 I wrote We All Need Something to Hold On To and We're All Broken Pieces six years on, we revisit those characters. We catch up with Uhtred, Sihtric, Sibbe, Finan, and even Osferth.

The Last Kingdom Master List

“There's been an accident.” Sihtric's cracking voice burned into her ears. The words registered far too slowly for Sibbe to react before he spoke again. “It was Gisela. You need to come home right now, Sibbe.”

Six years to the day, Sibbe had remembered the phone call from her twin brother Sihtric. The first thing he had said, no pleasantry. Sibbe's blood had ran cold and her heart stopped, when Sihtric had told her to come home right away. Gisela, the wife of their dearest friend Uhtred had been hit by a drunk driver.

Tossing and turning in bed, Sibbe sat up, her hair damp as sweat caressed her body. Looking around the dark room, she blinked hard, trying to keep the tears under control. Despite her best efforts, Sibbe could never keep the tears at bay when she had this dream. It was always the same, Sihtric was on the other end of the line and the walls around Sibbe would begin to crumble, if she stayed asleep the floor would drop from beneath her leaving her in a black abyss. If she woke, it was to erratic breathing, hot tears, and her heart wanting to pound from her chest.

The beautiful and vibrant Gisela was reduced to a shadow in her daughter's eyes, Stiorra was nearly eleven now. Funny how time moved so quickly, yet stayed still.

Sibbe was certain that just yesterday she had laid in bed with Uhtred, allowing him to hold her, to grieve and pretend whatever it was he needed to dream in order to sleep. Their routine had gone on for nearly three weeks. Each night she would arrive to a quiet house. Uhtred's adopted sister, Thyra and her husband Beocca had taken turns with their brother Ragnar and his wife, Brida, swapping Uhtred's three children until their father was ready to care for them.

Sibbe would set up making dinner and forcing Uhtred to eat. Once he was ready, she'd follow him to bed, allowing him to sob in her arms while she tried her best to fill whatever his heart was missing. Perhaps she had been wrong in such a gesture, but he had been so broken and it was the only way she could think to make it better. Somehow, Sibbe had felt he was filing a void for her as well. She had been lost at the time, trying to figure out who she was and what her purpose had been.

Grief had a funny process. Her brother Sihtric was well aware, for when their mother had died, he'd lost everything. Sibbe had been his only reason to live, yet here they were nearly twenty years later.

In the present moment, Sibbe sat in her bed, soaked in sweat, silent sobs choking through her body. Six years could change a lot in a person's life. It could shape and reshape you without so much as a second glance. Twenty years could do that even more. Here she was, in the dark of the night, not the same girl she'd been when she'd lost her mother or even the woman she was when Gisela had passed.

“Sibbe?”

“Hmm?” The hushed voice startled her.

“Are you okay, mo chroi?” He'd woke when she flew out of her dream, as if possessed. Laying quietly in the dark, allowing her whatever moments she needed to herself before he spoke. She was his heart and he hated that she was having these dreams again.

“I am, I will be. I just...I had another bad dream.” Her smile was weak in the dark, eyes rimmed with tears. “It's nothing, go back to sleep, min elskede.”

“Is it...is it Gisela?”

If it wasn't Gisela then it was her mother. Sihtric had once confessed to him that every night he closed his eyes, the first thing he would see was his mother laying on the living room floor. He'd run to her, as he had, but in his dream he could never get close enough to hold her dying body. Sibbe would often dream of her mother in an unearthly form, calling to her, arms stretched out, yet Sibbe never reached her. It tore him apart that he couldn't save the twins from such a fate.

“I'm afraid so. It's been six years today.” She spoke to the dark shadow laying in bed beside her. Rubbing her hands over her swollen midsection, Sibbe wished she could blame this pregnancy, yet the dreams had happened every year since Gisela had passed.

“It doesn't seem real.”

“No.” Sibbe shook her head. “I'll call Sihtric and Osferth in the morning, ask if they want to come to dinner. We can invite Uhtred as well.”

“Do you think he will come?”

“I think so.”

“I hope he does, I can't stand another year of watching him go through this. Not today.”

“I know, Finan. I know.” Her voice soft in the dark, finding Finan's hand, she kissed it gently. “Go back to sleep.”

“How can I sleep, when I know that you're sitting here in tears?” He sat up next to Sibbe. An arm around her, he pulled her closer kissing the top of her sweaty hair. “I don't want you to be chasing ghosts. Not like this. You need to rest, our babe needs his mama to rest.”

Seventeen years ago, a terrified, yet hopeful sixteen year old, sable haired, girl had followed her hard-hearted twin brother into Finan's apartment. Barely nineteen, Finan had been on his own for the first time, allowing these two to lie about their age to sign a rental contract with him. At the time he had thought he was crazy, somehow this was going to blow up and get them all in trouble. Now, many laughs and more than enough tears, he laid here with his wife in his arms.

They had married four years ago, a small ceremony with only their closest friends, their chosen family, in attendance. Sihtric had teased them about being married in a church, he had teased his sister since they were kids about her unwavering Christian faith. Finan would take the ribbing, all in good stride, because he knew Sihtric had his own beliefs to work out, never saying these thing to his twin to harm or shame her. Nobody cared for Sibbe the way her Sihtric did.

Finan's closest friend, outside of Sihtric, had married them. Osferth had been delighted when they'd asked. Ordaining himself through some website that Thyra had helped him find. Sibbe had worn her mother's favourite locket, the only thing left from their childhood, Sihtric had saved it when he had convinced Sibbe to run away from home with him at sixteen. Running with nothing more than a suitcase of clothing, their mother's locket, and a bible.

At the ceremony, Sihtric had given his twin's hand over to Finan – with the strict promise that if he ever hurt her, Sihtric would kick his Irish ass. Finan had spent years protecting the most precious creature he had ever laid eyes on, he would kick his own ass before hurting her. Resting his arm around her midsection, Finan smiled in the dark feeling their son moving around in his safe haven.

“See mama, he wants you to sleep.” A sleepy Irish accent breaking the silence that had fell, he pressed a kiss to her temple, his beard scratchy but she didn't mind.

Their son would be making his entrance into the world in less than six weeks. It had been a roller coaster of emotions, finding out that she had been pregnant. Sihtric had always known he wanted children, which was a proud moment for him and his wife the day their son was born, then two years later their daughter. Sibbe was never confident that she would be a good mother. Finan had his own reservations, being kicked out of his family home as as teenager, his confidence on being a father was even less than the confidence Sibbe had.

Seeing the two pink lines, three years into their marriage, had been nerve wracking. Somehow they had avoided this situation, until someone somewhere had decided now was the time to send them their first – possibly only – child. Unlike the men they had grown up with as their fathers, Sibbe knew that Finan would be a fantastic father. She had watched him with his chosen nieces and nephews. He was astounding with children, they loved him and his natural comedic character. He would never be violent or mistreat them, or her.

“Hold me?” Sibbe requested, settling back in bed, laying on her side, she smiled when Finan slid his body against hers. His beard tickling, when he kissed he shoulder.

“Always,” Finan whispered, his body warm and safe. He was her safe haven, he was her anchor. “I will never let you go, nor will I ever let you hurt, my dear sweet Sibbe.”

Secure in Finan's embrace, Sibbe laid staring into the darkness. As soon as she could, she would send out the invites to the last minute dinner. She yearned to have her friends – her family – together. Sharing in stories of the past and the present, perhaps this would be one of the only times they would be able to gather before she and Finan welcomed their own little one into the mismatched family they held so dear.

Upon finding out they were expecting, Finan had nearly fell over when Sibbe told him the news. When they'd found out their first child was to be a boy, he'd nearly broke his neck racing to tell his friends. Without a doubt this child would be loved, Finan had already decided that his second name would be Sihtric. After his uncle. He and Sibbe had yet to agree on a first name.

“We will know his name, when we meet him.” Sibbe would declare, while Finan tried to urge her into picking a name.

“Sibbe Elflaeddottir, we need a name for the wee lad.” Finan would tease her before throwing out a name that he knew his wife would never agree to. One thing Finan had demanded of his wife was that they not give their boy his family name. Finan would not curse his son to that. He was to be dubbed Sibbesson, for the strength of his mother.

Before marrying Finan, Sibbe had taken the name Elflaeddottir, erasing as much of Kjartan from her life as she could. The final decision had came when Ragnar informed the twins that their older brother Sven was being trialed for a multitude of crimes. Wanting to preserve their mother's legacy and get as far away as possible from anything that could soil her memory, Sihtric agreed to change his name as well. Five years ago, Sibbe Elflaeddottir and Sihtric Elflaedsson emerged.

Lost in her thoughts, Sibbe could see the sky lighten through the small cracks in the blinds. Arms encasing her, Finan had gone back to sleep – his snores were enough to wake the dead.

Unable to lie still another moment longer, Sibbe slipped from her husband's embrace. A small kiss on his cheek, she groaned as her feet hit the floor. Her body aching and her mind restless. Phone in hand, doing her best to quietly waddle her way down the flight of stairs, she huffed as her foot hit the floor. Their son was making those stairs more difficult each day, she could not wait for him to be here – allowing Finan to carry, literally, some of the weight.

The sun now rising over the tree tops, Sibbe sent a text, knowing that at least one person in the group would be awake, if Uhtred had slept at all this week. Informing her that he would be there, Uhtred was glad for the company. His children spending the day with his adopted parents, Ragnar, Sr and Sigrid.

Half of Sibbe wanted to get in the car and drive the fifteen minutes to Uhtred, to tell him everything would be okay, to hold him and let him cry. No, she was being silly. He didn't need her to hold his hand. She wasn't to be his caretaker or his babysitter, time and time again Uhtred had made that clear to her. She needed to let him live his life, because she needed to live hers.

Sibbe would carry enough emotional pain for the world, if she thought that she could. Finan had always admired her strength and her willingness to care for each and every one of her friends as if she were their own mother. In the morning light, she sat at the kitchen table, watching the sun creep over the cluster of trees in their back yard. Finan had picked this house, wanting a big yard, with shade but enough sun to light up their world the way his wife lit his.

Staring at the trees in the yard, Sibbe smiled at the birds flirting around. Finan had put several feeders around the yard, along with four flower beds, because Sibbe loved flowers. They were one of life's best joys. Absentmindedly rubbing her growing bump, she hummed softly in the still morning. Through all of the tears, the grief, and the nightmares Sibbe had been doing her best to remind herself - this was a happy time. Each time she saw Finan's face brighten with joy at the thought of their son, or the way he would find any excuse to kiss his wife. Seeing Sihtric and his family, the way his wife and children loved him. Uhtred and his children, the pride that he held for those three young humans. It made Sibbe's heart swell, there was a love that she couldn't explain, the way it filled her with pure elation.

Darkness always gave way to the light.

Sibbe's quiet moment was happily interrupted when she heard the soft familiar thump of Finan's feet on the stairs. Now that Finan was awake, their day would fall into the comfortable routine. Finan would refuse to let Sibbe do anything for herself, even before she had gotten pregnant, her husband wanted to worship her like a Goddess. Doting on her and living up to his promise, he would give her everything and she would want for nothing. He would be so loving that she'd get sick of him waiting on her every whim.

Life with Finan was never boring. Had Sibbe known his feelings, she could have saved years of dating losers, men who were boring or boastful for the wrong reasons. Sihtric had hated each and every man his twin had dated in the past. Gods help them, if any of them so much as harmed a hair on her head, he'd go to jail happily.

Time wore on, Finan insisting that Sibbe not exert herself. Sibbe would roll her eyes and huff, insisting that her husband worried too much. She was capable of tidying the house and helping him prep for their dinner. Not once did Finan take his attention away from his wife, watching her like a hawk watched it's dinner right before it would strike. He wished she would take this last stage of her pregnancy easy, but who was he kidding? Sibbe had never taken the easy road a day in her life.

Giving in, around three hours before dinner was to be ready, Finan convinced Sibbe to sit and work on some flowers for the table. She'd been outside picking flowers since noon, he could set her up to be comfortable while he prepared the meal. Sibbe had jokingly asked if he was okay to cook that much food, Finan was a fine cook but there was a reason Sihtric and Ealhswith had appointed him bar manager and not head chef at the Two Cranes.

A bag of potatoes on the counter top next to him, Finan fell into a lull, his knife skillfully grazing against the potato in his grasp, red peels falling into the bowl on the other side of him. Sibbe at the table humming some old hymn that he didn't know all of the words to, but he recognized. He loved listening to her hum or sing, when she worked or needed to relax her mind. He'd always loved her little quirks. For years Finan had wrestled with telling her how he felt, yet could never bring himself to do it.

It had been Gisela who had talked him into sharing his feelings with the woman he'd been secretly in love with for so many years.

Finan could remember it as if it happened yesterday, a few days before – before Gisela had passed, she and Uhtred had held one of their infamous bon fires. A party, just because. It had been Friday and they wanted to enjoy the upcoming weekend. Food, drink, music, and even a bit of mayhem was always on order. Next to the fire Finan had sat with his beer in hand, his dark eyes fixed on the small group across the way. Her sable curls were tied back in a blue bow, a touch she had added thanks to little Stiorra – she wanted her and Sibbe to be twins. He could remember her crisp green jumper and black sweat pants, these parties were always a come as you were affair. She was laughing and attempted to get Osferth to dance with her and another woman, Eadith. Bashful and shy, Osferth was not one to dance, yet Finan admired his attempt to humour the two women.

“Why don't you tell her?” Gisela held out a fresh bottle of beer to the Irishman. “She won't bite.” Sitting on the arm of the wooden chair Finan was perched in, she nudge his shoulder.

“Tell who what?” He accepted the drink, glancing at her as innocently as he could manage.

Gisela rolled her eyes and tisked. Men. Ugh, it was a good thing this crew was handsome, because otherwise each one was as hopeless as the next. Some days she would tease Uhtred that he and his friends shared one brain cell. According to Brida, it had been one exceptionally fried brain cell.

“Sibbe.”

“I don't...I couldn't...” Finan stammered shaking his head, rubbing his hand over his clean shaven cheek. “She's my best friend's sister.”

“So? Sihtric would understand.” Laughing, Gisela leaned over onto Finan, “He knows that his sister isn't a nun.”

“Perhaps, but no. I can't. I mean...I could. No. I don't like Sibbe that way.” It was as much as lie as anything.

“Finan, if you like her it's okay to tell her. Maybe she feels the same way?” Ruffling his hair like she would one of her young sons, Gisela kissed his cheek. “If she does, leave Sihtric to me. I can handle him.”

Finan had agreed to tell Sibbe how he felt, promising Gisela that he would do it before the next week's end. Except. He shivered despite the warm sun streaming through the window beside him. Telling Sibbe how he felt would have to wait nearly a year from that night. Less than a week later they had lost Gisela and Sibbe had thrown herself into helping Uhtred rebuild his life through the grief. For a while, Finan had secretly thought his friends would end up building a life together. The children loved Sibbe and Uhtred had relied on her more than anyone else after his wife's passing.

When Finan had finally told Sibbe how he felt, they had been at Thyra and Beocca's for a birthday party. They had gotten together, as a mismatched family, to celebrate Osbert – Gisela and Uhtred's youngest son. After the cake had been handed out and children scattering throughout the house, Finan volunteered himself and Sibbe to clean the kitchen. Handing her a dish to dry, he'd laid it all on the line. In the kitchen, her eyes cast to the tiled floor, Sibbe listened as Finan poured his heart to her. He'd loved her since the first time he'd heard her do that little snort laugh, the one she made when she found something really funny.

Sibbe wanted to crawl under a rock and hide, yet Finan insisted it was absolutely charming and asked her on a date for the following night. A proper date, at an actual restaurant. He had even agreed to comb his hair and wear cologne.

“Oh! Oh goodness.” Sibbe's surprised squeal jerked Finan back to the present moment.

“Mo chroi? What is it?” He dropped the knife he'd been using to peel potatoes, rushing to her side. Kneeling down beside where she sat on the kitchen chair, his hand covered hers. “Are you okay? Do we need to go to...”

“I'm fine, min elskede.” She patted her hand gently against his bushy beard. “Your son just surprised me, I wasn't expecting him to try and play rugby in there.”

“Hey, you be nice wee man. Your mama is a delicate lady.” Finan beamed, rubbing her midsection as he spoke.

“I'm not that delicate.” Sibbe huffed, sticking her tongue out at her husband. “But you're right, I would appreciate it if he wasn't kicking his way out just yet.”

Kissing her cheek, Finan rubbed her lower back. Sibbe groaned, the gesture felt like heaven. “Why don't you grab your book, then rest until guests arrive.”

“But I wanted to finish my flowers,” gesturing to the bouquet on the table, Sibbe frowned. “I am okay, Finan, I promise. Besides,” Sibbe glanced at the clock on the wall, “guests will be here soon.”

To nobody's surprise, Osferth was the first to arrive. He was always early, because he insisted on always helping with whatever needed tending. Finan grabbed the younger man a drink, while Osferth admired Sibbe's flowers in the middle of the table. He was shy and came to join the group after Uhtred had accidentally mistaken his boss' son for a new employee at work one afternoon. Alfred hadn't been forthcoming about his first son, but Osferth would never hold that against him. It was complicated.

“Another kindred soul, join the club.” Finan had boomed, half in the bag, when Uhtred had first introduced Osferth to his friends. “What's the story? Orphan? Parents hate you?”

“My mother is dead, my father refuses to acknowledge me and,” Osferth shyly explained his story, “his wife hates me. Is that criteria to join the club?”

In the kitchen, Osferth helped Sibbe finish her flowers, moving the vase this way and that until it was perfect. She was about to make him move it another inch to the left when the front door opened, no need for knocking, as Sihtric shouted through the house. Elflaed squealed, shouting for her Uncle Finan, her small legs toddling through the entrance and into the kitchen. Intercepting his niece, Finan shouted with as much joy as the little girl in his arms. Sibbe's heart swelling at the love.

“Ealhswith sends her apologies, she got caught up at work. She may be late.” Sihtric informed Finan. His attention immediately turning to his twin. She was getting rounder every time he saw her. He couldn't wait to meet his nephew. “My dear sweet Sibbe,” her brother playful chide, opening his arms to his sister, “why are you cooking such a meal in this state?”

“Because I wanted us to be together, besides Finan is cooking.” Sibbe explained the situation, turning to hug her nephew who had disappeared to torment his Uncle Osferth.

“Call the fire department.” Shitric called out loud enough for Finan to hear him, “Good thing I am here.” he winked at Sibbe, he had always been a far better cook than Finan, even better than Sibbe. “I'm glad you called.”

“When I couldn't sleep, I...” “Gisela? The phone call?” Her brother finished her sentence. Sihtric's brow furrowed, his eyes growing dark. Sibbe sighed. Sihtric grabbed Sibbe's hand, kissing the back of it. “I had the same one. I relive that moment more than I ever care to admit.”

Sihtric had been the one, at thirteen, to tell Sibbe about their mother as well. She'd been late, staying at school to finish a project. He'd met her in the front yard, his clothes covered in blood. When she'd spotted him from down the street, she'd ran as fast as she could the wind burning her lungs. She could hear Sihtric's voice crying out as she reached him. “Mom, mom she's...I tried to save her, Sibbe.” Sihtric collapsed in his sister's arms. “I couldn't save her.”

“I relive a lot of moments no person should have to.” Shitric's voice barely a whisper, his sister holding his hand for comfort. Standing in the entrance of her home, Sibbe kissed her brother's cheek. Gently rubbing away her lipstick, just like her mom used to.

“I miss her, too.” Sibbe whispered.

Wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, Sihtric forced a smile, taking a deep breath. There was a time for sadness and right now, with his sister so close to giving birth to his nephew, was not that moment. They could turn to their grief after dinner, when the room grew quiet and nobody wanted to be the first to bring up a memory of Gisela, yet everyone would be eager to prattle on about how proud she would be of her children, while sharing stories from the past.

“Given the circumstances, is that husband of yours taking good care of you?” Sihtric took the moment to change the atmosphere, never giving up a chance to torment Finan.

“He is treating her like the Queen she is.” Finan shouted from the kitchen, his laugh hearty. “You do not need to kick me in the arse.”

“He is such an anxious mess.” Leaning closer to her Sihtric; Sibbe whispered with a giggle. “I hiccuped three days ago and he wanted to rush to the hospital.”

Sihtric laughed, his laugh lighting up the room in Sibbe's eyes. “It's natural for the first time.” He rubbed his hand across her back. “Shall I go help Finan? Save us all from under cooked meat and soggy vegetables?”

“Yes, I think that is a good idea. He won't let me near the stove.” Sibbe teased, linking arms with her brother, the strode into the kitchen.

Osferth greeted Sihtric, both of Sihtric's children hanging off of the younger man as if he were a jungle gym. Trying to remove his children from his friend, Sihtric shooed them both along, insisting they go run around the backyard until they were called to wash for dinner. Little good did it do, as soon as the two mini Sihtric's were out the door, Osferth was on their heels shouting something about a game of tag.

Diving right in, Sihtric moved Finan out of the way, taking over the kitchen – as they often did when together, the two men were playfully bickering over who had the better knowledge of the task at hand. How they ever managed to work together in the pub without driving their staff away, Sibbe would never understand. Their bickering always came from a place of love...well almost always.

Sibbe was trying to be stealthy in carrying a stack of plates to the table, not letting her brother or husband see her carrying anything, when the familiar blue car stopped at the end of the drive way. Peeking out from the dining room, Sibbe caught sight of the tired man at her front door. Much like Sihtric; he opened the door and stepped inside, calling out his presence.

“Uhtred.” Sibbe waddled towards him, her arms stretched out.

“Sibbe, the door was unlocked.” He pointed over his shoulder, holding out a small bouquet of flowers. “These are for you.” Accepting the flowers, Sibbe poked her nose into the bouquet, then sat them temporarily on a table in the hall.

“I am glad you came,” Sibbe moved her body to comfortably hug Uhtred. His blue eyes duller than she had seen them in a while. His hair once again long, tied back from his face, and his beard freshly trimmed. Uhtred was no longer the shell of a man that she'd once held six years ago.

“Thank you for asking.” He hugged her tightly, “I needed a distraction today. Now, tell me, my dear sweet Sibbe,” he smile genuine, “when do we get to meet this little one?”

“Hopefully soon, he is growing so big I am not sure I have room for my own body anymore.” Sibbe giggled, placing Uhtred's hand on top of her bump to feel the baby moving. “He's clearly excited to see his uncle Uhtred.”

The smile fading, Uhtred tried his best to fake another. His hand under Sibbe's, he could feel the baby. An all too familiar feeling, after having four children. In the moment, if Uhtred closed his eyes and focused hard, Sibbe's gentle touch could almost take him back to the first time he'd asked Gisela to feel their little one moving around. Uhtred had been terrified when Gisela had told him they were expecting their first son together. Uhtred's second child – his first son, from his first marriage, having passed at a very young age.

“Oswald would do that, he never stopped moving. Gisela used to say he was going to dance his way on out of there.”

“I remember.” Holding his hand, Sibbe squeezed it for comfort.

“Hmm, maybe your little one will do the same?” Holding her hand for a moment, Uhtred revelled in the feel of her hand in his. Her hands fitting his, almost, the way Gisela's had.

“Maybe.”

“Do you have a name yet?” He let go of Sibbe's hand, the fleeting feeling of Gisela moving further from his grasp with the gesture. A happier topic of conversation was in order.

Sibbe shook her head. “We can't seem to agree on a boy's name. Finan wants his middle name to be Sihtric. I am okay with that, Elflaed's middle name is Sibbe. So it's fair.”

“Name him Uhtred.” Uhtred teasingly nudged Sibbe in the side. “A good strong name.”

“Uh.” Sibbe smiled, seeing Uhtred's grief lift long enough to tease his friends.

“We are not naming our son after you, fuck no.” Finan laughed, pulling his friend into a tight hug, appearing from the kitchen. He trusted Sihtric enough to leave him for a few moments. “How are you? Really?”

“Annoyed that everybody has asked me that today. I am as good as I am going to be, given the day.” Uhtred replied, breaking Finan's embrace. “It never gets easier, but today it hurts a little more than usual.”

Finan gave a firm nod, understanding. No more asking, not another word of it. Slapping Uhtred on the shoulder, he kissed Sibbe's cheek, while going to check on his duties in the kitchen.

“I am glad that you came, I really am. Anything you or the kids need, you know that you can ask us.” She softly let her fingers trail against Uhtred's cheek.

“You understand that it goes two ways? When the little one gets here, anything, anything at all. I'm happy to help.” Uhtred leaned into her touch a little bit more than he'd consciously wanted.

“I know and we appreciate that.” Sibbe's smile was warm. “Finan loves you like a brother. Sihtric and I love you like our brother. You're not alone, Uhtred.” Her voice was always kind and her heart genuine. It was one of the things that annoyed Uhtred as a kid, the older they grew, the more he began to appreciate such things. “I should go help Finan, before he and Sihtric destroy my kitchen.”

“Sibbe,” Uhtred grabbed her hand, pulling her back to him. Her eyes searching his face, the emotions worn without a mask, “I wanted to thank you, for everything. For everything then and everything now. You are too good a woman and I truly do not deserve a friend like you. I um, I've been thinking about it, funny after all these years, but I know that Gisela and my son are here. I know that they are watching and I know that your mother is looking over you and Sihtric.”

“I am happy that you found them, Uhtred. I'm glad you can feel them.”

“Always.”

“Well, come on in. Dinner will be soon, you will need to eat and I happen to know Finan has the best ale the Two Cranes carries.” She chattered, leading Uhtred into the chaos of the kitchen.

His friends shouting and tormenting. Outside he could see Osferth chasing Sihtric's children around. If he stood for a second, taking a deep breath, and closing his eyes it was as if he was back in his own yard. A bon fire roaring, friends and family gathering around, food and drink, and Gisela with her arms around his neck as they sat in their favourite swing.

He would never have Gisela back, although he knew she would be proud. Proud of her husband, proud of her children, and proud of this collection of people who had come into their lives. Shaping and sharing in the joy and the sorrows, the people they had found solace and happiness in. The people who destiny had brought together, these were the people that had sworn their loyalty to one another. For better or worse, they would get through it. The demons, the joys, and whatever lie in-between.

tagging: @cacti123322 @deandoesthingstome @whenimaunicorn @ceridwenofwales @pokeasleepingsmaug @whitedarkmoonflower @rogers060967 @geekandbooknerd @tiyetiye @therealcalicali @sunshinepanic @captstefanbrandt @titty-teetee (people who read the originals *shrug*)

[springbon-t-art]

SPOILERS AHEAD! BEWARE!

Visit Welcome Home

Hello, You!

🌷🏡🥀🌀💙💛❤️🩷👁️✨

I liked playing “Gather” Did you guys gathered good words from the flowers?

🌷🏡🥀🌀💙💛❤️🩷👁️✨

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

Hey guys, if you could pray for me and my parents I'd be really grateful. The last cat in our old brigade, Tansy, is almost 15 and at the end of her days. She tends to get sick from allergies during the spring and she's had a rough winter and she's just, she's not going to make it through this time and she's been SUCH a good cat her whole life that we're not gonna let her suffer through it to the end. We're hoping we can get an appointment to get her put down tomorrow (that sounds awful saying it, but she's miserable and I can't watch her suffer she doesn't deserve that), so we would really appreciate your thoughts and prayers.

[transslyblue]

One of the most cruel things about having pets, is often you'll outlive them

[yoshistory]

i miss being a construction worker cause honestly a lot of my time on the job i wouldnt do anything LOL but i do genuinely also miss like. the job itself. i miss how a lot of my work revolved around going into empty buildings and go anywhere inside of them. fix them nicely ... whenever there's construction work in the offices and bathrooms and stuff it makes my heart hurt so badly. i love getting glimpses of the utility closets. i always felt like a fly on the wall maintaining an office or building but not really being APART of the culture inside of it yannow. being there transiently

[turnip-o-lantern]

No spoilers dont worry

I havent entirely finished shadows campaign in sonic x shadow generations but oh my fucking god

We are so FUCKING BAAAAACK

Once i get back from my errands imma finish this game and imma cry tears of joy (again)

[e77y]

So many projects due this weekend (when I’m FINALLY getting the chance to visit home)… ouh I am withering away…. Too much essay….. too many word…………..

[szasfuckingwife]

fwb!Sukuna who wakes up to an empty bed the next morning. Something was different when you guys had sex. It felt deeply personal, too personal. And that feeling, to you, is abnormal. Maybe it’s the way he cradled you or when he kissed your ear. Or maybe when he was reminding you how beautiful you were whilst thrusting inside you.

‘…I scared her off..’, Sukuna thought before sighing and starting his day.

fwb!Sukuna who is genuinely floored when he sees you kiss your boyfriend later that week. The way you’re smiling and laughing at him. And your boyfriend is none the wiser. He knew that it was just sex, but something in him thought maybe this time you would leave him. Maybe you would leave him for-

“Kunaaa! There you are!” Sukuna turns to see his ‘girlfriend’. She pouts up at him, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He says as he carries her bag He watches as you and your boyfriend walk off hand in hand. Sukuna’s girlfriend is still talking about her day but all he can think about is how he’d much rather hear about yours. How he’d like you to stroke his hair. How he’d like to have dinners with your family.

“…Kuna? You listening to me?”

He turns around to her.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

fwb!Sukuna who feels like he’s going crazy with how he feels about you. Because, lowkey, you don’t deserve him, you deserve better. Realistically, no one is gonna have marriage plans with the guy that’s said to have had the highest bodycount in the team.

“Bro, just talk to her. You won’t get any answers here..” Toji says to him, carrying his duffel bag as they walk home from practice.

Sukuna sighs, “Fuck that. I’m not gonna go to her dorm and tell her to leave her boyfriend. She loves that guy-”

“She wouldn’t be fucking you if she loved him. She wouldn’t have been playing footsies or whatever the fuck you called it under the table. She likes you, grow the fuck up.” Toji turns to face Sukuna. “Anyways, I gotta pick up my girl.”

“The Fushiguro girl?” Sukuna grins as Toji rolls his eyes and gets in his car.

fwb!Sukuna who knocks on your dorm room later that night. You open, clad in your hoodie and shorts, rubbing your eye with a pout.

“It’s so late, this better be good..”

Sukuna sighs and walks in. He had to do this, he can’t hold it in any longer, “Who the fuck is your boyfriend? Like seriously, where the fuck did he come from?”

You glare at him before scoffing, “He’s not my boyfriend, we’re talking though.”

“Talking?” He looks at you with a raised brow.

“Yes, talking.” You answer before sitting on your bed. “Why?Jealous?”

Sukuna looks at you and sighs before getting on his knees in front of you and pulling at your shorts but then, your hands stop his and he looks up at you. “No. But you seem like you don’t like him..”

“No-”

Sukuna eyes you, “No?”

“For God’s sake, why are you repeating everything I say? I said no. Why are you even here?! You’re not gonna try fuck me and not communicate you always do this. I’m not giving it to you unless you talk to me.” You hide your smirk.

God, you were making this incredibly hard for him. He sighed and stroked his hair, “Well, I like you. More than a friend.”

You stare at him, prompting him to go on. “And…I don’t like seeing you with other guys. Especially…Especially when I know I can treat you better..”

“Why now? We’ve been friends for ages..” The words come out of your mouth send him thinking.

“I guess I’ve always felt it. I was just scared. Of ruining our friendship….of the thought of commitment. But I’m ready now. I swear-”

Your lips crash onto his and he instantly hold your head, guiding you into a passionate kiss. His hands are on you, clawing their way up your shirt. Cold fingers grazing over your nipples.

“Turn around…” He says in between kisses. Naturally, you do as he says as you get on all fours. Sukuna helps you out of your hoodie and slips your shorts down. His fingers meet his tongue before going underneath your underwear, rubbing your clit.

“I missed you, y’know…” He whispers, kissing the side of your face. But it feels so good, you just nod.

He’s so hard he barely thinks of pulling your panties off, he just moves them to the side and slides in. “…ffucckk…” You moan out. Involuntarily, you turn around to see his face and see a grin plastered on his face, “…Fuck you, Sukuna..”

He chuckles before pounding into you, if it was anyone else he’d bee all dainty and slow. But he knows you can take it. And you do. You feel his hands on you again, one on your hip, the other holding your back down. It’s so slutty, you think. But you couldn’t care less.

And when Sukuna sees you edging forward, his palm comes down on your ass hard, “Fuckin running from me…? Hm?”

“N-No…” You cry out as you grip the blankets.

“No..??” He thrusts even deeper, “Then, take it. It’s all yours..”

What happened next feels like a scene from a movie. Sukuna sees your phone illuminate and sees the name of your ‘boyfriend’ on the screen. “Just my luck…”

“Sukuna, no-” He shoves his fingers in your mouth and answers.

There’s a pause, a moment of silence before he speaks. “Hello? Y/N? Yeah, I got those movie ticke-”

“Yeah…she won’t be needing them anymore, bud…” Sukuna breathes into the phone.

“Who…Who is this..?”

“I’m fucking busy. Tell him, baby…” He takes his fingers out and passes you the phone and you try your best to conceal your moans but you’re quite unsuccessful.

You hear the three beeps meaning he hung up and you slap Sukuna’s thigh, “You’re actually such a dick.”

You feel his tongue on your neck, “Yeah, you love it though..”

Bf!Sukuna who walks around campus, hand in hand with you. Funnily enough, neither of you have seen your ‘ex’. You still feel bad but he couldn’t care less. Because now he has you.

[burymagdalene]

Covetous Cravings - S. Reid x Reader

Spencer finds himself sulking around in jealously for the first time after you regrettably tell him you have plans for the night. When surprising him with your presence later, Spencer realizes just how badly he missed you while he was away.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Smuttttt...... (18+ pls pls) tags: Whiny & desperate Spencer, he's just very eager to please. virgin Spencer, munch!spencer, head (fem!receiving), coital takes place on Spencer's pretty Persian rug, jealous Spencer, fingering, heavy make out session, nipple play, handjob, panty sniffing, Spencer's POV! Dirty dirty dirty wc: 5.3k a/n: I've written "Spencer" so many times it doesn't sound like a name anymore. I saw this tweet and was inspired to write something related to the carpet picture. That's all. I don't even think of you that often.

Cold water washes over Spencer's tired eyes and rolls slowly down his wrists to the bottoms of his sleeves (that he rolled up to avoid getting them wet, annoyingly) as he frantically tries to wash away a strange sour feeling in his gut.

Upon looking into his mirror he gazes over the 5 o’clock shadow he’s garnered over the few days spent away in a small town in Delaware. He pulls in his lips and rubs over it with his finger tips. He doesn’t have the energy to shave it right now.

Spencer is currently harbouring a bit of a sourpuss persona, he knows this well. The team had wrapped up the case quicker than expected, leading him to message you as soon as he could about heading back to D.C. and seeing you again.

To his dismay, when he got off the plane and checked his crummy silver Nokia, that you’ve giggled at a fair share of times, the response he receives from you is… that you’re… busy?

Something about a group of friends at a late night cafe/bar getting together, he didn’t read all of it, pouting so much that he just closed his phone. Spencer is aware you had these plans before he asked to see you. Spencer is aware that he’s back from Delaware earlier than expected. Yet he’s still over his sink, face wet and cold, grumbling about your social life.

The two of you have been together for a couple months now, it’s extremely new, he knows you wouldn’t drop everything upon his arrival, but the whole plane ride home he imagined your ideas around hanging out once he got back. He got his hopes up too high.

He begins to reflect a bit, maybe a better word would be spiral, as he wanders back into his bedroom and unpacks his go bag. I shouldn’t be feeling lousy right now, he thinks. We’ve been dating for 2 months and 3 days, he had missed your two month anniversary while he was away. He couldn’t even text you that day because he was too busy. Should he even text about anniversaries like that? He’s so new to this he has no clue. 

Considering your dating timeline now he starts to worry. He’s inexperienced, almost completely… no, yeah, actually completely. He sighs.

You have been over twice, by all the beautiful luck he might have fostered in a past life, he has had the spine-tingling honor to have made out with you those two times as well. After a handful of museum and bookstore dates, even visiting your apartment once, the first time you shared a kiss was when he was showing you Jean-Pierre Melville’s Le Cercle Rouge, attesting it was substantial to the gangster film genre. 

When he felt your eyes against the side of his face during the best part of the film, he took a double take at you, seeing an unreadable expression in your eyes. He cringes at the memory of his confusion.

“Th-this part is really good… Pierre’s use of cinematic synecdoche here is perfectly timed compared to–” 

You had leaned in closely and started kissing along his jaw as he fumbled through the rest of his explanation till he tapered off into a whimper that was sealed with a kiss planted on his lips. He even reached to the coffee table in front of him while you were kissing to pause the movie, not wanting you to miss anything.

Spencer groans a bit at the memory, a little embarrassed, he now would recognize the signs you were displaying easier. He’s jealous of his past self, having you to himself so unabashedly. He’s jealous of his past time spent with you and he’s jealous of your friends right now who are hearing your laugh and smelling your perfume all night.

He sighs and flops down on his back to his bed. Spencer does not feel jealous often. He feels completely rotten and out of sorts. He thinks, maybe if he would’ve kissed you more suavely that first time you would’ve dropped your plans now. Maybe if he translated the French into English for you in a more sultry voice you’d skip out on a coffee with your friends. Maybe–

Spencer hears a faint knocking on his front door. He looks over at his alarm clock, 12:12 a.m., hm. He’s hallucinating for sure. Like a lonely old man who hears his late wife’s voice in the dark of his haunted halls–

Another tentative knock. 

He leaps up from his bed and races over to the front door with his legs moving so fast he feels like he’s in Looney Tunes. His heart starts pounding as he looks through his peephole to see a small blurry version of you shifting on your feet. He scrambles to unlock his door and swing it open. 

“Hi!” You smile at him, smelling like strong coffee mixed with whatever lactonic and spicy fragrance you usually wear that curls his toes. You step forward and give him a hug, your arms wrapping around his neck. This springs him into action, wrapping his arms around your waist he mutters out a “wow” against your shoulder. Like he just won a sweepstakes. 

You pull away a bit, but Spencer's arms stay around you. “Is it okay I’m here? You never responded to my texts.” You give him a shy smile and he realizes as he was grovelling he didn’t open his phone again after you said you had plans for the night. 

“Yes! Yes,” he clears his throat… be suave. “Of course. Um. Was just thinking about you, ha. Come over whenever. Yea. Even if I say I’m busy, come over still, haha.” Shit. 

“Ah. Okay, noted. I missed you too, Spencer.” You giggle a little at him and walk into the apartment, leaving him to shut the door behind you. “What were you thinking about?” You muse. 

“Ummmm. Le Cercle Rouge.” Spencer clears his throat again. IQ slashed to 60. 

“The Le Cercle Rouge incident, right.” You laugh again and look over at where he’s standing with a blank face. “Oh. Are you sure it’s okay that I'm here? I know I said I was busy, so I’m sure you’re ready for bed now, especially after the case. Did that go well?” His blank expression has made you nervous, he notices, though he was just considering again the feeling of his neck being kissed for the first time in 24 years. 

“Please stay. A while, too. I’m not tired.” A pause with long eye contact. “The case went surprisingly well, hence the early arrival.” 

The curve of your lip pulls up in a smirk and he sees he’s convinced you fully now. You bend down and unzip the sides of your brown high rise boots, leaving you in your black tank top, skirt, and now kneehigh socks that create a monochromatic wet dream for Spencer. Though this isn’t a dream, he shakes his head from side to side to get rid of the distracting thoughts.

“Good.” You sit down fully on his red carpet now, trying to pull your last boot off. “You know, you were a really short walk from the coffee shop, I’m surprised you’ve never been. As soon as you texted you were back I kept trying to slip away as politely as possible.” You talk while struggling with the shoe.

Spencer takes a deep breath in and meets you on his carpet, sitting on his knees to pull the boot off of you, which was incredibly easy. You were pretending to struggle with it on purpose. Once removed, he sits back against his heels and pushes your knees together by your ankles.

“You walked?” He mumbled back. He would’ve picked you up. He should’ve just checked his phone, told you to have a good night like a proper boyfriend. 

“Mm, like five minutes. No worries.”

“Its midnight- I. I can always pick you up.”

You whined your response, “But you weren’t answering your phoneeee.”

Spencer rubs his face with his hands, covering his smile a bit and feeling his skin heating up. “I’m very glad you showed up anyway. Even if it scares me you walked alone this late,” he glances at you leaning back against your hands, knees still pulled together. “You look very pretty.”

“Really? Thanks. I thought so too. About you, I mean. You’ve got a little 5 o’clock shadow right now, you look really handsome.” You smile and let out an airy laugh. Spencer subconsciously rubs his face again. He’s not sure when these jittery feelings will go away, if they ever will. One compliment from you and he’s feeling a blush coming from inside of him stretch over to his skin. 

He remembers his petulance earlier, his flair for the dramatics. Whining over people other than him seeing you, cursing his past self for awkward conversations, so he leans over onto his hands and knees and kisses your lips. 

You hum against his lips, knees together against one of his sides, happy at Spencer's first time initiating a kiss between you. You sit up off of your hands now  so they can cup his face and pull him firmer against you. Taking one of his wrists from where he’s planted on the floor to the other side of you, you guide him to slowly hover over you. 

Spencer can’t help but let out a tiny noise, a moan, against you as his palms dig uncomfortably into his carpet. He feels you lean back against your elbows and swing one of your legs to the other side of him. Now, you are pressed flat against the carpet, legs on either side of his waist. Spencer slowly moves so he’s on top of your frame, elbows crowning your head.

Both times Spencer has had the pleasure of tasting you like this you have been straddling him on his couch. This is the first time that he’s been able to lay on top of you and feel his hip bones dig into you and your legs around him.

Woah. Your legs are wrapped around him, just like how he’s dreamed of having you in his bed. Legs squeezing helplessly around him as he buries himself in you. Feeling your chest against his as you arch up into him. He lowers one hand to trail it up from your shins covered in your knee highs that make him faint to your hip.

He pushes his crotch down a bit from where it was against yours, making it so the hard-on he’s now sporting is against the floor now. He remembers the visceral feeling of you kissing his neck. Immediately he’s moving down to return the favor. What starts in soft kisses escalates quickly to sucking and laving against your skin, face buried into the source of his wildest dreams, your perfume. 

Your hands are carding through his hair right now, nails scratching at him softly and he has to position himself a bit closer to the ground now to rub off some built up tension his cock is begging for. This is usually where you part.

Face buried in your neck he’s smelling your intoxicating scent and moaning against the skin. He feels like a wild animal smelling a pheromone filled scent gland. Spencer realizes briefly where he is and pulls up from your neck to stare down at your face.

Hair haloing around you, you’re feverish and pressed against the Persian rug he spent his first big paycheck on. You have a bit of mascara smudged under your eyes and the lamps scattered around his living room are highlighting you in a way so beautiful he moans out again softly. No friction, no kissing, just by looking at you.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he traces the line of your neck up and down softly with the tips of his fingers. “I almost drowned in my sorrows before you knocked on my door.” He leans back down and chuckles against the skin of your neck.

You don’t have exactly the same romantic thoughts in mind as you gasp out for the first time since he’s laid on you, “You feel so good against me, Spence. Wanted this so bad,” he stops kissing, breathing lightly against your neck as you continue. “Can’t believe I haven’t pulled you on me sooner.” He’s blinking silently hidden in the corner of your neck. He acts on a whim and bites down lightly against where your neck and shoulder meet and you squeal. 

Spencer was not prepared for the blazing eye contact he’d be met with once pulling away to look at you. Your tank top has ridden down, the top of your pink bra showing a bit and your hair is drastically more disheveled than when you arrived. He can feel his heart in his throat. He has to keep making you let out that sound.

You seem to notice his brazen eyeline and you take one hand to pull the neckline of your top down a bit, exposing most of the bra covering your breasts that are only slightly spilling out from all your wiggling. Spencer shuts his eyes like he’s in pain, but he’s actually moving his hips up and away from the floor so he doesn’t come in his pants right then and there.

A completely new and formidable heat spreads over him and into his loins. Never in his life has Spencer trembled with anticipation in this way. His skin is on fire and he’s struck with the overwhelming need to make you the happiest person in this world. He wants to have you shiver and shudder completely against his apartment floor, he wants to hear every moan and grunt until your voice gives out. He wants to fuck you with his mouth.

“Gah-God, baby,” Spencer moves himself away from you so that he’s kneeling between your open thighs, rubbing the outsides of your legs as he looks into your eyes. “My mouth. Um, can I use my mouth?” He lets out a shaky breath at the image.

You bite your lip softly at him, he feels like he just licked the screen on one of those old staticy TVs he used to have. “Use your mouth for what?” You half play coy and half ask in earnest, not wanting to jump to conclusions since you and Spencer have never taken off many layers together.

“I want to use my mouth to make you cum.” His face flushes immediately, your eyes widen in shock. He drags his sight down to where you lay in front of him. Legs spread open and skirt ridden up giving him an obscene upskirt of your underwear for him. Also black. He keeps his eyes there as you reply.

“Yeah. Please, please-” he whips his head up to look at your face again to engrain the image of you unkempt and nodding a desperate yes into his memory. He lightly reaches out between your thighs to briefly feel the bottom of your panties. He’s barely thinking, his first instinct was to gauge how wet you are, to compare it to how you’re going to feel later. You gasp sweetly and he moans in response, untouched, again.  

With this searing hot permission Spencer gets hit with a strong pietistic devotion towards you. There is literally nothing in his life that has mattered more to him right now than how the gusset of your panties stick onto you and that his tongue can finally be given the task he has thought about constantly since knowing you. 

The anxiety Spencer was expecting as a result of his inexperience is completely overthrown by a perfectly instinctual autopilot setting he falls into. The excitement of making you feel good, you letting him touch you in such a profound way completely overshadows the doubt of his expertise. 

Not that he’s completely clueless. Erotica classics hide in his bookshelves, copies of Anaïs Nin’s short stories, the detailed counts of female pleasure derived from biology books, decent sex education stemming from the countless hours he’s poured into literature. He’s fairly in tuned to what generally makes people crumble, he just has to try it out himself. 

Spencer starts at the top again. The push and pull between him and eating you out the way he’s craving will have to drone on a little longer as he starts kissing along the exposed skin of your breasts, not wanting to leave anything unkissed. How rude. 

You outstretch your neck to him and slide the tank top off yourself, leaving just your pink lace bra that's covering little of your nipples. Spencer fingers the straps briefly while taking in the sight of you. He cannot believe the cosmic circumstances that have led him to this moment.

“D’you like?” you mumble while watching him eye-fuck you. He almost feels sorry for how he’s watching your chest rise and fall but the way his dick is pulsing under the confines of his underwear allows for little words.

In fact, his hips kick a twitch forward at the sound of your voice. A siren song as old as time. 

“MmmIwanna,” Okay. Form words. “I wanna-” he pities himself enough to give up on that one and kisses along your chest again.

“Do what you want to. I want to feel you everywhere… I want you to touch me.” You seem to understand his dilemma. A once articulate tongue falls flat in such a frenzied situation. 

Spencer palms your tits through your bra properly now while kissing you sloppily. He feels the friction of the lace against his palm and your hardened nipple receiving the rough friction from it as well. He picks up on your whine against his lips and pulls your bra down by the middle of it, exposing your chest fully. 

You gasp against his lips and move your tongue against his as a thanks. Spencer lets out a tiny “ah” from the back of his throat when your tongues meet. To regain composure he takes the nipple he was palming through lace earlier and rolls it between his middle finger and thumb, it’s your turn to kick your hips up for friction now. 

He decides to lower his hips against yours fully for the first time, desperately searching for that debauching pleasure that he was avoiding earlier. His dick rests nicely under your belly button and you bite his bottom lip when he’s fully settled against you, he feels sort of proud. 

Feeling your body completely pressed against him in this way makes him mourn every second he’s been with you and not made you moan in happiness like he is now. Wishing that the pesky virginity he’s carried with him this long will be taken by this angel underneath him right now. His cock twitches against you at the thought of it.

He stops fiddling with the nipple and instead moves to hold one of your hands with his as his other hand moves to rub your neglected nipple. He subtly grinds a long and slow rhythm against where you two are pressed together and you make a curious noise, a full moan caught before getting let out. Nudged in your throat as you hold it in.

Spencer thinks for a moment and smiles at the realization that it sounds almost exactly like how you hold back a laugh in your throat. A small and choked out “hngh” high pitched before its snuffed out. He thinks of any future endeavors where he gets to hear you hold back a laugh in a quiet museum or library from one of his stupid jokes. With this comparison he’s going to be pathetically hard in so many more inappropriate situations now.

“Please, can you please take my panties off.” You mewl gently, almost as if you’re worried he will refuse, and break him out of his thoughts. Spencer nearly forgot how lost in his head he was while methodically rubbing your sensitive breasts and grinding against you. 

“Pretty girl, I’m sorry.” He really is, he never wants you to feel so desperate you have to beg for him to touch you, but without interference he could probably sit for eight hours straight playing with your tits to see if you could come from it. He whines out loud at the thought. “I will, of course, I will.”

The feeling of him peeling himself off you feels tortuous. However, it is very much a high risk, high reward scenario when he looks down between your thighs again to see a wetter fabric clad to your hips. Spencer leans towards you, pushes your socks down slightly to kiss the tops of each of your knees. You giggle and he nips the inside of your leg slightly. 

It’s dizzying, the experience of pulling your panties down for the first time. Every night where he has sloppily fucked his fist thinking of your smile lines and pretty hands, every evening after you’ve left his apartment well kissed has finally led to this life altering moment.

Your panties have been slid off and he’s got an iron grip on them as he’s staring at you fully exposed, the translucent liquid smudged around your cunt. He’s trying incredibly hard to not push them up to his nose and inhale, he thinks he’s done enough animalistic sniffing and grunting at you tonight. He places them neatly on the couch instead. 

“Baby, Spence, you’re a voyeur.” You laugh at his staring gently, he assumes 25% of this experience for you has been watching him stare bug eyed at every inch of skin you’ve surrendered. He lays down flat on his tummy, sucking in air through his teeth as his dick presses against his carpet through his slacks again. “Feel sensitive, that feels like a lot?” You ask softly down at him. He flushes, embarrassed a little that you notice him the exact same way he notices you. Spencer pinches his eyebrows together and nods.

“Feels.. real good though.” He laughs gently at himself as you groan and rest your head back down on the carpet at how sweet he is.

He wraps his arms tightly underneath your thighs to pull your pussy closer to him, your skirt riding up to your belly in the process. He feels you squirm a little under his arms and kisses the skin above your hip flexors softly.

His heart skips a beat when he’s up close to you, a sliver of doubt creeping up along with the immeasurable need to make you feel good. Spencer takes his tongue out and licks a broad stripe up from right below your opening to above your clit. This is more for himself, actually. He wants to taste every single drop you expelled from him kissing and touching you, it’s what he deserves.

Spencer's arms immediately have to resist against your thighs moving shut, using a bit of his strength to keep you open as he does it again. This time he moves his head slightly side to side. The whine he hears coming from your lips makes him take one arm away without thinking to hold your lips open and wraps his lips around your clit.

The open window you get without one arm suspending your leg allows you to close one thigh to the side of his face while the other is still pried open by him. He continues to suck gently, pulls away and lifts up the skin covering your clit, kisses it softly, you let out a pitiful sobbing noise and Spencer sucks your clit again, rolls it between his lips.

You help him out by taking your other thigh away from his face and holding it up yourself. “Wh-who taught you to do this?” You squeak out giving him a sense of confidence he’s been desperately striving for. Spencer cannot bear to part from your cunt to reply so he just hums lowly against you, hoping that you get his message of I daydream about doing this to you every waking moment through the vibrations he’s emitting.

He feels you rock your hips against his face greedily and he smiles a toothy grin against you. His perfect pliant girl, he couldn’t be happier to have your wetness rubbed against his nose as he dives into you. 

Wanting to escalate the scenario a bit, he’s internally pleading to feel you cum against his face, Spencer begins to suck harshly and suction onto your clit intermittently. The loud “fuck” you whimper out and how your torso isolates to twist to the side as you keep your hips in place is a good indicator that he’s making you feel good. This is a dream.

“Hh- mmmm” you cry out and Spencer flickers his gaze up to your face. You’re scrunching your face like a sweet bunny and have one hand up and posed above his head, waiting to push him away, the pleasure so strong you have to implicitly prepare yourself to shove him away when it gets to be too much. He moans highly against you.

The hand you had defensively propped up begins to lightly push at his face, he smiles at this, suctions your clit through his lips and runs circles over it with his tongue, your hand falls limply to your side.

“Fingers- ah, fingers!” You manage to gasp out one more plea before sucking your lips in and moaning deeply against them.

You seriously do not have to ask him twice. Being able to feel you twitch and grip around his fingers while he sucks on your clit has him pushing himself against the floor. The bordering on painful stimulation he’s getting from using all his body weight to hump his carpet sends tingles up and down his spine. As you said, sensitive. 

Spencer starts by tracing your entrance with his middle finger, he slips in easily just by doing that, your slick and his spit making the intrusion incredibly easy. He wastes no time pulling his finger up against your g-spot and slips in his ring finger alongside it, rubbing slick circles inside of you.

The noises your cunt is making from his incessant sucking and rubbing could probably be heard from any of his neighbors walking by his front door. He gasps hotly at this thought, what are you doing to him? Has he no shame?

You’re riding his face and fingers again, mumbling intelligible sentences. God, his cock hurts. 

“Baby, close, don’t stop-” The angelic words fall from your mouth and his ears perk up like an owner saying her dog's favorite words to it. Spencer continues exactly what he’s doing against you and looks up at you again through your back arching.

He can feel you twitching and senses you’re done for. If only he could talk and eat you out at the same time, he wants to call you pretty until tears come from your eyes. You gasp wetly and come all over his fingers.

Your thighs clamp against his head and he lets you do whatever you need to do to his face to get off. He’s rubbing soft and soothing circles against your hips as you hiccup through your orgasm.

You open your mouth as if you have something to say, and close it again, shuddering out a breath of air. Spencer pulls away, he can talk again.

“My good girl, thank you. I mean, you tasted so good… you’re so pretty, my pretty, oh my god-” He’s got a lot on his mind right now.

Spencer watches and follows your movements as you sluggishly sit up to kiss him, moving your tongue against his in an eager display to taste yourself against his lips, he whines again, feeling your warmth against him. When you palm him through his pants Spencer stutters out a pornographic “hnnn”, the friction from his rubbing against the floor has left him painfully needy.

“Can I take your cock out baby?” You ask against his neck. Spencer is aware of the embarrassing uhhuh uhhuh he releases as he scoots back against his couch. You don’t bother teasing him, taking out his red dripping dick from his pants and underwear and you don’t even giggle when it makes a whip sound as it taps against his skin.

He actually has to close his eyes after watching you whine in overstimulation as you collect your come from yourself to use it as lubrication to jerk him off with it. He’s genuinely going to pass out.

With a mouth open to the shape of an “o”, Spencer has an onslaught of tiny gentle noises that fill up the room alongside the skin slapping sound of you jerking him off. You touch the crown of his dick and one of his arms shoots out to brace himself against the couch. 

He accidentally grabs your panties he placed on the couch earlier.

Not thinking, he grips onto them and you kiss his cheek. “Want em’?” You tease. “My panties are in my top drawer next time you come over and want to snoop around.” You joke further, a red flush of humiliation covers Spencer's neck and chest. He slowly moves his grip on them over to his nose. Too far gone to have the same self-control he had earlier to set them aside, he finally indulges in taking in your scent.

He’s somewhat expecting more prodding and teasing, but you just continue to kiss over his face softly. He’s so thankful.

There’s no surprise to the fact you have him coming especially fast. Spencer feels his legs twitch and he sets down your panties to kiss you properly as he finishes all over your fist. 

As he comes down from this unexplainable high he is struck with such a tender feeling of affection towards you his eyes water. You notice and scoot onto his legs and lap and wrap your arms around him in a hug.

Not letting go until you feel him chuckling against you, you ask him how he feels and he sighs out dramatically. He’s so exhausted now.

You shyly offer to wet-vac his carpet once you guys move to clean yourselves up and he breaks out into a laughter that makes his stomach hurt. You eventually join his contagious laughter at the situation.

Spencer’s suggestion for you to stay a while is accepted with open arms. You spend your first night together wrapped up in each other's embrace. Being back in his own bed with you here settles his mind so gently that within three minutes of his head hitting the pillow he’s out like a light. 

In the morning when he wakes up for work he rubs his nose softly all over your face to wake you up. Spencer offers that you stay in his bed and sleep more or he can drive you back to yours before he heads over to work. He ends up driving you home so you can get ready for work yourself. Once you’re back home he finally opens up his phone again from last night to see a picture of yourself you sent on the walk to his apartment last night with the text under it “Had to come see you anyway, hope the doors unlocked mwahaha”.

He finds himself smiling at his missed message all day at work and once he’s seated back in his car to go home later that day he finally finds the “forgotten” panties you left on his passenger car seat when you left this morning.  

Spencer flushes then pockets them before texting you that he is in fact not a voyeur or a perv and he did not put your panties in his pocket and he is not asking you to come over again tonight so he can cook you a pasta dinner before he lays you out for him again, hopefully on his bed this time.