#getting this out here before bed so I can wake up to likes and reblogs

[wheresarizona]

Thunder (only happens when it’s rainin’)

summary: In the middle of the night, during a bad thunderstorm, Javier helps you through a fear-induced panic attack. 

rating: T (Javier POV, age gap (about ten years), Husband Javier Peña, panic attack (physical descriptions only), emotional hurt/comfort, Javier calming you down, thunderstorm, banter, domestic fluff, suggestive mention of Javier’s dick, Javier offering to help you fall back asleep by either reading you The Fellowship of the Ring or a smutty book)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (a nurse with no physical descriptions)

word count: 1.2k+

a/n: This can be read as a standalone or part of the Learning to Live ‘verse—in LTL, it takes place a few months after their wedding. This one goes out to the anon who asked how Javi would help Cielito through a panic attack. He’d use this method or a variation of it any time she has a panic/anxiety attack. This is unbeta’d; all mistakes are my own. 

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Laredo, Texas - April, 1999

The window-shaking boom of thunder isn’t what has Javier jolting awake in bed and bolting upright to turn on his bedside lamp. It’s the blood-curdling scream beside him that’s like a shot of adrenaline with how it wakes him from the dead of sleep with his heart pounding and has him blearily looking around the dimly lit room for any sign of danger. 

Their bedroom door is still closed, and there are no intruders; rain can be heard battering against their windows, and when he focuses on his wife next to him, she’s also sitting up, worry cutting through him at how her breaths are coming out too fast and shallow as she hyperventilates, and tears stain her cheeks—she’s having a panic attack, triggered by the storm. Where she grew up, it rains the majority of the year, but they don’t have many thunderstorms, unlike right now when it’s Spring in Texas and severe weather season—it’s not the storms that scare her; it’s the loud noise that gets her. 

He’s scooting closer to her, pressing his big palm to her shirt-covered back, rubbing little circles, his voice husky and soft as he says, “We’re okay, Cielito—you’re okay.” Javier reaches with his other hand to take her smaller one into his, putting it on his bare chest over his heart where he knows she can feel it thudding. “Focus on me, baby—look at me.” Her head turns his way, and he’s met with panicked eyes and glistening cheeks. “Feel my heartbeat. You feel how it’s beating?” She’s still breathing too fast. “Focus on the beat—you feel it?” he asks again, and she looks at their hands. “Thud, thud, thud…” he repeats at the same rhythm of his heart. 

The therapist he’s been seeing for a while now taught him some techniques for when he has his occasional panic attacks, and right now, he’s trying to help ground her.

“See,” he says. “I’m right here, baby—you’re okay. I promise we’re gonna get through this. What are five things you can see?” 

“You,” she answers between heavy breaths.

“There’s one.” 

“Hand...” Her eyes move down. “Blanket…” Her head turns toward their bedroom door. “Door… Dresser...” 

“That’s it, Cielito.” He’s still rubbing her back reassuringly. “Tell me four things you can hear.” 

“You…” she says. “Fan…” Their small fan on his dresser by the door they use for white noise at night. “Rain…” Thunder rumbles in the distance, and her body tenses, a small whimper leaving her, and Javier’s hand on her back moves to hug her against him. She whispers, “Thunder…” 

“It’s moving away, baby,” he tells her. “Sounds like it just passed by. You’re doing so good for me—name three things you can touch.” She’s beginning to calm down, her breathing is slowing. 

“You…” There’s movement under the sheets of her wiggling her feet. “Blankets… Me.” 

“Good.” He kisses the side of her head. “What are two things you can smell?” 

“You… Candle…” They had a vanilla-scented candle burning before they went to bed.

Her breaths even out, and he knows she’s focused on him based on her answers. 

“There we go.” The following crack of thunder is so quiet that it’s barely heard over the rain outside and the whirring of their fan. “I think the worst of it is over—tell me one thing you can taste.” 

He’s sitting close enough to her that the sides of their bodies are touching. He’s got one arm around her back, keeping her against him, and his other hand still holding hers over his heart. 

Her face turns his way, and she lightly bites his shoulder, speaking with her mouth open, “You.”

Yeah, she’s calmed. He smiles. 

“Do I taste good, mi amor (my love)?” 

She’s still biting him. “Yes.” 

“Are you feeling better?” 

“Yes.” 

“Is there anything I can do to help you fall back asleep?”

Her mouth finally leaves him, and she meets his gaze, her eyes rounded. “Can I lay on your chest while you read to me?” 

Something she enjoys and relaxes her. 

He leans in to kiss her tenderly and asks against her lips, “Fellowship of the Ring—” What he’s currently re-reading for probably the thirtieth time. “—or whatever that book is you were reading last night that got you so hot and bothered you begged for my dick?” 

She broke away to look at him once more, and he let go of her hand to use his thumb to wipe away the remnants of the tears from her cheek. 

“As great as it’d be to have you narrate my smut,” she replies, “it’s gotta be Lord of the Rings ‘cause I am so fucking tired, like so tired, and queasy—I think I’m getting whatever that bug is that’s going around the hospital—" She’s a nurse at the local hospital. “—and I really don’t appreciate the stupid thunderstorm interrupting my beauty sleep.” 

Her answer makes him frown, and he presses the back of his fingers to her forehead. 

“You don’t feel warm…” he says. That doesn’t mean she isn’t coming down with something. “I’ll stop by the store on my way home tomorrow and pick up stuff to make you caldo.” The soup his mom always made when he or his dad were sick.

“That’d be nice, but,” she emphasizes, “food has been pretty hit or miss over the last week, so if it makes me puke, I swear on my ABBA Souper Trouper record—” Her favorite and most prized that she’s had since its release in 1980. “—it has nothing to do with your mother’s recipe and is just whatever the fuck this sickness is.” 

“I know, baby,” he replies and kisses her forehead. “Let me fix the pillows, and I’ll read to you.” 

When he starts to move, her hand quickly grabs his arm to stop him, and he turns his attention back to her. 

“Javi?” 

“Yes, mi amor?” 

“Thank you for calming me down.” Her eyes dart away. “Texas summers are literally hell, but for all of the years I lived in Dallas before coming here, I hated Spring the most because of the storms—what I’m saying is this isn’t the first time thunder has woken me up in the middle of the night and caused me to freak out.” The thought of her alone and scared makes his chest ache, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could’ve been there with her. “It’s happened before,” she continues, “and I always had to ride it out on my own. So, thank you for being here and helping me. Don’t get me wrong, it majorly sucked, but it was nice not having to go through it alone.”

He caresses her cheek to make her look at him, and he smiles. “I can promise you, you’ll never have to go through it alone again. I’ll always be here to help you, just like how you’re always there when my brain’s being an asshole because I love you, Cielito.” 

She matches his look. “I love you, too, Javi.” She quickly pecked him on the lips. “Three months, and you continue to reign supreme as Husband of the Year.” 

“And am I living up to my other title?” 

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Which one? ‘Cause Sexiest Man Alive, yes, you’ve got ‘99 in the bag. God of Sex, also yes, and I remain your devoted devotee. And you’re definitely living up to being the Hunkiest Hunk to Ever Hunk; no one will ever be able to out-hunk you, babe.” 

“Good.” 

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

[wsdanon]

hello shotgunners fans take another little thing of some of them… (Felps and guaxi, but if you’d like to think about it the absence of Matt speaks volumes. or something…)

fic is based on a moment from the first clip in this little video I posted. Felps does actually die to the centipede a little after and then texts Guaxinim to ask for help retrieving his items

reblogs appreciated, hope you enjoy \o/!!

Felps wakes up in a bed. Which is already a red flag in of itself, but is quickly forgotten in favour of the fact he feels like shit. Cold burrows in his bones while heat lathers his skin, nausea broiling in his stomach with a pounding headache to top things off. 

There’s someone with him. Maybe. In this bed which is definitely not his bed because he doesn’t have a bed yet. 

A low light hovers on the other side of his eyelids—necessary for him to get any answers, but already irritating with the shield that closed eyes offers. 

He shifts, and groans. His body aches. More than aches. The person with him cups his face and gently taps next to his eyes—an obvious request that he doesn’t want to comply with, but probably should. 

He lets his eyes open a slit and sees Guaxinim’s face in front of him. That’s good. Someone familiar—someone he trusts with almost all the important things. 

Another tap to the side of his eyes makes him realise they’ve slipped shut again. He blinks rapidly—trying to keep them open—and Guaxi’s hand disappears from his face to take up his vision instead. 

“Felps—are you okay?” He signs. 

“No.” He groans out, not entirely sure where his hands are and not willing to risk shaking his head. 

“I found you passed out while mining.” Guaxi explains—too much information for right now, really. “You sent me your location asking for help, remember?”

“No.”

“I think you were poisoned.” 

And whatever else Guaxinim says, Felps misses, as—with another groan—his eyes slip shut again. 

Poison makes sense. He feels poisoned. He remembers something—big, and scary, and painful. It’s a little hazy. He was bitten? 

The blankets are too warm, Guaxinim is too warm… but at the same time Felps tries to burrow closer. Maybe if he overheats enough it’ll stop the shivering in his bones. 

He tries to protest as Guaxinim pulls him away and sits him up, but his limbs are heavier than he can work with, and Guaxi is easily strong enough to move his dead weight. It would almost be attractive if Felps’ skeleton wasn’t trying to shake itself to dust. 

Guaxinim says something and Felps can’t even attempt to lip read. He’s pretty sure Guaxi laughs, though. 

He’s propped up in a corner, Guaxi’s hands gently resting his head back against the walls. 

“You’re so out of it.” Guaxi signs, before signing a small laugh as well. Then he tucks the blanket around Felps again. “I asked Matt to find some milk, so I’m going to go get it from him, okay?”

Why can’t Matt just come here? He doesn’t want Guaxi to leave. And Matt’s warm. Matt’s so warm. Warm in Felps’ chest—with an uncomfortable itching accompanying it, sure, but that must be better than this. Matt could fix this, surely. 

“I didn’t want to leave you alone, you know?” Guaxi pauses his signing to briefly cup Felps’ cheeks and press a kiss to his forehead. “But Meiaum just got back, okay? He’ll keep an eye on you.”

And sure enough, Meiaum walks into his line of sight. Him and Guaxi talk for a moment, then Guaxinim leaves and Meiaum joins him on the bed. 

“Cold.” Felps murmurs out. 

Meiaum frowns, and leans closer. Asks him to repeat himself. 

“I’m cold.”

“Oh! Hm…” 

He looks around—presumably for another blanket—and, finding nothing, decides to tug Felps closer. 

He’s worse than Guaxinim at moving Felps—which is probably less about strength and more about not knowing how to move him—but eventually Felps is tucked against his side, his head resting on Meiaum’s shoulder. Meiaum pulls the blankets around himself as well to get them closer, then wraps an arm around Felps’ shoulders. 

It’s a little better. 

It’s better enough that Felps drifts back to sleep, at least.

When he’s woken up again, a glass of milk is shoved in his face. 

He blinks hazily at it. Not entirely sure what to do.

“Drink?” Guaxinim signs. 

And okay, sure, he can do that. 

The blanket is tugged down, which is not appreciated, but at least his hands are freed. And this time he even feels like he can move them. So, with shaky hands he takes the glass—although he can tell Guaxinim still has a hold of it. 

At the first sip he’s already feeling a little better. Which gives him the motivation to finish it. 

“Feeling better?” Guaxinim asks. 

Felps signs a yes. 

“Nice!” Guaxinim smiles—wide and pretty. “That should take care of the poison, at least. And I already bandaged your wounds, so don’t worry about all that, okay? Now you just need to rest up.”

“Okay.”

“Here. Let me help you lie down.”

Guaxinim waits a moment for him to protest, before doing just that. Meiaum—who was asleep? Maybe?—shifts to lie down behind him, while Guaxi cuddles up against his front. 

It’s a bit of a tight fit. At the moment, at least, Guaxinim’s bed is not really made for all that many people. But Felps is too worn out to worry about any discomfort. 

And it is kind of nice, anyway. Comforting. Scary cave creatures—a giant centipede, he can remember it a little better now—can’t hurt him while he’s tucked between these two. 

So, he takes Guaxi’s advice and lets himself drift off to sleep again. 

——

Hope you enjoyed \o/!! Matt is not allowed in their secret base yet sadly

[selestesolstice]

Dragons and cats are not so dissimilar…

Timelapse under the cut

[xomakara]

Baby On Board...Again

SUMMARY |  Jaehyun wants to be a dad again.

PAIRINGS | Jaehyun x Reader

GENRE |  dad!Jaehyun, mom!Reader, dilf!Jaehyun, milf!Reader, established relationship, smut, fluff,

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (female giving/male receiving), praise kink, pet names, daddy kink, impregnation, pregnancy kink, couch sex, multiple positions

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

LENGTH |  6,440 words

TAGLIST | @luv4jeno

NETWORKS | @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Hi. Hello again. At this point, Jaehyun should be my bias with the amount of content I write about him. LOL. Anywho, you don't have to read them, but if you did, I mentioned Kun's triplets and Xiaojun's little son. Anyway, here's to Dad Jaehyun! Don’t forget to like, comment, reblog and show some support. Love you all 💚

"Mommy! Mommy!"

You let out a groan and buried your head in the pillows. Your little son is already running a muck, screaming the house down. You could hear him stomping up and down the corridor, but he's not coming into the room. Not yet, at least. But he sounds pretty eager and excited so no doubt that in the next few moments, he's gonna burst in.

"Mommmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Daaaaaaddddddyyyyyyyy!"

You tried to bury yourself further in your blankets. Hoping they would swallow you and leave you to peacefully go back to bed. You reached out and smacked your husband's sleeping back. "Go get the brat."

Jaehyun snorted and rolled over. "He's your brat."

"You made the brat, you deal with him," you grunted.

"You were there too, honey. It takes two."

"Jae-" Your words got cut off as you heard your son bang against your bedroom door and throw it open. The first thing your eyes landed on when you lifted your head to peek was your son's bright, joyful, excited smile. Jaewoo, ran into your room, jumping on the bed. He was giggling and his little arms wrapped around your body as he smooched your cheek.

"Good morning Mommy!" he chirped.

"Morning baby." You kissed his cheek back.

Your son looked over to Jaehyun who was lying still with his eyes closed, trying to ignore him. "Morning Daddy!"

"Daddy is asleep." Jaehyun mumbled.

"Nuh-uh! I saw you smile!" Jaewoo shouted excitedly.

"Nope. Daddy's asleep." He deadpanned, while a smirk stretched across his lips.

"Wake up then!"

"Nooooo."

You laughed and ruffled your son's hair before poking your husband's cheek. "You have to do it eventually, Jae. You know how he is."

Your son giggled and jumped on Jaehyun's back. He sat there and shook his daddy awake, trying to pull off the blanket covering him. You both share a laugh, loving the determination your son has. He's cute when he's eager. "Daaaaaddddyyy!"

"Oof," Jaehyun grunted.

"Wake up Daddy!"

"You heard your child Jae." You teased.

"Waaaake up Daddy!"

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" Jaehyun exclaimed and tickled his sides, making the little boy squeal and kick.

You watched them both, feeling happy and warm. You had your doubts about being a mother. But your husband helped you through it all, and you have never been more thankful for him than when you held your baby for the first time.

"Are we going to the zoo today?" Jaewoo asked excitedly.

"If it's not raining," you answered. "It's supposed to rain."

"Awww," Jaewoo pouted.

Jaehyun poked his stomach. "We can camp out in the living room if it rains. We'll play games, make a tent, and read a lot of books."

Jaewoo's eyes lit up. "And we can make cookies and have popcorn!"

You chuckled and hugged him. "That sounds like a good idea, baby."

"Alright!" Jaewoo exclaimed and climbed off the bed. "I'll get ready!"

He ran out of the room, and you rolled over to face your husband. You leaned forward and kissed him gently. "Let's get up so we can entertain the little man."

"I love you." Jaehyun grinned.

"I love you too." You pecked his nose and kissed the corner of his lip before you pulled away to stand up.

You put on a shirt and went to check the window. The skies looked somewhat clear but you didn't want to take the chance, so you made a mental note to bring an umbrella, ponchos, and anything that would prevent your family from getting sick. You stretched your limbs before heading into the bathroom. Jaehyun joined you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"We did a good job with him, didn't we?" He muttered, pulling you towards his body. He held onto you tightly, hugging you close and enjoying the sensation of your skin rubbing against his.

"Yes, we did." You breathed and kissed his cheek. "Yes. I can't wait to see how much he grows."

"Me too." Jaehyun kissed your cheek.

After you were showered, dressed, and ready, you and Jaehyun headed down to the kitchen. Your son was sitting at the table, coloring a picture of a lion.

"Whatcha doing, Jaewoo?" Jaehyun asked, ruffling his hair.

"Drawing lions." Jaewoo grinned.

"You'll see real lions later." You told him, kissing his head.

"I want to go now." Jaewoo pouted.

"Breakfast first, bud," Jaehyun replied.

Jaewoo continued drawing and coloring, while you and Jaehyun began making breakfast. You cooked the pancakes while he cut up fruit. The smell of bacon filled the air, and Jaewoo started sniffing and looking around.

"Mmm, something smells good!" He exclaimed and bounced over to you. He put his head on the edge of the counter and gazed longingly at the food.

"Wash your hands first, baby," you reminded him and pointed towards the sink. "And use soap."

"Okay, Moooom!" Jaewoo did as told but ended up splashing a bunch of water on the floor. Jaehyun just laughed.

"He's just as messy as you." He said, drying your child's hands, while you made him his plate. "Want juice?" He asked.

Jaewoo nodded. Jaehyun went to pour his kid a glass while you set down a plate with 2 large pancakes, eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns. "Here, my little man, enjoy."

Jaewoo dug into his breakfast, his mouth full of pancakes and syrup. You and Jaehyun ate a bit slower, enjoying the peace.

After breakfast, you put on your shoes and jackets, and grabbed the bag of snacks. You headed out the door, locking it behind you.

The drive to the zoo was short. Jaewoo was excited to see the animals and he chattered away about them the whole way. When you arrived, he was out of the car and running towards the entrance. You had to quickly chase after him to make sure he didn't get lost.

When you reached the gate, you bought tickets and entered the zoo. Jaewoo's eyes were sparkling with happiness as he skipped through the different exhibits, stopping every few moments to stare and watch some animal move. The three of you walked along the path, admiring the different animals. Jaewoo pointed out his favorites and talked about how he wanted to be a zookeeper when he grew up.

As the day wore on, Jaewoo got more and more tired. He started to drag his feet and complain about being hungry.

"Let's go get some ice cream, okay?" Jaehyun suggested, taking his hand.

"Okay!" Jaewoo said excitedly.

You bought him an ice cream cone, and he sat down to enjoy it. He licked his lips and giggled as the melted ice cream dribbled down his chin.

"So messy," you laughed, wiping his face.

"Sorry Mommy." He smiled sheepishly.

"It's okay. You're just a kid."

After finishing the ice cream, you lead Jaewoo back towards the zoo but your son starts falling asleep. By the time you left the gates, Jaewoo was softly snoring against Jaehyun's back. He settled him carefully inside the car, strapping him into the back seat before Jaehyun started the vehicle and you headed home.

When you pulled into the driveway, you saw that it was starting to rain. You sighed and grabbed the umbrella from the back seat.

"Come on, Jaewoo." You helped him out of the car. "Let's get inside."

You rushed towards the door, holding the umbrella over Jaewoo's head. "Mommy, it's raining!"

"Should we camp out in the living room tonight?" Jaehyun asked, grinning.

"Sure." You replied and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Now let's hurry up. You're going to get drenched."

"Yay, camping!" Jaewoo grinned excitedly and rushed ahead of you to open the door.

"Whoa there," you laughed, pulling him back. "Don't run."

He slowed down and walked inside, his eyes wide and his smile even wider. "We're going to have so much fun, Mommy!"

"We are," you agreed.

You closed the door and set the umbrella aside. You took off your jacket and shoes, and placed the bag of snacks on the table.

"Let's set up the tent," Jaehyun said, Jaewoo yelling that he wanted to help.

"Sure. Just don't break anything." You mutter.  Jaehyun began unfolding the tent and setting it up. Jaewoo helped him, and you watched them work together. You got a few extra blankets and pillows, and placed them in the tent.

"All set," you announced.

"Can we have cookies now?" Jaewoo asked hopefully.

"I guess," you chuckled.

You went into the kitchen and started to make the cookies. Jaehyun turned on the tv and put in a movie for Jaewoo.

When the cookies were done, you brought them out to the living room. Jaewoo grabbed a few and retreated to the tent to eat them, watching the movie. You and Jaehyun settle down next to him, snuggle up with a blanket, and start eating cookies too. You share a chocolate chip one together, smiling at each other. It's times like these when you remember why you fell in love with Jaehyun all those years ago. He's a wonderful partner and an incredible dad.

After finishing a few cookies, you and Jaehyun look at your precious son. Jaewoo is snuggling under a blanket while a Disney film plays in the background. Jaewoo fell asleep in the tent, his small snores filling the room.

"This was a good day," you sighed, resting your head on Jaehyun's shoulder.

"Yeah, it was." He smiled, placing a small kiss on your forehead. "Honey, do you want another one? Another baby?"

You thought for a moment, and looked at the sleeping child. Jaewoo was going to grow up and he wouldn't be your baby boy forever. You and Jaehyun created such a beautiful son. There was no doubt he'd continue growing and shining. His existence warmed your heart. He was a good, healthy little boy.

But there was no harm in making another.

"What are you thinking, babe?"

"Let's try for a baby," you breathed with a smile.

"Yeah?" Jaehyun pulled you tighter, pressing another kiss on your head, his hand slidding down to your stomach. "I can't wait until you're big and round with our second child."

You smiled and pulled his head down for a kiss.

"We have to make sure to keep the brat away though," Jaehyun muttered.

You laughed, knowing exactly what he meant. "I'm sure one of the guys would be happy to take him for the weekend."

"I'm sure he'll have fun with any of his uncles and their kids." Jaehyun smiled.

"Right... Kun has been bugging me that we should have Jaewoo over so he and his wife can take him and the triplets to the water park. Taeyong and Doyoung also keep talking about taking Jaewoo camping with some of the other uncles."

"Didn't Xiaojun say that Dongjun has been bugging him about a sleepover?"

You sigh and rub your eyes. Your family was a tight-knit unit of crazy misfits that were your friends. So your son had many, many uncles and a lot of cousins to play with. All of whom were always looking for ways to have your son over.

You both sat in silence, and then you heard a rustle from the tent. You turned to look and saw that Jaewoo had kicked off the blanket and was sprawled across the floor.

"Oh, poor baby." You murmured, tucking him in the blankets. His eyes fluttered open and he looked at you sleepily.

"Mommy," he mumbled.

"Go back to sleep, baby." You stroked his hair.

His eyes closed and he sighed, snuggling deeper into the blankets. You watched him for a moment, smiling. Before you knew it, the three of you fell asleep in the tent, the movie playing quietly in the background.

"You got everything, bud?" Jaehyun asked, checking his overnight bag.

"Yup!" Jaewoo said happily, bouncing on his toes.

You and Jaehyun had decided that a weekend apart would be nice, so Jaehyun was dropping off Jaewoo at Xiaojun's house for a few days. Xiaojun and his wife were more than happy to have Jaewoo over, especially since their son was the same age.

"Are you sure?" Jaehyun double-checked. "Underwear? Toothbrush? Pajamas? A book to read at night? Extra socks?"

"Yes, Daddy." Jaewoo rolled his eyes.

Jaehyun sighed and looked over at you. You chuckled and shook your head. "He's fine, babe."

Jaehyun nodded and smiled. "Alright, let's go."

The three of you walked out to the car, and you helped Jaewoo get buckled into his car seat. Jaehyun climbed into the driver's seat and you took your place beside him. You drove the short distance to Xiaojun's house and parked on the street.

"Are you excited, honey?" You asked Jaewoo.

"Yea!" He cheered.

"Alright, come on." You unbuckled him and the three of you walked up the driveway. Jaehyun knocked on the door and waited.

After a moment, Xiaojun opened the door. "Hey guys!"

"Hi Uncle Xiaojun!" Jaewoo exclaimed, running to him.

Xiaojun laughed and scooped him up. "Hello there, little man."

"Thanks for doing this," you said, smiling.

"No problem. I know how it feels to need time away from your kid." Xiaojun smiled. "We're happy to have Jaewoo. Dongjun has been excited since this morning for a sleepover."

"We're excited too." You replied, looking at your son. "Right, Jaewoo?"

"Yup! We're gonna have so much fun, Uncle Xiaojun."

Xiaojun chuckled. "I bet."

"Thanks again," Jaehyun said, patting Xiaojun on the back. "We appreciate you taking him."

"Have fun." Xiaojun winked. You laughed and hugged him.

"See you Sunday, Jaewoo." You waved.

"Bye Mommy! Bye Daddy!" He waved back.

"Take care of him," Jaehyun added.

"I will." Xiaojun chuckled, releasing the boy so that he could run and find Dongjun.

You and Jaehyun got back in the car, and Jaehyun pulled out of the driveway.

"So...we're alone for two days..." he stated.

"What are you insinuating Mr Jeong?" You teased.

"What does Mrs Jeong want to do for the next few days?" He asked.

"Hmmmm...I want to relax and spend time with my husband. Then when the sun goes down, I want him to fuck me." You purred.

"I can make that happen." He grinned and grabbed your hand. He kissed the back of it before releasing it and resting it on your thigh.

"Let's go home and have a nice dinner." Jaehyun lightly squeezed your thigh. "Can't wait to fuck you everywhere."

"Jae, you're such a horndog." You rolled your eyes.

"And you love it." He smirked.

"Just drive." You waved your hand around.

The two of you laughed, and you turned the radio on. You sang along to the music, and Jaehyun kept his hand on your leg, occasionally rubbing his thumb across your skin.

When you arrived home, you unpacked the groceries and began cooking dinner. Jaehyun wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. "Mmm, it smells good."

"Thanks, babe." You replied.

He kissed your cheek, his hand rubbing softly against your belly. "Can't wait til your tummy is nice and round. It'll be beautiful."

"You're a bit too eager for me to be pregnant." You teased.

"Well, I love the idea of seeing you glow with my child. Knowing that you're carrying something that I put in you...fuck." Jaehyun buried his head against your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses down it. "Watching your breast swell, become full of milk...I bet our child would suckle hungrily from them."

His hand slid under your shirt, and he rubbed his fingers across your skin. You let out a soft moan, and he chuckled.

"Dinner first," you whispered.

"Yes ma'am." He replied. He nipped your shoulder and walked over to the dining table. He set two place settings and pulled out a bottle of wine. 

You finished cooking, and the two of you sat down to eat. You talked about random things, and just enjoyed each other's company. The two of you talked about the business, the house, and the upcoming party that Ten was hosting. After dinner, you cleaned up and went to take a shower. When you got out, you dried yourself off and slipped on some comfortable clothes. You went downstairs and found Jaehyun lounging on the couch. He was shirtless and wearing only a pair of sweats.

"Comfy?" You smirked, walking over to him.

"Very." He smiled, grabbing your waist and pulling you onto his lap. "Now I'm perfect."

You laughed and leaned forward, kissing him deeply. His hands moved up and down your sides, and he moaned softly.

"You taste so good." He murmured, kissing your jaw. You hummed in response, closing your eyes. His hands slid down to your ass and he gripped it firmly.

"Mmm, babe." You moaned, running your hands through his hair. You felt him getting harder against you. You ground your hips against him and he groaned.

"Oh fuck," he gasped, pushing his hips up. "If we're doing it, we might as well do it here, right? You want to?"

You smirked and nodded, rolling your hips against him once again, earning a deep groan from him. He chuckled darkly, his hands tightening on your waist.

"You naughty girl." He kissed your shoulder.

"Only for you," you smirked, pressing light kisses on his neck.

"Yeah?" He grinned, nipping at your earlobe.

"You're making it hard to think straight."

"Good."

You groaned and pressed your lips against his. He returned the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours.

"Fuck," he breathed, gripping your ass.

"Mhm." You rocked against him, your breath hitching.

His hands moved under your shirt, and he cupped your breasts. He squeezed them gently, and his thumbs flicked over your nipples.

"God, I love your tits," he murmured.

"They're all yours," you replied, grinning.

He tugged your shirt off and tossed it aside. He leaned forward, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You moaned and arched your back, your fingers tangling in his hair. He sucked and licked, his teeth grazing against the sensitive bud. You gasped and rocked your hips, rubbing your core against his erection.

"God, Jaehyun..." you panted, biting down on your lip.

He chuckled and moved to your other breast, giving it the same treatment. He pinched the other nipple, twisting it and you mewled, clutching him tightly.

"You like that, don't you, baby girl." His voice is rough. "So sensitive."

You whimpered in response, squirming against his bulge. "Baby...please...need you..."

Jaehyun laughed quietly. "Behave."

"Make me." You challenged him.

"Oh? You wanna be fucked?" He gripped your hips.

"Mhmm." You nodded.

"As you wish, love. Get on all fours for Daddy."

You slid down his legs and positioned yourself on the floor, resting on your forearms. Your ass was raised in the air and you felt a rush of arousal pool in your core.

"God, look at that ass of yours." His fingers tugged at the waistband of your pants, slipping his hand inside, and you gasped as his fingers brushed against your clit.

"No panties, huh?" He smirked, his thumb rubbing circles against the bundle of nerves.

"What's the point if you're just gonna fuck me anyways?" You teased.

"True," he chuckled.

He slipped his fingers inside you, and you moaned. He pumped them in and out, his thumb continuing to massage your clit.

"Fuck," you whimpered.

He spanked your butt, and you arched your back, your ass pushing closer to his hand.

"This should be easier for Daddy to fuck your sweet pussy," he growled.

You shivered in excitement, whimpering as he worked his fingers faster. He rubbed his hard-on against your backside, and you felt the thick outline of his cock through his pants.

"Feel that, baby?" He asked, squeezing your butt. "Feel how hard I am for you?"

"Yeah," you panted.

"So hot and wet." He spanked you. "All for Daddy, isn't it, baby?"

"Just for you."

He pumped his fingers quickly and you cried out, burying your face against the floor.

"You can scream all you want. We have the house to ourselves." He told you, sliding his hand down the curve of your ass, his thumb continuing to work your swollen clit. He curled his fingers, hitting that sweet spot deep within you.

"So fucking wet," he growled.

You rode his hand, your orgasm building. You were so close, and you could feel the pressure coiling in your stomach.

"Jaehyun," you gasped. "Oh...please..."

"Come for me, baby." He kissed your neck.

You cried out, your orgasm washing over you. Your thighs quivered, and you gripped the floor. Jaehyun continued to tease your g spot and his thumb rubbed against your swollen clit until you had your fill. You screamed his name as he pressed his body against your backside, kissing your shoulder, while keeping the same pace.

"Fuck," you breathed, dropping onto your stomach.

He chuckled. "That's what I like to hear."

"Shut up, Jaehyun." You threw an arm over your eyes.

He slid his hand out of you and he brought his fingers to his lips. "Hmm, you taste amazing. A nice dessert after dinner." He stuck his fingers in his mouth and sucked. He groaned as he tasted you, closing his eyes, enjoying every moment.

"Yeah?" You panted, peeking up at him.

"You were always so delicious." He released his fingers and smacked your ass. "Come here and suck me off, pretty girl."

"You're insatiable," you giggled as you moved down on the carpet.

"For you, my love, I am." He threaded his hands in your hair and he guided your head between his legs.

Your hands moved up and down his toned abdomen. He was cut in all the right areas. And you knew those muscles came with work but also because your man is the hottest hunk alive. You leaned down and licked at the trail of hair leading down past the waistband.

Jaehyun breathed out, looking up at the ceiling. He was fighting back the urge to be impatient. As much as he wants to dominate your sweet little mouth and thrust his cock in and out roughly, he won't ever hurt you.

"I love your happy trail, Jae. So sexy." Your fingers slid past the waistband and slowly, slowly pulled it down to release his throbbing cock. The thick and heavy weight springs free and you admire his veiny girth for a moment, salivating for that taste of his hot and salty precum. "Goddamn it, Jae. That is one big beautiful cock."

"You always loved this thing didn't you, my pretty girl? Admit it." Jaehyun teased, combing a hand through your hair. He plays with strands, knowing how that action sends a wave of warmth pooling your aching pussy. "Want this monster cock all for you."

"Yes, please." You purred and your fingers circled his cock at the base.

"Tell Daddy what you want." Jaehyun's eyes were dark with lust as his fingers slipped through your locks, slightly pulling. The action, plus his intense gaze, makes your eyes cloud over and your pussy gets impossibly wetter than it already was. "Use your words, baby girl."

"I want my husband's delicious, thick cock." You kissed his balls. "Please Daddy."

Jaehyun chuckled. "There's my wife." His eyes roll back and he hisses when your mouth slides over his cock. You bob your head, taking as much as you can before he reaches the back of your throat. "Mmm, that's it. Take it all."

Jaehyun's hand was on your cheek, tilting your head slightly for a better look at his cock stretching your sweet lips. "Fuck, so pretty."

Your mouth popped off his dick and you circled your tongue around his tip, smirking as you saw his abs twitch in response. You lick the veins and back up to his tip, before deepthroating him once again, slurping and sucking loudly and shamelessly.

"Fuck, that's right. Choke on my big cock, sweetheart. Suck that dick so well for Daddy." Your lips moved quickly and sloppy, your saliva dripping past his length. Your one hand massages his balls, while the other twisted and jacked off his saliva-soaked dick, bringing your mouth in rhythm with your fist.

Jaehyun groaned, feeling his high approaching fast. You looked up at him, maintaining eye contact. You both know that Jaehyun loves when you gaze at him when giving head, as his arousal goes up to the next level.

"That's it, baby, take me. Fuck, look at those eyes. Such a gorgeous girl." Jaehyun breathed, feeling you swallow him to the hilt. Your throat constricts around him, and you feel his release pouring down your throat. "Swallow daddy's cum, baby. Shit, yeah, such a good wife."

You took his length, releasing a few moments later with a wet sound. He was still half-hard, and you sucked once again, and licked from the base to the tip, watching it stiffen to its full girth again.

"Jaehyun," You whined, licking the clear fluid that leaked off his tip.

He looked at you, his expression a bit dazed from his orgasm, and you climbed over his lap, lining his cock at your entrance and slowly sinking. You mewled, closing your eyes, savoring the burn that came from his big cock sliding into your wet pussy.

Jaehyun moaned when his full length was completely inside you. "Ah, yes, fuck. You feel so good, sweetheart."

"Move for me. Please."

"Ride Daddy's cock. Use it and cum for me."

And ride you, I will. You planted your hands on his chest and started rocking on his hips, the sloppy sound filling the room as you continued fucking him. His hands rested on your hips and guided the movement, grunting and cursing under his breath as your cunt clenched him so well.

"Fuck, that's it. Oh my god, you feel amazing. Such a fucking good pussy. Best I've ever had." Jae grits his teeth. "Don't forget who owns this. This is Daddy's pussy. My. Fucking. Pussy."

"Yes," you gasped, picking up your pace. You moaned as you ground down on his hard cock, the drag along your walls feeling incredible. You clenched him and felt your body heating up with your release approaching.

"Say it," Jaehyun barked, squeezing your waist. His thumbs dug into your hips as he pumped in and out. "Tell me who it belongs to."

"It's yours, Jaehyun."

He let out a guttural groan. His hands gripped your waist and he bucked his hips up, ramming into you roughly. The lewd sounds grew louder, the scent of sex filling the air, and sweat glistening over his flawless body.

"Shit," you groaned, bouncing yourself harder, taking him to the hilt. "Oh, oh yes. So good. You feel so good, baby. Don't stop."

"Take my fucking cock, Y/N. Such a good girl. Look at how deep I am inside you, how big my cock looks stretching that tight pussy." He licked his lips, his eyes raking hungrily over you.

He drove himself upwards again, increasing his speed. You felt the knot in your belly beginning to unravel and a thin sheen of sweat glinted off your skin. You clutched Jaehyun's hand and threaded his fingers with yours, feeling your orgasm fast approaching.

He must be nearing his end as well, his hips losing their rhythm, becoming sloppy with desire, but he wanted you to break first. His other hand left its place on your hips and traced circles around your swollen nub, causing you to cry out in pleasure. "Can't wait to see you knocked up, baby girl, full of my baby, so round and beautiful."

"Oh fuck, I'm...oh fuck. Jaehyun!" Your climax hits you and your juices gush all over his dick and your thighs. Jaehyun curses as your walls milk his cock, milking him of everything and spilling it all inside your womb, pumping the last bits and still grinding until he has drained the last drop.

You rested your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.

You eventually lean back, and look at your husband. He looks wrecked.

You probably do too.

"Hi," you breathe, giving him a weak smile.

"Hi, pretty girl." He replies. "You okay?"

"Mhhmm. I don't think I could be any better, to be honest." You laughed softly, your body sated and warm.

"Me too." He grinned. "Damn, babe, it's been a while."

"Definitely," you nodded in agreement.

"Want to get cleaned up?" He offered.

"In a minute. I just want to stay here a little longer. Please?" You said quietly.

He chuckled. "Okay, we'll stay like this."

You laid your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his torso. He pulled a blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it across your naked bodies.

"We haven't had alone time in forever, huh?" He stated, combing his fingers through your hair.

"Mmm, that's true." You hummed in acknowledgement, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

"When was the last time you and I got to spend time without our son?" He asked, tapping his fingers against your arm.

"I honestly couldn't tell ya." You laughed, lacing your fingers with his.

"Yeah...me neither." He replied.

You smiled, peering up at him through your lashes. He looked beautiful, his chest rising and falling with each breath. You brushed some stray hairs away from his forehead.

He was perfect.

And he was all yours.

"I know what I want to do for the next seventy odd years. Spend it with you." He smiled, taking your hand in his, interlacing your fingers.

"Me too." You whispered, cupping his face.

"Our 60th anniversary...fucking old but I'll fuck you then, just so you know." He told you with a playful grin.

You slapped his chest with your free hand, letting out a scoff of amusement. "Not in your 80's Jae."

"Hmmm," he narrowed his eyes, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"Can I at least make love to you in our 70's?" He asked, raising a brow.

"If you're that determined...yes you can, babe." You pecked him.

"Then I'm gonna fuck the living daylights out of you tomorrow morning, old or not, and it's a promise." He winked.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Jae." You teased.

"Watch me, baby."

It had been about two months since you and Jaehyun finally had alone time and now Jaewoo was running around the house like a whirlwind. He was getting quite active at his age, and the two of you couldn't help but wonder where he got all that energy from.

While his dad worked from home, Jaewoo would often come to visit him and bring him juice boxes or other random things from the playroom. Jaehyun would always humor his son by accepting whatever gift he had for him. Sometimes, they'd be random papers filled with doodles or playthings. Jaehyun cherished it all.

Even if it was junk, Jaehyun would simply put it away for a rainy day, and your house was covered with them.

Jaewoo was his little prince, after all.

"Daddy, look." Jaewoo skipped towards the mahogany desk in Jaehyun's study and put a stuffed dinosaur onto it. It was an orange and white T-Rex and one of Jaewoo's favorites.

Jaehyun reached out to stroke Jaewoo's soft dark hair. He had your natural waves.

"Ahh, my favorite dinosaur." Jaehyun smiled wide as he pulled his son into his arms.

Jaewoo giggled loudly, squeezing his father's shoulder. Jaehyun gave his son a gentle squeeze.

"You need to eat lunch," Jaehyun suggested. "Want to order pizza?"

Jaewoo nodded enthusiastically. You always told Jaehyun that pizza was fine occasionally, as long as he watched the amount of sauce and cheese. You had prepared a healthy lunch for Jaewoo, but sometimes Jaehyun could never resist spoiling his little boy.

And by occasionally, you meant more than 4 times a week...but you didn't stop Jaehyun because he did help with other chores when the weekends came around.

"Where's Mommy, Jaewoo?" Jaehyun asked, turning off his laptop. "Go get her so I can place the order."

"Okay!" The little boy ran away, leaving his father smiling and shaking his head.

Jaewoo went around your house looking for you, searching the living room, the kitchen, only to find you huddled over the toilet in the downstairs bathroom. His eyes wide, he screamed for Jaehyun as he ran to the study. "Daaaddddyyyyyyyy, Mommy is sick!!!"

Jaewoo looked towards the open door in surprise before rushing forward. "Jaewoo?" He questioned frantically.

"Daddy, Daddy!" The boy screamed as he pushed his tiny legs to run towards his father. He wrapped his arms around Jaehyun's calves and looked up at him imploringly.

"What? What, why are you shouting? Where's Mommy? Why are you crying, Jaewoo?" Jaehyun smoothed Jaewoo's hair, worried.

"She's sick!" Jaewoo explained as tears started rolling down his cheeks. Jaehyun felt a rush of panic through his body. His mind running with all sorts of questions.

"Where is she, Jaewoo?" He knelt down and wiped Jaewoo's tear-stained cheeks with his thumb.

"In the bathroom." He pointed to the door that was still left ajar. Jaehyun pulled away from the tight embrace he held Jaewoo in and rushed in the direction his son pointed to.

"Y/N..." He found you in the bathroom, still leaning over the toilet bowl. Your pale complexion frightened Jaehyun. For someone with skin that glows so perfectly, a shade of a tinge of whiteness wasn't a good sight to see. "Y/N!"

"W-Why are you panicking so much?" You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the bathtub while you wiped your mouth clean with toilet paper.

"Y/N, we need to go see the doctor," Jaehyun announced anxiously as he grabbed you by the wrist and tried to drag you out. "You could have a serious illness or something. Who knows?! Jaewoo heard you being sick..."

"Calm down." Your voice remained calm, and it immediately made Jaehyun stop and stare. A smile etched on your face before your hand took over his and gently laid it flat on your belly. "We don't need to visit a doctor, sweetie."

Jaehyun blinked twice, unable to process what was happening. You laughed, thinking how it was cute to see him be confused.

"Jae...sweetie, you do the math. Our son heard me throwing up in the bathroom and panicked over nothing. It isn't because I'm sick...no." Your other hand came up to cup Jaehyun's jaw before continuing, "I'm just having a baby."

Jaehyun gasped when everything fell into place, the pieces that were once broken together had made a bigger and clearer picture for him to understand the situation better. "Holy fuck...you mean, that you-"

"Yeah." You bit your lower lip and grinned as you saw your husband's mouth gaping. "Surprise?"

"Baby, oh my gosh." He immediately hugged you close, his arms wrapping around you while pulling you flush against his chest. He could not describe the happiness he felt when he found out about your pregnancy.

"I was going to tell you but I guess your son ruined it with his screaming." You teased, your arms circled Jaehyun, and returned the hug.

"In his defense, he probably thought his mommy was sick. Isn't that right, buddy?"

You and Jaehyun withdrew the hug when you heard small footsteps approach the bathroom. With curious eyes, Jaewoo stood a little bit away from the two of you and looked up with tears in his eyes. Jaehyun broke into laughter, grinning before reaching out for the toddler and scooped him in his arms.

"Is Mommy sick? She's very sick isn't she?!" Jaewoo cried as he hugged the sides of Jaehyun's face. "I'm scared, daddy."

"Mommy is not sick, Jaewoo." Jaehyun comforted his son. "Mommy is just..."

"Jaewoo, do you want to be a big brother?" You asked, leading your little family into the living room.

Jaewoo is still teary as he rubbed his face on the side of his father's neck and listened attentively to his mother's question. "Mmhmm." He mumbled, nodding. Jaehyun places Jaewoo in the middle of the couch and your son automatically wraps his small arms around you when you sat down. Jaehyun settles on the other end and keeps one of his hands wrapped around yours, his thumb grazing your ring finger gently.

"Mommy is having another baby." You gently tell Jaewoo. You pointed at your belly. "The baby is growing inside of mommy's tummy."

"But why were you sick, mommy?" Jaewoo inquired innocently.

"Mommy ate something and the baby didn't like it. Mommy didn't know that the baby didn't like the food." You explained in a gentle tone.

"So, you threw it out?" Jaewoo tilted his head, asking. "You shouldn't have eaten it then, mommy."

"Next time I'll ask the baby what they want to eat." You nodded in response.

"And the baby is fine now?"

"Yup, the baby is perfectly fine now." You replied with a smile.

"Pinky swear?" Jaewoo smiled cheekily as he put his tiny finger on yours.

"Yup, we'll all be fine." You brushed some strands of your son's hair away and rested a hand on your stomach.

"Mommy, can I help watch the baby?" Jaewoo asks. You glance up at Jaehyun, meeting your husband's soft and loving gaze.

"Do you promise to help look after your baby brother or sister?" Jaehyun continues. Jaewoo nods fervently, excited at the idea of having someone smaller to protect and dote on.

"Mommy and daddy would really appreciate the help, baby," you tell him, smoothing down his hair once more. "Are you excited?"

"Yes, mommy. I am!" Jaewoo claps, wiggling his small body as he bounces on the couch. You could tell how enthusiastic he is to be the 'big' brother of the new baby, his tiny smile, the way he spoke.

Jaehyun leaned over his son's head, making a funny face that caused his son to fall back laughing. Then, he planted a kiss on his head, looking up at you with the fondest expression ever. His palm cupped your cheek, giving you a soft smooch.

"Thank you, Y/N."

"For what, Mr Jeong?"

"For marrying me, giving birth to our son, and being my forever companion. Thank you for always standing by my side."

“I love you Jaehyun.” You clutch his hand.

“I love you too.” Jaehyun gently taps the tip of your nose, kissing the side of your forehead while placing an arm behind you and Jaewoo. Your family's laughter resounded across the quiet residence, warm and wholesome.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Sweet Temptation - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer’s a pervert and so are you (a.k.a Spencer doesn’t know how to control himself when the team goes camping)

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: This isn’t that accurate to canon but I don’t really care, I just love the concept of pervert!spencer and wanted to write something filthy ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i wrote half of this half asleep so give me a little grace pls, not proofread cuz i never do oops

TW: pervert!spencer, bau!reader, panty stealing, dubcon, public sex, outdoor sex, oral sex (reader receiving), penetration, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cum eating, softdom!spencer, afab + fem reader

Rating: R, 18+

——

When one of the higher ups suggested the BAU team go on a wilderness retreat, you figured it’d be at some cushy wellness resort with cheesy team-building exercises and sleeping in cabins, not a campsite in the middle of the woods, with only a flimsy tent floor separating you from the hard ground.

You didn’t want to be here, truthfully you felt that the team was a little too close to each other at times, and there certainly wasn’t any bonding you could do out here that couldn’t have been done back at the office. You were cold, the rocky dirt beneath you was hurting your back, and you could not get to sleep for longer than twenty minutes at a time no matter how many times you tossed and turned into different positions.

You had enough, and decided to try your luck at a walk to wake yourself up until the rest of the team was up. You unzipped your tent, careful to be quiet to not wake anyone, and stepped out into the fresh morning air. The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon, and the hazy orange hue was almost enough to make you understand why you were on this stupid trip to begin with.

You began your trek down the trail, the sound of birds chirping and the light layer of dew coating the underbrush making you feel momentarily like you were in a fairytale. Maybe a return to nature wasn’t such a bad thing. You came upon a small clearing, just through a slightly overgrown offshoot of the trail, and decided to take a closer look at the wildflowers growing there. There was a small overgrown picnic table in the center, the perfect place for you to sit and take in the beauty of nature.

You sat there for what felt like hours, your eyes fluttering shut as you slumped down against the table, finally getting some much-needed sleep in your blissful surroundings. The abrupt ‘snap’ of a twig startled you awake, and you almost fell back off of the withered bench. You looked around through hazy eyes, watching as a tall figure approached you. Your eyes quickly adjusted to the bright light of mid-morning, seeing that the figure was none other than Spencer Reid.

“How long have I been out?” You asked, rubbing your eyes.

“Not long, the rest of the team just left on the hike, I volunteered to stay back and wait for you.” He explained, pushing his hair out of his face. You weren’t sure how honest he was being, the telltale nervous lick of his lips telling you that at least part of what he was saying was a stretch of the truth.

“Were you watching me sleep?” You jokingly accused, playfully pushing his shoulder. His face turned bright red, and for a second you thought you might’ve been right. He said nothing, shaking his head before turning around and walking quickly away from you. A flash of pink fabric caught your attention, just a sliver sticking out of the back pocket of his shorts.

“What’s this?” You ran up behind him, snatching the fabric out of his back pocket. You stopped in your tracks, mouth hung slightly open in shock when you realized what you held in your hand. It was the pair of dirty panties you had changed out of before bed last night, the pair that you had sworn you put in your laundry bag.

“What the fuck, Spencer?” You raised your voice, holding the pair up so he knew you’d caught him.

“I-I can explain!” He frantically tried to reason, taking a step back from you.

“Oh really? Explain to me why you pulled a pair of my dirty underwear out of my laundry bag while I was sleeping, I would seriously love to know what rational explanation there is for that.” Your heavy sarcasm was almost too exaggerated to take seriously, and to your detriment it had blood rushing to Spencer’s cock. He attempted to stutter something out, but it was all jumbled nonsense.

“I don’t need an explanation Spencer, you’re a pervert, plain and simple.” You scoffed, backing slowly away from him.

“You always walk around in those short skirts, how else am I supposed to react?” He attempted to defend himself, starting to gain a small bit of confidence as he took steps to close the gap between the two of you.

“That’s awfully misogynistic Spencer.” You retorted, the initial shock of the situation starting to wear off.

“Every time you bend over in those skirts I get an eye full of your underwear, and you know what? I think you’re doing it on purpose.” His accusation wasn’t entirely incorrect, you had noticed him staring at your ass the first couple times you wore a shorter skirt to work and thought it’d be fun to embarrass him a little. You never thought he’d resort to this, though.

“That’s bullshit.” You laughed, taking another step back until your back hit a tree, stopping you in your tracks.

“Really? Then why did you bend over right in front of me in those shorts last night?” He pressed his hand against the tree about your head, leaning over you. He may still be the slightly awkward, nerdy Spencer you knew before he did time, but prison surely did bring out an incredibly intimidating side of him. Now you were the one with nothing coherent to say, simply swallowing your pride as you looked up at him.

“I think you want me just as badly as I want you.” He breathed, his free hand meeting your waist. He leaned down, lips brushing yours until you raised yourself onto your toes to close the kiss, wanting to swallow him whole. The kiss was intense but short-lived as Spencer pulled away, his hand on your waist turning you so you were facing the tree. He dropped to his knees behind you, hands gripping the waistband of your shorts and yanking them down, exposing your bare cunt. Your slick was already starting to drip down your thigh, the thought of getting caught fucking your coworker in the middle of the woods only spurring on your arousal.

“Look how wet you are, and you think I’m the pervert?” He teased, not giving you a moment to react before his tongue was between your folds, drinking up all of your wetness. You leaned your cheek against the tree as he ate you like he was starving, his hands kneading your ass as his tongue explored every inch of your needy pussy. Just as he began sucking on your clit, the two of you heard someone coming up the trail outside the clearing.

Spencer scrambled to his feet, his hand covering your mouth as he wrapped his arm around your waist to shield your bare bottom half from view. You carefully listened, waiting for the couple’s conversation to fade as they walked past before Spencer finally let his grip on your waist go, continuing to hold his other hand over your mouth.

“I need to feel you.” He whispered, pushing his pants down to free his erection. He grabbed your shoulder, pushing you forward against the tree again before kicking your legs further apart, the head of his cock prodding your entrance. You whimpered against his hand, pushing your hips back in encouragement. He pushed into you, your wet cunt gripping every inch of his thick cock, stretching you out just enough to bring tears to your eyes. He filled you up perfectly, like he was made for you, and it grew increasingly hard to swallow your moans.

Spencer’s hand over your mouth could only muffle so much, but you didn’t care about getting caught anymore, you just needed him to fuck you as hard as he could. He started at a quick but steady pace, but you need more. You tried to talk against his palm, only creating confusion until he pulled his hand away just enough for you to speak.

“Harder.” You whined, holding onto the trunk of the tree for dear life as he granted your request. Each thrust of his hips against yours was almost brutal, his free hand digging fingertips so hard into your hip that you knew they’d bruise. Spencer had never been more grateful for his eidetic memory, knowing that he’d be able to remember how perfectly your ass rippled with every slam of his hips each time he wanted to relieve himself in the future. He finally dropped his grip from your mouth, the now free hand wrapping around your front and moving down your stomach to your clit, rubbing quick circles to match his pace.

“S-spencer, I’m not on birth control.” You choked out, sensing that he was as close as you were.

“Then let’s make a baby.” He groaned.

“Oh God!” His empty threat pushed you over the edge, your walls pulsing around him as you bit your forearm to stifle your cries of pleasure. Your knees began to buckle, Spencer’s grip the only thing keeping you standing as he came inside of you. He held you close, waiting for you to come down before pulling out, his seed dripping down your thighs. He brought his hand down to gather the extra, bringing his semen-covered fingers to your lips.

You didn’t have to be told what to do, sucking them clean as you caught your breath. He pulled your underwear and shorts back up your legs, helping you straighten up before doing the same with his pants.

“You really are a pervert.” You broke the silence, turning to face him.

“Oh yeah, like you’re completely innocent in all of this.” He quipped, wiping the slightest bit of his cum off the corner of your mouth.

“You might’ve just knocked me up in the middle of the woods, I think you win that title, Spencer.” He was blushing again, somehow shy again after the dirty things you’d just done together.

“I’ll take you into town to get the morning after pill, the rest of the team shouldn’t be back for a while still.” He took your hand, guiding you out of the clearing to start the walk back up the trail.

“I wouldn’t mind having your baby.” You told him, causing him to trip on a rock on the path. He caught himself, laughing it off, but secretly wishing he could pull you into the tree line and fuck you all over again.

——

Tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or spencer reid taglist :)

[wonryllis]

☆ ᵎᵎ ENHYPEN COMING HOME TO FIND YOU ASLEEP.

╰ 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇.

𝒏o𝓉ℯs. enhypen in whipped era 𖥔 ݁ fluff, soft soft softtt LIB? fem!reader word count `719 PLS REBLOG!!

𝗹𝗲𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 he knows you stay up late waiting for him, this time he finds your figure laid against the soft cushion in a weirdly adorable position. heeseung quietly tiptoes to have a closer look, taking his time to admire your sleeping face. oh he so wishes to keep coming home to you like this. he'd sit beside you and tell you things he could never have said to your face, his deepest thoughts. apologizing for things he could've done better and thanking you for being with him and loving him.

i think i will love you forever, i want to.

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗷𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴 he is so used to it, at least he thinks he's so used to it but everytime he comes home to find you passed out on the couch, or on the carpet slightly lolling to the side the book in your hands almost falling off, he feels the same butterflies he did when it first happened. if you aren't in your pajamas already, best believe he'll change you himself, not wanting to disturb your sleep and put you to bed like magic fairy. he'll join you in later, and if you accidentally stir awake he'll put you back to sleep.

shh, go back to sleep love, i'm right here.

𝘀𝗶𝗺 𝗷𝗮𝗲𝘆𝘂𝗻 this guy has a field trip range of emotions upon seeing you asleep after a long day of work. he feels this fuzzy and warm feeling watching the one he loves sleep so peacefully, and on the other hand he's so excited to just join you. if you're on the couch he'll squeeze himself in whatever space he finds and cuddle you into the morning and if you're on the bed, he'll leech onto you leaving more than half the mattress empty while he snuggles into his baby on your side of the bed.

mmm, love having you in my arms like this

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 outwardly he's so nonchalant at first, just coming up to your passed out figure and picking you up to get you to the bed, a smile on the tip of his lips. however the moment you nuzzle into him in a soft whine, he's so putty feeling his heart skip beats, his breath staggering like boy is damn smitten. placing you on the bed he'll quietly pull the covers on, a sneaky kiss on the lips and then leave the room to calm himself down, maybe even scream silently a little with the way you get him nervous over nothing.

fuck, she's so damn adorable i'll melt.

𝗸𝗶𝗺 𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝘄𝗼𝗼 he'll text you to ask if you're awake and if you don't respond he knows you're out. he'd definitely softly speak about his day even though you're not listening. complimenting you as he always does of how pretty you manage to look all the time. will sing you a bunch of songs if you wake up, holding you close and tracing over your features, smiling so wide all the tiredness of the day washes away. also makes sure to wake up before you to again admire your sleeping face.

you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝘄𝗼𝗻 asleep or not, jungwon is always careful when he walks through the door, softly opening and closing it. tiptoeing inside as quietly as he possibly can, and when he spots you asleep on the couch he'll put everything down to bring you to bed. carrying you like the most precious thing, laying you on the mattress and immediately leaning over to leave kisses all over. if you stir awake he's getting in and cuddling you back to sleep, hands caressing your head gently.

it's just me baby, you looked so cute couldn't help it.

𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗮 𝗿𝗶𝗸𝗶 will absolutely not switch on anything or make any sound and obviously will carry you to bed if you're passed out somewhere else. he'll kinda avoid looking at your face, until he cannot help it and god help him because once he does he'll be glued, eyes staring non stop. he can't believe someone so beautiful loves him, and all these complicated emotions come at once. he's overwhelmed and so whipped, he'd play around with your hair deep in these thoughts until sleep comes to him too.

how did i manage to have someone like you?

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz

[ovaryacted]

HOMECOMING

PAIRING: Jackson! Joel Miller x afab! reader || WC: 1.8k

SYNOPSIS: After a long day of patrol, Joel comes home later than he said he would be back. You are just happy to welcome him back into your arms.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: FLUFF. Suggestive content - 18+. Established relationship. Soft & affectionate Joel Miller. Ambiguous age gap (Joel is in his late 50s, reader is 25+). Mentions of early pregnancy. Cute stuff. Banter and teasing. No use of y/n.

A/N: Hey there, been a while. In case y'all forgot, yes I do still write LMAO. This is a little something that I wrote miraculously on my free time, and it is my first Joel Miller piece. I'm also slowly getting back into writing so pls be nice! I did originally write this with the new Pedro Pascal picture as Joel in mind, but I'm a gamer Joel type of girl at heart so that's what I went with. Hopefully, it is enjoyable for those who choose to read it. Any likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

➣ TLOU was created by a zionist and is based off of the Israeli occupation of Palestine. Please refer to this link to learn how you can help the Palestinian people.

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

Night fell over Jackson, soothing and quiet as it usually was. You’d think after some time, you’d get used to the stillness that often consoled others in a world full of unsettling clicks and gunfire, but you found yourself troubled with the calmness that followed once the sun went down. The change of the seasons propelled a temperature shift outside; bitter winter exchanged for the rebirth of spring, which hopefully meant the sun would stay in the sky just a little bit longer.

Your face nuzzled into the pillow beneath you, the material not yours to claim, but it wasn’t unfamiliar. Digging your nose further into the bedding, you subconsciously chased the faint scent of pinewood and gunpowder, one of the few things that eased your anxiety. It was a smell you got used to recognizing over the past few years, not that you’ve been keeping count.

Despite the warmth the sheets provided you as you rested on the left side of the bed, your body felt cold, missing a familiar set of strong arms and a welcoming chest pressing up against you. He had told you before he left for patrol that he’d be back before sundown, that was the plan anyway. But you knew better than anyone that stepping outside the protective gates of Jackson always left room for the unpredictable.

In the haze of your dreams, you faintly heard the click of the front door opening and closing, the floorboards of the stairs creaking with the ghost of muted footsteps. You stirred in bed, ears trained to pinpoint the noise, yet too stubborn to wake up entirely. A breeze entered the bedroom before you sensed something else sharing the space.

That’s when you felt the phantom touch of plush lips skimming along your hairline. If you weren’t awake then, you certainly were now.

“Joel?” A call of his name equivalent to a whimper at the sudden contact you craved. You caught the slight intake of breath and the exhale that followed.

“It’s me darlin’. Didn’t mean to wake you,” Joel spoke quietly, the peaceful baritone of his voice awakening you fully. As you sighed, you met his tired gaze with your own, bruised knuckles raising to brush your cheekbone affectionately.

“Things went okay on the patrol?” You questioned him, pleased that he was here with you in one piece rather than focusing on the fact that he came later than you’d like.

“Yeah, had to check something out with Tommy to be sure before coming back. I’m sorry honey, didn't want to make you stay up for me.”

Even if it was unintended, Joel felt guilty whenever he didn’t stick to his word. He was not much of a virtuous man, lived a large part of the past two-plus decades giving less of a shit about honesty and ethics. But when it came to you, it killed him when he couldn’t follow through on his promises, even if things weren’t within his control. The last thing Joel wanted was to upset you or make you worry, but no matter how many times he reassured you of his return, you still tried your hardest to wait for him to come back home, back to you.

“It’s okay, I’m just happy you’re here,” you blinked slowly as his voice filtered through the lagged mess of your head. Leaning your face towards his hand, you kissed the inside of his palm. “Go freshen up and come to bed; I’m cold.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled with a smile at your forgiveness, parting from you for a second and heading to the bathroom, not planning to make you wait any longer.

You watched his silhouette from where you lay on the bed, fluttering your eyes closed at the sound of running water. When the door opened again, Joel’s broad figure returned wearing a worn-down flannel and some fleece pants he had snagged long ago.

“Scoot,” he jutted his chin to gesture to the right side of the mattress, your side, suggesting to reclaim his on the left. Shifting to the right, you let him slip into the bed feet first, hauling the sheets to cover the both of you. A bulky arm wrapped around your waist and tugged you close to him, your body molding to his like a missing puzzle piece.

“Not too far now,” Joel grinned as you nestled right into his warm chest, seeking his attention and attempting to siphon more of his warmth. It takes you off guard how your nerves instantly settled once you had Joel near you again. In his arms, that was where you belonged—protected, loved, safe.

“I missed you,” you mumbled, eyes shutting to breathe in his typical musk. One of his hands cradled your lower back, thumb running circles into your skin.

“I missed you too, darlin’. Too damn much.” Joel kissed your forehead, drawing lines up and down your back with his fingertips.

His hand moved again from behind you to the front of your body, palming your stomach protectively. A smile crept up on his face as he felt your tummy under the material of the flannel you stole from him, the only thing you preferred for pajamas. The gentle curve of your belly was not yet prominent enough to be overly detectable, but he knew what you carried. Precious cargo. That’s what he called it after you both adjusted to the shock of adding to Jackson’s current population count.

“Still feelin’ sick?” Joel asked you in the room’s darkness, his eyes shifting to watch over your facial features. The moonlight illuminated the edge of your jaw and the roundness of your cheeks, and his chest ached at the thought of witnessing other growing changes over the next couple of months.

“Sometimes. It bothers me, but nothing I can’t handle.” You reassured him the best way you knew how, having to rely on Maria’s advice for all things related to childcare and Ellie being your new overly protective guard and nurse when Joel wasn’t around.

If someone had told you that you’d find yourself alive after the apocalypse in a safe community and pregnant at that, you’d consider them crazy. Yet here you were, carrying a man’s child when you least expected it, a man years older than you with memories of a reality you couldn’t experience or remember. But you didn’t mind; the end of the world didn’t leave much room for strict morals anyway.

Make the most of it. You don’t know when you’ll miss something once it’s gone.

Joel had told you that after the first few patrols you had with him once you adjusted to Jackson, growing comfortable with the stoic and quiet man who grabbed your attention everywhere he went. He shared stories of a time before the world fell apart, discussing things like watching the sunset, listening to music from artists you’ve never heard of, and sweet treats he missed tasting. Things changed after the seventh patrol together, where you saw him smile for the first time after successfully hunting some game for the town.

That night, one thing led to another. It started after some drinks, a hungry and messy kiss on your doorstep that led to clothes on the bedroom floor, and hands pawing at one another. You woke up the next morning with an arm wrapped around your waist and his nose rubbing the back of your neck.

Simply put, you haven’t left since.

“Oh, I know. Can handle a whole lot, strong woman you are.” Joel taunted you a bit, his memory fleeting momentarily and recalling the spitfire you always were with him in particular. He could never seem to tame your spunk and attitude, but he grew to love it like the rest of you.

“Mhmm, real strong, if you ask me.” You held his gaze with a gleam of mischief, bringing your body closer to his wide chest and tilting your chin upwards, silently asking for more than a cuddle.

“You tryin’ to tell me something I don’t already know?”

“I don’t know. Am I?” You were a tease, always have been, jerking Joel’s chain more than he cared to admit. 

“Those hormones are messing with your head, darlin’. Got you acting feisty,” he smirked, shifting nearer to your face.

Curious hands reached up to curl through his thick, graying curls. The contrasting streaks along his temple became more noticeable as time passed, matching the graying beard you’ve come to love and adore. He hesitated to let his hair grow out initially, thinking he’d look too much like his younger brother. Much convincing later, paired with hiding the shears, you got the desired result, and now you were lucky enough to enjoy the fruits of your labor.

The kiss was velvety as it was intimate, your tongue lining his bottom lip before he groaned, granting you entrance into his mouth. You swallowed the rumble he released, drawing a path of your touch from his neck down to his lower abdomen. Antsy fingers itched to skim the waistband of the fleece that concealed him, reaching close to the hardness you felt before he seized your hand away.

“Aht aht, no. As much as I want you there, it’s bedtime.” Joel didn’t necessarily want you to stop. Hell, if it were up to him, he’d let you go to town on him however you wanted. But his energy levels were dwindling, and all he wanted to do after a long day was get some proper rest with you in his arms.

“But-”

“Sweetheart, if you let this old man sleep, I’ll wake you up to a real nice surprise in the mornin’.” It was an effortless proposition, easy to keep you at bay until the next day and enough to curb your insatiable appetite.

“Promise?” You beat your lashes at him, knowing the last thing Joel would do was deliberately not provide for your needs, even if that meant having to keep up with you physically.

“Pinkie swear.” Joel gave you another peck before letting you get comfy against his chest once more, cuddling into him as much as your growing belly would allow without being squished. You started to drift off as sleep called to you, listening to the gentle rhythm of soft beating in your ear.

“Breakfast too, Miller.” You murmured to him, peeping how he laughed in the dark with his eyes closed. The pleasant and lively sound made you smile and your heart pound. 

“Oh, I’ll feed you. Don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

The peace in your bedroom matched the serenity that fell over Jackson. Now that you had Joel wrapped around you, you didn’t mind how quiet it was. So long as you have him, you can handle anything that comes your way.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Late Night

Pairing: Dark Hawks x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

SUMMARY: Keigo hates threatning you - only when necessary.

WARNINGS: Implied Kidnapping; Threats.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

–

"Hey, c'mon, don't cry..." 

He tries, tentatively reaching with a hand but instantly stopping at the abrupt increase of your sobbing. 

"Y/n? Babe, pretty please..." he sighs, rubbing his tired eyes, "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? It’s getting late and I have to wake early tomorrow."

"Leave me alone." you howl the words out, as if you're a wounded dog. You feel like one, to be fair. Bunched up in a corner of this huge room, face contorted as you cry ugly tears and snot. 

It's only been a week since you were taken from the comfort of your life, and you still can't stop the aching pain that burns your heart whenever you think about it. 

During the day, it’s slightly more manageable to pretend that it’s fine, that you’ll eventually escape him, that everything will be fine.

But as soon as the dark cast of the night hits, it’s like all the overwhelming weight of sad reality starts to wear you down. 

You’re so tired of him. You just wanna go home and hide underneath the safety of your blankets. 

“Babe….”

Keigo sighs once again, leaning back at the adjacent beige wall as he runs his fingers through the blonde hair. 

"Hate to ask, but any chance you can speed this up? Not to the part where you relentlessly beg to go home, to which I'll say no - obviously." Keigo says with such normality as if he’s asking you to turn the lights off.

"Also not the part where you cry your pretty eyes out for another 20 minutes, yell shitty things, threaten me, and so goes on…”

You gulp, with a new batch of tears forming as he tilts his head to the side, lips curling into a half-smile as if your despair amuses him. 

“... but yes to the part where you finally shut up with the hysteria and we go to bed.”

You tearfully glare at him, indignation flaring up at his nonchalant words. 

“I hate you. You kidnapped me!" you continue, half-choking in your own tears, hoping the hatred and anger in your face is enough to show him just how much you hate him. “I hate you!” 

Keigo dismissively shrugs his shoulders, despite the new tension in his jaw as he glances at his wrist watch. 

“I’m not the bad guy here, babe.” 

“You-” 

“If I was the bad guy…” he interrupts you, an unpleasant glint in his eyes showing that deep your words didn’t sit right with him. “...right now I’d be punching a hole into your pretty face for being such a brat. Or maybe I’d be ripping your tongue out with my bare hands, so you won’t speak bullshit like that. Maybe you’d like that better?” 

Your eyes widen at that, body freezing as fear takes control of you. 

For most times Keigo is laid-back and chill, but times like these are the ones that remind you that he’s just as dangerous as a villain is. He could easily hurt or even kill you within seconds, and there was nothing your quirkless ass could do to stop him.

You are at his mercy, much like you’ve always been ever since he took you. 

You hate how helpless you feel. 

Keigo notices your mortified reaction and walks closer, crouching in front of you. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you, babe.” he says with a jovial tone. “But I really need you to behave, ‘kay?”

His hand elevates and he ignores your flinch as he brushes away a few tears. 

“Enough with the tears, you’re too pretty to be cryin’ like that.” he smiles, hand lowering to grab your forearm.

He stands up, pulling you with him towards the bed. 

“Now, let’s go get our beauty sleep.”  

[nickfowlerrr]

please

GIF by virgo-opinions

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: bit of angst, bit of fluff. sweet ending per usual.

words: 1179

notes: "iM gOnnA WrItE a fiVe SenTenCE dRaBblE". i mean. we all should have seen this coming. thank you in advance for reading, i hope you enjoy this! as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated. let me know what you think!

“Your bed is so much comfier than mine, can I sleep here tonight?”

It’s quiet for a long moment as you make yourself even cozier in Bucky’s bed, nuzzling into the pillow that smells just like him. It is comfier here. And you feel safe as sleep starts to nip at you. It's late, the lights are already out from when Bucky started the movie still playing on the screen, and you know you are both tired - that's why you're already in lounging clothes, having decided to stay in at his place tonight instead of going out to dinner like you'd originally planned. It'd been a long week, as if the mission hadn't been rough enough, the paperwork that's followed has been hell to get through.

All you wanted was a nice night with your boyfriend, and now that you're this comfortable and content, the last thing you want is to move, the leave and have this peace be over as you walk back over to your place. Your bed is a lot colder, and in truth what makes his so comfy is simply his presence.

Even when he's quiet, it's...

Wait, he's still quiet.

You turn your head to look at him as he sits at the foot of his bed. He looks anxious and you suddenly feel your stomach twist. What were you thinking?

You've talking about this before, the night after you first slept together. You'd fallen asleep in his arms and woke up feeling incredible, only to have your heart drop to your stomach when you realized you were alone and Bucky was nowhere to be found... Until you found him on your couch, dark circles under his eyes from no sleep and an apology falling from his lips the second he saw you, sitting up to explain. Nightmares, terrors, he didn't want to get into but wanted to explain why he'd left you alone. He didn't want to risk waking you up to that. You understood, and you'd broached the subject of staying the night a few times since then just to see where he was at, but never pushed. You trusted he'd let you know when he felt ready for it.

But now look at you, pushing without even thinking.

You sit up, a little too suddenly, and Bucky’s head whips to you. The anxiety in his eyes shifts to fear as he meets your embarrassed gaze.

You open your mouth to take it back, to apologize, but he beats you to speaking.

“No, no, no,” he rushes, unthinkingly urging you back down on the mattress as he leans over you; your eyes widen and you let him touch you. It’s a rushed movement, but gentle all the same as he eases you to lay back.

His face is inches away from yours and for a second you forget everything but the gleaming blue of his eyes and the soft plumpness of his lips.

“Stay,” he breathes, “I want you to stay.”

You swallow thickly, finding your throat dry. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean to-“

“I’m sure. I've wanted to ask you for a while, I just… I’m not the most peaceful sleeper,” he says shamefully. "I really don't want to scare you away."

It physically hurts to hear his unease. You want so badly to take his worry away, to show him he has nothing to be scared or ashamed of.

“Nothing you do could ever scare me away."

You can tell just by looking at him that he doesn't believe it, and you don't know how to make him.

You reach a hand to move the strand of hair that's fallen from behind his ear back out of his face before you hold his cheek lightly. You lean up as he leans down and brush your lips against his before you really kiss him, carefully - soft and slow.

"You're always there for me," you murmur, "I wanna be here for you, too." You card your hand though his hair as he lets his forehead fall against yours, his eyes closed in contentment at the feeling before he sighs and sits back.

You watch him for a moment, you can still sense his trepidation...

"You can say no, Bucky," you tell him gently.

He looks at you again, his brows furrowed ever so slighty and a small pout on his lips. "I don't wanna say no. I want you to stay and I want... I want to be normal for you."

Your eyes burn and your throat gets tight as you watch his bright blue eyes blink furiously as he looks away from you again. You sit up all the way and reach for him, turning his head so he's looking you in your eyes.

"Don't do that," you say, doing your best to keep your voice from wavering. "There is no such thing as normal, Bucky. And even if there was, I wouldn't want it. I mean who cares about normal anyway?"

He looks pained as he holds your hand in hand and it's quiet again for a beat.

"I know you don't wanna say no, but you won't be hurting me if you need to."

He doesn't look up from your hand in his, only squeezes it in response.

You smile softly, taking the gesture as his admission that he isn't ready yet, and move to get up off the bed again, only to be stopped by Bucky once more.

"You wanna stay?"

"Only if you want me to," you murmur.

He looks at you, really looks, like he's searching for some sign, something in your eyes that'll give away that you want an escape, that you really want to go. He finds nothing, because it's the last thing you'd ever want.

"Will you lay down with me?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, you almost couldn't hear him over the movie still playing on his television in the background.

"Of course," you say simply as you once again allow him to lay you back down. He joins you this time, slowly laying himself down next to you. When you get comfortable again, he turns into you, and ever so slowly, moves to rest his head on your chest as he lays on his side, hugging himself to you.

It's delicate. One of those moments you know you'll look back on over and over, one you'll always treasure, seeing him feel safe enough with you to be this vulnerable, this soft.

The silence is anything but uncomfortable as you run the fingers of one hand through his hair, massaging away his tension as he relaxes further into you.

"Can I tell you something?" his voice sounds deeper already as he speaks.

"Anything."

"Lately, the only time I can ever manage to fall asleep, is when I picture you here with me." His breathing is getting deeper as he nuzzles into you and you hold him tighter as you push down your rising wave of emotions at his confession.

"I want you to stay..." he murmurs. "Please stay."

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WASTELAND, BABY (I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: at the beach house, you can pretend that nothing is wrong. you know that avoidance will only get you so far, but you can't help but want to treasure the time you have with dazai... you don't know how much longer you'll have before everything catches up to you. until then, you'll enjoy the peace that you have, even if dazai does seem oddly intent on ruining it.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: another week of minimal activity </3 sorry lil love bugs ive been so busy. BUT take civzai6!! and treasure it because this is the only chill chapter for quite a bit!! HAHAHHH no but for real i enjoyed this chapter so much that i literally had to split it in two because i wrote too much HAHAH, same goes for the next chapter ;) as always, reblogs are very appreciated!

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR 17 & UNDER FOLLOWING THE SERIES: partially copy and pasted from the other series - if you guys read waterloo, you know the deal. y'all knew what you were getting into. this is the smut chapter. but again, i'm not going to ask y'all to not interact/read a whole chapter just because there's 2-3k words of smut, but i am going to say here the smut is in the FINAL scene. there is very little plot development in the smut itself, so i ask you guys, again, to respectfully scroll past it. i'll make the sentence when the smut starts red like this so you know that's when it starts, and then you can continue reading at the next divider. thank you for understanding! there is NO plot development in the smut, i'll reiterate that at the end where i put the summary in waterloo, i restructured to make sure none of it was in it.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited - i've been busy. dazai has some insecure thoughts. he's also actively being self destructive. this is an easy chapter—calm before the storm. not much to warn. i don't think i'm missing anything but pls lmk if i am, i didn't have time to reread

SMUT WARNINGS: unprotected sex, praise, dazai cries a bit, lil bit of body worship (f->m), sub!dazai, mostly pretty vanilla - short and sweet

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

Dazai wakes up to the sun peeking through the blinds of the bedroom he’d shared with you and the scent of pancakes wafting through the air. His lips twitch up into a small smile as he stretches, letting out a soft sigh as he sinks into the comfortable mattress. 

He thinks he slept better last night than he’s slept in his entire life. He’s always been plagued with restlessness, he can hardly ever sleep and when he does, he’s haunted by faces he’d rather not see again: Oda’s bloodstained face looking up at him as he dies in Dazai’s arms, the glassy eyes of his mother as she swings slowly from a rope, his aunt’s twisted expression as she throws Dazai to the ground in Suribachi, the hurt look in Ango’s eyes as he took all of the vile insults that Dazai spat at him. Dazai dreads sleeping about as much as the average person dreads ever having to confront their worst fear.

But last night? Last night, Dazai slept peacefully. He fell asleep curled up in your arms, laying on top of you—you’d still been awake, tracing patterns on his back through his shirt. You’d been distracted by something all day yesterday; from when you picked him up at the hospital to when you laid down with him in bed that night, something had been bothering you. Your phone had been buzzing nonstop, call after call and text after text—you didn’t bother checking it but he could tell it was stressing you out.

He tried to ask you about it but you blew it off every time. Dazai supposes he should have expected that from you but your evasion was still irritating, especially after the conversation the two of you had yesterday. You had the nerve to try to distract him with movies and figuring out how to bake a cake with him; he had the nerve to fall for the weak attempts at distracting him.

He yawns as he pushes himself to a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes and tossing the blankets off. He tugs at the short sleeves of his t-shirt, feeling a bit too exposed. The bandages covering his wrists and arms are frayed—he’ll need to grab new ones to rewrap them soon, he hasn’t checked the bathroom to see if you had any stored. His shoulders ache a bit, he winces as he rolls them before making his way out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen.

You’re standing at the stove, hand on your hip as you frown down at whatever you’re cooking. You’re still dressed in your pajamas—a thin black cami and loose shorts—and Dazai yearns, he feels it deep in his chest, feels it as a lump in his throat and a heaviness in his stomach. Because he could… he could picture it… he could picture a future with you.

He could imagine waking up to you every day—you’d always wake up before him because you somehow always wake up at the ass crack of dawn. You’d usually be dealing with some of your shady business when he wakes up, sitting at the kitchen table typing away at your phone, maybe you’d sometimes be on calls and you’d lift a finger to your lips to hush him when you realize he wakes up. Every once in a while, he’d wake up to you making breakfast for him—you told him that you enjoy cooking when you have the time for it, so Dazai imagines that it would be a rare treat.

Like today.

But still, he can’t help but wonder why today? Your phone had been blowing up last night and now… now, it’s sitting on the marble counter, screen dark and not buzzing at all. He glances up at you once to make sure you’re still looking at the stove and then shifts over to the counter quietly, discreetly pressing his finger against the screen to see if your phone is even on and then frowns when he realizes that you did, in fact, turn it off.

What is going on that has you so avoidant that you’d rather turn your phone off than confront it? His mind races to all of the things you’ve been bitching to him about, remembers that you told him you weren’t responding for days because you’d been busy finishing up negotiations with the Shimazaki-kai… is it something new, maybe? But why aren’t you handling it then? It doesn’t make any sense.

Dazai makes his way over to you, feet padding softly against the ground until he’s standing behind you. He slips his arms around your waist and plops his chin onto your shoulder, humming softly as he nudges his nose against your ear before resting the side of his head against yours.

“Good morning,” he says, voice still a bit rough with sleep. “Whatcha making?”

“Pancakes,” you reply easily and Dazai’s heart swells when you lean back into his chest, fueling the fantasy of his imagined future even more. God, he’s been waiting for the ball to drop since you talked to him out on the cliff’s edge—you can’t keep giving him hope like this, he can feel it blooming in his chest and he knows that there’s going to be something to ruin it because that’s just how his life goes but… “I don’t think they came out good though.”

“I’ll eat them anyway,” Dazai says immediately.

“You’ll probably get food poisoning.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.”

You do.

Two words, so simple and yet they ring through his head over and over again so loudly. You care. You do care. You implied it last night when you told him you wanted him, that it scares you how bad you want him because of his life being at risk, but you hadn’t out right said it until now and it’s a devastating blow. Fatal, really.

The puff of air he lets out is shaky and when you turn to look at him, confused, he can only barely muster a smile as he asks hesitantly, “You do?”

The last time he asked you this, you changed the subject and evaded answering—he took it as an answer in itself, that you don’t care… but now, he’s let himself hope again, hope that maybe this time your answer will be different. What a treacherous thing, really, because even now he can feel the dark claws of anxiety start tugging at his heart in different directions, yanking it around and stretching it until it’s painful. He thinks it would’ve just been easier to carve it out and hand it over to you.

“I do,” you finally say, voice quiet. “I care.”

Dazai lets out a long breath, one that he hardly recognized he was holding, dropping his forehead down on your shoulder to hide his face against your skin. His arms tighten around your waist as his lips curve up, he presses his lips to your neck but for some reason, he can’t fully discard the dreadful feeling in his chest.

Even with your assurances and finally verbally admitting that you care about him, it’s like he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for something to shatter his idyllic paradise. And he has a feeling he knows exactly what will do it. So because Dazai is Dazai and he has been self-destructive since the day he was born, he brings it up.

“Why’s your phone been blowing up?” he asks, keeping his voice deceptively light like he’s just trying to have a normal conversation with you—you don’t fall for it. When you immediately stiffen in his arms, Dazai almost wants to backtrack.

“Nothing important,” you say, voice tight, forcing a smile onto your face as you step away to look up at him. “Nothing to worry about. Want to help me remake the pancakes?”

You use the same tactic Dazai used on you after Nakahara Chuuya showed up at your apartment. You’re good too because even though Dazai knows what you’re doing, he still wants to give in. Wants to play domestic with you, make breakfast together and then sit at the table and eat. But he can’t, so while you’re good at using the same tactic that Dazai used against you, you’re ultimately unsuccessful because he doesn’t show you the same grace that you showed him.

“Tell me anyway?” Dazai asks softly. “Even if it’s not important?”

You stare at Dazai for a moment, your lips pressed together and he could imagine the thoughts running through your head—how he’s never satisfied, and how he always has to push you. He can imagine you voicing it again, telling him how it’s always what he wants, but you don’t.

Instead, you shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about it, it’s stressing me out. I would rather just make breakfast with you,” you say. 

Your voice becomes a bit more tense and Dazai knows that he should stop pushing, that it would be smart to stop now, but Dazai’s track record for dumb decisions gets longer instead.

“Maybe I can help,” he prods, taking a step closer to you, reaching out to rest his hands faintly on your hips. He nudges his head forward, pushing his nose against yours before smiling softly and pressing his lips to yours. “Tell me, please.”

Let me in.

Dazai’s eyes are big and earnest as he stares down at you, fingers digging just the slightest bit further into your hips. Your expression is unrelenting, much to his distress.

“It’s mafia business,” you finally say.

“You’ve told me about mafia business before.”

You exhale sharply, brushing his hands off of you and taking a step away, and Dazai knows he’s pressing too much—doesn’t even know why he’s pressing because he knows that it’ll shatter the illusion of peace that the past half a day in the beach house has given him. 

Maybe that’s what he wants, for it to be ruined before he can get used to it.

You look out the window and don’t speak for a moment. Dazai itches to move closer to you again but his feet are rooted to the ground. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh and let your head fall forward a bit, shaking it as you turn back around to face him.

“Another organization has arrived in Yokohama,” you say, lifting your eyes to meet his. “A dangerous one. The Port Mafia… the executives are meeting to figure out how to handle the situation.”

Dazai stares at you for a moment. “You’re an executive.”

“I am.”

“You’re here.”

“I am.”

“But… why?” Dazai asks, voice hitching at the implications of it, not wanting to get his hopes up but unable to stop himself from it at the same time. “Why are you here?”

You stare at him silently for a moment and then you say quietly, “The call for the meeting came at the same time I got the voicemail from the hospital. I chose to go to you.”

Dazai’s breath catches as he breathes in and shakes terribly as he breathes out, unable to draw his gaze away from you. You… “You chose me,” he whispers.

“I chose you,” you repeat, swallowing as you turn your gaze down. “I did. I chose you.”

“Do you regret it?” Dazai asks softly—he wonders if he hopes you’ll say yes, that you’ll quash his hope before it’s too late.

“No,” you say. “I don’t.”

And Dazai doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s never been wanted before. Never been someone’s first choice. Dazai has always been the one left behind for others, discarded for a better option. His throat is uncomfortably tight and his fingers are shaking a bit, and he doesn’t have pockets to hide them in now so they’re in full view of your vision before he clasps his hands behind his back.

But it’s too late—you’ve already seen it and you’re taking a step closer to him. You reach out to cup his cheek with one of your hands and Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch.

“I don’t regret anything about you, Dazai Osamu,” you say quietly, so honestly that it makes a shiver run down Dazai’s spine, unintentionally letting out a soft noise in the back of his throat that he’s unable to smother. “Not a single thing.”

“Well, that can’t possibly be true,” Dazai tries to joke, to play off how much you’ve rattled him with only a few words, but you aren’t fooled by his tricks.

“It’s true.”

Dazai stares at you, his eyes sting and his fingers are shaking even more than they’d been before. The pads of your fingers burn against his cheek and Dazai thinks you’ve ruined him. You’ve ruined him entirely. You’ve shattered all of his carefully crafted walls, the ones that protect him from situations just like this, the ones that prevent him from being burned just like he has countless times before. You’ve ruined him and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll be able to put himself together again if this ends poorly.

He doesn’t know what to say in response to your words and he can’t handle the way you’re staring at him so intensely, so Dazai decides to change the subject with a shaky smile and a terrifying amount of hope blooming within him.

“Maybe you just need a fresh set of eyes. Tell me about this organization, I can try to help.”

You don’t even know why you’re considering this. 

Dazai bounds next to you in the sand chatting about his poetry workship. He still won’t tell you what the project he’s writing on is about but he does seem to be mighty pleased with how it’s coming out since he’s bragging about how his is clearly the best of all of his classmates’ and that he’s sure he’s going to get the best grade on it. It’s cute, you think, a fond smile twitching to the corner of your lips as you watch him from the corner of your eye.

It’s still only mid-morning, the sun paints a pretty glow over the private beach and Dazai looks so… alive beneath it. His smile is bright and genuine, skin flushed and radiant, eyes reminiscent of pools of honey—you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so bright before. His fingers thrum excitedly against the book he’s bringing down to the beach with him: The Aeneid—he’s read it before, he very snootily told you when you side-eyed him for grabbing it, he just needs to refresh on it for his creative writing class.

When the two of you get down to the shore, you sit down in the sand right near the water’s edge, dipping your feet into the cool water. Dazai plops down next to you, pressing his shoulder against yours and you itch to wrap your arm around his waist, slide your hand under the comfy sweatshirt he’s wearing to rub circles over the bandages covering his skin, but your hands stay stiff in your lap as you stare down at the phone resting on your lap.

You have half a mind to toss it right into the bay. 

But then Dazai nudges you, waiting for you to start talking, and you sigh, looking back across the bay.

“They call themselves the Guild,” you finally say. You can feel Dazai’s eyes on you, curious, and you think maybe you should quit while you’re ahead but you find yourself speaking anyway. “They’re a kind of… secret society. Based in North America. They’re powerful. A lot of influence throughout the world.”

“Why are they here?” Dazai asks and you can feel the way his face twists as he then adds, “More influence than you?”

You can’t help the amused smile that twitches to your lips at his words. “I’m not the end all of political influence, Dazai,” you tell him, the tension in your shoulders slipping away as you tilt your head to the side to look at him

Dazai gives you a look. “Please, I was at that event. I heard the way people talked about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the most influential person in Japan.”

“Probably the eastern hemisphere,” you correct, quite humbly, snorting as Dazai rolls his eyes. “No, I’m kidding. I have a lot of influence but there are plenty with more than me, especially considering I’m held back by the fact that I can’t make myself a public figure. Having to perpetually work behind the scenes is pretty… crippling.”

“You go to the big government events though,” Dazai frowns. “Those are-”

“Very, very confidential unless certain cockroaches worm their way in and feed information to the public,” you say dryly, watching as Dazai gives you an offended look. 

“Did you just call me a cockroach?”

“If the shoe fits.” You shrug.

“My bella hates me,” Dazai sighs whimsically, dropping his head on your shoulder. “She thinks I’m a bug. A cockroach.”

You soften when he comes in contact with you, lifting your hand to cradle the side of his head. Your lips curl up into a small smile when Dazai’s lashes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. You brush your fingers through his hair, choosing your words carefully as you continue to explain what’s going on in spite of your better judgment.

“Anyway, they have more influence than me. I’ve been working all night trying to figure out what to do, pulled as many strings as I can trying to get the government to push them out of Yokohama but they’ve eaten their way right into the heart of Japan. They’ve been granted diplomatic immunity and they’re putting pressure on the government to try to get us—the Port Mafia—and some government agencies that are protesting the invasion of the city to back off. They’re trying to get their hands on a skilled business permit, we don’t know why but…”

“But you have suspicions,” Dazai finishes for you, sitting up straight again to watch you, ever perceptive. “Right?”

You don't respond for a moment as you watch him carefully. Dazai has always been perceptive—you’ve noticed it from early on when you would talk around the truth and he would train that sharp gaze on you, knowing that you were skirting around something but unable to figure out what. 

Honestly, it should be concerning. Dazai’s smarter than almost anyone you’ve ever met. He’s sharp and quick—proved it with the way he managed to get his hands on the tapes behind the Tokyo City Hall to get evidence of your mafia affiliation; even proved it before that when he recognized that he had to go about information gathering in a different manner, trying to pin down your political opinions because he knew which sectors supported which opinion and wanted to know which one you were a part of.

“Does it have something to do with me?”

“You’re so conceited, not everything has to do with you.”

Dazai flushes red, scowling at you and physically turning his back to you. “Well forgive me for assuming because you’ve certainly been acting like everything has to do with me.”

You smile as Dazai huffs shifting closer to press your lips against the nape of his neck, arms slipping around his waist. He gives you a dirty look but relaxes back into your chest, leaning into you. You slip your hands beneath his sweatshirt, smoothing them out over the bandages covering his slim torso, feeling the way his breath hitches at your touch.

“They’re here because of something I did,” you finally admit quietly, ignoring as he looks up at you curiously. “One of the boys you met when you came to my apartment the first time… they had a bounty on the black market on him for seven billion yen.”

Dazai chokes, splutters over air as he looks up at you and squeaks out, “Seven billion-why?”

“We don’t know,” you say honestly. “I… didn’t think it was a good sign that they were putting so high of a bounty on a seemingly random ability user. It made me think there was more to it than meets the eye, that it would be… dangerous for us to hand him over to the Guild.”

Dazai’s brows furrow as he nods. “I mean, it makes sense. That much money for a what? Eighteen year old kid? Is his ability special?”

“He can turn into a tiger,” you tell him. “Can’t even control it.”

Dazai sits back up straight again, holding his book in his lap as he turns to face you, crossing his legs together. You feel a bit of fondness bubbling in your chest when you see how quickly he seems to be thinking, you can all but see the gears running swiftly behind his dark eyes.

“Is he the tiger? Is the tiger something of its own sentience? I did a research project on ability users two years ago, mostly I was just reading the studies of how they’re dragged into criminal organizations at a young age, but some of them talked about how some ability users can’t even control their ability because it’s like… a separate consciousness. Maybe it knows something? Or there are parts of his ability that he hasn’t been able to unlock yet?”

Is it sentient? Atsushi hadn’t made any mention of it and you hadn’t thought to ask. It wouldn’t be… unheard of. Dazai is right in that there’s been a record of ability users who claim that their abilities have a consciousness of their own. There’s a member of the SDUP, a higher up in the Family who you met a few years back, and even Chuuya. Arahabaki is its own sentient being within Chuuya, could that be why Atsushi can’t control his ability? You don’t know, you hadn’t really considered it but it’s definitely a possibility, and it would explain the Guild’s desperation to get their hands on him.

“Either way, I mean, I think you were definitely right to keep him close,” Dazai shrugs. “They clearly want him badly for a reason and since it’s not one that can be seen at face value, who knows what it could be.”

“I wish you had been at the meeting where I had to argue with all of them about it,” you say bitterly, still irritated over the hours you spent arguing with the other executives, who were dead set on getting the money from the bounty.

Dazai tilts his head to the side, an unreadable look crossing his face for a second but then he shakes his head and asks, “So political pressure isn’t working?”

“No. I mean, they don’t want the Americans here anymore than any of us but they don’t have a choice. After you fell asleep, I spent most of the night on the phone with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, talked to the US ambassador in Tokyo and asked our ambassador in the US to try to work with their government to get the Guild out of Japan. Got nowhere with it. If something could’ve been done politically to force them out of here, I would’ve gotten it done.”

You even called Tolstoy last night. You don’t like going to outsiders about domestic problems but you feel as if you’re backed into a corner—it’s your fault that the Guild is here and you can’t even do anything to fix it. And now-and now Dazai is at risk too. You have half a mind to keep him locked up in this beach house until you can figure everything out but you doubt that he’d stay in one place and he’s better off at your side than on his own.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, oblivious to the thoughts running through your head—or maybe not, he probably knows exactly how stressed you are about this. You’ve never been without your phone and you know you’re making a mistake by turning it off now but you just can’t bring yourself to turn it on, dreading whatever messages you might find. Chuuya’s rage at your disappearance, Kouyou’s disapproval and worst of all, Mori’s disappointment.

He would know where you are. Who you’re with. Why you disappeared and why you were unable to fix this before it became a major problem for the Mafia. He promised not to intervene if it didn’t affect Port Mafia business and you let it anyway. You ran to Dazai when you should have gone to the meeting and you can’t even bring yourself to regret it even when you know that you put him in danger, not just from your enemies but also from-

You feel Dazai’s hand brush your cheek as he reaches out, brows knit in concern as he looks at you and you realize that your breath has quickened noticeably, shallow and uneven. You try to calm yourself down but it only makes your heart rate spike more because you can’t figure out why you’re unable to get yourself under control.

“Hey,” Dazai says quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, but he sounds like he’s underwater. Or you’re underwater. Something isn’t right—you know what isn’t right, you know what’s happening but you can’t stop it. “Hey, it’s okay-”

It’s not okay. It’s very much not okay. Your fingers dig into the sand, the small grains getting stuck beneath your fingernails as you try to physically ground yourself. You never should have started talking about this with him—you’d known it was going to force you to confront everything you’ve been avoiding the past few hours, your failure and incapability but he asked you and you couldn’t-

You couldn’t say no.

You need to-

“You need to make them want to go back.”

You’re so caught off guard by Dazai’s words that it startles you right out of your spiral. Your gaze focuses on him and you watch as he starts to light up, excited. His hands drop to your wrists, holding them gently as he urges you to pay attention to him. 

“You need to make them want to go back,” he repeats, faster this time. “You can’t force them, so you have to make them choose to go on their own.”

You shake your head, still unsteady from your sudden bout of panic. You briefly shut your eyes and then say quietly, “Dazai, that’s a lot easier said than done. How-”

“The best defense is a good offense,” Dazai quotes at you, nearly vibrating. “Counterattack, do something to make them have to go back to America.”

Oh.

Oh my god.

“Oh my god,” you voice out loud, little over a breath. “Oh my god. Octavio.”

“Who?” Dazai blinks, staring at you as you fumble to turn your phone back on.

“Octavio Paz,” you say hurriedly, willing your phone to turn back on. “He’s the leader of one of Mexico’s biggest cartels, has been trying to expand his foothold into the central parts of the US for years but one of the Guild members—Twain, maybe, Steinbeck, one of them—they always prevented it. If I can get him to do something now-”

You’re stupid, you’re so stupid for not thinking of this sooner. Mori has always taught you it—the one that strikes the first blow wins the battle—you should’ve had Octavio Paz making movements in the US as soon as you decided to keep Atsushi with the Port Mafia. As soon as you were considering keeping Atsushi with the Port Mafia. You were stupid and you let the Guild make the opening move of the game, and now it could cost you.

But if you can act fast enough then maybe…

As your phone finally starts to turn on, you look back up at Dazai.

“I could kiss you,” you breathe out, watching his face light up at your approval. 

You almost find yourself a bit suspicious of how quickly he came to this conclusion, how naturally this thought process seemed to come to him. You had been struggling trying to figure out what to do and you have over a decade of experience now—you were too focused on the fact that they were already here, so focused on the defense that you were scrambling and blinded to the prospect of an offense. And yes, it might’ve just been stupidity on your part—stupidity and carelessness, that is—but Dazai is a twenty-two year old literature student, how the hell was he able to figure it out in a span of a handful of minutes while you’ve been so lost?

“What’s stopping you?” Dazai prods, leaning forward.

His eyes are wide and imploring, a warm golden color beneath the rays of the sun; his lips are curved up into a sweet smile and you let all of your suspicions wash away. You reach forward to cup his cheek, watching as he immediately presses his face into your hand, eyes sliding shut as he brushes his lips to your palm before looking back up at you, expectant.

You lean in and graze your lips against his but just as you consider deepening the kiss, you notice that your phone screen has finally flickered on, so you lean back, not catching the way Dazai’s face instantly falls.

“I’m going to go make a few calls—I have to head back to the house to grab my laptop. You want to come in or stay out here for a bit?” you ask absently as you rise to your feet.

“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit,” he says quietly. “Hopefully everything works out.”

You don’t respond as you make your way up the beach back to the house, wincing as you see a spam of nearly forty messages from Chuuya, a dozen from Piano Man, and a handful from Kouyou come in.

Worse, there’s not a single message or missed call from Mori. 

A few hours later, you’re sitting with Dazai on the couch in the beach house watching a movie. He’s resting back against your chest, your arms loose around his waist—you think he’s falling asleep actually, every time you look down, his eyes are drooping shut but then snap back open whenever he realizes that you’re looking down at him. 

You’re being spammed with calls again now that your phone is back on—both Chuuya and Piano Man have been calling and texting incessantly. You think they’re taking turns, honestly, when one isn’t calling, the other is. You had to put their numbers on do not disturb but you did reach out to Klaus and Akutagawa, giving them quick orders to do what they can to fuck with the Guild. 

Now, you’re waiting for a text from Paz to confirm he’s made the necessary movements into the central parts of the US—you had to redirect a weapons shipment from South America up to Paz and his men, so you have to compensate for that with Machado down in Brazil, but he’s always been easily appeased. You’ll just have to take a trip down there some time soon to wine and dine him as an apology.

As soon as you get the confirmation from him, you can put your phone away and just spend the night relaxing with Dazai. Maybe try to figure out what’s going on in this movie. Honestly, neither of you are even really watching the movie so you don’t even know why it’s playing but it’s nice background noise at the very least. 

“Can I ask you something?” Dazai asks quietly after a few moments, playing with your fingers and tilting his head up against your shoulder to look at you.

“You have no idea how much I dread those words coming from you,” you say dryly. “Go ahead. Ask.”

Dazai pouts at your words but there’s a serious look in his eyes that has you on edge, a bit concerned to what he might want to ask you.

“What did Chuuya mean the other night?” Dazai asks after a few moments, as if trying to figure out how he wants to phrase his question. When you only give him a confused look in return, he adds on, “He said that you couldn’t save someone last time. That this time wouldn’t be any different.”

 Immediately, you stiffen and Dazai straightens up from where he’s sitting to turn to look at you, concerned. “I don’t-” you start to say, voice strained and tongue heavy in your mouth. “I-”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Dazai tells you, seemingly a bit taken aback by how you’re struggling for words. “It’s okay. I was just wondering.”

You think you should take the out given to you because even just the thought of talking about what happened two years ago with Chuuya and his girl and the Serpent’s Tongue. Even after all of the time that’s passed, the image of Chuuya hunched over her body is still burned behind your eyelids. You still wake up gasping and sweaty with the sound of Chuuya’s screams still ringing through your ears. There are still days where the guilt of what happened is so crushing that you can hardly breathe. 

“Chuuya… he was dating a civilian two years ago,” you find yourself speaking instead but your voice sounds distant, like you’re not talking but instead listening to someone else talk. You don’t even register that your lips are moving, they feel numb and prickly but the words tumble from your lips. “She was our age, a year older maybe. In her third year of university, on track for med school—I think she went to YNU actually. She wanted to be a doctor. I only met her a few times, but Chuuya never shut up about her, would brag about her to anyone who would listen.”

You sit up straight, smoothing your hands up and down against the skin of your thighs a few times anxiously. Your tongue feels weighted, you can hardly bring yourself to continue; you don’t want to continue so you don’t know why you’re trying to force yourself. Dazai’s gaze is so intense that you can’t even bring yourself to look up at him, you keep your eyes trained on your lap even as he reaches out to entwine his fingers with yours.

“How did they meet?” Dazai prods curiously, purposely trying to steer the conversation to a lighter topic when he hears the way your voice wavers.

“He was stupid,” you say, the wry smile that tugs to your lips is a bit more genuine. You pause and then amend, “We were both stupid when we were twenty—thought we were untouchable—but Chuuya especially. Was a bit too arrogant on a mission and got three bullets in the back because of it. He dragged himself out of the warehouse they were ambushed in and into an alley—she was coming back from a late night class and ran into him. Took him back to her place and patched him up, he couldn’t move for three weeks and he didn’t have his phone on him. I went crazy looking for him, thought he was dead or worse, captured.”

Crazy might be understating it, honestly. In the three weeks Chuuya was missing, you all but upended the entire Mafia. There was no information on who the assailants had been, the entire warehouse had burned to the ground and the only three survivors were comatose, so you orchestrated the end of five different organizations that had been pressing their luck in Mafia territory, hoping that one of them had been the culprit. 

Realistically, you had known that if any of the organizations had captured Chuuya, they would have made it known that they had him, but you’d been so viciously angry that you hadn’t even cared in the moment… and you had thought at the time, that if he wasn’t captured, he was almost definitely dead, so you hadn’t wanted to consider the alternative as an actual option.

“But no, he was with a civilian girl who knew damn well from the wounds and his outfit what he was involved with but still decided to help him,” you say, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “She was just as stupid as us, I guess.”

“How did you meet her?” Dazai asks curiously. “Did Chuuya introduce you?”

Your smile softens a bit at the edges as you pull his hand into your lap, tracing along the lines of his palm and up his fingers. “Nah, Chuuya tried to keep her out of this as much as possible. Talked all about her but never brought her around, was careful to never give up too much information about her to people he didn’t fully trust.”

You sigh, gaze drifting from his hand over to the window, watching absently as the wind smacks a tree branch against the glass. You think there must be a storm rolling in—you’d noticed that the skies were getting cloudy before the sun had set earlier but you hadn’t thought anything of it. You hope it doesn’t knock the power out—you don’t think this place has a generator. 

“I only met her by chance—was in the area with Klaus handling a small gang that was causing trouble for civilians because I had nothing better to do. I get there and lo and behold, they’ve got Chuuya’s girl backed in an alley. We got there before they could do anything but she was shaken, obviously. Was sweet though, she recognized me from pictures Chuuya has, invited both me and Klaus back to her apartment and made us tea. Chuuya flew across the city when I texted him, crashed right through the window.”

Your lips quirk up into another smile as you remember the way that Chuuya had quite literally crashed through her window, panicked and furious that some lowlives had tried to fuck with her. The way she spent thirty minutes shouting at him for breaking her window and forcing him to go replace it before he even had himself oriented.

Dazai snorts and then quietly asks the dreaded question, “What happened to her?”

“We were stupid,” you repeat, softer this time. “Thought we were untouchable. Chuuya—he’s the strongest ability user in the world—and I’m set to take over the strongest mafia in the eastern hemisphere. No one would dare try to attack either of us because they know it’s futile—a death wish. And we… forgot that the people we love aren’t as protected. That there are people out there who would do anything to try to cripple us if given the chance.”

Your throat swells, an uncomfortable lump forming as you stare ahead blankly, the movie still playing but none of it processing through your brain. You don’t even know what’s happening on it, all you can see are indecipherable blobs moving on the screen. Dazai doesn’t press you to continue but you can still feel him looking at you and the way he squeezes your hand, so you take in a deep breath before continuing.

“It was a Thursday night. Chuuya was meeting her on campus to bring her out of the city for the weekend as a surprise. She never walked out of the building her class was in and when he asked around, they said she never showed up. He went to her apartment to check on her because he realized something was up and the whole place was trashed—blood everywhere, windows shattered, they even killed one of her fucking cats. Chuuya called me but he couldn’t even speak properly, I tracked him to her apartment and realized what had happened.”

He had her other cat in his lap, you remember, stomach twisting uncomfortably. Was kneeling in her blood next to the other one with the living one curled in his lap, licking his wrist as if begging him to get up and snap out of it. You’d never seen him like that before—face so pale that he looked bloodless, eyes wide and haunted, not processing anything around him—he was usually good in emergencies, never froze up, always moved forward. He didn’t even fight Klaus and Akutagawa when you told them to get him to your apartment, to not let anyone see him like this.

“I… he wasn’t in the right state to lead or plan an operation, so I did. I took over,” you say quietly, “and I failed.”

It wasn’t your first failure. Itou’s death was your fault no matter how much people try to convince you otherwise. Even if the information you’d been given wasn’t accurate, you still should’ve been quicker on your feet. You’ve circled the what-ifs in your head over and over again, there were so many routes you could’ve taken but you’d frozen up in the face of a situation out of your control and it cost Itou his life.

Wasn’t your first failure, but it was the first that had been entirely in your control. You took too long to figure out who had her, took too long to get the Black Lizards organized, by the time you got to their base, she’d already been dead.

“They were called the Serpent’s Tongue. A younger organization that had been based in Kyoto before they came to Yokohama. We hadn’t been taking them seriously,” you tell him, voice hoarse. “Should have been, obviously. By the time I’d figured out who had her and where they were… Chuuya was demanding to come with us, wanted to be the first face she saw after getting her out of there. Wouldn’t budge on it. We got there and they left her head for us to find. Chuuya had barged into the room first and…”

You still hear the way he screamed her name in your nightmares, still see how he’d fallen to his knees. He’d unleashed corruption in his grief, devastating the area and nearly killing you with it—when you pulled him out of it, he told you that you should’ve let it take him. You let out a heavy breath, gaze drifting to the side again. 

“I don’t have a good track record for saving people,” you say quietly. “I don’t… her death destroyed Chuuya. And if you… if something happens to you now when I know better…”

You’d never recover from it. Never.

“... That’s why you were so mad,” Dazai realizes after a few moments. When you give him a confused look, he elaborates. “The day we got my suit tailored and I texted you.”

You snort. “I had Chuuya on standby and was about to put the Mafia’s equivalent of the special ops on standby because I thought you were in trouble.”

Dazai flushes bright red. “I didn’t know,” he complains. “How was I supposed to know?”

Your lips curve up into a fond smile as you reach out for him, beckoning him to come back over to you. He pouts but he crawls back over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pushing you back until you’re laying on the couch so that he can lay right on top of you, burying his face in your chest. You bring one hand up to cradle the back of his head, the other sliding down to his back to hold him close to you.

You feel his lips pull up into a smile as he tilts his head up, big brown eyes peeking up at you, a soft brown under the dim lighting of the room, sweet and adoring. You’ve never had someone look at you that way in your life—like you’re something worth being treasured, someone to treat gently. Your breath catches in your throat as he leans up to brush his lips against your jaw and-

And you think you love him.

The thought is so jarring that you almost physically flinch as soon as it crosses your mind. You only realize something’s wrong when you notice that Dazai’s eyes shot open in surprise and instantly, your mouth floods with ash.

No way.

“What?” he breathes out.

“What?” you echo, voice flat.

“What did you just say?” he asks, a bit more rushed, eyes bright but expression hesitant—as if he’s trying to not get his hopes up but can’t help himself. “Tell me what you said. Say it again.”

You have half a mind to deny it but Dazai just looks so… he looks so happy. Hopeful. Like you’ve told him something that he never expected anyone to ever say to him. So all you can do is steel yourself and clear your throat as you say quietly: “I think I love you.”

Dazai doesn’t respond; he stares at you and you think he’s hardly even breathing. His eyes rapidly search your face, desperately trying to figure out if you’re telling him the truth or not and when he finds his answer, he looks entirely devastated, as if you’ve taken his world and ripped it right out from under him.

“I’m not someone made to be loved,” he tells you, voice so quiet that you barely even hear it. His fingers clutch your shirt tightly like he’s scared to let go of you.

Your smile softens. “Yet here I am.”

“You’ll regret it,” Dazai says shakily, throat bobbing as he swallows. “You will.”

A part of you wants to tell him no, that if anyone ends up regretting anything, it will be him—that if anyone isn’t made for love, it’s you—but you don’t have it in you. You raise your hand to cup his cheek, watching as his lashes flutter shut; you lift your other hand to brush his hair back behind his ear.

“I won’t,” you tell him quietly.

“You will,” he insists. “You really will. I-”

“I won’t,” you say again, firmer this time, and Dazai lets out a noise in the back of his throat, dropping down to lay flat against you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

His lashes are wet, you can feel the dampness against your skin, and you can also feel how hot his face is. You smile as your hand slides to the back of his head again, absently playing with the dark locks as you tilt your head to the side and kiss his temple.

Dazai takes in a wet, ragged breath at the casual and unexpected action. You can feel his shoulders shake as he tries to regain control of himself and your free hand rests between his shoulder blades, thumb drawing circles against his skin. 

“What happened to the cat?” Dazai suddenly asks after a few moments of him trying to settle down, voice cracking and wavering over the words as he desperately tries to change the subject to something that doesn’t have him on the verge of collapse.

“The cat?”

“The cat, the one that lived. What happened to it?” he asks more insistently, not bothering to even look up from where he’s hiding his face against you.

“Oh.” You realize what he’s talking about. “Chuuya took it in.”

Dazai makes a sharp noise of disgust. “Gross,” he complains. “He doesn’t even seem like a cat person.”

You can’t help the puff of laughter that escapes your lips. “What is your problem with him?” you ask. “You’ve had it out for him from day one.”

Dazai sniffs. “I just don’t like him, that’s all,” he says defensively. “I don’t need a reason.”

“Sure,” you agree, amused. “Whatever you say.”

Dazai lights up suddenly at your words. “Whatever I say?” he prods, finally lifting his face to look up at you, eyes gleaming. You give him a suspicious look but Dazai only gives you a sweet smile in return.

“Nothing,” he sings without you even needing to say anything, making you even more suspicious, but then he lays back down on top of you, nudging his nose against the side of your face. You feel him smile against your skin, he kisses your cheek once, twice and then a third time before settling back down. “Let’s watch Despicable Me.”

“No.”

“You said whatever I say-”

“No!”

“Are you asleep?”

Dazai pouts as he nudges you gently—he’s been wide awake for over an hour now and he knows he shouldn’t bother you considering you didn’t sleep the night before, but he still finds himself seeking out your company. He’s half laying on top of you, head resting on your shoulder as he continues to bop his forehead against your chin to wake you up.

The two of you had gone back to the bedroom a few hours ago and you’d fallen asleep pretty quickly. Dazai had dozed off for a bit too, but he found himself startled awake by a particularly loud cracking noise from outside, a tree toppling over from the wind probably, and now he couldn’t fall back asleep.

And a Dazai left with only his own mind as company is not a good Dazai.

He tried to distract himself with you for a bit. Watched you sleep for a while—creepy as it is, he found peace in watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, the soft puffs of air that left your lips, how every time he tried to pull away from you, your brows would furrow and your arms would tighten around him. He’s never had someone who wanted him before, much less someone who wanted him so genuinely and unconditionally that even in their sleep, they seek him out and want him close. He didn’t even know what to think of it, honestly, a part of him was still waiting for you to start laughing and telling him that this is all some big joke.

I think I love you.

His breath shakes the same way it does every time your words echo through his head, fingers trembling from where he’s running them up and down your arm softly. 

Love. Love. Love. 

You love him. Him. Someone who can hardly function on an everyday basis, someone who has to wrap himself up in bandages because he’s embarrassed of what lies beneath them, someone who has only ever had death and misfortune follow him around his entire life. You love him even though you’ve listened to him fumble over words like a fool because he gets tongue tied in your presence, you love him even though he blackmailed you into giving him a chance because he was that desperate for your attention, you love him even though you had to pick him up at the hospital after a failed suicide attempt because he has no one else in his life to call. 

You love him. Him. You love him in spite of all of his flaws—and he knows very well there are a lot of them. You love him in spite of all of the pushback from the people around you. You love him in spite of the fact that your world is completely different from his, in spite of the fact that you could do so much better than him, in spite of the fact that Dazai is Dazai and you’re you and you’re so far out of his league that Dazai doesn’t even think he should be breathing the same air as you, much less curling up next to you in bed. Even though it puts so much at risk—your life, your occupation, everything—you love him still and Dazai just can’t understand it.

And Dazai loves you. 

He does. He thinks he’s known it since the beginning, since that day at the school library when you came over because he was sitting all alone at a table that was clearly meant for a group of individuals and not just one, when you realized something was bothering him so you gave him your name even though he had been rude to you when he got embarrassed over having no friends. Since that day at his apartment complex when you showed up to deal with his shitty landlord; he’d made a joke about how you should waive his rent, not expecting anything of it, and you did. Since you rushed to him while he was at the men’s warehouse—he’d thought it was odd that you seemed so irritated by his dramatics trying to get you to come to him, but now that he knew it was because you thought he was in trouble, thought he was in danger and rushed to him like he was the only thing that mattered even back then…

Dazai loves you, and he didn’t tell you when you told him—he wants to tell you even though the thought of pushing those words out of his mouth terrifies him, so he returns to trying to wake you up.

“Wake up,” Dazai complains quietly, booping his forehead against your chin again. “Wake up, wake up, wake-”

“What’s wrong?” you finally ask through a yawn, voice rough with sleep as you shift a bit. One of your hands comes up to run your fingers through his hair and Dazai hums at the feeling, eyes drooping shut again as he sinks back into your chest. “Dazai?”

“Osamu,” he corrects quietly, “... will you call me Osamu?”

Your fingers still in their steady strokes through his hair and for a split second, Dazai thinks that he misstepped. But then, you lean your head down to press your lips against his forehead and he can only let out a shaky breath, nuzzling his face into your body.

“Osamu,” you repeat, voice soft and a bit more awake—and god, the sound of his given name leaving your lips is almost heavenly, he thinks. 

He can’t remember the last time someone called him by his first name, his aunt was probably the last and it was her screaming at him to get out of his car before she left him to die in Suribachi. It’s an unpleasant memory, and he thinks that maybe he’s only been able to associate his given name with unpleasantness because of it, but this… it makes him feel light and cozy, like the warmth of a hearth surrounding him after spending years alone in the cold wilderness. He thinks he could hear you say his name a million times and never tire of this feeling.

“Osamu, tell me what’s wrong. Why’d you wake me up?”

His lips part to say the three words he planned on saying but they wither and die on his tongue when his eyes meet yours. Even with your words ringing through his head, he can’t bring himself to say it. And it’s silly. It’s silly because he’s scared that if he says it, it’ll be the trigger the gods need to finally rip you away from him—everything he never wants to lose is always lost the moment he obtains it, it’s true, he told you this and he’s been treading such a fine line and he’s terrified that speaking those three words out loud will be enough for the twisted gods above to finally rip the rug out from under his feet.

So, he doesn’t say it.

“Osamu,” you frown—he’ll never tire of it, he has half a mind to ask you to say it over and over and over again, doesn’t care if it makes him seem crazy. “What’s going on?”

He needs to say something—the longer he sits here evading answering, the more concerned you’re going to get, and the more concerned you get, the harder it’s going to be to lie. Dazai’s throat spasms as he instead broaches a different topic that has been bothering him for a few weeks.

“Are you attracted to me?”

It has been a rather persistent thought in the back of his head, even more so since the two of you spoke at the cliff yesterday. At first, he thought maybe it was just because you didn’t really want him—that you were trying to evade any physical intimacy with him because he was backing you into a corner and you were uncomfortable. 

But now? Knowing that you do want him? He doesn’t have any other explanation than the fact that maybe you just aren’t attracted to him… and he’s not sure he can blame you. Who would be attracted to someone who hardly takes care of himself and wraps himself in bandages like a mummy?

You stare at him for a moment, expression too blank for comfort before your brows begin to furrow. The longer you take to respond, the more embarrassed Dazai is.  

“What?” you finally ask, voice stunted and perplexed.

Dazai’s face heats up, regretting his words immediately. 

He should have just told you what he wanted to say originally.

“Nevermind,” he says, rolling over so that his back is to you, not wanting you to see his red face. “Forget it.”

“Hey, no,” you say, suddenly sounding all too awake and Dazai squeezes his eyes shut, wanting to crawl into a ditch and die. “Osamu, what? What are you even talking about? How is that even a question?”

He feels you sit up in the bed next to him and pointedly lays on his stomach to bury his face in the pillow to try to hide himself even as you shift to look over at him. It’s to no avail because you’re a brute and decide to just grab his shoulder to forcibly roll him back onto his back. Dazai scowls up at you, face still aflame. 

“Don’t manhandle me,” he grumbles, averting his gaze but you only shift right back into his line of vision, frowning. “Stop, it’s nothing. Forget it. Really.”

“It’s not nothing,” you say, reaching out to cup his cheek and Dazai thinks you’re entirely unfair because he is simply too weak to your touch so he can already feel himself giving in when you look at him with a slight frown and say, “Tell me.”

Dazai huffs. He huffs and he bristles like an irritated cat, he scowls up at you for forcing him to explain himself and then his shoulders slump in defeat. 

How embarrassing.

“I just… have tried to… initiate things and you… don’t ever… want to?”

Dazai thinks a gun in the mouth might be kinder than this.

And then-

And then you have the nerve to laugh at him. Or, you don’t laugh but you smile and you look like you’re about to laugh, so Dazai jerks up into a sitting position, offended. Your hand falls from his face and instantly, he’s yearning for your touch again. 

“You’re laughing at me,” he accuses, voice dripping with disbelief. “You just laughed at me when I was opening up to you.”

“No,” you say and then laugh. You laugh and Dazai stares at you in abject horror. “No, I’m not laughing at you.”

“You’re laughing at me right now,” Dazai squawks. “You’re-I can’t believe you’re laughing at me.”

“Osamu,” you say, smile softening as you look at him. You reach out again, fingers brushing his skin before your palm settles against his cheek again, thumb so close to the corner of his lips. Dazai’s breath hitches, lashes fluttering as his eyes meet yours. “I knew that if we started something, I wouldn’t be able to stop. So I didn’t want to let it start. I… still thought you’d be better off away from me, out of this life, and I wouldn’t have been able to let go if I let anything happen between us.”

Dazai stares at you for a moment, processing the words, and then confirms, “... So you are attracted to me?”

“Yes,” you say, unbearably amused. “Very.”

“... But why?” Dazai asks quietly, voice a bit too vulnerable for his liking.

“What do you mean why?” 

He clears his throat and looks up at the ceiling as he says, “I’m not anything special, y’know?” He’s careful to keep his voice light and airy, void of all of the insecurity that’s been ripping him apart since the two of you met. “I just don’t get it. You could have anyone you want—literally—so why me?”

You click your tongue and Dazai hears you shift around again, breath catching when you sit yourself right on his lap, lifting both hands to his face now to force him to look at you. With his face settled between your hands and your body flush to his, Dazai has no choice but to meet your gaze head on and he almost dies at the intense look in your eyes, can hardly breathe.

“Do you want me to show you why?” you hum with a teasing smile.

Dazai inhales sharply, eyes widening at the offer. His lips part to respond but no words leave them, so he just nods. You’re not pleased with that response, clearly, from how you raise your eyebrows.

“Yes,” he rasps out. “Show me. Prove that you want me. Please.”

You don’t even waste a second before you’re leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut and his breath hitches as you press him back against the plush pillows of the bed. He’s suddenly acutely aware of the rough bandages covering his body that are probably prickling your skin uncomfortably, of his chapped lips and hair that’s a bit too dry because he never properly washes it. 

“The first thing I noticed about you was your eyes,” you say quietly, pulling away from him so your gaze could meet his. He tries to chase your lips but you don’t let him. “I could hardly look away from them. I tried to walk away from you that night at the bar but every time I looked at you, I found myself lost in them.”

Dazai’s throat spasms, face flushing. “Don’t lie,” he tells you, voice hoarse. “Nobody likes my…”

Too wide. Too black. Too empty. Dull. Hollow. Soulless. All things he’s heard people say about his eyes—no one can ever look him in the eyes for too long before they find themselves uncomfortable. 

“I’m not lying,” you say with a soft smile, there’s almost a wistful look in your eyes as you continue. “Right now, they remind me of the night sky, dark and endless, filled with countless glittering stars… I love the stars… They remind me of home.”

Dazai chews on his bottom lip as he stares up at you; he tries to speak but again, he finds himself unable to. You don’t force him to this time though, bringing your hand back to his cheek and running your thumb over his bottom lip as if to stop him from biting at it.

“Under the sun, they’re gold,” you tell him quietly. “The first time I noticed, it was the day we met at the ports. Sunset. You were standing right at the opening of the alley I’d been waiting in with Klaus and the sun hit you just right. You looked so pretty beneath it that I was almost tongue-tied. If we hadn't been interrupted, I would’ve made a fool of myself.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Dazai’s voice wobbles terribly. “You-”

“I’m not,” you murmur. Dazai’s breath shakes as you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips. This time, instead of going back to his lips, you kiss down to his jaw slowly. “The second thing I noticed about you was your smile.”

Too fake. Too teethy. Too strained. Unnatural looking.

“Not the fake one you love to put on,” you say, nipping his skin gently. “Your real one. I got a glimpse of it that day at the cafe—the second time we met—when you realized I’d actually been listening to you that night at the bar. But I really saw it that day at Kido’s when we started talking about poetry… I don’t even think you realized you were smiling, the corners of your lips were curved up and your expression was just so… soft. Peaceful. You looked happy and I think that was the first time I really realized that a large majority of the time you put on a mask when you’re around people.”

When you kiss down to the edge of the bandages around his neck, Dazai thinks you’ll ask him to take them off and he braces himself for the question. Braces himself for the discomfort of being bare in front of someone for the first time… ever maybe, because it’s not like he can say no if you ask him to take them off after he badgered you into this.

But you don’t. You kiss over the bandages as if they’re not even there, you tug at his shirt to get him to lift his arms up for you to pull it off and when you do, you continue kissing down his chest—over the bandages—and don’t even show the slightest bit of discontent about it.

“You’ve seen through me… since all the way back then?” Dazai swallows thickly when your hands rest on his slim waist, breath quickening. “But then why…”

Why did you stay?

“That day at the boutique… I was supposed to cut you off,” you admit quietly, sitting back on his thighs as your hands rest on his hips, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, but you don’t move to pull them off. Dazai’s body is uncomfortably hot, head frighteningly fuzzy, he can only barely bring himself to listen to your words. “My first thought when I realized that I’d gotten my first glimpse behind your mask was that I wanted to see more of you, wanted to see you smile genuinely, wanted to learn more about you, I wanted you. I’d realized I let it go too far—that I was starting to actually fall for you and I was putting you in danger—but even then, I couldn’t do it.”

His breath shakes as he breathes in and out, fingers digging into your thighs. He parts his lips to say something but you continue before he can.

“I spoke to Chuuya that same night—he told me that this had to stop, that I was going to get you killed. The next time we met was at the ports. One of the Port Mafia’s enemies had seen us together,” you say, expression a bit more serious now. “Klaus killed him. I had the entire organization exterminated that same night.”

Dazai thinks that shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did. His heart rate spikes at your words, breath quickening and that pool of heat in his lower abdomen gets impossibly hotter, his mind almost entirely shatters at what you’re saying. Your grip on his hips tightens just a bit, lips pressed together as you look down at him with an unreadable expression.

“I would do terrible things for you, Dazai Osamu,” you tell him softy. “I have done terrible things for you and I would do them again and again and again.”

“Please,” Dazai breathes out, and he’s not even sure what he’s saying please for, but you do. 

You do. As always, Dazai is seen when he’s with you and he can’t help the whimper that spills from his lips, the way his eyes mist over with tears. Dazai is seen and he is loved and-and he’s happy. He’s happy—really, truly happy for the first time since Odasaku’s death.

You lean down to kiss Dazai again—this kiss is sloppier than the last few, a frantic clashing of teeth as your hands slide down his body to pull his sweatpants off. Dazai lifts his hips to help you get them off of him, his own fingers clumsily tugging at your silk shorts to try to yank them off of you.

Once he gets them off, his hands drop down to your hips, pulling you down so that you’re sitting flush against him. He moans into your mouth when he finally gets the friction he’s so desperately been aching for, grinding his clothed cock against your panties. He feels almost dizzy with need, lips sliding messily against yours, nails digging crescents into your hips. He thinks maybe he might be able to cum just from this and the thought is embarrassing but he can’t even stop the way he’s rocking his hips up.

Your lips trail from his down to his neck and Dazai tosses his head back against the pillow when your teeth scrape against his skin before you bite down hard, a lewd moan escaping his lips.

“Please,” he gasps again, voice breaking over the only word he seems to be capable of saying. “Please.”

You lean forward as you reach between your bodies to ease his cock out of his briefs and Dazai nearly cums on the spot when he feels your fingers wrap around him, fingers sliding against the precum dripping down his length. You rest your forehead against his, lips dragging across his cheek back to his lips as you press the tip of his cock against your entrance.

He almost says it in that moment—foreheads pressed together, sharing the same sliver of air, both of you breathing shakily as his tip just barely sinks into you—those three words, he almost says them. They almost slip out when his gaze meets yours and he sees the soft, enamored expression on your face as you look down at him.

Dazai’s eyes knock back when you sink down on his cock, lips parted in a silent moan, vision white. For a terrifying moment, Dazai thinks he might’ve cum just from the feeling of your walls warm and tight around his cock. His whole body trembles, his head feels foggy and garbled—he’s speaking, he realizes, but he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. He can feel his lips moving, can hear something leaving them, but he’s so out of it that he can’t even process what it is. 

You nip at his lips once, then twice, before you trail kisses to his ear, savoring in the way he shivers when you tug at his earlobe. You only start to rock your hips when your lips get to that spot behind his ear that makes him entirely incoherent. You suck and nip at the skin as you roll your hips slowly, each drag of his cock against your walls makes him choke over moans. 

He’s not going to last long, he realizes absently, unable to even be mortified by the thought considering how focused he is on your body, warm and flush against his. His hands are moving sliding up your body to your chest, back down your body to your ass—he doesn’t even know what to do with them, honestly, wants to touch every part of you all at the same time, wants to make you feel half as good as you’re making him feel but he can’t even think with your lips sucking at his skin and your cunt squeezing his cock.

His moan breaks suddenly, cracking and quavering as it slips into a sob. His breath is ragged and shuddered, and his vision swims. He feels his cheeks wet and your hands leave from where they’re braced on his shoulders to cup his cheeks. 

Your thumbs wipe away the tears spilling down his cheeks, you lean down to ghost your lips against his temple, and your voice is soft, so soft as you whisper, “I know, baby, I’ve got you. Let go.”

And he does. The taut cord in his abdomen tightens impossibly more before snapping, his nails drag down your thighs, leaving long red marks, his hips snap up and he tosses his head back against the pillows. One of your hands slides from his cheek to wrap around his neck firmly and Dazai is gone—his vision goes dark and spotty, a choked cry of your name escapes his lips and Dazai cums so hard that he thinks he blacks out momentarily.

You lean down and press your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as your walls spasm around him. Dazai’s breath is sharp and quick, lashes wet and heavy, his body twitches and trembles as you ride out your high on his spent cock. He can feel you panting against his skin, your lips sliding from his to press against his cheek as you try to catch your breath.

And Dazai thinks he could stay like this forever, basking in your presence, the feeling of your body pressed to his, his cock still snug in your cunt and one of your hands cradling his face while the other cups the side of his neck, fingers absently playing with the ends of his matted hair. Your forehead rests against his cheek, savoring his presence just as much as he is yours.

He feels warm, he feels safe, he feels loved.

He feels loved.

You shift back just enough to look him in the eye, close enough so that your nose is still brushing his, that you’re still sharing air. Your thumb runs along his cheekbone and your eyes are soft and adoring as you look down at him. As you admire him.

“I could give you countless reasons as to why I want you,” you finally say quietly, “but when it comes down to it, the main reason is because you’re you, Osamu.”

He feels loved. 

Your weekend paradise with Dazai shatters with a single message not even six hours later.

Chuuya: I need you. Going to use Corruption.

smut development: minimal besides some dialogue. she told him that when she saw through his mask, her first desire was wanting to see/know more of him. also tells him what happened after she met him at the ports (ie. having the yakuza exterminated). tells him: i'd do terrible things for you - i have done terrible things for you and i would do them again. then at the very end, she tells him that the reason she wants you is because she's him.

[strang3lov3]

Cinnabon

Summary: (mall rats 7, final part!) Joel ruins a special moment, leading to another stupid argument, leading to him fucking the daylights out of you on his couch. Lovingly.

Tags: AU where yeast is not dead and we can all bake and be happy. Cordyceps is no longer in the flour/sugar either (work with me) Cinnabons, 69, dirty talk, unprotected Piv, creampie because it’s me, strang3lov3. soft dom joel because again, it’s me, strang3lov3. Strange highs and strange lows, that’s how my love goes. You get it.

A/N: As always, thank you @papipascalispunk for editing ❤️ you’ve helped me so much on this series and you have no clue how thankful I am for that. Definitely abusing your talents for the next shit I wanna write! And thank you to everyone who’s read and reblogged, commented, all of that good stuff. This was a blast to write!!!

This may not be the absolute end of these two, so you might get an update on them here and there, most likely in the form of yet another lovers quarrel. But I have so much stuff planned and I hope you continue to keep up with me ❤️ excited for the new year and to share what else i've been writing with all of you 🩷

It’s early in the morning in late December when you’re walking up to Joel’s porch, holding a basket full of ingredients and a dusty copy of Betty Crocker’s Cookbook. You knock on the door, no answer. With Joel’s poor hearing, sometimes it’s better to knock on his back door. He seems to hear it better, closer to his bedroom and all that. You make your way to his back door, where you find Ellie quietly opening the window next to the door, no doubt sneaking back from a friend’s house. You startle each other, “Ellie, hi,” you say. You wrinkle your nose, she smells like weed. You can’t help but smirk.

“Oh,” she says, “Hi. I’m not– I’m just–”

“I won’t tell Joel,” you smile. Ellie’s staring at your basket of goodies, where one of your lacy Victoria’s Secret thongs sits on top of a blue Cinnabon apron. “I’m just…baking. For Joel. Are you gonna be home today?”

It’s Ellie’s turn to smirk at you, as she opens the window the rest of the way and lifts herself inside the house. You hear her heavy footsteps before she unlocks and opens the door for you. “I can disappear,” she replies, “I require payment, though.” 

“I’ll leave you a plate outside your door.”

“Deal.” 

Ellie goes to her room probably to change clothes, and you go toward Joel’s kitchen. “I want two of whatever you’re making,” Ellie calls out before slamming the back door again, probably going back to her friend’s house. That girl certainly knows how to negotiate. You can’t help but love her for it.

Joel usually wakes up early, but he’s not on his recliner where you expect him to be. Must be in bed. You smile to yourself, picturing Joel coming downstairs in his pajamas, hair messy and sighing in pleasure at the sweet aroma of butter and cinnamon. 

You’re making Cinnabons this morning. Well, cinnamon rolls, as Betty Crocker puts it. When you and Joel were in the Barnes and Noble at the mall picking up books for Jackson’s library, you had stumbled across Betty Crocker’s Cookbook. Flipping through the pages, you found a recipe for cinnamon rolls and thought back to that first time in the mall with Joel, where he explained what a Cinnabon was, and then lied about his sweet tooth. 

There were loads of recipes, many interesting pictures too. You brought the book to Joel and pointed at a picture of some odd, translucent dome-shaped food item. He told you it was called Jell-O, and that no one misses it. You wanted to take the cookbook back with you, but there wasn’t room in the duffel bag. And you couldn’t bear to rip out a single page for one recipe. That would just be cruel.

At the end of the day, you went back to Tommy’s office with Joel. Joel usually walks you home, but he didn’t that day. Said he was running late for game night with Ellie, so he took off quickly. Tommy told you he’d walk you home, though.

As you and Tommy went through some of the books, he heard you sigh disappointedly, “What’s gotcha down, hon?”

“There was this book I wanted, but we didn’t have room.” 

“What book?”

“Cookbook,” you replied, “I wanted to make a recipe for Joel.” 

“Ah,” Tommy murmured, flipping through the pages of an old picture book, “Which recipe?”

“Cinnamon rolls.”

“Oh man,” Tommy groaned. He checked his watch, then looked at you with a light in his eyes. 

“I’ll take you back there right now to get that book.” 

“You’d do that?”, you asked.

“For you, of course. But I got my motives. Ya gotta hook me up with some of those rolls.”

There are few things that make you feel as loved and appreciated as when Tommy’s eating your food, showering you in the sweetest compliments and praises. No problem, you’d gladly share your baking with him. So Tommy took you back to the mall. You led him to the bookstore, picked up your book and went on your merry way. Tommy still hadn’t gotten to check the mall out for himself, though. So he wandered through the same areas you did, through the food court you and Joel picked through all that time ago. At the Cinnabon stand, he tossed you a blue apron with the word ‘Cinnabon’ embroidered at the chest. “Bet ya could make Joel turn bright red with this.”

You picked up what he was putting down immediately. And, thinking about it, you had a lacy thong that would match the apron perfectly. You remembered the blush on Joel’s cheeks as you tried on lingerie at Victoria’s Secret, how he mumbled something about lingerie being a waste of time before fucking you in the dressing room, still wearing your pretty pink chiffon babydoll. You wondered if faced with a big, gooey cinnamon roll sitting in front of him, and you in nothing but an apron and a thong, he’d still lie about that sweet tooth of his and his disdain for lingerie. Cause for an experiment. 

–

In Joel’s kitchen, you prepare the recipe. You prepped the dough last night, giving it plenty of time to rise. All you have to do this morning is prepare the cinnamon-sugar mixture and the icing. Oh, and put on that apron and thong. Not too hard. 

Once the rolls are assembled in the pan, you put them in Joel’s oven and change into your little outfit, feeling a little breeze on your bare ass. Good thing Ellie’s gone. As you’re waiting for the rolls to bake, you lean over Joel’s kitchen table and flip through the pages of your cookbook. The Jell-O still has you perplexed. 

Some time goes by. You’re reading about the Jell-O, how Betty Crocker said that it was great for parties and baby showers and other things like that. The slam of the glass door behind you startles you. You whip around, and there’s Joel with bright red cheeks, looking shocked and horrified. Through the glass door, you see Tommy in Joel’s yard. He waves at you, smiling. You wave back.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel grumbles, quickly pulling the blinds over the glass door to protect your modesty, “You gonna explain why you’re bare assed in my kitchen?”

“I thought you were sleeping,” you reply.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he grumbles, as the egg timer you set prior goes off with a ding. You open the oven and pull out the cinnamon rolls with a pair of potholders, giving Joel a perfect view of your entire ass. “Oh my god,” he groans. When you turn around, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, always so dramatic. You reach for the Pyrex measuring bowl full of icing you prepared and begin drizzling it over the warm cinnamon rolls. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy. You’re somethin’ else, you know that? I never know what–”, Joel stops speaking, and you look back at him once more. He’s intrigued, eyes wide. The pastry has pulled his attention away from your nearly-bare body. “Those uh– those cinnamon rolls?”

“Cinnabons,” you correct him, pointing to the embroidered logo on your chest, “But yeah– cinnamon rolls.”

“Right,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you. He reaches into one of his drawers for a fork and pushes you out of the way. 

“Joel,” you complain as he steals a bite of the cinnamon rolls, right out of the pan. He blows on it first, careful not to burn his tongue. When he tastes the pastry, his eyes flutter shut. He moans softly. “You said once that you missed Cinnabons,” you explain, speaking softly. Joel reaches for another bite, right out of the pan.

“Mhm,” he mumbles, mouth full of dessert.

“What’s the verdict?”

“Cinnabon’s better,” he answers plainly. 

Your face drops. “What?”

“Yeah this–”, he takes another bite, “S’no good at all.”

He’s fucking with you. Probably gonna say something dumb like how you should give him the pan, let him dispose of those no good cinnamon rolls for you. “Dick,” you punch his arm for scaring you like that. He doesn’t mind. 

“You made these for me?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly, “For you.”

“For me,” he repeats, a soft smile on his face. You’re kind of baffled at his mood change, but you know what they say about men and food; the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, all that stuff. He steps closer to you, backing you against the countertop and turning off his oven, still wearing that smile, like he knows something you don’t.

“But I owe Tommy and Ellie one, too,” you continue, voice a little shaky. You’re nervous, why is he making you nervous? Joel sets his fork down and stares at you, lovingly, tenderly. “I made two batches before this, fucked both of those up. And then I ran out of sugar, actually. Tommy had to steal me some more.”

“I love you.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. He says it plainly, no frills. Just out with it. 

“You do?”

“Mhm,” he hums, “I do. Still would like an answer as to why you’re half-naked, though.”

Your face heats up. What were you saying? The cinnamon rolls, right. 

“I was– I don’t know. I had to knead the rolls by hand. The recipe said a stand mixer would be easier, but I didn’t…”, you trail off, feeling a little fuzzy, like you can’t think straight, your train of thought slipping away from you, “Didn’t have one. I love you too, actually.”

“I know,” he replies softly. He never doubted it for a second. Lord, he’s so handsome. His eyes sparkle more than usual, his fluffy curls untamed. The flannel he’s wearing suits him perfectly, and you can’t help but stare, stammering quietly. He reaches for your face with one hand, wrapping the other around your waist and pulling you close to his body, “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Oh, fuck. You squirm out from his hold, away from the counter he held you against. Joel looks absolutely baffled as you smile sheepishly. “Can you grab me a plate for the Cinnabons?”, you ask, “I need to leave one by Ellie’s door.”

“I’d like to kiss you first, if you don’t mind,” he says, walking towards you. You keep walking backwards, around the kitchen table. Joel follows you as you look through his drawers for a spatula, opening and closing cabinets with shaky hands as you try to find a plate. Where are his fucking plates? Joel reaches for your hand to stop you. “Will you let me kiss you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

Joel’s missing something here. Has to be. You love Joel. Joel loves you. That’s been established, just like, two minutes ago. And you’ve been intimate with him many times before. The next logical step in this series of very out of order steps would be to kiss you. Unless…“Are you nervous?”, he asks.

“About what?”, you ask, “Kissing?”

“No, underwater basket weaving. Yes, kissing,” he sighs, “You seem nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” you lie, “I’d just like to be the one to do it first.”

“Oh,” Joel replies, still a little confused, “Yeah, naturally. Makes sense.” He takes you by the hand and leads you to his living room, sits you on the couch and takes his place next to you. “Lay it on me, then.” 

“I can’t just–”

“You can,” he interrupts, coaxing you gently, “Come closer.” You scoot closer, but it’s not enough for Joel. Still wearing nothing but a thong and an apron, he lifts you by your ass and places you on his lap. Joel wears an expectant look on his face as you adjust yourself on his lap, feeling so awkward and out of your element. You’ve kissed people before, this should be no big deal. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous with Joel, especially when you’ve done everything else with him. 

“Joel, I– I don’t know where to put my hands.”

“Right here,” he whispers, placing your hands on his shoulders, “Or here,” he moves your hands to his jaw, his patchy beard prickly under your fingertips. “Wherever you want.”

“I like your shoulders,” you whisper, dropping your hands back to his shoulders. One of your hands slides to the back of his neck, playing with his soft curls. 

“S’good,” he says. And oh, his eyes. Brown and so warm, inviting, so beautiful. 

“Close your eyes,” you demand, intimidated by his stare. “Sorry. Close your eyes,” you repeat, softer. 

“My bad,” Joel replies, his eyes now shut. You’ve never noticed how pretty his lashes are before now. They’re gorgeous, so long. “They’re closed now.”

“Okay,” you breathe. 

“You got it,” he encourages. 

God, this is daunting. You close your eyes, lean forward…and smooch him right on the cheek. There. Easy. 

“Doesn’t count,” Joel murmurs through a smile, eyes still closed. Fuck. You adjust yourself on his lap, lean forward and…nothing. Joel waits. And waits. And waits. 

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” you say, trying to will yourself to just do it.

“Okay, sweetheart. You got it,” he whispers. But you don’t kiss him yet, and Joel keeps waiting, feeling himself beginning to grow hard as you keep squirming on his lap, adjusting yourself some more. “Hon?”

“Yeah?”

“Any minute, now.”

“I know,” you say, “I’m gonna kiss you.” But you adjust again. A minute passes with you on Joel’s lap as he waits patiently for you to finally kiss him. Another minute. And then you lean forward and – nothing. 

“I’m gonna count down from three, and then you’ll kiss me. How about that?”

Yeah, sounds like a plan. 

“Okay,” you reply. 

“Three…two…”, Joel counts, and you prepare once more to kiss him, “One,” Nothing. Joel sighs, “You’re killin’ me here.”

“I was about to do it, Joel.”

“Uh huh.”

“I was,” you argue, “You just keep talking and–”

“Oh, you’re so full of shit. You’re the one doin’ most of the talkin’, like usual.”

“That’s not true,” you argue, but are interrupted when he opens his eyes. That’s not supposed to happen. He wears a mischievous grin as he sits up and his hands begin to slide up your sides. Your already pounding heart begins to beat even harder, faster, because Jesus Christ, he seems like he’s about to kiss you. “What are you doing?”

“Ya got three more seconds to kiss me. Three…”

“Joel, not funny,” you scold as he takes your face in his hands. 

“Two…”

You’re beginning to panic, “Joel–”

And then he fucking kisses you, the bastard! No tongue, just a sweet, gentle peck. It’s despicable. You shove him back on the couch and glare at him, “You kissed me!”

“How awful,” Joel says with mock sympathy before he leans forward and kisses you again. You shove him again, harder.

“You asshole. I was gonna do it.”

“No, you weren’t,” he replies plainly. He tries to kiss you again, but you keep your hands on his shoulders, pinning him to the couch cushion. Joel’s smirking, but you’re scowling.

“Yes, I was.”

“Okay,” Joel laughs, “We can redo it, then.”

You sigh, “No, Joel, we cannot redo it. You already ruined it.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. That’s right.”

“Shit. S’too bad,” Joel feigns a sympathetic pout as he wraps both hands around your wrists that pin his shoulders, removing them from his body. He pushes your hands behind your back, holding them tightly as he kisses you again. And again, this time a little longer. Your lips begin to slide against his, and…god, they’re soft. The bastard.

“You’re ruining–”

“For the love of god, you’re drivin’ me fuckin’ nuts,” Joel mumbles against your lips. 

“I was supposed to–”

“No. You had your turn. We’re doin’ it my way now,” Joel says, “That means,” he kisses you, “M’gonna kiss you,” another kiss, “And fuck you,” another kiss, “As I please, because I love you,” he whispers. He kisses you before he maneuvers you to lay across the couch cushions, now pinning your wrists above your head under just one of his hands “And you can’t do a thing about it. Got it?” 

“I–”

He doesn’t let you argue further. Always so stubborn, you. “Good girl. Yeah, you got it,” Joel kisses you again. It’s different this time. Deeper, hungrier, messier. So much tension, time spent dancing around feelings, and it’s all out there now. His tongue slides past your lips and he tastes like cinnamon and sugar. You’ve been depriving yourself of him for too long. “And after all this, I’m gonna eat some of them cinnabons you made. And I won’t share, either.”

With his free hand, Joel unzips his pants to free his cock. “You know what you do to me, trouble?” he asks, breathing heavily. “Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that squirmin’ ya did instead of kissin’ me,” Joel lifts the bottom of your apron up, exposing yourself to him, already dripping wet as he pulls off your soaked thong. You could have expected the ensemble wouldn’t have lasted long. And how are you already wet? One second you’re arguing about a stupid kiss and the next, he’s got you pinned beneath him and you’re dripping. You gasp as Joel gathers your slick with his fingers before stroking his cock, dipping his head back down to kiss you. He kisses your lips sloppily, then your cheek and down your jaw, your neck, nipping at the skin and soothing the marks with his tongue. It feels hot and passionate, and loving and dirty; all the best things at once. 

“Oh, god,” you moan as he kisses further down your body, still stroking his cock. He pauses momentarily to pull the strap of the apron over your head, then lifting your ass to untie the apron in the back. He pulls the fabric away from you quickly, tossing it on the floor. He kisses your chest, dividing his attention equally between your breasts. Pinching, twisting one nipple, kissing and licking the other, then switching. He leaves them wet with his spit as he kisses down your body, stopping before he reaches your pussy. “Joel,” you whine, “Please– need your mouth on me.”

“Oh, convenient. Now you want my mouth,” he breathes, teasing you.

“Please, I need it, need you,” you beg. 

“Wouldn’t ya know it, I need your mouth too.”

“So? Me first.”

“God, you’re a brat. Nice try,” Joel pulls away from your body, taking off his clothes quickly, “Said we’re doin’ things my way. Tryin’ somethin’ new today. Scoot,” he motions for you to move to the side. “On all fours, now. Come on, up,” you scoot to the side where Joel tells you to, slightly confused as you take the position. Joel takes his place next to you, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you down to his face. “Sit,” he tells you.

“Joel,” you begin to protest. Surely he doesn’t want you to actually sit on his face, right?

“You trust me.” It’s not a question. He knows you trust him, he knows you know he’ll take care of you. Of course he will. His voice is firm, confident, “I need you to sit,” as he pulls your center to his mouth, wasting no time in pressing kisses into your folds, slick and sticky with your growing arousal. Your breasts are pressed against his soft stomach, hands gripping his meaty thighs. Freeing an arm from its place at your hip, Joel wraps his hand around his cock, rock hard with a swollen blushed tip. He uses his other hand to reach for your head, pushing your face towards his member. “Take me in your mouth,” he says. “See? We’re compromising. S’what people in love do.” What an asshole.

Wrapping a hand around his thick cock, you guide his tip to your mouth, pressing wet kisses against the smooth skin. He tastes like he always does, familiar and masculine, salty and sweaty, as you trace over his swollen veins with your tongue. Joel groans against your cunt as he parts your lips, your tongue still painting delicate swirls on his skin. 

“Yeah, attagirl,” he praises in a raspy voice, “Best of both worlds, ain’t it?” Joel laps at your cunt, moaning softly at the way you taste, your arousal almost as sweet and delicious as your cinnamon rolls from earlier. He keeps you held firm against his face as he licks you, alternating between drawing firm lines with the tip of his tongue and fat stripes with his tongue flattened. 

“Mmmm,” you moan, voice muffled by his cock. You’ve got him as deep as you can take him, your nose nudging his balls slightly as you cup them gently in your hand. Joel surprises you when he dips his tongue into your pussy, tasting every bit of your pussy. You stop what you’re doing, the only thing your mind can focus on is the feeling of his tongue working magic inside you.

He swats your hip, “Know it feels good, but it goes both ways, sweetheart.”

“Please, Joel,” you beg. 

“You know the rules,” he says, “You stop, I stop. Keep goin’, you’re suckin’ my cock so good, sweetheart. So good. Always do, you know that?” You begin to bob your head on his cock once more, Joel rewarding you with wet, sloppy, open mouthed kisses against your pussy. It takes everything you have to focus on his pleasure when he attaches his lips to your clit, sucking gently on the sensitive spot and humming against you. It’s not long before that familiar feeling begins to build in your stomach, your first orgasm washing over you. 

You gasp for air, “Oh my god, Joel,” as he works you through your climax. Joel never lets up, not once. He keeps sucking, licking your clit, his facial hair tickling your skin and only adding to the overwhelming sensation. Once more, your peak begins to build. “I’m– fuck, I’m gonna come again.” 

“S’the fuckin’ point, my love,” Joel mumbles quietly, and you can feel his smirk. Despite the rules, you’re not even sucking his cock anymore, your face instead resting on his body, haphazardly stroking his length as pleasure erupts from your core. You’re a moaning mess, pussy dripping and soaking Joel’s face. 

Joel gives you a moment to catch your breath. Underneath you, he places one last kiss right on your clit before he gently slides himself out from your body. You’re hardly coherent as he meets you once more, this time his face inches above yours, caging you in his arms. His cock bounces between your legs and he leans down to kiss you again. His lips are wet and you can taste your arousal on his tongue. “Look at that, I stole another one,” he taunts. 

“You’re a dick,” you breathe against his mouth, your body betraying you as you can’t help the smile that forms on your lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” and in one swift motion, Joel lines himself up with your entrance and pushes into you. He kisses you again, swallowing your gasp as he parts your insides, letting you feel every inch of him. God, he feels good. You’ll never tire of that stretch, that delicious feeling of being completely full of him. 

“Oh, Joel,” you moan. He pulls out slowly, then slides back in at a harsher pace, grunting when he bottoms out inside of you. He takes both of your hands in his own, pinning them above your head as he rocks his hips. It’s tender yet dominant, just how everything is with Joel. Just how you like him. 

“Love this pussy,” he purrs, “An’ I love you so much,” as he fucks you deeply, intensely. You whimper through his thrusts, each stroke fluid and firm and intentional. He knows your body like his own. “Takin’ me so good, sweetheart. You always do.”

You writhe underneath him, relishing in the pleasure he gives you. His name and sweet whisperings of love are all you can speak, each word coming out in soft, broken cries. The wet, sticky noises of your pussy fill the room, along with your moans and Joel’s grunting, groaning, and heaving breaths. You tilt your head to the side, arms still pinned beneath Joel’s hands. You kiss his wrists and bite his skin there gently.

“Come with me, baby,” he coos, adjusting the angle and finding that sweet spot inside you, that spot he knows and loves. He lets go of your arms, one of his big, masculine hands now on your waist, the other thumbing your clit. “Give me one more, sweetheart.”

It’s all it takes. His words send you over the edge, your pussy squeezing him, walls fluttering and pulsing with every thrust of his cock. “Fuck, Joel,” you whimper as he fucks you through your orgasm. You wrap your legs around his body, the heels of your feet bouncing against his ass, simultaneously pulling him into a tight embrace with your now free arms. Everything about this moment with Joel is perfect, the way he smells, his hot skin, how close and safe you feel with him. It sends Joel over the edge, too. With your name on his lips, your cunt gushing and pulsing around his cock, he spills inside you, painting ribbons of himself deep inside you as he helps you ride out your own climax as long as he can. 

He pulls out of you with a soft groan. He cleans you quickly with his t-shirt, a warm smile on his lips. He kisses your forehead, then sits back against the couch, catching his breath. You sit up too, and Joel holds out his arm as an invitation for you to curl into his side. Your head resting on his shoulder, you stare at him. All of his beautiful features, warm brown eyes, his smile lines, his aquiline nose. And then, you do it. You kiss him. Long and deep, passionate. Hours could be passing, you don’t know. 

Joel breaks the kiss. He pulls away from you, no longer smiling warmly. Instead, he wears his teasing grin. “Finally,” he smirks. He holds up his hand for a high five. Fucker. You roll your eyes, lifting yourself off the couch and buttoning Joel’s flannel over yourself. You make your way to the kitchen, finding a plate and placing two cinnamon rolls on them. You reach for an old pencil that sits on the window sill, scribbling ‘Ellie’ on a piece of nearby scratch paper and leaving it next to the plate. A deal is a deal, after all. 

“Don’t leave me hangin’, now,” Joel calls out to you from the living room. You turn around and he’s waving his hand, nagging you about his abandoned high five. 

You flip him off. Asshole. 

[vaaaaaiolet]

Alarm clocks are a little pointless in the Kennedy household, no thanks to your husband's perplexing sleep schedule. What's the rhyme to his reason? Or rather, who?

gn / m, just domestic fluff w/ older married leon of your choice (di leon is personally so husband), pretend i'm funny, animals?? for some reason LMFAO, leon hates sleep

word count: 474 // read on ao3

a/n: tiny drabble for @l1terallylaroxy w/ love <3 yes i was listening to snooze by sza what gave it away. the entire fic? oh okay.

find all my drabbles in my collection: sketches for my sweetheart the drunk!

The dip your mattress developed overnight makes for a better alarm clock than the one sitting on your nightstand. You still check to not hurt its tiny mechanical feelings.

5:30 AM. Leon’s come home.

A roll of your shoulder puts you face to face with your sleeping hill of a husband. You can’t help stifling a laugh at the haphazard way he’d fallen into bed, practically breathing in his pillow as he snoozes away with his stomach pressed to the sheets and an arm slung heavy over your waist. Leon is a staunch back sleeper – you catch earfuls about sleeping on your stomach from him all the time, but here he is, Mr. You-Need-to-Reduce-Pressure-on-Your-Spine, in all his morning glory. He’s lucky he happens to be married to the pinnacle of benevolence.

You simply file away the blackmail for later.

A groan eventually sounds from the mess of blankets Leon’s entangled himself in, something akin to, “Gmmff...mmff, bah.”

Definitely talking in his sleep. You’re half-asleep yourself. Anacondas wrap you closer – no, Leon wraps you closer when he finally blinks awake.

“What’d you say?” you chuckle.

“...said g’morning, baby,” your husband yawns.

Dawn blushes the ivory sheets pink, blooms roses in your cheeks when he presses a kiss to your shoulder mumbling something sweet: “G’back to sleep. Don’t wanna wake you up.”

And then he does something crazy. Leon starts rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and sitting up like he’s getting ready for the day, fully at five in the morning like he didn’t just crash into bed after a graveyard shift at the DSO.

It’s insanity. “You’re waking up already?” you squawk, sitting up with a full eight hours in contrast to his abysmal five. “The sun’s barely up, Leon, you just got home.”

“The alarm’s going to ring in a second anyway. Early bird gets the worm, right?”

Worms be damned, you grouch. You cling to his back, tucking your chin into the side of his neck while he ruffles your hair.

“C’mon, ya koala. I gotta shave,” Leon gripes, too sugary to have any effect.

You pout. “So eager to leave me already?”

“Baby. You’re breaking my heart.” He clutches his chest with a theatrical gasp. “What a thing to say!”

He huffs long and loud, and the anacondas return to snake over your back this time as you try and keep from laughing at the stupidity of it all. You’re in the air before you know it; carried piggyback style to the bathroom as Leon lifts the one burden in his life that isn’t really one in the slightest. You can kick your legs all you want, but he’s not letting go.

Every waking second with you is a blessing he’s not willing to give up. So why would Leon want to hit snooze and miss the moment?

click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[strnilolo]

blanket hog

summary: matt steals the blankets

warnings: cursing, one dirty joke, very short

|navigation|

“hey guys!” nick starts up the vlog for this weeks wednesday vlog and begins to explain what is going on at the moment.

“we didn’t vlog when we got here but.. we’re on day two- we slept here last night” nick made his way upstairs, telling the camera how he was going to sneak into you and matt’s shared room to wake you up for the days adventure.

“morning” you smile from your spot in bed, your body curled underneath you to conceal the little amount of warmth you have.

“i’m so cold”

“what’d you say?” nick turns the camera back on to record your conversation.

“i’m freezing, fucking blanket hog kept me up all night” you bring the sheet up to your chin, curling into matt’s back.

nick laughs out loud, now realizing the lack of blankets on your side of the bed

“this is crazy- the lack of blanket in this area”

“look- go to that side of the bed. look at matt”

you watch as nick walks to matt’s side of the bed.

“yeah no, this is crazy-“ nick cuts himself off with a gasp, seeing the blanket fully on matt and the floor.

“wowwww”

“yeah i woke up fucking freezing” your voice small as you shiver underneath the sheet, teeth chattering.

“matt??” nick grabs the boys attention, making him speak for the first time that morning.

“you wanna know what’s crazy? i’m really hot” the two of you roll your eyes, laughing at the sleep in matt’s voice.

“whatever matt- give me the blanket” you grab the blanket from across matt- finally pulling it onto yourself.

“this is insane. matt do you do this every night?”

“yes!” you loudly shout at the air, pulling the blankets off of you for a brief second.

“ do you think i choose to sleep in sweats or pajama pants every night?” “swear this kid is the worst to sleep with” shaking your head, you cover yourself back up.

“ayo??” chris laughs, poking his head into the door.

“chris. don’t be weird” nick turns the camera between your face and chris’ before turning it off so that the four of you can get started with your day.

| likes, comments, & reblogs always appreciated|

| 🏷️ @bananabread-nana @strniolosworld @mxqdii @abbie13sworld

[luvsupa]

PRINCE GOJO LOVES WHO?!

tags: fem!reader x prince! gojo satoru, childhood enemies to almost lovers to enemies (☹️), NEW MALE CHARACTER!, bully!gojo, gojo gets so jealous, love (ish)-hate relationship, gojos so confusing, ANGST, royalty, arranged marriage, forbidden love, lots of tension, smut-ish (intense kissing + grinding), cheating (guys don’t ever cheat) mdni.

w.c: 2.7k

a/n: sorry for the late update 😥 got lazy 🫣 but thank u guys so much for the support! It means a lot! + likes/ reblogs are very appreciative 💆🏽‍♀️

read part 2 here!

you wake up in an unfamiliar room, the soft mattress beneath you swallowing you deeper as you open your eyes. your body aches, you look under the cover to see the formal gown from last night’s dinner.

oh. the dinner.

your heart sinks as you recall the events. ayana had set you up, and gojo... he had brought you to his room and kissed you.

how could gojo treat me like this for years, kiss me, and then continue to torment me? you shift on the king-sized bed, relieved to find you’re alone.

you wince as you get up, the tight corset beneath your gown causing discomfort. you walk to the balcony, the view similar to yours but from many floors above.

opening the double balcony doors, you step closer to the railing and look down. you recognize your parents and gojo's among the guests. there are a few others, can’t seem to recognize their faces. who could they be? did my father invite them?

“how did you sleep?”

you close your eyes in annoyance, he’s the last person you want to see right now.

“i slept fine,” you say, not turning around to look at him. he can sense your irritation. “i shouldn’t overstay my time here, so i will go back to my room.” you turn around to finally face him. his eyes soften as he sees your puffy eyes from last night.

“no, please stay. i-i don’t mind how long,” he says, his voice with desperation, reaching to grab your hand to reassure you.

“i’m not sure ayana would appreciate me staying in the room she shares with her partner,” you say, hinting at her words from last night. gojo seems taken aback by your words and lets go of your hand, his expression faltering.

“so you think she’d appreciate us kissing?” he retorts, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice.

“i- no. but she is someone you will potentially wed. out of respect for the future princess, we must stop.” with that, gojo’s entire aura shifts. his eyes darken with anger at the mention of marriage. without waiting for his response, you exit the balcony and head towards the front door.

“i explained everything to your parents,” he blurts out, desperation seeping into his tone.

“thank you,” you say softly, a mix of gratitude and sorrow in your voice, as you leave his room.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as you make yourself look more presentable than you did in gojo’s room, you’re too scared to face your family. you don’t know what gojo said to them, but you assume it’s good.

“hi, dear, we have an important meeting you must attend,” you hear your mother's soft voice from your doorway.

“mother, if this is about last night, i will explain—”

“it is not. satoru enlightened us all, it was just a mere childhood feeling,” she reassures as she walks closer to you. “I deeply regret not hearing your side, but the past is behind us. We must discuss more relevant matters. join me in the drawing room when you're ready.”

tears almost fill your eyes as relief washes over you. finally, your family is hearing you out. you nod as she embraces you with a warm hug before exiting the room, giving you more time to prepare yourself.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as you make your way toward the drawing room, your nerves intensify. your mother hadn’t given you any details about the meeting, and the presence of more guards than usual, dressed in different-colored uniforms, only heightens your anxiety.

standing close to the drawing room doors, the guards open them to reveal a room filled with your parents, gojo’s parents, and a few unfamiliar faces you noticed at the balcony. the mothers and other women sit on the couches, while the men stand on the other side, deep in discussion.

abruptly, your mother and the queen stand up, acknowledging your presence. “perfect! dear, we have someone who would like to meet you!” your mother says, her voice brimming with excitement. your nerves spike as an unfamiliar woman calls over someone to meet you.

too nervous to turn around, you hear footsteps approaching behind you.

“hello, my beautiful,” a voice says, making time feel as if it has stopped. you turn around to see a tall, broad-shouldered man with slicked-back blonde hair and a single curled strand. his hazel eyes gaze down at you, and you are in complete shock, struggling to respond.

“i- hi,” you manage to say, shamelessly checking him out. he chuckles at your response.

“i’m kento nanami. i’ve heard a lot about you,” he says smoothly. you’re starstruck by his beauty, still struggling to find words. your mother stands beside you, her hands on your shoulders, urging you to act proper.

“he is also a prince—soon to be king,” your mother whispers in your ear, but nanami definitely hears.

“i hope you don’t see me merely as a king. i’m here to leave the weight of royalty and simply be myself,” he says, as your mother apologizes for her rudeness. if anything, his humility makes you more attracted to him.

“well, we shall leave you two alone to get to know each other on a deeper level,” the queen says, and everyone quickly exits. your mother gives you one last look before leaving, reminding you to be on your best behaviour. for what, though?

“ugh, finally the parents have left. i was getting bored of hearing about royal duties and nonsense,” nanami says, exhaling a long-held breath as you both settle on the couches. his boldness stuns you. he doesn’t want to be bombarded with royal duties... hot.

“i wouldn’t know much about royal duties the way you do, kento. i bet our fathers chatted you into boredom,” you say, trying to lighten the mood with a joke.

“my father? no, that was my mother’s brother. my father passed years ago from an illness.”

great. he hates me.

“oh my—I-I’m so sorry, your majesty. i truly didn’t know,” you quickly say, but he gives you a warm smile, reassuring you that you simply didn’t know.

“i would also hope that you would address me without honorifics. i’d hope for my soon-to-be wife to call me by my first name.”

what?

“sorry what? wife? no offense, but i don’t know you or anything about any marriage!” you say, heart racing, realizing you were kept out of the loop.

“your parents haven’t told you? they’ve been stressing my family for years that you were waiting to meet me,” he says, very confused. you shift your position on the couch, fully facing him.

“i’ve had a few conversations about marriage but nothing about us... i-i mean i’m definitely not ready,” you say, starting to freak out. he notices and holds your hand, his much larger and radiating warmth.

“i may not understand being left out of important conversations—especially regarding your future,” he says, drawing circles on your hand. “if you are not ready to marry, i will use my royal duties and call it off.” his warm smile makes your heart feel whole. maybe he’s the one for you; he’s patient, kind, and handsome.

“kento I—”

“i will not let you marry her!” you hear as the doors burst open.

this cannot be happening.

you and nanami quickly stand up, startled by gojo’s sudden interruption.

“satoru, you cannot be—”

“get your guards and get the hell out of my estate. you are not welcome here—nor are you welcome to marry her!” gojo yells, angrily walking towards you both. nanami looks at you, just as confused as you are by gojo’s crazed state.

“excuse us, kento. i need to have a talk with him,” you say sternly, grabbing gojo’s arm and leading him out of the drawing room.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

after what felt like an eternity dragging gojo to the library, he stubbornly refused to move. finally, you arrive and shut the door behind you, locking it firmly to ensure privacy.

“what the hell is wrong with you? you can’t act like a child and barge in like that!” you say angrily, turning to face him.

“what is wrong with me? how dare you marry someone you don’t even know!” his glare intensifies, his bright blue eyes darkening with rage. “whoever i choose to wed is not your decision—nor shall it be your problem!” you retort, matching his tone.

“it is my problem—especially if you’re making reckless decisions without my presence,” he yells, causing you to scrunch your face in utter confusion. “you’re seriously unbelievable! i can’t believe it,” you say, slowly putting pieces together.

“why are you so against me being married? it shouldn’t matter to—“

“i cannot bear to lose the one person i’m deathly in love with to another man!”

what?

you look at him, wishing he had never said those words. if anything, you wished for him to torment you than confess his love for you.

“that is not fair—it is not fair and you know that,” you say, walking away from him breathing heavily as you go deeper into the library, with him following you.

“i am madly in love with you—since our childhood—“

“satoru, stop. you do not love me. you’ve been making my life a living hell. my stay here—is beyond hell,” you say as you turn and look at him with teary eyes. “the one time i have a chance at life with a loving man and you—you try to ruin it,” you say.

“would he ever love you the depths that i love you?” he questions, and you're taken aback from his words. “love? do you consider ruining my life, my reputation, humiliating me as ‘love’?”

“that was the only way i could block you out of my head—my feelings, my thoughts. i hated the fact your own parents planned to wed you off during our teenage years! i love you so much i pushed you away!” gojo confesses as you watch him pour out his deep feelings.

“so you simply ignored my feelings all those years? all the torment i endured? you only cared about yourself?”

“do you love me?” he says, ignoring what you said. you stammer at your words as he continues to repeat his words, walking closer to you as you slowly walk backwards.

“you were my first love,” you quietly say as you shake your head, your mind all jumbled up. he smiles at your words that he’s been dying to hear. “but you have proved to me over and over that i am not yours. you cannot say you love someone then treat them like shit!” you say as his smile slowly fades.

“i will marry kento and that is the end,” you say. he looks at you angrily.

“is that really what you want? to be with someone who won’t drive you wild like i do? to live a dull life, lacking the connection we have?” he steps closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. 

“you know, i could show you just how much i love you. how every night, it’s your face i see, your name i whisper. just one touch, one kiss, and you’d remember why you were mine first.”

you feel your breath hitch as he leans in, his lips almost dangerously close to yours. “i bet he would never know how to make you tremble with a single look, how to make you ache with a single touch.”

before you can respond, his lips crash against yours in a desperate and passionate hunger. his hands find your waist, pulling you close as the kiss deepens, his mouth relentless and demanding.

lust once again takes over your body, igniting a fire as you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss more. moans escape into each other’s mouths as you both lose yourselves in the moment. his tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you part willingly, tasting the sweetness of desire.

as you two are mindlessly kissing, you stumble backward, gojo’s strong arms steadying you both until you collapse onto a nearby couch. your gown drapes around you, the fabric crumpling as you straddle him, your knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips. his hands remain on your waist, gripping possessively, refusing to release you from his embrace.

heat radiates between you, his body pressed against yours, a desperate ache building in the pit of your stomach. the intensity of the moment fuels your movements, his hands are guiding you as you’re shamelessly grinding on his bulge. feeling him throb beneath you.

moans and gasps escape into each other’s mouths, the air thick with tension and desire. your bodies move together instinctively, as if trying to merge into one. 

you break the kiss, your lips parting from his with a soft, lingering resistance. his darkened eyes plead for more, hunger burning in their depths as he leans in again, his lips brushing against yours in a silent plea. but you resist, causing him to whine and pout at your refusal. what a baby.

“i-i will marry kento,” you say, your voice trembling slightly with the intensity of your emotions. it’s a final decision made in the heat of the moment.

gojo leans his head back with a frustrated groan from hearing another man’s name. he releases his hold on your waist as you rise from his lap, smoothing out your gown to look more presentable. his whine of protest goes unheard as you walk away, the sound of your heels against the wooden floor echoing as you walk away.

the tension hangs heavy in the library as you leave him behind—your heart racing, your mind reeling, and the taste of him lingering on your lips.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

you walk through the grand halls, your footsteps echoing softly as you make your way to the garden, seeking a moment to clear your mind from what happened in the library.

as you step into the garden, you notice two figures standing near a fountain. it’s ayana and nanami. ayana is giggling, her hand rubbing against nanami’s arm as she leans in closer to him. she looks up at him with adoring eyes, her laughter bright and flirtatious.

you stop in your tracks, feeling a jealous at the sight. she always finds a way to ruin something.

nanami notices you walking in and turns to gesture you to join them. ayana looks over to see you and scoffs, wrapping her arm possessively around nanami’s as you approach.

“i see you’ve already met ayana,” you say bitterly, shooting a disdainful glance at her.

“met? oh, kenny! you haven’t told her about us!” ayana fake pouts, her tone dripping with insincerity. you look at them in confusion. “who do you think was his stress reliever, hmm?” she confesses, and a pang of jealousy courses through you.

“i’ve told you many times that whatever happened in the past stays in the past, ayana,” nanami says firmly, removing her arms from around him and creating space between them.

“but of course, that was before i met ruru! we’re now happily in love—expecting to be engaged soon,” ayana chirps cheerfully, her words stoking your anger. little does she know what happened a few minutes ago…

“but poor you, would any man truly desire a future with you?” she taunts, walking closer to you, her hand brushing your cheek. you shove her hand away, infuriated by her audacity.

“i intended to announce our engagement at the gala, but we are also planning our marriage,” nanami declares calmly, causing ayana to whirl around in horror. for once, she is speechless, no vile words escaping her lips.

nothing.

“so instead of belittling my wife and your future queen, i’d advise you to show her the respect she deserves,” nanami says in a low, threatening voice. you’re shocked at his words, feeling his soft touch as he takes your hand to lead you out of the garden. not waiting for one of her snarky response.

turning back, you see tears filling ayana’s eyes as she remains frozen in place. seeing her like this brings a small, satisfied smile to your face. but as nanami guides you back into the castle, you notice gojo rushing out of the library towards ayana, her sobs echoing loudly.

you watch as gojo softly comforts her, his actions mirroring those he once showed you. you start to feel enraged at the sight, but your view is cut off as nanami turns a corner, and they disappear from sight.

why am I feeling this way?

[navybrat817]

Too early, Navy. I want cuddles with Stud.

I understand that feeling, nonnie.

A Bit Longer

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You need to get up, but Bucky wants to hold you for a bit longer. Word Count: Over 1k Warnings: Fluff, pet names, teasing, sugary sweetness, inner monologue, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I really need to stop with the cuddle ficlets, right? Eh. Stud and Smartie, deserve it. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky’s lips were the first thing you felt when you woke up, bringing a smile to your face. They grazed your shoulder as his arm tightened around your waist, keeping your back against his chest. It was a subtle way to say he wasn’t ready for you to leave the confines of your bed. Or maybe he was the one who didn’t want to leave yet.

Not that you blamed him. It was early. Maybe too early. Cuddling for a bit was always a good way to start the day, his embrace warmer than the thickest blanket. Sex also worked as a way to both wear you out and energize you to tackle the day.

Cuddle, hot sex, cuddle again. Wait, what time is it?

“Okay. We need to get up,” you croaked when you finally looked at the clock, trying in vain with a groan to break from his hold when he refused to move his arm or let you up. Any other morning, you’d wiggle back against him to give him a proper wake up call, but that wasn’t today. “I mean it. No time for sexy time. I need to make you breakfast. Feed the cats. You have to work. God, I need to look over my resume again. Work on wedding stuff. I also need to-”

The throaty chuckle beside you stopped your ramblings because how could it not? Why was his laughter so sexy? Why did his mere existence make you stop in your tracks? In what universe was that right or fair?

Actually, it’s fair because I get to marry him.

“First, there’s always time for sexy time. Two, you didn't say ‘good morning’. By the way, good morning,” he teased, turning your body to face him. “And three, hey, look at me. Let’s just stay in bed for another minute.”

Your eyes slipped shut because there would be no resisting if you stared into his. His gaze had a way of pulling you in so deeply some days you feared you'd drown. But if he ever robbed you of your ability to breathe, he’d find a way to give you air.

“Too much to do,” you muttered. You could feel the seconds slipping away and now wasn’t the time to lounge around. “And if I look at you, you’ll turn one minute into two and then three and then four and so on and so forth and such and what have you. I probably wasted a minute just saying that.”

You tried to back up a bit because no way did your breath smell pleasant and Bucky didn’t need that in his face. A hand moved to the back of your head to keep you still. He didn’t have to tell you that he didn’t care about things like morning breath. If he wanted to hold you close, he’d do just that.

No exceptions.

He chuckled again before his lips brushed your eyelids and skimmed down your cheeks. “I just want you to stay here so I can hold you for a bit longer. Is that too much to ask?”

Well, when you put it like that…

You swallowed hard when he kissed the corner of your mouth, your heart skipping a beat. You were certain an embarrassing sort of whimper slipped out when he brought his lips to the other side. He wasn't rushing or demanding anything from you or trying to turn you on. He just wanted to be there with you.

So many believed that intimacy was just sex when it was much more. It was the feeling of being close and emotionally connected. It was familiarity and even friendship. You liked Bucky from the start, but the two of you were able to build a foundation by getting to know each other. It allowed you to bond on many levels, which only grew stronger once you two became a couple.

He showed you once again, without words, that he was your other half.

“I can feel you thinking, Smartie,” he whispered, his lips trailing back to your forehead.

“Just thinking of us, Stud,” you admitted, pressing your body closer to feel his chest against yours. You breathed him into your lungs and wondered if he knew how addictive he was. Savoring the moment, you allowed yourself to stay tangled up in him before you had to face the day.

His hand moving up and down your side nearly lulled you back to sleep. “You thinking about how you drive me crazy?”

What?

“I drive you crazy?!” You asked, realizing your mistake the moment your eyes flew open. A sea of blue stared back at you and you were too late to stop yourself from taking the plunge. Your gaze didn't have to drift down to know that he was wearing a triumphant smirk. “You made me open my eyes.”

“I sure did,” he smiled.

Well played, Stud. Well played.

The things you had to do seemed almost insignificant as you looked at each other. A minute went by as you listened to the beat of his heart and made no attempt to get up. The tips of your fingers brushed along the scruff on his chin as another minute ticked by and you reveled in the sigh he gave you in return.

Is this what living in the moment means?

“Will it always be like this?” You asked.

“Always like what?”

“You wanting to stay in bed with me a bit longer, even if we both have stuff to do.”

With a kiss to the tip of your nose and one against your smiling lips, he smiled back. “Always.”

Logically, you knew every morning couldn't be this way since life wasn't a fairy tale. The romantic part of you though, the one he helped bring to life, believed the two of you would continue to write your story together and make your own rules. If that meant the two of you cuddled in bed for a few more minutes, you’d happily help him write that chapter.

And every chapter after that.

Where do I get a man like this? 🥰 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

The Prince - Chapter Eight

A/N: Hello, friends! I'm afraid today I bring more stress in this chapter. I hope you are all still enjoying the story so far. Thank you for all your comments, likes, and reblogs. Only two more chapters to go!

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 4.3k Synopsis: Jace and the reader return to King's Landing, where for one glimmering moment it seems like all might be well, until an unexpected visitor arrives to shake that hope.

Tag List: Please see comments! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

Previous Chapter

Jace is not in bed when you wake up. For the last three mornings, he has been the first thing you see when you open your eyes. Sitting up in the fluffy bed that the two of you had shared the night before, you glance around his room. It’s colder than normal in here, as well as empty, and the door to the balcony is wide open.

You grab a robe and wrap it around yourself quickly, making for the open doors. Jace stands along the railing, his back to you. He’s dressed, a first in the last few days, but you’re relieved that it’s only in his sleep clothes, not his full riding gear. He doesn’t hear you until you come up behind him, until you're wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Morning,” he says, turning to face you and giving your lips a soft kiss.

“It’s freezing out here, Jace,” you say, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re freezing,” you say, rubbing a hand over his chest. He laughs as he takes that hand, kissing it softly. He keeps his eyes on the horizon, a slight frown on his face.

“What is it?” you ask.

“My mother sent a raven,” he says, his jaw tense.

“Better than a dragon,” you say, and you smile when he does.

“She says I must return.”

“We knew this day was coming,” you say.

“She also asked that you return, too.” He turns to you then, taking your hands in his. He looks you over for a moment, a contemplative look in his eyes. “My first thought was to ignore her summons.”

“Jace,” you say softly.

“But I figured she would send a dragon then. So I thought about you and I getting on Vermax and heading for Pentos.”

“Jace!” you say, eyes wide. He smiles.

“I figured you’d say as much.”

“As much fun as running away with you sounds,” you say, “You belong in King’s Landing. You have a throne waiting for you.”

“What if I don’t want it anymore?” he asks quietly. You frown at him, waiting until his eyes meet yours to kiss him softly.

“I’d say you’re not thinking straight because we’ve been fucking nonstop for the past three days."

“Can you blame me?” he asks, his arm going around your waist.

“No, and I can’t even believe I’m saying it, either, but we have to return to King’s Landing. We have to face whatever fate awaits us.”

“Not right away though,” he says, pulling you flush against him.

“No,” you say with a smile, “Not right away.”

Later that morning, Jace mounts Vermax and flies back to King’s Landing. He hates that you have to part in Dragonstone, that you have to take a ship back. He wishes that he could have just one more moment with you, because as he approaches his home, a strange, paranoid feeling washes over him. He’s always been hopeful for your future, and maybe it just has to do with the fact that so much has changed between the two of you, but he feels that hope slipping.

When he gets to the castle, his first stop is his mother’s chambers. The look she gives him when he walks in is part relief at seeing him, and part disappointment.

“Mother,” he says, stopping just inside of the doorframe, hands behind his back.

“Hello, Jace,” she says, “I trust your flight was well?”

“It was.”

“Good,” she says, giving him a smile that chills him. “Sit down, please.” She motions to the table in her chambers and sits down after him.

“Mother—”

“Just, give me a moment,” she says with a shake of her head. “I want to make sure I understand clearly.

"Baela discovered that there is something between you and Lady Y/N, so she sends Y/N to Dragonstone, so that she could clear things up with you, after which, you follow to Dragonstone and hide out there for three days.”

“That sounds accurate,” he says with a sigh. Rhaenyra raises her eyebrow at him.

“You've insulted Baela," she says. Jace drops his head.

“That was never my intention.”

“Regardless, the insult has landed."

“Where is Baela?” he asks. "I saw Moondancer was gone."

“Driftmark. She should be back in a few days.”

“And have you thought any more about my request?” he asks. Rhaenyra sighs, looking at him blankly.

“You’ve put me in a tough position, Jace. You’ve put Y/N in a worse one.”

“What do you mean?’ he asks with a shake of his head.

“If I grant you leave to marry her, all is well. But you’ve bedded her,” she says, making him blush as he clenches his jaw. “If I deny you, what becomes of her? Of the child she may bare you?” He doesn’t have an answer because he has been denying the reality of the matter to himself.

“Tell me, did you do this to force my hand?” she asks.

“No!” he says quickly, “No. I love her.”

“You have to plead your case with Baela, Jace. But," she says, sighing as she meets his eyes, "If she agrees, you have my blessing."

The trip back to King's Landing took as long as the one to Dragonstone, but it feels infinitely shorter. You had two days to prepare yourself for what you will face when you returned, enough time, you thought, to sort out your own feelings. But the entire time, your head and your heart were fighting over the right path.

As you step off the ship and on to steady ground, you decide to let whatever is coming come. Whether that means getting sent back to the Vale, your reputation getting destroyed, or all your dreams coming true.

Inside the Red Keep, your first thought is to find Jeyne and apologize for leaving so abruptly. It had been so early when you left, you hadn't had time to find her and tell her what was happening.

You take a few more steps into the Keep when someone slips out of the shadows, causing your heart to leap.

“Let’s turn around and go back to Dragonstone,” Jace whispers in your ear, placing a soft hand on your arm. Your racing heart seems to settle to its normal pounding at seeing him.

“We've already discussed what will happen if we do that,” you say with a smile. Jace glances around the large hallway before taking your hand and pulling you into an empty study. The minute the door closes, he pins you to the doorframe, his lips crashing into yours. You laugh into the kiss, a hand on his waist, keeping him close to you.

“Your Highness,” you say, breaking away to catch your breath.

“Don’t start with that,” he says, the smile on his face never leaving.

“I need to get back into character,” you say innocently. He kisses you again.

“I like you just the way you are.”

“We can’t be seen together, you know,” you say. His smile does fall a little then, realizing that you are true to your word. Now that you’ve returned to King’s Landing, you will have to go back to playing your parts.

Simply put, there is no more time for this fairytale.

"I have news," he says.

"Oh?"

"My mother has given her blessing, officially, as long as Baela gives hers first."

"Jace," you say quietly, so stunned you take a step back from him. He smiles, pulling you right back.

"That's good news, right?" he asks.

"It's wonderful news," you say, now breathless.

"Well then look more excited," he says, making you laugh.

"I can't trust this hopeful feeling inside of me," you say, meeting his eyes. He smiles, brushing your hair back behind your ear with a gentle frown.

"I know what you mean."

"Do you think she--"

"I don't know," he say, shaking his head. "I don't know."

"Well," you say, holding his hands. "It is good news. We can be hopeful, but also realistic."

"How do we do that?" he asks with a laugh.

"We keep pretending that nothing has changed," you say. "And wait for the moment that we might actually be able to be ourselves."

“I don’t like this,” he says. You cup his cheek, your thumb brushing softly.

“I don’t either,” you say. You need to break apart, make your way to your separate chambers. “I love you,” you say, watching him look back to you. It’s the best way you can say goodbye right now.

“I love you,” he says. “I’ll see you soon.” You nod and lean in to kiss his soft lips once more.

Once you've settled into your room, greeting Brigitta, who gives you a knowing look, you head for Jeyne's quarters. When she opens the door, the look she gives you, deadpanned with a raise eyebrow, only makes you laugh. Sudden excitement fills you, knowing that she might share in your joy.

“You know, I didn’t come all this way, just for you to flee to Dragonstone for days,” she says, turning from the door, leaving you to follow her into the room.

“I didn’t flee, I was sent.”

“Within reason, I think,” Jeyne says, turning to face you. “If my fiancé was seeing someone behind my back—”

“Jeyne.” She studies your face, the look on it.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Rhaenyra has officially given her blessing. As long as Baela agrees, Jace and I can be together.”

"She has?" she asks, taking your hand.

"Yes," you say with a smile.

"Oh Y/N, that's wonderful. But will Baela agree?" she asks. Your smile falls a little then.

"I don't know. Jace doesn't either."

"She left the same day he did, you know," Jeyne says, guiding you into her room, sitting down next to you. "Rhaena thought she might be heading to meet the two of you in Dragonstone." You take in a breath, realizing how lucky it was that she didn't, that you got to have those few days alone with Jace.

"Should the fact that she didn't make me hopeful or not?"

"I don't know her that well," she says. "Rhaena does seem to be cooling off a little, though."

"Good," you say, setting your jaw.

"It's okay, you know," she says, leaning forward until you meet her eyes. "It's okay that you tried to find your happiness with Jace. Even if it doesn't work out in the end, you had this time together. It matters." You don't have the words, so you just give her a smile, fighting off the tears and nerves that build inside of you.

"So," she says, changing the subject to lighter matters, "Tell me how it was."

You don't see Jace the rest of that day. Jeyne invites you back to her quarters for a private dinner, and on your return to your quarters, you wonder if he might be waiting. If you might pick up old habits.

But when you approach your door, he is not there. You try to hide your disappointment as you settle in for the night. Brigitta goes about laying out your nightwear, and you are just about to change when a knock comes from the door.

You answer it, foolishly hoping its Jace, but instead find a member of the Kingsguard waiting.

"Lady Y/L/N, your presence is requested in the throne room immediately."

"Oh. Yes. Very well," you say, anxiety creeping in. This is to be the moment then, when you find out what your future will hold.

As you walk down to the throne room, your heart thuds. Jeyne appears at the opposite end of the hallway. She has a soft smile on her lips, too, but there is the same uncertainty there, too.

When you walk into the throne you, when you spot the Iron Throne, you aren’t sure you’re breathing, not sure what you’re seeing fully, until Jeyne stops in her steps, gasping quietly.

Standing in front of the throne is Barun Blacktyde, your former fiancé.

The world blurs around you, fading into the distance. Ringing fills your ears. Sweat builds at your brow. All you can see is Barun, his tall figure, corded with muscles, and the cruelest expression on his face.

“Hello, Y/N,” Barun says, meeting your gaze, a wicked smile on his face.

“Lo-Lord Blacktyde,” you say, your feet stuck to the floor. Jeyne doesn’t move any further, but her hand brushes yours, a gentle, quiet reminder that she’s here. The gesture is sweet, but useless. She had been there when the arrangement was made in the first place, and couldn’t do anything to keep you from him.

“Thank you for joining us, Lady Arryn, Y/N,” Rhaenyra says. Her tone is firm, and you break your gaze from Barun to look at her. She sits upon the Iron Throne, a strained, tight-lipped expression on her face. It is only when you look towards her that you realize Jace is at her side, his hand gripping the pommel of his sword, his face pale.

“Perhaps the two of you can shed a little light on this situation,” Rhaenyra continues. Jeyne takes your hand fully in hers, stepping forward twice, just enough to recognize her queen, but still stay far from Barun.

“Apologies, Your Grace,” Jeyne says, “But we are as confused as you are. It has been years since either of us have seen the Lord Blacktyde.”

“I’ve come to collect what was promised to me,” Barun says, his voice harsh, as if this is an argument he has repeated to Rhaenyra already.

“Who was promised to you,” Rhaenyra says, her voice tight, “Lord Blacktyde claims that he is betrothed to Y/N,” she says, turning to the two of you. If it wasn’t for Jeyne’s grip on your hand, you might have run, might have fainted, so scared are you in that moment.

“That was years ago,” Jeyne says immediately, watching Barun as he paces the room, eyeing the two of you, a predator stalking his prey. “And the betrothal fell through when Lord Blacktyde married another.”

“Lady Blacktyde died two months back,” Barun replies, startling you at how close he has gotten. He still stays a step away, constantly moving, but his focus is solely on you. You won’t quiver before him, and keep your eyes ahead, keep them on Rhaenyra. If you look to Jace, you know you will break.

“My condolences for your loss, Lord Blacktyde. But if what Lady Arryn says is true—”

“Y/N is unmarried, is she not?” he asks, and this time he is closer, just a step from you. The smell of sea salt and sweat cling to him. You straighten, hoping to move inconspicuously away from him.

Rhaenyra glances at Jace before answering, “Not presently, no.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that deal is void,” Jeyne says, dropping your hand to move closer to Barun, seamlessly pushing you behind her. “You broke it when you married Lady Blacktyde.”

“Is the Vale so eager to lose allies?” Barun asks lowly. Jeyne smiles, devoid of any joy.

“Are you threatening me, My Lord?” Jeyne asks.

“I only mean that the deal was brokered to forge an alliance with our two great houses. That something should change that—”

“You changed it already when you married,” you say, turning to look at him. Fear still resides within you, but so does a growing anger. He seems to have an equal look of displeasure on his face.

“So, she does speak,” he says, sizing you up.

“Our agreement has ended,” you say, “If you wish for it to be reinstated, I suggest you plea your case to my cousin, instead of coming in and demanding that which does not belong to you.”

“You dare tell me—”

“An excellent idea, Y/N,” Rhaenyra says, standing from the throne. “Lord Blacktyde, you've come into my home uninvited, I suggest you rethink your style. I shall offer you boarding here until an agreement can be made between you and House Arryn.” She looks over at you with a withering stare.

“I’m sure the pair of you have plenty to do,” she says. Words fail you, but Lady Arryn steps up, understanding the queen’s signal.

“We do, Your Majesty.”

“Off you go, then.”

Jeyne doesn’t waste a moment. Before even the guards have stepped up to guide Barun to his rooms, she grabs your arm. As she drags you out of the throne room, you look towards Jace. His face is ashen, his head hung low.

“Come on,” Jeyne says, pulling you after her. Neither of you say anything on the march back to her chambers. When she closes the doors behind you, she locks it tightly.

“Jeyne,” you say, breathless, “How did he know I was here?”

“I don’t know. Spies in the Vale?” she muses. There is fear on her face, which only makes the fear inside of you grow. So many thoughts fill your head, but nothing you can make sense of. A plan to escape rattles around. What Barun might take instead of you. But mostly, you think of Jace and the look on his face when he realized what was happening.

“Jeyne,” you begin, your tears from before wallowing up. She is by your side in a moment, her hands on your arms. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

“I don’t know,” she says, “I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out together. I promise you.” You nod, not fully believing her.

Jace decides to stop fighting sleep when the sun is visible from the window in his room. He rolls over with a groan as his maids enter. They curtsy to him, but even the task of nodding his head is too much for him.

“How did you sleep, Your Highness?” Cecelia asks. She has been his maid since he was a boy, and the way she is looking at him now, Jace knows she could see right through him.

“I’ve had better nights,” he says, sitting up, propping his arms on his knees.

“That seems to be the common theme around here today,” she mutters as she sets out his breakfast.

“What do you mean?” he asks. She only glances at him, but that look is confirmation enough. “How is Y/N?”

“I haven’t seen her,” she says, nodding to the other maid to dismiss her. Once she’s out the door, she continues, “But her lady’s maid was up all night, because Lady Arryn had a fitful night. Says she kept waking up, screaming.”

“I need to see her,” he says, throwing back his sheets.

“The Queen has asked that the two of you remain separated,” she says. Jace barely hears her as he tugs on a shirt and pulls on a pair of pants, whatever is close by.

“Cecelia, please,” he says, eyes wide.

“The guards will stop you,” she says. “But . . .”

“But?” he asks, stepping closer to her. The older woman looks up at him with a sad smile.

“There’s a servant’s entrance that can get you into her room. It’s a long path—”

“I don’t care,” he says. “Show me.”

The walls of the servant’s hallway are dark, and are nearly too tight for him to walk through, let alone two people at a time. His mind isn’t on the spider webs, or the dank smell of the halls. He just needs to get to you. He thinks about the night he had, the lack of sleep, and knowing that it was worse for you makes him sick.

When he finally reaches the door to your quarters, he takes a breath. It’s been nearly ten minutes since he left his chambers. The entire walk over he thought he knew what he was going to say, but here at your doorstep, he’s at a loss.

The light of the room is jarring in retrospect to the dark hallway he leaves. When he walks in, he hears soft chatter, and he spots you almost immediately.

You are still in your dressing gown, your hair flowing down your back, in tangled curls. Your back is turned to him, but when he closes the door behind him, you turn. Your eyes go wide.

“Your Highness,” you say.

“Really? We’re going back to—” he stops when he sees you nod towards the corner of the room. Lady Arryn stands from the breakfast table and makes her way towards him. She curtsies and Jace nods his head politely.

“What a lovely surprise, Your Highness,” Jeyne says.

“Lady Arryn, I need to have a word with Y/N, if you wouldn’t mind,” he says. She studies him for a long moment but then nods her head.

“I’ll be right outside the door,” she says, glancing at you before leaving the room. When the door closes, you turn towards him.

“Jace, I know you must be furious with me,” you say, “And you’ve got every right to be, I—"

“I’m not angry, Y/N,” he says, moving closer to you. “I’m confused as hell, but mostly I'm worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say gently.

“Don’t be sorry, just tell me what’s going on.”

“There is nothing going on between Lord Blacktyde and I. There never was.”

“He made it seem otherwise,” he says, bracing a hand on the back of a chair. You watch him for a long moment, and he can see you fighting with yourself, deciding whether you’ll tell him the full story. “Y/N, just tell me the truth.”

“Fine,” you say, running a hand through your hair. “Fine.” You take a seat at the table, nodding for him to do the same. He does, his pulse racing as he waits for you to tell him.

“When you came to the Eyrie all those years ago, asking for our help, what were Jeyne’s terms of agreement?” you ask. Jace’s brow furrows.

“A dragon to guard the Vale.”

“And what else?”

“That when the war was over, you would be allowed access to live within King’s Landing, as the Queen’s ward,” he says with a sigh.

“There was a deeper reason behind that. Before you came to the Vale, Lord Royce had arranged a betrothal for me, to Lord Blacktyde. Since my father’s death, we had been scrambling to find our footing, and he accepted the first worthwhile offer for me.

“What neither of us knew, was the kind of man Barun was. Is,” you say. “He’s got wandering hands, a fierce temper, and I was terrified of him.” Jace’s heart breaks at your words, and he reaches for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“We didn’t see a way out until you came. Jeyne took the opportunity, and," you say, taking a breath, "You saved me. Those long years during the war, I wasn’t afraid because I knew I had an escape. Jeyne told Barun that she wanted me to go to King’s Landing, to become a more well-rounded woman. He got sick of waiting and eventually married someone from the Iron Islands. Our engagement was called off, because of you.” He is silent for a long moment, sitting with the gravity of your words.

“When I heard the news, I was so relieved. But still, in the back of my mind, there was a fear. What if he ever came back? What if something happened to his wife? I waited five years to come here, not knowing when he would appear again, demanding that the engagement be reinstated."

“And now he is back,” he says. Jace is sick and he’s angry, but most of all, he just wants to take you in his arms and hold you. He can see the lack of sleep in you. The dark circles under your eyes, how devoid of energy you are.

“Now, more than ever we need to ensure our marriage," he says firmly.

“Jace,” you say, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. “I am not sure we have that choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a time, during our initial engagement, where I tried to break it off with Barun, and in response, he threatened to bring war to the Vale,” you say.

“We’ll stop him. Can he stand up against our army? Against Vermax?”

“I would not send you into another war,” you say quietly. “And The Vale’s reinforcements are already so depleted.”

“So you mean to give in to his bargaining?” he asks.

“I don’t know what I mean to do,” you say with a shake of your head, “I’ve thought about it all night long.”

“He can’t hurt you here, Y/N,” he says, taking your hand. You look at him with sad eyes.

“He is possessive. Cruel. If he ever found out about us, about what we’ve done,” you say quietly. “I am dead.”

“Y/N.”

“He wants me as a trophy. Wants me to have children for him, he wants to use me. That is the future that awaits me. Now you see why I was trying so hard to find a suitor, I was trying to ensure that by the time he came looking, I was already gone.”

“Why can’t you see that you’ve found your suitor?" he says gently, "I will protect you.”

“We don’t even know if that’s a possibility, Jace.”

“We do know. My mother has given us her blessing, we--"

“And what will she think now?" you ask, "After what she's seen today? What kind of a queen would I make?”

“I won’t allow this to happen," he says, setting his jaw, stepping closer to you. "He's not going to just take you away from me."

“Jace,” you say with a frown, “Depending on what your mother says, what kind of deal Jeyne can make—"

“There’s always a chance,” he says, cupping your cheek. “I love you. Don’t you love me, still?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then we will figure this out, like we always have.”