#that’s no man’s land if you ask me tbh

[psychoticwillgraham]

me: ‘Missouri’s got hellhounds’

them: ‘what?’

me:

[arundolyn]

hot(?) guilty gear take:

danger time is fun and not nearly as bad a mechanic as some people like to claim. they're just salty when they lose to it

[thewritingpossum]

sometimes people on rate my professors are just wrong

[fioiswriting]

Muña | one shot

Summary : Marrying your bastard nephew to mend fences between your families wasn't exactly what you had planned. But when you realise that Jace has grown into a strong and handsome man, you might be ready to rethink your plans.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x Aunt!Reader (Reader is Alicent and Visery’s daughter. She’s one year younger than Aegon)

TW : p in v sex, mommy kink, sub!Jace (kinda), Dom!Reader (but they both switch tbh), inappropriate use of the word muña, oral (f receiving), afab reader, incest, unprotected sex, not proofread

Words count : 8064

AN : hi everyone!! I’ve been very busy lately so I haven't had time to update BUT I’ve been working a bit on various fics. Sorry to all my Aemond girlies but today it’s time for some Jace x reader. It’s a fic I’ve written for my gf who’s turning into a Jace girlie 🤭 It's full of indecency and inappropriate things.

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !! 

Enjoy 🖤

The gardens had become your refuge over the past few days. Under the shade of the trees, on the soft grass, you had found a peaceful haven away from the excitement caused by the arrival of your half-sister and her herd of bastards. The Red Keep made you feel suffocated. And seeing your mother pacing back and forth, running left and right, didn't help. You had to calm her down. You had to keep an eye on your older brother, making sure he didn't slip away into the maze of Flea Bottom for the umpteenth time. You had to hold your family together, and you were tired. 

You almost envied Daeron, in Old Town, away from the hustle and bustle of the court.

At least no one would think of looking for you where you were now. And you could enjoy a moment's respite, poring over the thick book you had borrowed from Aemond's library. Had he known that you had entered his room without warning, had he known that you had dared to disturb the perfect tidiness of his precious bookshelves, he would probably have threatened to feed you to Vhagar. But what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Besides, you could perhaps find a way to pay him back later. 

For now, you just needed to be left alone.

You stretched out, arms reaching for the sky. The sun's rays crept through the leaves, their warmth leaving a pleasant sensation on your face. Summer was back and you were delighted. The gentle breeze that ruffled the corners of your book and occasionally lifted the silver curls around your face gave you a sense of freedom. You deftly kicked off your shoes and lay back for a moment, your eyes closed.

Footsteps echoed on the cobbled floor, and you sighed in annoyance. You didn't have to open your eyes to see who it was. You recognised his footsteps. So, you kept your eyes closed. With any luck, he would continue his way and leave you alone to find someone else to annoy.

"Hey, my favourite little sister," Aegon exclaimed as he landed heavily beside you, his body brushing against yours. You opened one eye to acknowledge him, then closed it again, your arms crossed behind your head. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" he insisted when he saw you weren't answering him. "You know, make sure I don't run off or end up drunk somewhere…Stuff like that. Which our mother probably asked you to do."

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was true that Aegon was terribly annoying. But of all your siblings, Aegon was still your favourite.

You resigned yourself to rolling onto your stomach, your chin resting on your hands and your head tilted sideways to face him.  "My dear brother," you replied sarcastically. "Unable to occupy yourself, as usual."  He rolled his eyes before reaching out to remove a leaf that had gotten caught in your hair. He subtly ran his fingers through one of your curls, his touch as light as a feather. "And why have you decided to come and disturb my moment of peace, tell me?"

He blew the leaf away and you watched as it flew away on the breeze. Your big brother's eyes shone with mischief. "Why would I need a specific reason to spend time with my favourite sister?" he added, and it was your turn to roll your eyes. He moved to lie next to you, his body practically pressed against yours. 

If you moved a few centimetres, your elbows would touch his. 

You'd always been inseparable, and the habit had stuck over time, even when the teenage years had driven you apart. But in those moments, you were like two children again, ready to run away from Septa lessons to get into mischief in the castle.

“Because you always have a reason for everything,” you replied, and he looked at you with a fake hurt look that was greatly exaggerated. With Aegon it was easy. It had always been easy.  He wasn't as serious as Aemond, he wasn't as strange as Helena, and he wasn't as far away as Daeron.

"I just wanted to make sure my little sister was all ready to meet her betrothed tonight." He paused. "And also, that she hadn't suddenly decided to become a pious woman and follow the path of the Seven." His voice lowered. You poked him in the ribs. "See? I'm a caring big brother. I care about you."

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied. He laughed. Then he rolled onto his back, arms crossed behind his head, one leg bent, and he closed his eyes. The golden rays caught in his long lashes made him look like an angel. 

Everything he wasn't. 

'Well?' He added. “Excited to see Jacaerys Strong?”

You sat cross-legged. The bracelets on your wrists clinkled. Aegon knew how much the idea horrified you. You had no desire to marry Jace, to sacrifice your freedom for your half-sister's bastard eldest son. You had no desire to leave the Red Keep, to follow him to Dragonstone and spend your life bearing him children. It was your mother and Rhaenyra's idea, of course.

The union of the eldest daughter of one and the eldest son of the other, as a way of repairing the rift that has grown between your families over time. 

As if you were destined to mend fences, to undo the mistakes of your own parents.

It wasn't that you hated Jace. But he was your older sister's son, a bastard who had pretensions he shouldn't have precisely because he was a bastard. He was the model son, the perfect son, the prodigy son, the one who always did everything right. It irritated you. He irritated you with his brown curls and his awkward posture.

 It wasn't fair that your father showered him with praise when he could barely remember your own name.

You stood up, smoothing the folds of your red dress to make yourself more presentable, and you caught your brother's eyes on your body, his eyes riveted on the thin fabric that revealed your delicate shapes. God, you loved to play with that. You knew how to get men wrapped around your finger with your sweet, innocent air, and Aegon was the first victim. You approached him and held out your arm to help him up, which he accepted by pulling himself to his feet heavily. After putting your shoes back on, you bent down to pick up the thick book in your arms. If you lost it, you could be sure that Aemond would be angry with you. And that was a risk you didn't want to take.

 "Perhaps you're right, lēkia. I'd better go and make myself more presentable for my betrothed. I wouldn't wish to disgrace our family." And with that you turned back, your hair swirling in the air behind you as Aegon watched you go with a small smile on his face. 

You knew how much Aegon hated being ignored, and even more so when it came from his little sister. You knew that he would return with his tail between his legs and a pleading look on his face. Between his constant whining and his dirty jokes, he gave you little respite, but it was a game that had developed between you; a game that, deep down, you enjoyed.

He was so predictable. 

“If I had known you liked strong men, I would have dyed my hair,” you heard him shout from behind you. Aegon wasn't the least bit shy. You shook your head, your silver locks bouncing.

"Get lost, you moron," you replied without even turning around.

The meal in honour of your betrothal promised to be exciting.

*** 

As soon as he saw you, your nephew rose to pull the chair beside him in a gallant gesture, and you found yourself watching him. Really watching him. His long, broad fingers on the back of the chair. His dark locks falling around his face. His precise features; his straight nose and deep eyes and square jaw. You hadn't realised how much your nephew had changed. He'd grown up too, and he was now a good head taller than you. 

He had become a strong man, indeed.

But you refused to admit that Jacaerys Strong had become quite pleasant to look at.

"Princess," he said, pushing the chair back for you to sit down. Fingers brushed the skin of your partly bare shoulders. The touch had lasted a fraction of a second, enough to make you wonder if it had been a figment of your imagination. 

"Lord Strong," you replied in greeting. If the words hurt him, Jace didn't show it. Always the perfect son. What would it take to push him over the edge? To crack the shell he'd built around himself? To shatter the image of the gentleman?

To your right, Aegon was already seated. He was holding a glass of wine between his fingers while Aemond seemed to be lecturing him about something you couldn't understand. The exchange between you and Jace had obviously not escaped his notice, and the corner of his mouth had already curled into a smirk. You knew what it meant. 

His silence was full of implications, louder than any words. 

Your mother had lectured him before dinner, warned him to behave because that was what was expected of him, and she was counting on you to make him obey. 

But your older brother didn't say anything. He simply raised his glass in your direction, his lips forming a word that you couldn't read. You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed.

You looked at your nephew. He had donned a gambison in the colours of the Velaryons, and you couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation. 

After all, a bastard in blue was still a bastard.

"Enjoying King's Landing?" you asked your betrothed, in an attempt to start a conversation. His attention turned to you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. 

“It's quite different from what I remember,” he replied, his voice a little lower than usual, his warm eyes meeting yours. “But of course it all depends on the company you are with."

You hesitated, suddenly unsure.

You hated what the sound of his voice did to you. You hated the way his eyes suddenly made you feel vulnerable. 

Fuck.

“It all depends on the company, indeed. And do you find yourself in good company tonight, nephew?" You gave him a defiant look, as if to judge his reaction. 

As if to unveil what he held within himself. 

“I'm not quite sure. Should I?” He paused, one eyebrow raised. He had taken the bait. “What would yousay?”

His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't the malice you usually found in Aegon's eyes when he wanted to tease you. It wasn't the gleam that animated his mind when he came up with a new plan for you to cover. 

"I would say I'm in pretty strong company," you replied as you took your cup, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips that you hid behind the glass. 

You were cruel, giving him no respite, you knew. But you admired his composure. He hadn't cracked yet. 

You knew men who were less patient.

Jace leaned towards you. A slight tilt of the head, just to make sure you were the only one to hear him. As if he wanted to share a secret with you. “Careful, Aunt,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter than before. It was almost a whisper. “I might begin to think you enjoy my company.”

You know I don't, you wanted to reply, but Jace had already straightened up as if nothing had happened, his head turned away from you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Baela give him a questioning look, and an unfamiliar sensation stirred in the pit of your stomach. 

An unpleasant heat. 

A hint of irritation.

You were annoyed, and you didn't know why.

“Look how handsome your betrothed has made himself for you,” Aegon sneered as he reached for the decanter and leaned in close to your ear. “A true Velaryon, isn't he?” He huffed.

You wanted to slap him on the thigh, make him swallow his mockery. 

“If you think he's so handsome, I can happily leave him to you,” you replied, and Aegon's eyes widened. You saw him take a sip of wine, and something deep inside you told you he probably wasn't opposed to the idea. His usual mischievous smile was hidden behind the wine glass, but there was no mistaking his eyes.

Aegon had that tendency to give himself away, and you could read him like an open book.

The meal proved to be as boring as you had imagined. Small talk exchanged over fake smiles. An illusory moment in which everything seemed to be going well for one evening.

You weren't fooled, and you knew it was all a facade. You knew your family well enough to understand that the slightest spark could set things alight. You knew your brothers well enough to realise that all it would take was a simple glance between them to liven up an evening they found dull.

You just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble tonight.

To your left, Jace was still deep in conversation with Baela. They had that kind of complicity that made your blood boil inside; a shared laugh that sounded in your ear like the squeaky music you hated. You frowned. It was you, his betrothed. It was you, not Baela, and you didn't understand why that statement was suddenly so important. 

After all, you despised this union. You hated Jace. You had no desire to promise him the rest of your life.

Jace was a bastard, and you deserved better.

So why did the sight of him touching Baela's hand cause a twinge of jealousy in your body?

His fingers brushed over hers absently. A light touch on her knuckles. 

And all you felt was fire.

And then. Then, your fingers slipped under the wooden table. 

You knew you were playing with fire. And you knew that if anyone paid too much attention to what you were doing, they would see that you weren't exactly behaving like the perfect Princess Targaryen you were supposed to be.

But you didn't care.

You let your fingers wander, running along the outside of Jace's thigh before moving up to settle in the hollow that connected his thigh to his hip. With a faint touch, your fingertips brushed the inside of his thigh, and then lower, tracing small circles through the fabric that was already beginning to tighten. 

Jace almost choked. 

He spat out the contents of his glass, his dark gaze fixed on you. Everyone had fallen silent, their heads turned towards him. Rhaenyra's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

And you hadn't removed your hand. 

An innocent smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You wondered if Aegon could read you. If he could see that look on your face, so similar to his own. That distinctive feature you shared. 

Deciding to play with your prey a little longer, you put on your best fake concerned face, pretending to be worried about his health.

"Are you all right, Jacaerys?" you asked, your voice a little higher than usual as your nails dug into the fabric of his breeches. Not to hurt him, of course. Just enough to wake a certain part of him, just enough to remind him that you were his betrothed.

He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I swallowed wrong,” he replied. 

Your fingers crept a little higher, trying to explore his upper thigh, where you knew your nephew would be sensitive. You didn't want to be rational tonight, you wanted to let the fire take over and consume you. 

You wanted to let the sleeping dragon within you awaken.

The taste of the forbidden was divine, and the heat spreading through your lower belly was too delicious to stop now.

"Be careful, mandianna. We're not married yet." you said.  We're not married yet and look where I've got my fingers. You kept your thoughts to yourself. "I wouldn't want to find myself a widow already," you replied in High Valyrian, amused, and Jace looked at you with his big brown eyes, somewhere between anger and excitement, embarrassment and curiosity. 

Under the table, out of sight, your hand brushed the stretched fabric where you could read the confirmation of what he was feeling, the manifestation of his desire.

He was hard.

Perfect.

It was you who provoked this. 

He responded to your touch.

You felt a familiar breath on the back of your neck and realised Aegon was leaning against you again. He was pretending to serve you some of the vegetables that had just been brought in for the starter, taking the opportunity to whisper in your ear as he did so well. "Try to be more discreet, little sister," he chuckled softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper to make sure no one heard you. Discreetly, he nodded to where your hand still rested on your nephew's thigh. He tilted his head. "Rhaenyra is right in front of us. Do you think she can see what you're doing to her son under the table?"

He put on his best disinterested face. As if the words exchanged between you were nothing more than banalities. 

As if he weren't commenting on the indecent deeds you were doing under the table, unworthy of a girl of your rank.

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. You didn't want him drawing any more of your family's attention to you, especially when you hadn't finished playing.

Your big brother gave you a knowing wink, as if to promise you that your secret was safe with him.

And you decided to continue entertaining yourself with the new game you'd invented.

You were bold, and you decided that if Jace didn't already know it, he would find out soon enough.

*** 

It wasn't that Jace was disappointed with his betrothal. You were divine, and the dress you wore made you so regal that he couldn't keep his attention anywhere but on your body, on your cleavage so gracefully offered to his gaze.

It was precisely why he had turned to Baela, why he had tried to distract himself with their conversation, why he had desperately tried to find something else to hold on to.

Because you were making him lose his footing. And that was a feeling he hated.

No, Jace did not regret his betrothal. You were everything a man could want; you were beautiful, you were regal, you were clever, and above all, you were a Targaryen. A princess. The king's daughter.

The only problem was you were distant and elusive.

Jace remembered your pretensions and mockeries from his childhood. He remembered the little brat you were, following in your older brother's footsteps. He remembered a little girl with a strong temper, who knew what she wanted. He remembered the pranks, not just the ones he'd taken part in, like the Pink Dread, but the ones that had turned against him because of you and Aegon, too.

It was clear that the little girl you had once been, taller than him, with long silver curls and an air of self-assurance far too confident for her young age, had grown into a beautiful young woman. 

And that was something Jace hadn't considered.

He couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Baela, not when your fingers were digging through the linen of his breeches into the flesh of his thigh, as if to remind him to whom he had been promised.  

Your fingers, slender, light, burning against his inner thigh. 

He clenched his jaw.

All around him, the words and faces of the guests mingled in a swirl of sound and colour. Fuck.

Fuck.

His breeches were really becoming too tight.

You'd dared to do that. You'd dared to slip your fingers under the table, in front of everyone, and Jace didn't know whether to admire your audacity or wrap his fingers around your wrist and force you to take them off. 

Suddenly he felt hot, a familiar warmth spreading between his loins. 

He wasn't sure he could get up, not with his member pulsing between his thighs. 

Fuck. You weren't supposed to make him feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel such a desire for you when you weren't officially married.

This dinner was about officially declaring your betrothal, not consummating a union not yet pronounced.

He was trying to calm down. He tried to ground himself back into reality. Perhaps by staring intently at the contents of his plate he could ignore the sensation of your fingers rising dangerously high; the desperate need to finally have your fingers wrapped around his manhood.

His knees slammed into the table in a sudden movement.

Your fingers had just brushed the bulge that had formed between his thighs. 

And he needed more, infinitely more.

You couldn't have the cruelty to arouse such lust in him and then leave him like that. He would never forgive you.

"Stop that," he growled in your direction, low enough for no one else to hear. 

But you still had that damn innocent smile, that damn audacity to act as if nothing had happened. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, mandianna." Nephew. The sound of the High Valyrian rolling off your tongue sent a wave of heat between his legs. Seven hells, you were going to be the death of him. 

He wanted more. 

He needed more. 

More of your fingers around him, more of your tongue against his length, more of that innocent look on your face as you knelt before him, more of your tight cunt.

Jace was on the verge of losing it. You'd made him a slave to his own desire. You had closed your claws around him and he knew there was no turning back now.

“If you play with fire too much, you might get burned, muña," Jace retorted, leaning towards you, and he felt the imperceptible movement of your hand twitching at the threat. Aunt.

Despite his dwindling strength, King Viserys tried to make a speech about family, betrothal, and a whole host of other undoubtedly honourable values, but neither you nor Jace paid any attention. You were caught up in your own game.

Then Jace stood up, forcing you to remove your hand. 

You could see he was uncomfortable, for you knew where to look, for you knew what you had done. 

You knew he had a painful erection between his thighs, and it was all because of you.

But you could only admire your nephew's composure. 

“To my uncles, Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. I have fond memories of our shared childhood.” His glass between his fingers, he raised it in the direction of his uncles, then turned to you. "And to my sweet and beautiful bride-to-be, who I'm sure will never cease to surprise me with her daring and surprising side. May our marriage be filled with joy and satisfaction".

The toasts continued, as did the meal. The servants had brought the rest of the dishes consisting of steaming meat and tasty garnishes. It was almost too joyous, almost too happy to be real. As if there was a threat lurking somewhere in the corner.

But Jace still had to teach you a lesson.

The music started, the sound of instruments filling the room. Jace apologised to Baela and walked over to his aunt. His other aunt. Your sister. 

And you felt the anger return; the same inner turmoil as before. 

Jace had held out his hand to Helaena and led her to dance a little further away. You immediately exchanged a questioning look with your brother, who had also stared at Jace in disbelief as he had walked away on your little sister's arm.

"So?" Aegon began. "It seems your betrothed didn't appreciate your little game?" You glared at him, but he just scoffed. "If he changes his mind... You know I like it." 

You wondered if you could do the same. You wondered if you could ask Aegon to dance and if Jace would feel the same bubbling inside him, the same jealousy coursing through his veins.

You hated that feeling. 

You shouldn't feel that kind of emotion, especially not for him.

You obviously didn't see it, too focused on your own annoyance, but Jace kept glancing in your direction, as if to make sure you saw him. 

He wanted to make you jealous. He wanted to fuel the feeling he'd identified in you. He wanted to catch you at your own game. And one thing was certain, Jace hadn't played all his cards yet.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

After a moment that seemed an eternity, your betrothed returned to sit beside you, Helena going back to her own seat. You were less and less able to hide your annoyance, and no doubt Jace noticed, for he leaned towards you, a satisfied look on his face. "Your sister is very sweet," he murmured. He knew very well that this simple phrase would be enough to send you over the edge. 

You liked attention. You liked compliments. You liked to be praised. 

You said nothing back. But Aegon had his trademark grin, the one that stretched his lips when he had a devious plan, and he was already getting up on the pretext of serving Baela some wine so he could whisper in his nephew's ear.  "I know my little sister can be particularly demanding.” He paused. “And difficult to tame. So if you ever need any advice... Or demonstrations…"

Jace was fuming, but he knew he had to keep his cool. It was Aegon, typical Aegon, to push his buttons, to succeed in making him suddenly unsure of himself, to make his mind confused. His fingers closed around his cup, his jaw clenched, and it took all his self-control not to throw the contents in his uncle's face. 

He didn't even look at Aegon, who had returned to his seat with a triumphant smile.

But you felt something under the table. Something slipped between the folds of your dress, along your skin, discreetly, lightly, a delicious touch against your skin that made you want more.

Your eyes widened.

Jace. 

Jace the perfect son. Jace the model son. 

Jace slipping his fingers under your dress, touching the skin of your thigh, rising dangerously high where you could already feel the wetness forming in the crease between your thighs. 

This was the moment he snapped, you knew it. You hadn't heard your brother's words, you had only seen him lean towards your betrothed, but you knew he must have struck a chord with Jacaerys Velaryon. That he had probably touched his weak spot. 

Or perhaps you were just getting your comeuppance. After teasing him, after making him hard and desperate.

Jace moved his hand, tracing the space where your skin was soft and tender, all the way up your thigh, with a slow, gentle touch. His hand moved further towards the centre of you, where you were sensitive, and he brushed against your crotch. He didn't even need to apply any pressure with his fingertips to tell that you were wet.

Your hips automatically moved towards his hand in search of more contact, causing you to wiggle in your chair. All you wanted to do was grab his wrist, force him to slide his fingers under the fabric separating you, force him to touch you right here. But you were still at dinner and the game was becoming far too dangerous. 

"I told you to be careful," Jace whispered as he withdrew his fingers and resumed his serious gaze, his fingers fidgeting on the wood of the table. “Two can play at this game.”

And then perhaps the Seven heard you. Perhaps they were offering you a way out. To be honest, you weren't sure if it was a miracle or a curse. For Aemond had risen, and he had done what he did best; he had made a mocking and provocative speech to his nephews. 

Everything happened quickly. Jace and Luke leapt to their feet to answer the provocation, Aemond and Aegon were ready to fight back, and even Baela and Rhaena were prepared to defend their family. You had no time to move, no time to react, for dinner was already over, and so was your little game of cat and mouse with Jace.

This was your way out, you knew it. You were tired of sitting around a table listening to boring speeches. And the entertainment that had consisted of sliding your fingers under the table to push Jacaerys Strong over the edge had now turned against you.

"I shall rest," you warned your mother, who was deep in conversation with Rhaenyra, her features wrinkled with worry. "Tonight's events have left me somewhat tired. And I think a night's rest would do me a world of good."  She nodded, stroking your hair, and you knew instinctively what she was thinking. Always the perfect daughter.

And as you passed through the heavy door of the dining room, you hurried off in a direction that was not that of your room.

Oh, but if she knew.

*** 

Thankfully, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the slightest desire to run into a guard who would ask you where you were going or escort you to your room for security reasons. 

Your steps were as discreet as possible on the stone floor, like those of a small mouse. You moved quickly, stealthily, almost on tiptoe.

Only the crackle of the fire broke the heavy silence between the cold walls, where the dancing shadows of the flames distorted.

You slowed your pace. You had a doubt. You weren't sure which door was the one you were looking for. 

And then suddenly, as you reached the end of the corridor, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you against the wall, away from prying eyes. A strong grip, as if it didn't want to let you vanish again.

Jace was holding you between the wall and his own body. Despite the darkness, you could see his eyes shining in the candlelight, fueled by a devouring hunger you didn't know he possessed. He stared at you for a moment. His eyes in yours. A tension hung between you, burning, ready to consume you both, and you were completely willing.

Gently yet firmly he turned your body. Your chest against the cold wall, your back against his warm chest, and you pulled your hips back to provoke him. You wouldn't succumb so easily, not to Jacaerys.

He pressed himself against you, moving his pelvis forward so you could feel his hard member against the top of your buttocks.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me?" Another thrust of his hips. "Can you feel the effect you're having on me?" He pressed harder against you. Through the layers of fabric between you, you could almost feel him throb. Gods, he seemed big. "Teasing me all evening... Such a tease, aren't you?"

If it wasn't the consequence of your own actions.

You stifled a moan with your arm so as not to attract any patrolling guards. What you were doing was dangerous. At any moment you could be caught. At any moment you could be in big trouble.

But you couldn't stop now. Not when the best was yet to come.

You moved again, seeking more contact, seeking to make Jace harder and more painful than he already was, and you turned your head to challenge him. "What if it's you who's just too weak?"

You felt his hoarse breath against the back of your neck, at the base of your hair. He seemed to be hesitating, thinking. About what he was going to do to you, about what he was going to do to make sure you were responsible for your actions. Again he turned you so that you had your back to the wall, facing him, and you recognised the gleam of desire in his eyes.

Towering over you, he lowered his gaze to you, your faces inches apart. For a moment he let his eyes devour you, wandering from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your breasts, visible through the fabric of your dress. He wanted to keep this image printed behind his eyelids; your half-open lips, your pleading gaze, like that of a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

You looked ravishing.

"Tell me to stop," Jace murmured. And you knew it was the sensible thing to do, you knew it was better to stop everything now, while it was still possible to turn back. For you weren't married yet. 

But you had no desire to be responsible.

His fingers curled around a lock of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, waiting for your answer before continuing.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you replied, your eyes locked with his. He felt your hand against his cheek as you detailed his face, tracing his well-sculpted cheeks, and he longed for more contact, his face seeking the warmth of your palm. 

You put your arms around his neck to draw him closer, to close the distance between your lips, to feel his warmth against your body.

To quench this desire, this need that was becoming uncontrollable.

And your lips met in a feverish, urgent kiss. He pressed you further against the wall, his fingers running down your sides, brushing against the breasts he so craved.

He found your hips and his fingers worked frantically up the bottom of your dress in a crumpled ball of fabric to reach your core. "Look at how wet you are." His fingers brushed your folds through your undergarments. "All of this just for teasing me." He pressed one hand against the wall, still leaning against you, but not giving you what you wanted: his hand had stopped, and you tried to wiggle your hips to force him to continue, to force him to give you what you wanted.

Deep down, you loved the way he was losing control. 

You loved that side of Jace you didn't know. 

So you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers under the last barrier that separated his skin from yours. 

The sensation was delicious. 

The touch of his warm fingers against your folds sent a wave of heat from your lower belly through your entire body. You didn't want him to stop. "Here." You breathed against his lips. "This is where muña needs you." Aunt. He tensed beneath you, and you wondered if it was the ambiguity of the family tie, uttered in High Valyrian, that had such an effect on him. 

You let your lips brush against his.

He collected your wetness on his fingers, exploring the slit between your folds up to your little pearl. You were soaking wet. And you desperately needed him inside you. 

His fingers slid down to your opening where he applied a little pressure with the tip of his index finger without ever penetrating you.

"I know," he murmured, drawing small circles before abandoning your opening to return to your bud. "But I can't give you what you want now."

You whimpered under his cruelty, against his lips. 

You could see through his game. 

He wanted to make you beg, but you weren't the kind to beg. You were the one with the power and you were going to show him.

"We shouldn't stay here," you muttered, rubbing yourself against your nephew's hand. "If someone catches us..."

Jace nodded his head in agreement, withdrawing his fingers glistening with your juice, which you guided to his own lips, spreading the stickiness against his lips. 

"If you're a good boy, I'll let you taste me."

And with that, he pulled you into his room.

*** 

Lying on the bed where you'd pushed him, Jace watched as you removed your dress, his prominent erection stretching the fabric of his breeches. The dress fell to the floor, forming a red puddle that you stepped over, one foot after the other.

Your nephew couldn't look away from your hypnotic figure, but his eyes inevitably wandered back to your breasts. You'd seen him glancing at your cleavage all evening, you could tell he wanted to run his fingers over your soft flesh, his lips over your nipples, and now that you were completely naked in front of him, you could see the unmistakable desire in his eyes.

You walked up to him. He clenched his jaw when he saw you. You, and the perfection of your shape, your little pointed nipples, the tantalising path that led from your chest to the space between your thighs where he knew you were soaked for him. 

The flat of your hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lie down between the pillows. He complied, never breaking the eye contact between the two of you, and you took your place on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. His husky breath escaped through his parted lips, lightly caressing your face.

You were naked, he was still dressed, and you had infinite power over him.

You lowered your hips against his covered crotch, the essence of your desire staining the linen of his breeches as your hips began to move slowly.

You leaned down and traced his jaw with the tip of your lips, planting kisses along his throat. Underneath you, his member twitched. Mimicking what he'd done earlier, you let your fingers rest on the painful bulge between his legs and whispered, "I know." You applied a little more pressure, drawing a moan from between his lips. "I know it's painful. But I can't give you what you want right now."

Jace growled. He wanted to turn you over, slam you against the mattress, pound into you and make you swallow your insolence. But he wanted to see how far you were willing to go. He wanted to see you keep control for a while longer.

You deftly undid his breeches to make it easier for your hand to slip through. You found his hard member, warm and heavy between your fingers.

It was a new sensation. As a model princess, you'd never ventured into this territory, saving your maidenhood for your future husband.

But Jace was your future husband.

You closed your fingers around him, your thumb collecting the sticky beads that had already formed at the tip of his cock and spreading it along his length. 

"First I want to come on your tongue," your lips articulated against the skin of his throat as the hand that was in his breeches moved up his torso to close around his jaw, your thumb caressing his lower lip to emphasise your words. "Will you let me?" you added. In response, he let the tip of his tongue slip between his lips, touching the pad of your finger. "Let me show you," he whispered.

And indeed, Jace worked devotedly between your thighs, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, drinking in your essence as it flowed from your entrance like a delicious nectar. His tongue tickled your little knob, his thumbs spreading your folds to gain access to the treasure he coveted.

One of his fingers found your hole clenching around nothing, tracing small circles against it to force you to voice what you wanted. "Do you need me here?" he whispered against your flesh, the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers through your core. Your hands buried themselves in the dark mass of his hair and you moved your hips against his face, urging him to maintain the contact of his mouth against you. "Use your words, muña," he added, despite his nose being buried between your folds.

When you gave him the answer he was waiting for, he let a finger enter you in a delicious stretch. You held back a moan, your fingers digging deeper into his hair, not caring if you were hurting him or not. He continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, like a thirsty man, like a devoted man.

You wouldn't last long, your release close.

Jace then added a second finger. The sensation of his fingers inside you, against that rough spot, combined with that of his tongue between your folds, against your pearl, was simply divine. 

"Go on," Jace started, but you immediately cut him off. "Shut up." You didn't want him to speak. You wanted him to continue with his damn tongue, with his broad fingers inside you. You didn't want him to stop. "I am... I am close."

And your climax washed over your entire body like a wave of warmth. Your legs closed around your nephew's face.

It was probably one of the best sensations you'd ever experienced.

Still between your legs, his fingers gripping your thighs, Jace collected your arousal on his tongue, sending shivers of overstimulation down your spine, and your whole body shuddering in a brutal spasm. You straightened up, knees still bent, your hand returning to your nephew's hair to guide him over you, his face close to yours. You stroked his cheek gently, as if to let him know he was a good boy, and your thumb picked up the sticky fluid that was smeared all over the bottom of his face.

You were both out of breath. You from the intense release you'd felt, he from the dedication he'd shown.

A smirk formed at the corner of your lips, and you pressed your thumb between his lips to ensure he didn't waste anything. Jace tilted his face close to yours. "You taste divine," he breathed, turning your cheeks red. "But now I need to be inside you."

His fingers slipped between your thighs, where your centre was pulsing, still far too sensitive from the ministrations he had given you. 

"You can give me another, can't you?" He asked, and you nodded, so sore.

After he undressed, Jace pushed on your shoulders to make you lie down, but you skilfully changed positions, taking him by surprise.

You were unwilling to give him the power he wanted, not yet.

Straddling him, you moved your hips to rub your crotch against his erect manhood, spreading your wetness along his length. Beneath you, his torso rose and fell rapidly, and the grunts he let out conveyed his need for more. So your hand sought his hard member, guiding it to your entrance without letting it penetrate you. "So?" you asked playfully. "Do you think you've been a good boy ? Do you think you deserve to be inside me?" You wanted to make him beg, and Jace could see right through you. "To be the first?" you added, lowering your voice slightly, as if you were telling him a secret.

But he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.

So he capitulated, giving you the defeat you'd been waiting for.

"Yes." he breathed. "Please." Your victorious smile stretched your lips and you guided him further against you, pressing his erection against your opening. Fuck. He was massive.

He was about to breathe a sigh of relief, ready to feel your velvet walls tighten around him, but you blocked his hip movement. 

It wasn't enough.

"Please who?" you asked, your fingers moving back and forth around his manhood. He glared at you. You were gloating. "Please, muña," he finally begged, and you gave him what he wanted.

You lowered your hips to let him slide into you in a long thrust that stretched you around him. He was indeedmassive, and the new sensation of having him inside you was a delicious mix of dull pain and burning pleasure. You stood still for a moment to adjust to his presence inside you, your core throbbing around him. The initial pinch gradually dissipated, replaced by a pleasant sensation that sent a wave of warmth through your body. 

And then he began to thrust in and out, pushing up to sink into you. "Fuck...fuck, you're tight," Jace growled. Your loose hair cascaded down either side of your face, tickling his cheeks, and he caught it in a messy bun to hold it behind your head. 

You could feel the same pleasure as before building up in your lower abdomen. 

Gods, you could feel him so intensely. So deeply too. Bouncing rhythmically against that particular part of you. 

You buried your head in his neck, his woody scent filling your nostrils.

It was primal. Animal, between the two of you. All that mattered was the here and now. Your body against his, the sweat beading between you, the moans filling the room.

Jace tugged at your hair, causing you to throw your head back, freeing access to your chest, and he straightened up into a sitting position, his member still deep inside you, to find your breast. He buried his face in it and your hand instinctively found the back of his head to stroke his hair. Jace's lips traced a trail of kisses down the valley between your breasts, following the curve of your flesh before closing around your nipple, which he sucked gently. One of his arms wrapped around you to hold you tight against him, his other hand resting on the breast he wasn't devouring.

You stayed like that for a while, your legs on either side of him, his mouth seeking solace in your breasts, the divine sensation of being full, with him inside you, in the softness of the night, the flames rocking your lovemaking.

One of Jace's arms finally found your back and in one swift movement he reversed position. He desperately needed more, sensing that he wouldn't last long. 

He pinned you beneath him, against the mattress, your legs immediately closing around him and the pace quickened.  His thrusts became more messy, more sloppy because of your two combined essences.  "You're mine, now" he grunted, and you shivered. His index and middle fingers wandered between your folds, caressing the spot where you were joined before moving to the pearl hidden at the top of your slit. "Am I?" you replied teasingly. You could feel him throbbing inside you. "Then be a good boy now and give muña your seed."

That was the spark that ignited the fire. Jace quickened the rhythm of his hips, his fingers still buried between your folds, his movements erratic. With each of his thrusts, you felt his member hitting that sensitive spot against your spongy inner walls. You tensed and for the second time that evening, your release flooded your entire body.  You were followed by your nephew as Jace spilled into you, his seed painting white ropes against your womb.

He lay still inside you for a moment, his cock softening as you both caught your breath, your hands in his dark curls, his head at the nape of your neck. 

You winced as he withdrew from your still sensitive core, his now cold seed flowing between your thighs. Jace dropped down beside you, satisfied. Then you turned to him. You grabbed his wrist one last time and guided his fingers to your centre, where your folds were smeared with the remnants of your lovemaking.

"Look how much you've left inside me," you whispered into his ear, making Jace collect his own seed on his fingertips and push it back into you. "I'm going to keep it all inside me, would you like that, sweet boy?" you whispered again.

And Jace pulled you against him to kiss you, his member stirring between his thighs, against you. It was true that he'd given you the upper hand this time. But he was ready to show you what he could do. You snuggled up against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

"Perhaps…We should bring the wedding date forward."

And he smiled.

[tellafairy]

thoughts on shifting + manifesting with ease. (as someone who's shifted many times, alongside manifesting)

coming back to this side of tumblr after spending years away from it has made me realized how many do you are truly the problem, it might sound kinda harsh but really. so many of you ask the same questions over and over again.. "but HOW do i do it?" "how do i shift" "how do i manifest" JUST DO IT. stop looking for signs, stop looking for methods or "cheat codes". just do it man.

your mind is so powerful and it actually kinda irritates me how many of you doubt it, just because it "seems to easy". you don't understand how you've been manipulated by society to not see your power. how have you been on loa social media, shifting social media, for soooo long — yet still don't see it?? let me tell you..

the moment i got off social media, the moment i took time to erase everything in my head and stop overthinking everything, was the moment everything came to me. i already had it, i just needed to stop telling myself i didn't.

it took me less than two weeks to get used to convincing myself i had everything i wanted, i shifted to my desired realities, and everything worked out in my favour. AFFIRMING IS ALL YOU NEED. I AM YELLING AT YOU. JUST AFFIRM.

really, please, affirm. the routine is so simple.

1. any bad thought is instantly turned positive.

ex: "i really want her waist"

to

"am i stupid ... i have her waist.. tbh mine even looks a little better.. am i crazy?? like actually? this must be a glitch or something cause my waist is practically identical to hers.. i literally love my waist"

exaggerate, say what you need to say to erase the negativity.

2. it's yours, so act like it..

ex: talk about ur DR normally. it's your reality, not a fantasy land you made up in a dream. ITS REAL. it's a reality. for example, i'd watch videos of my s/o in this reality, and speak about our lives in my dr. "i can't wait to see __ tonight... god i love __, it's so nice hanging out with them everyday.. wow they look so pretty in this video — i'm so lucky their mine". it's natural, they're yours aren't they? exactly, so act like it.. this is used the exact same way when manifesting..

you see someone with something you want? thinking of something you wanna do? something you wanna be? ... it's urs... so can you act like it?? like whyre u feeling sad someone else got a job promotion 😹😹 you literally got a better one ...

3. that's literally it

you don't need a fancy method (although it can give u some peace of mind.. let's be real, a lot of methods set y'all back and make you overwhelmed, blocking ur beliefs and making everything seem harder). you literally just need to live. tell yourself it's done, over and over again. nothing matters. it's done, it's yours, you have it, you're happy and fulfilled. other peoples sucess should really mean nothing to you negatively. it shouldn't make you stressed, shouldn't make you feel behind.. why would it when you have everything, you can do everything, go anywhere, and you can be anything.

it'll seem like manifesting blogs and shifting blogs just repeat the same things.. which is true, they do, because i'm telling you there's nothing more to it than what you've already read. it is that easy. all it takes is your mind. decide, and tell yourself.

as i said before, it took me barely anytime to switch my mindset once i actually started focusing on myself, my journey and not every body else's results. repeating stuff to yourself WORKS. repeating is literally ALL i did. choose what i want, told myself it's mine in any way i could describe it. and there, it's mine. ive shifted to many different realities, along side gaining a better life in this one after years of convincing myself there was nothing for me. if i can break out of the cycle, trust me you can too. i cannot describe how desperate i was at the beginning, how long i took in false info and wasted time on methods all while doubting every single thing.

so why don't you believe it? you'll sit there and tell yourself over and over again that you're ugly, or broke, or friendless... but you won't tell urself that you've shifted? that you have your dream body...? girl okay i guess....

once you realize nothing besides your mind truly matters, is when you'll be free with yourself. circumstances don't matter, past feelings don't matter, doubts don't matter, your mind is all you need.

yes this is just loa explained longer, that's the point of the post because some of u still can't get it in ur heads

[reidmania]

inbetween | spencer reid

good riddance x spencer reid one shot series master list

summary ; after months over talking over email, you and spencer finally meet in person.

warnings ; reader & spencer fall in love over emails, meeting in person, insecure reader, insecure spencer, worries about not being enough, pretty much just pure fluff tbh.

an ; in between yall. this song. this is the first oneshot in the good riddance x spencer reid one shot series!! while i waiting for the poll to finish!!

part one, part two, part three

‘I just can't come between 'em, they got their own thing I wish he'd stop pretendin', he won't let his phone ring. For more than a couple seconds, oh, I think maybe two. two hearts just fallin' in and out of love for somethin' new. ‘i wish that you could see 'em, their faces lighten up their past is cold and empty, they know it's been enough of waitin' on somebody, someone who doesn't care but he knows her name, she knows he'll always be there’

<>

The email rang up at exactly 5:30, exactly when you expected it to. You were sitting at your desk at work, knees pulled to ur chest as you spun on the desk chair. Your coworkers paid no mind to your antics, after working in the safe office for years, with each other. They were used to it by now.

You chewed at your lip as you refreshed your email when the clock changed to exactly 5:30, a wide smile dawned your face when you read the email, you heart ached with longing as your eyes traced over the words on the screen, your stomach tightening and your heart clenching.

Sent from dr.spencerreid@gmail.com at 5:30pm

Hi.

I don’t know when this will send because I’m writing it while on the jet, probably as we get lower and more towards landing, I’ll spare you the scientific details. We only got back from a case this morning, early. Which is why it has taken me so long to reply. Im sorry.

We got a case in Maryland, which I remember you telling me, is where you live. I know I should probably just ask for your phone number but I kind of enjoy the emailing thing. It’s a lot less nerve racking because I can try to pass it off as professional, even though a lot of the time our conversations aren’t.

I actually don’t think we have ever had a professional conversation. Which is a good thing. I really enjoy our conversations no matter what we are talking about. I really enjoy talking to you.

I hope this isn’t too forward but I wanted to know if theres any chance I could see you while I’m in Maryland for this case. I don’t know when it would be or how long I’d be able to see you for, but I do really want to see you. If thats okay with you.

I guess I should give you my number, so you know I’m not some creepy old man. That would be ironic since I work at the FBI and my job is to stop people like that… I don’t know.

Heres my number, 023387677

Love, Spencer.

Your stomach tightened at the idea of seeing him in person. You never admitted it, but you knew he wasn’t an old man, you knew exactly who he was. You made the decision to google his name 6 months ago, when the two of you first started emailing back and forth after he accidentally sent a work email to the wrong person and you replied. It started as just telling him he had sent it to the wrong person, then he thanked you and apologised and made a joke and then the conversation just flowed.

You had been having conversations with Spencer Reid for six months and you felt like you knew more about him than you did yourself. He told you about his day, and about things he had been through, He opened up to you about his addiction and his mom and you opened up to him about your own trauma and issues.

Spencer Reid was your best friend and you had never met him. You had never even heard his voice. You only had seen his face on google when you searched up ‘Spencer reid FBI’ and a photo came up, he looked younger than you assumed in it, seeing the photo was from a few years ago. You felt slightly bad since you knew he could google you and probably come up empty handed — you had the upper hand.

You look at the clock as it inches closer to six o-clock when you finish work. A boring office job, you often complained to Spencer about. It was ironic since his job literally traumatised him, and yet you complained about the boring desk job, although he never ever compared, he would listen and comfort you after a bad day no matter what, just like you did for him.

You don’t reply to the email he sent as you typed the number he sent into your phone, saving the contact under ‘spence’ The nickname that had developed only weeks into the two of you talking. You send him a text, letting him know it was you, saying hi.

“Phone.” You hear your boss, warning you about using your phone at work, you lift your head an apologetic smile on your face as you close your phone, placing it face down on your desk as you close your email and return to your work after muttering out a sheepish, ‘Sorry!’

Spencer is sitting in a conference room of the police station in Maryland. He didn’t know it but he was only two blocks away from the office you worked. He never usually cared to check his phone while working — nothing could be as important as the case.

Until you, until now.

He found himself hanging out to feel the buzz in his pocket, he found himself checking his phone just in case maybe he missed the message. Just in case you did message.

He also checked his email a lot.

“Whats up with boy wonder?” Derek asked as he spun a chair to sit on it backwards, resting his arms on the back of the chair as he looked around at the other team members. Spencer focus on anything other than the case.

“He gave mystery girl his number” Emily said, patting Spencers shoulder softly to get his attention as she walked past him, placing a coffee down in front of him. Spencer noticed how it was his normal order — despite the fact lately he had been getting your order, after he found out what it was. It made him feel a little bit closer to you.

“Oo, Okay lover boy.” Derek hummed approvingly, raising his eyebrow slightly as he looked down at the boy. Spencer sighed as he let back in his chair, tossing his phone on the table as he checked to get no message. “Nothing yet?” Emily asked, knowing Spencer had been stressing since he sent the email on the jet, nearly two hours ago.

He didn’t know it hadn’t even delivered until a few minutes ago.

“Shes probably just busy” Spencer muttered as he checked his watch for the time. 5:33pm, you’d be at work.

Derek shared a look with Emily, both with teasing smiles on their faces. They had watched Spencer obsess over the girl for the past 6 months, even after he tried to hide it for the first few. He did a horrid job, they all noticed him smiling at his computer and typing away more often than ever, they noticed his focus slight adverted. It took a bit but they eventually got it out of him when you didn’t email him back for a week and he was going insane with worry that maybe you were ghosting him, or that you were hurt.

He confided in his team, you emailed him a few days later saying your wifi went down and none of your emails were going through. He was instantly relieved.

His phone buzzed on the table, 5:35pm. His hand instantly reached out for his phone. His eyes widened and his lip twitched upwards as he read the message that lit his screen.

“And lover boy is in” Derek whispered to Emily, loud enough that Spencer could hear that only ended up in Spencer sending him a glare, before typing out a reply and sending it, asking to call you tonight when he got finished.

“Alright, We got a lead” Hotch said entering the room.

You leant against the back of your head board, your hair wet and dripping down the back of your neck as you waited nervously for call to ring through your phone. You were almost terrified of what the conversation might hold. You were glad you were calling before you agreed or disagreed to meeting him, you could feel out whether or not it might be awkward or not.

You almost jumped out of your skin as your phone started ringing, anxiety pooled in your stomach as your skin flushed hot, causing the drops of water on the back of your neck feel as if it was burning the skin. You reached out for your phone that rested on your bed side table, answering the call.

“Hi.” You muttered out a breath of air. You couldn’t even help but smile as the realisation dawned on you. You were talking to Spencer. Finally, actually talking to him.

You heard a harsh breath on the other side of the phone before some shuffling. “Hold on” He mumbled out, you stomach fluttered at his voice as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you bit back a smile.

“Okay.” You said, you heard some more shuffling before the sound of a door closing, then a creek. And then a breath.

“Hi” He settled on, you sat up a bit, crossing your legs as his word came out almost breathy and nervous. It made your chest thump against your ribcage so much it ached. “Sorry— I should’ve waited till I was in my hotel room to call, I was excited— Sorry” He said.

You could hear the nerves in his voice and all it did was make your cheeks beat a rosy hue. “It’s okay. I was nervous” You admit softly, you try to hide the slight embarrassment in your voice but it fails you as your words come out small.

You hear him chuckle. You think the sound genuinely makes your mind fall empty of any coherent thoughts. “You don’t have to be nervous” He spoke so softly as if his words were an exhale he had been holding in.

“But I am” You muttered.

“Me too.” He said honestly. You found comfort in the fact he cared enough about this interaction to be nervous about it. You went to run your hand through your hair but paused with you felt the coldness — it was still very wet from your shower.

“Good” You sighed out, voice almost a whisper. You didn’t know why you were speaking so quietly, there was no one else in your house. There was no reason to be as quiet as you were.

“Is good that I’m nervous?” Spencer asked, you could hear the teasing in his voice. It made your head spin and the words get caught as you shook your head, before remembering he couldn’t see you.

“Yes- No- no. No.” You muttered out, “Its uh- Its not good that your nervous— I- Its just good that you care” You scrambled out, stuttering over your words as you grew flustered. It made you want to turn into your pillow and scream.

You heard him laugh, making your face screw up. “Shut up.” You muttered out as it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was laughing at you scrambling over your words, your free hand came up to cover your face as your cheeks felt on fire.

“No- Im sorry. Im sorry. Of course I care, you know I care” He said softly as he collected his laughter, his voice dripping honesty for a moment as he spoke genuinely in a way that made your knees feel weak — Thank god you weren’t standing. You were silent for a moment as a smile dawned on your face.

“Tell me about your day.” He requested gently. You heard some more shuffling you could only assume he was getting comfortable in bed. You pictured it and it made your stomach burn with longing. Wishing it wasn’t just an image in your head.

And you did, you told him about your day and he told you about yours; the conversation flowed simply and sweetly from then on. He teased you whenever you stuttered over your words, you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke.

You and him spoke until your voice was quiet and drowsy with sleep, until your eyes were fluttering shut and you went unresponsive for a moment before he asked if you were asleep and you would wake up to the sound of his voice, muttering out a no, to which he would chuckle, and tell you to go to sleep.

When you fell asleep, he waited ten minutes to make sure you were really asleep before hanging up. His heart full as he fell asleep smiling.

Sorry I fell asleep. If i didn’t throw you off completely and you still want to see me, im free any day after 6, when i finish work.

Spencer smiled at the message. The acceptance. You were accepting meeting him, seeing him. He couldn’t fathom the idea of anything you doing ever throwing him off. You had wiggled your way into his chest months ago, and you stayed consuming every part of him everyday since. He didn’t see that changing any day soon, or ever.

He sent you an address to a bar Derek suggested the team going to after work. He didn’t know if maybe it was too forward, or might be awkward with his team there, but at least if it didn’t go well there was people around.

He closed his phone as he waited for your reply, his mind replaying the conversation he had with you last night, how sweet you sounded, how your laugh made his heart clench, how whenever you said his name or spoke a little louder he felt light headed, unable to focus on anything but you.

There was anxiety in his stomach when he realised the two of you never quite talked about what it all meant. What the months of conversation back and forth was. He realised he didn’t know what you wanted. What you expected.

Maybe you just saw him as a friend, maybe to you the conversation is nothing more than friendly. Honestly, if that was the case Spencer didn’t think he would be able to deny you of that. He would do anything to keep you in his life, even if it caused a slight ache in his chest. He had told you things he couldn’t imagine telling anyone else, he trusted you in a way he didn’t know possible, and it may be stupid, maybe naive, but Spencer didn’t care.

The way he felt for you took over any ounce of doubt in his mind, it overtook the insecurity welling in his mind, that maybe you wouldn’t like him, not the way he liked you.

He had never felt so much for a person. He had never felt so much point blank. He could hardly fathom you feeling for him near the amount he felt for you.

Your hands traveled over your jeans softly as your palms grew sweaty as you stepped inside the bar. Thanking the guy you held it open for you as he walked out. You were instantly overwhelmed by the amount of people, the music playing and the people chatting. You probably should have gotten changed first instead of coming straight after work but you were too nervous and didn’t want to give yourself time to dwindle in your insecurities then chicken out.

You manoeuvred your way through the people, quiet apologies leaving your lips as you looked around for Spencer, or anyone who looks like they might be an FBI agent.

What does an FBI agent look like? you thought, as you let out a sigh, finally getting out of the crowd of people as you got to the back of the bar, a lot more free of space. A few people around, standing at tables. You skimmed over for a moment as you tried to catch any glimpse of the boy that you could.

You heard your name, making you spin on your heels. You saw a dark haired girl smiling at you. Well that isn’t spencer.

“Yes?” You said, smiling at her as you tried to hide the anxiety building in your veins. Your hand coming to push hair off your face softly as you try to focus on the girl in front of you. She grins widely, “Spencer is over there, you looked like you were looking for someone…” She said, my smile instantly widened as you looked over to where she nudged her head.

your breath got caught in your throat as your eyes settled on him, the photo didn’t do him justice in any way. His hair was messy and slightly grown out, he was engrossed in a conversation with who you could only assume was Derek Morgan, who Spencer had told you about. His tie was crooked in his suit as he lifted his arm to sip the drink in his hand.

you tear my eyes away as you look at the lady who is smiling at you. “Happy with that?” She asks. It takes you a moment to recognise her as Emily, whom Spencer had also told you about. You can hardly put it into words how your chest feels like its gonna explode as your heart thumps.

“He is gorgeous.” You breathe out, shaking your head as words fail you, your eyes trail back to him for a moment to see him laughing, you see his head turn towards the door, as if he is waiting for you to walk through them.

Emily smiles, patting your shoulder softly, “Cmon Mystery girl” She said, you pay little attention to the nickname as she encourages you to walk towards the table with her. Your legs feel like Jelly with every step that you take, your stomach twisting in the familiar feeling of anxiety.

When she pauses at the table your breath hitches. “Oi Reid” She mutters, both he and Derek turns their head towards her, “Look who I found” She says softly, hand brushing over your shoulder.

Spencers eyes skip over to yours and you watch an emotion pull his features. An emotion you can’t quite place and it makes your stomach ache at the uncertainty, insecurity creeping up the back of your neck.

“Hi” You breathe out as you look at him. Theres a moment of silence before he is pushing away from the table and walking around to you. His arms around you the moment you are in reach and it makes your muscles tense slightly before relaxing completely in his hold as you wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him back.

Emily and Derek watch in amusement for a moment, smiling when they see the look on Spencer’s face. The one you couldn’t place the one they knew all too well.

He was in love.

He was in love before seeing you, he knew that but watching you stand there grinning at him made him all the more sure about it. His hand rested on your waist as he pulled back from the hug to look at your face.

“Hi” He whispered back.

You chewed at your lip at you bit back the wide smile that tried to force its way into your features. His hand traveled up to your face before he could stop it hand cupping your face gently.

You eased, leaning into his touch the warmth of his hand feeling gentle against the soft skin of your cheek. “Y-You- I- Hi.” He stuttered this time.

You grinned, “Cat got your tongue?” You ask, teasing him like he would every-time you stuttered over the phone. He just grins in response.

“No. You’re beautiful” He said, eyes dancing over your face, he looked at you like he was trying to memories every little detail. Your stomach tightens and your knees felt weak as the compliment left his mouth. You had been told that before, but it felt different coming from him. He said it with honesty and sincerity.

“So are you” You said back before hugging him tightly again. He didn’t complain at all, instead his arms fell tightly around your waist as he held you against him, as if he was scared that if he let go you would disappear.

The night went on, you stayed by spencer’s side, his hand on yours or around your shoulder gently as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of you being next to him. You never complained — you took it all as a compliment and leant into his touch.

“Are you cold?” Spencer asked as you and him walked outside of the bar, hand in hand. he noticed the way you shivered as the cold hair hit the skin of your bare arms. You turn your head to look up at him, the look in his eye enough to make your chest clench around the fat of your heart.

“A little” You admit. It was nothing you couldn’t handle, but spencer was instantly pulling off his suit jacket for you, slugging it gently over your shoulders as the two of you walked down the street. You paused in your steps as you looked up at him.

“Thank you.” You say.

“Its okay- I don’t want you to be cold” He said softly. You couldn’t help but smile at his kindness, but you shook your head. “For that too— But I meant, for asking to see me. Thank you for thinking of me when you heard about where the case was — for talking to me everyday. Thank you for being my best friend Spence” You said softly as you lean against your car as you and him stop in front of it.

His lip twitches upwards into a smile as his hand drops yours instead resting softly on your lips. “I always think of you.” He admits, eyes on yours.

Your breath gets caught in the back of your throat. “Spencer.” You say softly.

He looks at you, really looks at you. He is seeing you. He is seeing every little thing you have told him over the last six months, every little detail about you there was to know, and all he could think about was he wanted more, he wanted to know you more.

“Yeah?” He says, his voice a whisper.

You feel anxiety pool in your stomach as the question lingers on the tip of your tongue. There was a pull towards him you couldn’t ignore, the same pull you felt when you received his email, six months, 2 weeks and 3 days ago. You’d count the hours but you figured that was more his style.

“You can say no, I want you to know that” You said, you wanted to make it perfectly clear that his response to this was completely up to him and you didn’t want to feel pressured. “Can I kiss you?” You ask.

His lips are on yours before you can even finish the question. One hand of his travelling to the small of your back to bring you in closer while the other tangles in your hair, cradling the back of your neck. Your hands instantly cup his face as you press your lips against him. Your lips together saying more than words ever could.

This, right here, him, right now.

It was everything and more.

[rewh0re]

CAN I GET A KISS? (AND CAN YOU MAKE IT LAST FOREVER?)

—wc: 878, headcanons of how different jjk men would kiss you!! fluffy fluff fluff and nothing but fluff, a lot of kissing (neck, lips and forehead), gojo in himself is a warning tbh. REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED!!

—pairing: geto, gojo, nanami x reader (separate)

｡ﾟ･　☆　° ｡ geto suguru—

I somehow see Geto as a guy who is into neck kisses. Like you'd be doing your work and Suguru just spawns out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around your waist, pecking and nibbing down your neck. He'll be helping you put on the clasp of a necklace and would steal a little peck that would take you by surprise. So cute. He's also very much into pecking your shoulders and burying his head in your neck—his way of asking you to play with his hair. Like you will be watching some stupid rom com and the next thing you know, Suguru is latched onto you, nibbling onto your shoulder as he buries himself in your neck. His breath softly tickles your skin and you know no one’s going to watch the movie anymore. So you give into his antics as your fingers card through his hair as a hum of satisfaction leaves his lips. 

"oh! what was that for?" you yelped in a welcomed surprise as you felt a little nibble on the side of your neck which was quickly soothed by the feeling of your lover's warm tongue.

"missed my baby. When are you joining me in bed? it's late," his lips left a trail of kisses from the base of your ear to your clavicle.

"will you attack me if I say after I finish this draft?" you smiled up at him, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"you know I will."

You both knew he would attack you with kisses before bed either way.

｡ﾟ･　☆　° ｡ gojo satoru—

Now Gojo is a flirt. He's a stupid idiot and a flirt. He'll do anything to tease you and rile you up if I'm being honest. He'll get close to you, breaths mingling together as he holds you against his hard chest. You can smell his rich boy cologne so clearly and you're sure he can probably hear your erratic heartbeat. It's all impossibly slow and you close your eyes, waiting for his lips to land on yours and then.....they land on your cheek! Your eyes shoot open at the howling laughter from the menace that is Gojo Satoru. He gives a detailed recollection of your face from just a few seconds ago and you realise he can never not get on your nerves.

"Satoru I fucking hate you," you whine, pouting a bit, your body sulking as you look away, arms folded and a rose tint on your cheeks.

The next thing you know, Satoru's arms are around your waist for a second time as you're impossibly close to him....again. Except now his lips are quick to land upon yours. you move your arms to grip on his hair while he tightens his arms around you. He sucks on your bottom lip, licking and nibbling it. Your surprised gasp allowed him his entrance into your mouth, your tongues gliding against each other's as both of your lips were covered with thick coats of saliva. His hand moved along your back, gripping your neck, then face and then back around your waist. You wish you could kiss him like this forever but your lack of oxygen compelled you to part.

You panted as you looked at him, his sapphire eyes holding love, passion, desire and something more—mischief perhaps?

he smirked before pecking your lips again.

"Won't hate me as much now I'm guessing?"

Incorrigible, isn't he?

｡ﾟ･　☆　° ｡ nanami kento—

Come on. When I started writing this, I just knew Nanami had to be a forehead kiss man. He just radiates a sense of safety and comfort if you know what I mean. Imagine the both of you are at your shared apartment and you are just talking on the sofa and he's smiling at you and when you ask what's up he just takes your face in his big hand and leaves a long kiss on your forehead.

I just know Nanami comes home and the first thing he does is hug you tightly, as if to never let you go. He then proceeds to hold you gently by your neck as he leaves a lasting kiss on your temple.

Even before bed, after saying your good nights when you are all cuddled up with him, he'll softly leave a chaste kiss on your forehead, muttering 'sweet dreams' before you both lull to sleep. It's endearing really.

Especially when you're tired or stressed from work or life and you confide in him for comfort. He will hold you so tightly while you feel at home in his arms. One of his hands will be pressing your head to his chest while the other grabs you around the waist. You love being held by him.

"thank you kento, I feel better," you separate from him, smiling up at him in gratitude and appreciation.

he just hums in response, returning your smile with one of his own endearing ones. He moves a lock of your hair behind your ear as he brings his lips to your forehead. you close your eyes, basking in his warmth and comfort.

Kento's forehead kisses and hugs ensured you that you would always have a place to call home as long as he's with you. You'd always be safe in his arms. He'd always be yours.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

reckless

words: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, male receiving oral, aged up!rafe (28), age gap (reader is 20), reader kinda dumb and stupid tbh, breaking and entering but actually technically she didnt break anything so just entering, urban exploring

“stay away from that house.” your friend warns, following your eyesight to get light shining from only one window, the rest of the house covered in shadow.

“why?” you question, curiosity growing.

“some asshole lives there. i guess he got real rich when he was young and now he spends all his time inside hiding. the whole island hates him but nothing he did was bad enough to land him in prison…” your friend gives you a serious look. “or at least nothing they can prove.”

you're new to the outer banks, but she already knows your personality. you're defiant and confident, afraid of nothing.

it's why despite her warnings the next night you're scaling up the fence and hopping over to the other side. you note the well taken care of yard, whoever this guy is must still employ a lawn crew.

you keep your footsteps light but unhurried as you walk around the exterior of the enormous house, still just the one window with a light on, like no one else has been in any other part of the home for a long time.

you figure a house like this might have security, but you live only a block away and would certainly get to your house before any cops would show up.

you peer in a few windows, but it's too dark inside to really make out anything. you make your way into the backyard, looking down the long dock to see a yacht. you consider exploring that first before shaking your head and focusing back in on the house.

in your old city, you had a habit of breaking into places. not to steal or damage anything, just for the thrill of getting in and looking around, knowing you're not supposed to be there.

you peer in through the glass doors. it's not that late, only 11pm, but you figure the old man who lives here must already be upstairs and hopefully asleep as you grip the handle.

you wait to hear an alarm from just your touch, but when the house remains silent, you attempt to turn the handle, surprised and happy that it's completely unlocked as you slide it open.

you step into the living room, looking around at the intricate and clearly expensive decorations. your friend was definitely right about this guy being rich, but of course he is if he lives in a neighborhood like this.

“damn.” you mutter to yourself, stepping closer to a fancy vase sat on a table. you purposely leave the glass door open in case you need to make a quick escape out.

your eyes take in every piece of art hung on the wall and gold detailed lamps as you head further into the house, peeking into rooms as you quickly map out the layout. you note the stairs in the center hallway leading up, able to tell there's one light on and deciding quickly to avoid it.

you make like the rush of breaking into places, but you certainly don't like getting caught as you tiptoe into the kitchen next. out of pure curiosity, you open a couple cabinets to find them well stocked.

you focus in on the fridge next. you don't intend to steal but maybe this guy has a couple bottles of beer that won't be missed.

you frown when you realize it's mostly healthy food and energy drinks as you close the fridge, practically jumping out of your skin when you realize there's a tall man with his arms crossed, leaning against the cabinet.

“what are you doing here?” you yell, backing up and putting the island between you and him.

“bold of you to ask me that considering you're the one breaking into my house.” the man's voice is easy going and gentle despite the circumstances.

“your house?” you look the guy up and down. “i thought the guy who lived here was old.”

he moves to the island, placing himself directly in the middle so you can't bolt away, a movement you're very aware of.

“and what made you think that?” he questions. it's hard to tell in the low light, only the faint glow of buttons on the fridge and a bit of moonlight creeping in, but he looks young. your guess is late 20s or early 30s, not like the senior citizen you were picturing.

“my friend told me some asshole-” you cringe at the bad choice of words but continue on. “lives here who got rich when he was young.”

“hm, yeah that does sound like me.” the guy hums. “so what, you were gonna steal from me?”

“no.” you quickly shake your head. “i don't steal, i have no need. i just… like urban exploring.” you decide on saying.

“mmm, isn't that usually exploring abandoned places?” he questions, somehow still carrying on the conversation so naturally, like you're an invited guest rather than a trespasser.

“i thought this place was basically abandoned. like i said, thought you were old.” you shrug.

“well, im only 28, so if you consider that old.” he crosses his arms, muscles bulging.

“im 20.” you say, swallowing thickly. 

you can see the gleam in the man's teeth as he smiles. “interesting… come with me.”

his command is so effortless, you find your feet moving before your mind catches up, following him deeper into the house and up the stairs.

“what are you going to do with me?” you ask, worrying he's going to call the cops. your parents would be pissed if only a week after they move you out of the big city you get arrested again.

“did your friend happen to tell you why i stay in this house?” he hums, opening a door and beckoning you in. you quickly realize this is the bedroom with the lights always on.

“um, just that you did something and no one likes you.”

“that's exactly right, even though i did nothing wrong. i only ever wanted to protect my family.” you see anger briefly take over his features as he relieves whatever memory that made him so hated. “but still, it's hard being lonely.”

he takes a couple steps forward, swinging the door shut behind him to keep the two of you in there, alone. “it's why id like your company…”

“y/n.” you mumble your name. you don't bother to give a fake name.

“y/n.” the name rolls seamlessly off his tongue, like a purr. “im rafe.”

“what do you mean by company, rafe?” now that you're in the light and can get a good look at him, you're hoping it's what you're thinking.

“isn't it obvious?” he quirks his head to the side. “i want you to sleep with me.”

“okay.” you whisper. you're certainly not inexperienced or against sleeping with random guys, even if your friend did warn you about him. you've already gone two whole weeks without getting anything, and you're starting to feel a little high strung.

“perfect.” rafe crosses past you, placing himself on the edge of the. neatly made bed. “undress.”

his command is once again so simple and effective that your hands begin moving instantly, pulling off your tank top to reveal your bright pink bra before sliding your shorts down next to show off the matching underwear.

you turn your back towards rafe and look over your shoulder as you slide your panties down, revealing your bare ass and pussy before kicking off your sandals. 

you walk over to rafe slowly, a smile on your face as you undo the last piece of clothing covering you and let your bra drop to the floor.

“fuck, you're sexy.” rafe leans forward and grabs you, hands gripping your ass, squeezing the plump flesh there. he doesn't bother to wait for you to recover as he sits you onto his lap, cunt being pressed into his thigh as his mouth devours yours.

you can feel his need in the kiss, how starved he is from touch as you begin to kiss back, hands rubbing all over his front.

you only briefly stop the kiss to yank his shirt off. you're not surprised by his muscles, you could tell how perfectly built he was even in the dark kitchen.

rafe begins to slide your pussy against his pants, wetting his thigh as your clit drags against the material.

“fuck, you're already so wet.” rafe moans into your mouth. you don't pause to tell him that you always get a little bit wet in excitement when breaking into a new place.

“let me blow you.” you slide off, already missing the feeling on your pussy as you pull at rafes pants. he lifts his hips to help you and you waste no time, pulling his underwear down as well.

rafes cock pops up, hard and ready for attention. you push his thighs open with your hands so you can nestle between his legs, smiling as you watch a bead of precum from before licking it clean.

“god.” rafe groans, a hand fisting in your hair, tangling his fingers into the strands. “it's been so long since someone else has touched me.”

you feel bad for rafe in that moment, but it's quickly forgotten in favor of wrapping your lips around the head of his cock and giving it an intense suck, wanting to show him a truly good time.

you begin to bob your head, slowly taking more and more of his length into your mouth. he's not the biggest you've ever gotten with, but his girth certainly makes up for it as you get used to him pushing at the walls of your throat.

you'll certainly need more attention to your pussy to be able to take him as you reach down and rub your fingers against your clit, wanting to jump on his cock the second you're done blowing him.

“how are you only 20?” rafe asks, talking mostly to himself considering your mouth is occupied. “you suck dick so well.”

you don't want to comment that you've had lots of experience, but you have a feeling he won't judge you for it. so many guys sleep around yet want every girl to be a virgin, and that's certainly something you don't subscribe to.

with a final push, you're able to take rafe all the way down as you nuzzle your nose into his skin, gagging slightly but able to hold for a decently long time before you need to pull off to take a deep breath.

“come up here, baby.” rafe says, tugging your hand that isn't still playing with your pussy. “want to fuck you.”

you wipe your mouth before standing up, glad you weren't on your knees for long as you move onto the bed.

“fuck me good, daddy.” you purr out, staying on your hands and knees and swaying your ass to entice rafe as he moves behind you.

“oh, i will baby.” rafe rubs his cock through your folds, not bothering to offer to put on a condom when you so clearly don't care.

rafe teases you, pressing slightly against your entrance before going back to rubbing against you until you're frustrated and aching. you're about to open your mouth to complain, to tell him to hurry it up, when his cock plunges inside of you in one quick motion that has you screaming out.

“oh, fuck!” you squeal as rafe instantly begins pounding into you.

rafe smiles as he looks towards the window, slightly cracked. he hopes the neighbors hear your screams and moans of pleasure and learn that he's not just willing to stay inside for the rest of his life. no, rafe is crafting his revenge against the town and when the time comes, they will all regret the way they treated him.

rafe looks down at you as he thrusts into you, your head hung forward and curls bouncing with every movement as he punishes your cunt.

“shit.” rafe groans, pulling out to quickly flip you onto your back.

his mouth meets yours just as his cock reenters you, kissing you wildly while he thrusts without abandon, letting himself loose on you.

rafe can feel himself swelling inside of you and tries his best to hold back from cumming, fingers reaching to your clit to focus on your pleasure before his own, wanting to extend this as long as possible.

“god, you feel so good.” you moan out, jaw slackened even as rafe continue to kiss around your mouth, eyes glossed over in pure pleasure.

“yeah?” rafe smiles. “you gonna cum for me?”

“mhm. keep- keep rubbing.” you tilt your head back as he swipes over your clit, back and forth, building you up while his cock fills out your insides.

“come on, baby.” rafe moans out, kissing you again, unable to stop even though he wants to hear your moans. his hips move faster and faster until he can't hold back anymore, pulling out and releasing all over your stomach in long ropes.

you squeal out as he pinches your clit, triggering your own orgasm as your entire body shakes, back arching off the bed.

“fuck!” you shout. “rafe!”

you both flop against the mattress, breathing heavily as you recover, pussy dripping wet onto his blankets.

“thanks for the company.” rafe smiles, causing you to laugh.

“yeah, always happy to stick around.” you giggle, leaning into his side. there's certainly no shame cuddling up to him after what you just did.

“would you… would you come back tomorrow?” rafe asks, pushing a strand of hair off where it was sticking to your face.

“first week in a new town and i already found myself a fuck buddy? hell yeah ill come back tomorrow.” you kiss rafe quickly before standing up off his bed, putting your tanktop and shorts back on but leaving your wet panties and bright bra on the floor.

“but have pizza, im a classy girl after all, i only let you fuck me once before buying me dinner.” you walk out of the bedroom to rafes deep chuckle.

[chestersturniolo]

“You still want that hit?”

•dealer!matt • smoker!matt •

warnings; violence

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re stretched out on the couch with Matt, his body relaxed as he leans back, a joint lazily balanced between his fingers. Your legs drape across his lap, his free hand gripping your thigh. The air is thick with smoke, curling around the apartment.

As you sit waiting for Matts customer to arrive, you can’t help but notice how fucking good he looks. The way his hand looks wrapped around your thigh. The way he squints and furrows his brows slightly when taking long drags. The way his head falls back and pushes out perfect O’s into the air. His man spread fucking legs.

A knock on the door snaps you out of your admiration. He gently taps your thigh a couple of times, a quiet signal, and you swing them off of his lap. Matt carefully places his joint in the ashtray on the coffee table.

"Stay put” he points before walking to the door.

He yanks it open to reveal a guy standing there—a regular customer. A scrawny dude, too eager, too jittery. You recognize him; he’s come by before.

“Yo, Matt, what’s up, man?” the guy says, grinning way too wide. “I was hoping to get somethin’ tonight, something strong”

Matt doesn’t say anything at first, just stares at the guy, eyes cold, like he’s deciding whether he’s even worth a response. Finally, he steps aside, letting the guy into the apartment.

The guy walks in, his eyes immediately landing on you. He smirks, running a hand through his greasy hair. “Hey, didn’t know I’d be getting a bonus tonight. What’s up, sweetie”

Before you can respond, Matt’s on the guy in an instant, slamming him against the wall so hard the plaster cracks. The guys eyes go wide with fear.

“You really just say that to her?” Matt growls, his voice low, dangerous. His forearm presses hard against the guy’s throat, cutting off any chance of escape.

“I—dude, I didn’t mean—”

Matt presses harder, cutting him off. “You don’t talk to her. You don’t look at her. You don’t even breathe in her direction, got it?” he snarled through gritted teeth.

The guy nods frantically, his face turning red as he struggles for air.

You stand up, moving cautiously toward them. “Matt, he’s not worth it. Let him go”

Matt doesn’t even glance at you. His focus is entirely on the guy pinned to the wall. “I don’t care what he’s worth. No one disrespects you. Not in front of me. Not ever.”

The guy’s legs are shaking now, and he’s gasping, barely able to breathe. “I’m—I’m sorry-“ he chokes out. “-please man…”

Matt finally lets go, shoving him to the floor. The guy scrambles back, rubbing his throat. He looks up at Matt, wide-eyed.

“You still want that hit?” Matt asks almost teasingly.

The guy shakes his head rapidly. “No, no, man, I’m good. I’m good”

Matt takes a step closer, towering over him. “Good. Now get the hell out”

The guy doesn’t need to be told twice. He scrambles to his feet and practically runs out the door.

When the door slams shut, the silence that follows is tense. Matt still facing the door, his fists clenched.

You come up behind him, placing a hand on his back. You immediately feel his body relax under your touch. He turns around, wrapping his hands around your waist as yours find a home around the back of his neck. His face is softer, but still has a small flicker of frustration behind his eyes.

“He talks to you like that again, I’ll put him in the fucking ground” he mumbles, his grip around your waist tightening as your bodies press together.

“Ease up baby-” you softly order

“-although, it’s kinda hot when your angry” you tease.

A smirk spreads on Matts face as he shakes his head “You’re unbelievable” he says, before bringing you into a needy kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n; what do we think of meany matt? 👀 i’m kinda obsessed tbh, if you want more of him lmk!!!

- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

MASTERLIST

taglist; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh @phone4pills @demzzz @dripgodnay

@sturniooolos @monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @slutforsturnioloss @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4

@brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom

[withleeknow]

moonstruck.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, angst if you squint; they're in love <3, mentions of menstruation, there's a bit about orpheus and eurydice so you're not familiar you might want to look it up beforehand idk, not as edited as i'd like. not a lot of warnings here tbh it's just pretty mild and mellow saur 🤷‍♀️ (also i don't exactly love this but i hope you'll still tolerate it anyway lol) word count: 4.7k playlist 🎧: moonstruck - enhypen // this is how you fall in love - jeremy zucker ft. chelsea cutler // pansy - taemin // tightrope - zayn

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

Minho is the kind of love that you thought only existed in movies and fairytales. Make-belief, too good to be true, out of reach.

When he rests his head on your shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep like he’s been doing for the past hour or so, you give into the urge to stare at him in wonder. An angel on earth, if there ever was one.

His long eyelashes that you could only dream to have, the slope of his nose, his pink pouty lips, his impeccably sharp jawline, and even his fluffy hair that’s ticking your cheek as you look at him as if you don’t get to see him like this every day. But that kind of beauty is something that demands to be showcased in the world’s most exquisite museum and admired by anyone who comes across it.

Minho is beautiful in every sense of the word.

And you adore him. You do. You love him with every single beat of your pathetic little heart and then some.

Surely, you must’ve saved a nation in one of your past lives to deserve someone as ethereal as him.

Turning your face to the side, you press a kiss against his forehead. The touch makes him stir awake, eyelids fluttering open as he groggily looks around and stretches out his limbs, in the limited space that he has anyway. His sleepy voice asks you, “Are we there yet?”

“Not yet. I think they said we still have about forty minutes before we land. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

Minho shakes his head, covering his mouth when a yawn forces its way out. He straightens his back to his full height sitting down, then slumps against the seat a little bit. He rests his cheek against the top of your head while his hands find one of your own to hold in his lap.

He rubs the skin of your fourth finger for a moment before he eventually stills, lightly snoring again while you look out the window, gazing at oddly shaped clouds and blues and the reflection of the sun on the waters below.

–

After you’ve checked into the hotel, freshened up and readied yourselves to explore the scenery, Minho takes you down to the beach. It’s a little chilly, spring hasn’t yet settled into summer. Even with a light jacket on, you still shiver every time the wind rushes by like it’s playing with the waters. But it’s nice – the sea breeze in your hair and the sunlight on your face, your lover by your side, his fingers intertwined with yours as you walk along the shore together. The blue of the sea almost blending in with the sky where they meet somewhere out there on the horizon. Seagulls flying overhead, families enjoying their relaxing vacation, children playing in the sand way down the shoreline where all you can make out are blurry silhouettes dancing about.

It’s paradise on earth. It’s an escape that you desperately needed. Exhilarated doesn’t even begin to describe how you felt when he told you that he’d booked a Jeju trip for your anniversary.

He’s always been the perfect partner. Always knows just the right thing to do for you whenever you need a pick-me-up. He may not seem like it, but Minho is beyond caring and considerate. He’s a man of few words but he certainly makes up for it with his actions.

“Hey,” he says, pointing somewhere ahead of you. “Remember what happened there?”

“Hmm?” Your eyes try to follow the direction of his finger, until they find a spot where two people are sitting, watching the water in front of them, content smiles passed between lips as they talk animatedly. “Didn’t you confess to me there?”

He smiles as the memory resurfaces in his mind. “Did you know I almost chickened out?”

You two started out as friends way before you got together.

Three years ago, just a few months after you’d both graduated from college, Minho asked you to go to Jeju island with him. You thought it was a little strange – though not that strange since you had been on trips with him before, but it was always in a group setting with all of your other friends. Never just the two of you.

Nonetheless, you agreed. You wanted to get out of the city anyway. You needed a change of scenery to clear your head and to recharge. Everything was starting to become too much for you - being 22 and in limbo. You felt like you kept falling behind no matter what you did. Everyone was moving forward and you were running in place no matter how hard you tried to get out of that slump.

Everyone around you was outgrowing you and your little life, and all you could do was pretend you were fine.

It was one of the lowest you’d ever felt, and you suppose that was why you said yes to Minho’s invitation. A vacation didn’t seem like it would help much, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.

A few days away, with nothing but the sun and the sea to help you get out of your own head.

A tropical paradise and Minho. It wasn’t the end of the world. There were worse things you could think of.

That, and the fact that there had always been something between you and him. Not crazy sexual tension or anything, but just enough of a noticeable spark. An inkling of something that neither of you ever acted upon.

“Did you?” you ask. “Didn’t you plan the whole trip back then to confess?”

“What? No. Why would I willingly do that when you could’ve rejected me? Then I would’ve been stuck in a hotel with you and on the plane ride back.”

You squint at him. “Then why did you take me on that trip?”

Minho shrugs. “Friendship trip to cheer you up.”

Years with him and he still makes you feel as warm as he did the first time you kissed. You gaze at him with what must be the world’s most lovestruck look plastered on your face. You reach up to press your lips to the corner of his mouth, then watch as a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“You did confess though,” you argue.

“Well, yeah, but that wasn’t planned,” he tells you. “You just... We were sitting right there,” he tips his chin toward the same spot again, “and you had my jacket on because you were cold. You were watching the sunset and you looked so pretty. I couldn’t help it. Almost chickened out though.”

You stop walking, and this makes him stop too. Minho glances at you with his head slightly tilted, wearing a puzzled expression.

“You never told me that,” you say.

“You never asked.”

Pouting, you tug him toward you until he’s close enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck. Minho is good, so incredibly good for you that sometimes you can’t possibly fathom how you even deserve him. He never meant to get anything out of it; he just saw that you were struggling and wanted to make it better for you.

Maybe you didn’t do a very good job at pretending, not if Minho could see right through you.

Before him, you had a fear of heights. Not the literal kind, but rather the kind of heights that often accompanies big leaps, big changes. A fear of falling, maybe that would be more accurate. Falling and failing and hitting rock bottom with no way to climb back up. A fear that you would always be stuck with this life forever, trapped in an existence you never asked for. A fear that no effort to escape your reality would be enough, and you’ll always be trailing ten steps behind even if you try twenty times as hard.

You pull him down so you could properly kiss him, your lips slotting together perfectly like he was made for you, like he’s the only person you’re ever meant to kiss in this lifetime. You can taste his smile, minty and happy as he moves against your mouth, his arms sliding around your waist to hold you to his body by the small of your back.

“If I had known,” Minho pulls away slightly, mumbling against your lips, “telling you that would get me brownie points, I would’ve told you ages ago.”

You roll your eyes with affection.

“So all this time,“ he says, “you thought I asked you on that trip just to get into your pants?”

“You did get into my pants on that trip!”

“Let me remind you that I only wanted to do something nice for you. You were the one who almost jumped my bones right then and there after I said I liked you.”

You slap his chest as he throws his head back in a hearty laugh. Minho takes your hand in his once more as he drags you along, savoring the cool sea breeze and the golden daylight dancing on glittering waters before the sun bids you goodbye.

Minho is the kind of love that makes you want to curl up into a ball and ugly cry for an hour straight.

In a good way, of course. In the best way possible.

So that’s what you do, on a fine Tuesday afternoon, sitting on a couch surrounded by three cats as you wait for him to come home, perfectly sheltered from the harsh sun outside.

He returns eventually, toward the end of your crying session. When he sees the pile of tissues on the coffee table, soaked with your tears and snot, his heart nearly falls out of his ass.

Minho drops everything, rushing to you like you’re on the verge of spontaneous human combustion because clearly, this is a normal reaction to have when you come home to a girlfriend who’s been sobbing in the dark for god knows how long.

That, and the fact that said girlfriend doesn’t cry very often. Not by herself and certainly not in front of others.

Doesn’t mean that you’re immune to the occasional bouts of tears whenever shark week closes in, though.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Another rush of tears breaks as you look at him. You wipe your eyes and your nose with the tissue you’re currently holding, before throwing it on the table to join the pile you’ve accumulated.

You launch yourself forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. The sudden force takes him aback, makes him gasp a little.

He freezes as you cling to him like a desperate koala, before his hands slowly land on your back, rubbing slowly, hesitantly, as though he’s afraid he’s hurting you.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying?”

“PMS,“ you hiccup your answer out, to which Minho only responds with a relieved Ah, his hands now moving more assuredly on your body.

“Anything hurt? Sore?”

“No. Just… missed you today. Love you a lot.”

There’s something saccharine in his gaze when he pulls back and regards you with his big doe eyes, softened and endeared, yet there’s still a twinkle of mischief peeking through the sugary glaze.

He moves to make himself comfortable next to you on the couch but still makes sure to keep a hand on you so you don’t grow impatient.

Once he’s effectively squished between you and the armrest of the sofa, he says, “You missed me so much that you started crying? You could’ve texted me, or called. I would’ve come home sooner, crybaby.”

“I didn’t cry because I missed you. I cried because I love you.”

He pretends to think for a moment. “I honestly can’t tell if I should be offended or not.”

You jab a finger at his ribs.

Sure, the mere thought of Minho brings tears to your eyes sometimes. It’s not really a secret anymore.

There’s something about him, just him, how wonderful he is and how all of the stars in the sky must have aligned themselves to make you and him happen. He’s the love of your entire life, there’s never been any doubt about it. Your other half, perfect for you.

You’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and you’re positive that you will never feel this way about anyone ever again. Your love for him runs so deep, so powerful that it overwhelms you at times, drowns you in nothing but affection for him and only him. A love that spreads like wildfire through your calm and sacred forest.

It’s cliché beyond words, that one day you would be having these thoughts about someone. You used to watch this kind of sentiment romanticized in movies, used to cringe and laugh at sappy lines in books and TV shows though there was always a part of you that longed for that kind of love.

You didn’t talk about it often, not even with the people closest to you. You always found it a little embarrassing to admit that you wanted love. To love and to be loved. There was something so utterly vulnerable in the act of yearning and isn’t it such a scary thing? To be vulnerable? You never saw the appeal in showing someone the deepest, darkest parts of you.

What if they leave? What if you bare yourself to someone and they deem you not worth staying for? How would you come back from that kind of rejection?

You suppose it always held you back - the fear of being open that goes hand in hand with the fear of being left behind. Maybe you have more fears than you’d like to admit.

Then came Minho.

No, that doesn’t sound right.

He didn’t come crashing into your life like a tidal wave and unraveled your every belief.

He was always there by your side, a calming presence that you could lean on when things got tough. A friend, a solid foundation. He’s the relief after every monsoon, the first day of sun after a long and harsh winter.

He saw you for who you were, all the messiest parts of you, and loved you anyway. In spite of your mess? Because of your mess.

He taught you that love isn’t always extravagant gestures and grand declarations that Shakespeare would applaud.

Love is acceptance. Love is staying with you on your gloomiest days and holding your hand through your dreariest moments. Love is lingering glances by the doorway before he goes to work because you’re half asleep but you’re still trying to reach for him even in your dreams.

It’s sharing joys and burdens alike. Reminders to eat and gentle wake-up calls. A photo of you in his wallet, a silly picture of him as your phone’s wallpaper. Giggling with him after he tells a joke not because of the punchline itself, but because his manic chortle is even funnier.

Love is Minho cradling your face in one hand and holding onto your shaking fingers with the other, his steady gaze holding yours, and his voice whispering gently in the darkest of nights, “Your storm is my storm.”

At the end of the day, love is pretty simple. Love is him.

“Do you ever think about Orpheus and Eurydice?”

Minho laughs, the sound vibrating where you lay your head, his hand still absentmindedly rubbing the skin of your waist over your shirt. “No, I don’t think about Orpheus and Eurydice.”

You figured as much.

Your fingers trace invisible patterns on his chest as you hum your acknowledgment. Then you ask, “If it was me, if you were Orpheus, would you look back?”

His hands pause their ministrations, a little taken aback by the question you suppose. Your brain tends to pingpong between the most random things sometimes.

“You know,“ he says with an even voice, though the corner of his mouth still curls upward in amusement. “Other people just ask the worm thing.”

“The worm thing is boring. And we both know you wouldn’t love me if I was a worm.”

“You wouldn’t love me if I was a worm either.”

“That’s true. I don’t like worms,” you agree, chuckling while your boyfriend scoffs. “Answer the question, would you look back?”

There’s no right answer because you’re not expecting a correct response. It’s a hypothesis that can never be tested because you aren’t a nymph and Minho isn’t a bard with the ability to sway all life with his music. It’s a silly thought but it’s one that you’re curious about nonetheless, just to hear what he would say. Why not?

You’ve read many interpretations of the tragedy. In some, Orpheus hears Eurydice stumble and turns to catch her fall. In others, he can’t hear her at all. The story will forever be among your favorites, one of the things that never fails to turn you inside out no matter how many times you mull over it.

Minho is quiet for a moment. You think he’s about to shoot back with a witty retort that he always has up his sleeves, probably something about how he would find a loophole and trick his way out of the deal, or that he would personally fistfight Hades to get you out of the underworld. This wouldn’t surprise you at all.

Instead, he says, “Yes, I would look back.”

But regardless of how you choose to view the myth, the ending does not change. Orpheus always turns around.

He turns around because he loves her.

Minho’s fingers slip under your shirt to brush your bare skin, angling his head sideways so he could kiss your forehead. 

Maybe he’s just saying it for the sake of being romantic, for the sake of saying what seems to be the right thing. It’s an answer that you can never give substance to, but you believe him with all your heart.

You believe him. You do.

“If it’s you, I would look back.”

Minho is the kind of love that eclipses the sun and dims the light of the moon. The kind of love that drowns out all the noise and makes everything a little more bearable. Not just the most horrible things – your fears and struggles alike – but even the smallest, most mundane things.

If there’s one thing that you absolutely hate, it’s the smell of nail polish. You hate the way it lingers in the air even after the bottle has been capped, hate how the smell of toluene stains your fingertips even after washing your hands several times with scented soap.

Though, the only time you try to tolerate it is when Minho convinces you to stay in and pamper each other. Pizzas that he picks up for dinner and tiramisu ice cream for dessert. Face masks and fancy candles that you save for special occasions. SoonDoongDori napping on various surfaces in your living room, an old vinyl playing from the record player he got you for your first birthday you shared together after you started dating.

You each take turns doing the other’s nails on the carpeted floor. It’s become somewhat of a tradition that you indulge in every month, where you would spend cozy Friday evenings indoors just because neither of you can be assed to indulge in a “proper“ date night. Being hermits together sounds infinitely more appealing to you than any other alternative.

“I’m not done,” you say, snatching Minho’s hand back after he pulls it away to admire your work. You blow on his fingers to make sure that the layer of black polish you applied earlier is dry, then you’re reaching for a bottle of beige polish sitting amongst the ones scattered on the floor. You take a tiny brush from the nail kit - one that’s rarely ever touched because neither of you knows how to do nail art - and dip it into the sand-colored polish.

“What are you doing?“ he asks, watching as you trace some squiggly lines on his middle finger, the lighter color settling nicely on top of the black even if he has no idea what you’re trying to draw. “What is that?”

“Soonie,” you say simply. “When you flip people off, you can show them Soonie.”

You don’t need to look at him to know that his attention is fixed on you even though he doesn’t give you a response. You feel his gaze on the side of your face, soft and warm and never leaving for even a second. He doesn’t say anything while you work though, maybe he doesn’t want to mess up your concentration while you’re so engrossed in what you’re doing. He only chuckles at your answer, then nothing afterward.

You don’t mind the lack of conversation. It helps you focus better on what you’re doing because you’re no artist by any means. You can’t draw to save your life, let alone master something as intricate as nail art, but this is therapeutic. It’s perfect to help you unwind after a long week - doodling your beloved cat on your boyfriend’s nails while Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls sets the ambience. You’ll get the ice cream when you’re done with your impromptu project, along with a little headache from inhaling too much of the polish scent perhaps, but isn’t that a small price to pay?

You take your sweet time with the teeny tiny details, like Soonie’s delicate whiskers and the darker strips of fur on his face. He still turns out a little wonky, a little lopsided here and there but it’s not like you expected it to turn out like a Picasso.

The real Soonie seems to sense a disturbance in the force when he wakes up from his nap and saunters toward you curiously. You pick him up and sit him in your lap so he doesn’t come too close to the fresh polish on Minho’s nails. “Look,” you say with a proud smile, pointing toward the small cat doodle. “That’s you.”

He studies it for a moment, focused on your portrayal of him but then he’s quick to decide that he’s not interested anymore before wiggling away from your lap to go join Doongie on the couch. You chuckle lightly, watching him as he walks off, wondering if this is what it will feel like when your future children enter their teenage years.

When you turn back to Minho, he’s still staring at you, a dazed look in his eyes as he blinks slowly, his hand resting limply on his thigh.

“What?” you ask. “Do you not like–”

“Marry me.”

The rest of your question dies in your throat, wilting away like cherry blossoms when summer nears. He doesn’t break eye contact, still that dreamy gaze when he peers at you. Nothing has ever changed in the way that he looks at you.

For a moment, you’re too stunned to speak. You think anyone would be when their boyfriend drops a proposal out of nowhere while you’re doing each other’s nails in your comfiest sweatpants.

Everything that you’ve been afraid of comes bubbling to the surface, every doubt, every fear, even every fleeting insecurity. They manifest as a ringing in your ears, a buzzing in your head that makes it hard to think about anything at all.

But then he shuffles closer, closer and closer until his warm breath fans your cheek, his nose nudging your cheekbone gently. It’s similar to what Doongie does sometimes when you’re lounging in bed and he just wants some love.

When Minho takes your hand and laces your fingers together in his lap, everything stills. The rumbling comes to a halt, the distant thunder fading slowly into the background of your mind palace until it’s reduced to mere white noise. “Marry me,“ he says again, and his voice is so tender that you ache. Tender and sweet and so full of wonderful adoration. If you ever have to describe what love sounds like, you would say it’s him and his voice, right here and right in this exact moment.

“A little dramatic to propose just because I drew your cat.”

He chuckles, presses a kiss to your cheek before he ducks down to deliver another kiss on the side of your neck. Then he pulls back, just enough to get a clear view of you and your now glassy eyes.

“Bottom drawer in our bedroom,” he tells you. You can’t lie; you have half a mind to leave him here and go check. “I bought the ring two months ago, but I knew I wanted to marry you two years before that. I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to do it but I realized the perfect moment doesn’t exist, because every minute I spend with you is perfect. I love you so much. It’s not because you drew me my cat, by the way. I think I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.

“I love your weird brain and your blanket-hogging ass. I love that you’re crazy enough to listen to a song literally over a thousand times without getting bored. I even love you when you set ten alarms in the morning and still manage to sleep through all of them. I know you hate your smile but it’s my favorite smile in the world. Did you know my favorite color is the color of your eyes? The best part of my day is when I get to come home to you and the kids waiting for me. I want all of you forever. I promise I’ll love you twice as much on days that you don’t love yourself. When we’re old and gray and we look like raisins, I’ll let you go first so you won’t have to spend a single day alone. I’ll–” He stops when you let out a teary giggle, no bite in his voice at all when he says, “Please don’t laugh at me during my big romantic speech.” 

It only makes you laugh harder, though it’s just as emotional. If you focus on the other part of his sentence, you’ll only crumble into a million pieces right here.  “How very romantic of you to include the visual of us as raisins in your speech.”

Minho rolls his eyes – fondly, of course. When he pretends to squirm away from you, you tug him back by the collar of his shirt to plant an apologetic kiss on his lips which he eagerly accepts.

“Please continue,” you say, smiling against his mouth. “Tell me all the ways that you’ll love me.”

“You ruined it. I retract my proposal,” he grumbles, but his arms betray his words when they tighten around your frame, holding you close to him to steal another kiss. Then another, and another, until your faces are wet with tears and you realize that you’re both crying.

“I’m sorry,” you say through sniffles and tears. “Please keep going.”

“Make it up to me first.”

“How?”

“Marry me,” he repeats a final time. “I’ll give you a better speech on our wedding day.”

Years and years from now, when you’re old and gray and look like raisins – as he so poetically put it – you’ll remember this moment down to every miniscule detail. How the cats’ peace is disturbed by your tearful giggles and the strange look they give you before wandering out of the room, in favor of somewhere without two crying idiots. How the record starts skipping but neither of you can be bothered to do anything about the obnoxious sound. How the material of his shirt feels when you bunch the fabric in your hands because you need to kiss him, need him to be as close as humanly possible.

You’ll remember the sob that he hiccups when you tell him through choked up whispers, “Yes, I’ll marry you,” and how his lips feel when they tremble against your skin. You’ll remember the way he holds onto you like a lifeline, because he’s always been your salvation for as long as you’ve known him. You’ll remember what happens after, later that night when he finally slips the ring onto your finger. The words he whispers into the crook of your neck, “You mean the world to me,” and the emotions in his voice when you both realize this is the start of the rest of forever.

You’ll remember everything, all of it, every clumsy touch and every graceless kiss. Ugly crying on the floor and yet, it’s more perfect than anything you can ever dream of.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 13.07.2024]

[frmisnow]

MERLOT !

summary. nothing scarier then confronting past memories and being vulnerable!

notes. well! tbh i find it rly fascinating what events from their childhood make ppl act the way they do in relationships so i thought it would be intresting to dive into oc a lil further! hope y'all enjoy ˚⋆.✧˚

warnings /includes. ( 1.8 k / angst, fluff) comforting! 'let me take care of u'! ceo! jungkook x non specified! reader, hints at domestic abuse and daddy issues, angst, rly bad ex :/ , comfort!

the plane was once again quiet.

he doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, doesn't talk. you knew this would happen, you change people for the worse, that's what your father used to say. he became violent, blamed it on you and your 'reckless' behavior.

that's what happened to your ex as well; you used to like the innocence he asserted to you. embraced it, bathed in it because you finally felt like you learnt how to earn love. changed yourself for love.

but it was never enough, everything you offered at some point wasn't fulfilling to him. he changed too, not for good.

you don't want to ruin jungkook.

jungkook rarely even looked at you, didn't talk to you either besides business. and you are so scared that you had already worn onto him, that he was beginning to change as well.

not long after the plane landed, you're outside, wandering aimlessly through the city streets. the cold night air bites at your skin, but it doesn’t help to clear your mind.

you want to drown it out, drown him out. and it hurt because that was exactly what prompted you to meet him in the first place, you had wanted to drown your ex out. now the circle repeated itself.

why did life have to be so fucking unfair?

you push open the wooden door, it felt way to heavy, it was just a random bar you spotted while walking.

greeted an older bartender, ordered an whiskey. you happened to take a look at the bottle label: it was one of the ones jungkook had on his display. you were sure that your own life was actively playing a cruel joke on you.

but the pain is stubborn it doesn't go away with just a sip, clinges onto you, harder. you take another sip, bigger, it's another attempt — it was no use.

you want to go back to milan, at exactly 1:37am, walking around with him. but sadly, time doesn't cooperate so you motion for another drink, that's really all that you could do.

"drinking are we?" you hear a voice just as you settle the empty second glass on the table and you freeze momentarly. you don't have to turn around to see who it was, you knew the sharp and disapproving tone.

and suddenly the pain gets replaced with deep disgusting fear. earlier you had thought that you would rather feel anything else then the strong ache but you had been wrong. the misary had been better then this new emotion.

you give him the silence treatment, don't turn around, don't talk. in reality you were way to scared to look back in the first place.

"you're just like your father"

his words shouldn't get to you because deep down you knew he was wrong. you were nothing like the man he compared you to, could never be like him. but it still got to you, it stung.

it reopened wounds that you had worked tightly on wrapping and you frantically try to work on closing them again as he spat out more of his anger. the more he spoke, the more did your vision blurry and it made it impossible to tie them back properly.

he reaches his hand forward to touch your shoulder and you scream, tears coating your face. you think it would be a sight that would push him away, he hated seeing you a true mess, it wasn't the clean version he liked of you. yet he trys again, a smirk on his face.

you burry yourself behind the bartender's counter as the security drags him away, tears continue streaming down your face as you dial jungkooks number.

you don't remember what you tell him, you don't even quite understand yourself through the sobs but you do remember jungkook asking you if you were safe right now, that you should stay right there and that he'd be there in ten.

he makes it in seven.

jungkook holds your hand tightly while he leads you to his car, it was pouring. you wondered how he managed to be so fast without getting into an accident. he doesn't start the engine instead continues holding both of your hands calmly as you cry, doesn't ask any questions either.

he gives you a few more minutes, kisses your palms, tells you to breathe, tells you you're safe. you lean back against the seat, feeling the car’s warmth gradually ease the chill from your bones while he starts driving.

eventually, you make it to his house. you hadn't been able to fully register it back when you were drunk, but it was big, expensive, maybe a bit depressing with it's minimalist structure.

jungkook doesn't pressure you to talk inside too, wraps you in a fluffy blanket, prepares tea with a concentration that was admirable like he was perfecting it just for you as you watch him from your designated spot on the coach.

he sits beside you and brings your legs across his lap, handing you the warm cup full of tea. he watches you carefully as you blow on it gently before taking a tentative sip while he rubs your ankle comfortingly.

you take another sip from the tea, it's something cherry-flavored, burning hot. you rest your head against the familar coach, looking at him. you don't want to talk, don't want to disrupt the peace you felt right now, with the things your ex had done and said.

words full of anger and spite have no space and no use near jungkook, not now, not today.

he brings his hands to cup the back of your neck softly, "i can run you a hot bath, get you some clothes"

you close your eyes momentarly at his touch and your vocie cracks, "i'm sorry" you're sorry that you couldn't get over yourself and tell him what happened, sorry that the words of the man who hurt you so much still have so much effect over you, sorry that you hurted jungkook by ignoring him for the past few days.

jungkook shakes his head, "no, don’t apologize. you don't have to tell me what happened if you're not ready,” he pauses, “but i was really scared. when you called. i just-"

jungkook takes a deep breath. he runs his fingers over your shoulders before speaking again, “i just want you to be happy. just want you to be safe.”

you take a pause because those were beautiful words. but that's the thing with words, somebody says something beautiful, you want to remember but then you slowly start to forget. you wanted jungkook to tell you that everyday, so you'd never.

"i want you to be happy too," i'm just sure you wouldn't be happy with me. is the part you leave out, not wanting to ruin the moment.

his eyes soften as he watches over you, fingers brushing over your features, "i want to take care of you"

after you're finished with your tea, he guides you to the bathroom gently. helps you get out of your clothes, places light kisses on your back, makes sure the water is just warm enough.

he kisses the spot right below your ear while he begins slowly shampooing your hair, “do you want to talk about it now?” he asks quietly.

it's hard to get your tongue to speak but you feel jungkooks reassuring hands, it's the same hand which pull the words out gently. so you tell him about your ex, tell him about how he used to like you, tell him what he said, how he tried to touch you.

tell him about your father. not everything because some memories your brain simply locked for your own safety.

and he listens, doesn't interrupt a single time, kissing your shoulders as you talk about your childhood. "you deserve to be loved," jungkook says, so sincerely, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

the precious words sink into the sea of your heart, calm down the strom, fill you with inner warmth.

"i'm scared," you look down at your hands in the water, "i don't want to become him, i don't want to hurt you."

"you're not him and will never be," he says softly, as if he's stating a simple fact, "you're strong, kind and you care, so much more then anybody would"

there’s no hesitation in his gaze, no flicker of uncertainty — only a steady conviction that makes you want to believe him.

“you’ve been hurt, so much more than anyone should have to bear,” jungkook continues, his hands sliding down to hold yours under the water. “but that doesn’t mean you’re doomed to repeat the past. it doesn’t mean you’re destined to hurt anyone.”

his gaze wanders of to your intertwined hands shortly until he looks back at you, "you have the power to chose differently, to be better. and you already have chosen."

"and you deserve somebody who cares for you, loves you, cherishes you, i want to be that person for you."

you're still scared. the possibilties of you hurting somebody as precious as jungkook were deeply engraved into your mind but you ignore them, nodding slowly to brush them away. to be selfish for once. "i want to be that for you too"

jungkook smiles in response, wiping away the water droplets from your face, “let’s finish up so we can get you into bed, pretty.”

he helps you stand up, envelopes you in a towel, asks you if you can sit down for him so he can dry your hair. tenderly makes sure to not leave out a single wet strand until every bit of water was gone.

all that can be heard was the rain that was now a lot softer then it was a few hours ago, tapping against the window. you can smell jungkooks scent on the clothes he gave you earlier, you could feel his arms around you, the expensive sheets quality below.

he shifts slightly, his lips pressing little kisses over your jawline and cheeks, asking muffled, "what do you want?" as he continues his services, "i'll give you everything"

you think about it for a few seconds, "a kitten"

growing up, you couldn't afford to have a cat in your house due to the violence. there was no way that such a fragile little animal would've been safe in that enviornment. but you had always loved kittys.

he hums as you turn to look at his face, intertwining your hands together, "that's cute, we can name her cheonsa, you know what that means?"

you shake your head lightly, mouthing a 'what?'

"something that reminds me of you, i won't tell you"

the room is filled with comfortable silence for a few minutes while you listen to him breathe, "we should go back to milan, no business" “then we’ll go back to milan,” he whispers against your skin. “and we’ll come back home to a kitten. do you want that?”

🍓 tag list — @chansloverr , @marimarvelfan , @bxcndd , @1-in-abillion , @ahgasegotarmy116 , @copycat-namjesus , @malkaimoon , @geminiml95 , @taiwan0618 , @jungkookfics , @rrosiitas , @stuti2904 , @spiderlilyserendipity , @m00njinnie , @ririkookiemonster , @emptynessclub

[frostdayz]

More than enemies

Genre: Enemies to Lovers

aemond x reader (aemond uncle and y/n niece!!) (f! reader)

summary: Y/n is Rhaenyra's only daughter and at a young age she is betrothed to her uncle to keep the peace between the two families. Years pass without seeing each other, but when the day of the wedding arrives feelings are changed and emotions are spilled.

Note: Laptops on 3% so this was super rushed and tbh idk if i like it. Anyways this might be my last HOTD post for a while (I might be lying to myself)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

My wedding day. I stand before a mirror, the silver and red gown draped elegantly over my form, my mother's house colors blending with those of House Targaryen. My heart races, not with excitement, but with apprehension.

Aemond Targaryen. My betrothed. My enemy. The boy I had loathed for as long as I could remember. Our union was meant to be a symbol of peace between our families, a bridge over troubled waters. But to me, it had always felt like a shackle.

I had not seen Aemond in years, not since we were children. He had been sent away to train, and I had remained in Dragonstone, under my mother's watchful eye. Now, as I prepare to meet him again, I wonder if he has changed. If I have changed.

The door creaks open, and my mother enters, her face soft with maternal concern. "Are you ready, my daughter?" she asks, her voice gentle.

I nod, though my heart is anything but steady. "As ready as I'll ever be, Mother."

She takes my hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "This union is important for the realm. But more than that, it is a chance for you to find happiness." She smiles at me.

Happiness. The word seems foreign in the context of my impending marriage to Aemond. But I nod again, forcing a smile. "I understand." I sigh.

With a final kiss on my forehead, she leads me to the great hall. The steps we leave behind sound out an echo that leads me to my new and unwanting future. The doors swing open, and I step inside, my eyes scanning the crowd until they land on him. Aemond. He stands tall, his silver hair gleaming, his eye patch adding an air of mystery. Our gazes lock, and for a moment, the world falls away.

He looks dare I say different? Stronger. More confident. And in his remaining eye, I see something I had not expected. Curiosity. Apprehension. Perhaps even a hint of regret. Regret for all the torment he gave me when I was a child. Or regret going through with this wedding and not running away while he had the chance?

Without my mind wanting to my feet start to walk me down the aisle, my mind races with memories of our childhood. The arguments, the insults, the constant competition. Does he still feel the same all these years later?

I reach the altar, and he takes my hand. His grip is firm, but not harsh. I look up at him, searching his face for any sign of the boy I had despised. Instead, I find a man who looks at me with wonder and uncertainty. Something I didn't expect to find, my eyes linger on his face confused with the feeling that's starting to stir inside my stomach.

The ceremony passes in a blur, words exchanged, vows made. And then, it is done. We are married. Bound together by duty and destiny.

Later, at the feast, I find a moment to escape the throng of well-wishers and slip into one of the halls in the keep, seeking comfort in the quiet lit hall. Moments later, I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around and find myself face-to-face with my now-new husband.

"May I join you?" he asks, his voice devoid of the arrogance I had once associated with him. He takes a few shy steps forward as if he is scared that I will reject him.

I give a small nod, and he steps beside me, his gaze fixed on me the whole time. For a while, we walk in silence, the tension between us palpable. Finally, he speaks.

"I never wanted this," he admits, his voice soft. "I never wanted to be bound by duty to someone who hated me." He stops his steps and looks away from my gaze.

"I never wanted it either," I reply, my own voice tinged with bitterness. "But here we are." I take a step forward so I am now standing right in front of him, he lifts his head to look at me, his expression earnest. "Perhaps... perhaps we were wrong about each other. Perhaps there is more to us than the hatred we clung to as children."

I look up at him towering over me, searching his face for any sign of deceit. But all I see is sincerity. "Do you really believe that?" My eyes softening

He nods, taking my hand in his and looking down fiddling with the rings on my hand. "I do. And I think... I know I would like to try. To see if we can be more than enemies."

My heart skips a beat at his words. Could it be possible? Could the years of animosity have been a mask for something deeper, something neither of us had been ready to acknowledge?

"I would like that too," I whisper, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. I take my hand out of his grasp and lift it up to graze his right cheek. I wouldn't in a million years think that I would be open to the thought of falling for the man I once hated.

He smiles and leans his head into my palm planting a soft kiss. "Then let us start anew, my wife. Let us find out who we truly are, together."

I feel a spark of hope. Perhaps this union, born of duty, could become something more. Something real. And for the first time, I see Aemond not as my enemy, but as my partner, my equal, and perhaps, one day, my love and the father of my future children.

[alk4li]

“HOW DEEP IS YOUR LOVE—

cyno, thoma, neuvilette, alhaitham, diluc, kaeya

what type of relationships you have with the genshin men? a serious relationship, situationship, fwb etc.

a/n: i rewrote this sm times cus i wasnt happy with how it turned out

SERIOUS RELATIONSHIP—

cyno

✧ ok i see him as such an amazing lover tbh

✧ would want to become a dad bc he thinks dad jokes are the next step towardsa higher level of comedic excellency

✧ tighnari begs you not to let this man have a child

✧ but despite knowing his job could endanger you, he trusts in your ability to protect yourself

✧ would randomly buy you trinkets that remind him of you bc hes usually away for so long

✧ he keeps a little box of momentos that he snagged from dates with you. it consists of things like tickets from events you both went to and seashells from the time you both went to the beach.

✧ will not shut up about invocation tcg

✧ almost went insane when you jokingly told him you didn't want to play invocation tcg with him

✧ when you do silly things he joins you without question

you laid down your living room floor with your hands outstretched towards the ceiling. you shut your eyes as you soaked in the feeling of the ceiling fan gently blowing wind. you heard a pair of footsteps approaching, eventually stopping next to you. you pry your eyes open to see cyno looming over you. "what are you doing?" he asked, gesturing to your limp figure. you prop yourself up on your elbows and stared back at cyno, "i wanted to feel like a leaf." you replied. cyno stared at you for a moment, before walking towards the windows. he reels the curtains back and shoves the window panels open, allowing a gush of wind in. intrigued, you stand up and watched as cyno began making his way back to you. "what are you doing?" you question cyno who was standing behind you now. cyno reaches under your arms and swiftly lifts you up, earning a shriek from you. "pretending that i'm a tree."

neuvilette

✧ probably a little busy for a relationship but tries to make it work

✧ i feel like befriending the melusines is a easy way into his heart lol

✧ you had a small interaction with neuvilette one day, probably bumping into him and he helped you onto your feet

✧ the melusines saw this and their minds started PLOTTING

✧ they bothered you and neuvilette every hour of the day for 2 months straight about a 'blind date'

✧ when you both finally agreed (the melusines lied to both of you that the other had agreed to get you to agree) you almost passed out when you realised who he was

✧ it worked out though, because now you're in his kitchen throwing apples at his head

✧ he gives out amazing advice too

✧ ah, what a man

standing at the entrance of the cafe, the melusines snicker and giggle. they nudge your calves, signalling you to enter. hesitantly, you step foot into the quiet cafe. you looked around, trying to find the guy the melusines have been trying to set you up with for the past 2 months. you nervously searched, looking for a man who was sitting by himself. when your eyes landed on a secluded seat by the windows, you almost fainted. with languid footsteps, you walked towards neuvilette, who had noticed you when you walked in. neuvilette stood and pulled out your seat, "have a seat," you gave him a small smile as he settled back in next to you. "i remember you, i bumped into you a few months back," neuvilette said, eyebrows raised in amusement. that's when an epiphany hit the both of you, "oh." he mumbled. "that's why the melusines kept pestering me," you giggled, taking note of a few colourful animal ears poking out from the nearby window. "well, let's at least entertain their wishes for a little." neuvilette nods at your request, flipping open the menu.

thoma

✧ 10/10 lover boy

✧ he wants a established relationship

✧ when he first confessed he was a MESS

✧ dreams of settling down with kids in inazuma with his lover.

✧ i feel like he would appreciate scenic dates more than dinners and shopping dates.

✧ he wants children in the future

✧ SUCH A FAMILY MAN

✧ he gets insecure about not being good enough for his s/o

✧ but he tries his best to build a future w you!

the streets of inazuma were lively and full of colour, the evening sun settling in the background. your footsteps blended in seamlessly with thoma's, with your hand laid comfortably in his callous palms. "ow-" a quiet voice rang behind you and thoma. shuffling is heard as you turn to see a child laying face down on the concrete pavement. releasing your hold on thoma, you stepped closer to the boy. soft hazel eyes looked back at your own, glistening in the light. a smile etched itself onto your face as you extend a hand towards the boy, he hesitantly takes it as you gently lift him onto his feet. "are you okay?" you ask. the boy shyly nods, a wince escapes his lips just as quickly. glancing down at his limped foot, a small gash on his knee starts bleeding. with swift movements, you grab a napkin to gently dab at his wound. spectating from behind was an awestruck thoma, something felt so comforting about the interaction. without a silver of doubt and unequivocally, "she is the one."

SITUATIONSHIP—

alhaitham

✧ this is a hill i will forever die on

✧ he's so rational.. would make a pros and cons list about dating

✧ definitely tells you "sorry, i love you but this will never work. you need someone who can be there for you."

✧ he thinks that with his work and your life, it would clash and create conflict

✧ whenever you argue about

✧ everyone has no idea what is going on, tighnari and cyno thinks he's dumb and kaveh thinks you're dumb

✧ kaveh doesn't understand why you stay with a prick like alhaitham

✧ he truly likes you but his heart will forever lie in his love for his study and craft.

✧ he wouldn't tell you to wait for him because he's calculated the optimal time for dating and it's undefined

✧ sadly, he will never have enough time for another lover

alhaitham's embrace flushed against your weary skin. his room sat too silent yet too loud. the only sound you heard was the gentle beating of althaitham's heavy heart. his hands cradles your own, "i don't understand why you keep distancing yourself," a raspy whisper falls from your lips. alhatham instinctively draws your body closer to his own, his face moves towards the valley of your neck. feathery light touches grazes your forearm. "this was what i was worried about. you would be unhappy with how absent i am," the words hang coarsely in the air, cold to the touch but burning in your heart. you breathed in sharply. “this is why a relationship would be a bad idea.”

anger rose in your throat, “that's different. you're absent now because you're choosing to avoid me. you’re being selfish.” breaking free from his embrace, you turn and pin your fiery eyes against his emerald ones. however, he could only reply with a solemn look, “the probability this will turn out well is zero,” he replied. alhaitham knows how probability works, it can never truly be zero, but it can also never be ensured that this would turn out well. alhaitham is just a man that wouldn't take that risk.

diluc

✧ this man has no time for lovers (and way too traumatised)

✧ but does the occasional fancy date

✧ the type to leave you hanging for 3 business days

✧ makes it up to you by buying flowers after realising his mistake

✧ all in all he doesnt see this as a long term thing, so dont get too disappointed

✧ but he also can't take the feeling of losing you because he can't stomach the idea of losing someone he loves

✧ it's a hot and cold goose chase

✧ you'll be a happy for a week then he ghosts you for another week

curling in the comfort of your couch, you sulkily wolf down a bag of snacks. it has been officially 72 hours since the last time you heard back from diluc. the red headed man had disappeared without a word three days ago. after a night out, with a promise to pick you up the next day. it has been well over the decided time, and diluc is once again, a no show! a loud knock is heard against your door, there's a silent pause before another loud bang was heard. you pull your weight and drag yourself to the door. in front, diluc stood, a rare display of panic in his eyes, a bouquet of flowers clumsily clasped between his arm. you slant against the door frame, disappointed eyes stare back at his. "im so sorry, i just got so caught up on works and," he uncharacteristically fumbles over his words, guilt eats away at him as he eyes your sunken and tired eyes. you nod, looking at your feet. "i figured," there's a moment of ghostly silence. diluc hesitantly reaches forward, lightly resting his palm on your shoulder, testing the waters. when you don't push him away, firm arms wrap around your head, pulling you into his chest. a chaste kiss on your forehead, diluc gently rubs your back, "i'll make it up. i promise."

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS—

kaeya

✧ bsfr this man is too traumatised for love but would chase the adrenaline of it

✧ he doesn't want something a hassling as a situationship, no strings attached!

✧ he's still really cordial with you tho, treats you well

✧ buthonestly.. don’t get too attached or expect much, mans has been through the wringer of life

✧ lisa suspects something going on between you two but has no evidence to prove it

✧ amber just thinks you both are secretly dating

the feeling of kaeya’s rough arms clinging to your abdomen shakes you awake, suddenly realising that you’re wound up in his bed. again. the movement makes the male beside you stir, he groggily props himself up on his elbows, rubbing his temples, “morning, y/n. slept well?” a grin spreads across his face as he grabs and pulls you back onto the mattress. “great, actually. dreamt about monstadt without kaeya alberich,” you joke. kaeya rolled his eyes, gently punching your shoulder. “how awfully boring, who would accompany you to insufferable events then?” kaeya teases, poking at your sides. despite how domestic it all felt, deep down you both knew that by 12pm, these memories would slip into another void along with the other many escapades.

[fanartist666]

TW: Discussion of needles, phobias and blood Reader can be anyone, tried to be as gender neutral as possible, just rambling tbh, Price is a big soft baby and needs to be coddled when he isn't spoiling you

I headcanon this man as being scared of needles.

Hear me out, going by Barry's height Price is like 6'3, and just look at the size of him! Yeah he has Ser Harwin Strong vibes and absolutely would beat the shit out of anyone that ever insulted you and he kills people. But imagine if he was unreasonably scared of it, and it gets worse around you.

Not because you're bad for him, or you make him feel unsafe, but the opposite. His walls come down around you, and you make him feel the safest he's ever felt, so instead of gritting his teeth and hyperventilating a little (shutting down very mildly) but getting himself through it when he's away, he's got the safety to express his actual terror around you.

You go with him to get blood drawn, or a vaccination, and the phlebotomist comes out and asks if you can come in because your fucking bear of a husband is bouncing off the walls because he can't handle it.

It wasn't until ten had passed that you suspected there might be something wrong. Maybe he'd passed out, you thought with a soft snort at the absurdity of the idea. John wasn't squeamish, but it shouldn't have taken this long, surely?

"Alright luvvie, see you in a min." John said, kissing your forehead as he left to step into a little consult room. Shouldn't be long, he was going to take you for coffee afterwards, so you took out your phone and crossed your legs in the waiting room chair. The same weird, NHS logo blue and white tones in seemingly every hospital with the sickly green floors. You wrinkled your nose slightly at the stench of antiseptic stinging at the inside of your skull and settled for a five minute wait.

Just as you raised your head to glance at the clock, the door John had walked through opened, and a nurse stuck her head out.

"Is there a (Y/N) Price here?" You stood up immediately, mouth going dry at the thought that something could have gone wrong. It was only a blood sample, what the hell could have happened?

"Yes, yes that's me- is everything alright?" You asked, squeezing your phone so tight your knuckles were going white.

"No need to worry! We're just having a little trouble, would you be able to come in?" You nodded and followed her in. Your eyes landed on your very embarrassed, jumpy husband.

"John?" You asked, coming closer to him but he kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

"I don't like needles." He mumbled as you took his hand, immediately feeling his weight against your shoulder. "Apparently when I'm home, I can't cope so well."

"Oh John... Sweetheart, you could've told me." You said, kissing his cheek and taking his massive shoulders under your arms as he pressed his hot, red face into your neck.

And that was how you wound up with your 6'3 200+lbs husband half in your lap, stroking his hair and holding his hand while he had his blood sample taken, and walked out hand in hand. In return for your silence, he bought you a pastry, which you accepted, but promised him wasn't needed. Inwardly you were actually pleased that he felt safe enough with you near him to not force down his fears, to express them and by extension, himself.

If the 141 boys ever saw him with you they'd hardly recognise him, he's the same guy, his personality never changes, but he's a hundred times more expressive in every way.

idk this just kinda poured outta my head lmao

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Okay so hear me out. Angst. Pure hardcore I’m gonna crawl into a hole angst. DIVORCERRY. (I’m unwell I can’t help it)

I'm back! Feels weird tbh. Hehe, I had actually started writing this before going through my own. Feels timely that I post it now. It might not be as angsty as you requested, and/or as I intended, but I hope you enjoy... it's been so long since I've written that I have no idea of it's any good.

You never thought you'd be here. Then again, does anyone? Sitting in a cold conference room, with your lawyer beside you and the man you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with now avoiding eye contact, as he stares down at his rings from across the large wooden table. It's not something you ever considered happening when you said 'I do'.

But here you are, feeling every emotion and yet none at all, listening to a mediator list off all the 'assets' that you and Harry accumulated together over the years.

Item after item brings back memory after memory, and a part of you wants it to stop. What's the point? These are things you bought together, found together, did together. Now you are no longer together.

"Mrs. Sty-... sorry, I mean... Ms. YN."

“Hm?” Your eyes shoot up to the man at the head of the table, the one who is there to divvy up the material items from your relationship. The only one who seems to have a hint of compassion in his eyes.

“Is there anything you'd like to start with? Something in particular you'd like to have for yourself?”

What a loaded question. Is there something you want? Yes. How about the last few years back? Or how about a marriage that didn't fall apart in the first place? How about just the beautifully dimpled smile that would appear any time Harry looked your way, rather than the small, apathetic glances you occasionally receive when you have to be in the same room with each other?

You clear your throat, taking note of the fact that Harry still has yet to look at you.

"All I ask… is for my attorney fees to be covered.” You take a quick, deep inhale. “That's all. He can have everything else."

You immediately rise from the chair, oddly one of the most comfortable you've been in, especially considering the situation. Of course, this is the moment he looks up at you, with the most intense furrow of confusion plastered across his brow.

“YN.” Your lawyer whispers, causing you to look down to a face just as confused as the one sitting across from you.

“Just…” You shake your head, knowing that you'll only be encouraged to stay there longer, to continue with the torturous meeting, and dissect why something could mean so much to you. “Just send me the papers to sign.”

“Come on YN…” The sudden deep tone of that familiar British voice sends a shock through your system. With how little you've heard it lately, you'd almost forgotten what it sounded like. Almost. “There has to be something you want. I’m… I'm willing to negotiate.”

You drop your head and rest your palms against the wooden table in front of you. There's a lot that you want, but right the only thing you need is for this meeting to be over.

"Harry, I was never with you to get something from you, other than love.” The tightening in your chest begins, leaving you to feel as if words and air are both now difficult to find. “Now that's gone, so I don't really have anything to fight you for."

You stand back straighter, reaching into your purse and withdrawing the last thing you still had from him.

In your hand is a box, a small box, which you place on the table and glide across the wood, your heart almost questioning if you'll be able to let it go. You release it with a sigh and a full ache in your heart as you realize that this is it. This is the end.

Harry's gaze darts back and forth, never landing on your eyes or the object for more than a few seconds. There's a look on his face of potential disbelief. Maybe it's finally hitting him too, though neither of you should be surprised.

“It's my-”

“Wedding… ring...”

You aren't sure if either lawyer or the mediator heard the whispers of the short interaction, but the room suddenly becomes silent, the void paralleling what's left of your marriage.

What do you say now? What's an appropriate parting statement to give the man you never thought you would part from?

Then again, you've both said all that you needed to say. That's why you are there. So maybe it's best to leave it at that.

You allow yourself one last look at him, and your heart feels as if it's breaking all over again, seeing the same sentiment in his eyes. Those beautiful green eyes you wanted to look at forever.

Considering all the songs Harry's written about sweet fruit, you wish this moment didn't taste so sour.

Taglist: @watermelonsugacry @tw1nflamebruis3 @hopefulwastelandcreation @tenaciousperfectionunknown @queenmadi2 @runway-to-my-aid @theekyliepage @be-yourss @behindmygreyeyes @michellekstyles @a-strange-familiar @yousunshineyoutempter @buckybarnessimpp @msolbesg @sleutherclaw @katiebaxterrrrrr @percysaidnever @mrspeacem1nusone @thurhomish @itsbebeyyy @divalovesyou @bxbyysstuff @sunshinemoonsposts @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @boybands-baseball @austynparksandpizza @missmielyhoran @harryspirate @tiaamberxx @matildasatellite @cherryshouse @yatebe-kohayu @perfectzinenerdperson @babyiamperfectforyou @daphnesutton @around1302 @daydreamingofmatilda @swiftmendeshoran @one-sweet-gubler @jerseygirlinca @carey86 @lomlhstyles @vrittivsanghavi @fdl305 @sunflowersloverr @lemoncrushh @groovychaosavenue @justlemmeadoreyou @copiastricycle @lillefroe

[onyxmilk]

Twilight x f!Reader; "Missing" (p3)

notes; part three to this! tbh i wasn't planning on making a part three but here we are lolz tw; Reader uses She/Her pronouns!, child getting lost, wc; 1.5k tl; @dianexo-v @mr-underhills-things @solaeirr @lenguasdegatofan @0vendettaself @sassy-cat-in-town @dreaminmemories @not-9ok @deepdinosaurwizard @dvc4 @wr4inn

Yor knew the relationship with Loid was fake and built on the narrative of getting Anya into school, but she could not help falling hard for the man. Between the way he cared for himself, how they looked as a family, and his gentle words when it came to Anya- it was like they were a real family, something she always had wanted. So, when she didn’t get a call from Loid’s office today explaining that he’d be late, she was a bit worried about when he would come home. Yor put Anya to bed after homework and dinner, allowing Bond to sleep with her as usual, and sat in the living room.

When Loid walked into the apartment, he was practically glowing with happiness. “Loid! I didn’t know you were going to be working late today.” Yor said with worry leaking from her voice, “Oh, I do apologize, I had a visitor today..” Loid said as he cleared his voice. He felt somewhat bad for keeping his real relationship and his real daughter away from Yor, but it could affect how the mission finishes out. So, he kept this information private, and away from her and Anya.

“Oh? A visitor?” Yor asked, Loid shook his head “Just.. a friend, her daughter needed some counseling.” he lied. Yor smiled and nodded, “Well, we had take-out, leftovers are in the fridge.” she offered before getting up and nodding in the direction of Loid. “Night..” Yor mentioned passing him, making sure to gently bump into him and touch hands. Loid just nodded his head, “Good night, Yor.” he replied before heading to the kitchen.

After eating some cold take-out, Loid was stuck in his head. He just sat back and sighed, he missed his daughter and he had hardly talked to her, but he also missed his real wife, his real bed, and his real home. Loid was beyond shocked and impressed on how his wife had been raising their daughter all by herself. He just sighed and leaned back, running a hand through his hair. He was stressed, and all he was truly craving was what his life could be with his daughter and wife.

[YourName] gently puts Lotte down into her crib, smiling down at the little one. For once, she felt happy, light on her feet. She shuts the door as quietly as she could before walking down the hallway and giggling, “He remembers me!” [YourName] cheered as she twirled before landing on the couch. Sure, she missed her husband and seeing him every day but being able to see him and be able to kiss his lips brought joy to her.

The following day would be a Saturday, so Anya didn’t have school. “I want to do something today!” Anya whined at breakfast, Yor looked over to Loid silently looking for options to entertain their adopted daughter. “We could.. Go to the park with Bond.” Loid offered, Yor nodded her head in agreement- thinking whatever he came up with would be good. Anya gasped “An Ooting!” she celebrated, “You hear that, Bond? We’re taking you out on an ooting!” the child said, turning to the big dog.

Soon, breakfast concluded and it was time to get ready for the park. Loid thought that perhaps the park would have been better than sitting in front of the TV all day. So, Yor helped Anya get ready before doing so herself, “Do you think papa loves me?” Yor asked Anya. Anya paused, she knew the truth. She knew Loid wasn’t who he was, he was actually a spy with an actual family, she just didn’t want to hurt her mama’s feelings. “Of course! Papas are supposed to love mamas!” Anya said innocently, as if she didn’t know better. “Ah, yes, you’re right.” Yor replied, getting up to her feet “Well, I’m going to get ready.” she said gently before exiting her daughter’s room.

Yor would get ready, admiring herself in the mirror before patting her flustered cheeks. She had been thinking about the possible compliments Loid would give her for dressing appropriately and dressing Anya on top of that. She adored when he complimented on her motherly tendencies and duties, it made Yor fall for Loid harder each time.

Eventually, the family headed out and to the park. Loid held Bond’s leash while Yor held Anya’s hand. Once at the park, Loid hesitated but let Bond off his leash and allowed him and Anya to play together. Yor stood with Loid, gently holding his arm, it didn’t bother Loid as it made them look like a real family- but if he’s going to be honest, he wished Yor was [YourName].

Things were going smoothly until there was a cry heard throughout the park, immediately Loid and Yor turned to where it was coming from and there sat a toddler. But not just any toddler, it was Lotte. Loid didn’t push Yor off, but he disconnected from Yor quickly and rushed to the child, gently kneeling to be Lotte’s height, Yor soon joining with Anya and Bond. “Oh dear..” Yor said, looking around, trying to find this toddler’s mother or nanny.

“Where’s your momma?” Loid gently asked the toddler, Lotte would wipe her face and recognize Loid and cling to him. “W-Work.” Lotte replied, so Loid assumed there would be a nanny somewhere looking for Lotte. Loid scooped the little one up, shaking his head, he couldn’t just ask people if they were looking for Lotte, that could easily lead to a kidnapping. So, looking over at Yor, Loid pulled out his phone and contacted [YourName].

Turns out, [YourName] was called into work for some paperwork and the neighbor’s teenage daughter was supposed to be looking after Lotte- but there was no sign of her. “I’ll be there a-s-a-p.” [YourName] said before hanging up, Yor looked a little confused as Loid put his phone away “I know her mother.. well.” Loid explained gently bouncing the small one in his arms.

Just five minutes later, [YourName] came rushing over, crying because the thought of her daughter being missing scared her. She brought Lotte into her arms before sobbing, and acting on instinct Loid brought [YourName] in for a hug too so the three of them were grouped together. Yor couldn’t help but watch and feel a bit jealous, she wanted the chemistry that was strung throughout the air when Loid hugged this stranger. Deep down, Yor knew there was more to the story but her love for Loid took over those thoughts.

Loid would finally disconnect from [YourName] and Lotte once his wife had calmed down. With her free hand, [YourName] wiped her tears and Loid smiled at her. Yor cleared her throat making Loid and [YourName] look over and it finally clicked, Yor wanted to be introduced. Loid didn’t exactly want to introduce his fake wife to his real wife, but he had to keep suspicions low. “[YourName]... This is, uh, my wife Yor and over there is our daughter Anya and dog, Bond.” Loid said, giving his wife an apologetic look.

[YourName] nodded her head slowly, offering her free hand after making sure it was dry. “I’m [YourName].” She said, Yor smiled happily when Loid called her his wife, shaking [YourName]’s hand. “It’s always nice to meet someone my husband knows!” Yor said cheerfully, and something in [YourName] broke a little, not being able to call Loid her husband or kiss him when she needed it hurt, and to know he was spending free time with the perfect, well-built family hurt a little more than she thought it would.

“I got to.. Uhm, go..” [YourName] said, spinning around and heading toward her car. “Wait! [YourName]!” Loid called out, but [YourName] ignored him as she rushed to her vehicle. The mother sat Lotte down into her car seat and sighed once she got into the driver's seat, She put her hands on the wheel and placed her head against her knuckles as she cried. She missed her husband dearly and she couldn’t take just being friends with Twilight. Even if it was just for a few moments, seconds, minutes.

Yor noticed a difference in Loid, he was trying to hide his hurt, anger, and confusion- but Yor could sense something was wrong. She didn’t want to directly ask him what was up, so she simply leaned against him which made Loid tense up. She noticed this, but decided to ignore it and hoped Loid found comfort in her ways of comforting him. The rest of the day at the park went smoothly, no other crying children separated from their mothers or babysitters were around, so Loid, Yor, Anya, and Bond headed back to the apartment.

Loid was silent for most of the night, only talking when spoken to. He made dinner for everyone, sat with them as they ate, and then put Anya to bed after she watched some spy shows. Yor was getting tired of the silence Loid was offering up, so she finally spoke up; “What’s wrong?” Yor asked finally to her husband. “It’s nothing.” Loid tried to reply, but Yor didn’t take that as an answer.

Loid finally looked at Yor, sighing with aggravation, “Fine, what’s wrong is I miss my wife and child.” he says scoffing. “What? You were with us all day, no need to miss us, Loid..” Yor explained, placing a hand on to his bicep, but Loid shook it off.

“No, my real wife and child.”