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itsvelyria · 5 months

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"the moment the f1 boys realised you were the one"

Charles Leclerc

being able to cry around you: charles has a bad habit of bottling everything up. it was three months into your relationship when he had a particularly bad race, a stroke of bad luck. he was met with pats on his back and mutters that he would do better. numbness flooding his veins, they did nothing to ease the anxiety in his chest. he met your eyes across the room and watched as you stepped closer. with extended arms, you'd told him to let it out. never once has anyone ever told him that before, and so he had instantly broken down, exhausted from having to hold it all together. there was nothing needed but your presence. he sobs messily into your shoulder and the next morning, he had wished that he'll always have you around.

Carlos Sainz

when he realised you knew him better than he did himself: "how did you know?" were his first words, when he came home one night, only to come face-to-face with a pair of Airpods on the nightstand, addressed to him. he had sorely needed a new pair after losing them on the plane but hadn't had the time to purchase them. "because i know you" was your answer, beaming up at him from the side, where you were preparing dinner. you had missed the deep look in his eyes, rambling on; first his sister's wedding anniversary present in the coat closet, then the watch his father had wanted mended for a while now all fixed. and there it was: that was the moment where carlos finally understood the fluttering in his heart.

Danny Ricciardo

making the best out of life: when you had agreed to go out with danny solely because he made life feel that much brighter, but what you didn't know was that he felt the same way about you. you were always up for anything, the easygoing aura you carried with your being influencing him, especially when he had suggested sharing the singular umbrella left in the store — the unexpected downpour having caught you both off guard. nonetheless, you huddled under the umbrella, both your shoulders getting soaked the second you left the safety of the grocery store shelter. eyes meeting across the umbrella handle, you both break out into chuckles at your plain misfortune. that's when he realised — there was no one else he wanted to be stuck in a bad situation with.

George Russell

inside jokes: it was a small thing, minuscule even, the earliest memory of the joke being one of your first few dates, before you were even official. it was just a simple coincidence that the situation you were called for it. in the group dinner with your mutual friends, george's eyes had shot to yours, searching for the only being who could possibly understand him. and in that flash of a moment when his blue gaze met yours, your bodies had naturally leaned towards their other halves, giggles muffled into your hands. if your friends were surprised at the sudden laughter, he doesnt even notice, too preoccupied with how gorgeous you looked in the candlelight and how fast his heartbeat has gotten.

Lando Norris

shared comfortable silence: your boyfriend loved people, befriending strangers and great conversations. it all came easy to him, possibly due to growing up a middle child, he mirrored a little ray of sunshine. but as much as he adored socialising, lando found that he equally enjoyed quiet time with you, especially on lounge chairs by the beach while you flipped through your book, absolutely taken by the words. lando admired the expression fluttering across your features with each passing page. something strange settled in his tummy as he continued staring, something he could only allude to how peace might feel like. perhaps this is how life was meant to be lived, he thought.

Lewis Hamilton

sharing tattoo meanings: lewis has had a lot of art done on his body over the years and he's proud of all of them; memories and meanings forever part of him. with the orange glow of your nightlight at 3am, he watched as you traced the patterns on his skin, telling you stories and what each of them meant. you had soaked up the words, mesmerised by the deep lull of his voice as he opened up his heart to you. never has anyone been so interested in him as a person, all they wanted to know was his career and business and he appreciated it. to you, he was just a man — someone you wanted to know more about.

Max Verstappen

his pets greeting you: as the provider for his cats, he expected a touch more loyalty from the feline beings. still he remained seated, fixated on how jimmy and sassy nuzzled at your calves, the warmth of their tiny bodies against his legs previously lost. the silence was broken by the sound of grocery bags tossed on the kitchen counter as you stooped down to scratch their fuzzy chins. a light purr emanated from sassy while jimmy rolled over, also meowing in a bid for attention. his heart strangely light, he watched you indulge them like the spoiled brats they were. was it because of how much love was within you or the care you held for the things he held dear? either way, max couldn't tamp down the urge to cross the room and wrap you in his arms, much like you did with his pets now, the three little words in the back of his throat.

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harmonysanreads · 10 months

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Idée Fixe

yandere!lyney x reader

cw(s) : yandere, lyney, written before fontaine release

wc : 2.6k+

two dorks psychoanalyze each other. might kiss out of spite.

“For as many hearts as you steal, how many do you keep?”

The smooth texture from designed cards is felt across the tips of your fingers, your eyes capture the patterns printed on them through the filter of silvery moonlight and the sound of steps falling in sync with yours assure you of the verity of this encounter.

You don't even need to look up to picture the twinkling amethysts, the widening curve of lips that never convey anything concrete and a sudden bounce in the magician's steps ; the visage painted in your subconscious like the motifs on the cards your fingers fiddle with in intrigue.

The chilly night breeze are but twirls of playful edge,“You make it sound like something else,”

If you cared to look up, you would've noticed the subtle dance of his brows. Lyney begins to walk a step ahead of you in the midst of his short speech, through prolonged scrutiny that'd rival that of the most skilled jeweler's ; you've associated this change of pace to either be in preparation for his usual trickery — or, in the few sparse occasions that go as soon as they come, a casual introduction of another subject to eliminate the previous one. While one could accuse you of reading too much into things, you've long since learned that when it concerns the eccentric magician, the tell-tale details will reveal what he will not.

“Oh really? Perhaps it's your mind imagining insinuations that do not exist, you do have a creative brain.”

“Ouch, only you could insult and praise me in the same sentence.” Lyney places a hand over his heart to cradle it from the jab, though his choice of words should indicate offense, the delivery makes it clear he wouldn't have it any other way.

“Why, thank you, though you're gravely mistaken if you think that will change the subject.” with a swivel of his cape, Lyney spins to walk facing you, his strides (albeit backwards) unchanging in confidence and only when your lift your head to lock eyes, does his expression lighten.

“Well, to answer your question, the ones that are worth keeping, of course.”

The magician chuckles at your eye-roll, “Don't play coy, you know precisely how I meant that question.”

Lyney hums in pretend contemplation, gaze still fixated on your moonlit form, the beat of both of your steps grazing against the pavement and making it seem like a strange parade. Your question holds substance unknown to the rest of the world, but translucent to the magician.

It is both his frustration and delight that you're never bent by his charming words and theatrics. Your firm stare and insistence on the topic confirm his suspicions that you're searching for something particular, something uprooted from the very depths of his soul and he could bet his entire career that you won't stop until you've wrung it out. The answer you seek is nothing he can't give, it'd be simple as well, but precisely due to this knowledge the magician opts instead to test the limitations of your patience.

Truth be told, Lyney never likes it easy and neither do you.

For a miniscule lapse in the boundless confines of time, it's as though both of your world has separated from the existing one. For an amount that'd otherwise be uncomfortable, all exchange is made through your locked eyes. Like a secret shared between no other soul — despite your better judgement, the realization sends a jolt of thrill through your veins and you cannot help but wonder if the magician feels the same.

Seemingly out of thin air, Lyney twirls his magic wand in a wanton pattern, small sparks of light clash with the moon's glow before waltzing past your hair — you pause for not a second, knowing their goal lies in catching you off-guard. If Lyney was given the chance, he'd spend the rest of the night in determining whether you looking back to the cards in your hands was merely an expression of boredom or a brag of how accustomed you are to his theatrics.

Lyney dabbles between the lines of reality and illusion as a profession, blurring them without his audience's notice to make them believe a miracle. It's a simple trick he's succeeded in transforming into an art, so he was confident you'd be privy to the delusion as well. Whether it's due to you doing the same as him or the opposite entirely, Lyney's persistence in solving the puzzle piece named you only grows more tenacious day-by-day.

Sensing the magician's uncharacteristic quietude, you abandon the cards to his backwards marching form and the cheeky grin plastered on his face has you wishing you hadn't at all.

“Ah, but you see, the information you seek is confidential and I fear for prying ears. How about you come a little closer, and I'll tell you the amount?”

Lyney's face is a perfect replica of the grin-malkin cat he adores using as prop, a cloud obscures the moon's vision from seeing the act down earth and the shimmer of Lyney's eyes become pronounced in contrast to the shadow. In comparison, your visage that'd scream ‘preposterous!’ if it could looks nothing short of a circus.

Your steps come to a halt in unison, a breathy chuckle echoes throughout the dead of the night, “Aw, why that face? I don't bite~”

You blink in surprise and suddenly the magician's presence is way too closer than you recall ; he bows down to your ear and the heat of his breath almost makes a shiver run down your spine.

“... but, I might nibble.”

You catch his impish smirk from the corner of your eye and if Lyney notices how you choke in the formation of words, he could snag an award for acting like he didn't.

“Are you that fixated on creating a scandal? Must you always be so shameless?”

At that, Lyney leans away with a pout, hands folded behind his back and swaying back and forth on the heels of his shoes like a reprimanded child.

“Come on now, don't be such a killjoy. I went through all that trouble to whisk you from that boring party and this is how I'm thanked?”

The magician's words are a drawl, each one competing to be more irritating than the last. You have to take a deep breath and hold your tongue from reminding him that the escapade had been without your choice. The world places limitations on all sorts of things and you're not morbidly curious enough tonight to know the extent of the magician's good graces. A beat of tense silence passes, Lyney takes note of your averted gaze and it positively irks him.

Lack of eye-contact means a number of things ; nervousness, insecurity, hesitancy, guilt. For a performer like him whose pride resides in keeping his audience's eyes hooked on his every move, such a gesture is bitter tasting. But when it concerns you, it pricks and wounds his very soul. Lyney's sigh is one of weight and it inclines you to raise your head.

“By asking how many hearts I keep, you hope to know how many matters to me.”

The magician takes his hat off and moves forward to place it atop your head, his speech is not an assumption, nor an inquiry, but a statement. You straighten your posture when you notice the absence of a smile on his face, the sight so alien it has you on edge. While his gesture may be plain to an inexperienced eye, you know that he does it as an extension of his affection. For all the valued items he keeps dangling by the rim of that hat, he surrenders it all to you in a heartbeat.

But you still hold your breath and as expected, the solemn expression of his proves to be transient. Just before the hat grazes your locks, he tips it back, gives the vacancy of its inside an inspecting look and does an emptying gesture as if to prove its.. well, emptiness. There's a flicker in his eyes you're not given the time to catch as he brings his hat just above your head and does the same depleting motion again ; the scent of fresh roses engulf your senses as a thousand petals cascade down from the hat. As if on cue, the winds pick up and waltz them down upon your form.

Here's the thing ; while you may pride yourself in being experienced in discerning Lyney's tricks, it becomes a task to maintain a straight face as he never repeats his previous sleight of hand. What you can try to do instead is search for patterns, patterns reveal genres and genres reveal intentions. Lyney is a celebrated magician of the Court, his capabilities lie far from simple card tricks, so for him to resort to elementary jugglery instead of some grand spectacle, it can only mean he's trying to distract you yet again.

You feel the weight of his hat on your head at last, shifting all the cards on your left hand, you raise your right to adjust its position slightly.

Your encouragement for him to elaborate comes in the form of confirmation, “That'd be correct,”

The magician's lips curve up in fondness, a playful hum escapes him as you resume your walk, him returning to stride facing you again. It's a skill he's mastered in the duration of your acquaintance, for the purpose of stunts apparently. You have your suspicions — but then again, who doesn't when it concerns Lyney?

“Very well. You accuse me of being such a thief, yet, I think you are the guiltier one between us two.” the errant strands of the magician's hair sway, his eyes keep you captive.

He takes the inquisitive tilt of your head as incentive to conclude, “On the topic of hearts and all, I must ask first, when do you intend to return mine?”

The night winds pause, your brain processes Lyney's question until it blanks upon realization. Your eyes dart across his face that is void of all teasing cues, his eyes glazed over and you can tell he's holding his breath. Any consideration of his behavior aligning with trickery is eliminated just as quickly, because if anyone were to want to understand Lyney as intricately as you, they'd first need to learn to be able to distinguish his flirtation from fact.

“... Do I have to?”

You find yourself half concerned and half entertained as the magician narrowly avoids being hit by a pole, him having to maneuver to regain his footing. Both of your steps come to a halt as your laugh echoes throughout the dead of the night. Lyney sheepishly places a hand on the back of his neck but that sight is all too evanescent. The signature smirk of his returns with enthusiasm.

“Not at all,” he purrs, eyes flickering towards your restless ones that have settled on his magic cards again.

“In fact, mold it to your will, toss it to your whim and hold it captive as though it's a supplement of your own, if you may.”

Your ears hang onto each of Lyney's words but your eyes find no courage to look at the mirth that you're certain is plastered on his face, you take the moment to properly inspect the motifs on the cards with some distraction from the shadows of the night : the grin-malkin cat, a miniature Lyney sticking out his tongue, a tea cup, a penguin and—

You're left stupified as the card is abruptly snatched from your grasp, Lyney bounces back a few steps and confirms to be the culprit. You brisk walk to reach the magician and that turns out to be your biggest mistake.

The card is at first held between two of Lyney's fingers, him shaking it left and right in provocation and in the spur of the moment, you take a leap. You feel the wind of the card being propelled upward, the magician holding it out of your reach. Your desire to obtain the piece of paper exceeds your awareness of the sudden decrease in proximity between you both. You shift to your tiptoes and feel the surface of the card, one look through your peripheral at the magician's smile and you realize a little too late that you've fallen right into his trap.

“Now, let's see, the question that started this all : the number of hearts this magician holds dear is the answer to this riddle—”

You expected Lyney to make the card disappear or shift higher if possible, but instead his hand wraps around yours and you find yourself twirled a full circle. The motion catches you off-guard but the magician stabilizes you by placing a firm hand on your waist and pulling you to his eye-level. You find yourself out-of-breath and unable to look away as the moon shines its light on you two again.

“—Placed above, it makes greater things small. Placed beside, it makes small things greater. ” the magician tilts your chin up in his preferred angle with the card, the cool temperature of its margin contradicting the heat of your skin.

“In matters that count, it always comes first.”

The faint rustle of your garbs against his is resounding, your own reflection stares back through amethyst lenses.

Lyney's voice is but a whisper against your cheek as he concludes, “Where others increase, it keeps all things the same. What is it?”

Your frenzied mind momentarily dreads the scenario wherein someone catches you two in the midst of this rendezvous, from incipiency to this apparent climax ; it's built up to be nothing short of scandalous. But the magician has no care for that outcome, inching closer, closer and closer. As if sensing the new wave of worries that fill your mind, he halts but makes no attempt to lean back, his eyes regain their usual shine.

“Quite easy, don't you think? But, if you believe it to be so, you'll be mislead. After all, that is how the simplest magic bewilders the audience. Blink, and you might miss it.”

The magician dives in and your breath hitches. Your eyes are forced open when you feel yourself stumble forward. The first second is wasted with no action, the second one you register that you have the card in your hand — pressed to your lips, on the third you notice the absence of Lyney's presence and the forth brings down all the embarrassment crashing down on your poor heart.

You pull away the condemned card from your lips, heavens know what anyone would think if they saw you kissing a piece of paper in the middle of nowhere. Your face flushes in the lovely shades of pink, heart hammering against your ribcage.

I could've sworn that I felt...!

The magic card crumbles slightly by the edges because of your grip, the prickle of its corners remind you to take deep breaths and calm your raging thoughts. You shake your head with vigour, but you're unsure if it's to recollect the memory or to brush it off. You're left alone to ruminate the aftermath of the bizarre encounter in the cold winds of midnight and you almost want to drown yourself in the darkest depths of the sea as recollections of your reactions rapidly pass through your mind — you can practically hear Lyney's snickers in your head.

Your attention is then grabbed by the catalyst of your current predicament, you turn over the card and finally inspect the motif printed on the card ; two hearts, bounded by a shackle and a lock. You trace your thumb across the hearts and your mind retraces Lyney's cryptic words. If all interactions, encounters and memories you share with the eccentric magician of Fontaine would form a pinnacle for you to see the truth from ; you'd know that behind the veneer of charisma and humor, Lyney hides something far less innocent. And yet, regardless of the foreboding creeping up your spine, you find yourself unable to snap the tether of connection.

Because as it is, that which is mysterious, captivates us all.

may all lyney wanters be lyney havers<3

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sorcerous-caress · 4 months

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Early morning cuddling pt.2

[Fluff, wholesome, nb!reader]

[Halsin, Astarion, Shadowheart, Gale]

Part One

Halsin

You'd think that you married a fairytale princess by the amount of small animals you wake up each morning to, cuddling by your side and nuzzling against Halsin's warmth.

Not that he seems to mind. If anything, he seems the happiest sharing his bed with all those willing. His strong arm keeps a hold over you during the night, keeping you close and secure to his chest while he easily falls into a state of meditation. He prefers keeping the window open and listening to the wind outside, swaying of leaves and chipping of bird in the morning.

You did wonder what exactly does he think about during his meditation, and he confessed he replays his favourite memories. Reminding himself of what's worth fighting for in this life.

His palm cupping your face so gently, rough from centuries of tending to plants and magic practice. You can smell the earth embedded in his skin.

Who is worth fighting for.

If you're the type to sleep in during the morning, he happily indulges you as you cuddle closer to him. Resting your head on the rise and fall of his chest.

Letting the drumming of his heartbeat lull you into the land of dreams, just for a short while, maybe five minutes more.

feeling his hand draw circles on your back soothingly. You catch a glimpse of a whispered prayer to the father of nature, Halsin asking him to protect you, keep your soul and heart pure, keep you by his side for as long as this cycle of life allows.

♡

Astarion

You only realise the worth of love after having experienced solitude.

Astarion came to realise how much it meant to have someone just hold you in bed, nothing more, a simple body laying next to him in blissful sleep.

To have someone relish in your company so much, feel safe around him so much that you'd willingly want him to stay by your side while you were the most vulnerable.

It feels strange in his heart, a twing or guilt, even shame.

What did he do to deserve this?

How are you so peaceful next to a vampire? This isn't a camp on some ditch in the backside of Faerun anymore, this is your home that you've willingly and foolishly invited a vampire into.

But maybe he was the biggest fool, for he kept holding you close, fangs tucked away as the smell of blood was the least of his interests at this moment. The living really has a captivating way to steal one's attention.

what dreams do you have?

Each night is like a trance, and before he realises, it ends so suddenly when glowing lines of light just below the thick curtains peak on the floor.

It's morning already, but it felt like a second, he wants to hold you for a lifetime, hug you for a century, kiss you for a decade and whisper your name as if it was his last breath.

He wants so many things, he has so many conflicting emotions. Astarion doesn't want to get attached, you're fleeting, mortal, alive and so loveable.

And he is none of these things, at least not in his views.

But after so much misery, he deserves to steal one good thing from the living, you. It doesn't matter if he has earned it or not, you willingly chose him, loved him.

Embraced him as you woke up, eyes sleepy as nuzzled into him further with no regard to how cold his skin might be in contrast to your warm blanket.

"Darling, you know I'm supposed to be the nocturnal one in this relationship, right? Or did you grow fangs during the night." He voice was laced with an unusual softness, a stranger to his own ears.

You grumbled as he pulled away, chasing after him with adorable slow speed with your hand as you attempted to bring him back.

He's not a sadist.

Okay maybe he is.

But torturing a sleepy you, is becoming one of the highlights of his days. It makes waiting here all night worth it.

♡

Shadowheart

Her eyebrows scrunch into the most adorable glare when she first wakes up. The children of Shar and Selune have never been morning people, present or past.

The tips of her ears slightly twitch as the cold morning reaches her after you manage to steal the blanket in your sleep, wrapping the soft thing around you and leaving her to the mercy of the chilly weather.

Stirred from her sleep, she has a half mind to acknowledge how endearing you look besides her. Peacefully in your slumber and unaware of the crime you've commited, letting your beloved freeze to death in the early morning.

With a sigh, Shadowheart reaches over to untangle tha blanket edge from your iron fist as she squeezes herself inside the makeshift cocoon you've assembled. Instant warmth and comfort greeting her the more she pressed her body onto yours.

Despite how heavenly you feel, sleep has already evaded her grasps. Once she wakes up, she's the type not to fall asleep afterwards. Doesn't help how much of a light sleeper she can be at times.

So she closes her eyes and basks in the moment, fully enjoying the presence. The quietness of the morning where the people haven't woken up yet, the stillness of the air, the slow rhythmic breathing as your chest rises and falls.

She wants to trace your face with her fingers, she wants to admire your eyes, but she doesn't want to wake you up so instead her arms gently hug your body closer to hers.

Safety, comfort and love, things she was taught were a sin to desire, things assumed to make her weaker.

But being weak has never felt so good before, if what she's doing is wrong in the eyes of any god, then she might as well embrace her spot in the hells with your arms as her grave.

♡

Gale

He's changing you slowly, and you're not sure if it's for the better or worse.

What started as you teasing him over his cotton pyjamas with cat paw prints, turned into you wearing a matching one after he bought you one and sweetly coerced you into it.

You look so silly. You can't even deny it as you watch your reflection in the mirror. Watching in real time as your dignity evaporates into thin air while your lover is searching for his reading glasses under the bed by using magic to lift it in the back of the mirror reflection.

Turning around, you feel your lips tugging into a smile as you notice the pair of reading glasses pushed up on his head while Gale is scratching his said head and mumbling about how he just had it close by.

Where could it have possibly went, you wonder.

Calling him over, you watch as he adorable walks over to you with a hopeful look that you've somehow found his glasses like you usually do. As if you were the wizard in this situation who'd make it appear out of thin air rather than the academically acclaimed professor Dekarios in front of you.

Your hand cups his face, and he leans into it without question. Planting a small kiss on his lips, you lower his glasses back onto his face as you pull away. Gale's delighted expression rewards you with a second kiss, calling you his hero.

The two of you fall asleep with a dim light illuminating the room, stray magical star enchantments making the bedroom just bright enough for Gale's midnight reading, or midnight paper grading.

You either learn to tough it out or use that equally silly eyemask that came with your cat pyjamas.

Gale's usually the last one to fall asleep, except on weekends when he's in bed by 9. But since tomorrow, he has to be guiding the future generations of wizards in Faerun, you get his wandering hand playing with your hair or massaging your neck as you drift off to sleep.

By the time morning comes, he's tucked in a blanket by your side. Glasses crooked on his face for he forgot to remove them, again.

Reaching over, you gently take them off of him and set them on the bedside table. Giving his forehead a soft kiss as you check the time and see that you still have a quarter of an hour before he has to get ready to leave for work.

You wrap your arms around him, and he leans into your touch. Even while asleep, his body has complete trust in you, recognising your warmth and letting you cuddle him.

It would've been a very romantic early morning cuddling for the two silly people in embarrassing cat pyjamas, wasn't it for the scratching of paws on the locked door of your bedroom.

The sing-song yelling of Gale's last name following shortly, courtesy to Tara announcing to the whole world how you're a minute late to delivering her morning meal and the carrier pigeons outside are starting to look more and more like grilled chicken wings by the second.

#♡shart #♡Halsin #♡Astarion #♡Gale #♡fluff #bg3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #gale x reader #shadowheart x reader #halsin x reader #fluff #gale dekarios #astarion bg3 #Shadowheart #Halsin

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thewulf · 19 days

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Unseen Scars || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - hiyaa, i was hoping you were willing to write another Hotch x bau!reader. Maybe one where reader is in an unhappy/ toxic relationship, maybe abvsive even. And Hotch helps reader learn that what her significant other is doing is wrong, and he even helps reader get out of the absive relationship. And somewhere along the way he says something along the lines of “i can love you so much better than them”.

A/N: Not sure if I love this one. Kinda tough to write. Let me know your thoughts below.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader,

Word Count: 4.2k

TW: Abuse (physical and mental), bruises, scars, talks of hitting, general CM triggers

You've been working alongside Aaron Hotchner for nearly a decade. Each year adding layers to a complex yet unspoken bond. As senior agents in the BAU you've shared long nights on cases. Him as your superior but respecting you as his equal. Both supported each other through victories and losses. You had the kind of mutual respect that's created from high-stress environments. Through it all there's always been an underlying current of attraction between you two. Subtle yet undeniable no matter how hard you tried to fight it.

When Hotch was married to Haley he was completely off-limits. It was a boundary you’d never dram of crossing. One you respected without question even as your friendship deepened. Then tragedy struck with Haley's death and while you were there to support him your own life was tangled in a serious relationship. By the time your relationship crumbled Hotch had started seeing Beth. And like the cruel joke life was, timing kept you apart once again.

Eventually, that relationship too ended for Hotch. But by then you had drifted into the arms of someone new. Someone the whole team disliked from the start. You brought him to a team dinner once and it was enough to know that no one approved even though they wouldn’t outright say it. He was arrogant, dismissive, and rubbed everyone the wrong way. But you were in a vulnerable place feeling lonely and somewhat unlovable after your string of failed relationships. He was there though. He was persistent and in a weak moment that felt like enough.

Despite the obvious red flags, you clung to the relationship out of a misplaced sense of necessity. You’d convinced yourself that any attention was better than the loneliness that echoed too loudly in the corners of your life. Yet, as the months wore on the relationship took a darker turn. It left you isolated not just from your friends and colleagues but from your own sense of self. You were slowly losing yourself to a man who hardly meant a thing to you.

You texted Hotch early in the morning. Your fingers hesitating over the keyboard before you sent a simple message: Running late today, see you by midday. The message feels sterile, too impersonal for the turmoil churning inside you. But you can't afford to say more. Not when every moment feels like a step through a minefield.

It's nearly noon when you finally push through the front doors of the BAU office with your mind rehearsing the excuses you might need. The bruise hidden beneath your scarf isn't just a reminder of last night's horror. It's a stark, physical manifestation of a boundary cruelly crossed. It wasn’t the first time he’d laid hands on you, but it was the first time it left a mark visible enough to demand a story. A story you hadn't yet managed to straighten out in your head. And if anybody was going to catch you in a lie it was Aaron Hotchner.

As you enter the building the buzz of the office feels both alien and overly familiar, a stark contrast to the silence you’d left behind at your apartment. You try to blend into the activity, nodding along to conversations you barely hear, laughing at jokes that don’t reach your eyes. You keep your posture deliberately casual, avoiding any movement that might shift your scarf and expose the truth lying so treacherously close to the surface.

From his office Hotch had been subtly watching your delayed arrival and your interactions with the team. His concern deepens with each forced smile and carefully measured laugh you muster. He's always respected your privacy. But today the instincts honed by years of profiling scream that something is terribly wrong with you. When the office finally starts to empty for the day, leaving behind the quiet hum of machines and the soft rustling of papers, he sees his chance to talk to you.

"Could I speak with you for a moment before you head home?" Hotch’s invitation comes just as you’re preparing to escape into the welcome anonymity of the evening. His voice is gentle. But there’s an undercurrent of urgency that stops you in your tracks. Reluctantly, you nod you head and followed him into the sanctuary of his office. The door closed softly behind you leaving you trapped with the one person who could unravel you with a simple look.

Inside his office the usual barriers of rank and protocol seem to fall away as he leans against his desk. His eyes were not just those of a supervisor, but of a friend—a protector. "I’ve noticed you’ve been different lately," he begins. His tone soft but firm. "You said you were running late today… but I can't help feeling there’s something more to it." His eyes briefly scan the edge of your scarf before meeting yours with a piercing intensity. "If there's anything you need to talk about, I'm here."

In that moment with the weight of his gaze and the sincerity in his voice the carefully constructed excuses crumble. The reality of your situation, so starkly isolated by his understanding, begins to seep through the cracks of your facade and you feel the first real breath of relief mixed with fear as you consider confiding the truth.

Hotch's eyes were filled with a deep, unmistakable concern. They stay locked on yours as he waits for your response. You feel the weight of his gaze, heavy with unspoken questions and worry. For a brief moment you consider continuing the charade. Brush off his concerns with a practiced smile and a reassurance that you're just tired, overstressed from the workload.

"Really, Hotch, I’m fine," you say. Your voice was steady at first but even as the words leave your lips they sound hollow. Unconvincing even to your own ears. His expression doesn’t waver. Those knowing eyes don’t buy the half-hearted lie.

"Are you sure?" he presses. His tone soft yet insistent. "Because if something—or someone—is hurting you, I want to help." He gave you that look. The one that he knew would break you down. The one that he used only when necessary.

You shake your head though. A simple reflex to protect your precarious world. But your facade is cracking, fissures widening under his gentle scrutiny. "It’s nothing, really. Just been a bit clumsy lately," you attempt to deflect again. But your voice wavers, betraying the turmoil inside.

Hotch's brow furrows slightly. His concern only deepening as he notices the strain behind your words. When you turn away, unable to meet his probing gaze any longer, a tear escapes trailing down your cheek. Your shoulders tremble with barely suppressed sobs. It was that damn look that had you falling apart. Who knew he could do that to you?

He doesn’t say anything for a heartbeat, allowing the silence to settle around you, heavy and expectant. With careful, measured steps, he closes the distance between you. You sense him nearby. His presence a comforting shadow in your moment of vulnerability.

“Hey,” Hotch’s voice is a soft whisper now. When he gently places a hand on your shoulder, it’s an offer, not a demand. You don't pull away and that’s all the confirmation he needs. With tender caution he pulls you into a hug. His arms offering safety, a haven from the storm you’ve been weathering alone. The warmth and solidity of him is grounding and as you lean into his embrace, the dam breaks. Tears were streaming freely now.

He doesn’t rush you nor does he bombard you with questions. He simply holds you, steady and strong, as you let the first wave of relief and acknowledged pain wash over you.

As Hotch's arms encircle you in a gentle embrace a rush of emotions overwhelms you each one more turbulent than the last. Instead of relief a sharp panic claws its way up your chest. The intimacy of the moment, the closeness, it all becomes too much. Your breathing becomes shallow, rapid, as if you can't get enough ai. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, threatening to burst.

"Hotch, I—I can't," you stammer. Your voice choked with rising fear. The room feels as if it's closing in. Each wall inching closer, trapping you in this raw, exposed moment.

He senses the shift immediately with his hold loosening just enough to let you breathe, but he doesn’t let go knowing you need a tether to the present. "Hey, look at me," Hotch says, his voice a calm, steady anchor in the storm of your panic. You barely manage to lift your eyes to his as you were caught in the whirlwind of your emotions.

"Take a deep breath with me, okay?" he guides gently. "In... and out," he continues, his own breaths exaggerated to model a slow, calming rhythm. His eyes are soft, patient, holding yours with a steadiness that feels both terrifying and comforting.

You try to follow as your first attempt is shaky and uneven. But Hotch is there. His presence a constant reassurance. "That’s it, just breathe. In... and out," he repeats with his voice grounding you in the moment. Slowly, the frantic pace of your heart begins to slow. The crushing weight in your chest easing as you synchronize your breathing with his.

"You're safe here with me," Hotch whispers to you. Each word carefully chosen to fortify the fragile peace you're beginning to feel. "Nothing is going to happen to you. I’ve got you. I promise." And you knew that it was indeed a promise. He’d never let anything happen to you if he could stop it.

His reassurances wash over you. His voice was a soothing balm to the raw edges of your panic. Gradually your fear subsides and is replaced by a weary relief. As your breathing evens out Hotch’s arms remain a gentle, unyielding presence around you. In this quiet space with the security of his embrace shielding you from the world outside you finally allow yourself to feel the full weight of your vulnerability—and the strength of the trust you have in him.

The panic attack recedes like a tide going out. It left you drained but inexplicably more grounded than before. Hotch holds you a little while longer making sure you're completely calm before he speaks again. "You’re not alone in this," he assures you as his tone is imbued with an earnestness that makes you believe him. That there might be a way out of the darkness.

As the last of your tears dry Hotch steps back slightly giving you space but keeping his presence comforting and solid. He ushers you to sit without words before pulling up a chair close to yours. His demeanor still radiating calm and concern. You notice his jaw tighten for a moment, a silent tell to his anger at seeing you hurting so openly.

As you finally voice the painful truth, "He's been hurting me, Hotch," the words echo starkly in the quiet office. Saying it aloud makes it all too real. A wave of embarrassment washes over you. Your gaze drops to your hands, fidgeting with the ends of the scarf. You can't bear to meet his eyes as you were afraid of what you might see there—pity, shock, or worse, disbelief.

Your fingers tremble as you slowly unwrap the scarf from around your neck, exposing the harsh evidence of your partner's violence. The bruises are stark against your skin. A palette of black and blue that makes your stomach churn. When Hotch sucks in a breath, a sound of sharp distress, you flinch, the sound bringing home the reality of your exposure.

"I'm so sorry," Hotch breathes out. His voice thick with emotion. You still can't look at him being too overwhelmed by a mix of shame and the relief of finally sharing your burden. The room suddenly feels too small. The air too thick with the weight of your confessed reality.

"You don’t have to go through this alone anymore," Hotch continues. His voice a steady, grounding force in the chaos of your emotions. Despite his words a knot of anxiety tightens in your chest. The vulnerability of the moment making you acutely uncomfortable.

Hotch's chair scrapes softly against the floor as he moves slightly closer. "I'm here, and we'll do whatever it takes to ensure he can't hurt you again," he says with a resolve that is both reassuring and overwhelming. You finally risk a glance up at him, meeting his gaze. Instead of the judgment you feared, you find only deep concern and a protective firmness. You shouldn’t have expected any less than that from him.

Seeing your hesitation and discomfort, Hotch reaches out slowly, giving you time to withdraw if you choose. When his hand gently takes yours, it's a lifeline, solid and warm. "We'll figure this out together," he assures you. His voice low and calm. "Let’s focus on what you need right now."

Tears well up in your eyes as you meet his steady gaze. Your fear of your partner bubbling to the surface. "I'm scared, Hotch," you whisper, your voice breaking with the weight of your admission. "I'm afraid of what he might do if I leave. He could do something drastic..." The possibility hangs heavily between you. A dark cloud of fear.

Hotch squeezes your hand gently. His touch reassuring as it always is. "We'll take every precaution," he promises with his tone imbued with determination. "You're not alone in this. We have resources and procedures to protect you. Trust me Y/N. You're safe."

His words were spoken with such a conviction that slowly penetrate the fog of your fear. The immediate comfort of knowing you're not alone, bolstered by Hotch's unwavering support, helps to steady the tumult inside you. The future may remain uncertain but with Hotch by your side you feel a spark of hope. A hope that perhaps you can break free from the shadows and rebuild your life once again.

The conversation with Hotch stretches late into the evening as a mix of detailed planning and moments of quiet support. Once the office empties and the building quiets Hotch makes a decision. "Why don't you stay with me tonight?" he suggests gently. "It's late and I'd feel better knowing you're safe." You agree, feeling a mix of gratitude and anxiety about the imposition. Hotch reassures you it's no trouble. Together you leave the dimly lit office, stepping into the cool night air that seems to offer a breath of tentative freedom.

The drive to his home is quiet, filled with the soft hum of the car and the distant glow of streetlights. Upon arriving, Hotch introduces you to his home with a warmth that's both inviting and respectful of your space. He shows you to the guest room making sure you have everything you need before he leaves. "Make yourself at home," he says. "We'll figure out the next steps in the morning." You give a grateful nod before heading to bed yourself. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep after your head hit the pillow. You’d truly never felt safer than you had right then.

The next morning as you make your way to the kitchen, Jack spots you and his face instantly lights up. "You're here!" he exclaims before running towards you with arms wide open. You kneel down just in time to catch him as he launches into a big hug. His enthusiasm bringing a genuine smile to your face. "I missed you!" he chirps, and you can't help but laugh, the sound mingling with his giggles.

Hotch watched the interaction from the doorway and smiles warmly but also feels a pang of concern given your recent ordeal. As Jack wraps his arms around you, Hotch steps forward and gently places a hand on his son's shoulder. "Be careful, buddy," he says softly, his voice tinged with protective caution. "She's a little hurt."

Jack’s expression immediately shifts to one of concern as he pulls back slightly. His bright eyes scanning your face with a mix of confusion and worry. "Did I hurt you more?" he asks, his voice small, his usual cheer replaced by a serious, almost adult-like concern.

You shake your head quickly making sure to offer him a reassuring smile. "No, Jack, you didn’t hurt me at all," you explain while ruffling his hair gently. "I'm just a little sore, that’s all. Your hug is actually just what I needed."

Relieved but still slightly cautious, Jack nods and gives you a gentler, more measured hug this time. Hotch watches this exchange. His own heart swelling with mixed emotions—gratitude for the innocent care Jack shows and a renewed resolve to ensure that both you and his son are kept safe from any harm.

Later as Jack plays outside, Hotch joins you on the porch with a thoughtful expression on his face. He watches his son for a moment before turning to you. His gaze serious yet open. "This morning, seeing you with Jack… the way he lights up around you. It reminded me of something important I've been meaning to share," he chooses his words carefully as he speaks to you.

Your gaze lets him know he can continue. "I ended things with Beth a few months ago," he reveals letting the statement hang in the air for a moment to gauge your reaction. "It was the right decision. My heart wasn't fully in it, and I realized I needed to be honest with myself about my feelings."

You're taken aback. Your surprise evident. "Oh, I... I had no idea. She seemed so lovely," you reply trying to mask your confusion. Beth had always appeared perfect for him. She seemed kind, attentive, and good with Jack.

Hotch nods, acknowledging your point. "She was lovely," he admits, "but she wasn't what I was looking for. Not what Jack needed either." His gaze drifts towards his son, watching him play with a gentle smile.

He then turns back to you with a thoughtful expression. "We needed someone who could really be a part of our lives, understand us. Someone who already fits so seamlessly into our little world," he adds. His eyes held yours for a moment longer than necessary, hinting at deeper layers to his words.

The implication of his statement hangs between you, stirring a mix of emotions between the both of you. His revelation not only adds a new dimension to your understanding of his current situation but also subtly places you at the center of his thoughts. The gentle hint that you might be the answer they needed feels both overwhelming and heartening.

"I just want you to know that I'm here for you, especially now," Hotch continues. His tone sincere. "It's been a tough time and you shouldn't have to go through it alone. Whatever support you need. I'm here."

As you absorb his words, a sense of safety envelops you coupled with a budding realization of the importance of your presence in his life. Not just as a colleague but potentially something more. The careful balance he maintains in offering support while subtly revealing his personal reflections provides a comforting stability as you navigate the complex emotions of your current situation.

Several days had passed since you sought refuge at Hotch's home after breaking things off with your ex. Each day Hotch gently suggests reasons for you to extend your stay. His concern palpable. "Just until we’re sure you’re safe," he reassures you, but his eyes betray a deeper plea for you to remain longer.

One evening after Jack is safely tucked into bed Hotch opens a bottle of wine and pours two glasses. He hands you one with a soft smile that doesn't quite mask his underlying nervousness. "Thought we could use this," he says as he joins you on the couch. The house is quiet, the subtle buzz of the evening creating a cocoon of calm around you.

As you sip the rich wine, the warmth it brings is matched only by the comfort of the familiar space. Hotch breaks the silence first, his voice low and laden with unspoken thoughts. "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking," he starts. Hesitating as he chooses his words carefully. "About what’s important... about what I want for the people I care about."

He pauses before taking a deep breath before meeting your gaze with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. "I want you to stay here a little longer. Not just for safety but because it feels right having you here. These days with you and Jack... they’ve felt more like home than anything I've known in a long time."

The atmosphere shifts charged with an emotion that’s both tender and terrifying. Hotch continues with his voice softening, "I think we could be good for each other… if you're willing to see where this might go."

Moved by his candidness and the earnestness in his eyes you find yourself nodding slightly. Your own emotions mirrored in his expression. "I've felt it too," you whisper. "It’s easy with you. With Jack.."

Hotch reaches out, his hand covering yours. His touch warm and sure. "I can love you so much better than he ever did," he says with a confidence you hadn’t heard from him. His voice deep and resolute. Then, taking another deep breath, he adds, "I love you. I love you with everything in me. More than I ever thought possible."

His confession, raw and powerful, cuts through the last of your reservations. Tears well up in your eyes as you take in the depth of his feelings laid bare in the quiet of the night. This isn't just a moment of comfort. It's a turning point, a beginning of something profound and life-altering.

As you sit there, the night deepening around you, you lean into him with your head resting against his shoulder. "I love you too, Aaron," you admit to him. Your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. In the soft glow of the living room, you start to imagine a future that holds not just safety, but a shared life filled with love and understanding.

Two years have woven themselves seamlessly into the fabric of your life with Hotch and Jack. What began as a sanctuary in times of turmoil has blossomed into a full, shared existence, each day deepening the bond between you all. The BAU team, integral to your journey, has watched this transformation and played a part in nurturing your collective happiness.

On a sun-drenched Saturday, Hotch has orchestrated a gathering under the guise of a simple spring barbecue at a picturesque local park. The team is there, along with Jack, who’s energetically darting around with Rossi and Prentiss in a spirited game of soccer. Garcia is setting the mood with a carefully curated playlist while you and JJ are laughing over a shared joke by the picnic tables.

As the afternoon wanes with everyone sated by laughter and good food, Hotch taps his glass gently with a fork drawing eyes with the subtle, familiar command of his presence. The conversations taper off, leaving a blanket of anticipatory silence.

“I’ve spent much of my life dedicated to understanding moments—capturing them before they slip away,” Hotch begins, his voice resonating with a rare tremor of vulnerability. He looks over at you, his eyes shimmering with unspoken words. “But the moments I’ve cherished the most have been with all of you—my team, my family. And especially with you,” he turns fully towards you, taking your hand in his.

Jack, picking up on the significance of the moment, quiets down and moves closer. His young face alight with curiosity and excitement. Hotch’s gaze softens as he kneels in front of you. A gesture that pulls at the heartstrings of everyone present.

“Since you entered our lives, you’ve brought light into shadows I didn’t even know existed. You’ve made a house feel like a home again, and you’ve taught me that love isn’t just a remnant of the past but a promise for the future,” he continues. His voice thick with emotion. From his pocket, he produces a small, velvet box, opening it to reveal a ring that captures the late afternoon sunlight.

“Will you marry me?” His words, simple yet profound, hang in the air.

Tears stream down your cheeks, joyous and unrestrained, as you nod emphatically. Words were lost in the swell of emotions. “Yes, Aaron, yes!”

Jack jumps up, cheering, "She said yes!" His delight infectious bringing the team to erupt into their own cheers. Garcia captures every second, her lens fogging slightly with her own tears.

Spencer, who has been quietly observant, steps forward with a bottle of champagne. “To new beginnings,” he says. His voice steady but emotional, reflecting his deep affection for both of you. He pops the cork, and as the champagne flows, so do the congratulations.

Morgan playfully nudges Hotch, while JJ, ever the emotional heart of the team, hugs you tightly, whispering, “He’s never looked happier.”

You grin to one of your very own best friends. “I’ve never been happier.”

As the evening unfolds with laughter and shared stories, the sense of family deepens. The park was bathed in the glow of sunset, feels like a snapshot of a new chapter. One filled with love and the quiet promise of forever. Your heart, full and overflowing, knows this is just the beginning.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: (Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade @kreepja @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kajjaka @guacam011y

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evanpeterswhoresblog · 4 months

Text

Innocence

Remus Lupin x f!reader

warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), fingering, slight hand job, virgin reader, purity ring 😮‍💨, making out, underage smoking, mention of underage drinking, slight innocence/ corruption kink, lmk if i missed any!

summary: remus learns the ring you wear everyday is called a purity ring, and he develops a strange obsession with it… and wanting to take it off you…

word count: 4.6k

a/n: guys.. dw there’s gonna b a part two but like omgggggg this made me feel so many things i’m in love with this. lmk what you think :) also i’m not religious so if any of this is not accurate i’m sorry lol it’s for the plot

part two is posted!!! here

~~~

Ever since he knew you, Remus noticed that one thing you always wore. It was plain, a simple gold band on your left ring finger, the marriage finger. Typically, such nonsense wouldn’t cross his mind twice, but you wore that ring damn ring every day. Since the first time he ever saw you, that ring was on your finger. He never saw you without it. So, his curiosity got the better of him.

Why would such a simple ring be so important that you never took it off? It couldn’t have been because you were married. No. You wore it even at the young age of eleven. Could it have been a family heirloom? That idea was plausible, however to him, it didn’t feel like the correct answer. And Remus Lupin always needed the correct answer.

So, he eventually decided to ask you.

During dinner one night, when you just so happened to be sitting next to him, his eyes caught sight of the ring and he eyed it suspiciously. You noticed this.

“Something wrong Rem?” You asked.

He looked up from the ring on your delicate finger to meet your confused eyes. “Why do you always wear that specific ring? And always on that finger? Is it special?”

“Oh.” You laughed for a few seconds. “Yeah, it’s stupid really, an old muggle tradition.” You composed yourself and looked up at him, a slight red tint to your cheeks. “It’s called a purity ring. Basically, I wear it as a reminder that I pledged to wait till marriage.”

Remus was confused, and he hated being confused. “Why would anyone wait till marriage?”

You shrugged. “Muggle religion is quite weird. They value keeping teenagers pure until they’re married. I think it’s stupid, but I still wear it.”

“So, you’ve done it but continue wearing it as a... symbol?” He questioned.

“Oh no, I haven’t done it. I might find it stupid, but I still plan to keep my promise. It’s sort of a nice accomplishment don’t you think? I’ve gone through two years of everyone shagging around me and I haven’t given in,” you answered.

He stared at you for a few seconds. You were still a virgin, and that ring was the reason. He thought for a moment. How could you be a virgin? He swore he had seen you go off with a bloke from Ravenclaw a few months ago during a party. But then as his eyes trailed over your small figure, he realized the idea wasn’t completely impossible. He’d never seen you with hickeys, he’d never seen you dress improperly, and he surely had never seen you enter the common room after a long night with someone. For some reason, it made a strange feeling bloom deep inside him.

“Surely you’ve at least done other stuff, right?”

You simply shook your head and took a bite from your sandwich. “Furthest I’ve ever gone is having some Ravenclaws tongue down my throat.”

Ah, so he was right about that.

“Besides, I don’t really even know much about any of that stuff. I mean I know biology, but that’s about it. And of course, what Marls and Mary tell me from their extravagant experiences,” you added after swallowing.

So that meant...

“You haven’t done anything?” He was surprised, it was clear in his tone.

“No need to sound so flabbergasted. Besides, why do you even care about what I’ve done? I always thought you were the modest type too,” you replied with an eye roll.

Remus looked away from you, and the urge to smirk took him over. He thought back to those countless nights over the summer breaks he’d spent with muggle girls. The feelings, the sounds, the tastes, all experiences he’d never forget. But by no means was Remus Lupin a player, oh no. He was nothing like his mate. However, he also wasn’t a saint like everyone painted him out to be.

“I may be modest but that doesn’t mean I’m a virgin,” he said after a moment, his eyes finally turned back to you. He liked the way you looked at him. “That went away a few summers ago.”

You smiled, though something about it was off, almost as if it were forced. “Well, cheers to that.”

“Cheers.” He nodded in agreement.

You turned back to the group conversation before he could say anything else.

~~~

Remus had thought after finding out what the ring's importance was, he would let it go and move on. Unfortunately, he had thought wrong. Ever since that conversation with you, he couldn’t get any of it off his mind. When he’d see you, he’d always look at your left hand, almost making sure that ring was still there. It always was. And for some reason it made him feel almost relieved. He needed more answers.

Thankfully, another opportunity came not too long after the first.

The two of you had been paired together in potions. Typically, he would be a bit upset with the fact given you were never the best in the subject. But for the first time, he was pleased with the pairing.

He watched as you cut up some of the ingredients, that stupid ring shining from the lights. Questions filled his head. Where had you gotten it? When did you get it? Who gave it to you? Did your parents know what it meant? What were you supposed to do with it when the time finally came? He needed to get the answers.

“So, when did you get it?” He casually asked his eyes on the cauldron.

“Get what?”

“The ring.”

You chuckled. “You’re still on about that? I suppose you aren’t too accustomed to muggle things. I got it right before I came here actually. My parents wanted to give me a reminder about life at home, and they wanted to make sure I knew where my ‘loyalties’ lay. Though, I was only a little girl. Did they expect anything to happen at that young?”

Three questions were answered. Good.

Remus dropped his chopped ingredients into the cauldron. “Does that mean you give it back to them when you finally do it?”

“Oh no. I give it to my husband of course,” you replied. “Do these look alright?”

He finally turned his head in your direction and looked over your cutting board then he met your eyes. “Perfect. You can put them in.”

“You don’t know how good that makes me feel to hear. Master of potions Remus Lupin says I’m perfect, I could faint,” you said as you scrapped your work into the cauldron, a hint of laughter in your voice.

He rolled his eyes. “I said your cutting was perfect, but if it makes you feel good, I suppose you are too.”

You looked up at him with a glint in your eyes that made an odd feeling form in his chest. You looked so damn innocent. How had he not noticed it before? You had always been one of the shyer members of Gryffindor, but he always brushed it off as nothing important. He never would’ve guessed just how innocent you were.

“How sweet of you.” You giggled.

“ ’Course, anytime love.”

He noticed the shift in your body at his words. How odd. You looked away from him for a few seconds, that familiar rose tint returning to your cheeks. Did you always do that? Did such simple words always make you blush and turn away? Or was it just him? He watched you bite down on your lip and fiddle with your ring.

You were teasing him.

It was then he decided he was going to get that ring from you.

And you were going to love it.

~~~

Getting you to that point was going to take some time, Remus knew that. But it didn’t stop him. He started simply. When the two of you were hanging out in the group, he made sure to at least say a few words to you alone. When eating meals, he made sure to get a spot next to you. Most importantly though, he started making sure to leave subtle hints. Lingering eye contact, small touches that weren’t necessary, comments that made your face turn red. He could tell all of it made you flustered, and he loved it.

During all of it, his obsession with your innocence only grew. He wanted to take it away. He wanted to taint you, to make you not so pure anymore. He didn’t understand the feeling, he never cared much for such stereotypical nonsense. But each time you looked at him with those curious, innocent eyes, it only made his patience strained.

The first breakthrough came during one of Sirius and James’s parties. The common room blared with music, and people laughed and danced. You were among them. Remus leaned against the wall next to the staircase to the boy's dorm, a cigarette between his lips as he watched you dance with Mary and Lily. Your smile was bright, your body moved to the rhythm almost perfectly. You wore a pretty little dress. But he couldn’t focus on any of that because that damn ring caught his attention.

It had become quite a distraction. He found himself staring at it far more than normal. During class and dinner, it consumed most of his thoughts. He needed to get it off your finger before it caused his grades to slip.

From across the room, your eyes suddenly found his. You gave him a questioning look; he only smirked back and released a cloud of smoke into the air. He watched you say something to the girls before you began to walk in his direction. Perfect.

“Why do you always stand on the sidelines?” You asked once you were close enough. “And if you’re going to stare at me all night you might as well just dance with me.”

He chuckled and took another drag from the cigarette. “I’m not the biggest fan of these parties and I definitely don’t dance.” He offered you the cigarette, and you shook your head and pointed to your ring. “Come on, that applies to cigs too?”

“And alcohol, pretty much whatever is considered sinful. Though, I have indulged in a drink or two. Mommy and Daddy don’t need to know about that,” you answered.

Merlin, he needed to do something with you. It was almost unbearable.

“You’re saying alcohol and cigs are sinful but intense snogging isn’t? Seems a bit hypocritical to me,” he eventually said.

You smiled and shrugged. “That’s muggle religion for you. It’s pretty much up to each person's interpretation and what they value. I value being sober more than refraining from a snog occasionally.”

“But a shag...”

“That’s universally seen as a big sin. Most of us would agree not to do it until marriage.”

He released another breath of smoke. “Most of you?”

“Well, not everyone agrees of course. Like I said, it’s technically up to everyone’s values. Murder is also considered a sin, you know. But even some people commit that,” you explained. He watched you blush. “I don’t think I should compare virginity to murder though.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a fair comparison,” he replied, his lips turned up into a smile.

You turned even more red. “Sorry. But you get what I’m saying, right?”

“Everything is optional is what you’re saying.” He let his eyes trail over your body, making sure you noticed. “So really, you could fuck someone before marriage.”

“I mean yeah, I could, but I don’t think I will,” you said. You began to fiddle with the ring again. “It’s sort of always been with me it would feel weird giving it to someone else.”

“Do you have to give it away for anything? Or just actual sex?” It was another question he’d been dying to know. He watched you think for a moment.

“I think just the full thing. I don’t know. I don’t even really know that much about it like I said when you first asked me. I mean, I know people use their hands and mouths but... sorry. I shouldn't be talking about such things.” You put your face in your hands, Remus couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sorry.”

He needed to do something. Now.

“Don’t be sorry love, it’s alright. You know you can trust me; I wouldn’t dare tell anyone about your sinful thoughts,” he spoke. He turned and dropped his cigarette into one of the many ashtrays in the common room. When he looked back at you, you were already looking at him. “But you know if you ever wanted to indulge in something like that, you can come to me.”

You were beyond flustered, and it showed. “Oh! That’s very um... generous of you, but I don’t think I’ll do any of that I mean... I don’t plan on it.”

He casually shrugged. “We all get a bit curious at some point in our lives.”

For a moment the two of you only stared at each other. He could tell exactly what you were thinking. You were curious. You wanted to try things. He observed you carefully. He could sense the conflict within you. Value versus desire. It was a tough battle, but you didn’t cave. At least, not yet.

“Perhaps, but I made a promise and I need to stick to it,” you said. You looked over your shoulder at your clearly intoxicated friends. “I should get back to Lily and Mary.”

“Right, it was nice talking,” he replied with a smile.

You nodded. “I’ll see you later.”

“Till then love.”

Even as you walked away and joined your friends once again, he could see the way his words affected you. You could deny the feelings all you wanted, but your body craved the unknown. It was only a matter of time till you caved, and Remus would wait.

He was never one to give up easily.

~~~

You came to him faster than he expected. He understood why though, you were on edge about all of it. In the few days it took for you to go to him, he noticed how different you acted. You were more tense, you fiddled with your ring far more than normal. He imagined the inner conflict you faced was stressful, but he was glad about the turnout of it.

After dinner, as he was walking to the library for a study group, you found him. He was a bit surprised at your approach, but nevertheless, he welcomed it with joy.

“Hey Remus, could I talk to you for a second?” You asked.

You were a bit behind him, but he stopped instantly and turned to face you.

“Yeah, what’s going on?”

Your little bit of confidence quickly vanished. You avoided his gaze, focusing suddenly on your shoes. “Um, are you busy? It’s not really that important so if you have something else to do it can wait.”

He fought the urge to smirk. “I was just going to Lily’s little study group, but it can wait. Is something wrong?”

You shook your head and looked up at him, those big innocent eyes staring into his. “No uh... nothing's wrong. It’s just about... well... you know.”

“About what?”

“You know...”

“I don’t think I do love, you’re gonna have to use your words and tell me.”

He felt bad for teasing you, but it was too fun not to. The way your cute little eyes looked around the hallway to make sure no one else was around, the way you fidgeted, it was far too entertaining to stop. A moment passed before you finally spoke in a much softer tone than before.

“It’s about what we talked about at the party last weekend.”

“Oh?” He questioned. “What about it?”

He watched as you slid the ring up and down your finger. “You said um if I ever wanted to you know, indulge, that I could come to you.”

“Yes, I did say that.”

“So... um yeah,” you said. You looked almost uncomfortable. He knew he needed to be nicer.

“Are you asking if that offer is still there?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes! I mean, um, is it?”

He glanced around to make sure nobody else was around before stepping closer to you. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your mouth parted ever so slightly. He touched his fingers to your chin, lifting your head gently.

“How about you come find out?”

You didn’t fight it. He was glad.

Not too long after that, Remus found himself in a position he’d desperately wanted for almost a month. You were laid out on his bed, open like a flower, and he was on top of you. Your robe, shirt, and tie were thrown to the floor. He kissed you hard, the reward of your gasps kept him going. He let one of his hands travel up your soft thigh, you were so warm, so inviting. It took all his self-control to keep him from moving too fast.

Before it began, you told him you had only ever snogged. That meant no boy had ever touched you. Not with a hand, not with his tongue, nothing. No one had ever even felt up your breasts. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t pleased with the information. He wanted you to be his, he wanted to be as many of your firsts as he could be.

“Can I touch you?” He eventually whispered on your skin; his lips were by your ear.

“Yes, please,” you replied, your breath ragged.

He continued to press soft kisses to your neck as his hand moved between your thighs. You were wet, very wet. He could feel it through your panties. It made him even harder than he already was. He slid his hand under your panties and began to rub soft circles on your clit, you gasped and lifted your hips in response.

You were perfect.

With every flick of his fingers, you let out little whimpers and moans, and one of your hands gripped his shoulder hard. He caught a few glances of your face between kisses. Your cheeks were red, your eyes squeezed shut. You were beyond beautiful.

After a few minutes, he moved his fingers down to your entrance. He made sure to collect your wetness and ask if it was alright before he began to slowly push one of his fingers inside you.

“Remus,” you mumbled as he started thrusting his finger in and out of you at a slow pace. “Fuck.”

“Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?” He asked.

You lightly shook your head. “It feels so good, do not stop.”

“Do you want another one?”

“Yes.”

He complied instantly and added a second finger. You responded just the way he wanted. In only a few more minutes he was fucking you with his fingers, touching that spot inside that made your thighs clench around him. He kissed you hard, he loved how you struggled to kiss him back. When he also began to press his thumb to your clit, you became a mess.

“Fuck Rem, I-” You paused, your nails dug into his shoulder.

“You’re close.” It was a statement; he could feel your walls clenching around his fingers. He knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“I am,” you practically whimpered.

“Let go, love, it’s alright.”

Only seconds later you did. You came hard. Your back arched off the mattress, your mouth hung open wide, and your thighs tightened around his hips. Remus had never felt anything as good as the feeling of your walls pulsating around his fingers as you came undone beneath him. He made sure to keep going till you were fully done. At that point, he pulled his hand out of your panties and up to his lips. He knew you were going to taste good.

You sat up, breathless. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I just- you just- we just... I’m going to hell.”

“Relax, it’ll be fine. People do this all the time and nothing bad happens, I promise it’s just a normal thing,” he said. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, he thought you looked so beautiful. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried about being judged or anything, I’m worried because I don’t feel guilty. I should feel guilty for it but I just... don’t. In fact, I think I...” You looked down at your hand, specifically the ring. “I think I want more.”

Remus couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his lips. “More?”

“Yeah, I mean it’s only right that I return the favor.” He watched your eyes move to his pants; your cheeks turned red. “You’ll have to show me how though.”

“Alright, only if, you’re sure. Don’t feel like you have to because I did something for you,” he replied though he really did want you to touch him. But he could wait if he had to.

“I want to.”

He didn’t question you further. Instead, he guided you through the process of getting him off with your hand. You were a fast learner, though the act itself wasn’t that hard to get the hang of. He found it funny the way you gasped at the size of him. Merlin, you were so innocent. Either way, you made him feel extraordinary. Your hand was much softer than his, and warmer too. You touched him gently, almost teasingly. But that changed fast.

“Can I try something else?” You asked, your hand stopped.

He almost groaned from the lack of motion. “What?”

“Um, can I try using my um...” You pointed to your lips.

“Your mouth?”

“Yeah.”

How could he ever refuse?

It was sloppy, it was rushed, but it was everything he could’ve wanted. As he laid back on the pillows, one of his hands moved through your soft hair. He didn’t dare push you. No. He only stroked your hair gently and whispered praises. He knew you liked it from the way you hummed on his cock each time he told you how good you were doing or how good you made him feel. And when you looked up at him with those eyes, those damn innocent eyes, he could barely contain himself.

He was shocked you even did it to begin with, but he was even more shocked when you let him finish in your mouth. You had him halfway down your throat when he came, and you didn’t pull away for a second. You swallowed it all. Somehow, he became even more attracted to you than he had been before.

“Was it good?” You questioned after you pulled back. You were kneeling beside his legs, a nervous expression on your face.

He smiled. “You were amazing. Are you sure you haven’t done that before?”

“Never even saw one in real life before this,” you replied with a laugh.

“That’s hard to believe,” he said. He sat up and pressed a kiss to your lips before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. “Do you want to try one more thing?”

“Depends on what thing.”

“I’ll do what you just did to me but on you,” he answered, loving the way your eyes widened at his words. Despite everything that happened already, you were still so innocent. He adored it.

“Oh yeah okay,” you spoke after a moment.

He kissed you again. “Lay down.”

You did as he said and soon it began.

He started by kissing your lips while his hands pulled your skirt and panties off, leaving you only in a bra. Once those were off, he kissed down your neck, and your chest, only pausing for a second to unclip your bra and take one of your nipples in his mouth. You moaned, he stayed there for a few extra seconds. He then moved his mouth further down your body, relishing the sounds you made each time his lips made contact with your skin.

When he started to kiss up one of your thighs, you twitched. You were so sensitive, so untouched. He was obsessed with it. Every few kisses he sucked your skin to leave dark purple hickeys. He had made sure not to leave any on your skin that would be visible to the world so that no one would see the evidence of your sinful acts. But the skin that would be covered by clothing, that was his to mark.

A few minutes of this went by, and it was all on purpose. Remus could tell how eager you were for him to get on with it, but you were far too shy to tell him to do so. So, he didn’t dare touch you where you so desperately wanted him to. He wanted to hear you ask. But you said nothing, so he decided you needed a little push. He gave you one single lick then returned to your black and blue thighs.

“Remus,” you whispered. “Please.”

He looked up at you and almost felt bad. Your desperate eyes were already looking at him, he could tell how much you needed it. He didn’t wait any longer and gave you what you needed; you certainly earned it.

In all his experience with sex and everything surrounding it, Remus enjoyed pleasing his partner as anyone did. He didn’t mind going down on women, in fact, he sort of enjoyed it. At least until you. With you, he quickly realized having his head between your thighs and his tongue on your clit was not just alright, it was heavenly. He never enjoyed the taste of a girl like he enjoyed yours. You were sweet and the sounds you made as he played with you were their own type of reward.

So, it was no surprise how quickly you came undone on his tongue. He devoured you like he had been starving his whole life. Truthfully, he felt as if he had. You were spectacular. You were perfection. You were his. He was crazy about you.

After you finished, he wiped his mouth on one of your thighs before moving to lie on the bed next to you. He laid on his side facing you, his eyes examining your face. Your eyes were closed, and your cheeks were pink. Your hair was messy, and your lips were ever so slightly lifted into a smile. He swore he never saw anyone as beautiful in his life.

“I feel stupid,” you mumbled.

“Why?”

You opened your eyes and looked at him, your smile then undeniable. “I should’ve taken you up on your offer sooner. Now I understand why everyone’s so mad about this stuff, it’s unbelievable.”

“You don’t regret it then?” He asked.

“How could I? You’re just... Remus I...” You turned to your side to face him fully, one of your hands pressed against his chest. “I think we should do this again if you’d want to of course.”

He grinned and let a hand fall to your waist, he pulled you closer, so your bodies touched. He rested his chin on the top of your head, and you buried your face in his neck. For a moment he felt almost victorious, he had gotten you right where he wanted you to be. It would only be a matter of time before you let him take you fully. But then he realized, it wasn’t about taking your virginity so much anymore. He just wanted you.

“I wouldn’t want anything more,” he eventually said, then he pressed a kiss to your forehead, while the cold feeling of your ring on his chest lingered in the back of his mind.

Soon, it would be his. And so would you.

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eideticallys · 1 year

Text

New Favorite Game

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: maybe a part of spencer has always been sadistic but seeing your tears, seeing you mindless in pleasure has awakened something sinister in him. and spencer is nothing but a competitive, eager learner. (part 1 to new favorite banter, but this can be read as a standalone.)

genre: smut (minors dni!)

warnings: smut without plot, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), dom/sub undertones, slightly mean!spencer, rough sex, dacryphilia, slight dumbification, mating press & doggy style (tell me if i forgot to add something!)

word count: 834

author's notes: my first ever smutty piece! i'm kinda happy with how it turned out but considering it's my first time writing smut, i know i have lots to improve on. however, i hope everyone will still like this. with that said, please tell me your thoughts about this & minors do not interact (please)! anyway, have fun reading! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

PART TWO

SPENCER CAN’T BELIEVE THERE’S A PART OF HIM THAT ENJOYS SEEING YOU CRYING. It’s cruel. Sadistic, yet he can’t help it. The sight of you wailing, begging him for more, begging him to go harder, deeper gets him going.

Pounding you into the sheets, Spencer thinks he just died and entered heaven with how delicious your cunt has tightened. Your cries and moans are so loud, he’s certain he’s getting a noise complaint in the morning. His very first one, considering he’s rarely home and he’s a stickler for rules.

Plus, he never thought he had it in him to make a woman cry out in pleasure.

He’s not Morgan, who, when compared to him, is very experienced in that department. Derek always had a line of girls whenever the team went out for drinks until he met Savannah. Nowadays, Derek is a one-woman kind of guy.

Spencer is definitely unlike Rossi, who had a revolving door of spouses, no offense meant. Of course, Rossi knew a lot of things when it comes to women.

Spencer is not like Hotch, for certain. Hotch is a father, of course, he knows a thing or two about the many ways in the acts of sexual prowess.

So, when the night with you took a steamy turn, Spencer didn’t think he’d be able to bend you over the table, pound you into the mattress, and blow your back out in just one night. He thought it’d be done so soon but no.

You were insatiable.

You weren’t content with just simple foreplay and fucking him in one position. You were relentless and Spencer was eager to please you.

Spencer was eager to get lost in your body.

And now, Spencer has you on your back, legs folded toward your chest, as he fucked you into total submission. His strokes were so deep, he could feel his tip nudging your cervix. He knows you’ll be sore by the time the sun rises but he can’t help it. It feels so good to be buried deep inside you.

This might just be Spencer’s favorite position. He gets to pound you relentlessly. He has you at his mercy as he burrows into you rhythmically, entirely, while seeing your face wet with fresh tears as his sweat beads and trickles down to you.

He likes that he gets to see how much of a mess he has made when he looks down and sees himself entering your cunt, hearing the sloppiness and the sound of sloshing.

God, you were so wet. How is that possible? How could someone get that wet? Spencer knows the answer but he couldn’t bring himself to think too much about it when he has your body writhing under him.

“More, Spencer,” You sob as you fisted the sheets you laid on, writhing and moving your hips in time with Spencer’s. “P-please, baby. I’m so close. Shit, close, fuck!”

“You feel so good.” Spencer groans in response, punctuating each word with a deep thrust, causing you to whimper, slight drool rolling down the side of your lips. “Is that what you want?”

Too lost in the pleasure, your eyes roll so far back, your body moving to your own accord. You couldn’t hear what Spencer has just said. You couldn’t even begin to process a single syllable he has uttered. Not a single coherent thought going on inside that beautiful brain of yours.

Spencer, although exhilarated that he has reduced you to just a pile of gyrating flesh, does not like the lack of response at all. Grunting, he flips your body over which caused him to slip out in the process.

“No. No. No.” You whine pathetically, cunt trying to clamp down on him as you feel him slip out. You scratch whatever you could get your hands on in protest. The sheets. The pillows. Spencer. “Y-you’re m-me—shit—mean, Spence. P-please! Cum! I wanna cum! Please!”

“Mean?” Spencer glowers mid-thrust, gripping your hips hard enough to leave purple bruises you’ll be sporting for at least a week.

He’s being mean? Hasn’t he done everything you’ve asked for tonight? He has given in to all of your demands, prolonging your pleasure, and reducing you to tears, but he’s being mean?

“You want mean, princess?” Spencer asks as you sobbed, trying to get him to move but his hands hinder you from doing so. His cock deliciously pressed against that one spot inside of you. But it wasn’t enough. You want the entirety of him inside you. You want to be filled up to the brim. Your cunt molded to the shape of his cock. “I’ll show you mean.”

Maybe a part of Spencer has always been sadistic but seeing your tears, seeing you mindless in pleasure has awakened something sinister in him. And Spencer is nothing but a competitive, eager learner.

This might just be Spencer’s new favorite game. Pleasuring you until you become a boneless, mindless, and thrashing mess.

And he always gets what he wants.

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seresinhangmanjake · 1 year

Text

Oh, Baby

Dad!Jake Seresin x female reader

Summary: You might not have been his girlfriend, but when you left town one night a month after sleeping together, it completely broke Jake's heart. Now, a year later, you've returned and you're not alone. You have a new little companion that just so happens to bear a startling resemblance to Jake.

Warnings/notes: its mostly fluffy. cursing, i think. mention of pregnancy. that might be it.

Words: 2900

Oh, Baby Masterlist / Masterlist

His Girls (Following Part)

-----

Staring is rude; that’s what his mama told him. That, and a handful of other little rules that didn’t fit the bill of ‘gentleman.' But he couldn’t recall a single one of them now. His mind was occupied and nothing else mattered. Maybe nothing else ever would. So he let himself stare.

You smiled and the air got trapped in his lungs for a moment before it decided to fight for freedom by way of harsh, sharp bursts. If his coughing drew the attention of others, he didn’t notice. It didn’t draw yours, and that was for the best. He needed another second to breathe; to watch your face light up under the influence of the infant in your arms.

Two months old, that’s what Rooster had told him.

You’d left town one night, leaving no note, no means of contact except through your parents who texted Rooster every once in a while to let him know you were Ok, but never to tell him where you were. Maybe they didn’t know either. Then, according to Rooster, you showed up at his door with a bag, a smile of apology, and a two-month-old baby cradled in a wrap around your chest.

Jake didn’t know what to do with that. He didn’t know how to process what you’d brought with you, or why you went to Rooster instead of him. Maybe one more thing that didn’t matter at the end of the day. As it was, everything in front of him was too much to handle.

“I don’t want to overstep,” Rooster said through the phone. His call had woken Jake, but the anxiety in Rooster’s tone cleared any grogginess faster than a cup of coffee. “Did you and Y/N ever…?”

Jake swallowed and sat up a little straighter in bed, running a hand down his face. Everyone had guessed there had been something going on between you and him. Everyone assumed that even if there wasn’t, if they were wrong, eventually the two of you would get there. You’d figure it out because it seemed inevitable. Jake had always hoped they were right. He’d pined for painfully long, and while it seemed like you felt something for him too, he wasn’t going to move until you did. And then you did.

It was simple, really. He thought there would be something more complex to the two of you finding your way into bed together, but it was so easy. So natural. Simple and easy and natural enough for you to seek him out three more times before you disappeared from his life, breaking a part of him as you did.

“Why do you ask?” Jake said.

“Um—fuck.” It was a soft curse from his friend’s mouth, just barely detectable through the speaker. But it carried a heavy weight with it that Rooster’s voice alone did not. “Are you sitting down?”

“Yea.”

“Good.”

The seconds passing were nearly as painful as the day you left—that moment he realized you were no longer in his bed. He’d called everyone. No one had an answer for him. “Rooster, what the fuck is going on?”

He sighed, which was never good. Rooster wasn’t much of the sighing type. Sighing meant thinking. And he wasn’t much of the thinking type anymore, either. Hadn’t been since Mav had knocked that behavior out of him while he was in the air. That new mentality just so happened to carry into the rest of his life, and he lived in a world of impulsivity. Don’t think, just do. It was the exact same with his words. Rooster only ever spoke his mind, didn’t hold back, didn’t hesitate, and yet now he was.

“She’s back, Jake," he finally said. "Showed up last night.”

His heart stopped beating. He felt it seize in his chest. And then it began again, starting with incredible force and livening his entire body.

“But, um…that’s not all,” Rooster continued. “She’s got a baby with her, and—” His breath was shaky, matching Jake’s hands. “Alright, I’m just going to say it—the kid looks exactly like you, Seresin. Spitting fucking image. Now, if you two never got together then I’ll chalk it up to a wild coincidence, but if you did…” He paused. “If you did, I think you need to get over here.”

Jake had never run so fast in his life, never driven so recklessly, never stormed through the front door of someone’s home the way he did Rooster’s, but how could he not?

“Where is she?”

Rooster shot to his feet from his spot on the couch. “At the store. She took the kid with her. We should probably wait—”

“The one down the street?”

“Yea, but—what are you doing?”

He was already at the door, the knob squeezed viciously in his grip. “I have to see for myself,” Jake said. “I won’t ambush her. I’ll keep my distance, but I have to see.”

And he saw…everything. The woman he loved, casually walking up and down the aisles of the grocery store, looking at labels and deciding on brands and placing things in a cart, with his baby strapped to her chest.

And that was his baby. He knew the moment he saw the eyes that were his, just smaller and on a face full of features that were also his, save for the curve of the lips that belonged entirely to you. Had his mother been by his side, she might’ve stumbled back from how similar this baby looked to her own. He would have too had his feet not been stuck to the floor.

Every bit of him was holding back from reaching for you as his instincts demanded of him, but he had to move before you saw him. You could turn your head at any moment. So he had to go.

—--

“When did you even…I mean, everyone always figured you would…but…when?”

Jake lifted his head from where it was resting over the back of the couch. “About a month before she left. A few times.”

Rooster nodded. “She’ll be back soon. Are you sure you want to do this now?”

“I–”

As if on cue, the front door opened and you stepped through with a bag of groceries in each hand, one of which fell when your eyes met Jake’s. Little jars rolled across the floor, making the only sound in the otherwise dead silence of the room. His lips parted, but nothing could slip out of them, nothing that would make reasonable sense, anyway. His mind was too much of a jumbled mess.

The baby broke the tension, its little wiggle causing you to glance down at the tiny head resting against your chest. You set the other bag down and took an immediate turn to the left through another door that Jake knew led to Rooster’s guest room. You returned a moment later, without the baby, your arms crossed in front of you as you walked toward him.

He thought he would be mad; maybe betrayed; at the very least bitter and devastated, but all he wanted was to pull you to him and hold you and kiss you and thank whatever deity necessary for returning you to him.

“You couldn’t have kept it to yourself for a little?”

He didn’t know what you meant until he realized you were looking directly at Rooster.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Rooster replied. He nudged his head Jake’s way. “He was a fucking mess when you left, and it’s so obvious that the kid is—” He paused when your eyes fell to the wooden flooring. “I’m sorry. I’ll give you two some space.”

Jake waited until his friend was gone before he dared to take a step your way, but he stopped short at the hand you held up.

“Y/N…”

“I don’t want to argue with you,” you said. “I’m not going to get into why I did what I did other than to say that I thought it was best for you, me, and her.” Your arms fully uncrossed and one hand began to pick at the other’s fingernail. “At the time, anyway.”

“She’s mine.” It wasn’t a question. He knew it. He knew it in his soul that the little girl in the next room belonged to him as much as she did you. But still, he needed to hear you say it; needed to watch the shape of your lips form the words.

You nodded. “She’s yours.”

“And were you going to tell me?”

“I came back to tell you,” you said without a lick of hesitation in your voice; something that made him feel a bit lighter. “I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it yet, but I didn’t want her to wake up one day and start asking me fair questions that I only had unfair answers to. I couldn’t imagine telling her that her father had no idea she existed. So,” you took a deep breath, “I figured I’d see if you might want her, too.”

If. He could’ve laughed under different circumstances. If he wanted his daughter? There was nothing to mull over or consider. Of course, he wanted his daughter. Her and you, if you’d have him. But he couldn’t press that now.

“What’s her name?”

“My family calls her Evy, but it’s Eve.”

“After my grandmother?”

“She was always nice to me when she would come to town, and I know you love her.” Your shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, but he knew there was nothing nonchalant about it. It was a deliberate choice, a careful choice. You could’ve named her anything under the sun. You could’ve named her after your own family, but you didn’t. “I wanted our daughter to have something of you other than just your DNA.”

The weight was back. A heaviness in the air from the beauty of what you’d just confessed mixed with the undeniable question of What now? He wasn’t going to push you. You were in complete control, always had been. Control over him, over what happened between you, over the future he had once hoped you may share—the future he thought was lost, but maybe could now be found.

“Do you want to see her?”

His eyes widened, a confusing emotion filling his heart. He wasn’t sure you would offer, and giving him that chance swelled the love he felt for you. But more than that, adding to the confusing feeling was the hopeful note in your tone. Did you imagine he might deny you? Did you think he’d turn his child away?

“Yes,” he said with absolute surety, and by the grin you gave in return, he knew you felt his sincerity.

You turned, leading him into the room he’d spent a drunk night or two in. A room in which he’d woken up insanely hungover and begging for the sun to die just to give him some relief. The irony. He silently snickered. You moved aside, facing him as he took in the sight before him.

Your baby—his baby—laid on her back in the small travel crib, her eyes closed and body wrapped up snuggly in one of those sleep wraps he saw his sister use on her son. Her delicate face was so peaceful. Her long lashes rested on plump, rosy cheeks. Her lips were parted the slightest, the sweetest breaths making the softest of sounds. Her dusting of blond hair reflected the slim ray of sunlight sneaking through the drawn curtains turning the strands into pure gold.

Unshed tears stung the corners of his eyes.

“You can hold her if you want.”

“She’s—she’s asleep. I can’t—”

“She’s a heavy sleeper,” you said. “Honestly, the best baby, Jake.”

Of course, she is, he thought. If she was anything like you, she’d be perfect. She was already perfect.

Reaching into the crib, you carefully grabbed the baby and held her out to Jake. He’d held a baby before, plenty of times, but something about holding his own…he couldn’t describe it fully, just that it made his nerves fire off. His fingers began to twitch, but when he looked at you, he saw the familiar glassiness coating your irises and you nodded in encouragement.

That was all he needed: the mother of his baby asking him to hold their daughter. So he did, extending his arms and gratefully accepting his little gift.

She was so small. His hands and arms and chest dwarfed her compared to how she looked against your body. Up close, she was porcelain in form, fragile and light, and he would surrender his every breathing moment to protect what you and he had made.

A soft sob echoed in his ear and Jake’s head shot up to see those tears had fallen, crafting rivers down your cheeks as your hand covered your mouth.

“I’m sorry.” The apology was muffled through your fingers. You shook your head and finally dropped your hand. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t think—I didn’t think I would ever see this.”

With the hand not cradling his child, Jake cupped your cheek, smoothing your tears back into your skin with his thumb. You leaned into his touch and he suppressed a gasp. The first time in a year that he’d felt you, and it was like coming home. He’d missed everything about you, every ounce of your being and presence. He missed your scent filling the air: the vanilla perfume, the fruity shampoo, the minty chapstick that he’d pick up right when he was about to kiss you. All of it. Everything. And now you were here, and he wouldn’t be able to let go.

“Why did you leave me?” he whispered.

“We had only slept together a few times,” you sniffled. “Doctor said I got pregnant that first time. Good on us for using a condom, right?”

He chuckled half-heartedly. Neither of you had one on you that night, and foolishly, neither of you cared. Pent-up desperation took over, and being inside of you, feeling you, became his sole need. Nothing short of you shoving him away could have stopped him.

“Anyway, this wasn’t in your plans,” you said. “And I didn’t want to force it on you, but I also didn’t want to give her up. It scared me, so…”

“I would’ve helped you. I loved you. I’d been in love with you. I would’ve—”

“You loved me?”

Oh. He hadn’t planned on saying it. Certainly not now. Before you left, he’d hoped you already knew somehow. Then you were gone and he was sure the opportunity to tell you would never be within reach again. But, intentionally or not, you just presented him with a moment for the words to fall right out of his mouth, so they did.

“Well…yea,” he said. “You could’ve told me you wanted a baby and I would’ve given you one.”

Your eyes shifted from his and you stared into the blank space next to his head, like your brain had short-circuited and your whole world was flashing before your eyes. You took a wobbly step back and dropped to sit on the edge of the mattress. Jake gave another long look at his daughter before kissing her forehead and placing her back in the crib.

Kneeling in front of you, he said, “I still love you.” When you didn’t speak, he grasped your hands in his, intertwining your fingers. “I love you, and I already love our daughter. And I want you to stay. I need you to stay with me.”

He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Only you had that effect on him and he couldn’t say that he didn’t once hate it. It drove him insane for ages. He would simply think about you and the beating would start. That thumping would keep him awake at night, distract him at work, drown out the voices of his coworkers, but he accepted it now. It was an indicator of what he felt for you and that was too real and honest and beautiful to be bothered by.

Finally, your fingers squeezed his back. A sign, small as it was, that you were understanding.

“Look at me,” he whispered, and you did. He smiled as he peeled his fingers away from yours to frame your face between his hands. His thumbs ran along your cheekbones, then he leaned in a little closer. “Come here.” Another whisper, a bit broken on the final syllable.

You didn’t protest when he pulled your face to his. You didn’t push him back when hot breaths caressed each other's mouths. Your fingers loosely fisted the collar of his shirt and you let his lips brush over yours in a gentle kiss.

And that was it. You were it. You had always been it for him. He knew it then, and he knew it now. But he didn’t want to overwhelm you.

He pulled back a few inches to grant you some space, but your mouth chased after his, your hands sliding into his hair and holding him so you could force your lips together again. Harder, hotter, more desperate. You’d missed him, too. It was undeniable now.

“Promise me, honey,” He said when you separated to breathe. "I can't lose you. Not again."

“I promise, Jake.” Your eyelids fell closed and you rested your forehead against his. “We’re not leaving you.”

------

tags: @thespeeder @nobody7102 @fangirlingoverfangirls @blue-aconite @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @dempy @chaoticassidy @alana4610 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dracosluvbot @smoothdogsgirl @smit41 @wkndwlff @rileyloves5 @gigisimsonmars @hangmanbrainrot @withakindheartx @teacupsandtopgun @himbos-on-ice @xoxabs88xox @happypopcornprincess @violyn20 @jordanturpen @buckymcu12 @jerseybagel @nagygreta @rintheemolion @coldmuffinbanditshoe @avengersgirllorianna @oliviah-25 @talkfastromance4 @ysl-bby @chibijusstuff @kmsryles343 @sometimesicryintheshower @cookielovesbook-akie @yanna-banana @taylahk109 @buxkybarnez @elijahmikaelsonbitch @ravenhood2792 @potato-girl99981 @eccentricnos @kembry107 @pono-pura-vida @topguncultleader @v0id-chaos @scrappybear89 @stiles-banshees @audri_janis @caidi-paris @jake-seresins-girl @sass-masterkittenmama

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #dad!jake seresin #jake seresin x female reader #jake seresin x female!reader #top gun maverick #top gun hangman #top gun fic #jake seresin fanfic

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justanotherlifeff · 1 month

Text

Love is meaningless

[True form heian era Sukuna x reader. I may have taken many creative liberties with his backstory alongside certain spoilers so be warned!]

Love is meaningless, this was something Sukuna believed for most of his life. He can proclaim it precisely because he understands it. Being born a wretched curse by his foolish starving mother was not a start to life he had appreciated, but it was what it was. Fate was that he absorbed his twin for nourishment, fate was that he was born monstrous. One can only live with fate and become stronger, after all. Of course, he had to raise himself, of course he had to get stronger to survive. The golden age of Jujutsu meant many other cursed spirits, and of course, humans were no better. Weak people shouldn’t complain about their transgressions after all. That is simply how the world is built, to please the strong.

Yet, unexpected things happen, as it is part of life as well. Some people find it in their stupid, human, hearts to love a monster. And sometimes, something as meaningless as love creeps up in a monster’s heart too if they are weak enough. Sukuna wasn’t born the king of curses after all. It was a meaningless gesture that one might call kindness, something he believed that he didn’t deserve, that started it all. Just like his mother who birthed him, this foolish girl gave him an apple from her basket when he was starving. A foolish act of kindness from a human to a cursed being. He accepted nonetheless, as a starving man would, since this was before the days when he took whatever he wanted.

The days when he was weak enough to be considerate. For some reason, you kept coming back, with food every time, and for some reason, he didn’t leave the outskirts of that village after the first few encounters. He convinced himself that it was because your cooking was amazing, not because he wanted to see that smile on your face again, not because he was getting addicted to that kindness. Why would a human be kind to the likes of him after all? Surely, he was being delusional. However, weeks turned to months, and you wouldn’t stop visiting the small cave where he was living at, since no one would give him shelter or a job due to his monstrous features. Somehow you weren’t afraid of the four arms, the four eyes, the odd markings on his body. Somehow, you made conversation with him at one point as you watched him eagerly eat whatever food you brought him and somehow, he found himself replying. Hope was something that the weak shouldn’t have and yet, he found it in you, he made that mistake.

Looking at water in streams was something he hated, because it showed him his inhumanity and made the struggles he faced his entire life be something that was acceptable. Who would care for a monster after all? And yet, one day, you looked at him and called him beautiful with a blush on your pretty little face. He didn’t know how to reply to that, as someone who never encountered a situation like that before and yet, he couldn’t sleep all night, thinking of those words. He awkwardly called you beautiful too the next day.

Small compliments turned into teasing and at one point, neither you nor he had to say it out loud that you loved each other. It was simply something that happened. However, you had to keep it a secret from the village, and he understood why. Loving something like him had its consequences as they would kill you for being with a curse. He understood the consequences but his hunger for you was far too much to ignore. It started with kisses, and then he wanted more, so much more. And you let him take what he wanted with a smile on your face, that same smile he fell in love with. Even your old kimonos started looking like ones that queens would wear, your simple hairpin was better than the highest quality jade to him. You were beautiful and you were his and that was the best thing that happened in his wretched life at the time. Or at least, he was foolish and weak enough to believe so.

During his days as the king of curses, he saw the women he fucked as no more than pieces of meat that exist for his pleasure. One might think he wasn’t capable of being gentle, of having any other expression than the ruthless and deranged smile that adorns his face. Yet, his first time was so different, as he looked upon your beauty with nothing but wonder in his eyes, not believing his own luck as you were naked underneath him, that beautiful tint of red adorning your face. Perhaps that was when he found himself loving the color red so much, it was never about the blood of the thousands he killed later in life. You looked beautiful even with your old kimonos, but you looked divine without it, and he wasn’t shy enough to keep that opinion to himself, mostly because he wanted to see that blush on your face when he says it out loud. He wanted to hear you call out his name in that affectionate and yet pleasured voice when he was deep inside you. He wanted you, all of you, even if he didn’t deserve you.

The weak gets trampled on, it isn’t something they should complain about as it is the way of life. He almost had you, the day you came to him with a worried expression on your face and told him that you may be expecting his child. For a moment, he dreamed, despite being weak. He asked you to elope with him, that he would protect you. He knew that the child he sired would be cursed too, and that you were unmarried, so of course, overall, you would be killed if he left you alone. He loved you far too much to even consider that. “Come with me, Ill take you far from here and protect you. I’ll make sure nothing hurts you or our child. I’ll get stronger for you.” He told you with that gruff tone of his. To his surprise, you agreed. However, you were a kind little thing full of hope. You wanted to see your parents one last time before leaving with him forever. He didn’t understand it, but he wanted you to be happy, so he suggested making a binding vow. A part of him felt wary as all these felt too good to be true.

The vow was simple, it was to live as long as you can. He was still new to forming binding vows, so he forgot to acknowledge the fact that breaking the vow didn’t mean much if someone else killed you. Only that your death would be far more painful. Things were peaceful, too peaceful. He ate the food you cooked him, talked with you about a future together, looked at the sun set together. Like every day, you left him after that with a kiss on his cheek. Yet, he felt uneasy enough to sneak near the village that night after hearing the commotion.

It didn’t take long to find you, as you were right there, in the middle of the village square, or at least your severed head was. The blood splattered everywhere indicated the effects of the binding vow, your entire body exploded when your head was cut. Perhaps you were weak and ended up telling your parents, perhaps somehow, they found out that you were pregnant with his child, he would never know. That village burned that night and not a single person there survived. As he stood there, watching whatever was left of you burn with the village, it was almost as if he achieved enlightenment. The weak shouldn’t complain, so he wasn’t complaining. He would get stronger so that he would be the one taking, to fill the void that was created this day. His hunger was endless because he would never eat the food you cook again. Love is meaningless, because without you, this world lost its meaning.

#sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryoumen sukuna #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n

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strwberri-milk · 5 days

Note

hello! may i request for a scenario where the LADS boys confessed to the reader for the first time? if you don’t feel like doing all 3,you can just choose whichever one you want to do for ^^

Zayne is nervous. He isn't often nervous like this, not even when he was applying to medical school. Whenever he does things in his life he's always sure that no matter what he does he prepares for it to guarantee the result that he wants. However, when it comes to you he can never quite predict what he'll do around you no matter how much he tries.

He tries to plan a casual day out. He doesn't want to make it seem too out of the ordinary, worried that he'd make things too awkward if they don't go well. To him, it'd be better if the day was an average one so it wouldn't stick out too much if you rejected him.

To him, he doesn't know if you'd ever look at him as more than your friend. He feels like you've far passed the point of ever seeing him as a romantic companion and he was just lucky enough to see you as often as he currently does. He's more than fine existing in this simple life with you for as long as you'll let him.

He confesses his feelings to you over a cup of coffee. It's perfect to him. You've got the flush of laughter on your cheeks, wiping a tear away as you reminisce about a story from your shared childhood. You've never looked more beautiful to him than in this moment, talking about something silly he did and how you're so glad the two of you are still friends.

Without thinking he puts his palm up towards you on the table, not insisting you take his hand but simply offering it when you notice it there. His voice is soft, confession simple but sweet as he tells you that he's loved you from the moment the two of you met. He reassures you that if you reject him nothing will change but he doesn't expect to see you tear up and nod yes so aggressively he's worried he might have to check you for a neck injury.

He barely processes your arms wrapping around his shoulders, hugging him tightly to you as you confess that you've felt the same way for so long. Instinctually his arms wrap around your waist, trying to help you feel comfortable as he thanks you for returning his feelings for him. The two of you spend the rest of the day planning your first real date, fingers tightly intertwined as you both smile softly at each other.

The two of you were just having a casual game night at Xavier's. This was a common occurrence between the two of you and you loved it. Spending time with Xavier in a casual manner was a great way to just forget about the stress of the day. All his furniture was also incredibly comfortable which meant you always found yourself fighting against falling asleep.

It happens to be one of those times, your eyes fluttering shut as Xavier offers you a warm drink. You playfully groan at him, telling him that he's just trying to keep you for the night by enticing you with his fluffy pillows and tasty drinks. He stills for a second before asking if it'd be so bad. He wouldn't mind you spending the night if you wanted to.

You roll your eyes, knowing that you've already crashed in his room once or twice after being too exhausted to make the trek to your floor above his. However, he decides that this is a great opportunity to confess his feelings for you. You look so perfect like this to him, wrapped up and cozy on his couch. He has the sudden urge to make this more permanent, ask you to come and go as you please because knowing that you can be in his space at any time makes him happy.

He wants nothing more than to share his space with you, be able to spend all his spare time with him in quiet, domestic ways. He'll try to make you something to replenish your energy after a long day of work, you'd thank him for trying as hard as he did to make something, then he'd try to tell you not to force yourself to eat it all because he knows he didn't do the greatest job cooking it all.

He kneels down next to you on the couch, gently resting his cheek on your thigh. You look down at him in confusion, not wanting to move too much in case you scare him off. There's something about the resolute look in his eye that makes you take pause, nodding subtly to tell him to tell you whatever it is that he seems to want to tell you.

His confession is simple and to the point. He just tells you that he has feelings for you and he hopes you feel the same way. He doesn't say anything afterwards, simply just waiting for you to say something in response. You're at a loss for words, not sure what to say to him but the gentle touch of your palm against his cheek is confirmation enough for him for now.

Rafayel doesn't really know what to do now that he's decided that he needs to confess to you. He knows that his feelings for you are intense and almost all consuming, his mind constantly on you and his hands always itching to create something in your likeness or something that he thinks you'd like.

Painting is something that comes easier to him than words. He doesn't know how he'd want to confess his feelings for you. Nothing feels like it's the right way to do it - all of it is just...not enough for him. He can't accurately portray the depth of his feelings for you in such a simple manner.

You find him agonising on the floor, staring up at his ceiling with a notebook. You thought that it'd be nice to surprise him, knowing that Rafayel was upset that you were a little too busy to make it over to his place that night. Thankfully, you got out of work early and thought that it'd be fun to visit him regardless. You punch in the key code and easily make it to where he is clearly lamenting, wanting to see if you could decipher the reasoning by reading through the notebook by his head.

He immediately snatches it out of your hand, sitting straight up and pouting at you. You know that when he's like this there's nothing you can do to change his mind from whatever tantrum he's decided to throw. You decide to simply just sit next to him, waiting until he divulges whatever it is that has his mind spinning this time.

You don't expect him to immediately blame you, expecting the typical light hearted insults he throws your way. Your eyes widen in surprise when he starts flipping through the book, quietly humming to himself as he seems to be selecting something. It doesn't take him long to decide that he's frustrated with whatever it contains, rolling his eyes and giving you a cheeky smile.

He tells you that you should let him take you out a romantic dinner so he can tell you how much he cares about you. He just needs a bit of extra time to figure out how he's going to properly going to convey his feelings. You continue to stare at him, not sure what to make of his words but the slight anxiety in his eyes and shaky hands lets you know that he's being serious.

You nod gratefully, smiling at him and telling him how much you'd like it. He definitely goes all out, planning a perfect dinner that's tailored to your tastes at a place where the menu doesn't have a price. The second the two of you are seated he spins a story about how much he loves you and that his life would never be complete without you - you are his muse and he's never been more inspired than when the two of you are together.

He loves the colour that your cheeks flush, memorising the colour to recreate later. When you let him press a kiss to your knuckles and nod shyly he beams at you, promising himself in that instant that he'll make himself worth your love.

#love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #l&ds x reader #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #lads rafayel x reader #lads zayne x reader #lads xavier x reader

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shadowandlightt · 4 months

Text

Of Nightmares and Memories /six/ Azriel X reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

You toss and turn in your bed, unable to sleep. It seems like no matter how many tonics you tried taking, none of them are going to do their job. Not with Rhys back in the Court of Nightmares with your father, Cassian and Azriel with them as well.

It always made you anxious when they were away from Valaris, no matter where they were. You knew no one would dare touch them in the Court of Nightmares, but you also knew the roles they had to play. And how taxing it was on all three of your boys.

Rustling in the hall made you sit up. The house was quiet, no one else was here aside from your mother, who was most likely fast asleep and not pacing outside of your door. Carefully, you got out of bed and reached for the dagger on your nightstand, it had been a gift from Az for your last birthday.

You weren’t sure what you expected when you opened your door, but it wasn’t Az pacing back and forth like he did before he entered your father’s office.

“Az?” You question, causing him to pause, “What are you doing out here? Aren’t you meant to be-”

He rushes forward, grabbing your face in his hands before crashing his lips against yours. You’re taken back for a moment, because he’d never been so forceful with you before. All of his touches were always light and gentle as if he was afraid you might break. But never this…hunger.

“Az-”

“I flew straight here after we were dismissed,” He says against your lips, “I had to see you.”

You rub your hands down his arms, trying to calm him, “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere Az.”

“The things those vile men said-”

“They always say things,” You can feel your eyes rolling.

“I wanted to kill them. I should’ve.”

“Shh,” You whisper, pulling him into your room and shutting the door, “I’m perfectly fine. They can’t so much as put a finger on me. I’m untouchable, remember?”

His hands wander down your body, “You’re far from untouchable.”

“Maybe to you.”

He smirks and Cauldron it’s a beautiful sight. You would do anything to see him smirk or smile all of the time. And Mother when he laughs, it's your undoing. But when he sings, and he does for you, you lose all control.

“I love being able to touch you,” He said gruffly.

“I love that you love touching me,” You somehow challenge him with the simple sentence.

Your nightgown leaves little to the imagination as you back away from him towards the bed. You eye him for a moment before holding a hand out in a silent invitation. Maybe not for sex, because you’d never had sex with anyone before, let alone Azriel. But for something else, something far more intimate. Because he hardly slept, let alone with anyone else besides you.

He toes off his boots and undoes the straps to his various sheaths along his body. You know the look in his eyes. The adrenaline is wearing off and he’s starting to crash. You know he’ll likely be asleep before his head even really hits the pillow. And that’s okay, because you love that he feels so safe with you.

“I have to leave before the sun is up,” He warns you.

“I know,” You tug at his hand again, “Just for the night.”

He swallows hard. You aren’t sure how much restraint it takes for him to do this with you, because every time he seems to battle with himself. Yet, he does it anyway. He always seems to find his way back to your bed.

“I wish I could have the mornings too,” he whispers to you.

You nuzzle against him and pull him down onto the bed, tangling your legs with his before pulling the covers over both of you. You try to blink away the tears before they fall, because you wish you could have every night and every morning with him. Not just the stolen moments you’ve become so accustomed to. You’re tired of sneaking around Valaris just to have a moment with him. Sure your brother and Cas know, because they’re both nosy busy bodies, but if your father ever found out he would have Azriel killed on sight. Precious Shadowsinger or not.

“Hush now,” You tell him softly, “We have what we have. And I thank the Mother for it everyday.”

It’s his turn to nuzzle against you. He kisses your neck before snuggling down into your bed, pulling you on top of him. Your whole body relaxes against him. Because this feels like the most natural thing in the world to you. As if nothing else mattered but him and you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask him quietly.

“Not particularly,” he replies with equal softness, “I hate having to go to that place. I’m just thankful you were spared this time.”

“It’s all over now,” You assure him, “Get some sleep. I have no doubt there will be plenty for you to do within the coming days.”

“He’s sending us back to the camps,” He tells you, voice turning cold.

Your body goes rigid, because you know how much Azirel hates the camps. They all hate them, but Az and Cas especially. You know there’s nothing you can do to stop it, nothing you can do to change your fathers mind. So instead you hold Az even tighter, kissing along his jaw before reaching his lips.

You kiss him slowly, pouring every ounce of love you feel into it. You haven’t uttered those words to him, but you feel them. So deeply in your chest it nearly hurts. You’re alive with it. As if your love is a living breathing thing that somehow connects the two of you. You revel in it. Because you know that somehow he feels the same way.

You feel it in every touch. Every kiss. Every stolen moment with him.

“Sleep now,” You whisper to him.

Sleep now my love.

“I hate I won’t be here when you wake,” he kisses the top of your head.

“One day,” you promise him, “One day we’ll be free to do as we wish.”

Only that day never came. Because two weeks later you were taken by Tamlin and his brothers. You watched as they cleaved your mother’s wings from her body, and then, only once she was screaming and bleeding out, begging for your life instead of hers, did they remove her head and put her out of her misery. She never knew that you were spared. But not spared in every way.

They knew you possessed wings too, one of Tamlin’s brothers, the more brutish of them, probably the one next in line to be High Lord, decided to slice into your back for them. As if you had them hidden just behind your skin. You screamed for hours as they flayed your back open.

Tamlin crudely healed you before they brought you back to the manor house. The glamor Tamlin himself put on you and your rooms were too strong for Rhys to see through. Or maybe he was too preoccupied with killing Tamlin’s father to see through it. Either way, he left without you, which he never would have done had he known you were there.

Outside, people were gathered for the wedding. Feyre and Tamlin’s wedding. The thought made you want to get sick. You couldn’t imagine her, the wild human who went charging under the mountain, being stuck here to be nothing more than a broodmare. She was already withering away.

Her wrenching woke you up nightly, although you never heard Tamlin move a muscle. You could gut him for what he was doing to that poor girl. She was slowly suffocating here. You might die here in the Spring Court, but you’d be damned if you let Feyre die here too.

Ianthe, the bitch herself, reemerged for the wedding. You hoped you’d seen the last of her years ago, when Tamlin turned her down the last time. But it seemed she found a way to weave her way back into Spring. Anothing thing to make you sick.

You watch, eyes wide as Feyre appears, looking like the ridiculously frilly dolls you had as a small child. The aisle is laden with red rose petals, despite the fact you heard Feyre beg for no red anywhere near the day. You wondered if she looked at it and saw blood.

She takes one step, and then another, but never makes it to the dais where Tamlin is waiting with an open hand. Ianthe is trying to coax her towards them. Saying ridiculous things that make you grind your teeth together.

But Feyre is not moving. You can’t see her face, but you can feel her panic. The sheer panic that’s ripping through her as easily as that damned wyrm would have Under The Mountain. You wish you could leave the room and help her, take her anywhere but here, but you’re stuck. Bound to stay in the room thanks to warding Tamlin set upon it days ago. He claimed it was to keep you out of trouble, but really it was to save his own skin. There are too many people from too many courts, if one of them was to see you, and mention something to Rhys, Tamlin would be dead.

You can almost hear Feyre praying for someone to help her, before a thunderous crack shakes the very earth. Darkness pools just feet from Feyre and your brother steps out from it. You loosen a breath you weren’t even sure you were holding. He could take her away, even if just for a week, but the wedding wouldn’t go through. Feyre would be safe for a week. Well looked after under Rhys’ supervision, maybe she would even eat something while she was there.

He would take her to the Moonstone Palace, above the Court of Nightmares, it was the safest place for her. It wouldn’t reveal too much about the court, and wouldn't show her anything of importance. But most importantly, it would keep her above ground, where she could breathe.

Even with your fae hearing, you couldn’t hear what Rhys was saying. Your hands were pressed to the glass, begging for him to somehow see you and bring you with him. But he reached for Feyre in one quick moment and they were gone.

It took Tamlin all of five minutes to storm into your rooms. You opened your mouth to say something smart and snarky, but the back of his hand collided with your face, sending you flying backwards.

A metallic taste fills your mouth as you fight the urge to spit the blood out. You push yourself up onto your hands, and look up. Tamlin is seething, angrier than you’d ever seen from him. And you pride yourself on being able to make him extremely angry. You’d forced those claws to come out more than once, made him explode several times over the hundreds of years that you’d been here. You were very proud of it. But this was new.

“I’ll kill the both of you,” He hissed.

“I’d like to see you try,” You laugh, blood coating your teeth from where your lip had split, “Killing me might be easy, thanks to how weak you like to keep me, but killing him? No, not even you could manage that, oh High Lord.”

“Even a High Lord can be killed,” He seethes.

“Perhaps, but even with your full power, you couldn’t kill Rhys. He would mist you before you got the chance,” You tell him, still grinning wildly, “But by all means, go ahead and kill me. My life was over the moment you stole me.”

“I saved you,” He moves back to hit you once more, “And for what? You’re nothing. Your own brother doesn’t care that you live. You stood in front of him and he didn’t even notice.”

You feel that blow harder than any physical blow he could have dealt you. Because it’s true, Rhys never noticed. He had three months since Amerantha had been killed, and he hasn’t come for you. Your escape plan hadn’t worked, because he hadn’t even noticed that you were right there in front of him. Have you changed so much?

“I think letting you live with the knowledge that he doesn't care is better than killing you outright,” It was Tamlin’s turn to laugh now, “His precious sister, the one he killed for, right under his nose the entire time. How pathetic.”

You make a wounded sort of noise.

“Yes, letting you live with that truth is far greater,” Tamlin seemed to agree with himself, “Let’s see how you do locked away until he returns Feyre to me.”

“One day Tamlin, I will help rip you limb from limb,” You promise, “One day.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Little Star,” He spits the old nickname at you.

Tag List

@historygeekqueen @saltedscotchcoffee @queerqueenlynn @wallacewillow0773638 @sstrohma @hnyclover @thelov3lybookworm @maddybraps @minnieoo @witchymomfrien @mariahoedt @one-big-fangirl @amara-moonlight @st0rmyt @annamariereads16 @hunterksmith @sleepylunarwolf @sh4nn @emryb @mikatanazaki

#acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel x you #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger

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sunflowersteves · 10 months

Note

hello again!!

i loved the blurb of the last req i sent in so you’re getting my new idea >:)

ok so miguel and reader are married and he notices that during missions she fiddles with her engagement and wedding rings under her suit and he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world 🥹

i’m just the softest for miggy i can’t

have a great day/night and DRINK MORE WATER!!

ugh I love this sm. ty for your patience!! I have so many requests for miggy it’s insane and I love it. So, I kinda got carried away and I made them fiancee’s but I hope you enjoy it 💗

pairing || miguel o’hara x f!reader

warnings || soft!miguel, fluff, fiancé!miguel

masterlist

Miguel is an intuitive person. He could observe someone from afar and understand their weaknesses, triumphs, and fears. He has always been quite the observer.

For you, though, he knew everything. Your favorite food, your favorite movie, how your energy levels plummeted after a lot of stimulation, the way you got nervous around new people—everything.

He might not admit it to anyone, but he knows. He understands that this level of love—this care for another person—ran deep in his bones. His heart always thumped across his chest from your mere presence. No matter how much he resists the complacency of personal attachments, he can never resist you.

He might be grumpy. He might yell and get angry. He might roll his eyes and huff out his breath, but Miguel loves so deeply that it punctures his chest and creates a chasm of adoration for you.

Miguel was obsessed with the silhouette of you alone, never mind the way his stomach swirls with contentment and love when your hands glide smoothly across his chest. Never mind the way his heart stops every time you send him an endearing smile.

Miguel is hopelessly and helplessly in love with you, and as an observer, Miguel saw the little things.

He observed the way you would fiddle with his fingers underneath the table when you were nervous.

He observed when you would tap a finger on his bicep, completely subconsciously as you told him about your day.

He observed how you pressed deep kisses onto the scars that scattered across his chest and abdomen.

God, how he loved it. He never said a word, though.

His lips would quirk in the faintest of smiles as his body felt hot from the interactions. His hand would splay themselves on your thigh because he knew that you would need something to fumble with. He would lean his shoulder into you so your fingers could tap away absentmindedly.

Miguel knew your idiosyncrasies very well—and it was a mission in his head to file each of them into his mind so he could keep them for eternity.

This one, though, was new.

Miguel had proposed to you a week ago—a week exactly from today. It wasn’t your typical proposal where everyone in the background claps and congratulates you.

Miguel had taken you to your favorite spot. In Nueva York, there’s an old district that was a historic area full of old buildings. He took you to the top of the Chrysler building—that one being your favorite from the older days.

He didn’t prepare a big speech. He wasn’t sure he could without the swirling emotions of how much you truly meant to him. So, instead, he makes it simple.

“Te amo.”

Your eyes widened substantially at the indication of those words. Your mouth opened, jaw dropped almost to the floor. Tears started to collect on your eyelids, but you refused to let them fall.

“Miguel—” Your voice chokes in on itself as he showed you the ring. He looks at you, eyes wide with hope. You rarely saw that expression flash across his face. “Yes. Te amo también, Miguel.”

Without any words, he slipped the ring on your finger, and the two of you sat in silence. His body pressed up against yours, and he contently sighed.

Ever since he slipped that pretty ring onto your finger, you would feel it. You would twist the silvery metal. You’d swirl and fiddle with the accessory.

Sometimes, when you really needed comfort, you would place your lips onto the solid ring. When Miguel wasn’t around, you knew that he was always going to be there. He was always with you—even when he wasn’t.

And just like now, as your listening to Peter B.’s words, you’re twisting the ring around your finger. Miguel watched from afar, without coming towards you, as you subconsciously press your lips to the band.

Miguel couldn’t suppress the smile that curled on his lips as he watched you. His heart beat loudly against his ears—mission no longer on his brain.

Your concerned eyes eventually found him, and you melted. He could immediately see the anxiety dissipate from your shoulders from his presence. It made his stomach swirl with love.

Then, a voice appears next to his ear. “You guys are so cute. I’m gonna cry.”

Miguel rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Lyla.”

“When you have your wedding, I’m gonna be front row, okay? It has to be that way because—”

“Lyla.” He growls. “Shut up.” He wouldn’t admit it in the whole damn world, but there was still a smile on his face.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o’hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #miguel o’hara fluff #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfiction

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sednas · 1 year

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['CAUSE HE'S A F×CK BOY ─ s. gojo]

꒰ ͜͡➸ sorry what did you say? oh you want a virginkiller!gojo fic? with enemies to lovers vibes? yeah I might have this one in store for you. smut will be in the second part tho! (which will be posted in one week or five months, who knows! :))

pairing: virginkiller!gojo x virgin!fem!reader

tw: college!au, suggestive themes, virginity kink, (dub-con) make out session, gojo is annoying but hey what's new, sexual tension, light fem masturbation at the end

gojo satoru was the golden boy. the most intelligent student of his class, the most talented sports player of the school, the most popular guy of the campus, maybe even of the whole city. he was excellent at everything. people were too amazed by his talent to notice his arrogance and his condescending smile, too blinded by his bright blue eyes and his snowy white hair.

gojo was the best at everything, and it included fucking. hell, fucking was actually on top of the list. he had a cheerleader waiting for him every night in his room, sometimes he could just wink at a girl and she was already spreading her legs for him in the bathroom a few minutes later. he could have literally everyone, but what he liked best was virgins. he loved them, such good girls who managed to keep their innocence until college. they were always so easy, so pliant.

and the thing he mostly liked to do with them was fucking them so hard that nobody could ever compare after that. he wanted them to think about him every time they would fuck someone else, he wanted them to rub their thighs together while thinking about him years later, this is what he liked to do with them. of course, the thought of ruining them for their first time was also appealing, they were usually so shy and reserved, he liked to take them apart piece by piece, make them drool, and then cry, and then forcing them to look at themselves in the mirror, letting them see how the filthiest version of themselves looked like. and in the end, when they were too fucked to think, he made them say thanks.

and this was exactly what he wanted to do with you.

you were way more difficult than the others, doing your best to ignore his piercing blue eyes, answering by a simple nod of your head every time he was trying to start a conversation, leaving the room every time he was in.

yeah you were difficult, but satoru always got what he wanted.

“all by yourself uh?”

he startled you a bit, and he could see that you were already looking for a way out by the way your eyes were looking at everything but him.

he moved his body to be at the same height as you, looking at you through his glasses, and then he said your name in a sweet voice, smiling when he saw how easily he got you looking back at him, your face obviously flushed.

“finally paying attention to me mh? it's a shame that you don't look at me often, I really like your eyes, they're pretty.”

and he really meant it, you were telling him everything with those eyes, the way you were constantly daydreaming about him, how you were humping your pillow at night, imagining it was his thigh instead. yeah, very pretty eyes.

“I want to get to know ya.” he said with a smile, and he got closer.

he kept himself from laughing when he saw you taking a few steps back and then he stopped, not wanting to make you panic too much.

“here, gimme your phone.”

you obeyed after barely a few seconds, and it only confirmed what he was already thinking; you were wrapped around his finger even though you were trying to hide it.

“mmh cute wallpaper… alright I'm just gonna add my number to your contacts annnnnd… done!” he finally said, his relaxed smile still on his face, handing you over your phone.

he didn't let go of it immediately, making sure your hands brushed against one another, noticing the way your breath got stuck in your throat.

“call me okay?”

one month passed by and you never called, or even texted. gojo felt frustration for the first time in his life, and because of that he was rougher than usual when he was fucking a cheerleader, his thoughts always coming back to you, and the way you were still ignoring him even though you were fucking yourself with your fingers every night while thinking about him. he was starting to get tired of his own game, but still, he wasn't planning on giving up. and so when he saw you standing in the kitchen during that halloween party, a devilish grin appeared on his pale face...

it's already too late when you spot him across the room, his blue eyes are on you. you can barely think of an escape that he's already in front of you, wearing a black tuxedo, a white collar wrapped around his neck and long white victorian sleeves hugging his arms, and making the rings on his fingers look elegant.

“you didn't call me.“ gojo whispers against your ear, his long arms trapping you between his body and the kitchen counter.

you open your mouth but no sound comes out, your eyes try to escape his teasing gaze as you're sure he can see every little detail on your face by standing so close.

“I thought… I thought you weren't serious when you gave me your number.”

he chuckles, noticing how you're even more embarrassed to look him in the eyes when he hasn't his glasses on.

“I like your costume, it suits your body.”

you feel your skin grows hot, his voice so soft and intimate, his eyes trailing on your body from up and down. it feels like you're alone in the whole house with only him. and your heart is racing with fear and anticipation, as you bring your thighs together. gojo notices it, placing his knee between them before you can fully close them, making you gasp.

“so tell me something baby…” he starts speaking in a honeyed voice, his lips coming closer to your ear.

you blink at the nickname, his body weighting a little more on your own, your back uncomfortably pressed against the kitchen counter as your body slowly bent to accommodate to the awkward position.

“are you scared of me or something?”

a nervous laugh comes out of your mouth, turning your head to escape from his warm gaze.

“I'm not scared of you.”

he can tell you're sincere, but it only makes him want to know more.

“then why are you avoiding me all the time uh?”

he tilts his head to the side, eyes burning with curiosity and his teeth flashing at you when you finally look back at him.

“i'm avoiding you because… you're so annoying, and you fuck everyone you know and you're so arrogant, always thinking you're better than anyone else. I don't like you, at all.”

a few seconds of silence pass by while both of you just look at eachother, until a smirk slowly appears on gojo's face.

“I didn't know you were so mean.” he laughed. “but if you hate me so much why aren't you pushing me away right now?” his sultry voice keeps sliding on you like honey, his mouth so close to your skin, breath fanning over your neck.

he's right, and he knows it, smiling even wider when he sees you looking at the ground in defeat.

“that's what I thought.” he smiles, one of his hand sliding along the side of your jaw, the sudden touch making your heart skips a beat.

his pale hand looks good on your skin, you can feel his fingers squeezing lightly your throat and the atmosphere becomes more tense than before, he still has this grin, like he knows everything about you, especially how much you want him to touch you more.

you're a few seconds away from giving up, your body almost falling on the counter to let gojo fully rest on you. somehow his smirk grows wider when he sees you closing your eyes. you let out a little whine when you feel him pressing all of his body weight against you.

“that was a sweet sound baby, mind if you make some more for me?”

despite shaking your head no, you pressed your body against him, hungry for more, finding a new pleasure in being the center of his attention. his slender fingers find their way to squeeze your chest, drawing another whine out of your mouth.

“more…” he orders, the sound of his voice muffled against your skin.

you try to close your lips, in a poor attempt not to give in so easily, but your legs turn to jelly as soon as he puts his soft lips on your neck. one of your hands flew through his white hair as you gasped at this new sensation.

his hot tongue tracing kisses along your neck, he grabbed your hips, bringing you even closer, letting you feel his boner. you feel dirty, intoxicated, but the heat coming out of his body is addictive. you let out another sound and your fingers are now grabbing his shirt in a needy way, trying to get him even closer to you. you want more. you need more.

you suddenly open your eyes when you feel his warmth vanish from your trembling body. you watch him walk away in disbelief while he's wearing a wicked smile on his face.

“I think my friends are waiting for me… it was fun, you should call me later okay?” he winked at you before exiting the room without letting you have any time to react.

you're left here, breathless, blood pumping into your veins, eyes clouded with desire, a pool of arousal between your legs. your hands clench into fists, of course he did it on purpose.

your eyes are fixated on your phone as breathless sighs keep coming out of your mouth.

"fuck!" you let out an exasperated groan, throwing your head back into the soft pillows.

your fingers are still trying to reach that spongy spot inside you, you arch your back, lifting your hips in the air, hoping it will allow your fingers to touch deeper parts. but you're left unsatisfied again, your legs twitching in frustration. your head hit your pillow and your eyes go back to your phone.

"he would fuck me right." you mumble to yourself.

part two

jjk masterlist

a lovely reminder that reblogs and comments are highly appreciated ♡

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru smut

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tteokdoroki · 9 months

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✩࿐ TRACK 04: UNDERSTAND. shoto todoroki (1K)

about. until he met you, shoto todoroki wasn’t really sure what being loved felt like. now that he knows, he’s sure that he wants love with you - for the all his days.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact!, sfw, fluff, happy ending, established relationship, sunday snuggles, proposals, afab!reader, pro hero!todoroki.

things to note. eee i was meant to post shoto’s last saturday but i got rlly busy! i hope you enjoy the double update today, sero later <3 - masterlist / series masterlist / series playlist ✩

todoroki never knew what love truly felt like.

to be held like tomorrow has not been promised is something he hardly remembers from his childhood — sometimes if he closes his eyes and tries hard enough, he can catch whiffs of his mother’s shampoo and the feeling of her cashmere sweater against his chubby cheeks.

but it’s always fleeting, never fully present. never really telling of what love feels like.

you were the one who taught shoto that love shouldn’t be something that he has to try and grasp for. that it should be unconditional, that it’s an experience that he deserves.

the half and half hero never thought that he would find someone who cares as much for him as you do — even from the very moment you met. you chose to befriend him despite how callous and cold his exterior was at the time. willingly, you spent years chipping away at the cool layer of frost that prickled on the surface of todoroki’s skin like a sculpture working with the perfect block of ice, desperate to see the real him. not the mould his father had carved him out to be.

you did not seek to change todoroki, to shape him into something new — you simply wanted to see the real him, the warmth in him you knew already existed. it just needed a little coaxing out. you’d told him that on night, your hand sifting through soft peppermint swirl hair. moving as if you couldn’t feel shoto’s heavy heterochromatic gaze on you.

“i like you the way you are, not the way you think you ought to be.”

shoto’s heart had flipped at your confession — like it had done so many times over the years. but being raised in a place where love was replaced by fear, he’d no idea that he was slowly, albeit, surely falling in love with you. oftentimes, you would remind shoto that you found his obliviousness to your feelings for him endearing and adorable. your romance was somewhat of a slow burner, melting like a frozen over fireplace during the winter season. where lingering touches were over analysed and where your cheeks burned hot whenever you stared at one another for too long.

reciprocating your feelings had been a learning curve for the half hot, half cold hero but he had learned from his friends that there is a point to trying (if watching kaminari and his endless attempts at bagging his girlfriend from high school to present day wasn’t motivation enough, todoroki isn’t sure what is). after a patrol through the bustling city some years back, early on into his career as a pro — shoto had held your hands close to his chest, warming you up through the sleet and snow and asked.

“maybe we could try, if you let me?”

he’d not expected you to understand his simple words or burst into tears, nor to say yes and leap up to his height for a delicate chaste kiss. “it’s about damn time, shoto.” you’d replied, beaming so bright he was sure to see galaxies.

he had no idea that the one person he would want to be with for all his life was so close to him, nestled between the milestones and the memories. but now that todoroki has you — he can’t see himself spending a single second away from you. and you, the same with him.

today is no different to how it’s always been since dating todoroki. you lie in his sheets, your bare limbs intertwined and your fingers locked as if you’re never going to let go. todoroki, though lost in his thoughts, worries that you might be able to hear the rapid thump of his heart hitting the inside of his rib cage. if you do notice, you ignore it in favour of drawing shapes along the ridge form of shoto’s naked body, listening out for the sound of his breathing.

he’s scared, truth be told. he worries that despite all this time together — being accustomed to one another’s quips and squicks, that you might leave or abandon him. love is freighting, even if it is supposed to be unconditional. “darling,” the man coos gently, brushing a knuckle over the apple of your cheek.

“hmm?” you sound so dreamy and relaxed, curled up with him like this — you don’t have a care in the world, completely unaware that you make up shoto’s entire world. “yes, my love?”

the wisps of a smile catch on the corners of his mouth, dragging them upwards at the sight of you nuzzling into his warm palm. “i have a question to ask,” todoroki lets out a shaky exhale and shifts to sit against the headboard with you still tucked into his side. he watches as you glance up at him through long lashes, worry dancing amongst the flecks in your eyes.

you nod and take his hand to reassure him that you’re listening.

he decides then, that you’re worth the risk.

“this may seem spontaneous,” todoroki starts slowly, making sure to keep his voice even as though not to spook you. as if you’re a deer in the woods and he’s a hunter on the prowl. “i can assure you that it’s not. i’ve thought about this more times than you could count, but first. you’re aware that i love you. right?” the press of your lips against his sensitive collarbones is enough for todoroki to assume that your answer is yes — he appreciates you giving him the space to talk too. “not a moment of my time goes by where i’m not longing for you, even when you’re right here next to me.”

shoto takes a moment to pause, pushing the question he wants to ask around on his tongue — he wonders how to frame it, how you’ll take it but with one look into your gleaming pretty eyes (he should have known you would get teary from his speech), he knows exactly what to say. “you’ve…shown me a lot of things, a love that shouldn’t be granted. a life that i deserved to lead and so,” he grasps at your fingers with his colder hand, giving them a gentle squeeze before thumbing over your ring finger. “i think it’s about time that i asked you to be mine.”

he wants you, forever and always. for all of his days — if you’ll stay, that is.

drawing your body up so that you can kneel before him, you squeeze todoroki’s hand back and bring it up towards your lips to press a chaste kiss to the back of it. “sho,” you sigh, the words warmly coasting over his cool skin contrastingly. “are you—?”

“i’m asking you to marry me. that’s if you’ll have me, darling.” the hero feels a little shy at how tenderly you treat him, a rose coloured blush blooming on his milky skin at his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

“i’ll have you in every single lifetime,” you say urgently, throwing your arms around todoroki’s broad, shoulders in a tight hug. “i can promise you that.”

like always, you take todoroki’s hand and he lets you lead him down the path — changing his future, soothing his past. because of course, you’re the only one who truly understands.

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jazminrhode1 · 9 months

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I've Loved You My Whole Life Matt Sturniolo x Reader One Shot

Summary: You and Matt are best friends but, there might be some underlying feelings between you both.

Word Count: 677 words

Matt sat beside you tracing gentle spirals on your back as you facetimed back home to your mom. She always missed you when you were away but, knew you were safe when you were with Matt.

She was catching you up on your brother’s soccer tournament and your Dad's trip to Vermont. He had gone with some friends on their annual weekend away and you knew your mom missed him a lot.

Before you hung up, she said to Matt, “Take care of our girl.” Matt laughed, digging his chin into your shoulder. “Always,” he promised.

You and Matt had been best friends since elementary school. He was the first person you called in the morning and the last text you sent at night.

When you were too scared to skate on the ice at your 8th birthday party, he took your hand and made sure that you didn’t fall. When you broke up with your first boyfriend who you thought that you’d marry someday, Matt was there to pick up the pieces. Whenever you called, he was there.

As you drove to McDonald's to grab something to eat, he laced his fingers through yours. It was this kind of simple shit that none of your boyfriends could ever seem to do. He opened the door, he paid for your meal and when you decided you didn’t want the Dr Pepper you ordered, he swapped his drink just to make you happy.

Matt was always a ‘let’s fix this’ type of person. Even when you disagreed or argued about stupid little things, he never left until you sorted it out. He would always be down for uncomfortable conversations if it meant you were still friends in the end. There was nothing more comforting than knowing you could be yourself around him.

As you sat on the couch, you laid your head on his chest. He was the only person who could make your heart still when your anxiety was out of control. He played with your hair mindlessly as you watched Spongebob together. It was moments like this that you had missed since he moved to LA.

In the morning, he woke you up with a coffee from Starbucks. He had let you stay in his bed and he was bunking with Chris. Chris didn’t mind, he liked the company. You sometimes felt like he missed Matt when you were around, though he never said that.

As you walked down the esplanade with your ice creams in hand something about it seemed different. Something about the space between you felt more fragile but, you couldn’t put your finger on it. He caught your gaze and just smiled; he locked eyes with you for a little too long to be just friends.

Everyone could see how much the two of you loved each other. It was hard for you to put into words. You loved him in ways that you had never loved anyone else. He was your person. Something about him made you feel a little more alive and a little less lost.

As you sat on the bench looking out at the water, he tucked your hair behind your ear and ran his hand down your back. It was in those moments of intimate understanding that you felt the most seen. The little things that he did let you know that he loved you too.

He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into his side to block you from the wind. His lips pressed against your temple; your fingers tracing circles on his thigh. This was love, wasn’t it? Didn’t the Buddhists say 'If you meet somebody and your heart pounds, your hands shake, your knees go weak, that's not the one. When you meet your 'soul mate' you'll feel calm.' This was love, wasn’t it?

You turned to face him and looked up into his eyes, “Do you believe the universe fights for two souls to be together?”

A smile spread across his face as he replied, “I don't know about the universe but, I know that I have loved you for my whole life.”

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whathorselegs · 7 days

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My Thoughts on How Oda Views Dazai

I know we all like to quote Oda's descriptions about Dazai, but I think we do also need to remember part of Dark Era was Oda realising his opinions on Dazai had been clouded by bias and distance, and he changes them towards the end of the novel. There is a difference in the way Oda talks about Dazai when he's decribing his reputation and when he's witnessing Dazai first hand. Oda isn't certain how he views Dazai for a lot of the novel.

(Under the cut because I have no self control and this got long)

Oda's early descriptions of Dazai focus mostly on his reputation and don't really tell us how Oda actually sees him:

'We had a saying in the Port Mafia: "The great mistfortune for Dazai's enemies is that they are Dazai's enemies." If he wanted to, he could even could even have a picnic in the middle of a firefight. Dazai was practically born to be in the mafia.' - Bungou Stray Dogs, Dazai Osamu and the Dark Era

This is Oda's opinion being influenced by Dazai's reputation, by the exploits Dazai tells him about and the common gossip from other members of the mafia. Often in these quotes Oda will refer to Dazai as a 'man' an adult.

But later on, Oda describes how he sees Dazai in the moment, as they work together:

'Dazai's expression as he placed a finger on his forehead and approached the enemy-that of a child about to burst into tears-remained burned into my eyes.' - Bungou Stray Dogs, Dazai Osamu and the Dark Era

It's in these moments that Oda describes Dazai as a boy or a child, because being exposed to the reality of Dazai reminds him of how young Dazai is. It's burning into his eyes because it shocks him, his two views of Dazai are waring in his head. In the beginning he's a 'man easily mistaken for a boy', by the end Dazai is just a boy.

But if they were the friends, why does Oda's opinions on Dazai keep getting so mixed up?

It's simple they were friends, but their friendship was maintained with conditions.

Oda states that his friendship with Ango and Dazai, their meet ups at Lupin only worked the way they did because they kept strict boundaries with each other. Something I think people tend to overlook a lot.

'We often gathered at this bar as if we were trying to avoid something. Then we'd shoot the breeze under the guise of "communication" until the dead of night.' - Bungou Stray Dogs, Dazai Osamu and the Dark Era

'The reason why Ango and I were able to be by his side was that we understood the solitude that surrounded him, and we never stepped inside it no matter how close we stood. But in that moment, I kind of regretted not stepping in and invading that solitude.' - Bungou Stray Dogs, Dazai Osamu and the Dark Era

They talk about work, they talk about nonsense, but they do not talk about their personal lives. There's an unspoken rule that they keep things light and because of this it means they couldn't be completely honest with each other. It brought them together AND kept them at a distance. (Dancing around your feelings and not giving away how much you're struggling until it leads to destructive behaviours is a major theme in The Flowers Of Buffoonery by Dazai Osamu btw)

It meant they kept things from each other too.

Dazai was not meant to know about Oda's orphans. When he showed up at the restaurant, that was a moment of tension. Dazai wasn't supposed to be there, he wasn't just surprising a friend, Oda had kept this side of himself separate from the mafia. That includes Dazai. There's a brief moment of tension where Oda doesn't know how to react, whether Dazai is about to become a threat or not. Even though he's there to help, Dazai plays into this for a moment, joking that he might recruit the orphan's into the mafia.

To Oda this just affirms Dazai as someone whose dangerous. (Though I think that's more apparent in the anime than the novel) They weren't supposed to know about each other's personal lives, but Dazai dug into them anyways, he knew about Oda's orphans and he knew about Ango being a spy. He doesn't reflect on the fact Dazai kept those secrets because they were his friends. He might have been digging where he wasn't supposed to, but Dazai never betrayed Oda. I don't think he even fully processes how far Dazai went to keep the orphans safe by moving them to a safehouse.

I've said before that Oda saw him as a child and I do believe that, but I believe he also forgot that for a while. By the end of Dark Era he's reminded how young and lost Dazai is. In his dying moments he tries to give him guidence because he realises he failed Dazai. (And by extention, Ango.)

By creating those borders between themselves, it was easier to stop seeing Dazai for the boy he was and start letting his reputation warp Oda's view of him. Dazai was his friend, but he was also one of the most dangerous people in the mafia, he was a boy but also the man he complained about work with over drinks. They played silly pranks together and neither of them flinched when disposing of piles of bodies. Dazai was someone he knew and trusted, but also some one to be weary of trusting.

At the beginning of Dark Era he says Dazai was born for the mafia, by the end of it he acknowledges that's only true because he was never given the change to be something else.

Oda had to be guided away from killing with the dream of becoming a writer. As he's dying attempts to fulfil a similar role for Dazai too. He's regretful he didn't do it sooner, that they weren't closer with one another from the start.

They were friends, Oda understood Dazai, but they were also strangers and Oda's views of Dazai were just as fallible as everyone else's. Dazai spent that whole book growing more and more desperate to save a friend that was out of his reach to begin with.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bsd odasaku #bsd #my writing #Note: This is talking just about Dark Era as I have not read The Day I Picked Up Dazai #bsd dark era #anyway I guess the point I was trying to make was Oda isn't the Dazai expert #His views on him were complex and ever changing #They're not supposed to be quoted like facts about Dazai anymore than Kunikida's or Chuuya's descriptions

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