#And then the thoughts start eating away at her:

[jinwoosungs]

04/24/25; 06:00pm

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ they f-ck you in uniform ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb

warnings: slight voyeurism and ooc-ness.

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

sylus was in the middle of a meeting, his ear pressed against his phone as he sat against his chair with his expensive suit clinging to him. a bead of sweat was felt descending down his brow, and he could barely listen to the poor bastard on the other end because of how your soft mewls of his name kept distracting him.

in the midst of his call, you had entered his office, wearing nothing but a damp robe. it was clear that you had just finished showering, yet he wasn’t sure why you entered his office. he quirks his eyebrows in response, only to feel the heat rush all the way down to his cock when you drop the silky material of your robe.

a devilish expression was on your face when you place a finger against your lips, silently beckoning him to remain quiet before kneeling down before him. you trace at the expensive material of his suit, giving him an innocent smile before unzipping his pants.

he lets out a hiss, turning away from his phone the moment you manage to free his cock from the confines of his pants, his dick already half hard for you when you slowly began stroking it back to full hardness. you take a second to admire his sheer size and girth, giving him a cheshire cat grin before surging forward.

your lips wrap around the tip of his cock before moving your head down the length of him. he hisses lowly at the sensation of your hot and wet mouth (feeling very much like silk) around his cock. no longer paying attention to the call, he grips at his phone “i have to go.” he tells the man with a growl before hanging up the call, tossing aside his phone while gripping your head with both of his hands.

controlling the pace now, he rapidly pushes his cock in and out of your mouth, nearly gagging you when he manages to shove himself all the way down your throat. the pants of his expensive suit were now stained with your drool and the beads of his precum that manages to escape from your lips.

with one last thrust, he shoots the rest of his seed down your throat, letting out a grunt of your name. much like a cat that’s had her fill of cream, you remove your lips from his softening cock, licking at your lips while making a show of swallowing everything he had to offer. sylus’s eyes darken considerably in response, hands coming around to give your ass an audible smack! before picking up your form, settling your heat over his half-hardened cock.

“you’re going to spend the rest of the night making up for ruining my business call, sweetie.”

there was something about seeing you naked, wearing nothing but his white coat that sends zayne’s thoughts into a frenzy.

it started out innocently enough, with you spending time with him in his office, enjoying some takeout you had brought over for lunch. after you had finished eating, you noticed how his white coat had hung off the side of his chair before casually putting it over you.

“how do i look?”

zayne could feel his eyes darken with desire for you, his possessiveness suddenly flared up considerably as his mind began painting images of you naked-

wearing nothing but his white coat as he fucked you against his desk.

yet instead of ignoring such intrusive thoughts-

he acts upon it.

locking his office door, zayne manages to convince you to take off all of your clothes, remaining utterly bare for him as his white coat was hung on your shoulders. he admires your beauty for a brief moment, carrying your pliant form toward the desk as he shoves aside the books and paperwork. settling your back against the table, he pulls down his pants and boxers, revealing his cock to you.

his cock was already hard and ready for you, aching with such potency that he skipped all forms of foreplay. gripping at the base of his cock, he carefully leads his cockhead toward your center, already pushing himself into your heat. your reaction was immediate, back arched against the hard surface of his desk while he began pumping himself into you.

and when you became a little too loud to ignore, zayne surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that swallows the rest of your moans.

you always found xavier to be extremely hot while wearing his hunter uniform, hence why you begged him to keep it on as you put on a little dance for him.

and one lap dance later, you found yourself naked while settled on his lap while he sits on the couch. your back was pressed against his chest, legs spread as his leather clad fingertips worked on pleasuring you. the sensation of his slender digits covered in leather pumping in and out of your heat makes your back arch in response.

xavier’s voice takes on a darker tone, pressing the tip of his nose against your damp cheek when he says, “i didn’t know you felt this way when you saw me in my hunter gear. perhaps we should do this more often?”

upon finishing his question, you felt the way he pinches down on your swollen clit, earning a gasp from you when you felt your release rushing out of you in waves. xavier feels the way your walls clamp down on his gloved hands, finding himself addicted to the sensation before acting on his desires.

“tch.” with a click of his tongue, he shoves even more of his fingers inside of you, working on stretching your walls as they continue to clench around them. by now, you were left a trembling mess, feeling the heat coursing through your veins when he tells you, “i’m going to spend hours preparing you for what’s to come. and when you come undone for me, you better ruin my uniform.”

rafayel convinces you to model for him as he wanted to have a rather personal sketch of you. when you asked him what sketch he wanted of you, you assumed that it was a nude one-

and you were partially correct.

because now, you were in fact completely naked, but there was an extra component of having rafayel’s cock nestled deep inside of you. you were left trembling, staining at his pants and white collared shirt with the evidence of your arousal that drips down onto the expensive fabric of his clothes. you were told not to move while rafayel sketched your likeness into the pages of his sketchbook.

time was an unknown concept for you the longer you remained still, cockwarming rafayel as he kept drawing into that damned sketchbook. your cunt was aching, feeling incomplete despite being full of him. the fact that you couldn’t move to try and assuage the ache made it all the more unbearable for you.

tears dot at your vision, and you clench your legs around the lemurian’s waist while clawing at the front of his shirt. “rafe, please… i need you to move.”

feigning a sigh, rafayel admires his sketch of you for a brief moment before tossing the entire book aside. “i’m sorry princess, for keeping you waiting for so long. i should have realized it from the start.”

you were about to ask what he meant, yet lost all sense of coherency the moment rafayel lifts you off of him before slamming you back down on his cock. your mind had a rush of dopamine in response to the pleasure when your lover bounces you up and down his cock while smiling at you, “i should have realized that the real deal would always be better than a mere sketch of you.”

caleb’s possessive nature could no longer be denied when he publicly fucks you while in the midst of a meeting. despite how his men had a lack of free will, the colonel still felt as though their gazes lingered far too long each time you would walk by.

so, he set up a meeting for the very purpose of educating his men that you were his and his alone.

you were hunched over the table, with caleb settled back on his seat while pounding his cock in and out of your heat. a smug expression was seen on his face when he realizes that you were making a complete and utter mess of his uniform. each time he slides his cock back within your heat, your juices would coat the length of his cock before dripping down his pants. while he took his time fucking you, basking in your fucked out expression, he became annoyed when he hears one of his men clear their throat.

“sir, we mean no disrespect, but this does not seem appropriate.”

as if i give a damn. caleb’s thoughts were still in a possessive frenzy the moment he grips at your thighs, now proceeding to bounce you up and down his cock. “consider this to be another training session- no, a lesson that needs to be learned.”

using his evol, he forces all of his men to bow their heads down against the table, forcing them to look away from you. knowing that you were about to cum when he hears the way your breathing hitches and how your walls clench oh so sweetly around his cock, he lets out one last warning to his men,

“if any one of you make any advances towards my woman, you’ll be dead before you even realize it.”

end notes: unedited, bite sized thirst posts to celebrate me reaching 3k followers (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[parkers-gal]

A touch starved Bucky that slowly warms up ;)

❤️

i wasn't sure if you wanted smut or fluff so i made this fluffyyyy i hope u like it !!! <333 i might add a little more later or smth idk yet

touch starved J.B.

pairing: bucky barnes x avengers!reader, f!reader

wc: 1.2k

warnings: (newly) established relationship

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it started with a simple brush up on his arm. innocently, it happened in the kitchen while you grabbed a bowl from the cabinet beside bucky. so brief you hadn’t even noticed it, but bucky did. he was frozen in place, feet planted to the floor, eyes practically bulging. but you didn’t react, merely continuing your conversation with steve who sat across the counter eating a bowl of oatmeal.

“you okay, honey?” your voice rang in his ears a few moments later. 

shaking off his dumbstruck state, he manages to answer. “yeah.” a sip of his coffee solidifies his response.

what was that?

he can’t shake the thought.

why did that happen? i can take bullets but not the feel of her fingers?

he was too embarrassed to bother asking you.

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sitting around the large dining table, a pack of cards lay sprawled across the top, poker chips in the middle. wanda and natasha had made various drinks, bucky sporting a beer beside you. absentmindedly, he started playing with one of his chips, right hand rolling it around and clicking it against the table. you turned towards the noise. softly, you grabbed your boyfriend's hand, playing with his fingers as he dropped the chip. 

his eyes shift down to where your fingers skid across his palm, lightly caressing the skin. 

“you’re up, barnes,” clint interrupts, laughing with sam about something. 

he throws a chip into the pile, taking a swig from the bottle of brew, left hand around the neck. 

picking up on his tense shoulders and the shift in his eyes, you lean towards him. “am i making you uncomfortable?” you nod towards your hands, laid out on the table intertwined. “i can stop if you want to, i’m sorry.”

“no! no, no,” he rushes out, almost too loudly. bucky clears his throat, cheeks heating up. “i… i like it.”

a small grin beams on your face, happy at the sudden news. “okay.” you lean a little more, just enough to kiss his bicep.

“i raise you two dollars.” you announce, turning back towards the table and throwing some chips towards the growing pile in the center.

a few people groan at your words. you let go of bucky’s hand to shuffle through your cards, smiling to yourself and placing them face down, confident in your cards. he looks longingly down at his hand, now absent of your warmth. momentarily, you notice the look on his face, but your attention is pulled when steve starts talking to you.

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you’re lounging on the couch when bucky strolls in with steve, boots softly thudding on the floor. looking up from your book, you greet them with a smile.

“hey, guys. what’s up?”

steve returns your smile, “just got through debriefing for the next mission.”

you hum in acknowledgment. “i hope it isn’t anything too crazy.” you look at bucky when you say it. he smiles a little, nodding at you. 

“okay, i gotta help sam with some new combination he wants to try out.” steve shrugs, turning to walk away from you two. “something about launching off the shield.” he laughs. bucky looks at him quizzically but you laugh along.

“sounds like sam.” you say your goodbyes to steve, watching as bucky awkwardly stands beside the couch. “wanna watch a movie in my room?” you offer, wanting to get away. 

he appreciates how hard you try to make him comfortable, knowing he’s not too keen on public affection. he wants to show you off, but he’s not quite there yet. 

“i’d like that.”

“okay!” you chirp, abandoning your book on the coffee table and moving towards bucky. you hold his upper arm, left hand reaching down to lace your fingers with his. “is this okay?”

he sucks in a breath, dumfounded. “more than okay,” he manages to utter, admiring the smile you give him while nudging the two of you towards the hallway. 

“how long is the mission?”

“hm? oh,” he squeezes your hand unintentionally. you squeeze right back, and his heart beats wildly at the gesture. “bout a week and a half. nothing too crazy.” 

“i’ll miss you,” you pout, pulling him into your room. “boots off.”

grabbing the remote, you crawl across the bed to your spot, patting next to you. bucky obliges, removing his shoes and sitting beside you, shoulder to shoulder. you scoot a little closer, thigh brushing against his as you flick through movie options. 

bucky swallows thickly, breath lodged in his throat. you reach over to the nightstand to grab something, and your thigh leaves its place beside his. he frowns when it doesn’t return – you’ve readjusted.

“what about- what’s wrong?” you look at him worriedly. he’s not looking at you, still staring down at his leg where you touched him. 

pursing his lips, he glances at you. “uhm…” he trails off, not sure what to say. you scoot closer at you had just done moments ago, and when your thigh sits up against bucky’s, you watch as his shoulders deflate in relief, a certain sparkle in his eyes.

“bucky?” your voice is almost a whisper. 

“yeah?” 

“do you like when i touch you?”

he looks as though he’s a child just being caught sneaking candy out. you continue.

“do you want me to keep touching you?”

after a beat, he nods. “i want you to touch me all the time.”

“oh.” your hand reaches out for his, lacing your fingers and resting them in his lap. “i had no idea.”

he looks almost apologetic. “i really like when you touch me.” he confesses, biting the inside of his cheek. “i can’t- i don’t know…”

you shush him, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “i just thought you weren’t very affectionate. i didn’t want to push.”

his shoulders slump a little. “i’ve never… experienced affection like this before.”

“oh.” 

silently, you pivot your body, one leg reaching across his lap until you're straddling him. his eyes grow wide. pulling both his hands towards you, you guide them to your waist. it’s comfortable, and you don’t push for anything else.

“i’ll just love on you a little, see how you feel about it. ‘kay?”

eyes still wide, he nods. 

“i’m gonna kiss you now.”

another nod has you quietly giggling. shifting forward slightly, you feel his fingertips squeeze your waist a little. he’s trying to ground himself. 

cupping his face, you drag your thumb gently across his jaw and cheek, ruffling through the scruff of his beard. you place a light kiss on his chin, then his nose, then his forehead, soft and protective. when you pull back to look at him, his eyes are dilated; he’s practically high on you, reveling in the intimacy. your thumb grazes his bottom lip, watching it glide.

when your lips connect, bucky inhales sharply but he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back. your hand moves from his jaw to the back of his head, playing with the loose strands of hair. he tugs you closer, flesh hand settling on your lower back. when you pull apart, you’re both out of breath and you slump onto his chest, nuzzling in the crook of his neck. 

bucky breaks the silence after a little while. 

“i feel like… now that i know what it’s like i’ll never be able to live without it.”

humming, you squeeze his middle, hugging the super soldier. “does that mean you want me to be affectionate all the time?”

“is that okay?”

you lean up, pecking his lips. he smiles, a little shy but it’s overpowered by his yearning for you.  you smile right back. 

“more than okay.”

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bucky masterlist

[tobesolnelyx]

I was thinking about a oneshot for Natalie x reader in the wilderness. Like maybe they were both friends because they were both outcasts and Natalie always defended reader from anyone who tried to be mean. When the plane crashed, their dynamic didn't really change : they were still sticking together, looking for one another. At first, it was quiet, almost peaceful, despite the dread of the wilderness. But then winter came. Jackie died. Maybe reader refusing to eat her ?(because that was their team captain, how could she ever eat her ? Treat her body like it was only meat?). And she started to be quieter, refusing food portions, not doing anything except the chores. She even started to drift away from Natalie, which worried the girl. And Natalie tries her best to keep reader alive, because that's all that matters to her, but it's so hard especially when reader doesn't look at her anymore. And Natalie sees reader starting to fade away and it's driving her crazy because she doesn't know what to do and she is afraid that reader isn't going to survive, or worse, letting herself die. And everyone on the team is worried, everyone noticed but nobody knows what to do either. And if it's too uncomfortable for you, maybe reader (actively or passively, the choice remains yours) trying to kill herself. Then someone on the team finds her on the brink of death and calls everyone and Natalie is the first one to rush by your side. And when reader finally wakes up, Natalie is still by her side, she never left, watching every breath, even if subtle. And maybe Natalie refuses to ever leave reader's side again, except this time reader actually accepts the help and she gets better (as good as you can be in the wilderness)

So maybe fluff at the beginning/end, hurt/comfort and angst ? Thx anyway <3

— how much tragedy? || natalie scatorccio x reader 🎞️ (pre-crash/wilderness)

a/n: thanks for req! honestly big fan of the idea — always a sucker for hurt/comfort! hope you like it <3

summary: natalie will do anything to protect you. no matter what it takes. even if it means broken knuckles and shattered lies. || angst. hurt/comfort. fluff

warnings: standard yellowjackets warnings (cannibalism, gore etc…), mentions of suicide, attempt of suicide

word count: about 3k

Natalie simply loved being close to you. Not in an overbearing way—at least not when it was just the two of you—but it didn't take a genius to see that this girl had fallen for you. Completely. And maybe, for the first time in her life, Natalie didn't want to change that. She couldn't even entertain the thought of a world where your presence might be gone in any way. Natalie could push everyone else away just to draw you in, closer and closer with each day.

And sure, there were nights when her fingers itched to pick up some random payphone on the street just to tell you it was over—but she knew that by morning, she'd be crawling back on her knees, begging you to take her in like some stray dog.

It all started when you moved into the trailer park. Life had already dragged you through enough that relocating to some shithole town like Wiskayok in New Jersey, didn't exactly feel like rock bottom. Money was tight. Your parents weren't exactly winning medals in the "doing what they should" category.

Word got around fast. Kids from your neighborhood didn't have it easy at school, so it came as a shock when you found out about Natalie Scatorccio. Natalie, who had zero tolerance for the bullshit constantly thrown her way. Natalie, who was so effortlessly cool you couldn't tell if you wanted to be her or be with her. Natalie, who strutted through the school halls with her headphones on, untouchable, unreachable.

Natalie—who one day offered you a cigarette.

It was late. You'd slammed the door of your trailer behind you after yet another fight with your parents. Your hands were shaking with rage and frustration. You collapsed onto the front steps, trying to calm yourself before having to listen to your dad's endless ranting again.

Then Natalie appeared. Of course, headphones on, dressed in her soccer gear. She walked the length of the park with heavy steps, a gym bag slung over her shoulder, lazily smoking a cigarette.

She was smiling. That's what made you stare—that crooked smile.

Then Natalie's gaze—like she knew someone was watching—landed on you. Shit. You must've looked wrecked, because she came over. The smile vanished, but she didn't replace it with that distant, blank stare you knew so well. You couldn't read her at all.

Without a word, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and gave you a look. The kind of look someone gives when they know what it's like to have shitty parents. What it's like to feel like a screw-up since the day you learned to talk back.

You blinked. Once, twice. Then finally took the cigarette from her hand, and she pulled out a lighter.

Your hand trembled as you reached for it, but before you could grab it, Natalie was already leaning in, lighting the cigarette for you.

"Thanks," you mumbled. Natalie looked, for a second, like she was about to turn and pretend the whole thing never happened. But instead, she dropped down beside you on the concrete steps.

She stayed.

And maybe that's why you couldn't ever let her go.

The rest happened pretty naturally. Natalie just started hanging around. At first with a hint of hesitation, then not even bothering to hide the stupid grin on her face whenever she saw you.

You started smoking more around her. One time she even passed you a joint, and after a few hits, when you were completely high, Nat couldn't stop laughing.

"I'm gonna throw up," you groaned, lying limply on her bed. Something by Nirvana was playing in the background, and the air was so thick with smoke it felt suffocating. You wondered if the smell would ever leave your clothes. Maybe it would cling to you the same way it did to Natalie

"Bullshit," Nat grinned. "And if you do, make sure it's outside."

She handed you the joint again. You looked at her through bloodshot eyes, your expression twisted in mild disgust.

"I hate you," you mumbled — but still brought it to your lips.

"Sure you do," she replied, and took your hand like it already belonged to her. Only to intertwine her fingers with yours and press them to her chest. She didn't even look at you. And that's when you knew — you were both screwed.

Natalie could've won an official title as your guard dog. Every time someone bumped into you on purpose in the hallway or threw a stupid comment your way, she was there. As if she had a sixth sense for when someone was trying to bitch at you, even just a little.

"You need to learn to defend yourself," she once said, while you were painting her nails. You frowned, not quite understanding why. Aggression wasn't... your thing. You endured the jabs and teasing because no one had taught you any other way to cope. And besides, the thought of breaking someone's nose didn't exactly thrill you.

"I have you," you replied, looking her straight in the eyes. Even if it was selfish.

"I won't always be there," Natalie said, staring at you. Not because she didn't want to. If anything, she was just waiting for an excuse to be near you. But she knew she couldn't always be.

A moment of silence. A pause. And before you could think about why you probably shouldn't, your lips found hers — brief, sweet. Nat accidentally smudged black polish onto your shirt.

Neither of you ever brought it up. Maybe because you were both terrible at talking about feelings. Still — Natalie didn't push you away.

Oh, quite the opposite. From that moment on, she may as well have been chained to your side. She even begged you to join the Yellowjackets just so she could crack jokes during practice and hear the coach yell at you both to focus, for Christ's sake!

You spent every spare moment together — drinking, smoking. Sometimes just listening to music. Sometimes Nat would sneak kisses from your mouth, even though neither of you ever defined what this was. You got used to it. Maybe it wasn't part of friendship, but you weren't complaining. There was some unspoken rule that you didn't talk about it, but neither of you ever considered being with anyone else.

You won Nationals. Nat even convinced the coach to let you room together at the hotel, despite being a complete pain in the ass most of the time. He probably suspected Natalie would sneak into your room after curfew anyway.

And honestly? She didn't need anyone else when she had you.

Then the plane crashed. In the middle of nowhere. And as if that wasn't enough — help never came.

At first, it wasn't so bad. Almost peaceful. Natalie was near, and you were far away from that New Jersey hellhole, from the annoying parents. From fights, school rumors, real life.

Nat learned how to hunt. She often went out with Travis for hours, but when she came back — whether she had food or not — she always made time for you. Sometimes she insisted on taking you along, even though you knew nothing about shooting animals and were more or less useless.

Sometimes Natalie picked flowers for you. Sometimes you'd end up in the wreckage of the plane, making out for long minutes until you had to go back. It wasn't paradise, it wasn't easy. But it could've been a lot worse.

The avalanche started with Laura Lee. When she was gone, hope began to flicker out. Something dimmed. Everyone's posture changed, like something inside had slumped.

Then came Doomcoming. You remembered little. You weren't even sure you wanted to remember. It was easier not to.

Natalie found you on the ground in front of the cabin. She was panting like she'd just run a marathon — maybe she had. You weren't sure. You stared at her, trying to figure out whether she was real or just another hallucination.

"Nat..." you started, but she just led you to the lake. Helped wash the blood (God knows whose) off your dress and the dirt from your hands. She cleaned your cuts while you stared blankly into the distance, rinsing yourself off without much thought.

Natalie should have known that's when it started. That moment, when your eyes went lifeless for just a second — that's when you began slipping out of her hands.

She never told you what really happened. Maybe that, too, was her weird way of taking care of you.

Shauna and Jackie had a fight. Jackie stormed out, and you wanted to go after her — tell her not to be stupid and just come back inside. But Nat grabbed your wrist.

Maybe Jackie wasn't the kindest to Nat, but she was never cruel to you the way the other popular girls were. Sure, she cared way too much about gossip, but she never asked where you lived, never cared that your parents weren't picture-perfect or that you couldn't afford better clothes.

"Let her go," Natalie pulled you back. "She'll be fine. It's just one night. Maybe she'll finally swallow her fucking pride."

You didn't quite understand. Jackie didn't deserve that.

But then morning came. Snow had fallen. And when you saw Jackie's lifeless body, Natalie's words started haunting you. You threw her a look from the cabin doorway, but her eyes were fixed on the corpse. That was the third time you'd seen Nat look truly terrified — once when you kissed her, once when the plane crashed. And now this.

Something inside you shattered. Whatever little hope you still carried scattered like dust, and you stopped believing her when she whispered above your head at night, "It's going to be okay."

Jackie was dead. Winter had come. No help in sight. It was hell. And suddenly, you'd rather be back home enduring another screaming match with your parents than lying curled up beside Natalie.

And just when you thought this nightmare couldn't get any worse, one night you heard knocking. Coach limped frantically back into the dark cabin, panic written all over him. But Natalie wasn't with him. No one else was.

So naturally, you went to look for her.

Natalie, who at that exact moment was tearing into a strip of meat—ripped from Jackie's leg.

Jackie, who not that long ago had helped you do your makeup for Doomcoming.

You vomited on the spot, even though there was nothing in your stomach to bring up. There hadn't been much food for days.

The next day, you found Natalie in pieces. Sitting in the snow, staring horrified at what was left of Jackie. And even though you had never cared about anyone more in your life — you couldn't bring yourself to comfort her. The words stuck in your throat.

You walked past her. Some grim compulsion driving you to see what was left of Jackie's skull.

"Wait—" Natalie scrambled to her feet and followed you, like she was trying to stop you. Like she wanted to shield you from seeing the truth. You turned around and found you could barely meet her eyes.

"Tell me you didn't..."

Even though you'd seen it. Even though it was burned into your memory. Maybe it was just another sick dream.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, trying to pull you into her arms. She was repulsed with herself. She looked like she might throw up right then and there. "I had to, okay? We're starving—"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Nat," you cut her off. "I'm starving too, and I haven't eaten a fucking corpse!"

After that, everything started to unravel. At least for Natalie.

The others noticed, but either didn't want another problem on their hands or just didn't know how to deal with it. They sent you looks, tried to reach out. But you never answered the way they hoped.

You simply couldn't take it anymore.

And the truth was: you began to vanish before their eyes. A little more each day. Natalie grew desperate.

You barely spoke. Not many people felt like talking anymore, but you — you only spoke when you absolutely had to. You refused meals. Maybe because the image of Jackie being devoured had made it impossible to eat. Or maybe because at some point, you just stopped wanting to live. Maybe you didn't care whether help came or not. What was the point of eating if you might end up like Jackie anyway?

You still did your chores. Quietly. Carefully. But your body was starting to betray you.

Natalie went feral.

You pulled away from her, and she couldn't stand it. She clung to you with everything she had, terrified of what would happen if you slipped away. She couldn't even imagine it. It would break her in ways she wouldn't recover from. She started hunting more. When she brought back a rabbit or two, you refused your portion.

She begged. Got on her knees. Pleaded with you to eat, just a little, because your wrists were getting dangerously thin. Because she could see every bone. Because your skin had turned ghost-pale, and sometimes you froze mid-movement — your body simply giving out.

You wouldn't even look at her. You scooted away on the cabin floor, just far enough that it felt like a knife in her chest. Natalie had only felt this broken once before — when her father died. Maybe that had been easier. His death was sudden, quick. This? This was slow. Cruel. She was watching you fade. Watching the life leave you, and she was powerless to stop it.

No begging helped. No touch. No voice.

The worst part was — you didn't want to live anymore. Your eyes were completely empty. And this time, not even Natalie could save you.

She was at the edge.

One day, you just drifted away.

Your legs gave out. Your body — worn thin from hunger, cold, and the never-ending fight to survive — simply stopped working. You were supposed to bring water back to the cabin that day. At some point, you just collapsed into the snow. Everything went black.

Like you were meant to share Jackie's fate.

When Natalie returned from the hunt and you weren't there, the air was already heavy with tension. She knew. Deep down, she knew something was wrong. And there was no fucking way she was letting you go.

Someone said something — Natalie snapped. Furious at all of them for letting you go out alone in that condition.

Eventually, someone found you.

Natalie nearly twisted her ankle tearing through the snow to reach you. The last time she ran that fast was during the game that got them into Nationals.

She refused. Refused to accept the idea that she might lose you. Decided the wilderness could go to hell this time, because she was not agreeing to this.

She dragged you back. Screamed at Misty, voice cracking between sobs, telling her to finally make herself useful and help.

She didn't leave your side. Not for a second. She watched for every breath, every twitch of your fingers while you lay unconscious. She skipped hunts. Obsessively checked that you were bundled in as many blankets as they had. You were still cold — but not as frozen as when she found you. You were still breathing. That was enough. Lottie could shove her wilderness truths in her ass, really.

Natalie stayed awake for nights. Slept in short, shallow bursts in case you opened your eyes. Her head had just dipped when she felt a sudden movement beside her — stronger than before. The fire crackled in the dark.

And finally, finally, your eyes opened.

"Hey," Natalie was by your side in an instant, on her knees. Her fingers gently brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. "You're safe, I promise." She clutched your hand, trying to warm it with hers, desperation bleeding through her voice. "I'm here. I'm right here. I'm never leaving you again, I swear—"

She whispered in the dark until the words collapsed into silence. Then she pulled you into her arms. You didn't speak, but that didn't surprise her. What mattered was that you were alive. Natalie still had a chance to keep you breathing — and that was all that counted.

When you drifted off again — weak, after hours of being rocked gently in her arms, lulled by promises and shattered reassurances — Natalie made a decision. She would get food into you. Even if it meant forcing it.

But before she could figure out how to do that, they organized a hunt. You and Lottie were both too far gone to be aware of much. There was no time to plan.

The next thing you remembered was waking to find Natalie sitting beside you, just like always — except now she looked worse. Shaking. Her cheeks streaked with dried tears, her hair a mess. You furrowed your brows, trying to take in the scene.

Jackie's necklace was hanging from Natalie's neck.

You were about to ask what happened when she spoke first.

"Please," she whispered, voice hoarse and cracked.

Your gaze dropped to her hands — a bowl of warm meat cradled in her palms.

"Please," she repeated.

And this time — you agreed.

You trusted her. Didn't ask where the meat came from. Wanted to believe that maybe, somehow, she'd managed to catch something. That maybe things were turning.

Natalie felt the weight slip from her chest.

She helped you sit up, carefully propping you against her chest. Her hands trembled as she fed you, silently praying you wouldn't notice that Javi was nowhere to be seen in the cabin.

She hated lying to you. Hated it more than anything.

But the thought of losing you was way worse.

And you ate. You let her help. You accepted the food.

So Natalie told herself everything else could wait.

That night, she whispered it into your ear like a secret.

"I love you."

Natalie loved you so much that she could accept the possibility of you hating her, once you knew. As long as you were still alive.

[mirclealignr]

for the better | james potter [7.7k]

james potter x fem!slytherin!reader

requested by anonymous wherein james’ love for harmful pranks is the one thing that keeps y/n and james divided.

warnings; alcohol & food consumption, swearing, james being a bit james, mentions of someone like drowning a bit, she / her pronouns used for the reader.

a/n: i’m not really confident on the actual quality of my writing here or this fic at all really, but oh well. have it anyway xxx

James Potter elicited conflicting sentiments from Y/N. He could be selfish, conceited, and aggravating but, in spite of that, he could also be considerate, charming and amiable. Nevertheless, his fondness for immature pranks could infuriate her to the ends of the Earth. He and his friends could oftentimes overdo it, push it much too far, and Y/N could never understand the enjoyment they experienced from humiliating others. 

But on the other side of it, the side where James Potter could charm her into almost anything, she saw the sense of fun he sought from everyday life. She saw the young man who thought deeply about things, who could plan meticulously, who was strangely organised and clean. She saw someone who could make her feel as if the only adoration he relished was her own.

But, still, Y/N maintained her vigilance. 

“Good morning, Y/N,” called James, spotting her amongst the littered students of the Sunday morning breakfast rush.

Y/N stopped at the entrance to the Great Hall and exhaled, turning around to see the cocky grin stretching across James Potter’s face. With a quick sarcastic smile in return she continued on her way to the Slytherin table without so much as a word. 

She could barely admit to herself that she hoped he would follow. 

“Oi!” James called after her. “Can’t get away that easily, Y/L/N.”

James delighted in the thrill of the chase. 

“What do you want, Potter?” Y/N rolled her eyes, turning to face him before she reached her friends who would tease her endlessly for entertaining him in the first place.

James caught up to her with a little jog, ignoring the Slytherins giving him a distasteful eye as he whisked past them. 

He shook his hair about, letting it fall back into its natural place. “Er, just wondering if you’d…started the Potions assignment yet,” he shrugged, clearing his throat. 

“Really, James? You wanted to know if I had started the Potions assignment, due tomorrow, that much?” She cocked an eyebrow. 

Well, of course not, James thought. He just wanted to talk to you. “Yeah, thought you could give me some pointers, if you had.”

She shook her head, strolling further down into the Great Hall, avoiding her friends’ mocking stares. “Yes, I’ve finished it, actually. And no, why don’t you ask Remus?” 

“Lost a bet with him. Can’t get any help off him for another two weeks,” admitted James, sighing.

“Well, you’ll have to find someone else, then. Or just…do it yourself?”

James feigned a breaking heart and winced. “You’d do that to me?”

“You’re more intelligent than you give yourself credit for, Potter. Now piss off, I want to eat.”

James stood still.

“Go on!” She shooed. 

This time, he scurried off, obeying his instruction. But when he reached Sirius, Remus and Peter, he was not himself. They could spot it immediately and their eyes honed in on the Y/N across the Hall laughing with her friends. They turned quizzically back to James who was more than happy to reveal the reason behind his altered demeanour.

“She complimented me,” James swelled with pride. “I told you I’d get her to come round.”

Sirius didn’t believe it for an instant. Remus cocked a suspicious eyebrow, and Peter was busy eating his cereal. James looked at the three of his closest friends, the boys he would do anything for, and their disbelieving expressions with disappointment. It was betrayal.

“You’re all dead to me.” 

Remus sighed, putting his novel down. “Now, Prongs, what else did she say?” he probed.

James spluttered, scoffed and waved his hands. What did it matter? She complimented him and she meant it. Everything else was simply besides the point, a mere subtext to the main event. He picked up two slices of toast, buttering them rather aggressively as Sirius and Remus waited for an answer. 

“She told him to “piss off,��” said Peter between mouthfuls. 

James chortled in pure disbelief, almost choking on his first bite of his freshly buttered toast. He quickly looked to Remus and Sirius who hid their smirks rather pathetically. “How did you know that’s what she said?!”

“I didn’t, but that’s what she usually says,” laughed Peter, joined by Sirius and Remus. 

“Just you wait,” James promised.

It had taken nearly six years for James to seize Y/N’s attention. These days she’d actually have a conversation with him, she’d even laugh at the jokes he made just for that very reason. That, and to watch her smile grow. He hadn’t thought much of Y/N in the beginning, considering she was a Slytherin and he was a Gryffindor. But as he grew older, a little wiser, both him and his friends had realised these divisions weren’t all they were cracked up to be. Sure, some Slytherins really were evil, but a lot of them weren’t. Some Ravenclaws were rather dopey, some Gryffindor’s a little too cowardly. 

It didn’t matter to him anymore.

As Remus headed to the library and Peter to the dorms, James chatted with Sirius, bringing up the idea of a prank to shake up the Monday morning to come. Sirius wasn’t so sure, but he could easily be persuaded. They walked through the halls of Hogwarts brainstorming ideas all afternoon, winding through the corridors before finally heading outside to enjoy the June sun. 

“It’s perfect, Padfoot, we just need Moony and Wormtail in on it too.”

“You know them, they’ll be up for it,” winked Sirius, lying back on the patchy grass not far from the Whomping Willow.

James leaned against the trunk of a tree, fiddling with a daisy in his hand as he thought of Y/N, now that his distraction had taken its leave. If only he could make her see he was worth her while. He pulled blades of grass from the soil below, ripping them to shreds as he thought of some way to make her see that she was missing out by not giving him a chance. He could be utterly perfect for her. 

“What are you two doing being so quiet?” Asked Y/N, blocking the sun from Sirius’ face as she stood over him. 

“Relaxing, Y/L/N. You should try it some time, maybe you wouldn’t be so uptight,” remarked Sirius without even opening his eyes. 

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned to James. “Something on your mind or?” She nodded to the pile of ripped up grass at James’ feet. 

He looked down sheepishly. “No,” he said bluntly, unable to think of an excuse or a sarcastic response to keep the conversation flowing. 

Y/N felt a small pang of embarrassment and went to go on her way. Had she upset him earlier? They always spoke that way to each other, she thought, it was just part of their banter.

James hit his hand to the floor muttering a profanity under his breath as he shot up. He hesitated before going after her. Over the past weeks he struggled to know what to say to her like he used to. For a while he thought he was losing his touch or that something in her manner had changed his own. But she was just as she was before. It was him who had changed.

“Wait up, Y/N!” He shouted. 

Y/N spun around, scrunching her brows together in confusion. As she waited for James to catch up, she wondered what he could have to say to her that he couldn’t have said before when she was clearly making an effort to talk. 

“Sorry about before,” James said, “Don’t know why I just said that.” 

She melted into his apology. “It’s okay. Are you alright?” 

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I’m all right. You just caught me thinking, that’s all,” James laughed, taking slow steps with her towards the castle. 

“What were you thinking about?” Asked Y/N. “Not your Potions assignment, surely?” She laughed. 

James laughed too. Merlin, he did love to hear her laugh. “Of course not, I’ll just get an extension for that or something. No, just thinking about what Sirius and I have planned for tomorrow.”

Y/N tensed. She hated that they were always scheming, that he was. “Not another prank?”

James quickly felt himself become defensive, though he wished he could have stopped it. “What’s wrong with that?” He snapped.

Y/N stopped, turning to James. Behind him was the view of the tumbling Scottish hills, shades of green spilling over onto one another, all the way down to the water that shimmered in the sunlight. She leaned over the side of the bridge, and James followed her.

“I just don’t get it, James,” she started. He loved it when she called him by his name, his first name. “School is hard enough, you know? We’re all just trying to make it through to the end when we can finally feel safe enough to be ourselves. For most people, they can’t be themselves here, they’re just trying to fit in so things aren’t so hard. You and your mates make it that much harder for all of us. You always seem to single out the people who just want to be invisible.”

James felt almost as if he was being attacked. She’d never said anything like this before. “You never seemed to mind before,” James grunted. 

“Just because I didn’t say anything doesn’t mean I didn’t have an opinion. Just thought you’d grow out of it, is all,” she shrugged, continuing her slow walk back to the castle. 

So really, this whole time he never stood a chance. She was baiting him? He couldn’t help but take this as a personal attack, as much as he wanted not to do so. “I don’t understand-”

“No, you won’t understand,” sighed Y/N. “I’m not trying to attack you.” 

She traced his thoughts as easily as a well-worn path. 

“I’m just saying I don’t think you realise how harmful your stupid pranks can be for people who already have it hard.”

“They’re just pranks.”

“But they’re not. Publicly humiliating people is not a prank, it’s cruel. Haven’t you ever thought, after all these years, there’s other ways to make people laugh without hurting them?”

James was taken aback. She’d suggested something no one ever had done before. Did he really do this sort of thing just for attention? Sure he liked the way it made him feel, the way people laughed because of something he had done, the way people greeted him in the corridors, knew his name before he had introduced himself. But he hadn’t realised it might have all started because he wanted people to see him. It was just fun, wasn’t it? 

That’s all it was.

But before he had the chance to tell this to Y/N, the person whom he needed to convince, she was gone, thinking perhaps it really was best to keep her distance.

- - -

James had spent days thinking over what Y/N had told him, about the can of worms she had opened inside him. He didn’t go through with the prank he had planned for that Monday morning, and had not thought of following through on any of the ideas the rest of his friends had come up with either. All he could think about was Y/N and what she had said. 

The hours he spent mulling over it had done some damage. Perhaps he was just in it for the way it made him feel, knowing so many people adored him or at least liked him. The way first years knew who he was before any of the professors, the way they looked up to him. The laughter he brought to the school and the swell of pride he felt in hearing it. But after he thought of this with much gratification, he lingered on the other side of it. 

How many people had he left crying in their dorms, frightened to come to class and see him again? He remembered one Slytherin he’d fed vomiting candy to - Merlin, they spewed their guts up all over the classroom. He had never once thought how he would feel if it had happened to him, because his friends would never do that. They were the instigators, not the receivers. He wondered how many students avoided him any chance they could. He wondered at the empty seats next him in the lessons he didn’t share with Sirius or Remus.

It was tedious, he had never had to think of all these repercussions before.

“James, mate, what is wrong with you lately?” Sirius asked, settling into an armchair by the common room fireplace. 

James shook his head, twirling his wand between his fingers, eyes pouring into the fire in front of him. “What if we changed the way we pranked people?”

“What do you mean?” Asked Sirius, waving Remus and Peter over.

- - -

The next morning James enacted his plan. It was elaborate in the way that he had to be up nearly all night with Remus, Sirius and Peter to make sure it worked. He hadn’t really spoken to Y/N much since their conversation nearly a week ago but he was desperate to see her smile. He was desperate to make her smile, in the hopes it would break the tension between them.

Being the reason for her smile made him feel as if he had accomplished something worthwhile. 

The four of them sat in the Great Hall, anxiously eating their breakfast as they waited for it to begin. Sirius was not at all confident - it was so unlike them, so ‘off brand’ as he had described it. Remus, on the other hand, quite liked the idea and was committed to its success. Peter hated it, but didn’t care as long as James stopped dragging through the days - for he had been awfully boring as of late, Peter thought.

James fought to look behind him to the Slytherin table, but at least twice every few minutes he failed. He watched her for as long as she permitted him to - for as long as he went unnoticed. It was Y/N, in fact, that alerted him to the beginning of their stunt. She turned to the doors of the Great Hall as the first of the owls swooped in, dropping various letters at a plethora of tables. 

“I’ve got a howler,” a student gasped from the Hufflepuff table. 

One of their friends consoled them with a pat on the back and a sigh. “Just get it over with.”

The Hufflepuff was about to rip open the sealed letter when another student behind them declared they had received one too. At first, they had imagined it as coincidental bad luck, but there began a chorus of students admitting the same fate. Y/N looked around in confusion as students began to stand and show their respective howlers. And then she knew. Her eyes flickered to James in a silent rage, knowing he had not grasped the gravity of her words, that he had absorbed nothing, and that her words that day had been taken by the wind, scattered amongst the hills of the highlands.

None of the students had opened their howlers as of yet, waiting for the last of them to be delivered from the owls still filtering in and out of the hall. She watched James through the rain of letters, keeping her eyes fixed on him until a letter of her very own fell onto her plate.

As the last owl departed, students began looking around apprehensively at each other, soundlessly deliberating on who would be the first to open their howler or if anyone would open one at all. But it was a Slytherin who opened theirs before anyone else, watching as the letter assumed sentience and hovered in midair. It said nothing, simply popped with a quiet bang and exploded in confetti. The Slytherin watched it, speechless and in shock.

One by one, students began opening their howlers, and the hall was soon filled with low pops and colourful confetti. The coloured pieces of paper hung aloft, painting the bland stone walls in coloured refraction as the sun shone through the tall windows. Y/N watched the scene with a radiant smile that had slowly drawn across her face. Finally, Y/N opened her own howler and watched it pop, exploding with confetti and flowers, floating down from a short distance above her table down over her hair and plate. 

She caught James’ eye across the room, laughing with her friends. She said nothing, mouthed nothing, gave him nothing but a smile. But to James, this was enough. 

They were talking again like they used to, becoming more intimate than they had ever been. Something had shifted within their relationship and James felt the more he learned about her, the harder he began to fall. Y/N felt as if distance from James Potter was the last thing that would make her happy.

He talked to her about music, muggle movies, even books, though he had read very few. They talked about their ambitions, about their favourite foods and hobbies, their favourite ways to spend a sunny afternoon.

“A bunch of people are going down to the Black Lake this Saturday,” Y/N said, looking at James, “Are you going?”

“I might be,” James smirked, “Do you want me to?”

Y/N blushed, shaking her head. “Don’t get too cocky, Potter.”

Yes, James thought, she wanted him to. Good.

“Yeah, I’m going,” he said softly.

“Good.”

James felt his stomach churn as a warm rush swirled through his body. His heart beat with such ferocity at the mere notion of Y/N wanting to be near him. He was both intoxicated and exhilarated from the mere presence of her. How he yearned for Y/N. If only he could prove himself to be worthy of her. He knew she would only bring out the best in him, he knew she would open his eyes to new ways of living which before, he could but dream of. 

James knew he needed her, he just wished she wanted him.

- - -

He could not wait another minute to head down to Black Lake. She was probably already there, and he was losing precious minutes. There were simply not enough seconds in the day for him to admire Y/N the way she deserved to be admired. He rushed with heat in his cheeks and warmth in his heart to the lake, his friends flagging behind. He saw her from a distance, lounging on a picnic blanket with her friends, a nearby tree providing them with shade, though the both of them sat in the sunlight that everyone knew was not to last in Scotland and must be taken advantage of. 

He felt his heart pumping the blood through his body. She looked truly beautiful. 

“James is staring at you,” Y/N’s friend teased. 

“Good,” she laughed. 

The sun shone through him, she could see his beauty even from this far. Though she knew the moment she woke up that this was going to be a good day, and that she was happy in the friends she had and the life that she had built, she didn’t really feel happiness until she saw James. Yes she was happy, but he made her feel so.

“He’s coming over,” her friend hissed in excitement.

“All right, Y/N?” Asked James, strolling over to their designated tree. 

“Just fine, Potter. You’re here a bit late, you know? All the good trees have gone.”

James laughed, looking around. “Shame. Wonder if anyone would be willing to share.” 

Y/N looked around at the many students that had flocked to the lake to enjoy the sun. They were all in their own worlds, enjoying their own days. “Doesn’t look likely.”

Y/N enjoyed the moments that led up to what she wanted. “Oh, you mean you want to share with us?” Y/N looked toward her friend who only rolled her eyes. 

She had given prior permission had James acted out this very scenario.

“I suppose you can share with us, if you have to.”

“My goodness, Y/N, how kind of you,” James bowed in thanks, eliciting a small chuckle from her. 

He waved his friends over and settled next to Y/N and her friend beside their tree. James sat nearest to Y/N. He stared at the side of her face, the way her neck accentuated when she turned her head, the way her cheeks plumped when she smiled. 

After nearly an hour chatting amongst themselves, Sirius and Peter left to walk down to the shore. The two of them were complaining of the heat and fancied a cool down. Soon after, Remus offered Y/N’s friend to join him in dipping his feet in the shallow shoreline. She obliged his request, winking at Y/N before she left.

Her cheeks flushed as she waved her off dismissively. 

“And then there were two,” laughed James. 

Y/N laughed too, turning to really focus all her attention on him for the first time since he had joined them nearly an hour ago. James suddenly felt under a spotlight, it was as if perfection was asking for him to imitate her to his greatest ability, and yet he knew he was to fall short. 

“Err, I- You look nice,” James stuttered.

It was amusing to see him this way, but she almost took pity. “Thanks,” laughed Y/N. 

She put him at ease, just the way she looked at him as she always did. He fell into his usual rhythm, chatting and teasing and joking with her. He felt more connected to her than he ever had been. He shifted closer, and she could feel the heat radiating from him. It ignited her with such an intensity she couldn’t help but shift uneasily, fiddling with her fingers and breathing a little more unevenly than before. James could think of nothing more natural to do at this moment. And as it so happened, there was nothing he longed for more than this.

He leaned in, breath hitching as he caught the scent of her perfume she’d applied hours before in the early morning. He watched the fine hairs on her neck stand up on end. As his eyes flickered to hers he realised her gaze had softened, her pupils wide, anticipating his next move. 

“James!” Sirius called from the water. “He’s gonna kill me!”

Upon hearing his name James turned to its origin. Peter was waterboarding Sirius. 

“Fuck,” he breathed under his breath. 

Y/N had already been snapped from her reverie, and was laughing awkwardly as Sirius flailed around in the water. James, though extremely disappointed, laughed along with her before dragging himself up and heading to the shoreline. 

The moment was lost.

Y/N watched intently as James stripped his clothes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, for he had not thought he would be entering the water that day. He preferred staying dry. With her mouth agape, Y/N examined the grooves of his body and the way his skin stretched over his toned muscles. How she wished they hadn't been interrupted. It felt as if she had waited a lifetime to embrace James - there was always something in their way.

More often than not, it was James himself.

James launched himself in the water, coming up for air and sweeping his sopping hair back. After a few moments of tearing his friends apart, Y/N watched the three of them discuss something. She instantly became nervous, but checked herself and calmed down, believing James to have taken her advice on board. But as she watched the three of them lift their wands, she couldn’t help the way her heart skipped a beat.

Sprinkles and spirals of water danced above the students in the lake, forming creative and pretty shapes, conjured by James and his friends. While everyone was distracted by the shimmering water droplets playing a scene in front of them, none of them noticed the series of waves headed towards the body of students. 

In an unrelenting sequence, towering waves crashed the shallow end of the lake, filling it almost to neck height. Students screamed and laughed, swimming to safety. Some chuckled in annoyance, some in good humour. There were few who cursed James out and others who scurried away in a quiet rage. But Y/N, with her heart pounding and legs carrying her faster than they ever had before, was screaming in terror. 

“Stop! Stop!” 

She forced herself into the water, sinking below the surface, swimming with such purpose. James had not noticed her yet, too caught up in the heat of the moment with his friends, taking pleasure in their antics. It was Remus who first caught a glimpse of Y/N waving frantically before launching herself back under the water, seemingly searching for something. 

“James! Stop!” She pleaded.

Y/N searched desperately for the Slytherin girl. Desperately in fear. Finally, with one more piercing scream for James to stop what he was doing, he heard her, and put a stop to the incoming waves in an instant. Y/N looked around the water, searching and searching for signs of movement as the height of the lake slowly decreased and returned to normal. 

A hand reached above the surface, silently pleading for some sort of relief. Y/N rushed forward, grabbing her with such a force, pulling her to the surface. The poor girl coughed and spluttered, accumulating as much as oxygen as she could in a single breath. 

James and the others rushed towards her, helping Y/N drag her out of the water. Though the girl clung to Y/N as she reached safety, she left her in the capable hands of her friend. 

"Y/N, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

“What is wrong with you? She can’t swim!” bellowed Y/N. 

She threw her hands to her head, shaking it in shock and disbelief, trembling with adrenaline and fury. She really thought James was susceptible to change. “I thought you were done with this sort of shit, James. She could have died! She could’ve-”

Oh, but it didn’t matter. What was the point of screaming when it all fell to deaf ears? Sometimes people weren't meant to intertwine.

But still she felt so disappointed in someone she saw such capability, such potential in, that she thought she could cry there at that very moment in front of everyone. The moment she felt as if he really was lost to her.

“This is over, Potter.”

- - -

James had not been himself for weeks. 

He could not forgive himself for what he had done - to the girl, to Y/N, to himself. He cursed that day as his undoing. He was unkempt, uncaring and could think of nothing but Y/N, though now she would not even grace him with a look. He had never seen someone so disappointed in him, had never cared for others disappointment in him. He had never learned the type of humility that came with adhering to the expectations of those who esteemed him. 

He had never wanted to.

He enjoyed where being selfish got him. At first, Sirius tried to persuade him that James shouldn’t want Y/N to change him anyway, that he shouldn’t have to, just for some girl. And he was right, he shouldn’t have to change. He didn’t want to change. He wanted to be better, for her. But at the same time, he didn’t want to lose what made himself James Potter.

Pranks had become the way in which James expressed himself. And it was the only way he knew how to communicate with Y/N now. 

After weeks of self pity and wallowing, James pulled himself together, more determined than ever before. This wasn’t about a feeling he wished to maintain, about a popularity he desired to be upheld. It was about admitting he was wrong and that he could do better.

He started off slow, cautious. He knew this was important to win back her trust. He started by pretending to be McGonagall’s secret admirer - flowers, chocolates and love letters written on her black board all causing sniggers in class whenever it was brought up. Harmless fun.

Then he moved onto bigger things. 

James managed to steal a few personal items of some fellow students. A pair of shoes, a quill, a textbook. When people finally began to realise, James announced at dinner that he had hidden these personal items and would offer a Galleon to all those who managed to locate the whereabouts of their personal belongings. If they did not succeed in the next twenty four hours, they were not to fear, James would return them all safe and sound. 

James’ efforts had not escaped Y/N’s notice, not in the least. She wished beyond anything it could be enough to fix what he had broken, to mend what he had handled so carelessly. She had almost resigned herself to the notion they didn't belong, but a glimmer of hope kept her awake during the nights, hoping she might be wrong after all.

She could feel him watching her, gauging to see whether her feelings toward him were changing. She kept her cards close to her chest, and gave nothing away, hoping James would not see through her carefully constructed shield. 

While she valued his efforts, it was not enough. She still felt as if she had overstepped her boundaries and that she should have left well enough alone. Besides, she couldn’t begin to trust him again until he did the unthinkable. 

“Apologise?!” James scoffed. 

“It’s a completely logical solution!” Remus retorted. 

“I know! Don’t you think I haven’t thought of that? But I- I can’t. I wouldn’t know what to say,” James sighed and shook his head. 

He’d never had to apologise above more than a quick, half-hearted “sorry, mate” with a slap on the back and a swift moving on. He didn’t know how to truly convey his feelings into an apology, how to make it sound like he meant it. 

“All you’ve been talking about is making it right with her,” Remus reminded him. “This is your chance.” 

James knew he was right, but this did not take away from the fact he still did not know how. 

- - -

Y/N had been trying to study for three hours now, but was always distracted by something outside the castle walls or some sound within the library. She couldn’t concentrate, she could think of nothing else but how much she wished James could understand or at least show that he was trying. But, as violently as she craved this, she didn’t want to force some kind of change on him and end up being resented for it in the end. 

She shouldn’t have to change someone in order for them to fit her standards. And James shouldn't feel obliged to change for her either.

If she wanted him to change at all, it was only to see him succeed.

Change. So complicated, so understudied. What did it mean to change? What really was it, at its core? What did it mean to her, to James, to love and to hate? How closely and blurred the lines of love, hate, desire, and resentment really were.

For another hour she tried to write notes on the theory of Charms. In the end, Y/N thought, she just wanted to talk to him, to hear his thoughts and listen. Even if nothing came from it, she yearned for some sort of closure. At least then, she might be able to move on.  Nonetheless she pushed James to the sidelines, pushing that small sliver of hope down into the depths of her memory.

Meanwhile, James was pacing the Gryffindor common room. Everything sounded wrong, fake and disingenuous. Regardless, James began to search the grounds of Hogwarts for his target, practicing some sort of speech in his head as he did so.

“Y/N?” Someone pulled her from her day dream. 

James himself. 

“Oh, hey.” 

“Can we talk? Can I talk?” James asked. 

Y/N nodded to the seat in front of her. She closed her textbook and waited for what he had to say. 

“Look, I’ve always been a bit…selfish, a bit shallow. Never really thought to be anything else ‘cause everything’s always worked out for me the way I wanted it to,” he began. “I-” James shook his head. This was pointless. 

“Fuck. Okay, I just want you to know that I’m sorry about what happened. Not just because it upset you and it might have ruined my chances, but I’m sorry about the girl and for what I did to her. I’ve already set things right in that respect and don’t get me wrong, it felt good to do that, but I’ll never be right until I fix things with you. Or at least try to,” he explained, rambling. “I don’t want you to feel as if you’ve changed me or that I have to change for you, I don’t think that’s how it should work. But since I’ve gotten to know you I’ve wanted to be better and I have been. I like the way you make me feel, I’ve liked the way I’ve felt from doing things differently. Merlin, anyway, now I feel stupid. I’m just sorry.” 

Y/N listened without judgement, without interruption. She thought for a moment, letting James absorb the silence. He was certainly going lengths to make amends, and she appreciated his candor, his efforts. She couldn’t help a small smile perch upon her lips as she looked over at James, so sullen. What she was afraid of was not coming to fruition.

The person she desired could still be hers if she wanted him to be.

“Thank you,” she smiled. 

James lit up. “You forgive me?” He asked. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think too. I think it was unfair of me to put those kind of standards on you. And I don’t think it was your intention, for once, to hurt anybody that day. It was reckless but it wasn’t malicious. Yeah, I forgive you.” 

“Thank Merlin,” James let out a sigh of relief and he knew he could put his final plan into action. Something he had been planning since the day he met her, he just didn’t know it. "By the way, you didn't force anything on me. I didn't change for you, but you showed me the person I could be and I liked the way he looked."

Y/N didn't know what to say, only smiled softly.

“I um-” James rubbed the back of his head. “I missed chatting with you.” He could actually feel the heat burning in his cheeks. 

“Me too, Potter.” 

She felt the familiar feelings she had for James bubble to the surface once more. She was no longer concerned with keeping them in check. So easy it was for James to earn her forgiveness.

- - -

Y/N saw James again the next day at breakfast, just as she was finishing up. She headed over to his table, greeting his friends before asking if she could sit. 

James found this a little odd, she’d never bothered with his mates before. 

“All right?” James asked, playing it cool. He didn’t want to embarrass her, whatever she was doing. 

“Yeah, thanks. So listen, my friend is throwing a small party tonight down by the Forbidden Forest. I know, I know, probably a bad idea but there’s a few people going, not just Slytherins,” Y/N eyed the four of them. “She said we could invite people, so I wondered if you guys might like to go?” 

Remus and Sirius smirked at each other knowingly, while Peter eagerly accepted her invitation. James stared at her, a brilliant smile adorning his features. 

Merlin, she was beautiful. And she wanted to spend quality time with him.

“Yeah, we’d love to go,” James answered for the rest of the group. 

James spent the rest of his day deciding what he should wear and thinking about the possibilities this party could present. Down by the Forbidden Forest, Y/N drenched in firelight. His mind swam amongst the potential. 

“Ready to go, Prongs?” asked Remus. 

James nodded, flicking the collar of his jacket up. He was as ready as he’d ever be.

Y/N waited by the fire, eyeing the direction of the castle, keeping her eyes fixed to the last piece of land the fire illuminated. She’d been waiting a mere ten minutes but it felt like an age. Where was he? 

She didn’t quite know why she had been so bold as to invite him and his friends to this party. She wasn’t sure what she thought it would achieve, if it would achieve anything. What she knew was that she liked the way James made her feel, she liked that she felt important to him.  

“Can you chill out? Have a beer or something,” her friend offered her a freshly opened bottle.

Y/N took it off her hands and took a swig, turning from the empty abyss ahead and instead focussed on the party. Her friends were already a few beers down by the time she had arrived; she had a little catching up to do. 

Meanwhile James had taken a shot of firewhiskey on the way down as liquid courage. Sirius was patting him hard on the back, hoping this would somehow help the spluttering that followed his single shot. 

“Wimp,” Remus sighed. 

“Fuck of, Moony.” 

Remus shook his head in disappointment, taking a swig of firewhiskey straight from the bottle and moving onwards towards the Dark Forest. Peter caught up with him, asking for a drink, but Remus only laughed. 

James recollected himself, smoothing down his hair and flicking the collar of his jacket up once more, ignoring the burning in his stomach. He continued down the hill to the Dark Forest, seeking the light of a blazing fire until finally, he saw a flicker of orange in the distance. There, Y/N would be waiting. 

“Why do you even bother with Potter?” Asked her friend. 

“I don’t know. There’s more to him.” 

“There’s not much more, lad’s a kiddy pool.” 

“Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.” 

“Whatever,” her friend laughed. “If you’re hung up on him, then I’ll support you.” 

“Hung up on who?” asked James, approaching. 

Y/N smacked her friend’s arm, she’d done that on purpose. “No one!” Y/N lied, turning to face James. 

He looked…nice. 

James let it go. “All right?” 

Y/N nodded. “I’m a couple bottles down, so yeah, I’m pretty good,” she laughed. “Want a drink?” 

“I’d love one.” 

James and Y/N all but abandoned the party for each other’s company. They talked more than they had for quite a few weeks. James was elated with how easily they fell back into rhythm. It was so easy to talk to her, he felt he could reveal his deepest secrets without even knowing he’d done so, even if she hadn’t asked. But, he didn’t really have any. He was, for the most part, an open book. 

And this is what Y/N liked. James was all on the surface. And because of this, sometimes it was hard to see who he was, because he laid it all out on the table, everything mingled together, everything messy and unorganised. One really had to look at James to understand him. 

But she read him like he was a language only she knew how to translate. 

The embers of the fire still burned hot, but the fire itself had long fizzled out. The cold summer air nipped at Y/N’s skin, and James could see the shivers trembling through her body. Most had returned to their dorms, but there were the odd few still sitting around the fire, chatting with their friends. 

“Here,” James wrapped his jacket around Y/N’s arms. 

She shifted closer to him as he wrapped his coat around her, looking up at his flushed cheeks and messy hair. He looked like someone she could love. Y/N had been waiting at a crossroad, stoic in this stillness as she waited. James, sometimes lost in the detours, had finally reached her. This moment had been building to its peak for an age.

“Y/N-” but he was brutally interrupted.

“Filch!” 

Everyone scattered. James took Y/N’s hand and led her behind a tree on the edge of the Forest away from the light of the fire and safe from Filch’s wandering eyes. He’d no idea where his friends had gone, and Y/N had no idea where hers were either. What she was agonisingly aware of, was that James had pushed her against a tree, watching the surrounding areas for any movement. He hadn’t realised how close to her he was. But she had. 

She felt James’s entire body flush against hers. His hand wrapped around her wrist, his neck pulsing with concern. The snap of a twig sounded in nearby proximity, and James instinctively brought his hand to Y/N’s mouth, silencing the gasp he knew was about to pierce the silence and alert someone as to their whereabouts.

Y/N felt her blood pumping in her veins, the heat rising to her face, her heart pounding in her chest.  She wanted him.

“Prongs? Is that you?” Someone whispered. 

James seemed to know what this meant, and responded with a low ‘yes.’ 

The marauders and Y/N snuck their way back into the castle without being caught and James left the rest of his friends to escort Y/N back to her common room. She thanked him at the door, finally letting go of his hand that she had been clasping ever since they had been hiding in the Forest. 

James wished he could have kissed her then, but he let her close the door behind her, and walked away with a quiet ‘good night.’ 

The next morning however, he spurred his plan into action. He spoke to people he never thought he’d have to, and never wanted to again. But it was worth it for the outcome he was hoping for.  

He knew this was to be his most elaborate “prank” yet. And if it was successful, it would be his most rewarding. 

The weekend could not come fast enough. Throughout the week he and Y/N shared lingering looks, caught each other staring from across the classroom, passed stupid doodles, laughed at cheesy jokes and pick-up lines that James had learnt from Sirius. He sat in the library with her while she studied; he watched, mostly.

And while the week had been one of the best he’d had so far, he couldn’t help but wish for it to go faster. And when Saturday morning finally arrived, he was more than ready. 

Y/N woke early in the morning, preparing for a day of studying, again. She showered quickly, got dressed and headed out of her common room for the Great Hall. 

“Hi Y/N,” her friend greeted, handing her a rose. 

“Uh, what’s this?” she asked. 

“A flower? Are you stupid?” 

“Bite me,” she chuckled. “Thanks?” 

But she only smiled and walked away. Odd. 

She carried on her way, heading up the great staircase, happening upon no one else until she reached the top. 

The Slytherin girl said nothing, simply handed her another rose and scurried off. Y/N stood dumbfounded for a moment, looking at the two roses in her hand before shrugging it off and walking onwards. People are weird, so what? 

When she reached the Great Hall doors, one of her Ravenclaw classmates called out to her. 

“Wait up!” He called, holding out a rose for her when he caught up. 

“What the Hell? Are you asking me out or something?” 

“No,” he sniggered. 

Y/N took the rose and watched him walk off, more confused than ever. She almost wanted to turn back to her common room and stay there for the rest of the day, safe where no one could find her. Something was off. 

But upon hearing her stomach growl, she braved the Great Hall and entered cautiously. Big mistake. Before she even got to her table, she’d received three more roses, practically holding a bouquet now. She just couldn’t understand this. Was there some kind of holiday she didn’t know about? 

Quickly shoveling down two pieces of toast, Y/N took herself and her roses out of the Great Hall and all but ran to the library where she could study in peace. But on her way she encountered two more people with two more roses. She couldn’t take this anymore, what was going on? 

It wasn’t until she saw Remus, Sirius and Peter standing at the doors in the library, a rose in each of their hands, that she realised this was all a joke, a mindfully constructed prank. She couldn’t help the smile that rose to her lips as she neared the boys. Accepting each of their roses, she thanked them. Following her thanks, they each outstretched their arms, inviting her inside where James awaited. 

Rose petals adorned the library floor, all the way to the aisle she had been studying in for weeks now. There, upon the desk that was wedged between the bookshelves, was a bouquet of roses. And James. 

He smiled effortlessly, a single rose in hand. 

“Hey,” she laughed in disbelief. 

“Hello, Y/N,” James smiled. 

“How’d you pull this off?” She asked, in awe of his efforts for her affection. 

“Doesn’t matter, love. What matters is whether you will agree to go on a date with me,” he said, handing her the last rose as an offering. 

“Where?” 

“That’s for you to find out, if you accept.” 

Y/N laughed, giving into her instincts. She wrapped her arms around James’ neck, inhaling his scent, feeling his skin against her face, his arms holding her, running up her back. 

“Yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes, holding him tighter, relishing in the feeling of finally having him.

Such relief. Y/N felt her new peace, her home wrapped in skin and flesh and a heartbeat. James.

She could feel him pulling away from this embrace, and she loosened her grip to look at him. His eyes were hooded, taking all of her in. 

“Finally,” he laughed, connecting his lips with hers in a fiery embrace that set their bones on fire.

tags 🏷️: @foolexby

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[tikitakatia]

Escape — A. Putellas x Reader

"Write to Me and Escape"

WC: 5.5k

Summary: You couldn’t hold it in anymore, you just had to see them even if it wrecked you. But what you find changes everything, and nothing feels the same anymore.

Pt. 1 , Pt. 2 , Pt. 3 , Pt.4

The rhythm with go4goald2 fell back into place quicker than you expected.

Alexia had warned you about the media days, press events and tight schedule. You’d nodded to yourself, thanked her for the heads-up, and tried not to be disappointed when she used the words “a few days.” It had taken months for her to remember how to tell you things before they hurt. You gave her credit for that. Quietly. Without saying it out loud.

But now with her occupied and off your screen, off your mind in a way that felt both guilty and relieving, you opened Chattr without hesitation. No wince. No weighing what it meant.

Just you. And them.

The message was already waiting.

[go4goald2]: Okay, important: If your life had a laugh track, what moment would it play the loudest?

You grinned before you even started typing.

[lostinthecrowd]: When I waved back at someone who was waving at the person behind me, then tried to cover it by swatting a fly that didn’t exist.

[go4goald2]: Oh my god, I’m cringing in solidarity.

[lostinthecrowd]: It haunts me weekly. Specifically at 11:47 p.m. when I'm trying to sleep like a normal person.

[go4goald2]: Good, it keeps you humble.

You laughed and felt something in your chest unspool just a little.

[go4goald2]: Okay, but now I need more. What's the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done on purpose?

You didn’t overthink it. You didn’t try to be cool. You just told the truth.

[lostinthecrowd]: I once tried to flirt with a barista by ordering “whatever you think matches my vibe.”

[lostinthecrowd]: They gave me a decaf oat milk lavender latte that tasted like sadness and dirt.

[go4goald2]: Nooo. Did you drink the whole thing??

[lostinthecrowd]: Yep. Smiled through it then tipped five bucks out of pure shame.

There was a pause. Just long enough to notice.

Then:

[go4goald2]: You´re such a dumbass.

[go4goald2]: I love you.

You froze.

Not because you thought they meant it.

Not really.

But because it hit different, even as a joke.

Because the part of you that was still clawing for something real? It wanted to believe it. Even just for a second.

You didn’t reply right away.

[go4goald2]: I´m so sorry. That was too much.

[lostinthecrowd]: No. It wasn’t. I just... didn’t expect it.

A pause. Then:

[go4goald2]: I think about you a lot when I'm not talking to you. When something dumb happens. When I see something and wonder if you’d laugh at it. That's normal, right?

You stared at the screen.

Felt your chest clench in that stupid, hopeful, terrified way.

[lostinthecrowd]: Maybe not normal. But... not bad.

Another beat.

[go4goald2]: Have you ever fallen for someone just by how they see you?

That was… something.

Because yes.

Because that’s exactly what this was starting to feel like.

You typed slower this time.

[lostinthecrowd]: I think I'm scared of how much I want to say yes to that.

You waited.

And waited.

Then finally:

[go4goald2]: I won't ask you to say it. Not if it’s not the time. I just want you to know you’re seen exactly as you are. You don’t have to change anything around me.

You closed your eyes. Let the words settle.

Alexia was trying. She was.

But this?

This felt like being chosen in real time.

And you didn’t know what to do with that yet.

So instead, you reached down, scratched behind Tofu’s ears, and whispered, “You’re not helping, you know.”

He snorted. Rolled over like he disagreed.

Your phone buzzed again.

[go4goald2]: Are you still with me?

You hesitated.

Then, without thinking too hard, you typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: Yeah, I’m still here.

And god help you, for the first time in a long time, you meant it.

[go4goald2]: If I asked you something kind of dangerous, would you answer?

[lostinthecrowd]: That depends. Are we talking dangerous like “eat expired sushi” or dangerous like “emotional vulnerability at midnight”?

[go4goald2]: The second one, obviously.

[lostinthecrowd]: Then maybe, ask.

[go4goald2]: Do you think some people are meant for us… But not meant to stay?

[lostinthecrowd]: Jesus.

[go4goald2]: Too much?

[lostinthecrowd]: Not too much. Just… accurate.

[go4goald2]: I think about it a lot. How sometimes you meet someone and they wreck you. Not in a bad way. Just… Like they rearrange everything inside you. And then they’re gone. But you’re still left shaped like them.

[lostinthecrowd]: And then you meet someone else, and they touch that same part of you, but gentler.

[go4goald2]: Yeah. Like maybe the first person cracked you open so someone else could find you.

[lostinthecrowd]: I don't know if I believe in fate.

[go4goald2]: Me neither. But I believe in timing, and maybe we don’t always get to choose what hurts.

[lostinthecrowd]: Sometimes I think I was supposed to love her, just not forever.

There was a pause.

Not the bad kind. The kind that means someone is breathing slowly before saying something that might change everything.

[go4goald2]: And now?

You stared at the screen. Tofu shifted against your thigh. You started typing, fingers shaking.

[lostinthecrowd]: Now I'm scared, because I think I'm falling again. and I don't know whose arms I want to land on.

You didn’t get a reply right away.

But the typing bubble flickered.

Flickered.

Then it disappeared.

Then..

Your phone rang.

Not Chattr.

Not go4goald2.

Alexia.

You froze. Let it ring once. Twice. Four times.

Your thumb moved before you could talk yourself out of it.

“...Hey,” you said, your voice paper-thin.

There was a pause. Then:

“Sorry,” she said, exhaling like the air had been punched out of her. “I didn’t mean to call. I mean, I did. I just…”

You waited.

“I’m at the hotel,” she said, too fast. “Patri and Pina were curled up on the couch watching some stupid romcom, and she was laughing so hard she had to hide her face in her hoodie. It made me think of you. Of us. Of how we used to be when everything still felt easy.”

She paused.

“And I just.. God, I missed you so much it hurt. Like physical, actual pain. And I didn’t know what to do with it, so I called.”

You didn’t say anything and allowed the silence to wrap around both of you like fog.

Her voice cracked. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know that it’s 1am and I heard your laugh in my head and I realized it’s been months since I heard it for real. And that’s my fault.”

She sniffled. Not trying to hide it. “I spent so long trying to prove I could be everything to everyone. I didn’t realize I was becoming nothing to you.”

You swallowed hard.

“I miss you,” she whispered. “Not just the version of you that laughed with me. The quiet parts too. The hard days. The mornings when you hated everyone but me. I miss you. All of it.”

She laughed, watery. “God, I sound drunk. I’m not. I’m just tired, being a little stupid. And a lot in love, still.”

A beat. Then she said, almost childishly soft,

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to call before I got too scared to.”

She hung up.

No goodbye. Just a breath. Then gone.

You stared at your phone like it had short-circuited your brain.

And then it buzzed.

Chattr.

You opened it.

[go4goald2]: Hey, you okay?

Your fingers moved.

Paused.

Then:

[lostinthecrowd]: She called.. She cried and then said things I didn't know I still needed to hear.

A beat.

Then:

[go4goald2]: And what do you need right now?

You blinked. Let your eyes close. Let the weight of that question settle into your ribs.

And then you typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: I don’t know, but I think I need to find out without disappearing again.

Because that was the truth.

You weren’t running.

But you were on the edge.

And you didn’t want to fall without knowing where you’d land.

For two days, you didn’t text Alexia. You didn’t open Chattr either. The silence just settled in, uninvited but familiar, like it had a key. You moved through the apartment like your skin didn’t fit right, trying not to look at anything too long. Everything in here had her fingerprints on it, some literal, some worse.

Tofu had no such crisis. He charged through your day like he owned it. Like this was his apartment and you were just lucky to live in it. He leapt onto the couch without asking, claimed the sunny spot on the rug like a seasoned diva, and barked loudly when you took too long filling his water bowl. He had no patience for emotional spirals. He had toys to destroy and treats to extort.

And still, somehow, he made your chest ache.

Because she gave him to you.

Just a few weeks ago, the night before she left for international break, she showed up with a bag full of supplies and said, “He’s yours now. I think you need each other.” Like he was a peace offering. Like he was a bridge. Or maybe a way to say I still love you, without the risk of hearing it back.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything.

But she’d remembered the kind of dog you always paused to pet on the street. She picked a leash in your favorite color. She said, “His name’s Tofu,” with a smile so soft it was like an inside joke you hadn’t caught yet. And then she kissed your forehead like she didn’t still live in the ache of your throat.

Now Tofu was sprawled across your lap, toy half-chewed between his paws, utterly unbothered by your entire existential crisis. You ran your fingers through his fur absentmindedly, blinked at the ceiling, tried not to think too hard.

But it was impossible not to think of her when he was like this.

So sure of you. So certain you’d hold him, feed him, love him. No hesitation. No fear.

He trusted you more than you trusted yourself right now.

And God, what did it mean that she’d given you something this soft? This loud? This real?

You missed her. That was the truth. You missed the girl who used to dance in the kitchen while brushing her teeth. The girl who always pulled your hand into her lap when you were anxious, like that was enough to ground you. The girl who said “I love you” like it was a fact, not a performance.

You missed her so much it made your teeth hurt.

But missing someone didn’t erase what they did to you.

Tofu snorted in his sleep and shifted, shoving his back against your stomach like he was trying to merge your atoms. You laughed, quietly and bitterly. Even the dog didn’t believe in personal space.

You were trying so hard not to fall into the same shape you used to hold with her. But everything in this apartment: the blanket, the coffee mugs, this ridiculous little gremlin she gifted you, was a memory dressed like comfort.

And then there was go4goald2.

You hadn’t talked since the night Alexia called. Since everything broke open and left you standing in the middle of the mess, holding pieces of two different people who both made you feel too much.

They hadn’t messaged. Not since that quiet, careful question:

“And what do you need right now?”

You didn’t know if your silence had said too much. Or not enough.

You wanted to miss them. That would’ve been easier. Cleaner. But what you felt instead was worse:

You wanted them. Present-tense. Fully. Still.

Their steadiness. The way they listened without grabbing at your pain. The way they never asked you to perform softness, but you just found yourself being soft anyway.

And maybe it was good that they hadn’t texted. Maybe they sensed the edge you were standing on. Maybe they didn’t want to crowd it.

But God, part of you wanted them to fight for the space they’d carved into your chest.

Just a little.

Not with declarations. Not with pressure.

Just something. Anything. To say:

I’m still here. Even now.

But they didn’t.

By the third day, you still didn’t check your phone.

Not out of resolve, not even out of strength. But just because you didn’t want anything to answer to yet. You got dressed slowly. Took a real shower. Let the hot water hit your neck long enough to make you feel human.

Then you leashed Tofu and left the apartment.

No headphones. No destination. Just a slow walk through streets that didn’t ask anything of you. Tofu trotted like he owned the world, occasionally stopping to sniff something so thoroughly you almost apologized to the sidewalk.

You passed the bakery where Alexia used to make you pick out the pastries because she “couldn’t be trusted around sugar.” The coffee place you found together by accident. The crosswalk she once danced across in the rain.

You didn’t linger.

Not because the memories weren’t still in your chest. But because you finally understood something:

You don’t owe every memory a place in your future.

Tofu barked at a pigeon, almost dislocated your shoulder, then looked up at you like did you see that??

You laughed. Just a little. Just enough to count.

You kept walking.

Past the part of town where the noise softened. Past the old bookstore with the spray-painted sign. Past the bus stop where you used to wait for her, headphones on, heart in your throat.

And at some point, you sat down.

On a bench. Sun on your face. Tofu curled at your feet like a tiny guard.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t spiral.

You just let yourself feel the space in your chest. The one where love used to hurt, but now just… waited.

You didn’t know what you were choosing yet.

But for once, it didn’t feel like something was being chosen for you.

When you finally opened your phone, it buzzed to life with the weight of unread words. First, Alexia. A string of messages you hadn’t seen, each one longer than the last. No guilt, not this time. Just softness. Apologies that sounded real. Updates that sounded like effort. Hope that didn’t demand anything in return. She said she missed you. That she was proud of you. That even if you didn’t say it back, she’d keep trying to be someone worth coming home to.

You read every word. Didn’t respond. Not yet. Your chest was already full.

So you opened Chattr instead.

One message.

[go4goald2]: If we never talk again, I’ll still be glad I got to know this version of you.

You stared at it for a long time. Not because it hurt, but because it didn’t try to make you feel guilty. Just seen.

You blinked. Typed slowly.

[lostinthecrowd]: I missed this. You. I was scared to come back, and I didn’t know if I deserved to.

The reply came fast. Like they’d been waiting.

[go4goald2]: You never had to earn this. Just had to be you.

Something tugged behind your ribs. You let the words linger. You thought about who you were when you talked to them. How safe it felt. How easy. And how terrifying it was to want that ease somewhere real.

Then:

[go4goald2]: You ever feel like... If someone actually saw you, not your texts, not your voice, but you. They’d change their mind?

And after a beat:

[go4goald2]: I’m not as charming out loud. Not as easy to love in real time.

You felt that one like it had hands. Like it gripped the version of you who’d been broken open too many times and still wanted to be seen. It knocked the breath out of you, soft and brutal.

Because Alexia saw the real you, and still drifted.

And here was someone who hadn’t even looked at your face, and already thought they weren’t worth being loved back.

You sat with it. With the ache and the clarity and the ridiculous, inconvenient spark of hope.

Then you typed, slow. Barely breathing.

[lostinthecrowd]: What if I want to see you anyway?

You stared at the screen like it was holding its breath for you.

That message, “What if I want to see you anyway?” felt like too much and not enough, all at once. A confession. A dare. A quiet leap off the edge of something you weren’t sure you’d survive.

No reply came right away.

You waited, chest tight, thumb hovering like you might take it back.

And then, finally:

[go4goald2]: Are you sure?

[go4goald2]: I can tell you where. Or I can come to you. Doesn’t matter how far. I’d show up.

You didn’t know what to do with that. The certainty. The promise. It slid under your ribs and settled there, warm and terrifying.

Your thumbs hovered.

[lostinthecrowd]: Barcelona.

You hit send and stared at it like it might echo back at you.

The typing bubble flickered.

Then:

[go4goald2]: No way! I’m not far from there. Funny how small the world gets when you want to find someone.

[go4goald2]: There’s a park not far from the center. Quiet, not a lot of people this time of day. Benches near the pond. Friday? Afternoon?

Friday.

You glanced at the calendar. That was tomorrow.

Alexia wasn’t due back until Saturday.

You chewed your lip.

Typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: Okay. Friday. 3PM. I’ll be there.

Your stomach flipped.

[go4goald2]: You don’t have to dress up. I just want it to be real.

And god. That hit harder than it should’ve.

You let the words sit for a while. Then replied:

[lostinthecrowd]: I’m nervous. Like… really nervous.

[go4goald2]: Me too. I keep thinking… What if I ruin the version of me you made up in your head?

[lostinthecrowd]: Maybe we’re both scared of being seen.

[go4goald2]: But I still want to be. Even if it’s messy.

That was the one that pulled your chest open again. Not in a loud, devastating way. Just quiet. Steady. Like something soft demanding space.

You smiled. A little.

And then, because the universe couldn’t leave you alone for five seconds, your phone buzzed again.

Different thread.

Different gravity.

Ale: Can we go on a date when I’m back? Just one. No pressure. Just us, somewhere soft. I miss seeing you happy.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

It felt like the floor shifted beneath you. Like the walls of the apartment tilted, just slightly. Everything inside you paused, holding its breath.

Of course. Of course she’d say that now.

When you’d already agreed to meet someone else. When your heart was already being pulled in two directions, and you weren’t sure who was holding it tighter.

You opened the message. Read it again.

“Somewhere soft.”

She remembered.

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to throw your phone out the window and pretend none of this ever happened.

Instead, you typed. Slowly. Carefully. Erased it.

Typed again.

“Maybe. I don’t know yet.”

It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold either. It was honest.

And right now, that felt like the only thing you could give.

You stared at your phone like it had just exposed you. Like it had read your thoughts out loud.

Your fingers hovered. Then curled. Then pulled back entirely.

Because this wasn’t innocent anymore.

This was a plan. A place. A person waiting on the other end of a meet-up that you said yes to.

While your wife started making the effort of trying to mend your marriage.

You pressed the heel of your hand against your chest, like you could quiet the storm happening underneath.

“I’m not a cheater,” you whispered to the quiet. To the dog. To no one.

But god, it didn’t feel like the truth.

Because something in you wanted this.

Not to hurt her. Not to run.

But to be chosen, just once, without the history attached.

You swallowed hard.

And for the first time since this all started, the shame didn’t come from what she did to you.

It came from what you were about to do to her.

That evening, the apartment went quiet in that way that didn’t feel peaceful, just still. Like the world had pressed pause and forgotten to hit play again.

You didn’t cook. Didn’t clean. You couldn’t even remember if you’d eaten.

You sat on the floor instead. Cross-legged in the warm patch of light near the window. The carpet was soft under your fingertips, Tofu a few inches away, belly-up and blissed out like none of this was his problem.

And he was right. None of it was.

You watched the dust float in the air, caught by the last of the sun. Tried to match your breathing to something, anything, but every inhale felt offbeat. Too shallow. Too loud.

It should’ve been simple.

You loved her. You did.

Even when she let you fall apart quietly. Even when you stopped asking her to notice. You still wanted to believe that the good version of her, the one who used to wrap her arms around your grief like it was something she could carry too, that version still existed.

And maybe she did.

Maybe she was coming back.

But then there was them. The stranger who didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. The one who never saw how you looked like, never watched you shut down in real time, but somehow knew exactly where to speak light into your dark.

And that scared the hell out of you.

Because it felt safe. Because it felt new. Because it felt like something you didn’t have to work so hard to keep.

Your gaze landed on the edge of the couch where Alexia’s blanket was still folded. You hadn’t washed it. Part of you wanted to. Scrub it clean of her. Make it smell like detergent instead of memory.

But you didn’t.

Because the truth was: you still curled up in it on the nights that felt heavier than they should.

You leaned your head back against the couch and let your eyes close.

Am I the bad guy now?

You didn’t say it out loud. Just let it echo.

Because wasn’t that the worst part? That you didn’t even know who you were rooting for anymore?

Yourself?

Your marriage?

Your undoing?

Tofu let out a dramatic little huff and pressed his nose to your ankle, like he could sense the unraveling.

You reached for him without thinking, hand sliding across his soft side, grounding yourself in the simple fact of his presence.

“She gave you to me,” you whispered. “And now I don’t know what to do with any of it.”

He didn’t answer. Just blinked at you with that dumb, unconditional loyalty you were starting to envy.

You picked up your phone.

Didn’t open it.

Didn’t scroll.

Just held it. Like a secret. Like a lit match you were scared to put down or use.

What if seeing them changes everything?

What if it ruins the version of yourself that’s still trying to believe you can fix this?

What if it makes you want something you can’t explain?

The idea of going back to who you were before felt impossible. But going forward, without knowing who would be standing next to you?

That felt just as dangerous.

The sky outside bled into lavender. The room got colder. You didn’t move.

Not yet.

Just sat there in the quiet, heart in your throat, phone in your lap, dog at your feet.

You must’ve dozed off at some point.

When your eyes blinked open, the light had shifted again. Warmer. Golden. The kind that made everything look softer than it really was.

Your head was tilted against the couch, your hand still curled around Tofu’s back, and your phone… still sitting untouched.

But the moment you closed your eyes again, you weren’t in the apartment anymore.

You were in a kayak. Red. Wobbly. Drifting down a lazy river somewhere in northern Catalonia, back when the heat clung to your skin and love felt like it could conquer everything. Alexia was behind you, her paddle mostly useless, feet kicked up like this was a goddamn vacation and not a couple activity. Her hair was stuffed into a crooked braid, her shoulders already pink from the sun she swore "wasn't that strong."

"You’re gonna burn," you told her without looking back.

"Impossible," she said. "I’m invincible. Also I have olive skin, remember?"

You rolled your eyes. "Sunscreen doesn't care about your bloodline, babe."

She laughed. Loud. Carefree. The kind of laugh that made your chest crack open a little wider every time.

Later that night, she lay face-down on your bed, moaning into the pillow like a dying Victorian orphan.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," you said, smirking as you dabbed aloe on the back of her neck.

She groaned. "I regret everything except loving you."

You paused. Only for a second.

Because she said it like it was a joke. But it didn’t land like one.

And in that moment, her skin hot, her hair a mess, her voice low and unguarded, you knew. Not the lightning-bolt kind of knowing. Just soft. Obvious. Like looking down and realizing your hands were already full.

You loved her.

Not the polished version. Not the public one.

You loved this Alexia. Burnt and bratty and too proud to admit it.

The memory hit hard now.

Your eyes opened, throat tight, guilt curling low in your stomach.

Because you hadn’t stopped loving her. Not really. Not even through the worst of it. The silence. The distance. The ache of not being chosen.

She was trying again.

And a part of you still wanted to believe in the version of her who once said I regret everything except loving you.

But then there was go4goald2.

Someone who didn’t carry your history like a weight. Someone who made you feel seen in real-time, even if they didn’t know what your voice sounded like out loud.

You sat up slowly, wiped the sleep from your eyes, and looked at your phone.

You still wanted to meet them.

Maybe not to fall in love. Maybe not to escape.

But to say thank you.

For holding space when you couldn’t hold yourself. For reminding you what it felt like to laugh without fear. For showing you that there was still a version of you left worth loving.

You didn’t know what would happen tomorrow.

But you knew one thing, at least.

You weren’t choosing between love and loneliness anymore.

You were choosing between two kinds of hope.

You woke up before your alarm.

Didn’t check your phone. Didn’t need to. Today was already sitting in your chest like static, too loud, too charged, too much. You made coffee with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. Brushed your teeth twice. Put on a playlist and turned it off before the first chorus.

Tofu stayed close, like he could sense the storm under your skin. He followed you from room to room, tail wagging, expression confused. You kept petting him like that would settle something. Like you could tether yourself to the day through his fur alone.

You showered. Washed your hair. Put on your favorite jeans, the ones Alexia used to tease you about for being “aggressively soft”, then changed into different ones. Stood in front of your closet like maybe it would whisper instructions. Settled on something neutral. Safe.

Breakfast was two bites of toast and a glass of water you forgot to finish.

You didn’t let yourself think about what the meeting would feel like. You just kept your head down. Focused on the little things. Zipping the jacket. Filling Tofu’s travel bowl. Making sure your phone was charged. Reapplying lip balm for the third time, like it might protect you from whatever this was turning into.

You clipped on Tofu’s leash. Reached for the doorknob. Exhaled.

Then you heard it.

The key.

Turning in the lock.

You froze, heart jamming sideways in your chest.

The door opened slowly, hesitant, like the person on the other side didn’t know if they were still welcome.

And then you saw her.

Alexia.

But not composed, camera-ready Alexia. Not the confident girl you used to trail behind like sunlight. This version looked destroyed. Her hair was half-tied, frizzed at the edges, cheeks blotchy from dried tears. There were shadows under her eyes that hadn't been there before. Her hoodie was stained, clinging to her shoulders like it couldn’t decide whether to hang on or fall off. The duffel on her back was lopsided. Her laces were untied. And she was breathing like she’d run every step from the airport to your door.

You blinked. You weren’t sure if you were hallucinating.

“You’re back early.”

She didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything soft. Just stood there, swaying slightly.

“I wanted to surprise you,” she said, like it physically hurt to speak.

Your hand clenched tighter around Tofu’s leash.

She looked down. Saw the bag. The keys. The phone still lit in your other hand, half a sentence still unsent.

You didn’t mean to say it. But it slipped out, sharp and trembling.

“I’m meeting someone.”

She blinked. Like it stunned her. Like she hadn’t let herself believe it was real until now.

“You don’t have to go.”

You stared at her. “You don’t even know who it is.”

“I think I do.”

You stepped back. Confused. “What?”

Alexia reached into her hoodie, pulled out her phone with shaking hands, tapped something. Then she stopped and looked at you, not as a wife. Not as a lover. As something closer to a stranger asking for a chance.

Your phone buzzed.

Chattr.

One new message.

[go4goald2]: Just say the word. I’ll be there.

Your stomach dropped.

You didn’t look up right away. Couldn’t.

You stared at the message, willing it to be a joke, a glitch, anything but what it was.

Then you looked at her.

And the look on her face told you everything.

“It’s you,” you breathed. Not a question, but a realization clawing its way out of your throat.

Alexia didn’t nod. Didn’t move. She just stood there like her bones couldn’t take the weight of it either.

“It’s always been me,” she whispered.

And then everything inside you, every cell, every thread, recoiled.

“No.” You backed up further, voice rising. “No, that’s not.. It can’t be.”

“I didn’t lie,” she said quickly. “I just didn’t say”

“Didn’t say?” you cut in, a half-laugh cracking out of your throat.

“You tricked me, Alexia. You let me think someone else cared about me.”

“I did care about you,” she said, voice breaking. “Every word was real. I didn’t know how else to talk to you without hurting you again.”

“So you catfished your wife?”

She flinched. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it?” You threw your arms up. “What?! some twisted experiment? You wanted to see if I’d fall in love with you blindfolded?”

“No!” She stepped forward, and for once, she looked scared. “I just... I missed your voice. I missed being someone you trusted. And I knew if I showed up as me, you’d never let me in.”

“You’re right,” you said, and your voice was colder than you’d ever heard it. “Because I trusted you. And you used it.”

She was crying now, full-body crying, not bothering to hide it. “I thought maybe if I gave you space to choose me without the pain, we could start over.”

“But you didn’t give me space,” you said. “You gave me a lie.”

The words hit her like a blow. Her knees almost buckled under the weight of them.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“And yet,” you snapped, “here we are.”

You looked down at Tofu, who was watching both of you with ears pinned back, tail thumping slow and uncertain.

Your throat was tight. Like grief trying to turn into fire.

“I opened up to you,” you whispered. “Whoever you were. I told you things I never got to say to you. And you just... stood there. Letting me think I’d found someone new.”

“I was someone new,” she said, barely audible. “Someone trying. Someone who never stopped loving you.”

You shook your head. Everything inside you was loud now. Blistering.

“I don’t know what the hell I feel right now,” you said, and you meant it. “But I know I can’t feel it here.”

You crouched down, unclipped the leash.

“Tofu, stay,” you murmured, your voice trembling.

He whined, tail sweeping the floor once before going still.

You straightened and looked at Alexia. Not angry, not bitter, just… Tired. Worn through at the edges.

“I’m leaving you,” you said, steady now. “But not alone.”

She blinked. Confused.

You gestured toward the dog, your throat thick. “Because I don’t ever want anyone to feel the way you made me feel.”

You walked to the door, opened it, and left.

Not because you stopped caring.

But because for the first time in months, you needed her to feel what it meant to be left standing in the wreckage alone.

Tofu stayed by the door.

Still. Watching.

Like even he understood that this type of forgiveness doesn’t come with words.

It has to be earned. Step by brutal step.

Pt. 6

[marauder-misprint]

Hey! I had a Sirius x reader request where the reader is James sister and in a secret relationship with Sirius and the marauders are trying to guess who Sirius’s secret girlfriend is and Sirius is just like “you know her VERY well” and ofc James flips out when he finds out LOL

Hi! Thank you for this request! ❤︎ I love love love a good fluffy piece. Lowkey oblivious Sirius, but let's be real - when aren't boys oblivious?

Hope y'all enjoy ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

'Acceptable company'

Sirius Black x Potter!reader

3.5k words

cw: fluff, secret relationship, pining if you squint

You didn’t mean to fall for Sirius Black. It’s embarrassing, really. Predictable. Your older brother’s best friend? Of course he’s the one who makes your heart flutter. You tried to ignore it, push the feelings down so far that maybe they’d just vanish.

They did not. 

Sirius also didn’t mean to fall for you. He didn’t realize he was falling for you until he was in too deep. In his defense, when you arrived at Hogwarts and got sorted into Gryffindor, his first thought was ‘Oh, sweet, another Potter!’ 

For the first few years, you’d occasionally enter Sirius’ orbit. James would complain about how annoying you were, but Sirius never saw it. You were alright. You would give him a small smile while waiting for James to get you whatever you had requested. Sometimes you’d ask Remus for help on homework when Lily was busy; Sirius thought it was amusing that you refused to ask James for help. And until he joined the quidditch team himself, you sat with Sirius in the stands during matches and practices. You offered him your snacks and sounded like James when you spouted quidditch facts and critiqued the team’s form. Even when Sirius visited the Potter’s home during the summer months, you didn’t hang around him and James much. 

Sirius didn’t know what to do with himself when he found himself wishing you would hang around them. When he started looking for you in the stands at his quidditch games and practices. When he suddenly offered to help you with an assignment because Lily and Remus had prefect duties. When he got uncharacteristically upset when you got your first boyfriend. When he realized that he was upset because it wasn’t him. 

Luckily for Sirius, it didn’t last. Something about you not giving him enough of your time. You ranted about it in the common room. Loudly. Sirius could recall you saying, “Merlin forbid a girl has friends. And friends that I don’t have any classes with! Sorry I don’t want to eat dinner with him every evening!” James gave you your space despite his muttered threats about this boy.

That night Sirius couldn’t sleep. So he did what everyone does when they can’t sleep: he went to sit by the fire in the common room. And by chance, you were already sitting on the couch, legs tucked underneath you, as you stared into the dancing flames. 

“Am I acceptable company?” Sirius asked, standing off to the side. 

“Why wouldn’t you be?” you responded. You didn’t even look away from the fire. 

He sat down on the other side of the couch before casting a wary glance your way.

“Maybe you have a vendetta against all blokes now. Dunno.”

You gave a dry laugh. “No. Just against gits.”

“Hmm, surprised I don’t qualify for that.” Sirius would be an idiot if he didn’t know that he could use some work on himself. 

“Yeah… well… I have nothing against you.”

With your gaze set on the fire, Sirius took the opportunity to watch you. Because why had he been so happy to know that you broke up with that boy? Why had his heart skipped a beat when he saw you sitting by the fire in the deserted common room? Why did he want to smile when you said you have nothing against him? Coming to terms with how much he liked you was more difficult than he’d ever admit. 

“I can feel you staring, Sirius.”

“‘M not,” Sirius said, immediately looking at the fire.

You sighed and turned your body so you could face Sirius. He looked back at you, his body still facing forward.

“I know I’m not wrong for wanting to be my own person. I’m not a… a… a thing to be flaunted,” you said, sounding and looking frustrated.

Sirius nodded. “Right.”

“And Sam couldn’t accept that. That’s on him. Not me.” You paused and your expression shifted. “Right?”

“Yes. Some blokes are a bit dense.”

You sighed. Then you fell forward, resting your forehead against the side of his shoulder. He gave you a slightly confused look.

“Are you alright?” You mumbled something into his shoulder. “You know I didn’t understand that.”

With a dramatic sigh, you sat up, but only to move closer to Sirius so you could rest your head on his shoulder without blocking your face. 

“Getting there. I’m getting there.”

You sat like that for a while, neither of you saying anything. When you were ready, you thanked Sirius and then went to bed. He sat there for a little bit longer before heading back up to his dorm. He wanted the moment to have lasted longer. Sitting in that easy silence with you was something else. 

For a few days, you regretted that night in the common room. Your brain was telling you that you had been too much, an annoying little sister who put Sirius in an uncomfortable position. You should’ve just let him stare and not said anything. Now that you’ve made him uncomfortable, you can tell that he’s avoiding your gaze whenever you’re near each other. Before, when you’d make eye contact with him across the room, you would exchange polite smiles. There was an acknowledgement. Not anymore. He won’t meet your eyes. 

You needed to apologize for it, tell him not to worry about you. You’d find him after quidditch practice. You would keep it casual. Because you were James’ cool, confident, easy-going little sister. Not an annoying one. 

Like usual, you watched the practice from the stands. You tried to watch all of the players equally, but you kept returning to Sirius. His flying was sloppy and he was missing easy hits. He was obviously distracted and Jame was biting his head off for it. It felt like the practice dragged on forever. But when it was done, you lingered just out of sight of the locker room door. You knew you had to ambush Sirius to get him to talk to you; the only thing that would prevent him from listening to you would be if James walked back with him. Maybe it was good that Sirius was distracted during practice – he wouldn’t want to leave with the guy who yelled at him for like ten minutes straight while on a broom. 

You listened as the door opened and closed. James left with Marlene, both ranting about how the practice wasn’t their best work. Perfect. With James gone, you waited a little closer to the door. The seeker left, followed by the other beater, the keeper and the last chaser. Sirius was the last one. You waited for about five minutes before you started getting nervous. You had to keep your wits about you. 

You opened the locker room door and knocked on it loudly, to announce your presence. 

“Sirius?” you called, looking around. 

“What?” he snapped from around the corner.

“Can we talk?”

He peeked his head around the corner, hair dripping and not wearing a shirt. 

“Potter? Shit, what are you doing in here?” he asked, his voice suddenly much nicer and almost nervous. 

“I was waiting for you,” you said. “Should I go back outside?” 

“Um, no, just give me one minute.”

You sat down on the bench in between the rows of lockers and fidgeted with your fingers. You could hear Sirius muttering to himself but the only things you could make out were swears. When he came around the corner, he was wearing pants and pulling a shirt over his head. 

“What’s up? Everything okay?” he asked, standing in front of you. 

“I, erm, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable the other night. I’m good. Fine.” You nodded with a small smile on your lips. 

Sirius furrowed his brows in confusion. “What made you think I was uncomfortable?” 

He didn’t think he had shifted at all when you had your head on his shoulder. Maybe you mistook the quiet as awkwardness, rather than the easiness he felt. 

“Oh, um, you haven’t been able to look at me?” Your throat tensed. “Kind of felt like you were avoiding me.”

Sirius nervously rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from you. “I have been avoiding you, but-” He clicked his tongue. “-not because I was uncomfortable.”

“Then why?”

“Because I was comfortable.” You tilted your head in confusion. “Too comfortable.”

“Okay?”

You weren’t getting it. Why was him being comfortable around you a bad thing? Why did it make him avoid you?

“Godric… screw it! Every time I look at you, I want to kiss you. I want to treat you how you deserve to be treated, so much better than how that git treated you. But I can’t ‘cause you’re James’ sister.” 

You stared up at him with wide eyes. Oh. You stood up, making Sirius take a step backwards. He thought you were going to slap him. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your pounding heart. 

“What if… I wanted you to kiss me?” Your heart was trying to escape out your throat. “We could just not tell James.”

“Not tell James…” he repeated. His eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips. 

You took a step toward Sirius and he didn’t take a step back. Instead, he gently took your face in his hands and kissed you. It was soft and gentle and you wasted no time in kissing him back. You were about to thread your fingers through his hair when he pulled back.

“Are you sure?” he asked breathlessly.

“Yes.”

Not telling James ended up becoming not telling anyone. It was too risky. If you told anyone, how could you guarantee that they wouldn’t tell him? 

In public, you were just James’ little sister and his best friend. Polite. Cordial. Sharing smiles and eye rolls from across the room. In the privacy of the common room late at night, when you knew his dorm would be empty, in random broom closets, in unused classrooms and the locker room after quidditch practices, you were more than friends. It was more than snogging too. He would read to you. You would bring snacks and have a makeshift picnic. You would sit next to each other, talking about your day and anything else on your mind. But yes, there was snogging. 

You were doing a good job at keeping it secret. At least, good enough. Your friends caught on pretty quickly that you had a new someone – it was the only explanation of where you were disappearing to so often and how smiley you were when you returned. Sirius was proud of himself for keeping it from James, given that they had the map. He made sure that he had it with him whenever he was meeting up with you. Remus was the only one who seemed suspicious of his keeping the map so close, but he didn’t say anything. 

But then one night after quidditch practice and a heated session with you, Sirius tied his hair up before heading up to his dorm. You had made a good habit of returning to the common room at different times after practice to prevent any rumors. So you weren’t with him to see that you had left a mark. Well, several marks along his neck. 

“Merlin’s balls, Padfoot!” Remus gasped when he walked through the door. 

“What?” Sirius asked, not looking at Remus.

“Did you get attacked by a colony of leeches?” he asked, now attempting to stifle his laughter as Sirius’ hand flew to his neck. 

He forced a laugh. “Something like that.”

“Who is it?” James asked, sitting up a little straighter on his bed. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sirius answered.

“Hiding his latest conquest… That’s new,” Remus muttered, turning back to homework although he was smirking. 

“Yeah, since when don’t you tell us who you’re snogging?” Peter asked.

Sirius put his stuff away in his trunk and got out his own homework. “Since she asked me not to.” 

James and Peter exchanged a look that Sirius chose to ignore. He wanted them to drop the topic. If they asked him to describe the girl, it would only take so long before they put two and two together. They did drop it. For that night.

The next day, walking to class, Remus asked, “So who is it?”

“Huh?” 

“The girl giving you hickeys.”

“Told you last night. I’m not saying.”

“Ah, come on, Padfoot. It’s just me.”

Sirius shook his head. “Mate, drop it. I’m not telling you.”

“You’ve always told us who you’re with. Never had any shame in it. Why you getting all shy with it now?”

“I said drop it. She asked me not to tell you and… I like her. So I’m not going to tell you anything until she wants to.”

Sirius quickened his pace to get to class, leaving Remus behind. He watched him go with a curious expression on his face. Sirius usually bragged about who he took into broom closets, but he was being protective of this girl and that only made Remus want to know more. 

The boys badgered Sirius about his mystery girlfriend more than your friends did with you. It went on for weeks after that night with the hickeys. Whenever Sirius came back to the dorm alone, various questions were launched at him.

“Same girl?” “Any visible hickeys?” “How far you’d get?” “Where’d you snog? The greenhouses? Quidditch pitch? Back of the library?” “What’s she like?”

Sirius brushed them off every time. He wasn’t going to give them anything, but that seemed to egg them on. They were determined to find out who it was. One evening, they started asking Sirius about the girl in the common room.

“Alright, Sirius, is she a Slytherin? Is that you’re so secretive about it?” Peter asked, shoving his Potions homework away from him.

Sirius didn’t answer. 

“Is she in our year? Older? Younger?” James asked. More silence from Sirius.

“Ah, give us something,” Remus begged. “You’ve been seeing her for weeks and you’ve told us nothing!”

You entered the common room and Peter, James and Remus’ voices reached your ears. They weren’t being quiet with their interrogation of Sirius. So, naturally, you walked over to them.

“You’re being loud,” you said matter-of-factly. 

“We have reason,” James said with an eye roll. 

“And that reason is…”

He sighed. “Sirius here has been seeing this girl for weeks and he won’t tell us who it is. He won’t even describe her.”

You smirked and turned toward Sirius, who was already looking at you with a rehearsed neutral look on his face. 

“Aw, that’s kind of cute. But come on, Sirius. It’s just the boys,” you said, gesturing to them. “Give ‘em something to get them off your back.”

Sirius swallowed thickly. You had just given him permission to say something. He tried to cover his shock with an exaggerated sigh.

“Fine.” He looked around the group, trying to figure out what to say. “Ah, got it. You lot know her very well.”

“Oh, that narrows it down,” you laughed, turning to leave the group, but you didn’t go far. You picked a spot on the couch nearby and took out your Charms book. You wanted to eavesdrop. 

“That’s rubbish!” Peter exclaimed. “We know a lot of people!”

“It’s not rubbish,” Sirius defended with crossed arms. “I just eliminated practically all of the Slytherins.”

“And a fair amount of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs,” Remus added. James and Peter gave him stern looks. “What? He said we know her very well. We know eagles and badgers, but I wouldn’t say we know them all that well.”

“So she’s a Gryffindor?” James asked, turning his attention back to Sirius.

He gave him no answer. Not even a facial expression. 

“I think we can assume that much,” Remus said. “And it’s certainly not Lily. I know that much.”

“How?” James asked. 

“Been studying with her when Padfoot returns from his rendezvous.”

“She can’t be more than a year on either side of us,” Peter said. “Younger they get, the more scared of us they are.”

“Valid,” James said with a solemn nod.

Sirius just rolled his eyes. He didn’t know if he could relax, but he needed to have a relaxed air about him. He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned backwards, supporting himself with straight arms. 

“Right, so that leaves us with what, twelve girls? We can narrow it down,” James said after mentally counting the girls in their year, the year above and year below. “We’ve already checked off Lily and we can check off my sister and Marlene.”

You hid behind your book so the boys couldn’t see your smile if they looked over at you. James dismissed you as an option right off the bat. They would never get it right at this rate. 

“Cross off anyone he’s already been with. There’d be no point hiding it from us if they’ve done it before,” Remus said, waving a hand at James.

Sirius snuck a worried glance your way. He thought his hint was clever, but his friends were going to run through the girls quickly. And once they did, they’d have to go back over the list. There was no telling if they’d come to the conclusion that it was you. You flexed your eyebrows. He needed to turn back around.

You found it amusing as the boys tossed around names and found each one not feeling right. Sirius looked more or less mortified. He lost his relaxed air when he looked at you and couldn’t get it back. It was only getting worse as they moved on from girl to girl and then started renaming girls.

“We’ve listed everyone,” Peter said, sounding defeated. “Are we sure that he didn’t fall into the lake and is just too proud to tell us?” 

“Why would he be by the lake after quidditch practice?” James sighed. 

Something about what James said made something click in Remus’ head. After quidditch practice. He looked at you, at first with wide eyes of realization and then the wicked smirk of someone about to unleash hell.

“I know who it is,” Remus said firmly, not looking away from you.

All three boys looked at Remus, and then they followed his gaze to you. Sirius went pale. James turned red. And Peter laughed. 

“Oh, that’s rich.”

“We do know her quite well,” Remus said. 

“Padfoot,” James growled. “For the love of Merlin, tell me that Remus is wrong.”

You looked up slowly. You knew they were looking at you. You heard it go down. 

“I can’t,” Sirius said in a small voice. 

“At least he had a good reason for not telling us,” Peter said between fits of laughter.

“Yeah, Wormtail? What’s his reason?” Remus asked, clearly enjoying the building tension between James and Sirius.

“He loves his life. Because Prongs is going to murder him.”

“My bloody sister? You are mental?” James yelled, jumping up.

Sirius immediately mirrored him. “Maybe, yeah.”

James turned on you. “You! What do you have to say about this?” 

You hummed and flipped a page in your book, as if you were disinterested in their conversation, as if it didn’t completely concern you. 

“What the others say is true: he’s good at snogging.” 

Sirius broke into a stupid smile because that answer was so you. A little bit of sass to your brother. It was also a compliment to him. James, however, did not like that answer as he turned a darker shade of red. 

“I… argh! That’s my little sister!” James shouted at Sirius, and then turning back to you, “My goddamn best friend? Could you have chosen anyone else?”

Still feeling unbothered, you leaned forward and looked at Remus. “Remus is kind of cute.”

“Oi!” Sirius said. 

“I said kind of!”

“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” James roared.

He glared at you and then at Sirius before storming off to their dorm. You broke into your fit of laughter when he started up the stairs. 

“I think he took that well.”

“So, you’re really… together?” Remus asked, watching Sirius run a hand down his face as he stared at the stairs James disappeared up.

You nodded. “When you’d figure out Sirius was seeing someone?”

“Few weeks ago. You left a mark.”

You tilted your head in slight confusion. You left marks on Sirius before only a few weeks ago.

“Oh, he put his hair up.”

“Ah,” you said. Then you looked at Sirius. “He’ll get over it. Let him cool down and come to terms with it. You’ll be fine.”

“He’s pretty pissed,” Sirius said, voice low. 

“For now. He’ll get over it.”

“He’s pissed at me.”

“Mate, relax. She’s right. He blows up, but he always cools down,” Remus said.

“Yeah… right…” Sirius muttered before collapsing on the couch next to you. “At least I can kiss you in public now.”

“That’s what you’re excited about? I can’t wait to go on a real date-date with you.”

“Oh, gross… Maybe they should’ve kept it a secret,” Peter said to Remus.

tags: @navs-bhat, @bruxa0007

[sulkenswan]

♱ casual, part i

ellie fucking williams, the girl you've been in love with for years, she who only sees you as casual. no strings attached. but you're tired of pretending it's casual, and she's tired of the feelings.

cw: 2.4k words, inspired by chappell roans single 'casual' slight angst, smut! mdni, 18+, eating out no diner, fingering, semi-public sex? ellie's kinda a dick but she's needy so it's okay

note: hi it's me @taintedpearls but on a new account... thought you might've missed this fic so here it is slightly more edited hope you enjoy it more than before & part ii at 1k notes x

"you're such a loser!" your friend chuckles from beside you at the bar.

you had been staring at ellie, you knew that. she knew that. but she was simply just so... so pretty.

"pfft, no i'm not," you laugh it off, taking a sip from your far too strong drink. eyes lingering on the auburn haired girl a second longer before you hesitantly turn your head back to your friend, failing to notice ellie's eyes immediately looking back at you.

"you still hang around and talk to her? you should know better by now then to get involved with her. i've heard the rumors, you know. she only sees you as some girl to fuck on her couch"

"i'll be fine," you jump in with defense. "it's not like it's serious. it's casual. let me have my fun!" you play slap her, the alcohol in your system starting to take its effect.

"okay, okay," she laughs along with you, taking a sip from your own drink. "i won't get in your way. just.. be careful. you never know with girls like ellie williams."

"wowww, her government name-?"

"mind if i steal her for a second?" you could recognise that voice from a thousand miles away. turning your head ever so slightly, meeting eyes with her, before quickly looking away and giving apologetic eyes to your friend.

"of course," she glances to ellie before looking back to you "i'll see you at home, okay?" she smiles at you, ellie is quick to grab you by the waist and hurriedly push you towards the exit down the stairs.

"ellie? why're you being so pushy? you didn't even thank my friend-!" you begin to protest when she suddenly pushes you up against the stair wall, roughly placing her slightly chapped lips on yours.

you moan into the kiss, allowing your purse to fall by your side as you subconsciously put both your hands into her hair half up half down you thought, she's wanted to do this all night.

"i couldn't stand to see you in that fucking dress any longer without my hands on you," ellie moves down from your lips to your ears, to trailing down your neck. sucking on that one sweet spot, you know there's going to be a purple mark there later. "and you were laughing with her as if she was the funniest person alive." she has one hand around your head, another slowly trailing along the outline of your hips.

"ellie..." you sigh happily, your nails slightly scratching and pulling at her hair. "we... we're just friends." that sentence made you mad. you didnt want to be friends. friends dont do shit like this. friends dont fuck on the regular. friends dont get jealous. at that sentence, she roughly pulls away from your neck, removing her hands from your body, forcing your own hands to be pulled out of her hair. you whine at the loss of contact, chasing her lips.

she's quick to move away, dodging the kiss. "ellie c'mon, please dont be like that," you throw your head back against the stairwell, locking eyes with her.

"baby, no attachment." she reminds you.

"i know."

she looked... needy. she looked desperate. desperate for you.

"ellie?" you question for what felt like the millionth time that night.

"my car. now. please."

and thats where you were. in a more secluded parking spot, knee deep in the passenger seat, dress pulled up and panties pulled down with ellie's tongue working around your pussy as if she was starving. her fingers pushing in and out of your cunt at such a fast pace and it felt so fucking good.

you were a moaning mess. squeezing your eyes tightly shut with your head placed firmly against the headrest. when you began to feel your orgasm approaching, ellie knew it too. from the way your walls were squeezing her two fingers tightly and slowly adding a third one. "look at me baby, or i wont let you cum."

immediately you open your eyes, letting out a few panicked "no"'s, worried that your orgasm would be ripped away from you.

"ellie..." you whimper "please, please can i cum?" you practically beg, falling apart on her fingers bit by bit. your wetness dripping down your own legs.

"how could i say no to a girl as pretty as you?" she briefly lifts her head up before diving back down, working at a much faster pace and showing more attention to your swollen bud, and its not long before you let her overtake your entire being as your orgasm rippled through you. pathetic "thank you's" spilling from your mouth at lightning speed, the girl below you helping you work through your orgasm. detaching her mouth from your puffy clit and reaching up to attach her pink lips to your own. to get you to shut up, of course. her tongue lapping up your liquids.

when you begin to calm down, she slowly starts speeding up her fingers again.

"think you got one more for me?"

it's just casual you remind yourself, looking down at her with your fluids dripping down her chin. casual.

11:02 pm ellie

hey

my dad was asking about u

he was wondering if u wanted to come over for dinner tmrw night

11:36 you

hi ellie!

sure i would love that, what time should i be there?

11:37 ellie

around 6

dont dress too fancy

his name is joel and he's chill, you dont have to bring anything

oh and here's the address ***********

11:40 you

okay! i'll see you there :)

11:40 ellie

see you

"hi mr. miller!" you cheerfully introduce yourself. you wanted to make a good impression on ellies father, taking off your coat and stepping into the house. not forgetting to hand him the surprisingly nice bottle of whisky you had purchased him on your way.

"hey kid! it's nice to finally put a face to the name after hearin' ellie talk my ear off about you." he hugs you quickly before thanking you for the bottle. the southern accent was the first thing you took into account the second he opened his mouth, the second was the words he actually said.

ellie talks about me to her dad? and we're casual?

"joel!" you hear ellie complain from behind the man, he moves out of the doors way, giving you a perfect view of ellie and ellie a perfect view of you.

you had taken her advice, opting to wear some simple low rise baggy jeans and a white shirt that had bows on the sleeves.

"hi baby," she makes her way towards you, abandoning her previous task of setting the table. giving you a kiss on the cheek before grabbing the small bunch of flowers you had also brought for dinner and grabbing your waist. gently leading you over to the table.

your cheeks heat up at this action. casual. its just casual, shes trying to be respectful. respectful around joel.

"how've you been kid? ellie tells me your volunteerin' at a local dog shelter eh?" he makes his way to the old wooden table. ellie nudges you towards him, insinuating you too are able to sit down while she finishes prepping dinner.

"um yeah i have been! honestly its been incredible even if a little hard..." ellie tunes out of whatever your talking about, simply staring at you as you had been to her at the bar only two nights prior.

you were so pretty. too pretty.

and she could already feel herself beginning to drip, she was so fucked tonight.

"foods ready!" ellie announces, pushing the feeling deep down. you stand up and make your way over to her to help bring the array of dishes to the table.

ellie uses this opportunity to whisper in your ear a simple, but desperate,

"i need you."

and you couldnt even think about focusing the rest of dinner.

your entire body was on high alert, ellies hand placed firmly on your thigh and her gaze unwavering whenever joel was asking you a question.

it felt like she was mentally undressing you, imagining all the things she would do to you when dinner was over.

but you werent having it.

it was supposed to be a nice dinner, one night where you two dont fuck and you're able to respectfully meet her adoptive father. but as always, ellie couldnt fathom to see you fully clothed for more than five minutes.

plates were empty and the conversation was starting to die down, this is when the auburn haired girl took the opportunity to stand up from her seat and start collecting plates, you (respectfully) following in suit.

"dinner was lovely mr miller and ellie, thank you so much." you compliment, trying your hardest to be slow and force ellie to wait even longer for your touch.

"of course, you're so kind. oh and please call me joel. it's so nice to see ellie's got herself such a... respectable partner."

you let out a small laugh at his comment, thanking him and starting to wash the dishes.

"oh no no no please let me, you've already done plenty." joel inturrupts, grabbing the sponge and dish from your hands

"oh no its okay really i dont mind-"

"no point in arguing with the old man, he's stubborn as fuck." ellie's voices creeps up from behind you while she loops her arms around your shoulders and rests her head on the top of your own.

"ellie, language!" joel scolds while laughing, making it clear he clearly curses more than he does -- especially based on the conversations the two of you had at the table.

"sure, joel" she huffs, discreetly trying to push you towards her room.

"thank you again joel! hopefully i'll see you before i leave!" ellie lets go of your shoulders and instead, grabs your hand, turning you around and making a run for her room.

"'course kiddo! see you later" the old man chuckles, leaving you and ellie to your own activities.

the minute the door to her bedroom was shut, your lips were already on hers. roughly pushing her up against the sticker filled wood. you remove your lips from her mouth and start kissing down her neck, simultaneously unbuttoning her jeans.

"hey," she says, almost like she's scared you'll stop "what're you tryna do?"

"did you think you were funny when you kept teasing me all dinner?" you ask mockingly, ellie stays silent. she's too lost in the mere thought of you to acknowledge her precious actions.

when she doesn't answer, you pull your hand out of her jeans. she opens her eyes at lightning speed.

"what the fuc-?!" her words are cut short when you drop to your knees, pulling her jeans about midway to her knees. you can see her slick seeping through her boxers.

"all for me ellie?" you giggle slightly, pulling down her boxers as well and allowing the cool air to hit her aching cunt.

"oh shut up... fuck" she moans as you started kitten licking her pussy, you did that for a couple seconds, basking in the moment before she grabbed your head, pushing you in further, indicating she wanted needed more.

so, you did exactly that. going rougher, harder. diving your tongue in and out of her pussy faster and faster. you could barley breathe as she had her hands on the top of your head, pushing you further into her. you copy exactly what she does with you, swirling your tongue around her clit before inserting it back into her clenching hole.

she was on the verge of coming, if her lewd moans and harsh grip on your head weren't sign enough, she started to curl her toes and you could feel her knees on the edge of bucking. she was so close.

"cmon baby you can come" you let her know, removing your mouth from her clit for a second before going straight back in.

tears are leaking from the corner of her eyes while she screams, you cover her mouth quickly, removing a hand from her thigh and shushing her. what are now muffled screams ring throughout your ears while you help her ride out her high.

casual. you just made this girl cum, don't forget your casual. don't fucking forget you're-!

"thanks for that," ellie says, looking down at you while you stand back up again, using the back of your hand to wipe her off your chin.

"um... yeah no worries?" you hesitantly reply.

"you can go now," she's buttoning up her jeans, and you look at her in shock. is she serious right now?

"are you serious?" you voice your thoughts.

"yeah? why wouldn't i be?" ellie's looking back up at you, as if she's done nothing wrong.

you scoff, wiping the rest of ellies fluids off your face and pushing her away from the door, she blocks it before you can leave. please, just let me go.

"hey hey hey what the hell is wrong with you?"

"you want me to leave? well i'm leaving." you bite back

"yeah but like- why're you actin' like your pissed at me?"

"ellie i-" you stop yourself as you can hear your voice raising, you want to be civil. and you know your voice will crack sooner or later. "ellie, i don't know if i want things to be causal anymore."

silence.

"wha-" she stammers "what? that's what we agreed on!"

you start to tear up, "i've heard the rumours, you know. you tell everyone how i come everytime you simply touch me, how im just another girl on your roster you bang on your couch," you point to the grey sofa just a few meters away.

ellie scoffs, running a sweaty hand through her hair in disbelief. how the fuck did you know?

"listen-"

"no. no ellie i can't. i just can't, you invite me over to meet your dad just to get a quick fuck? are you serious?"

ellie's silent again, this time she doesn't know what to say. because she knows the truth, and she knows how fucked up it was of her to do.

her silence, however, is everything to you.

fuck this casual shit.

with tears silently streaming down your face, you make a move towards the door. ellie moves away, and it solidifies your broken heart.

a hand on her doorknob, you say your final words to her "my favorite bra is still in your dresser, by the way. please give back when you can." your voice shakes, as are your hands, and with that you open the door and leave.

and as soon as you do, both you and ellie are broken messes on either sides.

[eden031]

First meetings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Pairing: Jack Abbot x intern!f!reader

Warnings: Age Gap, violence against healthcare workers, violence against violent patients, implied PTSD, threatening murder, crying, bad flirting, this is choppy af, please forgive me

Summary: After an attack by a patient retruning back to work does not go exactly as planned.

A/N: Listennnn people, I am so sorry that this took so long and this chapter is just to continue to build tension, I think I will conclude this with chapters 6 and 7, though I am not sure. I feel like the end would be more natural if I wrote another chapter during which they confess and maybe in the last chapter there is fluff and smut idk, but I still hope you enjoy this :) Also this is very, very, very losely inspired by ‚Shelter from the storm‘ by Bob Dylan

She wasn‘t sure what had shifted between them after that night, after death upon death coming their way something had changed. The tension that had been there before had not dissipated, it had begun to grow, though now there was more to it, more to the way his gaze lingered on her, more to the way she would seek him out in a crowded room. Then there was also the granola bar, she couldn’t eat one on her own now, always saving half for him, slipping it into his hand at a quiet moment.

He checked in on her more than before, it seemed that he hovered more, but he simply checked on how she was doing. Giving her more opportunities to try out something, quietly encouraging her. A warm hand on her back here, a gentle touch against her arm there.

It became a constant during her shifts, knowing that he wasn‘t far away at any given time, that he would be right next to her within the blink of an eye. For some reason it eased her mind, made her relax a little. The way she had always been a bit panicky during the shifts was now gone. Maybe because the lingering fear of him pushing her away again had finally started to dissipate.

On this particular evening shift change had gone smoothly. Standing at the nurses’ station she checked a few patient files, making sure that she knew what she was heading into. There was nothing too dramatic, though one name sounded familiar, yet she really couldn’t place it. Humming softly she looked around, most of the day shift had already left, only a few of the nurses and Dr. Robby was still lingering around. Sometimes she really wondered if Dr. Robby ever truly left this ED or if his body simply shifted to another place but his mind stayed here. Shaking her head, she checked the board one last time then started to head off towards one of the rooms she had been assigned to tonight, nothing world changing, but it was simple enough.

The tune still stuck in her head, humming softly as she started walking away, though before she was able to completely leave central a loud screech pulled her out of her thoughts. Whipping around she saw a large, burly man shove Princess to the ground, though he was not looming over the woman. His eyes snapped up, in her direction and he started stalking towards her, his gate stiff, like he was hell bent on bringing pain. Swallowing harshly she was frozen in place, fear curling up her neck as she stared at the man, she wanted to run, but then there was recognition. The guy that had cut this hand, the guy that she and Tommy had treated as their first patient together. He was only a few feet away from her now.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” he hollered, taking another few steps towards her, practically looming over her now. His hands shot up, one to her throat, the other to her scrubs, his fist bunched in the black fabric while the other hand wrapped itself around her neck, squeezing hard. “YOU FUCKING SLUT, YOU THINK YOU ARE BETTER THAN ME! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!”

Cold sweat ran down her back as she stared at him, getting light headed, panic seeping through her. Around her people were shouting, but his grip did not relent, though it felt like the grip around her scrubs had loosened slightly. Within a split second her brian made a decision, hoping that Gloria would not have her head for that. Grabbing his wrists she thrust her hip forward, pulling her knee up in the same motion. The grip on her throat and scrubs was completely gone the moment her knee connected with his groin, a howl of pain escaped the man. He took half a step back, her brain yelling at her, the fight or flight instincts kicking in the moment she had free range of motion she swung at the man, fist balled up tightly. It connected with his nose, a sickening crack echoed through the room, followed by a groan, two steps and thud, with the thud came another sickening cracking sound, his head hitting the ground. Staring at the crumpled form of the man on the ground her ears were ringing, everything around her spun like a mary go round, her own heart beat seemingly the only thing she could hear.

Her name was being called by someone, her first name, it cracked through the moment of shock like the sun breaking through thick clouds after a storm.

Looking up she saw him standing there, his eyes filled with concern, his mouth was moving, though she didn’t hear a single word, it was like someone had wrapped her in bubble wrap. Then her name fell again, two warm hands wrapping around her face.

“Hey,” his voice was gentle, gentler than it should be at that moment, she had just hit a patient, “Are you okay?” his brows were furrowed, his thumbs resting on her cheekbones.

“What?” she breathed out. Hot tears began to gather in her eyes, pain bloomed on her neck, and her hand. Glancing at her hand she could see blood, though she was not sure if it was her own or the guy’s blood. It was swollen, but not too much, it might just be a bruise. A wince of pain escaped her as she moved her neck. The spinning didn’t stop and a strange kind of nausea settled in her stomach. Trying to turn her head to look at the man on the ground Jack’s grip on her face tightened.

“Don’t look there,” his voice was gentle, he held her face in his hands, making her look at him. Shuddering breaths escaped her as she felt herself shaking.

“I think I need to sit down,” she whispered softly. He nodded, carefully his hands let go of her face, one of them went right between her shoulder blades, the other one rested on her shoulder, he slowly guided her towards one of the chairs by the nurses’ station. With so much care he navigated her to sit down, crouching down in front of her taking her uninjured hand in his.

“Alright, listen,” he gently tapped her hand, then her thigh, making sure that she was listening to him, “I am going to put you in line for an x-ray and a CT for now, just to make sure that nothing is broken or damaged,” he was still speaking in that soft tone, the kind of tone most people reserved for scared children or frightened animals. For a split second his eyes drifted towards her slightly swollen hand. She nodded, trying to only focus on the soft hazel colour that had bewitched her from the moment she had first seen them, “While you wait for an x-ray we are going to ice your hand, okay?”

She nodded, as he got up from the ground and was about to leave, she held on tighter to his hand, fear of being alone trickling through her mind. He stopped in his tracks, turning his head towards her and tilting it to the side in question. The shaking had only gotten worse and she felt like that if he left she would break down completely.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered, feeling the tears running down her cheeks. The panic that wrapped itself around her mind, the panic that had kept her going was beginning to dissipate completely. The gravity of the situation only hitting her now, she had been strangled, he had threatened to kill her. Still she would consider herself lucky if Gloria didn’t take off her head for that, an intern assaulting a patient even in self defense.

“Alright,” he stopped in his tracks, looked around and called over Mateo, telling the nurse to get an ice pack. Her hand went to her throat, the heat coming off of it in the shape of a hand, the nausea buried itself deeper.

“I treated him,” she whispered softly, trying to give an explanation for what had happened, but couldn’t find anything, “I didn’t do anything wrong,” This time it was more wretched as she spoke, the tears now running uncontrollably. It started with a single sob until she was practically unravelled, sobs and hot tears, quiet whimpers escaped her. Clinging to Jack’s hand like a lifeline while everything around her felt cold and empty, the warmth in her hand a strange sense of comfort.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” coming out in quiet whispers or louder croaks while she cried. Seeing Jack move panic set in, he couldn’t leave, though he simply shifted, standing up from the kneeling position, carefully he bent down and pulled her into an awkward hug, the angle the fact that snot was running down her face and that her hands were uncontrollably shaking didn’t make it any less awkward, though his arms around her shoulders, the warmth of him, it was all so comforting in a strange manner.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you did everything right.” his voice was soft as he held her, “You did so well,” his hand was now in her hair. “You did so well,”

—————

Her hand had not been broken, simple bruising, just like her throat, though Gloria still put her on leave for almost two weeks, not chewing her up. The hospital board insisted that she should press charges. Though she was not too sure about it, not too sure that it was a good idea to do that.

It felt like she was climbing the walls of the apartment. Tommy kept her well informed about the gossip at work, though she knew that he probably left out the juiciest, hottest bet running at the moment. Still she felt like an animal, trapped in a too small cage.

The place felt cramped during the day and during the night, she barely slept, the melatonin gummies that usually knocked her out like a light didn’t work properly at the moment. While Tommy was at work and Masie slept she was left alone with her thoughts, with the feeling of Jack’s hand in her hair, the way his lips had brushed her forehead when he had pulled away from the hug the moment Mateo told him that she was next in line for the x-ray. She still wasn‘t sure how long he had held her in that awkward position. The panic setting in during the middle of the night, the feeling of the hand wrapped around her neck shooting back to the forefront of her mind, it felt like someone was torturing her.

Coping with it was hard so she baked and cooked. She was not sure how much she had made in the last two weeks, probably enough to feed all of Pittsburgh, they now had enough food in the freezer to get them through the next month or so and all of their neighbours as well as the day and night shift at the Pitt had gotten trays upon trays of her baked goods over the course of the last two weeks.

Tommy and Masie had both tried to talk to her about what had happened, but she did not want to talk about it. She really did not, even if it was Jack that asked her to talk about it she probably wouldn’t though it appeared that he had understood it rather well when he had comforted her.

Laying in bed she listened to Tommy and Masie talking in the living room, their voices loud enough for her to hear, they thought that she was sleeping, it made sense, she should probably be sleeping, but it eluded her like it had for the past few nights.

“Are you serious?” Masie sounded mildly scandalised as they were talking. She had closed her eyes, maybe it was to hear them better, maybe it was because she actually wanted to sleep.

“Yeah, I mean, he seems really worried about her. Always asks how she is doing when we do something together.” she heard Tommy sigh. “And listen Mase, I get that you have your girl’s code or whatever, but can you finally tell me what you know?”

“I told you a million times before, Tommy, I don’t know anything,” Masie sounded annoyed as she spoke.

She knew that it was a lie. Masie knew everything, she had been the first person she had told about her encounter with Jack at the hospital, she had been one of the people in her friend group encouraging her to talk to him. Masie knew almost every little detail about the night they had spent together and the feelings of betrayal connected to the whole situation, but also the longing and that deep feeling of connection she had never felt before. Masie knew about everything regarding Jack Abbot, to Masie he would always be the hot older guy she had met at the bar. The guy that had managed to get her more attached to him than anyone else had ever managed over years of trying.

“Please! I just want to know why they knew each other, I knew from the moment they first interacted that they knew each other, but come on! It’s just a little bit of information, what harm could it do?” Tommy sounded so desperate that for a brief moment she wondered how much money he had bet. Probably something in the mid two digit range.

“You know that you are talking to someone that works in protection of data privacy for a living right?” Masie sounded so deadpan that she almost had to laugh. For some reason listening to the conversation was slowly lulling her to sleep, the last thing she heard before completely drifting off to sleep was the quiet giggling coming from Maise, Tommy was probably tickling her.

The ghost of hands in her hair was a comfort she clung to, wishing for the warmth of the blankets to be the warmth of his body.

——————

Being back at work was not how she had imagined it to be, it was strange in the best way. People were excited to see her again, telling her that they loved all the baked goods she had sent to the hospital via Tommy. People asked her how she was doing, telling her that they were glad that she was back.

Yet the halls of the hospital felt strangely hollow, they felt haunted by the memory of those eyes filled with rage haunting her every step. The sound of threats being shouted seemingly choking her just like the feeling of a hand around her neck.

Standing at the nurses’ station she glanced up at the screen, arms crossed over her chest as she tapped her foot against the tiled floor. No one seemed to notice the nervous tick, even if they did, they probably decided to not mention it. She hadn’t seen Jack yet, it made her uneasy, made her want to rip out her hair.

“A word,” a warm hand between her shoulder blades, the rough and familiar voice of Abbot right beside her, still she flinched. Slowly he guided her away from the nurses’ station, she simply followed his lead, he maneuvered them into the staff lounge, closing the doors behind them, with the soft click of the door shutting she felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“You are on edge,” was the first thing he said to her, not ‘It’s good to see you again’ or ‘Nice that you are back’, no it was this. Though it felt right coming from him. There was no harshness to it, no judgement, just a simple observation. Even maybe some worry laced in his tone.

“Yeah, how couldn’t I be?” her voice was tight as she spoke. She was excited to be back at work, of course she was, she was happy to be back. The feeling of being caged was finally gone, but that panic having taken residence at the back of her head seemed to take its place.

“Of course, but you don’t need to be,” again there was this strange tone to his voice, it wasn’t judgement, it wasn’t worry, but it also wasn’t quite fondness though she would describe it as something close to that. He had moved across the room so that he was leaning against the counter.

“I know,” she nodded, the tension in the air crackled for a moment, it was like there was a rope being pulled tighter and tighter, the single strands slowly beginning to pop. “I just need to get used to it again,” she spoke softly, turning her head to the side just slightly. Turning her head back as she heard a sharp exhale.

“I know, they haven’t gone away just yet,” she whispered, gently touching her neck. The handprint on her neck was still visible, still there, it was faint, but people would still be able to see it.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” his tone was tight now as well, like he was contemplating saying something, “You need to know something,” he paused, his hands clamping down on the counter. “I wanted to apologize to you,” That knocked all the air out of her lungs, his eyes were gentler now.

“For something you had no control over?” she tilted her head, he shouldn’t be sorry for what happened. He had no control over that, he had no idea that the man was even there.

“No, for being an old, stubborn man,” a tint of humour coloured his tone, this time it didn’t feel like someone had knocked all the air out of her lungs, it felt like he had just thrown a brick at her. An old, stubborn man, something she had called him jokingly on the night they met, calling him that when he told her that he didn’t let people in easily.

Suddenly his pager went off, a groan escaped her. He pushed away from the counter as he passed her a playful glint in his eyes.

“And thank you for the brownies,” he paused, “Just the way I like them,” with which he left the staff lounge.

A small smile on her lips as she remembered thinking that he would enjoy them greatly while she made them, a soft flutter settling in her stomach, numbing the panic slightly.

———————

Tags: @antisocialfiore @fudosl @smileykiddie08 @darksparklesficrecs @tommosgirl06

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Family addition

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Lando (stepbrother) x reader, let me know if you want a part 2 :)

If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

Everything was perfect. I was studying journalism at one of the best universities in the country. I had a close-knit group of friends I could always count on—Friday night dinners, spontaneous road trips, endless inside jokes. And I had Daniel. Tall, soft-spoken, impossibly kind. My boyfriend for nearly two years.

Life had fallen into place in a way that felt safe. Predictable. Good. Until Mom decided to start dating again.

Now, I wasn’t some heartless daughter who didn’t want her mother to be happy. My dad passed away three years ago, and I had made peace with it—some days more than others. But I knew she deserved to smile again, to fall in love if she wanted to.

And then came him.

Adam was nice. Too nice, actually. The kind of guy who laughed at his own bad jokes and remembered my favourite dessert after just one dinner. I couldn’t hate him if I tried. But his son? That was another story entirely.

Lando. Lando freaking Norris.

First time I met him, he sauntered into the house with his messy hair and cocky grin like he owned the place. He tossed his car keys on the counter, gave me a once-over that lingered a little too long, and said, “So you’re the golden child?”

I hated him immediately.

He was infuriating. Loud, arrogant, and far too aware of his own charm. He teased me every chance he got—poking fun at my serious nature, rolling his eyes when I had a book in my hand instead of a beer, and constantly referring to me as princess in that smug tone that made me want to throw something at his head.

“You know, not everyone finds journalism interesting,” he said one afternoon, leaning against the kitchen counter, eating the last piece of the cake I’d specifically labeled as mine. “But I guess someone has to write about the weather.”

“I guess someone has to be a walking cliché of a spoiled boy with a sports car,” I shot back.

He just winked at me. “You noticed the car? I’m flattered.”

Ugh.

It didn’t help that he was… attractive. In a rugged, annoying, irritating way. And worse—he knew it. The tension between us wasn’t just anger, and we both knew it. But acknowledging that would be dangerous. It would mean admitting that part of me noticed the way his eyes sparkled when he was making fun of me. Or the way he smelled like expensive cologne and trouble. Or the way my heart raced when we fought.

No. This was war. Lando Norris was now my stepbrother, and I was determined to keep my perfect life from turning into a complete disaster.

Mom insisted on having a “family dinner” once a week ever since the engagement, which basically meant me gritting my teeth across the table from Lando while he found new and creative ways to drive me insane.

This time, he showed up late. Of course.

“You’re twenty minutes late,” I muttered under my breath as he walked in, dressed like he’d just stepped off a yacht. White shirt, sleeves rolled up, and that same smirk that made me want to scream.

He flopped into the chair next to mine, completely ignoring me. “Got caught up with some friends,” he said casually, grabbing a piece of bread and eating like he hadn’t been raised with basic table manners.

Mom didn’t seem to care. She just looked at him with the same affectionate smile she always wore when he was around, like he was a little lost puppy she’d adopted instead of a grown man who purposely unplugged my laptop last week while I was writing a final essay.

“So,” Adam said, clinking his fork against his glass, “we have some exciting news.”

Oh no.

Mom beamed. “We’re going away for the weekend. Just the two of us. We thought it would be nice to spend a little time together before the wedding.”

“Oh, that’s great,” I said automatically, even though I already knew this was leading somewhere terrible.

David cleared his throat. “Which means the house will be empty.”

“No problem,” I said quickly. “I’ll stay with Daniel.”

“No,” Mom said, shaking her head. “You have a paper to work on and I don’t want you distracted. Lando will be here too, and it’ll be a good chance for you two to bond.”

Bond.

The word echoed in my head like a death sentence.

Lando turned to me with the most obnoxious grin. “You hear that, princess? Looks like we’re roommates this weekend.”

“I’d rather sleep in a tent,” I muttered.

“I can pitch one for you in the backyard,” he offered sweetly. “Or we could just share a room. You know—for the bonding.”

I kicked him under the table. He yelped, then laughed.

Mom and David were too busy to notice, lost in their rose-colored love bubble. And just like that, it was official: I was going to spend an entire weekend alone in a house with the one person on this planet who could make breathing feel like a competition.

I stared at my plate, appetite gone. Lando leaned closer, voice low in my ear.

“This is going to be fun.”

[anxiousnerdwritings]

*Cersei and Tywin rejecting the proposal from Willas Tyrell and instead marry Joanna lookalike! to loras so she won't be able to have any children*

Joanna lookalike * has bastard children with willas anyways*

Ceresi and tywin: "fuck"

Bestie, are we in each other’s heads? Cause I was thinking about this too!

First off, I just want to start off by saying that I wholeheartedly imagine Joanna!Lookalike!Reader having a very Rhaenyra and Laenor relationship with Loras. They are totally platonic soulmates coded and I will not be taking any arguments. Also, Margaery and Joanna!Lookalike!Reader having a relationship of their own similar to Rhaenyra and Laena, you can’t tell me otherwise, I won’t hear any of it.

I can just imagine all of the Tyrell family being in on the whole thing, save for Mace. No one’s telling him shit.

Cersei and Tywin would be utterly shocked when they get word that Joanna!Lookalike!Reader is with child. They’re all the more horrified to learn that this isn’t even the first one. I could see Tywin making immediate plans to head to Highgarden as soon as possible. He would have left the second he got the news but he can’t show how truly concerned and panicked he is. And you can bet Cersei is making her way to Highgarden too, probably against Tywin’s wishes, but she just needs to see her precious bby. She needs to know her beloved daughter is safe and healthy. The absolute worst would be going through Tywin and Cersei’s minds all the while.

I just imagine Cersei and Tywin rolling up to Highgarden separately but at the same time, they couldn’t careless for Mace and his buffoonery, trying to show them about the place and telling them useless facts about this or that, they just want to see their Joanna!Lookalike. Finally they’re brought to the gardens where the rest of the family is and there they see heavily pregnant Joanna!Lookalike!Reader sitting and laughing with Margaery, both women’s hands lovingly caressing her swollen belly. Loras is further out with one of ‘their’ children in his arms showing them the different flowers growing about the garden. And Willas is holding the other child in his arms as they sleep, he and Garlan talking away. Olenna is the first to see Tywin and Cersei and she greets them with a proud, near shit eating grin. This right here is hers; her happy, loving, little family. Growing strong.

I would also love to think that when Joanna!Lookalike!Reader went away to Highgarden she took Sansa with her to further protect her and keep her safe from Cersei and Joffrey. Not only that but the thought of how Cersei and or Tywin would react to Tyrion being there too, that alone showing them that he knew all this time that Joanna!Lookalike!Reader was with child more than once and didn’t notify them whatsoever.

[darknight3904]

tommyxfemreader thigh riding🫦 maybe in her home in Jackson lowkey forbidden since he’s with Maria (love u queen but…)

Pretty Boy

Jackson!Tommy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Cursed to watch him from afar, you finally make a move on Tommy one day when he's stuck in your house due to a thunderstorm.

Warnings: Language, Smut 18+, Dom/swtich!reader, sub/switch Tommy, thigh riding, dirty talk, handjobs, cheating (don't do that irl.)

TLOU Masterlist

Word Count: 2.2k

I got carried away with this one, whoopsie. Went a bit off the rails, but I hope you enjoy it, anon. @xodilfluvr No pressure tag, but I think you're going to like this one.

You had a major problem. 

You couldn’t get him out of your fucking head. Tommy Miller was eating up every spare nook and cranny your brain had to offer. 

You arrived in Jackson nearly a year ago. With its quaint town and even nicer people, you were finally comfortable here at the end of the world. The issue though had started about six months ago, your first patrol run was led by none other than the ex-Firefly himself. You at first hadn’t thought much of him, probably just another guy with a big mouth and no skill to back it up. Instead, you were astounded when he brought down three infected, all head shots, from atop a large hill. Then, he’d wrapped his arms around you, repositioning your elbows in the best way to hold a gun so you didn’t get knocked on your ass by the kick back. His deep voice had your head spinning as you tried to focus on what he was saying about aiming right. 

Since then, you’d become a woman obsessed. But truly it wasn't your fault, Tommy Miller was just really fucking pretty, a pretty boy if you will. Dark curls and big brown eyes to go with, god, he was gorgeous, who could blame you for being so interested?

Now, most people would bite the bullet, ask their crush out instead of pining like some teenage girl, and you would, you really would, except there was one issue. Tommy Miller was a taken man. 

Maria had scooped him up a few months back, right when you realized your feelings, too. How convenient. You had no interest in being a homewrecker, but admiring never hurt anyone, right? You could look all you wanted, just not touch. Kind of like a fancy museum, Tommy was the artwork and you were the observer, content with staring and imaging what that piece might look like above you each night, sweaty and with loud moans coming out of his pretty- 

“You alright?” 

“Oh, yeah, m’ fine.” You say 

The loud sound of rain beating down on the twenty-something-year-old roof had you nervous, hopefully, it wouldn’t cave in tonight while you slept. The storm had come out of nowhere. One minute, you and Tommy were standing in your kitchen; he had swung by to tell you that the patrol shift was changing since Eugene had pulled a muscle in his back, the next, it was raining like a fucking monsoon was coming through Jackson. 

“Damn it.” Tommy curses as he stares out the window over your kitchen sink, “M’ gonna get drenched going out there.” 

“You could just stay here,” You blurt out, “Just till the storm blows over.” 

Tommy looks at you, obviously weighing his options: go outside, get drenched, and probably end up sick since it was a twenty-minute walk between your place and his, or sit down and just wait it out.

“Alright, fine, better than getting soaked to hell.” He grumbles 

Tommy had been in a sour mood all week, you had picked up on it after he hadn’t had his usual pizzaz during your Thursday shift with him down in the greenhouse. You motioned for him to sit down on the couch, handing him a glass of brandy. 

“Where the hell did you get this?” He sniffs the glass

“It’s a secret.” You smile, sitting across from him in the big armchair you loved, “You look like you need to relax, figured it’d help a bit.” 

Tommy sighs, sipping the amber liquid, his adams apple bobbing as he does, you squirm in your seat, fuck you hadn’t been alone with him like this since well…ever. 

“Yeah, it’s been a long couple of weeks. Maria’s been busy, council shit new buidlings and then that roof that caved in on Leona’s house.” Tommy sighs, “Haven’t seen much of each other.” 

You hum in acknowledgement, feeling sorry for how lonely he must’ve been. 

“Sorry, you don’t wanna hear my shit.” Tommy gives you a small smile 

“No!” You counter, “I like hearing you talk.” 

“Is that so?” 

True to your request, Tommy talks to you. As he sips at his drink you refill it twice, loosening him up a bit as you pour yourself some listening to him talk about how he found some fancy new scope for his gun. 

“You wanna watch a movie?” You ask 

“Tired of listening to me, sweetheart?” He smiles, a faint blush on his skin from the drink 

“Nah, just got something I think you might like,” You grin, waving a DVD case that reads Alien on it, “It’s the directors cut.” 

“Well, shit, pop it in.” Tommy grins 

The movie hazily plays in the background as you sit beside Tommy on the sofa a single throw pillow separating the two of you as he rests his arm on it. You’re too focusied on the man beside you to take any note of whatever the hell Ripley was doing on screen. You’re too focused on the way Tommy’s thighs shift every few minutes the muscles straining against the tight denim of his dark blue jeans. 

Without thinking about it, you reach out running a delicate hand up his thigh, brushing the fabric of the pocket before he jumps back. 

“What the hell’er you doin’?” His loud voice bounces off the wall

“Shit, sorry!” You fumble, jumping back as if he’s burned you, tears whelling in your eyes. You hadn’t expected him to be so well repulsed by you “I didn’t mean to, fuck.” 

Tommy eyes you, the flickering screen illuminating him for a second. His eyes scan over your figure, probably thinking you were some pathetic loser, crying cuz’ he raised his voice for second. 

“Sorry, you just uh scared me.” Tommy doubles back, “Didn’t mean to make ya cry, sweetheart.” 

Tommy’s next move has you shocked, he inches closer to you, a big hand cradles your face as he wipes a few stray tears that have escaped your burning waterline. He lets out a low hum, one that spreads warmth across your stomach and down to your lower belly.

“Pretty.” He softly whispers like it’s a secret no one can know, if only he knew you thought the same about him.

You nuzzle into his touch, elated to finally feel his hands on your bare skin again. You never want to leave this moment. 

Tommy pulls back abruptly, hands falling down, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have…I should leave, got shit to do at home, theres this leaky faucet and the basement door is broken.” 

He’s rambling still as you place a small hand on his chest, keeping him on the sofa beside you. You grab the remote, muting the TV and switching it off, you’ll pop the disc out later on. The alcohol has you bolder than ever as you push him back down when he goes to stand. Your legs straddle his hips, using your weight to keep him right where you want him. 

“But it’s still raining.” You whisper, leaning in so your nose brushes his 

Under you, you can feel something hard beginning to form, his cock twitching against you as you slowly begin to shift a bit, pretending like you don’t know what you’re doing. Tommy’s hands rest on your hips, his eyes fluttering shut, a soft fuck leaving his lips as you move. 

“Darlin’ this isn’t…I’m…Maria and I…” 

You push a finger to his lips, “Shhh…It’s alright.” 

You push yourself off his lap, knees hitting the soft carpet as you pull the zipper of his jeans down, the pretty sight of his green and blue boxers greeting you, “You’ve been so stressed, Tommy, let me take care of it.”  

You push the band of his underwear down, his hard cock springing up from the fabric, it’s drooling head leaking as your eyes widen. You expected him to be big, just not this big. 

You’ve only pressed a kiss to the pink tip of it before Tommy is hauling you back up into his lap, settling you on one of his thighs. 

“What’re you doing?” You ask 

“I wanna watch you.” He mumbles, skin flushed as he stares at you, fingertips tugging at your shirt 

A coy smile lines your face, you hold all the cards now, he was yours. You free yourself from your shirt, unclipping your bra as you go and then you stand only for a second to wiggle your pants off. Your hands have just hooked under your panties when he stops you. 

“Keep 'em on.” A  deeper blush paints his pretty face, “Wanna watch you with them on.” 

You smile, pressing your lips to his as you settle back on his thigh, cunt weeping when you feel it flex under you. 

“What do you want me to do, cowboy?” You softly whisper into his ear, teeth nipping the sensitive skin there., "Hmm? Gonna ask me? Y'look so damn pretty like this, mmm pretty boy."

“Fuck…” Tommy whispers voice just barely there after all your compliments, “Ride my thigh, baby, get yourself off on me.” 

You softly hum, “What do we say? Gotta ask nicely, pretty boy.” 

Tommy’s eyes scan your face, he clearly isn’t used to be treated like this for just a split second you think you’ve over stepped but then he’s opening his mouth again, falling into your hands. 

“Please.” He softly asks 

You press a kiss to his cheek and then to the tip of his nose, “Good job.” You mumble. 

You’re not sure what’s come over you tonight, you could blame it on the brandy, the alcohol is the reason you’re dominating your crush of a whole year, the same man who was in a relationship with the literal laader of your town. Perhaps it’s just the result of buried feelings, all you know is that this feels good, and it seems like you’re not the only one. 

Each roll of your hips along his thigh has Tommy’s lips falling with a groan as his cock weeps for you. A loud moan leaves your lips when the muscle beneath you flexes, Tommy’s deep voice fills your ears. 

“Fuck you’re pretty like this. Christ, always knew you’d look good ontop of me.” 

Your head spins. Tommy Fucking Miller had just admitted to having sexual fantasies of you. You hips roll more argressively against him, the cotton of your panties is soaked, proably seeping into his jeans as you get yourself off on his thigh. 

“T-Touch me, touch me please.” He mumbles, hips jumping up towards your hand when one lands on his belly 

“You sure?” You mumble a smirk on your lips, “Thought you were a taken man, what we’re doin’ right now is certainly forbidden.”

Tommy’s head falls back onto the couch when your run a finger over the slit of his cock, a fucking whimper leaving his lips. 

“Fuck, I don’t care.” He groans, eyes squeezed shut 

“Look at me.” You say, you’re not going to miss one second of this 

The thick muscle of his leg presses up to your clothed clit and you bite your lip, Tommy’s deep brown eyes meet yours and you feel a bit sorry for him. 

Your hand wraps around his cock, pumping him at the same pace your hips roll into him. He groans your name loudly as you twist your wrist. 

“Baby, fuck…” Tommy’s forehead glistens with sweat as you press a warm kiss to his neck, nipping at his skin, “M’ not gonna last.” 

“Go on.” You smile, “Cum for me, I don’t mind.” 

“Not til you get yours.” He affirms, his stomach tightening as you steady yourself by placing a hand on his shoulder 

Big hands find your soft chest, thumbs flicking at your nipples as you try to keep your cool, wanting to maintain your dominance over him. 

“You gonna cum? Gonna cum all over my fucking thigh?” Tommy grins, your hand still pumping him, “Yeah, you are, it’s like you’re in heat, girl. Knew you wanted me, always starin’ like I’m some piece of meat you wanna strap down on your bed.” 

“T-Tommy!” If he keeps this up, you’re going to lose it 

"It's alright, I'd let ya." He laughs, "Yeahhh that's it, she's crying all over my fucking jeans, gonna havta' wash em' real good tonight."

A loud moan leaves your lips, your brain is blank as he talks to you, your climax is so close.

“Go ahead, pretty girl, cum on me,” His southern drawl fills your ears, “M’ all yours now, go ahead, stake your claim.” 

Another roll of your hips and he roughly gropes your sensitive chest and you’re gone, wetness spilling into your ruined panties and his pants as Tommy groans into your ear. Warm cum spurts over your hand as he reaches his end, chest heaving as your his stutter into his thigh. 

You bury your face in his neck, not wanting him to leave you again. The storm outside has stopped; you can tell by the way the sunlight has started to stream back through the windows. 

“You alright?” Tommy whispers into the still air 

“Fine.” You say, looking at him as he stares back 

Tommy glances around, eyes scanning your nearly nude form, his ruined jeans, the discarded pile of your clothes, his softening cock and your hand covered in his spunk. 

“Fuck.” He groans 

You knew it, He regretted it, that line about him being yours wasn’t real. You’d fucked up majorly and lost a friend, god you were so fucking stupid sometimes. You go to stand, legs a weakened mess as you stumble. Before you can get far though, Tommy pulls you back down into his warm body. 

“Where the hell are you goin’?” Tommy asks, “You’re stayin’ here with me. I’ll get you water in a minute, then we can go shower.” 

Water? Shower? With him? What the hell was he thinking? Didn't he need to get home to his girlfriend and the broken basement door?

As if he’s a mind reader, Tommy presses a kiss to your lips, “ Don’t gotta worry about Maria anymore, I’m all yours now, baby.”

Liked this fic? Check out More Tommy Here

This is the product of listening to Sabrina Carpenter while writing. I think it turned out nicely :)

Requests are open, I love getting them, so if you have anything you really want me to write, don't be shy, come chat.

[adhdwriterfr3ak]

pairing. shauna shipman x reader summary. you confront shauna about her being pregnant word count. 506 info. they/them reader, fluff, S1 shauna, 2nd pov, no use of y/n, could be platonic or romantic, worrying reader series. part 1 to this!! engagement will make me have more motivation to wrte pt. 2

For everything that happened, today wasn't so bad. It was as normal as you could get living in the middle of fucking nowhere. The group had a stable supply of food, a solid water source, shelter... Hell, you could go as far as to say they were all thriving in their conditions.

The only thing bothering you was the lingering thought of Shauna and her baby. Well, what you assumed was her baby. You hadn't gotten any confirmation yet; you just assumed. Morning sickness, faking her period—even eating more. They were all surefire ways to tell if someone was pregnant, right? Even so, you could tell she was wearing baggier clothing, most likely to hide her growing bump.

You notice Shauna walking away from Jackie, and you stand up. It'd be a good place to catch her and talk, so you follow her quickly.

"Hey, Shauna." You cheer, jogging up to her until you're by her side. She looks at you slightly confused—after all, you two weren't close by miles. Team members were all you were.

"Uh, hey, did you need something?" She questioned, eyebrows a little furrowed as she asked. Her pace had slowed down a bit as she was walking to match yours.

"No, I'm good. I just, uh, needed to ask you a question." You said in return, feeling a bundle of nerves in your stomach. You didn't want to come off as intruding, but you were restless just thinking about the prospect of her being pregnant. It'd be so dangerous out here, especially for the baby.

"Shoot." She smiled softly, slowing down in her tracks till you were both standing still, just a little away from camp. Far enough that nobody could see either of you.

"You're pregnant." You blurted out, gasping and covering your mouth with your hand once you realised what you said. You meant it to come out way more nicely than that.

"Oh, my God—oh, my God, did Tai tell you?" She gasped, doe eyes blown wide as she looked at you. Her hands instinctively went to her stomach, holding it there as she looked at you.

"What? No, I saw you faking your period. Oh wait, you are pregnant!" You gasped loudly, removing your hand from your mouth. She looked at you in alarm, waving her hands around to stop you in your tracks before you started panicking.

"Shush! Nobody else knows." She hissed, grabbing your arms and shaking you, snapping you out of your shock.

"Oh, my God—you're going to freaking die. We're all going to freaking die out here, oh my Go-" You babbled, panicking as you looked at Shauna.

"No! Stop, just—just calm down, okay?" Shauna comforted, loosening her grip on your arms. It was quite ironic—you'd have thought the pregnant woman would be much more panicked than her teammate.

"Look, come with me for a walk, yeah?" She questioned softly, dropping her hands to her sides. If she was nervous, she was masking it well. Shauna looked more concerned over you freaking out.

[lampinspectingmoth]

I had this idea abt a very angsty ending to @//fishymom-art s Fix a Beast au where the ancients go mad and the beasts have to suffer for it

So, i dont wanan give away too many details abt the entire au snce i am still deciding things, but s far these are their current statuses and/or the things i know i want them to be

Shadow Milk Cookie: dead

Srry for my bad grammar btw </3

Pure Vanilla Cookie: couldnt accept the harsh truth anymore, but knew living in sweet lies would be even worse so he basically went insane and went fully mute, wants to end any way of communication so no one else could feel the pain of the harsh truth and the consequences of sweet lies.

Golden Cheese Cookie: became greedy with power, doesnt find much worth in her treasures anymore. Killed nearly everyone in her kingdom in attempt to gain their power, basically grinded up and ate the soulcheese of Mozzarella cookie and Burnt Cheese Cookie.

Buring Spice Cookie: fled back to the spice lands with Nutmeg Tiger, Capsaicin, Fettuccine and Smoked Cheese. Hiding away in the ruins of his temples and trying to keep the soul jam as far away from GCC as possble.

Hollyberry Cookie: (tw for mentions of cannibalism) lost passion in everything, she has already travelled all around earthbread, seen everything and done everything. Started to become extremely bored. During a spar she basiclaly ripped Pitaya to shreds and afther she basically went mad. Started having cannibalistic tendencies and eating and drinking alot to feel something and without anyones knowledge starte dto secretly kill and eat other cookies. It became Public knowledge afther she cannibalized herown son and daughter-in-law.

Eternal Sugar Cookie: got her wings clipped and is trapped in a cage.

Dark Cacao Cookie: the wall kept collapsing because of the Licorice see. In a desprate attempt to do something he did some sort of Dark magic mumbo jumbo that caused alot of the Dark cacao warriors to turn into mindless ice statue zombies that followed his every command. Dark Choco managed to get out of there before it was too late for him. Affogato somehow also got his ass got in the whole ordeal and is also an ice staue.

Mystic Flour Cookie: became an ice statue.

—

I dint include White Lily or Silent Salt bc i havent thought too kuch into them

ALSO KEEP IN MIND IM STILL THINKING ABT STUFF AND THE LORE AND SHIT I MIGHT RETCON ALOT OF STUFF.

[bluewxrld07]

Good Graces Pt. 2 (Jack Hughes)

Summary: The aftermath between Jack and Y/N at the lakehouse unfolds...

Warning(s): Angst, yelling/cussing, light smut, cheating

Y/N takes a quick halt on the ice, trying to catch her breath. She bends over and rests her hands on her knees, looking up at the guys before her as they all still skate around the rink.

Before Y/N could process that she wound up in Jack's room the night before after their time on the boat, they were rudely awakened by Trevor whom wanted to get up for a seven in the morning skate at the rink.

Jack had fought with her, not wanting her to leave the bed as he kissed his way down her stomach and in between her legs, but was lightly pushed away by her. She would've happily obliged if it weren't for how prone Trevor can get about getting to the rink to skate in the morning.

She nearly shit herself thinking that Trevor most definitely caught her in Jack's bed, but after he acted like normal when she went down to grab something to eat she figured she was safe.

She was pulled away from her thoughts when a puck hit the boards hard next to her, causing her eyes to snap over to where it came from.

Jack smirked lightly as he slowly skated towards her, his eyes catching hers as she stood upright.

He stops in front of her, tapping her thigh lightly with his stick. "Haven't seen you this out of breath since middle school. What happened, pretty?" he jokes, earning an eye roll from her as well as a smack to the chest.

"Don't start. You guys do this on a daily basis for your job. I do this recreationally now." she says as she skates towards the bench to grab her water.

"You ever thought of going back and playing? Guarantee UMich would take you as a walk-on." he says as she squirts the water into her mouth.

She furrows her brows and shakes her head before swallowing. "No, I like what I'm doing now. I'm still part of the sport, just not the one playing." she explains, earning a hum from Jack.

"Can y'all hurry up? We've got like fifteen minutes left before the kiddos get here and we gotta head out." Cole shouts.

Y/N gives him a look. "Why does it matter? You said you've been here everyday anyways. Or did you actually have something else more important?" she retorts, causing Cole to rolling his eyes and stay silent.

Cole keeps shooting around with the other boys while Jack and Y/N stood at the bench boards.

Jack turns back from staring at the group, his eyes looking down at Y/N who's still glaring at Cole's direction. "Have you actually been able to call him out?" he asks, and she shakes her head.

"Tried to this morning when we got into the car. He just dismissed it after he tried asking where I was this morning." she explains, earning a scoff from the middle Hughes boy.

"He's such a pussy. He needs to fucking do something before I get involved." Jack says, puffing his chest out as he stares at Cole. Y/N puts a hand on his chest.

"Don't. That'll make things go worse than they already are bound to be." she explains, Jack furrowing his brows.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he shoots, making her regret how that came out.

"I didn't mean-"

"Nah nah I got it," he retorts. She tilts her head as he looks away from her and skates off.

Y/N lets out a puff, making her way back over to the group to finish their time in the rink.

Today should be fun.

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

The crew made it back to the Hughes lakehouse, showered and dressed for yet another boat day, tunes blasting throughout the house as they all got stuff packed and prepped to take out on the boat.

Y/N's current state was contemplating on if she should even go out on the boat for the day. She knew there would be questions asked.

Especially if she took off her shirt.

She stood in the bathroom in front of the mirror, her chest and collarbones covered in purple marks from a certain brown-haired boy. No amount of waterproof makeup could cover it.

The girl sighs before tying her bikini top behind her back, throwing on a larger oversized t-shirt that looked like it belonged to one of the boys.

She decided to leave her hair down in hopes it would cover some of the partial marks you could see poking out from the top of the shirt, making her way out of the bathroom and downstairs.

Once she makes it to the kitchen, she sees they're all conversing as music played. Quinn's eyes found hers and he smiled warmly. "You gonna start us off again today?" he asks.

Her lips purse. "I'm gonna probably keep it on the download today. I'm a little sore from going as long as I did yesterday."

"I'm sure that's why you're sore." Jack mutters, heads turning towards him. He looks up and just shrugs. "Could've been from this morning too is all I'm saying."

Y/N gives him a knowing look when his eyes find hers, making his own eyes squint at her.

Quinn looks back at her and shrugs. "You alright?" he asks. She nods and gives him a reassuring smile.

The group grabs whatever they can in their arms, all making their ways toward the sliding patio door to make their ways down to the boat.

It was another hot and humid day, the sun out fully and no clouds to be seen. Y/N grabbed her sunglasses from the table before sliding on her shoes, almost jumping when she felt a hand on her arm.

She looked up to see Cole with a questionable look on his face. "What's been going on with you?" he asks, making her eyebrows crease.

"I could ask you the same. I barely see you," she shoots. Cole's eyes fall to his feet. "Just have been dealing with a few things back at home for next season is all."

Y/N scoffs as she swings her bag over he shoulder. "Yeah, alright. If that's your answer, then my answer is that I've been totally fine."

She walks away, ignoring his comment that sounded a lot like "You're unbelievable" from behind her.

Once they were all on the boat and situated, Trevor took initiative this time of driving the boat. Quinn was going to start the group off that day with the watersports. Y/N sat quietly at the back of the boat, Ethan and Luke both sat on either side of her.

She was talking with Ethan as they drove out to the middle of the lake, but she's pulled out of her conversation not too long after.

"Shit Y/N how'd you get away with leaving something like that on Cole?" Trevor says aloud, making her head turn over and look to where Cole was stood as he took his shirt off. Her eyes widened as a quiet gasp left her lips.

There was a deep and dark mauve colored hickey the side of his neck.

Known as his sweet spot.

Cole's eyes widen before he takes his phone out and peers into the camera to see what Trevor was talking about. Cole's eyes whip up towards her, knowing exactly what she was thinking.

He was caught and there was no chance of explaining around it.

Instead of outing him like she wanted to, embarrass him like how she felt in that moment, she chose to play a bit. "Guess he didn't even realize how sneaky I can be." she plays along, poking the inside of her mouth with her tongue.

Cole's brows furrow, knowing that her covering for him could've meant something much bigger than he thought.

Her eyes find Jack's, whom was sitting in the seats across from where Cole sat, his mouth open as he sat there clearly amused. He looks over at her, wanting to know what her plan was.

Y/N kept her eyes on Jack's, lifting her sunglasses onto her head before standing up.

"You know what," she says. "I think I'm gonna wake surf. Too good of a day to lay low. I'll live with being sore."

"That's our girl! Hey Quinn! Y/N's next!" Ethan hoots behind him.

Y/N looks at Jack while holding the hem of the t-shirt she wore. His mouth smirks slyly, poking his sunglasses down a bit mohave his eyes looking directly at her.

He knew where she was going with this.

Y/N lifted up her t-shirt to reveal her bikini below, supporting the familiar red color that matched the famous New Jersey hockey team as they all knew.

"Y/N what the fuck! Fucking shit Cole, you two are absolute animals! And I thought yours was bad!" Trevor hoots out.

"What're you talking-" Cole turns from his spot, his eyes landing on Y/N with the widest eyes ever as she thanked Ethan for her lifejacket. "Y/N what the fuck are those? Are you fucking joking???" Cole bursts, standing up from his spot.

Y/N buckles her lifejacket, and shrugs. "What do you mean? You don't remember? That's so unfortunate, I thought we had a great night, no?" she shoots back, watching his eyes try to tear away from the marks all over her chest.

Cole sputters out a bunch of nonsense and sits down. His eyes in complete disbelief.

Y/N looks over at Jack whom has slouched into his seat, mouth covering an amused smile while his other hand adjusted his lower half while he scanned her figure slowly.

She smiles when his eyes meet hers, the boy mouthing 'naughty' to her. She gives him a wink before turning around to step onto the edge of the boat.

Her hand gets grabbed, causing her to look down and see a proud smiling Ethan. "Atta girl." is all he said quietly, and that is when she knew he knew.

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

It was close to the later part of the afternoon. The heat still blazing just as much as the sun shined.

They decided to take a bit of a break from the boat, pulling into the dock to go grab something to eat.

Once Y/N hopped off the dock and headed inside.

The cool feeling of the air conditioner hits her skin as she begins to make her way upstairs. Then she feels someone grab her arm. Her eyes are met with a very blazingly upset Cole.

"You're gonna tell me when you got those," he shoots. "And more importantly who."

She points at his. "You first, honey." she says sweetly and with fake innocence. Cole's eyes glare at her. "What game are you playing at?" he says, causing her to shrug.

"I don't like games, but I also don't like how you think you and your little secret are slick. I know where you've been. I want to hear you fucking admit it to me, Cole." she snaps, earning a scoff.

Cole's face pales, immediately looking all nervous. "Who told you?"

"Doesn't matter if I was told something or not. I know Cole I just wish you would've had the fucking balls or maturity to admit it!" Her voice raising slightly. "You treat me like utter horseshit, and I'm sick of it! Sick of you thinking it's okay to act like this while you're off doing who know what with her! Admit it!" she pushes.

"She makes me feel something, Y/N! You wouldn't understand!" he finally admits, making her heart stop for a split second. She scoffs.

She looks at him. "You're a fucking coward, Caufield." she mutters before brushing past him, and down the stairs. He follows behind her and into the kitchen where the boys all sat.

"Says the one who won't even tell me who fucking marked you up like a bitch! If anything, it's me who should be feeling betrayed because this could've been going on before I got with Milly!"

She whips around to look at him. "Are you fucking kidding me? You have no right to call me that when you're the one who has been caught in the act not once, not twice, but five times back in Montreal! That's really rich coming from you, Cole!" she spills, making the guys all stop what they were doing and look at them.

"You've cheated on her?" Quinn says aloud, Cole rolling his eyes.

"Don't pretend you guys didn't know." he says. "She was always gone, always working! I had to do something!" he says, making Quinn scoff.

"Then be a fucking man Cole and break up with me! Don't fucking keep me hanging on to something that wasn't mine ages ago!"

"You're one to fucking talk! You'd barely ever let me touch you when you were home. How was I supposed to know you weren't slinging yourself around like some cheap whore-"

"Call her a fucking whore again, Caufield I fucking dare you." Jack snaps, his voice echoing all throughout the house.

Cole's eyebrows furrow as he watches Jack put himself next to Y/N protectively. A moment later, Cole scoffs and rubs his forehead.

"I see," he says quietly, his eyes going back and forth between the pair. "Oh how could I have been so blind! It's you! You fucked Y/N." Jack doesn't falter in his spot, he stands his ground.

"I should've known the day you almost lost your shit when I said I bagged her," he says. "Those scratches on your back this morning. Those from her too? Don't think I didn't fucking notice."

"Yeah, I did. I gave her what she deserves. It was me making her moan. Me she was begging for. Me she disappeared with for the night," Jack finally snaps, walking closer to Cole. "You should've seen the way I made her fall apart. How she begged me to mark her as mine."

Cole was fuming as he rubs his lips with his fingers. He points at Jack before biting his bottom lip harshly. "You're a fucking piece of shit."

Jack smirks and scoffs back. "You're just mad because you and I both know that it was going to be she ended up with at the end of the day," he raises his hands and gestures to all the boys. "We all knew it."

Jack stalks up to Cole, looking down at the blonde due to their height difference. "You were just the decoy, man. From day one. She was mine."

Y/N didn't know whether she wanted to slap, punch, kiss or drop to her knees for Jack in that moment.

Cole shook his head and backs away from Jack. Jack looks him up and down quickly. "Pack your shit, and be out of here by the time we're back from lunch. Go stay with your puck bunny that you're so infatuated with." Jack says, walking away from Cole and up towards his room.

The room was so silent after that, you could hear a pin drop.

Cole looked back at Y/N one more time, shook his head and walked away.

She felt like shit. She never wanted to be the reason the boys split apart like this. A loud sigh leaves her lips that she didn't know she was holding, letting her head fall as she rubbed her face.

"I didn't mean for this to happen." she says to the boys behind her.

"Can I be honest?" Trevor says slowly and cautiously. "We all kind of were aware of it. We all wanted it to happen." he admits.

Y/N's head shoots up and turns back to look at them all. They each nodded sheepishly and hum in agreement.

"Why? Why would you-?"

"It's always been you and Jack. When Cole announced one day that he thought he would be able to bag you before Jack ever had the chance, we all knew it wouldn't last. Especially because Jack wouldn't let that happen, and Cole can't keep his hands to what's his." Quinn explains, making her brows furrow.

"So you all knew this would happen?"

"Yeah eventually."

Y/N scoffs and shakes her head. "You're all unbelievable. I don't even know what to think right now."

"We're guys, Y/N. You love us though. Right?" Luke says, trailing off slightly in a cautious manner.

Y/N crosses her arms over her chest. "I do love you all yes. But I need a minute."

"I'll text you when we are leaving for lunch." Quinn nods, and she looks at him with pursed lips before nodding once.

She turns on her heels and heads up the stairs, walking down the hall towards Jack's room. She knocks lightly, hearing a soft 'come in' as she opened his door.

The door shuts behind her as she crosses her arms, seeing him sitting at the edge of his bed with his elbows on his knees as he is bent over looking at the floor. His hands clasped together while his knee bounced.

"Jack-"

"Don't."

She frowns. "No I will." she argues, making his eyes snap up to hers with a warning look.

"You've had feelings for me? Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Jack stays silent.

"Jack Rowden."

"Fuck, fine. Yes I have, Always have."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I wasn't able to admit it to myself," he admits. "Not until Cole brought up wanting to go after you. That's when I figured it out."

"I wish I would've known sooner."

"Why, so you could give me shit?"

"No, so I could've turned down Cole."

He freezes. "What?"

Y/N sighs and lets her hands fall to her sides. "I chose Cole back then because you weren't showing any signs of wanting me. So I gave up and let Cole sway me instead."

Jack groans and palms his face before falling back onto his bed. "Fucks sake."

Y/N walks closer to him, standing now between his legs and looks down at him. "You also always bragged about the girls you got with, and then when you dated Sienna-" she trails off and shrugs.

Jack peeks out from his hands, letting them fall to his stomach.

"That's because I thought I should try moving on from you after you started seeing Cole."

"Well you aren't the brightest, we've gathered that."

"Watch it, pretty."

"Why? You won't do anything."

Jack sits up as he keeps his eyes on hers, instantly gripping her hips in a harsh motion and pulling her down onto his lap. She gasps at the feeling of him through the thinner bikini bottom fabric she wore, causing him to chuckle as he looked at her.

"Don't think I won't start something. Because I will, and I will make them wait till we're finished."

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever," she giggles, before looking back at him. Her face becoming serious. "I meant what I said Jack. Today and yesterday. I'm yours if you'll have me."

Jack's smile widens, squeezing her hips before he glides them around her body. "Gotta let me take you on an actual date first."

Y/N smiles and nods with a hum in agreement.

"For now I'd like a kiss please."

"Oh you're gonna get a little bit more than that. We've got time."

[ixequte]

MIRAGE | gojo satoru x reader

He was fine. He was always fine.

The first time Satoru realized you were dying, he didn’t cry.

He didn’t panic.

Didn’t throw a tantrum.

Didn’t start tearing through cursed archives for some miracle buried under dust and blood.

He just blinked behind his covered eyes, that stupid grin tugging at his mouth like muscle memory.

"Funny joke.”

Because it was a joke. Had to be. Because people like you didn’t die. You were a hurricane. A pain in the ass. The only one brave enough to snatch his glasses right off his face and call him a nerd in public.

You were supposed to outlive all of them.

Outlive him.

And even when you started crumbling—

when your cursed technique faltered mid-mission, when you swayed in the hallway and brushed it off like it was nothing, when Shoko pulled him aside with a look in her eyes he didn’t want to name—

He just laughed.

Because if he didn’t laugh, he might crack wide open.

And if he cracked—

if he let even a splinter of it in—

he wouldn’t survive you leaving.

Not again.

Not you.

"You good?" He asked once. Just to hear you call him an idiot.

You were curled up on a hospital cot like you barely fit inside your own body anymore, pale under the fluorescent lights, fingers slipping off your phone twice in a row.

But you still cracked a smile.

“I look that bad, huh?”

He barked a laugh. "Please. You always look like shit. This is just limited edition."

You smiled at him like he’d handed you a goddamn crown.

And he sat there—grinning like an asshole—like he didn’t spend the entire morning eavesdropping outside your room, learning you had weeks, not months.

“You’re allowed to hate this, you know. You're allowed to hate me for it.”

He rolled his eyes. Flung an arm over the back of the chair.

"Hate you? You’re not that important."

You laughed.

And he memorized the sound like a dying man hoarding breath.

Because it was almost over.

And he was going with you.

After that, Satoru started keeping track of you like he was studying for the world’s worst exam.

He didn’t write anything down.

Didn’t trust himself to.

Instead, he promised he’d remember:

The way your cursed energy flickered when you lied.

The way you touched ramen bowls like they’d burn you, even when they were cold.

The way you lit up when it rained, like the whole sky had decided to throw you a party.

The way you always, always, left a light on for him when he came back too late even when you should’ve sleeping.

He thought if he memorized enough of you, he could rebuild you later.

Patchwork you back together when the world finally ripped you away.

As if remembering could save either of you.

One night, you asked him to take you outside.

You could barely keep your eyes open. Couldn’t stand without swaying like paper in a storm. Your breath rattled in your chest like loose change.

He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t waste a second.

Just scooped you up like you weighed nothing, like it didn’t kill him to feel your ribs under his hands.

He told himself you were just tired.

Told himself you weren’t slipping through his fingers.

You blinked up at the stars and mumbled, "If I make it to winter... will you take me somewhere it snows? Like really snows. So much you can’t even hear yourself think."

Satoru snorted. Because that's what assholes did when their world was ending.

"You’ve seen snow, dumbass."

"Not like that." You whispered.

You smiled and he felt something inside him tear.

"Yeah. I’ll take you."

"Liar.”

He grinned like he had a choice.

"Always."

And you smiled like you believed him.

You didn’t make it to winter.

Didn’t even make it to fall.

The last week, you stopped eating.

The last three days, you stopped talking.

The last day, you opened your eyes once—

found him immediately—

and smiled.

That was enough.

He stayed with you until the machines went silent.

Stayed even after the nurses stopped checking.

Held your hand like it still belonged to him.

Like if he squeezed hard enough, he could keep you here.

At the funeral, Satoru didn’t wear black.

Showed up in his uniform. Wore stupid sunglasses.

Because you would’ve roasted his ass for wearing a tie.

You would’ve laughed.

He stayed after everyone else slunk away. Sat cross-legged in the dead grass, sunglasses slipping down his nose.

Waited.

Like maybe you were just late.

Like maybe you’d come barreling around the corner any second, cussing him out for being a dumbass.

When the wind finally stirred, he leaned down over your headstone.

"You missed it..”

"It snowed yesterday."

It wasn’t the right snow.

But he said it anyway.

Because lying to you felt more honest than admitting you were really gone.

That winter, it snowed.

Not a dusting.

Not a polite frosting.

A real storm.

The kind that swallowed whole cities, muted every sound until the world felt abandoned.

Exactly what you'd asked for.

Satoru didn’t visit your grave.

Didn’t lay flowers. Didn’t say your name.

Didn’t need to.

(He needed to.)

He walked the streets like he always did.

Smirking at the sky like he was too good to care.

He told himself he was fine.

That people died all the time. That he’d seen worse.

That if you weren’t strong enough to stay, that was your fault, not his.

He kept moving. Teaching. Fighting. Winning.

(Losing.)

Because that’s what the strongest did. That’s what he was supposed to be.

Untouchable. Invincible.

Not the kind of idiot who looked over his shoulder every time he passed your favorite ramen shop.

Not the kind of fool who half-expected to see you there—

grinning like a menace, waving him over.

(You were gone. You weren’t coming back. He knew that. He knew that.)

But sometimes—

when the world went completely still—

when the snow muffled everything so perfectly it felt like standing in a dream—

Satoru slowed down.

Let his hand brush the side of a bench you once tripped over.

Let his breath fog up the air in front of him, because he's still a human. So breakable.

And he whispered it, just once, because no one was close enough to hear:

"I loved you, you know."

It disappeared into the snow like everything else he couldn’t hold onto.

Didn’t matter.

He said it anyway.

Still did.

Always would.

[salmonballsss]

The Violet Hour

(Chapter 9)

You are a young, awkward historian obsessed with the Salem witch trials. One name repeats through obscure documents: Agatha Harkness. She's not supposed to exist anymore. But when you find a book authored in her name and follow the trail to a remote New England town, you're met with a woman who looks nothing like she belongs in your century—and who wants absolutely nothing to do with you…

Word count: 7k

Warnings: Masturbation

You didn’t protest when she shifted again, this time sliding her arms fully beneath you.

“Don’t—” you started weakly, but she cut you off with a sharp look.

“I said you’re not fine,” she muttered, voice low. “Stop arguing.”

Before you could respond— not that you had the energy—she lifted you like you weighed nothing. You felt your limbs dangle, loose and uncooperative, your head falling lightly against her shoulder.

She was so warm… 

The walk back to the bedroom was slow and steady. Agatha’s steps were careful, every movement measured, her grip unshakable. She nudged the door open with her hip, eased you down into the covers like she’d done this a thousand times before. You sank into the mattress with a trembling sigh, blinking up at the ceiling as she adjusted the quilt over you.

Then she lingered.

She sit near you, watching you with that same unreadable focus—like she was listening for something beneath your breathing. Waiting to see if you’d puke again. Pass out again.

Your eyes drifted closed, just for a second.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said. Quiet. Firm.

You cracked an eye open, surprised by the softness in her tone. Agatha reached out, brushing a hand through your hair, fingers searching for something behind your scalp. You winced when she hit a sore spot near the back of your head.

Her fingers paused.

“Hold still,” she murmured.

She parted your hair gently, tilting your head. You heard her make a small sound in her throat—half relief, half annoyance.

“No blood,” she said finally. “You didn’t tear anything.”

You blinked up at her, dazed.

She raised an eyebrow. “So unless you managed to vomit up a demon, I’m guessing the noodle theory’s bullshit.”

Your lips twitched, despite yourself. “Just… really bad soup.”

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Please. My soup’s divine. You probably summoned something and tried to eat that .”

You didn’t laugh. But you didn’t deny it either.

That made her squint harder.

But instead of pressing, she pulled the quilt higher up your chest, smoothing it over your shoulder. Her touch lingered there a moment too long.

Then she sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed. Guarded. Quiet.

Waiting.

Like she knew the real story was coming eventually.

You shifted on the mattress with a wince, your voice rough. “Did you find my things?”

Agatha didn’t answer right away.

She just looked at you—head tilted, brow furrowed slightly, as if you’d started speaking in tongues. Her eyes flicked over your face, unreadable.

Then finally, a hum. Low. Noncommittal.

You frowned. “Is that a yes or a no? You can’t just hum at me and expect me to read your mind.”

Her mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. Not quite anything soft.

“You’ve been trying to read me since the moment we met,” she said, stepping closer. “Thought you liked puzzles.”

You stared up at her, not quite matching the fire in her voice.

“…I like answers more.”

Agatha didn’t answer. Just squinted at you, like she was trying to xray your soul.

You scowled, suddenly too raw to hold her gaze. “Stop looking at me. Did you find it or not? That’s all my research and—”

“Yes,” she cut in sharply, voice flat. “It’s downstairs. In the living room.”

You blinked. The answer landed harder than expected—not because it was what you wanted, but because she gave it so easily. You nodded, then closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. You were starting to feel better… slowly. Less nausea. It was like that notebook had caused this reaction.

Agatha’s notebook.

Did you dig too deep? Had you finally gone too far with your research? And why did Agatha seem so dead set on keeping you safe all of a sudden?

You sighed and looked back up—only to find her still staring.

“What is up with you?” you asked, not used to this behavior from Agatha , of all people.

She muttered a small, “Nothing.”

Then, after a pause, “Did you take the pills I left for you on the counter?” When You shook your head slightly, Agatha sighed, rubbing at her temples like you’d just told her the sky was on fire.

“You never listen, do you?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Well excuse me for fucking fainting on the floor and not being able to move!”

Agatha stopped, her eyebrows furrowing.

“…Right.”

Silence.

You and Agatha just stared at each other. Eyes locked. Neither of you moved. You held your breath, heart starting to race as her blue eyes bore into yours—sharp, unreadable.

Then she tsked her tongue and stood up.

“I’ll get you the medicine. And your things.”

You barely got out a quiet “Okay” before she disappeared from the room.

As you waited, your thoughts drifted back to the notebook. Before the pain—before you hit the floor—you were on something. A trail.

Several trails, really.

Especially the one that screamed, Agatha wasn’t in her 40s. Not even close. You could ask her. But that’d only make her more suspicious. Of what happened. Of what you’d seen.

Did she know you snooped?

You had left the notebook on the floor after you dropped it… and probably the study door wide open like a damn neon sign.

You shifted upright and coughed.

Something landed on your sleeve—well, Agatha’s sleeve, technically, since these were her clothes.

A thick smear of bloody, black gunk.

You stared at it, confused. What the hell was that ? Was it something you ate? But the only thing you’d had in the past two days was soup. Just soup.

Was it… from the beast?

You didn’t remember much from that night. Everything was still hazy. Maybe you could call Irene and ask? Though… that might be a little weird.

"Hey, I know I tried calling you a few days ago. I saw something terrifying in the woods, blacked out, might’ve thrown up demon goo. Anyway—what did the police find in your husband’s corpse?" 

You snorted to yourself at the absurdity of it all.

Just then, Agatha walked back in, youtr duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

“Oh… thank you,” you mumbled, as she approached and set everything down near the nightstand.

Then she turned to you again. “Here’s some medicine. Then I just need to check your stitched up side. If you were throwing up like that, the heaving might’ve pulled something.” Her eyes scanned your form, sharp and methodical. You shifted, wrapping your arm back under the blanket—too late. Her gaze zeroed in on your wrist. On the mess you’d coughed up.

“Yeah, okay. Just let the medicine kick in first,” you said quickly, already moving to hide your wrist again—only for her hand to snag it mid motion.

“ Really ? On my sweater?” she asked flatly.

You gave her a sheepish look. “…It was an accident.”

Agatha didn’t say anything right away. Just held your wrist, eyes locked on the gunk like it had personally insulted her.

You shifted awkwardly, trying to pull back. She didn’t let go.

“Well,” you muttered, voice dry, “it’s not like I aimed for your sleeve.”

Still nothing from her.

The tension in the air shifted. She wasn't bickering. Not rolling her eyes or making one of her usual backhanded comments about how delicate you were.

Just staring. You squirmed.

Finally, she released your arm with a strange sort of gentleness—like she hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding on. Agatha stood up straighter, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Let me… check your side now.”

You blinked at her. “Now?”

“Yes. Before you puke up anything else corrosive and rot my mattress.”

There she was.

But even with the bite in her voice, something felt… off. Her eyes didn’t match her tone. Her hands hovered for a beat too long before she moved closer to the bed. You didn’t argue. Just nodded faintly and began shifting awkwardly under the blankets, untucking the edge of the sweater to expose the stitched side.

Agatha crouched beside the bed, a hand resting on the sheets for balance, the other slowly moving to lift the hem of your shirt.

Except it didn’t.

Her hand paused.

Unlike before—back when she’d changed your bandages, this timeher fingers hesitated.

She didn’t touch you.

Just hovered.

Your breath hitched.

“Are you gonna—?”

“I’m looking,” she said, cutting you off, but it came out low. Not annoyed. Almost like she was trying to convince herself of something. You felt her knuckles graze your ribs. Just barely. And then she pulled the fabric up. Her breath caught before yours did.

The stitches were still in place. Still holding. But around them, spidering out from under the neat line of thread, were veins—dark, not red. Not bruised. Black. Like ink. Or tar. Crawling under the surface of your skin like something alive was pressing from underneath.

You stared. Blinked once.

Then twice.

“…That’s not normal,” you said, way too calm.

Agatha didn’t respond. She was still crouched, still holding your shirt up, but her eyes had gone wide.

Wide for her. 

Her jaw was tight.

“Is it… infected?” you asked, voice wobbling now. “Because it doesn’t feel infected—”

“No,” she said too quickly. “Not infected.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. Your stomach twisted.

“Agatha,” you said, slowly, “what the hell is it, then?”

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t blink.

Her hand was still frozen near your side, the fabric of your shirt clenched between her fingers. You could feel the tension in her knuckles, the strange war in her expression—like she was trying to hold something in. Like she was trying not to panic .

“…Agatha?”

Finally, she blinked. Stood up fast.

Too fast.

“I’ll run you a bath.”

“…What?”

“You’re sweating. And you’re pale. You should soak,” she said briskly, already turning on her heel. “It’ll help.”

“I don’t think soap is gonna fix my black demon vein infection, ” you snapped.

“Do you want to feel worse or better? ”

That shut you up.

She was already halfway to the bathroom, not looking back. You stayed frozen in place, arm over your middle, fingers pressed near the weird mark like maybe you could stop whatever it was from spreading if you held it hard enough.

The nausea came back, but slower this time. Duller. Still—your heart was sprinting. The sound of running water echoed from down the hall. The pipes in this house moaned a little, creaking like they hadn’t been used in years.

You tried not to hyperventilate.

What the hell had you summoned?

And more importantly—what the hell had it left inside you?

You stared down at the marks on your side, breathing fast.

This wasn’t normal.

This was not academic, historical weirdness. This was… other.

Footsteps padded back into the room. Agatha again. She stood at the foot of the bed for a moment, eyes flicking to your arm, then to your face, then back down. Her jaw tightened again “Come on,” she said softly this time.

Not commanding. Not annoyed.

Just… there.

You stared at her. “What?”

She extended a hand.

“I’m not gonna carry you.”

“Didn’t ask.”

“Then move.”

You stared another beat longer before sighing and peeling yourself off the bed with a dramatic grunt.She didn’t help, but she also didn’t walk away. You winced with every shift of movement, side screaming in tight pulses. The dark veins were still there, still quiet, like something sleeping just under your skin.

You tried not to think about it.

Agatha waited until you were mostly upright before gesturing stiffly toward the bathroom. Inside, the room was already full of steam. There was something herbal in the water—you couldn’t name it, but it smelled sharp, calming. Not quite mint. Not quite lavender. Something else…

Weird.

You stood by the edge of the tub, blinking down at the swirling heat. Agatha lingered in the doorway.

“…Do you need help getting in?”

You turned slowly to face her. “Do you want me to get naked right now and die of embarrassment on your bathroom tile?”

One of her eyebrows twitched. “You fainted in your own vomit less than an hour ago. Let’s not act like there’s any dignity left between us.”

You let out a snort, despite yourself.

“I’ll be fine,” you said. “Just… hand me a towel or something.”

She did. Wordlessly.

Her fingers brushed yours again. Brief. Warm.

Your breath caught.

She didn’t say anything else, just nodded and turned to leave. You watched the door close, listened to the soft click of it latching behind her.

You didn’t move for a second.

Just stood there.

Steam curling around you, the veins on your side pulsing with slow, sick rhythm. Whatever this was—it wasn’t normal.

But Agatha knew something, and you weren’t sure if that made it better… or much, much worse. You hesitated, hand gripping the towel at your side, the other still pressed against your ribs.

Slowly you set the towel on the sink counter, and slipped off agathas sweater, then came the sweatpants. with a grunt that felt way too dramatic for your age, you lowered yourself in. The heat bit at first. Sharp and too much—your breath hitched—but then your body adjusted and—

Oh.

Oh. 

The pain didn’t vanish. But it shifted. Blunted. Like the edges of it were being shaved down by something thicker than water. You slumped back, jaw slack with shock.

Okay. That… shouldn’t be working.

You let your head fall against the cool porcelain lip of the tub and exhaled through your nose, slow. Long. You hadn’t realized how hard you were clenching every muscle until they all started to unclench at once.

The water moved around you, thick with whatever Agatha had dumped in—herbs or salts. It helped. You shifted slightly, letting one arm float near the surface, the other trailing fingertips along the inside of the tub—just to anchor yourself. Something about the silence was louder than it should’ve been.

Your fingers brushed a rough edge.

You blinked, looking down.

Nothing.

But when you touched the spot again—just under the waterline—there it was. Faint. Like shallow scratches. You couldn’t see them. Not really. But you could feel them.

Not names. Not shapes, exactly. Just… lines.

Marks.

Your stomach turned, but you told yourself it was probably from age. Old porcelain or cast iron. Just wear and tear. Not carvings. Not something deliberate. Still. Your hand moved over them again.

Slow.

The water shifted in response. Not violently. Just… knowingly. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Relax,” you muttered. “Jesus.”

And then— A sound outside. You opened your eyes again, breath catching mid chest. Not loud. But clear. A door. Somewhere down the hallway. Soft click of it closing.

What room did she go into?

Agatha hadn’t said a word since helping you in here. She hadn’t come back. But she was definitely moving around out there. And if that sound really was what you thought it was, then—

She was hiding something.

No. Not hiding.

Retrieving.

Preparing?

You leaned back again, shaking your head. You needed to calm down. Just relax. You took three deep breaths and closed your eyes. Maybe Agatha went into her study? Would she know you went in there and snooped around? Perhaps she’ll see the notebook of hers you’d dropped on the ground and burst in to yell at you… though that means she’d have to see you naked.

A little blush hit your cheeks thinking about that.

You relaxed back a little, thoughts drifting to the bathroom. Those flashes. What had they been about? There was some at the Salem witch trials… one of Agatha sticking your head underwater… or was that Agatha? You didn’t know. The whole thing was one big fever dream.

Then there were the ones of you and Agatha together.

You shifted in the tub, your hand resting on your thigh… Visions of you raking your nails down her back… You gulped, your breathing coming in a bit quicker.

Her eyes locked onto yours… violet, not blue… Violet like people had said throughout history… You groaned softly, your core tightening with simmering arousal. The one where she’d kissed you as if she’d been starved… it all felt so real.

So— good. 

A small whimper left your lips.

Would she kiss you like that? Desperate… overwhelmingly possessive with a mix of longing… Slowly, your hand rubbed up your thigh and to your navel.

A bed. Moonlight. Her fingers ghosting over your skin. 

Her mouth trailing lower. 

A moan—yours. Half sob, half prayer. 

“Mine,” she breathed against your stomach, voice shaking with something far deeper than lust. 

“You’ve always been mine.” 

The vision replayed in your head. Your hand trailing where her mouth had been. Imagining it was her.

Agatha. 

As if continuing it for her. You imagined her mouth trailing further down. Kissing her way lower, eyes locked onto yours as you squirmed under her. God—her stare. That violet glint. Like she owned you. Like she’d always owned you. Not just your body, but your thoughts, your breath, your pulse.

In your mind, she kissed your hip bone. Soft. Lingering. Then the other. Her hands smoothing up your sides, slow, almost reverent.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” she'd whisper against your skin.

You whimpered, tilting your head back in the water. The warmth of the bath now nothing compared to the heat pooling in your gut. You could feel her breath ghosting over the inside of your thigh—close. Too close.

Your toes curled against the porcelain. She wasn’t even real right now, and still—you were falling apart for her. Her lips brushed your skin, teasing. Deliberate.

Drawing you out, pulling soft gasps from your mouth.

Agatha... 

You could almost feel her smirk. See the way she’d tilt her head, fingers digging into your legs just enough to anchor you.

“Is this what you wanted?” she’d say, voice low, smug and breathless all at once.

Your back arched in the tub, neck tipping, the vision so strong you swore it was real. Every nerve lit up. Everything inside you begging for more. And still she didn’t move. Not yet.

Just mouth after mouth, kiss after kiss—your thighs, the crease of your hip. Circling around the place you needed her. Refusing to give it. Your hand clutched the edge of the tub, knuckles white. You gasped, shaky, breath fogging the air around you.

“Please,” you whispered aloud.

Small. Barely a sound. But it echoed anyway. As if on cue, you imagined Agatha’s mouth on your sopping cunt. A moan slipped out, soft and shaky, at the first brush of your fingers rubbing slow, lazy circles against your clit.

You tried to keep it gentle—tried to savor it—but your body couldn’t take it. Not after everything. Not after a whole day spent on edge, nerves frayed and every glance from Agatha leaving you aching. You thought of her pinning you against the couch.The way her eyes bore into yours. The heat of her breath so close to your mouth—

“Fuck,” you whimpered, hips jolting.

Your fingers moved faster, each stroke dragging pleasure out of you like a tide pulling at the shore. In your mind, Agatha’s tongue worked in slow, torturous circles, flicking, sucking, her mouth relentless as she moaned into your pussy like she was starved for you. Your back arched sharply, the ache in your side forgotten. Drowned. Only the pleasure remained.

She was everywhere in your head. Murmuring filth against your cunt, lips glistening, voice thick with hunger—

“So wet for mommy…” 

You could feel her fingers now. Long, veiny, deft. Sliding under her chin before plunging into you—And you mirrored it, slipping a finger into yourself. Thrusting in quickly. Then slowly. Curling. The heel of your palm catching your clit just right. A breathless moan tumbled out. Your head tipped back. Eyes fluttered shut. You imagined her watching you like that. Half-lidded gaze. Smile curling dark and knowing.

“Keep your pretty eyes on me, baby.” 

You cried out, biting your lip hard to stifle it. Just in case. But the risk—the thought of her hearing—it only made the heat worse. Your cunt clenched around your fingers, wet and desperate. Your other hand slid up to your breast, pinching softly, then harder.

You gasped.

Would Agatha moan when you touched her like that? Or would she stay quiet—stern, commanding, her voice like gravel and sin? Would she guide you with gentle praise, coaxing you deeper? Or demand it?

“Faster. Deeper. Don’t stop until I say.” 

The image shattered your restraint. Your fingers worked harder, faster, the water splashing around your hips as your thighs tensed tight around your hand. All you could think about was her. Her mouth, her hands, her voice—

Agatha. 

Agatha. 

Agatha. 

Your breath hitched as the pressure in your stomach coiled tight.Your chest heaved, heartbeat pounding in your ears. The bathwater was too hot. Or maybe th at was just you. You turned your head, panting into your shoulder, your skin slick and flushed.Whimpers spilled from your mouth—helpless, involuntary.

Then—your fingers curled. Right against that spot.

And the whole world splintered.

You keened.

Your entire body tensed—

And then you shattered.

“Ah—f-fuck!”

Your orgasm crashed over you in violent, rolling waves. Twitching. Writhing. Gasping for air. Each wave more intense than the last, cresting until you had to clamp your hand over your mouth, smothering the cry tearing from your throat. You kept going, riding it out, chasing every last drop of it.

Until it was too much. Too sensitive.

Too everything .

Finally, finally—you stilled. Blinking your eyes open. Your fingers sliding out slowly, soaked and trembling. Chest still rising and falling in sharp, ragged breaths. You slumped against the tub, spent and dazed. Then you lifted your hand, watching the wetness glisten on your fingers. Still catching your breath.

All of it for her.

All of it because of her.

---

You stayed in the bath for another ten minutes, your body slack and warm, eyes half-lidded as the steam clung to your skin. Every inch of you still hummed. Eventually, your limbs started to feel heavy with the kind of fatigue that came after something… intense. You sighed, finally pushing yourself up, wincing slightly as the cool air kissed your flushed skin. Wrapped a towel around yourself. Tucked it tight.

You paused in front of the bathroom door, hand hovering over the knob, trying to smooth your face. Your breathing. You didn’t look like someone who just moaned Agatha Harkness’s name while fingering herself in her bathtub, right? God. You ran a hand through your damp hair, trying not to groan into the steam-thick air. Your legs still felt a little shaky beneath you, towel clutched in white-knuckled hands like it might somehow protect you from the sheer mortification if she—if Agatha—

No. She hadn’t heard anything. Hopefully.

You slowly cracked open the door. The light outside was dim, just a soft amber glow spilling from a candle on the dresser. Her room was hushed and still. No movement. No footsteps. Just the steady sound of a page turning.

Agatha.

There she was. Sitting in the same chair she had when you’d begged her to stay. Crossed legs, ankle dangling over a knee. A light brown sweater clung lazily to her frame, sleeves pushed halfway up her forearms. Her hair was mussed in a way that felt… effortless. Like she'd run her fingers through it once and left it that way.

You wanted to go right back into that bath and put your hand to work again—just from the way she looked at rest.

You wrapped the towel tighter around yourself. The steam still clung to your skin, leaving you flushed and far too warm. You cleared your throat—not because you wanted her to look at you. Not because you wanted her to see you in a towel. Just so she’d leave. So you could change. Into your clothes this time. Not hers.

Though… you wouldn’t mind wearing hers again.

Agatha looked up slowly, unhurried. Her eyes moved from your face—then down. Down the slope of your neck. Over your damp collarbones. Further. Down. Then lazily back up.

A smirk played on her lips. Subtle. Barely there. But enough. You felt it like static running over your skin.

And for a moment, you were completely convinced.

She’d heard you.

You froze where you stood. Eyes locking on hers. Heat climbing from your chest to your face. God, she had to have heard you. That tub wasn’t that far from the door. Her bedroom was connected. The walls weren’t exactly soundproof. And you hadn’t exactly been quiet. You thought back—flashes of your voice, your moans, the breathy way you’d whispered her name. Her name.

Your stomach flipped. You pulled the towel tighter.

She heard you. She heard everything. And now she was sitting there. Looking at you. With that look on her face. The smirk. The silence. The casual page turning like she hadn’t just listened to you fall apart for her in a room away.

Oh god. Oh god.

You took a small step backward. Unless—unless she’d gone to her study. You’d heard the door. Earlier. That soft click in the hallway. She’d said nothing since. She hadn’t come back in until just now. Had she?

Maybe she’d been in the study the whole time.

You clung to that. Yes. The study. Far enough away. Maybe the door had been closed. Maybe she hadn’t heard anything.

You nodded once to yourself, desperate for that reality to be true. That had to be it. Right?

You lifted your chin. “I need to change,” you said quickly. Your voice sounded small. Strained.

Agatha raised a brow, the corner of her mouth still tilted, but said nothing.

You motioned toward the door, your voice a little firmer this time. “Can you give me the room for a minute?”

She blinked once. Then uncrossed her legs slowly, closing the book without hurry. That unreadable expression on her face never shifted. No teasing remark. No protest. Not even a joke.

She stood. Her gaze slid over you one last time—slow and heavy. Then she moved toward the door, And then she was gone. Door clicking shut behind her.

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t realize you were holding, towel still clenched in both hands. Heart hammering. Mind racing. Skin still aching from the memory of your own touch.

You were not going to survive this woman.

You headed to the duffel bag she’d brought up for you, pulling out clothes and setting them on the dresser. Dropped the towel. Your eyes went straight to the blackish veins blooming faintly across your ribs.

You ran a hand over them, wincing slightly. Why was this happening?

You slid your clothes on, mind still reeling. Why was it that the second you arrived in Hollow Wood, everything strange had started happening to you? Back in Washington, you got to study in a library… write your thesis. Maybe go out with Billy. Life was normal.

But now?

Now it felt like you’d been shaken upside down and wrung out to dry.

You glanced at the bed. Agatha’s bed.

Were you allowed to sleep in it?

Did she have a guest room?

Was she expecting you to just… crawl under her sheets like it was nothing?

God.

You weren’t sure what was worse— sleeping in her bed or asking if you were allowed to. It’s not like you hadn’t slept there already. The past two—maybe three—days? You’d been passed out cold in those same sheets, body aching, mind fogged, her chair pulled up close like she’d kept watch.

But this time you were actually awake . Actually aware . Not sick or unconscious or halfway to the other side. She hadn’t tucked you in. You’d have to do that part yourself.

You stared at the bed a long time, still clutching the edge of your shirt, frozen. Not breathing. Not blinking. Brain looping with the quiet static of What now? What now? What now? 

You could… go downstairs?

Yeah.

Meet Agatha there. Eat something. Pretend like you weren’t thinking about her bed. Or her voice. 

Your stomach rumbled faintly, like it agreed with the idea.

Right. Food. Distraction.

You could even grab your other things—she’d said they were in the living room, hadn’t she?

Yes. Yes, that was a plan. A good one.

Anything but standing here like some overheated ghost haunting the edge of her bed.

You exhaled slowly, wiped your damp palms against your sweatpants, and moved toward the door.

You walked quietly down the stairs, the wood warm beneath your feet. The house was dim, cozy—just the crackling of the fireplace and the faint sound of kitchen drawers opening and closing. You followed the smell before the sound, something buttery and familiar drifting toward you. Comforting.

Agatha was in the kitchen, back turned, sleeves still rolled up from earlier. Her hair had fallen a little more, soft waves brushing the line of her shoulders. She moved around the kitchen with unhurried confidence—light touches, small glances, like she was half listening to music only she could hear.

You hesitated at the edge of the room, one hand skimming the wall, trying not to startle her. She didn’t turn, but her voice reached you all the same.

“Back from your dramatic bath exit?” she asked, almost idly, like she was just pointing out the weather. “Or did you come down here to steal more of my clothes?”

You blinked. “I—I was just… I thought maybe you said my things were down here. And I was kind of… hungry?”

Agatha finally turned, leaning a hip against the counter, one eyebrow arching in clear amusement. “Hungry,” she repeated, like it was the most suspicious word in the English language.

You nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble. I can make something. Or, I don’t know, scavenge. You probably have crackers.”

“Crackers,” Agatha said dryly. “What do I look like, a raccoon in a retirement home?”

You smiled, awkward but soft. “It’s okay. I can forage.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the stove. “Sit down before you humiliate yourself. Again.”

You pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, sinking into it with quiet relief. The wood was warm, just like everything else in her house. It didn’t feel like a place meant to impress anyone. It felt lived in. Real.

“You’re making something?” you asked, watching her work.

“Mashed potatoes,” she said. “Easy for you to digest. Thought I’d spare your delicate constitution.”

Your brow furrowed. “That’s weirdly thoughtful of you.”

Agatha turned just enough to flash you a grin over her shoulder. “Don’t get used to it.”

She went back to peeling something, the scrape of the blade rhythmic against the sink. You sat in silence for a moment, listening to the soft thud of her movements, the clink of a spoon, the low bubble of water on the stove.

It was… peaceful.

Domestic.

And somehow that made everything worse .

Because you couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d done in her bathtub less than an hour ago. How your thighs had trembled. How her name had sounded in your mouth.

You bit your cheek.

And then—there it was.

Agatha lifted her left hand to sprinkle something into a small bowl of melted butter, fingers flicking with a precise, almost elegant motion. Her wrist rolled just so. Her fingers moved with intent. Sharp and fluid and—

Your throat dried.

That exact movement. Her fingers. That—

You looked away fast, face heating.

Nope. Not thinking about that. You were not going to think about the way she could use her hands. Absolutely not.

Agatha didn’t look back at you, but you swore there was a flicker of something—amusement?—in the set of her shoulders.

You tried to recover. “So, um… do you always make mashed potatoes at night for exhausted houseguests, or am I special?”

Agatha snorted. “You’re lucky I didn’t feed you toast.”

You smiled into your sleeve. “I would’ve accepted toast.”

“Of course you would’ve,” she murmured, tossing the peeled potatoes into a pot. “You’ve got that desperate, polite thing going on. Like if I told you to go chew on a paper napkin, you’d thank me and ask if it was gluten free.”

“I would not,” you said, indignant. “Probably.”

Agatha finally turned around again, crossing her arms, leaning back against the counter. “Mm. I’m not so sure.”

You looked up at her, the kitchen’s warm light making her hair catch gold at the edges. She was watching you with that lazy, unreadable expression again—like she already knew what you were thinking before you thought it.

You shifted in your seat. “I’m not that polite.”

“Oh?” Her brow quirked, lips twitching.

“I mean,” you tried again, “I don’t let people walk all over me.”

Agatha hummed. “Just let them cook for you, clothe you, bring you home, give you their bed…”

“That’s different,” you mumbled. “I didn’t ask for any of that.”

“No,” she said, moving back to the stove, “but you didn’t exactly fight me, did you?”

Your mouth opened. Closed. You had no idea what to say to that.

She chuckled to herself as she stirred the pot, then added softly, “Relax. You’re not that easy to take care of. I’m just good at it.”

You blinked. Something warm curled in your chest.

You watched her in silence as she mashed the potatoes with fluid, practiced movements—quiet, unhurried. Like it was the kind of thing she did every night.

Maybe it was.

You sat back in your chair, head tilted slightly.

This woman was impossible. Sharp tongued and unreadable. But then she made you mashed potatoes at night. Worrying about your stomach. Worrying about you , even if she’d never say it aloud.

And god help you, but it was kind of the most attractive thing you’d ever seen.

You cleared your throat. “Can I help with anything?”

She didn’t look up. “You’ve helped enough for one day.”

You blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Agatha just smirked, spooning a heap of soft potatoes into a bowl and sliding it across the table toward you.

“Eat,” she said. “Before I change my mind.”

You looked down at the bowl. Steam curled gently upward. Warm. Comforting. Safe.

You smiled.

“Thank you,” you said, voice soft.

Agatha leaned her hip against the counter again, folding her arms as she watched you take the first bite.

“That polite thing again,” she said, shaking her head.

You just shrugged, mouth full of buttery goodness. “Told you. I’m not that polite.”

She laughed once. Low and warm.

Agatha plopped down across from you with her own bowl, but hers was noticeably fuller—steak, vegetables, a glisten of something richer than potatoes.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” you said, pouting dramatically.

Agatha rolled her eyes with exaggerated patience, already taking a bite. She chewed leisurely, eyes half-lidded like she was doing it just to spite you.

“It is fair,” she said around her fork, “because I’m not the one who tried to summon a beast and almost got myself killed doing it.”

You huffed. “That was an accident.”

“So is eating glue, but we don’t hand out medals for it.”

Without thinking, you shot right back, “I wouldn’t be so sure—I heard from a little bird you and Harry—”

Your words caught midair.

Your eyes widened. Your mouth snapped shut.

Shit.

Shit.

Fucking shit.

Agatha froze for the briefest moment, fork still hovering near her mouth. Her eyes narrowed just a bit—sharpened, but not hostile. More… curious. Watching you like she’d just found something shiny beneath a rock.

“Care to finish your sentence?” she asked, voice light but deceptively smooth. That silk-over-steel tone that made your spine straighten.

You shook your head, suddenly very interested in the potatoes. “Nope. I’m good.”

She leaned forward just slightly, chin propped on one hand, elbow on the table. “Come on. You can’t just dangle a mystery like that and not follow through.”

You stabbed your fork into the potatoes, desperate for a distraction. “It was nothing. Just… some old notes. From Irene. I didn’t even read all of it.”

“Irene?” Agatha repeated, her tone shifting ever so slightly. There was an undercurrent now—something tight beneath the casual lilt, like a bowstring being drawn just a hair too far.

“Uh, yeah… just some… lady I met. Well, actually, on the bus to Hollow Wood and—” You glanced up. Agatha was staring at you, still as stone, those sharp blue eyes narrowed just slightly.

“Then I met her at a coffee shop,” you went on, trying not to fidget, “and… kind of went to her house.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, like that might ease the heat crawling up it.

Agatha clicked her tongue softly and went back to eating, her expression unreadable again.

You blinked. Was she jealous? 

No… no. No way.

Still, something about her silence begged to be poked at. So, you did. Carefully.

“She said she knew you…”

Agatha didn’t look up. She didn’t flinch. But you caught the faintest pinch between her brows. Just a flicker.

“She mentioned the moonflowers, too,” you added, voice light, tilting your head. “Sounded like it meant something.”

That got her.

Agatha’s eyes met yours again, the weight of her stare immediate. Her lips were parted slightly, like she might say something—but she didn’t. Not at first. Her gaze drifted, just for a second, toward the far end of the kitchen. The window? The corner? You weren’t sure.

And then, with a sigh that sounded like she’d finally decided not to launch a fork across the table, she set it down and leaned back in her chair.

“She talks too much,” Agatha muttered, dry as dust.

You stifled a grin. “So you do know her.”

Agatha gave you a look. “I know a lot of people. Doesn’t mean I want them giving out my résumé to every history major with a soft voice and a pair of wide eyes.”

Your face flushed, but you tried to keep it cool. “I don’t have wide eyes.”

“Sure you don’t,” she said, smirking into her water glass.

You scoffed. “Don't deflect. You do know her. Meaning you know her husband… Harry. Right?”

Agatha didn’t answer right away.

Her fingers, idly curling at the rim of her bowl, stilled. You watched her jaw shift slightly—subtle, but tense. She blinked once. Slowly.

You pushed. “The one that was mauled just past the cemetery? The same one you just happened to find me near... hm? You still won’t tell me why you were out there…”

Still no answer. She just set her spoon down with an exaggerated, delicate clink. Her posture didn’t change, but something behind her eyes flickered. Something old. Something tired.

“Why does the little historian care?” she asked, the corner of her mouth curling upward again. But it didn’t reach her eyes this time. “You seemed pretty happy to see me then.”

You stared at her.

“I know you know Harry,” you said, firmer now. “Because you were mentioned in his notes. And his research. Far too many times to be a coincidence.”

That got her.

Agatha didn’t smile this time.

She sat back slightly, folding her arms across her chest. Her fingers tapped once, twice, against her bicep. You watched her weigh something—words, maybe. Or the risk of speaking them.

“Harry liked to dig,” she said finally. “Dig too deep, if you ask me.”

You didn’t speak. Not yet.

She looked past you then, her eyes unfocused, somewhere else entirely. “Some people… get obsessed with the wrong questions. They think if they pull apart enough threads, they’ll find something meaningful underneath. Something real. ”

Her gaze snapped back to yours, piercing. “Usually, all they get is tangled.”

You opened your mouth, but she cut in before you could speak.

“I didn’t hurt him.”

The words came out flat. Final.

You blinked. “I didn’t say you did.”

“No,” she said, voice a little softer now, “but you’re thinking it.”

“I—” You faltered. “I just… want to understand.”

Agatha exhaled, slow and heavy. She reached for her glass again, turning it in her hands without drinking. “You won’t. Not yet.”

You looked down at your plate, appetite gone. The mashed potatoes had gone cold around the edges.

There was silence. Not heavy, but something close to it. Like the kind that settles between two people who are suddenly very aware of how much they don’t know about each other.

Then Agatha stood up with a small huff. “You want more potatoes or what?”

The question was so abrupt, so domestic in its delivery, it knocked the breath out of you.

You blinked. “What?”

She raised a brow at you like you were the unreasonable one. “You barely ate. If I’m going to be accused of conspiring with dead men and dragging grad students into murder plots, I at least deserve a clean plate in return.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. Just a little. A quiet breath through your nose, more a release than anything else.

“I guess… I could eat a little more,” you muttered.

“Good,” Agatha said, already turning toward the kitchen. “You’re going to need your strength.”

“For what?” you called after her.

She looked over her shoulder, that smirk back in place. “Surviving dinner with me again tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart—traitor that it was—fluttered anyway.