#I'm sorry about the typos will look them over later

[sadiecoocoo]

Hazel, Sweet and Dynamic Chp. 5 - Arcane Fanfiction

Summary - While Viktor notices more and more things wrong with Jayce, their relationship reaches a climax

Word Count - 3,817

Full Word Count - 15,469

Read on Ao3

Previous Chapter

Chp. 1

Notes: I wrote half of this in one sitting you guys can live with the typos anyways I'm back in school and need to make the gay men suffer because of it so things will be getting SO MUCH WORSE

The two had held onto each other for what felt like an eternity. It was one Viktor would gladly spend with Jayce, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to delve into why he felt that way.

The only thing that convinced the two to separate was the toll of their physical needs. Both of their bad legs were begging them to move to a more comfortable position. That combined with the two’s growing hunger was enough to do the trick.

Viktor bid Jayce to lay down, to rest his eyes, while he fixed some food. Jayce clung to his arm when he stood, holding him in place for a solid five minutes before relenting and letting go. Viktor hadn’t said a word the entire time it happened, only placed his hand over Jayce’s and squeezed it.

They ate silently after Viktor brought the hastily made meal back to Jayce. It honestly felt suffocating. Viktor thought there was more he should say, something like “I’m sorry,” or “I shouldn’t have gotten mad,” but he couldn’t force the words out. 

He honestly still felt like he was right. Viktor might always be bitter about the fact that Jayce still wanted to leave. If the other man’s occasional glances back towards the lab were any hint, he clearly still felt the urge to work on a way home.

Once Viktor had finished eating, he watched as Jayce only mindlessly picked at his food, pushing the chunks in the stew around with his spoon. Viktor was once again reminded by how much had truly changed.

There had been many days in the lab where Viktor had to be physically dragged away from his desk just so he could meet his basic needs. It would always be Jayce that finished his food first, though he still sat next to Viktor and silently made sure he finished as well.

Viktor was starting to hate everything that had changed. Why couldn’t they go back to that easy comradery that they had fallen into, that silent routine that brought them so much comfort and warmth?

“Viktor,” Jayce said, breaking him out of his stupor. He looked back at Jayce, who still looked like a kicked puppy. It made Viktor want to hug him again and this time never let go. “I-I can stop.” He continued quietly.

Viktor blinked once, twice. He furrowed his brow as Jayce nodded towards the lab, a silent explanation.

Oh. he was offering to give it all up. Just like that. It was what Viktor had wanted, but it brought a pit into his stomach. It would’ve made him lose his appetite if he hadn’t already finished eating.

“I-” He started, breaking off as he suddenly became very unsure of his words. Last time he managed to mess everything up, he didn’t want to repeat that so soon. He steeled himself for a decision that he would likely regret later, that would make him even more bitter with time.

“No, you deserve to go home.” He said, surprising the both of them. Jayce looked down contemplatively, then returned Viktor’s gaze with a confused expression, his mouth open as if to protest.

“This isn’t a world that we could be happy in for long,” Viktor could be happy, if he had Jayce with him. Being alone in this world seemed worse than death, but with Jayce it seemed like a paradise. “After everything that’s happened, we deserve to live an easy life with the people we love.” Jayce deserved it.

Jayce blinked at him for a moment, he looked lost on what to say. He looked down at the ground, picking at his food again before turning back to face Viktor. He smiled lightly.

“Thank you, Viktor.” He said, relief bleeding into his voice. Viktor nodded with a small hum, smiling back at him through his watering eyes.

After the incident, things went back to normal. Jayce noticeably stopped working in the lab as much. He went outside more often, insisting that he accompany Viktor on some of his expeditions.

The two of them were around the bridge now. Jayce looked over at its crumbling form as Viktor picked through a dumpster on the side of a dilapidated building. It probably would have held one of the luckier trenchers, being so close to the bridge.

Viktor found an old child’s toy that had a few gears and screws in it. It would be useful for whenever they got restless, but not for anything more than a bit of tinkering. He put it in the small sack Jayce had sewn anyway.

He turned back towards Jayce, who was leaning on his cane and staring out into the golden city. The shining bronze and pristine white were dull with age and had the same growths of arcane as the undercity did.

Viktor went up to his partner, his own cane clopping against the ground. It felt strange to be using it again, but after his fall and overextension of his bad leg, he found it more difficult to rest his weight on it without feeling sore quickly.

Jayce made him a cane when he had been out. He hadn’t said a word when he handed it to Viktor. Viktor had taken it solemnly and used it as necessary.

“Have you been across the bridge?” Jayce asked once Viktor stopped beside him. Viktor followed Jayce’s gaze. From the bridge, it was a straight shot to the hexgates. If it weren’t for the decay and crumbling of the buildings, it would have been fairly easy for them to go all the way to the top.

“No,” Viktor responded with a sigh. “It never felt right to go without you.” He added. For some reason, he almost felt guilty about it, like he was pushing an obligation onto Jayce.

Jayce sighed and Viktor turned to look at him. The man seemed to have permanent bruises under his eyes, sleeping coming to him less and less as the days went by. His mouth was set in the frown that Viktor noticed more often.

Viktor felt as though they were about to have a conversation. The kind where everything either went horribly wrong or surprisingly right. The kind where one of them broke down into tears for one reason or another.

Instead, Jayce turned his back to the golden city. He limped back towards their humble home, his own cane causing an echo that bounced through the alleyways.

A marionette turned its head to follow him as he passed. 

Viktor and Jayce sat around the fireplace. They had managed to find some wood that would be suitable enough to start a fire. With the lightbulb having finally gone out, and little hope of finding another one that wasn’t completely broken, this was the next best thing.

They sat close to one another, with the blanket around both of their shoulders. It reminded Viktor of those first few days they spent in this world. The two of them had been near inseparable, curling up together at any chance they got.

He wasn’t sure when the change happened, when things got so tense between them. Maybe it was just Jayce having finally realized that he was near cuddling with a murderer who had nearly caused a genocide. He hoped that Jayce hadn’t realized that, or that if he did he didn’t care. He hoped it had been something else.

Jayce had still only been picking at his food, taking meager bites and scrunching up his nose whenever he did. It looked like a genuine struggle to swallow it down. It was worrying Viktor. The days were getting colder and the nights were getting even worse, he needed to eat.

“Is the food not to your tastes?” Viktor asked, because this time he was the one to cook and he had no qualms about guilt tripping his partner into eating. He knew he wasn’t a better cook than Jayce, so it was very likely that he had just happened to mess it up and that was why Jayce was struggling to keep it down.

Jayce let out a huff, a small smile gracing his lips. Those were becoming rarer, Viktor realized. He blamed it on the weather. Jayce had always had a strenuous relationship with the cold, for good reason. Viktor couldn’t imagine how much worse it must be when they were living in these conditions.

Abruptly, Jayce started to cough. They were small huffs at first as he scrunched his nose. Then he started coughing into his fist and trying to clear his throat.

For a moment, Viktor stared. It felt strange being on the other side of something like this. It felt like he was watching himself from another’s eyes. He wondered how long it had taken others to notice that he had been truly sick.

With a blink, he broke out of his stupor. He grabbed the mug of still warm water and handed it to Jayce when he reached for it. The other man seemed to down it in one go, setting it down next to him with a strained exhale.

“Sorry,” Jayce muttered, “must’ve been a tickle in my throat.” He shrugged, looking at Viktor sheepishly.

Viktor looked down at his food before answering.

“It’s alright.” He said softly.

Viktor was sitting at the table, writing in the small notebook he had found around a week ago. It had a couple of pages already filled with various drawings. He had finally given Jayce something to do other than research that wasn’t needed to survive.

He had seemed happier, being able to draw little things. Viktor had even caught Jayce drawing him a couple of times, much to his surprise. It was flattering, and made his chest ache in ways he couldn’t explain.

Viktor enjoyed writing as well, little things like observations of their environment or a few poems. He had banned Jayce from reading those, and in turn promised not to snoop on his private works as well. Though, the urge was still there, and he knew Jayce felt a similar way.

Viktor had been writing down his observations of a plant he had found when their refound peace was broken again. The plant had the same arcane corruption on it, much like the plants he had experimented on with the hexcore. It was scary to think that the device still had so much influence on this place.

Viktor had been writing when he heard something shatter in the kitchen. When he heard the hitching of breath and something falling with a thud.

He sat there a moment, blinking into the doorway that led into the kitchen. Jayce had been making them lunch.

He hurried into the kitchen, practically tripping over his own two feet before steadying himself in the doorway. His breathing was ragged with panic.

Jayce sat against the cabinets next to the stove, shaking and breathing hard. There was a shattered plate next to him, along with scattered ingredients that had fallen with it.

“Jayce!” Viktor exclaimed before rushing over to him and crouching down in front of him. He didn’t react to the call, only sat there, shuddering with each ragged breath. He wasn’t looking at him, more through him, with glazed eyes.

Viktor placed a hand on his shoulder, making the man flinch and let out a sound akin to a whimper. He moved back, terrified of making things worse. He had no idea what he was even supposed to do. He’d never dealt with something like this before.

“Jayce, please, can you hear me?” he asked softly, looking for some kind of recognition. He couldn’t help if Jayce didn’t talk to him and he couldn’t stand not being able to help. He couldn’t just sit there while his partner was shaking on the floor and unresponsive.

He tried several more times to get Jayce’s attention. They all had similar results. The only difference was that Jayce had started to curl in on himself even more, with his hand digging into his hair and his knees pulled to his chest in a way that Viktor knew made his leg twinge.

It was then that Viktor noticed the blood on Jayce’s wrist. The way it was shaking so much more fiercely than the rest of him. Viktor blinked several times, then glanced over to the broken plate.

Blood was on the edges of some of the shards as well.

He turned back to analyze Jayce’s wrist. It was the same that once held his beloved rune, the rune that an older version of Viktor had gifted him to help him discover his dream. It was the rune that had been embedded into his skin and later ripped out when he gave it to Viktor and fulfilled his promise.

During the time that different worries and theories flooded through Viktor’s head, Jayce’s breathing started to get steadier. He was looking at Viktor now, looking as the other man stared dagger at his bleeding wrist. Looking at the blatant concern making his brow furrow.

“Vik?” He asked hoarsely, breaking the other man out of his stupor.

Viktor visibly flinched, but quickly recovered. He sat there with his arms outstretched for a moment, wondering if he still shouldn’t touch. The urge to hug Jayce was so perilously great. It was another foreign feeling that he wasn’t sure whether to loathe or accept.

Before he could make up his mind, Jayce grabbed his wrists and pulled him against his chest. Viktor gasped quietly, sucking in a breath. He placed his hands on Jayce’s shoulders and gripped them firmly.

“Wh-what happened?” He asked, somehow sounding worse than Jayce. He grasped Jayce’s shoulder in a death grip, like if he even thought of letting go, the other man would dissolve through his fingertips.

“I’m okay,” Jayce reassured. And how cruel was Viktor to be the one in need of reassurance? “Just-” He broke off, not yet ready to speak.

Viktor was torn between forcing it out of Jayce, of finding a way to make sure whatever just happened would never happen again, and giving him the time he needed. He bit his lips to keep his endless questions from flowing.

For a long time they remained silent. Jayce’s breathing became shallower and calmer, smooth like the morning shore. All the while Viktor had never felt so high-strung. Viktor was walking on a tight-rope, so precariously that the faintest gust of wind would make him fall.

The wind blew, and he couldn’t resist leaving himself with so many questions. He was a scientist, after all.

“What happened?” He asked again, forcefully this time. He felt Jayce’s shoulders tense, he felt the way Jayce’s jaw set firmly and his chest stuttered with another hiccuping breath. Viktor pulled away to look him in the eyes, though he kept his hands on Jayce’s shoulders.

“It just-” he tried again, pausing a moment before he fully regained his voice, “happens, sometimes.” He forced out, the words biting like a snake.

“What does?” Viktor interrogated. He felt more and more uneasy with each breath. He squeezed Jayce’s shoulders, his fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt.

“Sometimes I’m reminded of the bad things that happened and I just shut off, I don’t know.” He snapped, not looking Viktor in the eyes. The other man could see them anyway, how they were red-rimmed and still a little hazy.

“What set it off?”

“The smell.” he muttered, nodding towards one of the newt he had been chopping up to cook.

Viktor wrinkled his nose as he looked at its bloodied form. If he really paid attention, he could smell rot. The thing had gone bad, it had probably been stuffed in the back of their small pantry.

Viktor felt a pang of sorrow strike his gut. He let go of Jayce’s shoulders.

In a way, Viktor was still the cause for Jayce’s grief. Perhaps if he had never left in the first place, Jayce would have had no reason to go to the hexgates. And was it not him that left Jayce in that cave to rot for so long? Was it not him that had in some way caused all of their problems?

Neither of the two men looked at each other. Eventually, Jayce stood and went into the living room. Viktor soon heard the ruffling of covers as Jayce decided to rest early.

Viktor threw out the rotten newt, and any others that he suspected.

It was the middle of the night. Neither of them were sleeping, though they were both lying down on their shitty mattress, holding each other tightly. VIktor didn’t think that Jayce had slept the entire half day he had been laying in bed. Viktor couldn’t fault him for it.

There was something dark unfurling in Jayce’s mind. Viktor could practically see it emerging in real time. He ate less. He worked less. He even slept less now. It was all too similar to his own experiences for Viktor to not be at peace as well.

Something was in his own mind too. Something that whispered and taunted and told him to leave Jayce be. It told him that this kind, loving, beautiful man was not meant for him. It told him that he was infecting Jayce with his darkness and would continue to do so until one of them died.

He closed his eyes, willing the darkness away. It would not leave, no matter how far he pushed it away. It was always at the edge of his mind, rearing its head when he was at his weakest.

He had never felt so weak as he did now.

He was accustomed to being weak, to not being able to do things everyone else could. He was used to the days he couldn’t stand without falling, to the days he couldn’t even make himself get out of bed because the pain was so great.

He was not accustomed to being useless. To having to sit back and watch as someone he loved so dearly rotted away. He was not used to having to observe from a distance, where the only thing he could do was place a hand on his shoulder, or give him a hug once the worst of an episode was over. It all felt worthless in the long run.

Was this what Jayce had dealt with when Viktor had been dying? Had he felt as useless as Viktor did now? Did he cry and pray and beg t whatever higher being existed that things would not end this way? That he would still be given a second chance?

They both had been given what felt like a million chances, each they somehow messed up worse than the last.

The first second chance must have been when they first proved Hextech’s worth. How he longed to go back to those first days. To the time when Viktor’s illness was far enough away that he could live in the moment. He longed to go back to something as simple as the Innovator's Competition.

They would never be given another simple life like that again. And it was all his fault.

“What are you thinking about?” Jayce asked, cutting into the agonizing silence. It felt like he had just broken some kind of rule. Whenever they had both been stuck awake they only lied there in silence.

“Why don’t you hate me?” He blurted. He didn’t know the words were on his tongue. Nevertheless, they pushed their way past his lips.

“How could I?” Jayce whispered back.

“I’ve ruined everything. I killed so many people. I left you in a cave for weeks. I’ve been so cruel to you while we’ve been here.” Viktor said, listing every transgression he could in the moment. There were so many more. There were endless reasons for Jayce to hate him, to throw him away like the sump rat he was.

“All I do is make mistakes.” He finished weakly. He looked down at the pillow his head was against. He could not meet Jayce’s eyes at this moment, he couldn’t.

“The times I’ve spent with you have been the best times of my life, Viktor.” Jayce started, his voice so achingly soft. Viktor silently begged him to stop talking.

“The nights spent working in the lab when we could barely talk without sounding like we were high, one of those nights had been the first time I had heard you really laugh. I thought it was the most beautiful sound.” Jayce paused as he let out a small sigh. “Those few times I convinced you to go to brunch with me and you got the most obscenely sweet thing you could find,” stop, stop, stop Jayce had to stop!

“That first time I got you to go to one of those stupid galas with me, and you wore the most stunning suit. It was the dark purple one, almost black, with all the gold accents. All I could think about was that it would have been perfect if you had some Talis red on you.” Viktor closed his eyes tightly. He sucked in a breath.

“The first night we met,” Jayce gently wiped a tear that had snuck its way down Viktor’s cheek, “When you convinced me to fight for my dream with every tooth and nail.” He rubbed his thumb along Viktor’s cheek bone. He couldn’t keep his eyes shut any longer.

Viktor stared into Jayce’s hazel eyes. The eyes that were so sweet, and beautiful, and made him feel loved even though he deserved all the hate that the world could throw at him. His breath hitched, and it suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe at all.

“When you gave me a reason to live.” Jayce finished quietly. It felt like he was saying a vow. Viktor didn’t think he had ever seen the man wear such a bright smile. After days of nothing but small smirks that looked like he was being held at gunpoint, Viktor felt like he was staring at the galaxy itself. He was suddenly surrounded by so much color once again. And once again, the hazel stood out the brightest.

“What are we?” Viktor asked, because it had been eating him alive for the past few months that they had been entirely alone together, and if he had to wonder for another minute he would be devoured.

“Does it matter?” Jayce asked with a huff, “We’re together. I love you.”

Viktor cried then, fully cried. He felt tears track down his cheeks and snot dribble down his nose. He must have been disgusting. He must have been disgusting, but Jayce leaned in anyway.

He was horrible, and worthless, and was the reason everything had gone wrong. But Jayce still pressed his lips to Viktor’s and muttered a million promises that he would stay with him forever.

End Notes: kiss kiss smooch time <3 I'm gonna be real I do not enjoy writing kiss scenes and I cannot write smut so you guys get abstract kisses where your dirty little minds can wander whereever they want to go (or you can be really cutesy with it and give them cuddle time) anyways, things will still be getting worse and I've thought of a bad ending to give them so… (maybe it'll be a grey area ending tho I have a few different ideas) also I'm gonna guess that there are about 2 more chapters left (always subject to change) so yeah :) also fun fact I was debating making this chapter the last one and then I realized that I left so many plot holes and I still wanted them suffer I love you guys so much and you guys please manifest a snow day on friday the weather says it'll snow but my school system is borderline abusive and might not give us a snow day so let's all use the magic of friendship and summon it together!!! (If I sound insane it's because I'm horribly sleep deprived because my sleep schedule is majorly fucked :D) anyways, thx for reading! I always appreciate comments and try to reply to as many as I can <3

[may-stuff]

The Only Thing He Needs | F.C

Franco Colapinto x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Cunnilingus, p in v, creampie (in that order) typos and grammatical mistakes because english is not my first language. reader has breasts and a vagina but nothing else about her looks is specified

Word count: 3k

Author's note: Behold... my first child. It's ugly af but I love it because it's mine.

This is shorter than expected and I'm sure it'll disappoint many of you, so I apologise in advance. I'm just a girl trying to make the fandom happy.

Interactions with this thing would be appreciated, even if you want to let me know how much it sucked 💖

The sun is setting when he finally enters his room after what it felt like an eternity. The weather outside is so hot that when the cool air touches his skin he almost lets out a groan.

Franco would be lying if he said that it wasn't an extraordinary day, because it was. Despite the tremendous heat inside the car and the physical pain he went through, he did an amazing job and couldn't be prouder of himself and everything he has achieved at this point in his career. Sensing that there's a lot more to come, he can only feel excitement for the near future.

Still, even after everything that has happened and all the love and support he's received in the last couple of hours, there's something missing. Someone.

You.

You were there at the paddock during the race, but trying to avoid the media and all the fuss that would be caused if they knew of your relationship, you left the moment you saw the cameras. He hasn't seen you since then, almost three hours ago, and he wouldn't be exaggerating if he said that he is dying because of it.

You're everything he needs.

When his eyes finally find you, you're coming out of the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in nothing more than one of his old shirts. Your hair is loose and messy, your feet bare and there's that glint in your pretty eyes when you realise that now he's here in front of you, breathing the same air. Your beauty makes his heart swell with love.

His arms are wrapped around your waist the moment you literally jump into his embrace. Soon you're showering him in kisses all over his face and neck. He giggles in response, the grip on your waist increasing slightly.

"Missed you." You mutter, nose nudging the left side of his jaw. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay."

"It's okay." Franco answers. "You're here now. That's all I need."

And he means every word.

You smile in response. A smile that reaches your eyes and makes them shine with such intensity that makes him feel dizzy with love.

"You should take a shower." You don't miss the way he pouts when you pull away from him to have a better look at his face. "You stink, love."

"You love me anyway. Stinky and all."

Your laughter echoes in the entirety of the room as you walk towards the closet, where you look for a clean shirt and shorts and then toss them towards him. Rolling his eyes, he walks to the bathroom, chuckling when your voice, from the other side of the door, reminds him that you love him always.

Almost half an hour later he comes out of the bathroom, all wet hair and bare chest. He finds you in front of the bureau where you’ve put some of your clothes and he knows he should be thinking about something else right now, maybe discuss the race and his future in F1, or maybe he should tell you how much he would love to let the world know that he is yours, but all he can do is stare at you. 

Leaning on the doorframe, he observes your every move. You’re not doing something extraordinary, only going through your things, probably looking for the earrings you’ve lost again, but he isn’t afraid of admitting that every single thing you do, no matter how big or small, make you look like the most fascinating creature in existence.

Soon, as every other day, he finds himself walking in your direction. Hands itching with the need of touching you.

There's something about you. Something that lures him in like nothing else has done before. Maybe it's your hair and the intoxicating smell that touches his nostrils when he buries his face in it. Or maybe it's your skin and its taste, so sweet that it forbids him from thinking straight. It sure is the sound you make when you feel his hands on your waist.

His long fingers roam the skin of your waist and back as his lips kiss a wet trail down the right side of your neck. A soft breath leaves his mouth when his lips reach the spot right over your pulse, wasting no time in sinking his teeth in your flesh, softly but hard enough to make you hiss in pain.

"Fran." You warn him. Dainty hands touch his in an attempt to push him away, but his grip on your waist becomes stronger with the fear of losing the contact  with your skin.

"No, no. Por favor." He whimpers. He whimpers impossibly close to your ear, the agonic plea making you squirm in his arms almost against your own will.

"You bit me, Franco."

"Perdón." He cries. "Perdón. I won't do it again."

The mere thought of you leaving hurts him so bad that it is almost physical. It's been such a tough day and now all he wants is to hold you and never let go. You're the only one who can make him feel safe, at home.

There's nothing in this world that Franco loves more than having you in his arms, being able to kiss every part of you and rejoice in the way your body and soul respond to him. Always you, no one else.

“Tanta belleza..." he whispers. Hands now travel up your abdomen and then your sternum, until they finally rest on your round breasts. When he starts kneading your flesh at the same time he keeps kissing and licking the skin of your neck, you moan softly. In response he chuckles, amused by the way in which his words and touch make you forget everything.

You want to be mad at him, you want to scold him and forbid him from touching you if he bites you again, but your mind is dizzy by his kiss and the feeling of his body pressed against yours. His touch breaks your resolve and he knows it, always taking advantage of that.

Today is no exception, because soon he starts moving against you. Hips rocking forward, his growing erection brushes against the roundness of your ass, making both of you moan out loud.

"Can you feel me, baby?" He asks and he sounds desperate. You want to answer but fail miserably because of the intensity of it all. "Can you feel how hard you make me? This is all because of you, for you." 

You moan his name when he moves his hips once more, your own body meeting him halfway, desperately  looking for the contact that makes your skin shiver. 

“You have no idea,” he mutters against your skin, words interrupted by the kisses he's still giving you. “The things I want to do to you…” 

Your answer comes in a shaky breath.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

The next few minutes happen so fast that you barely have a moment to process it all. In no time you're laying on the soft bed, your shirt is long gone and the cool air kisses your skin. The only piece of clothing remaining on your body is your underwear. 

Franco is at your feet, looking at you with eyes full of need and adoration. He takes a long time taking you in, pretty eyes looking at every piece of you, and when your own hands travel from your abdomen to your breasts, repeating his actions from before, a soft whine escapes his mouth. He observes as you touch yourself for him, right hand going down until you start playing with the hem of your knickers. He licks his lips, sight fixed on the wet spot in them. 

Just before you can sneak your hand under the soft fabric, his long fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you aside. He takes no time in replacing you, taking both sides of your panties and pulling them down. In no time they're being thrown to some place on the ground, long forgotten for the rest of the night. 

Hands on both of your knees, he spreads your legs open and lets out a shaky breath the moment your dripping cunt is finally on display. He has seen you like this countless times before but he always reacts the same way: enamoured with every part of your body. He wants to taste everything he can, he wants to drink from you until you beg him to stop.

And that's what he does.

Flat tongue travels from your hole to right under your clit, repeatedly, during a few tortuous seconds that feel like hours. Spreading you open with his thumbs, Franco keeps licking you there until you're the one whining and begging him to give you more. 

In response, you feel him smirk between your legs.

“You want more, huh?”

“Please. Fran, por favor.”

He chuckles.

“Qué putita que sos.”

You want to answer but nothing comes out of your mouth. Nothing but a high pitched moan when his lips finally lick your clit. Before you can even process what's happening, he's suckling on your bundle of nerves like it is the most delicious thing he's ever had the pleasure to taste. When your hands take a handful of his hair and tug at it softly, deep moans sound on the back of his throat and the vibrations rumble through your entire body, making your back arch in pleasure.

There's nothing better than this. His mouth on you, kissing, licking, making sounds that would make even the boldest of men blush. He eats you out like his life depends on it, ignoring the need for air in his lungs because all the oxygen he needs is in you, in your skin, in the very taste of you. He drinks from your juices as if they are the sweetest ambrosia, giving him life, giving him everything he needs. Nothing else, no one else but you.

You keep moaning his name louder and louder, not caring if others are listening. You'll deal with that later, but right now there's nothing in this world that could make you stop from letting him know how you feel.

“So good…” you moan. “You make me feel so good, baby.” 

He moans as well. Hips rocking against the bed cover, unconsciously looking for release. Your words are music to him, because all he wants is to make you feel so good that you forget everything else. Everything else but him. 

“You're soaked.” He groans after gathering your arousal on his tongue and then swallowing it. “Is this because of me, amor?”

Once again, you want to answer but his actions interrupt you. This time, your words get stuck in your throat by two of his long fingers entering you. Carefully, making sure he doesn't hurt you, but the only thing you can feel is the immense pleasure spreading all over your body, legs shaking slightly with the feeling of his fingers starting to move inside of you at the same time his lips wrap around your clit again, suckling with need. 

You moan his name like a mantra, both hands gripping his hair as your hips start to move almost involuntarily, rubbing yourself on his face as you look for your own release. He doesn't protest for a second, in fact, he grabs your ass in his hands to move you closer to his face and now it's impossible to part away from him, tongue and lips torturing your puffy clit as you cry out in pleasure. 

And then he does something that he's never done before.

His teeth grazes your sensitive bundle of nerves ever so slightly and that sends you to the edge. You have no time to react because soon entire galaxies are exploding behind your closed eyes. Some sort of electricity makes your body tremble as you cum on his tongue, and for a moment you feel like you are touching the sky with your hands. Seconds that feel like an eternity, you want to feel like this for the rest of your life. 

When you come back from some wonderful place you've never been before, you find yourself still laying on the bed, but this time Franco's on top of you. He's waiting for you to recover, only caressing your sides with his hands and leaving short kisses on your collarbone and chest. 

He knows you're back when you intertwine your fingers in his soft hair. 

“You okay?” He asks. You nod in response, a content smile on your lips. “Need you to use your words, baby.”

“I'm fine.” You answer. “Better than ever.”

He purrs like a kitten when your hands travel down his back, caressing his soft skin for a few moments. Then you remember that you’re the only one that has had an orgasm tonight, the realisationg making you feel incredibly guilty. Part of loving him is taking care of him as much as he does with you. That’s why it feels wrong, leaving him like this.

Your gaze finds his. He’s hovering over you now, one arm supporting his own weight as the other is in your face, fingertips brushing against your cheek and jaw. His big, pretty eyes are looking at you as if he’s trying to decipher you, and soon he does. It scares you sometimes, how easily he can read your thoughts by the expression on your face. 

“You don’t have to, you know?” He mutters. 

You kiss him softly, tasting yourself on his lips. 

“Of course I have to,” you object. “Because I love you.”

Franco smiles as you sit and motion to him to now lay on his back. He complies, never denying anything to you. 

Soon you’re kissing him again but this time you’re the one on top, legs on both sides of his hips. The sounds leaving his mouth are intoxicating and, trying to coax more out of him, you take your hands to the waistband of his boxer and pull them down, just as he did with your underwear before. 

You wish you could take your time with him but you know that he won’t last long. His cock is impossibly hard, precum dripping out of the angry red tip. That’s why his reaction when you touch him doesn't surprise you; he’s at the edge and it won’t take much time for him to come undone in your arms.

“Amor…” he moans as you stroke him, spreading his juices all over his beautiful dick. You know what he wants. He’s trying to tell you that he can’t wait any longer, that all he wants is to feel you. 

So you comply. 

Both of you moan the exact moment he enters you, hard cock stretching you out in such a delicious way that has you closing your eyes tight. You’re so wet that he slides in easily, filling you completely. 

Your name leaves his lips in a plea that makes you move in no time. The friction coaxing more sounds out of the both of you. He whispers sentences that are never finished, words both in English and Spanish that have no coherence. He’s so lost in the bliss of having your sweet cunt wrapped around him that can barely speak properly. 

“You look so beautiful like this…” he manages to say, the phrase interrupted many times by his own moans. “Riding my cock… so, so good…”

In response you move faster. You can feel him inside of you, twitching with the need of release that will soon arrive. His grip on your waist tightens as you ride him faster and faster each time, breasts bouncing with your moves and that, too, sends him over the edge. 

“Fran…” you moan, your eyes pleading. “Come on, baby. Fill me up.”

Those words and your walls hugging his dick with such intensity are enough to make him cum. He reaches his orgasm in seconds, warm seed spilling deep inside of you and triggering your own climax, which is shorter than the previous one but even more intense.

You keep moving for a few seconds, milking his cock a little more. When you start feeling him going soft you decide to take him out of you, hearing him moan one more time as he watches his own semen dripping out of you. 

The way he looks after he has an orgasm is one of the most gorgeous things you’ve seen in your life. Hair dishevelled, skin glistening with sweat and pretty eyes full of satisfaction, he’s drunk in love and adoration for you and you love it. You love seeing him like this, knowing that you’re the reason behind it all. 

“You’re perfect.” you whisper to him, your lips hovering over his. “The prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”

Franco smiles as his right hand comes up to caress your hair lovingly. Now, after the intensity of the love-making, both of you long for your lover’s touch in a more innocent way, in a way that can soothe all the aches. 

You stay like that, resting in each other’s arms, for what it feels like hours. After a while and starting to feel a little sleepy, you sit up on the bed. He looks in your direction, surprised and almost offended with you for pulling away from him. 

“What are you doing?” he asks. 

“We need to take a shower, come on.” 

You try to get off the bed, but his strong arm is around you in an instant, taking you back to his side. You giggle as he holds you tight and starts biting at your neck.

“There’s no way I’m letting you go,” he says. “You’re staying here with me forever.”

“But we can’t!” You laugh again. “We need to have a shower and eat something.”

“No, no.” This time his tone is more serious. His hands are both on your cheeks, softly making you look at him in the eyes. “You are the only thing I need.” 

For a second you want to scold him for not taking his own well being seriously, but then a smile appears on your face, leaving the previous frown behind, because now you realise that you feel the same way.

.

taglist: @bicchaan @amz824 @joyfulbookreviewmarvelspy

[luveline]

hii hope youre doing well! could i request coworker!james where r comes in to work sick and he gets worried?

fem!reader, 1.3k

It’s getting old, the whole charade. James didn’t like you and now he does. You used to piss him off, now you don’t. Somehow, someway, he’s seen parts of you he couldn’t help but love, in your voice, how you talk; in your hands, your touch; in your emails worst of all. Who ever thought that James could fall in love on Outlook? 

Dearest desk mate,

Where are you? It’s 9.45 and you aren’t here. You realise work starts at 8.30? Besides my worry, I need the invoice for Lang and Co. and Remus doesn’t have them either.

You’re my only hope, 

James

You email back a stringy fifteen minutes later. 

James, 

I’ll be there soon. I can’t attach the file from my phone but I will send it to you the second second I get there, I know you asked meyesterday. I’m sorry for holding you up .

James reads your email with a frown. Your typos are unlike you. He wonders if perhaps you’re texting and driving, which is abhorrent, but you walk into the office a minute later, so you must’ve been responding to him as you walked. 

You duck straight into the manager’s office. James can hear you say sorry before the door is fully closed, craning his neck for a good look at you. 

Remus laughs shamelessly. “Worried about her?” 

“About who?” he asks, even as his chair creaks and threatens to snap under his weight, leaning back to see you through the frosted glass. 

“She’s not going anywhere now she’s here, James. Nobody stops by for social visits.” 

James relents when he realises you may be in there for a little while. The rain today is aggressive against the window, condensation dripping down the windows to pool atop the radiators. You hate it; you love the radiators when they’re working in the winter, but sad summer days with rubbish weather bog you down. Either way, the condensation wets your elbows or gathers on your desk —it’s not nice. James grabs a wad of tissues from the box on his desk and begins his quick mission. 

“Oh, my god. Jamie, you can’t be serious.” 

“I'm avoiding electrocution.” 

“You’re cleaning up for her,” Remus says, putting his face in his hand to watch him with a softer smile, “it’s nice of you, really, but you can’t expect me to pretend I believe you when you say you don’t like her for much longer if you’re going to do stuff like this.” 

“Now say that five times fast.” 

His heart drops when you clear your throat, caught, sodden tissue in hand. You don’t eyeball him, there’s no scorn, you clear your throat again and all but collapse into your seat. 

“Hey,” James says. 

You tip your head back. “Hi, James.” Your eyes are bloodshot, and, to James’ surprise, you aren’t wearing a lick of makeup. You look very pretty but very tired, too. 

“You okay?” 

Remus bends around the desktop. “Yeah, are you okay? 

“I’m fine,” you drop your head back with some vertigo, and press your hands to your eyes. “I’m not very well, is all.” 

“What’s wrong?” Remus asks. 

“Just poorly. Um, I have a bad headache, and my ears are ringing, but it’s not unmanageable. I’m full of sudafed.” 

“Can’t you go home? We can manage without you until you’re better,” Remus says.

“I had all that time off a few weeks ago,” you say. You’d been ill not so long ago. 

“You can have some of my sick days,” James says immediately. 

You rub your eyes hard enough to make James’ ache in sympathy. “Doesn’t work like that.” 

“You really shouldn’t be here if you’re sick,” James says. 

“I won’t get you sick, I promise. I brought hand sanitizer, I’m not sneezing or coughing, I’m just aching.” Your movements are lethargic as you lean back in your chair, the slow roll of your shoulders and the limp cross of your arms over your stomach hard to ignore. 

James rounds the desk to chuck his tissues in the little bin beneath it. “I don’t think either of us are worried about you getting us sick, lovely.” 

Your face crumples quickly and neatens up again just as fast. “My head just hurts,” you say, rubbing your forehead. You manage to summon a wobbly smile despite your pinched brows. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” 

If it were Sirius, James would thrust a bottle of water and a pack of ibuprofen at him and tell him to chill out. It it were Remus, the expression would turn his heart, and he’d give his friend a good pat on the back. You aren’t Sirius nor Remus, you’re not so close to him that James knows what to do, but what use is he if he doesn’t try?

“Can I make you a cup of tea?” James asks. 

“That’s cruel,” Remus says, “your tea is like milky disappointment.” He stands with a smile James hates, some playful conniving mixture with good intentions deep, deep down. “I’ll make it. James, why don’t you turn the radiator?” 

“Is that okay?” James asks. 

“What?” 

“Do you think that’ll make you feel better, the radiator?” James asks. 

“I can do it.”

“No, it’s okay, it hurts your hand. I’ll turn it up.” He weaves back in between your chair and the radiator. Your desk is close enough to be faced with your thighs, but James doesn’t get half as distracted by them as he does your twitchy face. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks. 

“You and Remus worry too much.” You give him the side eye. “Why do you care?” 

“I think we’re a little bit past pretending we don’t like each other, aren’t we?” 

He turns the radiator on with less struggle than he’s anticipating and holds his hand to the bottom until he feels the metal warming. “Tell me if that gets too hot for you,” he says, standing. 

“Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.” 

“No, really,” you say, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “thanks for worrying about me. I’ll feel better in an hour.” 

“Did you eat breakfast?” He brings his hand up to wipe a stray fibre from your cheek, “Why were you late?” 

“I…” Your eyes follow his hand as he lowers it. Emboldened, James raises it again, wiping at a phantom fibre. “What is it?” 

“Little hair on your cheek.” 

“I slept late, and I felt strange in the car so I parked for a bit, and… I don’t know. I should’ve stayed home, but you know what he’s like about sick days.” 

“You feel alright now, other than the headache?” 

“Just heavy.” 

James spots Remus coming back and steps away. “You’ll be alright, okay? Don’t worry too much. Do some of the top spreadsheets and we can manage the rest.” 

“You don’t have to do that for me.” 

James does, really. Remus gives you your mug of tea and one of the plastic wrapped muffins from the kitchen, both boys keeping watch over you like a vigil. If you were well enough to notice you’d complain, but you spend the next few hours sipping at your tea as it turns cold, and nibbling at little bits of muffin, clearly tired. 

You email James the Lang and Co. invoices four hours after he’s asked for them with a sorry and a frowny face emoticon. James wants to kiss you on the forehead, feels it so strongly it becomes a different kind of wanting, to look after you and for you to want him to do that. He’s in way too deep. There’s not much he can do. 

“You want some more tea?” he asks, leaning over to grab your discarded mug.

“Yeah, please, Jamie.” 

James’ fingers wobble around the mug. 

Remus glances up from his phone. 

“Of course,” James says, smiling, “coming right up.” 

Jamie, he thinks. Friends call him Jamie. He can be your friend, he’d love to be your friend, but Jamie. Even sick, you say it sweetly. He trips over himself trying to get what you asked. 

[theereina]

The End

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +2.8K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, no smut, heavily dialogue-centered, adultery/infidelity, angst, heartbreak

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels.

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

“So, we're still on for dinner right?” Terry asked kissing Athena's cheek. “Of course, I just don't want you to cancel this time,” she said kissing his forehead.

They were in their bed facing each other. This was unfortunately becoming a recurring conversation for them. They would plan to have dinner together, and somehow, he would always have to cancel. Athena had spent so many nights on unplanned solo dates and was tired of it.

She understood Terry's work life, but he had yet to find a balance. “I'm sorry, baby. Forgive me. After all of this, I swear we’re takin’ a break. We can go wherever you want,” he said pulling her closer to him. His arms wrapped tightly around her body. This is what she wanted. This is what she was fighting so hard for.

They had been married six years, and she knew this man like the back of her hand. Athena knew when work got stressful for him. She knew when he was getting sick. She knew when his anxiety was about to flare. She knew everything, so why wouldn't he consider that she would know this, too? The secret he was hiding wasn't work-related. Those late nights weren't for business reports and last-minute contracts, unfortunately.

Athena had known for almost four months now. She kept her mouth shut thinking her husband would tell her, but he didn't. She loved him too much to let this come between them, but this was getting hard. All she wanted was for him to be honest, but now it felt too late.

“Alright, mister. I'm holding you to that,” Athena said snuggling into his chest. She was honestly taking it all in, committing things to memory— his smell, the way his breathing sounded, the patchiness of his beard, the strength of his calloused hands, and the sound of his voice in the morning. This couldn't be Athena's life. There was no way that this was the marriage she prayed so hard for. She wasn't asking for the perfect husband. Her bare minimum was honesty and communication, but Terry wasn't giving her either.

Athena began to doze off in Terry's embrace. The comfort he brought her would be something she would miss—. Why? “Terry, if something was wrong would you tell me?” she said moving to look up at him. “Hmm… What do you mean, baby?” Terry said looking down at her, loosening his embrace. “You’d tell me if you didn't love me anymore?” she asked as her face turned somber and flooded with sadness. “Oh, baby. I'll always love…,” Terry began.

ring ring

And, there it goes— that fucking phone. The one that goes off during every moment they have together. She could never have Terry to herself. He leaned back and picked up the phone. He stared at the screen, looking back at Athena. “Go ahead. I'll just go get ready,” Athena said with tears brimming in her eyes. She threw the covers back and rose from the bed. She knew this was one or two things— work or his other…

Athena walked into their bathroom and began her morning routine. She turned on the shower and stood at the sink. Clenching her fists against the counter, Athena let it out. Months of tears came flooding out. Every emotion had boiled over, and she couldn't take it anymore.

Today was the day. It was already planned out. In the next coming 12 hours, Athena's life would change.

*7 hours later

Terry was in his office waiting for the day to end. He had been on edge all day because of what Athena asked. Did she know? She couldn't know. He had covered his tracks. There was no way she could know.

knock knock

“Yes, come in!” Terry announced, sitting up in his office chair. “Sup, you still going to the party, tonight?” asked Terry's best friend Corbin. “Nah, I promised Athena a date. Can't miss this one,” Terry said twirling a pen between his fingers. “Never stopped you before,” Corbin mumbled under his breath. Terry's eyes shot up to meet Corbin's face. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Terry snapped.

Corbin took a deep breath. “You know exactly what I mean, T. Don't act stupid!” Corbin spat back. “Don't worry about what the fuck I got going on. Remember, we both have situations going on. I ain't the only one,” Terry said standing up from his desk. “You're right, but only one of us is married!” Corbin said squaring his shoulders. “So, fiancé means nothing to you? I wonder how Miranda would feel?” Terry taunted walking around his desk. “Let’s not compare situations. I definitely can't compete with the new add-ons you got,” Corbin said, tapping Terry in the chest. Terry slapped his hand away. Corbin raised his hands and backed away. “Fuck you!” Terry said leaning on the desk. “Whatever!” Corbin said backing out and leaving the office.

As Terry began to sink into his thoughts, his office phone rang. “Terry speaking,” he said. “Mr. Richmond, there is a woman here looking for you. I tried to tell her she needed an appointment, but…,” said Terry's receptionist. “Name?” Terry asked walking back to his office chair. “She said you'll know, and something about a little issue,” his receptionist replied. Terry froze. This was against their agreement. She was never supposed to show up at his home or office. What if Athena was here?

Terry clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders. “Send her in. Hold all calls until further notice,” he said, hanging up the phone.

*3 hours later

Athena was in her car, heading to her parent's home in Georgia. She had been crying the whole ride. She had packed up all of her stuff and was going back home. Her brother was driving behind her in the Uhaul she rented. She couldn't believe that this was her life right now. Athena pulled over into the gas station and pulled up to the pump. She sat in the car, waiting. Waiting for something. Anything.

Someone to wake her up.

Someone to pinch her.

Someone to tell her this wasn't real.

Something.

Athena was startled by her brother knocking on the window. She rolled down the window and looked at her brother. “Sis, you should've gotten someone else to drive,” he said reaching in to wipe her tears. “I'm okay. It gives me something to focus on,” she said dropping her head. “Nah, I'm calling one of my friends. He'll meet us here. He doesn't stay that far away. He'll drive the Uhaul while I drive you. Okay?” he lulled. “I'm okay,” she said. “No, ‘Thena. I'm calling him, and that's final. I don't trust you driving like this,” he said walking away and entering the gas station.

*1 hour later

Terry was rushing to get to the restaurant. Of course, he was late. He had stopped at a local store and picked up two bouquets. One was sunflowers while the other was red roses. He wanted to sweeten things over with Athena. He was aware that he had been fucking up lately.

As he pulled into the restaurant, he searched the parking lot for Athena's car. He couldn't see it anywhere. He circled the parking lot to be sure. He parked near the front and checked his phone before getting out. She hadn't called or texted. “Maybe she took an Uber or Lyft,” he said aloud to himself. He straightened the collar of his shirt and adjusted his tie. He reached over and grabbed the flowers before exiting.

As he approached the restaurant doors, he did one final scan of the parking lot. No Athena. He entered the oyster bar and approached the hostess's desk. “Table for two under Terry,” he said to the middle-aged black woman. “Yes, ouuu… almost missed our grace period. Cutting it kind of close there, darling,” she laughed. “Is the other guest not here? I mean, did someone not check in under the reservation, yet?” Terry asked pulling out his phone. “Uh, no. No one checked in under that reservation, sir,” she replied.

Terry was confused. Where the hell was Athena? She had texted him confirming that she was on the way to the restaurant, so where was she? He followed the woman to a booth in the rear of the restaurant. “Someone will be with you shortly,” she said after seating him. Terry sat down and immediately pulled his phone out again.

He immediately began to text Athena.

Message not delivered

Terry stared at the screen. How? He checked his service and made sure everything was on. He tried again.

Message not delivered

What the fuck was going on? He quickly tried to call Athena. It instantly went to voicemail. He tried again and got the same result. Terry called Miranda, Athena’s best friend and Corbin's fiancé.

Miranda answered, “Yes, Terry?” “Have you talked to to Athena?” he asked shifting in his seat. He was growing worried. Did something happen to her on the way here? “Of course, I did. She is my best friend after all,” she responded snidely. Terry immediately heard the tone of her voice. “Miranda, where is she?” he asked holding the bridge of his nose. “Gone!” Miranda blurted. “What do you mean gone?” Terry said. He was becoming visibly upset. The waiter began to approach the table, but Terry waved her away. “Exactly what the fuck I said,” Miranda snapped. “Miranda, don't fucking play with me right now!” Terry grunted into the phone. “Why don't you go home and check since you don't believe me,” Miranda said hanging up.

Terry pushed his chair back and grabbed the flowers from the table. Terry rushed out of the restaurant. He threw the flowers onto the passenger seat and climbed into his car. He needed to get home immediately.

*45 minutes later

Terry flung the front door of their home open. Athena's car wasn't in the driveway or the garage. This was starting to piss him off. He searched the entire first floor. Hearing what he thought were footsteps, he ran up the stairs and practically kicked open their bedroom door. It wasn't. Athena had left their bedroom window open and the heavy curtains were thudding against the wall. He rushed to the window and slammed it shut.

“Fuck! Athena! Where are you?” he yelled. As he turned around, he noticed a note on the bed. On top of the note was Athena's wedding ring. He sat on the bed prepared to read the note but stopped when he saw that their closet door was open. Athena's side was empty. Scanning the room, he realized that ALL of Athena's things were gone.

Terry pulled out his phone and tried to text and call Athena over and over again. Nothing had changed. He was still getting sent to her voicemail, and his messages were undelivered. Terry's heart sank for the first time that night— Athena had blocked him. He went to her social media accounts to be met with user not found. She had blocked him on everything.

Terry stood up from the bed furious and full of rage. There was no way Athena had just left him. Terry called Corbin, but he sent him to voicemail, too. Immediately, Terry's phone vibrated from a message notification.

Corbin: THEY KNOW!!!

That means Miranda knew and that ATHENA KNEW, TOO!

This couldn't be how everything played out. There was no way. Yes, his shit had gotten sloppy in the last few months, but how? Terry leaned on the bedroom dresser, letting his head fall into his hands.

He knew it was coming he just thought he had more time. More time to figure this shit out.

Terry looked up into the mirror attached to the dresser. He couldn't stand to look at himself. How could he let this happen? He slammed his fists onto the dresser, and the force cracked the glass. Terry looked up to see his reflection in the broken glass. His eyes lingered over himself before he punched the glass. Throwing his arms across the dresser, he sent everything to the floor. Glass began flying everywhere.

Terry threw himself onto the bed. Lying on his back, he could feel the heat coursing through his body. He felt his eyes growing heavy with tears. He looked over on the other side of the bed to see the note still resting there.

He picked it up and unfolded it. Pictures fell out and hit his chest. They were all pictures of him and— Eliza, his mistress. The woman he had been seeing for over two years. Terry flipped through the photos. He realized that the photos had to have been taken over a few months. How had she known this long?

Terry finally realized that Athena was asking questions because she already knew the answers. Terry's heart stopped at the last photo. It was him holding— TJ, him and Eliza’s 6-month-old son. Shit! She knew about the baby, too. That explains why she kept asking him why they were still waiting to start a family. He thought she was nagging, but in reality, she was hurt.

She knew he had a mistress and an outside child. He hadn't meant for this to happen. Eliza was only supposed to be a one-night stand, but it just kept happening. They kept seeing each other because she was friends with Corbin's mistress. They kept ending up at the same parties and clubs. He tried to break it off with her on more than one occasion. Then, something would happen with Athena and he would just go running back. This wasn't Athena's fault, but he felt it wasn't entirely his either— he thought. Athena kept having to travel back and forth to Georgia while her father was going through chemo. She was starting to work more hours. She was always tired. She never had time for him, on the other hand, Eliza was always right there— one call away and easy to access.

Terry held the letter in his hands and began to read.

Dear Terry,

I don't know what to say or how to start this, so here it goes.

To my love, I gave you my all for 9 years. I planned my life to sync with yours— as your wife and best friend. I wanted nothing more than to fulfill all of the promises we made each other throughout this lifetime.

I asked and asked, sometimes I maybe even begged for you to see it. I wanted you to care enough to see through my nagging and realize I was hurting. I was dying on the inside for months. I had to watch you be a lover to someone else while all I wanted was your comfort. I had to watch you be a father while you refused to allow me to even be a mother. You chose to postpone all of my dreams of having a family to work on your career. I let you do that because I loved you. All while you were standing in my face and sleeping in our bed knowing that you had one all along. It just wasn't with me.

Was I the problem? Was I not good enough? There wasn't a thing that you asked that I didn't do. I've been questioning my worth for months trying to see where I went wrong. Chasing you and begging you to love me like you once did. A love I know you're capable of, but I just haven't felt from you in a long time.

My heart was breaking every day with every question. I wanted you to tell me the truth. Be honest and give me hope that maybe this was a simple mistake. A mistake that we could work through together. But mistakes are made once. You were making a choice. A choice to love another woman and become a father outside of us.

With that being said, I can't hold anger in my heart for you we both know that. That’s something I'm not capable of. All I can offer you is forgiveness and peace. Peace to do whatever you want. I'm no longer in your way. Be free. This is the end. Our end.

P.S. After reading this letter, I hope you become a better man for the family you created. He's beautiful, by the way. He has his father’s eyes.

Love always,

Thena

Taglist: @vivaalenaa @persethegawd @simplyzeeka @phomoe @ariiijestertheklown @slutsareteacherstoo @avoidthings @brattyfics

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @5headsupremacist @creartivefairy @nayaesworld @theglamclosetsl @androgynousgaz

@insidefeelingofanadult @blyffe @mymindisneverhere @writingsbytee @revealingco @pocketsizedpanther

@disc0fairy @uzumaki-rebellion @planetblaque @kindofaintrovert @notapradagurl7 @gg-trini @babybratzmaraj

@sageispunk @gwenda-fav @blowmymbackout @megamindsecretlair @helloncrocs

@beenathembo

[starhvney]

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐔𝐏

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mcd garroth, gene, laurance, travis

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff? literal hurt/comfort

𝐂𝐖: mentions of injuries but no in-depth descriptions

𝐀/𝐍: me when i spend more time finding the pictures for a good picture header than actually writing. i also did not proofread at all so i'm so sorry for any typos or hiccups in my writing

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇

the fight has long since been over, yet after searching every corner of the village, you still saw no sign of the head guard. as your last resort, you hurriedly rush across the ruined plaza, climbing over rubble as you descend into the village mines. 

you find him there, tucked back in the main tunnel and slumped over as he holds a cloth over a gash on his side. his gloved hand fumbles with some medic supplies, though his shaky hold renders himself useless as they tumble to the floor.

“garroth,” you sigh, relieved but also annoyed by his insistence on never asking for help.

he flinches, caught off guard by the blood loss dulling his senses. even now, he stoically has every layer of his armor on except for his chest plate, even his helmet stays firmly against his skull.

“i’ll be alright, my lady,” he starts, though the pained wince he lets out a moment later immediately discounts him for his claims. 

quietly, you approach him, kneeling in front of him and pulling the first aid items out of his grasp. while you can’t see his face, you hear him inhale sharply to protest against you. you silence him with a stern glare, to which he sinks back into the uncomfortable stone without a word. 

“you are much too stubborn,” you chastise, reaching to his other hand to remove it from his wound. “your pride will get you killed.”

you cringe as he peels away the blood-soaked cloth to reveal a deep gash along his side. it's a slash and not a stab, thankfully, but it would still need stitches.

it seems he already knew that, based on the thread and needle he had yet to even tie together. while maneuvering the stitching thread into the eye of the needle, you listen to his shallow and shaky breathing underneath his helm.

“aren’t you having trouble breathing with that?”

“…no.”

your eyes dart up, narrowing at the eye slits of the metal in front of you. 

“it's just me. i understand you want to hide your identity, but when it comes to your health—“

you lift your hands up to his helm, firmly placing them on each side before pausing, waiting to hear for any protests. when you hear none, you slowly lift the metal, sliding it off of his head and revealing what was underneath.

for just a moment you freeze, eyes locking onto his. his hair was a stunning sandy blonde that brushed over his brow line in soft curls. they stuck to his forehead, that had a sheen of sweat over it. you could tell his stunning eye color was dulled over by pain, eyelids drooping and his lips pale.

“…there,” you set the helm down, focusing back on his wound. “now you can breathe better, right?”

“…yes.” he winces, leaning back on your command and revealing his wound again.

carefully, you stitch the wound closed, lifting his linen shirt up enough to allow yourself to wrap the bandaging around his stomach. when you’re done you sit back, wiping your hands against your already dirtied clothes and releasing a deep sigh.

you look up, watching as his jaw clenches and his eyes dart to your feet. he still looks pale, but he at least looks more stable than before.

“garroth.” you call, voice barely above a whisper.

his eyes trail up to yours, hesitant and full of a strange sort of guilt.

“you did a good job protecting me. protecting the whole village. but even the strongest need help,” you take his hand in yours. “at least let one person take care of you in return. i was really worried about you.”

he doesn’t say anything, but you know he understands, swallowing down his deep-set need for independence to put himself in your shoes for a moment.

“there’s a cot down here. why don’t you rest, and i’ll bring you back some food and drink to help you regain your strength.”

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄

you knew something was strange, when the beginnings of the evening cricket chirps grew silent, a heavy feeling settling around your cottage. despite the uneasiness and natural instinct that told you to run, you instead looked around the area for the source.

despite the lack of night critters, you notice a strange fluttering of butterflies dispersing from the other side of some shrubbery. you push through the leaves and twigs, noticing the further you advanced the more wilted the plants became. 

on the other side was a man in strange armor you hadn’t seen before. the metal must’ve been smoldering hot, somehow, because the grass around it wilted and burned away from its touch. despite the strange sense of uneasiness in your chest, you take a few steps towards the man, his form slumped over a large stump.

“sir? are you alright?”

he flinches, hand moving unnaturally quick towards a large sword you didn’t realize he had by his side until now. you stumble back with a startled gasp, hands raising in surrender. dark circles line deep blue eyes, black hair stuck on his face where blood poured from a wound.

“i’m not an enemy!” you quickly say. “that injury looks bad, i can help. i’ll go get some bandages for you.”

you quickly run back to your cottage, retrieving your satchel of medical supplies before he could say a word. whoever he was, he seemed dangerous. and the faster you help him the quicker he’ll be on his way and the less likely anything else dangerous is led to you. when you return, he’s still there, though he’s propped himself up in a sitting position and leaning back against the stump.

“i don’t need any help.”

“well those wounds look pretty deep. and… you’re the one who ended up near my home, so,” you carefully approach him, heart beating erratically fast in your chest. it felt like you were approaching a predator—a wild animal pretending to be a man. “the faster i help you, the less likely whatever did this to you comes near my garden.”

his gaze stayed trained on you for a moment, piercing into you as you kneel next to him. his eyes were a beautiful shade, yet so strangely unsettling and dull. as you glance at them, it almost appears as no light shines from them at all. he smirks, a strangely amused laugh leaving his lips like he found your assistance to be completely entertaining.

“ah, there’s the motive.”

you ignore him, instead using a cloth to wipe away the blood from the side of his head.

“what’s your name?”

“what’s yours?”

you restrain a sigh, biting back the sarcastic quip you wanted to return and instead reciting your name back to him.

“…gene.”

“nice to meet you… gene. how did you get this hurt? are you…” you glance down at his strange armor and sword. “a guard, our some kind of soldier…?”

he says nothing.

“alright, then,” you clear your throat. “no more questions.”

you finish cleaning his head and neck, where another wound was, and carefully place the healing ointment you made from your own magicks herbs. trying to ignore the strange sense that you needed to run away, you finish up your work by placing bandages over the gashes… that seemed to already be healing pretty quickly. 

“there. you’re set.”

a small, “thanks,” leaves his lips, and the two of you met eyes. he seems to contemplate something, before another huffing out another amused laugh.

“you’re very…naive. you should be careful.”

“…what?”

his hand is suddenly in front of your face, cold fingers touching against the skin of your forehead and dragging down, brushing your eyelids closed. somehow your eyes grow impossibly heavy, your head too much to hold up as you slump over, landing in the arms of ge…

…of…who again?

the birds chirp the next morning as you groggily wake from what felt like a coma of slumber. you feel like there was something important you needed to take care of, but you must’ve fallen asleep early last night. you must’ve been exhausted… you don’t even remember carrying yourself into bed. 

oh, that’s right! you had to help… you had to… what was it you were up to last night?

your slump from where you sit, blinking at the floor in confusion.

it must not have been too important.

𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

it’s terrifying, looking into blood red eyes where iridescent pale blue ones had been before. it had only been a split moment—you two were ambushed, a thief’s sword grazing against your cheek and knocking you backwards in surprise as a whole gang of them emerged from the tree line.

laurance suffered an arrow wound, but before you could panic it wasn’t his blood that soaked the ground… but instead the whole dozen of men who tried to attack you.

you stare horrified as dark red drips from him, unsure if it was his own or from the bodies around him. he’s breathing, so heavily, face turned away from you as he stills in the center of his carnage. a few moments pass like this, your eyes trained cautiously on the dulled shade of caramel hair that lays messily on his head. 

“…laurance?” you call out quietly, your voice barely a timid whisper.

he turns to look at you, eyes red and glazed over as he begins to trudge towards you. something about the dark circles and his paled skin splattered with blood frightened you, your uncertainty heightened by his silence and now much taller frame. he towers over you, breaths heavy and sword still tightly gripped in his hand.

“it’s me!” you shakily yelp, regretting your reaction immediately when he flinches, eyes widening.

“…and i’m me.” he frowns, his larger hand brushing against your injured cheek. “you’re scared of me.”

“…no.”

he stares at you, eyebrows pinched together. he doesn’t call you out on your bluff with words, but the look he gives you is enough.

“i felt that something was off. i should’ve done something sooner.”

“it caught me off guard, too. we’re both tired, so—“

“i’m supposed to protect you. now you’re hurt.”

“it’s only a graze, laurance.” you silence his anger towards himself, your hands reaching up to cup his cheeks. “you’re hurt more than me.”

you reach in your satchel, pulling out some healing ointment and bandages you were sure to pack for the journey. he begins to shake his head, hand engulfing yours as he stops you.

“i’ll heal on my own. you know that shadow knights—“

“this will help you heal faster. and help with the pain.”

he sighs, taking a seat on a nearby rock and complying with your insistence despite the lack of need for it.

there were only a few gashes that were deep enough to not be sealed up immediately, dark red blood oozing from the lacerations. you put your focus on cleaning each one, swiping on the ointment and wrapping the bandages carefully onto his wounds.

when you look back up at his face those calm blue eyes have returned, staring back at you as they dart over your face. he takes the ointment from your hands, and with two fingers he motions for you to come closer.

you do so without much hesitation, allowing his finger to dip into the ointment and dab it across your injured cheek. he lingers his hand there for only a few moments longer, before looking away and putting your things back into your satchel.

“thank you, laurance.”

“stay right next to me,” he looks back up, tone and eyes insistent. “for the rest of the way. okay?”

it’s more of a demand than a request, but you simply nod in agreement, unable to refuse him.

“okay.”

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒

“take your shirt off.” you sigh, sitting next to travis as you dig through your bag.

“woah!” he laughs, a cheeky smirk stretching across his face. “way to be direct.”

you pause, glaring over at him with an unimpressed stare.

“i will add to those injuries. just do it—“

“okay! okay!” he raises his hands up, wincing at the pull of his skin against his wounds. “ow…”

he begins to peel his bloodied tunic from his skin, wincing as he attempts to lift it over his shoulders. you restrain another sigh before you take a glance down at his injuries, instead feeling pitiful at the state he was in. standing in front of him, you help him slide the fabric over his head and off his arms, leaving his whole torso exposed. 

a few previous scars litter across the skin, dipping into different divots of chiseled muscles. he was well built—he had to be for the large claymore he wielded—yet he was still lean, muscles standing out due to the low body fat he had.

“like what you see?” he smirks, catching your gaze that lingered a bit too long on his bare skin. 

“no.”

he flinches at your quick refusal, jutting out his bottom lip.

“ouch, you’re so harsh.”

“why would i like seeing all of these wounds you’re covered in? you’re lucky it wasn’t any worse or you wouldn’t even be conscious right now,” you scold. “what were you thinking?”

“so you were worried about me…” he peeks up at you through his lashes, lips once again turning up in a satisfied smirk.

you roll your eyes, not saying anything as you begin to clean up his wounds. you can never catch a break with this guy, can you? despite his annoying flirtatious jokes, though, you really couldn’t help the worry and care you felt for him. 

he hisses between clenched teeth as you accidentally press against a laceration too harshly, one of his hands reaching up to clasp against your wrist.

“a little more gentle, sweetheart.”

“sorry,” you mutter, shaking your head as you realize what you were thinking.

he doesn’t say anything, instead going quiet as you continue to patch him up. it’s not until you’re dabbing on ointment and healing potions that he speaks up again, his voice strangely soft and unsure.

“you were worried about me, right?”

you pause, glancing down at him. his eyes are strangely… pleading, cool green shining as he searches for an answer on your face. 

you gently place your hand on the back of his head, running your fingers through the soft white strands and pulling him forward and pressing a kiss against his forehead.

“yes, i was. don’t be so reckless next time.”

when you pull away, his cheeks have turned a soft shade of red and his eyes have widened, practically bulging from their sockets. slowly, his jaw opens, mouth gaping as he starts to speak.

“you–”

“shut up.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[wolfish-trickster]

Don't make me choose

Gojo x fem!reader

Part 2

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: it's been some time since you've started dating the infamous Satoru Gojo. But lately you feel more like the two of you are just cuddle/fuck buddies and not a real couple. You make him choose his priorities which is something the strongest doesn't like.

Warnings: bad grammar (possibly), typos, angst, very little comfort

When Gojo Satoru first asked you out you couldn't be happier. The first time he caught your eye was when he zoomed past you together with Geto on one bike. You got so startled you fell to the ground and scratched your knee. You thought at first that they will just leave you there and probably laugh at you later at a pub, talking to their friends how they knocked over a clumsy girl in a park. What completely shocked you was Gojo running up to you with Geto pushing their bike behind him asking you if you were okay and if you need any help.

The rest is history.

Now, three years later, things have been going well. Mostly.

You had the ultimate boyfriend experience. Nice dates, wholesome anniversaries, moving in together, having fun. You did everything in your power to not get boring, for him to not get bored. You cooked, cleaned, asked him how his day was, acted silly with him even when you were exhausted after a long day.

So why? Why was he spending more and more of his free time away from you?

It started out small. The first time you started noticing was like a month ago. As soon as he came home he told you he's going to the pub with Geto and Nanami. You told him to have fun of course, not wanting to seem like that girlfriend that doesn't allow their boyfriends having fun without them. Then from one weekend it became every weekend. Both of you were busy during the week, the only time you had for yourself was during the night and weekend. It soon became just nights.

Even during the week it was "babe, i have a day off tomorrow i'm going to Geto's" or "sorry we have to move the date night to sometime else, Geto is sick and has no one to take care of him" and once even "babe, remember how you told me about this place you used to love as a child? I'm going there with Geto! What a coincidence, right?". The last one hurt the most. Honestly, the last one was also what made you start noticing these in the first place. Once you looked into the past and counted all the times Gojo chose to spend his free time with his best friend instead of you you nearly slapped yourself. It was too many times. How could've you been so blind?

All off days were for Geto. All special days were once again for Geto. Weekends, holidays, his and yours birthdays, all for Geto fucking Suguru.

You needed to have a talk with him.

If he comes back that is. Lately he started to have sleepovers with Geto. As if both of them were teenage girls. You did ask to join them but they always told you off to "not disturb their boy time".

Steps echo outside your apartment. The door unlocks. And in comes...

"Babe," comes the voice of your beloved white haired guy, "I'm home."

"I can hear that," came your answer. You prayed it didn't sound too agressive. Your stomach was full of nervous butterflies, making it even worse to come up with a decent way to start the talk.

While you were thinking he came from the entrance hall to the kitchen where you were sitting and kissed you on the crown of your head. "I wanted to ask, do we have plans next wendesday? Because Suguru said he'd-"

"Listen," you interrupted him before he could even finish, "can we talk?"

Gojo chuckled. "That's a very scary sentence."

"Why? Have something to hide?"

"Nope," he put his bag down and leaned his back against the wall, "I'm listening. What is it?"

You took a deep breath. Then another. "Don't you think you're spending a little too much time with Geto?"

His playful smile loosend into a neutral line. "Elaborate?"

"It's just... you've been with him so much lately and I miss being with you-"

"I'm with you all the damn time. Every single night we-"

"Can't you let me finish?!" you said a little louder than intended but enough is enough. "Is that all you see me as? A fuck-buddy to warm your bed?"

Gojo groaned in annoyance. "No, of course not. But you're literally overreacting over here!"

"Overreacting? How? By wanting my boyfriend to be home on his off days? To spend some time with me and have fun like before?"

"Have fun times with you? What am I your babysitter?"

"Are you Geto's? All the fun stuff we used to do you're doing with him!"

"No, no darling," he stood up straight and walked towards you, backing you into the corner, "all the stuff we used to do I did with him first. He's my best friend! I've known him half my life! You have to have at least a bit of empathy to understand that."

Even cornered by a giant of a guy like him you didn't feel fear. The butterflies in your stomach died. What remained was just pain in your chest predicting what was about to come.

"Do you even see me as your girlfriend anymore, Gojo?"

"Oh, so we are on last name terms again?" he asked sarcastically and walked away to pour himself a cup of water.

"Answer me."

You watched him drink. Slowly. You've never seen a man drink this slow.

"Of course I do," he put the glass down, "what kind of a bullshit question is that?"

"It's how I feel Gojo. You're never here with me!"

"I am here now aren't I?" he poked his chest with his forefinger. "I'm here every single day and night, twentyfour fucking seven ever since we moved in together! Well excuse me I want to have some quality time with my best friend from time to time!"

You didn't want this. The yelling, the arguing. But it has to be done.

Now as a finishing touch. "Who do you value more?"

"Excuse me?" was all he said, too surprised to not hear you yell in return, just calmly asking your question.

"Who is more important to you? Your best friend or your girlfriend?"

Gojo covered his face with his palms and threw his head back. "You can't be serious right now," he groaned. "Suguru is my best friend. You can't just make me choose!"

"So I'm below a best friend. I might as well be called your friend with benefits..." you say more to yourself than him.

"There you go hating yourself again," he shook his head. "I get it, you want to hear me say how much you mean to me, how you're the most important thing in the world and other stuff I've told you a million times already and yet you still slip into this state. I might as well record myself saying those things so you could listen to them everytime you're attention starved," he pinched the bridge of his nose.

He sighed. "You know what? I'm tired of this. I still care about you, but you have to understand Suguru is-"

"I know," you interrupt his rant. "I'm tired too."

Gojo sighs. "Okay. Good. I knew we could talk this out," he said and picked up his sleepover bag again. "I hate arguing with you."

He walked past you to the bathroom to dump his pyjamas into dirty laundry. "Let's go to bed, okay?" he shouted from there.

After a quick shower he walked out the bathroom with nothing but sweatpants on and a towel around his neck.

However you weren't there. Not in the bedroom, nor living room, nor anywhere else. Confused Gojo walked around the apartment, looking for any signs where you might be hiding. Maybe you want to jumpscare him again to light up the tension?

Fine, two can play this game. He tiptoed into the bedroom to your massive closet and yanked it open.

You weren't there. But neither were your things. He quickly checked under the bed to see your beloved backpack missing.

Panicked he started calling out for you, thinking this was just a prank.

It wasn't.

You made him choose and without even realizing it he did.

[aemondloverr]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐭. 𝐈𝐕

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓 • 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 • 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 <- sign yourself up!!

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You've settled into Winterfell and now, a feast will be held in the honor of You and Jace. Your handmaidens Martha, and Sara help you prepare while you talk about the possibilities of a friendship with Cregan, and maybe even more than that.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Lots of mixed feelings, gossip of Cregan, and a not so bratty Jace this time (rare occurance fr).

𝐰𝐜: 4.8k

𝐀/𝐍: Truly sorry for the delay, I'll be better 😔 and spoiler, the rest of feast happens in the NEXT chapter bc I had to split it up. It was getting to be too long! Not proofread so SORRY IN ADVANCE for typos😭

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐩:

"Okay.. Well um...Good luck on the hunt then. Go catch something big for me."

"You know I will," He replies, trying to sound confident. "I'll bring home the biggest buck you've ever seen."

"If you say so..." you taunt.

He grins, confidence rising at your doubtful tone. He cant let that go unchallenged. "Oh I do say so. I'll get that dance, just you wait."

"Off you go then."

As Cregan heads off to the stables, he can't shake the feeling of your prescence from his mind. The thought of you and the implications made still lingered, stirring up a maelstrom of emotions within him.

Maybe the things you said you hadn't done with Cregan, you wish you had.

He really just doesn't want any other lord to end up dancing with you. The image of another man, holding you in his arms makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. His mind fills with the image of him dancing with you and his heart quickens.

But then his thoughts take a more intimate turn and his imagination spirals out of control. Him holding you close, bodies pressed together, an embrace that borders on indecent. He can almost feel your warmth just thinking about it.

Cregan knows he shouldn't be thinking such things but he cant help it. That image of you, so close yet so far from his grasp, is consuming his mind and burning in his core like a raging fire.

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

later in the day

You've spent the afternoon in your chambers, taking a nap, break from the stress of the day. You relish the quiet and solitude without the presence of anyone else.

Your peaceful silence is interrupted by the sound of commotion outside as the hunting party returns from the Wolfswood. The chatter of loud voices rouse you from your sleep.

Just as you start to stir, there's a soft knock at the door, followed by the voices of your handmaids, Martha and Sara.

"Yes, come in."

They open the door and slip into your room, looking a bit concerned.

"What it is?"

Martha speaks up. "There are all back, my Lady. But the men are all...well, they're a bit rowdy."

"I bet they're probably arguing over whose game is biggest." you chuckle to yourself at the thought.

"That's certainly part of it. They've been boasting and arguing about their kills. They all thing they hunted the largest stag.

"Well I'll be the one to decide that."

Sara and Martha both smile at your words, clearly amused by the antics of the men.

"I'm sure they'll be eager!" says Martha, holding a basket of items in her hands as you stand from the edge of the bed.

“Sara, would you have the men with the smallest game to give their catches to the kitchens after they skin them?”

Sara nods obediently, taking mental note of your instructions.

"Of course, my lady," she says. “I'll make sure the cooks receive the smallest game from the men."

That leaves Martha. "I'll prepare a bath for you." she offers, already heading to the bathing room to start drawing the steaming water.

As you undress, she pours scented oils into the hot water, filling the room with a pleasant aroma of vanilla and honey. You remove your shift, left in just your undergarments.

You step into the bathing room, the warm, soothing steam enveloping you as you walk to the large tub, The room is dimly lit, flickering candlelight casting a soft intimate glow across the walls of the room.

Taking off your undergarments, you step into the tub. The heat and the gentle fragrances of the oils seem to sooth your skin, making you feel relaxed in an instant.

"Thank you Martha..."

She smiles at your words, hands pausing as she finishes adding a handful of herbs to the bath. "Of course. Is the water to your liking?Not too hot?"

"Perfection." you sink further into the calming water.

Martha nods with a satisfied smile, as the heat erases any remaining tension from your weary muscles.

"So..." She says with a mischievous knowing look in her eye. Her tone catches your attention and you look up at her, a curious expression on your face. "Yes?..." you ask, bracing yourself for whatever teasing comment she may have for you.

"I just wanted to ask, my lady, has anything...interesting happened between you and Lord Stark lately?"

"Oh Gods what did Sara tell you?!"

Martha laughs. "Oh nothing specific," she replies feigning innocence. "But you know sara...she's a bit of a gossip, and she's been hinting at some...interesting things happening between you and Lord Stark."

"Nothings happened, I assure you." Your face reddens in embarrassment as you dismiss the accusations. "Our relationship is strictly professional, and maybe friendly but that is all." But really, in your head, you're thinking about how your relationship could be more.

Martha raises a brow , clearly not entirely convinced by your dismissive tone. She smirks, "That's what you say, Princess, but your blushing face tells a different story."

She steps closer to the tub, leaning against it as she looks at you knowingly. "Come on, you can be honest with me. "She teases. "Is there really nothing more?"

"You and Sara are just trouble, aren't you."

She laughs, smile widening as she catches the hint of annoyance in your tone. "Oh, come on, We're just having a bit of fun. Can you really blame us? Nothing ever goes on in this damned castle, and you and Lord Stark make an entertaining pair..."

You don't want to give in but- "If you want to know what goes on badly I'll tell you."

Her eyes widen in surprise and excitement, clearly not expecting you to actually share your details about your relationship with Cregan. She nods eagerly. "Yes, please my Lady!" she says, voice impatient. "Tell me everything!"

"Absolutely nothing." you state flatly.

Her face falls, disappointment apparent on her face as you give her the most un-interesting answer possible. "Wait, that's it?" she asks, excitement fading to disbelief. "Nothing at all? No stolen glances, no secret conversations?"

"No. All we do is argue and make amends and argue and make amends again."

You scrub your arms with a soapy cloth while Martha washes your legs. "You're killing me Princess," she says You and Lord Stark are like a never ending cycle of petty arguments and reconciliations. Its like watching 2 children bicker"

"I know, I know."

"Honestly, with all your bickering and back and forth, its a wonder neither of you have stabbed each other yet," she teases.

You scoff. "Oh trust me, I've wanted to."

She glances down at you in the tub. "And what stopped you? Your sense of restraint or the lack of a weapon?"

"It was his kindness..."

Her expression softens slightly at your words. She seems touched by your answer, not expecting such sincerity. "Ah so it was his kindness that stopped you...interesting...but also not entirely surprising."

you continue to scrub the rest of your body while Martha moves around the other side of the tub to scrub your back.

"I can't be cruel when he'd so kind to me..."

"You know my Lady, kindness can be a powerful thing. It can make even the strongest person weak in the knees."

You sit hugging a knee to your chest and hair forward over your shoulder, continuing to let her wash your back. "He wishes to be friends again, but I'm...hesitant."

She pauses her work, hands stilling for a moment as she gazes down at you with a look on concern.

"Why are you hesitant? If you both want to be friends again, what's holding you back?"

"After what he did when we were children, I'd rather not take that risk again..."

Martha nods, her understanding written on her face. She resumes washing your back, movements gentle and soothing.

"I understand. You’ve already been hurt by him once. Its natural to be wary of opening yourself up to the possibility of that pain again..."

You sigh deeply "I haven't even forgiven him yet."

She finishes up and sets the cloth aside, glancing at you with an empathetic expression. "Its alright my Lady. Forgiveness takes time and its okay to need more of it," she says. "But...perhaps you could at least consider his offer of friendship. Just a thought."

You ponder for a minute, considering the outcomes. If you don't give him that chance, he has no opportunity to hurt you again, whether intentionally or unintentionally. But if you do allow whatever it is that's there between you, it could grow into something beautiful.

"Ill try...maybe."

Martha smiles, one of encouragement and support. "That's all anyone can ask for Princess. Just take it one step at a time and see where it leads. Who knows. Maybe friendship with Lord Stark will surprise you!"

"Perhaps your right."

She sits back at the stool by the tub, satisfied that she's managed to assure you, even if its just a little. "Sometimes, the unexpected is worth taking a chance on, no?," She says, voice full of optimism.

Martha offers a helping hand as you rise from the bath, the water cascading off your body and leaving you bare and wet. She grabs a towel and wraps it around you, the soft fabric enveloping you in a warm embrace.

"Could you get Sara for me? She should be back from the kitchens by now but she isn't.”

She nods, her hands still on the towel, holding it closed around you.

"Of course, my lady. I'll get Sara right away," She then steps away from you, moving to the door to summon Sara.

As they walk down the dimly lit corridor from the kitchens, Sara listens intently to Martha's words, her expression a mix of surprise and intrigue. She fills Sara in on your conversation in the bath, including your hesitation to forgive Lord Cregan and your contemplation of his offer of friendship.

Sara's eyes widen with a face of disbelief.

"You mean, my lady is thinking about being friends with Lord Cregan again?" she whispers, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and curiosity.

"Yes thats exactly what she said," she replies with a smile "Seems like our Lady is softening towards the man, even if its just a bit."

As Martha and sara enter the room, they find you sitting on the edge of your bed in a robe. "Lets pick a dress."

Sara nods, eyes scanning over the assortment of dresses laid out across the room.

"How about this one my Lady?" She suggests, holding up a light blue dress for your approval.

"Mmm...too simple."

She sets the dress aside and Martha grabs a green dress this time, holding it up for you to see. "What about this one then?" The fabric shimmers in the candlelight. Lovely dress but the color...it reminded you of Alicent. That foul woman.

"The greens are called the greens for a reason. I will not wear enemy colors to a feast in my honor."

Martha rushes to put away the dress, apologizing hastily. "Forgive me Princess I didn't mean..."

"No its alright." you assure.

Sara continues persuing the selection. She picks up the red one next, its hue a deep, rich shade—crimson, almost like blood. The fabric is smooth with lace details and the slight shimmer to it catches in the light.

"I think this color would loook lovely on you!"

"Yes, how could I forget this dress! I couldn't ignore it at the market, I simply had buy it."

Sara sets the dress on the bed, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles. "You'll look gorgeous in it."

"Thank you for your help girls."

Sara and Martha smile at you gratitude, satisfied that youve finally settled on a dress. Their expressions are filled with genuine affection for you.

"Of course, my Lady," Says Martha. "We are always happy to help you look your best."

You begin to apply oil, working it into your skin when Sara asks "May i ask you a question?"

"Yes?" The oil has the most pleasant smell, just like the sweet vanila and honey oils from the bath.

"I was jut wondering..." she starts, voice growing softer and more hesitant as she choses her words. "Do you...do you think you would ever consider more than friendship with Lord Stark."

You pause for a moment at the unexpected question.

They both notice the brief pause, and Saras expression subtly shifts to one with a hint worry as she watches you while Martha just waits patiently and curiously for a response.

"I think...I wouldn't be accustomed to that."

Sara studies your face for a moment, her head tilting slightly to the side as she processes your words. She seems to understand your hesitation, her expression softening into a gentle smile.

"I see..." she says, voice low and soft. "You mean, friendship is all you're used to with him, and anything more would feel unfamiliar to you, right?”

“I think about it, if I’m being truthful…how it would be if we…” blood rushes to your cheeks just as earlier at the thought of being with him.

Martha and Sara both watch you intently, their eyes studying your face as you delve into your thoughts. Sara takes a step closer, her voice filled with concern and curiosity.

"If you and Lord Cregan were to... be more than friends?" she ventures, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“Yes…”

They exchange a brief glance, both clearly invested in hearing your thoughts on the matter.

"And what... what do you feel about that possibility?" Martha asks, her voice growing softer and more gentle as she encourages you to continue.

You cannot bring yourself to confront your possible feeling for him again so you drop the subject.

“I feel we should talk about something else…”

They immediately pick up on your reluctance to discuss the matter further and exchange another quick glance before nodding in understanding.

"Of course, my lady," Martha says, her voice soft and respectful. She gestures towards the red dress on the bed. "We should get you dressed now."

Martha helps you into your smallclothes, then into the chemise, pulling the soft fabric over your body. Once you’re settled, she adjusts the straps and tucks any loose fabric back in place, ensuring it is fitting perfectly.

Then, Sara helps you put on the stays, fastening them and lacing up corset tightly, accentuating your curves. Sara carefully drapes the red dress over your head and begins adjusting it to fit your form.

The fit is snug, hugging your waist and hips tightly before flowing out in an elegant flare as well as a squared neckline that frames yourIt has sleeves that open just before your forearms, and almost down to the floor, giving the illusion of graceful drapes.

Both Martha and Sara nod in agreement, their eyes sweeping over you in approval.

"Yes, my lady," Sara replies, her voice firm and confident. "The same hair as last time would suit you perfectly."

Sara braids your hair in that Northern style once again, the one Cregan liked. While Martha busies herself gathering up your unpicked dresses, folding them neatly and setting them aside. As she works, she glances up at Sara, who is already almost finished braiding your hair.

“Jewelry?”

They both not. Sara's hands continue to work on your intricate braid, her fingers moving with sure and steady movements. Meanwhile, Martha begins pulling together a selection of jewelry, holding up different necklaces, bracelets, and earrings for your inspection.

As you gesture towards a particular necklace, both Martha and Sara immediately agree with you. Martha lifts up a necklace made of deep red rubies and glossy black onyx stones, its design elegant and eye-catching. It matches the dress perfectly.

Sara also nods in approval, her eyes fixed on the necklace as she finishes up braiding your hair is re-styled in the same lovely fashion that Cregan had admired just that same morning . "A lovely choice, my lady," she says, her voice filled with admiration.

“No one will see my shoes so I suppose the black ones?”

They quickly scan the selection, a wide array of shoes before Martha picks up a pair of sleek, black boots with a heel, made of soft suede leather, sure to keep your feet warm in the cold.

"These ones, my lady?" she asks, holding them up for your approval.

“Yes those please.”

Martha steps forward, kneeling at your feet and gently slipping the boots onto your feet, fastening the small buckles.

And the last addition, the black pelt that matches with the dress.

They bring it over, the furs soft and warm in their hands, and gently drape it over your shoulders. The fur contrasts nicely with the deep red of your dress, its texture adding an extra element of elegance to your appearance.

It’s not Cregans pelt, the one you slept in for warmth last night, or wore to the market this morning. It doesn’t have the same oversized look or comforting weight but its cute, matches with your dress, and makes you look as regal as your name sounds.

“I think a bit of stain on the lips would look nice…what do you think Sara?” She smiles at your suggestion, clearly pleased by your request. She reaches into a nearby drawer and pulls out a small pot of a deep red stain. "Of course, my lady. A touch of color on the lips would look beautiful. Let me apply it for you."

She brushes on a faint bit of red to your lips, just like the color of your dress and it brings your look together.

“I give my thanks to you both.”

Martha and Sara step back, taking a moment to admire their handiwork, smiling approvingly, clearly impressed with how elegant and radiant you look in your dress, furs, jewelry, and hair. They seem to have almost forgotten to breathe, admiring your beauty for a moment before speaking.

"By the gods…you look absolutely gorgeous, Princess," Sara says, her voice filled with admiration. "Indeed," Martha agrees, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're bound to turn heads."

As the handmaidens continue to admire your appearance, you can't help but think about Cregan's reaction when he sees you in your new dress. You imagine him looking at you with awe and admiration, his eyes taking in every detail of your form-fitting dress and elegant furs. The thought of his reaction makes your heart flutter with excitement, and warmth build in your chest.

“Will I see you later?”

They nod, their smiles widening as you prepare to leave. "Of course, my Lady. Have a wonderful evening," Martha says.

"We'll be here when you return," Sara adds, already moving to clean up the mess left over from preparing you for Cregan.

As you turn to leave, Martha stops you. “Princess one more thing!”

You half in your steps, turning to look at Martha

"Yes, Martha?" You ask with a curious tone.

She wants to give you perfume oil

Martha nods, her expression softening as she produces a small glass vial filled with a clear, shimmering liquid. The scent emanating from the vial is subtle yet inviting, a mixture of florals and fruits. Vanilla and honey again, but this time with a hint of citrus.

You don’t know where she got oranges in this bone chilling climate but you are grateful for it.

"I thought you'd like this one, my lady," Martha explains. "It's light and sweet but not overpowering. Perfect to finish off your look for tonight." And perfect to make Cregan lose his mind

You nods in thanks as Martha hands you the vial. You remove the cork and gently dab a small amount of the oil behind each ear, and on your wrists, the scent enveloping your senses with its delicate fragrance.

“Where did you get this…?”

"I mixed it myself," Martha responds, a hint of pride in her voice. "I like to experiment with different scents, combining different oils and extracts to create unique perfumes. This one, I call it 'Lady's Whisper.' It's my personal favorite and I thought it would suit you well."

“My Gods this is magnificent! Keep making it. I’ll buy it if you let me!”

Martha's eyes light up at your praise, her smile widening as a blush of pleasure creeps up her cheeks. She nods in agreement, her voice filled with determination.

"I will, my lady," Martha affirms. "I'll continue to perfect the recipe and make more for you. I'm glad you like it so much."

“I’ll see you when I come back, and yes, I’ll tell you all that happened.”

Martha and Sara grin, the excitement in their eyes reflecting her eagerness to hear all the details. Martha nods silently, her hand flying to her mouth to suppress a girlish giggle.

"Of course. We’ll be waiting anxiously for your return. You simply must tell us all about it!"

As you step out of your chambers, you find yourself facing Jace’s chambers. His door is slightly ajar, a soft glow of candlelight spilling out into the hall. You can vaguely make out his silhouette pacing back and forth beyond the doorway.

You push open the door. “Are you ready?”

Jace turns swiftly upon hearing your voice, his eyes immediately drinking in the sight of you. His mouth falls open slightly, surprise and awe written all over his face. He’s not one to compliment you, especially because you’re his sibling so you know he really means it.

He stares at you for a few seconds, speechless, before finally managing to collect himself.

"You... you look incredible," he says, the words breathless and reverential on his lips.

“Thank you. Now let’s go before we show up late to or own feast.”

Jace nods, still somewhat dazed by your appearance, but he pulls himself together. He takes your arm in his, gently tucking it into the crook of his elbow.

"Let's go," he says, his voice steadier now. A hint of excitement and anticipation shining in his eyes.

As you and Jace walk arm-in-arm through the halls and outside t othe great hall, a couple of servants pause as they pass, their eyes widening in surprise and admiration as you walk by. They murmur amongst themselves, their voices filled with hushed whispers and murmurs of approval.

The doors to the great hall come into view, the murmur of voices and the clinking of glasses filling the air. A few people are already inside, but the majority of the guests have not yet arrived for the feast.

The doors swing open, revealing the great hall beyond. It is a large, opulent room, its high ceilings dripping with garlands of flowers and strings of colorful lanterns. Servants rush back and forth, preparing the tables and maneuvering around the clusters of people gathered in the room.

Heads begin to turn towards you, eyes widening in awe and admiration as they take in your appearance. With Jace following behind you, you make your way up to the high table, taking the seat next to where Cregan will soon sit. Jace helps you into you into your chair, pulling it out for you.

From this vantage point, you have an excellent view of the entire room, everything from the musicians playinhg in one corner to the nobles dancing about in the other.

Cregan has yet to arrive because of the hunt. He's with the rest of the men. As the hour of the feast draws near, the servants scurry around the space with platters of drinks and morsels of food.

As if in cue, the sound of male laughter fills the room. The hunting party has arrived, as well as the rest of the guests, the men still in their leather jerkins and boots, clearly worn out from their hours spent in the wilderness.

Led by Cregan, the men approach the high table, their eyes sweeping over the room and taking in the array of decorations and the assembled nobles. A cheer goes up from the crowd, many of them rising to clap. Even the musicians change their songs to something more victorious and uplifting in their honor.

Cregan reaches the high table, eyes meeting yours for the briefest of moments as he takes his seat beside you. The rest of the men disperse, each finding a seat with their family or amongst the tables of nobles.

"You smell of mud and forest.." you observe.

He quirks and eyebroow in response to your comment, eyes drifting over to you. ahint on a smirk tugs at him mouth, as in amused by the bluntness of your words. "Indeed do," he replies with a chuckle. "A byproduct of a long day spent hunting, in your honor, might I add."

His eyes dart to Jace, who has slumped into his chair on your other side, his expression still sour and sullen.

“Sit straight child.” you order.

Jace lets out an irritated huff as you call him a child, but he reluctantly straightens his back and sits up straight in his seat, begrudgingly complying with your command, though his expression remains sullen.

Suddenly, his eyes widen. a pleasant scent fills his nose. He turns back towards you, inhaling deeply. He looks at you, clearly curious about the source of the scent.

He leans in close to you, his tone a murmur so that only you can hear him. "What is that smell...?

"What smell?"

He leans in even closer, fixiated on you. He leans in even closer, his voice barely above a whisper, breath hot against your ear. "That scent...I dont recognize it." He pauses, trying to place it. "Where did you get it?"

You hold your wrist to his nose and he follows your cue, his hand closing aroundyour wrist and lifting it closer to him. His nose grazes your skin, lips nearly brushing against your pulse point as he inhales the scent again.

It makes heat rise up your neck. A hum escapes from his throat, almost like a pleasurable sound. He's clearly affected by the fragrance your'e wearing.

"This one? Do you like it." Oh he definately doesn’t like it. Its clear he loves it, because when you try and put your arm back down he doesn't let you. Cregan keeps his eyes shut, his hand still holding your wrist. He inhales once more, savoring the scent. He nods, opening his eyes to look at you, mind slightly dazed

"Yes," he murmurs, "i like it. A lot."

You'd expected a compliment or two from him but drooling like he is? You hadn't seen that coming. "Well thank you…That's very kind of you."

It looks like Martha really knew her stuff. That oil could make a man fall to his knees for a woman. To him, it made you smell deliciously sweet. Delectable even.

Cregan releases your wrist finally, hand falling away from your arm. The absence of his touch leaves a tingling feeling on your skin, a strange sensation that makes your heartbeat quicken ever so slightly.

He leans back in his seat, eyes roaming over you once more, as if studying you. After a moment, he speaks again, his voice quieter this time.

"May I ask where you got it?"

"Yes, Martha made it."

"Martha you say?" he asks voice tinged with curiosity, impressed by the fact that she had the skill to create such a stunning fragrance. "And she mixed it herself...?"

"Yes, I was just as surprised as you."

He leans in again unexpectedly, voice low and soft. "I can also smell something else on you, if I'm not mistaken."

"Like what?"

His nose brushes against the line of your jaw. The sound of him breathing you in sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel your pulse quicken in response. He doesn’t care how indecent his actions look, not when you smell like such a dessert.

"The faint, sweet scent of oranges, he murmurs, voice thick with barely restrained want. More like need.

You feel your ears and cheeks burning up "Y-yes you are correct. Martha put oils in my bath this evening."

He leans back once more, eyes roaming over your face. The flush thats crept up your neck and cheeks....The scent of you is seemingly even more tantalizing now.

"You smell positively delicious." he says in a teasing tone.

And where is Jace in all this? Sitting beside you, arms crossed and scowling, giving the dirtiest look imaginable in Cregans direction. He's been observing the interaction between you and Cregan with growing suspision of his intentions. But he says nothing, merely clenches his jaw and seethes silently.

"Thank you Lord Stark..."

He glances over at Jace, noticing the look on his face, but he disregards it, his attention entire focused on you, showering you with affection and compliments.

"Your'e very welcome" he responds with a sincere voice, eyes lingering on your face a few seconds longer than needed.

"So um...How was your hunt?" You ask, to shift the conversation away from you. You need a moment to slow your heart and compose yourself before you start stumbling over your words at his proximity.

"Quite large. Five stags, a boar, and two does, all in one day. It was an excellent hunt."

"Do you think yours is the largest?" you already know, something else of his is definately large

Cregan scoffs, his confidence unshaken by the question as he responds without hesitation.

"I know it is. No one else will have a kill as impressive as mine, I can assure you of that.

"Well you'd better hope I think so."

The guests find their seats and settle in for an evening of celebration and merriment. The air is filled with the buzz of conversation and the sound of laughter.

“Bring out the hunters game!”

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆ Next chapter is coming at break. ITS GONNA EAT, JUST WAIT. (Might be extra long)

Ps. If you want me to do a Christmas special for Cregan (outside the storyline) give me ideas in the comments 🫶🏾

Taglist: @beebeechaos @iv-vee @aemondwhoresworld @6ternalsun @obscure-beauty @cregansfourthwife @msmarvelknight @kingdomzeldaquest @littlebirdgot @squidscottjeanseans @jellybeanstacey0519 @r-3dlips @fakem0net @shiggynuggiez @deemee3 @melsunshine @lipgloss05 @cherryheairt @lovevouuu @darlingcharling-blog @pearldaisy @allexlacazette @onlybells1 @valardohaerisss @itsaslaminak

[didyoulookforme]

need you tonight

part of give me a moment (aka stylist au as briefly described in this tag)

warning: 18+, smut. probably grammatical errors, typos.

au masterlist here

-----

“sorry—‘m sorry”

you’re pretty sure those are some of the only words that stumble past his lips as you go down on him. perhaps an apology for his ring getting tangled in your hair, trying to keep you close. but to be honest, the more cynical part of you hopes it's pure regret for fucking someone else just hours before.

it was not strange for you to crave a nicotine hit at this time, more often than not stepping out the bus to smoke a cigarette or two prior to calling it a night, that first inhale always making your head buzz a little as the all-too-familiar warmth runs through your limbs, a much welcome sensation to try leave the tiredness behind.

every day was like clockwork. bus arrives at the venue. stage and lighting are assembled. band soundchecks. you have a quick dinner. then it's time for him. after all, it's what you're here to do, work as matty's own personal stylist during the tour.

you had no clue luck had finally struck when you opened those dms earlier this year.

(13:43) trumanblack: hey (13:43) trumanblack: i found your profile via my friend (13:44) trumanblack: i really like your style n you look pretty cool

(13:58) trumanblack: sorry if this sounds creepy. promise i'm a real human tho (13:58) trumanblack: x

you didn’t recognize him. however from a swift scroll through the feed, you gathered that his name was matty. apparently the front man of a seemingly popular band with a fanbase head-over-heels lusting for them.

mostly him, though.

you couldn't help but gaze at his lanky frame and pale skin adorned with ink, zooming in on certain posts to try decipher what they were. he definitely had a point of view when it came to dressing himself—sometimes a bit messy and chaotic, but for the most part pleasing to the eye, a quality you appreciated given your line of work. his seemingly playful demeanour across photos made it seem like he was perhaps younger than you, this time a google search confirming that, in fact, he was born three years later. april 1989.

countless press photos appeared under his name and you spent the next half hour swiping back and forth between articles, finding him intriguing enough and giving you the surge of confidence to respond.

and that's basically why you're leaning against this tour bus now. the friendly banter with a stranger led you to travel the world and do what you enjoy most. the fancy clothes. the colourful glitz. the wild after parties. this stuff that you always dreamed about was somehow now your own reality that you often had to pinch yourself to ensure you weren't just passed out cold on the sofa back home.

however, this almost too good to be true gig also led you to fall for a guy, the same one whose collar you straighten almost every night.

the most fucking cliché story. some assistant falling for her boss just months after being hired. it actually makes you feel sickeningly stupid, embarrassed. still you can't seem to stop digging yourself deeper into a hole with every hour you spend caring for him, not being made any better by matty being nothing but affectionate towards you behind closed doors.

you know he’s the reason your nicotine addiction has increased tenfold, always finding yourself alone at this hour enveloped in smoke, part of you still wanting to pretend you do so to numb out the sleepless nights. took you a while to finally admit you did it as an attempt to cloud out any thought of him.

tonight’s really no different.

you’re not sure how much time has passed, but it’s enough for the cold to start settling on your skin. perhaps it’s your queue to stop and go back in. you snub out your cigarette, watching the red embers fade just as a car rounds the corner. it halts to a stop only a few meters away, and you catch the faint sound of a door creaking open, followed by the murmur of voices filling the night air.

then you hear it. that unmistakable high pitched laugh that can pull you awake in a single second. him.

and, of course. you immediately know why.

you’d learned pretty early on this was a common end to the routine: matty picks up a girl at the gig, goes fucks her somewhere, and has her drop him off right after.

reminds you of the number of red and purple bruises you often cover up before his show. it wasn't rocket science figuring out the cause, yet he never really addresses it, choosing silence and averting his gaze as your fingertips dab foundation on tender skin, temporarily hiding any remains of nights prior.

you didn't even notice your eyes had closed. not until the car door slams shut, jerking them open just in time to see him blow a kiss in her direction. your heart fractures at the sweet gesture, but only hurts for a second before he's walking towards you, his stupid wide grin mending it better.

"didn't expect to see you out here.”

open button-up untucked. blazer over his shoulder. dark curls frizzy and disheveled. everything making it crystal clear he's just slept with someone else and still not you.

"only making sure you make it back alright so i can tuck you in." of course, you wish that were the case.

it's only a few seconds until he settles next to you, leaning over to kiss your cheek. soft lips gently brushing against your skin. the way he always greets you—but only when no one's watching.

"aren't you sweet, then?"

"trying my best." given the circumstances, it's pretty much all you can do.

he pulls out his beat-up cigarette box, flicking it open and offering you one. you decline, showing him the smothered tip of your own before finally tossing it aside.

"guess it must've been a pretty good time today," you lick the pad of your thumb before rubbing a lipstick mark off his jaw. it’s always ruby red or deep maroon. those same tones which he'll compliment you on. a similar shade you left on his lips the only time your mouth had been on his.

you finish cleaning the stains off his skin, matty murmuring a soft ‘thank you’ for having done so. it’s your turn to kiss his temple. “‘tis my job, you know? making sure you look good.” you should be mad, upset, have some sort of negative emotion. instead, you can’t help but have your heart intermittently flutter when he returns a sheepish smile, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you close.

neither of you say much, but that’s alright. you rest your head on the crook of his neck, noticing how nice it feels. how nice he feels. you see the chipped nail polish on his fingers. the wrinkled fabric of his flowered shirt. the dark hair down his torso. the unbuckled belt at his waist. it’s only then that jealousy creeps itself back in and suddenly your shoes seem all that more interesting than the man standing by your side.

"why do you do it, matty?" the sweetness of your voice never fails to mask the envy you actually feel. or at least you hope it does.

"hmm?"

"the sleeping around.” you finally lift your head to look at him, surprised that his pretty eyes were already on you. the toothy smirk is gone, though, replaced by a thin, expressionless line at his lips. he doesn’t owe you an explanation. you know that. thus why you’re surprised when he actually starts to talk.

"dunno, really.” he lights up another cigarette and you notice as he gets lost in his mind. “i mean, it’s kinda difficult to say no to sex or a blowjob when they’re literally throwing themselves at you.” he seemingly tries to joke, but you don’t have time for funny right at this moment.

instead you wonder if it’s actually that easy.

“let me do it, then.”

“so—sorry?” he chokes mid-drag.

“let me give you a blowjob just like those other girls do. just like she did,” you point at the ghost of that green car from before, “ just tonight.”

it’s like his face cannot figure out which expression to land on, flipping between confusion, surprise, and something else that reads between need and desire.

“what the fuck?” his voice is shaky and it stings when he pushes you aside, yet, he doesn’t try hard to put much distance between you two so it’s not difficult to invade his space, standing right in front of him until your face is a breath away from his. large, calloused hands grasp your shoulders tight, halting you from inching closer.

“don’t.”

“what’s the difference between them and myself, then?” seems like a simple enough question to you. “why can they have you and not me?”

but he has no answer, at least not one that he can properly voice. his hold on you starts to lessen, perhaps giving you some permission to let you do whatever you want.

you bring your hands up to his and pull them away, kissing his knuckles before placing them on your waist. an almost incoherent ‘fuck’ leaves his lips, and, as if on cue, his head falls back willingly, giving you the space to kiss his neck. the faint smell of her still on him.

“please let me,” you whisper against his skin.

it’s not even a question at this point.

his fingers dig into your hips as you look at him once more, now noticing a mixture of lust and care in those almond coloured eyes. for a minute there, you get lost in them, admiring how his pupils dilate when your hands find the button of his pants, and how they shrink back as you finally undo the zipper. you don’t want to waste any more time—you’ve already waited too long—so you slide your palm down his pants to grab his half-hard cock, his eyes instantly rolling to the back of his head when you wrap your fingers around him.

“is this okay?”

you take the buck of his hips as a confirmation, giving you the courage to spread the precum along his length. he feels nice. having him in your hand seems just right and you only hope that he won’t regret this when he wakes up next morning in bed.

tonight is your turn to suck on the skin alongside his jaw, the thought of having to cover your own marks making you smile.

“fuck, baby.”

you’re not sure if he even noticed that sweet name leave his mouth, but you like the sound of it, and it’s all it takes for you to drop to your knees, dragging his pants and boxers down just enough to pull out his dick.

you look up at him once more, his left hand coming to tangle on your head, his other loosely holding his cigarette, almost done and fully forgotten. you kiss his tip, your gaze still not leaving his, thoroughly enjoying yourself as he bites his bottom lip each time your thumb hits that spot under the head of his cock. his scent is almost too much to bear so you take him in one go, feeling his cock twitch inside your mouth. it doesn’t take long before he’s fully hard and hitting the back of your throat.

the plastic taste of latex is still on his skin. a sad reminder that you weren’t his first tonight. that maybe you are an afterthought. just another girl who he uses to make himself come. but at least it means you get to have him even if it’s just this one time.

matty. that’s all that’s on your mind. once again. somewhat difficult to not think about him when you’re sucking him off, those heavenly sounds coming from his mouth making your own slick drip down your leg.

you pull away to catch your breath, using your hand to keep stroking him, pleasantly surprised when he pulls on your hair each time your red fingernails graze the underside of his cock. you do it again and again until he breaks and fucks your hand, apologizing for not being able to help himself. it’s a sight you’ll commit to memory as long as you’re alive.

now that you’ve had a taste, it’s only so long you can go without having your lips around him. and that’s what you do, take him again, hands urging his hips to fuck your mouth. to fuck himself senseless in the hopes that you’ll be the one he turns to when he needs somebody else. he doesn’t deny your request, throwing away the wasted cigarette to guide you, setting a pace that allows him to stay steady on his feet.

purely drunk on him, you're barely aware when his phone vibrates in his pocket, matty muttering 'sorry' before grabbing and letting it drop onto the grass at your side. nosiness always gets the best of you, so you can't help but glance down, catching sight of a text from an unsaved number asking if he could fuck her again tomorrow.

you feel his hips falter. he knows you've seen it.

“’m sorry.”

this time it's a mix between a cry and a whimper. perhaps he did feel bad. perhaps some part of him did care about you in the way that you needed him to.

you reach back to place your hand on top of his, making him push your head further into him, to thrust into you until tears pool at your lashes just as he spills hard and fast down your throat. his taste overtakes every cell of your being as you swallow, feeling him soften against your tongue before you reluctantly pull away.

you didn’t even realize your knees were so sore until you stand up, not wasting a second to ask him is he's going to see her again the following night.

"do you want me to?" his thumb wipes away some of his cum off the corner of your lip. you reach out to suck it, slowly shaking your head in response.

he laughs nervously as his mouth clashes against yours, stealing both the air from your lungs. this wasn't the first time you’d kissed, but this wasn’t like before. the way he quietly moans against your lips. the softness of his fingers resting on your face. the crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he pulls back.

"can i see you tomorrow, then?"

you could’ve sworn you heart stopped. can you truly believe those words after watching him leave you behind all those nights? the soft circles his thumbs draw on your skin do feel sincere, the reassurance you need to perhaps let him in, give him a chance even though you know it’s a slippery one.

it’s your turn to brush your thumb against his mouth, slowly pulling at the bottom lip and watching it bounce back up into place. you kiss him one last time before confirming 'okay', immediately turning to finally head back in. not wanting to linger for too long in case he changes his mind.

you catch his reflection on the mirror, noticing as he tucks himself in, and it’s that slight smile on his face which keeps you awake for hours on end.

-----

for this lovely anon here. thank you for the inspo :) <3

[willows-peak]

Im thinkin about Choso (shocker)

If you ever send nudes to Choso, i feel like he's not the type to respond normally.

Youre gonna see the chat bubble pop up, then disappear, then pop up again for a while because hes so speechless at how good you look. If you get nervous and ask if he doesnt like them, hes gonna send a voice message reassuring you, and oh. That's why hes taking so long. You can practically hear how tight his pants are from how he stumbles over his words and cuts himself off to try and describe everything he loved about the photo.

Afterwards, you two get to talking normally, but Choso is *very* much still thinking about how good you looked, so much that later that night you get another voice message, a few minutes long, with a short message quickly following its sending.

> "hey sorry, i couldnt stpp thinking about thpse pictyres you sent"

Confused for a second at the amount of typos, you play the message and your ears are instantly filled with high, breathy moans and the quick 'shlick' sound of Choso stroking himself, pants filling the silence between his choked out moans and words.

"You looked so good baby, so s-so good, i wan' you here so badly right now, I've been- *hah* hard all day" The little growl at the end of his sentence sent shivers up your spine as you continued listening to Choso getting off to the pictures of you, praises leaving his lips sporadically. After a minute, he suddenly got much quieter, any sound leaving his mouth sounding forced out as the wet stroking sounds sped up.

And when he cums, it sounds intense. His voice cracks from how high pitched it goes, whines and whimpers coming from his throat as the sound of his stroking gets even wetter, making you wish with all your heart you could've been there to see it for yourself.

.

Then again, who says you couldn't? Sending a quick text to Choso, consisting of a curt "I'm coming over", you grab your shoes and keys and head out the door

[causenessus]

Hi! Congratulations on your 1K, you really deserve it! I've just seen your post about your event and was thinking of sending something. Could you write ⭐️ with Sakusa where the reader is his roommate and suffer from insomnia ? And could the reader be personality-wise like Sakusa, but the two are already close friends or whatever you want them to be ? This is maybe silly lol, anyway thank you for this event it’s really cool!

can't sleep? | sakusa k.

sakusa x f!reader

written in second person

one word prompt from 1k followers event: ⭐ -> insomnia

"maybe i'll just place my hands over you and close my eyes real tight. there's a light in your eyes and you know <3" from look on down from the bridge by mazzy star

word count: 2.8k words

anon. thank u for this. u have fed all the omi girlies well tonight <3 thank you so much for requesting and i hope you enjoy this fic!!!

notes: lots of fluff <3 THEY ARE STRETCHING!!! JUST STRETCHING TOGETHER i stress this bc i couldn't take myself seriously and even y/n has a moment of "should i ask what we are after this?" but they're just stretching okay. also i frequented this list of stretches and literally followed its order so in case you want to know what stretch they're doing LMAO THIS SOUNDS SO WEIRD I'M SORRY 😭 i attempted to proofread this!!! but i'm sorry for any typos </3

THANK YOU TO @nectardaddy FOR HELPING ME DECIDE ON A COLOR AND MAKING ME VERY EXCITED TO WRITE THIS!! I HOPE YOU ALSO ENJOY IT <3

kiyoomi likes his routines. he likes to be home by a certain time, eat dinner at a certain time, make sure the dishes are washed, and then he likes to retire to bed by a certain time. when he decided to find a roommate in order to split costs, he had been slightly worried that his routines would be ruined, but the universe had worked in his favor.

you had been his first option. he hadn’t even tried to send out messages to anyone else "just in case you declined his offer," he had just simply hoped you would say yes. you were quite frankly everything he could hope for as a roommate; he had known from the times you'd hung out throughout your years in high school that you liked things to be clean similar to him, and trying to find a time for you both to meet up throughout college meant he knew that your current schedules would line up nicely.

and luckily you had agreed enthusiastically, excited to move in with one of your closest friends. it eased your mind to know he would also be organized and keep to himself, which was not something you could say if you had moved in with someone like atsumu (would only become a reality if you had no other option) or osamu (you would consider it, after a lot of convincing and compromising).

and kiyoomi had been right. the decision to room had worked out perfectly in nearly every way. you always got home before him and would make your own dinner and take care of your dishes, leaving the place empty and spotless for him by the time he returned. sometimes, you even left notes for him, saying you had leftovers that he was free to eat if he wanted. 

and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to see you. you were good friends, after all, and one of the few people he found he could always tolerate even when a day had stressed him out. but you both had agreed that you liked having time in the kitchen to yourself rather than two of you trying to be in there at the same time. it wasn’t anything personal; you were both independent people who valued their alone time. and when he saw you around the apartment, he never failed to talk to you, even if it was just a small nod of acknowledgment. you always had a calm and collected kind of demeanor, which he reasoned he liked because it was similar to him, in contrast to the men who had too much energy for their own good that he was surrounded by every day.

your similar attitudes had also led to a lot of shared nights together. sometimes on the nights when you stayed a little bit later at work or school, he would come home and you’d still be eating at the counter, zoned out on your phone, not even noticing him until he placed his bag on the table.

“oh, sorry, omi. welcome back, i can leave–”

“no, you’re fine. stay there,” he’d cut you off.

he’d navigate around the kitchen, gathering what he needed while you continued eating your own meal. sometimes things were peacefully silent between you both as you resumed scrolling on your phone; you were just two roommates in their kitchen, illuminated by the warm light of a hanging lamp overhead. other times you asked him how his day was, and you would both chat while he made his own dinner, and if his day was bad, sometimes you invited him to watch a movie with you.

that was something that had confused him. he always was preparing himself to say no, that he was tired, or that he just wanted to be in bed in an hour, but instead he often found himself agreeing to the proposal. he realized after a bit of thought that it was because he liked being around you. he was willing to amend his routines to include you in them.

a friend had once warned him that he could never really know someone until he lived with them. and he had found that with you, he only liked you more once he started rooming with you. he liked how responsible and respectful you were with everything you did, aware of your surroundings and the space you shared with him. he found that he looked forward to seeing you every day, and when your door was shut, sometimes he felt conflicted. like he wanted to see you, but he didn't have the right to invade your space so instead, he was stuck alone in his own room, with you across the hall.

the only problem between you both (although he hated to call it that) was how late you stayed up. but even then, you tried to be careful about how loud you were, stepping quietly over the aged floorboards and using minimal lighting to navigate your way through the apartment. 

he wasn’t going to call you out for it. it was only a mild inconvenience, and he knew you couldn’t really help it. you had warned him before you moved in that sometimes you got restless at night, unable to sleep no matter how badly you wanted to.

he didn’t mind, he told you, and you had signed the lease. and truthfully, he didn't. but recently, your sleepless nights had become more frequent. for him, he rarely struggled with the problem. he could easily pass out on his bed at any time of the day. but sometimes he would wake up to your footsteps through the thin walls.

part of him worried for you, thinking to himself that this was what, the eighth day in a row he had woken up to you wandering around? while another part of him (a very cranky one) really wanted you to go to bed (for your sake and his own).

he stepped out of his room, blinking rapidly as he tried to adjust to the lighting of the living room lamp that was on. it wasn’t as bright as if you had turned on the overhead lights, but he’d just come from his pitch-black room.

you were curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest and biting the side of your thumb, still unable to get rid of how antsy you felt despite getting up from your bed. you looked up at him as he stepped into the room, the light of the screen reflecting against the side of your face, “oh god, omi. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you.”

the moment he sees the bags under your own eyes, any hint of irritation he felt about being woken up immediately fades. “it’s fine,” he says, coming to sit with you on the edge of the couch, “can you not sleep?”

you exhale a long breath through your nose at the question, “no. it’s been bad lately. i can’t fall asleep or i wake up a few hours later just feeling even more tired.”

“so you’re watching tv?” he says, raising his brows and looking at you. you purse your lips, pouting under his gaze, fidgeting with the sleeve of your shirt.

you give him a small nod, “yeah. i mean, i’m really tired but i can’t sleep so i came out here to watch something.”

“well screens aren’t going to help you fall asleep,” he chides and you sigh.

“i knew you were going to say that. but what else am i supposed to do?” you complain.

“have you tried stretching?” he suggests.

you look at him, brows raised in confusion, “no, why would i do that?”

he rolls his eyes at your sass but it can’t be helped. he really only knows about the benefits of stretching because they’ve been ingrained into his mind from years of volleyball, “it helps relax your body, especially when you're stiff or sore so that you can go to bed. it’s what i do when i can’t sleep.”

“oh,” you reply, playing with a stray string coming out of the couch.

it’s silent for a moment. “are you not gonna do it? are we just gonna sit here in silence?”

you look up at him in embarrassment, “well, i don’t know what stretches to do! you don’t have to stay up with me, omi. you can go back to sleep. i don’t want you to be tired tomorrow.”

he sighs, laying back and sinking into the couch, “i’m not sleeping until you do.”

“well then tell me what i should do,” you say, extending your legs in front of you, placing them firmly onto the ground so you’re sitting up.

he stands and your eyes follow him curiously, unsure of where he’s going. eventually, he’s standing behind you at the back of the couch, and turns your head forward so that you’re looking directly at the wall in front of you. “what are you doing?” you ask, body going rigid.

“i’m just guiding you through some of these stretches, relax,” he answers and feels you calm down, letting him push your head gently towards one shoulder. his hand is on your opposite shoulder, keeping it straight while you feel a stretch in your neck.

“thanks,” you mumble as he repeats the movement for the other side of your neck. he gives you a small “mhm” in response, focused on making sure you’re feeling the stretch without hurting you.

he ends up leading you to the ground, modeling the stretches for you so that you can follow along. he guides you to lay on your side, with one arm extended out in front of you while the other is behind you, and you face each other as you both lay there, arms mimicking a T.

you giggle, unable to control yourself as you stare into his eyes. “what’s so funny?” he chuckles, smiling at the sound of your laughter.

“i just feel so stupid right now,” you answer, shifting slightly in your position. “but this is helping a bit, i think. i’m feeling a little better.”

he hums in acknowledgment of your words, his smile staying on his face before you switch to the other side.

“what’s next?” you ask, sitting up.

“do you know what the cat-cow is?” he asks, brushing off his arms from where they touched the ground. when you look at him, mouth agape, he gives you a defensive look back, unsure of what caused your reaction. “what?” he says, tilting his head slightly.

“omi, i’m not getting on my hands and knees,” you say, embarrassed that you even have to explain yourself, but you’d rather say it than humiliate yourself further on all fours.

“oh my god,” he rolls his eyes, putting a palm to his face, “you’re turning this into something it’s not. i’m not gonna look at you or anything. i’ll even turn away, okay? just do it, it’s good for you. i’m tired of hearing you complain about your back.”

you sigh dejectedly but comply, moving into the position. you can’t deny that you feel less stiff, but you also can’t help but overthink the entire situation. if anyone had told you a year ago that the man you had been crushing on for years was going to ask you to move in with him and months later he’d be on the floor stretching with you because he really wants you to be able to sleep, you would’ve laughed in their face.

but this was reality, and this felt like an intimate moment between you both. you were unsure of what to make of the situation; it had come as a big enough shock that he cared enough about your sleep. but you also shouldn’t have been that surprised. 'he’s just being a good friend,' you try to reason. he asked you to move in because no one in their right mind would want to live under the same roof as atsumu, and you both value a clean, organized house.

but where were you supposed to draw the line between friends and something more?

his careful attentiveness towards you had started to make you think that maybe he saw you as more of a friend as well. you never imagined that he would ever want you to stay in the kitchen with him while he was cooking when it had been a bad day, and you were even more surprised the first time he agreed to watch a movie with you. you considered yourselves good friends but you didn’t expect him to actually want to spend so much time with you on top of everything else he had going on. he never seemed to tire of seeing you around the house; instead, he always made sure to say hi or ask how your day had been.

you wanted to bring it up to him soon, you really did. the feeling was starting to eat away at you, and this night together wasn’t helping in the slightest.

after a few more stretches, you stood up, reaching your arms above you as you yawned. “think you’ll be able to sleep now?” he asks, following you up and dusting off his clothes.

the thought of going back to your stuffy room makes you drop your arms and the content look on your face fades away. you felt tired, but something about your room just felt so unwelcoming. you didn’t want to walk back in there, where the air would feel heavy, your mattress would be too stiff, your pillow too soft, and blanket too scratchy. there was always something that bothered you about your bed every night, and being alone with your thoughts again would prevent you from falling asleep. you’d be stuck tossing and turning in your bed on a bed that never felt clean or comfortable, you could already feel it. 

“what’s wrong?” he steps into your line of sight. you look up at him as a thought crosses your mind, making you immediately look back down at the ground, face turning red.

“um–” you start, and then immediately close your mouth. it was a stupid thought.

but what’s the worst he could do? say no? give you a disgusted look? kick you out into the cold after spending half an hour stretching with you? that last one was a little extreme, but maybe you’d say it and he’d laugh in your face. or gag (being dramatic, again). either way, whatever he said, if it wasn’t a yes, your life would be forever ruined.

“y/n,” he says, and you look back up at him, feeling like you’re about to collapse under the weight of his gaze. but your mouth opens, unable to keep it in.

“i just–” you have to stop to take in a deep breath, the words getting caught in your throat. he keeps looking at you the entire time, waiting to listen to what you have to say. “i don’t want to go back to my own bed,” you blurt, finally spitting it out. “it just doesn’t feel right. i don’t know how to explain it, but i know i won’t be able to sleep alone in my own bed. i’m sorry,” you add an apology on at the end, feeling embarrassed by your own confession.

when he doesn’t respond, you feel even worse. “nevermind, forget i said anything, i’m so sorry. thank you for helping me stretch, i’m going to go to bed now–” you spin on your heel, moving to run away as calmly as you can manage when he catches your wrist. you let out a small exclaim of surprise at the touch as he turns you back around.

“don’t apologize. and don’t lie to me. i want you to sleep,” he says, looking away as he runs a hand through his hair, preparing to say his next few words. “would it–” he shuts his mouth, feeling the anxiety settle in his chest, “would it help to sleep with me?”

neither of you are looking at each other. he’s staring at the wall and you’re looking at the floor, face hot and burning. “if you don’t mind, i think it would,” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear and look back at you, letting out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in.

he’s still holding your wrist, too, he realizes, but he doesn’t let go. he runs a thumb along the side of your arm, grabbing your attention again. he’s looking you in the eyes, and he wants to tell you that he’s not uncomfortable with sleeping in the same bed as you. in fact, it’s quite the opposite, but he’s not sure what you’ll say back, so he settles for a neutral response, instead, “yeah. of course i’m fine with it.”

maybe in the morning, when he wakes up next to you, finds your limbs entangled with his under his sheets, and sees the sunlight peeking through the curtains and onto your skin, he’ll be able to choke out a three-word confession. but for now, he only leads you silently to his room, letting you slip under the covers first before he follows after, holding you close.

[lazyollie]

Ninjago headcanons- They made you cry

Some angst for my readers:c

Warning: bad grammar, typos, cringe, angst, might be your trauma get triggered

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Lloyd

°× Lloyd was gaming on the coach with a console in his hand. Mostly you don't have a problem with is but today was different.

°× You really wanted to talk with him but when you asked him he just said wait 5 min.

°× 5 minutes later you tried again, placing your hand on his shoulder but he just shove it off.

Hey stop! Don't touch me, I will lose! I told you to WAIT!

°× Your look saddened as you slowly backed away from him silently. He didn't even look away from the screen as he kept playing.

°× Tears formed in your eyes as you walked out of the room. You left him behind. You just wanted love and attention from him.

°× After a few minutes of suspicious silent he paused the game looking around, searching for you.

°× But when he realised you left the room he instantly felt bad about ignoring you.

°× He turned off the game and went after you into the bedroom. When he opened the door he found you crying on the bed.

°× Oh how guilty he felt. He hates seeing you sad, but he even more hates making you sad.

°× He crawled into the bed carefully snugging closer to you. He wrapped his arms around you from behind.

Y/n..honey..I'm so sorry. I was so focused on the game that I haven't realised how you might feel...I'm so sorry..What do you wanted to talk about, my love? I'm here and I will listen.

°× You turned around, finally facing him. You hugged him burring your head into his chest.

°× He carresed your hair letting you cry into his chest. He didn't even cared about you soaked his shirt.

°× After a while you pulled your head from his chest looking at him with a weak smile. He just smiled back at you kissing your tears away.

°× You talked with him the whole night. He made sure you felt heared.

Kai

°× He was stressed and mad when he came home from a mission.

°× He was more irritated and got impatient.

°× You didn't know what happened and tried go comfort him, but he closed off.

°× You decided to make him his favorite meal. It turned out well, but when you wanted to plate it out you accidantly dropped the plate what broke into pieces.

°× It was the last drop of water for him to spill. He started yelling at you for being that clumsy to drop a plate like that.

OH MY GOD Y/N! YOU MESS UP EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME. I CAN'T EVEN GIVE YOU SIMPLY CHORES TO YOU!

°× He was so stressed that he didn't realise that he was yelling at his lover. His only one.

°× When he finally snapped out of it, guilt was on his face.

°× Seeing your face is covered in tears, your body is shaking and how you backed away from him made his heart ache.

°× How could he make his lover cry? Just because he had a bad day he shouldn't take it out on you like this.

°× He slowly walked to you hugging you to his chest. Apologising constatly.

Oh love..I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... I had a bad day, I shouldn't have do that..

°× Later that day he treated you like a princess. He cooked and tugged you in the bed. Cuddling the whole day.

°× He felt really bad about making you cry.

Jay

°× You were both guys making jokes and tease the other. Nothing really what would hurt you.

°× But the more jokes you had make the more hurtful jokes Jay made about you.

°× He made jokes about your insecurities even though he knew about them.

Whener you laugh you put your hand in front of your mouth. What are you trying to cover? Your ugly smile?

°× Jay immediately put his hand over his mouth shocked by himself.

°× Tears streamed down you face sobbing while you tried to wipe them away.

°× He's never regretted something that bad like this. He knew damn about your inserities and he just made a joke about it.

Y/n...Please don't cry.. I'm sorry..I didn't mean it, you know I love you...Can I hug you?

°× You hesitatingly nodded and he hugged you close, placing your head in the crook of his neck.

°× One of his hands was carresing your back and the other one your hair.

°× When you calmed down he apologised again. Ressauring you that he will never do it again.

°× So he did. He'd become more attentive with your insecurities so he won't make the same mistake.

Nya

°× Your relationship with her started tearing apart itself.

°× You had a lots of fights and arguments. You couldn't stand each other. Always hurting each other on purpose.

°× One night both of you were fighting again yelling out your opinion at each other. So maybe one day you will understand each other.

°× Nya at a point started to really get mad and we know what happens when she's angry.

°× She can't hold her anger back and telling and doing things what she regrets later.

I TOLD YOU I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOUR STUPID SHITTY OPINION, YOU NEEDY BRAT!

°× Your eyes widened as tears formed in them. That's when Nya realised she went too far.

No, love..hey..I'm sorry

°× She carresed your cheek with her thumb. Her eyes full of regret as she took you in her arms.

°× When you calmed down she kissed your forehead, carrying you to the bedroom. She placed you down onto the bed and went away.

°× Later she showed up with snacks in her hand and then you guys watched a movie together.

°× The next day you both guys talked out your views and opinion. This time she listened and tried to understand. As you did.

°× She just realised how much she loves you and she needs you. She really wanted to fix your relationship.

°× This argument made you both to make effort to work this out together.

Zane

°× Zane is a very caring boyfriend. He always know when to talk when to be silent. What to say or what to not say.

°× He refuses to hurt you ever. Your his life and the living proof that he has feelings. Because he's deeply in love with you.

°× He wasn't even the reason why you started crying.

°× You arrived home looking troubled. You were not yourself. You were much more quiet and mostly you just stared into nothing blankly.

°× He was hesitant to ask you what's wrong but he eventually did what caused you to burst into tears.

°× He gently grabbed your hand leading you to the couch, seating you down.

°× Zane wasn't sure how to help you. He didn't even know why are you sad, why are you crying. But he wanted to know.

Heyy y/n...What's wrong? Tell me how can I help, dear?

°× You hugged him and he wrapped his arms around you understanding that you need affection.

°× You told him what disturbed you and he listened carresing your back, your waist. He hummed as a sign he understand you.

°× He ressaured you what ever made you upset that "It's alright! You did your best.."

°× Even it wasn't his fault he started to check up on you and your mental health more.

°× You're really important for him and he must protect you. Take care of you, because he just wants you to be okay.

Cole

°× He's also a pretty good boyfriend. He has a lot of patient and always attentive towards you.

°× But there are times when the perfection slips and mistakes are made.

°× You and him were in an argument. You moved your arms agressively to prove a point, but he didn't even raised his voice at you.

°× He knew about your past and promised to himself to never treat you the same.

°× But after a while he couldn't take how you didn't even listened to him. So before he would notice he snapped at you.

JUST SHUT UP FOR A MINUTE AND LISTEN TO ME! DAMN IT!

°× Silence fell on you as you teared up. You looked away immediately apologising from him quietly.

°× His eyes widened in shock by his self, by your reaction.

My flower..I'm so sorry..

°× He slowly approached to you cupping your face into his hands. You looked up at him tears dropping from your eyes.

°× You put your hands on his hands gently as he placed a kiss onto the top of head.

°× The rest of the day filled with cuddles and you even watched a movie together to calm yourselves down.

°× The next day you started the converstation again, talking out your minds calmly.

°× This time both of you paid attention to the other ideas and problems.

°× He promised to never raise his voice at you and you promised that you will listen his side too.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

I saw this headcanon idea from another fandom so I decided to do it on my own in the Ninjas fandom. I have a lot of ideas.

Maybe I will make a vote what headcanons/oneshot should I make first, but I'm not sure.

So be prepared. Love y'all<3

[mareagirls]

OK this just hit me and if i wrote for joel id have a blast with this BUT

what if r and joel were out on a job somewhere or going to his storehouse outside the qz and instead of ellie being bitten and immune it’s r!!!!! the drama when she doesnt turn

LOL not me acting like you didn’t send me this request over a year ago, i’m so sorry it’s so late 😭 i hope you like it sweetheart. I’ll come back and check this for typos later!

> established relationship, established family dynamic, protective!joel, sad joel, sad ellie but she tries to hide it, sad reader but there is fluff and comfort and the end i promise

tws: reader asks joel to kill her (i'm not sure if this should be a tw but just incase!

I believe unconditionally in a free Palestine, and am aware that one of the creators of TLOU is a zionist. i do not support this and strongly encourage anyone reading this to engage with the link below!

how you can help Palestine

-

There’s a clicker snapping and snarling above you. You bring your arms up to keep it away from your face as you try to shove it off. Joel won't take the shot, you think, not when there’s a risk of hitting you.

With a final push of adrenaline, you manage to kick it up so it’s further off you. You scream out for Joel then, strangled.

“Fuck- Joel!"

The rippling bang of a gunshot pierces the air.

The thing on top of you goes slack, features still contorted in a gruesome snarl. You shove it off and scramble away, standing up as soon as you’ve put enough distance between you. Silence returns to the forest.

When you look up, you don’t find the relieved looks you’re expecting from either of your companions. Joel is looking at you, horror painted across his features as he stares at your arm.

You follow his gaze down.

Blood is leaking out of a clear bite mark just above your wrist. Your shirt and skin are shredded where the things teeth ripped into you. Red coats your hand, dripping thickly onto the ground.

Your legs go weak at the sight.

"Shit- shit, Y/N-" Ellie is panicking. She’s closer by, arms reaching out for you. You take a half step back, unwilling to let her get nearer, and her head snaps up. "It got you."

You all know what this means. It’s a death sentence. A promise that even if you’re not dead now, you will be very soon.

You look at Ellie with a wobbly smile that you know won't do much to placate her panic. She looks like she might cry and behind her, Joel has gone rigid - eyes wide, hands in tight fists by his sides. You don't know what's worse.

"It's alright, Ellie, sweetheart," you focus on trying to calm the girl down first. “It's okay. It's alright. You have to leave me here."

Before Ellie can retort, Joel stiffens.

"No- no." He collects himself, rolling his shoulders slowly as if to shake off the stupor. “That is out of the question.”

You think to yourself that denial looks devastating on him.

"Joel," his name is a broken supplication on your lips. "You need to take Ellie and get back to Jackson. She needs to be safe."

It’s low, reminding him of how dangerous the world is in an effort to make him focus, but Joel cares about keeping you and Ellie safe above anything else. Reiterating that he can’t protect everyone might hurt him, but it’ll keep them both alive long enough to forgive you.

You're shaking, you realise then. Tremors wracking your body as the adrenaline of the fight dissipates and leaves horror in it's wake. You glance at the bite again and a low wounded noise escapes you.

Joel steps forward, arms reaching out to comfort you instinctively, and you take two back, doing your best to avoid the hurt that flashes in his eyes. His voice is ragged when he next speaks, and Joel Miller has never been one to beg, but right now he’s sounding awfully close.

“Let us stay with you."

“The bite is in your arm, right?" Ellie regards you carefully. "You still have a few hours left. We can keep you company."

Shaking your head, you step further away.

"I don't want you to see me turn into one of those things."

“We’ll kill you before you get to that point.”

Ellie speaks matter of factly, but you don’t miss the way her hands flit anxiously at her sides. She’s tough, your girl, but you and Joel both know her tells better than you know yourselves. Behind all the snark and self assuredness, she’s a kid. You wont force her to watch another person she cares about succumb to cordyceps.

“Ellie,” you try to reason. “I don't want you to see me like that.”

You turn to Joel, expecting agreement, but he’s wiped his face clear of any emotion, inscrutable - you cant read him at all. He's putting his walls up, brick by brick in an attempt to hide how he feels. You don't blame him - you think you'd do the same were your roles reversed.

“We’ll stay with you, Y/N.” His runs a tired hand over his beard. “No infected or people 'round here for miles. We can set up camp. When the time comes...”

He trails off, like he can't bring himself to say the words.

And that's that.

-

Night falls.

Joel ties you up to a tree as a safety precaution, grunting a soft apology when he pulls the rope across your chest too tight and you wince.

Despite your protests, he bandages the bite, careful motions and gentle hands. He thumbs over it when he’s finished, more out of habit than reassurance. You doubt he even realises.

Ellie tries to crack some jokes, doing her best to alleviate the mood. You offer her a halfhearted smile in return but you can tell she's not convinced by it.

It all feels overwhelmingly pointless. Joel will have to kill you soon, and if he can’t, you’ll do it yourself. He's only delaying the inevitable by keeping you alive. When you try to tell him so - try to make it clear that he's just putting himself and Ellie in danger - the man’s shoulders go tight and he turns away from you.

You don't try to dissuade him again.

Now, Ellie is reading her comic by the gas lamp, eyes flickering to you every so often. You twist your body away from her as much as you can and stare into the dark of the woods. You don't want to risk her seeing you get sick. You want her to remember you healthy, smiling - not overcome by the infection.

Joel comes over to you with your water flask in hand and you shake your head. You shouldn't use up resources when you'll be dead soon. When you tell him as much, the man bites his lip but stays quiet. He doesn��t question you though - water is a valuable resource. He knows that just as well as you do.

"Shoot me the moment I start to turn." You murmur, quietly so that Ellie won’t hear you. Joel looks down at you, ashen. Some of the barriers that he’s put up since you were bitten fall away - you see glimpses of the Joel you know inside.

He’s afraid. Devastated. Doing his hardest to keep it together for you and Ellie.

"Y/N-"

"Promise me, Joel. Promise me you'll shoot me."

He swears it, and the words hang stagnant in the air between you.

You thank him before turning away again, raising your voice a little so that Ellie can hear you too when you next speak.

"Goodnight."

I love you both so much. I'm so honoured I got to love you. I'm sorry we didn't get more time. Keep eachother safe. I love you. I love you. I love you. I'm sorry.

It's easier than saying goodbye.

-

You wake with a start to the feeling of someone tapping your cheek.

It’s still dark, the gas lamp casting long and shifting shadows on the small clearing where you've set up camp, but all you can think about is the fact that someone is touching you.

Flinching back with a gasp, you snatch your bitten arm to your chest. Your eyes take a moment to adjust to what's around you.

Ellie and Joel are kneeling by your side, the latter's hands raised as to not spook you. You blink up at them, not understanding. When Joel tries to get closer, you curl in on yourself, the back of your head clipping against the tree and causing you to wince.

"It's alright,” Joel’s saying. “The infection didn't take. You're alright."

You can barely understand him past the rushing in your ears, still focused on the lingering feeling of his rough fingertips on your face.

"Why would you- Fuck, Joel. I'm fucking infected! Why would you touch me? " You're panicking, gasping between words. All you can think of is that Joel touched you and he could get infected too now and Ellie will be alone if you both get sick. She'll have to kill you both.

Joel looks like he wants to get closer, but when he tries, you make yourself as small as possible- knees up against your chest.

"Please, Joel- I don't want to hurt you."

The man shakes his head but doesn't try to come closer again. "You won't. You won't."

"You're still alright, Y/N," Ellie is kneeling on the other side of you. She picks up your injured arm and tugs off the bandage before you can stop her. "Look," she urges. "The infection hasn't taken."

Sure enough, the bite mark is still there, - angry and red and crusted with blood, but there aren’t any purpling veins expanding from it. No greenish hue indicating infection.

This is a trick, you think then. A cruel trick your mind is playing on you in your last moments of clarity. A sick manifestation of your survival instinct begging you to not lose hope.

“You’re not feverish,” Ellie continues. “You’re not coughing or vomiting.”

When you look back at Joel, he looks so convinced - more hopeful than you've ever seen him in the time you've known each other. Nothing else has ever given him that expression. Not the Firefly's promises of revolution, not the prospect of a cure. Joel Miller's thought processes have always been grounded in reality - stoic, stony, calculating.

But right now it looks more like those of the countless QZ kids who get drawn into the Firefly's ranks every year on promises of a better future. You want him to snap out of it. Want to remind him that idealism can only bring trouble- he taught you that.

"The infection hasn't taken yet, Y/N." Ellie is still speaking, small hands gripping yours. "It should have by now. You're still alright. Maybe you're immune like me."

You fight the urge to believe her. "Maybe it's just taking longer to spread.”

"And why the fuck would it do that?" Joel snaps at you, breathing in deep when you flinch at his tone. He runs a hand through his greying hair.

"I'm sorry, I’m sorry. I just- think about it, darlin'," the pet name he usually only reserves for the moments you're alone slips out. "Ellie is right. It should have spread by now. It's been hours."

And you are thinking about it, you are, but you also don't want to hold onto foolish hopes. The likelihood of you and Ellie both being immune feels unfathomable.

“Don’t give me this, Joel,” you say, quiet.

“Don’t give you what? Hope?”

“You promised you’d shoot me!”

Your voice rises, and you realise then how hysterical you sound. Joel’s hand moves to his chest, like it’s physically hurting him to hear you speak like this.

“I promised I’d shoot you when the infection set in. It hasn’t.” His tone is clipped, even, but his expression is anything but.

“So you’re telling me that you’re going to be able to look me in the eyes and put a bullet through my eyes when it does? After you’ve worked yourself up into the idea that I might fucking survive this?”

Surprisingly, Ellie is the most level headed, interceding between the two of you.

She speaks quietly, evenly. “We should just wait a bit more.”

You try to intercede but she stops you.

“No, Y/N. You’re tied up and you’re not getting sick right now. We should wait a few more hours.”

“Ellie-"

“I won’t lose someone else if I don’t have to.”

Your shoulders sag under the weight of what she's saying. Ellie leaves no room for argument. She wraps a clean bandage around your wound and brushes her thumb over it the same way Joel did last night. They’re so alike without even realising it. You tell yourself that at least they’ll have eachother when you’re gone.

A tentative voice whispers inside your head;

If you’re gone.

-

By the evening of the next day, nothing has changed.

Joel and Ellie have barely left your side, the former only disappearing into the woods for a half hour before returning with a few dead rabbits.

"You should try eat something.”

You don’t have an appetite. Haven’t since you were bitten, but Joel and Ellie keep looking at you like you’ll keel over if you don’t eat, so once he’s skinned and cooked the meant, you take what is given to you.

Your companions seem to have taken this new change in their stride, Ellie especially has come to terms with the idea of you possibly being immune very rapidly, but it’s a lot to wrap your head around. You flinch away whenever they get too close, and when Joel tries to untie you, you don’t let him.

“Y/N.”

“Please don’t.”

He swallows hard but nods.

That night you fall asleep still tied up against the tree. You’re woken by nightmares of rotting flesh.

You don’t shut your eyes again after that.

-

It takes three more days for you to let Joel touch you.

You let him untie you on the second because you’re painfully aware that your little group needs to keep moving. You’re unsure about whether you’re still heading for the Fireflies or if Joel has changed route and is taking you all back to Jackson, but you keep your distance either way, choosing to walk a few meters behind them at all times. You keep talking to a minimum, too overwhelmed and exhausted to say anything. Between the two of them, they make up for your lack of sound. Ellie chatters a lot anyway, and Joel answers all her questions, humouring her every joke. He’s filling in gaps that you’d usually contribute in you realise. Sometimes, their voices even drown out the noise in your head. It’s a pleasant distraction.

The next time you set up camp, Ellie goes straight to sleep. Something in her seems to have relaxed since you haven’t become infected. Joel is sat nearby, having offered to take first watch. His features soften when he doesn't think anyone’s looking. A small smile tugging at his lips as Ellie snorts and mumbles something in her sleep.

When he notices you staring, he offers you a tired smile.

“You should get some rest, sweetheart.”

Nodding, you get into your sleeping bag. You’re still not sure what to say and do, but if Joel thinks anything of your apparent immunity, he hasn’t shown it. He’s probably trying to let you rationalise and make peace with what’s happened on your own before he or Ellie give their input.

You try to sleep, you really do. But every sound the forest makes has you flinching, peering into the darkness, shifting in your sleeping bag restlessly.

You don't know if it's the overwhelming stress of the last few days, or the exhaustion, or something else entirely, but once you've started to cry, you can't stop. You try valiantly to smother the sound by clamping your hand over you mouth, but Joel has always been far too attentive for your liking. When the second sob leaves you, you hear him walk over. He stops in front of you, taking in your form (curled up in your sleeping bag, hand pressed against your lips, tears streaming down your face) and a small breath escapes him.

"Oh, my girl."

Before you can apologise, Joel is crouching down in front of you.

"Can I hold you?" His palms are up, open. He doesn’t mean any harm. He won’t hurt you, he never has. More importantly, you won’t hurt him.

Part of you wants to say no - still not used to the idea of being immune - but his proximity makes your skin sting and ache for contact, you're hurting almost with the absence of touch. After days of sitting so far away from Joel and Ellie with nothing but your jacket around you, you give in to him.

"Please."

It's all it takes. One minute Joel is still staring at you like he doesn't want to scare you off, and the next, he's pulling you firmly to his chest, sleeping bag and all.

He smells like pine. Feels like safety. When he presses his lips to the crown of your head, your sobbing intensifies.

"That's it, honey. Let it out. You're safe."

His arms are crowding you, but it doesn't feel stifling. It feels like coming home.

You shudder in his hold. “I’m scared, Joel. I was really fucking scared.”

“I know, baby” he coos - softer than you’ve ever heard him. “S’okay. It’s been a scary few days, hm?”

Another great sob cracks through you and you nod as Joel’s large hand moves up over your back to cup your head carefully. He holds you like a babe, like you’re something worth saving, and if he's afraid of the fact that you were bitten, he doesn't show it.

“It’s alright, honey. You’re safe. I’m gonna keep us all safe.”

He rocks back and forth gently with you clasped to his chest.

"It was killin' me, y'know? Not bein' able to hold you. Comfort you.”

"I'm sorry."

"You don't gotta be sorry, sweetheart. Just know that we got you." He smatters more gentle kisses along your hairline. "Me, you, and Ellie. We're a team."

You nod, because you are a team. You have been for months now. You trust them to keep you safe.

“What are we- What ‘re we gonna do, Joel? The bite…”

Joel shushes you easily, shaking his head.

“That’s a problem for tomorrow. We’ll face it when the morning comes.”

You sink into his chest further, nodding.

“Thank you.”

Joel pulls away ever so slightly to look you in the eyes properly.

“Don’t gotta thank me, honey. Don’t ever gotta thank me for anything at all.”

You fall asleep like that; held to his chest like something worth protecting. That night, no nightmares come.

[tadpolesinyourshoes]

more od my stardew brain rot for the masses. I present:

My headcannons after life after marriage with the SDV bachelor/ettes:

Its kinda long, sorry and I also apologize for typos or if its incoherent. I'm no writer

Harvey:

You thoughy he worried avout your health BEFORE you got together, oh boy oh boy. He's alaays asking how you feel, bringing you snacks amd water while you work the farm. He cleans you up after the mines (while he lectures you about the dangers). He likes the domestic moments. The days it rains and you stay inside together with warm cups of coffee, snuggled up in the bed. Hes a classica kind of guy. He leaves roses on the table and brings you breakfast in bed. Since hes a doctor, you're both awake early. Every morning is filled with sleepy kisses and coffee. He never leaves the house without a kiss and a 'see you later'.

Shane:

This man is ANXIOUS. Hes a bundle of self doubt and insecurity. He spends his hours thinking how great you are and how itd a matter of time until you leave him. Reassure him, please. He absolutely loves every minute you're with him. Hes acrually a surprisingly good cook. He also is so good with kids. He definitely wants kids after seeing you with Jas. Hes not big on saying how he feels, but he's working on it. Instead he helps out here and there, feeding the chickens (he actually loves doing that), cleaning the house, cooking a meal when you get home late. Little touches when you're alone. His leg agaisnt yours, his hand gently in your hair while you sleep. He loves you more than anything (except the chickens. Knoe your place.)

Elliot:

He is down SO BAD. Carries a picture of the two of you everywhere. He shows you off whenever he has the chance. Hes just so proud of his sweetheart. He cooks well, but he hates cooking so you two agree to split the chores. You're his muse ans you best believe he makes it known. He leaves you poems; post-it notes on the mirror, on a napkin on the counter, written on the bavk of th grocery list, a torn out notebook page in your coat pocket. He loves when you do his hair. If you don't know how, he teaches you. On slow days on the farm, you leave the front door open for some air and you can hear him playing piano.

Alex:

His love language is tackling you (physical touch). You walk through the door and hes hugging you, kissing your cheeks, picking you up and taking you to bed. He can't cook, but he can bake. Evelyn taught him and he treasures the skill. For every anniversary, no matter how small, he makes a treat. He loves helping you around the farm because its an excuse to walk around shirtless and flex for you. He also has a weirdly green thumb. The crops wont sprout and the season is almost over? Send Alex to water them. The next moening you have a bounty like no other.

Sam:

He has ADHD so he does that peguin pebbling thing where he finds random objects and brings them to you because 'this reminded me of you.' He can't cook. For the love of yoba don't let him cook unless you want to remodel your kitchen. He still tries to be sweet though. Hes not a morning person, but when you wake up early he stumbled put of bed, hair messy, eyes closed and follows you like a sad puppy. Hes so clingy. Like SO clingy. Personal space. Gone. He talks to you through the bathroom door, holds you while you sleep, wants to be next to you all the time. He also loves your animals, especially the chickens. He has one favorite, but he won't say it (he might hurt the others feelings). Sometimes you come back from town and hes sitting outside on the porch talking to the chickens, who look strangely invested.

Sebastian:

He loves you so much, but he hates that everyone KNOWS he loves you. You gush about the sweet things he does to your friends and he goes bright red in the ears. The townsfolk ask about you so he tries to avoid having to talk to them. When you're alone though, he's the total opposite. Hes quiet, sure, but he does whatever he can to help you out. A kiss on your cheek before he goes to water the crops for you. Makes you a cup of coffee after work. When he was little, robin taught him how to carve and widdle. He makes you cute wooden figures, usually modeled after your animals. He takes you to the city for weekend date nights. He asks you to go on rides just to feel your arms around him.

Leah:

She treats you like the most beautiful painting shes ever layed her eyes on. When you're sitting with her on the beach, she'll paint dancing swirls up your arms to your hands. (Maybe you get it tattooed one day and she cries). All the paintings in your house are made by her. Much like Elliott, youre her muse. She makes you sit so she can paint you or practice sketching. But she can never get enough of you. When you lay together, she meticulously traces the shapes of your body. Your hands, your nose, your hips. Everything about you is perfect to her.

Emily:

She's a free, creative person. She wakes you up late at night to look at the stars and dance by the river. Shes been making a quilt out of scrap fabric for your bed. She tries to tesch you how to sew it so you cam be a part of it. She helps you with the crops and picks fresh vegetables when theh grow so she can make you beautiful dinners. She loves to cook for you because you always have something good to say about it. She could be on food network, you swear it. Every day when she gets ready, right after putting on her lipstick, she kisses your cheek to leave a little mark. You leave it there while you do your chores.

Penny:

Penny is naturally an early bird. She wakes up each morning with you. You two share a few minutes of quiet before stsrting coffee. You take turns making breakfast. Penny is so used to keeping the house up by herself after living with Pam, so being with you is a breath of fresh air. But she still likes to help you out. So before going to teach the kids, she helps out in the garden. You pass by in town while shes walking the kids home. You join them on their walk and Jas starts asking you for that princess story again. As you tell it, you see Penny's cheeks go pink. Its only the story of how you met. But to you it felt like a fairy tale. You walk home with your wife every day, sharing stories of your day while settling down on the porch.

Abigail:

Shes high energy. She heard about it, she wants to try it. Take her to the city to a nigt club and she'll dance circles with you all night. She makes you matching bracelets and you never dare to take it off. When you go down to the mines, she wants to come with. She doesn't fear them, but that scares you. You have to convince her to stay with the farm every time. But you always bring her a beautiful gemstone back. You think the amythest brings out her eyes. Shes a decent cook, actually. Contrary to what Sam and Sebastion may say. Her recipes are odd, but somehow, they always work out. Shes not a morning person, she won't get up even if you shake her. But somehow she knows if you forget to give her a kiss on your way out the door.

Haley:

She takes a million pictures of you. She loves to. You hide your face, she tells you how much she likes your smile. You're working on the farm and hear the shutter click. She likes the ways your arms look when you roll up your sleeves. After a long day in town, you bring her flowers. Shes always waiting up for you. She likes to slow dance in the living room and hear about your adventures from the day. She tells Alex about how great you are. Everytime you walk by and catch her off gaurd, she fixes her hair so she 'looks nice'. You just kiss her and tell her she looks nice all the time.

Maru:

She loves to help you out on thr farm. Just not... conventionally. She is her father's daughter, so shes always making you new inventions to make the farm run smoother. Better fertilizer, fresh feed thst produces better eggs, though she was banned from tending the animald after one of her feeds turned your chickens eggs bright pink. She loves to walk around town with you, always with your hand in hers. She's not a cook, but she still tries to learn from you. Shes learning, but she mostly just likes getting to be near you while you cook.

[strangesthirdeye]

Being blind and dating Crowley would include:

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

-DB

Warning: nothing just fluff and Crowley being sweet and awesome boyfriend

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

•He knows you through Aziraphale. Well Aziraphale has many customers who come to his bookshop so Crowley assumes you are just one of Aziraphale's customers who come to talk about books.

•later finds out that you are Aziraphale's friend who came just to visit him and say hello.

• the first time he saw you wearing sunglasses that matched his made him think 'maybe you wear them because your eyes are sensitive to sunlight or you just wear them because you really want to wear them' so he ignores that and greets Aziraphale with a burst into the bookshop.

• later find out that you are blind after Aziraphale scowls at him and says you have sensitive ears so after Crowley's booming voice greets Aziraphale, you are startled by the sudden loud voice.

• Crowley being a demon that isn't much of a demon apologizes to you. (and make an apology dance j/k)

• You just smile and shake your head and just say that you are used to it because your senses other than your vision are quite sharp making you aware of such situations.

• soon after, you could say you always came to the bookshop to chat with Crowley and sometimes with Aziraphale. But usually Crowley due to Aziraphale being busy with customers who come to the bookshop.

• At first, Crowley was a bit awkward to chat with you but over time he was ok with you. Often give compliments on your matching sunglasses.

• You can only blush. And Crowley noticed your red face.

• because you are blind, Crowley always helps you like accompanying you to go home in a Bentley, opening his car door for you and sometimes he also helps you by holding your shoulder and guiding you to the seat no matter where you are so that you don't bump with furniture or people.

• drive Bentley at a speed that is not very fast for your safety. although you don't care how fast Crowley drives, you enjoy it.

•blushing because you once tried to touch his face in order to know what his face looks like and fought back a groan of pleasure when your fingers gently stroked his red hair.

• resisting the urge to confess his feelings to you because he doesn't know how to confess to you. His face turned red when he saw your smile. And he's just a relief because of course you don't see his red face.

• later, confess his feelings to you after having dinner at the Ritz where Aziraphale recommended and gave advice to Crowley about love. Crowley only made a face when he heard the word love but still took the advice and confessed his feelings for you.

•protect you at all costs like scowling at people who bumped into you without apologizing or at people who try to get close to you. Because he doesn't like people doing that to his precious Angel. And that's what boyfriend always does right?

• Call you Angel without realizing that he is calling you that at first. You just blushed and Crowley grinned cheekily at your red face. You are the only angel he admires and loves. Although he calls Aziraphale an angel because he is an angel but you are an angel in his heart.

• stunned after you found out that he was a demon right after Crowley told you about that and even more stunned after finding out that Aziraphale was an angel. But you let it go because well you love Crowley no matter what so you're fine.

• Not wearing his glasses around you because well he trusts you and I don't want to say a sentence that you are blind because that is a bit rude. (sorry)

• Admire your face and always give a kiss on the forehead every time you come to the bookshop.

• Aziraphale being the number one shipper can only squeal with excitement.

• shape shift into a snake just to snuggle around your neck.

• Often put his head on your lap and you will gently stroke his hair making Crowley fall asleep.

• well no matter where you are, Crowley will always be by your side and be a shield for you. Give you affection and comfort you if you have a mental breakdown. But overall, Crowley is the best boyfriend ever.

[chipsinsalsa]

Pretty Boy 🖤

Sub Peeta x Fem! Reader

Plot: After a month of no intimacy with Peeta you decided to give him a punishment.

AN: As promised for the winner of the poll! I’ll be doing another poll later to see what the next one will be about! Once again disclaimer for any typos or mistakes. And thank you all for the support it means a lot 🥹! I am taking requests so feel free to do so 🤘

contains: smut, sub Peeta , dom fem reader!,character aged up, handcuffs, overstimulation, no katniss

It was a rainy day when you decided that your boredom just needed to be cured.

You and Peeta had been living together as a couple ever since he came home from the games. It had been great between the both of you. Every day you would wake up to freshly cooked pastries from your boyfriend, and at night you both had incredible chemistry.

That is to say that as of recently the both of you had been going on for about a month without any sexual intimacy. And today you decided you had had enough. You went up to Peeta who was per usual making something in the kitchen. It kept his mind occupied and off of the memories he held onto from his experience in the games.

He noticed you coming towards him with a serious look in your eyes. Immediately putting his stuff away sitting down ready to hear you out. “Yes, darling?” He spoke questioning as you began to sit down as well.

“Peeta it’s been a month”

He furrowed his eyebrows giving you a confused look. “A month? Of what? Did I miss our anniversary?”

You looked at the blonde-haired boy questioning whether he was playing coi or he genuinely didn’t know what you were saying.

“You know what never mind.” You said as you rolled your eyes turning away from him.

Peeta shook his head, still looking confused. "Know what y/n? You haven't told me anything yet," he said gently.

You took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes. "It's been a month since we've been intimate, Peeta," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Did I do something wrong?” You asked expecting the worst.

He began to shake his head “No no no, I just-” He paused. “I wasn't sure if you wanted to-”

Now you gave him a confused look. “What?”

“I didn't want to force you into anything”

You felt a warmth spread throughout your body at his words. It was sweet of him to be so considerate, but it wasn't what you wanted. "Peeta, I want to. I've been wanting to. I just didn't know how to bring it up, but do you know how long a month is?”

Peeta chuckled, understanding your frustration. "I know, y/n. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you."

“Oh, you're going to make it up to me, now!” You grabbed his hand dragging him to the bedroom immediately throwing him onto the bed and locking the door.

“Hey now slow down beautiful what's happening.” He said propping himself up.

“I’ll show you what's happening-” You walked over to the drawer next to the bed. As you opened it you dug through it looking for the one item you never thought you would use. Yet here you were pulling out a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs.

You dangled them in front of Peeta, his expression turning into that of fear. “Your not actually going to use those on me, right?” Before he could utter another word you walked over to him straddling him making sure he wouldn't move. You placed the handcuffs on him placing his hands to be above his head.

And you couldn't lie, the angle, seeing Peeta so…vulnerable made you want to do unspeakable things.

“Is this what you want?” He asked his eyes filled with fear.

“It's what you deserve.”

You heard him gulp as he struggled to verbalize. “I’m- why dont we take things slow maybe– fuck.” Was all he said as you took his clothed member into your hands. You could feel his desperation to be released already as he bucked his hips in the air. “Please-”

“Pleading already?” You cooed as you began to untie his belt taking off his pants.

His precum already showing through his boxers. You looked up at him. His cheeks flushed red. You knew he felt exposed and you loved it. “Such a pretty boy”

You slid his boxers off as his cock sprung out. His body shivering from the release.

You couldn't help but smile at his reaction. His body was so responsive to your touch, and it made you feel powerful. You leaned down and took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him deeper .“God fuck-” Peeta moaned and his body arched, the handcuffs preventing him from moving.

You continued to work your mouth on him, feeling him twitch and throb inside you. You used your hand to stroke him as you sucked, alternating between soft licks and deep sucks. Peeta's breathing became ragged and his moans becoming into desperate whines of pleasure. “I think I'm going-” With a pop, you took your mouth off his cock wiping your lips.

“Why'd you stop-” He spoke panting.

You smirked at Peeta's frustration, enjoying the power you had over him. "Not yet," you replied, crawling up his body to straddle him again. You leaned in to kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue. Your hands roamed over his chest.

“I need you-” He spoke between the kiss, his body writhing beneath you. You scoffed.

“Now you do.”

You broke the kiss, trailing your lips down his neck and chest, stopping to suck and bite at his skin. "Please," he begged, his hands pulling at the handcuffs above him.

"Please what?" you teased, trailing your fingers down his stomach towards his hard cock. You could feel the heat between your legs growing, and you knew you needed him just as badly as he needed you.

"Pl-Please... let me touch you," Peeta begged, his eyes pleading with you.

"I don't know, Peeta," you said, teasing him. "I kind of like having you all to myself." You smirked as you decided it was time for one final punishment. You opened the drawer one more time grabbing a condom and placing it carefully onto his shaft. You slid your clothes off positioning your entrance onto him.

“You ready pretty boy?”

Peeta's eyes widened with anticipation as he nodded, unable to form words. You lowered yourself onto him, feeling his hardness fill you completely. You began to move, riding him slowly at first, savoring the feeling of him inside you.

Peeta's moans grew louder, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "F-faster," he stuttered, his body shivering from the contact.

You picked up the pace, bouncing on his cock harder. Peeta's moans turning into whimpers, and his body shaking with overstimulation. "I-I can't- ah- I'm gonna-"

You didn't stop as he came, determined to push him over the edge. "Not until I'm done" you demanded, riding him harder and faster, feeling your orgasm building.

Peeta's body was now shivering uncontrollably, his eyes squeezed shut, and his breathing erratic. "P-Please," he whimpered, "I can't take it anymore. I'm a good boy, remember? You can't do this to me."

You smirked at his plea, loving the way he begged for release. "Oh, but I can," you replied, slowing down your movements to tease him. "I'm going to make you come again and again until you're completely and utterly wasted. And I'm finished."

The poor boy's eyes filled with a mixture of pleasure and fear as you resumed your movements, pushing him towards his second orgasm. "L-let me make you cum, P-Please I’ll do anything. Just let me touch you," he begged unable to moan anymore as only desperate whines came out of him.

You could feel your climax building, but you were determined to make him beg for release. "Tell me how much of a pretty boy you are and how badly you need me to come."

"I'm a pretty boy," Peeta stuttered, his words barely coherent. "I'm such a pretty fucking boy-"

You could feel his body tensing beneath you, and with one final push, he exploded into the condom with a loud cry. Peeta's body convulsed beneath you.

You collapsed onto his chest, feeling your own body shake with the intensity of your orgasm.

You felt his chest panting as he managed to stutter out only a few words. "T-that was- I-I-"

You leaned up to kiss him, a gentle smile on your face. "Shh, it's okay," you said, stroking his hair. "I know."

[wolfish-trickster]

I want to choose you now

Gojo x fem!reader, Geto x fem!reader

Part 4

Previous part

Word count: 2K

Summary: Gojo comes to you to talk. You and him decide to have a serious conversation again. Both of you make some hurtful freudian slips, but Gojo still tries to win you back.

Warnings: bad grammar (possibly), typos, angst, very little comfort

Taglist: @ilovebattinson @catobsessedlady @tqd4455 @nanao4k

@abcdefghijklmmopqrstuvwxyz @username23345 @www-kiana-mp3 @wirwirfr

Gojo knocked on the old door with probably too much force but he didn't really care.

He was well rested, freshly shaved and nicely dressed. The sky was clear with birds chasing eachother in the air which smelled like fresh flowers. It was a beautiful spring day. If it wasn't for the anxiety and guilt crushing his chest he would call this the ideal weekend.

Some shuffling behind the door and a sound of key unlocking said door later and Gojo was met with his old friend's face.

"Hey Shoko," he tried sounding nonchalant but it came out forced and fake, "is Y/N here?"

"Yes," she said and stood firmly in the free space between the halfway opened door and the doorframe, "will you cause trouble?"

"Don't you know me?" he teased with a nervous smile. Shoko didn't smile. Gojo gulped. "I won't. Promise."

This made Shoko smile. A little bit. "Good, you can come in," she opened the door wider and stepped out of the way.

It's been a while since Gojo's been to this place. Most of his time lately has been devided equally between Geto's and his shared home with Y/N. Well, more or less equally. But even though some furniture got replaced and Shoko rearranged a decoration here and there he could still feel the remnance of the trio they once were. The framed picture of their highschool graduation above the fireplace. The almost unnoticible stain on the carpet from Gojo's messy way of drinking milk after Geto dared him to eat the spiciest chili they could buy. Shoko didn't even change the kitchen table. He could still see that little burned spot from Shoko teaching both Geto and Gojo how to smoke. Gojo smiled when he remembered how both of them coughed like crazy and Geto almost burned down the whole kitchen with his fallen cigarette, hence the burned spot. And right next to it sat...

"Hi," you greeted in a small voice. Even though you tried to have neutral face he could see the sadness behind your eyes. The dissapointment. It fueled Gojo to fight even harder to earn your trust again.

"Can we talk?" He said without a greeting.

You and Shoko exchanged a look he couldn't decipher.

"Is there something to talk about?" You asked in return. Your seemingly neutral expression turned hostile with your eyebrows lowering over your eyes creating a slight scowl.

He realized he should've greeted.

"Yes, there is," he said gently and slowly took a step towards the kitchen table. You didn't flinch or tried to move away from him, which he took as a good sign.

"Like?"

"Us."

You shook your head. "There is no us Gojo."

He felt mild anxiety before. Now he felt like he could throw up.

"You blew it Satoru," said Shoko from behind him, "apologize, make peace and go."

"Since when are you on her side?" He snapped without thinking.

"What the hell Gojo?" you half yelled at him.

His head snapped back at you. "I-I didn't mean it like that. I-" his head kept turning from Shoko to you. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He needs to play this right. He can't afford another fuck up. "I'm sorry. But can you leave me and Y/N alone for a while?" he turned to Shoko with a pleading look he knew will work on her. He has mastered it over the years. "Please."

Shoko pondered it for a while. In the end she closed her eyes and sighed. "I need to go to class anyways," she said as she passed him to get her phone from where she left it to charge in the kitchen. Neither of you corrected her it's weekend and therefore no school.

After changing from pyjamas she walked to the front door. "Don't wreck my house, okay?"

Gojo didn't know who was this sentence meant for but he still nodded and mouthed a 'thanks'.

The door closed. The air got even more tense somehow. Gojo wanted to say everything at once but he had no idea how to start.

He pointed at the chair that was next to you, question in his eyes behind his black shades.

You nodded.

He smiled in relief and and turned the chair so he was fully facing you but sitting on it backwards as well to have the backrest to hold onto.

"So," he started and pushed the lump in his throat as deep as possible, "I had a talk with Suguru and-" you squirmed in your seat.

"Let me finish!" he quickly said in panic you'd walk out again after mentioning his best friend. "Just please let me finish."

"I didn't say anything," you said calmly.

"Yes but," he realized arguing with you would make the already bad situation even worse. "Nevermind," he looked at the floor. He never realized how much it resembled the one at Suguru's.

"Go on. You talked with Geto and?"

"Right," he nodded, "I talked with him and he made me realize I don't want to loose you. You are very important to me and now I see why you were upset. I admit, I was really spending too much time with him. But, I'm willing to try minimize my time with him and maximize the time I have with you."

You scoffed and smiled, still avoiding looking him in the eyes. "So you needed a third person to realize something was wrong with you?"

Gojo frowned. "There's nothing wrong with me."

You nodded. "Okay, sorry. I worded it wrong. But you understand don't you?"

"Yes, I do," he didn't. But in fear of making it worse he left it at that.

"Good," you leaned back. "At least we're getting somewhere."

He nodded. "Look, Suguru told me there were two types of love, one for friends and other for lovers. All my life I thought there was just one type of love. I was really confused when I first started having feelings towards you. At our first anniversary I realized I even forgot he even existed," a sad chuckle.

"I think," he continued, "that was the point when I wanted to spend more time with him. As to not lose him," he clarified.

Your expression slowly turned from neutral to sad to heartbroken.

"But I'm willing to fix that! As Suguru said you should be loved in a way a girlfriend is and I'll learn just that!"

"Oh, so you only loved me as a best friend till now?" You snapped and finally looked at him.

"No, that's not what I said," he raised his hands, palms turned towards you, as if he was calming down a wild animal. "I just told you I'm willing to work for this and even that isn't good enough for you?"

"Gojo-"

"Satoru."

"Gojo," you frowned at him. "I don't want to be with someone who literally has to learn how to love me."

"But I can do that," he said softly. "I can do that for you. See?" He reached out to wipe the tear slowly making its way down your cheek. "I can-"

You slapped his hand away before it could even touch you. "Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why do you want to be with me so much? You're free to hang out with Suguru as much as you'd like now that you're not with me."

Gojo closed his mouth. Did he hear correctly? "Why did you call him Suguru and not Geto?"

"Oh my god," you rolled your eyes, "that's what stuck with you? Out of all..."

"Answer me! Why are you using his first name and not mine?"

"It slipped out! Don't avoid-"

"Slipped out, my ass," he rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses. "Do you like him more than me now? A guy you barely met versus a guy you've been with for three years!"

"Can you stop?!" you cried out.

"Oh, why? Because I hit a sore spot? Did you get bored of me and developed a crush on him instead? Is that why you caused this whole mess in the first place? To break up with me even though I try so-"

"Me?!" You asked in disbelief. "It was you who was never home! And now you're blaming me for that?" your chest kept rising and falling rapidly. You placed a hand on it to calmed it down.

"No, I'm not blaming you for anything. See it's not my fault you had no one but me to fill your time!"

Quiet. You leaned away from him deeper into the chair.

"Y/N, I-" he had no words. How does he fix this. "I didn't-"

"Can you just answer the damn question?" you wiped your tears and gathered enough courage to look him in the eye. "After all of this, why are you still here? Why do you want me back? Don't you hate me?"

He violently shook his head. "No, god no! I could never."

"Then why?"

"You mean a lot to me."

You raised your eyebrows. "And?"

"And..." he needed to buy some time to think. What did you want to hear from him? What words would make you believe he really wants to have you back? "And I love you?"

Sad chuckle. "You're not even sure about that yourself."

"I am!" He argued back and cringed. He must've sounded like a stubborn child to you. "I love you Y/N. I really do. And if you think I don't then teach me what kind of love you want me to have for you."

"I already told you," you groaned. "I don't want you to force yourself to love me. I wnat someone who will want to love me on their own."

"I don't force myself. I really do love you. But it's obviously not enough or the right kind. Please Y/N."

He reached for your hands and even though you pulled them away he still grabbed them and held them. They were cold as ice.

"We felt good together, right? We had fun, we went out, we talked all night long. Don't throw this away. I don't want to be alone."

His hands held yours as if his life depended on it.

"So you just don't want to be alone," you concluded and sniffled.

He shook his head. "No," he wanted to say more but he didn't know what. He wanted you back. To hug you as the two of you fall asleep. To cook with you again. Spend time with you. Even without Suguru. He was ready to try that. He'll be there, just as he said. Gojo tried telling his head and his heart it's okay to neglect Suguru now. Focusing on you will become his priority. He'll do better this time. He begged his mouth to say all of that. And yet.

No words fell. From you nor him.

Clock kept ticking. Sun shone through Shoko's replaced window and created a beautiful rainbow which fell on your joined hands. Gojo smiled. Then something fell on the back of his hand. A tear.

He looked up. You were crying, but your head was also pretty far away. The tear that fell was his. His head maybe didn't know yet. But his heart. It knew.

You freed one of your hands and wiped his cheek. "You know what's the worst though?" you asked through your tears.

"Hmm?"

"It's not how you refuse to aknowledge you were in the wrong. Or how you still want to force Suguru into all of this when it should be just the two of us. It's none of that," you stood up and for the first time someone towered over Gojo and he felt true fear of what was about to come. "It's how you talked so much and yet you never said sorry."

*

"You sure they won't kill eachother there?" Geto asked as he gave Shoko his own lighter. Shoko threw her old one away and gladly accepted her friend's.

"I hope they won't," she slipped a new cigarette between her lips and lit it. This must be her third one in this hour. Right after she left she called Geto to meet up. Gojo was a dear friwnd to both of them. But they took a liking to you too. It hurt Shoko to hear how much of an ass her good friend was but ultimately she sympathized with you more. She hoped Gojo would come to his senses and do the right thing.

"Besides," she breathed out some smoke, "Satoru is a little dense but he isn't stupid. I trust he'll say the right words."

Geto hummed and kept walking.

Shoko pitied him. She was in a fairly difficult position. Gojo was her friend, sure, but so were you. Geto though? Gojo was his best friend since forever and Y/N was the girl he fell in love with. She was there when Geto got drunk one night and blabbed about how much he liked you and how good you were. She only thought it was a cute little crush from his side but after he sobered up she knew. He was speaking nothing but truth.

Even if Shoko knew Geto was much more mature than Gojo and you would much more appreciate him in the future Geto kept telling her the same thing: he can't do that to his best friend.

But even though she knew all this, she couldn't help but tease him one last time. "And even if it doesn't work out you can at least get a shot," she playfully nudged him.

"So you're well rested now," smiled and rubbed his arm.

She cocked her head to one side. "What do you mean?"

"Last night," he explained but Shoko was still clueless. "We texted," he tried more but it still didn't ring a bell for her.

"I was sleeping last night, Suguru," she took a drag from the cigarette and blew out grey smoke.

Geto stopped in his tracks. "What did you say?"

"Eeeh, I slept?"

Geto shook his head. "No, I meant what did you call me?"

"Suguru? Like always?" she said and studied his face. It turned from realization to blush to pure horror.

"You've always called me Suguru. Not even when we first met you didn't call me by my surname," he muttered and fished out hsi phone from his pants. He quickly found Shoko's contact and scrolled to the messages he had with her. He slowly turned his phone for Shoko to see. She got so surprised her cigarette fell from her hand as she stared at the last message next to her contact picture.

Geto...