#Let alone had someone interested in me fr

[majoryeager104]

oi oi oi

It’s complete

I’ve got x reader drabble posts set to drop every day in February bc I love love and I love you guys

happy February/Valentines day 🫶🫶🫶

[paarksunghoon]

FIXED COMFORT | SUNGHOON

SUMMARY: typically, sunghoon’s the one who takes care of you when you’ve had one too many. but once in a blue moon, he lets his guard down and allows you to care for him the way he does for you.

or, the one where sunghoon’s drunk at a bar and misses his girlfriend a little too much.

NOTES: idk I just feel like someone should let him sleep for six months straight!!!

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.4K (4444 exactly—she’s a shortie).

WARNINGS: fluff on fluff on fluff.

***

“Hey, do you think you could come get Sunghoon from the bar? He’s been asking for you for the past hour.”  

Jay’s phone call pulls you out from a deep slumber on a Saturday night that falls on a day with no plans other than pure relaxation. Sunghoon had been preoccupied with work and classes this past week and wanted to unwind by drinking at his favorite bar with his closest friends and all you wanted to do was sleep the weekend away. 

Since the two of you started dating six months ago after being friends for a little over two years, you both agree on the notion that you’ve found a good balance between time spent together and apart respectively. Nothing fundamentally changed with the exception of kissing and touching one another in the way a couple would. He still respects your independence and you respect his time away from you as well. 

Sunghoon learned quickly that you’re the type of person who values your alone time more than anything else. When he first started developing feelings for you, grappling with your absence wasn’t easy. He initially thought you weren’t interested in getting to know him the way he was with you because you weren’t afraid to decline invitations and telling people ‘no.’ Slowly, over the course of many months of pining and late night conversations, did Sunghoon learn that you’re typically your best self after a moment of isolation. 

Your boyfriend is somewhere in between an introvert and extrovert. He tends to be shy when he meets people he isn’t familiar with while his loud, rambunctious attitude is typically reserved for those who know him best. He likes to keep to himself for the most part, giving some of his personality away when he feels his walls start to crumble naturally. You love that he has a good head on his shoulders and that he’s able to tell you about his feelings while maintaining an air of confidence. He doesn’t inherently need anybody; he likes your company and will do anything to keep it.

Moments like this are when your heart feels softer for Sunghoon than when the two of you were just friends.

“I know you wanted to spend the weekend alone but Hoon’s been saying your name all night,” Jay says. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“No, it’s fine.” You’re sure Jay can hear your brittle voice. “Are you guys at the bar near your place?”

“That’s the one. Thanks again and I’m really sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t sweat it. Cook me something next week if you still feel bad.” 

“I can do that. Chili oil noodles with shrimp sound good?”

“It’s almost like you know me.” He laughs at your sarcasm. 

“Drive safe.” 

When Jay hangs up, you allow yourself a few minutes to adjust and wake up, stretching your body from the warm comfort of your blankets. You change out of Sunghoon’s shirt to put on pajama pants and another one of his stolen shirts, opting not to take a jacket since you figure you won’t be out for very long. 

You thank your past self for filling up your gas tank before tonight after having put it off for a few days. Knowing Sunghoon, he would still scold you for allowing yourself to run nearly empty before filling it up even if he was inebriated. Somehow, knowing this about him brings a smile to your face.

Sunghoon’s the kind of guy who likes to have some control over certain things. He likes order and structure, often waking up at the same hour every weekday to build a routine his body can remember. He’s been like that since you first met him but you think it’s part of his charm. Even from two years ago, when you met him through Jake Sim, Sunghoon has maintained a level of confidence and control that he does now. On the heels of an impressive skating career before pivoting to focus on higher education, Sunghoon had his preferences and will stick by them. 

His discipline is the first thing you noticed when you met him for the first time. Jay, someone you were already familiar with, agreed to cook dinner with your friend group under the condition that everyone helped him shop and chip in for the meal. Sunghoon held Jake back from buying unnecessary things like boxed chocolate milk and candy because Jay had desserts back at his place. He held a checklist of items whereas the rest of your friends ran up and down the aisles without thinking much about what needed to be purchased.

Sunghoon’s near-meticulous behavior is juxtaposed to your chaotic and rambunctious nature. You often follow your gut instead of setting a solid plan because you’re not concerned with meeting deadlines, sans education. Whereas you tend to lean towards a go-with-the-flow attitude, Sunghoon is the opposite. But that’s something he loves about you.  

At a surface level distinction, it didn’t seem like the two of you would get along as well as you did. It surprised Jake when Sunghoon asked for your number so he could text you about seeing a comedy film with him as no one else in the group wanted to see it. Including you at an impromptu study session with him (Sunghoon was organized and neat while your pens were spread all over and your study methods, haphazard) felt like watching two people clash. 

Rather, you and Sunghoon complement one another. 

The idea of letting himself go with someone who wasn’t part of his friend collective was unheard of. Getting to know a girl who didn’t share similar lifestyles didn’t appeal to him before meeting you, and you’re inarguably the most chaotic person Sunghoon knows. But he finds that there’s order within your chaos—you know who you are and what you want, and you will not compromise yourself just to please other people. 

It’s what Sunghoon loves the most about you. There’s a boundary you never let anyone cross under the assumption that your own safety net feels compromised. He’s watched you lose friends for this same reason and has always admired the way you carry yourself like you know you deserve better than people who disrespect you. He’s witnessed the grace you maintain when people who call you a friend voice words of kindness but speak ill about you behind your back. If anything, Sunghoon feels pity for anyone who crosses you to the point of anger. To be envious of another’s confidence is one thing. To make that known is another. 

Sunghoon learns that you let your inhibitions go because holding control over yourself feels like a burden. It feels like setting a standard you will never be able to meet. He never thought of order in that way before getting to know you. Your approach to life sparked a new wave of emotions within him to the point where he was open and willing to let you farther into his life. 

His days were ruled by guidelines he had to maintain and proper etiquette that followed him even off the rink. The poise he carried from his career on the ice bled into his personal life too. Although, he doesn’t mind that it does. Sunghoon values any form of structure because it makes him feel like he has a purpose and that there’s something to be accomplished at the end of the day. 

Most times, Sunghoon’s feels like people judge him for his regimen and can’t fathom why he appreciates control so much. They tell him to let loose and enjoy his time away from his career. People always think he simply doesn’t know how to have fun because he’s set in his ways and won’t let other people coax him into doing something he’s not comfortable with. But not you. Sunghoon has never felt like you‘ve judged how he chooses to live his life. 

Before he knew it, a year had passed and he started to call you one of his best friends. The friendship was gradual. Sunghoon didn’t have many close female friends in the way he does with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. You’re the first person since ending his career who hasn’t tried to pry into the why. In fact, Sunghoon enjoys that you didn’t bring it up. 

(You did, in the form of cooing over his younger self skating in competitions for the first time or roasting all of the outfits he had to wear. But somehow, all of your jabs made him feel happier than when people complimented his performance.)

Eventually, being around you felt too right. He loved it when you took naps on his bed and felt comfortable raiding your kitchen pantry without permission. Sunghoon could leave you in his apartment without him being in it and feel at ease. In fact, he started to look forward to coming home to you. All it took was seeing you wear his hoodie because you got too cold and forgot your jacket, to make him drop his bag by the front door and ask you to be his girlfriend. He hasn’t regretted anything with you since. 

The weather is cold outside since it’s approaching the middle of autumn. You let your car warm up and blast the heat all the way up while adjusting your defrosting settings before heading to the bar to pick up Sunghoon. You sift through your playlists and settle on soft indie melodies before you drive away from the curb. 

You’ve never seen Sunghoon get drunk to the point of needing extra help. Usually, you’re the one who goes a little too hard whenever Heeseung brings out the alcohol or if Jake offers an edible or two. Sunghoon likes to sit back and stay sober (or sober up by the end of the night) when he notices you having too much fun. He doesn’t mind, though. Sunghoon likes taking care of you because sometimes it gives him purpose. You’ve never understood that sentiment but to each their own. 

The only times you’ve seen him completely wasted are usually when you’re equally as gone, like on your first road trip as a couple. The five of you rented a lakehouse a few hours from Seoul and spent an entire weekend basking under the hot sun and chose to forget about university stress before finals would inevitably kick everyone’s ass. All five of you were cross-faded (but not without Jay and Sunghoon both prepping water bottles and snacks for when the munchies would hit prior to taking anything). You watched Sunghoon relax to the point where he was much quieter than he normally was and when you asked if he was doing alright, he looked you in the eye and told you he loved you for the first time. 

I always have, I think, he said as he brought your hand to his chest. You might not believe me because neither of us are sober but I swear I’ll tell you in the morning. 

Sunghoon gets affectionate when he’s drunk or high, often to the point of asking for reassurance. The rational side of his brain is temporarily disfigured. You don’t mind being there to tell him that he’s the love of your life and you’d never go anywhere when he gets like this. Although, you’re usually just as gone and gush all of your hidden emotionally-charged feelings, which pair well with Sunghoon’s need for validation sometimes. 

Your friends love your relationship. They don’t think it’s too much or too little, going so far as to take photos of the two of you when you aren’t looking. Some are funny like the pictures of you sleeping on his chest with drool pooling out of your mouth. Others are romantic and whimsical, like the pictures of Sunghoon looking at you like you’re the sunshine to his moonlight. They can’t get enough of you two. Your friends love knowing people they care about are deeply in love with one another and your relationship is somewhat of a reminder that true romance does exist. 

Thinking about this makes your heart swell as you park your car and tuck your keys inside your purse. The bouncer checks your ID and lets you inside the bar, and you already spot Jay off to the side. 

“Thanks for coming,” he says as he gives you a loose hug. “And sorry for waking you up.” 

You wave him off. “It’s fine. I’ve probably woken you up for worse.” 

“Yeah, like the time you and Jake wanted ramen at 3am and wouldn’t stop calling me because both of you got a little too high.” 

“Can you blame us?! You were like, two blocks away.” 

“Yeah, but did you need to eat with me?” 

“Duh. You’re like, the best person to eat a late night dinner with.” 

The two of you laugh as he leads you to the group. You see Sunghoon slumped over the table with his head in his arms and the rest of your friend group tries really hard not to seem too excited when they see you standing next to Jay. 

“Fucking finally.” Heeseung stands and gives you a quick side hug before Jake does the same. “Love you guys and all but he started to become unbearable when he kept showing us photos of you.”

Jake snorts. “Poor guy was almost about to cry.” That makes your heart soft. 

“He looks so cute,” you coo, tilting your head to savor this moment. It’s abnormal for you to be the sober one but you’re starting to understand why Sunghoon doesn’t mind taking care of you when you’re like this. 

Jay comes to stand next to you. “He’s not cute when he drank half his weight in alcohol and wouldn’t shut up about how pretty your hair is.” 

“What, do you don’t think my hair’s pretty?” The messy, unbrushed hair is enough to make the guys laugh. 

“Nah seriously, thanks for coming,” says Jake. “We felt bad calling you but he refuses to get out of his seat.” 

“It’s fine.” You wave him off and step closer to your boyfriend, who still hasn’t moved from his position. 

“Do your thing and we’ll be here if you need help bringing him to the car.” Heeseung smiles gratefully at you. 

Even the back of Sunghoon’s head is unfairly gorgeous. His hair always looks nice, although you credit that to his younger sister introducing him to a world of hair care products during his skating years. It feels soft to the touch as you stroke the back of his head until Sunghoon slowly comes to. You feel his body start to stir.

“Baby,” you say quietly, bending down until you’re next to him. “Wake up for me.” 

“Hm?” Sunghoon mumbles from his arms. He feels the sensation of your fingers carding through his hair and pulls himself from the table, wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth before realizing you’re standing next to him. “Y/N?”

“I’m right here.” 

He pulls his head up until he’s sitting upright in the booth, squinting up at you to adjust to the bar lights that disappeared when he closed his eyes. Your boyfriend looks so innocent like this. He looks at you with a wide, round gaze as if you’d appeared out of thin air and he’s trying his hardest to figure out how you’re standing in front of him. 

“Is it really you?” Sunghoon asks in a quiet voice. His tone makes your heart flutter and you reach your arms out until you’re cupping his jaw and rubbing the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks. Sunghoon melts into your touch and you feel his body start to relax. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, bug. Did you have fun tonight?”

He nods in your hands, “Mhm. Just tired now.”

“Jay said you were asking for me.” 

“I always ask for you.” Your cheeks heat up and you try to ignore the snickers from behind you. 

“Why don’t we go back to my place, yeah? You can sleep in my bed instead of this bar.” 

“Can we? I love the guys but I just missed you.”

“Simp,” Heeseung whispers before coughing into his fist. 

Sunghoon stands from the booth once you’ve taken a step back to give him the space to move. He’s surprisingly able to stand on his own and clutches onto his jacket as he makes his way to the door. 

“Sorry guys,” he mutters to the guys. 

“Yah, it’s fine,” Jay says as he waves Sunghoon off. 

“Get home safe,” Heeseung says as he opens the door for the two of you. Sunghoon waves behind him until you guide him to the car. 

“Can you put your jacket on for me?” You catch it in your hands after he nearly let them fall from his grasp. 

“Shit, sorry.” You watch Sunghoon put on one arm and then the other. He looks so childlike in this moment as he concentrates his hardest to put the jacket on without stumbling. 

It reminds you that he doesn’t show you this side of him often. Sunghoon, ever the poised individual who likes to know what’s ahead of him, has let his inhibitions down. Seeing his figure slowly push his body through the warm fabric has you biting back a smile. 

“Need help?”

Sunghoon looks down at his hands that are trying to zip his jacket up to no avail. He feels like his hands are too big and the zipper is too small. “Please.”

Your steady fingers cover Sunghoon’s and take over the tedious task. The metal is warm from his fingertips. You can feel him looking down at you and you temporarily fumble with the zipper, which makes him laugh.

“Silly,” he mutters. “Ah, fuck. I don’t know if I can open the door.”

You roll your eyes and open it for him. “You’re funny.” 

He slides into the seat as gracefully as he can without hitting his head on the roof. Sunghoon struggles, but manages to buckle himself in and grins up at you when he hears the click of the buckle. When you look down on him, the lamp post from above casts a soft glow on his face. He looks so youthful at this moment. Sunghoon has let go of his thoughts and couldn’t think about anything but the present moment even if he tried. 

He waits for you and mumbles about how cold it is when you turn the engine on. The warm air starts to uplift his spirits and he looks at you with us head pressed to the headrest.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“What?” you ask. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Usually I’m the one taking care of you.”

“You don’t always have to be brave, you know.” 

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He reaches out to envelope your hand in his and squeezes it until he’s holding it loosely in the quiet of the evening.

“I love you.” 

Your heart blooms. “I love you right back.” He seems satisfied with your response and lets go of your hand so that you can drive back to your apartment. 

When you park on the curb, Sunghoon’s sober enough to unbuckle his seatbelt and wait for you to turn the engine off before opening his door carefully. He steps outside and leans back on the car door until you walk around the hood of the vehicle and grabs your hands to pull you into him. 

You feel his lips on your before you register what’s happening. He tastes faintly of pineapple soju and beer, and his mouth is warm. Despite his inebriated state, Sunghoon’s able to hold you between his hands as he moves to place them on your hips to balance your body after you’ve stumbled into him. 

The kiss itself is slow. In fact, it feels as though Sunghoon has slowed time around so that the two of you could enjoy the late night kiss uninterrupted. You can barely hear anything besides the ringing in your ears after being caught by surprise due to your boyfriend’s abrupt movements. Your mouths move in slow tandem and Sunghoon nearly pushes his tongue inside your mouth before pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.

“My baby,” he whispers against your lips before giving you another quick peck. 

“You are so cute.” You blurt out this confession like you’re still pining after him. “Let’s go inside, yeah?” 

The apartment is warm compared to the environment outside and Sunghoon slips off his shoes in favor of wearing his designated slippers. He doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time he does so, letting you pull him into the hallway until the two of you reach your bedroom. The hardwood floors feel better than the uneven pavement from outside.

He loves it here. It’s a sanctuary away from his apartment with the friends he will probably invite to his wedding. But something about your green comforter and hand-painted artwork adorning your walls makes Sunghoon feel like he would live by your side for the rest of his life. The scent of your room–warm peaches and vanilla–tugs at his heart strings. This is where he belongs. 

Likewise, you love seeing Sunghoon behave like this. It’s not commonplace for him to let people take care of him in the way you are now. He’s used to people looking out for his career and best interest but he struggles with allowing others to handle him with such care. After a decade of enduring harsh criticism and physical endurance, Sunghoon struggles to relax and allow others to take the reins. It’s partially why he loves taking care of you. Being able to provide that kind of love and support makes him feel wanted and needed, even if you tell him he’s more than enough a thousand times over. 

You leave him in your room to change his clothes taken from his designated drawer while you prepare skincare and the works. You hear him shuffle outside and fall onto the bed once, prompting you to hold your laughter in as you wash your hands and pull out hair clips for him to use. 

“I can’t lie,” Sunghoon says as you emerge from the bathroom to see him in a big t-shirt and pajama bottoms, “I’m really looking forward to you doing my skincare.” 

You snicker and pull your desk chair into the bathroom. “Now you know exactly how I feel every time I beg you to do mine when I’m drunk. Sit and close your eyes, please.” 

He follows your instructions and leans his back against the furniture. Sunghoon doesn’t fuss when you pin his hair back until it’s secure and allows you to make him feel pampered in a way he typically wouldn’t. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” 

Sunghoon hums. “Yeah, I did. The guys picked me up from my place and we had lunch at that seafood spot we’ve been meaning to try.” 

“Was it any good?”

“So good.” He licks his lips. “God, I’m still thinking about that shellfish soup. We ordered enough food to feed a village but it was so worth it. I wanna go with you.” 

“We can go wherever you want.” He smiles at your soft tone. 

“We also went to the beach and met some guys at the skate park by the highway. They were pretty nice and let us use their boards for a little. Heeseung got along with them the best, I think.”

“Heeseung makes friends with everybody.”

“He says he’s not social but that’s a lie.” Sunghoon twitches his nose when he feels a damp washcloth on his face. “We went to the bar afterwards and split it by round. I got the first and honestly, I don’t remember much after that.” 

“How are you feeling now, though?” you ask as you finish patting his skin dry. “Do you still feel dizzy?” Sunghoon opens his eyes and watches you apply a serum before dabbing it all over his face. 

“Not as much as before. I think I’m just tired.”

“And clingy, apparently.” 

Sunghoon smacks the back of your thighs. “Shut up. You love it.” You silence him by kissing his nose. 

While he brushes his teeth, you situate yourself underneath your plush covers and allow the weight of the blanket to fall on top of you. The sweet promise of a good night’s rest feels imminent, especially when you see your boyfriend emerge from the bathroom. He turns off the light and walks towards the empty side of the bed before he’s slipping himself beside you. 

Sunghoon’s an equal opportunist when it comes to sleeping positions. He loves it the most when your head is on his chest and when your arms are tangled in one another because he likes knowing that the two of you yearn for each other equally. But when he gets like this, Sunghoon takes initiative to maneuver himself until half of his chest and head are on top of you. He situates his arm around your waist and pulls himself closer to your body until a deep, satisfied sigh comes from the back of his throat. 

He hums in appreciation when your fingers begin to massage his scalp. Sunghoon’s hair is soft and silky and on most days, you’re the only person who gets to touch it. The slowness of your movements paired with the soft kiss you place on his temple makes his eyelids feel heavy. 

“Sorry you had to come pick me up,” Sunghoon mumbles against you. “I know we agreed to give each other some space this weekend.” 

“You should know by now that I’d do anything for you.” He feels you kiss the crown of his head. “Plus, we both know you’d do the same for me.” 

Sunghoon nods. “I would. You’re my girlfriend. Duh.” His sleepy nonsense makes you laugh. 

“You can go back to hanging out with the guys tomorrow if you want.” He shakes his head. 

“I want to get breakfast with you.” Sunghoon finds your free hand and presses a sleepy kiss to the back of it. 

“Whatever you want. We can get breakfast.” 

“If we wake up early enough.” 

You laugh again. “Yes, if we wake up early enough.” 

Sunghoon mumbles a few incoherent words that you can’t quite make out because of your own tiredness. When your own eyes start to droop, Sunghoon feels your fingers start to falter and looks up at you to see you’ve fallen fast asleep. 

He kisses the underside of your chin and falls asleep too.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[sturncrazy]

STUCK🔥

part 1

matt sturniolo x fem reader (no use of y/n)

(anyone else is green )

warnings: SMUT 18+ (part two will be major smut this is the warm up🫣)

summary: you and your friend matt are arguing while coming back from a event and are faced with heightened tensions when the elevator of the hotel gets stuck…

authors note: i was INSPIRED by the sam & colby colab i had IDEAS. so this is gonna be a 2 part!! and guys just roll w me — let’s pretend matt wouldn’t be in fetal position crying if an elevator fr got stuck.

word count: 2,060

—————————————————————————

you fussed with the back of your dress desperately trying to reach for its zipper. bodycon dresses like this should’ve been used for torture. finally giving up on completing the task alone, you banged on the door to the adjoining room.

your best friend matt had asked you to be his plus one to a party for one of the various influencer acquaintances of him and his brothers. chris and nick had other plans for the night, and there was no way matt would ever go to any social event alone. so he’d asked you to join. plus he knew you’d love getting all dressed up and even getting to spend the night at a nice hotel covered by the party host.

“WHAT?” shouted matt from the other side of the door

“MAAAATTT i can’t get my dress zipped! help!” you whined back continuing to pound your fist against the frame.

“Okay—just a second”

you jiggled the door handle, impatiently. it swung open to a flustered half ready matt. his soft brown locks were tousled in front of his eyes. he was wearing a white button up, but had only managed to button a couple of the lower ones in his rushed state, exposing his lean and muscular chest. your eyes haphazardly glanced down.

“going for a new slutty look?” you mocked

“oh shut up. you have the patience of a two year old” he shot back as he buttoned the rest of his shirt. you snorted.

“well” he said raising his eyebrows at you

“turn around”

you spun your back to him as his fingers snapped up your zipper.

“thank youuu” you said turning around with a smile. matt’s gaze trailed down from your face and over your figure that was hugged tightly by the black sparkly fabric that stopped only inches below your waist.

“what?” you laughed, confused by his quietness.

“oh-uh-nothing-“ he stuttered, turning away to grab his tie

“am i dressed wrong?”

“no-no you-you look really great” he said with a half smile.

“cmon let’s head out i’ll call us a car”

the party was loud and ridiculously flashy. Matt mingled with people he knew while you stuck a few feet behind. most of the people at events like this had no interest in talking to a no one like you. over an hour had passed and you were just about to ask matt when was a socially acceptable time to head out when you felt someone tap your shoulder. you turned around to see a tall man smiling down at you.

“so why did no one tell me about the competition to bring the prettiest date?” he asked

“the—what?” you stuttered

“i’m joking! but whoever brought you tonight would’ve won”

“oh—thank you?” you felt your cheeks flush slightly

“so who did?” he questioned with a smirk

“i’m sorry?”

“bring you here tonight? who’s your date”

“oh! oh matt did! but not date im just his friend” you nervously giggled

“so what im hearing is your not spoken for?” you had to admit this man was charming and the first interesting thing since being at this party, so you figured what was the harm in entertaining him. as you continued to make flirtatious small talk you felt eyes on you. you whipped around to see matt from a nearby corner staring at you, clearly paying no attention to the two girls talking at him. you gave him a smile, but his blank expression didn’t waiver. it struck you as weird, but you figured he was probably just zoning out.

about 45 minutes of flirting had quickly changed from fun to monotonous. you were preparing to excuse yourself to “go to the bathroom” when a tight grip latched onto your upper arm.

“I wanna leave” matt said flatly in your ear

“wha—oh okay” matt headed for the door, leaving you behind. you said a rushed goodbye and chased after him.

“matt—wait!” he stopped and turned to look at you.

“what the hell?” you said catching up

“didn’t know if you were coming. cars almost here”

matt’s jaw was visibly clenched in the dim lighting of the car. he stared straight ahead not speaking. it was only about a 6 minute drive to the hotel but it felt like a eternity. the hotel lobby was empty as it was past 2 in the morning.

“what’s wrong?” you finally asked as the elevator door shut behind the two of you.

“nothings wrong”

“bullshit. you’re acting weird”

“nope. guess i’m just tired” he said still refusing to look at you

“no i know you and you—“ you were cut off by the sound of your phone going off

“that your new friend from the party?” matt snarked

“my what? what are you talking about?”

“that guy who was all over you”

“guy—is that what’s making you act all weird?—“ suddenly the floor beneath you jolted. the elevator had stopped moving.

“you gotta be fucking kidding me” matt muttered

“did the elevator just break?”

“fucking perfect” he said with an exasperated laugh. you frantically began pressing the help button.

“Hello front desk—“

“Hi—yeah—um the elevator is stuck—“

“Hi ma’am—yes we’re aware—my apologies maintenance has been informed”

“How soon will they be here?”

“within a half hour—“

“A HALF HOUR?”

“I’m so sorry miss, we send the majority of staff home around midnight. were handling this best we can—“

“Okay. I understand. just please as soon as possible”

you backed up to lean against the wall where matt had already settled. silence again.

“well you’re stuck with me now” you attempted to joke

“yup” matt said coldly

“matt seriously? do you have a history with that guy or something”

“it’s not the guy thats my problem”

“oh so what? i’m the problem”

“i didn’t say that—“

“well you implied it—can you look at me?” you snapped. matt turned his face to you.

“i don’t like watching some guy all over you okay—”

“I had no idea that you cared about that sorta thing i mean girls are all over you—“

“of course I fucking care—“

“but why—“ your sentence was halted by matt’s right hand harshly grabbing your waist and his left hand holding onto your cheek, pulling your body flush to his and your faces only a sliver apart.

“because tell me you haven’t felt anything between us. and i’ll stop right now if you do and forget this ever happened. tell me you don’t feel anything for me right now.” he said in a gravely whisper, the warm air of his breath caressing your lips. your eyes flitted back and forth across his that starred hungrily at your lips, pupils blown. without thinking you smashed your lips against his, closing the little space left between you. matt froze for a second before passionately joining you in the kiss. his hand wrapped around to your back, pulling you impossibly closer to him as the other latched itself into your hair. your tongues began to entwine with one and other, battling for dominance. Matt pulled gently on your lower lip with his teeth, before unlocking his lips with yours. you stared up at him breathlessly, not wanting to have stopped. he smirked at the slightly helpless expression on your face before using his grip in your hair to tug your head back to expose your neck. he lowered his lips to give you a sloppy warm kiss on your delicate skin. you let out a soft sigh and matt took this moment of weakness as an opportunity to push you up against the back wall. he continued to pull and kiss at your neck and collar bone, his hands digging into the skin around your hips. heat had began to form between your legs and you let out an involuntary moan as matt bit down on your flesh. one of your legs wrapped around his. he inhaled sharply and looked back up at you.

“careful—you might start something you don’t mean to” he panted

“i know exactly what i wanna start” you whispered before pulling him by his tie back to your lips. you rolled your hips up against him.

“oh you’re in for it now” he groaned against your mouth, pressing his crotch against you. your dress had now pathetically rolled up almost to your hipbones. matt pressed his clothed bulge between your legs, creating friction against your now exposed thong. you were practically dripping at the feeling. his strong hands slid down to your bare ass cheeks and squeezed the plush flesh as he continued to grind himself against you. soft sounds of pleasure tumbled from your mouth.

“your moans are even sexier then i imagined” he huffed against your neck

“yeah? you like hearing me moan for you, matty?” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck

“just hearing you does something to me”

“what does it do to you?” you said innocently. he lifted his head to look you in the eye. he moved one of his hands from your ass on top of your own delicate smaller hand which he then guided down his own torso. the two of you panting like wild animals against each other at the insufferable tension as your hand got lower and lower.

“why don’t you find out for yourself” he whispered as your hand finally reached his covered crotch. your eyes still locked to his, you pressed your palm against his hard on. the feeling of his size alone sent tingles through your body. he moaned at the contact. you repeated the motion. his eyes rolled back into his head. watching him like this was addictive.

“fuck—feels so good—“ he sighed out

“been hard all night cause of you”

“you have?”

“second i saw you in that dress all i could think about was fucking you”

“you thought about fucking me?” you teased. matt grabbed your wrist.

“all the time.” his eyes trailed down your heaving chest to your slightly parted legs, the delicate lace of your thong just visible. he let go of your wrist and ran his fingers from your hip over the top of your thigh to the waist band of your underwear and halted.

“you ever thought about fucking me”

“maybe” you teased, still trying to keep some composure. he lowered his touch expertly to your clit. you bit your lip.

“do you ever touch yourself when you think about me” matt began to drag his finger tips up and down your barely covered slit.

“sometimes”

“does it make you wet” he began to pull the fabric of your thong to the side. you let out a gasp as the cool air hit your exposed folds. you nodded slightly

“nuh uh. i wanna hear you say it.”

“say what”

“tell me i make you wet.“

“you make me so wet matt— i want you so bad—-“

“good girl” he said giving you a light kiss

“and good girls get rewarded” he hummed against your lips as he began to push two fingers into your leaking entrance. you let out a loud moan as you felt his digits begin to rhythmically penetrate your core. you clawed at his flexed biceps

“oh—god—matt—“ you whined

“you like that, beautiful?” he cooed into your ear

“so fucking much” matt began to pick up the pace. you felt a knot in the pit of your stomach start to form.

“shit—i’m close—“ right as the words tumbled from your lips the floor beneath you jolted once more. you and matt shared a panicked look as you both scrambled to collect yourself as the elevator retook its motion. you frantically yanked your dress back down just in time for the doors to slide back open. a hotel employee greeted you

“I am so incredibly sorry about this my sincere apologies. We’ll be comping a part of your stay—“

“oh really it’s fine. we weren’t paying for ourselves to begin with” you brushed off

“still if there’s any way we can make this up to you. let me assist you back to your rooms-what’re the numbers?“ he said hurrying down the hall. you opened your mouth to answer but felt matt yank at your list

“were both in 611, actually” matt barked. you raised an eyebrow at him.

“oh im not done with you yet.”

———————————————————————

ending note:

HEY YALLLLLLLL

IM BACK BABY!!

i’m so sorry i went MIA! i had the craziest last two months of my life and then to top it off i got hit w food poisoning and was in the ER sooooo BUT ANYWAYS IM BACK NOW AND BETTER THAN EVER!

hope u guys like this one i started it like a month ago SO it’s FINALLY coming along. PART TWO SOON

and she’s gonna be FILTHY

[solxamber]

Not sure if this is allowed since I just recently requested it, and you recently posted it, but if you want to, can you make a part two to the rollo fic? He got me kicking my feet giggling and blushing just like yuu fr...

Rollo Flamme x Reader

part 1: here

rollo anon i hope this is what you wanted, if not, let me know 🫡

Dating Rollo turned out to be… oddly wholesome. You had braced yourself for awkwardness, tension, maybe even a lecture on the dangers of magic every time you held hands, but instead, Rollo was... incredibly considerate. And to your low, dirt-floor standards, he was absolutely killing it.

Take your first “official” date. He’d invited you to the library—yes, the library—because, in his words, “What could be more stimulating than expanding one’s knowledge together?” You almost choked on your tea when he said it, but you went along. And honestly? It was kinda sweet.

Rollo arrived, dressed impeccably as always, with a bouquet of non-lethal flowers. That alone had your heart skipping several beats. “I thought you might appreciate something... symbolic,” he said, handing them over with a proud smile. “They represent thoughtfulness.”

You blinked, staring down at the very normal flowers in awe. Thoughtful flowers? For you? From a guy who wasn’t trying to actively ruin your life? The bar was so low, and yet here he was, cartwheeling over it like some sort of overachieving gymnast.

“Wow, Rollo, these are... perfect,” you said, genuinely touched. “No one’s ever gotten me something so thoughtful before.”

Rollo blinked, genuinely confused. “Really? No one?”

You shrugged, smiling awkwardly. “Nope. This is... new.”

That seemed to light a little spark in his eyes, like he’d just been given a new challenge. “Well then,” he said, voice soft but resolute, “I’ll have to make sure this becomes a regular occurrence.”

Cue you, nearly melting into a puddle of feelings on the library floor.

And it didn’t stop there. The smallest things he did were, in your mind, the epitome of romance. Like when he held the door open for you, or how he always poured your tea first. Or the time he walked you home just to make sure you got back to Ramshackle safely, even though you both knew you were probably safer from harm than anyone else on campus.

“You really didn’t have to walk me all the way,” you mumbled, feeling giddy but trying to play it cool.

Rollo, ever the gentleman, gave a small, approving nod. “It’s only right to ensure your safety. Besides, it’s a pleasant walk.”

Pleasant?! Rollo, this was practically a marriage proposal in your eyes.

Then there was the time you’d been casually talking about books (because apparently, that was your new thing now—having intelligent conversations), and Rollo mentioned offhandedly, “I’ve taken the liberty of requesting a copy of that novel you were interested in. I thought we could read it together.”

You nearly short-circuited. He remembered what you liked? He went out of his way to get it for you? NRC was full of selfish jerks who’d trip over themselves for extra homework help, and here was Rollo—an actual prince among men—doing something so simple and thoughtful that you had to excuse yourself to go scream into a pillow later that night.

One time, you were walking around the gardens, and Rollo gently draped his coat over your shoulders because it was chilly. It was such a normal, nice thing to do, but your brain, ruined by years of absolute chaos, could barely comprehend it.

You gave him a grateful smile, heart practically bursting. “Thanks. That’s really sweet of you.”

Rollo tilted his head, eyebrow raised. “Sweet? It’s just practical. You were cold.”

Sure, maybe it was practical, but the only practical things you were used to involved someone stopping Grim from lighting things on fire. The sheer normalcy of this kind of care was borderline magical.

When you got to the front steps of Ramshackle, you expected him to say goodnight and leave, but instead, he lingered for just a moment. “I hope you’ll join me for tea again soon,” he said, his voice soft but sincere.

You nodded, heart doing somersaults. “Yeah, definitely. Tea sounds... great.”

And then, in a move so simple yet so devastatingly perfect, he reached out and gently took your hand in his, squeezing it lightly before stepping back. “Goodnight,” he said, turning to leave with that cool, composed demeanor of his.

Meanwhile, you stood there, practically vibrating with excitement because, holy hell, he held your hand.

Rollo, in his usual intense way, probably thought he was just being courteous, doing the bare minimum of politeness. But to you? This was peak romance. No deadly plants, no chaos, no magic explosions—just... a nice guy, treating you like a person.

And honestly? That was more than enough.

Masterlist

[oh-no-its-bird]

Someone ( @ohai-there ) asked me if I had any thoughts ab mdtb weeks "cultural differences" prompt, so, like, take just the copy pasted reply I gave them (+ some extra) :

I was up all night drawing birthday art and am this 👌 close to blacking out for x amount of hours so this risks being nonsensical fair warning

Uhhh culture shock my beloved, let's seee

Easy answer is the senju are very touchy feely, easily and willingly sleeps around (they face a lot less risk of bloodline theft due to rarity of the mokuton so there isn't as much ingrained cultural fear of being assulted/facing the baby shaped consequences of sleeping around willy nilly)

They can take multiple spouses and it's actually rare for the head of house to have only one wife (Hashirama is an exception bc Mito is a Princess(tm) and so to take another wife would risk offending her own clan culture, he is fine with this and they possibly often take others to bed with them just for funzies (potential hashimitoizu noises(?)))

Uhh anyways so that, they're super liberal with touch, etc. Etc.

Also they don't really do crazy deep romance and are super used to casual no strings attached flings, you have to make yourself VERY clear in what you're doing if you want to actually start a fr relationship bc otherwise many "courtship" behaviors are just like. Casual, culturally acceptable flirting and invitations to bang (the senju have a 101 different ways to proposition eachother in flower language alone.)

Meanwhile the Uchiha are on the total opposite side of the spectrum— they're like super conservative (In contrast to the Senju not having an ingrained fear of bloodline hunters, their very valuable and very vulnerable kekkei genkkei makes them prime victims, which has lead them having generations of trauma fueled insane abstinence lessons)

+ They're a noble clan and regularly interact with the Daimyo's court, so there's even more etiquette culture ingrained into them so they can send anyone into court if needed (While the Senju, who are NOT a noble clan, only ever send their main house, and so only they have to even worry about court etiquette)

They do not believe in divorce, they do not believe in political marriages (tho they do happen very very rarely, it's seen as very sad and tragic when it does) they... sometimes believe in multiple spouses, in specific situations (they can't regularly interact w the daimyo's court and not have to face it as a concept, after all)

So like. Super up tight, hella rules about how to show affection and proper ways to conduct yourselves, months long courting rituals before u even get to kissing, to sleep together before marriage is SINFUL

But they're ALSO super fucking romantic and absolutely insane about having soulmates and one true loves and are just super intense ab all that romance stuff where the senju are super relaxed in it

I think u see where this is going

Anyways uhhh

They make a village and there's tons of culture shock

Then Tobirama, being Tobirama (standoffish and cold, not especially interested in the usual wild Senju sex parties or whatever tf kind of events they're hosting in the gardens) is like, among the most "normal" to the Uchiha (from a cultural standpoint)

And bc of that, Madara maybe interacts w him more like "well he's kind of awful but at least he's not a sex FREAK like the rest of these Senju WHORES"

Umm Madara tries to court Tobirama but Tobirama sees it as him only trying to bang (?)

Which he possibly doesn't even want to do

Tobirama is like "Ah man, if only he were interested in actual courtship, but he has only given me the Senju flowers of "I wish to ravish you in the fields" and not the senju flowers of "I am potentially interest in maybe going on a date" (a proposition that a)he received not too infrequently, and so was not odd, and b) he politely rejected by accepting the flowers then showing Madara that he had planted it in red soil)

Meanwhile, Madara is like. "Wow this courtship is going so great he's accepting all my Uchiha flowers of pure devotion and innocent love in bloom"

Just in general, their clans having different flower meanings could be funny actually. The Uchiha regularly interact with court so I think they'd have to have, like, "normal" flower meanings (or else theres be some implications there of how theye gotten so far while using incorrect flower meanings in genuinely important events) so that means its the Senju who have odd meanings for flowers-- which also works, bc, like, mokuton

however many years ago, a previous descendant with mokuton told his clansmen the ""real"" meaning of these flowers,,, u wouldnt get it,,,

Another fun route could be, like, the Uchiha method of declaring ones intentions to court someone also happens to be the Senju's method of declaring a feud.

Madara tries to flirt with Tobirama only for Tobirama to understand this as Madara telling him to his face that the peace may be ongoing but he'll always hate his bitch ass !!!

[corvusphilia]

★ MOST LIKELY TO HAVE A CRUSH ON AN ALTERNATIVE PERSON

ok so my favorite haikyuu blog (which has been inactive for 3 years rip) had this "most (to least) likely" series going on and I loved it sooo here's me throwing my hat in the ring as well (and yes this is mainly because I'm goth LMAO)

ೃ⁀➷ KAGEYAMA: He has NO IDEA what alternative culture is and doesn't listen to the music, but for some reason the fashion really catches his eye. A total sucker for gigantic/extra eyeliner.

ೃ⁀➷ NISHINOYA: Look me in the eyes and tell me he doesn't drool at the mere mention of fishnets. The edgy music? Black clothes? Silver accessories? The whole ragged aesthetic? Sign him the fuck up.

ೃ⁀➷ KUROO: CEO of wanting a goth s/o. He finds it so hot it's not even funny. I'm already a zero-rizz-kuroo-truther but I feel like it's even worse if you dress like that. Deadass got this man on his knees going "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-"

ೃ⁀➷ KYOUTANI: MY BOYFRIENDDD shit got him blushing fr. I mean just look at him. You're gonna tell me he wouldn't LOVE someone that can match his freak? Ugh just... sharing rings and spiked bracelets with him... guys I'm about to pass out

ೃ⁀➷ TENDOU: Let's get this outta the way: he likes interesting people. If you can catch his eye from the way you dress alone then yeah, he's interested. Also, absolute outfit thief. But it's okay because he lets you do his makeup to match the clothes he stole from you.

ೃ⁀➷ SEMI: This guy is in a BAND be for real. All he wants in life is an alt baddie to impress with his guitar skills. Also dare I say he'd look real cute with black lipstick marks all over.

ೃ⁀➷ SUNA: Again. Do I have to say anything. Look at this motherfucker. Yk what I'm going to be quiet because everything I have to say would regress feminism several decades you guys can figure it out yourselves

ೃ⁀➷ ATSUMU & OSAMU: They canonically have/had/whatever a crush on Saeko (which honestly who doesn't). Like there's just something about people who look like they could beat their ass that they really like for some reason. the miyans are bottoms in this essay I will

honorary mentions i don't have an explanation for i just know it in my bones: kei tsukishima, taketora yamamoto, kozume kenma, morisuke yaku (might as well just say the entire nekoma team at this point fr), hajime iwaizumi, akinori konoha, kourai hoshiumi

[heizlut]

The Academy’s Darling

ꕀ cw: dubcon

ꕀ tags: sub fem!reader, dom (kinda yandere)!mortefi, fingering, corruption if you squint, unprotected sex, humiliation if you squint

ꕀ nsfw under the cut

ꕀ m!list here

When Mortefi heard there was someone new within the Huaxu Academy, he rolled his eyes thinking about how as if adding another body to the Academy would make them work any faster.

He didn’t hide his frustration when he was informed that this very same person would be working in the department as him, the department of safety. He had no intention of training someone and having them slow down his work even more. That is, until he found out that person was you.

When you walked through the large doors of the Academy, all eyes seemed to be on you, taking in the new person among them. You had the brightest smile on your face as you practically pranced through the place, greeting everyone with friendly hello.

Mortefi raised a brow at your cheerful demeanor but couldn’t seem to tear his golden eyes away from you. He watched as you chatted animatedly with Baizhi as she gave you a run down of what you were to do.

Mortefi’s heart nearly jumped from his chest when you met his gaze only after Baizhi pointed him out to saying you’d be working with him. He would write off such a reaction as merely being startled by the sudden attention, but was that really the truth?

You walked over to him, your pretty little dress swishing with your movements and your hand outstretched to shake his, "I look forward to working with you." Mortefi looked down at you hand for a moment then cleared his throat and shook your hand with a stern but curious look in his eyes, "Just don't slow me down."

࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐

As time went on, Mortefi began to get used to your antics and the pretty little dresses you wore (although he found that to be quite the ill-suited thing to wear when one is designing weapons and safety technology...).

You always tried so hard to get him to praise and acknowledge you, something he begrudgingly found adorable. Always looking up at him with the prettiest eyes whenever you finished a task he assigned you. Fuck, you were cute...

But one thing he could never stand was the way you seemed so close to everyone else, especially Siqi. Mortefi can feel his anger bubbling up whenever you would laugh and act all cute around Siqi, "accidentally" bumping into him just so your body would press against his... Doing things you used to only do with Mortefi until now.

Siqi was a fucking loser in Mortefi's book, so why the hell were you so seemingly interested in a guy like that? You were his assistant for fucks sake, not Siqi’s. Mortefi clenches his fists when he hears you happily agree to meet up with Siqi after you both were off for the day. Absolutely fucking not. He wasn't about to let that happen.

As you walk back over towards Mortefi to continue whatever work he had asked you to do, Moretfi wanted to wipe that stupid dazed smile off your pretty face. Once you're close enough, his hand darts out and grips your arm, unceremoniously pulling you into any empty workshop.

Looking up at him, offended and taken aback, he scowls down at you, "What do you think you're doing?" You shoot him an incredulous glare right back, "I could ask you the same thing. If you wanted to speak to me, all you had to do was ask."

Moretfi scoffs, rolling his eyes, "I'm hardly in the mood to play nice. Especially when my own assistant is so obviously gushing over a man that isn't even worth her time." You blink up at him, processing his words as your hostile features melt into innocence and confusion, "What? Are you talking about Siqi?" Mortefi narrows his eyes, "Bold of you to speak another man's name in front of me, let alone agree to a little date with him after work. As if I'd allow that."

Your eyebrows furrow at his words, "What are you implying right now?" Mortefi uses his free hand to caress your cheek, before gripping your jaw tightly as he leans in only mere inches from your lips, "It seems I need to take a more direct approach." Before you can even question him, his lips are on yours.

Your eyes widen, his soft lips contrasting against the force of the kiss. Pulling back slightly, but still keeping his firm grip on your jaw, Mortefi smirks, "Do you get it now? You're my sweet little darling and I won't allow anyone else to have you."

All you can do is gawk at him. Sure, he's a ridiculously handsome and intelligent man and of course, you’d been vying for his attention since starting here, but since when did he ever show an interest with you? As far as you knew, he practically hated your guts for just being assigned as his assistant, so what was all this...?

Mortefi can almost see the thoughts swirling around as you try to make sense of this new development. Chuckling, he leans down again as he presses kisses along your jawline and to your neck, cooing sweetly at you, "I promise I'll take good care of you, so be a good girl and forget about that little nobody."

Despite his slightly unhinged tone, you couldn't help but melt a little in his grasp as his lips trace softly over your sensitive flesh, tilting your head slightly to grant him more access. Smirking against your neck at your compliance, he speaks, "You've always been so good about following directions..."

You let out a soft whimper at his words as you tangle your free hand into his fiery locks. Seeing you so compliant now, he frees the grip he had on your arm, allowing you to touch wherever you pleased.

Without warning, Mortefi grips the underside of your thighs and lifts you onto the metal work table behind you, forcing your legs to spread to accommodate his body between them. His golden eyes lock on yours with fierce possessiveness, his tone soft but commanding, "Let me show you the pleasures you can recieve when you belong to me and only me."

Not waiting for a response, he kisses down your neck and towards your exposed collarbones while his large, gloved hands slide up your thighs. Perhaps he was actually thankful you wore these stupid dresses to work, realizing now what easy access he has to you without needing to fumble around with belts and buttons, clothes he would ultimately leave in tatters. His gloved fingers tease along the edges of your panties, so close to where you were beginning to ache for him as you whine softly, "P-please touch me..."

The corners of Mortefi's lips twitch up and his hot breath fans over your collarbones, "Aww, but darling, I'm already touching you. What more could you possibly need?~" Whimpering again, you raise your hips, wordlessly trying to direct where you need his touch. A low chuckle falls from his lips, "Words, darling. Use your words." You furrow your eyebrows as your mouth forms a cute little pout, only spurring on his teasing, "Come on. Open those pretty lips and talk to me while you can before I fuck all sense out of you."

His words alone draw a moan from your lips, "Sir, please t-touch my pussy..." Mortefi's smirk widens as he lowers himself to be level with your cute, needy cunt covered by the cutest cotton panties, "Good girl."

His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties as he slowly tugs them down, relishing in the sight of the string of your slick connected from your weeping cunt to soaked undergarments. Stuffing the panties into his pocket, his eyes flit up to your dazed and curious expression, "Consider these as my souvenir~"

With his gaze returning to your dripping cunt, he brings one gloved hand to his mouth, tugging at the fingertips of the material with his teeth as he slides it off. The sight alone has you clenching desperately around nothing, of course the sight of your twitching hole doesn't go unnoticed to Mortefi. With his hand now free of the glove, he lightly rubs the pad of his thumb up through your soaked folds and up to your clit, drawing the prettiest, breathy moan from you, "Don't you see? Good girls get rewarded..."

With two fingers, he prods at your hole, letting your slick coat the tips of them before he slowly pushes in. The squelching sound of your pussy makes his cock ache terribly within its confines, desperate to be inside of you. The noise sounds so sinful and the smell of your arousal fills the air around you. Your features scrunch in bliss as Moretfi curls his fingers upwards towards that spongy spot inside of you that has you immediately clenching around his digits, "Ngh... R-right there..."

Mortefi looks so smug as your reactions boost his ego even further. His free hand travels up from your hips til it reaches your breast, squeezing the supple flesh in his palm as it molds to his touch. As much as he wanted you to be completely bare before him, he would be damned if anyone had the chance to feast their eyes on what belongs to him.

His touch gets rougher and his fingers pump harder into you as he grows even more possessive and more pissed off thinking about how that loser might've gotten the chance to have you like this if he hadn't taken control of the situation when he did. Mortefi lets out a low growl, "This little pussy is all fucking mine. You better remember that."

You moan so sweetly, your head rolls back as your hips move in time with his ministrations, pussy clenching hard as you near your release. Before you can cum, Mortefi pulls with fingers out abruptly, slapping your pussy with his soaked hand as you cry out, "You don't get to cum unless it's all over my cock."

Quickly, Mortefi undoes his belt, the metal clinking as it's opened. His fingers work quickly as he tugs his pants down, his throbbing cock slaps up against his abdomen, the tip flushed red and leaking pre cum. He grips it in his hands, giving it a few pumps before lowering towards your awaiting cunt. He taps the leaky tip against your clit with a dangerous look in his eyes, "Take a good look, darling. Watch closely as I claim what belongs to me."

Your eyes drift down to where his tip rubs against your entrance, your juices and his pre cum mixing together. Your eyes flutter as you whine at the stretch of his cock pushing into your tight, wet walls.

Mortefi lets out a low groan as his length stretches you out, forcing your cunt to mold to his thickness as he presses deep into you, "Look at that... Taking my cock just like you should..." Your lips part as breathy and needy moans and cries come from you, your cunt squelching and making such a mess around his cock as he thrusts into you with raw desire.

A shudder wracks through Mortefi's toned body when his tip brushes against your cervix, a growl crawling up his throat as his features twist with pleasure and the desire to own you completely, "I should fill you with my cum, filling your precious womb with my seed." You lean back, your back arched and giving him the prettiest view of your bouncing tits underneath your dress.

A sharp breath escaped his gritted teeth as he fucks into you, "But alas, I'd rather see your pretty little dress covered in my cum. Let's see what that nobody thinks then when he realizes you're such a slut for me, hmm?" "N-no, don't -ngh!-", you cry out, protesting against him.

Mortefi rolls his eyes as he grips your hips with force, his cock hitting so deep as your pussy makes a mess all over his cock, "I don't remember giving you a say in what I do to you." You whimper and moan, defenseless to the pleasure he's giving you.

Your eyes wander towards the door that was partially cracked open, your thoughts beginning to wander from Mortefi and his brutal thrusts. Mortefi's hand shoots out and grips your jaw, redirecting your focus to him, "I explicitly told you to keep your eyes on me."

His golden eyes pierce into yours in a fierce look that almost dares you to defy him again. He leans in, pressing a forceful kiss to your lips. His grip on your jaw forces your mouth to open for him as his tongue enters and flicks against yours.

Everything about this is messy. Your pussy soaking his cock, your saliva mixing with his as it makes a mess of your swollen lips. You were such a fucking sight to see. A sight that belonged to him, and him alone. His balls ache and tighten as he drinks you in, losing himself to your cunt that tightens around his length so prefectly.

With a heaving grunt, Mortefi quickly pulls out of you, stroking his cock with a fast pace, "Gonna -fuck- Gonna cum all over this pretty dress. Make you walk around with it -ngh!- Show everyone you belong to me."

With a final growl, his cock throbs as ropes of his milky cum spurt out onto the soft material of your dress, staining it with his essence in a primal claim over you. Mortefi's body shudders as he cums down from his high, laziliy stroking his spent cock as he rides out his orgasm.

Through dazed eyes, he manages to smirk at you, his eyes drinking in the sight of you covered in his cum, "You look even prettier like this..." Your lips form a cute pout that he just cannot resist, leaning in and kissing your lips that are red and abused from earlier rough kisses.

Mortefi pulls back, running his thumb across your bottom lip, his voice husky as he speaks, "My pretty darling~" There is a beat of silence between you two as you both get lost in each other's gaze before he wraps his arms around you, lifting you off the work table and back onto the ground.

Your cute and now ruined dress falls back into place. Mortefi steps back, goldens eyes wandering over your flushed form and stained dress, tucking himself back into his pants.

Before either of you can speak, the door slide open and both of you whip your heads towards the newcomer. Siqi pauses in his step, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. A look of conflicted embarrassment crosses his features as he clears his throat awkwardly, "I u-uh..."

Mortefi just acts innocent with a smug lilt of his voice, "Oh dear~ Is something the matter?" You try to side-step behind Mortefi as you attempt to conceal yourself and your cum-stained dress from the man you had previously promised to see later.

But Mortefi stops you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he smirks at Siqi, making sure you and your ruined dress are in full view of the flustered man, "If you're done gawking, isn't it about time you got back to work?"

Siqi's eyes widen and he nods, feeling as though he's been thoroughly made inferior to the genius before him, "Y-yes, sir." Mortefi waves him off with a flick of his wrist, "Get to it then." Siqi quickly turns on his heels, rushing out with his cheeks flushed red in a mix of shame and embarrassment.

You look up at Mortefi with a pouty glare, "That wasn't very nice..." He breathes out a laugh and pulls you tighter against him with a shurg, "Why should I care what he thinks? I was simply reminding him that you belong to me." You just let out a little defeated huff that Mortefi can't help but find quite endearing.

Letting go of your waist, he taps your ass playfully, "Go on, get back out there and get to work." You give a cute glare back at him which only spurs him on, his grin widening, "Go show off your dress as well. Show the rest of the Academy what a sweet darling you are for me~"

࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐

a/n: rip to siqi… idk how i feel about this one, ladies and gents. it could’ve been better. perhaps a part two is order to redeem myself for this one. also shoutout to those who reblog my posts with tags, the extra help in getting my works spread means a whole lot to me and y'all do not go unnoticed. ily🥹

[tea-plantz]

your bill hcs were so good and got me thinking... what about yandere bill w/ a reader whos in a relationship already with ford?? i love your work btw!!!

Oooh this is such an interesting request! Thank you so much for submitting this, I absolutely LOVE writing stuff like this!

He/him for Bill

They/them for the reader

<Yandere Bill Cipher x reader who’s in a relationship with Ford Pines>

When Bill found out that you were already with somebody, he was devastated, moreover, when he found out that the other person was Ford, he completely lost it. You were supposed to be HIS and HIS ALONE!!

Homeboy was oozing with jealousy fr.

The triangle couldn’t grasp how you could fall for someone like Ford! I mean, it’s Ford for gods sake!

He probably stalked the two of you while you were out on dates, all while angrily muttering to himself and sending an unknowing Ford death stares. (Bill punching the air rn)

At first he debated on just killing Ford and getting it all over with, that’s usually the easiest way to solve problems, but then he realized that if he did that, you would most definitely hate him.

He couldn’t risk that happening and he knew it, Bill isn’t a dumb guy, y’know. Therefore, he decided on the second best option: To threaten Ford instead.

Bill waited until the timing was just right, before appearing right in front of Ford himself in one of his most terrifying forms. (Like when he’s all red and big and stuff)

“Cipher?! What do you want? Haven’t you already tormented me and my family enough?!” “Ford Pines, my good pal! I’m not here to cause any harm old man, I’m just here to reclaim something that’s MINE buddy” “What? Something of yours? I have no idea what you’re talking about Cipher!” “A precious little s/o of yours say’s otherwise!”

Once Ford realized what Bill was talking about, he panicked. Y/n? Why did Bill want you? No! He can’t let that demon have you! Who knows what the hell that psycho had in mind?!

Now, the outcome of this conversation was mostly just Ford becoming way more protective over you, and Bill failing to claim you as his.

So when that didn’t work, he resorted to plan B: pursuing you.

“Hey, sugar tits (pls someone stop me) why be with that old sack of meat, when you could be with a real charm devil *wink wink* (with ultimate rizz)

The dorito tried every trick in the book to win you over without causing any harm as to not scare you, but when you still stayed with Ford after everything, he finally snapped.

You were his and ONLY his, that’s the way it is supposed to be, and if you can’t accept that, he will just have to make you realize how much better than Ford he is, resulting in some pretty traumatic scenes for you, but not to worry! Your new boyfriend is here to make it all okay… he can treat you better then Ford, better than anybody for that matter, and he was going to prove it.

Look at him, such a silly little thing

[kairismess]

❝WRITTEN IN BETWEEN THE LINES...❞

🏐 genre: fluff ~~ ✒️ word count: 1076 💭 summary: kuroo had nothing to do one slow afternoon, until you caught his eye and... he just knew he had to get to know you. but, it seems that he's gotten to know himself better after meeting you: he officially has a thing for bookworms. chatty yet shy ones, in fact. 🍥 author's note: i need more friends like y/n / reader fr... ALSO IF Y'ALL CAUGHT THE REFERENCE ON WHICH GHIBLI MOVIE THIS IS BASED OFF, MARRY ME RN

kuroo could remember the first time he laid eyes on you, he was at the public library looking for advanced chemistry textbooks—or at least, pretending to look for a book that had word vomits of stuff he already knew very well, like the back of his hand. it was a slow afternoon, he had nothing to do since kenma and his family were out of town for the weekend, and he didn't want to stay holed up in his room doing nothing.

he had tried to fit in with everyone else there, running the tips of his slender fingers over the used and fresh spines of the books on the shelves he couldn't bother to read the section names of; to him, they were all the same, he knew most of what these books and journals had to offer. ultimately, he decided to check out the section that was most foreign to him: the fiction books section.

he saw a multitude of names, a flurry of colors that flew by his eyes as he mumbled out the titles off the books he pulled out of the shelves and from their spines. kuroo wasn't even sure what exactly he was looking for here, or what he was even supposed to be doing at the library, he just... needed somewhere to bide his time, somewhere to feel less lonely; and yet, he had felt lonelier and lonelier the more time he spent there.

on the verge of giving up, he accidentally bumped into someone about a foot shorter than him. he hurriedly apologized, seeing that the one he bumped into was... a very cute girl. "oh, i'm... really sorry, here, let me help you," he offered, helping you pick up the books that flew out of your hands when he bumped into you. you silently nodded your thanks, mumbling it out in case it came out unclear to him.

kuroo noticed that the books you were carrying were all... interesting, to say the least. "hmm, never heard of these authors before..." he thought aloud, making your head perk up slowly. you bit your lower lip, trying your hardest not to comment on that. you were an avid reader of those authors, quite passionate about their books and the genres they write, to say the least. "they're great writers..." you mumble out shyly, feeling a cold shiver down your fingers and a warm tingle down your spine; this boy was too cute, in your opinion, you couldn't keep a level head around him, at all.

when your shy little voice entered kuroo's ear, a playful smile appeared on the boy's angular face. "really? well, i don't really know much about fiction, and, uh... you seem like you knew a good amount of it to get a newbie like me started. so, care to recommend me some good writers and genres?" he asked you in a husky voice, making you even more bashful at the fact such a hot boy was asking you for book recommendations, the second thing you were most passionate about in the whole world.

your first favorite thing in the whole world, however... was getting totally engrossed in the stories you were reading. it was a one of a kind experience only you could go through, because of course, everyone had different interpretations of the texts they were reading; but you always had a fondness for discovering the rich backgrounds, symbolisms, and stories the authors wished to reach their audiences. and kuroo was more than willing to listen to you go on and on about the stories you loved, even if a shy cutie like you would take forever to open up.

for the first time in his life, the boy finally didn't feel so alone, so isolated, so out of place setting foot here in the library; he felt at peace, something he yearned for ever since he came here.

"wow, they all sound so intriguing; guess i'll have to borrow those books after you finish them." "i... already did." you mumbled, avoiding eye contact with him. he blinked his hazelnut eyes twice in disbelief. "you finished... all of them?" he asked in a soft voice, with you nodding in response. kuroo chuckled to himself, leaning closer to you. "you're impressive..." he whispered in your ear, sending shivers up your spine, good shivers, good tingles–you could tell that, somehow, he genuinely was impressed by your dedication for reading.

kuroo stayed with you until the end of the day, and when it was time for you to return all the books you borrowed, he followed up with the librarian, stating, "excuse me, may i borrow all those books afterwards? they're... very interesting, i'd like to read them. all of them," he uttered with a smile, looking at you with a glowing grin on his face.

the librarian eventually agreed, asking kuroo for his name and signing his name after yours on every book you returned, that he was soon going to borrow. "y'know what, i'll bet that i'm going to read every book here that has your name on the back of it. i probably won't be interested in any other book if i don't see your name on it, it wouldn't make me interested."

his words made your heart beat a little faster, your knees shake a bit. you fidgeted with your fingers, looking down at your shoes and the floor, as if the right thing to respond to his words were there, hidden in between the lines of where the tiles met. "but... why would you...? why me?" "because, why not? you're amazing, and i want to be a part of your world; your literary world, if you will," kuroo beamed, grinning after confessing that.

it had only been a day, but, you felt like today was a gem in the days that felt like dull, bland charcoal. today, you met a wonderful boy–a boy whose life you didn't realize you'd changed, by simply letting him in, and showing him the beauty of your mind and heart when it came to your interest in the art of words and imagination.

you'd better get used to seeing that rooster headed, teasing boy every weekend now; he has something to brag to kenma about when he'd get back from his family outing.

but the one thing to ruin kuroo's evening is this realization he had over dinner: he forgot to ask you for your number.

[seejayseattle]

You, Therefore

Sansa Stark x fem!reader

summery: The first time Sansa sees you is in the Sept and she cannot help but feel like you do not belong somewhere so solemn.

warning: !TW! implied non-con/SA (non-descriptive + mentioned very briefly), language, time-period homophobia, violence and gore, angst, implied smut

word count: 9.13k

The Sept in Winterfell is always quiet. Sansa never had known it to be anything other than quiet and uninhabited. She thinks that none of the other southern wives visit because of its nature. A gift to the newly wedded Lady Stark from her greener-than-summer grass Lord husband. Or mayhaps it was not a gift at all, but an apology for bringing a bastard home from war.

Sansa does not think of faith often, but she has always dreamt of marrying a southern prince, and following his gods would likely please him. So, here she kneels on the cold hard stone and listlessly watches wax tears roll down the candle as it melts.

Her eyes start to grow hazy and her hands that were firmly pressed together start to go limp, but then-

“Do the gods bore you?” 

Sansa goes rigid. She turns her neck so sharply that the tendons and muscles pull tight and strained. She is expecting someone she knows, a serving girl or a bannerman’s young wife. You are neither. You are unfamiliar. A stranger lurking in the dark, only the light of a dying flame allows her to see your face. 

You are very pretty, she thinks to herself. Your hair is braided in an elaborate way she had never seen before, and your clothes are made of a fabric that her fingers had never touched.

Still standing far enough away that your presence is not towering, you take a step forward and tilt your head in a way she had seen hounds do. She suddenly remembers you had asked her a question. 

Do the gods bore you?

She ponders the question with the same lightness it was asked with. Sansa has no obligation to answer you, let alone speak to you. Although, there is something interesting about you. The two of you are the same age, she’s sure of it, but you have an air of flippancy that she has never seen any woman wear.

Sansa hums before she speaks. “How could they not? They never say anything back.”

“Mayhaps they do and you do not listen well enough.” 

Sansa feels her face go hot at your teasing tone. She scoffs, looking away from you while mumbling, “You should address me as ‘my lady’.”

Your brows pull together in confusion. “But you are not my lady.” squinting your eyes at her, you huff a laugh. “You are not a lady at all really, just a girl.” 

She has decided that she dislikes you greatly.

Do you not know that she will be queen one day? The King and her father are brothers in all but blood. The golden prince will whisk her away South to wed her and the people of King's Landing will sing songs dedicated to their love and beauty. Moreover, you seem to be oblivious that she's a Stark, highest birth in the North. 

Pressing her palms together and clenching her eyes shut, Sansa feigns quietude whilst attempting to disregard your presence entirely. 

You laugh, and she decides that she truly hates you.

“May I kneel with you?” 

She opens one eye to peek at you from the corner of it. Your own eyes blaze with amusement, so bright that she thinks they might burn her if you are any closer. Without waiting for the invitation, you walk to her side.  

Your boots make a horrid gritty sound when you drop to your knees and Sansa winces as it scrapes against her ears. This close she can see your dress properly, pink silks with detailed orange and yellow embroidery. She has to resist the aching desire to run her finger over the intricate pattern of each stitch. 

It is something one would never catch eye of in the north and Sansa is struck with the realization that you are likely a Southerner who has traveled here for trade.

Even though she finds you rather annoying, her curiosity of the dress's origins and the excitement of conversing with a true Southern girl makes her speak.

“Are you from Dorne?” She questions, feeling as though the vibrancy of those colors would likely come from there. 

You simply smile, “Sometimes.”

“Something?” She repeats incredulously.

“Aye.”

Sansa feels a strong urge to do something unladylike, like calling you a name or shoving you. But she is a lady and will not deign herself. She is about to say something haughty to put you in your place, the way she often does with Arya, but you speak first. 

“What do you pray for?” You ask, eyes fixated on the few unlit candles in the sentry of the Sept. Your grin is so wide, Sansa notices. Although you two have only just met, she feels as though the giddiness on your face is genuine.

She shrugs. “I pray for what every lady prays for.” At your encouraging look, she continues. “To marry the prince and give him many healthy sons.”

Your smile dampens and you shake your head, but you say nothing else.

After a few moments of silence, Sansa wished to quench her curiosity.

���What do you pray for?” She asks.

You turn, fully facing her. She is truly caught by how beautiful you are. Sansa should feel envious, for she has always been the most comely in Winterfell. 

The grin on your lips turns sly, countering the whore-Ros that Theon favors. Secretive and inviting. 

“Nothing.” You say, “I do not follow the Seven.” 

Sansa cannot help the girlish giggle that burst from her mouth. You laugh along with her, and she is even more sure that you do not belong here.

°°°

She sees you around Winterfell. Sometimes trailing after a man who looks much too young to be your father and other times she sees you gallivanting around the courtyard as if you are Lord Stark himself. 

Robb seems to enjoy you, well he enjoys the crumbs you throw at him now and then. Her older brother always seeks you out when he goes to the yard to practice his sword skills and he laughs a bit too loud when you jest. Jeyne has been practically tearing her hair out with envy because of it.

Sansa cannot find it in herself to comfort her friend, for she should have known that Robb could never marry a steward’s daughter.

Even with his constant attention, your eyes always find hers. You always come find her, in the keep or the dining hall or in the yard. It would be quite the inconvenience considering Sansa’s dearest friend despises your very existence, but she thrives on attention. Her Lady mother used to say that praise to Sansa was sunlight to a rose.

The library is not a setting she can imagine you in, but you rarely achieve predictability. She watches you for a moment in hopes that you have not noticed another presence. 

You sit curled up against a shelf with a book in your lap. You pinch the corner of the page and lightly roll it between your fingers. It's as if you are already anticipating turning the page. 

“Do you intend to join me? Or is watching from the darkness something you enjoy?” You ask while finally flipping that page. Eyes never straying. 

Sansa sniffs and walks forward into the golden light. Her dress glides too close to the hearth and for a small moment, it looks as if the flames from the fireplace are reaching out to grab the fabric, crackling in anger when Sansa jumps away from it. Looking up, your eyes meet hers.

A blaze of yellow and orange glows against your pupils. 

You smile and tilt your head in that strange knowing way. “You should be more careful, Dearest. The fire has few masters and you are not one.” 

The words are strangely shrewd for the teasing tone, but Sansa waves her hand at you dismissively. She rarely listens to the odd things that pour from your mouth like soured sick. Unlike Robb, who will grip onto every word with snow-white knuckles. She walks to the space in front of you and sits down gracefully. 

Sansa reaches forward and uses the tip of her finger to lift the book away from your lap just enough to see the cover. The book is one she has seen Jon reading as of late, although she has no knowledge of what it's about. 

“Whatever are you reading?”

“Tis about Old Valyria.” You say while shutting the very book and placing it beside you. She hums because she has nothing else to say. She has never cared for history or sums or anything other than the pretty things of being a lady. Her mother worries but she will have a council of Lords to do the boring things for her when she is queen. 

Readjusting her position, Sansa clears her throat. “I came to find you for a purpose.”

“Oh, how flattering it is to be sought out.”

She pinches your leg. “Quiet you.” Waiting until you stop laughing, she continues. “I wished to speak to you about Robb.”

“What about him?”

“He is besotted with you.”

“He is a man, next moon he will be besotted with a barmaid with big eyes and bigger teats.” 

Sansa gasps and pinches you again. “Do not be crude!”

You laugh and she finds herself restraining her own giggle. It is moments like this that Sansa is so very glad you are a friend. Jeyne is lovely but Sansa would never dare share a true secret with her, as it would end up in every young lady's ears by the time the sun dies. Arya is simply awful and quick to anger. 

Father always smiles fondly and says wolf blood. She wonders if she looked more like her dead aunt if father would indulge her tantrums just as often. 

Their laughs subside and Sansa takes a breath, “As I was saying. Robb wants you but I encourage you to deny him.”

You tsk. “And why should I deny the next Warden of the North?” 

“You are not a highborn lady, Robb cannot marry you.”

“That only makes me want to marry him, Sansa.” 

She huffs. “Out of spite and stubbornness?”

You shrug and smile at her easily. “There is little other reason I would wish to marry him. I find him rather foolish.” Sansa opens her mouth to defend her brother and mayhaps reminds you of your stature, but you quickly press your hand over her lips.

“Hush, I meant no offense.” You say swiftly. You slowly drag your hand away from Sansa’s face and place it in your lap. She is almost shocked into silence at your words. You say many unorthodox things, but an apology has never tumbled off your tongue. That was the closest thing akin to one. 

“Besides, Robb is not mine.”

Her curiosity peaks. “Oh, and who’s is he? Do not say Jeyne, he finds her plain.” While teasing, it is the truth. Her brother only entertains Jeyne’s affections out of politeness and boredom. She waits for you to say something, but you are silent. 

You stare at her, then blink, open your mouth, and close it. 

“He will be the strangers.” 

You blink again, shake your head, and smile brightly enough to blind. Sansa watches your odd actions with a scrunched nose. She would ask, but instead, she starts to talk about how horrid Arya had been while they were at lessons.

°°°

The prince will be at Winterfell in just a few weeks. Jon Arryn's death brings her father heartache but she cannot help the feeling of her dream being on the horizon. Sansa feels sick with nerves and anticipation. Her hands are unsteady while she stitches the details of her new dress. 

She stitches lions around the neck, to win the Lannister queen's favor and express loyalty. When she told you of her plans, you had told her that gold would look horrid with her hair and gray direwolves would look lovely embroidered on her dress collar. She had not listened. 

So, the two of you sit in silence while she carefully constructs the snout of a lion. Sansa hisses and drops the needle when she pricks her finger once again. In truth, she is starting to believe that this dress will never be completed. That thought makes her even more frustrated. 

With a huff you reach over and take her shaken hand, cradling it between your own. “That is the fifth time you have done that. What ails you?” 

Sansa lets you caress her fingers while she wills herself not to burst into tears. 

“The prince will be here very soon.” 

“Yes.” You respond as if that means nothing.

She lets out a cry and smacks her hand against the floor. “That is the problem, silly girl. The prince will be here soon and I'm dreadfully unprepared.” Tears start to track down her cheeks and her breath shutters like the winds of winter.

You move yourself closer to her, where your knees are touching and she can feel your warmth. “No need to be upset.” You say. “Even if you are betrothed, a wedding shall not take place until you are of age.” 

“That is not what upsets me!”

“Then tell me what does.”

Sansa sniffs and wipes her wet nose with the back of her hand. “What if he does not like me? What if he has been with other ladies, older ladies that are more experienced than me?” She cries miserably and hides her face behind her hands. The thought of not being enough for the golden prince makes her cry harder.

You sigh, annoyed, then she feels your hands prying hers away from her face. Your pursed lips and incredulous expression make her feel a bit childish even though you are the same age as she.

“Sansa.” Your voice is stern and demanding of attention. “If the prince does not like you then he is a fool.”

“But how can I be enough? I have never even been kissed. What if I'm no good at kissing and he hates me!” She yells in your face. In the back of her mind, she knows she will have to apologize to you for being so rude.

“I’ll kiss you.”

Sansa’s breath stops altogether and stares at you utterly flummoxed. You stare back unflinchingly, eyes never straying from hers. She could not have heard right, but then again you are rather crude and unpredictable. Pressing her finger against her eyes to dry the wetness, Sansa opens her mouth.

“What?”

You shake your head, beautiful hair swaying with the motion. “You are not hard of hearing, dearest.” 

Denying the offer would be the most sensible, the most ladylike. She would deny you for many reasons, you are rather opinionated, you give little knowledge about your life even though you know every inkling of hers, you do not respect titles nor the people that hold them, but most of all, you are a girl.

She wonders if you have been kissed by many. Sansa watches your big smile turn a bit more earnest. Knowing that it is wrong can be avoided with her distress of wanting to impress the prince. 

She nods, thinking about how much her embarrassment can be quelled with just one minuscule lesson. “Alright, kiss me then.”

“Are you certain?”

“I said kiss me, did I not?”

It seems you do not need to be told a third time because you lean forward and kiss her. It’s nothing more than a brush of lips really, a whisper of what a real kiss should be. It makes Sansa blush red hot all the same. You pull back sharply as if her mouth stung

So, here the two of you are. Sitting on the floor of her chamber with flushed faces, cloth and string scattered around and Sansa's dried blood on both you and her hands. 

A moment of quiet, then-

“That was hardly a kiss!” Sansa says loudly, then shrieks at her volume. She turns to make certain her chamber door is shut and lets out a long-suffering sigh of relief when she sees it is. Facing you again is much less intimidating when she hears you start cackling. 

You laugh and laugh until tears run streams down your cheeks. They drip off your jaw, one after the other. She watches, bewildered and terribly confused but she finds her own laugh begins to rise up her throat.

°°°

You leave only 3 days before the king's carriage arrives. She cries fat bellowing tears, you kiss her cheek and tell her that you will meet again. You also gift her one of your dresses, the one you wore during that first meeting almost a year ago in the sept. 

Sansa starts stitching the direwolves onto a new dress. Her blood had stained the lion's mouth and made it unsalvageable. 

“What are your favorite flowers? I'll stitch them onto the dress since I am already using your brilliance.” She asks you as your brother says his goodbye and thanks to her Lord father.

“Red fennel flowers.” 

“Whyever would those be your favorite?"

“It is what they signify.”

“And what do they signify?”

Your brother calls your name while he climbs onto the wagon, but you seem keen on pretending he does not. You reach forward and take her hands, leaning as if sharing a secret.

“Victory.” You whisper.

Later that day, Jon places a direwolf in Sansa's eager arms.

°°°

When Joffrey kisses her for the first time, she thinks of how thankful she is to you for preparing her.

And a moon later, in the hours after her father’s head tumbled to the ground, she thinks about how thankful she is that Joffrey was not her first kiss.

°°°

Margaery reminds Sansa of you. Tis a foolish thing for the two of you are not alike. Margaery is nothing but a mummer's mask, a beautiful venomous snake covered in honey. While you were raw and still sweet to the bone.

But as she walks in the Redkeep's garden with the soon-to-be queen arm and arm, she thinks the two of you would get along well. You would both talk endlessly about all the strange things you know and how you know them.

She catches Sansa staring at the side of her face, she must feel the burning of her eyes.

“What is it, sweet girl?”

Sansa shakes her head, “I did not mean to stare, it's just..”

“You remind me of an old friend, is all.”

“Oh, how lovely. Well, you must tell me of her.”

She does. She talks about your buoyancy and terrible insolence. She talks about your beautiful dresses and the one you gifted her before you left.

Margaery does not interrupt, allowing Sansa the freedom to speak openly about the girl she has not thought of in moons. She regrets it later, while she lays in a featherbed that feels like gravel against her back. She regrets pulling you from the depths of her mind. Regrets dragging you from the black water of memories and tugging you onto her ship. It's painful, remembering how much she misses you.

She briefly wonders if you are even alive. That would be quite the jest, wouldn't it? If her closest friend was simply no more. Dead. Mayhaps someone heard her speak of you to Lady Margaery and is out trying to find you.

Joffrey would jump with glee to find something to punish Sansa with. She thinks of all the things he would do to you in her name.

Sansa vomits in her chamber pot while Shae holds back her hair and coos sweet sentiments.

°°°

Ramsey says your name once. He calls you a ‘little pet’ and thanks Theon for telling him all about yours and Sansa's companionship.

She tries to refrain from reacting but cannot withhold the shudder when he tells her of all the things he will do to you.

In that moment, she wishes to never see you again, she prays to any gods listening that you are already dead and the only thing Ramsey can torment her with is your bones.

He never does bring you up again, most likely angry in his fallen attempts to find even a whisper of you.

°°°

Once, while she is at castle black, she hears one of the wildling women speak of bedding another woman. The woman is crude with her words and detailed with the actions they two committed between their furs.

The old Sansa would find it horribly disturbing. Two women together. But now, all she can feel is envy of women finding pleasure in bed and bitterness for all the pain she has gone through. She feels bitter most times when she sees two people happy with one another. She wants so desperately to feel that, feel anything good at all.

While the dreary castle sleeps, Sansa trails her icy fingertips up her thigh, between her legs, and feels.

She thinks of your pretty face behind her closed eyelids. And when she comes, there is not a shred of shame in her chest.

Sansa laughs hysterically when breath returns her.

°°°

The wind carries like a sweet sigh, a whisper against the skin of her cheek. Sansa watches with careful eyes as the dragon queen trots along on her horse. The woman is much smaller than she would have anticipated with all the roaring praise Tyrion's ravens are loud with.

Jon swings over his own steed, boots sloshing into the snow beneath him. His bottomless Stark eyes peer into Sansa’s and she is quite astonished to see him grinning. Tis a silly boyish grin she remembers from when they were children and he wanted to show her a game.

Something with rocks or sticks. Something she turned her nose up at.

Her brother does not help the dragon queen from her horse, nor does he wait to greet his family. Jon is before her and sweeping her into a crushing embrace before the Targaryen’s boots make temporary marks in the snow.

His mouth is cold when it presses into the shell of Sansa's ear but his breath is warm when he whispers, “I have a gift for you.”

Pulling away, he leaves her with a kiss pressed into her hair and moves on to engulf Bran in his arms. It’s like he might just hold their brother until they are nothing but bones and ash.

There is scarce time to taste his words, less to chew them. Raising her chin, she watches as the Targaryen walks unsteadily to her.

She can see the unease riddling this woman, precarious and glancing at Jon for guidance he does not have. This woman must discern that Jon willn't give her what she is seeking, for she swallows down something Sansa could call bitter and smiles kindly at her.

She should not leave her face so vulnerable, so susceptible to having her grievances and sorrow torn into like one would pry open a clam to find the pearl.

A mummer's mask is the only way to survive court, the only way to win this torturous game.

“Lady Stark.” She says, rather personally than diplomatic. This woman speaks her words and molds her face as though they know one another, sweetly and sisterly and for a fleeting moment, Sansa wants to believe in it.

It's been so long since she has believed in anything other than herself, and it would be oh-so lovely to put faith in another.

Daenerys tilts her chin to peer around the stone and snow. “Winterfell is as beautiful as your brother claims,” She faces her again, smiling tenderly. “As are you.”

Sansa can see these pleasantries for what they are, an olive branch. She knows what her position must look like, desperate for allies as the dead march with little regard for the North's readiness. This woman must feel as though she is reaching forward to offer a hand to Sansa as she balances on a damp plank of a sinking ship.

Fortunately, Sansa learned how to swim in angry waters long ago.

“Winterfell is yours, your grace.”

Crestfallen, her silver brows crease, and Sansa almost feels the clams insides wet her harsh digging fingers.

Jon’s hand reaches out to grip Sansa's shoulder. “Let us move into the hall, but Sansa, I must tell you-”

Bran says your name with the same eerie coldness he does everything else.

Her breath catches in her throat and suddenly she sees you.

You sit upon a sand-colored horse that is littered with white spots. You are already watching her, she realizes. You have been watching the entirety of this exchange.

She feels her own face crack open, tongue spitting the pearl into your hands like she had done at the green age of three-and-ten.

You've changed. The purity of youth has been shaven off your face, your hair is different than it once was and there is a scar that drags down your lips as if it's trying to sew them together.

It frightens her, that you are no longer the ungraspable thing that she can look to for comfort, that you are no longer just a memory she keeps on a throne.

“Yes, She is an adviser of mine, my Lady of Whispers.” The dragon queen says softly, and Sansa feels as though a blade has just sheathed into her gut. She does not turn away from your gaze, even when your lips curl into a smirk that she can only describe as predatory.

You do not look away, not even when Bran tells them of the rogue dragon and the shattered wall.

°°°

The halls are silent as she walks to her bedchambers. Although approaching doom has become a recurring presence in her life, Sansa has still not become accustomed to it. Nervously twisting around the ring on her finger she arrives in front of her door.

It's open, just enough to put her finger between the door and framing but not nearly enough for her to peek into. She glances around, but there is not a guard in sight, all most likely sleeping before they see battle.

Placing her hand on the heavy wood, she wrenches it open with a horrid ear-stabbing creak.

You sit on her bed. The dress you wear is black, with beautiful Stark gray embroidery. Sansa noticed the color when you scurried into the hall with the others; now, she sees what the stitching is. Detailed patterns of wolves, all connected by the same stitch, seem to prance across your breast to your back.

The dress itself is rather strange, with sharp pointed shoulders that counter the beast that had flown over Winterfell. The skirt parts into a cape-like thing at your hips, trousers wrapped around your crossed legs and boots cover your feet. You do not meet her eyes.

“You took your Lord Father and Lady Mother's chambers.” You speak with no true inflection, only a soft slyness that reminds her achingly of her girlhood.

The tip of your boots moves in union with your head as you greedily take in the decor of her chamber.

There is something unsettling about you, she thinks there always has been, truly. Sansa remembers Jeyne being envious of you, but she had always forgotten how perturbed she was with you near.

“Yes.” She agrees. Sansa brings her hands behind her back and raises one eyebrow at the woman lounging on her bed. “Why are you here?”

You blink, eyes fluttering as though you did not expect the question. “I wished to see you,” you tell her, words slow like falling snow.

You say it with an obvious tilt like Sansa is simply supposed to know one single thread in the mess of your mind. She imagines it to look like Arya's old stitching basket, a clutter of silk ribbons, furry yarn, and fine threads all crumpled into one pretty woven basket.

You do not seem to understand that you are a stranger now, another foreigner who has invaded her home with intent to snatch it from Sansa’s dying grip.

She parts her lips, and says, “How flattering it is to be sought out.” Instead of voicing her grief with you.

A loud surprised laugh jolts from your mouth, it sounds a bit like someone has squeezed it right from your chest. Fingers digging into the soft linen of her bedding, you shake your head. Sighing long and loud, you look up at her with starry wet eyes.

“Fuck, I had forgotten what a rude child I’d been.” You gasp out, something caught between a laugh and cry scratching your voice.

Sansa watches as you bring your hand up to your face and wipe at the wetness beneath your nose. One of your fingers is missing on that hand, all the way down like someone had plucked it from the bone. She pretends not to notice for her own sanity.

Grimacing, Sansa makes a disgruntled noise. “Yes, well, I can see little has changed.”

Again, you laugh. “Too much has changed, dearest. Too much for even myself to understand.” Your voice trembles into a whisper, like the wind against the glass of her window. She says nothing, for there is nothing she knows how to say. You have always been shrouded in mystery.

Gracefully leaping around any question of your life, but bearing your heart wide open, prying it apart like an overly ripened fruit and gifting the mush mess to Sansa.

Swinging your foot, you lift yourself from her bed. She is close now, like when you were girls and only sat with brushing knees and fingers twisting in one another's hair. You do not step forward, studiously keeping distance.

“I missed you.” You tell her so earnestly she feels sick.

She steps into your space and practically collapses into you.

“I missed you too.”

°°°

There is very scarce time to speak when the army of dead march, though you and Sansa seem to steal time between bearing the weight of Lady Stark and the Lady of Whispers.

Stolen moments like now, as she follows you out into the snow after you insisted she must meet your steed. It amuses her greatly that you have not grown out of that petulant way of demanding things instead of asking. It reminds her of Robb.

You glance behind at her many times as if to make certain she is still following.

“You have been rather quiet.” You say softly after approaching your speckled horse. You give him a firm pat on the snout. Sansa chooses her words very carefully when she converses with you.

The Lady of Whispers is not a person she can afford to trust. No matter how much she aches to.

“The dead are very close. All words seem wasted, don't you think?” She responds thinly. Sansa is aware that you can sense her distrust like a hound can sniff out blood, but it seems you are willing to eat any words Sansa feeds you. Even if they are terribly cold.

The timidly hopeful look on your face washes away into something incredulous. “When would words matter, if not now?”

Sansa huffs through her nose, “Foolish words could be your last.”

“That is for all of time.” You tell her with a haughty flick of the wrist. “Death has no bonds. The Stranger is greedy and constantly reaching out to take.”

A memory clings to her mind, when she was a girl and you had interrupted her prayer. You had confessed to not following the seven gods, and somehow Sansa cannot fathom that you have found faith in your years of travel.

Staring at the side of your face, she says, "I did not think you followed The Seven.”

Startling her, you throw your head back and cackle as if it is the most humorous ridiculous thought. Snow falls into the tendrils of your hair, melting instantly after it touches your warmth.

“Oh dearest, I do not.” You reach up and press your fingers into your eye. “You do not need to follow something to know it is real.”

“And how do you know it is real?” The query is spoken lightly, but she is truly curious. She wishes to know how it is you simply know. How you say things with such certainty that she has no choice but to believe.

She longs to know you. Not the girlish giggling memory she has held close for so many years, but the woman who stands before her. She longs to know you as you are. She thinks that you wish to know her as well, for you are the one who has always sought her out.

You do not answer her, strangely solemn and quiet as you pet your horse. And then she sees it, a tear rolls down your cheek. Without thought, she is touching your skin and caresses the drop of salt and sadness away.

The wet clings to her thumb.

“Do you know what a greenseer is, Sansa?” Your voice is much like the tear that fell, like the snow that drops from the sky. Serene and sad and twisted with the approach of something dreadful. She cannot recall the last time she heard her true name on your tongue.

Her hand does not leave your face. “I..” She hesitates and is reminded of Bran. Her brother who is not her brother at all, but a hollow-eyed creature that wears her brother's flesh.

“Yes. I- I believe I do.” The words are small and breathy. Akin to confession to the gods. You smile, a true smile with no slyness, no cajolery hidden in the curves of your teeth. It pulls on a thread of desire she had not known was left in her.

“Is that what you are? Do you see all, know all?” She asks, with less caution than she had with Bran. He had been thoughtlessly cruel, intending to tell her something only she and Theon could possibly know.

But you are only cruel with purpose, only sharpened your words when you intended to pierce.

You laugh wetly, nose scrunching up with a sniffle. “Goodness, no. Truly, I believe I know very little compared to some.” Your hand reaches up to where hers cradles your cheek.

You place your atop hers, completely trapping her in warmth. “I am not like Bran. My dreams have never been clear. Tis like reading a book through torn out crumpled pages.”

Sansa suppresses a sigh when you remove her hand from your face, but smiles when you continue to hold it tightly. In truth, Sansa does not know what to say. You are not one to take pity without feeling sour, and she is glad for that.

Rarely is she content with a secret shared with her,

Jon and his true parentage, Arya’s whereabouts over the years, The raven that speaks through her brother's voice.

But this, you. You she can accept. You she can continue with as if the secret had never been one at all. She had always known you were odd.

Mayhaps if she was not so consumed with herself as a girl, she would have surmised this. You never hid it from her, simply never spoke the words.

“That must be confusing.” Is all she says. If you are relieved by her nonplussed response, you do not show. You swing your and her connected hands.

“T’was, but I find that trying to make sense of it is a futile task.” You lick your lips and look up, gazing into Sansa’s eyes like you are searching in her soul. “Although, there has been one clear thing in all my years alive.”

She does not look away, intent on seeing your soul as well. “And what is that?”

“You.”

Sansa blinks, “Pardon?”

You sigh, “Oh dearest, it's always been you. Before I knew me I knew you.” Stepping closer, your breath makes a fog against her mouth. “There was no other, no gods, no words that I knew before you.”

Sansa can feel tears welling in her eyes and her chest shake with the weight of confession. The moment is happening so fast, but she has waited so long for something that it does not feel fast at all.

“How..”

You bring your hand up, pressing it against her cheek and caressing her bottom lip with your thumb. It's a mirror of what she had just done to you, but it makes her gasp all the same.

“I have always known your name, Sansa Stark. I know not what entity has given me this sight, mayhaps the stars, mayhaps the gods, but they told me your name when I knew not else.”

And then you are kissing her. Sansa gasps into your mouth, caught between kissing you back and crying out for a reason she knows not. She brings her hands up, placing them on your neck, feeling the thunderous pulsing of your heart.

She's kissing you back. The kiss is rushed and messy and desperate, both of you seem to be gasping for breath whilst diving in for more. She has never been kissed like this, and she thinks of her first kiss.

She wonders if you had known then, if you had felt this against your lips instead of a soft brush of curiosity. She forgets her thoughts when your tongue curls around hers.

It feels so good, Sansa never wants it to end, never wants to come up for air. Drown me please, let me swim in you forever, she thinks and moans when your hand flutters down to her waist, tugging her closer.

A throat clearing behind you and she makes her pull apart.

Jon has his hand covering over his eyes and Daenerys Targaryen’s lips are pressed together like she is desperately trying not to smile.

Daenerys is the first to speak. She clears her throat and pats her chest with a gloved hand. “I am terribly sorry for interrupting. Please, continue." The dragon queen giggles at the end of her words and Sansa hears you huff in what she assumes annoyance.

Jon squawks, “Dany! They cannot-you cannot!" He waves his hand wildly between the Targaryen and the two women beside the speckled horse.

Daenerys seems keen on ignoring him and says your name instead, “Please find me when you return. There is something we need to discuss.” She says and then she picks up her skirts and turns to walk the way she came. Jon does not move, looking humorously betrayed as if he has caught his closest friend with a hand up his sister's dress.

Mayhaps his feelings are justified, she has always known that you and Jon were close but she never thought much about it.

The dragon queen calls over her shoulder. “Come along, Jon. Leave them be.”

He begrudgingly follows after her.

“She will be a good queen.”

Sansa glances at you, bruised mouth and blushing cheeks. She imagines she looks quite similar. She does not answer you, it feels rather futile to argue after what you have just confided in her.

Leaning forward, she presses a sweet kiss against your mouth and pulls away when you try to deepen it.

“Go to your queen.” She says, patting down her dress as she walks back toward the Keep.

Sansa feels strangely at ease. Everything is changing, falling apart, and growing all at once. But she feels sure and content in a way she has not since her father was alive. She can not imagine you would kiss her if she were to die. It gives her a comforting reassurance.

Your taste is still on her tongue when the horn blows.

°°°

They lose many in the battle of dead and living. Good men, good women, bad men, redeemed men, Sansa has stopped counting the corpses. She looks through the bodies, looks for your face, wide-open eyes and lips bluer than the fresh morning sky.

She does not find your body, nor anything that would indicate you have fallen. In the midst of her search, a hand curls around her arm. When she turns, she comes face-to-face with her sister. 

Arya has blood crusting all over her face, and the rest of her is covered in soot. Arya must see her crestfallen face, for she chuckles. T’is an unnerving sound Sansa has not grown accustomed to yet.

“Are you not pleased to see me, Sansa?” Her sister tilts her head with the query. Sansa swallows her unease and bile, the smell of death too strong. 

“Of course, I am. Do not be foolish.”

Arya hums, "I am not the one you were looking for.” It is not a question, but Sansa feels as though she must disagree. It feels sinful, to be less pleased with her sister's survival than she would be yours. But Arya is a child no longer and does not need Sansa to water down truths in fear that it will be too strong for her little sister to swallow. 

“No.” She whispers, “No, I was not looking for you.” The confession makes Arya let go of her arm. The younger takes a step away and hums once again. Sansa feels her skin crawl under the Stark grey gaze of her sister, but she does not cower.

Instead, she strains her chin up and shows some lion-like pride. “Well done, NightKing Slayer. Allow the maesters to look after your wounds after you bathe." She then picks up her dress and moves to walk away, but Arya’s voice cuts through.

“I saw her, she is alive.” The younger says, voice smooth like the finest silks. Arya seems to have absorbed an accent from her days in Braavos. Sansa wonders what that would have been like, to shed the gown of girlhood whilst under the warm sun and splash in the sea as a woman grown.

It sounds like a lovely sentiment, something she might have longed for in the prison of the Red-Keep.

“She is well?”

Arya scoffs, “I believe I said ‘alive’. She will need to see a maester, and she will have scars.” She raises a bloodied battered eyebrow. “I know you have always been quite vain bu-” 

“You do not.” Sansa interrupts. She does not intend to, truly, but the words slip off her tongue and she cannot remember the last time she allowed herself to speak so freely with anyone other than you. The younger says nothing in clear expectation of more. 

“You do not know me. Not anymore, Mayhaps you never have.” It is calm and even, not quite cold but never warm. Sansa does not mean for the words to pierce, but for a moment she thinks that Arya’s mummer's mask of indifference slips.

Big steel eyes stare up at her, a telltale shine of hurt pooling in her lashes. 

She nods, a smile curling at the edge of her mouth. “You are right, I…I do not know you. The girl I knew would never have been in love with a woman.” She says it with a playfulness that she has always reserved for Jon. Sansa smiles back.

“As I said, mayhaps you never knew me.” Because she has always loved you. When she was a girl as green as summer grass, she would get on her knees and pray for a sweet love. The gods sent you to her. Right there in the sept, they gave her what she prayed for. No matter the tribulation she endured, you had always been there. Kept close to her beating heart.

“It has always been her, always.” She repeats in attempt to quell the prior baleful words. 

Arya stares at her, as though she is witnessing her again for the first time. “Then go to her, Sansa.” She steps forward, clutches Sansa's hands in her own and squeezes. “Go find your knight and dress her wounds, kiss the battle from her brow, and sing her songs of victory.” 

She moves closer and presses a kiss on Sansa's cheek. “She’s a lovely knight, Sans. I’m happy you get this dream, I am truly sorry for what others became.”

The younger drops her hands and turns, walking in the blood soaked sludge towards the Keep. 

Sansa never quite knows what Arya is thinking, cannot read her mind the way she can do others. But at this moment, she thinks that Arya understands her much better than she imagined. 

She thinks that her sister finally understands the appeal of what poets have named love.

°°°

The door of Sansa’s bedchambers is ajar, once again. There is much less finesse than the first time you pushed through her door. She speaks not as her feet carry her through the sanctity of her room. There is warmth, the hearth crackles over her thundering heart. 

She had prepared her hurt in lest you chose to abandon her for another queen. But you sit in front of the flames, red stained and leather bound. 

“Have you not bathed?” Sansa says and feels frivolous for it. You throw your head back and let out a gritty laugh. She shut the door, sliding the lock in place before she carries on. There is leftover water in the basin, and a cloth somewhere in her oak chest of fabrics. 

She can feel your eyes follow as she pulls a thin net cloth from the chest.

“Whatever are you doing?” Your question is so very soft, it makes her smile. Collecting the water in an iron chalice, she comes to you and sets the cup near the fire. Looking at your face so close, she can now see all the cuts and bruises. 

“Do you have any other wounds?”

“Nah.” You scoff “Those ice fucker only got in some blows. Nothing that will not heal on its own.” 

There is something wrought in your cavalier retort. The delight of victory does not quite reach your eyes. She hums and dips the cloth into the water, bringing it to the burst of blood congealed on your lips. When you were girls, you would squirm like a caught rodent while the 

Septa tried to brush the tangles of sleep from your hair. 

As she swipes the blood from your mouth, you are unmoving. Tranquil in your contentment. If only Septa Mordane had allowed Sansa a try then mayhaps they would have been to lessons sooner.

She can see much in your eyes this close, the love, the quiet, the melancholy.

Sansa scrubs at a partially dry flake of blood on your cheekbone. “War is not over, is it?” She asks, not ceasing her ministrations. 

You do not look away from her, “No.”

You give her no other explanation, and there is nothing in your manner that would inflict worry upon her. It is calm and faint just as the chamber's atmosphere.

Whilst serene, there is a thick tension that has consumed the air like smoke. Sansa feels no wariness for she could simply sooth the taunt if she pressed her lips to yours.

She does not.

“Will you go to Kingslanding?” She breaks through the silence, “Will you follow Daenerys?”  

You do not respond with an instant denial and she feels a petulant anger bubble up in her core. She wants you to not need to think. She wants you to know which queen you would follow. She wants you to seek her out like you have always done.

She wants you.

With a hesitant sigh, you open your mouth. “I…I wish things were simple, though they never are.” 

Hearth glowing against the pits in your eyes, you stare into Sansa’s.

“What would I be?” You ask, a hysterical thread of desperation sewn into your voice. “What- What shall I be if I stay?” 

“Mine.” Sansa says, “You shall be mine.” And she dives forward, head first into warm waters. Sansa Stark learned how to swim in thrashing frigid water long ago, but now she thinks kissing you is akin to swimming in the balmy Dornish sea. 

You taste of blood and peach and home. 

The two collide atop the furs in front of the firelight. Between kisses, Sansa tentatively tugs at the laces of our leather jerkin. You disjoin your mouth from hers, but your hands stay put in the tendrils of her vibrant hair. 

Swallowing, she watches the fast rise and fall of your chest. She moves her hand to press against the motion and feels the heavy rapid pound of your heart on her palm. Your eyes flutter as you sigh, she is so close that she feels every move you make. 

“I love you.” You whisper into her. 

She gasps, “Yes, yes, I love you as well.” And bears up to kiss any other words from your tongue.

“I covet you.” The words are slid into her mouth and she wants to taste them forever. The kisses become frantic and your hands are digging into her skin deliciously.

Sansa pulls at your laces until she can see your lovely skin peaking out. “So many words, too many words.” She moans into the kiss and only breaks apart to continue, “So many things to be said, let us say them on the morrow.”

“Sansa-” You breathe against her throat and she shutters. Her whole body feels not unlike a piece of flit being scraped against steel, desperately trying to catch spark.

“Show me.” She says as she unclasps her cloak. Sansa lays down on her back against the furs. 

The fire reflects against your skin, and she remembers all those years ago in the sept when the candle made you glow and she thought about touching your dress. 

“Show me,” She whispers, “Show me how you covet me. I want to feel it.” You are above her, your hand pressed flat beside her head.

Pulling apart your jerkin, she presses her hand on your naked breastbone and drinks in the sigh you let out. It sinks into her skin and settles in the marrow of her bones.

Sansa likes this, that you are letting her spread you open with no uncertainty. 

You dip down and press delicate kisses against her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, and then her mouth. Your tongue twists against hers as your hand digs underneath her to tug at the laces of her dress. 

The fire burns hot and she knows what it is to be coveted. 

°°°

You stay. 

°°°

The Dragon Queen's reign is fleeting and not without madness. Sansa knows not what has happened between her and Jon, but she does know that he stuck a knife into her belly. She knows that he loved her.

Her brother sits solemnly in the snow, staring up at the Weirwood tree as though the face in it shall speak its wisdom to him. She walks over and sits on one of the ancient trees protruding roots. 

He does not glance away from the face in the wood. “Do you think there was another way?” He asks, and she does not know if he is speaking to her or the gods. Jon turns his head and she is struck with a sadness of how much he looks like father. 

“Do you think I could have saved her?” He says again.

Sansa has no thoughtful answer for him, for she is rather glad Daenerys is gone. She thinks the woman caused more harm than good, but she is well aware that Jon is not alone in his mourning. You had shed many tears when you heard of Missandei’s demise.

She has a strong inquiry that you knew then. You knew what the Dragon Queen would become.

“She was going to be the greatest who ever lived. She who was promised.” You had whispered to the dark starry sky as Sansa dragged her fingertips up your arms in tries of comfort. 

“No.” She decides. “You cannot save someone from their own madness, Jon. You cannot reach into their skull and pull out the rot piece by piece.” 

Jon says nothing, but he starts to smile in a pained way. 

“When did you become so wise?” 

She laughs, “Mayhaps I have always been wise, and you never took note.”

They are both smiling and she feels this lovely bittersweet moment soak into her like sunshine. 

She will most likely never see her brother again, but was that not always what she was meant for? She was always meant to leave, to fly away and only speak to her family through ink and parchment. 

For that is the life of a woman. 

Jon stands, smile never ceasing. “I am surprised you are here with me, and not letting your lover fawn over you before your coronation.” Reaching her, he takes her hand and puts it in the crease of his arm, linking them as they walk the old path of childhood to the rest of their lives. 

Sansa hums, “She will be pleased I am here with you.” She gently knocks her shoulder into his. “She loves you, you know.” 

Those words seem to make Jon choke on a sob, for he turns his face away from Sansa's watch. “She is my oldest friend.” Is all he says in return. 

“Well then, I shall send her when I need your council. I will be quite busy as queen, you see.” She leans her chin up in mock of your particular haughtiness.  

“Ah yes.” He chuckles. “The men of castle black will learn respect in lest she eat them for sup.” 

Her coronation is close calling by the sudden falling of the sun. They come close to the Keep, still gripping one another tightly enough to leave a remembrance in bruises. Jon’s steps come to a halt.

“Well, won't you look at that.” He conveys in awe. Sansa looks to where his eyes are gazing.

A little patch of green grass under the wet sludge of ice and snow. The flowers are long blossoms that are connected but thin stems. The plant is a rather bronze color, and she feels as though she has seen these flowers before but cannot place where.

“Red fennel flowers.” 

Sansa blinks, startled. “Pardon?”

“Red fennel flowers.” He repeats, light with a buoyancy that comes with the start of spring. 

“Those signify-”

“Victory.” Sansa whispers. 

She stitches bronze blossoms into the lining of her dress only moments before she is to be presented as queen.

When she sits on the Northern throne, a Direwolf crown on her head, she looks for you in the crowd and suppresses a smile when she sees tears flowing down your face.

You always knew, in life and death, you always knew it would always be you and Sansa Stark.

End

[zzcrypticcoyotezz]

random jp headcanons lets gooo

gonna have lots of alan stuff because i have like. a whole backstory for him lol. he just like me fr so i get to make him trans and autistic.

this is mostly for before the events of JP1 and right after. ian doesn't know he's nonbinary yet. doesn't know until probably... after jp2 i think, when his books become more popular. so i'm gonna be referring to him as a man in this post. (see my post about my nonbinary/genderfluid ian headcanon if ur confused)

-

- ian makes jewelery as a hobby in his spare time. made his turquoise necklace himself. LOVES turquoise.

- ellie has a houseplant addiction. don't ever send her to home depot, she WILL rescue all of the succulents. and once they're healthy, she gifts them to her friends. alan complains and insists he can't take care of a plant, that he doesn't have a green thumb, that he would somehow kill it accidentally within a month. but every time ellie stops by his trailer to come and visit, she notices that little plant thriving, for years.

- alan hyperfocuses so much on his work that he often forgets about everything around him. he could sit in the dirt for hours without end picking at fossilized bones, scrutinizing every tiny detail. at least he remembers to stay hydrated, though, always has his water bottle with him. dehydration is no joke, kids! especially out in the desert!

- alan was raised in a rural christian family. they never understood him or any of his interests. in high school, he had a very kind geology teacher who happened to be gay. he helped alan figure out his identity and get into college to become a paleontologist. alan's parents ended up kicking him out on the morning of his 18th birthday, since he just couldn't be the perfect christian daughter they wanted. without the support of his teacher, alan would've never won a college grant, and he would've been homeless. alan truly put everything into his career. every single time alan tried to write a letter home to his parents, it would be returned unopened, so he had to give up. alan started testosterone at 20 years old, it took him two years to find a doctor willing to help.

- alan and ellie met in college. alan was already a few years into his studies by the time ellie got in. alan had never had very many friends in his life, he tended to keep to himself and work alone. ellie's persistence eventually paid off, and after an expedition to the hell creek formation with the rest of their class, he was impressed with her knowledge of mesozoic plant life, and they became good friends.

- a couple years into their friendship, they realized they both have feelings for each other. alan comes out to ellie, terrified she'll leave him, but she doesn't. she doesn't understand at first, but she tries to, and she does her research (she LOVES researching things). she ends up helping alan a lot, making him a couple of proper binders (no more bandages or tape!) and helps him do his testosterone shots.

- they've dated on and off for a long time before the events of JP1. however, the traumatic events of isla nublar were just too much and put a significant strain on their relationship. their feelings for each other never went away, but ellie just couldn't do dinosaurs anymore, after all she went through. she felt she needed normalcy, but alan is alan and he wouldn't be himself without dinosaurs. so they mutually called it off. and she also always wanted to be a mom. and alan insisted he couldn't, he could never provide her what she wanted. yes, there's other ways to conceive, but it's deeper than that. deep down, he was afraid of turning out like his own father. heartbroken, he had to tell ellie to move on and find someone better for herself. after she began dating mark, alan became distant and isolated himself.

- before ian came into the picture, the only person alan had ever dated was ellie. alan's old fashioned, he never thought that someone like him could also like men too. he'd always distanced himself from anything 'queer', more for his own safety than anything else. but he also struggled a lot with internalized homophobia and transphobia. he thought it was a sign of femininity and pushed aside his attraction to ian for a very long time.

- alan is definitely an unsafe binder. he would often just forget he's wearing it while he's out on a digsite. when ellie's around, she would often have to remind him to take breaks. but when it's just himself, he's stubborn (and extremely dysphoric) so he usually forces himself to power through the whole day, ignoring the discomfort. it's easy to ignore when you're uncovering the remains of long extinct animals.

- thanks to his digsite getting enough funding from hammond, alan finally manages to save enough money to get top surgery about a year after the events of jurassic park. ellie takes time off to help him through recovery, but after that, they unfortunately become distant again. he tells ian he's recovering from carpal tunnel surgery. ian knows he's not telling the full truth, alan is very easy to read, but he doesn't press for more, respecting the man's privacy.

- and yes, this means he was binding almost the entire time while on isla nublar. he was in survival mode, only focused on his own safety and lex and tims', and absolutely nobody could know he's trans, so his stubborn ass powered through it, adrenaline blurring any pain. by the time everyone was rescued and off the island, it turned out that alan had bruised and cracked his ribs.

- for a month after the isla nublar incident, alan and ellie stayed with ian, helping him through the worst of the healing process. there was no way they would leave him alone after such a horrific, life-changing leg injury. it was difficult for alan, juggling a sexuality crisis and having to hide his, well, transness, in another man's household, the same man who caused this sexuality crisis, but he made it work. the memory of that time is a huge blur to ian anyways thanks to the pain meds. during this time, the three began to feel something more for each other, but it remained unspoken. alan doesn't even know that there's anything other than monogamy. unfortunately in my headcanon dinot3 doesn't become real until dominion 💔 i'm a slut for slowburns lmfao

-

okay, this is all i'm gonna write for now! i'd love to hear anybody's thoughts on these. i love these bitches sm they live in my head rent free. honestly i've been tempted to like... make a fanfic rewriting jp1 but with my headcanons, but that's too much work and i have a very bad habit of starting projects and never finishing them 💀 so probably not gonna happen. it's also very difficult trying to find any resources about how life was like for trans men back in the 80s/90s.

[lacontroller1991]

Just Another Sunday (Ernest Lawrence x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Misc Master List

Author's Note: This started as a dream and was intending to be a very smutty fic, but It took a turn and now it's pure angst so beware

WARNING: 18+ HEAVY MENTION OF MISCARRIAGE (PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE Do NOT read if this subject is emotional/personal) , loss of child, feelings of isolation, Ernest is kind of a dick in this fr fr, lots of emotions, lots of petty arguing, passive aggressive-ness, nausea, drinking, smoking, language

Word Count: 2.4k

Author's Note 2.0: This is Josh Hartnett's version <3

----------

Sundays at the Oppenheimers. It’s become a weekly thing for you and Ernest to go over to his friend’s house for a brunch, especially since it’s hit spring and the trees are blooming. Today is no different. Except for the fact that you and Ernest are fighting. 

The car rolls to a stop and Ernest shuts off the engine, the inside falling deadly silent as you grip the bottle of wine and stare out the window. It’s rare that you and him fight. Ernest is mild tempered and you’re easy going, but when he gets on to something, it's either his way or the highway, and he will push for what he wants. But this time, you can’t give him what he wants. 

He lets out a sigh, unbuckling his lap belt before looking at you but you ignore him, “let’s try to be pleasant,” he opens the door and steps out, rounding the car before opening your door. Looking up at him through your lashes, you give in, stepping out carefully before he shuts the door. The two of you walk side by side, hands glued to your bodies as you near the door. You can do this, just avoid talking about children. 

The door opens, revealing Kitty with a martini in her hand. “You guys are late.” Ernest shrugs his shoulders, stepping inside and kneeling down to swoop up Toni into his arms as the toddler giggles.

“Sorry, someone couldn’t pick out an outfit,” he comments, using one hand to tickle the toddler as you step inside the house, setting the wine on the stand. 

“Yes, sorry, I had to help him pick out something to wear.”

Your dry response causes Ernest to whip his head towards you, eyebrow raised but he shakes it off, turning his attention back to the child in his arms. “I had to choose something to impress my favorite girl,” he strokes Toni’s hair who smiles and reaches to play with his glasses while Kitty raises an eyebrow in amusement at the obvious tension.

“Well, you can have her. I need a break.” Kitty offers you the rest of her drink and you down it immediately before Ernest can see. “Rob’s in the kitchen.” Ernest nods, walking off with Toni and leaving you alone with Kitty. “What the hell is that about?” 

Rolling your eyes, you take out a cigarette and pass one to Kitty before lighting both of yours. Kitty and you have an interesting relationship. You aren’t close friends per say, but you understand each other more than other women do and she’s the only one currently in your corner. “Ernest is on his campaign about having kids again. He doesn’t seem to believe that I can’t and he won’t take no for an answer.”

“Lost another one?” She asks softly, huffing her cigarette as you hang your head.

“Number 4.” Kitty’s eyes fill with pity but you shake your head in denial. “He doesn’t know. You know how he is. He’ll beat himself up and it won’t be good for either of us so it’s better that he doesn’t know, for now at least. Don’t get me wrong, I love Ernest to death and I want nothing more than to have a child with him, but I can’t. They never seem to stick,” Kitty pulls you into a hug and you hug back, glad to get it off your chest. You don’t know why you keep losing the pregnancy. You find out you’re pregnant and you want to tell Ernest, but when you get around to it, the child is already gone. It makes you feel awful and you can’t imagine what Ernest would say if he found out. Pulling away from you, Kitty rubs your arms in comfort and gestures her head toward the glass door. 

“Why don’t we go outside?” You nod your head as she leads you through the doors to the patio where the table is already set. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll grab two more martinis.” She rushes away as you look out from the porch. The trees provide some shade as they lightly move with the breeze, occasionally letting sunlight seep through the new leaves while Berkeley lays underneath.

Sighing, you close your eyes for a moment, letting the smell of linen invade your senses. It’s moments like these where you don’t mind California. 

“Berkeley sure is a pretty sight,” Robert comments from beside you, startling you as you jump with a yelp while he laughs, two drinks in hand. Once you calm down, he slides one over to you. “Ernest sure does seem wound up.”

“He is.” Robert wants to comment, but instead he tries to silently urge you along. Giving in, you take the drink from him and take a sip before turning to him. “He wants children, but I’m having issues and he’s just been a huge jerk about it,” you reply, taking another sip as you watch him play with Toni and Peter on the floor, the older child tackling the professor to the floor while the dog wags his tail, wanting to join in. “He’s being passive aggressive about it. Like look at him.” Robert turns to look at your husband, tossing Peter up in the air and catching him with ease. “When has he ever done that?”

“You have a point. Does he know about your issues?”

“Partially. He knows some of the issues but not all.” Letting out a sigh of frustration, you take another sip of the martini and scrunch your face. “Why do you make these so strong?” Oppenheimer almost responds but Kitty walks through the doors with trays of food. 

“Ernest, lunch.” Hearing his name being called, he gets off the floor and straightens himself out before walking out the door, a smile on his face as he sits across from you. 

“Shall we eat?”

----------

The lunch goes by relatively quickly as the food disappears from their plates. Ernest and Robert talk about physics and Kitty pretends to be interested while you poke your food, your sense of appetite being lower than normal. Letting out a soft sigh, you set down your fork causing Kitty to look at you, eyeing your plate of food.

“Did you not like something?” This gains Ernest’s and Robert’s attention as they turn to you to spot that your plate of food is still relatively full.  

“Oh it was good as always, I guess I’m just not as hungry as I thought I was,” it’s partially true. You definitely put in more than you thought you could eat, but at the same time the bouts of occasional nausea didn’t make it appealing. 

“Y’know, you haven’t been eating much lately. Are you feeling alright? Is your stomach okay?” You know what Ernest is really asking. Could you be pregnant? The answer is never what he wants.

“I’m fine. Just not hungry,” you smile behind your lie and you can tell he doesn’t buy it.

Sensing the tension, Kitty stand up and grabs some plates. “Right, well we can pack you up some to take home. I need to feed the kiddos though,” at the mention of kids, Ernest hops up and takes the plates from Kitty.

“No need, I can do that. Gotta learn somehow for when we have kids.” He smiles as if he’s being friendly but he’s not. He’s being passive aggressive and you know it.

“Ernest.” It's terse and it causes Kitty to back away from the two of you and hover near Robert. The two share a glance in concern as they watch the scene unfold. 

“What?”

“You know what.” Setting down the plates, Ernest turns to you, placing his hands on his hips.

“When we have children, and we will, we need to know how to feed them.”

“We will cross that bridge when we get there.”

“Then hurry up so we can cross it. Let’s have a kid.” Your heart is hammering in your chest and the outside is quiet, not even birds are chirping. The silence is so deafening that you could hear a pen dropping from a mile away. Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes in frustration and embarrassment. This is not a conversation that needs to be in front of your friends. Abruptly standing up, you toss the napkin onto the table and brush past him into the house, making a beeline for the guest bedroom and shutting the door, collapsing onto the bed as sobs wrack your body. 

Grabbing the plates, Kitty stops in front of Ernest with a hint of anger in her eyes. “You can be an ass Lawrence.” The words stun Ernest as he stands on the patio. Robert walks up to him and pats him on the shoulder, causing the taller man to look down at the theoretician.

“Go to her, but don’t talk. Listen. Let her talk.” Robert walks away and lights his pipe leaving Ernest alone. What has gotten into her?

Following where you went, Ernest stops in front of the door before hesitantly knocking it and stepping inside, not giving you time to protest. “Honey?”

“Go away.” His heart melts at seeing you curled in on yourself, your head laying on a pillow as tears stream down your face. Sighing, he sits on the edge of the bed by your legs and lays a hand on your thigh, but you make no movement to remove it. If anything, it’s the most comfort you’ve felt from him. 

“What’s going on? Why are you behaving like this?”

“Ernest, what do you not get? I can’t have children.”

“Sure you can.” You would throw a pillow at him due to his naiveness but you decide against it.

“No. I can’t,” he begins to open his mouth but you quickly cover it with your hand. Closing his mouth, you remove your hand and run it through your hair. “I haven’t been completely honest with you. I’ve been pregnant, and I’m not infertile.”

“What?” He waits for a punchline, but the silence says everything and he’s trying to keep his anger in check. How long have you been lying to him? Why have you not told him you’ve been pregnant? Closing his eyes, he lets out a deep focused breath as his fists clench, not bothering to look at you. “Then what the hell has been the issue? Why are we not having children? Are you pregnant right now? We have been trying for months, almost a year now. Why do we not have any?” A lump in your throat forms as a wave of nausea takes over. 

“They’re not catching.” Your voice is soft as you sniffle, clutching your stomach protectively as he furrows his brows in confusion, turning to you.

“What do you mean they’re not catching?”

“I keep losing them.” Ernest’s heart drops and he feels like a piece of shit. He’s been treating you like shit for not giving him a child but you’ve been trying. How could he not have known? Why have you never told him? What do you mean by ‘them’? 

Swallowing back bile in his throat, he stands up and paces the room, one hand on his hip and one in his hair, messing up his neatly parted blonde locks. “How many?”

“Four.” 

“Shit.” He paces while he thinks. What on Earth would have caused you to lose four children? Why didn’t you tell him? How could you be doing this all alone? How must you be feeling? The thought of you suffering by yourself for all that wrenches Ernest’s heart. He can’t imagine you going through that alone and it hurts him more than not having a child that you couldn’t go to him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. You’ve been so busy lately and I don’t want it to interfere with your work.” You sniffle in response, wiping your eyes as his softens. Walking around the bed, he lays on top and pulls you into his arms, letting your head rest against his chest. 

“Oh baby, I’m so so sorry. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that all alone.” He presses a soft kiss against the crown of your head while you clutch onto his clothes, tears slipping out of your eyes.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to disrupt your work.” He shakes his head in response.

“You’re more important to me than my research. My work would have waited. I should’ve been there for you.” He holds you close for what felt like forever, still trying to wrap his mind around the whole situation. “What do you think has been causing the losses?”

“I talked to John because I had a sneaking suspicion of what was causing it and according to him doses of radiation can contribute to miscarriages.” If his heart wasn’t in his stomach before, it sure is now. 

“You’re done working in the lab.”

“Bu-”

“No buts. If it’s putting you in danger, I will not allow it. You can still help me with research but you will not go near the lab. If it’s causing you to miscarry then who knows what else it could be doing and I will not allow you to die because of something I made. Do you understand?”

You really don’t want to fight with him. Not after you’ve been fighting for weeks at this point. “I do.” You continue to lay there for a few minutes in his arms as you and him enjoy each other’s company, finally at peace with each other. A knock on the door causes both of your heads to whip up. “Who is it?”

“It’s Kitty. Are you guys ok in there?”

“Yeah we’re fine,” Ernest replies, gently moving you off him as he gets up and fixes the bed. “We should probably leave and continue this at home.” Smiling softly, you wipe away any remaining tears as you walk to him. Reaching up your hand, you thread your fingers through his soft hair and pull him down, your lips brushing against his.

Grabbing your waist, Ernest greedily draws you in, all of the tensions melting away as he kisses you. Moaning into the kiss, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and keep him close, feeling a slight poking below his belt and it causes you to break away. “Ernest you can’t be serious.”

“I am, which is why we should get home,” he goes back to kissing you but you pull away again, a smile on your face. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[sunsetsover]

ok so gut reaction thoughts after first watch of ep 2 before i forget them

i knew the moment babe mentioned obstacles that kant had paid that guy from the preview to flirt w bison. like he really is kinda sleazy bc i don't get the impression that he's interested in bison at all but he DOES wanna fuck fr. but im kinda obsessed bc obv he's trapped in this situation and is trying to do what he has to to protect himself and his brother but there's something desperate about him and i don't know where it comes from. like i feel like there's still a piece of the puzzle im missing that will make me go 'ah i get it now' when i see it and i need it asap otherwise it might drive me crazy

speaking of getting it now i had a lot of thoughts about romantically naive bison last week that i didn't really talk about bc of the whole power thing that was a lot more interesting for me to sink my teeth into but like. i feel like i Get it now. i see where this is going, i understand how this can spiral out of bison's control

bc i still do think he has power in the sense that i still do think he suspects kant and thinks he can handle the situation alone but i also think that bison has been so sheltered that kant's attention and interest is getting to him a lot more easily than i think he thought it would. like there were moments in this ep that felt a lot more real from bison, like they were actually him and not this persona he's putting on with kant. i think he's kind of becoming a lil enamoured w kant and his audacity and his persistence and flirtation and that that's gonna snowball until suddenly he's caught in the web he's helped to weave and he really does like kant and it really does hurt and then bison's gonna flip out

(and i think with kant it's gonna be a much slower burn in terms of actual feelings, which is gonna make the heartbreak sooo much worse. i can't wait tbf)

and fadel is the exact same as bison in that aspect btw. like for all his 'trust no one, everyone is out to get you' bs all it took was a couple of weeks (if that) of consistent pressure and attention and someone not being scared off for him to find himself in way out of his depth. the only real difference between him and bison is that he has the self awareness to know that it's stupid and dangerous. he knows when people and feelings get involved there's only so much damage control you can do. bison's still naive enough that he thinks he can play with that kind of fire and not get burned by it, whereas fadel seems to know better.

(i have many many thoughts abt fadelstyle but i feel like i still need to process to articulate them properly)

kant catching onto bison calling his mum 'mother' and bison's face and obvious lie abt it when kant pointed out how weird that is goes into another thought i had last week which is that 'mother' really is less of an actual mother and more of a boss which makes me think bison lied and that he and fadel probably really were adopted, (maybe rescued from some of the 'bad people' she obviously has an issue with?) maybe even w the intention of raising them into being her weapons instead of her children. i bet she uses affection and/or guilt as a tool to get them to comply (which i'd bet works more effectively on fadel than bison) and do what they're told. if they literally owe her their lives or she 'saved them' from a bad situation, ofc she's gonna use that to get them to do her bidding. it also might explain why both boys r so susceptible to the attention and affection they're both getting even tho they should both know better - if they've been starved of it as children, they're going to be more desperate for it (and vulnerable to it) as adults.

also surprisingly i don't think the bdsm thing between kant and bison is actually going to be necessarily sexual in nature, not exclusively. at least not at first. like the fact that in the preview bison was like 'will you let me continue what i started at the tattoo parlour?' (meaning the nipple clamps) implies there was no finishing it if you catch my drift. like it seems as though it's gonna be less of a 'let me tie you down and hurt you a lil while we fuck' and more a full blown Dynamic ygm. like bison's really gonna be out here nipple clamping that man just bc he can. bc kant's gonna let him. which is not what i expected? not in a bad way but i guess im pleasantly surprised that it seems like it's gonna have that much depth to it.

(and if i'm right doesn't that just emphasise how it's less of a sex thing and more of a power thing for bison? he's not doing it exclusively to get off, it's obviously more than that for him.)

but also the look on kant's face makes me think that the ppl who said that bdsm isn't necessarily kant's thing but that he goes along with it bc it's what bison wants were right. which is so interesting to me, i cannot wait to see how that shakes out.

im kinda losing steam but fadelstyle truly made my brain itch this episode . i feel like i understand style way better bc i too want to chase fadel down and pin him in a corner and break him just to see what'll come out of him. i bet its real soft and real weird and might make me cry a little bit. i bet fadel would also cry. i bet he might need to real bad.

[joelsmorality]

Can’t Keep Going Like This

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader.   Summary: After another argument, you and Joel finally iron some things out.   Warnings: Some angst, but it’s mostly fluff.    Note: This was originally a scene I ended up scrapping from my longer fic, but I figured with some editing it could be a fun stand-alone. So, here it is. lol  Tag list (My Joel fics in general. To be added just leave me a comment saying so!): @faceache111​

The streets of Jackson were quiet at this time of night.

You could hear the odd distant voices or hum of a generator, but otherwise it just seemed that the only other sound was your footsteps. The string of lights above your head that lit up the otherwise dark street added to the peaceful feel of the place–it had been enough when you had first arrived to almost make you forget what the rest of the world outside was like. There were little reminders, moments where you knew things were very different from the world you had left over a decade ago, yet you felt safe. Inside the gates, that is.

All of those facts combined, however, didn’t leave you feeling all that content the current night. You wandered through the darkening town, hands in your pockets with your shoulders slumped. Exhaustion from the day weighed heavily on you, yet the embarrassment of what happened hours ago sat heavily on you.

Having arguments with Joel, even outright fights, wasn’t exactly uncommon. He was stubborn, closed-off, and even frustrating to deal with at points. Yet, it had felt like you had progressed beyond the hostilities a while ago, and there was…something. You didn’t know what. You had been quick to label it as a friendship a while ago, but there was a certain pull in you that wanted more than that. Sometimes it felt like that notion was returned, but neither of you wanted to actually push over that line.

Then there were nights like this. Anger, frustration. You wanted to believe that things were just said in the heat of the moment, but it was hard to tell sometimes.

Usually, things like that happened without the added eyes on you. That was what made the night different from others, and the reason that you had stormed off before Joel could have the last word and do the same. It was juvenile, giving into the childish need to shout and insult. Yet, the reality of the moment had been quick to sink in shortly after that line was crossed, and you gave into the urge to just get out of there. Fortunately, Joel let you leave without following out after you. Though, you imagined it probably took some restraint.

You were just…tired of this. The uncertainty, the pull and push of someone who didn’t know what he wanted. Yet…well, you knew it was unfair to put it all on Joel. You didn’t really know exactly what you wanted, either. There had been many nights where you had time to think about your relationship with him–to overthink and overlook things, too. If you were reading into things too much, or maybe you were missing a signal or something. You didn’t know.

Could just ask.

It really couldn’t be that simple, could it? You knew you hadn’t exactly been completely open about everything, to ask some hard and embarrassing questions. You had certainly asked a few hard questions throughout the time you had been with him–digging into his past, into yours. Yet, this was something you kept locked away behind your teeth. It was something to chew on, but you could never just spit the words out.

Maybe you just should.

With an exhale, you stopped as you knew you were presented with a choice. You could just head back to the place you were staying at, leaving the whole situation behind. Maybe you’d try distancing yourself–there were a lot of people in Jackson, a lot of things to do. It wouldn’t be hard to just foster some space from him, shift out a couple patrols and just…avoid.

Or, you could turn and head toward where you knew he and Ellie were staying. The last you had seen her, Ellie seemed interested in spending some time with some friends she was making and you knew she probably wouldn’t walk in on whatever conversation you’d have with Joel. At least, you would have to hope so. Still, it was an opportunity to just lay everything on the table, ask the questions you’ve been wanting to and just get a damn answer. Whatever it was, you would deal with it. It had to be better than just not knowing and not knowing how to proceed.

With another sigh, you shook your head lightly. The better choice was clear.

Gathering some courage, you turned and headed toward the house. You weren’t sure how he’d greet you when you showed up, but you were sick of things. There had been enough tension and butting heads, you figured you were owed a bit of an honest conversation that wasn’t close to a fully public argument. Still, you hadn’t been in a position like this in a long time–to have to put your heart out in front of someone and let them react to it in whatever way they needed to. It left you with a nervous twist in your gut, despite the determination. It was something that needed to be done, as much as you wished things like this could happen without you having to go about it like this.

The lights of the house were still on, which spurred you to approach his front door. Yet, you couldn’t help the hesitation when you lifted your hand to knock. With a quick exhale, you finally knocked a few times on the door and backed away, tucking your hands back into the pockets of your jacket.

In the moments after, a part of you born of anxiety and some sort of wounded pride, just wanted to bolt. Yet, you knew that was counterproductive and childish too. Upon hearing the dull thuds of him approaching the door, you knew the time for that had passed anyway.

Despite the anger that you both had left with, you were surprised to just see some mild surprise under the tightness of his expression once Joel had opened the door.

“Can I come in?” you asked around a small exhale, sounding more tired than you were expecting too.

“Yeah,” Joel replied shortly, stepping aside to let you slip by him before he shut the door behind you.

Jackson had a number of homes with old furniture in them–some sense of communal living, you supposed, though it seemed like Joel and Ellie had their own place unlike yourself. It wasn’t your first time inside the home, though never in such an awkward situation. Still, you moved around with some familiarity, trying to piece together what you wanted to say. You knew what you needed to say, just not exactly sure how to form the words.

So, it had your arms crossing, coming to a stop in the living room before you turned toward him again.

“Look…” you started around another small sigh, “I didn’t come here to continue to argue with you, but I shouldn’t have run off. That’s not how I handle conflicts, but…I just don’t understand what’s going on here. With us.”

“With us?” Joel asked, his expression tight, a little unreadable, but you could see the way his shoulders had slumped. It was a good sign, at least.

“Yeah, I…” you trailed off, dropping your arms to your sides as you let out a somewhat humorless huff, “I mean, you have to know that I’m interested in you after all this time. At least, I hope it won’t come as a surprise.”

Joel stared at you, taking you in for a few moments before he ran a hand over his mouth, nodding lightly. “It’s not.”

“I just…” you said, bowing your head for a few moments as you pressed your lips into a thin line to hold back the rush of emotion that sat in you. “I haven’t had a group in a long time. People I can trust–people I can genuinely say I care about and who…who care for me. Yet…I honestly don’t know what I’m going to get from you, Joel. Some days it feels like I really get to know you, that things are good and are progressing toward…something, and then you push me away so harshly and I’m just…left completely confused.”

Despite the situation, you could tell there was a bit of a weight lifted off of you at that moment. Finally, you said something about the trend in your relationship with him that you noticed. Still, you knew the conversation was far from over, you weren’t getting the icey dismissal that you had gotten earlier and you figured it was a chance to actually address this situation.

“Am I overthinking things?” you asked, “Seeing things that aren’t actually there? I just want an answer, even if it hurts me.”

“You’re not,” Joel replied simply after your questions lingered in the space between you both, “It’s me. I don’t know what I’m doin’. I’m not a good person, you know this, and I think you’d do a lot better with someone else. That’s why I shove you away when I catch myself thinking differently.”

“I can make my own choices, can’t I?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“I know what you mean,” you clarified, stepping a little closer to him, “I just haven’t really been thinking in the same way. Maybe in the beginning, when I didn’t really know you, but…being here with you and Ellie…I finally feel like maybe I can stay somewhere. With people I trust. I’ll–I’ll accept if you reject me, but being pulled back and forth like I have been is not good for me.”

“I wouldn’t have to keep pushing you away if I could actually reject you,” Joel said with almost a touch of humor in his tone, but you could tell it was a little bitter too. Some previous frustration, maybe? It’d make sense, considering how much you had been dealing with. “I thought you would get sick of me and leave, just make it easier. I guess this is the result I was waiting for, just…it’s a hell of a lot different than I was thinking.”

“I thought about it sometimes,” you admitted, “and I will if it continues. I accept that you can be a thorny asshole sometimes, but I can’t keep letting that happen.”

“Didn’t feel good doing that,” Joel said, “I’m sorry. For tonight, too.”

Throughout the last minute of your conversation, you noticed a shift in him. The familiar wall you had seen him put up time and time again was lowering, as you had seen it do from time to time. On uneventful patrols when moods were high, when you would sit in with him and Ellie when they’d pass a guitar back and forth. The side of him that Ellie poked you about when she’d catch the both of you one-on-one. You knew there was a lot of territory you both had to navigate about each other, but the idea that you wouldn’t have to deal with that being shut off from you again was enough to make you feel like you had made the right choice.

“You want to be with me?” you asked after a few moments, stepping closer to him and watching his expression carefully. While a part of you knew with what he admitted so far that feeling as nervous as you were was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help the way your heart was racing.

“If you’ll have me,” he replied with a small nod. You nodded, struggling to fight back the grin that appeared on your features at the relief that flooded into you.

Which was what had you accepting his hand cupping your cheek, his mouth pressing against yours.

It didn’t take you long to respond to the kiss, despite the small shock it gave you when it fully registered. It was firm at first, a message sent and received, but it shifted more into something natural after a few moments. You wrapped your arms around him as Joel pulled you in closer, nearly brushing your body against his. His beard lightly scratched against you as he deepened the kiss, but you didn’t particularly care as you moved a hand up into his hair.

You were taken a little off guard by how much a part of you had been craving this type of closeness with him. You were attracted to him, had wanted to impress him at first and then just wanted to be closer once you could consider him a friend. A part of you could understand his reluctance, you had played a similar game of tug-of-war with yourself about your developing feelings for him. So, to be in his arms currently like you were was something else. The relief was almost intoxicating, making you almost reluctant to pull back, even with a lightheadedness from the lack of air forced you to.

Finally, you parted from the kiss somewhat, but didn’t really separate. You found yourself resting your head against his shoulder as you tightened your arms around him in an embrace. Joel wrapped his arms around you in return, your hands tightening into the fabric of his shirt in return as if telling yourself that this really was happening.

“I forgive you,” you muttered into his shoulder, “I know it’s not easy for you.”

“I’m still sorry,” he said, voice low and right above your ear before you felt him press a kiss to the side of your head.

You shut your eyes, soaking in the moment for as long as you could. You knew Ellie would be back soon, and you didn’t know how she’d react to the sight before her. Yet, you also suspected that she might not be completely surprised either, but it was hard to say with her.

One thing you knew was that you finally felt like you could be at home with them, in Jackson, instead of being separate and alone for the first time in years.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yves ask<3

At like 2am I was listening to a playlist that had the song It's Over Isn't It from Steven Universe and I couldn't help but think a little bit about Yves. Idk if you see it but some of the lines in the song were giving me a bit of angsty Yves vibes. Like Yves not understanding why he "lost" to some random love interest like in that one Montgomery post.

Idk could be just me but I got a bit of Yves brain going on rn..

Well i mean, Yves was partially inspired by Pearl from Steven universe too, and it definitely comes with the angst fr theres some parallels between Greg and Monty; Yves FUCKING hates Montgomery's guts for stealing you away but he has no choice but to act like he actually "loves" him deep down, past Yves's monster-in-law exterior. Because Montgomery makes you happy and he knows if Yves were to express how he really feels, you would be devastated.

In his mind, the ultimate goal isn't to please himself, but to please you in life. He can't kill Montgomery or else you will feel hollow and unhappy. He cant give you an ultimatum, because even if you chose him, you would still yearn for Montgomery. Yves can't just bend reality this time, because somehow your attraction and love towards Montgomery is so strong, to break that bond is to break you too.

So he just smiles and digs his fingernails into his palm until it breaks the skin, only letting out the most blood-curling, ear-obliterating Yves-rage scream in the privacy of his home. Maybe even sticking some pins and needles into his heavily abused Montgomery voodoo doll, casting spells with obscure ingredients and ancient scripts since he would turn spiritual when facing things that he couldn't accept.

Under all that calm and collected mask is a hurricane of emotions; especially unimaginable anguish and anger. Desperately wishing that you would have preferred what Yves had. Desperately wishing you had chosen him instead.

But you nor Montgomery would know the depth of his hatred for the man who robbed Yves of his rightful position as your husband. You wouldn't know the excruciating pain he felt when you rejected him and went for someone he perceived as a lesser being. He hates him.

Yves hates, hates, hates Montgomery so much and he would torture him so gorily and cruelly, that even the devil would retch in disgust. Alas, you love that... Pathetic excuse of a man. He cannot do anything further than a couple of petty exchanges and stare at you longingly.

You wouldn't know just how much your best friend despised and loathed him, especially when he's so kind to Montgomery and claims to care about him too.

Perhaps you should listen to your husband when he says he's not at all comfortable being alone in a room with Yves. Maybe you should believe Montgomery when he says there is something very, very off about your beloved best friend.

Then again, Yves doesn't take his mask slipping off his true, ugly form lightly. Best to just pretend that nothing is happening and ignore the fact that his house increasingly smells like incense.

[ladyloveandjustice]

Otherside Picnic Volume 8 Review that Devolves into a Bunch of Quotes and Gushing

I’ve been wanting to do a review of Otherside Picnic Vol 8 because I loved it so much, but haven’t been in the right mindspace to properly convey my enthusiasm. But I’m about to get busy so it’s now or never. Here are my thoughts that are inevitably going to devolve into a bunch of quotes and gushing. Let's just go through it all!

-I loved this so much, first off. It literally inspired me to have an honest discussion with my partner about my own intimacy and relationship quirks and what we want from each other. It made me feel a little better about myself and my own weirdness, that’s how much it affected me. It really got across the relief of just communicating in a relationship, of having frank conversations with your partner, and accepting your differences from the mainstream as okay.

-The conversation about romance, love, and sex being different actually made me tear up, which is how I knew this book would murder me from the beginning. It’s just so nice to see one of my favorite yuri and favorite romantic stories ever acknowledge asexuality and the full spectrum of experiences in such an understanding and thoughtful way.

-I love that this book really recontextualizes the oblivious-to-love protagonist, slow-burn and often stalled development that aren’t uncommon in animanga adjacent media romances and made it into something incredibly interesting. This was already hinted at in previous volumes, but Sorawo’s disconnect with her own feelings and slowness in responding to Toriko wasn’t just to tease the audience, but because her view of romance and her understanding of her own feelings conflicted with societal ideas of romance and it left her lost and confused. It makes everything that came before it so much more meaningful. This is also extremely relatable, and I love that Sorawo was frustrated with the idea of her relationship fitting into a socially acceptable box, when she felt what she had with Toriko was a lot more complicated and far reaching and didn’t want to define it so neatly.

-Honestly reading about Sorawo not being all that into kissing and basically being like "I don't hate it but it doesn't do anything for me" made me feel a little bit less alone and little more confident in talking about this aspect of my experience. ME TOO. GIRL.

-Every single yuri should have a line like “sounds to me like you’re a raging lesbian” from now on. How can anything ever live up to this.

-Toriko looking into sexual abuse gave me a heart attack because at first I thought she was trying to understand what happened with her and Satsuki. But she was researching Sorawo, because the stuff with the Red Person made her realize Sorawo has trauma and I felt so vindicated about my article. Then we have the hilarity of Sorawo, who literally has a “cult mode” when she’s made to relive where she had to deal with abuses from cults, where she becomes like a different person and talks to herself like she’s a separate person and is disconnected from her normal self…claiming she doesn’t have lingering cult trauma and doesn’t dissociate.

And then Toriko going “uhhhh what about the Red Person?”

“Huh oh that didn’t count. Cuz your love saved me.”

THE most un-self aware person, I love her.

(And EVERYONE knows it, especially Toriko, loved this exchange:

“Don’t try to force something I’m not aware of onto me.”

“Sorawo, there aren’t many things about you that you actually display self-awareness of.”

“Wow, insulting much?!” )

-The fact Toriko noticed how thirsty Sorawo was for her the second they met is so funny and makes that scene 100 times better in hindsight.

“It took me by surprise. Here I am, holding you in my arms, and you go and stare at my face, then your eyes start working their way down. I was like, ‘Girl sure has a lot of energy for someone who almost drowned.’”

“So, what? When you were talking about me ogling you before, you meant—”

“Yeah, right from the get-go. From the moment you saw me for the first time.”

Sorawo didn’t realize she was doing it…the entire exchange is hilarious. SO much of this book was hilarious honestly, here are some other choice quotes:

Who would’ve known there could be such a touching scene right next to a shelf stuffed full of erotic manga with titles so incredible that I couldn’t possibly name them...?

And this, the best love confession ever:

“I love you! I love you!”

“For real?”

“Apparently!”

-I really liked that Toriko was genuinely worried Sorawo might not have consented to the previous kisses and might be bothered by them. It built on the ongoing theme of Toriko struggling with emotional and physical boundaries, giving her such good character growth, and It shows a concern and care most stories gloss over.

…Which is kind of a stark contrast to the lack of concern she shows about that time she hit Sorawo in volume 6, despite Sorawo bringing it up as a problem. This has been an ongoing issue that’s bothered me, and it’s been mentioned often enough I hope Miyazawa is going to actually do something to address it. He DID address the questionable consent of the earlier kisses, going beyond my expectations, so I actually have my fingers crossed this is something we’re going to explore and confront. It’s really jarring compared to the rest of how well everything else has been handled, and is the only mark against the story, so I’m hoping this is intentional. The Toriko who worries Sorawo might have been sexually abused and goes above and beyond to try to be sensitive and understand her and the Toriko who is dismissive of the time she hit her (now) partner seem so in opposition to each other, and I there could be some interesting exploration and resolution of that.

(Miyazawa does mention something about having to treat serious issues casually because of Sorawo's detached, cynical POV and hoping readers will understand; and I think it's likely he was referring to that, which gives me more confidence).

-Sorawo understands Toriko’s moms are lesbians now I’m so proud of her.

-the fact that Toriko wanted to fuck in her dead parents bedroom …she has so many problems, I cherish her.

-I loved getting more Toriko backstory and her moms. Love Sorawo being like “wow I probably should have asked about this but…” YES YOU SHOULD HAVE, FOR MY SAKE. But Sorawo’s focus on living in the here and now, and being content with the Toriko in the here and now, is such an interesting aspect of her.

-EVERYthing about the final scene was so good. Like how can I even talk about it? Toriko fucking Sorawo with her weirdass interdimensionally-corrupted hand while getting jazzed by Sorawo's magic eye is just PEAK lesbian fantasy, no other series had delivered this exact weirdness that I want, thank you for being there for all of us bizarre sapphics.

“I...might make you go crazy.”

“That’s okay.”

Toriko’s hand drew closer. It meant something different now than it had before. If Toriko touched me now, I’d be the one to go insane. She snuggled up to me, so close our noses could touch, and with a voice full of heated passion, she whispered, “Let’s go crazy. Together.”

“Girl hit me with your evil eye, let’s get real fucked up” I love them, they’re such freaks and I am here for it. THE PASSION. THE METAPHOR. THE PURE CHUUNI WISH FUFILLMENT.

-Honestly I just highlighted the entire final scene because it hit me right in my weird gay little soul the way few other things have and I want to be able to whip these out the next time some loser says wlw media doesn’t have poetic declarations of love and passion so I’m just going to go through them.

Here’s one:

But that’s not what happened. Toriko looked beautiful, opening before me like a flower in bloom, and I was aware of every minute branch of the tree, down to their very tips…[]

Toriko became rude, polite, lewd, or embarrassed. I didn’t have the composure to focus or think as I watched, so Toriko changed from one thing to another as my gaze wandered. Laughing, getting angry, crying, fearing, moaning—feeling as if she were flowing from one state to the next, in constant flux, and yet in all of them simultaneously.

Sorawo accepting all sides of Toriko, all her complexity, how she’s everything all at once! And the fact they have such amazing sex they basically GO TO THE OTHERSIDE? Dimension transcending lesbian sex? Showstopping, incredible.

The way her hand moved, tracing the outline of my body—its true outline—was as gentle as could be, sensitive yet bold, overflowing with care, incredibly unreserved, and audacious. It felt like it was packed full of all the experiences of being touched by another person. In another way, different from mine, Toriko was unraveling the person that I was too. I was being decomposed, broken apart. The things that had been pressed into a human form were decompressed, and expanded outwards without limit.

This is how you do a sex scene. If your partner doesn’t unravel you and make you see all the shattered pieces of yourself, is it even worth it? I love the motif of falling apart but becoming more whole at the same time- isn’t that just every human experience all wrapped up into one?

I had been afraid to look at Toriko. Toriko had been afraid to touch me. Now, as we were looking at, or touching, our partner directly, tossed about on the waves of madness, we began to gradually find a way to take control of the situation.

The idea of how maybe you can’t help losing your minds when you look and feel all the other person is…but maybe if you lose your minds together it will be okay. Romance.

These two beasts with all these bodies converged through their desire for one another and were bound together. We were blending together at the interfaces where we connected. The different ‘us’s melted together, without ever becoming a perfect whole, but without fully separating either. Like a chimera made from two types of living being. Or two galaxies colliding.

“We became a chimera” is the absolute nerdiest way to describe making love and thus perfect for them (also lol the beast with two backs).

That’s too long, so how about shortening it to Soratori?” I burst out laughing as I remembered the time she’d tried to use the name Soratori Road for what we now called Route 1 in the other world. “

That’s like one of those ship names,” I told her.

“What’re those?”

“You’re a mangaka’s daughter and you don’t know that?!”

“Nope, not a clue. Is it something dirty?”

“Well, maybe?”

“Hmm.”

Okay, so Sorawo is clearly in some fandom and ships something. Place your bet on what it is. Probably she ships creepypasta monsters.

Do you know what the ‘nue’ is?”

“It’s a Japanese monster, right? Made up of a bunch of different animals mixed together.” “Yeah, that’s the one. As an extension of that, the word can also refer to something that doesn’t have a discernible form.”

[...]

While we were there, the two of us got all mixed up together, right? Intertwined, melting into one, like animals... Depending on how you look at it, you might say we were like a nue.”

“So, basically, if you wanted a word to represent our relationship, we wouldn’t be ‘lovers,’ or ‘accomplices’...but a ‘nue’?”

Okay forget what I said this is ACTUALLY the nerdiest way to describe your relationship. And speaking of nerds, I love this stupid conversation:

“It’s cute. Nue. I like the sound of it. Maybe I’ll get a tattoo of the kanji.”

“You’d take it that far?”

“You’re not gonna get a matching one?”

“They might not let us in the hot springs in Japan anymore. You sure?

” “Huh?! I wouldn’t like that... You think it’d be okay if we put them somewhere no one will see?”

“Where would no one see? This is sounding painful, and I’m not really on board with it.”

“Wha?”

-

Anyway, yeah, this section was everything I wanted, no notes. Toriko and Sorawo have the most demented, fantastical sex possible, having a threesome with the otherside because they all are strange and wonderful, being the nerdiest dorks it’s possible to be, their relationship is now a chimera because that’s even better and more all encompassing that something boring like lovers, Miyazawa really gave us it all, love wins, gays win. What more can I say? I adore this series.