#This became so much more than a simple request what happened to ME??????!!!!

[writingdevil]

I LOVED Tongues and Teeth; it's such a good fic! And you said the ParaCold crumbs you sprinkled into it were just for you but they also felt like a gift to meeee :D I LOVE THEM! So may I request anything you might feel like writing for ParaCold?

(AAH!Of course!I love your blog and your ParaCold stuff!I'm so happy that you requested this because now I have an excuse to write about them!Enjoy!)

Cold had a staring problem.

Paranoid knew this because he fucking hated being stared at.

Normal eye contact was fine-Paranoid could deal with that without twitching too much.But he couldn't stand blatant,intense staring,as if somebody was trying to see through his bones and feathers and find all his fears and secrets within him.It made his skin crawl and his mind whirl with an endless variety of creatures that wanted to reach out and snatch him up and into the darkness.

The only person that Paranoid was semi-okay with staring at him,was Hunted,and that was because Hunted was an intense creature with a need to check everyone and make sure they're alright,so Paranoid would just grit his teeth and bare it in those moments.

But any other time,he would feel this intense itching,and a crawling fear would creep up his spine,and all Paranoid would want to do was run to the darkest corner he could find so that nothing could perceive him anymore.

Cold had been staring at him lately.

Anytime Paranoid walked into a room,his feathers would puff up in alarm and his heart would pound, and he would be spinning around like a madman, looking for the culprit.Sometimes it would happen when he was just out for a walk!

It was Cold.It was always Cold.

Paranoid would find the bird in the corner of a room that nobody seemed to care about,and Cold's steel gaze would linger down his body like frost,leaving him shivering yet burning at the same time,and he would just glare at Cold from afar and go somewhere to escape his icy eyes.

As much as it irked Paranoid,he knew that it was just Cold being Cold.Maybe a few months ago,he would've marched up to him and told him to knock it off,but that would've been pointless.

Besides,he knew Cold was just eying up something potentially interesting.He goes through phases of intrigue with each member of the flock from time to time,but that intrigue never lasted long,except for maybe Contrarian,who Paranoid still couldn't quite understand even now.

Cold would lose interest eventually,Hero assured, and Paranoid personally couldn't wait to stop feeling Cold's eyes on him.

A week passed,and he still felt Cold staring at him. Then another week,and Paranoid started to stay in his room longer,as the itching was seriously freaking him out now,and he was losing sleep on top of it.

On the third week,a knock was heard at his door, and he didn't even stop to ask who it was before he opened it without a thought,finding Hunted nervously standing in front of him,switching between glancing down the hall,then back at him.

"Hunted?What's wrong?"Hunted's body straightened up in alertness,as if ready to pounce. He looked at Paranoid for a split second,before doing a double take,eyes wide and twitching. Paranoid was about to ask what was wrong,but then Hunted shook his head,as if to rid himself of his shock.

Paranoid had no idea what to expect,but when Hunted nodded out towards the hallway and said, "Follow,"he thought it best to obey him.

They walked side by side,and Hunted was making an obvious effort to not look at Paranoid for whatever reason,and he explained,"I need your help."Hunted briefly made eye contact with him and added,"No one's in danger."

That,at least,made some of the tension leave Paranoid's body."What's got you so wound up then?"

"It's Cold,"Hunted grumbled,and Paranoid immediately stopped in his tracks.Hunted stopped as well,but continued to calmly explain,"He was out with Contrarian this morning,and now his feathers are a mess.He needs to preen.Now-at once."

Now it was beginning to make sense.Preening was one of the very few non life-threatening activities that Hunted took very seriously.To the point where Contrarian had dubbed him the 'Preening Patrol' because of how serious Hunted took preening.If there was even a feather out of place,Hunted wasn't above chasing someone and pinning them to the ground to take care of their wings.Stubborn learned that the hard way.

Cold,predictably,had no interest in preening,seeing it as a useless waste of time and pointless.Paranoid has never seen him preen his wings,and to his knowledge,Hunted is the only reason his wings looked presentable half the time.

But that still didn't explain why Hunted needed Paranoid."Okay?"he said in confusion,"Then go preen his wings.You've never had a problem with this before."

"I can't,"Hunted insisted,"he won't let me."

Paranoid chuckled."That's never stopped you either."He's had the pleasure of watching Hunted drag an unimpressed Cold back to his room for preening with an iron grip around his wrist,and there would always be a hint of mild frustration on Cold's face everytime,as if this was the last thing he wanted to be doing.But Hunted always got his way when it came to preening.

Right now though,Hunted just looked more and more antsy as he finally looked Paranoid in the eye, who squirmed at the action,and said,"I can't.He said he'll only let you preen him."

Immediately,Paranoid's feathers puffed up,and a heat that could only be from nervous panic took ahold of him in that moment.

What?Him?Why?Why him?It was only ever Hunted that preened Cold-Why did Cold want somebody else now?

It was a trap,Paranoid was sure of it.This was a trap,and Cold was going to do something awful to him-that was what the staring had been all about. Cold was trying to figure out what the most fun and interesting way to torment him would be,and now he found it,and now he was going to do something that would set Paranoid on edge forever.

"No,"the words were barely out of his mouth before Hunted swiftly stood right in front of him,a pleading look in his eyes."Please."

"No.I don't trust this."

"It's bad to have wings as messy as his.What if there's danger?What if his feathers tangle together into tiny knots until he can't fly away,and he's killed instantly?"

Paranoid gritted his teeth,crossing his arms in frustration because he knew Hunted was playing to his sensitivities and fears-because those were all thoughts Paranoid would have.

Still,he turned his head away,not convinced that the danger wasn't Cold in this situation.

But then he saw Hunted lower his head,making himself look smaller as he leaned closer to Paranoid,and he found that he couldn't look away as Hunted stared up at him with big,shiny,and irresistibly adorable eyes."Please,"he once again said,feathers puffing up to make him look less feral, and Paranoid immediately felt his heart melt at the sight.

Damnit.Opportunist taught Hunted well.

He scrunched up his face in confliction,but he couldn't tear his gaze away from Hunted and his adorable face,until he groaned loudly."Ugh!Fine!I'll do it!"he conceded,and Hunted immediately dropped the cute display,going back to calm vigilance,if a bit satisfied with himself.

Paranoid glared at him,pointing a finger to his chest and said,"But if anything happens to me in there,you're gonna be my bodyguard for a whole month,okay?"

Hunted nodded his head solemnly."I will."Then a pause,then Hunted quietly said,"Thank you,"and that made all the annoyance leave Paranoid's body, and he sighed and said,"Yeah.I'll let you know when I'm done."

He walked past Hunted,who gave him a soft forehead bump on his arm as he passed,and Paranoid smiled at the gesture-until he got to Cold's room.

It was as if the very temperature around the room dropped,and Paranoid felt goosebumps shoot up his arms.In the back of his head,whispers of worst case scenarios and flashes of potential horrors flooded his mind,and he took a second to press his palms against his eyes until the whispers shut up-and he felt relatively calm again.

He took a deep breath in,staring at the door.Should he knock?Should he just walk right in?Cold didn't seem like the type to care about locking doors.But what if this was the one place where Cold would lock a door,because it was where Cold felt safest and he didn't want anyone to see him-

"You can come in,you know."

Paranoid yelped at the voice,but it did help stop his mind from spiralling further.He glared through the wooden door,at the insufferable bird on the other side of it,and that last little spark of anger was what pushed him to open the door and walk in.

He took a step into the room,before a full body shiver overtook his body,as he stared into Cold's eyes.

He was sitting on his bed,as if waiting for him, kneeling and facing him with a mask of boredom on his face,although Paranoid did catch a little spark of surprise in his eyes,as if he hadn't expected Paranoid to go through with this.

In a really fucked up way,Paranoid felt like he was back in that cabin,walking down to confront the Nightmare.

Of course,Cold was staring at him,and Paranoid tried to ignore the horrible sensation it brought upon him,by clenching his fists and studying Cold's room.

He hadn't really known what to expect,but a random assortment of items felt the most appropriate for Cold.There were many feathers scattered in every spot in the room,along with books strewn about the floor,and Paranoid recognised a few of them as belonging to Skeptic.

Cold also had many handmade weapons just lying around,which definitely didn't help Paranoid's heart calm down.There was a bow leaning against a wall next to the window in the room,and a pile of both normal and broken arrows,and Paranoid bet if he looked out the window,he'd find a bunch of arrows popping up everywhere.

There was also a bedside table that had five or six handmade knives sat atop of it,and that was when Paranoid became immediately aware of the various scratches and marks on the walls,and even noticed a crimson tint on some of the blades.He forced himself not to dwell on it.

There just seemed to be a lot of miscellaneous items that Cold had tried to amuse himself with, before losing interest and throwing them aside.He felt a draft slip in from one of the wall marks near him,and it merely highlighted how bitterly freezing the room was.

Eventually,his gaze made its way back to Cold,who hadn't taken his eyes off him the entire time-in fact, it only seemed to get more intense.

Paranoid shut the door behind him and said,"I hear you're causing problems for Hunted."

"Am I?"Cold said,then lifting a wing to show off,and Paranoid winced at the state of them.Hunted probably almost lost his mind when Cold refused to let him preen him.

"Why do you want me to preen your wings?You know Hunted's the best at it."

Cold shrugged."Got bored of him doing it.He just focuses on the task and then scurries off.He doesn't even respond when I try to talk to him."

"Probably because you keep trying to convince him that there's danger around every corner."

A quirk of a smile."He's more interesting that way. Jumpy and unpredictable."

"Scaring our most competent flockmate won't bode well when there's an actual threat that needs dealing with."Cold rolled his eyes.

"Anyways,"Paranoid said,"back to the issue at hand-why me?Why won't you let anyone else do it?"Cold shrugged again,then casually replied with,"You were the first one to come to mind."

His heart pounded in dread.Cold was definitely up to something.Cold was absolutely going to try something if Paranoid went through with this.He should leave.He should turn around and just tell Hunted to slam him to the ground and preen him, because there was no way that Paranoid could go through with this.

But then cold air hit his face,and he flinched as his feathers puffed up to keep him warm,and he focused back on Cold,just as he turned around so that his back was facing Paranoid,and he glanced over his shoulder and said,"Well?Aren't you going to start?"

He should leave.He should leave.He should leave.

He found himself walking forward.

Paranoid chalked it up to not wanting to upset Hunted further,as he kept his eyes on Cold's hands, which were politely folded in his lap,but that didn't mean he didn't have a weapon hidden somewhere, if his room was anything to go by.

He kept his fists clenched tight as he slowly walked forward,then sunk his knees into the bed,and Cold sent him one last look before turning to face ahead again.Finally,his skin didn't feel on fire for the time being,and he watched as Cold spread his disastrous mess of wings out for him.Shit,how long was this going to take?Paranoid didn't even take time into account for this.But he's here now,and he has no choice but to go through with it.

He started with the right wing,and they were sitting in silence for a few minutes,but Paranoid knew that wouldn't last.

At some point,he got really stuck into the preening, almost completely forgetting who he was with-until Cold suddenly flapped his wings wildly,sending feathers and dust everywhere,and Paranoid jumped back in shock,putting an arm out to block the rough action.

When Cold decided to stop,Paranoid looked up, only to find that all his hard work had been erased, Cold's wings looking as messy as the beginning.

He glared as he sat up,even though Cold couldn't see him."What the hell was that for?!"Cold shrugged,tossing him a nonchalant look over his shoulder as he said,"I needed to stretch my wings.I can't help that."

"Tell me that next time!"Paranoid ordered,then sighed as he started all over again.But merely five minutes later,Cold's right wing jerked itself out of Paranoid's grip,as if spasming,before settling back down.

"You're doing this on purpose!"

"My wing cramped up.I can't help it."

"You can't seem to help anything.Is this all you really wanted me for?"he asked,spreading his arms out as he said,"Did you just want to piss me off?"

Cold didn't reply for a few seconds,before lowering his head as he said,"You're here to preen my wings." Paranoid glared harder,ignoring how soft those words were spoken.

There was nothing he could do but begin again, quickly this time,so that maybe Cold wouldn't do that again,and in an attempt to distract him, Paranoid asked,"Why don't you like getting your wings preened?You're able to do more things with well-groomed wings,like flying,and I doubt you'd want to give that up."

Cold shrugged."It's too tedious to think about in the long run."Paranoid managed to get a small clump of dirt out of Cold's wings,and he felt the appendages tense up for a second,then relax.

"The only way you can experience things in the present is to not get bogged down by the past or the future."Paranoid flicked the dirt away,having many qualms about that logic,but now wasn't the time to get into that.

Especially when Cold turned to give Paranoid a sharp side eye and say,"Like how you do."

Paranoid froze,fingers tensing up while still buried in dark feathers.Cold kept his eyes locked on him, and then slowly tilted his head back until he was staring at Paranoid upside down,and Paranoid's hands were uselessly floating by Cold's head as his wings moved out of his grip.

The itching came back full force,but he also felt like if he moved,Cold would strike,and have no mercy with him.At this angle,Cold was maybe giving him either an intense look or just a weird,curious look, but Paranoid couldn't focus on anything else other than Cold as he said,"You let silly little things like the past give you fears,and the future give you mistrust.You never let yourself just be in the moment."

"So?"Paranoid managed to grit out,"It's almost impossible for somebody to not be thinking about the past or future,even to a small degree."

"But the amount you let it control you seems unnecessary."

"Unnecessary?"Paranoid repeated in shock and disbelief,letting a sharp laugh out,then retorted with,"If I wasn't constantly thinking about what the princess's next move would be,then we would all have died a lot quicker."

"But we still died,so how useful was it really?"

"Way more than you could ever understand."

Cold's eyes widened for a moment,but Paranoid couldn't tell if it was from shock or amusement.He got his answer when Cold's gaze hardened as he said,"I understand that hiding in your room all day doesn't seem very useful."

Paranoid's fingers curled,as if he could imagine digging them into Cold's skull.

"You think I didn't notice?How you suddenly stopped popping up around the place with your nervous mumbling and twitching?I'm fairly certain that holing up in your room won't help you in case something attacks us,arguably more than unpreened wings."

He noticed.He noticed his absence and had done all this just to drag him out of his room.Sure,Cold hadn't actually done anything yet,but the mere fact that Cold had planned this to get him out of his room was enough to have Paranoid shaking in fear.

Cold's eyes flicked across his face,and Paranoid wasn't sure what he was looking for-but he found it, and straightened back up so quick it made Paranoid flinch.

He found his fingers grazing soft feathers again, and he found himself petting the feathers down softly as a way to bring himself back to reality.He kept doing that until the trembling subsided,and all Paranoid was left with tense anxiety,trying to understand what Cold's goal was here.

He hadn't even realized that he had started on the other wing,until Cold once again flapped his wings aggressively about,undoing all his hard work.

Paranoid tipped his head back and groaned loudly."I was halfway done!Why do you keep doing this?You're just dragging this out longer than it needs to be."Cold's response was a shrug.

Paranoid stared at Cold.Well-the back of Cold-and he was beginning to get sick of this fear having a chokehold on him,so he just sighed and calmly asked,"What do I have to do to get you to stay still?"

That was Paranoid's mistake.

Cold hummed in thought,then glanced back at Paranoid and said,"Let me preen your wings as well."

"What?They don't need to be-"

But when Paranoid glanced down at his own wings, he realized with horror that they did need to be preened.Quite badly,in fact.Did he not preen at all in his bedroom?

Then Paranoid remembered the way Hunted was looking at him as they walked,how he looked nervous and twitchy.It was because Paranoid's wings were a mess.

He tore his gaze away from Cold's intense eyes,his mind screaming,'No!'

He didn't let anyone touch his wings.He preened them himself because he only trusted himself to do it right.The only exception was Hunted,and that was because not letting Hunted preen his flockmates was as cruel as Paranoid not having his chant-and now he was starting to realise that he let Hunted get away with way more than he should.

His eyes kept flicking between Cold and his hands, that were still gently holding his feathers.He couldn't go through with this,right?He couldn't actually let Cold preen him,right?What if this was where he made his awful move?

On top of that,Paranoid had finally gotten his wings to a presentable state.With Hero's help,he managed to stop nervously overpreening,and now Paranoid was actually quite proud of how they looked.Was Cold going to undo all that?

But then again,Cold hadn't actually done anything yet.

He doubted that Cold was going to pluck every feather from him,so whatever he had planned,it was probably just to anger or spook him,and Paranoid found that he could deal with that.He could deal with mind games,no matter how jumpy it made him-the Construct had felt like one big mind game.Besides,he's come this far,so he can't exactly back out now.

As he made himself look Cold in the eyes,he found himself unable to look away,the temperature of the room rising and making Paranoid flush with stress. He nodded his head,and he gulped at the wicked smile Cold sent him.

It was sickening,how Cold didn't move a muscle as he preened his wings again.

Paranoid was finished-all too soon-and he just stared nervously as Cold scooted out of the way for him.He stared at the empty spot for a second, before slowly moving to be in front of Cold.

He twisted his fingers around in his lap,his head ducked low as he waited for whatever Cold had planned.He tried to remain calm,to not think the worst of Cold in this moment.But after a few seconds of nothing but silence,Paranoid tensed up, attempting to turn his head to see what was wrong-when hands suddenly slammed down onto his shoulders.

He screeched in shock,and would've jumped ten feet into the air,if not for the tight grip Cold had on him,claws clutching his shoulders and keeping him on the bed.Paranoid held a hand to his chest, attempting to quell the shaking of his body,when he heard Cold chuckle in soft amusement.

His hand curled into a fist against his pounding heart,but before he could yell at the other-Cold squeezed his shoulders,then began to gently massage them.Paranoid wriggled on the spot,not used to the weird feeling,until he eventually felt the tension in his body leave against his will,and he shut his eyes tight,hating how his body relaxed against the ministrations,until his shoulders slumped and his wings weren't pinned to his back anymore.

He focused on getting his heartbeat under control, as Cold slowly slid his hands from his shoulders down to his back,dragging his claws lightly as he went.Paranoid ignored the shiver that went through him,or how he could still feel the path Cold had made,even when he stopped halfway.

Cold just splayed his palms against his back,and Paranoid sighed,blindly waving an arm back at him. "Are you going to preen me or not?"he asked Impatiently,and Cold just hummed in response, then lightly grazed a finger across his right wing and said,"I've just never seen them like this before. It's a funny sight."Cold finally started to preen his right wing,but it felt like he was barely making an effort to do it right,and then he asked,"Do you think you'll be able to fly?"

Paranoid felt apprehension at the thought of flying, so simply said,"I don't think I'd be very good at it." Cold hummed again,twisting a feather between his thumb and index finger,and said,"That would be an interesting sight to see."

It was at this moment,that Paranoid realised that he hadn't felt that itching sensation once since Cold started preening him,but of course-as soon as he realised that,was when Cold decided to strike.

There was a few seconds of peaceful silence,and Paranoid actually felt like everything was going to be okay,when Cold suddenly leaned forward, pressing his chest against his back,fingers still buried in his feathers-and then Cold rested his chin on top of Paranoid's shoulder,sighing in relief as if this was what he wanted all along.

Paranoid could do nothing but shake in that moment,frozen as the itching came back full force, crawling all over his body like bugs trying to rip his skin open and escape.All he could do to keep it together was stare into the distance,and mutter his chant under his breath as Cold pressed up behind him.

He could feel Cold's icy breath hitting his flushed skin as he asked,"Why were you hiding in your room for days?What scared you that badly?"

Paranoid finally got his nerves under control just enough to hiss out,"You were the reason.You kept staring at me."

"Why was that so bad?"Cold asked,stroking his hand over his wing almost lovingly.Paranoid hated how nice it felt.

He gripped the sheets next to him and quietly snapped,"You know I hate staring.You know I hate the eyes."Cold turned his head slightly to stick his face into Paranoid's neck,and that was also when he fixed a particular feather that had been irritating him,back into place.The whole thing made Paranoid release a breath,but he wasn't sure if it was good or bad.

Cold hummed,and it vibrated through his skin so much that it almost got rid of the the itching.He didn't even notice that he leaned his head back to give Cold more room.

"I apologize,"Cold murmured against his skin,"for frightening you.That wasn't my intention."

"What was,then?"Paranoid whispered,his mind whirling with too many feelings and sensation to string a single coherent sentence together.

Cold leaned back just enough for Paranoid to hear the hidden sincerity in his voice."I just find you interesting.You jump and tremble and fear-but you also snap and stress and protect.You let your mind cage you with your delusions,but you still know exactly what to do to keep the others safe.I remember enjoying our conversation about pain.I kept feeling a need to talk to you again,but I was trying to figure out why."

"Then you locked yourself in your room and everything got so dull again.Nobody to scare and nobody to challenge what I know.I needed a reason to see you again,to understand what I'm feeling."

Paranoid wanted to understand too.His heart was pounding,his feathers were puffing up,and his skin was on fire.All of these were usually signs that something terrible was about to happen-but the itching was gone.Cold was staring at him and the itching was gone.In fact,everything actually felt-quite nice.

The weight of Cold against his back,the sound of his voice so close to him,the gentle grazing of fingers in his wings-it made his mind melt,and it finally shut the whispers up.

Paranoid has never felt relaxed before,but Cold was apparently changing that.

His voice came out breathless and strained as he tried to explain,"I-I just-I thought you would-were going to do something b-bad to me."

"Oh,is that what you believed?"Cold said,not sounding offended in the slightest.In fact,he actually sounded amused.Paranoid could barely focus on his voice as he felt Cold drag a hand over his back.Cold tilted his head an inch closer to whisper,"Do you want to know what I believe?" Paranoid bit his lip,but nodded.

"I believe you think far too much for my liking."

Then Cold dragged his claws down to the base of his back,right in-between his wings,where all of them were extremely sensitive.

Paranoid couldn't stop himself as he arched his back and let a soft moan out,but even though his face was on fire,his head was swimming with pleasure-no worries,no fears,nothing but sweet, sugary pleasure.

He could feel how ragged Cold's breath had gotten, and his voice lowered to a husky tone as he whispered,"I think I like that reaction."

The next thing either of them knew-they were twisting around to meet each other,and crashing their lips against one another.

Everything was hot and desperate,and Paranoid threw his arms around Cold's neck,while Cold kept one hand in his feathers,and the other bringing Paranoid closer,and the feeling of Cold's icy breath in between their lips only urged Paranoid to keep kissing,keep chasing this pleasure,keep chasing Cold-

But then they suddenly parted,and Paranoid panted as Cold gave him a soft and wary look,his voice uncertain and almost scared as he whispered,"Do I still frighten you?"

Paranoid stared at him,really stared at Cold-at the clouded look in his eyes,at how carefully he was holding Paranoid-and no itching feeling overcame him in that moment.

So Paranoid cupped Cold's face and brought him into another searing kiss.

[starsinthesky5]

dating joe burrow (headcannons) || joe burrow x reader

description: little things about you and joe’s relationship 💗💗

a/n: this was a request I got! (request can be found here) i haven’t tried this before so im feeling it out :) the fact that it took me the whole week to write this is wild 😭 let me know if you guys like this or have any thoughts, ideas, whatever 💗

side note- almost had a heart attack because i thought none of this saved. this is what i get for writing directly in my tumblr drafts and not google docs first like usual

word count: 4.1 k

warnings: allusions to smut

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he’s a total gentleman. he's always opening your doors for you, carrying your bags, and you never have to ask him to. he just does it on his own, it was a sweet unspoken rule. he says that he knows you’re incredibly capable of doing things on your own and he loves that about you, but he says you always deserve ‘the princess treatment’ and no princess should ever break a sweat or struggle with anything 

he’s always holding your hand when you two are walking together. he hated when you couldn't hold hands because it made him feel far away from you (even if you were right next to him). holding your soft hand, running his thumb along your soft skin, and having your fingers intertwined was the best feeling in the world for joe 

when you're out on the streets, he's always watching out for anything you might step on or walk into such as puddles, uneven surfaces, or grates where your heel may get caught in. you joked that he was like your personal bodyguard, and he took on that role and title proudly. he said that guarding you was a more important job than being a quarterback for a billion-dollar franchise--that's how much he cared for you 

he wasn’t a big touchy-feely guy, but with you? with you it was a completely different story. his hands were always on you, his lips were always pressing sweet kisses around some part of your body, and he was so addicted to you. when he was with you, touching you was all he could think about and when he wasn't with you, he was always fantasizing about the next time he was 

he loves kissing your neck. sometimes a little roughly to leave a few pretty marks so 'everyone knew who you belonged to' but sometimes very sweetly & gently. so many sweet kisses. his soft lips left no part of your body untouched. he was so soft around you compared to the way he was around friends, his teammates, and family. the second it was just the two of you, he became a little baby--your little baby--and was the most precious thing on the planet

you two could be watching a movie on the couch and somehow his head would end up in the crook of your neck, all his focus on kissing your soft skin instead of what was happening on the TV screen 

this would happen when you were trying to finish up some stuff for work too. you would be typing away on your computer and he'd be sitting next to you, so bored and in need of attention from you. he'd start pressing light kisses around your collarbone, and then move up your neck, his kisses getting rougher and more alluring. next thing you knew, your computer was on the floor along with a pile of both your clothes 

he loves it when you thread your fingers through his soft hair while he lays his head on your chest, which he also loves. he loved laying his head on your chest because something about hearing your heartbeat made him feel safe, feel at peace. his arms always wrapped around your middle and his cheek was always squished against your breasts. he just adored it--maybe even for a few other reasons too ;). seeing him like that after a hard day at practice or after a rigorous workout brought you so much satisfaction. you made him feel like that. he didn't need anything else to make him feel like that, just you. it was that simple 

he’s always giving you his full attention when you’re talking. it’s like you’re the only person in the room for him. you two could be on the sidelines of paycor right before kickoff, surrounded by thousands of fans and football players, but you’re the only person he’d be able to see and hear. the rest of the world disappears around him whenever he hears your pretty voice 

your family love love loves joe. 

initially, when you told them you were seeing someone and that someone was joe burrow, they didn’t believe you. they couldn’t believe that you bagged a football player, specifically the star quarterback, and you were slightly offended for a second but their initial reaction made the look on their faces even more enjoyable when you brought joe to your hometown for the first time with no warning 

joe was so nervous to meet your family, it was honestly so cute. he was so quiet and trying to keep calm the entire way to your parents' house. joe was the most confidant person and the most shy person you knew. the cool guy persona he sported every game day was there, but so was the adorable little shy baby that got in his head about things sometimes. he just wanted to be perfect for your family, wanted to show that he was the right man for their perfect & special daughter

your family loved him as soon as they saw him carefully help you out of his car, holding your hand tightly, and leading you to the front door all while making sure that your dress wasn't showing too much because of how intense the wind was that day. he was an absolute gentleman for you, and they loved that

he hit it off with your family within 10 minutes of being at your house, it was insane. he had so much in common with your siblings and even had great conversations with your parents. there was no silence in the house that day because everything was just constantly flowing naturally

he was most anxious around your dad but all of his nerves disappeared once he called joe out to the porch for a drink after dinner. joe thought he was about to get the 'you're a professional athlete, I know how they roll and I'll make your life hell if you break my daughter's heart' talk, but it was the complete opposite. your dad told him how thankful he was to joe for being in your life, for putting that everlasting smile on your face, for making you feel loved in a way you never had been loved before. that's what joe needed to hear, that he was doing good with you. doing good for you 

he’s so respectful to your parents and even addressed them as ‘sir and ma’am’ for a good second. you tried to tell him it was alright to refer to them by their first names, but he felt awkward about it because of how much respect he had for them even though this was his first time meeting them

eventually, he started calling them by their first names. you could see that he was getting more and more comfortable around them and didn’t feel the need to hold up a super suave act. he could be himself around you and your family, they felt like home to him. you felt like home to him

joe's parents loved you as soon as they met you as well 

they were so thrilled that joe had a woman like you in his life. someone who showed him so much love, care, and support 

you weren't super nervous to meet them, mostly because he gave you no time to be. he knew that if he told you in advance that you were going to Athens, you'd freak the hell out. so that's why he told you about 30 minutes before you reached his parent's house. you figured that he was just taking you someplace like a park to go on a walk or something simple like that, not to meet his freaking parents 

joe loved that he could bring you home to his family. he loved that he could show you around Athens and experience all the things he did growing up but in a new light because you were with him

he brought you to his favorite spots to eat, his favorite places to go on walks, his favorite shops, and places he spent a lot of time while growing up. he even snuck you into the football stadium--his football stadium--at the high school one night. joe remembered feeling his heart explode at the sight of your beaming smile once you stepped onto the field and saw his name plastered around the stadium. you just felt so proud of him and your entire body showed that. that's the moment he knew he loved you

he said those three special words, those eight letters, to you first. it came out so nonchalantly one night like it was something that was meant to roll off his tongue that easily. hearing those three words come from his mouth for the first time felt so right, like the stars and planets aligned specifically for you both in this moment. 

the funny thing was, he said it as you guys were stargazing. you were lying on a big blanket in his backyard and watching the planets & stars together

you were looking up at the sky and there was a big smile on your face as you counted how many stars you could see. joe also had a big smile on his face, but not because of the stars. it was because of you. he was looking over at you, thinking about how he was genuinely the happiest he had ever been in his life at this moment, how things finally felt right in his life. it was all because of you

"the stars make me think about how infinite the universe is, but even with all that endless space, the thing I want most in the world is right here next to me. being with you makes everything else feel small, like all I need is right here," he said to you

and then he ended his sweet small speech with an adorable, sorta quiet because he felt nervous, 'i love you'

you felt your heart explode when you heard him say those three words. the same three words you wanted to say to him since the day you met. you had never loved someone like you loved joe, this was so special and you both knew it 

his house was so clean and organized, the exact opposite of what you thought it'd be like when you first came over. you thought it would be full-on bachelor pad, messy, boy vibes. but it really wasn't. it was clean, organized, well-decorated, and it stayed like that. it really felt like a man lived there, not a boy. and joe was a man all right, that was very clear 

joe loved to send you cheesy football puns. his personal favs were "you're the touchdown to my game-winning drive", "you've intercepted my heart and I'm not even mad about it", and "you're the MVP of my heart"

lots of late-night snack runs after prime-time games. it was honestly insane to you at first because you thought he'd want to get home ASAP, but he wanted his sweet treat--and he wasn't just talking about you ;)

he even brings you to practice sometimes. you loved to watch him from the sides, doing his thing and watching him in his element. he sometimes even through the ball back and forth with you before or after practice--always showing off a little to make you laugh

your form had definitely gotten better ever since you started throwing with him. you are learning from the best of the best

joe's closet is your closet. he loves it when you take his shirts and hoodies. you love how big his stuff is on you and also how everything smells just like him. it's even better when he's away and you're missing him. his scent is always on you no matter what

joe's always there for you whenever you come home from a hard day at work or are just having a shitty day in general. he's always there, holding you against his chest, letting you soak his shirt with your tears while he presses soft kisses on your forehead and listens to you vent about everything

he knows how hard you work, so it breaks his heart to see you crack under pressure or feel like you weren't doing enough. he gave the best advice and was the best listener, having him in your corner was the best thing that could've happened to you

it was also the best thing that could've happened to him. you were his escape from the pressure that the football life brought. his peace after all the chaos that transpired on the field. his calm within the storm

joe likes to get up early, like early early. he says that he likes to get the most out of the day, which is fair. but it's honestly so bad because you hate getting up early, but his adorable morning smile makes up for it. it's the first thing you're graced with when you get up

when he wakes up, you wake up (even if you feel like dying because it's so early). he always ends up laying his head on your chest as he presses kisses along your skin, your fingers lightly scratching his scalp at the same time. it's the best way to wake up in all honesty. in each other's embrace, all warm, cozy, and secure

he's so cute in the morning. his hair is all messy and he has this raspy voice that makes you want to pounce on him, even if it is still a little dark outside as the sun isn't even fully up. 

during the off-season, he made it a rule that he'd cook you breakfast at least twice a week. joe wasn't the best cook (he was learning) so his attempts at cooking breakfast were always so sweet to watch 

also because watching him cook breakfast half-naked was like personal porn for you. his tan, bare, muscular back was the star of the show

he'd attempt to make you french toast, pancakes, waffles, literally anything your heart desired. he got better each time he made you food, but also because he'd help you out whenever you made dinner so he picked up on a few skills 

it was pretty funny whenever he'd have breakfast fails. like the first time he tried to make french toast, he burnt them and one piece even caught on fire. it was so funny to watch him run around frantically trying to make sure he didn't burn the house down

he loved to help you out when you made dinner. he made himself your little sous chef, helping you out in any way he could. he'd turn on some music so you two danced around in the kitchen as you cooked together, it was something so simple but it brought you two so much joy

your favorite songs to dance around to together were disco by surf curse, my girl by the temptations, angeleyes by abba, heavenly by cigarettes after sex, apocalypse by cigarettes after sex, hunger by ross copperman, pretty boy by the neighbourhood, and lover by taylor swift

sometimes you were so caught up in dancing together that you completely forgot about the food on the stove. the dancing sometimes led to some other things, so naturally, you got distracted. you would end up ordering some chinese takeout and calling it a night whenever that happened 

joe loves kissing you. like a lot 

sure, he loves kissing spots around your body, but nothing could compare to the feeling he'd get when your lips were pressed against his

that man loves his sloppy, sexy, slow makeout sessions more than anything. noses brushing against each other, his hands wandering around your perfect body, tasting each other...it was so good. especially because 90% of the time they led to some other things ;)

joe was so careful with you in that sense. he always made sure you were alright before you two did anything. he never pressured you for anything, everything would be done on your terms 

he's too good in bed. like it's insane. he quite honestly takes your breath away. he can do it all. slow lovemaking & hair-pull worthy, sheet-gripping sex. the way he worshipped your body was truly something out of a fairytale. you'd lose track of time whenever you two got in bed like that, and it was honestly worth it. he was just so damn good. you wanted to stay like that with him as long as you could

he's a lowkey blanket hogger too. he wraps himself in a little burrito blanket, looking all cozy and soft while you stare at him with a straight-lipped face. buttt he caves and lets you into his little blanket burrito. it's so comfy, especially in the winter. the combined heat coming from his body and the blanket made you feel like you were in a soft cocoon 

joe loves it when you call him joey, J, burrito (a funny play on 'burrow'), or JB. you didn't really use his other nicknames such as shiesty, joe cool, or joe brr because it felt wrong. those were all football joe names. your nicknames for joe were just joe names 

he loved that he was just joe to you. he made sure when you first started dating, you got to know just joe. not Cincinnati Bengals star quarterback joe burrow. just joe

you always found joe doing the most normal things super hot and sexy. he could just be sitting on the couch and doing something on his iPad and you'd find yourself drooling (it was definitely because of that man spread that sent you into orbit)

bringing in bags of groceries out of your car, washing the dishes, putting away your laundry for you, cleaning up the kitchen. it was all so fucking hot. he was just so hot 

sometimes while he was doing these things, you'd have an epiphany. you'd realize that he was all yours. nobody else's, just yours. he'd laugh whenever he caught you like this. it was so enchanting to him how you'd randomly become hyperaware that you were his girlfriend and he was your boyfriend 

you and joe love flowers so much. you always surprise him with random flower deliveries (especially after a loss) because you know his face will automatically light up once he sees the beautiful plants. he also scheduled weekly flower deliveries for you. a vase of flowers would be at your door every monday morning, the perfect way to start off the week

he loves to pamper you as well 

he's always buying you things without reason. clothes, jewelry, books, random little knick-knacks. he just loved to show how much he loved you in every shape and form possible

all of your daily jewelry was given to you by him. your two necklaces (one being a necklace with his initial), your 3 bracelets, your 4 rings (two on each hand, one being a promise ring), and your anklet which had 9 citrine orange gemstones in it along with multiple diamonds

proper date nights are a must in your relationship. even during the season, he made sure you had one night in the week where you two went out for dinner together. but you'd also have the best date nights at home

sometimes you just ended up building legos on the floor & watching a silly movie as a date night, but you two loved doing simple things like this. sometimes you'd just eat dinner outside in the backyard together as a date night. sometimes you'd just go on a night stroll together. simple things like that were special because it kept you two grounded. you didn't need to go out and drop $200 on some fancy dinner when you could have the same level of enjoyment by sitting on the floor, building a lego set from 'the office', and stuffing your faces with takeout. as long as you were together, you didn't really care what you did 

he never fails to tell you how amazing you are. those sweet nothings he'd whisper in your ear every night before bed were the things you craved the most in your previous relationships. just being told how much you brighten his world, how pretty you are, how easy it is to love you, and other things like that made your day. he never skipped out on telling you those things

you love hearing his laugh. whenever he laughs around you, he laughs with his whole body. it's such a sweet sound, a sound you wish you could hear forever

you were so obsessed with joe’s body. his thick thighs, large muscles, veiny hands, and gorgeous face. he was a literal greek god, it was so hard to believe this man was real. he was equally as obsessed with your body too, and he made sure to show you that almost every night ;) 

your friends love joe so much. they always call him your prince charming, the man who made all your dreams come true and the man who treats you like you're a real-life princess. they always tease you because of how down bad you act for him too. whenever you're with them and joe isn't there, they have to keep a tally of how many times you bring him up or say 'i miss joe'. they find it precious that you act that way for him 

when he first met your best friends over dinner, he was lowkey intimated by them. they're so protective over you, so they had this tough front on. the entire dinner was like a test for him, and he passed it with flying colors

they watched as he paid such close attention to everything you said, how he was holding your hand under the table, how he subtly checked in on you to see if you were comfortable, offering his jacket in case you were cold, stayed off his phone the entire time, his nonchalant & genuine compliments towards you, making sure you were included in all the conversations, actively engaging with your friends and making a genuine effort to get to know them, his gentle touches like placing his arm around you or lightly rubbing your arm, how he spoke so highly of you, how he took care of the small things such as filling your water glass without you even having to ask, the little inside jokes you two had, and noticing and responding to your little signals when you got anxious that only your friends knew about until now

after the dinner, your girls pulled you over and they had the biggest smiles on their faces. they told you to send them a save-the-date invite ASAP because they knew you were going to marry that man. they saw the way he acted around you and that alone was enough to seal the deal 

his friends loved you too. they instantly noticed how perfectly you matched joe's vibe, how happy you made him, and how you were practically made for one another. they called you two peanut butter & jelly; you went together so well

game days were always so fun for you two

you grew up in a football family so you were already a big football girl before you even met joe. being a football players girlfriend was written in the stars for you 

joe didn't believe you initially when you mentioned to him how much you loved football. he thought you were just saying that to impress him. he found out the hard way that you were being serious 

you two were watching a MNF game (prior to actually becoming boyfriend/girlfriend) and your (then) favorite team was playing against one of their longtime rivals. joe's jaw was on the floor the entire game because of how you were screaming at the tv, jumping onto your feet at every bullshit flag & call, and so locked in on everything that was going on 

your keenness towards football made your relationship even more exciting. you'd get to watch your boyfriend do what he loved, which happened to be one of your favorite things in the world

seeing you in his suite every week gave him an extra boost. he knew you were watching him and he wanted to make you proud & happy at all times 

he also loved to see your game-day outfits. seeing his name, his number, his colors all around your body did some unspeakable things to him. sometimes he wondered how fast it would take for anyone to notice he was missing. the storage closet seemed like the prime quickie spot on game days ;) 

you had a routine before kickoff too. you'd go down to the sidelines before the start of the game to give joe a little pep-talk and it always ended with a passionate kiss and little handshake you two made up on your first date (a sort of good luck manifestation tactic). at the end of the game, win or loss, you'd be waiting in the tunnel to give him his post-game kiss and a singular rose (as you know, he loves getting flowers)

the orange rose you gave him after the 2021 AFC championship game (the super-bowl sending game) sits in his office. he got it pressed and plated by a professional, a way to preserve the special memory that the flower held 

the love you two shared was truly something that only came around once every few lifetimes. it was so special, so rare, so exciting 

“every time I look at you, I feel like I’m falling in love all over again. the way you laugh, the way you move, even the way you think—it’s all so beautiful to me. i could spend the rest of my life just watching you be yourself and never get tired of it. i can’t stop thinking about you. you’re always on my mind, like a song stuck on repeat. every time I’m with you, it feels like the world fades away, and all I can see, hear, and feel is you. i’m completely mesmerized with everything about you," he said to you

--The End--

[verstappen-cult]

gonna take up on the request opening bc i love these lil blurbs you do with your moodboards! maybe "how they defend you online" esp charles and lando but if you feel like adding others its up to you !!

THE BOYS DEFENDING YOU FROM ONLINE HATE | F1 GRID

★ — LANDO NORRIS (4)

lando was streaming when you came home one day. once he heard the front door being closed and then your footsteps, he excused himself with his friends and viewers and went to greet you. when he came back, there were several texts from his friends letting him know of some not-so-friendly comments about you. suddenly, lando had something else to do and ended the whole thing. he did not tell you anything, lando simply waited until his next stream for what he wanted to do. it was very simple and definitely something lando would do; and staring right into the camera lando let the world know that if they don’t support his relationship, then he just doesn’t want their support at all. from then on, lando just blocked everyone who didn’t have anything good to say. you’re the most important person in his life, how can anyone hate you? and so, lando made a promise to himself: show the world the amazing girl you are.

★ — CHARLES LECLERC (16)

even way before you started dating charles, receiving hateful comments and messages was a common occurrence. of course your boyfriend knew about it, everyone could see what was happening just by choosing a random picture on your instagram and reading the replies. it was sad, awful. but you didn’t want charles to do anything, you stopped him a lot of times because you didn’t want to bring too much attention into the whole thing. charles loves you and that is all that matters to you. it was, well, okay… until things became a little to real, a little too much, and charles couldn’t sit back and do nothing. so with a little bit of help from his team, he managed to write a very good and long statement about the whole thing. there were mixed opinions but things quiet down a little. and you weren’t happy at first, but something as simple as seeing your comment section hate-free made you forgive him sooner.

★ — OSCAR PIASTRI (81)

oscar is a man of very few words and never engages in online drama or gossip. if and when he’s online, oscar just wants to see cute and funny videos. he’s a formula one driver and people should only be interested in that part of his life, but he knows that will never be the case. however, he’s still surprised to see various comments around twitter about you. they are not about how beautiful or intelligent you are or how happy you seem to make oscar with your pretty smile and sense of humor – not that they would know that. not that they deserve to know that, either. some part of him wants to reply to those people who definitely don’t know you, he’s angry, disgusted. and the rational part of him tells him to simply don’t say anything because they don’t deserve it. so, oscar just clicks to make a new tweet and begins with a simple phrase “you don’t know anything about me or my life…” and so on. maybe he sounded a little harsh, maybe things will get worse; he couldn’t care less, as long as you’re not mad with him, he can live with being the center of the drama. oscar will never let anyone disrespect you.

★ — MAX VERSTAPPEN (33/1)

max doesn’t care what people think and have to say about him, that ship has sailed a long time ago. but he can’t ignore when people say mean things about you, he just can’t, so, he doesn’t. max replies to every single tweet and comment on both his and your instagram that he sees, he goes directly to the point and if he’s mean then, who cares? maybe it’s a little bit childish but he doesn’t care, max will not allow anyone to talk shit about his girl. and if he needs to make a video or do an interview or whatever he needs to do to make people understand that you are part of his life and forever will be, then he will be more than happy to do them. max is almost never online, so when all of this happens he makes sure to make time to be online, to post a picture of you on his instagram story, to post a photo of your vacation together on his feed, to say how much he loves you via twitter, to mention you when he has the chance during an interview. he loves making you blush and seeing you trying to hide your smile when you see all those things. max also loves pissing people off.

★ — ALEX ALBON (23)

alex tries to be friendly. when he sees someone say something not good about his girlfriend, he doesn’t hesitate to prove them wrong and defend you. he knows you’re more than capable of doing it and has seen you doing it before; he loves it. but there’s this something inside of him trying to break free and just let everyone know the funny, pretty, amazing, kind girl he’s lucky to call his girlfriend. so, alex lets it free and goes liking, retweeting and replying to every single comment about you and how shiny and nice your hair is, how you seem to make alex so happy and how he’s always smiling around you (he makes sure to let them know why is that), how lucky alex is to have you by his side, and so on and on and on until there’s nothing more for him, until he can’t think about the mean things people said, until you are laughing next to him and calling him obsessed and kissing him like your life depends on it.

★ — DANIEL RICCIARDO (3)

daniel chooses a catchy song and changes some of the lyrics, then sets his phone down and sits with a big smile and his guitar. when the video starts, he simply says “this is dedicated to all of the assholes thinking that is okay to hate on someone’s girlfriend just because.” and then he starts singing. there are a lot of bad words and cursing and long pauses looking directly into the camera without losing that big and pretty smile he has. daniel then uploads the video to all his platforms with a little paragraph about why bullying is bad and why you should mind your own business because he’s not that interesting anyway and it won’t make him break up with you because some trolls are practically begging him to. he ends up getting in trouble for not consulting with his team before doing what he did, something that has him going viral, so viral that people outside of formula one and people who don’t even who he is talk about it. exactly what he wanted.

★ — MICK SCHUMACHER (47)

the moment mick has to hold you in his arms as you cry because you’d read something mean about you, it’s the exact moment he decides to do something about it. he doesn’t want to cause drama or make things worse, so, it takes him a little while and some long calls with his sister to know what to do. mick puts the poetry classes you two take a few months ago to good use and writes the most beautiful and romantic poem you and everyone would ever read. it is about you, about his love for you, about what you mean to him and everything he likes about you. he posts a little phrase to his instagram stories and sets a time and day for when it will be posted it. when the day cames and you get to read it, you end up crying again but for a whole different reason. it’s not that you didn’t know mick loved you but it’s the gesture, the time he spent doing it, the fact that he wanted to do it and wanted the whole world to read his love letter to you, something that will forever be there.

© VERSTAPPEN-CULT ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hello!! I hope you’re doing amazing!!! I really like your megumi works, so id like to request a fic where him and the reader have a very under cover secret relationship and yuji,nobara and gojo try to figure out why fushiguros been acting so weird. I’d love to see it! And more megumi works 🙏🏽. It’s just a request it’s totally okay if you don’t want to!! Hope you have an amazing week!! 💗💗

Okay, I probably never laughed this much while writing a fic lmao, this right here is ridiculous y'all

Keeping your relationship with Megumi a secret until you can't anymore

Pairing: Megumi x fem!reader; pure comedy friendship with Nobara and Yuji lol

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis: Megumi Fushiguro’s secret relationship with you has been going smoothly—until his friends start noticing his odd behavior. Yuji and Nobara grow suspicious, launching a hilariously relentless mission to uncover what he’s hiding, while Gojo sits back, amused by the chaos. Will the two of you finally confess?

Warnings: y'all, I almost died writing this hilarious piece of work lmao, I never praise my own work but that bonus has me rolling, if you're looking for a bandage for your broken heart there it is, fluff fluff fluff

Please let me know what you think! If this does well, I might write some more about the chaotic trio lol

You never thought keeping a secret would be this much fun.

Your relationship with Megumi started quietly, just like most things with him. There was no grand confession, no dramatic kiss in the rain. It was slow, understated, like the way shadows stretch out under the setting sun. You had been drawn into his orbit naturally, like you’d been waiting for it to happen all along.

Still, it wasn’t exactly planned. One moment you were sitting next to each other in silence, and the next you were sitting a little too close. Your fingers brushed. His eyes lingered. The air between you became charged with unspoken things, and soon enough, stolen moments were the only thing keeping you sane. The decision to keep it quiet came easily: neither of you had any desire to deal with the chaos that would break out if anyone found out. And besides, it was kind of thrilling.

But now it’s starting to get tricky.

It’s a normal Wednesday when the subtle shift in the atmosphere begins. Megumi is acting just a little too normal - stiffer, as if he’s hyper-aware of everything. He’s not good at this, at pretending everything is fine when there’s something simmering underneath. And unfortunately, it doesn’t take long for his odd behavior to catch some unwanted attention.

“Hey, Megumi,” Yuji calls from across the room, his eyes squinting suspiciously.

“You’re acting weird. Are you okay?”

Megumi doesn’t even flinch, though his eyes are literally glued to the ground.

“I’m fine.”

That’s it. Flat, simple, closed. He’s good at short answers. It should be enough. It’s not.

Yuji leans over the back of the couch, brow furrowed in confusion.

“No, you’re definitely acting off. You haven’t been sarcastic all morning. And usually by now, you’ve threatened to hit me at least twice.”

Megumi sighs, fingers twitching in his lap, the only outward sign of his discomfort.

“I’m fine, Yuji. Maybe you’re just imagining things.”

Yuji is definitely not convinced. He glances at Nobara, who’s lounging nearby with her arms crossed, already suspicious. She had been eyeing Megumi the second he walked in, catching onto his strange energy faster than Yuji had.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed it too,” she adds, voice sharp.

“Something’s up. You’ve been... I don’t know, distracted?”

“Seriously, I’m—” Megumi starts, but Nobara cuts him off, grinning.

“You’re not hiding anything from us, are you, Fushiguro?” Her eyes gleam with mischief, and you can tell she’s just playing around.

For now.

“Oh, I think I know it!”, Yuji suddenly announces with his arms stretched in the air.

“Do you really, idiot?”, Nobara remarks.

You almost lose your cool, cold sweat dripping down your neck while waiting for Yuji’s next words. He didn’t catch it, did he? Not when you’ve been carefully avoiding being too close to Megumi while they’re around since you first joined Jujutsu High. He simply can’t know it-

Megumi’s eyes flick to you, a barely noticeable glance paired with his reddened cheeks, but it’s enough. Too much. Your heart skips in your chest, and you quickly look away, hoping no one else caught it. But then-

“Oh.” Yuji’s eyes widen in realization, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Oh, I get it now.”

Megumi’s spine visibly stiffens.

“No, you don’t.”

But it’s too late. Yuji has already decided he’s figured it out.

“You’ve got a crush on someone, don’t you?” Yuji practically shouts, leaning forward in his seat with excitement.

“That’s why you’ve been all weird lately!”

Nobara sits up, clearly intrigued by this new development. “Wait, what? Megumi has a crush?”

“I do not,” Megumi says, but he’s starting to lose his calm now.

You can tell by the way his hand runs through his hair a little too harshly, as if he’s trying to ground himself.

You bite back a smile. Megumi can be as composed as he wants, but when it comes to things like this, he’s terrible at hiding it.

“You’re totally lying,” Nobara declares, standing up and crossing the room to get a better look at him.

“Who is it? Do we know them?”

Megumi groans, pressing his fingers to his temples as if he’s already getting a headache. You’re trying hard not to laugh because if you do, they’ll turn their attention to you. You’ve been careful this whole time to stay out of the line of fire, just a silent observer to this chaos.

But you know it’s only a matter of time.

“I’m not lying,” Megumi grumbles, clearly regretting every decision that led him to this point. “There’s no one.”

It’s almost convincing. Almost.

Yuji leans back, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Nah, you’re definitely lying. You’re terrible at it. You get all tense, like right now.”

“I’m always tense,” Megumi shoots back.

“True,” Nobara agrees,

“but this is different. You’re acting sketchy.”

Megumi shoots her a flat look, but Nobara only smirks back. She’s having way too much fun with this.

“Is it the one we’ve met at that pizza place yesterday, the one with a big ass and those nice hair?”, Yuji shouts into the conversation.

“The girl from yesterday?”, you repeat before you can stop yourself, arms crossing in front of your tightening chest.

“You guys are gross.”

Megumi’s gaze meets yours, panic shimmering underneath the surface while he fumbles with his own hands.

“What? No! It’s not that one!”

“Oh, not that one, huh? Who is it, then?”

“Fine,” Megumi says, standing abruptly.

“I’m going for a walk.”

Before they can say another word, he stalks out of the room, leaving you alone with Yuji and Nobara. You let out a quiet breath of relief, grateful they didn’t notice you.

Yuji turns to Nobara, eyes wide.

“This is huge. Megumi’s got a crush.”

Nobara hums thoughtfully, rubbing her chin.

“He’s never shown any interest in anyone before. It must be serious.”

“I wonder who it is,” Yuji muses, glancing around the room as if expecting the answer to jump out at him.

Your pulse quickens. If you stay here any longer, you’re going to blow your cover.

“I’m gonna grab some water,” you announce quickly, standing up.

You manage to make it halfway to the kitchen before Nobara’s voice calls after you, filled with sudden realization.

“Wait a minute. You were with him all morning, weren’t you?”

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Weren’t you two on a mission yesterday?” Yuji adds, piecing it together far too quickly for your liking.

“And last weekend, too?”

Panic rises in your throat, but you manage to keep your expression neutral when you turn back to face them.

“We’ve just been on a few missions together. That’s all” you say, voice steady.

Nobara narrows her eyes, scrutinizing you.

“Uh-huh. And you didn’t notice him acting weird?”

“Not really. Maybe he’s just worn-out” you lie, doing your best to stay calm.

Yuji tilts his head, still unconvinced but willing to drop it for now.

“Yeah, maybe.”

But Nobara isn’t so easily swayed.

“You sure? Because you’re looking a little-”

“Nobara,” you interrupt,

“you’re overthinking it.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, with a final hum of suspicion, she shrugs and lets it go.

But just as you think you’re in the clear, a new voice cuts through the tension.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

Gojo saunters in, sunglasses perched lazily on his nose, a knowing smirk already playing on his lips. He must have been eavesdropping because he’s grinning like he’s just hit the jackpot.

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to figure out what’s up with Megumi,” he notes, voice dripping with amusement.

“That kid’s an enigma even to himself.”

Yuji perks up at the sight of Gojo, excited to rope someone else into their investigation.

“We think he’s got a crush.”

Gojo pauses, grin widening.

 “Oh, is that so?”

You stand frozen in place as Gojo’s eyes slowly slide over to you, lingering for a beat too long. He knows. You don’t know how he knows, but he knows. He’s always been good at reading between the lines, picking up on things that most people miss. Megumi that traitor, did he really leave you all alone with these two and now even Gojo?

His smirk deepens.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, leaning casually against the wall, clearly enjoying this far too much.

“I wonder who it could be.”

You’re going to kill Megumi. You’re both dead. This is it. The end of your secret.

But before Gojo can say anything else, Megumi walks back into the room, his expression darkening as he notices Gojo’s presence.

“What are you doing here?” Megumi asks, his voice flat.

“Oh, just catching up with the kids. They were telling me about your little crush” Gojo replies innocently.

Megumi’s eyes dart between you, Yuji, Nobara, and Gojo, clearly calculating his next move.

“There’s no crush,” he replies, exasperation creeping into his voice again.

“Yuji’s just being an idiot.”

“Hey!” Yuji protests, but Megumi ignores him.

Gojo chuckles, pushing off the wall with an exaggerated stretch.

“Well, I think I’ll let you all handle this. Good luck with the investigation.”

He winks in your direction before sauntering out of the room, leaving you tense and trying to avoid Megumi’s gaze.

Yuji and Nobara are still watching him, and you can tell they’re not going to let this go anytime soon.

“So,” Nobara says, crossing her arms. “Are you going to tell us who it is, or are we going to have to follow you around until we figure it out?”

Megumi pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly fed up. “There’s no one.”

“You’re such a bad liar,” Yuji mutters, shaking his head.

Megumi’s about to respond, but then his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, glances at the screen, and his expression softens for just a split second before he tucks it away again.

You know who it is. He knows you know.

You’re barely holding back your laughter at this point, trying to keep a straight face. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you have to look away before anyone else notices.

But Megumi, in his ever-stubborn way, is still trying to salvage this mess.

“I’m going for another walk,” he announces abruptly, clearly done with this interrogation.

“Uh-huh,” Nobara calls after him, grinning like a cat who just caught a mouse.

“Sure, go clear your head, lover boy.”

You can’t help but chuckle quietly as Megumi shoots you a helpless look before heading out the door.

As soon as he’s gone, Yuji leans over to Nobara, whispering loudly.

“Do you think he’s texting his crush?”

Nobara grins, leaning back in her chair.

“Definitely.”

You bite your lip, doing your best to keep your composure while peeking at your phone.

Sorry for the mess. Meet me later in my dorm?

This is going to get much harder to hide.

Later that night, when you and Megumi finally have a moment to yourselves at his dorm, he sighs heavily, dropping down onto the couch beside you. He looks exhausted, and not just from the missions. The day’s events have clearly taken their toll.

“This is getting ridiculous,” he mutters, rubbing his temples.

You smile softly, leaning into his side.

“It’s kind of your fault, you know.”

Megumi groans.

“I know.”

There’s a moment of silence as you both sit there, the weight of your secret relationship pressing down on you. But it’s not a bad weight. It’s more like a blanket, warm and comforting, something shared between the two of you. Something that’s just yours.

Still, you can’t help but tease him.

“You’re really bad at lying.”

Megumi turns his head to look at you, a small, exasperated smile pulling at his lips.

“Shut up.”

You laugh quietly, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the tension melt away as his hand finds yours, fingers intertwining. For now, it’s just the two of you, and that’s all that matters.

“Maybe we should tell them,” you suggest softly, half-joking.

Megumi’s body stiffens for a second, but then he relaxes, a soft hum escaping his throat.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, voice low.

“But not yet.”

You smile, content with the secrecy for now. It’s your little world, and as chaotic as it is, it’s yours to navigate together.

And for now, that’s enough.

Bonus:

The decision to finally tell them wasn’t exactly well-planned. In fact, it wasn’t planned at all.

It happened after another long day of training. Yuji had been particularly insufferable, constantly pestering Megumi about his “mystery crush,” while Nobara was fuming over how Megumi wouldn’t let her in on the secret.

You and Megumi exchanged looks all day, the unspoken question hanging between you both: Should we just tell them?

By the time the sun set and everyone was lounging in the common area, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. Nobara was pacing the room, practically radiating with frustration, while Yuji sat on the edge of the couch, watching Megumi like a hawk.

You were sitting next to Megumi, trying not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. You hadn’t expected the pressure to mount like this. They’d been relentless for days now.

“Okay, I’m done!”

Nobara throws her hands in the air, eyes narrowing at Megumi.

“I can’t take it anymore! You have to tell us. Who is it?”

Yuji nods rapidly, his eyes wide and pleading.

“Please, man, just tell us! The suspense is killing me.”

Megumi lets out a long, exasperated sigh. He’s been handling this for a week now, and it’s clearly taken its toll. He shoots you a quick, sideways glance, silently asking for your input.

You shrug with a small smile, mouthing.

“Your call.”

With another sigh, Megumi straightens up and clears his throat.

“Fine,” he says, his voice firm.

“I’ll tell you.”

Both Nobara and Yuji freeze, their eyes going wide with excitement.

“Finally!” Nobara yells, nearly vibrating with impatience.

“Okay, okay. Who is it? Is it someone we know?” Yuji questions, leaning in closer.

Megumi looks at you again, and you give him a reassuring nod.

Then, with a small smirk tugging at his lips, Megumi casually slips his hand into yours, right there in front of them.

At first, there’s silence. Complete, deafening silence.

Yuji’s mouth falls open, eyes flicking between your joined hands and your faces, his brain clearly short-circuiting.

Nobara, on the other hand, just stares. Blinks. Then her hands slowly rise to cover her mouth, her eyes growing impossibly wide.

“Wait—” Yuji finally speaks, voice squeaking a little.

“YOU—YOU AND—”

Megumi sighs.

“Yeah. Me and (y/n). We’ve been dating for a while now.”

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

“WHAT?!” Yuji practically screams, jumping up from the couch and pointing at your intertwined hands like they’re some sort of mythical creature.

“NO WAY! This whole time? You guys were dating this whole time?!”

Nobara just starts shrieking incoherently. It’s a mix of disbelief and outrage, her voice a high-pitched wail as she dramatically collapses onto the couch like she’s been personally betrayed.

“YOU HID THIS FROM US?!” she yells, clutching a pillow like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

“HOW COULD YOU?! I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!”

You burst out laughing, unable to keep it in any longer. Megumi pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting every choice that led to this moment.

Yuji is pacing now, running his hands through his hair, still trying to process everything.

“How did I not see it? I mean, I thought you had a crush, but I didn’t think it was… this!” he gestures wildly between the two of you, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Oh my God!” Nobara yells again, standing up suddenly.

“This is insane! You’ve been sneaking around this whole time? That’s it. I demand details! Right now. How long has this been going on?”

“Yeah!” Yuji chimes in, pointing accusingly at Megumi.

“How did you manage to keep this a secret from me of all people?”

You laugh again, raising your hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay, calm down! It’s been a few months. We just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“A few months?” Nobara shrieks, grabbing Yuji’s arm like she needs to hold onto something before she passes out.

“That’s practically a year in relationship time! How did you keep this from us? I’m so offended right now.”

“I knew you were acting weird!” Yuji exclaims, throwing his hands in the air.

“All those times you disappeared, Megumi! I knew something was up!”

Megumi groans, running a hand through his hair.

“You guys are overreacting.”

“Overreacting? This is the most exciting thing that’s happened all year and you hid it from us! You’re for the streets, Fushiguro!” Nobara echoes, voice high-pitched with disbelief.

Yuji nods, agreeing way too quickly.

“Yeah, we need details. Dates, first kiss, how did it start, everything.”

Before you can answer, a familiar voice interrupts the chaos.

“Oh, you guys are just figuring this out now?”

You all turn to see Gojo leaning casually against the doorway, a smug grin plastered on his face, arms crossed like he’s been watching this unfold for a while.

“What?” Nobara screeches again.

“YOU KNEW?!”

Gojo shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Obviously. It wasn’t exactly hard to figure out.”

Yuji’s jaw drops to the floor.

“You didn’t tell us?”

Gojo tilts his head, grinning.

“And ruin the fun of watching you two idiots freak out? Why would I do that?”

Nobara looks like she’s about to combust.

“So, you just let us suffer, while you were sitting there knowing the whole time?!”

Gojo shrugs again, completely unbothered.

“You’re welcome.”

Yuji groans, dramatically flopping onto the couch beside Nobara.

“I can’t believe this. I feel so betrayed.”

Nobara crosses her arms, huffing.

“Yeah, same. This is worse than the time Yuji ate my fries.”

“Hey, that was an accident!” Yuji protests.

Nobara glares at him.

“It was not an accident.”

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[pepperyduck]

you walk around the corner to see gojo’s girlfriend sitting on top of his desk and him talking to her sitting on his chair between her legs. so much for surprising him with your early coming home from your work trip. even tho he’s your husband you don’t dare take a step further keeping your shock to a silent gasp, worried you’ll get caught. your marriage had been arranged, and even though you loved him and he was a good caring husband, he was never in love with you. while you figured this was happening it still hurt seeing him so happy and full of life when he’s engaging in just simple conversation with her.

almost immediately after he notices you avoiding him and keeping to yourself even more than normal. when he brings it up, you tell him you know about his girlfriend after having listen to them talking for a long time before they started to “make out.” while Gojo isn’t mean or smug about it, he doesn’t deny it leaving you an absolute emotional wreck.

hi honey! thank u for this request, u get me so well :'). i hope i delivered what u were looking for! much love hun!

word count: 1.9k

warnings: hurt/no comfort, angst, cheating, mentions of divorce, manipulation if u look hard enough, a couple mentions of sex but no active descriptions. (18+ mdni!)

notes: so i haven't written about gojo yet but i absolutely love this man. let me know what u think! also i did not proofread this, very sorry, i wrote half of it on my lunch break @ work.

you can find part two here

masterlist

“satoruuu!” you chirp your husband’s name as you enter the home, the ending syllables of his name echoing throughout the massive entryway, and you’re met with silence. you drop your bags in front of the door, you can’t help but be enthusiastic about seeing your husband – you’ve been on that stupid business trip that took way too long, and you feel lucky you were able to come back home a few days earlier.

a boisterous laugh comes from upstairs in the empty house, signaling your husband is somewhere around your office – maybe he’s on the phone with a friend and didn’t hear you from all the way downstairs. you smile to yourself and run up the stairs, staying quiet as possible so you can surprise satoru – tiptoeing closer and closer, you see your office door wide open. when you peek around the doorframe into the room, you see your husband, dressed in one of those expensive shirts you bought for your last anniversary –

and there’s a girl, a girl you’ve never seen, perched atop your desk, smiling widely and proud from a joke she cracked to make satoru laugh so loudly.

you draw your head back quickly, praying neither one of them saw you, because you had no idea how to approach the situation at hand. that girl was more than a friend, for sure, with the way satoru was feeling up and down her thighs from sitting in between them. for a second, you feel as if your whole marriage was a lie. 5 years, down the drain, and how many of those years were spent with other women, too?

satoru gojo was the son to your parent’s closest counterparts – you grew up around him, not too close, but enough to know enough about one another by the time you became adults. after college, neither one of you held a long-term partner, so your parents and his decided to arrange a marriage for the both of you. you willingly accepted – satoru was a sweet, caring boy for the most part – yet unbeknownst to you, a cheater who never really had any intentions of staying loyal to his wife. in his mind, the marriage was nothing more than a benefit for the both of you; he agreed to get his parents off his back and live a comfortable life because of the successful jobs you both obtained. you were content taking the man’s last name, having gradually fallen in love with him over time, even planning to have kids with him one day.

all your future dreams and past feelings come to a halt when you see the man with another woman.

you creep back down the stairs, quietly so no one catches on, and you grab your bags and leave again. you don’t go too far at all; you stay down the street in your car so you can see whenever your husband leaves. once he’s on his way to go drop his mistress off, you scurry back to the house and take all your things inside. satoru returns hours later, well past after dark, greeted with you in the kitchen finishing up dinner.

“oh- honey,” satoru perks up upon walking through the door, “i didn’t think you’d be back so early.” he walks up and wraps his arms around your waist from behind, giving you a tight squeeze and kissing your neck. your first instinct is to relax into his touch, as you had always done for years before, but the hurt inside of you causes you to stiffen up at the hug.

“hi, satoru,” you faintly reply, eyes diverting from everything else to the saucepan simmering in front of you on the stove. satoru always had a knack to be able to tell when something was off with you, even from the smallest bit of action. this was no different.

satoru unravels his arms from around you and leans onto the counter adjacent to the stove, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “everything okay, sweetie?” the pet name he most commonly used made your stomach hurt and your chest tighten.

“mmhm,” you bluff, “just a rough trip, i’m really exhausted,” you tell him, gaining a bit of strength to look him in the eyes with a tired expression and a weak smile.

“aww, you should’ve told me, honey. i would’ve got us something while i was out,” satoru says, his sickeningly sweet voice causing a bout of anger inside you.

“i was going to surprise you, but you weren’t here when i got home,” you lie to him, gazing back down to the saucepan and turning the eye off, “where were you so late?” you ask, although you already knew the answer. the question was just a meaningless test.

“ah, i was out with kento. he wanted to treat me to drinks since he got a new promotion,” satoru lies right back, but you see right through it.

“really? good for him,” you compliment his friend, able to work yourself up a little more to keep a straight face in front of your husband.

satoru couldn’t tell yet, but your heart cracked each time you looked at him. you wanted to slap the man to the ground and interrogate him as to why he’s sleeping around – but you only had evidence you saw with your own eyes. you figured he would most likely try to flip things around if you accused him of cheating and pin the blame on actions of your own that didn’t exist.

so, you make the noble decision to keep quiet about your knowledge for now.

days pass, the scene of your husband and the other woman slowly ate away at you, it chipped at the loving wife persona you displayed for satoru, more and more with each hour that came and went. your husband’s usual upbeat personality remained the same, and you tried your hardest to match it, continuing to kiss and be intimate with the man as much as he wanted.

but as time grew, your feelings slowly started to show. you couldn’t help it – who could help it? – being cheated on tears away someone’s entire confidence and demeanor. for years, satoru had feigned innocence and loyalty, he was a perfect husband to you, but maybe he was too perfect for someone like you.

he was his family’s most prized heir, and you were just some girl that got lucky enough to marry him, by some chance of fate. you hated the fact that you realized all you were to him was some … possession, someone there for convenience and convenience alone.

“what’s got you down in the dumps, hmm?” satoru teases as he pokes at your shoulder. you’re laid with your back facing him, trying to fall asleep after a long, emotionally painful night of sex.

you don’t reply at first, you just roll over a little more so he can’t see your sad face, curling into yourself at his touch. there was never going to be a perfect time for you to confront the man. but all the painful feelings you’d been holding on to for weeks at this point get the best of you, and a tear makes its way out of your eye and onto the silk sheets below.

“satoru,” you peep, barely audible as you continue to face away from your husband.

“hmm, honey?” he hums, so effortlessly faking a kind tone.

“who’s that girl?” you question, “i saw her here when i came home.”

“oh,” satoru replies, and you can feel his weight shift next to you so he’s laying on his back.

silence falls over the room, you wait on a reply that satoru refuses to give you for multiple minutes. he lays there, contemplating a lie, or whether or not he should come clean.

it’s not like you’d leave him, anyway.

“i’ve been dating her for a few months now,” satoru tells you, his voice no longer sweet or caring, just plainly spitting out the words you didn’t want to hear from him, ever. the tone in his voice upsets you even greater, he doesn’t even try to deny it, which causes an even greater pain to expand inside of you.

satoru’s new indifference to your feelings hurts a lot more than you’d ever imagined. you tried to psych yourself up, telling yourself that it was okay, you’d be happy if he just lied to you about the whole situation and you’d never bring it up again. his honesty is excruciating, it causes your heart to finally shatter into a million pieces when he confesses everything so guilt-free.

“why…?” you whimper, still unable to gain any of the forged confidence you had for weeks before to look him in the eyes again. you couldn’t stand to look at those beautiful blue eyes you’d fallen so deeply in love with over time, because you knew all they’d do is glare back at you unimpressed.

“well,” satoru starts, “what did you expect? this whole marriage was a fluke, anyway,” he mutters, still too honest for you to be able to feel any comfort in his words.

satoru doesn’t care, though, he never really cared, it’s all so agonizingly obvious to you now.

what did you expect?

you knew what you expected from this marriage, you treated satoru with the utmost care, even if it was a situation you were both forced into. you expected him to stay true to his vows, to be there in all the rough patches, and he was, only until it comes to your attention he wasn’t.

the sweet, considerate, thoughtful husband you once knew disappeared in the matter of a few minutes. all that remained of him now was a hard shell of what he was.

you decide to not reply to satoru anymore, to save yourself from anymore heartbreak – as if you had any left for him to smash into a billion pieces. the only actions you take are to curl up into an even smaller ball and allow the flood gates to open – you begin to coat the soft sheets in your salty tears. satoru only groans at your crying, like it was such a burden he broke your heart, as if he’s not the one to blame for everything going downhill.

the bed sinks in as satoru stands up, sighing. his footsteps shuffle behind you, you hear his keys jingle and his shoes scuff against the floor as he puts them on. you see him walk over to your dresser – the one he made for you with a huge mirror years ago – and check his reflection to fix his hair. soon after, he walks over to you and plants a meaningless kiss to your temple.

“i’m going to go see my girlfriend now,” the utterance of the word “girlfriend” makes you squeeze your eyes shut, “if you want a divorce, let me know so i can get a lawyer.”

satoru walks away and grabs his coat on the dresser, giving himself another good look in the mirror before walking over to the bedroom door.

“bye, honey.”

he leaves behind a broken wife, who’s too beautiful inside and out for her own good. he knows you won’t really leave him; the suggestion of a divorce was to only get a reaction out of you, he was bored the instant you had no rebuttal.

you only continue to cry into the night, falling asleep alone, the only thing to accompany you is the fact your marriage was a lie. satoru will come back, but things will never be the same.

[vonlycsnn]

✧ — PICTURE PERFECT

~ VON LYCAON X GENDER NEUTRAL ARTIST! READER.

SUMMARY: You're a famous artist/illustrator in New Eridu, absolutely tired of trying to deal with recent problems. then you decide to call Victoria Housekeeping Co. for some help, it was the best decision of your life.

- cw/tw: none.

- A/N: im so obsessed over this man its genuinely concerning, pls help. also this might be messy/ooc(?)...it's my first time writing this kinda stuff so bare with me.

Being such a well-known artist in New Eridu is tough work. Not only do you have to keep up with your clients' demands and expectations, you also have to deal with thieves trying to steal your work. 

You were thankful that some of your most valuable artworks were in museums that had incredible security, but even so, those bastards are still trying to break into your mansion and steal your canvases that have yet to be delivered or even unfinished.

Understandably, you grew tired of all the stuff you went through, slowly becoming restless from the amount of sleepless nights you had to fight through. To the point where you wanted to quit art completely but you just couldn't. Art was your passion. You've been drawing for nearly your entire life; you couldn't quit now.

Thankfully, a kind client of yours took notice of your situation and recommended Victoria Housekeeping to you. At first you were skeptical; there's no way a housekeeping company could help you with these problems, right?

—

"I don't think they'll be able to help me..." you kindly said. The client merely smiled and gave you a pat on the shoulder.

"Just give them a call. Trust me."

—

And here you are now, constantly being served and protected by the members of Victoria Housekeeping. You were extremely grateful for their service; they've made your life so much better than you expected. 

You've grown so close to them that you became one of their most respected clients, having to be close friends with each of the members. You didn't want to say that you had a favorite attendant, but you do have a preferred one. 

Rina, although her general services are incredible and you'd always find yourself having a great time with her, her culinary skills are...questionable at best, but still, you didn't want to upset her by any means. 

Corin is a sweet girl. When the two of you became acquainted, you saw her as a little sister. Although you were surprised at how strong she is for her age, you didn't think much of it. The problem with her is how much she doubts herself; you'd have to constantly remind her that she's not doing anything wrong, and as much as you hate to admit it, you were pretty annoyed.

Ellen, well...she isn't too enthusiastic about regular housekeeping jobs, not to mention she's always low-energy. But the number of times she saved you from the most dangerous situations was enough for her to gain your respect. Plus, talking about internet trends with her is always fun.

And there's Lycaon. Oh, did you have so many words about him. To keep it simple, he was just right. His services are always near perfect; he has saved you countless times from hollows and thieves; he is elegant; he is a gentleman; you could ramble about him all day for all you cared.

To be perfectly honest, you grew a crush on him. Every time he'd lean behind you to see what you're working on, you'd always freeze in place. Too flustered by what was happening. Every time you'd hear his voice, you'd melt. The way he acts just makes your heart flutter...He was perfect.

As your own personal request for him, you wished he'd spend more time with you. Be it in the mansion or outside. He smiled, bowing down in front of you.

—

"As you wish, master. I'm more than happy to spend time with an amazing artist such as yourself." He said. You saw his tail wagging ever so slightly, but decided to say nothing; you merely smiled.

—

Every now and then he'd come to your office to check on you; he'd bring you food every time you lost track of time; he'd give you a massage whenever you had free time.

"It's always important to maintain a good posture, master." As he would say.

But being an attendant for a full-time artist comes with its own challenges. Other than having to constantly be on guard at night for possible thieves, he'd always let out an irritated sigh whenever he saw your workspace covered in paint. Especially when you're making abstract art. But he understands that art can be messy sometimes, and that's fine.

Every time you get a commission to make abstract art, you'd always rent a workspace outside of the mansion. Just so Lycaon doesn't have to deal with the mess.

But other than that, the two of you were grateful for each other's company.

Much to your dismay, however, your feelings for him grew the longer you spent time with him. You became so close to Lycaon than any of the other attendants; he knew your weakness, he knew your strengths, and he even knew some of your secrets.

You couldn't express your feelings for him with words, and so you did what you knew best: to draw. As a request, you asked Lycaon if you could take a few pictures of him. Of course he obliged. Amidst the photography, he asked.

"If I were to be bold to ask, master, what is the purpose of this?"

You merely smiled at him, saying that it's nothing important. A part of him knew about what you're planning, but he decided to keep quiet and merely chuckled.

After the interaction, you quickly but stealthily took a small canvas and a few of your painting supplies.

—

Days passed, and the painting was finally ready. You have pulled many all-nighters to finish this; you spent so much time carefully adding details and capturing his looks to the formerly blank canvas. And you couldn't be happier with the results; you just hope it was enough to make him understand the message you're trying to pass.

You took a deep breath and finally called for him. He quickly arrives at your workspace, noticing the medium-sized easel and the small paint stains on the floor. Your back was facing towards him, trying to hide the painting from his view. Realizing what to do, you flipped the canvas and turned towards him. He was understandably confused, and you were too nervous to say anything. You quickly walked up to him and handed the canvas to him.

"Here. I...made this for you." You said in such a shaky voice, he was almost concerned. But he gently grabs the canvas, and finally, he turns it to reveal the drawing. He was... speechless. Absolutely speechless. Just standing there, appreciating what he's seeing. You stuttered, trying to get words out of your mouth.

"...as a way to express how much I'm thankful for everything you've done. You're an amazing attendant, and I wanted to repay you somehow. W-well, other than using money." You awkwardly laughed, fidgeting with your fingers.

Lycaon continues to silently admire your work of him. You captured his features so well; the colors were so nice to look at, the pose, the lighting... it was so beautiful. He always appreciates the time and effort you put into your artwork. Secretly, he has been going to your workspace at night to admire all of the work you've done. He couldn't help but laugh once he saw how red your face was.

"My sincere apologies, master. But if I may ask, what are you trying to say?" He asked, almost in a teasing matter. Oh, he knows.

You panicked, so overwhelmed by the situation at hand. A part of you is trying to come up with lies, but ultimately, you gave in.

After taking a deep breath, you officially admitted your true feelings. Well, in the simplest way possible. You couldn't help but cringe at what you've said. This is so embarrassing, you thought.

Lycaon smiled, looking back at the painting to caress the sides of the canvas. He chuckled once more.

"What an astonishing way to express such feelings towards someone. I must say, master, I'm truly impressed."

The thiren carefully puts the canvas on a small table next to him, then he walks towards you. Gently grabbing your hand.

"As for what are my thoughts regarding all of this," he then proceeds to kiss the back of your hand. You jumped to his action, watching every move he made. He looked back at you softly.

There you heard it—the words that'd make you fall to the ground instantly.

"I'd be delighted to be more than an attendant for you, my dear."

[golden1u5t]

talk to me | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: smut

ꨄ summary: making spencer talk to you while you jerk him off.

it's almost laughable at how easily you can turn his brain off, how easy you can make the boy that never stops talking forget how to form a coherent sentence. it didn't take much to get him all flustered like that, it could start off as something as simple as a glance in his direction or whispering something like "you look so handsome today, baby" in his ear. 

you've never dated a guy that got worked up as fast as spencer did but you definitely didn't mind, you loved how sensitive he was and you used that to your advantage as much as you could.

"please, i can't- mmph- i can't take anymore!" spencer cried out, his hands grasping at the sheets so hard his knuckles were going white and his back arching from the bed just slightly. tears streamed down his pink cheeks as a copious amount of precum spilled down his shaft. he wanted to look at you, see your hand wrapped around his cock, but he couldn't keep his eyes open long enough to do so.

he had already came twice beforehand and you could hear it with how wet and loud it sounded each time you pumped your fist on his cock, the sound alone was enough to send him into another orgasm. 

"what did i say, spencer? keep talking or ill stop." you tilted your head and slowed your hand on his cock, earning yourself a pathetic whine from him. you gave him a moment to answer you before you pulled your hand away completely.

"no, please!" he let out a broken moan and opened his eyes, he reached for your hand to try and bring it back to his cock. that's all he cared about in that moment, getting you to touch him again. you raised your eyebrows at him and he quickly started to splutter out random facts again, not taking a breath between any of his words.

despite having said he couldn't take any more just moments earlier, the second you wrapped your hand around his cock again his hips were flexing up into your grasp. you tossed your leg over his and situated yourself on his thighs, leaning over his body just slightly.

spencer ended up on the subject of what happens to the brain during an orgasm, probably because he was close to having one himself and it was the only thing on his mind. you weren't really interested in what he was saying, you just wanted to hear him struggle to get his words out while you touched him. you started to move your hand faster and swipe your thumb over the sensitive tip, his hips started to jut up and moans became more frequent than words.

"spence-" you didn't even get the chance to give your warning since he interrupted you with a particularly loud moan and his cum spilling down your hand. he had thought that since you picked up the pace you were going to let him cum but he realized that definitely wasn't the case when he peeled his eyes open and saw you glaring at him.

"i'm sorry, i thought- m'sorry."

[nouvxllev]

"When I saw you

I fell in love, and

you smiled

because you knew

-William Shakespeare"

LOVE.LOVE.LOVE.

I wanted to make a request! I had a similar interaction like this, and when I had read this, I fell inloveeeeee with this qoute sm. Can you do a Wednesday x Reader? In which it's Wednesday who actually falls inlove 😭

amore, amore, amore.

Pairing: Author!Wednesday Addams x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 6.0k (oh what the fuck)

Warnings: told in WEDNESDAYS POV AND ALTERNATE TIMELINES!, the gomezification of wednesday addams prevails, yes they meet at a museum, also kinda 7 husbands of evelyn hugo coded, slight plottwist at the end!

a/n: aaaa ofc ofc!! also i absolutely love the idea where wednesday fell first and harder

masterlist

I believe they cursed me the moment their lips became something worth fighting for.

"If they intend to halt my publishing, then so be it. I have no interest in entertaining that brain-dead company over countless of reasons as to why I shouldn't spare a few weeks for myself who believe I will fall under their will."

"Wednesday, they're the ones who publish your books, you just can't ignore their calls."

"Barclay, has your brain deteriorated to a degree in such a way that you are forgetting it's my presence that upholds that fucking company? Without me, they are nothing. Have you forgotten with how much power I withhold over them, or have your scales reached that hollow of a brain?"

"You can't ignore the leverage they have over you, sure you have the amount of money, if not more, to sue them, but they could literally tip you off and brand you as some selfish author."

"Please do comprehensively explain to me as to why I would be a selfish author?"

"Wednesday Friday fucking Addams, it's because you're half-way across the fucking world at some fucking museum in Italy while you have a manuscript due a fucking week ago!"

"I fail to see my fault."

"Addams, if you don't get your shit together, I swear—"

I had solved countless of murders in my time of Nevermore. I had one thing to do when I finally left, and I was going to succeed.

If you had told me after I willingly left that horrid place you call an educating institution that I would experience the same fate as an author, I would've traced the outer skin of your face with a pocket knife and display it on your family's doorstep.

Barclay, amongst others, remained someone I held close. She could be infuriating, but no one would ever be much deserving of a terrible, terrible position than be under my control as my manager when I pursued writing.

But no one tells you how people could easily forget you in a matter of seconds if you don't make a name for yourself when you've put yourself out there, even if it's something far, far from your own.

I was only fortunate enough people enjoyed what I publish.

I couldn't care less if they didn't, that's why I found it hard to give two shits about what that damned company thought of my revised schedule. But I needed to make a living. To make something out of myself.

If I had continued my actions— in which I have full control over with—I could lose everything.

I could've build it up from scratch if it happened, but Lucifer knows how long would a simple idea for a plot that could get into the lack of attention span of the population could take.

I could lose the name I print on paper.

I could lose my name.

And then I realized I haven't.

There was something that I was destined to fall under. It was there with my eyes taped to a painting, not knowing I became one for another.

I hung up. The mere thought of having a multistep plan to eventually murder my manager was between God and me. That woman had me teetering on the edge of becoming a one-hit serial killer overnight.

My head tilted over a large painting towering amidst the others down the line. My hands remained tucked deep within the pockets of a trench coat far too oversized for me.

I couldn't take much time of squinting, staring as if it had garnered my interest not after a dreaded phone call that I convinced myself truly took my energy and managed to inject anesthesia inside my veins.

A light sway became evident in my steps, as if I was sulking in my own woe of what I should and could've done to prevent myself fucking it up on a company that I could soon own if not me being under the age of what is required to own a firm without having to ring up my own godforsaken of a family.

I could almost take another step if I wasn't met with another person.

Countless of papers flew across the hard-tiled floor. It was over before I knew what had happened. I found myself standing there, eyes glued to the person I collided with, my eyebrows crossed and my mouth hung open like a fool.

"I'm—I'm so sorry, fuck." They grit under their breath, like they were berating themselves while they picked up the rest of what had fell.

I stood there, not knowing what to do or what not to do but stare at them and wait for them to pull themselves up.

And so that's what I did.

I wish I hadn't.

Because now it was the time I was unable to speak. Unable to use the words I've been writing my novels with, the words that I should've spoken in the seconds they had landed in front of me. For the first time, my words had failed me.

A question rang in my head, Why do I now feel as if I do not belong inside of my own body? Why does my life feel complete now that they were here?

When Y/n fixed herself, she looked at me and smiled. I knew I looked like an idiot staring at them, yet I never went out of my way to barely fix myself.

Why were they smiling?

"Why are you smiling?" I asked under my breath, like I was taken breathless. I hadn't mean to say it out loud, but my cold and otherwise damned heart seemed to be alive, like I was suffocating in my own rate. A fool in front of them I must've been.

They looked at their paper, then they looked at me.

They smiled yet again. Another question flicked across my head, what had happened to me to act as if I would go through hell and back for this person?

They smiled at me as if my presence gave them a reason to. And they loved me in every one of it.  

"Sorry—" they apologized, noticing how their thumb kept grazing the surface of their sketch, almost as if they were nervous. "You look prettier than... whatever I drew."

They stole one more look of me.

"Terrifyingly bewitching."

It's horrifying knowing I couldn't explain what I felt that day. What I know is—I felt everything.

I've endured endless remarks on my appearance ranging from a number of ratings from those nonsensical people on the internet to every synonym people have thrown my way only to fail to evoke even a flicker of emotion.

Though it seems egotistical, I knew they held one intention: they wanted to impress me. They wanted me to know they were different amongst others who have approached me. They wanted to entice me, as if I could be owned.

Were it not for the arsenal and threats I carried, there would be much more.

Y/n was different. They never had any intentions of being with me, no desire to impress or claim me as theirs. They simply wanted me to know I was. That it was true. I just had never heard it from someone who could mutter two words that felt perfect.

And it's much more terrifying knowing I unexpectedly fell first, even if I deny myself.

I could tell you about the way y/n smiled, how it seemed to threaten the sun, warning it not to shine lest it risk embarrassment in contrast of hers. I could tell you the way their eyes followed their smile, how their life was encapsulated in their drawings, mirroring what they felt.

Yet, when it comes to explaining how I fell for them, words escape me. Even I, a tortured author, struggle to describe.

How must I convey the sensation of my heart pounding in my ears as if it was trying to break me? The ache in my stomach, churning every chance it got, every fiber of my being dreadfully surrendering to them.

But one is for certain: meeting them was like coming home.

My home.

But I couldn't bring myself to realize that—It was antagonizing for me. Humiliating and mortifying knowing one person could make me become a total fool, become someone I've never thought I'd be.

I've spent my whole life after hiding what I felt for them, lest I risk experiencing what I truly loathe: love.

I despised them ever since I met them, loathed them, hated them. But for what for? I ask myself countless of times, I have never gotten an answer.

When they left, I left. Thinking it would be fate that had accidentally brought two people together who held no meaning for eachothers life, that it was a mistake, and I could've been wrong with how I'm feeling.

And when I came back, they were there.

And when I approached them, it felt right.

It was a week after the incident, but no matter how I tried, I still remember how their smile felt around me. Suffering, irritating, lovely. Like I wanted to relieve it, no matter how much time had passed.

Never once did I get their name in the span of meeting them, it was useless to know anyway.

Yet, I find myself returning to the museum every chance I get for God knows what, acting as if I had unfinished business staring at paintings while the staff rambled beside me. They were better off tattooing their explanation in my skull.

I had other places to attend to, other tasks I should've been doing rather than constantly visiting museum in the afternoon as if I have duties and low-paid labor for employment.

I should've been at my apartment days ago, exhausting myself on a half-assed manuscript I would have recurring thoughts of annihilating along with severing Bianca's hands through the phone.

What terrified me is why I was back.

Standing in front of them. My hands tucked deep inside the pockets of another trench coat, looking down on them sitting on one of the blocks of granite surrounding a oddly placed tree in the middle of the hall, drawing whatever there is to draw.

"Hello." I greeted them. They almost looked startled, surprised that I was even talking to them, like I was some vengeful ghost who returned to seek revenge. Though they weren't far off.

They looked up, immediately flipping over their clipboard as they locked eyes with me.

"Oh—" They cleared their throat, "Hi. Hey, hello." They smiled, albeit awkward. But that feeling of dread, or whatever, came back. Stronger than ever, I feared. I almost had half the mind of punching them in the gut and questioning them why they had this effect on me.

"Didn't know you come here often." A chuckle followed their question, or maybe it was a statement, placing their elbows on their lap while they gazed right at me.

I scoffed, murmuring against gritted teeth why did I even approach them in the first place. "And I didn't know you draw me that often."

I look down on the piece of paper, their deliberate and aggressive brush strokes having an effect on the paper, leaving marks upon marks. It was clear that I've been their subject for days on end. Even if I were to absent, I'd still be able to be the pinnacle of their sketches.

It was funny back then, humorous in my mind on how quick they snatched the piece of paper and tried to explain with little to no comprehension that went across their mind.

"Oh, God, no, no! I just—Okay, well, maybe I've been drawing you ever since I saw you, it's creepy now that I mention it... but it's just—it's dumb of me to not draw you, you know?" They were flustered, their mouth opening and closing only for me to receive words that were out of the dictionary.

They sighed, my lips twitched.

"I'd like to ask," My voice trailed off, grimacing even at the thought of having to initiate a conversation with more or less than five words, "What's... your name?"

"Y/N," They nodded, "L/N. Y/N/L/N." They reached out for a handshake only to immediately retract after a brief awkward seconds of staring. Their name sounded familiar.

"Why are you here?"

"Do I need to reason to?"

"I suppose so, no. But I am curious." Even I don't know why I'm still back here.

Y/n sighed, like I was the one getting on their nerves while it was me who battling against whatever fucked-up demon spawned in my stomach that caused me to feel, things.

"Nothing."

I frowned. "You came here because of.... Nothing?"

"Mhm."

"You are drawing strangers you know nothing about because of nothing?"

"Thought I made myself clear on that first word."

"You've made yourself look foolish than any average person."

"Well, you never told me your name. I think that's foolish enough over my case."

It was my turn to sigh.

"Addams." I reluctantly said to them, "Wednesday, Addams."

Then Y/n looked up at me as if I was some sort of otherworldly deity going back down to earth to finish whatever I started. "Wednesday Addams. I think I've heard that name before."

"No. No, you haven't."

If it wasn't horribly obvious, the sole purpose of my visit to Italy was to neglect everything I left behind in New York—especially deadlines— and hoped my eyes would finally work some sense that would let me start anew.

It was shameful of me, passion that dwindled into something less. If I had the chance, I would've tortured myself for even considering abandoning all of my life's work.

Though, I had my reasons. Even if I had threatened my target population and my audience, it still wouldn't be enough.

In short, I had lost motivation to pursue another book.

I felt as if there was something missing, that I couldn't even dare to even blow the collecting dust in the rims of my typewriter.

I begged for my brain to work, to even produce the slightest idea or word that could have some meaning to it. I was ready to write anything that came to mind, even if it was mediocre.

But, instead, my heart responded.

When I met Y/n, I started writing, and we started talking.

Words flowed through, and my time was wasted on Y/n.

My time was wasted, and they were wasted with their significant other.

I always thought I would suffer the thought of having to live an eternal life with none other than myself, that it was inevitable I was going to perish alone in my own woe.

It remained the same. Now, it's just having to live with the fact that my only greatest love had another.

I felt as if I ate a forbidden fruit once I heard they had someone that loved them as much as I denied myself of the same kind, like I plagued myself with hundreds of years of worry and attachment to someone who had eyes on another, a special muse they had.

Only that I would crumble immediately, tempted to take the fruit in my hands, forever stain my lips of something immoral so that I could forever crawl and weep over them.

In my time in Italy, I thought i'd be avoiding acquaintances that would be much more of a burden to me rather than someone useful. Yet there I was, watching Y/n saunter into my life like the revelation they were.

It's safe to say that Y/n turned out to be anything but a burden. They became someone I looked forward to seeing every day, though I hadn't realized they were motivation until then.

"Wends!"

Their awfully cheerful voice pierced through the air of the restaurant, almost granting the attention from other people as if they shared the same horrendous and dreadful nickname as me.

As much as I fantasized about walking out of the restaurant with y/n's half-broken jaw, I couldn't deny whatever was swirling in my head.

Ever since they knew of that wretched nickname unfortunately given to me by none other by that infectious and the ever infuriating ball of sunshine, Enid Sinclair, they've been calling me it as if I don't have a birth name.

It was a month ever since I've known Y/n, and it was a month of them being a constant presence in my life. They shared breakfast with me, lunches, and sometimes dinners that I somehow always and reluctantly accepted.

They became my routine, and it was a fact I'd sooner die with than confess to anyone.

Y/n slowly approached my table that was filled to the brim with countless of books and my oddly placed typewriter, putting their own stuff down on the seat beside them. "You're here early. You ordered something yet?"

It was 12PM. We agreed on 1, and I came at 10.

I scoffed, keeping my eyes on the typewriter. "You, of all people, should know by now that I would much rather sooner paint myself neon than touch anything on this menu."

I hear y/n setting their elbows on the table, resting their face between their hands. "Aw, c'mon Wends, it wouldn't kill you.

"Cyanide won't, but this will." I stopped writing to take one look at them, obviously and oddly, my gaze never and will never work on them. "Take my advice if you're eager to leave this restaurant with a mouth able to eat and speak."

"Ever the happiest person, Wends." They chuckled, sliding a somehow too bright and colorful menu towards them, "I'll order for you."

I stopped writing all together, "Y/n."

"Wednesday." They raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. It was over before I was even playing the game. Resistance over their lips felt futile anyway.

"Fine." I sighed, shutting my eyes closed just so that for once I can't have my stomach doing fucking acrobatics at the sight of them. "I will... allow it."

The ever-growing smile that crept up to their face was priceless, I couldn't bring myself to pry my eyes away. Murmuring something along the lines that I was too easy to lure in.

Once a waiter passed our table, Y/n ordered something along the lines of whatever the fuck 'Due Cream Soda Alla Vaniglia e Lampone con Glitter Commestibili' was. I was certain I was going to leave the restaurant with a non-working heart and a stomach turning inside and out.

It took no longer than a minute for Y/n to get a hold one of the numerous books piled infront of me. "Are you studying for something?" They asked, opening it only to close it once they noticed how outdated some of the languages are.

I let a small chuckle pass my lips. "What drives you to such a hypothesis."

They gestured to the books and my typewriter, "By how you're literally surrounded by books and you're on a fucking typewriter instead of a laptop." They pointed out, murmuring another, "Also, who the hell says hypothesis."

"People with functioning frontal lobes." I quipped, letting my fingers write on instinct across the typewriter keys as I listened to Y/n's ramblings. "I'm... writing."

"You're an author?"

"No."

"Then why—"

"Are you a painter? An artist?"

"Well... I—no?"

"Then we both don't know what we're doing."

Y/n fell silent moments after, I couldn't help but miss the sound of their voice. Admitting the mere thought aloud seemed absurd, let alone thinking it in the first place. I would've bashed my head on top of my typewriter if not for my resistance.

"How long will you be staying in Italy?" they eventually asked.

"Two more weeks," I replied. "My flight is already scheduled, I'll be leaving then on."

"Oh."

I wasn't expecting an answer anything other than a hint of happiness that I was eventually leaving their life.

"You are?" They repeated, as if they couldn't believe such a statement even escaped my lips, clear disappointment flickering across their face. "That's not... long."

"I am certainly not saying here indefinitely now that I have something to continue when I've arrived at my destination." I cleared out, doing my very best to escape the impending guilt washing over me.

"I'll miss you, Wednesday."

Their words were sincere. Lovely. It had stopped me from writing all together.

Guilt wasn't a feeling I was familiar with at the time. I rarely come across such a feeble emotion. Now it felt like I've committed something immoral. There were times that I lie for my own convenience, and nothing more than my own reason.

Now it felt like I should've lied for them.

I will forever miss you.

I wrote. I never showed them.

One week had passed and I rarely ever got to see Y/n after. Our encounters became increasingly scarce, and their voice plagued me from days on end.

I clung to the faithless hope I had that they would text me, to reach out, to even show me they're alive and well.

I returned to the museum for every day they were absent in my life, searching for any sign of their presence, but each day ended in disappointment.

Of course, fate is indifferent to my yearning, refusing to grant someone I so desperately sought.

Regret gnawed at me as the days turned into a week, and the week turned into the day before my flight.

"Addams. I've heard from others that you've been writing."

"Who others?"

"I'll spare a name to spare New York a corpse found in their sewage pipes by the time you've, hopefully I assume, returned and not jump off the plane."

"Even if I went off the grid, your nagging would've been in spirit."

"Don't flatter me."

"Don't kill yourself without showing me a video tape in full resolution for me to get through rough weeks. Or maybe take a shotgun and shoot yourself in your garage and let me have the keys to your house."

"Addams."

I sigh. "Yes, the rumors—though I would want that vampires head on a stake—are true. I've been writing."

"What happened to you there? You met someone?"

"How'd you know—No. No, I—I haven't. What makes you come to such a foolish conclusion?"

"Oh my God, someone actually managed Wednesday—I'd rather kill myself before loving anyone—Addams to fall terribly in love with them. Who's the unfortunate soul?"

"I would not be naming them because they do not exist."

"You just stuttered, Wednesday. The only thing making you stumble your words is when you're overdosing on whatever poison you're having for breakfast."

"They're no one."

"How are you such a bad liar when you have countless of bodies hidden across the globe?"

I sigh again, this time, it was out of annoyance. "I'll be hanging up. Goodbye, Barclay. If ever you are considering to kill yourself, call me. I'll be at my most happiest to watch."

"Wait, no, Wednesday! I need progress on your—"

I hung up. It was pointless to answer her calls when I was a mere few step away from boarding a plane. She always had a way of getting under my skin, even from across the damn globe.

But there was one name that would always surface in my thoughts: Y/n.

The mere thought of their name will forever remind me of how my heart wasn't programmed to love.

I reached for my phone, fingers tracing over the cold screen. My mind was tired, blank. The only thing I could ever do is stare at their contact and wish I could've done something better.

I typed out a hesitant message, my thumb hovering over the send button as if it was something that could end my world. Only two thoughts ran to my mind: Would they reply, or would my message be nothing to them?

I almost hit send before I heard footsteps approaching me.

"Y/n?"

I whispered their name, the love I carried for them being surrendered like I'd crawl for them once I reached purgatory.

"What are you doing here?" My eyebrows furrowed. How could they leave me, only to return as I was about to depart? "Why are you here, you disappeared, avoided me, why—"

"He proposed to me."

Oh.

I always thought a near-death experience with a loved one would be the deepest I could feel.

I realized I was wrong.

Now my eyes ached to the sting. Like I was weeping for someone that perished in my heart, I grieve for a living soul that was me. It was pathetic.

I expected them to be overjoyed, over the moon as they would express themselves from time to time.

But when I met their eyes, all I saw were tears streaming down their face.

Oh, how I wished to wipe their worries away.

"Then why are you crying?"

"I don't know if I love him."

"Nonsense... You told me you loved him—"

"Well, maybe I haven't been saying anything true to you!"

"Look, I don't know what I'm doing—I don't know what the hell are we doing. I'm living in some apartment with some guy I don't even know I even love, I'm currently standing here like an idiot to a girl who's just about to leave my life, and you're—"

"You're everything."

It was that moment I realized I was lost in a haze of admiration and love for Y/n.

That I was far too deep in their life that they became mine. I never knew I needed them as much when I told them to leave with me and break up with their significant other.

I never knew I needed their lips onto mine until the moment I pulled them close to me.

Now I ache of them.

"Do you regret it, mother? Being such a fool for someone, you became what you hated most. But you endured it all for them."

Wednesday Addams, seating across the bed from her daughter, Blair Addams. She looked just like you, she'd always wonder.

Wednesday sighed, her hand reaching out to gently touch Blair's. "Do you know the phrase, 'Come ti vidi M’innamorai, E tu sorridi Perchè lo sai?'" she asked softly.

"You know I've never indulged myself in whatever you're reading." She shook her head with a smile. She looked even more like you.

She let her fingers trace patterns on her hand, her gaze wandering else where. "Well, it translates to 'When I first met you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew," she explained.

"And do you believe in that, mother?"

Wednesday could almost smile. Her daughter was always the curious one, yet she always managed to be privy of her life from them. "I always believed Y/N knew the moment we first laid eyes on each other, I fell in love with them."

"So, yes, my raven." She nodded, "I do."

"I never knew Y/n would make me their title, their theme, their muse," Wednesday pondered, "I always wondered why i fell for them."

"Falling is an accident, gullible, like with people who fail to do basic things. But I am one of those people if not more if I fell for their on accident and continued to do so."

She sat beside Blair, her legs crossed beside her. "I've never told you at the time, but Y/n was a painter. And they wanted nothing more but than to forget about their past. They have never told me as to why, but I believe them.""

"I worried that my love was violence. It was pain, it was suffering. But y/n took care of themselves, they took care of me. There is no one in the world who had loved me more than them, I fear that it would break them, that I am deemed no longer someone who is a part of their story."

"Yet here we are."

Wednesday couldn't see the smile creeping from her daughters lips. But she knew it was there, just like how you looked like before. She will always and forever take pride in it.

She always thought her greatest love could be something of a passion, a talent, a hobby perhaps.

But no one told her it could be a person.

Blair stretched and turned on a light beside her bed, opening a drawer and taking out two of Wednesday's books. "Must they be the reason your books has been off to your prior ones, mother? You've written all your life of gore and mystery. Now it's romance."

"Well, I—"

"Oh, I'm definitely the reason why your mother has been subtly—not-so-subtly, switching to the romance genre."

You peered through the door, your body wrapped up in a cozy boritto style and everything with a train draping it's way to your back like some met-gala dress.

"Oh, mon chéri," Wednesday's face lit up at the sight of you, immediately standing up and pulled you close, her arms enveloping you in a warm embrace.

Her lips met yours in soft kisses, leaving the taste of faint vanilla chapstick lingering on your lips. "Why are you up so late?"

"Well," You grinned against her lips, "I felt our bed getting cold and to my surprise my wife isn't nowhere near me. You know how I can't sleep without you." She pulled away, you whined at the lost of contact, but you couldn't smile more brightly as she led you towards your daughter. "G'evening, Blair."

"Evening, Y/n." She greeted you before you kissed her on the forehead.

You leaned against Wednesday's shoulder, whispering softly, "You're telling her our story again?"

Wednesday would've thought her small chuckle went unnoticed, but you definitely heard it. The stupid smile on your face told everything.

Her hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "She loves it."

"You love it, mother. Probably more than me." Blair retorted back, evident that she was holding back a laugh.

"I do not! When did I ever—"

"Oh, honey, you know love turns your mother into a girl version of your abuelo.

"Do not ever refer to me as my love drunk father or I will subject you to sleeping on the couch." Wednesday rolled her eyes, pinching the back of your palm. "And please do not shame my work of referring to it as such. I've worked hard day and night yet you proceed call it by such an exasperate—"

You turned your head and pressed a kiss on her cheek, the same spot where her freckles resided, causing her to pause mid-sentence. After atleast ten years of being with her, it always made you so giddy.

"Not even in marriage am I spared by your passive aggressive comments," you teased, your lips curling into a smile as you leaned in closer to her.

You hear your daughter sigh after a brief second, "Addams."

Wednesday almost looked shocked, "My Raven, do not call us by our last—"

"Please exit my room. I'll be going to sleep."

And then, the both of them were shoved off before they could even hug their daughter and kiss her goodnight like they always did.

"I... We were rejected, Y/n." Wednesday exclaimed, like she just got struck with the most heartbreaking news. "She used to love our stories together when she was an infant."

You'd think Wednesday was the non-chalant mom who's strict on her child. But, to your surprise, she was the opposite.

She loved Blair just as much she loved you. Hell, you even considered just maybe, maybe not, disowning your daughter because she gets Wednesday's attention more than you do.

You shrugged, taking her hand and leading her to your upstairs bedroom. "It gets stale once in a whileeeOW!" You winced as Wednesday pinched the back of your palm, again. It was starting to become her love language at this point.

"I'm just kidding!" You reassured her, intertwining your fingers with hers as you walked up the stairs together, pulling the door open for your wife. "She's just in her rebellious teen phase, let it go."

Wednesday rolled her eyes, "Too cliche."

"You used to have one too," you scoffed, settling onto your side of the bed and watching as she laid down on hers.

It was a routine you found yourself often doing, taking in the sight of your beloved as if your life with Wednesday was all a dream. You pinch yourself like almost thrice a day just to really make sure.

"Since when?" Wednesday asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement, quietly shuffling towards you.

You sat up for a moment to undo her braids. You always liked playing with her hair, and that one time she asked of you to undo hers, it became a routine. "Since the beginning of time. And somehow, you never grew out of it."

"You didn't even meet me in my teenage years. I am far from rebellious."

"Yes, baby, but not too far from a death penalty." You chuckled, reaching out to gentle stroke her hair, leaning in to press a soft kiss against her forehead.

"Oh, you flatter me," she replied, a smirk across her lips, but the room was too dim to even notice it.

By now, if you were any ordinary person, Wednesday would've made you disappear entirely. But, the thing is, Wednesday always seemed to look at you as if her life never really started until she found you.

Silence managed to take over the atmosphere, you laid back on the comfortable mattress, feeling Wednesday's head nestled on your arms that were tucked under her hair.

You could almost fall asleep in pure bliss knowing that you've met and loved the girl of your dreams if not for her calling out for you.

"Amore." She whispered.

"Amore?" She whispered again, her voice softer than ever before.

You blinked, momentarily. You swore you just heard an angel. "Yes, amore?"

"Can I... Can you—"

You smiled, almost too knowingly. You knew Wednesday, for someone who's such a romantic soul, she's not too expressive on simple terms like these. "Do you want to be the little spoon?"

She grimaced, you could even hear her grunts of disapproval. "I would highly refrain from calling it that before I jump out of bed and skin you from limb to limb. But... yes, I would like to."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips at her response, suppressing a grin to avoid from literally being murdered as you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her close.

Ten years before, if someone had told you that you're going to be doing this to girl you've met at a museum while trying to escape your past, let alone be happily married to her, you would've told them "How the fuck do you know that and please stay away, I have... a boyfriend. I guess."

But now, it seemed so believable. Wednesday was always so relaxed in your arms, your warmth and hers bringing a sort of comfort for the both of you.

You nuzzled your head against the back of her neck, gently moving strands of her hair aside as you pressed soft kisses against her skin, hoping to kick away her tension from the day.

"Stop pouting, Wends," you murmured softly into her skin as you closed your eyes in pure relief.

You hear her scoff, "I am not doing such a humiliating act."

"Oh but you so are." Your grin widening as you pressed another gentle kiss against her nape, "I can hear it from here."

Wednesday let out a sigh, of annoyance? Maybe. But was it tinged with pure adoration and love? Much so. "You don't hear pouts, Y/n."

"When it comes to you, I do and I can."

Silence washed over. This time, you're worried you've teased her that much, she actually got annoyed with you.

"You're awfully quiet. By this time, you're probably threatening to kill me."

"I'm... Sorry." Wednesday whispered, it has an undying tone of tenderness that you don't often see it being expressed through words from her. Slowly, she shifted her body to face yours.

One thing is for certain: She was still so terrifyingly bewitching if not more. She looked pretty in every way possible, it's hard to even believe, it left you in awe.

You feel her gaze darting on your eyes and then drifting down to your lips, hesitating even. It was ridiculous, in the most adorable way possible there is for an Addams like her.

"May I kiss you?"

"You know you're always welcome. It's pointless to ask."

She was the first to reach out, her hand finding it's way to the curve of your cheek, her touch gentle than ever as she traced the line of your jaw as if she was memorizing every feature of yours.

You cupped her face in reciprocation, leaning in closer to where your lips were just hovering inches away from hers. Then, you closed the space between the both of you.

You pulled away, your eyes meeting hers with a soft smile. It was impossible to think that this woman held your heart in her hands like it was nothing.

"Have I ever told you that you're pretty?" you whispered, letting your hands fall to her waist and pulled her close.

"Ever since you've met me."

“You know, I’m surprised you even remember our first meeting.”

“Oh, how could I ever forget my lover?”

You laughed, a symphony that always gets Wednesday to have a slight tug in her lips. “Stop being so romantic. You are a grown woman with a daughter.”

You continued to stare into her eyes as you drape the rest of the blanket for the both for you. "It's hard to think you're the first one to fall in love and not me."

"It's hard to think of anything when you're here with me, te amo." Wednesday replied, her gaze softening almost immediately.

You sighed. "You know I love you, right?"

Wednesday blinked. "I always will."

You smiled.

And Wednesday smiled back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: this was longer than i thought. i yap too much in stories i fear

[rlimagi]

When Everything Else Becomes Too Much

Pairing: Bridget x reader

Requested?: Yes!

Genre: Angst and Fluff!

Warnings: sad Bridget

Note: Another Bridget one because I love her sm and many of you guys asked me to write more for her, so here you go<3

You and Bridget had always been by each other's side sine elementary school, she was your go to person for everything and you were hers. There was a bond of deep understanding and love between you and the princess of Wonderland.

Which was why you were the first person she came to after everything and everyone else became too much.

You were alone in your room, going through your Magical History notes since exam season was coming up when you heard someone knocking on your door.

Immediately, you knew it was Bridget because she was the only person in the whole school who knew how to knock. Most of your friends would barge in your room like it was their own.

You were immediately met with a bone crushing hug as soon as you opened the door. You breathed in the sweet smell of her candy scented perfume as you melted into the hug.

"Hey there, pretty girl." You muttered as you wrapped your arms around her waist. Bridget stayed quiet as she nuzzled into your neck. She was never that quiet so you knew that something bad must've happened to make her so upset.

"Alright, we can talk whenever you feel like talking...but we really should head inside instead of standing in the middle of the hallway." You waited until she nodded before locking her hands into yours and leading her into your room.

Bridget sighed as she settled into your soft blankets, basically drowning in your plushies as you tugged her in. “I know that you were planning to study all day and I'm sorry for distracting yo-”

"No, you'd never be a distraction." You reassured her with a soft smile before lifting her hands up and placed a gentle kiss on them. You enjoyed watching how her face reddened up whenever you do those simple but loving gestures.

“Now tell me what got you so upset, do I need to beat someone up?” You said jokingly, giving her a cheeky grin when she sent you a reprimanding look.

Bridget shook her head before pulling you onto the bed, yearning for the comfort of your body. “No, please don’t. I don’t want to see you in detention for me again.”

Bridget was the nicest person ever, even to people who never deserved her kindest. Especially Uliana and her gangs of delinquents, you had a long and violent history with them. Detention was your second home at that point but it didn’t matter because you would always win and you got the girl too.

“Alright, fine I won’t…though I would be up for it if you ever change your mind?” You chuckled as she leaned onto your shoulder, your arms wrapped around hers as she played with your hair.

A few minutes of silence passed before Bridget finally spoke up.

“Am I weak?” Bridget asked, her eyes bubbling up with tears as she looked at you with such vulnerable eyes. It made you upset knowing the exact person who made her felt like that, but you couldn’t get them yet because Bridget needed you the most.

“No, of course not. You’re the strongest person I know.” You gently used your hands to wipe her tears away as she sat in silence before looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“Really? Because everyone else seems to think that I’m a pushover…I try so hard to get them to like me, I offer them treats, I let them copy of my homework, and I never said anything when they talked about me behind my back…” Bridget wasn’t able to stop her tears from falling anymore, she was hurt by all the things people had said behind her back but she never wanted it to bother her.

“Yeah, they’re right. I’m a total pushover.”

Bridget would always say that we get more with sugar than salt but today, everything and everyone was too much. But you were the only one she felt like she could never get enough of.

“And what’s so bad about being a pushover? Your kindness is why you’re so strong because no matter how vile and mean people can get, you would never stoop to their level.” You said as you locked your hands into hers firmly. Looking at her gently as you continued to ramble on.

“Like Uliana for example, that girl can’t breathe without ruining someone’s day-“

Bridget watched as you continued on with so much passion, it made her heart flutter by the way you reassured her with so much love. It felt like time had slowed down for her because all she could focus on were your lips.

“You know how hard that is for me to not fight back when Uliana barks in my ear every time we see each other? But you’re so natural at it because you’re patient, forgiving, and extremely strong. That’s what I love about you and you should love yourself for that reason too.” You didn’t even notice that you’ve been talking for so long because you got so riled up just thinking about all the people that had done your girlfriend wrong.

“Thank you, baby. I really needed to hear that.” Bridget’s frown finally turned upside down and she pulled you into another hug but it was much softer this time, it made you feel like you’re on top of the world after seeing that she felt much better.

“Of course, anytime sweetheart.” You smiled as you gently kissed her on her forehead, running your hair through her soft pink hair.

Without another second wasted, Bridget wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled your face closer to hers. Your eyes were met with a pair of loving gaze as she leaned in, you’ve kissed Bridget many times but she never failed to make your heart flutter every single time.

When Bridget’s lips met yours, it felt like fireworks were blowing up inside of her body and all she could care about was the girl who made her feel that way.

[wholoveseggs]

Hey, just an idea that would work really well, I think. Can you do a smut with a horribly jealous Elijah? They have a casual affair going because she has severe intimacy issues, but Elijah is deeply in love and needs her to realize that?

Strings

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You've denied what your heart wants for so long and Elijah is tired of waiting.

♡♡ Thanks for the request, I may have gotten a little carried away with this one ♡♡

6.2k words - Warnings: smut, lots of drinking / drunkenness, men being gross, white knight Elijah, dom!elijah (as dom as I can write it, I'm just a sappy romantic), rough(ish) sex, rim job (f!receiving), blood drinking, biting & hangovers.

{Moodboard->}

It was annoying, really, how good Elijah was in bed. You never thought you would be the kind of girl who would lose your mind over a simple touch, but you couldn't get enough. You had never felt this way, even after months of sex, and it was maddening.

You had started sleeping together on a whim, one night of drinking leading to a night of fun. It was just meant to be a one-time thing, but it became more frequent, and then more, until you found yourself spending more time with him than alone.

‘No strings attached’ you had said when you first started sleeping together, but as time went on, Elijah was getting more and more attached and so were you.

When you were underneath him, clinging to his strong shoulders, panting and moaning as he completely unraveled you, it was easy to forget that it was supposed to be casual. But then his gaze would lock onto yours, those dark intense eyes with so much love pouring out of them and you couldn't stand it.

You would close your eyes and look away, your heart beating so hard you thought it would explode. He would always pause for a second, then keep going.

This wasn't supposed to happen, this wasn't the deal, and you wanted him to stop, but at the same time you didn't. The look he gave you frightened you, it was like he was seeing inside your soul, seeing all the parts of you that you tried so hard to keep secret.

Elijah had never hidden the fact that he wanted more from you, but he had respected your boundaries. He hid how much it hurt him when you told him that you didn't want more, and you knew that, yet he kept going, because he couldn't stay away from you.

He would give you anything you asked for, and he would take anything you gave him, and he would never tell you that he was unhappy.

He was always so good to you.

Until you started seeing other people.

And then he wasn't so good.

Elijah heard the click of your boots before you even entered the compound. He'd been listening for them all morning, his ears trained to the sound, his heart lifting every time a woman with the right footfall walked in. Only when he'd heard you arrive would he relax his shoulders, his mind no longer consumed with the idea of you and another man together.

It was a new torture. Before, he had just wanted you. Now, he had you, and he knew that someone else was touching you, and that someone wasn't him.

"Beks! Beks! Oh my God, what a night!" You came bounding through the courtyard, you had a coffee in one hand and a fresh bouquet of flowers in the other. Still in the same clothes you left in last night, the only change was your makeup smudged, your hair a little messy.

Elijah watched you from the balcony above. You hadn't seen him yet. You were too busy gushing to Rebekah, who had been waiting eagerly for your return.

"What happened? I lost you after we did those shots with Klaus." Rebekah asked, taking the flowers and looking you over.

"Okay, you know that hot guy who was flirting with me at the bar? Well I went to some house party with him and a few of his friends," You said, sitting down next to Rebekah and taking a long sip of coffee. "So we were all drinking, and then we did some shots, and then a couple of lines, and then one thing led to another..."

You trailed off, grinning at her. She gave you a look, gesturing for you to go on.

Elijah tried his best not to listen, but he could help himself. He had never been able to resist the sound of your voice.

"So what happened?" She asked.

"Well, we ended up in the kitchen and he was fucking me against the counter," You said with a giggle.

"Was he any good?"

"Not really," You replied, taking a big gulp of coffee and rolling your eyes. "But the kitchen was real fancy, and there was a maid who saw us."

Rebekah laughed, shaking her head.

"That is classic, darling," She said, handing you back the flowers.

"Yeah, and then when I was on my way out in the morning I stole these right out of a vase," You said proudly, putting them down on the table next to you.

The sound of your giggles floated up to him. It was utterly infuriating, and at the same time, it was like a balm to his soul.

Elijah had never felt this way before.

Pure, untamed, jealousy.

He knew he shouldn't care, he knew he should be happy for you, but he couldn't stop thinking about you with other men. He couldn't stop wondering what it was like, what they were like. What did they say to you, did they make you laugh, did they touch you the way he did?

Did you want them, the way you wanted him?

And most importantly, why wasn't he enough?

"So are you going to see him again? Did he get your number?" Rebekah asked, breaking Elijah out of his dark thoughts.

"No, and yes. He wanted to go out again tonight," You replied.

"Are you going to say yes?"

"Maybe," You said, shrugging. "I'd prefer to go out with you guys, though. Maybe we could get Kol to come along."

"That would be lovely, maybe we could even convince Elijah to join," Rebekah said, smiling mischievously.

Elijah perked up at this and decided to make his presence known. He descended the stairs, trying to appear nonchalant, his usual charming self.

"Good morning, ladies," He said, his eyes fixed on you. You turned and smiled, and it made his heart skip a beat.

"Hey," You replied, grinning.

"We were just talking about going out tonight," Rebekah said, glancing between you.

"Oh? Where are you going?" Elijah asked.

"Not sure yet, wherever Beks wants," You replied. "But we were thinking that we could all go, you included."

Elijah tried not to react. He didn't want to go anywhere, not if you were going to bring one of your...paramours.

"Maybe," He said, keeping his tone light.

"Aw, come on, please?" You begged, flashing him those big, pretty eyes and batting your eyelashes.

"Yes, come with us," Rebekah joined in.

Elijah knew he would cave, like always. He couldn't say no to you, not when you looked at him like that.

"Fine," He agreed, and Rebekah and you cheered.

"It'll be fun, I promise," You said, and Elijah hoped so. He didn't think he could take much more of this.

Elijah found himself in the back of a car with his siblings. He had tried to stay home, to come up with an excuse, but Rebekah had dragged him out the door and into the car, saying that she didn't want him to sit at home and brood all night.

You were sitting in the passenger seat, talking animatedly to Rebekah. Klaus was driving, and Kol was on the phone with Davina, telling her all about the plans for the night.

"I can't believe we managed to get you out of the house without you wearing a suit," you teased, admiring his outfit. He had opted for a white shirt and black pants, his sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned. He looked ridiculously good.

"I can dress casually, when I want to," He said, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Maybe when you are going to bed," You replied, winking. He raised his eyebrows and smirked, the sight of it sending a rush of heat to your core.

"I'd be happy to show you, if you would like," He said, his voice deep and sexy.

The rest of the Mikaelsons didn't know about the affair you and Elijah were having. It was meant to be casual, you didn't want anything serious, and so the two of you were keeping it a secret. But they definitely suspected something was up, considering the flirting, the longing looks, and the time Klaus saw Elijah sneaking out of your room.

"Maybe later, if you're lucky," You shot back, giving him a wink.

He chuckled and shook his head, trying not to grin like an idiot. He was failing.

"Don't mind me, I'll just sit here and pretend I can't hear any of this," Kol interjected, looking up from his phone.

"Hush, brother," Elijah said, and Kol made a face, returning his attention to Davina.

You continued talking to Rebekah and Kol, trying to ignore the heat of Elijah's gaze on you.

When you arrived at the club, Kol immediately disappeared to go find Davina and Klaus was swarmed by women within seconds of entering the place.

You and Rebekah got drinks, and Elijah stayed close, trying not to stare at the way you moved your hips, the way your skin glowed in the dark, the way the tight dress you wore clung to your curves.

"Dance with me," You said, turning and holding out a hand. Elijah hesitated, his eyes roaming your body.

"I don't dance," He said.

"Liar," You accused, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the crowd. He followed, letting you lead him.

Once you reached the dance floor, you started moving to the beat. Your hands rested on his chest, his arms wrapping around you, the two of you moving together. The way you felt around him was indescribable, and you never wanted to leave his embrace.

The music was loud, and the people were packed together. He could feel the warmth of your body, the softness of your skin, the way your breath hitched when he pulled you closer.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear, and he inhaled sharply.

"Come on, Elijah, have some fun," You purred.

"I'm having plenty of fun," He replied, his voice low and rough.

"Are you sure? You seem a little tense," You teased, your hand slipping under the bottom of his shirt, feeling his skin.

"I'm sure," He said, his hand resting on your waist.

You smiled, your eyes glittering with mischief.

"Let's go somewhere quieter, then," You suggested, pulling him away from the dance floor and towards a secluded corner.

"Is that a good idea?" He asked, his tone serious, but his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Probably not," You replied, and he grinned.

You stopped, the two of you hidden by shadows, and Elijah pressed his lips to yours. You could taste the hint of whiskey, the faint scent of his cologne lingering on his skin. 

He was so gentle, his hands cupping your cheeks as he kissed you slowly, his lips warm and soft against yours. You wanted something more aggressive from him, you tugged at his hair, trying to deepen the kiss, but he kept his pace slow, steady, torturous.

You pulled away, the alcohol coursing through your veins, your head spinning. You could hear your heartbeat thumping in your ears, feel his breath hot on your cheek.

He was gazing at you, his eyes dark and intense, and you felt a surge of fear and vulnerability that made you snap.

"Stop. Doing. That." You said, pulling away.

"What?"

"Looking at me like that," You replied.

"How am I looking at you?"

"Like...like..." You trailed off, unsure how to explain it. Like he was looking at you like he loved you, like he wanted you. It was unsettling.

"Like I love you? Because I do."

"Shut up," You muttered, avoiding his gaze.

He took your chin and forced you to look at him. His expression was serious, his gaze boring into yours.

"What do I have to do to convince you?" He said pressing you further into the wall, his body trapping yours.

"Do I have to fuck you so hard you never think about another man again?" He growled. "Is that what you want?"

You stared at him, unable to speak.

"Do you want me to tear off your clothes right here and now, and fuck you against the wall, where anyone could see us? Is that what it will take to convince you?" He said, his voice low and husky.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

He chuckled, and his lips were on yours, kissing you deeply, passionately, making your knees weak and your heart race. His hands were everywhere, pulling at your clothes, touching every inch of your skin.

"What do I have to do to make you mine and only mine?" He asked, his voice thick and raspy, his fingers gripping your hips and digging in.

You whimpered, trying to catch your breath. He was usually so reserved, so gentle and controlled. This was something else, this was him letting go, and it was overwhelming.

"Lijah-," You moaned, trying to form a coherent thought. "I need some air," You said, pushing him away.

He reluctantly let you go, watching you walk away with pain in his eyes.

You slipped through the crowd and towards the bar, ordering a drink and trying to compose yourself. You could still feel his body heat, his touch on your skin.

"Hey dollface," A voice came from behind you. It was a guy you'd met the night before. Flashes of the fancy kitchen returned to your mind, but you really didn't want to repeat what you'd done last night.

"Hey," You said, smiling politely. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Yeah, me neither," He laughed. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Thanks," You replied, finishing the one in your hand. "I'll have a whiskey,"

"Be right back," He winked, disappearing towards the bartender.

You waited for a few minutes before he came back with two glasses of whiskey.

"What are you doing tonight?” He said, giving you a flirty smile.

You gave him a coy smile, sipping your drink.

"Oh, I don't know. Whatever you're into," You said, watching his expression change.

You loved this, the chase, the anticipation of knowing what would happen next. It wasn't even necessarily about the sex, it was about being wanted. You loved to be touched, to be desired, to be looked at with awe and lust. It was easy for you, just a game that you liked to play, a way to make you feel special.

But Elijah was still on your mind, eating away at any enjoyment you should be getting out of this encounter. So you drank, more than you usually did, hoping the alcohol would help numb the feelings you had for him.

Unfortunately, it only made everything worse.

You didn't care about this guy, nor did you want to sleep with him again, you were just enjoying the attention. You needed to forget Elijah and focus on something else, anything.

The rest of the night became a blur, a messy, meaningless haze of alcohol and sounds and hands on your skin. You lost track of time, you stopped caring and you found yourself outside the club, being pulled towards his car, giggling and hiccupping the whole time.

"Come on, sugar, it'll be fun," He slurred, wrapping an arm around you. "Let's have another round at my place," He was trying to pull you into the backseat, and you were too drunk and dizzy to put up a fight.

"I don't know," you mumbled, trying to focus on his face but having a hard time keeping him in your line of vision. He flashed you a dopey smile, leaning in and giving you a sloppy kiss.

"My friieennds will be worried," you protested, trying to get him off you. He wasn't really listening, his attention focusing on groping your ass. You tried to get him to let go of you, pushing on his chest, but he didn't budge.

"I'm sory-" you slurred, "tis was bad idea,"

"Why?" He asked, confusion etched across his face.

"I'm farrrrr to drunk," you said, the words coming out slowly, "I shouldna had that fifth drink,"

"You're very cute when you're drunk," he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Shtop," you slurred, struggling to get out of his grasp.

You saw Elijah leaving the club with Klaus and tried to push the man off.

"My frriiieends areleaving,"

"Come on, they'll understand," he replied, tightening his grip on you.

You started to panic, the world was spinning, and you couldn't think straight. Elijah saw you and came over, the look on his face making it clear that he knew what was going on.

"Lijah-" you said, reaching for him.

The man backed off immediately when he saw Elijah, running his hand through his hair nervously.

"Are you okay?" Elijah asked, pulling you into his arms. You collapsed against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent.

"Too drunk," you slurred, your head lolling against his chest.

He picked you up bridal style, glaring at the man, who was shrinking into himself. He brought you to the car and sat you down in the back seat, he leaned over to fasten your seatbelt and you looked up at him, trying to focus on his face.

"I'm sorry, he jus-just wouldn't stop." You said, your words coming out slowly.

Elijah's demeanor completely changed when he saw how drunk you were. He could smell the alcohol on your breath, see the fog in your eyes.

"Klaus, watch her. I'll be right back," he said, before disappearing.

You tilted your head back, the whole car felt like it was spinning. Klaus was saying something you couldn't quite make out, the words muffled.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, until Elijah came back and got in the car. He had a grim look on his face and there was blood on his shirt.

"Lij-lijah," You whispered, reaching out for him as he sat next to you. "Please tell me you didn't killed him,"

Elijah didn't say a word, just wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close. You leaned into his embrace, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Thank you," You mumbled, your words slurring together.

He smiled slightly, holding you tightly.

You began to drift off to sleep, feeling safe in his arms. He stroked your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Elijah was hurt that you ran away after his confession. He was the patient one, the one who always waited for you, always put you first. But he was tired of waiting. He couldn't pretend to not have feelings for you anymore, so he'd said something. Then you fled, too scared of commitment, too frightened of intimacy to stick around.

He'd hoped you would give him a chance, that you could learn to trust him and open your heart. But you had rejected him, again and again, and he was done waiting for you to change your mind.

When the car pulled up in front of the compound, you stumbled out, the alcohol making you unsteady on your feet. Your heels making it impossible to walk properly.

You took a tumble but Klaus caught you, wrapping an arm around your waist and helping you stay upright.

"I got her," Elijah said, his voice soft.

"I'm fiiiiinnnnneeee," You protested, trying to push them away, but you fell again and Elijah picked you up and carried you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent.

"Always such a gentleman," You giggled, your face buried in his neck.

"Sometimes," He said, amusement clear in his voice.

"You look very nice tonight," you added, tugging at his hair.

He brought you to your room and set you on the bed, pulling off your heels and helping you under the blankets.

"Lijah I'm cold, will you come keep me warm?" You pouted, batting your eyelashes at him.

Elijah let out a long sigh, and climbed into bed with you, his arms wrapped around your waist.

You cuddled up to him, enjoying the feeling of his strong arms around you. You couldn't deny the feelings you had for him, but you were determined to push them away. You didn't deserve him, he was far too good for you.

"I'm sorry, Lijah," You whispered, you placed your thigh around his hips, wrapping yourself around him. You wanted him closer, you wanted to feel his skin against yours, feel his heartbeat against your chest. "I want you," you breathed, pressing your lips to his.

He didn't respond, just pulled his head back and stared at you. His gaze was intense, and you found yourself unable to look away, you felt like your heart was being cracked open, exposed.

"No, you don't, you're just drunk," He whispered, his breath hot on your cheek. You were confused, conflicted by the emotions you were feeling, the sensations his closeness provoked.

"Let me show you," You whispered, grabbing the lapels of his jacket, trying to kiss him again, but he pulled back, breaking your hold.

You whimpered, frustrated, as he carefully unwound your arms, freeing himself.

"I can't keep doing this," He said, his voice pained, "it's not fair to either of us. I'm done being the second choice. I'm done being the one you run to when you have nowhere else to go."

"That's not true-" You said, tears welling up in your eyes. You felt like your heart was breaking, shattering into a million pieces, but you couldn't let him know, you couldn't show how much you were hurting.

"Isn't it?" He asked, his tone calm, but there was a fury in his eyes, "I love you, but this isn't working. I'm done wasting my time waiting for you to pick me. I'm just...I'm done,"

You felt like he'd punched you in the gut, your heart was pounding, your stomach twisting in knots. You tried to think of a reply, but you couldn't find any words. You laid there in silence, unable to speak.

He looked at you for a moment, then nodded to himself, as if he'd made up his mind. He got out of bed and left without a word.

Your mind raced as you processed what had just happened.

You were overwhelmed, your emotions a hurricane in your mind. Everything was a mess. You could feel your heart rate rising, your body starting to shake, your breathing coming in shallow bursts. You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself down, trying to relax, but the panic wouldn't go away.

Then it started, you were shaking uncontrollably, tears pouring down your face, and you couldn't stop crying. You rolled onto your side and curled into a ball, gripping your legs as tightly as possible, the tears flowing freely as you let out a strangled sob.

You cried yourself to sleep, Elijah's name on your lips.

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a mouthful of sand. Your whole body ached, and the sunlight streaming through the windows made your head throb.

You dragged yourself from the shower, then to the kitchen, in search of coffee like it was a life line.

"Morning, sunshine," Rebekah chirped, way too cheerful for how shitty you felt.

You just grunted in response, pouring yourself a cup of coffee and adding a splash of whiskey. "Can you turn me so I don't have to feel like shit," You asked, leaning against the counter.

Rebekah snorted, sipping her coffee.

"That's a terrible reason to become a vampire," She replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, it would save me from hangovers," You shot back, and she shook her head, amused.

"So, how was your night?" You asked, and she smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"It was fantastic," She replied, and you chuckled, taking a long drink of your coffee.

"I'm glad someone had a good time," You said, and she gave you a sympathetic look.

"I thought you and Elijah were hitting it off?" She asked, and you sighed, shaking your head.

"It's complicated," You replied, not wanting to go into detail.

"It's not," she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. "You are just making it so,"

You glared at her, irritated.

"Look, I'm not trying to pry, but I've seen the way you two look at each other. You are both just being stubborn," She continued, and you huffed, rolling your eyes.

"Whatever, I don't want to talk about it," You replied, trying to change the subject.

"Love can be messy," She said, and you laughed, shaking your head.

"Yeah, that's why I don't do it," You replied, and she gave you a look, her brow furrowed.

"You love Elijah, it's not a dirty word," She said, and you scoffed.

"I do not," You protested, and she sighed, exasperated.

"Love isn't something you can opt out of," She replied, her voice soft. "Trust me I've tried,"

You were silent, unable to think of a retort.

"You are just scared, that's all," She continued, and you looked away, not wanting to meet her gaze.

"There's nothing wrong with that, but it's also no reason to run away," She added, her voice gentle.

"I'm not running, I'm living my best life," You replied, a hint of bitterness in your voice.

She just stared at you, her expression one of pity.

"Yeah, well, maybe your best life needs some changes," She said, finishing her coffee and standing up. "I'll see you later,"

You slunk into a chair, nursing your coffee and trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in your stomach.

You didn't even try to deny her accusations, the words dying in your throat. Because she was right, you were scared.

You found Elijah in his room, sitting on the window seat, reading. He looked up when you entered, a small smile on his face.

"How are you feeling? He asked.

"Like shit," You mumbled, shuffling your feet.

"Understandable," He replied, looking back down at his book.

You fidgeted with the hem of your dress, unable to meet his gaze.

"So, last night..." You started, trailing off.

He glanced at you, a curious look on his face.

"I'm sorry," You continued, looking down at your feet.

He put his book down and stood up, walking over to you. He kept his distance, but there was a familiar look in his eyes.

"Did you really mean it? When you said you didn't want this?" You asked, gesturing between the two of you.

"What would you have me do?" He asked, his expression unreadable.

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You didn't know what to say, you didn't have the words to describe what you were feeling. So you did what you always did when things got tough, you shut down, closed yourself off and tried to run.

You turned away, ready to walk out, but Elijah grabbed your arm, stopping you. He pulled you close, his face inches from yours.

"Why do you keep pushing me away?" He asked, his voice soft.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. You tried to think of something to say, something that would make him understand, but your mind was blank.

"Because... Because I'm scared," You said, your voice barely a whisper.

He lifted your chin up, his gaze searching yours.

"What are you afraid of?" He asked, and you let out a shaky breath.

"I'm afraid of losing you," You said, your voice breaking slightly. "I'm afraid that you'll break my heart,"

His eyes grew dark and he pushed you back against the wall. Your heart hammered in your chest, fear and desire surging through your body. His hands gripped your hips, his gaze hungry and dangerous. You saw his desire, his love, and for once, you didn't want to run from it.

You pushed against his chest, your breathing becoming shallow, but he didn't budge. He was firm, unyielding, just like his love for you.

 His hands traveled up your body, pushing up your dress. He pulled it over your head and tossed it aside, leaving you exposed and vulnerable before him. He looked down at you, drinking in the sight, and you felt a rush of heat in your core. His gaze was almost too much to bear, but you held it, refusing to back down. He pressed his lips to yours, the kiss hungry and rough, and you moaned against his lips.

"I can't share you anymore," he whispered, his voice strained with effort, his nose buried in your neck.

"You don't have to," you mumbled, gasping when he sank his fangs into your neck. You gripped his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

"Good," he growled, withdrawing his fangs. His tongue lapped at your neck, sending a wave of pleasure through you.

"Mine," he said, a possessive edge to his voice.

You trembled under his touch, his kiss growing even more heated. He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your waist, his fingers digging into your skin. He lifted your thigh, wrapping it around his hips and pressing your back against the wall.

"I'm going keep you in my bed until you understand," he growled, and you moaned, unable to think straight.

He ripped your panties off, tossing them aside before sinking two fingers into you. You arched your back, grinding against his hand, desperate for relief. He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing it in slow circles as his fingers pumped into you.

He watched you, a small smirk on his face, enjoying the way you came undone beneath him. Something in him had snapped, and he could not longer hold back his need for you to be his. He tried many times to show you how much he loves you, but you always ran away at the first sign of intimacy. Not this time though, he was going to break down every wall you'd built and claim you.

You were getting closer to the edge, your breathing labored as your pleasure built. Just as you were on the verge, he removed his fingers from you, denying you relief. You cried out, trying to grind against him, but he held you still. He loved seeing you like this, desperate and begging for him.

"Now you know how I feel," he whispered, and you gasped, his words sending a shockwave through you.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your neck. He wrapped his arms around your waist and flipped you around, slamming you against the wall, making the painting beside you rattling in its place.

He pressed himself into your back, his hand circling your throat, the other wandering freely. He ran his finger along the clasp of your bra, freeing your breasts from the lacy material.

His fingers traced your nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks, his lips on your neck. You whimpered as he rolled his hips against you, the bulge in his pants rubbing against your ass.

"I'm going to mark every inch of your perfect skin," He purred, his voice thick with desire. "So everyone knows you are mine,"

He nipped at your neck, his fangs threatening to break the surface again. You moaned, grinding against him, desperate for more. He chuckled, sucking at the spot on your neck, leaving a dark hickey behind.

He pulled you away from the wall and pushed you onto the bed, forcing you onto all fours. His hands gripped your hips, and he leaned forward, licking a strip down the length of your spine. You shivered, your whole body alive and sensitive to his touch. He slid his tongue between your cheeks, stopping to suck and lick at your tight little hole, sending wave after wave of pleasure through you.

You tried to sit up but he pushed you back down, his tongue spearing into your rear entrance. You moaned, squirming under him, your face flushed with desire. He inserted a finger into your pussy, and began to slowly fuck you.

It didn't take long for your thighs to start shaking, your muscles tensing as your orgasm approached. You bit your lip, trying to hold back, but it was futile. You let go with a low moan and suddenly yelped as he sunk his fangs into your ass cheek.

"Lijah!" You exclaimed, surprised.

This rough, wild side of him, so completely different from the gentle, refined man you knew, it scared and excited you. The way took control was the most erotic thing you've experienced in a long time.

He flipped you over and pressed you down onto the bed, straddling you. His pupils were blown wide, his lips stained red with blood, his breathing heavy. You tried to reach up and touch him, but he pinned your wrists down. You lay there, unable to move, completely at his mercy. You had never felt so safe and loved in your entire life.

He freed your wrists kissed them gently, a soothing gesture that contrasted with the roughness from earlier. His lips trailed down your arms, kissing, sucking, and nipping at your skin. You shuddered as his breath ghosted against your neck.

You tugged at his shirt, and he let you strip him of it, his bare skin warm and firm against your own. You ran your hands over his chest, relishing the feel of him.

He pulled off his pants, laying down beside you, your naked bodies intertwining. You stared up at him, a soft smile on your lips. He returned it, his gaze unguarded and gentle. He captured your lips in a sweet kiss, his hands stroking your face and hair.

"I'm sorry for being a fool," you said softly, your eyes glassy with tears.

"Shhh," he murmured, nuzzling your neck. "You have nothing to be sorry for,"

"I do," you insisted. "I love you, I've always loved you. I was just...I was just scared to admit it, to myself or anyone else."

You looked up at him, your expression vulnerable, your eyes pleading. He smiled softly and brushed his lips against yours, a gentle kiss, almost a question.

"Be mine, only mine," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

"Yes," you breathed, your heart hammering in your chest. "Always."

He parted your legs and slowly eased inside of you, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. He began moving his hips in a rhythmic motion, his fingers gripping the sheets.

You looked into his eyes, feeling whole. He was giving you such pleasure, and his love radiated from him, engulfing you. Everything behind his eyes, the trust and tenderness, the pain and loneliness, you saw all of it.

It made you feel like you were part of his inner world. He was baring his soul to you, letting you in and you were doing the same, letting him see beyond all of the walls and boundaries, right into the depths of your heart and spirit.

And the intensity of it all wasn't scary, it felt liberating, it felt right. His body was just a shell for his fire, for the overwhelming love he felt for you. You both weren't physical beings anymore, but something beyond. Like you are one entity, one flame, burning bright.

You couldn't really describe how you felt, but there was this sense of completion, like you've found something that had been missing all this time. You could see it in his eyes too, a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he looked lighter somehow.

You two were making love, and you were both acutely aware of it. There was no mistaking this for anything less, even if you tried. Time seemed to stand still and the outside world fell away, leaving only the two of you. No past or future, just the present.

You didn't need to talk, there was no need for words. You could feel his thoughts, and you could feel him understand yours, the two of you harmonizing and flowing with each other in an endless, gentle rhythm.

This was what he wanted all this time, to show you what sex can really mean when it is shared between two souls, two hearts. Not just animalistic fucking, but pure love-making, a deeper level of intimacy. And you understood now, you were becoming one.

You didn't know how long you had been making love, it could have been hours, or maybe it was days. All you knew was that it was the best experience of your life.

He was being serious when he said he was going to keep you in his bed until you understood. And now you do, now you understand what it means to be loved by him. What it is like to be part of him, to share that connection, that bond.

Your bodies were covered with sweat, entangled as one, both of you out of breath. Every muscle was sore but you didn't care. You were drunk off his love.

"Can we stay like this forever?" You asked, your eyes half closed, exhaustion setting in.

"Yes," He whispered, caressing your cheek. "Because you are mine, all mine,"

"Yours," you said sleepily, snuggling into him.

This was just one night together, a small taste of what being with him was going to be like, and you knew you would never be the same again. He had destroyed your walls and torn down every boundary you had built around yourself.

He held your bleeding heart in his hands, and instead of crushing it, he gave you his own.

{Moodboard->}

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[456-is-the-way]

HI I SAW YOUR POST! Can I request a Alastor x reader where reader is easily flustered and Alastor just loves that. so every chance he gets he will do some flirty stuff (twirling, ear whispers, ect) bonuses points if reader gets backed up against the wall... K THANKS BYE!

HH/HB Master List

Information Page

A/N: MY FIRST Hazbin request!! Oh I love Alastor so much!! I hope you like it! I have more requests to come with him and more characters!!

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Prompt: Can I request a Alastor x reader where reader is easily flustered and Alastor just loves that. so every chance he gets he will do some flirty stuff (twirling, ear whispers, ect) bonuses points if reader gets backed up against the wall...

Warning: Suggestive Themes

The Radio Demon had many hobbies he enjoyed beyond the regularly scheduled broadcasts. A new one developed meeting (Y/n) (L/n). It was his little game now teasing this little demon. She had decided to visit the hotel after the previous extermination day. The fight between heaven and this odd bunch of sinners sparked an interest in the overall vision of redemption.

The first few days (Y/n) caught glimpses of the famous Overlord who managed the Hazbin Hotel. She could not deny her curiosity about Alastor was more than an innocent one. His power attracted (Y/n) and Alastor is no fool noticing her attention in the first few interactions. It thrilled Alastor in his ability to fluster this sinner with a simple glance.

As time passed more physical contact was added to his teasing. A brush of his hand, a whisper in her ear, or more boldly gripping (Y/n)’s hips making the excuse she is in the way of his path. Today he decided to visit the lobby where his favorite toy is ordering a mixed drink at the bar.

(Y/n) took a seat leaning against the bar speaking with Husk about random things when she noticed a tall figure heading towards her. (Y/n)’s eyes slowly tranced up Alastor’s body from head to toe. A noticeable dust of red coats the demon's cheeks.

“Find my body interesting?” Alastor grins unable to hold such flirtatious comments back since it pulled a delicious reaction from (Y/n). The poor woman became a stuttering mess being caught shamelessly undressing the Radio Demon with her eyes. “I would let you take a picture but we both know this face was made for radio only.” He sat down waving Husk to make the usual drink.

“I-I was not looking at you, Alastor. You are getting a little cocky aren't you?” She replied weakly. Alastor chuckled leaning closer and brushing a few strands of hair out of (Y/n)'s face. He pressed his fingers under her chin and lifted her head.

“We both know that's a lie. You love what I have to offer.” He leans in feeling her body tense. “Oh calm down, darling. You are more than welcome to touch me. Anywhere your naughty little fingers can grasp. But some areas may require two hands being...extra large.”

She gulps feeling her entire body temperature rise, her heart wildly thumps against her chest, and the poor sinner's face matches Alastor’s crimson-red theme. “S-Shut up. I…How big are-” (Y/n) quickly stood her imagination running ramped with thoughts of Alastor’s body and what exactly he meant by some parts are larger… “I-I have to go! I think I hear Charlie calling me.” She made a quick dash towards the hall planning to take the elevator to her room.

Unfortunately Alastor did not plan on letting that happen. A squeal escaped her lips suddenly being spun around pressed against the wall. “A-Alastor.” She whispered her back pressed against the wall his chest pressed against hers. There was no escape from him. Alastor placed both hands on either side of (Y/n)’s head. He grinned those eyes held such a lustful gaze.

“Yes? Can I help you with something cutie?” He purres bitting at (Y/n)’s ear pulling a whine of pleasure out. “Oh, what an exquisite sound. Let's see how many more I can earn.” He purred kissing up her neck.

“F-Fuck.” She groaned and gripped his arm. Alastor earned many more sounds from her all night long…

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Tyrell in the Lion's Den (Part 2)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Word count: 4.4k

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x Tyrell!reader

Summary: Y/n Tyrell carefully navigates the dangerous political landscape of King's Landing, balancing loyalty to Tywin Lannister while grappling with the growing uncertainty and peril that comes with playing the game of thrones.

My requests are open

________________________________________________________

In the weeks that followed, my relationship with Tywin became the most exhilarating secret of my life. Every glance, every whispered word exchanged in the corridors of the Red Keep, only served to heighten the thrill. But as much as I relished our clandestine encounters, a part of me couldn’t shake the unease that settled deep in my chest. Tywin Lannister was a man of power and calculation, and I knew that being involved with him meant treading a precarious path.

Our meetings grew more frequent, though always shrouded in secrecy. He would send a servant to deliver a note—a simple piece of parchment with a time and a place. Sometimes it would be his chambers, where we would talk late into the night about everything and nothing, the weight of our responsibilities momentarily forgotten. Other times, it was the godswood, where we would walk together in silence, the cool breeze carrying our unspoken thoughts.

And then there were the nights when we didn’t talk at all.

It was on one such night, as I lay beside him in the dim light of his chambers, that I allowed myself to wonder what it all meant. Tywin wasn’t the kind of man to indulge in frivolities; he was too focused, too driven. So why was he indulging in me? Was I truly more to him than a distraction, as he claimed? Or was I just another pawn in his grand game, destined to be discarded when I had served my purpose?

I turned to look at him, his face softened by sleep, the stern lines of his features relaxed in a way they never were during the day. For a moment, I was struck by how vulnerable he looked, and I felt a pang of something I couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t love—not yet, at least—but it was something close. Whatever it was, it terrified me.

The next morning, as we dressed in silence, I couldn’t stop myself from asking the question that had been gnawing at me.

“Tywin,” I began hesitantly, fastening the clasps of my dress. “What is this to you?”

He paused, turning to look at me with that unreadable expression I was beginning to dread. “What do you mean?”

“This,” I said, gesturing between us. “Us. What does it mean to you?”

Tywin’s gaze didn’t waver, but I could see the wheels turning in his mind, calculating, measuring. Finally, he sighed and walked over to me, taking my hand in his.

“This… is something I did not expect,” he admitted quietly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “But it is something I find myself unwilling to give up.”

His words were a balm to my anxiety, but they also left me with more questions. “And what happens when this becomes… inconvenient?”

Tywin’s grip on my hand tightened slightly. “It won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”

I wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that this formidable man who had orchestrated so many intricate plots could somehow keep our relationship safe from the treacherous waters of court politics. But a part of me knew that no matter how careful we were, nothing stayed hidden in King’s Landing forever.

My thoughts must have shown on my face because Tywin’s expression softened in a way I rarely saw. “I care for you,” he said, his voice low but firm. “And I will do whatever is necessary to protect you.”

Before I could respond, there was a knock at the door. Tywin’s demeanor shifted instantly, the warmth in his eyes replaced by the cold calculation that so many feared. He released my hand and moved to open the door, his mask firmly in place.

It was a servant, delivering a message from the Small Council. Tywin took it without a word and dismissed the man, but I could see the change in him. The moment of vulnerability was gone, replaced by the Lord of Casterly Rock, the Hand of the King, the man who held the fate of the Seven Kingdoms in his hands.

“I should go,” I said, not wanting to overstay my welcome. “I’ll see you later.”

Tywin nodded, his attention already shifting to the message in his hand. I left his chambers, feeling a strange mixture of satisfaction and unease.

As I made my way back to my own rooms, I couldn’t help but think about what Olenna and Margaery had said. My grandmother’s warning about playing with fire echoed in my mind, and I wondered if I was indeed getting too close to the flames. But then I thought of Tywin’s words, his promise to protect me, and I felt a spark of hope. Maybe this wasn’t just a game. Maybe it was something more.

But even as I tried to reassure myself, a new fear crept into my heart. What if I was falling for Tywin Lannister? And what would that mean for me, for my family, for the future we had so carefully planned?

Days turned into weeks, and the tension in the capital continued to rise as Margaery’s wedding drew nearer. The city buzzed with preparations, the streets filled with merchants and nobles from all corners of the realm. It was a grand event, one that would cement the alliance between House Tyrell and House Lannister, and everyone was on edge.

Margaery, ever the consummate bride, handled it all with grace and poise, though I could see the strain in her eyes. We spent hours together, going over the final details of the ceremony, the feast, and the countless other events that surrounded the wedding. But even in the midst of all the chaos, she never missed a chance to tease me about my “distraction.”

“You’ve been awfully quiet about a certain someone lately,” she remarked one afternoon as we tried on our dresses for the wedding. “Has the lion finally lost his roar?”

I shot her a look, though I couldn’t help but smile. “Hardly. He’s just… busy.”

Margaery arched an eyebrow. “Too busy for you? I find that hard to believe.”

“He has a realm to run, sister,” I said, adjusting the delicate lace on my sleeve. “I’m hardly his top priority.”

“Perhaps not,” Margaery agreed, her tone thoughtful. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t matter to him.”

Her words made me pause. Did I matter to Tywin? Or was I just another complication in his already complicated life?

Before I could dwell on it too much, Olenna swept into the room, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of our attire. “Well, don’t you both look lovely,” she said, her tone approving. “It’s a wonder the entire court isn’t tripping over themselves to catch a glimpse of you.”

“Not all of us need to be the center of attention, Grandmother,” I said, earning a chuckle from her.

“True, true,” Olenna conceded. “But a little attention never hurt anyone. And speaking of attention, I trust you’re still keeping our dear Lord Tywin on his toes?”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t suppress the warmth that spread through me at the thought of him. “I suppose you could say that.”

Olenna’s expression softened. “Just remember, my dear, that men like Tywin Lannister are not easily swayed. If you’ve captured his interest, it’s because you’ve shown him something he’s not used to seeing.”

“And what’s that?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Someone who isn’t afraid of him,” Olenna said with a knowing smile. “Someone who doesn’t cower in his presence or seek to curry his favor. That, my dear, is a rare thing indeed.”

I thought about her words long after we had finished our fittings and returned to our rooms. Was that why Tywin was drawn to me? Because I treated him like a man, not a monster? And if so, what did that mean for us?

The night before Margaery’s wedding, there was a grand feast in the Great Hall. The room was filled with the finest lords and ladies of the realm, all dressed in their most opulent attire, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine. Music filled the hall, and laughter echoed off the walls, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change.

Tywin was seated at the head table, his expression as inscrutable as ever. I caught his eye a few times throughout the evening, and each time, I felt a jolt of electricity run through me. But we were careful to keep our interactions to a minimum, knowing that the court’s eyes were always watching.

As the night wore on and the wine flowed more freely, I found myself slipping out of the hall, needing a moment of respite from the noise and the crowd. I made my way to the gardens, the cool night air a welcome relief from the stifling heat of the feast.

I wasn’t alone for long. A few minutes later, I heard the sound of footsteps behind me, and I turned to see Tywin approaching, his expression unreadable.

“Couldn’t stand the festivities any longer?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I smiled. “Something like that. And you? Surely the Hand of the King has more pressing matters to attend to.”

Tywin shook his head, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Not tonight.”

We stood there in silence for a moment, the tension between us palpable. Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer.

“Tywin,” I began, my voice trembling slightly. “What happens after the wedding? What happens to us?”

He looked at me, his gaze intense. “We continue as we have,” he said simply. “Unless… you want something more.”

I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. “And if I do?”

Tywin’s expression softened, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Then we will find a way.”

________________________________________________________

The wedding of Margaery and Joffrey was a spectacle unmatched by any in recent memory. The Great Sept of Baelor was adorned with garlands of flowers, the air thick with the scent of incense and the murmurs of the gathered nobility. As the High Septon pronounced the young couple husband and wife, the cheers from the crowd were deafening. Yet amidst the celebration, I felt a chill, as if the gods themselves were watching with bated breath.

The feast that followed was equally grand, with tables groaning under the weight of lavish dishes and endless goblets of wine. Joffrey, in his typical fashion, reveled in the attention, making crude jokes and ordering the musicians to play increasingly raucous tunes. Margaery played her part perfectly, smiling and laughing at her husband’s antics, though I could see the strain in her eyes. This was not the life she had dreamed of, but it was the one she had chosen—or rather, the one that had been chosen for her.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere in the hall began to shift. The laughter became more forced, the smiles more brittle. Something was wrong, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I scanned the room, searching for the source of my unease, and my gaze landed on Tywin. He was watching Joffrey with an expression I couldn’t decipher—something between disdain and calculation.

And then it happened.

Joffrey, in the middle of a cruel jest, suddenly began to choke. At first, the guests thought it was part of the act, laughing along with the king’s apparent discomfort. But when he fell to the floor, gasping for breath, the laughter turned to screams. Chaos erupted as everyone scrambled to understand what was happening. Margaery knelt beside her husband, her face a mask of horror, while Cersei screamed for the maesters.

I stood frozen, unable to tear my eyes away from the scene unfolding before me. Joffrey’s face turned purple as he clawed at his throat, his eyes bulging with terror. It was a gruesome sight, and yet I couldn’t look away. I could hardly breathe myself, the shock of the moment pressing down on me like a weight.

Tywin remained seated, his expression unreadable, though I could see the tension in his posture. He was watching everything, taking it all in, and I realized that he must have known something like this could happen. Perhaps he had even expected it.

In the midst of the chaos, a thought struck me like a blow: this wasn’t just an accident. Someone had poisoned the king. And if Tywin had anticipated it, then he was either involved or already planning how to use this to his advantage.

The realization sent a shiver down my spine. If Tywin had a hand in this, then he was far more dangerous than I had ever imagined. But before I could dwell on it, Joffrey gave one final, convulsive gasp, and then he was still. The hall fell into a stunned silence, the only sound the ragged breathing of those closest to the king.

Cersei’s wail of grief shattered the silence, and she rounded on Tyrion, who had been holding the goblet Joffrey had drunk from. “He did this!” she screamed, pointing a trembling finger at her brother. “He poisoned my son!”

Chaos erupted once more as the guards seized Tyrion, and I felt a surge of panic. Tyrion couldn’t have done this—he wasn’t capable of such a thing. But as I looked at Tywin, still calm amidst the storm, I realized that the truth didn’t matter. What mattered was how this tragedy could be used, how the pieces of the game would move in response.

I needed to leave the hall. I needed to think, to understand what was happening and what it meant for my family, for Tywin, for the realm. But as I turned to go, I felt a hand on my arm. I looked up to see Margaery, her face pale and drawn.

“Stay with me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Please, don’t leave me alone.”

I nodded, squeezing her hand in reassurance. Whatever was happening, we would face it together. We had no choice.

As the night wore on, the Great Hall became a place of mourning and fear. Joffrey’s body was taken away, and the guests were ushered out, leaving only the closest members of the royal family and their allies behind. Margaery and I sat together, our hands clasped tightly, while Olenna hovered nearby, her sharp eyes taking in every detail.

Tywin approached us, his face set in a grim mask. “Margaery,” he said softly, “you should rest. The day has been a long one.”

Margaery shook her head. “I can’t. Not until I know who did this.”

“We will find the culprit,” Tywin assured her, his tone as cold as ice. “But for now, you must take care of yourself. You are the queen now, and the realm will look to you for strength.”

The queen. The words hung in the air like a curse. Margaery had wanted to be queen, but not like this. Not with the blood of her husband still fresh in the minds of all who had witnessed his death.

Reluctantly, Margaery allowed herself to be led away, and I followed close behind, my mind racing. Tywin’s words had been carefully chosen, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this than met the eye. He had a plan, of that I was certain, but what it was, I couldn’t yet fathom.

Back in our chambers, Margaery collapsed onto the bed, her composure finally breaking. “What do we do now?” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “What will happen to us?”

I knelt beside her, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “We do what we must,” I said, though the words felt hollow. “We survive.”

Margaery nodded, though I could see the fear in her eyes. She was strong, but even she wasn’t prepared for the storm that was coming.

As I sat with her, trying to offer what little comfort I could, my thoughts kept drifting back to Tywin. What role had he played in this tragedy? And more importantly, what did he plan to do next? I had aligned myself with a man of immense power, but that power came with a price—a price I wasn’t sure I was willing to pay.

The days that followed were a blur of tension and uncertainty. Joffrey’s death had plunged the court into chaos, and the search for his killer consumed everyone’s thoughts. Tyrion was imprisoned, accused of regicide, though I knew in my heart that he was innocent. But proving that was another matter entirely.

Tywin took control of the situation with his usual ruthless efficiency, organizing the investigation and ensuring that the realm remained stable. But his actions only deepened my suspicions. He was too calm, too prepared. It was as if he had been expecting this all along.

One evening, as I made my way back to my chambers, I found myself face to face with Tywin. He was waiting for me, his expression as inscrutable as ever.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice low.

I nodded, following him into a nearby room where we could speak in private. Once the door was closed, I turned to him, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Did you know this was going to happen?” I asked, unable to keep the accusation out of my voice.

Tywin regarded me with a cool, measured gaze. “I suspected that something was afoot,” he admitted. “But I didn’t know the specifics.”

His words did little to ease my fears. “And you just let it happen? You let Joffrey die?”

Tywin’s expression hardened. “Joffrey was a liability,” he said bluntly. “His death, while unfortunate, opens up new opportunities for the realm. Tommen will be a better king—a more pliable one. The realm needs stability, and this is the way to achieve it.”

I stared at him, shocked by his callousness. “And what about Margaery? What about our family? Do we mean nothing to you?”

Tywin stepped closer, his gaze intense. “You mean more to me than you realize,” he said, his voice softening slightly. “But you must understand that this is the game we play. Power requires sacrifices—sometimes even those we care about.”

His words chilled me to the bone. I had known Tywin was a ruthless man, but this… this was something else entirely. He was willing to sacrifice anyone, anything, to maintain his grip on power. And I was beginning to wonder if I had made a terrible mistake by aligning myself with him.

But even as I questioned my choices, a part of me was drawn to his strength, to his unwavering resolve. Tywin Lannister was a man who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals, and in a world as dangerous as this, perhaps that was exactly what I needed.

“Where does this leave us?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Tywin reached out, taking my hand in his. “It leaves us exactly where we were before,” he said. “You are still important to me, and I will protect you. But you must trust me, even when things seem uncertain.”

Trust. It was a dangerous word, especially in the world we lived in. But as I looked into Tywin’s eyes, I realized that I didn’t have a choice. If I wanted to survive, I had to trust him.

I nodded, though the doubt still lingered in my heart. “I understand,” I said quietly.

“Good,” Tywin replied, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. “We have much to do, and the game is far from over.”

________________________________________________________

The days following Joffrey’s death were consumed by a whirlwind of activity. The court was in a state of upheaval, with every noble and servant whispering about the poisoning and the ensuing chaos. The trial of Tyrion Lannister loomed large on the horizon, casting a shadow over everything. Cersei was relentless in her accusations, demanding justice for her son with a fury that brooked no dissent.

Margaery was a picture of stoic grief, playing the role of the mourning widow with impeccable grace. Yet behind closed doors, she was deeply troubled. The death of her husband, even one as detestable as Joffrey, had left her vulnerable, and she knew it. The power she had been so close to securing was slipping through her fingers, and there was little she could do to stop it.

One evening, as we sat together in her chambers, Margaery voiced her fears. “What will become of me now?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Joffrey is dead, and Tommen is just a boy. Cersei will do everything she can to keep me away from him.”

I took her hand, squeezing it gently. “Tommen is kind-hearted and easily influenced. With time, you can win him over. And remember, you have grandmother by your side. She is a formidable ally.”

Margaery nodded, though the uncertainty in her eyes remained. “But what if Cersei succeeds in keeping me away from Tommen? What if I’m cast aside like Sansa was?”

I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. The truth was that Margaery’s fears were not unfounded. Cersei was ruthless and would stop at nothing to protect her remaining son. But I couldn’t let Margaery lose hope. “You are the Queen, Margaery. You have the support of the Tyrells and the goodwill of the people. Cersei may be powerful, but she is not invincible.”

She gave me a small, sad smile. “Sometimes I wonder if I was ever truly meant to be queen. Joffrey’s death feels like a sign that I’m cursed.”

“Nonsense,” I replied firmly. “You have the strength and the intelligence to navigate this storm. And you have me. We will face whatever comes together.”

Margaery’s smile grew a little stronger, and she leaned her head against my shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

As we sat there in silence, I couldn’t help but wonder what Tywin’s next move would be. He had assured me that everything was under control, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there were more twists and turns ahead. I needed to be vigilant, to protect both Margaery and myself from the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the Red Keep.

A few days later, I received a summons to meet with Tywin. I wasn’t surprised—he had been unusually distant since our last conversation, and I knew that something was brewing. When I arrived at his chambers, he was seated at his desk, a map of Westeros spread out before him.

“Sit,” he said, not looking up as I entered. I obeyed, taking a seat across from him. For a moment, there was only the sound of the crackling fire, and then Tywin finally looked at me.

“The situation is more complicated than I anticipated,” he began, his voice as cold and calculated as ever. “Tyrion’s trial will be a spectacle, and Cersei will stop at nothing to see him executed. However, there are those who believe in his innocence—people who could prove troublesome if they were to act on their convictions.”

I nodded, understanding the implications of his words. “You want me to keep an eye on them?”

“Precisely,” Tywin said, leaning back in his chair. “You have a unique position within the court. You’re close to Margaery and the Tyrells, and people tend to underestimate you. Use that to your advantage. Find out who is sympathetic to Tyrion, and report back to me.”

It was a dangerous task he was asking of me, but I knew better than to refuse. “And what of Margaery?” I asked carefully. “She’s worried about her position now that Joffrey is dead.”

Tywin’s expression softened slightly, though his eyes remained calculating. “Margaery will be fine, as long as she remains useful to us. Tommen will need a queen, and Margaery is well-suited to that role. But she must not overstep her bounds. Cersei will be watching her closely.”

I swallowed, knowing that Margaery’s future depended on a delicate balance of power. “I’ll do what I can,” I promised.

Tywin nodded, his gaze piercing. “Good. Remember, loyalty to the Lannisters will be rewarded. Betrayal will not be tolerated.”

With that, he dismissed me, leaving me with the weight of his expectations on my shoulders. As I left his chambers, I couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of dread. The game of thrones was becoming more dangerous by the day, and I was walking a very thin line.

Over the next few weeks, I began to carry out Tywin’s orders, subtly gathering information from those around me. I listened carefully to the conversations in the court, noting who spoke in favor of Tyrion and who remained silent. It was a delicate dance, one that required me to be both discreet and cunning.

Margaery, meanwhile, was doing her best to maintain her position. She spent more time with Tommen, charming him with her kindness and winning over the young king’s trust. But Cersei was never far away, her presence a constant reminder of the danger that surrounded us.

One evening, as I was returning to my chambers, I was approached by a figure I hadn’t expected to see—Varys, the spymaster. He moved silently, his expression unreadable as he blocked my path.

“A word, if you please,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I hesitated, glancing around to ensure we were alone. “What do you want?” I asked warily.

Varys smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been very active lately, gathering information for Lord Tywin. But I wonder, do you truly understand the game you’re playing?”

“I understand enough,” I replied, though my heart was pounding in my chest.

“Do you?” Varys’s tone was almost pitying. “Tywin Lannister is a powerful man, but his power is built on fear and manipulation. You are valuable to him now, but what happens when you’re no longer useful? The Lannisters are not known for their mercy.”

His words struck a nerve, and I felt a surge of anger. “What are you trying to say?”

Varys sighed, as if disappointed by my response. “I’m saying that you should be careful where you place your loyalties. The winds of change are coming, and when they do, those who are too close to the Lannisters may find themselves swept away.”

With that cryptic warning, Varys turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving me with more questions than answers. His words lingered in my mind, fueling the doubts that had been growing since Joffrey’s death.

[psychomusic]

presenting to you: vegoia laran!

vegoia is the daughter of suri and tar'x laran, so, she's half-mirialan and half-zabrak. she lived on the mountains of mirial with her family until she began her jedi training at around 10 years, then she became a jedi seer.

more of her childhood under the cut! the rest of her story will be on other posts, I'll link them at the end when I'll post them

thank you @furious-blueberry0 for letting me use your padawan braid idea and jedi seer headcanon!! i really really love these ideas <3

since her birth, she seemed special at the eyes of her people, due to an old local myth: the founding witch.

(the myth is: a powerful witch, haunted by complex visions of the future, was exiled to the desert planet of mirial. after years spent traveling she had one clear vision on top of a mount, in which she saw the potential beauty of the valley, full of different lifeforms flourishing. with her magical powers, she turned that possible future into a reality, and everything changed: the 4 peoples who lived there started turning into trees and animals, what once was sterile rock became fertile ground, and craters were filled with water. but despite her good work, the incomprehensible visions kept returning. tired of the universe's infinite lessons, she decided to crystalize all of her visions and knowledge into the sacred crystal, and prophetized, before dying, that one day someone attuned to it would come to claim the crystal and understand the lessons she couldn't understand)

because of her albinism (that made her white like the crystal) and of her horns (the crystal has an horned shape), people thought she was the prophetized one. when she began to talk - rather late, and asked people to resolve the riddles that "a bearded man told her in her dreams" - what was just a rumor solidified into a belief.

her mother and grandfather, both in the high priesthood, taught her everything they could. they taught her to study, to reflect, and they explained to her their religion and folklore. also, her mother often tried to help her in her quest of finding answers. from her, vegoia learned how to study, and the right mindset to be able, later, to explore the jedi's philosophy and beliefs.

but it was her father that, despite his absence, taught her how to compromise with her visions, how to be patient, how to handle the state of ignorance, and how to enjoy it anyway. he was somehow better at understanding her, and making her understand things, than everyone else in the town. maybe, it was because he not only had met different force users, but also had experience with a force sensitive kid (his little brother, whom vegoia shared a lot of similar traits). despite her mother being a healer & priestess, and believing in the value in helping people, it was her father who really grounded that belief in her. in particular, he did it in a moment that. also shaped her experience of the force. a simple moment, though: she had asked him to kill a scary bug that was laying flat on its back, but he refused and instead asked her to help it. he believed that helping is what gives life sense - even more than the bonds we make, because it can't be undone. when vegoia picked up the bug and helped it get back on its feet, she could feel the bug's relief, and maybe even gratitude, through the force. this was the imprint of her experience of the force: connection (even more than her visions, that just "happened" to her, and couldn't actively call upon her).

BUT I DIGRESSED way too much on her childhood. the most important event in her childhood was the day she was taken by the jedi, even if she didn't know what truly happened that day.

the SIS had been tracking her father's movements for a while and had found out about his trips to mirial. worried that the empire was planning something, they sent a squad of operatives to investigate. since his father had often worked for the dark council, the SIS requested a jedi to come with them. when they arrived, suri went to talk to them. they threatened her into talking and she told them of their secret family. the SIS decided to take them prisoners, capture him when he got back, and make him talk using his family as leverage. the jedi disagreed with such methods but the operation was under the SIS's jurisdiction. suri then tried to convince them to leave the town and her daughter, and to instead blackmail him with her. the SIS refused, fearing that the sith might kill him before he could even know about the blackmailing. the jedi, feeling vegoia's strong presence in the force decided to make a deal: vegoia would've come with him to the temple to become a jedi. she'd still have a life, while suri would stay under their custody for the SIS trap. this would also show the agent the difference between the republic and the empire, and hopefully that would help him talk. she accepted at one condition: that they took her away before her father came back, so that she wouldn't have to live through it. vegoia didn't know of her father's real job, like everyone else in the town (everyone thought he had traded his services to the hutts to have the sacred horned crystal back).

they agreed, but, while suri was busy packing thing for vegoia, the SIS decided to put another condition. vegoia musn't be told anything about that day until her father had been taken into republic's custody, as a precaution. the jedi agreed, thinking it wouldn't be long before her father would come home and be arrested. little did he know this momentary omission would grow into a years-old lie.

[talesofesther]

this town’s for the record now

Jenna Ortega x Reader

Summary: Distance is a strange concept. Jenna feels no closer to you now than when you actually were on opposite sides of the world. If she missed you any harder, her heart might leap out of her chest and right into your hands.

Requested by @thenextdawn

A/N: Tweaked the idea just a slight bit but I hope you like it, sweetheart. I wrote half of this very much sleep deprived so if anything is weird blame it on that, also take some technical things here with a grain of salt because I know very little about how shooting movies/series works. Much love babes. <3

Word count: 5k (this got out of hand pretty fast)

Masterlist

The airport was bustling with people. Some arriving, tiredness clouding their features along with happiness as they were welcomed by loved ones; others speeding down the halls, suitcases in hand as they rushed to not miss their flights.

Jenna, though her flight was about to leave, was stalling. Her gaze skimmed over the crowd around. Her hands tightly held onto yours, as if you'd disappear if she loosened her grip.

And she wasn't too far off.

You brushed your thumb over the skin on her hand, trying to convey some sense of calmness, "I think it's time for you to go, otherwise the plane will leave without you."

Jenna grinned half-heartedly, swinging your joined hands around as she leaned her head on the wall to her right. "Would it be too bad if I let that happen?"

It was your little moment of peace. This corner of the airport suddenly became your fleeting safe haven for a precious second.

"I think," you started, pulling her towards you so you could wrap her in a hug, "some people would be very mad at you if you missed this flight."

Jenna encircled her arms around your waist, closing her eyes as she nuzzled her face on your shoulder, "I'd be with you though," she mumbled, words muffled against you.

Pulling back so you could look at her, you took hold of her hands again.

Honestly, you were striving to keep a strong facade on, to be the support you knew she needed. But deep down, you were holding back your own tears.

"It'll go by quickly, you'll see."

"It's eight months," Jenna sighed, "all the way on Romania. I'm excited about it, but, I never stayed away this long."

The 'we never stayed apart this long' went unsaid.

And it was true. It made you think for a moment that, to the naked eye, you two could easily be seen as a couple delaying their inevitable goodbye. That wasn't the case though, there wasn't a label to what you and Jenna were. Not yet. And it would have to wait until she came back.

"You'll be alright, I know you will," you encouraged, "you're gonna nail this role. You'll be the best Wednesday this world has ever seen," you smiled proudly, not an ounce of doubt in your words.

It got Jenna chuckling, all teary-eyed and flushed cheeks. "You'll text me every day, right? Call too?"

"Of course I will, I already miss you," you pouted.

She squeezed your hands, "promise?"

"Promise."

—

For those eight months, you kept your promise.

Every day you texted, called, and sometimes video-chatted with Jenna; checking up on her, lifting her mood, or simply talking.

You missed her more than you ever missed anyone in your life, and you could tell she felt the same. But for a while, it was bearable, because you talked every day.

Until Jenna started breaking the pattern.

It started slow, but steady. One unanswered text here, one missed call there, and suddenly you went two or three days without talking to each other.

It was comprehensible, Jenna was working after all. So you didn't think anything of it when the new normal became calling each other every four or five days.

But when those days spaced out, you counted yourself lucky if you heard from her at least once a week, and then every two weeks — her responses short and to the point.

Yet you kept sending her texts; simple 'good mornings' and 'hope you have an awesome day on set'. Because you promised you would, she asked you to.

Even if, involuntarily, you started to feel like a bit of a nuisance to her when she answered you with a plain 'u too' every now and then.

It happened slowly; Jenna became a stranger. A stranger you still loved greatly.

—

Hey Jen, how have you been? I just wanted to let you know that I got the role for that movie I texted you about a few weeks ago. So yeah, I'm very excited. Hope everything is well, I really miss you.

You stared at the message on your phone, your finger hesitating to tap the send button. You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to get rid of the nerves.

Sometimes it hurts, because it wasn't like this — though that reality feels very far away now.

The filming process for Wednesday wrapped almost three months ago. You knew that because right before she left Romania, Jenna had called you, and for a lovely moment, things felt okay; you could hear the tears in her voice when she told you how much she missed you, apologizing over and over for not keeping in touch and saying how much she couldn't wait to be back, promising to come see you soon.

But that never happened.

You haven't seen Jenna ever since you said goodbye to her at the airport, ten months ago.

You guessed that's what distance does to people.

Yet, the stubborn part of you still texts her sometimes, because when you close your eyes all you can see is that teary-eyed Jenna who made you swear to always keep in touch with her. So you do. You tell her about your little bits of progress in the acting career, about some roles you manage to get, and if you're lucky, you'll get a response with 'congratulations'.

As of today, you haven't heard from her in two months. And if you cried about it a few nights ago, that's no one's business.

You understand she's busy, you see it in her on every interview that you watch — because you know her, you know the way her posture changes when she's getting tired, you know her mannerisms when she's nervous, you know when her smile is not the brightest it can be — but you think that, if she felt for you as much as you feel for her, she'd try to keep in touch. She would come to see you.

You pressed send on the message and put your phone back in your pocket the very next second.

Sad as it may seem, you didn't expect an answer.

—

"Hey, wait up."

You looked back over your shoulder, only to see your cast mate jogging up to you in the parking lot, big smile on his face.

"Something wrong?" You asked, adjusting your backpack over your shoulder.

"No, not at all," he told you as he caught his breath, one hand coming to rest on your shoulder, "I just wanted to say, you did really good in there."

You averted your gaze when you felt your cheeks warming up, getting compliments from people infinitely more talented and popular than you would always feel surreal.

"I mean it," he ducked down, searching for your eyes, "that was one of the best monologues I've witnessed in a while."

"Thank you," you chuckled nervously, "it means a lot coming from you."

He waved off your words as if telling you, yet again, to stop putting him on a pedestal. "That being said, I've been meaning to ask if you'd be willing to audition for my next movie."

To say your eyes widened in surprise was an understatement, you asked him to repeat himself and he did; grinning fondly, telling you all about the natural talent you have and how he couldn't forgive himself if he allowed it to go to waste.

You, of course, agreed promptly. And squealed like a schoolgirl once he was out of earshot.

Before you got into your car, you took your cell phone from your backpack, still bubbling with excitement as the offer didn't quite feel real yet.

For a fleeting second, the sight of your last unanswered text when you opened the conversation didn't make your heart clench in pain.

Jenna, you won't believe what just happened…

—

The production of a movie of this caliber wasn't like anything you'd done before; there were so many things going on all at once, so many more people involved, so much more work for you — comes with the territory when playing the main character, you knew that, but still, it was all somewhat new for you.

By the end of most weeks, you were absolutely exhausted.

You pushed open the door of your trailer with a groan, rubbing your temple to try and chase away the beginnings of a headache.

The only lights you turned on were the ones in your little kitchen area, keeping the place dimly lit so it was easier on your tired eyes.

Not bothering to change out of your work clothes for now, you threw yourself on the couch, letting out a sigh of relief when you felt your muscles relax.

Maybe it was the late hour and the vulnerability of your worn-out body; but most nights after a busy day, you found your mind drifting to memories that involved a certain someone. If you closed your eyes forcefully enough, you could pretend to be back there — your shoulder pressed snuggly against hers as she told you all about her day on set, her fingers sneaking to intertwine with yours, the weight of her head when she'd inevitably succumb to sleep against you — memories exist outside of time anyway.

When the screen of your phone lit up, you swore you could almost feel your heartbeat stumbling. You picked it up so fast that it almost fell on your face.

Jenna's name was on your screen, and you hated the way that it brought tears to your eyes.

You hesitated when opening the text, not daring to breathe or get your hopes up.

'That's exciting' was her response to your rather long list of unanswered texts, the last one being the one of you talking about the new movie you're working on.

No 'how are you', no 'I miss you'.

You closed your eyes and felt a tear running down your cheek, typing back the one thing you felt;

Sometimes I wish I had let that plane leave without you.

—

The movie you starred in ended up being the push you needed to be recognized. It was a success, and you were the reason why.

It premiered only a few weeks after Wednesday did. Jenna became known worldwide, and you sort of did too.

And that's what it took for you to finally see each other again.

If someone told you a year ago that you'd be attending the Golden Globes, you'd call them crazy. Yet here you are; timidly smiling as a billion cameras flash in front of your eyes.

And in the midst of greeting acquaintances, posing for pictures, and talking to reporters, your eyes caught sight of her.

She was nothing short of divine, soft pinkish-brown dress fitting her to perfection and her hair way shorter than when you'd last seen her. You didn't think Jenna could ever be more beautiful, but she's apparently always proving you wrong.

It felt like a gravity pull on your heart, urging you to walk closer to her, and if you ditched a reporter or two along the way, you couldn't care less. Your stomach was twirling in apprehension, it shouldn't be but it is, because sad as it feels, you don't know what you mean to each other anymore.

Jenna had her back to you as she spoke with someone you didn't know. You could feel your hands slick with perspiration when you cleared your throat a little awkwardly. She probably didn't hear, so you resorted to lightly tapping her shoulder.

It felt like seeing her for the first time in your life at the same time that it felt like you never parted ways at all. Though there was this painful squeezing in your chest that's never been there before. You smiled softly, breathing out a simple; "hi."

Jenna's eyes widened the slightest bit when she saw you, her lips hanging open when she had trouble forming words; it was a one-second thing, she was quick to recover and get her features back to impassive. Something you knew all too well was a bad habit of hers — suppressing what she's feeling.

"Hi, I- I had no idea you'd be coming," she told you, her eyes unable to find a place to focus on your face.

You pursed your lips, acutely aware of the cameras on every corner of the place. "Yeah, I tried to tell you but, you must've missed my text." The words felt heavy on your tongue, your smile didn't quite reach your eyes.

"I didn't mean-" Jenna's voice broke halfway through and she clamped her mouth shut to avoid a making scene.

It got you looking up to meet her gaze, and there were so many emotions swimming in her eyes that you couldn't put your finger on any of them.

Before you or she could say anything else, a reporter was calling out for Jenna, drawing both of your attention.

Jenna glanced between you and the reporter, before adjusting her posture and managing a smile. "I'll see you later, okay?" She told you, already turning away from you.

"No, Jenna wait, can't we talk?" You tried reaching out for her hand but she pulled away.

"Not right now."

"I just wanted to-"

She glanced back at you, taking hold of her dress in a white-knuckled grip to pull it up so she could walk faster; "I can't deal with you right now, okay? Please stop… crowding me."

Her voice had little emotion to it, but it froze you in place nonetheless. You figured a knife to the heart might hurt less.

Jenna walked away from you, smiling and waving to the cameras whilst you strived to not make the headlines as the actress who cried at the Golden Globes for apparently no reason.

So you were right in the end, she saw you as nothing but a nuisance.

—

There was a team waiting to help her get rid of the makeup and glam if she so wanted, but Jenna sent them away.

After such an event, there was nothing she desired more than peace.

Jenna's steps were slow and dragged as she made her way inside her hotel room, still holding onto her long dress, though with much less care than she did in front of the cameras. Part of it is always an act.

She ran a hand through her hair, messing up the previously perfectly styled waves with a sigh.

The shower had been long awaited and she almost napped on the bathtub; not really bothering to meticulously clean up the makeup, leaving a few smudges of eyeshadow here and there — that could be a problem for tomorrow.

And there was nothing more blissful than putting on sweatpants and an oversized shirt.

Her life has been nothing short of hectic ever since starting the filming for Wednesday, so Jenna enjoyed 200% every little time to relax that she had. Though today, she was restless, something had a tight hold on her chest and she couldn't pinpoint what.

She tossed and turned on her bed, unable to sleep even if she was exhausted and she wasn't sure why insomnia decided to kick in now.

That is, until she took her cell phone and a few clips of the event started popping up on the internet, and she caught sight of a picture where, in the background, she could be seen talking with you.

Oh.

That's where this hollowness is coming from.

The bedroom was quiet, the only things she could hear if she strained her ears were the cars way down on the road outside and the faint drizzle that started falling.

It was so quiet, so calm, that for the first time, Jenna felt it. She felt the weight of the past months downing on her.

Jenna had been running on autopilot, so much so, that she became numb to a few of her own emotions. And maybe a few people too.

There was a sudden lump in her throat. Jenna sat up quickly on her bed, clawing at her chest because she couldn't breathe. She mumbled curses under her breath, vision instantly getting blurred as tears collected on the bottom lid of her eyes.

If this wasn't a panic attack, it was something very close to it.

Jenna scrambled for her phone and hastily typed your number on it, shaky fingers bringing the device to her ears.

She held onto her breath when the line started ringing; and when it rang for the last time, she was already sobbing.

"No, no, no," she stumbled out, trying again, "please pick up, please," the pleas fell out of her mouth with broken syllables.

Distantly, she knew she had it coming, she hadn't been fair with you, or with herself. You were Jenna's weakest point, if she had allowed herself to miss you, she'd drop everything to go back. So she bottled up the feeling.

But sooner or later, it would surface, and it hurts more than she thought it would — because maybe her decision had cost her you.

Jenna wrapped her arms around herself, with tears trickling down her cheeks and dripping from her chin — she felt alone, so excruciatingly alone.

Jenna didn't sleep that night.

—

For the months that followed, Jenna tried calling you multiple times.

You never answered.

—

It didn't take long for Wednesday to be renewed for season two. It also didn't take long for filming to start.

Jenna saw herself going back to staying in a foreign country for months in what felt like no time at all. But this time around she knew what to expect, how to prepare herself for it.

Or that's what she had hoped, because when she stepped foot on set, she was greeted with the sight of none other than you. You who was animatedly talking with Emma as you held a few papers in your hands; a script, Jenna presumed. A script that had Wednesday written on its cover.

Jenna halted on her steps immediately, sneakers scratching against the floor; the grip she had on her backpack tightening significantly. No amount of internal pep talks could ever prepare her for this.

Next thing she knew, Emma had caught sight of her and was walking in her direction with you hot on her tail. Jenna felt like curling into a ball to try and disappear — not because she didn't want to see you, but because of what she did last time it happened. Part of her knows she won't be able to face your rejection without breaking.

"Jenna, you're finally here," Emma pulled her friend into a hug. Jenna held her back promptly, grateful to have something to momentarily hold on to.

"Yeah," she breathed, "it was a- a long flight." She couldn't help the way her eyes darted to you. And you were so… blank, emotionless.

"Have you met our new cast member? This is Y/n." Emma happily gestured to you, taking a step back so Jenna could properly see you.

There was a heaviness in the air, more than a year's worth of bottled-up feelings just hanging on by a thin thread. Jenna gulped back the lump forming in her throat. It was longing and hurt and guilt altogether.

She had never felt this. Missing someone to the point of feeling like your chest is being ripped open, as if they're on the other side of the world even if, in reality, they're right in front of you — just a few inches forward and she'd touch you. Yet it feels impossible.

"Hi," was all Jenna could utter.

You nodded once, with a clenched jaw and crossed arms, "hi Jenna."

—

You were avoiding her.

And it was nothing short of torture.

You were avoiding Jenna, as much as two people who work together can avoid each other, but still, you were doing a terrific job. Jenna only caught glimpses of you when it was absolutely necessary.

She had this hole in her chest; it made her restless and anxious. It's been only a week and Jenna already feels like she can't take it anymore. She knows it's affecting her work; she's not able to focus the way she did before, she finds herself zoning out whilst looking at doorways and waiting for you to walk in — most of the time you never do.

Right now, Jenna is sitting in front of a mirror as she gets her hair done for the day. She arrived a little late today, her sleepless nights finally catching up to her right on a Tuesday morning.

The distant smell of hair spray still hung in the air, the bright lights around the mirror still hurt her sleepy eyes so she keeps them closed, enjoying the feeling of the hairdresser doing her braids. She paid no mind when she heard the door opening or when the chair beside hers creaked. Only opening her eyes when your voice greeted the other people in the room.

Jenna didn't dare breathe. She looked at you through the mirror, your gazes meeting for half a second before you averted yours.

Was it too bad that she already kinda felt like crying?

There was this painful tug on her heart whenever Jenna did see you. It felt like remembering all of your good memories all at once — and they mocked her, told her she'd never have anything like it again.

Distance is a strange concept. She feels no closer to you now than when you actually were on opposite sides of the world.

If she missed you any harder, her heart might leap out of her chest and right into your hands.

You're looking everywhere except at her. It's almost bittersweet that Jenna can tell exactly just how nervous you are. Fidgeting on your seat, tapping your knee.

For a moment she wants to reach out and hold your hand, it used to calm you down, ground you.

She doesn't. Instead, she asks; "have you been enjoying the filming so far?" The words tasted strange on her tongue. Like they're all wrong and it's not what she should be saying to you when there's a ten-foot wall between you and her.

You hesitated, as if wondering if she was really talking to you. "Uh yeah, it's been a great experience so far," you said eventually, choosing to glance up at her through the mirror instead of turning your head to actually meet her gaze.

Jenna smiled, just a soft tilt of her lips.

Every minute that you weren't hers was a minute of pure agony.

And it was hardly the proper place for it, but with not knowing when she'd have the opportunity to speak with you again, Jenna took in a deep breath, and tried; "look, I- I've been meaning to apologi-"

"Not now, Jenna," you cut her off pretty quickly, drawing the attention of the few hairdressers around you. You cleared your throat; "we can talk about this later."

—

Ultimately, there was no 'later'. Jenna couldn't get a moment alone with you after that, and you made no effort either.

But when you love someone enough, you tend to make a few reckless decisions.

Jenna was staying in the same hotel as you, just a few doors away from yours, and she was a good actress.

It was late at night when you unlocked the door of your hotel room. You turned on the lights and instantly jumped back, almost tripping on your own feet; your soul leaving your body for a second.

"What the hell," you mumbled, with a hand over your erratic heart.

Jenna raised her hands and took a step back, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just me."

"How-" you gestured towards her, taking your backpack off your shoulder as the door clicked close behind you, "why-"

"Security let me in… I convinced them," she explained, a faint blush tainting her freckled cheeks as she felt strangely self-conscious under your gaze.

The hotel room wasn't big, quaint with its industrial-styled decorations and orange lighting; but with just the two of you occupying the space, it felt all kinds of intimate.

You scoffed, walking past her and to the bedroom without a second glance, "so much for security."

It hurt, way more than Jenna would care to admit. But part of her knew she brought it on herself. She followed after you, burying her hands in the pockets of her hoodie to hide the slight tremble of her fingers.

Your bedroom was even plainer than the main rooms. All your belongings are pushed to one side and filled only the lonely dresser by the ensuite bathroom door. It reminded Jenna of her own room.

She lazily brought her gaze back to you, her stomach twisting unpleasantly with apprehension; "I just wanted to talk."

Jenna's voice was small, uncharacteristically so, tugging at your heartstrings with each syllable.

This was just Jenna. No actress. No star. Just your Jenna.

You almost gave in right then and there.

But you had your back to her, fidgeting with the zipper on your bag to keep yourself busy. Her presence, her perfume, it filled the whole room, "now you want to talk?"

"I know, I was an- an awful friend to you," Jenna started, unable to stay still on her stance, "I know I should've called more and I'm so-" a sob broke through her voice, you were nothing but a blur in front of her.

"I'm so sorry for what I said," it was nothing but a whisper, said while Jenna hugged herself tightly, chasing some semblance of comfort that wasn't there. Her sudden vulnerability startled you.

You heard it loud and clear, it brought tears to your own eyes, even if you had promised you wouldn't cry anymore.

"That I was just something you had to deal with?" You finally turned to look at her then, and you strived to keep yourself impassive, because Jenna was far from okay.

Her eyes were red-rimmed and filled with tears that were just a blink away from spilling over. She looked so small in the spacious room. "That's not true. Not what I meant."

"Well, that's what it felt like, okay?" Your months of hurting escaped you, "so I'm sorry I kept my promise and I'm sorry it crowded you but you-" you took in a shaky breath to steady yourself, glancing up at the ceiling then back at her, "you meant a lot to me, Jenna…"

It was all it took for Jenna to break, because she saw herself being back in that airport with your hands holding onto her so tightly — and she missed you, so unbelievably much. She could taste her own tears on her lips, the grip she had on herself was almost bruising as soft sobs shook her body; "You mean everything to me, you have to know that. And losing you…" she hesitated, as if fearing that saying the words out loud made them true, her lower lip wobbling, "there's nothing I regret more."

You almost didn't catch her words given the unsteadiness of her voice. It was too much for you and your bleeding heart. You couldn't physically bear to stay one second more away from her.

You walked closer slowly, tentatively, until you were able to embrace her to you.

Jenna buried herself into you, her tears soaking your shirt as you practically held most of her weight all on your own. She held you so strongly you almost had trouble breathing.

For a moment it was all that was needed, you and her holding what was left of each other together.

"I never meant for it to happen," Jenna whispered against you, damp lips grazing the skin on your shoulder, "I never- I was in a bad place and, after the f-filming for Wednesday wrapped up I got called for so many other things I didn't even have time to breathe." She curled herself onto you, her grip only tightening as if trying to merge you into her so you'd never part ways again.

You ran your hand up and down her back, leaving goosebumps on her skin and feeling your own tears trickling down your cheeks. There's no putting into words how much you're able to miss someone until you're holding them again. Until you can finally come home to each other.

For the first time in more than a year, you could breathe.

"I'm so tired," Jenna's small voice came again, tender, right beside your ear, "everything was so overwhelming, I- I felt so alone," she nuzzled her nose against your neck, and you wondered for a moment how long it's been since she allowed herself to receive any kind of comfort.

A beat passed until you were able to find your voice again, a little hoarse and unsteady; "you could've told me, I would've been there, Jenna. You know I would've done anything and more to help you."

With a sniff, Jenna finally pulled back, just enough to look into your eyes, "I know," she pursed her lips, one hand coming up to brush at her cheek, damp with tear tracks — testimonies of her wounded heart that pulses with each beat for you, for you, for you.

With your silence, Jenna kept going, if anything, out of desperation; "I'm so sorry, please I- you must know I never meant for it to go like that."

Teardrops clung to her eyelashes too, eyes shining brightly under the dim lights of the bedroom and her nose a little red. Oh, how you missed her.

You gently raised your hands to her cheeks, your thumbs brushing away a few tiny tears that still escaped her. "It's okay," you breathed.

"Please don't leave me," she mumbled, a soft sob cutting through.

"Not leaving," you promised, leaning up to kiss her forehead, "I'd never leave you."

When her eyes found yours again, Jenna stumbled forward out of instinct, her nose bumping yours.

You closed the gap with the encouragement you knew she needed, "you know I'm never capable of staying mad at you for too long," you chuckled, your lips grazing hers. You were home.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Jenna’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @thenextdawn @alexkolax @aahdiieb @mindingmybidness12 @melthedwarf @smugchorizo @the-lazy-turtle @vorsdany @jjsmaybank20 @wol-fica @v1ci0us

[mktskii]

—Fixing More Than Gear

—Synopsis: The Support Course midterm project is supposed to be a breeze—design a piece of gear, find a model to test it, and call it a day. But when your quiet plan to work with someone under the radar takes a surprising turn, you find yourself caught up in an unexpected situation. Bakugou, the annoying jerk who keeps coming to you to fix his stuff, has other ideas for your project, and for some reason, he won't leave you alone. What happens when a simple request turns into something far more complicated?

—Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x AFAB + Support Course!Reader.

—Genre: Slow-burn romance, slice-of-life.

—Tags: Enemies-to-lovers, banter, RBF reader, grumpier x grumpest, miscommunication, one-sided crush continues (HAHA), support course expertise, Bakugou struggling even more with feelings, Bakugou literally wants reader so bad lol, reader is tired of everyone's shit, reader is so done with Bakugou's bs, reader CANNOT catch signals, this slow-burn actually killed me to type down but i will NOT end this series cuz i love this too much.

It’s that time of year—midterms. Everyone in U.A. has to do some kind of big assignment, but for the Support Course, it's something special. This year, Power Loader, the faculty member overseeing the Support Development Studio, made things easy—or so he thought. The task? Create any kind of support gear you want and have someone from U.A. model and test it. Preferably a hero course student, but anyone would do.

That’s how the chaos started.

Class 1-A quickly became a battlefield of Support Course students swarming the top three—Bakugou, Todoroki, and Midoriya. They begged, pleaded, and even offered bribes to get one of them to model their gear. Bakugou? He was having none of it. He exploded (literally and verbally) at anyone who dared approach him with the idea of "modeling." He was a hero-in-training, not a damn mannequin.

But here’s the thing. Deep down, even though Bakugou found the entire situation annoying, he kind of… maybe… secretly… wanted you to ask him.

Bakugou, being Bakugou, had his own reputation to maintain, and there was no way in hell he was going to make the first move. You were supposed to come to him. You knew him, after all. You fixed his gear (and stuff he deemed needing fixing from you personally) all the time. So, it made sense for you to pick him, right? He found a way to sort of pay you back for everything you've done for him.

But then, when he found out that you picked Shinsou Hitoshi from General Studies? Oh, that was when the sparks really flew. You were actually polite to Shinsou, working with him without any of the usual sarcasm or snark you threw at Bakugou. And the fact that Shinsou wasn’t even in the hero course? That stung. You’d seriously rather ask someone from General Studies than ask THE Bakugou Katsuki? Seriously?

He wasn’t jealous. Definitely not. It wasn’t about you. It was about proving that he should have been your first choice. That this was a way for him to say 'thanks' without actually having to say it.

Right?

Now Bakugou had a choice. He could let it go, let you work with Shinsou and forget about the whole thing. Or, he could try something a little out of his comfort zone—actually asking (or forcing..) you into picking him instead. And being Bakugou, there was no way he was going to let something he wanted slip away.

One afternoon, Bakugou stomped his way into the Support Lab, making his presence known with his usual dramatic flair. Everyone else working in the lab was still trying to get used to it by now, and you? You didn’t even glance up from your workbench.

Bakugou, holding up a busted watch, plopped it onto your workspace with an annoyed grunt. “Fix it,” he demanded, his tone implying you owed him something.

You gave him a quick, disinterested glance.

"Again?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, but not really paying much attention. It's just a watch. He watched as you picked the watch up and muttered something about how it didn’t look that broken. You got to work and it took about 2 minutes since, cmon. You’ve fixed way more complicated things for him before. But this was seriously starting to get out of hand.

While you work on his watch, Bakugou starts subtly bringing up the subject of the midterm projects. Or, as subtle as he can be, which is basically him complaining about how much everyone in the Support Course sucks.

“They keep askin’ me to model for their stupid gear,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and glaring at the mess of support tools on your desk.

"Yeah, that sounds about right," you mutter, already tired of the topic. “Everyone’s desperate.”

You don’t think much of it, just nodding in agreement because, yeah, Support Course students were pretty much throwing themselves at any hero course student (hell, any student at this point.) that would listen. But Bakugou? He's trying his hardest to steer the conversation in a particular direction.

“So, who are you gettin’ to be your model?” he asks, barely masking the irritation in his voice. His eyes are on you, waiting for your response.

You shrug. “I already got Shinsou from General Studies. He agreed.”

That’s when Bakugou’s patience starts wearing thin. His jaw clenches, and he has to fight every urge to not let his temper flare up. He already knew that, but hearing it straight from you? That you seriously picked Shinsou? Over him? That stung more than he'd ever like to acknowledge.

“That guy? What’s his Quirk again? Mind control or somethin’?” Bakugou scoffs, trying to hide the fact that he’s more annoyed than usual.

“Yeah,” you answer, without looking up. “He’s quiet. Doesn’t complain much. Gets the job done.”

Bakugou can feel his eye twitch. You hadn’t even thought of him? He nearly short-circuited on the spot, but forced himself to stay calm. His brain screamed at him to not blow it. So, he tried another tactic. “Tch, why not pick someone better? Like… I dunno, a hero or some shit?”

You didn’t even blink. “Like who? Power Loader said it could be anyone. Shinsou’s quieter.”

"Someone who’d actually make your damn gear look good," Bakugou mutters, trying to drop the hint, but you’re completely oblivious.

“Yeah? Well, no one comes to mind.”

Bakugou's temper is rising, but he knows if he blows up, it'll ruin the whole thing. He takes a breath—short, angry, but controlled—and tries one last time.

"I could do it so much better than that sleep-eyed loser." There it was. He had practically laid it out for you, all but outright saying he wanted you to pick him. But instead of jumping at the opportunity, you just handed him his now-fixed watch, scoffed, and said, “Cool, well, good luck with your own midterm.”

Bakugou blinked. That’s it? You didn’t even catch the hint? You probably thought he was joking or something. But, still! Was that not obvious enough?

He took the watch, his frustration boiling to the surface. He wanted to scream, “I’M TRYING TO HELP YOU, DAMMIT!” but instead, he just gritted his teeth and stormed out, the door rattling behind him. You went back to your work, entirely unaware of the emotional crisis Bakugou was going through just because you didn’t ask him to model for your damn project.

As the door slammed shut behind him, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of confusion about your interaction. Had Bakugou actually wanted you to ask him? Or was he just being a jerk, as usual?

It didn’t matter. You had Shinsou lined up, and Bakugou was just Bakugou.

But inside, his spirit felt shattered. Why was it so hard to just admit he wanted to be chosen? Why did he have to play this game when all he wanted was to spend more time with you?

As Bakugou walked away, he realized he couldn’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers. This was his chance to prove himself, not just as a hero but as someone you might actually choose.

He’d find a way to make it happen. No matter what it took.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

‧₊˚tags:

@caaaddddyyy

@fta1ask4

@matchat3a

[reiderwriter]

hiiii i have a request for the 1k celebration- congrats btw!! reader and spencer are trying to keep their new relationship secret but can’t keep their hands off of each other and have sex in the office bathrooms, then maybe one of the girls comes in to make sure reader is alright but spencer doesn’t stop what he’s doing whilst she’s trying to answer and then they have to go back into the office whilst everybody totally knows what they were doing lol- w prompt 35🫶

Prompt 35: "We might get caught. Does that turn you on?"

A/N: Thank you for the request! I'm always a big fan of Spencer bathroom fics for whatever reason 😭

Warnings: public sex, voyeurism, bathroom sec, fingering, penetrative sex, creampie, secret relationship, Perv! Spencer

Spencer had never been this forward before in his life. You appreciated his sudden confidence, but he just wished he had picked a time and place. Dragging you off to the women's bathrooms at the BAU office to fulfil your shared needs probably wasn't the time nor the place. 

It was happening anyway. 

Since you'd first pressed your lips against his the month prior - an honest reaction to his very sweet birthday present of plane tickets home for the holidays - you'd found it difficult to keep your hands off of him. 

He was warm, a heater in human form, and with the cold winter nights rolling in, you'd unashamedly used him as a human blanket multiple times. You loved the feeling of his weight pushing down on you, his head resting against your chest as he slowly kissed his way up your neck. 

You loved too, the feeling of his cock growing between his legs as your small touches and caresses became not enough. 

You loved even more the hours of love-making that had him curiously exploring every curve and edge of your body, every depth of you kissed, licked, touched tenderly. 

But with a month of exploration under your belt, you certainly hadn't had time for explanations, confessions, and celebrations. 

In simple terms, you hadn't told anyone about your relationship. New as it was, you didn't want to have to backtrack if Spencer decided he wasn't interested after he learnt everything about you. A small part of you also knew that it was as much because you didn't want to share him. Not yet. 

But Spencer’s timing was the opposite of impeccable, as he pushed you into the women's bathrooms half an hour before your team was supposed to ship out for a new case. 

“Spencer, we can't, not here,” you sighed out as his lips found a spot on your neck he'd discovered the week prior. It sent shivers down your back each time he even brushed it with his lips, and he was passionately flicking his tongue against it now, leaving you less than coherent. 

“I want to know how fast you can come for me.” 

Spencer was on a mission, and you sure as hell weren't going to stop him when it would be entirely more pleasurable to go along with him. 

He unbuttoned your pants swiftly, letting his hand rest between your legs as he worked his lips around each landmine of sensitivity he'd discovered in the last four weeks. 

Your moans flowed freely before you clamped a hand over your mouth, reminding yourself this was a very public bathroom in a very public building. One you had to return to every weekday from 9 to 5. 

“You're so adorable trying to hold in your moans. Let one out, just for me?” He begged, fingers finally finding their mark as he traced your clit delicately. It felt like an eternity until his fingers were inside of you, and even then, it wasn't enough. 

“Y/N, you in here? Penelope said she saw you head over her a few minutes ago.” JJ called from the door to the room, and you were suddenly cold with gratitude that Spencer had the foresight to pull you into a stall and close it before putting a hand on you. 

“Y-Yeah, I'm here. What's up?” You called back, eyes wide and locked with Spencer’s. He seemed to have been momentarily sobered by the interruption, but his hands didn't withdraw. His fingers pressed harder into your cunt, but he didn't move, raising an eyebrow as he listened to JJ's response.

“I just wanted to check on you. You've been a bit distant from the tram lately, like turning down drinks last week-” You'd turned it down because Spencer had begged you to let him eat you out until you passed out. 

“You left Henry's birthday party pretty early last weekend, too.” You'd left early because Spencer wanted to see if he could make you squirt.

“And at work, it seems like you're always worried about something on your phone?” Again, filled with texts from Spencer innocently inquiring about different things both of your bodies could do to reach an orgasm. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You cursed your mind for wandering as you realised that each memory had spurred your lower body on to begin rocking your hips against Spencer’s hand. The gleeful smile on his face was enough to tell you that you'd fucked up.

“We might get caught,” he whispered in your ear, just low enough to not travel further than your stall door. “Does that turn you on?” When you inadvertently clenched around his fingers, he had his answers. 

Yes, every single thing that he said and did turned you on and got you into the worst possible scenarios.

“Y/N?” JJ called again, and you did your best to calm your body as you opened your mouth to reply. 

“I'm so sorry, I guess my mind has been elsewhere recently. I've been seeing this guy. So I think I'm just in that honeymoon phase, you know?” You spat the words out as fast as you could, so he had no time to sabotage you, to flick his wrist just so you'd be a twitching mess. 

“Oh, Y/N, that's great, congratulations. I'll leave you to your business in peace then, but just so you know, if you ever did need someone to talk to, I'm pretty good with boy talk by now.” 

You wanted to beg her to get out of there that second, but suffered through the niceties of a goodbye and a see you soon, all while Spencer’s fingers raced you to your finish line. 

“Fuck, Spencer, want to cum on your dick, please.” You begged as soon as you heard the door shut behind her, mouth connecting with his as you pulled more of him into you. 

“It did turn you on more. That's good to know,” he said, kissing you back as he dropped his pants and lifted you up slightly, before dropping you gently back down onto his cock. 

He pinned you between his body and the solid wall on the stall, not trusting the divider to stand up to the pace he was about to set. 

His thrusts were hot, fast, and rough, and you wouldn't have it any other way right then. 

“Spencer, cum inside me. Fill me up, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck, we can't leave any evidence behind.” You whimpered as you finally felt yourself explode, body twitching into him as he continued his steady pace, breath hot against your skin as he stared down, watching his cock pleasure you. 

“Very practical, Y/N,” he laughed. “But that’s where I was planning on doing it this entire time.” With that, he thrust as deep into you as your position allowed, and, with a grunt, spilt his load inside of you.

You stood there, both silent for a minute before he pulled his wrist forward, checking his wristwatch. 

“Six minutes 46 seconds. We should still have enough time to grab our go-bags before anyone gets suspicious. Thank you, Y/N.” 

He smiled at you again, and you knew just from the look that you'd be trying this again soon. 

Spencer wasn't going to forget any of this happened, and you, frankly, didn't want him to.