#and I still believed I could be anything I wanted

[gothicfied]

(Squid game s2) Can you write a comfort fic about an insecure reader has past trauma and has endured Highschool bullying. When she joins the games and is in the group (Gi-hun, Dae-ho, Jun-hee & others) but once they meet Jun-hee she gets pushed aside and has to join another group in the second game. Feel free to change or add anything, the pairing could be Daeho x reader but it’s up to you <33

Never alone again - Kang Dae-ho / Player 388

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 x Reader

Summary: After seeing you almost die, Dae-ho swore he wouldn't leave your side ever again.

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, gunshots (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Word Count: ~ 1.2k

A/N: hii! tysm for the request and I hope I did it justice.

You believed Gi-hun from the start. You believed he was right, no sane person would just say stuff like that, right? That they kill each player who gets eliminated? He seemed too damn serious for it to be a lie. And lo and behold, he was right. People. Shot dead. Right in front of you. Red-Light-Green-Light was a traumatic experience. You wanted to quit, you wanted to go home, go home and hug your parents and just be grateful to still be alive.

It was like the universe had turned against you. How wasn't everyone scared out of their minds like you? Was money really all that mattered to them? A heated discussion broke out during the first voting, angry voices yelling at each other, accusing Gi-hun of lying. You took all the courage you had left in you to try and stand up for him, at least make it known that you sided with him. Past experiences, especially your school time, usually made it hard for you to speak up, but that shouldn't really be an issue right now — You could end up dead, that's what worried you. After the voting, that didn't go your way at all, Gi-hun showed gratitude for your courage to say something and suggested you'd stick with him from now on.

Added to your group were In-ho, the last player who actually voted 'O', Jung-bae and Dae-ho, who were both former marines. While eating the lunch provided to you by the guards, those two immediately bonded over their former occupation, which you found endearing. Even though you were currently still to shy to join in on their conversations, you were content with just having a group you could stick to — Because you were sure you absolutely wouldn't survive in here alone.

"And, what's your name?" Dae-ho asked, as hd took a seat on the stairs next to you, happily eating his food. When you told him he gasped, almost chocking in the process. "That's my sisters name!" he laughed, nudging your shoulder with his. You just replied with a little "Oh? No way." and then he began rambling about his life, about his four sisters, about how his father sent him to be a marine and so on. He closed his monologue saying "Anyway, that's a really pretty name." and then proceeded to ask you for your leftover food. He made you laugh, which was nice considering you all were stuck in this hellhole.

In Dae-ho's opinion, you two had a lot in common, even if you didn't at all. He suggested you slept in the bed right under his which was.. well, free now after the first game. At night, you couldn't help but overthink your interactions with not only him, but the other three guys, too. They were so nice and welcoming. All of them had a special attribute that will probably be useful in the coming few days.. and you? You had the feeling that you brought nothing to the table.

The next day, a vast majority of the players went into the second game with the impression that this will be Dalgona, like Gi-hun predicted. Apparently not. The female voice over the speakers ordered the players to form groups of five. "Ah, how perfect," In-ho smiled, "guess we'll be a group then." You looked between the men, nodding in agreement and just when you were about to say something-

"Excuse me, are you maybe searching for one more person-?"

"Oh, no I'm sorry, we're actually already five peo-"

"I'm pregnant."

The girl cut Jung-bae off, resting her hands on her pregnant belly. You raised your eyebrows in shock and no one really seemed to know what to do next. Oh, you felt bad for her. She must've been very desperate if she entered the games while being pregnant. You five were just looking at each other confused, until you took a deep breath: "It's okay, I'll find another group. She needs to be with people she can absolutely win with." You looked at the girl and she looked back, slowly giving you a grateful smile. "No it's okay I'll go-" Dae-ho tried to say, but you waved him off, shaking your head.

"Well.. No, you can't just.."

"Dae-ho," In-ho said in a low tone, putting a hand on his shoulder, "she's pregnant." he said, like Dae-ho needed a reminder of what was right in front of him. You weren't that important to the team anyways, and that girl needed your help. So, it was decided, and in the end you did find a team of three players who voted 'X', like you, and one who didn't. You felt fairly safe with these people and even if you didn't, you didn't have much of a choice.

The game was a six-legged pentathlon with five mini games you had to split between each team member to complete. Watching the first few teams go was an absolute adrenaline rush, given the small amount of time of five minutes, the first few players were shot on sight pretty early on. This made you nervous to the point where you could throw up. Your original group was sitting a few meters away from youd current one and you did lock eyes with Dae-ho quite a bit, him giving you reassuring glances or a thumbs up. You mustered up a smile, trying yo calm your thoughts down.

I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this-

Oh but you could. Your team, which came before Gi-hun's, barely made it over the finish line with three seconds to spare, making the crowd of waiting players roar and cheer and yell "Good job!". The most time you lost was at Gonggi, thankfully not your mini game. Being able to beat yours on the first try filled you with the confidence you needed, which was probably the only thing that kept you up on your feet. Speaking of which, the shackles, that bound your left leg together with the player next to you, were taken off of them and you were free to go. Well, back into the dorm area.

Anxiously, you sat on your bed and waited, for your team. Players streamed in, one after the other, just not the ones you were so desperate to see. You were biting your fingernails, your thoughts being flooded with the fear of them all just dying, being left alone to survive this shit.

Suddenly, you heard a voice call out for you. It was Dae-ho (who else?) who basically sprinted to you. Before you could even stand up to reciprocate his hug, he pulled you up into his arms, squeezing the air out if his lungs. "Do you know how scared I was?" he sounded really out of breath. You didn't reply, just hugged him back the best you could and watched Jung-bae laugh to himself, watching the two of you. "I'm so glad you're alive! I'll never let you do that again, okay? Next time, I'll be the one to find another group.. not you okay?" His word vomit just wouldn't stop.

"Let's hope there won't be a next time."

"Obviously there won't be, I won't ever let you leave again."

[fgumi]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LOSER IN A HOT MAN'S BODY

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, school!au, headcanon, WC; 2.8k, A/N; i love losers that love that girlfriends entirely too much but, at the same time, not enough. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso }

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ part two is up!

loser!heeseung was never the first one to get chosen for anything. well, he did get chosen first for musicals and solos! he had a beautiful voice and there was no denying that. but, for anything else? nope. it wasn't until you transferred over to his high school that he got picked willingly (and not because you guys were the only two left). you approached him in gym class after your teacher said to partner up for conditioning. "hey! i'm y/n. do you think we could be partners today?"

heeseung just blinked at you and then turned to see if someone was behind him. when he verified you were talking to him, he turned back to see you with a bemused look, a slight crease forming right between your brows. "you are talking to me, right?" he asked nervously.

a wry smile formed on your lips as you nodded. "there’s no one else around."

heeseung couldn't believe it. someone who wasn't a part of the theatre department was talking to him! so, he agreed with only a moment's hesitation. by the time sit-ups came around, heeseung knew about your basic interests and one secret: you were big on anime. you explained to him, during his sad attempts at pushups, that you loved anime but remained closeted because the boys at your last school made it weird. heeseung was careful not to let his excitement show; he didn't wanna scare you off before he really got to know you. eventually, after all the hellish exercises your teacher put you through, heeseung shyly asked you why you wanted to be partners.

"you looked like the type that doesn't judge people for struggling," you replied after drinking your water. you wiped the droplets of water that trickled down your neck and then offered heeseung some. "i don't have cooties. promise."

he gave you a faint, unsure smile, his hand reaching out slowly, half expecting you to pull it back and say psych! but you didn’t. you just patiently waited for him to take it. honestly, he just looked like a spooked deer to you, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. after class was over and it was time for lunch, heeseung deflated. it was nice talking to you while it lasted.

“heeseung! wait up!”

he turned to you with round eyes, watching you rush over, a backpack draped over your right shoulder. you were freshly showered, water still dripping off the ends of your hair. you looked... happy? you slowed to a stop right in front of him.

“do you mind if we eat together?”

you wanted to eat with him? a cool girl like you wants to eat with a certified loser like him?

“it’s okay if you already have plans! i think i can find somewhere else to sit.”

no! you jumped a little. heeseung retracted into himself, rubbing the back of his neck. he’s never had someone ask to eat with him. he just sort of sat with his theatre classmates—not even friends. they all thought he was weird. you gave him a puzzled look.

“are you sure? you don’t have to pity me just because i’m new,” you pouted. gosh, was it just him or did everyone find you adorable?

“i’m sure. i was just hesitant since i’m not known for being, you know, popular.”

rolling your eyes, you clapped a hand on his shoulder. “as if that actually matters.” you tugged him along, linking your arm with his. thank goodness you were busy looking for the cafeteria because heeseung was struggling to keep the blush off of his face. as much as heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up, he hoped that you guys would become real friends.

loser!heeseung loved his hobbies. he could talk about them for hours; they were his passion. he loved playing maple story, league of legends, team fight tactics, going to the renaissance fair, studying the metrics of trot (this one was a little too niche to really talk about though). none of these passions were greater than his passion for you. this man was dedicated to learning everything there was to know about you now that you were friends. you teased him about how stalkerish he sounded. almost immediately, he apologized.

the way his shoulders shrunk and eyes drooped down, you were definitely the asshole. when he stopped talking, you panicked. so, you didn’t think. you kissed his cheek. you blinked. he blinked. you blinked at each other. you know that ouran high school host club scene where tamaki realized haruhi is a girl and she complimented him? you’d bet your whole house that’s how red you were because you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

heeseung’s mind was still white noise. any sounds that were supposed to reach his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. was he underwater? was he dragged down into the depths of the styx river only to be lost forever? was he dreaming to cope with the harsh reality of his death? was he—

“heeseung?” you meekly called. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that without your consent. that was—”

he must’ve called upon achilles’s guidance and invincibility because he didn’t know where he got this courage otherwise. what courage you may ask? well, the courage that planted heeseung’s lips on yours.

your lips were so soft. they tasted like strawberries. he wondered if strawberries were your favorite fruit. he could kiss you forever. oh crap, he was kissing you.

anxiety crept up his spine, invading his every nerve; it was telling him he had to pull away or else you’d leave him forever. except, when he started moving away, he noticed you followed, reluctant to end the kiss. your eyes were closed too. he could’ve sworn they were open from shock.

heeseung could feel his back creaking in protest at the odd angle; he would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for you clutching the front of his shirt. huh? oh! maybe, you liked the kiss! you liked the kiss, like he did! oh, but now he couldn’t breathe. what should he do? he didn’t want the kiss to end.

he pressed back, holding out until the last possible moment. but you pulled away first, gasping for air. a blush dusted your cheeks and heeseung could guess that he was red too—probably not as pretty of a shade as yours though.

“s-sorry,” he stammered as you caught your breath. “i don’t know why i—”

you shut him up with another kiss (but this one was too short for heeseung’s newfound thirst for kissing you). when you pulled away, his big eyes tugged at your heart. they looked so sad that you moved away. it made you giggle—this whole situation. for someone that was trying to learn everything about you, he sure did miss your huge crush on him.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how he got so fortunate. was he a luck domain cleric in real life? he felt like he was rolling nat 20s continuously. he managed to ask you out (though, he was stuttering the whole time and nearly tripped on top of you—it was a whole affair that he’d rather forget) and be dating you 3 years later? he was one lucky man. and, some might say even luckier as time went on.

you got more confident once you guys got to college and, thus, you got hotter. you found your sense of self and your fashion reflected it. heeseung wasn’t doing so bad either. he found people that he got along with and could proudly (read: shyly) call friends. he found beomgyu in the league discord server that the university had and jeongin in d&d club! he’d meet up with them every once in awhile whenever they all felt like they needed to touch grass. of course, his friends knew you came first. you were heeseung’s everything. what they couldn’t wrap around their heads was how heeseung was your everything.

“you’ve been dating for 3 years!? no way, man.” “are you secretly rich? the son of some big conglomerate?” “all offense, she’s hot and you’re… not.”

heeseung didn’t let that bother him. his friends were idiots that had never felt the touch of a woman. plus, you trained him better (you told him to stop talking about himself like he was your pet, but he refused). you loved him so much without any strings attached. you were patient with him and listened to him ramble about how league kept nerfing his favorite character with every update. you never tried to change him and you told him it’s because you fell in love with him for how he was. but, there came a day when he wished you did. he happened to overhear a conversation between you and your friends.

“girl, there’s no way you’ve been with heeseung for 3 years and he hasn’t picked up a single thing about fashion from you.” “the face cards are mismatched, ma. you’re up here and he’s not even on this plane.” “don’t you ever get embarrassed whenever you guys go out? i mean, he dresses like he’s stuck in his mom’s basement.” “i hope he compensates in other ways because he’s not doing it where i can see.” “how are you okay with someone that much skinnier than you? doesn’t your body dysmorphia get triggered?”

you stopped talking to those girls after that. however, it didn’t stop heeseung from getting hurt by it. it was true, in heeseung’s eyes. you deserved much better than what he was giving you. how is it that you loved him even though he looked the exact same as he did 3 years ago? there were so many hot guys around and you never so much as turned your head to glance. there was nothing to support his insecurity about being hot enough or being enough in general. nonetheless, that horrid conversation sparked something in heeseung.

“baby, i’m heading to the gym. i’ll be back later to cook us dinner, okay?” if your brows raised any further, they’d merge into your hairline. “the gym?” heeseung nodded firmly. “gotta start working out to combat all the ramen i eat.”

“hee, you haven’t gained weight since we started dating, despite you eating my leftovers and your food. you don’t need to combat anything,” you laughed. when you saw heeseung was still tying the laces on his shoes, you let it go, thinking nothing of it. you kissed him and reminded him to stay hydrated.

thus began heeseung’s gym journey. it was difficult. muscle barely stuck even though he was eating well over 3000 calories. but, he could see his body getting toned, more cut, so he was happy. maybe people would stop looking at the two of you like you were wrong.

his wishful thinking remained at that. despite getting noticeably more fit, people still talked. they talked about his fashion, his haircut, and his hygiene (he thought this one was unfair considering he always did skincare with you and loved doing your nightly routines).

so, on the day you told him you were going thrifting, he asked to tag along. you were taken aback. heeseung never came with you; he didn’t see the point when he had perfectly good clothes at home. but you let him come along. you thought he’d just peruse with you or be there to make sure you paid with the card he gave you (he made a lot of money from his internship and begged you to use it for anything you wanted), but he didn’t. he asked a lot of questions.

“do you think this would look good on me?” “do these go together?” “are these good quality?”

you were excited. going thrifting was one of your favorite hobbies and to see heeseung taking such an interest in it was thrilling. you gave your opinions, always with a disclaimer that fashion is up to preference. he nodded along, processing your words. by the end of your thrifting trip, heeseung went home with a bundle of clothes to wear. the next day, he’d wake up earlier than normal to try and piece his new clothes together. he knew he wasn’t good at it. his friends let him know without reservations. hell, your friends let him know with their skeptical looks. it wasn’t until he talked to sunghoon in the gym that he got some actual constructive criticism.

“you’re taking an interest in fashion?”

“nothing crazy,” heeseung muttered, kicking the dust on the floor. “i just hate the comments y/n gets whenever her friends think i’m not listening.”

sunghoon looked at his gym buddy in pity. “look, man. if everything you’ve told me about your relationship is true, i don’t think y/n cares what you wear. she hasn’t in 3 years. what makes you think it’ll change all of a sudden?”

nothing. he didn’t doubt you. he just got sick at the thought of you having to listen to all those criticisms. so, sunghoon helped him. he showed him his pinterest moodboard and made heeseung swear to never tell anyone that’s how he chooses what to wear. after that informative session, heeseung got to work. he used your instagram feed as a reference, wanting to match your aesthetic, and created a moodboard inspired by it. using his pinterest board, he went thrifting by himself. he recalled the countless videos he watched while sorting through the clothes. cotton, not polyester. depending on the stain, you can get it out. tailoring is always an option when you find something that is a little too big!

he was very serious about his transformation. he even digitally scrapbooked the pictures of him in different clothes so he could be like cher in clueless. since then, his fashion started improving. your morning routines together changed ever so slightly with you telling him to spin for you. his heart warmed with every compliment you gave him.

“who is this diva?” “i feel very underdressed. i’m changing.” “are you getting dressed by law roach?” “you’ve been taking dress to impress a little seriously these days.”

heeseung’s confidence soared. now, he wasn’t ashamed to go out with you. your friends weren’t ashamed to be seen with him either. they even went as far as to compliment him! score! he’d gotten brownie points with your friends.

“finally, he’s dressing like a boyfriend fit to be with you, y/n.”

oh, that made you pull the brakes real fast. it completely escaped your mind how much your friends dissed your boyfriend (because you brushed them off as stupid comments). come to think of it, heeseung always did manage to miss the moments where they talked about him, but only by a minute or two. what if… what if he did hear those comments?

curious and worried, you asked him during your nightly routines. “hee, did… did you start dressing up for any particular reason?”

uh oh. heeseung hated lying to you; it physically pained him. so, he confessed. “i heard what your friends think of me and i didn’t want you to have to keep hearing them say things like that.”

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry you heard that,” you cooed. “i didn’t tell you because not even an atom of me agrees with them. i love you as you are, uni tees, basketball shorts and all.”

heeseung put down the moisturizer and looked down. “i know… i just wanted people to stop thinking we’re wrong for each other.”

you frowned and pulled him into a hug. “well, we know we’re perfect for each other. i’ve known it from the moment you started talking about the metrics of trot. i remember just nodding along and thinking how beautiful you were.”

heeseung blushed at your words. you always knew how to make him feel better.

“you don’t have to dress up for anyone but yourself, okay?”

he shook his head with a small smile. “i like matching with you. it’s fun.”

“well, i guess we really gotta dress to impress then,” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

with that, heeseung was reassured. no more pressure. he could just dress however he wanted (which was however you were dressing). but, his glow up didn’t stop there. no, he thought about a haircut. he wanted something that would shut your friends up forever. so, after scrolling forever on tiktok, he found that he liked a mullet with some face-framing pieces. he went and got it done at sunghoon’s trusted barbershop and came out a new man. he immediately sent you a picture, to which you responded, “don’t go anywhere. no errands. no grabbing food. come home. now.”

safe to say, you loved his new haircut. he loved his new haircut. he loved it even more when his friends and your friends couldn’t manage words. good. stay that way.

loser!heeseung was still a loser but, at least, he was in a hot man’s body with his very very attractive girlfriend. he still played league. he still larped. he still took the renaissance fair very seriously. he still loved you more than anything in the world. he was still your loser.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[kwoniele]

don't let them hear — choi subong

synopsis: lights off meant something a little different between you and the famous choi subong, also known as thanos.

genre: smut and fluff bc theyre js exes who want eo bad LOL. green flag choi subong... say WHAT 💜

warnings: afab reader, tease, fingering, nothing else honestly

author's note: this is the first time i have ever written on this account + since my social media detox so pls bear w me if this isnt exactly up to your standards ha ha ha... ily anyway not proofread! i wrote this when it was 3am leave me be.

"lights will be turned off in ten seconds."

in a moment, the lights will dim and the only thing shedding light in the room would be the giant pig dangling from the ceiling and choi subong's pale skin that's attached to yours. ever since he told you he would be joining you in bed tonight, you couldn't deny the fact you were thrilled. your drug-addict ex boyfriend shouldn't have excited you this much. let alone the fact you were waiting for him. 

"five, four, three, two, one." now, it was fully dark. 

you sighed in disappointment. you turned away from the side subong was and decided to sleep on your own. you knew you shouldn't have trusted him at all, yet you were gullible enough to believe he'd keep his promise. and he didn't. cause if he did, he would be beside you with his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to him so that you could warm one another up.

"y/n?," your eyes abruptly opened, "are you still awake?" he actually did it. he actually kept his promise.

he actually came.

you decided to play the stubborn game and not answer. but you knew that he was aware you were definitely up. "don't want me here? okay señorita. i'll leave." his footsteps began to get quieter as he 'left'. you felt guilty and decided to let him explain himself. after all, it hasn't been long since that robot woman announced it was time for bed.

"fuck you." you turned toward him, expecting him to be halfway gone already. yet you met a choi subong sitting down with his arms trapping his knees while replicating footsteps that were leaving. "wow. double fuck you.'

"please, i know you want me here. so move over." he stood up and laid down beside you as his head automatically dug itself into your chest. "i don't give a fuck if you're going to go on some lecture about how i should have been here sooner, so don't waste your time." he pecked your collarbone before adjusting his position. "i'm here with you and that's what matters. okay?"

speechless is an understatement. you couldn't even be mad. you couldn't feel the slightest anger in you because he's right there. you could see his purple hair laying on your neck.

wait. something's wrong. something's missing.

"wait. choi subong. where's the necklace?" you used two fingers to tilt his head up so you could see his eyes. they're still as pretty as ever. fuck him for having such charming eyes. 

"gone. i threw it away when i saw you rave about how you were so much happier when you quit." he stared at you. waiting for you to say something. "what? do you want me to dig my hands into the toilet to retrieve it?"

"did you seriously… get rid of it? for me?" you sat up. tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before holding his hands. you noticed the tattoo he dedicated to you. the little heart with a sun next to it because he said that you were his ray of sunshine.

"of course i did. i meant it when i told you i'd fix myself as long as we crossed paths again, you know. i don't just make promises for the sake of—" shutting him up with your lips was probably your favourite thing to do. you missed this. you missed him. you missed feeling his lips perfectly match yours everytime you leaned in to him. 

"then i meant it when i told you i'd let you fuck me whenever, wherever. hopefully you take that damn opportunity now." he analysed your face before realising you were serious. he didn't even need to say anything. he just held your face by your jaw, kissing you rougher than earlier while gently laying you down on your bed.

he took off your pants and placed it just beside the bed, sliding your panties right after it. "fuck. how long have you been this wet, hm?" his middle finger glided itself from your cunt to your clit, using your slick as lubricant to teasingly insert his finger in your hole. "was it when i told you i quit? or when you kissed me? or better yet, since you saw me?"

"fuck, subong–" his free hand covered your mouth, preventing you from letting a noise out. 

"can you be quiet for me, baby? wouldn't want to let these jackasses know i'm fucking the prettiest girl here, would you?" you shook your head, agreeing that you should be dead silent. 

you didn't even notice that he snuck a second finger, fucking you with his fingers repeatedly until your were squirming and arching your back from the bed. "that's it, baby. do just that." his thumb flicked your clit, causing you to buck your hips on his hand. 

you don't know how he understood, but you mumbled against his hand that you were going to cum. his smirk was evident in the dark room which caused you to be pushed to the edge even more. "are you going to cum? hmm? is my baby finally going to cum for the love of her life?"

all you could do was nod. it was cute to him.

when you finally reached your release, he made sure to lick off all of your juice from his fingers. you watched him slowly suck on his ring finger while intensely staring at you. "i love you. don't leave ever again. i better be the only one you do this to."

"only for you, baby. just you and me. choi subong and future choi y/n. okay?

[deadandwalking]

i am aware this is intended as an ask game but i NEVER get asks so fuck yall

1. Nobody even look at me for this. Silco - Arcane, Slenderman - creepypasta, Kagekao - creepypasta, Logan - sanders sides, Observer - tribetwelve.

2. Lighter

3. FUCK NO!!!

4. I believe anything can be real if you let it

5. Sadly blue. i hate them.

6. i could be dead tomorrow

7. hair ties

8. one. cups are a different question

9. don’t drink coffee. although i would like cold better as i hate hot drinks

10. depends on who

11. writing stories

12. a bad one

13. not recently

14. it is a scent

15. i parent my littles

16. no

17. nearsighted

18. whatever hag buys. i don’t get to choose.

19. if we were friends, yes

20. neither

21. i have a plushie of a white tiger called Winna. her <3

22. human one (<-flex)

23. cold :(

24. probably hiding. hide and seek >:)

25. perfume

26. meeting my brother, getting back with my ex, and sometimes i think over an alter’s memories to help calm them

27. last night a good 10 but usually about 4

28. nuhuh

29. hot but not scalding.

30. as always

31. eminem, songs that make me think of ww1, any songs i associate to my current fp

32. no, weird

33. emmm when i ran away i guess?

34. plenty. but i still remember the first i learned. it was yesterday’s men, idk the original singer but i grew up hearing the celtic thunder version

35. idk the codes or anything. it’s 2:38am now. just check when i posted if you wanna know

36. i moved blogs a few times due to it being found but i don’t change other than that.

37. nobody. if i ignore relatives, the person i’ve known longest is Joey who i have known 5 years now

38. couldn’t tell you. don’t really care about soap scents

39. no, though i really should

40. nope

41. still don’t drink it

42. youtube, spotify, discord (in phases), and more recently safari to read something online

43. no no likey :(

44. oooh a lot of people are candidates, maybe Nicola or Kevin

45. some parts

46. i watch like 3 movies bro. does a nightmare on elm street count?

47. “he’s still upset by it, idk what to tell him” - in reference to Angel losing someone important to him

48. younger than i wanted

49. don’t think so

50. sure, go apeshit!

here’s weirder asks

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

lighter or matches?

do you leave the window open at night?

which cryptyd being do you believe in?

what color are your eyes?

why did you do that?

hair-ties or scrunchies?

how many water bottles are in your room right now?

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

would you slaughter the rich?

favorite extracurricular activity?

what kind of day is it?

when was the last time you ate?

do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

can you drive?

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

what hair products do you use?

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

do you say soda or pop?

something you’ve kept since childhood?

what type of person are you?

how do you feel about chilly weather?

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

perfume/body spray or lotion?

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

about how many hours of sleep did you get?

do you wear a mask?

how do you like your shower water?

is there dishes in your room?

what type of music keeps you grounded?

do you have a favorite towel?

the last adventure you’ve been on?

is there a song you know every word to by heart?

what’s your timezone?

how many times have you changed your url?

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

a soap bar that smells good?

do you use lip balm?

did you have any snacks today?

how do you take your coffee?

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

what’s your take on spicy foods?

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

can you remember what happened yesterday?

favorite holiday film?

what was the last message you sent?

when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

can you skip rocks?

can i tag you in random stuff?

[ultravi0lence14]

Thoroughfare

DEAN WINCHESTER X DOE!READER

WARNINGS: sexual content (MDNI), fingering, hair pulling, finger sucking. first smut, pls i know it’s bad🫣

SUMMARY: with a light whisper of ‘do you wanna see the west with me?’ dean had you right where he wanted; by his side and sitting pretty in the front seat of his car.

WC: 3.3k

the humid air of the western skies lingered on your skin, bringing a humid and sticky sheen to your arms and shoulders. dean had all the windows rolled down, a testament to the light breeze that broke through the stickiness of montana.

your cotton tank top stuck to your skin, slick sweat making you feel like it had melded with your body. the cutoff’s you wore weren’t any better, adhering to your thighs like glue. the stubborn weather of a mid july afternoon didn’t allow for any cold; no chill wracking you through the bone, only a sickly, immobilizing heat that crashed through your senses and made it’s way into your dna.

though some part of you didn’t seem to mind. the rolled down windows allowed you to stick your head out the open space, wind blowing in your hair as you took in the blurred and rolling sights of crooked leafless trees and dried up fields.

dean wasn’t any better. one of his hands rested on the steering wheel, long nimble fingers clutched tightly so he could steer you to wherever the road leads you two. his other hand — firm in it’s grip, rested on your thigh. his fingers travelled into the inside of your leg, fingers delicately dancing across the seem of your shorts as his eyes stared at you from his peripheral vision.

you were ethereal, an angel sent from God just for him. your hair, unruly in how the wind tossed it about, was flowing behind you like a fairy with her wings. the side profile of your face was directed towards dean, your back facing the passenger side door as you stuck your head out in the placid and dry air.

the fullness of your cheeks was properly on display to dean’s eager eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to run his lips across the skin, brushing delicate kisses onto your cheeks and face until you were covered in his love. he could faintly see the plump pout of your own lips, eyes shimmering with admiration and desire as he pictured running his tongue across them; your soft lips pressed timidly against his as he pulled you into his body, almost swallowing you whole.

he loved you, so incandescently. you were the face of beauty, a true goddess in the eyes of the eldest winchester. it wasn’t just your delicate features that pulled dean in, it was the way you carried yourself, a graceful mist following you wherever you went.

softness rolled off of you in tidal waves, and dean loved how your gentle nature contrasted and grounded his frequent pessimistic and grumpy behaviour. the human embodiment of a doe; a creature full of love and life, who walked through flower gardens erupted by spring like it was her calling.

it didn’t help that your eyes resembled one of the animal; big and round, always so soft and caring. he loved you so much, it physically made his soul ache.

you were always there for him, never wavering even when times got tough. you didn’t love his job, believing that hunting was dangerous and the stem of all of his childhood and lasting trauma. but dean always waved you off, saying that this was his life, and he would never do anything that would jeopardize a life and future with you.

but he could still see the emotional tole it was taking on you, weighing on your heart like a heavy burden that you shouldn’t be carrying. he ached for you to feel secure in this life that he was giving you, but dean also knew that everyone needed breaks. so, he decided to give you one.

a couple nights ago, the two of you found yourselves tangled in the sheets of a nebraskan motel, limbs intertwined as dean embraced you in his arms, your fingers drawing small hearts on his chest.

“let’s go to california.” the random outburst from dean had you pulling away from him slightly, lifting up on your elbows so you could get a better look at the man who’s eyes glimmered with hope and mischief. “what are you talking about, dean?”

“what i’m trying to say is,” dean sat up as he spoke, resting against the headboard and grabbing your hips so he could pull you into his lap. “let’s go to california. you are always begging me to go to malibu, and you deserve a vacation every now and then.”

the smile on your lips was beaming, a shine that could light up a thousand skies. dean wanted to bottle it up, put it in a jar, and never let it leave his side. he felt your hands move to his shoulders, those big, beautiful eyes staring at him with unbridled excitement. “you’re being serious right now? this isn’t just some sick joke?”

“no jokes baby,” he drawled, hand brushing your soft hair away from your face. pulling his face closer to yours so he could brush his lips against your ear, dean whispered so softly you believed you were imagining it. “do you wanna go see the west with me, pretty girl?”

you were elated the whole car ride, excitedly babbling about all the things you two would do in the golden state. as the nights rolled into days, the air started to get more and more humid, which led to the very moment that dean was in now. he shook his head from the memory of how he got here, watching your smile take up your whole face as you giggled at something unbeknownst to him. he didn’t really think about the why, he was too busy getting drunk on the sound of your laugh.

lightly patting your thigh, dean grinned over at your windswept and sticky frame as your giggles danced alongside the flow of the wind. “c’mon crazy girl, get back in here. can’t have you falling out.” his words held a joking lilt, yet you could see the concern in dean’s eyes. with a joking huff, you retreated back into the car, legs immediately sticking to the leather as the hot air melded your skin like sticky glue.

“oh c’mon dean, it’s so hot.” you groaned out, another giggle rippling through your lips as you saw dean playfully role his eyes in your peripheral. “i can basically feel my skin melting off.”

“you’re so dramatic,” his teasing was palpable, you could feel it in the way his smile reached his eyes and how his fingers clutched a little tighter onto your thigh. “what do you think cali’s going to be like, baby? think it’s going to be an ice box?”

letting out a grunt as you smacked his arm, dean watched with love struck eyes as your grin got impossibly even more wide. “you’re such a jerk, dean winchester!” dean swore he has never smiled harder in his life than when he was with you. that sweet, playful nature always brought out the best in him, and he didn’t even dare think about a life without your brightened presence.

crossing your arms over your chest, those pretty pink lips dean loved so much puffed out in a pretty pout. dean’s hand itched on your thigh, wanting to reach up and pull down your bottom lip. “i’m prepared for the weather in california, dean.” your voice broke him from his revere, making dean slightly cough as he intently listened to your ramble

“we won’t be spending all the time in the car. we’ll be at the beach, santa monica pier — oh i’m so excited for all the rides!” the vibrant glimmer of your excitement shined through the car, hitting dean straight in his heart, spreading until it was pumping through his veins.

“yeah, no rides, doe.” the previous excitement in your eyes dwindled, a shocked expression breaking through. “what? we have to go on the rides dean! it’s almost like a birthright.” he just loved how you expressed yourself, loving how when you defended the things you loved, your eyes got wild and your cheeks tinted. it was such a pretty sight, though dean was starting to believe everything about you was pretty.

dean’s words came through his lips in a chuckle, a grin etched onto his face as he looked at your pretty features. “i don’t do rides. never have, never will. sorry, sweets.”

shaking your head in disdain, a sad pout decorated your face, turning towards dean as he continued to drive down the desolate, montana road. “you’re such a buzz kill, do you even know what fun is?”

your question was a joke, your voice light and airy as it always was, but this time with a twinkle of comedy. but dean was already so wound up from the image of how pretty you looked with the wind blowing in your hair, illuminating you like a framed painting, that an idea slid into the depths of his mind.

a smirk adorned his lips as he shifted the wheel, pulling the impala off to the side of the road. your face twisted up in confusion as dean pulled the gear shift into park, cutting the ignition and turning his body to face you. your lips parted in question, about to voice your thoughts before dean’s hands grabbed at your calves.

with a squeak from your lips, dean hauled your legs onto the front seat, moving your body so your back was leaned against the door. he then tracked his fingers down the smooth expanse of your skin, grabbing at your ankles and pulling you down until you laid flat on your back.

the space was cramped, but dean somehow found a way to make it work; bending your legs at the knees and spreading them open so he could fit in between them. words were lodged in your throat, a sputter of air leaving your lips as dean situated himself. he had that shit eating grin on his face, and you could already tell that he had something wild up his sleeve.

“dean!” you exclaimed, hands going to rest against his chest as a laugh erupted from your lips. “what are you doing?”

he just smirked, trailing his hands from your ankles up your thighs, one hand gripping your waist as the other worked to pop the button of your shorts. “just showing my girl how fun i can really be.”

the words that fell from his lips were amplified with the sound of your zipper undoing, and your eyes widened suddenly at the realization of what dean had in mind.

“we can’t do this now, dean.” you exasperated, hands pushing at his chest as his fingers worked to take off your pants. “someone could drive by, they could see us for christ’s sake!”

dean just leaned down to leave a lingering kiss on your forehead, shimmying the waistband of your shorts a little ways down your waist before his hand on your hip shifted to go under your ass. “no one’s been on the road for miles, sweet thing. we’re alone, everything is going to be okay.” his words were followed by the softening of his eyes, the hand that had been undoing your zipper went up to stroke your cheek. “do you trust me?”

sliding your hands up from his chest to around his shoulders, a soft, serene smile graced your lips. you brought your face upward, brushing your mouth against his as the shallow breath’s leaving dean’s lips hit your own. “of course, i always do.”

you felt him smile against your lips, placing a delicate kiss on your nose before he pulled back slightly. “good,” he breathed, hands going back to your waistband. “now, lift your hips f’me, baby.”

a dusty blush adorned your cheeks as you obliged, hips lifting slightly as dean slid your jean shorts from your legs. when they got to your ankles, dean helped you kick them off, picking them up and throwing them somewhere in the backseat with a grin.

“that’s much better.” words wrapped around a grin as his fingers dipped into the waistband of your panties. the giggle that left your lips at his comment turned into a shallow whimper as one of his fingers dipped into your folds, his fingers slipping through your already wet cunt.

a breath left dean’s lips, eyes blowing wide as he watched your face twist in pleasure from the finger he had down your pants. “jesus, sweets, you’re already fucking soaked. did i do this to you? was it my words and my finger that got you this wet?”

a high pitched ‘mhm’ left your lips as you nodded your head, eye’s half lidded as you watched dean stare down at his finger teasing your folds. moving the finger that was teasing your entrance towards your clit, lightly pressing down and eliciting a sharp moan from deep in your gut. “there’s my girl,” dean cooed, his fingers moving in tight circles on your sensitive bud. “you’re doing so good for me baby, such a good fucking girl.”

the sensation was overwhelming, a shot of bliss the curled in your gut and wound into your soul. your half-lidded eyes caught sight of dean, his head down as he watched the way his finger played with your clit. the mid-day sun was washing over his figure, bathing him in such a light that made him look almost angelic.

as dean pulled his finger away, you felt a sense of emptiness unfurl in your stomach. a deep whine left your lips, hips lifting upwards to try and chase the high that dean was providing you. “more dean. please, give me more.”

“patience, pretty girl.” his voice was soft, but there was an air of demand and dominance that hid behind the cracks of his voice. “i’m just getting started. didn’t know you were so needy for me.”

another whine tore from the depths of your throat, whimpering as dean slid the side of your underwear out of the way, exposing your cunt to his eyes and the cold air that was whirling through the car’s vents. a groan rumbled in his throat, your eyes half lidded as you watched him put the finger covered in your slick in his mouth.

“jesus christ, you taste like a fucking dream.” his words sound slurred, and they were heightened as two of his fingers went back to your leaking pussy, prodding at your entrance as tiny whimpers left your throat. “i can’t wait to see how you look stuffed with my fingers, gushing all over my hand like the good girl i know you are.”

the whine that would’ve left your lips at his words turned into a deep moan, dean’s middle and pointer finger entering your tight walls, his own ragged breaths mixing with yours as he felt you clenching around him.

he watched as your breathing grew ragged, chest heaving up and down as you gripped onto his shoulders for dear life. he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so dean waited until you gave him the green light, his other hand smoothing down the hair the fell in your face.

after a couple of moments, he felt your hips rut into his hand, eyes screwing shut in pure pleasure. that was all he needed to thrust his fingers into your tight walls.

high pitched whimpers left your lips as dean’s fingers prodded at your cervix, a guttural moan leaving your lips as he brushed against your g-spot.

“there it is,” he breathed, hollow breaths leaving his own lips as he watched his fingers go in and out of you. “that’s the spot, isn’t it baby? you like it when my fingers make you feel good?”

all you could let out was a guttural moan, hands clawing at dean’s clothed chest for any sign of resolve. too caught up in your own pleasure, you didn’t realize that dean had forgotten to roll up the windows, your loud moans and whines flowing through the wind and alerting anyone who drove by about what was going on inside of the impala.

but in the moment, you didn’t seem to care. dean started to move his fingers faster, your hips rutting up to meet the frenzied pace of his hand. the coil in your stomach was starting to tighten more and more, and you couldn’t help but scrunch your eyes closed and slightly turn your head as the euphoric feelings started to intensify.

though that didn’t last for long, because without a warning, the hand that dean had previously used to smooth down your hair tangled in it’s strands, gripping tightly as he pulled your head upwards so you were face to face with him.

“open those pretty eyes for me, sweetheart.” his voice held that same softness with a lilt of dominance, fingers quickening as he felt your orgasm approach. “i wanna see you when you cum. see how good i make you feel when i fuck you with my fingers.”

your eye’s shot open, lips parted and heavy pants and whines leaving your throat as dean kept going with the relenting pace. “i can’t- fuck, dean! i’m gonna cum!”

the pace at which dean’s fingers were moving inside of you was relentless. each thrust of his fingers hitting your g-spot as his piercing green eyes stared into yours. at your words, he moved a little faster, lips brushing yours as his voice travelled from his lips to yours. “c‘mon, my sweet girl, come for me.”

you could feel it, the bliss that started in your core and creeped it’s way into your entire body. the coil in your stomach tightening and tightening until, like a crashing wave, it gave way.

you came with a loud cry, back arched and head leaning into dean’s hand embedded into your hair. you watched as dean kept moving his fingers inside of you even as you gushed around his fingers. he was transfixed, completely enchanted by the bliss that took over your face.

“there you go,” he cooed, the hand in your hair lessening as his fingers started to slow down. “pretty girl, all messed up, coming on my fingers. you look fucking unreal.”

his words were mixed in with the small whimpers that left your lips, mouth parted and cheeks flushed with bliss. there was drool running down the corners of your mouth, and you felt as dean took his hand out of your hair and wiped it away with his thumb.

you whined as he pulled his fingers out, feeling empty without his fingers deep inside of you. looking down, you watched as your juices spilled out of your entrance, dean immediately dipping his two already wet fingers in the mess and putting them in front of your mouth.

“open up for me, doe. want you to taste yourself on my fingers.” with wide, wet eyes, you parted your lips for dean to place his two fingers on your tongue. when you closed your mouth, sucking on the two digits, you felt as the pads of middle and pointer finger prodded at the back of your throat.

“that’s my girl.” dean breathed out, watching in awe as he stared at your pretty face sucking your juices off of his fingers. he swore you weren’t real in that moment, too good to be true. yet as you swirled your tongue around his fingers, he realized that you were his, and he was yours, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world.

as you came down from your high, dean cleaned you up with a napkin that he found in his centre console. when he was done, he helped you sit up, moving your underwear back into place and allowing you to take a breather.

realizing your shorts were in the backseat, you leaned over the seat to try and find them, jumping as you felt dean land a smack on your ass.

“jesus dean,” you laughed, grabbing your shorts and sitting back down. “can’t get enough can you?”

“when it comes to you?” he grinned, turning the car back on and starting to pull back onto the street. “i can never have enough,”

TAGS: @haunteres @starzify @floralscented @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @honeyryewhiskey @foolinthera1n @vaiieydoii @bluemerakis

NAT BABBLES: i’ve been so wrapped up with my angel series, that i wanted to reset and write a little dean story. also, this is my first time writing smut, so i know it’s probably ass, but just bare with me😭

[foreingersgod]

Pls do Caroline Harvey HCs

with just an eeny weeny teensy tiny bit of smut plss 🙏🏾

Headcannons . CH

pairing: caroline harvey (kk harvey) x reader

warnings: a mix of fluffy content and smut, so read at your own discretion and minors and men please do NOT interact!

this is my peace offering for being so busy and slacking on writing, full length fic coming soon!!

also not spell checked, sorry!!

SFW (barely but no smut)

i feel like she’s a pretty domestic person, i think she’d prefer quiet nights at home with you as opposed to going out and partying. i imagine her being the one to beg you to stay and do date night at home anytime you suggested getting dinner or seeing a movie.

“but babe why can’t we just stay home?! we have food and plenty of movies here!” she’d whine when you asked “i’ll even make you dinner myself! come on, i jus’ want you all to myself”

on a similar note, i also think she’s not huge on PDA and that’s why she loves staying in with you so much. it’s not that she doesn’t feel comfortable being seen with you, it’s just that she’s kind of reserved and prefers to keep her personal life as private as she can. for her sake and for yours.

which has its perks, don’t get me wrong. you almost prefer it that way, subtle little touches when you’re out with friends or something like that, her hand gently resting on your lower back or her head resting on your shoulder when she gets tired. and then you’d get home, and she wouldn’t be able to help herself anymore. she’d be all over you in an instant.

“fuck,” she pants when you finally walk into your shared apartment for the night. you had been out for your mutual friends birthday, and you unintentionally intentionally decided to wear something fairly revealing “y’know what you do to me? wearing something like that?”

and believe me…she’d make up for the lack of public affection in other ways.

i’d like to think that her love language is acts of service. like she still loves to touch you and validate you and all that lovely girlfriend stuff, but she shows her love in more ways than just words.

she’d often leave you sticky notes on the fridge when you got home later than she did, maybe leave some on your nightstand when she had to leave early in the mornings when you’re still asleep. always leaving an “xoxo C” at the bottom to tell you she’s thinking of you.

not only that, but she’d do a lot of household chores for you when you were busy with school and work, run you relaxing baths when you were sick, or even something so little as running to the supermarket to grab your favorite ice cream when you started your period.

she’d be one of those stereotypical lesbians that just absolutely worships the ground their girlfriend walks on. she never fails to bring you up in conversations and is quite willing to do anything you ask.

one night you’re winding down after a long day, watching tv and painting your nails whilst caroline sits beside you to keep you company. she’s quite honestly not paying attention to what’s playing on the screen at least, rather her eyes are glued to you. she watches the way the lavender lacquer glides across your nail, how your tongue sticks out in conversation and she’s in complete awe of how beautiful you look doing the most mundane things.

“hey caroline?” you asked with a pout.

“yeah baby?” she hums in response, pretending like she wasn’t just watching you like a hawke.

“d’you think you could help me with this hand? i keep messing up”

and she’s already perching herself on the floor in front of you, pulling you into her lap as she grabs the bottle of nail polish to finish painting them.

she’s a snorer. i’m so sure of it. although i don’t think she snores like in a heavy type of way, but instead she lets out light little grumbles here and there.

i can just picture her, face pressed into the pillow, her cheek smushed against the fabric as she sleeps peacefully. her hair is all over the place and her lips are slightly parted. and then to top it all off, as if she couldn’t be any cuter, she lets out the softest snuffs.

definitely has a scrapbook, shoved somewhere deep into her closet, that her mother gifted her. it’d be filled with several baby pictures and photos/drawings from when she was in grade school, hiding it away because she was unbelievably embarrassed for you to see them.

you remembered when her family visited you both when you had finally settled into your place together, her mom bringing the scrapbook as a housing warming gift of some sorts. caroline immediately tried to tuck it away, but you were more than stubborn and demanded that you sit down and look through it.

it’s still one of your favorite memories. laughing with her parents at all the goofy pictures from when she lost her first teeth, when she won her first hockey trophy, and when she graduated high school. you even loved reading all the poems she wrote in middle school english, loved seeing all the ‘1st place” ribbons that her mom neatly taped to the card-stock pages.

you only got to look at it twice since then, kk utterly miserable whenever it was pulled out, but you cherished those pictures more than anything.

she’s probably such a dad in the sense that she pretends to not care about the cheesy reality tv shows you’re into, but then secretly starts getting hooked on it and makes you record each episode so you can watch it together.

“what do you mean lisa called meredith a ‘garbage whore’?” she gasped, running into the living room with a bowl of popcorn in her hands “wait, wait i told you to pause it! i don’t want to miss it!!”

her favorite place to kiss you is definitely your forehead. sure, she loves kissing you everywhere, but there’s something so intimate to her about small forehead kisses.

she never fails to give you one before you both fall asleep, before you leave for work, when you’re sad and need comforting or when you’re so excited and it’s her way of expressing her support. you’d probably get her kiss mark tattooed there if you could.

she often gets overwhelmed with sports and school and family and all sorts of things. she tends to be reserved with her feelings, but you’re the only person she can genuinely open up to. sometimes she comes home from practice with this look on her face, and you can immediately tell that she’s struggling.

most times she doesn’t even want to talk about it, she just wants you to hold her, run your fingers through her hair and tell her it’s all going to be okay.

and she loves to teach you new things. wether that’s teaching you how to skate, how to cook a family dish she always ate as a kid, or how play the games she learned in elementary school, she just wants you to be involved in everything she loves.

you think you love it more than she does. you’d never get over how excited she gets when you ask if you can help her make that ‘dinner she made one time’ or if she’d tell you a funny story from when she was a rebellious teen.

like that one time you were having lunch in the park one summer, sprawled out on a handmade quit atop the freshly cut grass as you laid side by side. you picked mindlessly at the dandelions beside you as you both chatted about each others day.

“you know i used to make those when i was younger?” she spoke, motioning to the flowering weeds “flower crowns, i mean”

“really?” you smiled “no one ever taught me how, i always wished i could though”

i didn’t take long before she was picking some herself and instructing you on how to tangle them together so easily. she took it as serious as she took hockey, determined to make sure you knew how to make a perfect flower crown. it wasn’t really a big deal to you in the long run, but something so important to her was just as important to you.

NSFW (for realsies this time)

getting straight to the point, i don’t think she’s huge on the strap. don’t get me wrong, you both still use it often, but i think she much prefers eating you out or scissoring.

there’s something about the appeal of physically feeling you on her that makes her crazy, a sensation that beats using the strap any day.

she loves it when you bite her or scratch her. it’s a pleasant mix between pleasure and pain and it’s probably her favorite part of intimacy.

she likes to look in the mirror the next day, just before she gets in the shower, to admire the long red marks that stretch along her back. she often teases you about too, but if you ever stop, she’s guiding your hands to her back again.

she’s not as drawn to the marks that your bites leave as much, instead she loves the feelings. when she’s making you feel so so good, so much that you can barely hold it in anymore, that you have to bite down on her shoulder or her bicep to keep yourself grounded. it’s like an ego boost to her, a sign that she fucks you so good that you can’t even function properly.

she’s cocky in bed, i feel like she’s the type to say:

“yeah baby? feels good huh?”

“come on, speak up, i can’t hear you”

or if you’re on top…

“fuck yeah, just like that, making me feel so good baby. keep going…gonna make me come”

a sucker for praise

she loves when you tell her that she’s going a good job, that’s she’s exceeding your expectations each time. she’s a bit of a perfectionist and an over achiever that way, but hey, you’re not one to complain.

whilst she loves fancy lingerie and nice dresses, she folds for you even when you’re in sweats and one of her t shirts.

“really? right now?” you huff as her hands dance up your shirt, massaging your tits roughly. she’s kissing up your neck painfully slow and you can’t help but wonder what’s gotten her so worked up “i look like shit”

“are you kidding?” she scoffs “i’d fuck the shit out of you no matter what you’re wearing, you look so sexy even in this”

i’m a firm believer (maybe this is a self insert but idc!!) that she appreciates all body types, especially a chubbier figure. like she’s absolutely obsessed with your pudgy tummy and your thick thighs, a sucker for how plush and soft your body is. don’t even get her started on those stretch marks of yours…

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t struggle with your body image often, but you never had to be insecure for long when caroline walked into your life. she seized every opportunity to make you see what she saw in you, willing to do whatever it took to prove to you that she loved your body.

“shit, look at you” she moaned, smirking as she watched you on top of her, grinding your wet pussies together. her hands gripped feverishly at your hips, often wandering down to squeeze your thighs. her hands were all over you the entire time, letting you know that she loves every inch of you “so pretty on top of me, i’ll never get sick of lookin’ at you, got it?”

[euthymiya]

greens — ft. wriothesley

includes: hints at wrio’s past and his mother that he reflects on ; established relationship ; gender neutral reader ; reader force feeds him veggies because i hc he hates them ; based kind of on this post

“Wriothesley,” you warn. He pauses, glancing at you cautiously at your tone.

“You sound…not happy,” he points out.

You raise a brow, unimpressed and unamused as you say, “Very astute observation.”

“What’d I do this time?” He pouts, slumping in his chair as he tries to sift through his brain for what he’s possibly done. He doesn’t have to think for too long, though—you answer for him instantly.

He almost wishes you never did.

“Finish your vegetables, Wriothesley,” you scold firmly, “you’re not leaving this table until you finish your greens—they’re good for you.”

Finish your vegetables, Wriothesley.

They’re good for you.

You’re not leaving this table until you finish.

There’s something eerily familiar about the words. He thinks he may have swallowed his vision—a chill seeps along his esophagus as he swallows thickly, the frost mixing with his blood as it runs cold and makes him stiffen. There’s ice in his veins. Frigid, harsh, cruel, and sharp.

He plays with his fork, not meeting your stare as he moves the leftover dinner on his plate around with a dazed look.

“Not hungry,” he mutters. “I’m full.”

“You never finish your vegetables,” you huff, “honestly, Wrio, you’re an adult, you know. Don’t be difficult about eating healthy.”

Everything you say sounds devastatingly familiar. His mother’s words take shape in your voice, molding in your throat and waltzing past your lips to haunt him. It’s your voice, sure, but they’re her words. Something about it makes him feel young again—but it’s not rooted in nostalgia. Not fond memories or amusing moments he can look back at and smile.

They taunt him, he thinks. The sweet smile and kind eyes, the firm tone and gentle strictness. His mother’s love was easy to believe. So painfully simple, it felt like she did it just as she breathed. Inhaling his presence and exhaling her care for him in a steady rhythm between expansion and contraction in her lungs.

Eat your vegetables, Wriothesley, she’d tell him. If you want to grow big and strong, you have to eat them.

He wonders now, as he stares at the remnants of dinner, if she’d ever cared for his growth because she cherished his wellbeing. If the thought of him being older, stronger, and maybe even wiser was something she was proud of. (He knows the answer. Deep, in the gaping hole of his chest, the knife twists into the raw edges of a still-healing wound.

He knows. Better than anyone, he knows she never cared. Not for anything other than growing him big and desirable so she could sell him off, offer him up like she saw him as though he was marketable. Like an animal, maybe. An item. A luxury, even.

But not a child. He was never a child in her eyes—simply always just a person who wasn’t grown yet.)

“Hey,” you snap your fingers in front of his face, pulling him out of his daze. Something in your face is softer now, flooded with concern, dripping with anxiety. “You okay?”

“Sorry,” he blinks, staring past your head and at the wall. His voice is soft and barely-there as he all but whispers, “just haven’t heard that in a while. I guess some things never change, huh? I was a handful then, and now, too.”

It’s a poor attempt at a joke. You see right through it—you always do. Some form of recognition and realization and maybe even heartbreak flashes in your eyes, and he hates it. Hates that he can never escape something as mundane as dinner being tainted with demons that make everything unholy. Past demons that shape shift into his present. His future.

His everything.

They reach to grab him, to drag him back into that dark, unforgiving hole in his mind where he can’t climb out. Can’t reach for any sort of leverage to pull himself out and find the light. But just before they can reach out and touch him, you get to him first—one hand grabbing his across the table as you smile softly.

“Well, there’s only one way to handle a stubborn child who doesn’t eat his vegetables.”

“What? Punish me?” He raises a brow. You pretend you don’t hear the underlying bitterness in his tone.

Instead, you reach your fork across the table and onto his plate, stabbing at the broccoli head left untouched before bringing it up to his lips and waving the fork in circular motions.

He scrunches his brows in distaste. You smile and fight back a giggle as you sing, “here comes the plane! Ready for landing in three, two, one…”

“Are you serious?” He snorts, equal parts amused and equal parts in disbelief.

You huff, glaring. “The plane is waiting to land, y’know.”

“Fine,” he sighs in defeat, letting you push the broccoli past his lips and into his mouth. He grumbles, chewing against his will as you watch him intently. “This is gross.”

“Well, one day, when you’re big and strong, you’ll thank me.”

“I’m already big and strong,” he insists, looking a little dramatically wounded.

“Bigger and stronger,” you correct. “You’ll thank me eventually.”

He already has plenty to thank you for, he thinks, eyes trained on you as the light casts over your features like heaven resides in your skin. But adding one more thing to the list is more than okay.

Better than okay, in fact.

So umm….idk. I’m sad about him :( also it’s 2 am and I’m sleepy and this is not proof read I’m sorry. It could be written better but I’m tiredddf

[brazenautomaton]

I guess I should've been more clear when I said Boeing "paid off" the bereaved family, that's on me I guess, but I didn't mean they paid them off in the same sense that you'd pay off a cop. If it even transpired, it would more than likely go something like: "Hey, we feel really bad about the tragic loss of your son who definitely for sure killed himself, so uh, here's some money for your loss. See, we're the good guys in this! Please don't point fingers at us." Or alternatively, they could've not been paid at all. Both are just as likely and explain why the family might still be pointing fingers. It wouldn't have been hush money, more like a gift meant to ingratiate them as an innocent party that obviously didn't work (again, assuming it even happened).

You have already forgotten what you were supposed to be explaining! You said they were paid off to explain why they looked at the evidence and concluded Boeing didn't assassinate him! Neither of those explain the thing you said! Neither of those make a fucking lick of sense when slotted in to the claim you made! You're not even paying attention to the things you say and think, the only consistency is that you believe it must all be a conspiracy of some kind!

"Alternatively, they could've not been paid at all." Your explanation as to why they blame Boeing for his death, but conclude he was not directly assassinated, was that they were "easily corruptible" but "could not have been paid at all."

But the evidence that he killed himself is the hole in his head and the "trust me bro" we get from the cops, which is the same exact kind of evidence that we got from Epstein's supposed suicide as well, just a man hanging in his cell and a "trust me bro" from the cops.

No. That is not what the evidence is. That is the opposite of what the evidence is. I have specifically told you that the evidence is not "trust me," in the post you did not read. You didn't read it. You didn't read the post. Because you do not care about facts in material reality, you only care about who you like and who you dislike when you look at what to believe.

The evidence he killed himself is: the lack of signs of a struggle, the fact the gun was one he owned since 2000, the struggle with mental illness, the testimony of everyone who had seen him dealing with Boeing's harassment and how it had caused his mental health to deteriorate, the notebook full of profane rants in his handwriting about what utter fucking scumbags Boeing was, the complete lack of anyone else's fingerprints, the lack of any unusual activity on his cell phone, the lack of any unusual activity on his hotel room key, and the fact that there was a fucking security camera in the parking lot and nobody else got into his car and nobody else touched his car and his car didn't move. The lack of unusual activity on his phone/GPS and hotel room key indicates nobody got into his car at another location. I said all of this in a post you claimed to read but did not read.

Not anything, no, just the ones where Occam's razor applies. Again, which is more likely, a hundred billion dollar company who are active agents of shady, illegal business practices had both the cause and the means to have someone with information dangerous to their company killed and covered up... or that the guy who was about to testify with said-dangerous information just up and decided to end it all right before the finish line?

That's not what happened you fucking twit. I have said this, in this conversation! He was not about to testify. He had already testified. The Boeing attorneys wanted to call him back for a third day of questioning, during which THEY planned to ask him questions that would be good for their case because they were the ones asking the questions and attempting to get him to say things that discredited him. His testimony was not invalidated by his death, it had already been admitted. He had already testified. He had crossed the finish line. He had already testified. That is knowledge about material fucking reality that you don't think is important because you just keep repeating large quantities of money like it overrides time and matter.

You didn't read that paragraph. Go back and read that paragraph.

No, actually go back and read that paragraph. Actually read the words in it.

I know you didn't read it. Go back and read the words in that paragraph instead of not reading them.

So then explain to me how exactly it's so unbelievable that a dude not in prison, not under watch by guards or cameras, was murdered in his car and then covered up as a suicide? How was one dude with dangerous information under total security and surveillance mysteriously killed and staged, but the other dude with dangerous information with no security or surveillance probably just killed himself?

Is this a bit? Are you doing a bit? Do you literally not care about material reality beyond asking the question "who benefits?"

Do you need me to answer why it is more suspicious that a guy who had a 24-hour detail of people whose entire job was to prevent him from killing himself killed himself when all of those people suddenly stopped paying attention at the same time and the equipment that was supposed to record him in his cell also suddenly stopped working, than a guy who did not have a 24-hour detail of people whose entire job was to prevent him from killing himself killed himself?

There are facts and details about the world we can observe and draw conclusions from. Repeating a large quantity of money does not override time and matter. It is not naive to rely on observations of reality more than repeating a large quantity of money. You do not have to believe that money does not have corrupting properties to believe money does not override time and matter.

Remember earlier this year when Boeing very clearly had a whistleblower executed? And law enforcement didn't even look for anyone or release any info about it or anything?

People keep comparing Luigi Mangione's case to the subway murderer who got off because of systemic eugenics, but I think there's something more apt about the fact that a CEO had someone executed in recent memory, with zero attempts to find a culprit, while they spared no expense at all to find (and probably frame, it's beginning to look like) someone who shot a CEO. It's always fine to slaughter if you're rich, but if you kill the rich, they will hunt you down.

[loving-daisy]

Soft Spot | Theodore Nott x Reader

loving-daisy masterlist

Words: 8.1k

Summary: Theodore Nott didn't believe in love, but no one quite has ever made him feel like his best friend's younger sister, Y/N Malfoy.

Warnings: mentioned death of a loved one

Inspired by the song Soft Spot by keshi

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Theodore Nott wasn’t the type to openly express his feelings, least of all to someone like her. Y/N was a Malfoy, after all, and despite their shared house and mutual acquaintances, there was an unspoken divide between them.

Theodore Nott and Y/N Malfoy had always known each other, and their families had been good friends for many years. Growing up, they were frequently dragged together at family gatherings, whether at Malfoy Manor or in the gardens of the Nott estate.

Theodore remembered her as a little girl, a bit shy but was always the first to stand up for what she believed in, always the first to make sure he wasn’t left out of games or conversations, and always the first to offer a hug when things weren’t going well. He especially remembered her as the one who rushed up to him the first time she saw him after his mother had died. It was the first time, after his mother, he had ever received a hug from anyone. And that stook to him. 

But when they entered Hogwarts, everything changed. As Theodore and Draco were in the same year, they entered first, meaning it had been a few months before he got to see the young Malfoy again. They weren’t particularly close, no. So, they had no reason to keep up with each other’s business. 

The following year, as the young Malfoy entered Hogwarts, Y/N, like Draco, seemed to easily settle into her role in the Slytherin House—charming, sharp-tongued, with a quiet confidence. She wasn’t like the little Y/N he had once known when they were younger. She felt different. Like a little flower waiting to blossom.

With Draco being a protective brother, the young Malfoy quickly became a part of Draco’s inner circle with him, Blaise, and Pansy. 

Despite being in the same friend group for a couple of years, Theodore always felt that she was untouchable, in a way—too much of her family’s reputation clung to her for him to ever really consider her an equal.  Not to mention that she was his best friend’s little sister.

Yet today… there was something different. As she moved down the hall, her gaze still hovering on him for just a heartbeat longer than necessary, Theodore couldn’t help but feel like there was more to Y/N than the icy, untouchable Malfoy name. Her smile was fleeting, but it made him question everything he had assumed about the youngest Malfoy.

“Are you going to stare at that book all day, Nott?” Her tone was teasing, light, but there was an underlying note of something more—something that hinted she had noticed his attention.

His heart skipped, and he quickly looked up, startled. "I… uh, wasn’t staring at the book," he said quickly, unsure how to respond.

Malfoy smirked, clearly entertained by his flustered response. “I’m sure,” she said with a raised eyebrow, her tone dipping into something more challenging.

“Anyways,” she started, “I heard you’re not coming to the Hogsmeade trip again. Why so?” 

“I’m…uh…busy.” 

The girl scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Busy with what? Staring at another book?” 

“I…”

Theodore heard the girl groan.

“Come on, Theo, don’t you want to spend some time with us? With me?” Y/N asked, her gaze on him lingering for a few beats. 

Theodore's cheeks flushed, but he couldn't help but admire her boldness. It wasn't just that she had taken him off guard; it was also that she appeared so at ease with herself, so confident in her demeanor. She didn't need to prove anything to anybody, which was both frustrating and intriguing.

"I didn't know you wanted me to be there," he eventually mumbled, the words escaping before he could stop them. He quickly regretted it, although Y/N did not appear offended. Instead, she inclined her head, examining him briefly, her look softening somewhat.

"Well, of course, Theo," she said, her voice still light but with an edge that indicated she wasn't completely dismissive. "You are our friend after all." 

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Theodore felt out of place as he walked through the snow-covered streets of Hogsmeade, the air frigid and sharp against his skin. He'd spent the last few weeks avoiding this—and everyone. But something had changed. It was something about Y/N and how she approached and invited him to join. He had been reluctant, questioning if he was ready for the social engagement. But now, with the wind cutting his cheeks and the promise of Y/N's grin waiting for him, he was determined to overcome his second thoughts.

When he spotted the group outside the Three Broomsticks, the first thing that struck him was how normal they all looked, standing together, chatting and laughing as if nothing had changed.

Draco was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in his trademark pose, while Blaise stood nearby, looking far more interested in the weather than in the conversation. Pansy was standing just a little farther down, her laughter carrying in the cold air, and Y/N was beside her, looking effortlessly calm, her eyes scanning the crowd.

As Theodore drew closer, Draco was the first to notice him. He straightened up and blinked in surprise. “Nott? You’re actually here?”

Theodore smiled a little awkwardly and nodded. “Yeah. Thought I’d join you lot for once.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised, but there was no mocking in his voice. “You’ve been a bit of a ghost lately. Didn’t think you’d show up.”

Theodore shrugged, trying to downplay his nerves. “Guess I just needed a change. Why not join the fun for once?”

Blaise, who had been watching the exchange silently, finally spoke up. “Well, well. The reclusive Theodore Nott emerges from the shadows.” His tone was teasing, but there was no real judgment behind it. Blaise knew Theodore well enough to tell when something was up.

Theodore chuckled but his gaze shifted to the young Malfoy, and his heart skipped a beat.

She looked at him with a warm stare as if she wasn't surprised to find him here. Something about how she looked made him feel like he belonged, as if his hesitancy and distance had been rewarded only for this moment.

The girl smiled, her lips curving gently as she stepped toward him. “I’m glad you came,” she said, her voice quieter than the others, but her words carried a warmth that sent a shiver through him. “We’ve missed you.”

Theodore swallowed, feeling a little embarrassed by how his chest tightened at her words. “I’ve missed you all too,” he said, his voice unexpectedly soft as he gently looked at the young Malfoy. He realized then that he hadn’t been missing just the group but the feeling of belonging with them—of being able to be himself without pretending.

Pansy, ever observant, smirked at the exchange, her sharp eyes catching the subtle way they looked at each other. “Interesting. Finally dragged him out of his cave, Malfoy?”

The girl rolled her eyes, but the smile never left her face. “Not everything’s a game, Pansy.”

“Clearly,” Pansy teased, but her voice was light, playful.

Draco, still standing nearby, was watching Theodore closely. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, maybe—but he didn’t comment further. Instead, he clapped Theodore on the back, more out of habit than anything else. “Well, now that you’re here, don’t expect to be left out of anything. Let’s get inside and warm up.”

Theodore trailed behind Y/N as they entered the Three Broomsticks, embracing the comfort of the fire as soon as he did so. 

He looked around at the busy pub, but his focus kept returning to her. She was standing next to him, close enough that he could feel the soft brush of her sleeve against his arm.

Theodore was unsure what had changed. He had no idea how things had changed so quickly, but now they were together, surrounded by friends, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was exactly where he needed to be.

As they settled at a table, the usual banter started up again. Draco and Blaise were arguing about something trivial, Pansy was making her usual sarcastic comments, and Y/N was laughing quietly at it all.

But Theodore found himself watching her, how she smiled, and her eyes sparkled when she laughed. There was something so easy and effortless about her presence, something that made him feel at home.

At that moment, he realized that showing up today was the right choice. He wasn’t just there for fun; he was there because he wanted to be. And more importantly, he wanted to be there with her.

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Theodore found himself sitting alone at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, pushing his food around without really eating. His mind is elsewhere, and his usually calm demeanor has shifted to a kind of quiet detachment. He looks pale, his eyes a little duller than usual, as though he’s carrying a heavy weight no one else can see. 

Y/N, seated at the opposite end of the table, can't help but notice. She studies him for a minute, sensing something is wrong but unsure how to approach him.

After a while, she stands up and walks over to Theodore’s side of the table, slipping into the seat next to him. He doesn’t look up at her immediately, but she can feel the tension from him.

“Hey,” she says softly, her voice gentle but firm, not wanting to startle him. “You’ve hardly touched your food.”

Theodore flinches slightly as if her voice pulled him out of some distant thought. He forces a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not really hungry,” he mutters, his tone clipped and almost dismissive.

The girl studies him closely, catching the way his fingers are gripping the edge of his plate tightly, his knuckles slightly white. She knows Theodore well enough to recognize the signs. There’s something deeper going on—something more personal than just not feeling hungry.

“It’s okay to not be okay, you know,” The girl says quietly, her voice low so only he can hear. She leans in slightly, trying to make him feel comfortable. “You don’t have to pretend everything’s fine.”

Theodore shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze dropping to his hands. His heart is heavy, and the grief of losing his mother years ago still stings in ways he doesn’t often let himself feel. It’s the anniversary of her death, and he’s been trying to keep himself busy, to bury the sadness deep within him.

He’s unsure how to express this grief, especially not to anyone at Hogwarts—especially not to Y/N Malfoy, who always seems so put together.

“I’m fine,” he says quickly, but his voice wavers slightly. It’s a lie, and he knows it, but he can’t bring himself to admit it. Not here, not now.

Y/N doesn’t push, but she doesn’t back off either. She knows when to give someone space and when to offer comfort gently. 

She watches him for a moment longer, then says softly, “You don’t have to hide it, Theodore. You don’t need to be the strong, silent type all the time.”

Theodore feels a pang in his chest at her words, their raw vulnerability cutting through his carefully constructed walls. He’s always been the quiet one, the one who keeps his emotions buried. But Y/N sees right through him, making him feel exposed, almost too fragile.

“I don’t… want to burden anyone,” he admits quietly, his voice low. “I don’t want anyone to see… how much it still hurts.”

Y/N’s heart softens at his words, and she reaches out gently, placing her hand over his on the table. The gesture is simple but sincere, an unspoken offer of support. “You’re not burdening me,” she says quietly. “You don’t have to carry everything on your own, you know. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

Theodore tenses at the touch, but there’s no bitterness in it. He doesn’t pull away, but the vulnerability is too much to handle all at once. He takes a deep breath as if trying to steady himself, but his chest tightens. “It’s… hard. I don’t know how to talk about it.”

The girl squeezes his hand, her touch reassuring and firm. “I’m not asking you to talk about it if you don’t want to. But you can share what you feel whenever you’re ready.”

Theodore looks up at her, then meets her gaze for the first time since she has sat down. Her eyes are warm and understanding, and she expresses quiet support. She doesn’t expect anything from him, making the moment feel safe.

His heart beats a little faster as he realizes that Y/N isn't judging him despite how difficult this moment is. She’s offering him the space to simply be.

“I don’t know how to do this…” he murmurs, his voice trembling slightly. “I don’t know how to let people in like that.”

The girl gives him a small, understanding smile. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. But I’m here for you, Theodore. Whenever you’re ready.”

For a long moment, Theodore doesn’t speak. He just sits there, feeling the weight of his grief, the warmth of her hand still over his. It’s comforting, in a way he doesn’t fully understand yet. Slowly, the tightness in his chest begins to ease, though it doesn’t go away entirely. For the first time, he doesn’t feel like he has to bury everything deep down. He doesn’t have to hide.

“Thank you,” he finally says, his voice barely a whisper.

Y/N simply nods, her hand still resting over his, offering the quiet reassurance that she’ll be there for him, no matter how much he chooses to share.

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Theodore, once withdrawn and shy, now spends almost every free moment with Y/N. Maybe even more than he spends time with Draco and Blaise. 

They study together, talk about their dreams and worries, and share moments of quiet companionship. There are still times when Theodore retreats into himself, but Y/N has learned to recognize the signs. She gives him the space he needs without pushing, and when he’s ready to talk, she’s there.

Theodore leans back into the couch, his feet resting on the edge of a table, hands folded across his chest. His posture is relaxed, no longer the stiff, withdrawn figure he used to be when he first arrived at Hogwarts. Sitting beside him with her legs tucked under her, Y/N smiles as they talk about everything and nothing at all.

“You know,” The girl says, grinning mischievously, “I’ve never understood why you’re so good at Potions, but I can never get a single spell right without accidentally turning something into a pile of mush.”

Theodore laughs quietly, the sound surprisingly light. “It’s all about concentration,” he says, voice teasing but warm. “You need to focus. You’re too easily distracted.”

The girl raises an eyebrow. “Says the guy who once spilled an entire cauldron of Veritaserum because he got distracted by a book.”

Theodore chuckles at the memory, shaking his head. “I didn’t spill it because I was distracted! I just... didn’t realize the book had melted into the cauldron.”

Y/N laughs, and it’s a full, genuine laugh that fills the room. Moments like this make Theodore realize how much his friendship with her has changed him. She’s never judged him for his quirks or awkwardness; she’s simply accepted him for who he is, even if he’s sometimes a little scatterbrained.

“It’s honestly refreshing,” Y/N continues, “having a best friend who can make me laugh. You’ve got a dry sense of humor, but it works.”

Theodore smiles, but there's something more in his gaze—a soft affection. “I’m glad you think so.”

He glanced over at her. “You know, for someone who’s always so guarded, you’re surprisingly easy to talk to.”

She scoffed, but there was no bite in it. “You think so?”

He nodded, his smile faltering slightly. “Yeah. You get me, Malfoy. It’s… not something I’m used to.”

She glanced up at him. “I get you?”

Theodore’s usual air of cool detachment was replaced by something softer, something almost vulnerable. “Yeah. You do. And I get you, too. It’s…” He faltered as though struggling to find the right words. “It’s easy with you.”

“I don’t think I could have gotten through everything without you,” Theodore says, his voice quieter, more serious. “You’ve been there for me when I needed someone the most, even when you didn’t know how to help. You always know exactly when to just... listen. Or sit in silence with me.”

“I’m glad,” she said quietly, her voice soft.

They continued sitting in comfortable silence, the weight of their conversation hanging between them. There’s a brief pause, a shared understanding between them. They don’t need to say much more.

She wasn’t just the friend he had relied on for the past few months—she was the person who made him feel seen, understood, and… well, maybe more than just a friend. Theodore wasn’t sure yet.

The silence between the two friends was broken when Pansy saunters into the Slytherin dungeons, her sharp eyes darting between Y/N and Theodore as she took her place across them together with Blaise. 

"So, when's the big confession happening, hmm?" She teased. 

The young Malfoy laughed at her friend’s antics.

"What?" Theodore asks.

Pansy rolled her eyes at the response. "Come on, you two. We’ve all noticed it. You’re practically joined at the hip these days." 

 "Oh, please, Pansy. It’s just friendship." Y/N tried to convince. 

"Sure, just friendship. You two have spent nearly every waking moment together for the past year. It's definitely just friendship."

Theodore and Y/N exchange a glance, both slightly flushed but unwilling to admit anything.

Their friendship has always been easy, natural, but lately, there's been something more—something neither of them has quite figured out yet. The teasing from their friends only makes them more aware of it, but neither is quite ready to confront the possibility that it might be more than just friendship.

"Honestly, you two are impossible," Blaise muttered. 

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Theodore’s chest tightened as he watched the stranger lean in toward Y/N, his hand brushing her arm casually as he spoke. She laughed, the sound soft and familiar, but the sight of her so at ease with someone else sent a wave of jealousy surging through Theodore’s veins.

He turned away sharply, gripping the bar's edge until his knuckles turned white.

This wasn’t fair.

Y/N had every right to talk to whomever she wanted. She wasn’t his. She’d never been his. And yet, the idea of someone else taking his place in her life was unbearable.

“Someone looks like they’re about to explode,” Pansy drawled as she slid beside him, putting on her gloves. “What’s the matter, Nott? Can’t stand the competition?”

“Not now, Pansy,” he muttered, not even glancing her way.

She smirked, clearly delighted by his discomfort. “You know, Nott, for someone so clever, you’re absolutely hopeless. Honestly, how many more boys asking her out, will it take before you admit you like her?”

Theodore’s jaw tightened. “I’m not—I don’t believe in love.”

It's true.

Theodore didn’t believe in love.

He didn’t believe in feelings, in general.

Growing up without the presence of his mother, Theodore’s father needed to emphasize and demand that love doesn’t exist. And this was proven true when his own father didn’t even show up to his mother’s funeral.

“Save it,” she interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “We all see it. You’ve been pining for months. The only person who doesn’t know is Y/N herself. Or maybe…you’re the only one unaware of it.”

His silence was answer enough.

Pansy leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “You know, if you keep standing here brooding like some tragic hero, you’re going to lose her. Maybe it’s time you did something about it.”

Theodore’s eyes flicked toward the Malfoy girl again. She was still talking to the stranger, her smile easy and genuine. He hated how natural they looked together as if there was no room for him in her world anymore.

“Do something like what?” he asked bitterly. “Interrupt their conversation and declare my undying love? That’ll go over well.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You’re hopeless. But fine, keep sulking. Just don’t be surprised when someone else sweeps her off her feet while you’re busy hiding in the shadows.”

With that, she slipped away, catching sight of Blaise as they headed together to meet Draco, leaving Theodore alone with his thoughts as he stared at the young Malfoy.

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The evening at the Three Broomsticks was winding down, and the company was unwinding after a few rounds of butterbeer. The warmth of the fire and the murmur of laughter filled the room, but as the clock struck later in the evening, the talk inevitably moved on to the approaching Yule Ball.

Draco, who had been taking in his drink as he listened to Pansy discuss prospective clothing options, smirked at Blaise. "So, are you intending to attend the Yule Ball this year, or are you avoiding it for some other strange reason, like you did last year?" 

Blaise rolled his eyes but didn't appear offended. "I am going, of course. I have a few possibilities. Not all of us have to scurry for a date like some people." He gave Draco a playful look, who shrugged unconcernedly.

"Right," Draco murmured, turning his attention to Theodore sitting next to his sister. "What about you, Theodore? Have you planned a date for the ball, or will you sit this one out as usual?" 

“I don’t plan on going,” Theodore said, his voice casual. “It’s not really my thing. Besides, I don’t have the energy to pretend to enjoy that sort of thing.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You really are a buzzkill, aren’t you? It’s one night, Theo. A chance to get dressed up and show off a little. You could at least think about it.” He glanced at his sister momentarily as if daring her to chime in.

Before Theodore could respond, he noticed Y/N, who had been quietly watching the conversation unfold, was now looking at him with a faint frown.

“What about you, little Malfoy?” Blaise asked, turning his attention to her. “You planning on going?”

The girl nodded. “I am, actually,” she said lightly, glancing at Theodore. “But Theo,” she added, her voice soft but firm, “you should reconsider. You should go. It’s your last chance to have fun, enjoy the music, and dance. You can’t just skip it because it’s ‘not your thing.’”

Theodore, who had been about to protest, looked at her. Her eyes were serious, and a kindness in her expression made something shift inside him.

He’d never thought about the Yule Ball as something he could enjoy, but Y/N was looking at him as if it was necessary as if it was important for him to go.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he replied, his voice quieter. “It’s just not my scene. You know how I am with those things.”

“I do,” She said, her voice softening. She leaned a little closer, her hand brushing against his on the table. “But this isn’t just about going to a ball. It’s about having fun with your friends. You don’t have to have everything figured out or be the life of the party. Just go for the night. You don’t want to regret it later.”

Her words were sincere, and for a moment, Theodore felt something warm in his chest. How she looked at him, almost as if she could see through all the walls he’d built up around himself, made him reconsider.

“Come on, Theo,” Draco chimed in with a smirk. “You can’t possibly say no after Y/N’s given her stamp of approval. It’s practically an order.”

Blaise added, “You might actually have fun, you know. And who knows? Maybe someone will ask you to dance.”

Theodore snorted, though it was more out of surprise at the direction the conversation had taken than anything else. “You think I’d get asked to dance?” he said, his tone a little more teasing than usual, but his voice had a hint of self-consciousness.

“Of course,” Y/N said with a playful grin, her hand lightly resting on his. “Anyone would be lucky to have you as a dance partner.”

Her words were simple, but they made his heart race.

He didn’t know why, but hearing her say that made the idea of the ball seem less like a burden and more like something he might actually enjoy—especially if she was going to be there.

“Alright, fine,” he finally relented, glancing at the young Malfoy. “I’ll think about it. But I’m not promising I’ll enjoy it.”

“You will,” she said, her smile lighting up her face. “Trust me.”

There was a small pause as the group resumed chatting, but Theodore’s mind was no longer on the conversation. Instead, he found himself thinking about the Yule Ball in a new light.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it could even be fun.

And, if nothing else, he’d get to spend the evening with Y/N and the rest of his friends.

He looked at her then, really looked at her, and for the first time, he understood. She wasn’t asking him to transform into someone he wasn’t. She wasn’t asking him to be the life of the party or to pretend to enjoy every aspect of the night. She was just asking him to show up. To be there with the people who mattered, to make memories that, for once, didn’t revolve around his usual reluctance to engage in things like this.

For a moment, Theodore just stared at her, the warmth of the lights flickering in her eyes. He felt that familiar tug in his chest, that sensation of something more than just friendship. But he didn’t let it show, not yet. He wasn’t ready for that conversation.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

The girl smiled and shook her head. “Nope. You’re going to the ball, Theo. And you’re going to have a good time. We’ll make sure of it.”

He sighed, but the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Alright, fine. I’ll go. But only because you said so.”

Y/N grinned, her eyes lighting up. “I knew you’d come around.”

Blaise coughed. “Softie.” He muttered, shaking his head. 

“Shut up, Blaise.” 

He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen, but as the snow continued to fall outside, he realized that this might just be the start of something unexpected—something he wasn’t ready to let go of just yet.

Y/N had a way of making everything seem possible, and for the first time in a long while, Theodore was starting to believe it.

Blaise wasn’t wrong, though. Theodore might have had a soft spot for the young Malfoy.

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The Yule Ball was well underway, with the Great Hall sparkling beneath a canopy of floating golden stars, their gentle light reflecting off the magical ice sculptures dispersed across the hall. Students at Hogwarts moved in bunches.

The anticipation was apparent as rich, colorful dresses whirled beneath the dazzling floating candle lights. The air was filled with a subtle buzz of music, the delicate sounds of the orchestra flowing over the room, and laughing that seemed to come from everyone.

Y/N Malfoy stood near the entrance, her figure effortlessly poised in a gown of silver silk that shimmered with each movement. The dress hugged her form perfectly, a subtle tribute to her aristocratic lineage, but the soft drape of the fabric gave her an almost ethereal quality, as though she were more a figure from a painting than a living person. Her hair was styled in an elegant updo, small curls framing her face, as her eyes scanned the room.

Theodore Nott lingered near the refreshment table, quietly observing the swirling crowd. Unlike his peers, he didn’t seek the spotlight. His tailored black robes were simple but elegant. In usual Theodore fashion, the boy preferred the edges of the room, where he could avoid unnecessary chatter and instead focus on the rhythm of the night.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else,” The girl teased as she approached him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“Not anywhere,” Theodore replied, his voice calm and steady. “Just somewhere quieter.” 

He tilted his head slightly. “And you? Surely, the Malfoy princess enjoys a night like this.”

The girl hummed in response, shrugging nonchalantly.

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Theodore continued to stand off to the side throughout the Yule Ball, his eyes drifting over the swirling crowd. The music was loud, the flickering candles cast a warm glow across the room, and the students' laughter filled the air. But in the middle of it all, his gaze was fixed on one person-Y/N.

Blaise tilted his head, his dark eyes scanning the crowd with a bored yet calculating air. “You’ve been staring at her all night, Theo,” he said smoothly, his voice low enough to avoid prying ears.

Theodore didn’t look away from where Y/N Malfoy stood, laughing lightly at Pansy's judging words directed towards Harry Potter and his unfortunate date. The girl's smile was radiant, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she exchanged playful banter with Pansy. 

Theodore felt his chest tighten as he watched her, unable to look away. The way she laughed and how her eyes lit up when she was genuinely happy. It was all so mesmerizing.

With a jolt, he realized that he hadn't just noticed how beautiful she was; he had fallen for it.

For her.

“I have not,” Theodore replied evenly, though his tone lacked conviction.

Blaise chuckled, taking a leisurely sip from his goblet. “Right. You’re just monitoring the general well-being of the crowd. Completely selfless of you.”

Theodore finally tore his gaze away, fixing Blaise with a sharp look. “What do you want me to say?”

Blaise raised a brow, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something like, ‘Y/N looks stunning tonight, and it’s driving me mad watching her spend time with someone else.’”

Theodore frowned, his grip tightening on his goblet. “She does look stunning,” he admitted quietly, his voice carrying a rare softness.

“Understatement of the century,” Blaise said, smirking. “Every bloke in this room has noticed, but she hasn’t noticed any of them.”

Theodore’s frown deepened. “What are you getting at, Zabini?”

Blaise sighed dramatically as though speaking to a particularly dense child. “I’m saying, Nott, that she hasn’t noticed them because she’s too busy noticing you. And instead of doing something about it, you’re standing here sulking into your drink.”

Theodore looked at him sharply, but Blaise remained unfazed, his smirk unwavering.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Theodore muttered.

“Ridiculous? Hardly.” Blaise gestured toward the Malfoy girl with his goblet. “She’s barely looked at any other boy all night. But every time she glances over here—and she has, by the way—you’re too busy brooding to notice. Not to mention how she literally turned down every boy that asked her to dance.”

Theodore glanced back at Y/N, his jaw tightening.

“She’s just…” He trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

“Perfect?” Blaise supplied. “Unattainable? Completely and utterly worth it?”

She’s a dream. 

“She’s Draco’s little sister.” Theodore shot him a withering look. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Immensely,” Blaise said with a grin. “But don’t let that stop you. I’m certain our friend would be cool about it. Go on, lover boy. Do something about it before her date gets it into his head to try to get it on with her even after beyond this night.”

For a moment, Theodore didn’t move, his mind racing. Then, without a word, he set his goblet down and stepped away from Blaise.

“Finally,” Blaise muttered, shaking his head in amused disbelief as he watched Theodore cross the room.

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The music in the Great Hall slowed, shifting to a softer, more intimate melody. Couples on the dance floor moved closer, their steps in perfect harmony with the hauntingly beautiful tune. Y/N had been content lingering in the shadows of the grand room, nursing a goblet of punch when Theodore approached her.

He stood with his hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored robes, his sharp features softened by the warm candlelight.

“You’ve avoided every dance invitation tonight,” he said, his tone dry but not unkind.

The girl raised an eyebrow. “And yet here you are, about to offer one.”

“Only because I suspect you’ll say yes.” He extended a hand, his expression unreadable but his voice carrying the faintest hint of a challenge mixed with nervousness.

For a moment, Y/N hesitated. But then she placed her hand in his. “Let’s see if you can keep up, Nott.”

Theodore led her to the dance floor, his movements confident but unshowy. The girl followed his lead, their steps falling effortlessly into sync. 

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” she remarked, glancing up at him.

He smirked. “Surprisingly?”

“Well, you don’t exactly strike me as the waltzing type.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” Theodore replied, his tone low but playful. “I hate to dance, but I’d dance with you.”

He’s never been one for dancing—especially not in front of a crowd—but there’s something about how she looks tonight, something that makes him want to hold onto her forever and show her off to the world as his.

The two swayed to the rhythm, the world around them fading into a blur of swirling gowns and glittering lights. Theodore can’t help but notice how effortless it is to be with her. His nerves, which were there when they first started, slowly fade as he focuses on Y/N. Her laugh, her smile, the way her eyes sparkle with joy—it’s all so captivating.

Y/N glanced up at him. For a moment, the world around them—the glittering lights, the watchful eyes—faded.

"You know, for someone who didn’t want to come to the ball, you seem pretty content dancing here with me."

Theodore glances at her, a small, awkward smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He’s not one for grand events, but Y/N being here beside him makes the entire night feel less daunting. He feels out of place, but the world feels a little smaller in her presence. "It’s... not so bad. Besides, it’s not like I had a better option than being with you. You’re the most stunning person in this room."

Y/N’s heart skips a beat at his words. She’s always known there was something deeper between them, something more than friendship, but hearing him admit it in his quiet, reserved way fills her with warmth.

“You’re full of surprises, Nott. I’m glad you’re here,” she said softly.

Theodore looks down at her, his heart skipping a beat.

He’s not used to compliments or to feeling this seen by someone. There’s a warmth in her voice that he can’t ignore, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world has faded away.

They continued to dance, and the silence between them was comfortable now. It wasn’t until the music ended that Theodore played with the idea that maybe love does exist, especially with how Y/N Malfoy was making him feel right now.

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As the music faded, Y/N and Theodore stepped off the dance floor, their steps slowing in unison. She brushed a strand of hair from her face, still feeling the faint adrenaline buzz from the waltz.

Draco strolled over, his expression unreadable at first but softening when he saw the two of them. He was dressed impeccably, as usual, his posture relaxed and confident.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” Draco drawled, his lips curving into a slight grin. “You, dancing, Y/N?”

The girl rolled her eyes—this time deliberately—and crossed her arms. “Always so supportive, aren’t you, Draco?”

“Supportive, sure. But mostly curious.” He turned to Theodore with mock seriousness. “What’s your secret? She never agrees to dance with me.”

Theodore shrugged casually. “I have my ways.”

“Must be the brooding charm,” The girl quipped, earning a chuckle from both boys.

Draco smirked. “Brooding? You give him too much credit. He’s been brooding since we were eleven—it’s nothing new.”

“And you’ve been insufferable since we were five,” Theodore shot back smoothly.

“Touché,” Draco conceded, clearly amused.

The playful banter flowed easily between the three of them, the formalities of the ball forgotten. The girl leaned back against one of the stone pillars, letting the moment's warmth wash over her.

“So,” Draco said after a pause, looking between them with a raised eyebrow, “should I be concerned about this little partnership?”

Y/N rolled her eyes again, this time with a smirk. “You act like it's the first time seeing me and Theo together. And Please. Like I’d need your approval for anything.”

Theodore gave her an approving nod. “Now, that’s the Malfoy spirit.”

Draco held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. Just don’t forget who your favorite brother is.”

“You’re my only brother,” She deadpanned.

“Exactly.” Draco grinned before clapping Theodore on the shoulder. “Keep her out of trouble, yeah?”

Theodore smirked. “No promises.”

“I need another drink.” The young Malfoy declared, pushing off the pillar and brushing past them both. “You coming, Theo?” 

“I’ll meet you there.” He replied.

“Well, well, Nott,” Draco’s voice cut through the music and chatter like a knife, smooth and mocking. “Look at you. I thought you were planning on hiding away all night.”

Theodore narrowed his eyes at Draco but couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at his lips.

Draco’s smirk widened, and with a dramatic flair, he stepped closer, leaning in as though to whisper a secret. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think you would be the one to sweep her off her feet, but—” He paused, giving Theodore a quick, mischievous look. “—now I’m curious. What exactly are your intentions with her, Nott?”

“My intentions are none of your business, Malfoy,” he said firmly, trying to keep his voice steady, though there was a faint warning tone underneath.

Draco’s smirk only grew, and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Just remember, Nott… if you hurt her, there will be consequences.”

It wasn’t said in a threatening tone, but something in Draco’s eyes—a glint of seriousness beneath the teasing mask—made Theodore freeze.

Draco was always fiercely protective of the people he cared about, and Y/N, as his sister, was no exception.

Theodore raised an eyebrow, meeting Draco’s gaze squarely. “You’re really going to try to intimidate me over Y/N, of all people?” He tried to stay composed.

Draco chuckled, straightening up and folding his arms. “I’m just making sure you know the stakes, mate,” he said nonchalantly, though his eyes glimmered with a challenge. “You can be as charming as you like, but don’t forget who you’re dealing with.”

Theodore fought back a smile. “You always take things so seriously, Draco.”

Draco shrugged casually, but the glint in his eyes never faded. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

Before Theodore could respond, Draco gave him a quick, knowing glance and clapped him on the shoulder with an exaggerated show of camaraderie. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave you to your… affairs with my sister. Just don’t mess it up, all right?”

Theodore stared after Draco as he moved through the crowd, the playful tension still hanging in the air. His heart was still pounding slightly from the exchange.

Draco might have been joking, but his words also revealed truth. Theodore wasn’t sure how to navigate the complex feelings he had for Y/N—especially now, when it seemed like the whole world, Draco included, had an opinion on the matter.

Still, a small part of him couldn’t help but feel a little more determined. He wouldn’t let Draco’s teasing—or anyone else’s—stand in the way of what he and Y/N were building together.

As the music swelled and couples swirled around him, Theodore glanced over at Y/N from across the room. She was talking to Pansy again, her expression bright.

He wasn’t going to mess this up, not with her.

With a final glance at Draco, who was now lost in conversation with Blaise, Theodore squared his shoulders and approached Y/N.

He wasn’t going to let anything, or anyone, stop him from finally going after what he wanted.

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The Yule Ball had faded into the background as Theodore and Y/N found themselves alone in a quiet, secluded room. The soft crackle of the fire filled the silence as Y/N sat across from him, her expression calm, but there was an undeniable tension in the air. The kind that made everything feel more intense, more real.

Theodore’s fingers brushed against the edge of his glass, his thoughts a whirlwind. He hadn’t planned for this. He hadn’t expected to say anything at all, but now, in the quiet room, with Y/N’s gaze steady, the words that had been stuck inside him for so long seemed to burst free, unavoidable.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice quieter than he intended. He cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. “I… I need to say something.”

The girl looked at him, her brow furrowing slightly, her curiosity piqued. “What’s on your mind?”

Theodore swallowed hard, his chest tight. This was harder than anything he had ever done, but it felt like it would eat him up from the inside if he didn't say it now.

“I’ve been trying to ignore it. Trying to tell myself that it’s not a big deal,” he confessed, looking down at his hands for a moment before meeting her gaze again. “But I can’t anymore. I’ve… I’ve fallen for you, Y/N. I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of truth. Theodore held his breath, waiting for her reaction. His stomach twisted with uncertainty.

What if she didn’t feel the same?

What if he had ruined everything?

The girl didn’t say anything at first. She just watched him, her expression unreadable. Her eyes were soft, though, and her lips parted as if she were about to speak but held back.

Theodore’s heart beat wildly, and his palms suddenly clammy.

“You don’t have to say anything, Y/N,” he rushed to add, his voice shaky. “I just… I needed you to know. I didn’t want to keep it hidden anymore.”

The girl’s gaze softened even more, and she took a small step toward him, closing the distance between them. The firelight reflected in her eyes, making them look even brighter.

Then, finally, she spoke, her voice low and steady.

“Theo,” she said softly, his name like a gentle caress. “I’ve known. I’ve known for a long time.”

Theodore froze, his breath catching in his throat. “What?”

Y/N smiled faintly, a kind of tenderness in her expression that made his heart ache in the best way. “I’ve known. I think I’ve always known. I just… didn’t want to rush you. I wanted you to figure it out in your own time.”

Theodore’s mind raced, processing her words.

She knew? She had known all along?

It was almost too much to take in, but simultaneously, it was like the weight in his chest lifted a little. She hadn’t pushed him away, hadn’t turned him down.

“So… you…” He trailed off, struggling to find the words. “You feel the same?”

The young Malfoy nodded, her smile softening into something more knowing. “I do. I’ve felt the same way for a while now.”

Relief flooded through Theodore, overwhelming him in the best way possible. He couldn’t help but smile back, the tension in his body melting away. He hadn’t expected it to be this easy, this… perfect.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he admitted, his voice a little more relaxed now, the uncertainty slowly fading. “I’ve never been good at this. Saying how I feel.”

“I know,” The girl said, her voice full of understanding. “But you don’t have to be perfect, Theo. You just need to be you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Theodore chuckled softly, feeling lighter than he had in ages. “I’m not sure I can be anything else.”

She reached out then, her fingers brushing against his, sending a jolt of warmth through him.

He looked at her, his heart pounding again, but this time in excitement rather than fear.

“You don’t have to,” Y/N whispered, leaning closer, her gaze never leaving his. “You’re exactly what I want.”

Without a word, he closed the gap between them, his hands reaching for her, pulling her into him. Her lips met his with a sudden urgency, a kiss that was more than just an exploration. It was a release, a culmination of everything that had been building between them for so long.

Y/N’s hands moved to his chest, fingers trembling against the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him closer, her lips parting slightly, deepening the kiss. Theodore responded without hesitation, his hands moving to her waist, drawing her against him until they were pressed so close he could feel the quick beat of her heart beneath her ribcage.

The firelight danced across their faces, casting a warm, golden glow as they kissed, the world outside this moment disappearing entirely. It was as if they were alone in the world, the only two people who mattered.

Theodore’s head swam with the feeling of her lips on his, the way her body seemed to fit perfectly against his like they had always been meant to be this way.

Y/N’s fingers slid into his hair, pulling him closer, her breath coming faster. He could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the tension between them giving way to something raw and real.

Every touch, every kiss, seemed to ignite something inside of him—something he couldn’t contain, something that had been building for months, years, even finally spilling over.

When they finally pulled away, their breaths were ragged, their faces flushed. Theodore’s chest rose and fell with each breath, his pulse racing in his ears. Y/N’s eyes were wide, her lips swollen from their kiss, and a soft smile played at the corners of her mouth.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” she said, her voice soft but full of affection. “I think we both were.”

Theodore smiled back, feeling like he had just found a piece of himself he never knew was missing. “I think I’ve always known, too,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I just had to figure it out.”

The girl chuckled lightly, her hand still resting in his. “Well, I’m glad you did. Because I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

Theodore’s heart skipped a beat. He had never felt more seen, more understood in his life. Everything that had been building inside him, all the uncertainty, the fear of rejection—suddenly, it didn’t matter. She was here with him, and that was all that mattered.

He leaned forward again, this time more slowly, savoring the moment. As their lips met again, it was different—deeper, more intense.

This time, it wasn’t just the thrill of a new kiss. It was the recognition of something real they had both been waiting for. The kiss wasn't just about passion; it was about connection, about sharing something growing between them for longer than either of them realized.

As they broke apart again, they stayed close, their foreheads resting against each other, their breathing still heavy. Theodore's hand reached her cheek, his thumb gently brushing over her skin.

"I don't want this moment to end," he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the peace that had settled over them.

Y/N's eyes met his, and she smiled softly, her fingers curling around his. "It doesn't have to end, Theo," she murmured. "We're just getting started."

And in that moment, Theodore realized that everything had changed. His soft spot for Y/N Malfoy was something deeper than he could have ever anticipated.

They had crossed a line together, but this was just the beginning.

[kesujo]

Chapter 14: Miss Not-So-Innocent - Part 1

Previous chapter here. 8.4k words

“Hey, by the way, how’s it going with Tiffany?”

“Hm?”

Jessica showed up an hour or so after Parker had finished dinner. Seeing that she arrived in her pajamas, Parker was about to turn her away when she said she just wanted to hang out and was feeling a little lonely. He knew Hunter had to leave the state for an emergency for one of the hotels he was responsible for—a safety threat of some kind—leaving Jessica by herself for a few days now, so he shrugged and let her in. Fortunately, Jessica stayed true to her word, joining him in watching a volleyball match in the living room and doing nothing more.

In fact, with how much Parker’s been interacting with Jessica recently due to work, casual conversations in the office in which the subject of sex didn’t come up even in subtle, teasing jest were becoming more and more frequent. It was nice, even if Jessica had called him into her office the other day to coat his penis with some weird stuff while she kept it erect for a few minutes and refused to elaborate further afterwards. Otherwise, however, their conversations were … exceedingly normal. It’s only been a week, but having normal interactions with Jessica was a nice breath of fresh air. When she wasn’t dragging him to film pornos or dragging him into her office to be railed with her tits hanging out the windows, Jessica was a very charming, very likeable person. So, Parker’s guard slowly but surely dropped, to the point that he had pretty much forgotten that Jessica was sitting next to him on the couch until she posed the question.

“Pretty…” Parker racked his brain for any possible way he might’ve wronged Tiffany that would thus elicit the question from Jessica. Was it that kiss? But she didn’t seem to mind that much … was there anything else? Did he find some other way to mess up? “…good?”

Seeing Parker’s hesitation, Jessica laughed. “Relax, I’ve heard from Tiffany but want to hear from you too.”

Hearing that, Parker let out a sigh. “Yeah. Pretty good. I took her mini-golfing and then had seafood for dinner. It was a ton of fun, at least for me, but…”

“Hm?”

With how socially aware Jessica was, Parker was really hoping he wouldn’t have to spell it out for her. “Well … you know, how—what’d you hear about it from her?”

When Jessica stayed silent for a few seconds, Parker’s heart plummeted. Was it that bad?

“Do you want to know how Tiffany reacted to watching that porno we shot?”

Parker didn’t know what he thought Jessica said at first. He had to do a triple-take to fully understand it, and when he did, “Ti—” actually, was he hearing correctly? “—Tiffany?!”

“Hm?”

“You showed that to her?!”

Jessica met Parker’s bewilderment with a nonchalant smile. “Yeah. Don’t worry though, she loved it. You should’ve seen how red her face was.” In the back of Parker’s mind, he had to admit that the sight would’ve been really endearing. “But, I mean, it’s not like she doesn’t know we fuck on a regular basis.”

Parker groaned. Was that a good sign? What did Jessica’s answer even mean? “But … ah, but that’s … and she knows it was us?”

“Mhm.”

Parker’s mind was beginning to short circuit. The fact that Jessica was so jovial about this was a good thing, right? “And she knew it was us when she asked to see it?”

“Mmhm.”

“And … she really watched it, all the way through?”

“Yep.”

“And she … she liked it?”

Jessica laughed. “Yeah! Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“I mean … are you sure it was ok to show Tiffany something like that?”

“Well yeah, considering she was the one who insisted on watching it.”

Parker’s jaw dropped. “She—” if it wasn’t Jessica who was telling him this, he never in a million years would’ve believed it. Heck, even though it was Jessica, Parker was still unsure if he believed that. “—she wanted to watch it?”

“Yep. I know, I was surprised too.”

The adorable, wide-eyed Tiffany, who could barely say the words ‘sex’ or ‘fuck’ without turning beet red, who was hesitant to even ask for a goodbye kiss after their last date … that Tiffany asked to see a porno her best friend and said date featured in?

“I can see that you don’t believe me.”

“I mean, you can understand why, though.”

“Yeah. I teased Tiff about it for days.” There was laughter in Jessica’s voice, and a little bit within Parker himself, he couldn’t help but feel bad for her. “You know, you two are so darn cute together!” Unable to contain the excited schoolgirl inside her any longer, she let out a squeal so loud that Parker jumped. “I knew you’d be perfect for each other! You should’ve heard her squealing to me about how perfect you are after every single one of your dates!”

Hearing that put Parker a bit more at ease. “Well, glad to hear it. Just, go easy on her, alright?”

“Aw, worried about your girl?”

“She’s not—” Parker stopped, realizing Jessica wasn’t going to listen no matter how firmly he denied it.

“I mean, she pretty much is, right?”

“What?”

Jessica’s grin grew wider. “Come on, you don’t think Tiff didn’t fill me in on all the deets about your dates? How you got a discount at that restaurant for being a ‘really cute couple’, how you kissed her goodnight in front of her parents after that one date, and how that turned into an impromptu first meeting with them, and how they ended up adoring you?” Parker groaned. He could feel the tips of his ears turning redder by the second: he just wanted to smash his head into the couch’s armrest, but the rally going on in the volleyball match was too intense to turn his eyes away from.

“Jess—”

“Oh, and of course, on your most recent date, where you gave her a pad when she forgot to put extras in her purse?!” Parker was now convinced: the reason why Jessica was so giddy about Tiffany getting together with him was so that she could tease both of them relentlessly. Never mind what he thought before, about Jessica being incredibly likeable: she was the Devil herself. “I’ve heard from Tiff’s parents about male friends of hers they disapprove of. But to think you managed to charm them after kissing their daughter goodnight?! That’s almost unheard of! No, scratch that, that is absolutely unheard of!”

“Can you please stop?”

Jessica let out a giggle. “You and Tiff both, the way your voices get so quiet and your ears turn so red, are just too adorable.”

After a brief pause, Parker spoke back up. “So, you know how I only asked you twenty-two questions about Tiffany?” Jessica nodded. “I’m going to use one of them now.” Sensing the seriousness in his voice, the smile faded from her face. “Are you one-hundred-percent sure Tiffany is willing to have an open relationship?” This was the one hangup that was preventing Parker from asking Tiffany to be his girlfriend. Going out with Tiffany while fucking her best friend just felt wrong. Spending time with Tiffany, talking to her, just being around her made Parker feel like he was on cloud nine, but that thought lingering in the back of his mind prevented him from fully enjoying it. He wouldn’t put it past Tiffany to simply be too nice to acquiesce with an open relationship when she, in reality, wasn’t. Or maybe she even gaslit herself into believing that she was. “I mean, maybe you’re not the right person to ask, but…”

“Yeah … I know, right? A sweet, innocent, traditionalist girl like Tiffany? Especially after what she went through?” Parker didn’t respond, continuing to watch the match. Parker figured Jessica was talking about the troublesome experience Tiffany had with an ex, but seeing as how she kept her wording vague, he didn’t pry. “I’ve talked to her a lot about it, reassuring her I’d be willing to give up on my competition with Hunter in a heartbeat for her, but every time, she said that she’s sure about it.”

“I … I see.”

It set Parker’s mind at ease somewhat, but still didn’t fully clear up the muddiness in his mind about the topic. He would just have to talk to Tiffany about it.

“Have you two fucked since the first time?”

Parker snorted. “What—what are you asking all of the sudden?!”

Jessica just smiled. “So, that’s a no?”

“No! For your information, it’s already not normal to have had sex with someone before starting to date them.”

“That’s such a waste though, with how hot Tiff is and how much of a blast you two were having last time.” Parker’s face flushed a little at that memory. It was true that having sex with Tiffany was great, and he would be lying if he said that he never thought about it, but Parker prioritized taking the proper steps in their relationship first. He was thankful for Jessica for introducing them, but he didn’t need her to influence it with her salacious tendencies.

“It’ll happen when it happens.”

“That might be sooner than you think. I’m pretty sure Tiffany is—” the notification sound of a phone interrupted her, and when Jessica whipped hers out to check it, she got up. “—sorry, my friend just got here, she’s in the lobby. We were supposed to hang out, but do you mind if she comes here?”

No. No, no no no. He wasn’t going to get roped into this again. He didn’t care how unlikely it seemed that this friend of Jessica’s would want to have sex with him, he had gotten caught off guard too many times with thoughts like surely not or but this is too far-fetched or Jessica isn’t this insane to disregard that possibility.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“But she came to hang out with you, right?”

“I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”

What was Jessica doing here? Did this friend know about him for some reason? Sure, if Parker was visiting a friend, he wouldn’t mind meeting a friend of his friend’s, but saying he’d love to was stretching it a bit. Maybe this friend just liked meeting new people … otherwise, Parker couldn’t shake off the paranoid feeling that this was going where he feared it might be going. “I’m nothing special.”

“I beg to differ, you’re my husband’s best friend. Such a man is not ‘nothing special’.”

Parker sighed. He knew where this was going: they would go back and forth until Jessica made him feel guilty for refusing to accommodate this friend of hers. In fact, they didn’t even need to go back-and-forth much more, he was already starting to feel that guilt, but trying to disregard it to fend off his paranoia felt a moot task. “If she really wants to come over, then yeah, she can.”

“Great! I’ll be right back!”

In the few minutes Jessica took to retrieve her friend, Parker weighed the possibility that he would be roped into more shenanigans. If she was even able to rope Tiffany in, then what about her friends who were more like her? Parker didn’t really know many of Jessica’s friends, but from what little he heard about them from Tiffany, she was more so the odd-one-out than the normal one. Given, in that context, it seemed like Tiffany was joking, so all Parker could hope was that Tiffany was exaggerating a bit for comedic effect.

When a knock came at the door, Parker jumped out of his seat. “Coming!” Opening the door, he was greeted with the smiling visage of Jessica and one other, slightly shorter but truly breathtakingly beautiful woman. If Parker was tasked with the objective to sculpt the most aesthetically pleasing face he could imagine, this woman would’ve easily beaten the product of his imagination. Parker didn’t know what it was with Jessica and having the most attractive friends, but she was an almost mystical, ethereal beauty that he almost couldn’t believe existed in the real world. Her skin was fair, unblemished, and porcelain white; her hair jet black, silky smooth, stopping at her chest; the only thing that could be said about her was that her slim figure didn’t make way for many curves, but even that seemed to suit her pure, innocent visuals well. Above all else, though, was how well her facial features fit on her face: her eyes were large, her eyelashes long, her eyebrows perfectly trimmed, her nose slim and long, her lips full, her cheekbones protruding and her perfectly aligned teeth shining white against his apartment’s lights.

“Parker, this is Irene, a childhood f—…”

Jessica abruptly cut herself off, looking over at the other woman, who gave her an encouraging nod, emphatically interjecting, “Friend!”

“—friend of mine.”

“Hi!” The luminescent woman stepped in and embraced the significantly taller man in a hug, a gesture which momentarily caught him off guard. “Oh wow, you’re pretty tall.”

“Uh—” He had never met Irene before, so being introduced with such a friendly gesture stunned him for a brief second. “—yeah, sorry.”

“Oh, no need to apologize! It would probably be easy to tackle you, I would just have to duck a little and your arms would go right over my head!”

Parker let out an utterly bewildered chuckle. “Wh-What?”

“See?” Irene demonstrated by doing exactly what she said, ducking a little and wrapping her arms around his torso, planting her face against the bottom of his sternum. “It goes right over,” she said, tilting her head upwards to see Parker’s arms swiping at open air.

“Yeah … I guess it does…” Parker looked over at Jessica who was just looking at the two with a bemused smile. He shot her a confused glance, to which she replied with a shrug.

Irene released Parker, squatting down to pick up a package she had dropped to hug him. It was only then that Parker noticed it. “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s just something Jessica asked me to pick up for her.”

“…Right, gotcha.” The vague answer reminded Parker of the hesitation with this entire ordeal, something that Irene’s effervescent introduction had caused him to forget. Did he really want to know what that package contained? Did he even care? Why didn’t they drop it off at Jessica’s place, which was right next door, first? None of these were questions he was going to get answers to anyway, so Parker just kept them to himself.

“Were you watching volleyball?”

“Yeah. Do you watch?”

“Nope!”

The answer, again, caught Parker off guard. With the amount of enthusiasm Irene asked the question, Parker figured she recognized the teams or at least had some degree of interest in the sport. “Oh.” Usually, Parker was able to carry a conversation better and more naturally. With Irene, he couldn’t even formulate a proper response in his mind.

“Oh—oh my gosh, they’re hitting that ball so fast! I can’t imagine intentionally letting that hit my own arms.”

Well, that was something to work with at least. “Yeah, those spikes can get up to sixty miles-per-hour.”

“Don’t you need to be tall to play volleyball?” Irene turned to face Parker. “You’re pretty tall, right? Have you ever played it?”

“Me? No, I just like to watch. I’m probably on the shorter side for volleyball players, honestly.”

Hearing that made Irene’s eyes bulge out of their sockets. “Really?! Wow … I probably wouldn’t even have to duck to tackle them.”

Another chuckle escaped Parker’s lips. “Why would you want to tackle them?”

“I don’t know. Isn’t it fun to tackle people sometimes?”

“I don’t…” Parker trailed off, completely unable to formulate a response. “…Jessica, how do you keep up with her?”

Jessica smiled. “I don’t. I just let her say whatever she wants.”

“Hm…”

Irene didn’t seem to mind, plopping down on the sofa and setting the package down next to her. “Oh wait, number nine is pretty hot, isn’t he?”

“Hm?” Jessica turned towards the TV screen, finding the player with the corresponding jersey. “Yeah, he is.”

“How tall is he? Do you know?”

Irene turned towards Parker, who could only shrug. “My guess is somewhere between six-two and six-five.”

“Holy … that’s a bit too tall, isn’t it? I mean, if someone’s that tall, would I even have to kneel to give him a blowjob?”

Parker let out a hacking cough. “Wha-What?”

“I mean, you’d probably have to bend down a little. Like, for Parker, I can still kneel and be level with his dick, but I need to pull it down a little while straining my neck up a little to compensate.”

“Oh, I see. But what if their penis isn’t as big? Then wouldn’t it be slightly harder to pull it down to the level of your face while kneeling?”

“Oh, that may be true…” What the hell kind of a conversation were they having? And why were they speaking about it so casually? And especially in front of someone else? “So I guess you’d have to squat or something.”

“Hmm … wouldn’t it be pretty hot to be riding one of their dicks while another one of them stuffed your mouth from above?” Jessica pondered it, not seeming to be very convinced of the idea. Parker, on the other hand, was still recovering from the whiplash from the stream of vulgar words coming out of the mouth of the woman with contrastingly angelic, pure visuals. “Or maybe they could spitroast you with your feet off the ground, or maybe even suspend you in midair while fucking you in both your pussy and your ass.”

“Hm … I’m pretty sure Hunter’s a little shorter than Parker, but the suspended spitroast idea sounds so hot…” Parker, no longer feeling comfortable with the conversation, slowly got up and off the couch, but before he could escape, Jessica grabbed ahold of his arm. “Where are you going?”

“Uh … bathroom?”

“Right there,” Jessica motioned towards Irene, who simply shot Parker a smile.

“What?”

“There’s your urinal,” she repeated, Irene opening her mouth in tandem.

Parker scoffed. “Wha-What are you even saying?”

“What she’s saying is that you’re free to use me like a toilet.”

Oh god, now there were two of them. He knew it—he knew it was a bad idea to let Jessica invite her friend into his apartment. Why was he so soft on her? “I’m not—” hearing Parker sigh caused the two to burst into a fit of giggles. “—you tw—what’s wrong with you, Jessica?”

“Huh? Were you about to ask Irene what’s wrong with her?”

“What?” Irene’s face took on an exaggerated look of offense. “How could you? All I did was offer my mouth as your urinal.”

“Like—” Even when there was one Jessica, Parker often found himself overwhelmed with how sexually and kinkily she spoke. “—I, like, I mean, you realize why that’s a really—” But now that there was a second one just as sexual and kinky, if not more so … how was he supposed to react? “—that’s, like, you know, not … normal … not a normal thing to say?”

Irene shrugged. “Normal’s boring.”

Oh. Was this where Jessica got that idea from?

“Right…”

“Well?”

“Hm?”

“You need to go to the bathroom, right?”

“No, and even if I did, I wouldn’t use Irene’s mouth. I mean, I just met her, you know.”

“Oh, but she knows all about you.”

That couldn’t be good. How could he escape? But this was his apartment. Where could he even run to?

“I really don’t want to know—”

“She watched our porno.”

“God damn it, is there anyone you didn’t show that to?”

Jessica giggled. “Just like one or two more friends, don’t worry.” That was not the answer Parker was hoping Jessica would give him, but he figured he should be thankful it was only one or two more of her friends.

“Can I see it?” Irene couldn’t be talking about what he thought she might be talking about. There was no way. A woman he met just minutes ago for the first time … surely, she wasn’t asking to see his—“I want to see your dick for myself.”

Parker could only laugh. Ordinarily, having such a beautiful woman request such a thing would’ve been at least somewhat humbling, but given the situation, Parker couldn’t feel anything less than absolutely and utterly bewildered. Not only was it difficult to keep up with another Jessica, but the implication that something about the porno made Irene want to see his penis in person made Parker’s mind spin. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know why that was, but now he had to grapple with that fact with the eager-eyed woman sitting on the other side of the couch from him. “Jessica, what…?”

“Oh, I forgot, you probably didn’t watch. There were some shots that made your penis look amazing, so I’d say Irene’s reaction is understandable.”

That wasn’t what Parker was trying to ask Jessica in the slightest, nor did he really understand Jessica’s explanation of Irene’s reaction, so he ended up just saying, “No, I—I’m, I’m not—I mean, I literally just met you, why would you want to go there already?”

Irene furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Do I need to know someone for a while to see their dick?” Was she being serious? Either Irene was the best actress in the world, or she actually didn’t see an issue with her proposal. “I mean, people have one-night stands all the time, don’t they?”

“I mean—” Parker had to admit Irene had a point. But still … his brain was starting to hurt. It really was too much, trying to keep up with two Jessicas at the same time. “—no, I guess, but…”

“…But what? Did you want to see my tits first? I mean, they aren’t anything too impressive, especially compared to Jessica, but—” Parker stopped Irene as she moved to throw her short off.

“No! That wasn’t what I was trying to say. It’s just … I thought you came here to hang out with Jessica?”

“Um … I thought she invited me over to introduce me to you.” It was only then that Parker remembered Jessica mentioning introducing a childhood friend to him a week ago.

“Ah, right…” Thinking back on it, Jessica’s description of her at the time matched Irene pretty well: her figure wasn’t the best, but she was insanely beautiful. Parker just wished Jessica had given him a better heads up as to what kind of a person she was. Then again, she was Jessica’s friend. “…but that wasn’t the impression I got from Jessica.”

“…whoops, forgot to tell you?”

Parker rolled his eyes and sighed. “Well, now that you’ve introduced us…”

A brief silence followed in which the two ladies exchanged glances. Whatever telepathy that transpired between the two, the result was Irene saying, “I guess Jessica didn’t tell you much about me.”

Parker shook his head. “Sorry, not really.”

“Well, basically, all you need to know is that I have a breeding kink.” Again, Parker was caught off guard, letting out a hacking cough. “I came here because I want you to pump me so full of cum, my womb will have no choice but to give me a baby.”

That was a hell of a proposal, but what was Parker even supposed to do with it? Sure, Irene was definitely attractive enough to elicit a positive desire to acquiesce with that demand, but first off, why him, specifically? Was it because of that porno? The way she worded it … ‘my womb will have no choice but to give me a baby’ … Parker didn’t want to pry, but it almost sounded like Irene had tried multiple times before and had failed just as many times. But why would he have any better of a shot than all the other presumed guys she’s had in the past?

He felt like Irene was burdening him with a task, and the expectant way she was looking at him reinforced that.

“Ordinarily, I would want proof that you were tested recently for STIs, but since Jessica vouched for you, that’s not necessary. I have my own STI test report from last week in case you wanted to see it for yourself.” Irene handed him a bundle of papers that Parker briefly looked at—not that he was that interested in them, more so because he was so perplexed that looking at the bundle of papers placed in his hand was a reflexive action to being handed them. “Also, if you do manage to impregnate me, I promise to not burden you with child support. I can sign a contract if you’d like. I have one here,” she said, procuring another bundle of papers from her purse.

“Um…” Parker was overwhelmed, and this time, it wasn’t because of her eccentricity. It was almost like a business transaction, except it was one of those too-good-to-be-true proposals that had to be a scam. But if it was, where was the detriment to himself? This was Jessica’s friend, after all: would she try to scam a friend of her friend?

All this preparation reinforced his theory that Irene had done this with multiple other men, but aside from that, Parker didn’t know what else to think. Irene certainly seemed determined, even if she had said everything with the same jovial expression on her face. Thinking about the amount of times Irene must’ve tried and failed to become impregnated made him feel bad for her, even if he didn’t know why it was that Irene so badly wanted a child. But the question remained: why did he have to be the next one to try to knock her up?

“Come on, Parker—Irene’s giving you a free pass to fuck her until you’ve emptied your balls inside her. When’s the next opportunity to fuck someone like Irene without worrying about any consequences going to come up?”

Parker didn’t want to admit that Jessica had a point, but first… “Just to make sure—you aren’t in a relationship, right?” Irene shook her head. There was one concern gone, but with that, another arose. “Then … I’m sorry if this is insensitive, but do you mind telling me why you want a baby so badly?”

“Well, they’re so cute, aren’t they? Ever since I was little, I’ve loved kids, but guys don’t really like me, so I decided I’ll just raise one myself.” Parker didn’t believe Irene in the slightest when she said that guys didn’t like her, but there had to be a basis for that. What that was wasn’t Parker’s business to determine. In the corner of his eyes, he could also see Jessica shift uncomfortably a little, but he didn’t want to try to read into things. “Having sex with a bunch of different kinds of people is just a bonus. I don’t think I’ve ever had sex with someone as huge as you, though.”

Parker almost felt like he had to accept Irene’s proposal, which was weird because no man in his right mind would reject a chance to have sex with her. If they had met at a bar and Irene proposed to go back to his place, they might’ve had a one-night stand even if he didn’t know her ultimate goal with the sex. But… “So … you brought Irene over to have sex with me?”

“…Yeah?”

Sometimes, Parker wished he could dive into Jessica’s head to figure out why she didn’t find it weird that she did this. If Parker had a nickel every time Jessica brought over a friend with the explicit purpose of getting the two of them to have sex, Parker would have two nickels, which wasn’t that many nickels but it was weird it happened twice. Or maybe it wasn’t weird, considering this was Jessica. Did this mean he could anticipate Jessica doing this more in the future? If he and Tiffany became a couple, what would that say about him as a boyfriend, even if Tiffany stated she was fine with being in an open relationship? At least right now, he and Tiffany weren’t an item, but if they ever did, could he, in good conscience, do this?

“You gotta stop pimping me out.”

“Well, think about it like this: you get to fuck a bunch of hot women, and my friends get to experience your cock. It’s a win-win!”

“So, is that a no then?”

At the point they were in, needing to talk about being exclusive to each other was implied, but with what Jessica said … of all people, Jessica, the best friend of the woman he was seeing, who so woefully begged Parker to take care of Tiffany well, telling him Tiffany said that it was fine for him to have sex with other women … and to top it all off, as much as Parker tried to stave off the feeling, he could feel himself getting turned on ever so slightly. Was he bad for feeling this way? It felt wrong in so many ways, but when such an amazingly attractive woman was pushing herself onto him like this, wasn’t feeling turned on natural? No, a man with principles would be able to turn her away. But, then again, a man of principles might also claim that it was a man’s duty to acquiesce to the demands of a woman in need, and Irene was presenting herself to him as exactly that. “Well, first of all, let’s move.”

Just as he moved to stand up, Irene pushed him back down onto the couch. “Nope. I’m way too horny now. Do you mind?” Irene asked, her fingers looping around his pants.

“Wha—um—” Not that he wasn’t used to very forward women, but the eagerness with which Irene situated herself between his legs stunned him for a second. “—n-no, I guess?”

Off came his pants and boxers, and out came his mostly-limp dick. “Ooh, wow…” Irene’s dainty fingers brushed against his member. Parker felt his lower half tense up, his dick twitching at the soft sensations of her fingers wrapping around his shaft. “You’re not even hard yet, huh?”

Shit. Parker wasn’t mentally prepared yet, so, scrambling to answer, he stammered out a, “not really.”

“Hmm…” Irene’s fingers wrapped more tightly around him. With each firm tug and jerk, the soft reproductive organ grew more and more erect. “It’s so beautiful, too…”

Parker blinked, then let out a chuckle. “What?”

“Isn’t it?”

Irene turned to Jessica, who nodded in response. “It is!”

“What…” the question died in his throat. Not that he’s seen many other penises, but Parker figured his was pretty average, appearance-wise. What about it was aesthetically pleasing? He knew he probably wasn’t going to get a very good answer though, so he let the question die in his throat.

“Wow, and it’s still getting bigger.”

Figuring it was pointless to continue ponder about the morality of the situation, Parker shifted his mind towards Irene. The slightly deeper breaths Parker was taking gradually turned into gasps and hisses, his erection hardening and growing with every stroke. “Mmm…”

The fact that Jessica was very avidly watching didn’t help at all. Parker shot her a glare, but she just responded with a confused expression, her drawn-together eyebrows asking him ‘what?’. He didn’t have high hopes that would drive Jessica away, but Irene didn’t even seem to mind. She continued stroking him, egging it on further by planting chaste kisses along its hardening length.

“You said it was … seven inches?”

“Yea—”

“Seven point five,” Jessica interjected.

Parker had felt it irrelevant to correct such a minute difference, but of course Jessica would know the precise measurement, and of course she would be the one to correct Irene.

“Oh, god … so this is what seven-point-five looks like, huh?” Irene said in marvel, staring at his now fully-erect penis.

“Yeah. How do you feel, finally seeing it in person now?”

Parker tried not to think about the implications of Jessica’s use of the word ‘finally’. He, for a brief moment, wondered if women talked about the porn they watched and if they used it, but knowing it was Jessica and a slightly smaller and less curvy Jessica, he realized it was pointless to even wonder about it. “It’s … amazing. I thought they must’ve spent some serious budget to make his cock look so mouth-wateringly appealing, but now I realize the camera didn’t do it justice.”

“This is so weird.”

“Hm? What is?”

Parker could only gape at the clueless Irene. “Wha-What? What isn’t?”

“Oh, I guess you would want me to at least do this shirtless, huh?”

“That’s not—” Parker’s interjection fell upon deaf ears, Irene proceeding to throw off her shirt and revealing her breasts. The loose top she wore hid how well-developed they actually were, but they still probably couldn’t fill Parker’s palm. That didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate them, though: with its even paler, milky white color tightly stretching across her chest, each mound decorated with a golf-ball sized, light-brown areola with two equally squeezable-looking nubs sitting in the center, they were as pleasant a sight to look at as the rest of her. “—what I meant in the slightest, but ok.”

“Hm? What did you mean, then?”

“I mean, Jessica’s right there.”

“So?”

Parker shook his head. He should know better than to try to appeal to common sense with a Jessica. “Never mind.”

Irene gave him a smile, giving his shaft a few more firm pumps before saying, “You’re funny,” then swallowing his tip whole in one swift motion.

“Agh—” Irene didn’t stop until she was halfway down his length, and by then, he could feel her throat tightening around his cock. “—ah, Irene—”

Irene, on the other hand, had placed hands on either side of his inner thigh to stabilize herself, unable to respond except with a few gagging noises. Tears started welling up in her eyes the further she went down, suppressing her gag reflex when it reached deep enough. It felt like it would never stop, not that Irene wanted it to; she felt like she had completely unhinged her jaw, her nose almost pressing against his shaft. Being that she could only breathe from her nostrils, with every intake of air she took in, accompanying it was the musky smell of Parker’s cock, and that invigorated Irene even more. With how much space Parker was occupying her mouth, her tongue had no choice but to be firmly pressed against the underside of his dick, haplessly drooling all over it. She tried to pay as much attention to his balls while doing so, but the truth was, at some point, both Irene’s mind and her throat had become completely occupied with Parker’s penis.

“Ah, shit.”

“Wow, look at her go…”

Irene barley registered the fighting words of her friend, taking a few moments to steel herself before beginning to bob her head against his length. Another swear flew out Parker’s mouth at the feeling of her velvety tongue expertly gliding and coiling along his length, her throat flexing and tightening against his member like it was made to house him. However, if that was indeed the case, then the housing was grossly undersized: Irene still had a third left to go before she could claim to have taken in his entire dick with her mouth.

Part of Irene began to wonder how he’d fit inside her pussy. How far would he reach, how would it feel to have him cum that deep inside her? Irene’s pussy ached, translated in the increased vigor of her deepthroating of Parker.

“Irene, holy shit—”

Parker was doing everything in his power to keep her hands off her hair. While Irene’s impressive blowjob-turned-deepthroating felt amazing, and while she sank a bit deeper with each bobbing motion, having the little bit unattended left something to be desired. Even if she talked and acted like Jessica, it didn’t mean she wanted to be treated like her, nor did it mean he even felt comfortable doing so. The fact that, in watching her and experiencing what Irene was doing to him, he felt inclined to shove her face until her nose touched his crotch made him wonder if Jessica had become too much of a negative influence on him.

Like clockwork, as soon as Parker felt sufficiently warmed up to want to reciprocate, Irene came up for air.

“Wow, you almost got all of it by the end there.”

“Really?” Irene wiped the drool coming out of the corner of her mouth, but even as she did so, she looked insanely beautiful. It wasn’t the same pure-innocent beauty as from before: this time, it was more so a femme fatale kind of beauty, one that made you realize she was dangerous but in all the ways you didn’t care about.

“Yeah, you had like an inch to go, it looked like.”

“Hm…” Irene looked up at Parker with a grin. “Maybe next time, I’ll go for all of it.”

“…Right.”

Irene giggled at Parker’s confounded reaction. “How was my throat?”

“It felt…” Was it normal to ask the question so giddily? “…uh, it was good…?”

“Why do you never tell me that?”

“Well,” Irene said, ignoring her friend and climbing onto Parker’s lap, shooting a dazzling, seductive smile at him, “wait until you feel my pussy.” It should’ve hardly been a surprise that Irene talked this way, but it still caught Parker a bit by surprise. By the time he had processed it fully, Irene was already aligning his cock with her entrance. “Ready?”

“This is … shouldn’t it normally be me who’s asking you?”

“Oh, you won’t have to ask me if I’m ready.”

The next sound to come out of Parker’s mouth was a surprised moan, the feeling of Irene’s blazing hot sex wrapping around his cock overriding his ability to speak.

“Mmm…”

Irene had her eyes closed, a mixture of a bliss and lust on her face as she lowered herself onto him at an astonishingly quick pace—quicker than Jessica their first few times, if he remembered correctly. “Ah, Irene—”

“Wow, fuck you’re big…”

More than halfway down, Irene started to slow down, electing to rotate her hips and slowly grind her way down his shaft. It felt incredible, alright: the intense tightness with which her pussy squeezed his cock, the wetness that counteracted any resistance the tightness offered, the warmth, the way her pussy walls seemed to be massaging his shaft … but the fact that Jessica was right there, and he was inside a woman he didn’t even know an hour before lingered in the back of his mind. Irene didn’t seem affected at all, but it stuck in Parker’s mind: was this normal? It couldn’t be, right?

Who was he kidding, of course it wasn’t normal. Even one-night stands, picking up chicks from bars or meeting from Tinder or the like involved getting to know someone at least somewhat before getting to the sex. For Parker, he had been made aware of Irene’s existence for only a few minutes before his cock was already two-thirds of the way inside her. How much his sense of what’s normal dulled since he started spending time around Jessica … Parker didn’t even want to think about it.

“Wa-Wait, Irene…”

He could tell Irene was going considerably slower, and if she was in pain, she was doing an immaculate job of hiding it. The intensity her pussy was squeezing his cock, however, was teetering on the line of pleasure and pain. However, perhaps it was due to some kind of pride, or maybe it didn’t feel painful to her, or maybe it even was Irene wanting to brag about being able to take his entire length in one go to Jessica, but she didn’t stop.

“Hmm … mmm…”

The low rumble of Irene’s husky voice was a nice distraction to the burgeoning pain on his cock, but Parker still had to grit his teeth to endure it.

“Irene, please…”

Parker had hardly ever begged for anything in his life. Maybe there were some times when he was a kid, begging his parents to let him finish the gym battle in the Pokémon game he was playing or begging his parents for ice cream on a hot summer day, but his parents otherwise treated him well. His first couple of sexual encounters with Jessica was what broke his streak of not needing to beg for anything, but ever since she told him about her competition with Hunter, the need to do that vanished.

At this moment, that need reemerged.

“Too … it’s too tight…”

The plea seemed to translate into a compliment to Irene’s ears, though. “Yeah? You like how tight my pussy is?”

It wasn’t that it didn’t feel good at all, but a combination of things distracted Parker from the pleasure aside from the pain—namely, self-consciousness from the knowledge that Jessica was watching them and the fact that he and Irene were essentially strangers. Asking Jessica to leave wasn’t going to actually make her leave, and addressing the fact that he met Irene only minutes before didn’t seem like it’d affect Irene, so the only thing he could point out was the thing she was bragging to him about.

“N—Irene, slower, please…”

“Hm?" Parker’s hands cupped her cheeks and pushed upwards. “Oh!” Jessica let out a giggle as Parker lifted her up enough that the pain mostly subsided.

“You’re too eager, Rene.”

“Sorry…”

Irene shared a sheepish smile with Parker, who just shook his head at it. “Just, more slowly, ok?”

Irene nodded, and it was only after that when Parker realized what he had said: or rather, how casually he said it.

Being around Jessica really was messing with his capability to withstand a level of bullshit a normal person shouldn’t. Then again, a normal person would probably be willing to withstand more bullshit for the chance to have sex with Irene.

“Righty-do.” Parker blinked a few times, a bemused smile starting to play at his lips. “But you have to control the pacing this time, ok? Because I can’t promise I won’t do the same thing if you don’t.”

“Uh, right.”

When they resumed, Irene’s eyes fluttered shut. Her lips parted again, something Parker couldn’t help but look at: of all the beautiful features perfectly placed on her face, her lips had to be the most alluring. Even when slightly parted, or perhaps even more so when they were slightly parted, they seemed to naturally form a pout.

He wasn’t dating Tiffany yet. Plus, according to her best friend, she was even fine with an open relationship. And said best friend, who seemed to be invested in the relationship between the two, introduced Irene to Parker for this exact purpose. This wasn’t cheating. He shouldn’t feel bad for wanting to lean forward and capture Irene’s perfect, kissable lips.

“Shit.”

“Ooh yeah, fuck…”

Irene, perhaps interpreting Parker’s frustrated groan as one of pleasure, responded in kind, gently biting the corner of her lower lip and throwing her head back.

Having sex with Jessica was one thing, but having sex with another woman, even if she was Jessica in another body … Parker couldn’t rid himself of the thought that he was betraying Tiffany, somehow.

“Deeper, babe…”

“…Shit.”

Tiffany didn’t seem the least bit phased when Jessica was riding him; in fact, she seemed intrigued more than anything. But then again, that was before they started seeing each other. Maybe now it would be different.

Was he thinking about this too deeply?

“Parker…?” Irene turned around, her eyes landing on the conflicted, downcast gaze of the man whose cock was inside her.

“Damn it. Jessica, are you really sure about Tiffany?”

“Oh, wait, Parker’s the guy Fany’s been seeing recently, right?” Jessica nodded. “In that case, we should probably send her some pic—” she abruptly cut herself off upon seeing Jessica hastily motioning for her to stop.

What? Was this some kind of extreme teasing? Did Irene hate Tiffany or something? Why would she propose such a thing? But, most of all, why wasn’t Jessica reprimanding Irene for suggesting them to do such a thing for what seemed to be their mutual friend?

“I was going to let Tiff tell him!”

“Oh! Oh my god, I’m so sorry—”

“Ok—” Parker lifted Irene off his lap and set her down next to him. It was definitely strange, preparing to dive into a serious topic with his erection out for all to see, but this seemed too important to pass up. “—what? What kinds of pictures were you going to send her?”

“Um, sorry Parker, I need to ask her something first.”

“Just to be clear, were you talking about pictures of … of … this?” Parker didn’t intend to raise his voice, but he felt as though he had been deceived into playing some kind of cruel prank on Tiffany. Irene seemed so nice, so likeable, and so genuine, too.

“I can tell you what Irene meant by that, but first I need Tiff’s—” Jessica’s voice trailed off a little, her eyes darting back to her phone notifying her of a text message. “—um, Tiff’s permission.”

After finally blowing up on Jessica about what they had been doing behind Hunter’s back after nearly being caught by him on his balcony, Parker figured Jessica needn’t hide much else from him. Jessica, too, seemed glad to be cleared of that misunderstanding … but where did Tiffany play a part in this?

“Give me a little…”

Irene sat idly next to Parker, a clearly guilty expression on her face. That wasn’t the face of someone who wanted to do something mean to Tiffany. Or did she just look that way because she had been caught?

“…ok, I got her permission. You know how I told you Tiffany was fine with an open relationship, but didn’t elaborate?” Parker hesitantly nodded. He didn’t want to antagonize Jessica, nor Irene, too quickly, so he made sure to reign in any kind of animosity that was starting to form within himself. “Well, I figured Tiffany wanted to be the one to tell you, but now the cat’s out of the bag, and now that I got her permission, I’ll let you know. I actually do know why Tiffany’s fine with an open relationship: it’s because she’s … how should I put this, a voyeur?” Parker didn’t even know how to interpret that. “Hm … no…” but what did that have to do with anything? “…well, the bottom line is, she finds the idea of another woman fucking her man hot.”

Parker’s first reaction was to scoff at that. “What?”

“I know! It’s always the purest, most innocent ones that are the freakiest, huh?” In Parker’s eyes, Jessica had no grounds to say such a thing, but … looking into her eyes, there didn’t seem to be a hint of deceit. Not that he knew her well enough to be able to detect it. “Why do you think she asked me to watch that porno we shot?”

Shit … well, that did explain that one thing, given it was true.

“But…”

“I can show you what I just texted her if you want proof.” It felt like a violation of privacy of the woman he was seeing, but his curiosity got the better of him. He nodded, leaning forward, Jessica turning her phone’s screen toward him. Sure enough, the text exchange was with Tiffany, and Jessica was explicitly asking permission to tell him about that aspect about herself. What probably took Jessica a bit to inform him was the little bit of hesitation Tiffany showed, but when Jessica promised some pictures and videos of him fucking Irene, Tiffany buckled.

“Do … you have a single normal friend?!”

Jessica burst into laughter. “That’s rude! Aren’t you pretty much dating her?”

Parker groaned. On the side, he could hear the faint chuckles of Irene. “I mean…” he didn’t mean it like that. It was just a guttural reaction he couldn’t contain … but wasn’t it pretty normal? Actually, he shouldn’t justify that outburst like that. Admittedly, it was pretty awful of him to say such a thing about a woman he was seeing, but … well, at the very least, this was something he did not see coming. And he wondered why Tiffany was friends with Jessica; turns out, they maybe had more in common than he initially thought. “…yeah, but … wait, are you actually gonna send pictures to her?”

“Well, I promised, so … unless you’re unwilling?”

Parker almost laughed at that. Leave it to Jessica to just assume he was on board with such a ridiculous proposal. If it was something the woman he was seeing wanted … should he deny her? It wasn’t even like the idea that Tiffany was a cuck of sorts turned him off from her; maybe it was Jessica’s influence on him, but he saw it as nothing more than a quirk, albeit a pretty extreme one.

“Irene…?”

“Um…” Irene’s downtrodden gaze alerted Parker that she still felt bad despite things having been cleared up.

“It’s—” it was only then Parker remembered his dick was out, which he began to move to cover but stopped halfway. “—uh, it’s fine.”

“So … then, are you also ok with the pictures?”

Parker sighed. When did his life become so weird? “Yeah, I guess.”

At that, Irene’s eyes lit up. “Great!” Actually, maybe Parker was the weird one. Maybe his preference for missionary, and at most, doggy, made him the odd-man-out. “Then…” Irene sprung off the couch and repositioned herself in his lap, her hands resting on his knees while her ass hovered inches over his softening erection. Parker tentatively put his hands on her plump cheeks, spreading them out to see her still-glistening pink folds, drooling at the prospect of being torn open again by his cock. “…go ahead. Make me scream with that dick.”

[halcyon-writings]

nav.

— There was something different about Caleb.

He was still your sweet boyfriend, no doubt about that. He still surprised you with flowers when he came home, took you out to dinner spontaneously.

But something was different.

The way his arm would tighten at your side, to the way he seemed to be angry at something. Never at you, he’d promise, never. It was as though whatever it was had grasped his mind and turned him into something unrecognizable.

It was not your Caleb.

You didn't like it. It felt like a stranger was in your home at times.

When he slept beside you, chin in the crook of your neck, soft breaths brushing against your skin as you tried to sleep, you couldn’t forget the eyes you loved to stare into would narrow. How they’d set into a glare or a sneer.

His eyes were sharp, focused and narrowed one moment. The next, they softened, as an arm wrapped around your waist, a palm settling on the small of your back.

“Is everything alright?” You ask one night, the dishes on the drying rack, while you dry your hands on a towel nearby.

Caleb laughs. It’s a sharp thing that makes your heart sink.

Everything is fine.

You don’t ask again.

Eyes burn into your back as you exit the kitchen, your hands clutched to your chest. You don’t notice his jaw locking as he looks to the wall with a sharp look to his eyes.

His hand rests loosely on your hip, your shirt rises slightly as you turn onto your side, trying to sleep. Caleb’s thumb finds the skin there, it’s something he’s done before. Tracing loose circles on your skin and embracing you regardless if you were facing him or not.

More often than not, nights would be spent talking about anything. From silly stories at work, to just the simplest occurrences through the day. Anything to fill the silence. Caleb’s cheek rests atop of your head, he says nothing and neither do you.

-

Zayne raises a brow when you come into his office. As much as you try to make a quip or strike conversation, he knows you well enough to know you’re far from fine.

“Have you been sleeping?” He asks, his usual professional indifference melts into a moment of concern.

You smile, but from his raised brow, you know he doesn’t believe whatever it is that you’ll say. You sigh, hands at your knees as you grab at your jeans awkwardly. Feeling the denim in your clammy palms as you try to find the words.

“I just… haven’t been sleeping well is all,” You try. It’s a lame attempt.

Zayne hums.

“How have things been?” With him remains unspoken.

The attempt on Zayne’s part to speak about it makes you relax slightly. They were friends too, of course Zayne would want to know. (It still doesn’t settled your fraying nerves.)

“Fine.”

You clear your throat, trying again, “Things have been fine. It’s been a bit of an adjustment. But Caleb is doing fine, great, even.”

The official report said it was an accident. That Grandma and Caleb had…

Even thinking about it makes your throat tighten.

But somehow, he’d returned. Despite everything, he came back to you.

You’re exiting Zayne’s office, as he follows behind you, ready to meet with another patient when you spot Caleb taking strides over.

“Hey!” His voice is friendly, his arm raised in a wave as he stops just in front of you.

“Caleb? I thought you said you were going to wait in the car-”

“I figured it would be good to walk back to the lot together, with how busy the hospital is today,” He says quickly. Too quickly.

The waiting room isn’t too occupied. There’s only a small handful of people waiting to be seen.

Zayne clears his throat. Caleb’s eyes quickly move from your face, a minuscule movement of his lips, like a frown, is there for just a second. Before it’s schooled into the same friendly smile he greeted you both with.

Caleb’s hand settles on your elbow, it’s not a tight grasp, but you feel the way his hand could easily grip your arm. Another pit forms in your stomach, “Well, let’s go home!”

Home. Right.

You nod, adjusting your bag over your shoulder as you give Zayne a final glance.

“See you later,” You say with a smile that you hope was assuring on your face. You don’t even believe it yourself.

There was something different about Caleb.

[siri-ike]

It isn't often that a relative stranger is brought into the batcave (except for the many, many times a relative stranger has been brought into the bat cave). Either way, they avoid it when they can (no, they don't). But this was an emergency (it always is). Danny wasn't going to believe them after they accidentally (yeah, sure) brainwashed him. Father would forgive his decision. Timothy must have made worse ones by far, and miraculously, he's still in the family. Besides, she's blindfolded.

"Are you old enough to drive?" Jazz clutches the assist handle during a particularly aggressive turn.

"I know how."

"That wasn't the question." Fear, this is what true fear is. And she thought her dad's driving was dangerous. At least she could see where the parachutes were.

Eventually, she stopped hearing the sounds of traffic. Then stopped the sounds of nature. Then the noises from the car started to echo.

And then the car stopped so fast she had flashbacks to their first family road trip.

"We're here." Her brothers voice was never so cold.

She burst out of the car with such force she landed on her hands and knees, thankful to be alive.

"Careful" still cold but slightly smug this time.

She ripped off her blindfold to see a massive drop, inches away from her fingerstips. She could see straight down as an endless pit of darkness consumed the space where any sane person would put a floor. She jumped back, with a sudden yip, to hold onto the car.

Jazz had no time to be paralyzed by the thought of falling into an unknowable deep abyss. She had to follow the snide teen as he walked deeper into the cavern. It was so dark she couldn't see where she was putting her feet. She'd resorted to not putting any weight into her step until her foot had reached the ground. Repeat for approximately however long it takes to walk into the underworld.

Finally, there he is, or well, there's his ice. A huge spiky tunnel of it.

"He's in there."

"Figured."

The boy gave her an oil lantern, claiming that a flashlight would hurt more than help. Her actual brother would have volunteered to go with. Not that she'd want this one with her anyway.

What could have provoked him enough for this? Usually, his first reaction is fighting. The icicles would not let find out without a fight.

So if stalagmites go up and stalactites go down, what are they called when they go sideways? Besides, deadly.

This tunnel feels like it'll never end, and with every minute, the ice gets thicker and closer. Until-

She slips.

She cought herself but not without a yelp. The crystals around her trembled for a few silent seconds.

It stops.

A *chip* sounds from the ceiling as a single small icicle lands in front of her. Startled, she backs up and gets jabbed in the thigh by a stalagmite, causing her to drop her lantern.

Darkness

*Craaack*

All around her, she hears stalagtites crash into the ground, and she covers herself as best she can. One more large *crack* straight above her, and

Nothing.

She opens her eyes. The ice is glowing a brilliant blue. No more stalag anything, just fresh white snowflakes filling the air.

And there floats her baby brother, hugging his knees and staring at her.

"Danny," her relief was met with a confused look, and, with full eyecontact, he flew backward in a straight line.

She gave chase until he suddenly stopped just outside her snow bubble. He stared back at her from inside a giant ice cage reminiscent of a large mouth, with razor-sharp fangs.

He looks ragged and still wearing that stretched out red hoodie, even though she bought him the exact same hoodie in a bigger size just 3 months ago - you know what? It's not important right now.

His gaze shifts, as though pretending she isn't there. Who does this little punk think he is? After she came all this way to rescue him?! Relax, Jazz. Remember the words of Aubrey C Daniels "Everybody's behavior makes sense to them." He's probably going through something.

________

I still have an hour before I have to post this, I'm choosing to stop because I like to see you suffer

DPxDC prompt #15

Demon Twins Fic

But!

Okay, so something I've seen floated a time or 2 from DC is that when using the Lazarus Pits to revive, a person emerges completely healed of all previous injuries or illnesses. Including scars.

Now obviously fandom often plays fast and loose with this rule, given how we like to give Jason an autopsy scar and some folks also like to make him keep the J from the Joker. But let's lean into it a bit here and make it play nice with the DP side of things.

Let's say that it's the ectoplasm, even the rancid stuff in the pits, that heals all scars except Death Scars.

So if Danny was, say, revived in the Pits by Talia before she disappeared him away to an orphanage in Illinois? The Danny that shows up in Amity Park wouldn't be covered in scars from his time in the League. He'd only have the one, the Death Scar.

Similarly, the Danny that stumbles out of the portal wouldn't have any scars from his time in Amity Park. He'd only have 2, the original Death Scar and the new Lichtenberg Death Scars.

Now I've seen it done many times where the Bats/Damian realize that Danny isn't a clone because you can't clone scars. So if Danny doesn't have those scars, and if his DNA is too messed up from the ectoplasm in him to check for any "regular cloning markers"...

Danny, fresh from an autopsy table, runs to Gotham to hide. And because of his inability to walk away from someone in danger, gets found by the Bats. Whether or not they know about Damian's twin beforehand, they are quite confident that Danny is a clone. An exceptionally good clone with nearly perfect implanted memories, but a clone nonetheless. Damian is particularly enraged about this

And poor Danny, already all sorts of fucked up from growing up Damian's lesser, then Dash's punching bag, then an experiment; in the face of Bat certainty and lacking any tangible evidence to the contrary; Danny starts to believe them.

[wolvietxt]

ᰔ anesthesia !

↳ logan howlett x fem!reader

the fluorescent lights of the medbay hummed softly, casting a stark glow over the otherwise sterile room. logan paced back and forth outside the door, his boots scuffing against the polished floor. he hated this part - the waiting. the not knowing. his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, tension coiled in his shoulders like a spring wound too tight.

“she’s gonna be fine, logan,” jean’s voice came from behind him, calm and reassuring. “you know she’s tough.”

he grunted in response, not trusting himself to say anything else. tough or not, you’d gotten hurt. surgery had been necessary after a mission gone sideways, and now you were in there, under anesthesia, while he was stuck out here feeling useless.

when hank finally poked his head out of the medbay, logan stopped mid-stride. “she okay?”

“she’s fine. the procedure went well, but she’s still coming off the anesthesia,” hank said, smiling a little. “you can see her if you want. just don’t expect much sense out of her for a bit.”

logan nodded and pushed past him, his boots heavier than usual as he walked inside. his eyes landed on you immediately. you were sitting up slightly, looking drowsy but very much alive. relief washed over him like a tidal wave, but he masked it with a gruff expression as he crossed his arms.

“what the hell were you thinking out there?” he started, voice low and gravelly. “you can’t just throw yourself into danger like that - ”

“pspspsps,” you interrupted, your eyes zeroing in on him as if he were the most fascinating thing in the world. “kitty. come here, kitty.”

logan froze mid-lecture, his brows furrowing. “what?”

you reached out a wobbly hand toward his head, fingers making the unmistakable beckoning motion people used for cats. “kitty! your hair’s so… fluffy. come here, let me pet you.”

for a moment, he just stared at you, utterly baffled. you were high as a kite, and he had no idea how to handle it. “you’re out of your damn mind,” he muttered, but he didn’t move away when your hand made contact with his hair.

“so soft,” you mumbled, running your fingers through it with clumsy determination. “why didn’t you tell me you’re secretly a big ol’ kitty?”

he huffed, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “i ain’t a cat, darlin’.”

“mhm,” you said, clearly not believing him. your fingers trailed to his sideburns, and you giggled. “the whiskers. so majestic.”

logan’s patience was wearing thin, but not in the usual way. he was more amused than he wanted to admit, but he didn’t want to encourage you. “alright, that’s enough,” he said, gently taking your hand and lowering it back to your lap. “you’re supposed to be resting.”

“you’re supposed to be snuggly,” you countered, blinking up at him with wide, unfocused eyes. “c’mon, kitty. gimme a hug.”

he sighed deeply, muttering something about anesthesia making people loopy, but he leaned in slightly to placate you. you threw your arms around his neck, squeezing as much as your post-surgery state allowed.

“you smell nice,” you murmured into his shoulder. “like… woodsy. and safe. you’re so grumpy all the time, but you’re really sweet. my big, grumpy kitty.”

the words hit him harder than he expected, and he felt his throat tighten. he wasn’t used to being called sweet. most people saw the claws, the temper, the rough exterior. but here you were, high as hell and still managing to say the one thing that could disarm him completely.

he cleared his throat, patting your back awkwardly. “yeah, well, don’t go spreadin’ that around. gotta keep up my reputation.”

you pulled back slightly, your gaze dreamy but sincere. “i won’t tell. promise.” then you tapped your lips with a finger, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “but only if you purr for me, kitty.”

logan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “darlin’, you’re gonna regret all this when you’re sober.”

“nope,” you said, popping the “p.” “i’ll never regret you, logan.”

his chest tightened again, and he looked away, trying to hide the way your words affected him. “you’re impossible,” he muttered, though there was no heat behind it.

“and you’re my favorite kitty,” you replied, your voice softening as your eyelids began to droop. “such a pretty kitty…”

logan stayed by your side as you drifted off, your breathing evening out. he shook his head, a small, fond smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

“damn troublemaker,” he murmured, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face.

and if he stayed a little longer than necessary, making sure you were comfortable and safe, well, that was nobody’s business but his own.

ᰔ logan howlett : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun, @omen-keke, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd

@superlegend216, @mikaaki, @withasideofmeg, @samfunko, @aaronhotchnerlover

@qxuanii, @m1cky-y-y, @uncertified-doc, @cryingwta, @pvndomi

@marvelescvpe, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @misscrissfemmefatale, @ltristessedureratoujours, @meadow-field

@hazydespair, @stupid-little-birdie, @urlocallocachica, @person-005, @nestavadavat

@christinamadsen, @zaggprincess2, @lokixryss, @mehjustalasshere, @spktrlvr

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[bookishdreamer28]

₊˚‧︵‿꒰୨ 𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ୧꒱‿︵‧˚₊

You couldn't see a thing. Your eyes were covered with a blindfold and all you could sense was the dark and cold energy that was radiating in the room they kept you in. It all happened too fast to remember anything right now.

"You can't keep me here forever! If you want to loo for something or someone, I'm not the person who can help you!" You loudly said so they could hear me from the other side of the closed door. Heavy footsteps approached the room you were in and you held your breath, as you waited for what was going to happen next. Once the door opened, the steps kept walking and stepped right in front of you.

The person in front of me kneeled down. He hooks my chin with the knuckle of his pointer finger and thumb.

"Why do you keep lying sweetheart?" The heavy voice of this man gave goosebumps to your whole body. It was so familiar...

"I'm not lying! You caught the wrong person and it's so frustrating that you don't even have the courtesy to explain why-"

"Ssh" His gloved fingers touched your lips and a burned sensation appeared in your stomach.

Then you felt him standing up and walked away.

He opened the door and talked to one of his guards you assume, but you was too deep in thought to bother hearong what they were saying. All you heard was that he was going to keep you company for the night.

When he closed the door, you heard his footsteps halting in front of you.

Then his hands were unwrapping the blindfold and it took you a second to get used to the bright light in the room, before your eyes fell on the figure staring down at you.

Your eyes widened as watched your best friend crouching down to your level, a worrying expression painted on his face.

"Are you ok? Are- are you hurt?"

You were speechless for a moment before your shocked expression turned into an angry one.

"Are yoy kidding me Caleb? I- I thought you were...and now you-.. what the fuck is going on?" Your eyes were stinging as tears made their way down to your cheek. The sight broke Caleb's heart into tiny pieces and all he wanted to do was to hold you in his arms. But he knew better than crossing boundaries right now.

"Love...I know you probably hate me so much right now and it pains me so much. But I had to do what I did. They were after you and-"

"I can't believe that our...friendship was based on lies." Calbed turned pale. He was scared that now he was going to lose you for good. He knew that he had hurt you with his actions but he felt like it would've been better than seing your hurt in the hands of the people who were after him. He promised to himself that he will never let anyone or anything hurt you, and he was going to keep it that way.

"Love what we had, and what I hope we still have, was never based on lies. My feelings for you are true. You mean the world to me. I had to act cold and distant now because the rest of my team was watching. I had to somehow keep you safw by showing them you're not important to me."

"Well, apparently I'm not."

"Listen to me please!" Caleb softly grabbed your forearms.

"You are my world, you are my best friend and damn it I- I wish I was more... I want to be more because I-"

His words never left his mouth, because all he could was just staring at you. Your eyes, your hair, your nose and your...lips. Those lips that he had never got the chance to kiss them and dreamed for so long.

"Caleb?" You whispered, defeated with this fight already. You knew him. Deep down you wanted to believe that what he did was actually for your own good.

"Please..." He exhaled as his face came closer to yours.

"What?" Your eyes fell on his lips.

"Kiss me. Please kiss me love." His voice trembled with emotion and you gulped down your own sobs.

This whole situation made you realize just how much you truly meant to each other. And since it has been so long aince the last time you talked, now it was time that no more words should be exchanged. But for actions to finally speak.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you kissed him like he was going to disappear any time soon. Like you were watching a dream and you were scared that your time was limited. You needed this as much as he did.

He moaned as he wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you close to his warm and strong body. But Caleb interrupted your kiss by pulling away for a moment and amde you whined.

"Caleb as much as I want to talk about how stupid your decision was to keep secrets from me, now's not the time."

"I'm sorry love I just need to know if you truly want this-" you answered by kissing him more.

As you were going at it, Caleb picked you up and placed on the small office on the other side of the room. He just couldn't hold back.

When you finally pulled back, Caleb was unable to open his eyes for a few moments. It was so quiet and all you could hear was the sound of you trying catch your own breath. Caleb cupped your cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing lightly over your soft skin.

"It was you, who kept me going. You were leaving in my thoughts the whole time I was trapped in nothing but darkness. I'm not deserving of your forgiveness and I'm willing to grovel for you my love. But nothing, and I mean nothing, will ever stop this heart" he softly grabbed your hand and placed on top of where his heart beats "beating for you."

Your glassy eyes knly stared at him for a moment and then a soft smile appeared on your face, making Caleb smiled widely at the sight.

"Always you." You said as you omce again kissed him, pouring all the love you had in you into it. Even thought you spent so much time away from each other, one thing for sure is that your souls were connected. And there will never be nothing to break this connection.

I got so excited when his trailer dropped that I HAD to post something ASAP!!!!!

[darnell-la]

A MANS GAME

summary: Eddie’s mind instantly went wild when he saw a woman prancing around like she loved bands and board games. when that same woman asked him to sell her weed, she couldn’t help but think he wasn’t being set up by the one and only Jason Carver. if y/n thought she could humiliate Eddie, and make him look like a fool, she was wrong. he was going to show her that.

warnings: misogyny, hate, delusion, drug deal, drug use, planned trap, semi kidnapping, unconstitutional drugging, unconstitutional fingering, SA, slight BDSM, rough sex, baby trapping, etc

note: hey... this is another requested dark-themed story, but with Eddie Munson who our number one fans know we’re obsessed with. do not read if CNC/SA makes you uncomfortable!

If you like dark-themed stories, follow our account @dark-authorr. Request us anything!

———

“And, what exactly is she wearing?” Eddie asked as he saw the new girl pass with a gamer shirt, that he’s never seen before, only rarely. “I think it’s some kind of game. Don’t know exactly,” Dustin said, not really paying attention to her.

“So girls like games now? Hm,” Eddie sarcastically said, eying y/n through the hallway as people complimented her style. “Yeah, which is hot, actually,” Mike said, making Eddie roll his eyes.

In his years of living, he has never met a girl who genuinely liked games, unless they had a boyfriend. She was new to the school, so there was no way she had one. He wouldn’t believe it if she said she was long-distance.

“Isn’t that, like, all you’ve been looking for? Or are you still on Christy? — She’s never gonna leave Jason Carver, dude. Especially not for you! No offense,” Sinclair said. “None taken,” Eddie said, knowing Sinclair was right.

For the rest of the day, Eddie’s eyes had been opened every time y/n walked by, stalking and watching her every move. There was just someone about her that he didn’t like.

He swore she was just another preppy, stuck-up girl who would do anything to get a little attention.

“Hey, uh, Eddie?” Y/n asked, now in front of his face. He had zoned out. “Yeah?” He asked quickly, hoping she wasn’t here to ask what his problem was for watching her every move.

“I heard you sell, and I just left Cali. You wouldn’t mind selling me anything, right? I-I have extra if you’re afraid I’ll tell,” y/n said, watching how Eddie’s eyes widen.

When she looked at him, she couldn’t stop but think how amazing he was. She barely saw men like this around in Hawkins.

“Sure, but, I gotta ask — Do you even smoke? Or is this like a, I wanna fit in, thing?” He asked, making her giggle at his thought process. “I really smoke, hun,” she smiled, flashing diamonds that were glued to her teeth. She was truly into what she dressed like, but, Eddie couldn’t seem to believe it.

“Hm, well, I’ve got some at the crib. Maybe stop by later tonight? My uncles outta town so, any late times doesn’t matter to me,” Eddie said, getting a dark feeling in the back of his mind, but he slightly ignored it.

“That’s fine with me,” y/n said before she slowly walked off after giving one last smile. “Yeah, we’ll see if you’re genuine, girly,” Eddie said under his breath, convincing himself that she had to be some kind of setup.

Eddie had horrible overthinking problems. No one throughout his whole high school career liked him, so why, now that he’s in college, would a girl randomly know he sells weed and would want some from him.

“Dude, you good? Looks like she’s got your tongue,” Sinclair said, making Eddie laugh loudly. “Her? Oh, Jesus, no — A girl like that is just a plant to see if I’d fall for it,” Eddie spoke, sounding delusional as always.

“What do you mean, plant?” Mike asked. “You see, she just had a class with Jason, and I saw them talking. I bet you he’s setting me up by swinging a girl like that my way,” Eddie said, truly believing what he was saying.

“And, how would he possibly set you up, Eds? She doesn’t even look like she’d do something like that to you. A stranger!” Dustin said as he rolled his eyes, tired of him seeing everything as some trap.

“Oh, but I bet, she would. You see, a girl like that doesn’t exist. I bet you tonight, she’ll come over, make some move then leave before we get to do anything, then tell the whole school how I thought someone finally liked me,”

The younger men looked at each other, confused about why Eddie was acting this way. She was nice. They barely hear that around here, and he’s always shutting her down.

“Okay, man, whatever you say,” Sinclair said before he walked off with his basketball team that had just passed. “You need to work on yourself dude,” Dustin said. “Seriously,” Mike added.

It’s currently late at night, almost so late, that Eddie thought she wouldn’t show up. That was until he heard a knock on his front door.

Eddie got up from his and made his way to the front. He had a few things to ask y/n to test out what kind of person she was.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late,” y/n said as she walked in after Eddie stepped aside. “No problem, I was just looking at the band you have in your shirt, and I was curious,” Eddie got straight into it.

“This band? Oh, yeah, they’re kind of my favorite,” y/n smiled. “Ah huh — I realized they don’t really do music. They’re more into book writing,” Eddie said, which was correct.

“Yep, that's how I got into them. I love reading, and when I found out they had music, that was even better,” she said, making him chuckle low. “So you like sec?” He asked, making her laugh.

“Oh, uh- Yeah. Yes, I do,” she said as he scanned her figure. He hadn’t gotten a great look at her today, but now he did. Her body was more banging than he had thought.

“Hm, you into all that stuff they talk about? I mean, my bands are freaks, I’ve never seen one like yours. Especially with girls in them,” he said.

Y/n usually never felt off about talking about who she liked to watch and listen to, but there was something about the way Eddie came off, that made her feel weird.

“I guess, but I’m not really down to talk about that,” y/n said, warning Eddie that she was getting uncomfortable. “Oh, what are my manners- I’m sorry — Let’s get you your purchase,” Eddie said as he guided her to the back where his room was located.

Eddie stood to the side after he opened the door, looking at her for her reaction that he’d been waiting for all night.

Once y/n stepped into his room, her eyes slightly widened at his layout. She knew he was a metalhead, but she didn’t expect all of these sexual toys to be laid out. Some even looked fresh from the store.

“Over here — I’ve got a couple of pre-rolls, and this new hash I kind of whipped up myself, that’s It’s free. I want to see how my first costume feels about it,” Eddie said as he guided her to his bed.

The young man picked up this new roll-up he had made and handed it to the young woman. “Oh, I wasn’t planning on smoking now,” y/n said. “C’mon — Just one hit. I wanna make sure it at least smells, and tastes good,”

Y/n felt a bit off, but she didn’t want to shame the man. She knew he barely had people over, so she accepted what he was giving.

“Fine,” she smiled as she took the lighter that Eddie had lifted up to give her. “Sit down and get a little comfortable,” Eddie suggested as she hopped in his bed, and pat the spot next to him.

Y/n softly sat next to the man, ready to see what he’s created. She wanted to be a nice help, so she quickly lit the joint and took a hard hit.

She coughed a bit, not knowing it would be this strong. It barely had a taste of weed, more like something else that she couldn’t place her hand on.

“Take a few more,” Eddie pressured. “I don’t really think-“ y/n tried saying. “Hey — Just a few more, and I’ll even cut the price,” Eddie said, knowing exactly where he was going with everything.

Y/n took a deep slow breath before she took another hit. She didn’t exactly want to, but she’s driven a bit high before. She should be fine.

Y/n took another hit, each puff getting more smoke in her lungs, making it hard for her to feel what was happening.

“Feels good?” Eddie asked as he placed a hand on her thigh. “Actually does,” y/n said, surprised that she felt the high so fast. “Wanna know what’s in it, princess?” He asked, making her nod as she took another long drag.

“I knew you like California weed, so I put some pure hashish in the roll,” Eddie said as he rubbed her thigh, getting closer to her heat that she barely noticed. She felt him but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, and you wanna know what else?” He asked as his free hand slowly moved up to her face, so he could rub at her cheek. “What?” Y/n asked low as she turned his way, feeling her eyes get extremely heavy.

“For the fun ride, I sprinkled a bit of opioids and benzodiazepine, just to get you a little woozy,” Eddie smiled, knowing that would trigger her brain. “What?” She wanted to sound more upset, but she couldn’t.

“I-I’ve gotta go,” the young woman said as she tried getting up, but she was too weak. “Why? I thought you liked it here? The room was decorated just for you,” Eddie said as he slowly reached under her skirt.

“No,” was all y/n could let out when she felt him pull her panties to the side. “What was that, princes?” Eddie asked as he leaned into her face, wanting to see and hear her struggle.

“No,” she breathed out as a tear rolled down her eyes. “And, why is that? I thought these half-high fishnets were meant for foreplay,” Eddie chuckled as he slowly pushed a ringed finger into her cunt.

“N-No,” y/n stuttered, saying that word too many times for him to keep going. “Just relax, princess — I thought you liked it kinky? I bought the chains, the gags, the toys, and the drugs. Wasn’t one song called, drug me? I assumed that would be your favorite,”

Eddie had pushed another ringed finger into y/n as he leaned down to her neck and began sucking on a few spots. There was no way he wouldn’t get what Jason set him up for.

Eddie still believed she came here just to humiliate him. He didn’t regret setting this up for her. She deserved it for what he thought she was going to put him through.

“Eddie?” Y/n choked on her cry as her walls fluttered around his fingers. “Oh, no, no — You don’t get to cum yet,” Eddie said as he pulled out of her, and pushed her down into his bed.

“You’re gonna let me fill you up first — Then maybe you can cum on my face while I eat out your overstimulated pussy,”

Eddie sounded evil to y/n. His voice echoed through her mind like a nightmare, but she couldn’t yell at him like she wanted to. She couldn’t fight him like she wanted to.

“I’m gonna tie your arms behind your back, somehow tie your legs so they’re forced open, then gag you before I get started,”

Eddie didn’t lie and did just that in under five minutes. He had looked up videos and learned quick. She should feel special for what he’s doing for her, since this is what she likes, after all.

“Tied you down for a little, and you’re already soaked, Jesus Christ,” Eddie teased as he played with her folds, watching his juice spill out of her hole that he could’ve sworn gripped a few times around air.

“You want me, don’t you? Even if this was all a joke for Jason, you actually want me, and not him — You could've just asked me, princess. I would’ve still rocked your world, but I guess you wanted it rougher,”

Eddie happily pulled himself out of his jeans, and stroked, seeing he had already been leaking pre-cum. She was too hot to be this hard already.

“You knew wearing that would catch my attention at school. Fuck, y/n, you’re just some being else — I haven’t even fucked you yet,” Eddie was surprised at how he felt about y/n in under twenty-four hours.

“I’m gonna make you mine, princess. Being pregnant in college isn’t too bad right? Wasn’t one of the female singers pregnant in college too?” Eddie asked the slightly uncomfortable woman as he slowly pushed at her entrance.

“Doesn’t matter — You’d look amazing with my kids. I’ll give you more than one — That’ll show Jason not to mess with me again,”

Eddie had gone too delusional by now. He thought that impregnated y/n would make Jason upset that his plan didn’t work, or show y/n that playing with a man isn’t a good idea.

“E-Eddie,” y/n cried low as he filled her with every inch. He wasted no time to begin his thrust and taunt y/n for her moans that she couldn’t hold back. He was huge and reached every good area y/n couldn’t even reach with her toys.

“You like it? C’mon, baby, tell me you like it. I’ll be fuckin’ you every day to show you who I am. If you thought you could make a fool out of me, then you were wrong, princess. So fuckin’ wrong. I’ll show you,”

[hannieehaee]

LO$ER=LO♡ER (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: jihoon's been pushed aside and ostracized from the moment he was born. completely alone, with no family and only a handful of friends, he's been too beaten down to expect anything good with the shitty cards life has dealt him. when he's presented with his new coworker, it's hard to not fantasize about her, but he'll never actually allow himself to believe she could ever look like him with anything but pity — just like everyone else.

content: loser!jihoon, antisocial!jihoon, sociallyawkward!jihoon, insecure!jihoon, sunshine!reader, jihoon is basically just a complete loser with horrible luck who's never felt true happiness (sorry), mentions of bullying, mentions of jihoon's sad past, sunshine!reader, slowburn, lots of worldbuilding but its just so u can feel sorry for jihoon lol, coworkers au, pining, miscommunication, afab reader, smut, sub!jihoon, virgin!jihoon, handjob, body worship, nipple play, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.9k (teaser); 14k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: february 10th!

or you can check it out on my patreon today by subscribing!

a/n: i put together every form of loserism and created this jihoon

masterlist

Every week was the same.

Jihoon would get up, fix his overgrown hair the best he could, and take the train over to work.

This was as far as he'd gotten in life; an overly repetitive existence with no sense of joy within it.

He should've been happy. Things were better now. Being 27 with a stable job and no real issues in his life should be something to be grateful for, yet Jihoon found himself being completely displeased with his life.

Surely there must be more to life than this, right? A lonely and loveless life that appeared to be leading him nowhere. But still, things were better than before.

It was hard for Jihoon to speak of his childhood, much less his teenage years (or even his college life). It was all too grim. He'd grown to accept it, to let it all go, but the past had made him who he was, and he knew his current self was to blame for his loneliness. For his lack of love.

And so he continued his daily routine, living day after day with no change in sight. He accepted this with a flat smile, grateful that things were just fine. Not good, not great, not even varied, but just fine.

This week, though, finally had something different. But to Jihoon that was usually bad news.

Were you bad news?

You were the brand new thing in his life.

It was your first week in his office. A brand new face. A very pretty face.

Jihoon never thought about such things. He'd never had any romantic experience in his life. He had a long distance girlfriend once, but even that didn't work out. Too much distance, too many lies, too many complications. Jihoon just wasn't made for love.

So he never thought of such things again.

It was rare for him to even see a pretty girl on his day to day. His morning commute was far too early and filled with people way too old for him to even look in the eye without feeling disrespectful. His workplace, although consisted of a variety of people, was not a place where he felt very welcome initiating friendships or anything of the sort. Cliques had ended in high school, he thought, yet he found himself at the bottom of the food chain among his coworkers. He wasn't liked and was deliberately avoided by everyone around him.

Until you came along.

Finding you beautiful was no surprise to Jihoon. It was the most obvious thing in the world. Putting appearances aside, you were sunshine personified. Smart, confident, hardworking, gentle, nice, beautiful. You were everything anyone could ever want. At times Jihoon even wondered whether he wanted you or if he just wanted to be like you.

You'd caused an immense impression in him within the short time in which he'd known you.

He hadn't really gotten to know you on a personal level yet. But you had extended him an olive branch upon the first meeting, which was a memory that had implanted itself on his mind. It was rare for Jihoon to come by good memories.

This was the first time he'd felt accepted in a very long time. Yet the fears of it turning around and slapping him in the face (like in so many prior instances) was too big for him to really consider you good news in his life.

It was kind of embarrassing looking back at it. Jihoon hadn't been expecting you (how could he have?), but you suddenly showed up at his cubicle accompanied by one of his coworkers, Doyle.

Doyle wasn't someone Jihoon thought too much about — or at least he tried not to. He was the classic high school bully, except in a corporate-world wrapping. Jihoon had dealt with bullies his whole life, he'd become desensitized to it by now. Still, it bothered him to see him standing next to you. He hadn't met you yet, but he was immediately disheartened by the new girl at the office looking buddy-buddy with someone he considered an adversary.

What had been surprising to Jihoon, though, was your complete disinterest in Doyle's obvious advances.

It was pretty often that Doyle would attempt to assert his dominance by putting Jihoon down in front of other coworkers. He'd tease him and patronize him in front of anyone to see in order to show others who was in charge. And it was not Jihoon, that was for damn sure.

Jihoon got up as soon as he sensed a presence at his cubicle, somehow managing to stumble over his feet as he did so. When he looked up, he was not expecting you, yet there you were. Beautiful, smiling down at him with genuine interest in your eyes. You didn't know him, but you had kindness in your eyes. He could tell.

He stumbled over an introduction as Doyle interrupted him, telling you Jihoon's name and position at the company for him. Unwarranted and once again showing that if he so wished, he could speak over Jihoon.

But you'd interrupted him in return, turning to Jihoon to extend your hand with that smile never leaving your lips.

"Hi, it's really nice to meet you," you'd smiled as he felt fire at the mere handshake.

"Hi, I, uhm, I'm Jihoon. Lee Jihoon. I didn't realize we had someone new coming. It's nice to meet you. You- If you need anything, you can always ask me," he slapped himself mentally when he said it. He stuttered his way through it like a fucking loser. His immediate attraction to you was too obvious. Doyle's smirk as he stood beside you told him all he needed to know.

"Oh, that's so nice, thank you! I'm right next door. Well- right next cubicle, so I'll probably take you up on that sooner or later," you laughed at your own attempt of a joke.

Jihoon couldn't help chuckling back, ignoring Doyle as he patted your shoulder, laughing along. Jihoon noticed a short-lived discomfort in your eyes at the action, one which died when your eyes went back to him.

Was he imagining it, or were you showing preference towards Jihoon?

"Well, let's not bother our little Jihoonie here any longer," Doyle interrupted once more, "It's almost lunch time," he leaned in to tell you, looking down at Jihoon, "We all usually go to a burger joint nearby — Jihoonie here likes to stay in, so we try to stay out of his way."

That wasn't entirely true.

Once upon a time, Jihoon did attempt to join the rest of his coworkers in outings, but he was always alienated. After a few too many slights about his hair, his height, his weird choice in clothing, or even just his personality, he decided to stray away from anything that wasn't strictly professional when it came to his coworkers. He was always the butt of the joke, so he made the decision to isolate in the office with a cold sandwich he packed for himself every day.

Sometimes his friends Soonyoung and Mingyu from accounting would join him, but there was usually not enough time to see them during regular working hours. This left him alone most of the time.

Your face seemed to deflate at Doyle's words. Whether it was out of pity for Jihoon or annoyance at Doyle's overzealous confidence around you, he wasn't sure.

"Oh, I actually brought a packed lunch," you told Doyle before turning to face Jihoon again, "Would it be okay if I stay in with you?", you looked at him with expectant eyes.

"You wanna, uhm, have lunch with me?", he asked dumbly and you nodded, "Y-yeah, that'd be nice, yes," he attempted a shy smile, succeeding when you returned it.

Doyle cleared his throat, interrupting the silent smiles you and Jihoon were sharing.

"Well, I could stay in with you if you want, I-"

But you interrupted him again.

"That's fine. I don't wanna get in the way of your plans. Jihoon will make fine company," you said politely, stepping away from Doyle to head over to your desk, popping back next to Jihoon with a brown paper bag.

Doyle looked dumbfounded for a few moments before masking it with a tight smile. Jihoon simply stood there as you pulled up a chair and settled it on Jihoon's desk, paying no mind to Doyle.

"I guess I'll leave you two to it. I'll keep showing you around after lunch. You have my number if you need anything," Doyle made emphasis on that last statement, offering you what looked like a genuine smile before giving Jihoon a look that told him he still felt victorious in the end.

"Thanks, Doyle! Bye!," you smiled back before turning to Jihoon.

Lunch was incredibly awkward for Jihoon. But that wasn't your fault. You'd been incredibly nice, asking him questions and keeping the conversation going despite the mumbly, shy mess Jihoon was. The conversation was entirely carried by you, with you surprisingly taking an interest in him. Every word, every gesture, they all led him to believe you were genuinely nice.

At the same time, he felt entirely delusional.

It wasn't often that people were nice to him, so it was likely he was building it up to be more than it actually was. You likely did not want to stay in with him, but after Doyle brought up that Jihoon was the only one in the office during lunch break, you had no option but to join him since you also planned to stay in. However, you were a good team player, Jihoon believed. Not many people would sacrifice their lunch to stay in with the black sheep of the office just to rid yourself of any possible awkwardness. Jihoon knew damn well many previous coworkers had gone out of their way to avoid him before.

But despite the belief that you simply pitied him, Jihoon missed your time spent together the moment it ended. He felt shy and blushed bright red at every single word uttered from you, but it had been the nicest interaction he'd had in a long time (a long, long time).

That had happened last Wednesday, repeating itself on Thursday, Friday, and then a whole weekend was spent with Jihoon solely thinking about you. Time that he usually spent reading or playing chess online was instead used up to think about you. It was mostly to overthink every tiny interaction and panic over it, but it was was still preoccupied by you.

But he also thought about other things.

How beautiful he found you to be. How nice, funny, hardworking, smart and riveting you were (despite this being an assessment he'd made in less than a week of knowing you). This was Jihoon's first crush in ... he couldn't even remember how long.

And it was terrible.

Every crush he'd ever had had turned out terribly. Harmless elementary school crushes turned into pranks pulled by his classmates in order to embarrass him. Prepubescent middle school crushes became false confessions that led to public embarrassment. Hopeless high school crushes were nothing but a farse that led him into giving up altogether.

Throughout his practically non-existent love life, Jihoon had always been met by nothing but discouragement, sometimes by simple rejection and other times by harassment from people who believed him to be unworthy of being liked. These were memories he did not like to relive, but the resurgence of feelings for someone brought them all back.

And so he was unsure of how to feel. He was unsure of whether to let himself like you or recoil, unwilling to even try.

...

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