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levisjinchuriki · 1 day ago

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truly, madly, deeply

summary: toji didn't realize what he lost until he did

warning: angst, crying, toji pleading his case, yelling, mentions of toxic relationship

part 1

toji rests until late morning. you don’t disturb him, knowing he needs the sleep after the storm he weathered last night. while he’s out, you sneak into the room to set a glass of water and painkillers on the nightstand for his inevitable migraine. it's not much, but it’s something.

you linger in the doorway for a moment after, watching him. in his sleep, toji looks so different. the sharp edges of his features are softer now. the furrow in his brow from last night is gone, replaced by a peace that’s rare. it pains you to watch him this way, knowing that the man lying before you carries so much anguish.

when he finally wakes, you hear the creak of the mattress and quiet shuffle of his feet before he appears in the living room, drawn by the smell of you making breakfast. he lingers in the doorway at first, then steps further into the kitchen, his footsteps slow and tentative.

you don’t say anything, keeping your focus on plating the food. you know he’s watching you, debating what to say—or if he should say anything at all.

you plate the meals, just like you always used to, and set his on the counter. still, you don’t make eye contact. it’s not intentional, just the natural result of a mind weighed down with too many thoughts. but toji’s eyes are on you, steady and unrelenting, following your every movement.

should he thank you for last night? apologize for the mess he dragged into your home? ask how you slept, even though he knows the answer? none of it feels right, and the words remain lodged in his throat.

instead, what comes out is something entirely different.

“can you stop?”. his tone is sharp but not angry—tired, maybe. it’s enough to make you pause, your hands hovering over the dish towel on the counter. slowly, you look up, meeting his gaze for the first time.

“stop what?” you ask puzzled. you’re not trying to frustrate him. you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing.

"acting like everything is normal. it's driving me crazy" toji says, his tone edged with frustration. it’s not really what he wants to say. he’s never been good at expressing himself, not in the way you need him to be.

you notice the turmoil flickering behind his eyes. his words only skim the surface of what’s really going on beneath. there’s so much pain there, unspoken and unresolved, that even he doesn’t seem to know what to do with it.

"i don’t like seeing you like this" you admit softly. it’s an honest confession, one you’ve been holding back for longer than you care to admit. your words catch him off guard, and he visibly flinches, his tough exterior momentarily cracking. for a second, he looks like he’s about to say something vulnerable, but just as quickly, he recovers, masking his emotions with sharp words.

"yeah, well, whose fault is that?" he bites out, his tone harsher than he intends. the second the words leave his mouth, regret flashes across his face.

he knows it’s his fault. it’s always been his fault. every hardship, every heartbreak, every sleepless night you endured in this relationship has been caused by his actions, his choices. and yet, he still lashes out, deflecting because it’s easier than facing his guilt head-on.

you draw in a breath, steadying yourself against the sting of his words. "that’s not fair" you say quietly. it’s not. he knows it’s not.

toji’s gaze drops to the floor, his jaw tightening as the truth of your words settles over him. the blame shouldn’t be on you for leaving him. if anything, he’s lucky you stayed as long as you did, long past the point when most people would have walked away.

in hindsight, he doesn’t even know why you didn’t leave sooner. you deserve so much more than he ever gave you.

"how many times has this happened before last night?" you ask carefully, afraid of pushing him too far.

toji’s shoulders sag under the weight of your question. embarrassment flickers across his face, and you can see the truth in the way his jaw tightens. he’s lost count. he doesn’t want to say it, but you already know. his bad habits weren’t new, and they’ve worsened since the separation.

"why does it matter?" he mutters, his tone defensive but laced with shame.

you hesitate, your heart heavy with the truth you’ve been keeping to yourself. it feels too big to say, too tangled with all the unresolved emotions swirling between you. but he’s looking at you now, his eyes searching yours, and you know he deserves an answer.

"because i care about you" you say.

for a moment, his expression softens, the harsh lines of his face easing as your words sink in. he doesn’t say anything, but you can see the conflict playing out in his eyes.

just because you’re not together anymore doesn’t mean you’ve stopped caring. it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped worrying about him. it doesn’t mean you want to see him drink himself into an early grave. and it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped loving him. that part, you don’t say, but it lingers in the air between you, unspoken but undeniably there.

you half-expect him to make a flippant comment, a typical toji move to deflect from his feelings. but instead, his jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. there’s a twitch in his nose—a tell you’ve come to recognize, the small sign that he’s fighting back emotions he doesn’t want to show.

“don’t do that” he warns. you can hear the strain in his voice, like he's on the edge of something he doesn’t know how to handle. he’s so far from the image of the hard, untouchable man he’s always pretended to be. instead, he looks fragile—struggling, hurting, desperately trying to hold himself together while everything inside him feels like it’s breaking.

toji sniffles, his hand coming up to rub over his face, as if he can scrub away the emotion threatening to surface. the sight of it tugs at your heart in ways you can’t control.

“why did you call me last night?” you ask quietly, your voice careful.

he looks at you then, and for a second, your resolve nearly crumbles. his gaze is so broken, so full of regret. the deep sigh he lets out seems to drain what little fight he has left.

“because no matter how hard i try, i can’t get you out of my damn head” he says.

your heart hammers in your chest. you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat.

“i know i don’t have the right to call you anymore” he continues bitterly—mostly at himself, at the situation, at everything. “but i just—i needed to hear your voice”.

there it is. the truth hurts to hear. despite everything that’s happened, despite the space and pain between you, he still turned to you. when he had no one else, when he was at his lowest, it was you he called. that has to mean something—doesn’t it?

you blink, your chest tightening as you watch him struggle to keep his composure. toji— tough, unshakable toji—looks like he’s barely holding it together.

“i don’t know how to stop” he admits after another long moment of silence, his voice breaking just enough to make you flinch. “thinking about you. missing you”. his hands hang at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching as if he’s fighting some invisible force. “i screwed it all up. i know that. but you—”. he looks at you then, his gaze so intense it feels like it might break you. “you’re still the only thing that makes sense to me. even now”.

his words sting, but you can see the pain in his eyes—the regret that’s etched so deeply into his features as if it’s become a part of him. he doesn’t move closer, doesn’t reach for you, even though you can tell he wants to.

you’re not even sure what you want to say. that he’s wrong? that he’s right? that you’ve been struggling too?

your heart twists painfully at his words. you want to be angry. you want to tell him that he doesn’t get to just show up like this, throwing his pain at your feet. but you can’t. because deep down, you know that anger isn’t what you feel.

“do you think that makes it any easier for me?” you ask, your voice trembling. “watching you like this? knowing you’re hurting?”. your eyes fill with tears as you stare into his.

“we ended things for a reason. for a lot of reasons.” your voice wavers as a thousand emotions swirl inside you. his eyes squeeze shut, and he nods, like he’s bracing himself for the final blow. but when he looks at you again, there’s a desperation there you’ve never seen before.

“i know” he says hoarsely. “and you were right to leave. i know i screwed everything up. i know i don’t deserve this—don’t deserve you—but…” he trails off, his voice cracking. “i’ve never felt like this before. not with anyone else. not even close. and i can’t… i don’t want anyone else”.

you want to believe him. you want to believe that he’s changed, that this time will be different, that he won’t let you down again. but you’ve heard promises before.

“i can’t trust you” you say, the words trembling as they leave your lips, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. even though you’re the one who left, it feels like you’re breaking up all over again, reopening wounds you thought had begun to heal.

“i know i don’t deserve another chance. but i mean it this time. i swear i do”. his voice cracks, and it’s enough to make your chest ache.

his words sound genuine, the emotion in his voice undeniable, but how can you trust that? he’s hurt you before, made promises before. still, the way he looks at you now—like you’re the only thing holding him together—makes you hesitate.

“i still love you” he adds, the confession spilling out like it’s been tearing him apart. his gaze locks onto yours, desperate and searching for something—anything—that might give him hope.

you look away, wiping at your tears with trembling fingers. you're torn, trapped between the part of you that aches to believe him—the part that longs for the warmth of the love you once shared—and the part that knows better, the one that remembers the cold, sharp edges of his neglect.

you think of the moments of love and laughter—his low chuckle in your ear, the way he’d pull you into his chest and kiss the top of your head, the rare but precious mornings where the world seemed to stop, just the two of you tangled together in the quiet.

but those memories are eclipsed by others, darker and heavier. broken promises whispered in the aftermath of fights that left you raw, the sting of his absence when you needed him most, the hollow ache of lying awake in bed while he chased after his own demons, leaving you to face yours alone.

it hurts too much.

“i think you should go” you tremble.

toji freezes. for a moment, he looks like he might argue, his mouth opening slightly as if the words are on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out and plead his case. but they never come. instead, his shoulders sag, the fight draining out of him as your words sink in.

he runs a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling as they rake over the strands. his eyes—those same eyes that once held so much confidence, so much fire—are now clouded with regret.

“okay” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper, as if saying it any louder might shatter what little composure he has left.

he doesn’t move right away. instead, he lingers, his gaze locked on you, searching your face as if trying to memorize every detail, to hold onto this moment even as it slips through his fingers. there’s a quiet desperation in his eyes, a silent plea for you to take it back, to tell him to stay.

but you don’t.

you stand there, frozen, watching as he takes a shaky breath and finally turns toward the door. his movements are slow, reluctant, like every step is an admission of defeat.

when he reaches the door, he hesitates, his hand resting on the handle. for a second, you think he might say something, one last attempt to change your mind. but he doesn’t. he opens the door, stepping out without looking back.

and just like that, he’s gone.

you press your hand to your chest, the ache there unbearable, and you sink onto the couch, tears streaming freely now.

your mind races, his words replaying over and over. i mean it this time. i still love you. i’m sorry. what if he really does mean it? what if he’s changed? what if this time, things could be different?

but then the other voice—the one that remembers the hurt, the loneliness, the promises that were always broken—creeps in. what if he hasn’t? what if it’s the same cycle all over again?

the tears keep coming, and you let them. the ache in your chest feels unbearable, a mix of anger, love, and regret twisting into something you can’t untangle.

you want to believe him. god, you want to believe him. but trust is fragile, and yours has been shattered too many times.

you picture toji on the other side of that door, his shoulders slumped, his face etched with the pain of rejection. you know what he’s feeling because you feel it too—a deep, gnawing emptiness that no amount of reasoning can fill.

but you also know the truth.

this is the path you chose because it’s the one that hurts less in the long run. toji has to accept that he’s lost the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and you have to accept that some things, no matter how much you want them to, can’t be fixed.

memories of the life you once shared flash through your mind—the laughter that came so easily in the beginning, the quiet nights when words weren’t needed, just the steady rhythm of his breathing as he held you close.

but then comes the other memories… the arguments that seemed to come out of nowhere, his voice raised, yours breaking. the promises that felt like lifelines at the time but were discarded so casually. the nights you spent staring at the ceiling, the bed cold and empty, wondering why you weren’t enough.

it’s not fair.

you were never the problem.

you clench your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you fight back the surge of anger and grief that threatens to overwhelm you. how many times did you tell yourself that love would be enough? that if you just tried harder, gave more of yourself, things would change? how many times did you accept his apologies, his promises to do better, only to be left in the same cycle of disappointment?

still, the tiny flicker of hope refuses to die. it lingers, stubborn and persistent, whispering what if in the back of your mind. what if this time is different? what if he really means it? what if the love you both still feel is enough to mend what’s been broken?

you hate that hope.

it feels like a betrayal of all the pain you’ve endured, a cruel trick your heart plays to keep you tethered to someone you know isn’t good for you. and yet, you can’t bring yourself to let it go completely.

the weight of your decision feels suffocating, but you remind yourself that trust is a fragile thing. once broken, it’s nearly impossible to piece back together.

toji has to learn to live with what he’s lost. he has to understand that love isn’t enough without trust, without effort, without change.

your tears have stopped, but the ache in your chest remains, a dull and constant reminder of what you’ve let go.

you hope toji will find a way to heal, to become the man he claims he wants to be. but more than that, you hope you can find the strength to move forward, to leave the pieces of your shattered trust behind and rebuild yourself into someone whole again.

because no matter how much you still love him, you can’t keep breaking your own heart in the hope that one day, he’ll stop breaking it for you.

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taglist: @lavenderdaydream97 @smaranshakthi

thank you for reading my mini series!! i haven't made an angst fic in a long time and as much as i wanted to have them be together in the end, it felt forced. don't be mad! <3

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gingerteawrites · 3 days ago

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BY THE HEARTH: CRACKLE

A/N: Welcome back for yet another installment of by the hearth!! As always please let me know what you thought of this chapter! Let's goooo. Read the previous part here.

Content: Royalty!AU, Nanami x female reader, king Nanami, Princess Y/N, Widower Nanami, Toddler Yuuji, hurt, angst. Not beta read

Word count: ~5.5K words (they keep getting longer...)

Banner by: @cafekitsune

ACT IX

Nanami was a man of habit. As he did every night, he peeled away his royal garments and changed into a long chemise and loose trousers. Then sat on the cushioned chair of the small study attached to his room.

Following his evening routine usually brought so much peace to the man. A time to unwind, sort through his thoughts. And most importantly, remind himself he was in control. But alas, this control was slowly slipping through his fingers. Fluttering away in the direction of you.

Opening up the notebook that served as journal, he brought his quill close to the paper. The pages were filled with mundane phrases, recounting the outcome of a meeting. Reflecting on new policies. Or on occasion, excited tales of new milestone in Yuuji’s development.

He sat there for several minutes, willing himself to write something that followed this usual pattern. Something that fit in the well-drawn lines of his ordinary days.

But his mind was only able to compute suggestions of you. The way your smile shone so brightly when you danced together. The fire in your eyes when you spoke to the people. The feel of you in his arms as you twirled by the blaze.

Nanami dropped the quill with a sigh. This was not going to do. He feared that if he forced himself, the only thing he would be able to pen down would be your name.

This is not good. At all. This world that he had carefully crafted to protect Yuuji, and most importantly protect himself was crumbling. And you were the culprit.

Fraught with frustration, he closed the book and headed to the giant bed. Still, his mind, that was not his to hold anymore kept wandering. And a repressed part of his being started to wonder. How would it feel to hold your hand. To truly have you. To kiss your lips…

Except he had already done the latter. That dreadful wedding day. The thought of it makes him groan, and that same repressed part of his being wished he could go back and fix things. Maybe offer a reassuring smile to your then trembling self. But it was too late for that. He shifted under the covers, shaking his head as if to shake the thoughts themselves out.

Sleep. I need to sleep.

The large study always seemed like a peaceful place. With its mahogany shelves lined with historical records. And the imposing desk behind which the king was sat. Yes, Nanami felt in his element in this room. He was the king, and the king could not allow himself to be troubled by trivial affections. He flipped through the pages of the proposed budget that the royal advisors had produced. But his focus was interrupted by a timid knock on the door.

The royal counsellor pushed in. Ichiji always seemed on edge, his thin body tucked into itself. But as he approached, the king noticed his advisor seemed even more nervous than usual.

Nanami raised a brow when the man stopped in front of the table. ”I am not expecting anyone today,” he flipped through another page, his eyes returning to the tedious document.

“I know, your majesty,” the words tumbled out hastily, “but our guest today is one I cannot turn away easily-”

He had not even gotten around to announce the name of this guest when two men barged in. The sound of guards arguing and trying to hold them back filled the room, but Nanami raised a hand in quiet dismissal.

Duke Gojo’s smirk was wider than usual, flanked by his courtier, ever the shadow of the white-haired aristocrat.

He plopped in the chair across from the king, who silently watched his actions. It was customary that people of lower rank extend greetings first, but the man before him purposefully stretched the silence. After a few moments, he finally bowed his head.

“Your Majesty,” the duke’s tone was far from reverent. From the corner of his eye, the king could see the ebony-haired courtier bow as well. “What a pleasure it is to see you after so long.”’

“Duke Gojo, It is good to see you have returned.” The words were mere pleasantries, devoid of any sense of sincerity. “I trust your tour in the province went well.”

“Oh quite well indeed,” he sat back, relaxed into the chair.

The duke was a fascinating man. Irritating and grating beyond belief to some, and the object of blind adoration to others. While he did not hate the man, Nanami had grown tired of his lack of consideration for customs, and constant antagonistic attitude.

Despite the duchy's history of hunger for power and strife with the royal family, their sole heir did not seem interested in the throne. He was more concerned with living without regard for conventions, which was its own problem. The one thing that Nanami’s father, the late king, had always expressed relief over was how lucky he was that the Gojo heir was a boy. Otherwise the crown would not have been in a position to refuse a political marriage between the two.

But then again Nanami found himself wrapped in another political marriage.

“Though I must say,” Satoru tapped his fingers on the material of his expensive trousers. “I am quite disappointed that I have not had the chance to introduce myself to our new queen.”

Nanami’s brows immediately furrowed. Gojo Satoru was not one to entertain pleasantries just for pleasantry’s sake. You interested him, and that unnerved the king. What was this feeling?

“I hear she made quite the impression at the festival’s opening…” He dragged on, and Nanami closed the file was holding firmly.

“So what is the purpose of you barging into my study, Satoru?” Gojo smirked.

“Addressing me by my first name, now isn’t that unusual…” He turned to Geto with an expression beyond amused. “If I could venture to guess, I would say the king does not like me talking about his darling wife.” The courtier sighed under his breath, looking straight ahead. Provocation was the Duke’s favorite game, and Geto was not willing to participate.

“If you inserted yourself in my schedule to waste my time, you will be escorted outside the palace grounds.” Nanami leveled him with a stern look, and Satoru raised his hands defensively. But the amused glint did not entirely leave his eyes.

“Alright, alright, no need to kick me out, your majesty,” He stretched his hand out, a silent invitation for Suguru to hand him a sizeable batch of documents. Gojo leaned over and placed them on the table before the king, whose sole response was a raised brow.

“Though the aristocracy seems to think my time away from the capital is spent slipping from one woman’s bed to another,” Gojo began, holding a hand to his chest dramatically “I actually do quite the investigative work.” His eyes returned to the king with a smile, who crossed his arms over his chest.

“And what is the subject of these investigative efforts?” He asked, making no move to read the documents placed before him. But he could already tell there were reports. Other things slipped out of the bundle, though. Receipts, permits, letters.

“The question is who, your majesty,” he corrected with a wag of his finger. “Things in the South have been getting more and more unstable, that is no secret.” He sighed, expression now turning serious. “And the duchy has considerable investments in that region, so it was only fitting for me to have a look. These papers here,” he pointed at the pile on the desk “Contain a comprehensive record of activities of what I believe is someone or multiple people in the royal court funding the rebel uprisings.”

Nanami’s eyes narrowed. Of course, after hearing Haibara’s reports he knew something was off about this conflict. The insurgencies kept popping up, even when the knights seemed to have wiped out the bases. And those who fought were either poor people who lived by the border and mercenaries. There were a lot of possible benefits to destabilizing such a profitable area, but for it to come from inside? The king’s jaw clenched.

“I will review all of this information,” Nanami finally pulled the documents towards himself. The nobles always tried to defend their own interests. And he couldn’t entirely blame them for that. Afterall, the royal family operates on protecting itself most of the time. But such insubordination was way beyond justification. His expression turned deadly, and even Gojo’s smirk faltered at the sight. He had to set an example. And uproot this problem.

“Thank you for the information,” the king conceded.

Gojo stood from the chair, giving another bow “The things I do for this kingdom.”

“Your majesty,” Geto finally approached the table and bowed again, “We can also provide you with more details concerning what our informants have found, at your request.” The king nodded and voiced his thanks before the pair left.

The dull ache of an incoming headache was already beating at his temples when Nanami pulled the documents closer. And with every paper he sifted through, so did quiet fury simmer.

It was late afternoon when he called out from his office. “Get me Haibara!” Startled, poor Ichiji scurried away to fulfill the order. Whoever was behind this was going to get hell for it.

Having returned from the flower festival, you remember falling asleep with a stomach full of butterflies. He said he adored your speech. Somewhere, a voice in your mind screamed out about wanting him to adore you.

You pressed your face into the pillows, groaning deeply. You could not become greedy.

Wishing for anything more than what was given would only hurt you. Your dreams were filled of images of the king, of the depth of his eyes and closeness that set your heart alight.

But the king had left. You were fully awake, eyes scanning through the paper you held for the nth time.

[I will be away for a time. Please inform Alma of anything that you may need. Kento Nanami]

Your mind raced with questions. If he had left in such a haste, something must have been terribly wrong. He certainly would not do such a thing on a whim, would he? Had you done something to upset him?

You barely had the time to figure out how to overthink the situation, when Riko burst into your quarters. The prince was sick. The maid responsible to getting him ready, Kuroi took note of a burning fever while dressing him, and the child fainted soon after, inducing panic in the experienced woman.

“He is such a healthy child, I do not even recall the last time he was sick,” Alma rambled while you hurried over his room, instructing a guard to find the palace doctor.

You found Yuuji laying in his bed, round cheeks flushed a deep pink and eyes closed wearily in restless sleep. Your heart ached at the sight. Seeing one who always jumped around with so much energy in this state was startling. And you soon found a permanent place by his bedside.

Days had passed, and your position had not changed. You wrung a small towel in the basin of cool water that laid on the night stand and wiped at the child’s forehead and neck, watching his breath shudder at the sensation of the cold towel against his burning skin. A small whimper followed and you cooed gently.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, touching your fingers against his cheek. He opened his eyes, look unfocused, before closing them again. The sight hurt you even more, wishing you could take the pain away. “Are you okay, baby?”

He took in several heavy breaths, seeming to not fully comprehend the words that left your mouth. You recalled the doctor’s words when he had arrived that first night.

He shows symptoms of the smallpox, your majesty. Though not fatal, he might struggle to regain his strength for a few weeks.

The doctor instructed that only those who had suffered from the infection before could take care of Yuuji, which eliminated the head maid and the Kuroi. You on the other hand, still had remembered how a short smallpox episode had wracked your body as a child. So you stayed by his side, adamant about being the one to care for him.

You wrung the towel of the cold water again, pressing it over Yuuji’s skin in a soothing motion.

His lips parted, “Mama?”

The simple word left your frozen in place. Oh no.

The fever probably made him delirious, he is confusing me for his mother.

While still deciding how to tell him he was mistaken, his hand reached over and his small fingers closed around the fabric of your dress.

“Can you… Lie down with me?” he pushed out with difficulty, and you lost the heart to correct the boy.

“Alright, my darling,” your hand brushed his cheek and you placed the towel down. As soon as you circled to the other side of the bed and climbed in, Yuuji clung to your side, resting his head against your chest. He seemed to relax into what was finally a restful sleep.

You breathed out a slight relief, but sleep would not find you. Your mind drifted back to the departure of the king. Certainly if he knew Yuuji was this sick, he would have hurried back. You had written a note be sent to him immediately after finding out the child fainted.

You had chosen to keep news of the prince’s sickness to only those who had initially found out. Unwarranted attention was the last thing you needed.

Pushing the thoughts aside, you told yourself that it was fine. If you could not even deal with a few days in the king’s absence, what kind of queen would you be? What you needed to focus on now was ensuring the prince was okay. Yuuji would be okay.

Wasn’t this part of the deal agreeing to be his mother? You held the boy closer.

Just getting to the Southern port city had taken a week. One long, exhausting week as the king rode undercover with some of the knights, only taking short breaks to eat and sleep. And one week of sleeping in the woods and being separated from his family was enough to put him in a sour mood.

They reached the Gojo estate, where they had opted to stay rather than the royal residence by the beach. The last thing the king wanted was people knowing he was here. Even so, Nanami did not like the idea of having to rely on the Duke. Who knew what favor the man would feel entitled to after this?

He turned to Ichiji, the only person informed of the king’s sudden departure along with Alma and you.

“I need you to make me a list of all the aristocrats with sizeable investments in this region,” he spoke, taking off his soiled outer garments “Funding an insurrection cannot be untraceable.”

Ichiji nodded, leaving for the town with a knight in tow. All the businesses would be asked to produce tax records and investor information, which the king intended to compare with the royal records. Something was terribly off, and Nanami would not wait until things took a catastrophic turn before acting.

“Haibara,” he called, and the head knight entered the room that served as office and bedchamber, closing the door behind him.

“Yes, your majesty,” he bowed in response. He knew not to tease the king when he was so on edge. “Take me to the prisoners captured from the previous uprising.” The king rose, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.

Haibara’s eyes widened slight, “We just got here, your majesty, you need to rest. And they have not yet been put on trial-”

“I said, take. me. there.” the chill of his tone shut the head knight up, who resorted to nodding tersely. Haibara felt bad for whoever was going to be on the receiving end of the king’s wrath.

Nanami’s knuckles were covered in blood, his sleeves neatly folded above his forearms. He moved his head from side to side, neck cracking as he circled the man sitting in the center of the cell. The royal guards in charge of guarding the prison watched in horror. They had never seen their even-keeled king in such a state.

He eventually came to sit on a small wooden chair facing the prisoner. The one whom all the others Nanami had “questioned” pointed as the leader of the movement, who had supposedly organized everything and gave out orders.

“I am not going to ask another time,” his voice was low. But only an idiot would believe that its quietness was indicative of anything but pure fury. He had been in this God-forsaken place for a five days now. Five more days away from his home. His patience was running very thin. “Name,” he grabbed a towel, wiping his hands in preparation for another round. The man facing him looked up, terror evident in his swollen eyes. “And location of your master.”

A few beats of silence passed. Nanami extended his hand towards Haibara, and was handed a knife. He sighed.

“I hate having to repeat myself,” he approached the prisoner, casting a looming shadow of him. “But by the end of this, you will be the one begging for me to stop.”

Three weeks had passes since the king left, and the prince’s health was finally starting to look up. You were utterly exhausted, having watched over the sore flares and nights of difficult fever. But above all, you were so proud of Yuuji for pushing through every moment of it.

The doctor returned for his nth examination, looking over the child’s condition with relief painting his features.

“The worst has passed. He just needs to eat, drink enough, and rest. The young prince is well on the right way to regain his strength,” You thanked the doctor, who thanked you in return for all the effort you spent.

You returned to the child’s side, running your fingers along his arm. Noting the small scars left behind by the rash that had littered his skin.

“You fought so bravely, Yuuji,” you whispered, leaning down to leave a kiss on his cheek. “I’m sure papa is so proud of you.”

You had still not heard news from the king, now convinced that the note you sent never reached its destination. There was no way he would have learned that and not come back. Right?

He opened his eyes, looking at you with a small pout. “Papa is proud?” his voice was almost back to its usual vitality. You brought a hand to his cheek. “Yes, my darling, so proud.”

“Where is papa?” he asked again. “I want to see him.”

“He’ll be back real soon okay? He’s away on very important business.” You pushed his hair out of his face. “Here, you must be hungry? Alma made your favorite,” you walked to the small table behind you, grabbing the tray of food.

“You should eat too,” the child retorted when you sat down. He had noticed the way you never left his side. There was no way you could have eaten enough in that time.

“Okay, okay,” you nodded, knowing he wouldn’t eat until you conceded. “We eat both then.”

You brought the soup-filled spoon to Yuuji’s lips, who parted them without protests. Eventually, he grabbed the spoon, insisting on feeding you too. You compromised on you taking a bite for every five that he did, to which he begrudgedly agreed. Soon enough, he was well-fed and fast asleep.

You were putting the bowl away when a loud knock sounded at the door. You frowned, recalling having ordered the maids to try to be as quiet as possible around the child’s quarters. Still, you stood and headed for the door, grabbing the tray so whoever was knocking could help return it to the kitchen.

“Your majesty,” Riko rushes the moment your face appeared from behind the large door. “Alma says someone very important is here, and refuses to leave until he sees the king. He’s waiting in the courtyard”

Your brows furrowed, “Who is this person?”

You were convinced Nanami had not told many people about his departure. You had hoped for a swift return, and maybe even a word that he was well, but nothing. Radio silence. Still, you wanted to trust that he was alright.

“I apologize, I do not know your majesty. Usually counsellor Ichiji deals with these things if the king is busy. But he is nowhere to be found. Alma told me to just come find you and not worry about the king, he’s just resting. But his majesty never neglects official duty like this! Is he also sick? Oh no, that’s a terrible omen-” The maid's spiral was paused by your hand on her shoulder.

“Amanai,” you called softly, and she looked up. “Everything is fine, I will see to this issue. I won’t be long but I want you to stay around in case Yuuji wakes up and needs something.” You finally stepped out of the room. “And one more thing,” you watched Riko take your place behind the door “Not a word to anyone about any of this, understood?”

The young maid nodded with pursed lips, and you walked away in the direction of the courtyard, trying to smooth out some of the wrinkles on your dress. You had not met with anyone who did not live on palace grounds in three weeks, even sending Shoko a letter that you were feeling unwell to justify the absence. And you knew you certainly looked as tired as you felt.

On any other day, you would not have allowed yourself to be seen in any sort of disheveled manner. But the palace needed you, so you raised your head trudged forward.

As soon as you step foot in the court yard, the sight of a figure surrounded by royal guards came into view.

“Your majesty,” Marquess Kamo greeted from behind the guards who blocked the path. “It is such a pleasure to see you again.” His tone was saccharine sweet, the same one he had used at the ball for introductions.

“Marquess Kamo,” you greeted, not having the energy to muster anything beyond a polite smile. “I trust the guards have informed you of the current unavailability of his majesty,” you clasped your hands before you, “Unfortunately you will have to come at a later time.”

His expression soured, a polar shift to his previous pleasantness “I have been told that multiple times already…” he huffed “The king has already postponed two meetings with the council. If he is unable to grant me an audience at the moment, I have grounds to be worried don’t I, my queen?”

Your eyes fleeted to Alma who stood not far from the guards, lips drawn in a thin line. What was he implying?

Marquess Kamo is a cunning man, Nanami’s voice swept through your thoughts. You knew that the less you interacted with the man, the better. But you could not send him away without proper justification and let things fester. You had not been informed that the Marquess demanded an audience before. If just for the sake of appearances, you thought you should receive him.

A sudden anxious feeling crept up the back of your neck. Should you even make any of these decisions? What if all you did was make things worse in this place. You shook the thoughts away. Even if executive power had not been explicitly handed to you, doing nothing would only result in things getting worse.

“I understand, Marquess. I shall grant you a short audience in the gardens. But after today, the king will contact you when he is able to meet, so we will not expect your presence before then.” Your words were firm and the guards nod before stepping away from the aristocrat and leading the way to the main gardens.

The Marquess walked a step behind you, sending a wave of discomfort through you. The earlier this was done, the better. You sat at a small table in the middle of the lush garden, and Alma instructed servants to bring out tea and pastries. You took in a deep breath, bracing yourself for the conversation.

This is just to save face, you reminded yourself. The last thing you wanted were rumors that the king was ill or incapacitated in any way. You knew that was not what Nanami would have wanted. If servants were already thinking that, you did not know what could be going around in nobility.

“Thank you for your time, your majesty,” the man took a bite from the cake slice in front of him, making an exaggerated show of savoring it, seemingly having returned to his jolly mood.

“You are welcome, Marquess. I do not mean to sound short but I would appreciate if you would get to the point of this visit.” You forced your voice into an amicable tone, watching as the man finished the slice.

“I see you are fairly straightforward,” he put the fork down, eyes narrowing sharply. In an instant, his expression turned cold, sending a chill down your spine. “His majesty is obviously not here, so I won’t waste my time with official business.” You frowned. Had Nanami told him he was going away too? No… That did not sound right at all.

“I know you probably have many questions about this place. About the truth behind the king’s previous marriage.” He spoke quietly, causing you to narrow your eyes in suspicion. Where exactly was he going with this?

“All of which my husband has answered. I know Kaori was your daughter Marquess. I find this line of questioning highly inappropriate.” You lied.

He chuckled, a sinister sound. “Did he now? Are you sure he told you everything? The truth behind the nature of their relationship? Her death?” You went silent, eyes narrowing at the man.

“The king loved my daughter oh so dearly. Maybe that is why he is so distant now. You know what they say about losing a great love,” he recounted, timbre almost turned sappy. You could not figure this man out, but his words caused your frown to deepen.

Don’t let him get into your head.

“It is so nice of you to play nanny and try to keep appearances.” He stood, adjusting his coat over his shoulders, “I hope you don't believe the king actually cares about you. You may think yourself a queen, but you are but a glorified surrogate. A help.” The words knocked the wind out of you. The sheer audacity.

You watched him leave, escorted by the guards and leaving behind a deafening silence

Don’t let him get into your head

You repeated the mantra on your way back to Yuuji’s room. But how could you not? He had not say anything factually incorrect. Your role in the palace was to act as Yuuji's mother, even though you could never shake the shadow of the woman.

Help. That was all you were. To do what was needed for now, but destined to be eventually pushed into the background. The notion left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Pushing the chambers’ doors open, you expect to be greeted by Riko. But instead you notice Nanami sitting on the edge of the bed, hand resting on the sleeping child’s head.

“Your majesty,” you call out, staying by the door. He had returned. Finally. Relief filled your being.

“How long has he been ill?” The king did not turn around, his tone harshly breaking the silence.

The king was home. Finally. After what felt like an eternity away, exhaustion rocked his body. Unending days of riding and questioning had yielded results. He gained critical information about the insurrection. But the time away had also chipped away at his soul. He just needed to be home. To see his son. To know everything was alright. To be reminded he still had control.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of his child, sick, with a panicking young maid when he entered the room. He ordered her out after listening to her unprompted ramblings about Yuuji being terribly sick. Why wasn’t Alma in there instead? Or even the royal doctor?

He had left his son. Without even the chance to say goodbye. He had neglected his duty as a father and now Yuuji was ill. What if something worse had happened while he was away? Once again he had failed, utterly so.

And in the middle of this torrent of emotions you burst into the room. So comfortably. Like you had been here countless times. Like you were the righteous occupant of Yuuji’s space. His child.

Only then did Nanami notice the small traces of you littered across the room. A pair of gloves laying on the nightstand. Your shawl draped on the other side of the bed. Your flowery scent lingering in the air.

You had crossed the line. Nanami felt control slipping from his fingers. Control over the care of his own son. The feeling only contributing to the mounting frustration he carried.

“So you’ve been in here… The whole time-”

“Could we please talk outside? I would not want to wake him now,” you interrupted, despite noting his mounting displeasure. The king tensed, but he eventually followed you outside.

You walked back to the garden where you had met the Marquess in an uneasy silence. One that sent your mind into a frenzy.

“The prince had smallpox,” you finally began when you both sat, “He feels much better now, I was with him the whole time.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you felt the need to brace yourself for this conversation. “Where were you?”

He looked up, tired eyes still holding what looked like hostility. “Away.” The curt response made your heart squeeze painfully. “Thank you for taking care of him but this ends today. I am back to take care of my son.”

You frowned at the emphasis of his words. How did he expect you to just scram after having seen Yuuji in such a state? You bit your lip, refusing to roll over and take it. Not this time.

“What does that mean? You cannot just dismiss me like this.” you tried to keep your voice even, but found it shaky. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the past few weeks. Or remnants of your previous conversation.

He sighed, rubbing at his temples. He felt a headache coming. One too many, and he did not have the patience for confrontation at the moment. “I can. And I am. Y/N I did not ask for you to do what you did.” His eyes found yours, sharp as ever. “You overstepped. And I am asking you to step back. I am his father, and you-”

“Are just a help” you finished his sentence, chuckling humorlessly. "I understand, your majesty," you said, rising to your feet, the sting of dismissal sharp in your chest. "I’ll return to my quarters, then. Should you think of any further errands befitting a servant, do let me know."

This place would never be your home. This was a political marriage after all. One you were traded into. And as you stepped away, willing yourself to not look back you reminded yourself. Beggars could not be choosers. You could not desire more than was given. And that included a place in the king’s heart.

whew this was a hefty one. As always, do let me know what you think!

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

Tag list: @bl3333h @ladygojooo @evans-dejong @flaneur002 @bopsigles

@taeteddybear @tylersaiddonteatbananas @starmapz @lucreied @cosmicbreathe

@abhootghiihii @amisuh @luvstama @tomiokasecretlover @ofcqdesi

@lazypostfandomer

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penkura · 23 hours ago

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Holly Jolly Christmas

Summary: Your first Christmas with the Heart Pirates leads you out on deck for a few moments alone, only to be joined by your captain making sure you're okay.

Note: Just wanted to write something like this, Reader needing to step away to get their feelings in check and Law being willing to listen. :) Again, SORRY IT'S SO LATE. I went to see Sonic 3 this morning after church and it threw my whole day off. (:

“Oh come on, stay inside with us! It’s chilly out there!”

“I’ll be fine, Ikkaku, I just need some air!”

She rolls her eyes at you but doesn’t fight, instead being pulled away by Shachi for a dance while you laugh and step outside to the deck of the Polar Tang, taking a breath and feeling at ease. The holiday party your crewmates were throwing was starting to overwhelm you, a small break is all you need, some fresh air and the chance to collect yourself. It’s still hard to believe this is your life sometimes, that you’re a member of this crew and have friends that care about you, including a captain that wants you to stay safe. People who like and want you around, it’s so different from before.

Your first year with the Heart Pirates was coming to an end, right at Christmas time too. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think a pirate captain would request you to join them after seeing you protect yourself from some robbers on your home island, you just wanted to be able to eat that night and keep your hard-earned money from them. Apparently it was enough that day to convince Law you would be a good addition to his crew, for some reason you felt like you couldn’t say no even though he didn’t scare you or anything. It felt like something told you that day to go, not like you had anyone to return to at home anyway. Most people on your home island tolerates you enough to pay you for small jobs, but no one cared when you left, you’re sure of that.

It didn’t matter though, once you were introduced to everyone, they all took a quick liking to you and showed you the ropes, taught you how the ship worked and everything you’d need to know for life as a Heart Pirate. You learned everything as quickly as you could, you didn’t want to be seen and burden or dead weight on the crew, and not one of your new friends thought that about you, they all gave Law good reports when they’d help you with anything.

You’re grateful for everything that’s happened the last year, watching your crewmates have fun tonight and enjoy themselves. It’s really like having a family again.

“There a reason you’re out here alone?”

Hearing Law’s voice just makes you smile at him over your shoulder, before he joins you leaning against the railing. Of course he’d find you, he’s very good at that lately. Sometimes it feels like he's actively seeking you out, though that could just be wishful thinking.

“I just needed some air, captain.”

“You don’t have to call me that when it’s just us, I’ve told you that,” Law rolls his eyes while you giggle at him, “Doing okay?”

You nod with a small hum, you know he won’t press too hard to find out what’s going on, he already knows everything about you. Law never pushed but always listened when you wanted to talk about your previous life, when he noticed you weren’t doing well one day and it ended in you sobbing in his arms for hours about your lost family. He was awkward about it but didn’t make you leave until you were calm again, it made him realize there was more that you hadn’t told him at that point.

You two were more alike than Law ever expected when he brought you on.

“I need to thank you, Law,” he looks over to you with furrowed brows, but you’re not even looking at him, “If you all hadn’t shown up last year, I probably—”

“Enough, you don’t have to thank me again.”

You laugh with a nod as Law rolls his eyes once again, before you reach over and hug him. It’s taken some time but you’ve gotten Law used to these random hugs, he’s even started returning them like he does now.

“Still though, I’m grateful…getting to know all of you and feel like I belong somewhere again…thank you for saving me, captain.”

“…we’re all glad to have you here.”

You both stay like that for a while, even though it’s cold out and you know Law will want you inside shortly to get warm again. But these moments with just the two of you are rare, some people would question your relationship if it’s just captain and subordinate or something else there, but you’re happy with where the two of you are.

“All right, you lovebirds, everyone’s waiting for you to do Secret Santa already!”

The two of you almost up away from each other, Law giving Penguin a glare while you look away, your older crewmate having a smirk on his face.

“I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry. But really, come on! Everyone wants to open gifts!”

“Fine,” Law sighs, waving Penguin and keeping a hand on your shoulder, “We’ll be there in a moment.”

“Sure thing, cap!”

Penguin runs off to get everyone ready, leaving you and Law alone against. He’s obviously annoyed but it makes you smile anyway. It might be more than either of you are ready for, but you grab his hand and starts walking back into the Polar Tang.

“Better not keep everyone waiting, right, Law?”

“Yeah…guess so…”

You’ll tease him about the light blush on his face later, but tonight, you’ll keep the smile he gives you later on to yourself, and the fact you were his Secret Santa will be your personal secret until Law questions you about it.

You’re the only one who could’ve given him those coins from your home island anyway.

#one piece x reader #reader insert #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader

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sidemari · 3 days ago

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• SFW Headcanons Collection •

How do you both spend quality time together.

Characters included: Aphelios, Ezreal, Hwei, Jayce, Jinx, Kayn, Sett, Viktor, Yasuo and Yone [separately] x Fem!Reader

Mari's notes: It's just a silly and cute post. The part of the text involving Sett and Yone was written with me particularly thinking about @nana2amuro <3

Aphelios

Walk under the stars: You both usually take night walks in a quiet place, looking at the stars and talking about dreams and future plans.

"The Moon is beautiful today" You spoke with joy, squeezing his hands affectionately. "It's in the same lunar phase as the night we met."

Aphelios nodded, smiling with his eyes before pulling your body against his, initiating a tender kiss.

Ezreal (Heartsteel)

Making a personalized playlist: Creating a playlist with songs that represent your relationship or special moments you have shared together was your idea not only to express your love but also to show that you appreciate how essential music is to him.

"This song was the first one from Heartsteel" You whispered against his neck as you cuddled.

"It's the song that was playing that night, remember? At that concert where I saw you in the audience”

"How could I forget the day we met?"

Hwei

Connection with art: Creating something together, whether painting or drawing, is something that connects you not only with art but with each other. You can spend hours searching for the best materials or the most vivid paints for your next canvas without getting bored.

"Do you think these shades of blue match the background of the painting?" You asked Hwei, bringing numerous containers overflowing with paint in your arms.

"Watch out!" Too late. You tripped and a bit of paint splattered on the canvas, besides staining your clothes.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I didn't notice that the containers were ajar”

"Hey, it's okay. The painting turned out more artistic this way and... Well, you still look incredibly beautiful even covered in paint”

Jayce

Movie or series marathon: Choosing a series or movies that both of you love and spending hours watching them with treats, cuddles and kisses is essential to ensure a cozy moment away from everyday worries.

"Ah man, this protagonist is so stupid" He exasperatedly said, turning off the television.

"Jayce, are you really going to get mad at a character? It's just a movie, love”

"I prefer to cuddle with you while we kiss rather than waste time watching this cheesy movie."

"How can I deny you this?" You pulled him in for a kiss. "But you have to promise me that you'll watch the next movie I choose until the end."

Jinx

Self-care moment: Doing skincare with different face masks, moisturizing each other's hair, painting nails with different nail polish shades and trying out new makeup styles on each other is simply one of the funniest things you two can do together.

"Do you like this nail polish color, darling?" Jinx asked you, gently squeezing your shoulders before sitting down next to you.

"It's beautiful, but it's so hard to get a good finish."

"Nah, I'm an expert at this! Extend your hands, princess, your journey of just painting your nails black ends today”

Kayn

Game night: Having fun with simple activities, like board games or even card games, always creates a competitive atmosphere between the two of you, ensuring lots of laughter throughout the matches as well hugs and kisses for the winner.

“Aha, I won! I want my kisses and cuddles immediately”

"You cheated, Kayn! You broke about three rules from the game manual!”

“Silly detail. And does that make me less deserving of my girlfriend's attention?" You rolled your eyes.

"Come here then" You patted your thigh, inviting him to lie on your lap.

Sett

Making a memory album: Collecting photos of you both, keeping souvenirs from trips or even tickets from events to later create a physical album about the most important moments of your journey as a couple was a sweet and effective decision to record your love.

"Sett, look how cute this photo is!" You whispered, showing it to him.

"Oh heavens... That day was funny" His ears twisted in shame. "But I'm still embarrassed"

“Ah, come on! You were sleeping in such an unusual position... Look, you were even hugging a stuffed animal”

"Hey! Can you stop provoking me?”

"I'll stop, but this photo is definitely going in our album!"

Viktor

Spending the afternoon in a cozy café: On the rare occasions when you manage to get Viktor out of the lab, you take him to cafes. Sitting at a table in a pleasant environment to chat - even if for a few brief hours - enjoying the time together with a good cup of coffee, tea, or cappuccino is invigorating, especially for your workaholic boyfriend.

"Did you like their coffee, Vitya?" He nodded, placing the empty cup on the saucer.

"It's good, but I particularly prefer the coffee you make for me yourself."

His hand reached yours across the table, squeezing it gently before genuinely smiling at you. "Thank you for caring so much about me"

Yasuo

Meditating together: It’s not uncommon for you to join Yasuo in his meditations to relax and share a moment of calm and harmony.

"Yasuo, dear, I was wondering if you would like to go-” Seeing that your boyfriend was in deep meditation, eyes closed and face focused, you blamed yourself for interrupting him. "I'm sorry" you whispered, turning your back to leave.

"Come, meditate with me"

"Are you going to hold my hands while this happens?"

"What wouldn't I do for you, huh?" He sighed, still with his eyes closed, but with a slight smile forming on his lips.

Yone

Writing love letters: You write cute letters or notes to each other, expressing your most intimate feelings and then keep them to read later.

"What is this, love?" You asked, kissing him softly on the lips before showing the small envelope in your hands.

“Ah, that? A letter I wrote about you during a difficult day…”

"Can I read it?"

"Of course, but don't blame me if I sounded too cliché in the text." He ruffled your hair in a delicate manner.

#aphelios x reader #ezreal x reader #hwei x reader #jayce x reader #jinx x reader #kayn x reader #sett x reader #viktor x reader #yasuo x reader #yone x reader #lol x reader #lol fluff

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sillymommy6969 · 2 days ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕴 LOVE YOU

Megan Skiendiel x fem!reader

summary: megan’s been best friends with y/n since day 1. they got each other through dream academy together and they were experiencing success side by side. but when y/n starts getting a little more intimate with sophia, megan seems to realize things about herself she hadn’t noticed before…

warnings: angst!! harsh language, some real hard pining

Megan had always been good at hiding her feelings. It came with the territory of being in a band, where emotions could complicate the already delicate balance of creative and personal dynamics. But when it came to Y/N, her best friend and older member of Katseye, hiding her feelings had become more than a skill—it was a necessity.

She didn’t remember exactly when it started.

Maybe it was during one of their late-night songwriting sessions, where Y/N would sit cross-legged on the floor of HYBE’s studio, her hair a mess but her eyes alight with passion. On some nights when she couldn’t sleep, the woman would just sit and tinker with whatever she had to work with, and sometimes, Megan would join her.

Or maybe, it was when the two of them were sitting in the theatre with the girls watching a horror movie. They had paired off and Y/N desperately begged for the two of them to sit together. Whenever a jumpscare would pounce onscreen, the older woman would grab onto the redhead’s arm.

Megan caught herself hearing her heart drum against her ears as Y/N’s hot fingertips danced down her arm. Her head would lay on the Chinese dancer’s shoulder, and they were practically teased the whole of that week for being such a couple.

What Megan did know was that by the time Y/N started dating Sophia, it was already too late.

It wasn’t that Sophia wasn’t a good person. In fact, she was one of Megan’s closer relationships in Katseye. She was talented, driven, and had a maternally gentle nature that kept everyone grounded. She made Y/N laugh in a way that lit up the entire room, and Megan hated how much she noticed.

Tonight, the band had gathered at their shared studio for a casual rehearsal, then turned hangout. Sophia and Y/N were seated on the couch, the leader’s arm around the woman’s shoulder as they laughed over something on Y/N’s phone. Megan sat across the room, her guitar in her lap, strumming absentmindedly as she tried not to watch them.

It was harder than it should have been.

“Earth to Megan,” came a voice, snapping her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see Lara waving a hand in front of her face. “Dude, you’ve been playing the same chord for, like, five minutes. It’s driving me nuts.”

Megan set her guitar down onto her lap. “Oh, my bad,” she said, adjusting her position on the couch. “I zoned out.”

“Zoning out or zoning in?” Daniela, who strolled over to plop down beside the redhead, asked, her voice low enough that only she could hear. Her eyes flicked briefly toward the couch, and Megan’s heart sank.

Lara wasn’t the only one who had noticed, then.

“I’m fine,” Megan said quickly, shooting them a look that begged for both of them to drop it.

But Lara wasn’t about to let it slide. She was tired of watching the redhead stare longingly at the band’s couple. It was taking away her energy in the studio, at home, and even at dance practices—which Megan loved most. She crossed her arms and gave her a pointed look.

"Megan, we’re not idiots. You’ve been distracted in every rehearsal. Your playing’s been off, and you don’t give as much energy at practices. That’s not normal for you." She leaned in a little closer. "Is it about Sophia?"

At the mention of Sophia’s name, Megan’s stomach twisted. She thought of the easy way Sophia was always around Y/N, guiding her, supporting her. Sophia deserved Y/N’s full attention and loyalty, didn’t she? So why did her mind always return to her best friend?

Megan swallowed, forcing herself to meet Lara’s eyes. "No, no, it’s nothing like that."

“So it’s about Y/N?” Daniela chimed. "You’ve been really distant with her, which is insane because ya’ll are always together and it’s usually super suffocating. You’re not yourself, and we just want to make sure you’re okay."

Megan’s chest tightened. She opened her mouth to protest, to tell them she was fine, but the words got stuck in her throat. She didn’t want to admit what she was feeling. She didn’t want to confront the truth that was too messy, too complicated. But how could she keep pretending? How could she keep ignoring what was growing between her and Y/N?

Lara’s voice broke through her thoughts again. "What’s up, Megan? And be for real with us.”

Megan finally let out a long breath, looking down at the guitar in her lap. She couldn’t lie to them forever. Maybe they already knew. Maybe they could see through her better than she realized. But it was still so uncomfortable to unpack it.

"I don’t know what’s going on," Megan admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel the weight of her words hanging in the air. "I think... I think I’m just confused. And I don’t know how to deal with it. I’m fine, guys. I swear.”

Daniela and Lara exchanged a look, but neither of them pushed. Instead, Daniela placed a gentle hand on Megan’s shoulder, rubbing it with her fingers. "You don’t have to figure it all out on your own. Just talk to us. We’ll help you sort it out."

Lara nodded, her usual demeanor softened. "Yeah, we got you. Whatever it is, you don’t have to keep it inside."

Megan looked up, meeting their eyes. She felt a lump form in her throat. "I don’t know if I can fix it," she muttered. "I don’t even know if I want to fix it. I just feel... stuck. And I hate feeling like this."

"You’re not stuck," Lara said firmly. "You’ve always been the one who knows exactly what she wants, Meg. But sometimes... sometimes we’re faced with things that make us question what we thought we knew." Her voice softened. "It’s okay to be confused. It’s okay to need time to figure things out."

Megan let out a shaky breath, her mind racing. It felt like the ground beneath her was shifting. She had always been the one with a clear direction, someone who knew what they wanted. But now, everything felt tangled, uncertain.

She had feelings for Y/N.

Feelings she hadn’t expected to develop—feelings she couldn’t just erase. And then there was Sophia, who was her friend and took care of her when she was struggling with her career. She couldn’t break that, could she?

It wouldn’t just be betraying her bond with her band mate, but the one with her best friend too.

Lara raised an eyebrow, sharing a look with Daniela. Neither of them pushed further. Instead, they turned their attention to the others. “Are we running through the new song, or what?”

From across the room, Y/N had slipped her phone back into her pocket. Sophia was staring at the woman under her arm, but Y/N’s searching gaze landed on Megan.

And when their eyes met, the older member beamed at the redhead. It was moments like this that gave Megan undeserved hope, moments she really wanted to believe Y/N only had eyes for her, when everybody else had eyes on her.

“Let’s do it,” Y/N said, grinning as she stood.

Y/N stood, leaving Sophia’s arms as she strode over to where Megan sat. Daniela and Lara moved so the woman could make room for herself, slotting her body between Daniela and Megan on the couch. The older’s hand brushed against Megan’s arm, then down to the guitar.

Megan swore her cheeks looked bright red just then.

Sophia didn’t seem to pay them any mind, and Megan hated the fact she was so hyperaware of the leader’s every move. She wished she could be as confident and secure as Sophia, being able to just exist as their own person without worrying about their feelings. She felt guilty, so guilty it was eating her alive. Almost like she knew she was wrong to be thinking about the way her best friend’s body was pressed against her on the couch, staring at her as if she’d hung all the stars in the sky.

She wanted—no, needed to believe it was somewhat real.

That she wasn’t totally insane thinking there was something.

As the group broke into song, lead by Manon on a base and Megan on the guitar, their voices blended together. Singing harmonies with Y/N always felt like magic, Megan loved the way their voices bled into each other in a way that was almost instinctual. But tonight, every glance Y/N threw her way, every smile, felt like a dagger twisting in her chest.

After a few hours, they wrapped up for the night. Sophia suggested heading to a nearby bar to unwind, and everyone agreed. Megan hesitated, but the idea of going home to sit alone with her thoughts felt even worse.

At the bar, the group settled into a booth, ordering drinks and laughing over inside jokes. Megan tried to join in, but her attention kept drifting to Y/N and Sophia.

Y/N would make a joke, and in her blinding fit of excitement, she’d get too caught up in something Sophia had said and miss the way Megan opened her mouth to mention something.

At one point, Y/N turned to Megan, her smile bright.

Almost like she was mocking Megan.

When their round of drinks (and Yoonchae’s soda) was nearly downed clean by the girls, Y/N offered to go order everybody another round. Her soft hand shelled Megan’s, for the first time that night, urging her to follow to have a moment alone.

“Hey, you okay? You’ve been pretty quiet tonight.”

Megan’s chest tightened at the concern in Y/N’s voice. She nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just tired. I’ve been sleeping on my neck kinda weird lately or something.”

Y/N frowned slightly, her brow furrowing. “I have the spine adjusting pillow thing. I wish you would’ve told me, I would’ve given it to you in a heartbeat.”

“I know,” Megan said softly, her gaze dropping to her drink. That’s the problem, she thought.

She was slightly taken aback when she felt warm fingertips run along her neck. She flinched at the sudden contact, earning a look of concern from Y/N.

“Okay, something’s wrong. You’re all… jumpy.”

Megan scoffed, cackling forcefully as her whisker dimples appeared. She shook her head, “No, no, it’s all good, seriously. Nothing’s wrong, I promise you.”

“Then let me check your neck, red.”

Red was such a stupid nickname. It was a stupid nickname when Y/N gave it to her after getting her hair dyed, and it was a stupid nickname now. She hated hearing it. She hated it. She hated hearing Y/N say it. She hated it so much, she wish she could just hear her say it one more time then never again.

When Y/N reached for her neck again, she didn’t say anything. She felt her own skin burn with each tap of her fingertips.

Y/N massaged the kinks she didn’t even know she had out of her neck. The warmth of Y/N's hands seeped through her skin, and for a moment, everything else—the noise of the bar, the hum of the blaring music—disappeared. It was just Y/N, her steady hands working magic on the tension in her muscles, and something inside Megan churned the same way it did the few times they were alone together recently.

The older woman’s touch was so gentle, but their hands were firm, assured. Megan’s breath caught in her throat as Y/N massaged deeper, easing the tightness with a practiced touch.

There was something so intimate about it.

She wondered if Y/N would do this for Sophia, if the leader came out and said she was sleeping on her neck wrong, would Y/N be as eager to help soothe her neck?

Megan closed her eyes, letting out a small sigh as the tension slowly melted away, but her mind was racing. Her heart beat faster with every second Y/N’s fingers lingered on her skin, and it was then—right there at the quiet section of the bar—that it hit her like a wave.

She wasn’t just grateful. She wasn’t just feeling affection.

She was in love with Y/N. With her best friend.

The realization was sharp, unexpected. Megan pulled in a breath, but it was like the world had tilted just slightly, making everything feel more vivid, more intense.

Y/N’s voice broke through her thoughts, their hands pausing as they asked, “How’s that? Better?”

Megan opened her eyes, but her breath was a little unsteady. She cleared her throat, forcing a smile. She couldn’t bring herself to look Y/N in the eye. “Yeah... a lot better. Thanks.”

Y/N gave her a grin, their hands lingering for just a moment longer than necessary before pulling away. "Anytime, red."

But as Y/N returned to their spot, Megan sat still, the weight of her own heart pulling her deeper into something she hadn’t expected. She had fallen for them, and it had happened in the quietest, simplest of moments. And now, she wasn’t sure what to do with the feelings she couldn’t untangle.

The night wore on, and eventually, the group began to disperse. Manon and Daniela were adamant in going out to more clubs, Lara and Yoonchae were going to carpool back home after a stop at the convenience store. And eventually, it was just Y/N left behind, looking out for the redhead who refused to join any of the other groups. Sophia lingered behind for her girlfriend, but also eyeing Megan in question, beckoning her for an answer about her plans for the night.

“You need a ride home, Megan?” Sophia asked.

“You two go ahead,” Megan said, waving them off when they offered to share a cab. “I’ll walk. I need some air.”

Y/N hesitated, her eyes searching Megan’s face as if trying to read between the lines. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Megan said, her voice firmer than she felt. “I’ll see you guys at home.”

She watched them leave, Y/N’s arm linked with Sophia’s, their laughter trailing behind them. When they had disappeared around the street corner, Megan decided to stay at the bar for a while longer, nursing a drink in her hands and replaying the night in her mind.

By the time she made it back to the dorm, the place was empty and quiet. It was well past midnight and she could hear Manon snoring from downstairs.

She sat on the couch and stared at the ceiling.

The door creaked open, startling her. She turned to see Y/N stepping out from her and Yoonchae’s room, sporting one of Megan’s hoodies.

Fuck, she looked so good. How could she look so good?

“Y/N?” Megan said, sitting up. She watched the older circle around the couch to stand just inches under front of her. “What are you still doing up? It’s super late.”

“It is,” Y/N said, her eyebrows furrowed, “But I couldn’t sleep because I didn’t hear you come back.”

Megan’s heart skipped a beat. She swallowed thickly, looking away. “I just… went on a joyride,” she said quickly, though her voice lacked conviction. “It’s not a big deal.”

Y/N sighed, sitting beside her.

“I know you so much better than you think I do, red. You’ve been lying to me, and I didn’t want to press, but you’re not giving me anything to work with and I’m getting real worried about you.” Y/N confessed, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “I get it, you can work at your own pace, I don’t want to pry, but you’ve been off. You’ve been lying to me, you haven’t been giving your all in rehearsals and you’ve been coming home late a lot when we have nights off. So for once, just tell me the truth, Megan.”

Megan hesitated, her mind racing. She could lie, brush it off again, but the weight of her feelings was too much to bear.

“I...” Megan began, her voice faltering. She took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage she had. “I have feelings for someone. And it’s... complicated.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she reached out to squeeze Megan’s hand. “Hey, that’s great,” she said gently. “You can tell me.”

Megan shook her head. “That’s the thing. I can’t.”

Y/N’s grip on her hand tightened. “Why not?”

Megan met Y/N’s gaze, her heart pounding. Her fingers fidgeted. “Because it’s you, and I don’t want it to be.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and irrevocable. Y/N’s eyes widened, her expression shifting to something unreadable. Regret rammed straight into Megan like a truck.

“Megan,” the older said softly, her voice barely audible.

“I know you’re with Sophia,” Megan said quickly, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I would never do anything to come between you two. But I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel this way. It’s been eating me alive. Fuck—just forget I said anything, okay? It’s so stupid and I just… fuck.”

Y/N’s silence was deafening, and Megan’s stomach twisted.

“Just—I’m sorry,” Megan sighed, feeling the gravity of her words blow straight back into her face. “Fuck, seriously, just forget it. I should’ve never said anything.”

She stands to leave, pulling her hands away from Y/N’s.

“Megan, wait—”

But Megan was already at the door of her and Lara’s shared bedroom, her hand on the handle. The door closed behind her, leaving Y/N to simmer alone in the aftermath.

She didn’t know what would happen next—if Y/N would tell Sophia, if the band dynamics would crumble, or if they’d somehow find a way to move forward. All she knew was that, for the first time in years, she had been honest with herself. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

#katseye x reader #katseye #megan skiendiel x reader #megan skiendiel #manon bannerman #manon bannerman x reader #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia laforteza #daniela avanzini x reader #daniela avanzini #lara raj x reader #lara raj #yoonchae

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ninjatrashpanda · 2 days ago

Text

Jingle All The Way (To The Damn ER)

Written for @bucktommywinterfest

Prompt: Holiday themed calls; Mistletoe Kiss

Rated: G

Tags: established relationship, fluff, holiday shenanigans

Read on AO3 here.

“Well, that’s…” Eddie said the moment the team had arrived and climbed out of the engine.

“Unfortunate,” Hen finished, her eyes fixed on the roof of the house they’d just pulled up to. Buck couldn’t exactly blame her. Up there, surrounded by absurd amounts of fake snow (and some of the most garish Christmas decorations Buck had ever seen), was a rather burly man in a Santa costume, his lower half stuck in a chimney, screaming and shouting out curse after curse. (Some seemingly not even in English, Buck noted. They sounded vaguely German to him, and for a moment he wondered if that made him racist.)

“That’s gotta be a new one,” Chim muttered, squinting up at the struggling Santa. “I mean, we’ve seen plenty of Santas in sticky situations, but this? This takes the fruitcake.”

How did things like these even happen? How did someone look at a chimney and say ‘Oh, yes, I’ll slide down there, no biggie!’ It was absolutely asinine, so completely unhinged and idiotic that Buck’s brain hardly was able to comprehend the thought process it must’ve taken this guy to end up where he did.

Then again, Buck probably really shouldn’t judge people for making harebrained decisions.

“Do you think he realizes that he probably would’ve busted his ankles if he’d actually slid down there?” Eddie asked, trying (and failing) to keep a straight face. The team’s radios crackled with a faint background hum, the absurdity of the scene almost enough to make them forget they were here on an actual call.

Buck tilted his head, stepping forward, his eyes narrowed. The more he looked at the scene, the more unreal it seemed. He decided to reconsider his earlier thought. He was allowed to judge, cause even he wasn’t lacking foresight this hard. “Is it just me, or does that chimney look way too small for him to have even considered crawling through it in the first place?”

“It’s not just you,” Bobby, who now rounded the engine to join the team, said, reaching for his radio. “Dispatch, Engine 118 is on scene. We have one victim, male, age seems to be mid to late forties. Victim appears to be stuck. And dressed as Santa.”

There was a pause before Dispatch answered, the crackle of static barely covering what Buck could’ve sworn was a snort of laughter. “Copy that, 118,” came Josh’s slightly strained response. Buck noticed Bobby side-eyeing his radio, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame Josh. He’d be laughing too if he wasn’t on this call professionally. “Please confirm: is the scene secure, and do you need additional resources?”

“I don’t know, maybe a team of reindeer to pull him out?” Chim called up toward the house, earning him a glare from Hen, who was probably already assessing what kind of injuries this guy could’ve suffered from…well, this.

“Scene’s secure,” Bobby said, ignoring Chim’s antics, and exchanging another couple of words with Josh. Then, he turned to the crew. “Buck, Eddie, grab the ladder and all the lube we have. Hen, Chim, get ready to check this guy out as soon as they get him down here.”

Buck shook his head as he jogged over to the rig to get the lube, their victim’s voice calling out every swear under the sun. “You know, for a guy playing Santa, he’s not exactly spreading holiday cheer up there.”

From the roof, Santa’s voice rang out, muffled but clearly annoyed. “I can hear you, you know!”

“Good!” Chim called back, a slightly catty edge to his voice. “Then you’ll be delighted to know we’re here to rescue your jolly behind!”

Eddie followed Buck to grab the ladder while Hen remained firmly planted, hands on her hips, staring up at Santa like he was her children’s math homework she was trying to help them with. “How did you not realize this is a terrible idea before you got halfway in?”

“I bet you he lost a dare,” Chim said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “There’s no way this guy just looked at that chimney and thought, ‘Yeah, I can make it.’”

Raising an eyebrow, Hen turned toward Chim and let out a small huff, “I’m sorry, but should you of all people make fun of that? Should I remind you of why we call you ‘Chimney?’”

Chim’s grin faltered for just a second, and Hen’s smirk grew triumphant. “Low blow, Hen,” he retorted, though his tone was light. “But, for the record, I didn’t willingly wedge myself in anything. I was an innocent victim of faulty construction.”

“Sure, Chim,” Hen said, her tone making it clear she didn’t believe him. She turned her attention back to the roof, where Santa continued to struggle, his efforts achieving nothing but a faint creaking noise from the chimney that made everyone on the ground cringe.

“Why am I not surprised?” Buck muttered, setting up the ladder and turning to Eddie. “Come on. Let’s get Santa out of there before he Tim Allens himself.”

Eddie planted his hands on the ladder to keep it steady as Buck began to climb. “Think he’ll go on the naughty list for this?”

“Not if we save him before Hen smacks some sense into him,” Buck called down, his voice lighthearted as he worked his way up toward the roof.

From below, Hen sighed and shook her head, her exasperation at Santa finally getting to her. “One of these days, I’m going to get through a shift without an incident that makes me question humanity.”

“Today is not that day,” Eddie replied, barely stifling his grin.

“Yeah, well,” Hen said, watching Buck hoist himself onto the roof, “let’s just hope Santa’s dignity is the only thing that got bruised tonight.”

As Buck reached the chimney, he peered down at the man’s awkwardly wedged body. This was worse than he had expected. Like he’d thought, the man’s stomach was plugging up the chimney entirely, but he hadn’t predicted the small cracks that were forming all around the top of the shaft, some of which already ran up to halfway down the sides. “Okay, big guy, hang tight. We’re gonna get you out of here, but try not to move too much.”

“Believe me,” Santa grumbled, a deadpan expression on his face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well, that much is obvious,” Buck said under his breath, before reaching for his radio. “Uh, Cap? Send Eddie up here with the tools. This is a two-man job at least and the lube’s not gonna cut it.”

Chim’s voice chimed in immediately. “Santa’s had one too many cookies, huh?”

“Not helping, Chim,” Buck shot back, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to the task at hand.

This was going to be a long shift.

🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄

“So this is not what we usually get called in for.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow at the, frankly, ridiculous scene in front of him. Somehow, a guy on skis had managed to not only crash into the giant Christmas tree that had been set up right by the main lodge, the guy had somehow managed to get himself completely tangled up in the lights, which still blinked in all colors of the rainbow.

In all his life as a soldier, a firefighter and now a rescue pilot, Tommy had never seen something this idiotic before.

“How did this even happen?” he asked the manager of the resort, a woman who appeared to be in her late thirties, who wore a sharp, dark grey pantsuit. To her credit, she seemed just as exasperated as he felt.

“I wish I knew,” the manager replied, pressing two fingers to her temple as if she were fighting off a migraine. “All I got was a frantic call from one of the lodge staff saying there was ’a skier emergency’ and that I should ‘bring someone who knows how to untangle knots.’” She gestured toward the blinking, flailing mess of a man. “I didn’t expect this.”

Tommy let out a long sigh and turned back to the scene. The skier, who was now groaning softly, looked like a particularly unfortunate ornament hung by an overzealous child. The man’s goggles were askew, his skis were pointing in entirely different directions, and his jacket, a garish neon green, made him look like an elf who’d lost a fight with Santa’s workshop.

“Is he…conscious?” Tommy asked, squinting.

“Yep, sure is,” García, one of the paramedics of the 217 he’d flown up here said. She straightened up and pulled her gloves on tighter. “Hey, Kinard, can you get me a backboard? I feel like we’re gonna need to tie this guy down even if he somehow managed not to break his spine.”

“On it,” Tommy replied with a sigh, and headed back to his chopper. He still wasn’t sure just how this could’ve possibly happened. He had a sinking suspicion that alcohol had played a part, but he kept that to himself, instead silently grabbing the backboard from the back of the helicopter.

He trudged back through the snow, (If the way the artificial stuff felt under his boots was anything to go on, he would absolutely despise real snow.) a soft hum under his breath. The resort’s cheery Christmas music (now an unfortunate backdrop to this circus) had invaded his brain and wouldn’t leave it for probably the rest of his shift (or a week later. Or a month. Or a goddamn year).

As Tommy handed the backboard over to García, he crouched down to get a better look at the skier. “Alright, buddy, you with us?” he asked, his voice sharp but not unkind.

The man groaned again and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “The tree came out of nowhere.”

Tommy blinked. “The tree came out of nowhere?” He exchanged a look with García, who rolled her eyes and smirked, biting her lip.

“I swear it did,” the skier slurred, his head lolling slightly to the side. “One minute, skiing. Next minute, tree.”

Tommy sighed, a sound that felt like it came straight from his soul. “Yeah, I’m sure the tree leapt right out to grab you. Happens all the time.” He shot a glance at the manager, who snorted softly but quickly disguised it as a cough. She was clearly trying to keep her professional veneer intact, but her expression betrayed her amusement.

García got to work, carefully cutting away a few strands of the blinking lights that had wound tightly around the man’s torso. “This guy’s tangled worse than my Abuela’s Christmas lights,” she muttered.

“Don’t disrespect your Abuela,” Tommy quipped. “At least she didn’t knock over the tree.”

The skier let out a low groan. “I’m never drinking eggnog again…”

Ah, there it was. Tommy resisted the urge to say, called it, and focused on the task at hand. “Look, pal, we’re gonna get you out of here, but I need you to stay still. Can you do that?”

The skier didn’t respond directly, but he gave a lazy thumbs-up that didn’t inspire much confidence.

“Great,” García muttered. “Kinard, help me stabilize him before we move him.”

Tommy stepped in to assist, holding the backboard steady as García and the other paramedic carefully maneuvered the man’s limbs. The lights resisted, clinging stubbornly to the skier as if they were part of some cosmic punishment for his sins against Christmas decor. It took some creative maneuvering and a few choice curses from García before the last of the lights finally snapped free.

Once the skier was secured to the backboard, Tommy stood up and dusted the snow off his pants. “Alright, let’s load him up. We’ll fly him down to the hospital for a once-over.”

The manager stepped closer, looking at the still-blinking lights strewn across the snow like abandoned tinsel. “What about…all this?” She gestured vaguely at the scene of destruction.

Tommy shrugged. “I’d say leave it. It’ll make for a great story. ‘The Tree Incident of 2024.’ You could make it an annual thing, build some buzz.”

The manager shot him a flat look. “I think we’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself.” He turned back toward the helicopter, falling in line behind the paramedics carrying the backboard. “Let’s get Bode Miller here some help before he decides to start singing carols.”

As they walked, the skier managed to lift his head just enough to croak out one final, utterly sincere question: “But…did I win?”

Tommy couldn’t stop himself. He grinned. “Oh, buddy. You definitely won.”

🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄

“Dispatch, this is engine 118,” Bobby spoke into his radio, snapping the rest of the crew into Business Mode. “We’re pulling up on scene.”

The truck came to a halt outside a large community center, which seemed almost normal and boring. Except for the plumes of smoke coming out of one of the windows. Buck groaned and rolled his eyes. He hoped this wasn’t an actual fire, or at least that the window had already been opened by the time it started, because he didn’t know how he’d react if he found out someone in there had opened a window on a fire.

“Copy that, 118,” the dispatcher’s voice (Maddie this time) came through their radios as they all rushed to grab their gear. “Community Christmas Baking Event, one of the ovens caught fire. The 217 is on scene, Captain Chen is IC, he’ll give you more details.”

Buck’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of the 217, but he quickly shrugged it off. Sure, running into his boyfriend on the job would be nice, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Besides, Tommy was on helicopter duty today anyway. He was way up in the sky, riding his bird through the clouds and saving lives by bringing victims to the hospital far faster than an ambo ever could.

It brought a sigh to Buck’s lips as he jogged after Eddie and into the building at Captain Chen’s command, the same love struck one he always seemed to sigh when he thought about Tommy and his effortless coolness, and big heart, and dashing good looks. (And especially the cleft. God, did he love that cleft!) Less than a year ago, he hadn��t even known he was into men, and now here he was, happily, knowingly in love with the very same one who had blasted his closet door open with all the force of the hurricane they’d flown into when they had met.

The smell of burnt sugar and smoke hit Buck like a fist to the face as soon as he and Eddie entered the community center, every thought of Tommy instantly pushed to the back of his mind as he went into rescue mode. Eddie was already barking orders to one of the event organizers, a frazzled woman in a holiday sweater that had seen better days, while Buck took in the scene.

The lobby was a chaos of flour-dusted people, from crying children to panicked adults to people from the 217 trying to evacuate everyone, and a steady stream of smoke curling out of the kitchen at the far end of the hall. Buck followed Eddie through the hall, their boots clomping against the polished floor as they approached the kitchen door, quickly checking every frazzled bystander for injuries before urging them to leave the building already.

“Cap, this is Diaz, we’ve got thick smoke but no visible flames yet,” Eddie reported over his shoulder. “Kitchen is at the end of the main hallway. Looks like the sprinkler system hasn’t gone off.”

“At least the fire’s contained, then,” Bobby’s voice crackled through the radio. “Chen said two of his men are already in the kitchen, Hayes and Kinard. Assist them however they need.”

Buck’s brain came to a screeching halt. Kinard? Did Bobby just say Kinard?! His heart thudded in his chest, and he nearly tripped over his own feet, catching himself just before Eddie noticed his sudden shift in demeanor. Kinard. Bobby had said Kinard. Tommy’s here. The realization brought a wide grin to Buck’s face at the thought of seeing his boyfriend in action, all big, and tough, and competent. He didn’t have time to process it, though, as he and Eddie reached the kitchen door, where the thick haze of smoke was quickly becoming stifling.

Eddie pushed it open, and they were greeted by chaos. Two firefighters from the 217 were already inside, one, Hayes according to his turnout jacket, directing a fire extinguisher toward an oven that was the apparent source of the problem, while the other worked to move large trays of baked goods away from the immediate area. The oven in question was blackened, with flames licking at its edges, a few stray flames dotted around the floor.

“Buckley! Diaz!” Hayes called out, practically bombarding the oven with foam. “We could use another set of hands on this.”

“On it,” Eddie shouted briskly, moving toward him. Buck’s eyes, however, had already met the other firefighters, and for a moment, it was as if everything around them didn’t even exist.

There he was, helmet on, jacket slightly singed, cleft chin invisible under the oxygen mask, but just knowing it was there and waiting for him to come kiss it made Buck weak in the knees. Tommy’s eyes widened in surprise, but he recovered quickly. “Evan,” he called, and Buck couldn’t put his finger on why, but his voice sounded…hot. Hotter. Or something. He wasn’t sure what it was, just that he really wanted to tear the turnouts off of Tommy, fire and smoke be damned. “What are the odds?”

Buck managed a lopsided grin (that he knew Tommy would’ve loved if he only could have seen it!), his heart pounding a mile a minute. Tommy, all professional, and sooty and goddammit, Buck could almost smell the musk radiating off of him from over here. “Right?” he somehow brought out with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “It seems so unlikely!”

Tommy gave a quick shake of his head, exasperation evident in the way his eyes crinkled even under the helmet, but there was an unmistakable fondness too. “Focus up, Buckley,” he said, and if Buck wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the edges of his voice. “There’s still an oven fire to handle, and I’m pretty sure Captain Nash won’t appreciate me distracting his star firefighter.”

“Oh, I’m the star now?” Buck shot back, already moving to sort out the flames on the ground while Eddie and Hayes double-timed the burning oven. He could feel the warmth of Tommy’s presence nearby, but there was a job to do here, so he couldn’t even bask in it.

“Always have been,” Tommy replied, the words so casual Buck nearly choked on the laugh that bubbled out of him, all while Tommy had already turned his attention back to the task at hand with all the casualness the situation allowed. It was like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Buck’s overactive heart, and that only made him more feral inside.

“Hey!” Eddie barked, snapping Buck back into focus. “Quit flirting and help us!”

Right. Fire. Job. Professionalism.

Finished with the smaller fires, Buck moved to assist Hayes and Eddie with the oven, which turned out to be a much bigger problem than they had anticipated. Together, they aimed for the stubborn flames that were trying to escape the oven, working in tandem to snuff them out. The smoke was thick and cloying, stinging Buck’s eyes even through his mask, but the blaze was already starting to die down. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tommy check the rest of the appliances for damage and ensure no other hotspots could reignite, causing another swell of pure affection and, frankly, borderline horniness to rush through Buck’s body.

The team worked efficiently, their movements seamless and practiced. Within minutes, the immediate danger was contained, the oven reduced to a smoldering mess. Eddie called it in to Bobby while Hayes and Tommy began assessing the kitchen’s ventilation system to clear the remaining smoke.

Buck busied himself by checking out (and mourning) the remaining trays of half-burnt cookies and pies, but his mind kept wandering to Tommy. It was surreal seeing him here, grounded instead of flying high above the chaos. Buck had always admired the cool confidence Tommy exuded in the air, but now he was seeing it up close, in action on the ground.

Once the kitchen was declared safe, the teams began packing up their gear. The smoke was thinning, though the acrid smell of burnt sugar lingered in the air. Buck caught Tommy leaning against the wall, his helmet tucked under one arm, looking as composed as ever despite the soot smudged across his cheek.

“So,” Buck said, sidling up to him, “what’s it like working with your feet on the ground for a change?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, that smirk reappearing. “Not bad. Less turbulence, more smoke. And I get to run into you.”

Buck chuckled, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks despite himself. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“Yeah, I had to fill in for Callahan. Broke his arm on a call this morning,” Tommy said casually. “Guess I was meant to be here.” He tilted his head, his gaze softening. “You okay? You look a little... out of it.”

“I’m fine,” Buck said quickly, though his heart still hadn’t entirely settled. “It’s just that you don’t meet an absolutely irresistible beast while out on a call.”

Tommy’s smirk grew. “Ah, so I made you look like a lovesick puppy. Figures. I have that effect on people.”

Eddie’s voice cut through their moment. “Buck! We’re wrapping up. Let’s go.”

Buck flinched at the sudden intrusion of his and Tommy’s bubble, and he quickly shot his partner a venomous look, (not that Eddie seemed to care much, judging by the exasperated expression) before turning back to Tommy.

“Duty calls,” he said with a shrug, but he hesitated before stepping away. “I’ll see you later?”

Tommy gave him a small, private smile, the kind that made Buck’s heart flutter in a way that still felt new and thrilling. And then, without a warning, he placed his fingers under Buck’s jaw, his thumb brushing over his chin, before pulling him in.

Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss, one that sent a shockwave of warmth through Buck’s body. Almost instinctively, Buck grabbed Tommy’s hips to pull him closer, any space being between them making him feel like he was suffocating. He craved the heat of Tommy’s body, the firmness of his chest, even the smell of smoke and burned gingerbread in his hair.

Despite Buck’s excruciating hunger, he didn’t try to deepen the kiss beyond the chaste, soft peck it was. He wanted to, of course, the craving to rip Tommy’s turnouts off never having gone away, but he knew none of that was something they could do right now. Even just this was highly unprofessional and probably shouldn’t ever have happened, though Buck couldn’t possibly care less about it. His hot boyfriend was hot, and he had initiated smooch time, and Buck was only a man.

Tommy pulled back after a moment, his smirk softening into something tender, and Buck’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes found Tommy’s watching him with that familiar sparkle of pure, unadulterated love.

“Uh, what was that?” Buck chuckled. He tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help the smile that started to creep onto his face. “That wasn’t very…I don’t think Captain Chen and Captain Nash would approve of…”

“I think they would,” Tommy cut him off with a shrug. “You know, just this once. We were legally obligated to, after all.”

At Buck’s quizzical look, he simply pointed upward. Buck followed the gesture, tilting his head back to look up. And his heart nearly stopped. Hanging above them, just barely visible amidst the smoke and the still-swirling chaos of the kitchen, was a small sprig of mistletoe. It was a little toasty, but most of it, including the shiny, bright red bow tied around it, had miraculously survived.

He blinked at it, then back at Tommy, who was now grinning fully, his teeth flashing white despite the soot smudged on his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Buck muttered, feeling his cheeks heat up even more. “Mistletoe? In the middle of a kitchen?”

Tommy shrugged, his expression infuriatingly nonchalant. “Rules are rules, babe.”

Buck let out a half-laugh, half-scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.” Tommy repliplied, wiggling his eyebrow. And really, Buck couldn’t argue with that logic, but before he could respond, Eddie’s voice echoed sharply through the kitchen doorway.

“Buck! Seriously, let’s go!”

Buck groaned, giving Tommy one last lingering look. “Duty calls. Again. I’ll see you later?”

“Of course,” Tommy said, his voice warm, his smirk softening into something gentler. “Go save the world, babe.”

Buck pulled Tommy into one more short hug and planted a quick peck to his lips before turning around and jogging over to the door, always aware of the fond expression Tommy watched him with. As he followed Eddie back out the building and to the truck, he couldn’t keep the grin off his face, even as Eddie shot him a knowing look.

“Don’t,” Buck said preemptively, waving his hand around. “Not. A. Word.”

Eddie smirked. “Didn’t say anything.”

But he didn’t need to. Buck knew what his own face looked like right now, the power Tommy had over him no secret to him. It wasn’t like he cared much, either. He’d been the happiest he had ever been this past year, and if this continued, well.

He wasn’t going to complain.

#911 abc #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy fanfic #fanfic #tevan #bucktommywinterfest #holiday shenanigans

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ashblooddragons · 2 days ago

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Just As Bad As You Are

Request made by @athzhowakar

Summary: When a worderful lay with your husband leads to you giving him good news, but what if he pieces together your dark secret, the only thing you would ever keep from your dear older brother.

Word count: 1377

Warnings: smut, p in v, slight choking, mentions of miscarriges, mentions of poisioning, toxic relationship, Targcest, tell me if I missed anything

I moan as Maegor fucks me from behind, there isn’t a night he doesn’t take me. For why should he go to his others when they can’t give him children and I’ve already given him three?

“Maegor.” I moan out as he grabs my hair making me arch my back.

“I’m gonna put another babe in that belly of yours, you’ve been empty of my seed for too long.” he groans out as he grinds his hips just right, that he makes me see stars.

I can’t help but laugh, for ever since the Maesters said I was fit for childbearing again there hasn’t been a morning or night that his seed wasn’t working its way inside me. “Do you truly think with how often you take me that I am not with child yet?” I say before another moan leaves my throat when his palm lands on my rear.

“Every time I think I fuck that brat out of you, then it rears its head begging to be taught a lesson.” He says before pulling out and flipping me so I lay on my back only to slam back into me with more force and vigor than before.

“What, no snarky remark, no comment on how I love when you’re a brat? He teases as he takes my right leg and puts over his shoulder so we both feel him go deeper.

I can’t even speak, I just grip the hair on the back of his neck as he ruts into me. I know if any maid, courtier, or gods forbid one of his other fucking wives, walked by they would only hear the sound of skin hitting his and obscene moans.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” I beg as I feel my peak just along the horizon.

“Go on, cum on my cock you little slut.” He demands as he reaches up to grip my throat choking me until he feels my cunt spasm around his cock as I milk him for all he’s worth.

“Fuck.” He groans out as his seed fills me before he lays against my chest.

We lay there as we both come down from our highs. Me rubbing his back tracing all his scars like constellations, and him kissing my neck and moving his hands up and down my thighs adn ribs.

It’s these moments I feel the safest, not when I have two guards following me, or when I stand next to my darling golden Gaelithox. No, I feel the safest when I’m in the arms of the man I love, and who loves me.

“I wasn’t being a brat, the Maesters told me last night I’m with child again.” I whisper before playfully biting his ear.

His look is priceless when he leans back looking down at me as he uses his arms to hold himself up. “Do not jest.” He says with that tone that makes even men tremble, but not me.

I take his shocked state as a chance to take control and flip us so I’m on top. “I do not jest, my moon blood is two moons late.” I say as I pin his arms next to his head. We both know if he wanted to he could easily get out of my grip, but we also both know he doesn’t want to.

With those words I climb off his lap and take my robe and wrap it around me as I go to tell the guard that I am in need of a bath. As I wait I decide to brush my hair before my bath as it doesn’t need washed but it most definitely needs brushed after our escapades.

I notice Maegor is lost in thought but assume it must be because of a council meeting, he pulls on his breaches as my Maids come in with hot water for my bath. I sigh in relief as I sink into the heat of the bath waving my Maids away. “Leave me.”

I start to scrub my arms with pomegranate seeds not noticing Maegor taking a stool and sitting behind me.

“You’ve never lost a babe.” His gruff voice fills my ears startling me as I turn to look up at him.

“No I haven’t?” I look at him confused, fighting the fear that fills my belly that he has figured it out.

He only moves to take some pomegranate and my other arm starting to scrub the coarse seeds into my skin. I watch as his jaw tenses and releases and I know he knows when his eyes look into mine.

“And yet all of my other wives have.” He says his eyes boring into mine but I will not show fear, I don’t regret what I did. “I thought Tyanna, though I suspect I was right with her. But there were many lost, too many she couldn’t have known about that left their mothers wombs too soon. My Council said you must have something to do with it, I didn’t want to believe them, but now I wonder if I should have.” He says gripping my arm to the point tears come to my eyes but I refuse to let them fall.

“Do you want me to admit something? Perhaps make the accusation.” I hiss out as I grit my teeth.

I watch as his nostrils flare in rage, I know he doesn’t want to accuse me, I’m his sweet little sister, but he also knows I won’t admit anything if he doesn’t accuse me first.

“Did you force them to miscarry? Did you poison my other wives?” He demands with a scowl.

“Yes.”

I watch as his face morphes into shock and rage. I know he must have been praying I would no, that I would deny these allegations until my last breath, but I won’t for I don’t regret what I did.

“Why?” He asks in a calm voice that I know is hiding a inferno of rage.

“Your my brother, we came from the same womb, and yet I had to share you with a barren Hightower, a whore from across the seas, and three more courtly whores. You didn’t even wed me properly, you took me at the same time as you did those two other bitches looking for any needy hound. I knew what I had to do, Mother didn’t teach me those dark ways for nothing, she knew just as I do now. That you are weak, you will take any lady or whore to your bed and call her wife, that all a man has to do is have his pretty daughter suck your cock and then he is a man to be jealous of. But I am not some Lady of court, nor am I a whore, I am a dragon and a dragon must find another of their kind or else their embers will cease to burn. So I poisoned your stupid little wives, and I made sure Tyanna didn’t touch my womb for I would be the only one to bear your children. I don’t regret it, I never would, but now you have decision to make.” I say breathless after I let all the darkness I had kept hidden from him for so long out of my heart and into the air so only us and the gods to hear and judge.

He only stares at me, tears brimming his eyes before he looks down, shaking his head. “And what decision is that?” He asks force breaking from sheer shock.

“Will you execute me, charge me for my crimes? Or will you keep this a secret that we take our graves letting no man judge me, only the gods.” I say reaching over the tub to take his hands in mine.

I smile when I feel his hands squeeze mine and he looks back up at me and says. “Now what kind of older brother would I be to have my little sister hanged for something so trivial?”

He then leans forward and kisses me fiercely picking me up as I wrap my legs around his waste.

“I knew you would never betray me.” I say as he kisses down my stomach towards my core as he begins another round.

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @athzhowakar @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy

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ephie-om · 1 day ago

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CW: obsessive thoughts, skin picking, implied self harm

Day 22: House of Lamentation

The House of Lamentation rises ominously in the distance of the heart of the Devildom, visible from the city streets. Rumors about what the Avatars of Sin do there run rampant among the lesser demons, styling it as a house of horrors. When the human exchange student transfers there, they are bombarded with questions about it. Is it just as awful as everyone imagined? Have the very walls been twisted by the evil souls of the brothers? The human only smiles enigmatically, dodging the questions easily. The house that Prince Diavolo pulled from the human world all those centuries ago still stands a mystery to most.

Before it was pulled to the Devildom, the house’s halls stood dark and abandoned for decades after its family’s gruesome deaths. Publically, the servant was blamed for the murders, but those brave enough to speak of them held that the servant had been nothing but kind. Still, even the mischievous children heeded their parents’ warnings to stay far away, and the rusty iron fence deterred the few headstrong ones. The villagers never spoke of the dark figures in the windows, only exchanging glances when the wails reached their ears. Full moons were spent inside with doors shut and curtains drawn.

By the time it reached the newly fallen brothers, the house had a reputation. The Prince was well aware of its story, but in the Devildom, the spirits would finally be put to rest. The brothers were wary of it, especially with their newfound powers, but they could barely tell what was the house’s doing and what was their family’s. Were those chains rattling from a ghost or from another of Satan’s escape attempts? Were those inhuman growls a vengeful spirit or Mammon and Levi’s fighting?

Belphie was the first to start to find its secrets. His catlike need to find increasingly hidden places to nap paired with Lucifer’s constant nagging led him to unknown nooks in the house. A closet he never noticed before here, a hidden space behind the bed there. They were isolated spots, never discovered by the others. It seemed like he could always find some safe haven whenever he needed one, away from the noise and chaos his brothers brought. He lined them with blankets, retreating whenever he needed some time to himself.

Satan, confined to his room for days on end, found that sometimes the chains around his bed loosened almost imperceptibly, just enough to let him take a real breath. Sometimes his mind, clouded with rage, felt that the only thing looking out for him was whatever shifted the bedposts a millimeter or two. His rampages that destroyed most of his room somehow avoided the books he really treasured. The guilt that overcame him the time he accidentally ripped one of his precious copies apart was so intense he had howled to the ceiling on his knees, and when he looked down again, some strange draft had blown some of its pages closer together.

Asmo had bad days more often than good ones, spent inside his room obsessing over every little detail. Every little bump on his skin was like a light shining on a billboard that said he was Not Good Enough. He tried everything to make the little flaws go away, but demon skincare was so foreign to him. On some nights, the feeling was too unbearable. He would tear into his face with his claws, ripping out the tiny offenders and replacing them with bleeding holes instead. During a late night, he started to spiral like before, but a strange fog began to creep over his mirror. It refused to wipe away no matter how he scrubs, and he dropped his head to his desk, defeated.

Lucifer swore his room was still haunted. He buried himself in work for days, only leaving for meetings at the castle. When dinnertime came around and his head was still lost in documents, things would start to go wrong. Little things at first, papers being blown off his desk when no windows were open. Then after a few minutes it would escalate, his door slamming open on its own and his chair being pulled out from under him. These all stopped the moment he left his room, and he decided it must be a spirit tied to his bedroom alone. Odd that it only happened when he had been working for a while, though.

Beel found solace in food, and sometimes the world seemed determined to take that away from him. Every time he ate, he had a spark of hope that this bite would finally satiate him. He didn’t want to think about living another day like this, let alone thousands of years. The ache in his stomach was a constant reminder of how much he had lost, just like the ache in his heart. He couldn’t fix his heart feeling empty, so he settled for his stomach. He didn’t want to steal food from his brothers. He was terrified that one day, the kitchen would be empty, and the hole in his stomach would consume him. But if he was home, somehow he could always find a snack tucked away in the fridge. It never kept him full for long, but it helped him keep his head for just a few minutes more.

Levi was forced to make a completely new sanctuary in a new house in a new realm as a new species. Even the ocean here was dark and cold, full of scaled creatures with too many teeth. All the figurines and gaming accessories in the Devildom couldn’t make his room feel like it was really his, but where else could he go? The door to his room had stayed locked for days, only opening to receive food placed at his door that had gone cold hours ago. He thought he must be hallucinating as he woke up from a fitful sleep and saw bright colors splashing across the walls and ceiling. He rose up in a daze, watching the lights move in waves. Finally, it felt just a little bit like home.

Mammon wanted a bigger room. He wanted one of those fancy canopy beds, silk pajamas, a window that let in all the moonlight. He wanted so many things his mind felt like it was being broken into pieces. Sometimes everything he wanted made the things he already had pale in comparison. It made him angry to not have everything, the need clawing at him from the inside. When the pain felt too much to bear, suddenly his small bed felt a bit more comfortable and his window let in just the right amount of light. The ache inside his heart dulled slowly until he fell asleep.

In the walls of the House of Lamentation, there still lives one spirit. They were bound to the house even as it was moved through realms. They could have left at any time, but there’s something so familiar about taking care of seven unruly brothers. They faded over the centuries like all spirits, but they help in the little ways they can, and that’s enough for the ancient servant.

#obey me #obey me swd #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me brothers #om brothers #obey me headcanons #ephie writes #omadventcalendar

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muttcvnt · 11 hours ago

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your pet has been so very well behaved lately, so you promise her a special, lavish night out in the very near future. she hardly thinks she deserves it, but you insist she does.

when your next outing together lands you at the closest dive bar, you can tell she’s disappointed. you tend to keep your promises and this is far from special. still, you buy her drinks like usual and like the lightweight she is, if she even notices that you stop after one she doesn’t think to question it. she definitely doesn’t notice when you slip something in her drink.

your friends have always been jealous of you for having such a pretty pup, living vicariously through the stories you tell them about how she’ll let you do anything to her. so, when you manage to haul her back to your apartment, limp and incoherent, they’re all snapping at the bit to take their turn with her. they’ve taken the term “plus one” pretty loosely. you see friends of friends, friends of those friends and so on. you’d worry if you didn’t have such a reputation as a mean guard dog. and anyway, cash is cash.

nobody lays a finger on her until they pay up. nobody leaves a mark on her, the promise that there would be hell to pay for it looming over them. beyond that, most things are fair game. with your supervision, they take turns stretching her ass out and filling her with fingers, toys, and their own cocks until everyone’s had a turn. she’s a mess by the time they all head out, and she murmurs nonsense blearily as you clean her up in the shower and put her to bed.

she gets a day to rest and recover while you mercilessly tease her about going too hard at the bar. she knows she can’t hold her liquor and you can’t believe she’d black out like that. she’s embarrassed, but she’ll live. the next day, you surprise her with a new dress, shoes, and makeup before taking her out to the nicest restaurant in town. this time she really insists she doesn’t deserve this all, especially after embarrassing herself at the bar like that.

you promise she’s earned it.

#t4t nsft #t4t #ftm nsft #butch nsft #nb nsft #petpl4y #nsft txt #trans nsft #mtf nsft #intox kink #intox cnc #cnc k!nk

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gothicxreylover · 20 hours ago

Note

Could you please write (maybe yandere if you want please) Tengen & his wives x gn or fem where the reader has been disobeying the rules they have given her and she gets annoyed/anger at how overprotective they are of her so she starts flirting with another hashira as a way to piss them off only for Makio to drag her away and bassist throw her over her shoulder as she takes her home to get punished (smut please if not it’s okay whatever ur comfortable with)

PLEASE WRITE THIS PRETTY PLEASE ILL GIVE U A KISS MUAHHHH

⋆༺𓆩𓋹𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩𓋹𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩𓋹𓆪༻⋆

This fanfic contains- possessive thoughts and actions, overwhelming/overbearing behaviors, jealous, flirting with someone else, and implied smut at the end(it’s lazily written.)

The night was warm, the faint sound of crickets chirping in the distance, as the Hashira gathered at the Demon Slayer headquarters after a long day of training and missions. Among them, you had been particularly fidgety. Ever since Tengen and his wives had set a few rules for your safety and well-being, you’d been getting more and more frustrated by their overbearing behavior.

Tengen, with his large, looming presence, always keeping an eye on you, almost like you were some fragile porcelain doll. His wives, too, were no better—Makio, the most assertive, would catch you whenever you tried to wander off alone, while Suma would fuss over every small detail, even offering to fetch your water every few minutes. And Hinatsuru, though quiet, always seemed to know when you were upset, her eyes following your every move like a hawk.

Tonight, though? You had enough.

“I don’t need them hovering over me like I’m incapable of making my own decisions,” you muttered under your breath, fingers drumming against the table as you watched the other Hashira converse. Tengen and his wives were too distracted to notice, but you saw your chance to get a little bit of freedom—or rather, to show them how it felt to be smothered by their constant vigilance.

You glanced over at one of the other Hashira, a man you’d often sparred with but never really paid attention to in that way before. Shinobu had walked off with a few others, and there was a moment of peace in the otherwise busy room.

With a mischievous smirk, you stood and made your way toward the quietest corner of the room where a lone Hashira—who was standing, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

"Hey," you said sweetly, stepping closer, feeling a flicker of satisfaction at the attention you were beginning to garner from him.

He was startled at first, blinked up at you. “Oh, hey there, Y/N. What’s going on?” His voice was soft, calm, but there was something in his eyes that flickered with curiosity. The slight tension in his posture was a good sign.

"Nothing much," you purred, stepping a little closer. “Just thought I’d come say hi. You’ve been looking strong lately. I think I could learn a lot from you…” You let the words linger, just enough to make him uncomfortable—but also intrigued.

As you continued to flirt, you caught the first signs of movement behind you. The flicker of colorful fabric, a flash of black hair. It was Hinatsuru, her eyes narrowing as she stared at you. She was walking toward you, but you didn’t care. If anything, this was only making it more fun.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hinatsuru’s voice was dangerously calm. You turned to face her, but before you could even answer, there was a forceful tug on your arm.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing?” Makio snapped, her usually cool demeanor replaced with something sharp, almost predatory. “You’ve been disobeying the rules all day. Getting too close to another Hashira? You really think that’s going to fly?”

You couldn’t suppress the giggle that bubbled up from your chest. “Maybe I like him more than I like being treated like a child.” You folded your arms over your chest, giving Makio a pointed look.

At that, Tengen’s deep voice boomed from across the room. "I don’t like this," he growled, his eyes locking onto you with a possessive heat that made the room seem smaller. His tall figure cut through the crowd as he made his way toward you, his wives in tow.

“You know the rules,” he said, each word dripping with warning. His gaze softened just a fraction when it landed on you, though the possessiveness was undeniable. "You need to stop testing us, Y/N. We only want what's best for you. You don’t need to make this harder than it is."

“Maybe I do,” you replied, shrugging nonchalantly. “Maybe I just want to see how far I can push it.” You dared to glance at the lone Hashira one last time, watching as he nervously fidgeted, unsure of how to react to the situation.

Before Tengen could say another word, Makio had you by the arm again, this time more forcefully. “You’ve crossed the line, Y/N. Flirting with a low life like that? You’re mine—ours.” Her voice was laced with that familiar edge, possessive and unforgiving.

“Enough,” Tengen ordered, his voice like thunder. He then nodded toward Makio, who wasted no time in grabbing you firmly by the waist and lifting you off your feet.

“W-What?” you started, suddenly realizing that this situation was escalating in a way you didn’t expect. "Makio, put me down!" You struggled, but it was no use. The woman’s strength was undeniable, and soon, you found yourself draped over her shoulder like a ragdoll, your attempts to protest falling on deaf ears.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” she murmured softly, though the undertone was pure danger. “You’ve been naughty tonight. You need to be reminded of your place.”

The others, including Tengen and Hinatsuru, followed closely behind, their eyes never leaving you, watching your every move as if you were a puzzle they needed to solve.

You huffed in frustration, cheeks flushed with the suddenness of it all. The flirty edge you had tried to provoke them with now felt like a distant memory. The way they hovered over you now—protective, possessive, and almost intimidating—made you feel smaller than ever.

As Makio began to walk toward your shared home with Tengen, she gave you a pointed glance. "You’re going to learn not to mess with us. We don’t share, Y/N." Her tone was low, almost intimate.

Despite yourself, a part of you couldn’t help but shiver in anticipation. You had been testing your limits all night, and now, it was time to face the consequences—intimate, personal, and deeply possessive.

Tengen’s voice rang out behind you, low and dangerous. "This is for your own good. We love you too much to let you get away with this."

Now being in private with your lovers the mood soon turned into something more passionate. Tengen’s hand roamed around your body, seemingly to take in your body shape.

Makio softly kissed your neck, nibbling and bitting every second she got as she tugged on your waist. Suma was on your right, rubbing herself desperately onto you. Her head laid low as she whimpered out loud for pleasure. Hinatsuru smiled at the view she was seeing. And leaned towards you kissing your soft lips.

You were in for a long intimate session with your overbearing lovers.

⋆༺𓆩𓋹𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩𓋹𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩𓋹𓆪༻⋆

This sucks ass because I was running out of what to write. I hope it’s to your liking tho..

#gothicxreylover #gender neutral reader #yandere x reader #tengen x y/n #tengen uzui wives #tengen smut #makio uzui #kny makio #makio x reader #yandere demon slayer #demon slayer x you #demon slayer tengen #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #suma uzui #hinatsuru uzui #hinatsuru x reader #kny hinatsuru

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imsecretlyagremlin · 1 day ago

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Jealousy Part one

You and Jayce have been friends ever since you joined the academy, you joined him when he asked you to help him with his project as his lab assistant, years later when his discovery of hextech took off and he’s too busy being a counsilor. Viktor’s had enough of your moping and with the help of Caitlyn sends you on a date with someone who’s had a crush on you since academy days. Little did you know Jayce is jealous.

years ago, You felt nervous about your first day at the academy. You had no idea where any of the classes were, and since you hadn’t met anyone yet, you had no one to hang out with. As you were walking to what you assumed was your first class, you accidentally bumped into someone and fell to the ground.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” the person you collided with said, extending his hand to help you up. You looked up to see gold eyes staring down at you, and you felt yourself blush as you took his hand and pulled yourself up with his assistance.

“N-no, it’s fine. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you stuttered, feeling nervous despite his friendly smile.

“Well, I’m Jayce,” he said, holding out his hand.

“I’m Y/n,” you replied, shaking his hand, feeling less anxious than before.

“We have the same class, Y/n,” he grinned, saying your name as if he were testing it out.

You remembered the first time you met Jayce. Since you had most of your classes with each other you were quick to bond. You both enjoyed the same things and even enjoyed teasing Caitlyn together. So it was no surprise when he asked you to join him as a lab assistant. But ever since Hextech took off he became way busier. Which you were sad about but it led you and Viktor to become good friends.

“Earth to y/n” Viktor had been waving his hand in your face “I can't have my only lab partner zoning out”. You wipe your hand over your face “Sorry I'm just tired”. Viktor just smirks “Or thinking about a certain councilor” and laughs at your blush.

“ I'm not thinking about Jayce” You try to busy yourself by jotting down notes. “ I didn't mention Jayce,” he says from the chalkboard. “ Just shut up and work” You hide your blush. You finally think the conversation is over but Viktor is always persistent “Me and Caitlyn having been talking”. “What?” You look up feeling like a kid in trouble. “We think you should stop pining and go on a date” Viktor doesn't even look up from the chalkboard.

“You and Caitlyn talk?” you set down your notebook ignoring the date part.

“Yes, and she has an enforcer friend she thinks you'll like” he sets down the chalk in his hand. “I can't believe this I'm not a child I can get a date myself I just choose to say single” You don't admit that you are way too busy in the lab to even think about dating anyone. “Sure just please give him a chance so you can stop moping around and help me”

You don't think you've ever seen Viktor give puppy eyes like he is right now.

“Fine if it’ll shut you both up”

“Oh that's good cause we thought we would've had to kidnap you to make you go on your date” Viktor smiles “By the way it's Friday”. You stare at him in shock you swear you can feel your eye twitch “I'm going to hurt you both”. Viktor holds his hands up in protection but doesn't look very scared “You wouldn't you love us too much. You smile despite your slight annoyance “your right I wouldn't but leave and go home before I change my mind”.

You pretend to be mad so Viktor would go home. You've noticed how hard he's worked lately and the bags under his eyes. “Ok ok I’ll go home” He grabs his coat and leaves.

After he leaves you work a little longer before you lock up and go home too. As you lay in bed tired you can't help but feel nervous for your date. It’s tomorrow you can't believe they didn't tell you until now. You can't help but overthink.

Will it help you forget Jayce or will It make it worse? How will he react to you going on a date?

You think and think until you fall asleep.

sorry if this is bad I suck at writing but I wanted to put my ideas on paper (not really since this is online but 🤷‍♀️) try to ignore the typos

#jayce x reader #arcane #arcane x reader

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hollowed-theory-hall · 10 hours ago

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Like, my issue with saying they have magic that allows them to know if someone has permission is then why have The Thief's Downfall? The whole purpose of it is to remove enchantments that the goblins can't notice on their own.

The fact they let Hermione, Ron, and Harry in so easily in DH suggests they don't really know better. Hell, Harry can sneak into the vaults under an invisibility cloak, completely unseen. That's crazy. They have nothing in place to check for people under cloaks. The Thief's Downfall would catch a Disillusionment Charm, but not the cloak (or maybe it's just this particular cloak) as the cloak remains invisible. It doesn't cancel it's enchantments. also, from Harry's description, it's super deep inside Gringotts, deeper than his own vault. Like, that's crap security. Why have your best security screener so deep inside where a thief wouldn't even need to go if they just want gold?

Especially when it isn't always active:

“The Thief’s Downfall!” said Griphook, clambering to his feet and looking back the deluge onto the tracks, which, Harry knew now, had been more than water. “It washes away all enchantment, all magical concealment! They know there are imposers in Gringotts, they have set off defenses against us!”

(DH)

They activate it when only they suspect there are imposters, but I doubt they knew. If they knew why let them in? Seems like an unnecessary risk to me.

Besides, a Shield Charm is enough to block the Theif's Downfall:

“Harry, I think I can hear people coming!” said Hermione, and she pointed Bellatrix’s wand at the waterfall and cried, “Protego!” They saw the Shield Charm break the flow of enchanted water as it flew up the passageway. “Good thinking,” said Harry. “Lead the way, Griphook!”

(DH)

A wizard who knows how Gringotts security works (or who had an imperio-ed goblin could break in way too easily.

As for the handwriting... if there was a way for goblin magic to tell who wrote it, Sirius would not be able to access his own vault with Harry's name. Technically, he wouldn't have permission they could magically recognize either (unless they don't mind he's a convict, and I'm not sure if the goblins care or not). But he definitely didn't have Harry's permission, as Harry didn't know about it.

Also, I kinda like the idea that Gringotts isn't actually as secure as it is rumored to be.

I mean, Quirrell (before being possessed), succeeded in breaking in on his own. The Golden Trio gets in almost too easily. The Theif's Downfall is so stupid and appears way too late. I mean, it catches the trio, but they're already inside the vaults so they keep going. If they were breaking into Harry's vault, they wouldn't have even triggered the alarm. And the waterfall doesn't really do anything, really. Like, the trio gets into the vault before anyone catches up to them. It doesn't even freeze them in place or anything like that (which we know magic can do).

Honesty, no wonder Quirrell could break in!

I think Gringotts' best security measure is its reputation which deters thieves on its own. Maybe, once upon a time, they did have some insanely effective security, but with years of no attempted break-ins they slowly removed measures (since none of them were automated) and we're left with a bank that is said to be the most secure place but isn't that in practice.

I mean, that's the only explanation I could come up with since they really don't seem to be that secure...

Interesting facts about how Gringotts vaults work...

How you access Gringotts vaults is interesting, and felt oddly inconsistent to me throughout the books, so I want to take a look at it. As in, all the times Gringotts vaults are accessed and how they are accessed. Becouse a lot of fanon and Weasley bashing fics put a lot of emphasis on vault keys, but I don't think vault keys are that important, especially not with the older vaults.

In the books, we only see vault keys in Philosopher's Stone and after that they are shockingly absent.

“Morning,” said Hagrid to a free goblin. “We’ve come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter’s safe.” “You have his key, sir?” “Got it here somewhere,” said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter... [...] “Got it,” said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key. The goblin looked at it closely. “That seems to be in order.” “An’ I’ve also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore,” said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. “It’s about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.” The goblin read the letter carefully. “Very well,” he said, handing it back to Hagrid, “I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!”

(PS, Ch5)

Our first encounter with Gringotts is in PS, even this early we see two means of identifying yourself as someone who should have access to a vault:

Vault key - for Harry's trust vault from his parents

A letter from the vault owner.

This suggests that the key, rather than the only means of opening the vault, works as an identification method to show the owner gave the key to access the vault to whoever is trying to access it or is accessing it themselves. I will note it's odd the goblin doesn't identify Hagrid or Harry as who they are since a key could hypothetically be easily stolen.

It's why the letter seems to make more sense. It's a letter of temporary power of attorney signed by Dumbledore that gives Hagrid the right to access a vault in his possession. This is actually something that makes way more sense than the key, which I'll come back to later.

But the point of it all, is that Gringotts cares more about identifying who the person is and that they're allowed to access a vault than if they have a key. The key seems to be just one tool to do so.

The vaults were reached by means of small, goblin-driven carts that sped along miniature train tracks through the bank’s underground tunnels. Harry enjoyed the breakneck journey down to the Weasleys’ vault, but felt dreadful, far worse than he had in Knockturn Alley, when it was opened. There was a very small pile of silver Sickles inside, and just one gold Galleon. Mrs. Weasley felt right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her bag. Harry felt even worse when they reached his vault. He tried to block the contents from view as he hastily shoved handfuls of coins into a leather bag

(CoS, Ch4)

In CoS, we don't see anyone bringing up a key, and it's likely they just identified themselves in the bank by other means. As I mentioned, what matters is a person's identity, not the key.

At the beginning of PoA we see further evidence of how the key isn't really that important:

Once Harry had refilled his money bag with gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts from his vault at Gringotts, he had to exercise a lot of self-control not to spend the whole lot at once.

(PoA, Ch4)

As Harry's able to access his vault without it.

And Harry seems to be aware he doesn't actually need a key to access his vault, since he plans to do so when on the Knight Bus:

The sky was getting a little lighter. He would lie low for a couple of hours, go to Gringotts the moment it opened, then set off — where, he didn’t know.

(PoA, Ch3)

So the fact a key isn't really needed for vault access at Gringotts is common knowledge in-universe.

But the most interesting implications regarding vault access, come from the ending of PoA:

There is something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt — [...] Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays’ worth of presents from your godfather.

(PoA, Ch22)

This is from the letter Sirius sends Harry at the end of the book and the implications are fascinating to me. I stumbled upon this quote when looking for something else and decided to draft up this post just because of it.

Like, Sirius sent a letter to Gringotts with Crookshanks, identifying himself as Harry (did he forge Harry's signature? Did he do something else? Do they have magical signatures?) to access his own vault. This has so many implications.

Again we see what Gringotts cares for is the identity of the person asking to access the vault, not any magical vault key.

Either the signature Gringotts has for Harry is incorrect or Sirius leaned to forge Harry's signature. both options could be hilarious for fic purposes.

Harry, at the age of 13, can access his own vault and Sirius' vault with just his identity.

That last one implies two things:

There is no minimum age for Gringotts vaults access or, if there is, it's something low, like 11 or 12. This means wizarding children are essentially treated as adults when it comes to banking since Harry had to exercise self-control over his own money at the beginning of PoA and there were no vault rules or laws that would limit his access to it.

Sirius made Harry his heir before he was sent to Azkaban. It was always my headcanon, but this is evidence of it. I mean, if Harry wasn't Sirius' heir there would be no reason for Sirius to be able to use Harry's identity to access his own vault legally.

Now, I know Weasley-bashing fics love to use the fact Molly buys Harry stuff with money from his own vault as evidence of theft:

“Look, here’s the stuff Mum got for you in Diagon Alley. And she’s got some gold out of your vault for you . . . and she’s washed all your socks.”

(GoF, Ch10)

But that doesn't seem to be the case. Harry isn't surprised she did it, and Molly told Harry she would be buying him things the day before. It's possible he even gave her a letter to let her access his vault himself. If Harry wasn't aware of it happening, I think he would have mentioned it's odd. Harry's pretty perceptive and not stupid, so I think it's likely he had given his permission to that since he knew of the plan ahead of Molly going to Diagon whenever it happened.

(Mostly I think JKR didn't feel like writing everyone shopping in Diagon Alley again every book so it was an excuse to have it happen off-page)

The final occasion of vault access I want to examine is with the Lestrange Vault in Deathly Hallows:

“Madam Lestrange!” said the goblin, evidently startled. “Dear me! How-how may I help you today?” “I wish to enter my vault,” said Hermione. The old goblin seemed to recoil a little. Harry glanced around. Not only was Travers hanging back, watching, but several other goblins had looked up from their work to stare at Hermione. “You have . . . identification?” asked the goblin. “Identification? I-I have never been asked for identification before!” said Hermione. “They know!” whispered Griphook in Harry’s ear, “They must have been warned there might be an imposter!” “Your wand will do, madam,” said the goblin. [...] “Make him press his hand to the door!” Griphook urged Harry, who turned his wand again upon Bogrod. The old goblin obeyed, pressing his palm to the wood, and the door of the vault melted away to reveal a cavelike opening crammed from floor to ceiling with golden coins and goblets, silver armor, the skins of strange creatures

(DH, Ch26)

Again, what Hermione is asked for is identification, not a key. From Griphook's reaction, it seems asking for identification is usually not necessary. I assume, usually Gringotts goblins have another way of knowing who stands before them, it would explain why the characters are never really asked for a key after book 1 — the goblins just recognized Harry and let him enter. (I'd get to why they didn't in PS later)

Also from the above quote, we see that a Gringotts goblin can just magically open even the oldest, most high-security vaults, making the vault key from the first book completely moot. We also don't really see keys used since then in, well, any of the books. We do see Harry mention it in DH:

“I think he would have envied anyone who had a key to a Gringotts vault. I think he’d have seen it as a real symbol of belonging to the Wizarding world....”

(DH, Ch24)

But no one seems to be using them.

I think having a key to a vault means you have the physical key, yes, but it's more symbolic than something you have to have with you to open your vault. It's like a token that says you have vault number 687, not that it's the only means of accessing the vault since clearly, your identity is enough.

So, the question is, since vault keys or wand IDs aren't the usual means to identify oneself, how do goblins know? How do you usually identify yourself? How do they know who can access which vault just by looking at them? And why was the key asked for in PS?

Well, I have a bit of a theory/headcanon/speculation about this based on the evidence I mentioned above:

A Gringotts key is essentially a signifier for the ownership of a vault (goblin ownership, the vault is borrowed by wizards, and whenever vaults switch hands wizards likely have to pay for them again).

In book 1, the key was needed since Harry has never stepped foot in Gringotts before. The key acted as an identification for Harry who didn't have a wand yet and who the goblins just met for the first time.

After Harry was identified once, the goblins just recognized him. As they do everyone else. (Since a letter from Dumbledore saying Hagrid can access his vault is enough, they didn't ask Hagrid for any identification (not that he has a wand he can give them)).

I believe goblins just have a brilliant memory for faces and once someone enters the bank once, they are remembered from then on. (I also assume you need to sign something so they have a handwriting sample to identify your writing by. Which they also have a great memory of).

I think goblins are just magically really good at remembering details. It fits what we see about goblin-made artifacts which are very detailed and ornate. How goblins just remember who owes what and who took what. So, I think the identification method at Gringotts is goblins' really good memory.

That's why The Thief's Downfall is important. It removes enchantments that change someone's appearance which is how goblins identify people.

All this means Sirius learned how to forge Harry's handwriting to buy him a Firebolt, which is a fun concept. (Where are all the fics of Sirius being brilliant at forgery?)

This is a bit of a random tangent, but I found it interesting.

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #hollowedtheory #harry potter meta #wizarding world #gringotts

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rafeysbunny · 1 month ago

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‧₊˚ ⋅ i'll show you, rafe cameron

stepbro!rafe x fem!reader

masterlist

synopsis. in which your stepbrother kindly offers to show you porn for the first time.

warnings. stepbro!rafe, innocent!reader (but she's not an airhead), virgin!reader, smut, fingering, rafe putting in just the tip, oral sex (fem receiving), rafe licks his own creampie.

word count. 4k.

author's note. idea by @matts1andonly. english isn't my first language so there might be spelling mistakes, don't hold it against me. enjoy!

it's past midnight when you finally slide out of your bedroom without making a sound. you have been waiting patiently for your mom and ward to go to bed so you can do this without risking getting caught. wheezie is already asleep too, sarah is out with john b somewhere, and rafe left the house earlier, not telling anyone where to, so you know he's going to arrive late, as always.

it's the perfect moment.

rafe's room is down the hallway, so you make your way there quietly not to wake anyone, your barefoot feet making soft footstep sounds when you walk. once there, you open the door as carefully as you possibly can, knowing it creaks every time it gets open. this time, thanks to god, it does not.

you manage to sneak into the dormitory unnoticed, then shut the door behind you. the place is dark, only a faint glimmer of moonlight coming in through his curtains, but you want to lay low, so you don't turn on the lights. by all means, the dim lighting is enough for you to spot what you're looking for.

rafe's mac, laying there on his desk.

what's the point behind all of this? you might be wondering. well, let me answer you real quick. turns out, this handsome, muscled college guy has invited you on a date. problem is, you have never been on a date. you haven't even hold hands with a guy romantically before, much less kissed or fucked one. you simply refuse to come off as a prude, which honestly you are, but that dream of a man doesn't need to know that.

and that's why you have decided that it is a good idea to break into your stepbrother's bedroom and borrow his laptop, since yours broke last week, to watch porn in it for the first time.

well, now that you hear it out loud, it probably sounded better in your head. anyways...

you stroll towards the desk with languid steps and sit down on rafe's chair, small hands reaching hesitantly to open the laptop. you turn it on and the screen light illuminates your pretty face right away. you swear your fingers are shaking a little bit as you open up the browser and type 'porn videos' on the search bar.

somehow, you feel like you are doing something wrong, and you can't seem to shake the guilt away. either way, you don't back out. you click the enter button and, after just a few seconds, a million search results pop up. honestly, you don't know where to start, so you click on the first one, which redirects you to a website called pornhub.

the home page is full of videos, the first thing to catch your attention being the obscene thumbnails of each one of them. your cheeks flush a deep shade of red. you read some of the titles as you bite your lip nervously, realising most of them contain the word 'stepsister' in them, and you wonder if that is the only content posted on this page.

how innocent of you not to know that the website is making recommendations based on your stepbro's most searched tag.

before things escalate further, you spot rafe's airpods max sitting there on the desk and decide to grab them, connecting them to the laptop and putting them on —this way you can make sure no one overhears anything. after that, you spend a few more minutes scrolling through the page, during which you discover that there's a ton of categories to choose from.

how are you supposed to know which one to pick?

you are so invested in your little research, headphones canceling the noise, that you don't hear neither rafe opening the front door nor him walking up the stairs and, surely, don't notice him standing behind you until he speaks. and it's too late by then.

"the fuck are you doing, sweetheart?" he blurts, complete and utterly shocked to see his naive stepsister fuckin' watching pornhub.

well shit, maybe you aren't as innocent as he thought you were.

you jolt instantly, jumping out of your seat as you feel all the colour draining from your cheeks. no way rafe just caught you in the act. this can't be real. despite how bad you want to run away, you are left with no other choice but to turn around and face him, wishing the earth would swallow you up.

"i– this is not what it looks like, i swear i can explain," you stutter nervously, taking of the airpods with trembling hands. from here on, the anxious rambling begins, "i wasn't doing anything... this guy– well, i... i uhm– i got a date, 'kay? with this guy from class and– listen, i know this is silly, but..."

"jesus christ, baby, slow down, 'kay?" he stops you, his heart nearly melting from how cute you look, so shy and flustered. he almost feels bad for interrupting whatever the hell you were doing here.

the colour has returned to your cheeks, and you are all flushed now, from head to toe. your face feels like it's on fire; you have never been this embarrassed before.

"could you please start over?" he asks, hoping to hear a coherent explanation to why you are in his room, in the middle of the night, and watching porn on his laptop.

you take a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your top. you are so deeply ashamed that you don't seem to remember that you are wearing nothing but a flimsy white singlet and a tiny pair of matching panties. rafe's very aware of that fact, though, hungry eyes trailing all over your beautiful body.

"i've got a date with a guy from class," you start explaining, white teeth nibling occasionally on your plump bottom lip, "but i've never dated anyone, ya' know? i've no experience, and i don't want him to think i'm pathetic if we..."

"fuck?" he finishes your sentence, a roguish grin spreading across his handsome face.

if possible, your blush deepens even more at the vulgarity while you mutter a quiet 'yeah' in response.

honestly, he is a bit jealous of that guy. not only you are willing to let him fuck you, but you are also trying to learn how to do it properly so he has a good time doing it. yeez, what a shame for him he is going to kill him as soon as he finds out who he is; there's no chance rafe's letting you near any other man but him.

"i thought, uhm, maybe watching that would help..." you add coyly, his silence making you more nervous.

it is cute how you try to avoid saying words like 'fuck' or 'porn', like it is a crime to pronounce them or something.

"you know what? let's watch it together," he proposes.

there's a mischievous glint in his eyes that doesn't go unnoticed. you swear your cheeks might just explode at any second, and you can't help the pathetic stutter that comes out when you talk. "uhm, i don't think that'd be appropriate," you refuse, shaking your head.

"why not? you want help, and i can help you here, sweetheart," he answers, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle —unlike rafe, "that's what big brothers are for, aren't they?"

he takes a few steps in his direction until he is standing right beside you. then, he grabs the laptop in his large hands as he flashes you a wicked smirk, his curtain bangs falling messily on his forehead. you gulp, having him so close makes you feel a certain way; you cannot deny that.

"you, uhm, being my stepbrother is exactly why not," you stammer as you tilt your head back to look at him, his height towering over you.

"bullshit," he retorts, huffing. "you trust me?"

your first mistake is, probably, trusting rafe cameron. "yeah, i do, but..."

"that's why 'm perfect for the job, baby," he interrupts you. his words are clearly intended to manipulate you, but you are way too innocent to notice it, "i'm probably the guy you feel most comfortable with, aren't i? i can give ya' all the advice you need."

to be fair, he isn't wrong about that. you don't have any male friends, and you are honestly too embarrassed to ask your girlfriends for help on this department, not wanting them to think less of you. plus, rafe is a guy; he knows better what guys like, right?

"wouldn't it be kinda... weird ?" you ask, clearly hesistant.

"weird?" he repeats. "no, 'course not."

only a few more sweet, reassuring words is all it takes for him to gently coax you into watching his favourite pornos with him. his cock starts to harden in his pants just at the thought of having you like that. when you finally accept, he swears he's on cloud nine.

god, he's been wanting you for months now; he can't believe this is happening.

"c'mere, baby," he eagerly instructs you, getting on his bed.

he sits with his back resting on the headboard and pats the spot between his legs to invite you to sit there. he places the laptop next to him, the pornhub website still open on it. you move slowly towards him, cheeks slightly flushed from the embarrassment as you settle on the mattress in between his parted thighs, your back pressed to his hard chest.

he wraps one strong arm securely around your waist, his hand coming to rest gently on your tummy. with his other hand, he reaches for the laptop sitting beside him, carefully bringing it closer so the two of you can see the screen properly.

your heart is beating so fast in your chest that he can probably hear it, too. the way he is touching you is not making it easier for you to stay calm, either, his fingers tenderly tracing patterns on your belly over the thin fabric of your shirt while he scrolls through the page.

he seems to sense your discomfort and chuckles low in his throat, his warm breath tickling your ear. "relax, sis," he whispers teasingly, his voice laced with amusement. "i'm not gonna make you watch anything that'll traumatize you."

"it's just– this is a bad idea," you babble, fidgeting nervously when he finally clicks on a video and a pretty young woman appears on screen.

the actress is beautiful; she has a gorgeous body and face. her lips are full and pink, and she has these big, expressive eyes that appear to gleam. and you don't realize it, but she looks exactly like you.

the scene starts playing; in it, the girl is watching some movie with a guy that, apparently, is her roommate —at least that's what the title says.

"shhh..." he hushes you softly, his voice barely audible over the sounds emanating from his laptop's speakers. "just watch. don't overthink it."

"okay," you answer between gritted teeth.

your pretty eyes are fixed on the laptop while you try not to cringe at how bad the script and acting are, which is nearly impossible, to be honest. despite that, you keep watching in silence as the video plays, growing more flustered as the clock ticks.

you didn't know mouths could be used for that... interesting.

as opposed to you, rafe's pretty chill behind you, like he's unbothered by this whole situation —he's actually hard as fuck inside his pants, the thing is you haven't noticed. you wonder how he can act so unfazed, since you keep pushing your thighs together to try and soothe the throbbing sensation building in between them while you take in the lewd actions occurring on screen.

you weren't expecting your body to have this reaction, and now you don't know what to do to make it stop.

rafe soon becomes aware of the way you keep letting out soft sighs and squirming in his arms, plush ass rubbing against his cock every time you do it. it's a miracle he is still holding back, though he doesn't know how much time he will be able to.

he's not even paying attention to the video anymore, his entire focus put on you. he finally ventures to lean in, his hot breath grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "you know, i could do that to you..." his hand slowly slides to your plush thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

his movements are measured and controlled not to scare you, but your breath hitches in your chest at his actions either way, body tensing up in his grasp. your brain is telling you to push him away, but the insistent throb in your sex doesn't like that idea, not one bit.

"you– you could?" you utter quietly, not taking your eyes away from the laptop.

rafe notices the uncertainty in your voice, but the way you haven't pushed him away yet emboldens him to continue, his large hand gradually sliding north.

"yeah, baby," he murmurs huskily against your ear, fingertips brushing along your inner thigh. "i could put my fingers inside you, just like he's doing to her..."

his words make you blush heavily as a little gasp is released from your pouty lips. "would it feel good?" you ask naively.

your eyes are transfixed in the sight of the guy on the screen pushing his fingers inside the girl's pussy. god, she seems like she's enjoying it so much... and you desperately want to feel like that too. you can't even bring yourself to care that it's your stepbrother offering to show you.

rafe's fingers creep higher and higher until they're barely brushing against your cotton panties. "yeah," he growls huskily against your ear, "it'd feel real good, sweetheart. i promise..."

you shudder, a sweet little mewl escaping your throat involuntarily. you can't help but blush at your own reaction, slightly embarrassed by it. you tear your eyes away from the screen, head falling back against his chest as you look up at him.

"it's throbbing, rafe..." you whine, self-control slipping from your hands. "can you make it better?"

rafe's fingers finally make contact with your wet underwear, pressing against your clit through the fabric. he rubs gentle circles around your sensitive nub, his other hand curling around your supple thigh to spread your legs wider.

"oh, baby, you're soaked through your panties..." he pants out.

your body literally melts into his touch like butter, perfectly shaped brows knitting together in a frown of pleasure. the girl in the video moans, and you do too, both sounds echoing in the silence of his room.

taking your moan as an invitation, rafe carefully hooks his fingers in the gusset of your panties to push them aside, exposing your sopping cunt to the cool air of his bedroom. then, he traces your wet slit slowly, leisurely, as if savoring the velvety feel of your skin.

"such a pretty little pussy..." he praises, eyes hungrily taking in the pink expanse of flesh.

you squirm and let out a soft whimper, biting your lip right after to avoid keep making noises; the last thing you want is to wake up your parents or wheezie. rafe notices your struggle and swiftly reaches up to cover your mouth with his free hand, muffling your sweet moans.

he gathers some of the wetness dripping out of your cunt before trailing his fingers all the way up to your clit, rubbing it gently. your eyes roll back, hips bucking up against his hand instinctively. the way your swollen bud throbs beneath his fingertips is going to make you mad. he begins to touch your clit in fast, tight circles, his other hand still holding your mouth shut to keep you quiet.

he leans in to whisper against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine, "if you make a sound, i'll stop, got it?"

you nod obediently in response, making your best effort to comply; you don't want him to stop doing this, never. as a reward, rafe slides a thick finger down your slit and presses it against your clenched entry, steadily applying pressure until your tight muscles finally give in and allow his digit ingress.

"so fuckin' tight," he groans under his breath at the feeling of your narrow pussy engulfing his finger.

withdrawing his finger almost all the way out, he teases your entrance with the tip, making you tremble with anticipation before pushing it back in to the knuckle, his palm cupping your mound as he starts to thrust in a smooth, lazy rhythm. you swallow a whiny cry while your eyelids flutter shut, pretty face scrunched in a blissful expression.

rafe works his finger in and out of your slick pussy slowly, marveling at how your velvety walls flutter around the digit. he curls it inward, searching for that special spot that's guaranteed to drive you wild.

after a few experimental pokes, rafe's fingertip finally brushes over your g-spot, eliciting a muffled moan from under his palm. he smiles wickedly against your skin, and you shudder in his grasp, pleasure waves running through your body.

"that's it, sweetheart... feel good?" he croons softly, fingering you nice and deep.

you can't bring yourself to reply, the sensation of his large digit fucking your pussy, added to the constant rubbing of his palm against your puffy clit has your mind feeling all fuzzy. your body language is the only answer he needs, though.

rafe leans in to tenderly nip at your neck, his hot mouth latching onto your slender throat as he keeps pumping his finger steadily in and out of your dripping cunt. he knows you're close when he feels your inner muscles starting to clench erratically around his digit.

"rafe," you moan onto his palm as you feel this new, strange sensation building in your tummy, pussy tingling so nicely.

heaven help him. hearing you, his stepsister, moan his name like that makes rafe's hard dick throb almost painfully against his zipper.

and then it happens. the coil in your belly suddenly snaps and you have to bite onto your lip harshly to keep yourself from screaming as you cum for the very first time, on your stepbrother's hand. rafe continues to pump his finger in and out of your spasming cunt as you ride out your climax, wanting to prolong your pleasure.

when you finally come down from your high, you're all shaky and flustered in his arms, panting heavily to try and catch your breath. he has a satisfied smirk on his lips while he slowly withdraws his slick digit from your quivering hole to bring it up to his mouth and lick it clean, savoring your taste.

"did so well for me, baby," he coos as he uncovers your mouth, gently turning your head to the side to press a kiss to your swollen, red lips.

you return it sloppily, eyes fluttering shut in the process, and you sigh contently against his mouth. he can't help but rock his hips against your ass, rubbing his hard on against you.

"did i make you feel good?" he asks between little kisses, his breathing growing uneven. you nod in response. "yeah? then it's just fair you make me feel good too, sweetheart... wanna do that f'me?"

"yes," you whisper against his lips without even thinking, feeling him smirk into the kiss.

"such a good girl," he praises.

at some point, the porn video playing on his laptop ended, so he simply closes it up and tosses it away, the device landing somewhere on his king size bed. then, he turns you both around, until you are laying on the mattress and he is on top of you.

he is quick to undo his pants and yank them down, just enough to free his raging hard on, which bounces against his abs. let me tell you this, he's big, the tip pink and fat, already leaking precum.

suddenly, realization hits you. this is your stepbrother for god's sake, are you really gonna let him fuck you?

he notices how your body tenses up, one hand reaching to stroke your plush thigh reassuringly while the other wraps around his shaft, giving it a slow pump.

"hey, baby, relax..." he whispers gently, "i'll put just the tip in, yeah? there's nothing wrong with that."

you hesitate. his strong arms slide beneath your legs to tug you closer. then his cock brushes your pussy and you whimper. how are you supposed to say 'no' ?

it's just the tip.

"mhmm, 'kay" you end up agreeing with a little nod.

rafe flashes you a lopsided smirk, his hand gripping his cock again while the free one yanks your panties aside once more. keeping eye contact, he slowly glides the fat head of his dick up and down your drenched slit, coating it thoroughly in your arousal. you shudder as his tip eventually meets your puffy clit, the gentle rubbing sending shivers down your spine.

"rafe," you whimper.

rafe's eyelids droop, a low hum of pleasure escaping his throat as he continues to slowly drag the reddened head up and down your chubby pussy lips with squelching sounds. his breathing grows heavier the longer he teasingly rolls it against your slick folds, reveling in your breathy whimpers. he feels like he's about to burst already, pre-cum steadily leaking from the tip and onto your flesh.

he can't fucking take this anymore.

with a slow, gentle thrust, he sinks his cock into your warm, slippery pussy, just the head breaching your entrance before he pauses, savoring the initial penetration. his eyes lock onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust.

"jesus, fuck." he grunts.

your cunt starts fluttering around him. he has barely slided the first two inches in, as he promised, but he's so thick that even that feels like a tight fit. you let out a moan, which mingles with a strained groan from rafe as your velvety walls clench tightly around his swollen cockhead.

"gonna– might just nut already, shit" rafe mutters through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to just drive forward and hilt himself deep. "so goddamn tight."

your hips buck unconsciously against his, making him slip in just a tad further —which nearly makes him lose all his self-control. somehow, he manages to keep his shit together, hips rocking slowly to thrust in and out of you while his veiny hand strokes the rest of his shaft.

you're totally enthralled by the sight, liquid heat pooling in your belly while you watch him use your body for his pleasure. he looks so good, you can't believe he's real. your chest fills with pride at the knowledge that you're making this greek god feel good.

this is the fastest rafe has ever cum, the movement of his hips becoming jerky and sloppy after a few minutes as he spills his sperm inside you. he's panting heavily, sweat beading on his brow while his fist squeezes the base of his cock tightly.

you're left wanting more when he slowly pulls out, pussy stretched out and leaking white spurts of cum. he gazes down at you with a smirk, lightly tapping the head of his dick against your swollen clit, which has you writhing beneath him.

"so fuckin' gorgeous stuffed full of my cum," he whispers, his cock smearing the sticky substance all over your slit. you mewl in response. "hmm, 'm sorry for making such a mess on your pretty pussy, sweetheart, lemme clean it up, yeah?"

you blush in response when he leans forward, throwing your creamy thighs over his broad shoulders, to put his mouth onto your sex. you almost cry at the heavenly feeling, his playful tongue delving between your folds to lap up his own release. he cleans you up thoroughly, only to mess you up again right after, his spit soaking your cunt as he makes you cum again.

after tonight, you are cancelling that date, that's for sure.

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