#but then she's!! so soft towards those in need!!

[familyvideostevie]

all of it still matters

joel miller x fem!reader | 2.4k

you get sick and, much to joel's chagrin, refuse to take it easy.

jackson!joel, fem!reader, fluff, fainting, ellie and her dog that i invented for some reason, kind of plotless but who cares! it's all about love in the end, anyway.

a/n: welcome back to our lovebirds from just and just as. be gentle, please. it's been a while.

--

The sky is a brilliant orange. Golden hour, they used to call it.

It's probably a little too cold to be sitting on the front porch but you can't help it on an evening like this. You tug a fraying flannel of Joel's tighter around your shoulders. It's worn at the elbows and he reminds you that he'll fix it if you release it from your clutches but somehow that never happens. The journal he made you is open on your lap, almost full. You've taken care to write down not only your memories but the stories he and Tommy tell about their lives before, the day-to-day of Jackson, the jokes Ellie is particularly proud of. She recently recounted a birthday trip to a museum, laughing as she told you about pushing Joel into the water.

You take a sip of your pine tea. It's chilly through the whole day, now, and soon the morning frost will be snow. Winter was hard for a long, long time, but now it's comfortable. It means lights up in town, children throwing snowballs, community meals and dances. It means warm nights under your blankets with the furnace of a man you sleep next to, soft salve on chapped hands, a slowing down of the Infected sightings.

And it means Joel chopping wood. He should be doing it in the back yard -- usually does -- but this evening he's finishing up the trunk pieces Jesse left by the steps. A big tree had gone down at the edge of the town clearing and everyone got a few pieces once they'd split it up. Joel will no doubt give Ellie at least half of what he cuts.

The benefit of him doing it out front is you get to watch. His back is to you, but you can see the way his sleeves are rolled up, the damp hair curling over the collar. The exhale when he brings the axe down, the flex of his shoulder blades when he tugs it free of the stump. You could watch him do anything.

As if hearing your train of thought, Joel wedges the axe in the chopping block and turns to face you. He runs a hand through his hair, silver strands catching the orange light, and huffs.

"Enjoyin' yourself?" he says.

You grin at him. "I'd say so."

Two things happen at once. A headache blooms without warning at your temple, sharp enough that you wince and press your fingertips to the skin there. Joel notices and takes a step towards you but then a dog barks and his attention is drawn down the street.

"Naledi!" Ellie yells, jogging up the street after her dog. "Come on, we've talked about this!"

Joel glances back at you but you smile at him, ignoring the blooming pain in your skull. Naledi -- named after one of those characters from Ellie's comics -- runs right up to Joel and noses at his knee until he pets her. The animal loves him. You don't blame her.

"Jesus," Ellie says once she reaches the steps up to the house, panting. "She can run." She looks at the yard and scowls. "Aw, shit, Joel. Did you finish all the wood?"

Joel, one hand scratching behind Naledi's ears, levels her with an unimpressed look.

"Ain't gonna chop itself," he drawls. "Last thing we need is you holdin' an axe."

"Rude," she gasps. "You steal my dog and make fun of me. Are you hearing this?"

Ellie looks at you in mock outrage, cheeks pink from the cold. She's not a teenager anymore, but falls back into it so easily when Joel teases her. It's a treat to witness.

"I don't know, Joel, you've seen her --" You stand in the middle of your sentence and the words stop coming because your vision swims. Black spots dance across the yard and you pitch forward to brace yourself on the railing.

"Oh, fuck," Ellie says. Joel is up the porch and next to you in a blink, arm around your waist to steady you.

"You okay?" he asks, low and serious.

The spots disappear and you take some deep breaths. "I -- stood up too fast, I think."

Joel remains in your space for a few more seconds. Naledi barks, watching the whole thing with a tilted head from the grass below.

"Ellie," Joel says. "You wanna finish up the wood? I think we're gonna go inside."

"Totally," she replies. "Yeah, uh, go lie down, or something. We've got this."

Joel ushers you into the house and sits you down in the kitchen. The sun no longer peaks over the mountains so he flicks on the overhead lights, which make you groan. He's back by your side immediately, tipping your head up with a knuckle on your chin so he can look at you.

"Think you might've caught somethin'," he says. "Bout that time of year." He presses the back of his hand to your forehead and frowns.

You circle his wrist and tug his hand down. "Just tired," you say. "The overnight patrol is catching up with me."

"Hmm." Joel leaves you be and starts to fix you something to eat. You know better than to argue and, frankly, you don't have the energy to make something yourself. He sets some buttered toast in front of you and leans on the island to watch you take a small bite.

"Something to say?" you manage through a mouthful of bread.

He shrugs. "You should go to bed early." It's barely sunset but it sounds like a good idea. "You going to be okay to work tomorrow?"

Your shift at the stables with Ellie. Pretty easy, as far as labor goes. A good night's sleep should make it bearable. "Yeah, it's just mucking stalls."

"Hmm," he says again. You know what that means -- he's thinking, he's decided, he's preparing, but he'll let you reach the same conclusion in your own time. He won't force you into anything, never does, but he most certainly has an opinion.

You change the subject. "Did you grab my journal?" Joel nods and pulls it from his back pocket to set on the table next to your toast. You take another bite to appease him.

"Almost done with that thing," he says. "Gonna need another one."

"If only I knew someone who made them," you tease. That gets a gruff laugh out of him.

"What you writin' about today?"

"You, Tommy, and motorcycles." Tommy had told you all about the famed birthday ride at the last family dinner. Everyone had heard the story but you, so their voices overlapped about a hundred times as they fought to be the one to explain.

Joel chuckles. "You ever been on one?"

You take one more bite of your toast and push the plate away. He's on it in a second, taking it over to the sink.

"No," you reply. "I don't even know the last time I saw a working one. Just stripped metal out in the wild."

"Think you'd like it," he says. "Good way to see things. Bit of an adrenaline rush."

"Yeah, because there's a shortage of that these days."

The joke falls flat and your eyelids start to droop so you don't see Joel's reaction anyway. Your head throbs.

"Bed," Joel says, softly. Hands on your shoulders, rubbing up and down your arms. "C'mon."

He ushers you up, hand on your back on the staircase. He waits while you brush your teeth and helps you into an old shirt and threadbare pants with a gentle touch.

When you're settled under the covers he perches on the edge of the bed and lays his hand on your forehead once again. A frown makes its way back onto his face and he checks your cheeks, your neck.

"I'm just tired, Joel," you mumble. "It's alright."

"Hmm." He kisses the inside of your wrist lightly and stands. "Gonna go check on Ellie, alright? I'll be back soon."

You fight to keep your eyes open and fail.

__

You feel like shit in the morning. Your head is pounding, your body aching. But you've had worse -- you've had broken bones and bruised ribs. You've been sick, you've been tired, you've been scared. This is nothing compared to life and death. You can muck a few stalls with a headache.

Joel isn't here -- a note on the counter says he got called to fix someone's sink and that he thinks you should stay home. You ignore it and head to the stables, taking deep breaths and walking slow.

Ellie shows up not long after you arrive and finds you leaning on your pitchfork in one of the stalls. Your stomach is churning but you're upright, still.

"You look like shit," she says.

"Thanks, kid," you grumble. "Where's your dog?"

"Dina's taking her on the trails today." They've been training Naledi to smell and track Infected.

You sway a little and make some noise of assent.

"Dude, are you sure you should be here today?"

If you leave now, she'll have to do the stalls herself. "I -- let me do a few more. I'm fine. It's alright."

She gives you a look she almost certainly learned from Joel but doesn't argue.

You are fine...for a little while. Ellie seems content to let you work in silence but you feel her eyes on you as you shovel shit and old hay. Just one more, you tell yourself. Then you'll go home and lie down. One more turns into two turns into three until you're scooping a big pile of straw and the spots dance across your vision again.

"Oh," you say with a gasp, and reach out for the wall, for something, anything to lean on. But your hand finds only air and then you're tipping, tipping, and you hear Ellie's Oh shit! and then --

Nothing.

No, I caught her before her head hit the ground. Are you on your back? Wait til she wakes to move her. Sounds like Esther. God, it smells like shit in here. Someone's hand on your forehead. He's coming --

You blink a few times and the roof of the barn comes into view. A groan makes its way up your throat without permission.

"Fuck," you say. "What --"

"Jesus," Ellie exhales. She's on her knees on one side of you, tugging at her fingers. "God, why did you come to work today?"

"I--"

"Where is she?" Joel's voice echoes through the barn and you try to get up on your elbows when you see him. The sudden movement makes your head pound again and hands on your shoulders help steady you. You're blinking into Joel's face, his creased brow and frown deepening as he kneels next to you.

A warm, weathered palm cups your cheek and his gaze catalogs the scene. He does this a lot -- takes in as many details as he can and makes a quick choice on how to proceed. It's a well-honed ability, one that's kept him alive this long. It's kept you and Ellie alive, and countless others in his company, too. Knowing how bad something is, and whether or not you can fix it.

He huffs, some of the tension melting from his face. "Just tired my ass," he mutters. "How're you feelin'?"

"Guess I fainted," you say weakly.

Ellie snorts. "No shit."

"Guess so," Joel echoes. "You wanna get up?" You nod. He does most of the work, arm around your waist as you stand and sway and end up tucked into his side.

"Surprised your knees work this well," you mutter. He makes a low noise in his throat and squeezes your side but otherwise ignores you.

"Think we're gonna go home, if that's alright," he says. You realize the crowd is a little bigger than you thought. Ellie, Esther, and some of the younger boys who work the horses stand nearby. Your head pounds too much for you to be properly embarrassed. You'll have to thank Ellie later for keeping an eye on you but for now, you let Joel lead you out of the stables without waiting for a reply.

Joel walks you home slowly.

"Did someone come get you?" you murmur. He nods.

"Kid said you fainted," he says. "I see you ignored my suggestion this mornin'."

"Yeah, but if I stayed in bed you wouldn't get to be a knight in shining armor."

There is a small voice in the back of your head that reminds you how bad it can be to be sick in this world. You've all seen it -- sickness takes a few people every year, a handful in bad ones. This is probably just the flu. You know that and Joel knows that. And even that can be dangerous, but you're here with the one man in the world who could defeat pretty much anything. Joel, who will keep you safe, who will see you through it. You really, truly believe that. And you want him to believe it, too.

"How polite of you," he says.

Your boot catches on the ground and you stumble a little. Joel slows you to a stop.

"I'm fine," you remind him. "Just sick, I guess." He huffs but you start walking again. "You really looked worried back there, you know."

"Yeah, well." You reach the stairs up to your house. He tightens his hold on you, practically taking all of your weight as you go up them one at a time. "Was worried you fell into some horse shit. Smell up the whole damn house."

That gets a laugh out of you. He gets you up the porch, across the threshold.

"You gonna listen to me this time?" he asks, sitting you down on the entryway bench. "Stay home, rest up?"

"I'll think about it," you sigh. "You gonna take care of me, Dr. Miller?"

He kneels in front of you to take off your boots and smirks. How many times have you done this? Peeling off each other's boots after a long day. When one of you is sick, when one of you is hurt. Your head is pounding and you almost certainly have a fever but Joel's gentle hands and familiar smirk sets you at ease. You're going to be doing this forever.

"C'mon," he says. "You know I'll take care of you."

He tucks your boots under the bench and puts his palms on your thighs. You lean forward to kiss him and miss by a mile, lips landing at the corner of his mouth.

"My head hurts," you say against his cheek. "I love you."

Joel sighs. "I know, baby," he murmurs. "I got you."

He does.

[mrshowlettsgarden]

The Day We Met - Logan Howlett: the one where Logan meets reader the day he arrives at the X - mansion

─➭ pairing: Logan Howlett x professor!fem!reader

─➭ content warning: fluff, flirty; this is loosely base off of the first xmen movie

─➭ note: welcome to my first post! I'll start taking requests! (prompt list)

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Logan Howlett definitely didn’t welcome the invitation of practically being kidnapped by a couple of freaks in black and loud leather suits. The teenager he was with in the car accident, Rogue, did though because she found a place to call home and Logan? Well, he claimed he didn't need one to the Professor as he introduced himself and the others to Logan. But Charles made a bargain with Logan.

“While you stay here, Dr. Grey and I will help regain the memories you had lost,” Charles said calmly. 

A dirty look was seen on Logan’s face when the bald man said that. “Now why would I let you or her get into my head, huh?” he scowled at the Professor and Jean, who was protectively standing behind him. 

���You never wondered where you got the name the Wolverine from?’ Charles asked as he nodded towards Logan’s dog tags, “We can help you, Logan. You can move on from cage fighting and stay here.” 

A scoff slipped from Logan’s lips as he anxiously looked around Charles’ office almost looking for an out from this stupid conversation. He gave up the idea of figuring out where he came from years ago or at least he thought he did. Of course he wondered where he got his dog tags from and that’s all he’s ever known for as far as he can remember. But he needed to move on from those thoughts or at least forget the fact that he can’t ever regain his memories again. 

Letting out a deep breath Logan looks back at Charles and thinks for a bit longer. What if the Professor can actually help him? What if this is his only chance at figuring out who he is and how he came to be? Can any of these damn geeks actually help at all?

Fuck this bullshit…

“Fine,” Logan snaps against his own thoughts, “But the second shit goes sideways and I don’t like it, I’m fuckin’ outta here.” He points his finger at the Professor. 

Charles smiles and moves towards the door, “Perfect. Now come while I show you around your new home.” 

Logan can’t count how many times he’s scoffed since he woke up in this new place. He reluctantly follows Charles and gives a dirty look to Scott or Cyclops before he leaves the room. Scott sighs as he looks back at Jean and then Ororo, also known as Storm, “He’s going to be nothing but trouble while he stays here.”

“Everyone is troubled when they first start off here, Scott,” Storms says with a smile as she walks out of the room.  

Jean smiles too as she walks towards her fiancé and gives Scott a kiss on the cheek, “You were nothing but trouble too.”

Scott rolls his eyes as he follows Jean out. “I wasn’t even that bad.”

”You blew up Charles' tree.”

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Logan and Charles made their rounds around the mansion. From classrooms to the bedrooms and as well as the laboratories similar to the one Logan first woke up in. As they walked, Charles shared that this place was a school and a home for mutants, mainly youngsters who are trying to navigate the hardships of being a mutant and having mutant powers all while trying to live a normal life as humans do at their age. Charles also shared that Rogue has the choice to stay and rejoin the world as an educated mutant if she so wishes.

“Most of the adults here were my earlier students who are now teachers. I also teach physics throughout the week,” Charles shared.

“Yeah, well I ain’t about to teach shit while I’m here either,” Logan rolled his eyes. 

“No,” Charles lets out a soft chuckle, “But you will be subbing for those who are away and cannot attend their class. Call it your payment while you stay here.” Logan couldn’t get a word in to talk back as Charles moved ahead of him towards a couple of double glass doors that lead outside, “Now for the backyard.” The professor opens a set of doors with his mind and leads Logan to the balcony that oversees the property. 

“This is a backyard?” Logan questions with a raised eyebrow as looks around the massive green field and trees decorating the property. There’s a fountain ahead of them both and if he looks further there is a trail that leads to a pond further back. There’s students running around on a basketball court. Some are sitting in the grass reading or talking. He also sees a small farm to his right and swears he can smell horse shit from where he’s standing. “The hell is this place…”

 Ignoring Logan’s comment he takes him further into the yard onto a cemented path. “You’ve so far met Storm, Scott, and Jean but we have another Professor here who enjoys spending her time outside so she wasn’t part of your welcome party,” Charles says as he leads Logan towards a glass greenhouse.

Logan looks up and around the huge building and immediately notices the green vines and various plants surrounding the perimeter of the glass walls. He almost guesses that it’s a two-story building with how high the roof is and he’s not even inside yet. “Lemme guess, she’s got a green thumb for powers,” Logan scoffs with assumption behind his tone. 

Charles laughs as they walk towards the double doors, “Something like that,” he says.

And before they even reached the door, two brown branches covered in leaves on both sides of the door began to move towards the door handles. Logan’s eyebrows furrow on high alert as he watches the branches turn the handles to open the doors for the two of them to enter. After both doors open, Logan is greeted with the greenest view he’s ever seen. While it’s not a two-story building like he thought, the high ceilings were a matching height with trees set up around the huge room.It’s like he walked into a second backyard. He can see and smell the collections of plants and flowers filling his senses as he and Charles walk further into the greenhouse. 

And as the further they walk the more Logan can see different landscapes that he assumes correlate the plants to where they’re originally from. He follows the professor as he makes a turn to their left around a hedge to a research area decorated with science equipment and desks for the students. 

“Professor?” a soft female voice calls out anxiously, “Why is everyone telling me there’s a wolverine running around the mansion?” Logan hears Charles softly laugh at the question. “If there’s an actual animal running around, I don’t know how to feel about that because everyone is stressing me out about being eaten!”

There’s a concerned tone in the voice and Logan nearly rolls his eyes at the woman’s thought of him being the animal “running around” and him “eating” them. Before he can bark out a snarky comment, you come around a different corner of a group of plants with a watering can in your hands. Logan cannot deny the fact he almost lost his breath at the sight of you. But he shook the fluttering feeling away before it settled in his chest. 

“Oh!” you say in surprise and pure embarrassment as you see the professor and the “animal” you were stressing about standing tall and intimidating behind Charles�� wheelchair. You really want to slap yourself with the watering can for believing the damn plants about being eaten by a wolverine. 

Charles smiles as he moves closer to you. “No, my dear. No animal,” he speaks softly to you, “This is Logan. The Wolverine that your friends were warning you about.”

You feel your body heat up with more embarrassment while you nervously laugh at the professor’s words. But the nervous smile you were holding went away in a split second as you locked eyes with a pair of scowling hazel ones across from you. You shy away from the dirty look Logan was giving you. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer out, “If I knew you weren’t an actual wolverine, I wouldn’t have called you an animal… That was very rude for them to say that about you.”

“Them?” Logan questions with a slight attitude.

“The plants,” Charles says like a proud father would sound as he turns himself towards Logan who stood locked in his place, “Logan, this is Dr. Y/n L/n. She teaches biology to the students here in the greenhouse.” 

Logan hums as his eyes study your face and he sees that you move your gaze away from his and it makes him smirk. “So, your mutation is making friends with plants?” he chuckles as he looks at his surroundings.

You look back at him with a slight frown at the overused assumption about your powers. “I can move and grow plants at my own will,” you sigh out with a disappointed look in your eyes but you carry a neutral face, “Communicating with the plants is a bonus…” Logan looks back at you after you answer and sees the disappointing look in your eyes and he starts to feel bad for trying to pick fun at you. 

“I was giving Logan a tour of the property. He will be staying with us for a while,” Charles says as he notices the soft look Logan's holding as he looks at you. With a knowing smirk he turned his full attention to you and you looked back at him, “Y/N, why don’t you continue the tour for me and show Logan his room? I sense that Jean is requesting my presence back in the lab,” he lies through his teeth as he sends you a picture of one of the vacant rooms for Logan from his mind.

Not knowing the real hidden reason for making you finish the tour for him, you nod your head with an understanding look. “Will do, Professor,” you say in a gentle tone. 

Charles moves away from you and past Logan going back toward the doors, “I will see you two for dinner.”

And with that Charles left and silence took over the air between you and the bruting man standing across from you. “Um, well let’s take you to your room. I’m sure you’ve had a rough day,” you say as you put the watering can on top of the table next to you. Logan nods as he begins to follow behind you to leave the garden. 

As he follows you towards the door, Logan sees you raise one of your hands as green like dust form from in between your fingers and with a wave of your fingers he feels something shift in the room. He turns around back towards the greenhouse and sees the branches and vines move to close down the lamps illuminating the gardens in the room then he hears the sound of water in the background slowly die out from the fountains. When he looks back towards you, he swears he sees your eyes turn from green back to your original eye color. 

“Ready?” you ask with a small smile.  

Logan nods silently again and follows you out. 

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The walk back into the mansion was quiet. You nervously played with your fingers as you led him inside and all the way upstairs. As you both walked through the hallway of the corridor, Logan couldn’t help but to steal a glance towards you as the afternoon sun slowly turned to evening. The light that was shining through the window at the end of the hall brightened your facial features that he couldn’t see back inside the greenhouse. He wanted to look at you a little longer but he knew he'd already pushed your boundaries from earlier so he looked away before you could realize.

You then walked a couple of extra steps ahead of him towards a closed door to what he assumes is his room. You open it and extend your arm out with a soft smile. “This is your room,” you say and Logan walks in silently with his hands behind his back to look around. “You have your own bathroom around the corner right here,” you maneuver around the room to open another door to the said bathroom. Then you look towards another side of the room and point to a closet and a set of drawers, “You should have enough room for your things to put in there too.”

The brunette haired man hums in acknowledgment as he walks about his new home. He opens and inspects his closet then turns towards you. “And where is your room?” he asks as he walks towards you. 

Your eyebrows raise at his question. “Down the hall,” you say in a flat tone as you stare at him. Logan hears the faintest attitude behind your words as a soft smirk forms on his lips. You almost want to back away from how intimidating he’s being but that's just because he’s so freakishly tall and built compared to you. Your soft gaze meets his as he’s just an arms length away from you. “Do you need anything else, Logan?” you ask in a soft tone. 

His hazel eyes analyze your face a little better up close and…god you’re so fucking beautiful. He’s eternally beating himself up on the inside for being a brash asshole to you in the beginning. Seeing you this close is making this fluttering feeling in his chest come back again and he’s not going to fight it this time. His gaze moves from your eyes to your rosy lips and he has to take a deep breath to stop himself from making a move on you. Logan can already feel how good it’ll feel to have your lips against his as his hands move gently across your body and down to your –

“Logan?” you snap him out of his daydream that he blinks away from, “Are you alright?”

No… No he’s not. He can feel himself getting hard at the thought of him just kissing you. 

What a damn pervert…

“I’m sorry for earlier,” he says back in a gentle tone, “Didn’t mean to make fun of you or anything like that about your powers.”

A soft cheeky smile formed on your lips at his words. He then realized that he wanted to keep seeing that cheeky smile from here on out. “It’s okay, Logan,” you say back, “Take it as payback for when my plants and I called you an animal when you're not.”

An airy laugh slips from Logan’s mouth. He moves his eyes down to your hands where you’ve been nervously playing with your fingers and then grabs a hold of one of them with his calloused hand. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you watch him guide your hand towards his lips. His soft lips lightly meet your knuckles before he looks back at you. “Still… That wasn’t right of me, darlin’”, he says.

You can feel your cheeks warming up from the gesture and your words nearly don’t form in your head or voice. You gently pull your hand away from his with a small but nervous giggle. “You haven’t been here for a full day and you’re already flirty your way in,” you joke as you slowly walk backwards towards the door. “You should’ve waited to settle in first at least.” 

Logan smirks as he watches you walk away from him, “Don’t be afraid to like it, darlin’” Your pretty smile graces his eyes again as you nod and take your leave as you close his door. Logan lets out a near blissful sigh as he sits down on the bed. He runs a hand through his unruly hair nervously before laying down on his back to look up at the ceiling. 

“Maybe, I’ll stay a little longer…”

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[blackynsupremacy]

RETURNING THE FAVOR

pairing: nicholas chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: you and your fiancé, nicholas, start to look at things in a new perspective after spending the whole day with your three-year-old nephew, ashton.

contains: lots of words, so. much. fluff., cuddling, kissing, playfulness, mention of death in the family, nicholas being the big sweetheart he is. you call your nephew by the nickname “bookie” pronounced like “pookie”, but with a b.

a/n: the club blurb with nicholas is in the drafts, it’s coming, but i was in a light fluffy mood! i need that man expeditiously.

taglist: @rosiestalez @elitesanjisimp @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @ellethespaceunicorn @sabrinasopposite @gxuxhdjdu @zombigrlll @paisholotus @tryingtograspctrl @afrogirl3005 @afrowrites

your older sister couldn’t thank you and nicholas enough as she handed off a backpack with all of the items necessary for caring for your nephew, ashton. she was making plans to do his hair and spend quality time with her son, but she got called in for an eight hour shift, so she didn’t hesitate to call you up to see if you and nicholas were available to babysit. you and nicholas enthusiastically agreed to take on the task of spending this time with ashton. fortunately, he was on a month long break before filming for his next project and this was your weekend off. a smile grew on both of your faces as you felt two tiny arms wrap around your legs. your beaming face looks down to meet ashton’s, who gazed up at you with those precious doe eyes and wide grin with his kinky afro of curls sticking up and around in different directions on his head.

“hi, ti-ti!” his soft high pitched voice made you and your sister simper as you bent down to gather your nephew within your arms.

“hey, bookie!” you greet him and turn him to nicholas who was already grinning as he greeted the boy before he reached his hands out to see if ashton wanted to give him a hug.

“hey, buddy! how’s my guy, huh?”

“uncle nic!” ashton jovially responded, quickly unraveling his miniature arms from around your neck to make grabby hands towards nicholas who didn’t hesitate to scoop him from your arms.

“here let me get this for you. we’ll leave you ladies alone. we’re gonna have a little snack until we get started. it’s always a pleasure to see you, s/n. we’ll be ready when you are, babe.”

nicholas said before placing a kiss on your cheek. he held the toddler on his side with one arm and like the gentleman he was, he took the backpack off your sister’s hands to which she graciously thanked him. he took his cue to exit to the kitchen while striking up a conversation with ashton about the snack options available and what he wanted. you and your sister smiled in their direction and turned to each other to resume your own conversation.

“girl, i can’t thank you enough for this. i hate that it had to be so last minute, but you know that i got—”

you interrupted your sister, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder with a small smile on your face.

“it’s okay, sis. you know that nic and i got you, through and through. life happened and we’re gonna help you as you keep going for your life and your family, so it’s no issue.”

she nods silently to receive your kind words and you both got a bit watery eyed and sniffled before composing yourselves.

“you’re right. i’m just trying to do what’s best for ashton, y/n. i swear when life hits me right one day, i’m gonna be able to return the favor for you and nicholas .” she gives you a cheeky grin and shoots a wink towards your way as the warm heat of embarrassment rise on your brown cheeks. you stood there stunned as she chuckled and shifted the purse on her shoulder.

“it’s okay, n/n. that’s a call that both you and nicholas have to make first, but know i got you like you got me when i had the munchkin.” you give each other one last hug, not without her giving you a few more key reminders regarding ashton’s care and the time she’ll be back before she heads to the driveway and exits in her vehicle.

you remembered three years ago when he was just born. you and nicholas had just started dating and he couldn’t help, but look at you with pride and joy at your excitement for your sister’s firstborn. ever since you two were little girls, you’d both dream of finding your respective prince charmings and happily growing a family of your own. boy, do dreams come true. ashton’s a little boy with the biggest personality. he’s silly, curious, intelligent, rambunctious, loved playing basketball, talking about his favorite superheroes, and not to mention the cutest little boy you’ve ever seen! he was a perfect mix of his parents, which was bittersweet considering the fact that his father had passed away from a car accident a year ago. it was an event that was truly life altering for your sister as she had to navigate life as a widow and a single parent. she had to pick up longer hours to keep the house, get counseling for her and ashton, and most of your family showed up before and during the funeral, but after a month, the phone calls and texts stopped coming. not you and nicholas, though. your older sister being the rock she is has supported you in happiness and heartbreak throughout childhood and adolescence, so it’s only right that you return that same love and kindness towards her and ashton, who you’ve sometimes seen as your own child.

you close the door and follow the same direction the boys walked to the kitchen. you stumble in to see a sight that almost puts your ovaries in danger of jumping your fiancé’s bones. his tall figure is standing in front of the counter, chatting it up and happily chopping up a food you can’t clearly see while ashton is clinging on to his leg like how a koala clings to a eucalyptus tree while gazing up at your giant of a fiancé with an attentive and expectant expression on his little face. you stare like a lovesick dope, watching nicholas laugh at something ashton said, putting away the knife he was using in a safe area away from the child and scooping the now diced assortment of fruit into two bowls. a smirk plays on your full lips as you cross your arms and lean up against the doorway of the kitchen before you speak.

“what are my favorite boys up to? it sounds like you’ve started the party without me.” you giggle when they simultaneously turn their heads in the direction of your voice. ashton taps nicholas’ leg and hold out his hands.

“uncle nic, can i bring ti-ti her snack?” he asks in the most polite manner.

nicholas nods, taking one bowl of fruit in his large hands and slowly squats to ashton’s level.

“of course, buddy! just remember to hold it with two hands and walk to ti-ti, okay?”

“mm-hmm!” his curls bounce as he nods before he does exactly what he’s told.you both beam as his little feet gingerly waddle from nicholas to you, two hands holding the bowl of fruit salad before he stops in front of you and beholds the snack for you to take.

“here you go, ti-ti. i picked the fruit you like and uncle nic cut it!” ashton cheerfully spoke, flashing his newly grown baby teeth.

your heart pounded in your chest before you squatted down to take the bowl. you ran your hand through his soft hair and kissed your nephew on his cheek.

“aw, thank you so much, bookie!” you playfully roll eyes hearing nicholas clear his throat in the background, signaling that he wants to hear praise from you as well.

“and you too, my love.” your brown eyes meet his briefly before your focus shifts back to your nephew.

“you did such a great job by listening and being careful. we’re so proud of you!”

you nod in approval and take a few bites of fruit. ashton bashfully giggles when he hears his uncle nicholas chime in with a whooping applause and jogs up to you both with another fruit bowl in his hand.

“alright, ash! you nailed it. bring it in, dude.” nicholas hypes up the smiling boy and brings his large fist down to ashton for his tiny one to bump against before he gives ashton the bowl for him to take. he’s already picking up an apple slice and biting into the fruit with glee.

“what do we say to uncle nic, bookie?” you question, peering at the eating toddler.

he swallows the food before answering,

“thank you!”

nicholas receives it with a small smile and gently runs his hand through ashton’s hair.

“you’re welcome, ash. whatever you need, you know that ti-ti and i will get it for you.”

you stand up from your crouching position.

“ashton, i gotta do your hair really quick, okay? remember when you had your hair in those braids and little ponytail? that’s what your mommy wants me to do, so you ready?”

ashton nods and pops a blueberry in his mouth.

“mm-hm. just don’t do it tight, ti-ti, it hurt.” his tone shifts to a tone of disdain and you can’t blame him. you remember back in the day when your sister used to braid your hair and you always complained that she did it too tight and she always would retort that you were “tender headed”. you didn’t want to keep up that argument any longer, so you just asked her to teach you the basics of styling your own hair. after some weekly braiding tutorials on a bratz doll head, you were straight.

“i swear, bookie. i’m not gonna braid it too tight. you’re gonna relax, watch tv, and eat while i do your hair. i pinky promise.” you held up your pinky finger and brought it to ashton’s small figure. you knew you gained his trust when he nodded and wrapped his pinky around yours, establishing your agreement. you peer up to nicholas who stood there watching the whole thing with a simpering smile.

“babe, you and ash get settled on the couch while i go and get the hair stuff, okay?” you request as you start making your way upstairs to your bathroom.

“you got it, beautiful!” he called out and didn’t let you leave before placing a quick peck to your lips to which ashton playfully gagged, causing nicholas to laugh and scoop up the boy in his arms.

“aw, don’t be like that, man! i gotta show ti-ti some love, too. come on, bud, tell me what want to watch and uncle nic will put it on for you. you like netflix? disney+?” the boys seat themselves comfortably on the sofa as they explore the many options on the tv with nicholas pressing the remote to find a show for his (already but future) nephew.

while you were gathering the products needed for ashton’s hair, the boys focus on the children’s television show that ashton selected for a few minutes. he even offers nicholas some pieces of his fruit bowl which he gratefully accepts. nicholas wasn’t hungry by any means, but who was he to deny a three year old with such good manners and an adorable, little face?

“uncle nic?” ashton’s voice broke the silence.

“what’s up, ashton?” nicholas’ brown eyes pulled from the tv to the toddler beside him.

“why do you always kiss ti-ti like that? is that nasty?” the boy tilts his head up to meet nicholas’ eyes and his brows furrow with curiosity. nicholas couldn’t help, but to chuckle before giving him an honest answer.

“i kiss her to show that i love her and i promise it’s not nasty, it’s pretty sweet actually. like candy.” nicholas was speaking straight from the heart as a small smile curved on his features, his cheeks tinted with the color of a rose as his mind went back to you. he noticed how ashton’s face turned from confusion to amazement.

“i like candy! so if i give ti-ti a kiss to show that i love her, i taste candy?”

nicholas admired the innocence of this boy. he knew that ashton had to be protected at all costs. he nods before responding,

“yeah, that’s exactly right, buddy! how about you give it a try when she comes back? you done with that?” nicholas points to the now empty bowl in ashton’s little hands. ashton looks down at the bowl and nods his head, giving nicholas his cue to take the bowl to the kitchen, wash it out, place it in the cabinet, and return to the living room. he walks in to see you return with a clear plastic box with what seemed to be a detangling comb, gel, hair ties, and an assortment of more hair products that you placed on the cushion. as nicholas returns to his seat, you take a fluffy pillow from the couch and place it down on the floor for ashton to sit on.

“ti-ti’s back, bookie! sit on the pillow, so i can do your hair.” you say, pointing at the pillow on the floor.

“wait i gotta do something first, ti-ti!” your nephew protests and moves closer to you.

“what is it, honey?” what you didn’t expect was for ashton to hug you tightly around your neck which you immediately hugged him back before he places a big whopping kiss on your cheek. he pulls back and smacks his lips as if he was trying to taste something.

“why are you doing your lips like that, ashton? is there something on my face?” you ask touching your face confused as all get out and then you hear nicholas snickering behind you. what has he put this boy up to?

“i’m trying to taste candy because uncle nic said that giving you kisses taste like candy! right, uncle nic?”

him and nicholas burst in laughter as you take the pillow from the floor and playfully whack your fiancé with it before laughing yourself, shaking your head as heat rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“you both are a mess! nicholas alexander chavez, i’ma get you later, but as for you, bookie—” you lunge to scoop the boy in your arms and your fingers move rapidly on his sides. the melodies of your nephew’s hysterical laughter fill the room for a few seconds and you cease your tickling. you all take a moment to catch your breath and you put the pillow back on the floor again before instructing ashton to sit down which he happily obliges to. you roll up your sleeves, grab the detangling cream and comb, and you start the process of getting out all of the knots at the ends. nicholas watches you attentively as you glide the coconut scented cream through your nephew’s scalp. you ask him to pass you the braiding gel out of the box as you section ashton’s hair for the desired style. nicholas hands you what you need and his eyes focus on how your fingers move like clockwork within ashton’s dark, coily tresses.

whenever ashton whined a bit in pain, you and nicholas reassured him that you were being as quick and gentle as possible. within the next thirty minutes, you were done! the braids looked so fresh and neat. you took out your phone and captured a picture of ashton’s side profile and sent it your sister. you gave ashton a hand held mirror for him to gaze upon his new look and the expression on his face made your heart swell.

“what do you think, bookie? you like it?” you ask, grinning and watching him walk around with his face still in the mirror before he stops to look at nicholas with expectant doe eyes.

“i like it! do you like it, uncle nic?”

with a prideful grin, your fiancé stood grand and tall, scooping ashton up in his arms and placing him on his hip.

“ash, i say this with all honesty. you look better than me.”

“really!?” ashton playfully gasped as he wrapped his arms around his uncle’s neck.

“really, really! you look so handsome, buddy. babe, would you take our picture, please?” he pulls out his phone from his pocket and hands it over to you. you don’t hesitate to nod and open the camera, waiting for your boys to get into a pose with cheesy smiles on their faces. you count to three and snap the picture before repeating the process several times and giving nicholas his phone back.

“don’t forget to send those to me, so s/n can get them.” you say, cleaning up the tiny mess you made and put the items back to where they belong before you come back to them. you all decide it would be great to get some fresh air at the park which was a two minute walk away from your place. after changing into some active wear and grabbing ashton’s backpack, you all exit your house and take the brief stroll to your destination. once you’ve entered to the playground area, nicholas volunteers to keep an eye on ashton while he plays and you watch from a distance while sitting on the bench. the park had some people there, but it wasn’t too much of a crowd. you take pictures and videos as you watch your fiancé and nephew bond. your heart skipped a beat when you see ashton go down a slide with nicholas ready to pick him up in his arms as soon as he came to the end or when nicholas guided ashton’s small hanging body across the monkey bars as his palms gripped each bar.

he’s so good with him. i wonder what would it be like if—

as if your mind was being read, you didn’t notice the older woman that sat beside you on the bench because you were hypnotized by the display of cuteness in front of you.

“is that your husband and son? if so, they are just adorable! i miss those days so much. you’re one lucky young lady.”

you were a bit bashful due to your daydreaming, but you got yourself together promptly and indulged in the conversation.

“aw, thank you! that’s actually my fiancé with my nephew, but with the way they are around each other, i don’t blame you for thinking that at all. it’s funny because i just thinking about, you know, starting a family. i’ve been with that man for five years and i never thought i’d love him even more when i see him bond with my family, especially the little ones.”

“that’s because that’s his family too, dear. he’s going to fit right in as soon as you both tie the knot.” you turn your face to hers, there was an aura of benevolence and wisdom that reminded you of your late grandmother and oh, how you missed her so. you nod in agreement before resuming the conversation,

“you’re so right. when you put it like that, my nephew has called him ‘uncle nic’ for a whole year before we got engaged. i guess that just solidified everything!” you both create small talk for a few more minutes before the kind woman bids you a goodbye to venture on the walking trail. it wasn’t long before ashton and nicholas approach you to announce they want to shoot some hoops at the park’s basketball court. you agree before giving ashton and nicholas a water bottle and you all take the short journey to an empty basketball court. the park provided the balls for the community, so nicholas took one for him and ashton to have a little one v. one on the court. you lean up against the wired fence, observing your nephew dribbling the basketball up and down while his little legs speed past your fiancé. nicholas picks him up to let him face the goal. with the aid of nicholas’ six foot stature, ashton was able to shoot and get the ball through the net.

“he shoots, he scores! it’s nothing but net and the crowd goes wild for the mvp, ashton.” nicholas places your triumphant nephew on his shoulders and gazes at your figure, you took that as your cue to cheer, chant, and clap for ashton as if you were in a packed stadium.

“GO, BOOKIE, GO! GO, BOOKIE, GO!” you run up to them both, placing a chaste kiss on nicholas’ lips and taking ashton in your arms to give him a shower of kisses on his sweaty face.

“did you see me, ti-ti, did you see me?!” he excitedly questioned.

“yeah, i did! you did great. if you keep practicing, your mommy might put you in a real basketball team one day when you’re bigger.”

speaking of showers, you tell the boys it’s time to wrap it up here at the park. you suggest that after a wash up, you’d get some food, and enjoy some disney movies until it was time for ashton to be picked up as his mother was going to come back in a few short hours. once, you gather your belongings, you walk carrying the backpack and nicholas, carrying an exhausted and hungry ashton on his back. once you make it back to your home, you and nicholas complete your tasks to finish the day out. you take ashton to your bathroom to give him a bath to save your sister that time while nicholas goes out to grab the food. after his bath, you change ashton in a fresh set of clothes before you take him to the living room to pick out a movie to watch. you sit in comfortable silence, clicking the remote and you hear a little voice call out from beside you.

“ti-ti?”

“yes, bookie?” you quickly select a movie from the despicable me series and turn to your inquisitive nephew.

“where’s uncle nic?”

“he went to get us something to eat, love.”

“is he coming back? i really like him and i feel a little sad when he’s not here. just like how i feel sad when i don’t see you.” you knew he was asking that because of the obvious absence of his father. it made you so happy that nicholas was an exemplary man ashton looked up to, but what broke your heart is that ashton realized when someone he loves is gone, he has an uncertainty of their return. no child younger than five should feel like that. let alone any child at all. you wrap an arm around his tiny body and place a kiss atop of his head.

“how much you wanna bet uncle nic is getting your favorite?”

the glint of gloom in ashton’s eyes switched moods and his head perked up.

“he got mcdonald’s!?”

you both turn your heads at the sound of the lock clicking and the door creaking open.

“mcdonald’s delivery!”

as if timing weren’t perfect enough, nicholas walked through the front door with a large mcdonald’s bag and a cup holder tray with three drinks. you leave the couch only to help him with the load by bringing the food and drinks onto the coffee table. ashton eyes gawked as he watched nicholas take out an assortment of burgers, fries, and nuggets before you all sit and indulge in the fast food. you hit play on the movie and watch the film as you eat. within an hour, you and ashton were cuddled up against nicholas’ shield of a chest, you both lovingly watched as your nephew dozed off to sleep, his soft snores accompanied with the audio of the movie that was still playing. it was interrupted by the sound of a car horn out front. you yawned and knew it was your sister.

“you want me to carry everything to the car while you talk to s/n, baby?” nicholas whispered, his soft yet intense brown gaze held your sleepy one.

he grinned at your response of a nod before you both gingerly move, careful not to wake up ashton as you both walked him to his mother’s awaiting car. he can get pretty cranky when his sleep is disturbed. nicholas opens the back door of the car and carefully places ashton in his booster seat. it didn’t take him long to figure out how to strap him in and he softly shuts the door. he circled around to the drivers side to wrap an arm around your waist as you talk to your sister.

“so how was he? it looked like ya’ll did a lot today, huh?” your sister inquired and glances to her knocked out son in the back seat and shifts her focus back to you guys.

“he was great! no trouble at all. i braided down his hair and after that we took him out to the park where he kicked nicholas’ tail in some hoops. he’s already had a bath and something to eat, so you don’t have to worry about that, sis.” you all chuckle, your lips graciously smile and you wrap your own arm around nicholas’ sculpted torso. he peers down at you with affection in his eyes at your touch. you don’t notice it, but your sister does, and she couldn’t be happier for you both.

“aww, well i appreciate you both so much for watching him! y/n, remember that talk we had about me returning the favor because you know i got you.”

she points and shoots you a wink. nicholas chuckles watching you cover your face with embarrassment. after the laughter and chatting dies down, your sister bids you and nicholas a goodbye before pulling off. with your hands joined together, you and nicholas walk back into your home. you both take time to tidy up the living room before retiring to your own bedroom. nicholas lays in the bed in nothing, but a chain and grey sweatpants with his hands behind his head. his brown eyes burn into your figure as you slip out of your previous clothes and change into a pair of his boxers and one of his oversized t-shirts. you’ve been with him for five years and you still feel bashful under his intense gaze. you dig in your drawer to find your black satin bonnet and you easily slip it on your head as you saunter to the bed and lay your body up against his, your arms wrapped around his neck and your head on his shoulders. his large arms find themselves to embrace you, one of his hands hold on to your thigh to bring your leg up across his waist.

you both lay there in comfortable silence to catch your breaths from such an exhilarating day. you break the silence with a whisper,

“you’re really good with ashton, you know. i just wanted you to know that.”

“i appreciate it, doll and he loves you so much. i love you so much.”

he softly declares, placing a peck to your forehead, cheek, and earlobe. he stops to peer into your eyes then your lips and into your eyes again, silently asking permission to go further. you smile with a nod before you reach up to guide your lips to his, he holds your waist to pull you right on top of him as you both continue to give each other’s lips the longing, passionate kisses you’ve both been waiting for all day. a hum vibrates in your chest when his teeth gently pull at your pouty bottom lip out for him to release it and bounce back to it’s original place. after a minute or two of indulging in each other, you both pull away to lay in your original position now with swollen lips and shallow breaths.

“i love you too by the way.” you place a peck on his bare chest where his heart is.

“babe, i got a question. why did you and s/n talk about returning a favor or something?”

the heat of embarrassment rose on your earth toned face, he was no dummy, so it was only fair he was going to catch on.

“what she meant was that one day she would like to do the babysitting—you know, for us, when we–” you paused. the volume of your voice diminished with each word.

“have kids?” nicholas finished the sentence. still avoiding his eyes, you give a small smile and nod confirming his answer.

“yeah.”

“hey, hey. look at me.” his pointer finger finds itself under your chin to lift your eyes to meet his sincere gaze.

“if you’re thinking in that beautiful brain of yours that one day i want to start a family with you, then you’re absolutely right. spending that time with you and ashton had me thinking that if we’re this good at being ti-ti and uncle nic, what would it be like if we were mom and dad?”

you couldn’t help, but to laugh with excitement while putting your hands in your face. he pulled you in so close and showered your face with kisses.

“nope! don’t hide that beautiful face away from me. the same face that i’ll see at that altar and the same face i’ll see on our future children!”

“okay, okay! i give!” you let out giggle and give him a chaste kiss before pulling from his grip.

“so you want a baby with me?” you ask just one more time to make sure you weren’t dreaming. he lays another kiss on you. this kiss was sincere, a confirmation. he pulled back and gazed into your eyes.

“i wouldn’t want anything more with anyone else. does that answer your question?”

you nod and pull the duvet over you both.

“so, should we start trying?” nicholas seductively inquires in your ear after he scoots up behind you, caressing the melanated skin of your thigh.

“nah.” you answered with a dry tone before shutting off the light and pulling the cover over your body. nicholas was gagged. you guess he forgot what you said earlier when he played that little “candy kisses” trick on your nephew.

“come on, baby. whatever i did please let me make it up to you by making you a mommy, hm?” he playfully whined with a pout.

“uh-uh. i told you i was gonna get you! you can make it up to me when you’re off punishment.”

“now, how long would that be?”

“goodnight, nicholas.” you ruffle his hair and chuckled at him sucking his teeth as you nuzzled deeper within the covers.

“y/n!”

[paxtito]

grey sweatpants

parings: tara x reader (g!p)

word count: 4048

warnings: smut 18+, swearing, reader has a dick, oral sex, fingering and p in v

summary: tara’s tiktok feed has been filled with people buying their partners grey sweatpants, it’s supposed to exaggerate certain… features. she drags you along to the shop to buy a pair and let’s just say, she definitely likes it

a/n: wrote this while listening to the car by arctic monkeys, i will not tolerate hate towards their newer stuff- apologies in advance for any mistakes

MASTERLIST

You’re barely two steps inside the store when Tara’s hand closes around your wrist, dragging you through the aisles with a surprising amount of strength for someone so small. Her eyes are lit up with that determined gleam that usually spells trouble—or something about to become very memorable. You’re not sure which it’ll be, but you follow, grinning.

“We’re not leaving until you’ve tried on at least five pairs,” she declares, her voice laced with mischievous excitement.

“Five?” you laugh, letting her pull you deeper into the clothing section. “Don’t you think that’s a little…excessive?”

“Nope,” she says, without even a second of hesitation. She looks back at you with a smirk. “You need options. And I need the perfect pair.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Perfect pair for what?”

She stops in front of a display of grey sweatpants, eyeing them like they’re some sort of rare, mythical artifact. Tara’s fingers brush over a pair of heather grey joggers, and she glances up at you with that mischievous glint you’ve come to know all too well.

“For…reasons,” she says cryptically, shooting you a playful wink that makes your cheeks warm.

“Oh, I see,” you tease, crossing your arms. “This has nothing to do with all those TikToks about guys in grey sweatpants?”

She shrugs, pretending to look innocent, but there’s no hiding the tiny grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “Well, maybe I’ve been…inspired.”

“Maybe?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. “Tara, you’ve been obsessed with those videos ever since we started dating.”

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Okay, fine, I have! But can you blame me? I mean, just imagine…” Her voice drops to a whisper, her gaze drifting downward suggestively.

You follow her line of sight, realizing with a jolt of heat under your skin exactly what she’s talking about. You can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head at her antics.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so excited about sweatpants before,” you say, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“That’s because these aren’t just any sweatpants,” she insists, her tone serious despite the blush creeping up her cheeks. “These are…strategic sweatpants.”

You blink, trying to hide your amusement. “Strategic?”

She nods vigorously. “Yeah! They’re supposed to be like…the perfect fit. Not too tight, not too loose. Just enough to, you know…highlight the goods.”

You can’t help but laugh at her bluntness, even as your heart flutters at the thought of her wanting to showcase your assets like that.

“And you think these ones will do the trick?” you ask, motioning towards the display.

Tara grins, already reaching for a pair in your size. “Oh, definitely. Trust me, Y/N, once you put these on…you’ll understand why I’m so excited.”

You watch as she practically skips towards the changing rooms, holding out the sweatpants for you to take. There’s a glint in her eyes that promises mischief and fun, and you can’t help but smile, following her lead.

Tara practically bounces on her toes as she waits for you outside the changing room, clutching the sweatpants to her chest like they’re a precious treasure. You can hear her humming to herself, a tune that sounds suspiciously like the jingle from one of those infamous TikTok videos.

Finally, you emerge from the changing room, feeling a bit self-conscious as you model the grey joggers for her. They fit snugly around your waist, tapering down to a comfortable width at the ankle. The material is soft against your skin, and you have to admit, they feel pretty good.

But it’s the reaction on Tara’s face that really catches your attention. Her eyes widen, her mouth falling open in a perfect ‘O’ of surprise. For a moment, she seems at a loss for words, which is a rarity for her.

Then, slowly, a grin spreads across her face, growing wider and wider until she’s practically beaming at you.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, stepping closer to get a better look. “Y/N, you look…wow.”

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks at her obvious approval. It’s not often that you’re the center of attention like this, and Tara’s undivided focus is both thrilling and a little intimidating.

“What’s so ‘wow’ about them? I’m starting to think you’re going mad.”

Tara giggles, shaking her head. "Trust me, you look amazing. I mean, seriously, how did I get so lucky?"

She reaches out, running her fingers along the waistband of the sweatpants. Her touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you suddenly find yourself acutely aware of just how close she is standing.

"It's like... they were made for you," she murmurs, her voice low and appreciative. "They just...highlight everything so perfectly.”

You feel your face flush even hotter at her words, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure coursing through you. Tara's gaze is fixed on you, her eyes dark with a hunger that makes your breath catch.

"I'm serious, Y/N," she says, her tone turning playful. "You could give those TikTok guys a run for their money. I might just have to keep you in these pants all the time."

She winks at you, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. You laugh, shaking your head at her antics, but there's no denying the way your heart races at the thought of her wanting to keep you close.

"Alright, alright," you say, holding up your hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, alright, I guess these sweatpants are a keeper then," you chuckle, giving in to Tara's persuasive charms. "Let's go pay for them so we can get out of here." You say, disappearing back into the changing rooms.

Once you return, Tara's face lights up with pure delight, and she practically skips towards the checkout counter, clutching the sweatpants to her chest like a prized possession. You follow behind her, amused by her enthusiasm and finding yourself caught up in her excitement.

As you wait in line, Tara can't seem to stop touching the fabric of the sweatpants, running her fingers along the waistband and smoothing out the legs. It's almost like she's memorizing every detail, committing it to memory for later.

"I can't believe we found them," she says, glancing up at you with a grin. "I mean, it's like fate or something, right? Like the universe knew exactly what I needed and put them right in our path."

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the smile tugging at your lips. "Sure, Tara. The universe is totally conspiring to make you happy."

"Hey, don't knock it," she says, nudging you playfully with her elbow. "Sometimes the universe just knows what's up."

As you finally reach the front of the line, Tara practically vibrates with anticipation, her eyes darting between you and the sweatpants like she's afraid they might disappear at any moment. When the cashier rings them up, Tara practically lunges for her wallet, eager to make the purchase official.

"There," she says triumphantly, clutching the bag with the sweatpants inside like a lifeline. "Now they're mine. All mine."

You can't help but laugh at her dramatic flair, but there's a part of you that's touched by her enthusiasm. It's not often that someone gets so excited about something so simple, but with Tara, everything feels special.

"Alright, let's get out of here," you say, looping your arm through hers. "I think you've had enough excitement for one day. Crazy girl.”

As you leave the store, Tara clutches the bag containing the sweatpants like a precious treasure. She can't stop grinning, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous light that makes your heart skip a beat.

"I can't wait to see you in these," she says, her voice low and sultry as you walk side by side. "I mean, seriously, Y/N, you're going to look so hot. I might not be able to control myself.”

You feel a blush creeping up your neck at her words, a mix of embarrassment and excitement coursing through you. “You just saw them on me, dumbass.”

Tara can't help but laugh at your comment, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "Yeah, but that was in the store. I want to see you in them in...private."

Her voice drops to a whisper on the last word, and you feel a shiver run down your spine at the implication. Tara's hand finds yours, her fingers intertwining with yours as you walk.

"Come on," she says, tugging you gently towards the car. "Let's go back to my place so you can model them for me properly."

You let her lead you, your heart racing with anticipation. The drive back to Tara's apartment is filled with playful banter and stolen glances, the tension between you growing with each passing minute.

When you finally arrive, Tara practically drags you inside, her eagerness palpable. She kicks off her shoes and tosses her keys on the table by the door, then turns to you with a grin.

"Alright, Y/N," she says, her voice teasing. "Show me what you've got."

You feel a surge of confidence wash over you as you slip into the bedroom, the sweatpants hugging your curves in all the right places. When you turn to face Tara, her eyes widen, and she lets out a low whistle of appreciation.

"Damn," she breathes, taking a step closer. "I was right. You look absolutely incredible in those."

Her hands come to rest on your hips, her thumbs rubbing small circles against the fabric. You can feel the heat of her body seeping through the thin material, and it takes everything in you not to shiver.

"I think I might have to keep you in these forever," Tara murmurs, leaning in close. "Just so I can look at you like this all the time."

You can feel Tara's eyes roaming over your body, taking in every curve and every contour. There's a hunger in her gaze that sends a thrill straight to your core, and you can't help but squirm a little under her scrutiny.

"You know," she says, her voice low and husky, "I think these sweats were made for you. Like, specifically designed to show off every inch of your body."

You feel your face flush at her words, a mix of embarrassment and excitement coursing through you. It's not often that someone looks at you like this, like they want to devour you whole.

Tara's hands slide up your sides, her fingers tracing the lines of your body through the fabric of the sweatpants. You can feel the heat of her touch even through the thin material, and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

"I mean, look at you," she continues, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You're fucking perfect, Y/N. Every single inch of you."

Her hands come to rest on your hips, her thumbs rubbing small circles against your skin. You can feel the pressure building inside you, a need that's growing stronger with each passing second.

"Tara," you breathe, your voice trembling slightly. "Please..."

She doesn't need any more encouragement. In one swift motion, she's pushing you back onto the bed, her body covering yours. Her lips find yours in a searing kiss, and you moan into her mouth, your hands fisting in her shirt.

Tara breaks the kiss, trailing her lips down your neck, her teeth grazing your skin. You arch into her touch, desperate for more.

"Fuck, Y/N," she groans, her hand sliding down your body, cupping you through the sweatpants. "You're so hard already. I love how much you want me."

You gasp as she strokes you through the fabric, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Your hips buck up into her hand, seeking more of that delicious contact.

Tara's hand slips under the waistband of your sweatpants, her fingers brushing against the hot, hard length of your cock. She groans at the feel of it, her hand wrapping around you and stroking slowly from base to tip.

"God, Y/N," she murmurs, her breath hot against your neck. "You're so fucking perfect. I can't get enough of you."

Her other hand works at the button of your sweatpants, tugging them down over your hips. You lift up to help her, eager to feel her skin against yours.

Once your pants are off, Tara takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, her eyes dark with desire. "You're so beautiful," she whispers, her hand stroking you again, slower this time. "I can't believe you're all mine."

She leans down, her tongue flicking out to taste the tip of your cock. You gasp at the sensation, your hips bucking up into her touch. Tara smiles against your skin, her lips wrapping around you and taking you deep into her mouth.

You moan, your hands fisting in the sheets beneath you. Tara's mouth is hot and wet, her tongue swirling around you in a way that makes your toes curl. She bobs her head, taking you deeper with each pass, her hand stroking what she can't fit in her mouth.

Tara looks up at you with a question in her eyes as you gently push her away. She releases your throbbing length with a soft pop, her lips glistening with your precum.

"Y/N?" she asks, her voice a mixture of confusion and concern. "Is everything okay?"

You swallow hard, trying to gather your thoughts. The sight of her kneeling between your legs, her hand still wrapped around your shaft, is almost too much to bear. But you force yourself to focus, determined to give her the pleasure she deserves.

"Everything's perfect," you murmur, reaching out to cup her cheek. "But I want to focus on you for a bit. I want to make you feel good."

Understanding dawns in Tara's eyes, and a slow, sultry smile spreads across her face. "Oh, is that so?" she purrs, leaning into your touch. "Well, far be it from me to deny you."

She shifts back on her knees, allowing you to sit up. Your cock twitches at the change in position, bobbing heavily between your legs. Tara's gaze is drawn to it, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

"Fuck, you're so hot," she breathes, her hand reaching out to wrap around you once more. "I can't believe I get to have you like this."

You groan at her touch, your hips rocking forward into her grip. But you force yourself to pull back, needing to maintain control. You reach out, gently pushing Tara onto her back, your body hovering over hers.

"Shh, just relax," you murmur, your lips brushing against her ear. "Let me take care of you."

You start by kissing her deeply, your tongue delving into her mouth to taste her. Tara moans into the kiss, her hands coming up to tangle in your hair. You trail your lips down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Tara arches beneath you, her breasts pressing against your chest. You can feel her nipples hardening, even through the fabric of her shirt. Your hand slips beneath the hem, your fingers skimming over the soft skin of her stomach.

Tara gasps as your hand slides higher, your fingers brushing against the underside of her breasts. You can feel the heat of her skin even through the fabric of her bra, and it makes your mouth water with the desire to taste her.

"Y/N," she breathes, her voice thick with need. "Please, touch me."

You don't need any more encouragement. Your hand cups her breast, your thumb brushing over her nipple and making it harden even more. Tara arches into your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

"Fuck, that feels good," she gasps, her hips bucking up against you. "Don't stop."

You switch to her other breast, giving it the same treatment. Tara's hands fist in the sheets beneath her, her body trembling with pleasure. You can feel the heat building between your legs, your cock throbbing with the need to be inside her.

But you resist, determined to make this about her pleasure. Your hand slides down her body, over her stomach and down to the waistband of her sweats. You hook your fingers under the fabric, tugging it down slowly.

Tara lifts her hips to help you, and soon she's lying before you, completely bare. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of her, her skin glowing in the soft light of the room.

"You're so beautiful," you murmur, your hand sliding back up her thigh. "I can't believe I get to touch you like this."

Tara's cheeks flush at your words, a shy smile spreading across her face. "I'm glad it's you," she whispers. "I trust you, Y/N. I know you'll make me feel good."

Your fingers brush against her core, and she gasps, her hips bucking up into your touch. You circle her clit with your finger, feeling it grow harder under your touch.

"Oh fuck," Tara moans, her head falling back against the pillow. "That feels amazing."

You continue to tease her, your fingers dipping lower to brush against her entrance. She's wet and ready for you, and the knowledge makes your cock throb with need.

Tara's hips buck up against your hand, her body begging for more. You can feel her wetness coating your fingers, and it takes every ounce of willpower you have not to plunge them inside her.

Instead, you focus on her clit, circling it with your thumb while your fingers tease her entrance. Tara's moans fill the room, her hands fisting in the sheets beneath her as she arches into your touch.

"Please, Y/N," she gasps, her voice strained with need. "I need more. I need you inside me."

You can't resist her pleas any longer. Sliding two fingers inside her, you groan at the feel of her tight heat surrounding you. Tara cries out, her walls clenching around your digits as you pump them in and out.

"Fuck, you're so tight," you murmur, your thumb continuing to work her clit. "I love how you feel around my fingers."

Tara's hips move in time with your thrusts, her body taking you deeper with each pass. You can feel her getting closer, her breathing growing more ragged with each passing second.

"Y/N," she moans, her head thrashing on the pillow. "I'm gonna... fuck, I'm gonna come."

You redouble your efforts, your fingers moving faster, harder. Tara's body tenses beneath you, her walls fluttering around your fingers as she teeters on the edge.

"Come for me, baby," you encourage her, your voice rough with need. "Let go. I've got you."

With a cry that's almost primal, Tara comes undone. Her body bows off the bed, her back arching as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her. You continue to stroke her through it, prolonging her orgasm until she's a boneless heap beneath you.

As she comes down from her high, Tara looks up at you with hazy, satisfied eyes. "Holy shit," she breathes, a lazy smile spreading across her face. "That was incredible."

You grin down at her, feeling a sense of pride at having brought her such pleasure. But you’re still throbbing with need, and it won’t be go anywhere any time soon.

As the haze of post-orgasmic bliss starts to fade, Tara's gaze drifts down to your still-throbbing erection. Her eyes widen slightly, a mix of hunger and concern flickering across her face.

"Y/N," she murmurs, her hand reaching out to wrap around your shaft. "You're still so hard. Do you... do you want me to take care of that for you?"

You groan at her touch, your hips bucking up into her grip. The feel of her soft hand wrapped around your sensitive flesh is almost too much to bear. But you force yourself to take a deep breath, knowing that there's something important you need to address first.

"Wait," you say, gently removing her hand from your cock. "Before we go any further, we need to talk about protection."

Tara blinks up at you, a little confused. "Protection? What do you mean?"

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. This isn't exactly the sexiest topic, but it's a necessary one. "I mean condoms, Tara. We can't just jump into having sex without them. It's not safe."

A flicker of understanding crosses her face, followed by a sheepish grin. "Oh, right. Of course. I wasn't thinking straight."

You smile at her, relieved that she's on the same page. "It's okay. It's easy to get caught up in the moment. But we need to make sure we're being responsible.

Tara nods, her hand reaching for the nightstand drawer. She rummages around for a moment before pulling out a foil packet. "Looks like I'm prepared after all," she says with a wink.

You take the condom from her, tearing it open with your teeth. Tara watches as you roll it down over your shaft, her eyes darkening with desire at the sight.

"Fuck, that's hot," she murmurs, her hand wrapping around you once more. "Seeing you take charge like that."

You grin at her, giving her hand a squeeze. "I'm glad you approve. Now, where were we?"

Tara's eyes sparkle with mischief as she pulls you towards her, guiding you to lie on top of her once more. "I think we were right about here," she purrs, her legs parting invitingly.

The heat of her core radiates against your protected length, making you shiver with anticipation. You line yourself up with her entrance, teasing her with the tip of your cock.

"Are you ready for me?" you murmur, your breath hot against her neck.

Tara nods, her hips lifting in a silent plea. "I've never been more ready for anything in my life," she breathes, her nails digging into your shoulders.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, you push forward, feeling her tight heat envelop you. Tara gasps at the intrusion, her walls stretching to accommodate your size.

"Oh fuck," she moans, her head falling back against the pillow. "You're so big, Y/N. It feels amazing."

You groan at her words, the sensation of her tightness driving you wild. You start to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, setting a steady rhythm.

Tara meets your movements, her hips rising to greet each thrust. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, punctuated by your shared moans of pleasure.

"Harder," Tara gasps, her nails raking down your back. "Fuck me harder, Y/N."

You oblige, increasing the speed and force of your thrusts. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful drive of your hips.

Tara's legs wrap around your waist, her ankles locking at the small of your back. The new angle allows you to go even deeper, and you feel her tightening around you, signaling her impending release.

"Y/N," she cries out, her voice strained with pleasure. "I'm gonna come again. Don't stop, please don't stop."

You redouble your efforts, pounding into her with abandon. The feeling of her walls fluttering around you is almost too much to bear, and you can feel your own release building.

Tara cries out, her body arching off the bed as another orgasm rips through her. Her walls clamp down around you, milking your cock for all it's worth. The sensation is too much to bear, and with a final, guttural groan, you come undone.

Your hips stutter as you empty yourself inside the condom, your body shaking with the force of your release. Tara holds you close, her fingers threading through your hair as she whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

As you both come down from your highs, you collapse onto the bed, your bodies tangled together in a sweaty heap. Tara nuzzles into your neck, placing soft kisses along your jawline.

"That was incredible," she murmurs, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I've never felt anything like that before."

You grin at her, pulling her closer. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," you say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Because we're definitely doing that again.

Tara laughs, the sound bright and carefree. "I wouldn't have it any other way," she says, her fingers tracing patterns on your chest.

[estellan0vella]

Strawberries And Heaven: H.JS Han Jisung x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 9.8K

CW: Simp Jisung (he's down bad), wingman Minho, wingman SKZ, Minho being a menace (standard), mention of masturbation General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The corridor smells faintly of disinfectant and coffee, a mix of sterile campus life and caffeine dependency that permeates Miroh College. It's Thursday afternoon, and that means two things: Jisung has Criminal Psychology at 3:00 p.m., and he's about to see you. The one girl who somehow, against all odds, has managed to drag him to this godforsaken lecture hall every week without fail.

Jisung shifts the strap of his backpack, pulling his black beanie down a bit further as he turns to his left and sees Minho, his best friend and self-proclaimed emotional support stalker, walking along beside him. Minho glances at him, rolling his eyes as they weave through the crowd of students lingering in the halls.

"Are you sure you have to come?" Jisung mutters, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. "It's one class. I don't need babysitting."

Minho snorts, adjusting his own baggy jeans that hang over his black boots. "Are you kidding? I have to see this so-called 'angel' who's got you dragging your ass to a lecture you'd usually skip. You've actually gone soft, dude."

Jisung rolls his eyes, tugging his beanie lower to hide the faint blush that creeps up his neck. "Soft? Fuck you, man. You don't understand. I can't just talk to her."

"Oh, right. You're so experienced with, what was it, every other girl on campus, but when it's this one? You're hopeless. Just go up and introduce yourself. You're good at that. Aren't you the guy who once convinced a chick to lend you her psychology notes with a wink and a compliment?"

"Just tell me you want me to die of embarrassment," Jisung says flatly. "Look, it's different. She smells like strawberries and—" He waves his hand vaguely, struggling to find the right words. "I dunno, heaven?"

Minho stops dead in his tracks, eyebrows raised. "Strawberries and heaven? Jesus Christ, Jisung. You're in deep, aren't you?"

"Shut up," Jisung grumbles, leading them into the lecture hall and gesturing to the seats at the back. "Just keep it quiet, yeah? She's probably already here."

Minho follows, his grin almost wicked as he surveys the room from their vantage point in the back row. "I bet she's not here yet. Relax. You look like you're gonna puke."

"Thanks, man. Real encouraging," Jisung mutters, slumping down in his seat and folding his arms over his chest. His leg bounces slightly as he waits, eyeing the clock that ticks towards 3:00.

The door to the lecture hall creaks open, and just like that, you walk in, casually strolling to her usual seat two rows ahead.

Jisung freezes, his gaze locked on her as you move, the clinking sound of your silver rings faintly audible you brush a strand of hair back. You are wearing faded, low-rise mom jeans that fit you perfectly, a white camisole with lace hems, and a shell-shaped clip holding your hair up in a messy twist. And those hoop earrings, the big silver ones that seem to catch the light just right, make your whole look glow.

Minho follows Jisung's stare and lets out a low whistle. "Damn. So, this is her, huh? I'll give it to you. She's hot. Definitely too hot for you."

Jisung's elbow shoots out instinctively, landing in Minho's thigh with a satisfying thud.

"Ow, fuck! Jesus," Minho bites back a groan, clutching his leg as he glares at Jisung. "What the fuck, man?"

"Keep it down, jackass," Jisung mutters under his breath, trying not to draw attention. "You weren't even supposed to be here, remember? You're a vet major, go learn about cats or something."

Minho's laughter is barely muffled as he holds his leg. "Nah, you're not getting rid of me that easy. I need to see you crash and burn, maybe. Or, if you manage to pull this off, I get to witness a miracle."

"Don't you have a dog to neuter?" Jisung hisses, but Minho just grins and leans back, crossing his arms.

The professor begins setting up, shuffling through notes and connecting the laptop to the projector, while you settle in your seat. Jisung can barely breathe as your scent drifts back towards him. Strawberries. Damn it. Every time, it's like he's being hypnotized.

"See?" Jisung whispers, nudging Minho. "Strawberries and heaven. I swear."

Minho just smirks, leaning closer to Jisung. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. You're totally whipped. She hasn't even looked your way once, has she?"

Jisung slumps, his gaze locked onto the back of your head. The seashell clip is pearly and white, almost glowing against your hair. His leg starts bouncing again.

Minho shakes his head. "Dude, seriously, just say something. You're acting like she's a unicorn or some shit. She's just a girl."

"She's not just a girl," Jisung snaps quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You wouldn't get it, okay? Look at her. She's different."

"Different how?" Minho raises an eyebrow, still whispering. "She dresses like she's straight out of a 90s rom-com."

"Exactly!" Jisung says, eyes lighting up. "She's, like, a 90s dream. She's cool. And she's smart and beautiful. She's my 90s dream girl"

As if on cue, you shift slightly in your seat, glancing down at your notebook, fingers tracing over the page absently as you twist one of your rings.

"Look at her, man," Jisung breathes, sounding almost dazed. "She's right there."

Minho watches him, clearly unimpressed. "You're fucked."

"Thanks, Minho," Jisung mutters sarcastically, but he can't keep the nervous excitement out of his voice. "Look, can you just chill? I'm this close to getting her attention."

"By doing what, exactly?" Minho scoffs. "Staring at the back of her head and hoping she telepathically realizes you're in love with her?"

"Dude, shut up!" Jisung hisses, but his cheeks flush, and he slinks down in his seat, trying to keep a low profile. He watches as you tap your pen absently against your notebook, seemingly unaware of the small, stifled chaos unfolding behind you.

"Right," Minho mutters, trying to keep a straight face. "When you're done writing sonnets about her scent and staring at her hair clip, let me know if you plan on actually talking to her."

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up," Jisung grumbles, but his eyes flick back to you, lingering.

Minho glances at Jisung, a mischievous glint in his eye, and without warning, snatches Jisung's pencil case from the desk, stuffing it into his own bag before Jisung can react.

"Dude, what the—" Jisung starts, reaching to grab it back, but Minho holds up a finger, silencing him.

"Trust me, you'll thank me later," Minho whispers, leaning forward until he's right behind you.

With a quick tap on your shoulder, he flashes you his most charming smile as you turn around, your expression polite albeit a little surprised.

"Hi," Minho says smoothly, "Sorry to bother you, but my dumbass friend here totally forgot his pens and stuff. You wouldn't happen to have a couple to lend us, would you?"

You blink at Minho, then at Jisung, who's sitting with a wide-eyed, slightly mortified look, glaring daggers at his so-called friend.

But you're unfazed, a warm smile spreading across your face as you nod. "Oh, yeah, sure! Here." You dig into your bag and pull out two pens, holding them out to Minho with a little laugh. "Good thing I always over-pack."

Minho takes the pens with a wink. "Now, aren't you just the sweetest?" He flashes another grin. "I'm Minho, by the way. And you are?"

"Y/N," you say, a soft smile playing on your lips. You turn back in your seat but hesitate, glancing back at Minho with a curious look. "I don't think I've seen you in here before."

Minho leans back, adopting an air of nonchalance. "That's 'cause I'm just auditing today. Thought I'd check out what my good buddy here's been raving about." He gestures towards Jisung, who's trying to look anywhere but at you. "I'm minoring in animal behaviour, and apparently, you're discussing the nature versus nurture argument today? I figured I'd see how you forensic folks tackle it compared to my animal kingdom friends."

You nod, genuinely interested. "Yeah, today's lecture is about the developmental aspects of criminal psychology. It's fascinating, really. Some parts overlap with animal behaviour when you consider instinctual behaviours. It's cool to see how psychology adapts across disciplines."

"Right?" Minho nods enthusiastically, playing it up. "But my good buddy here," he places a firm hand on Jisung's shoulder, and Jisung finally meets your eyes, looking equal parts shy and frustrated. "This is Jisung. The one who seems to have forgotten basic lecture etiquette and all his own pens."

You turn to Jisung, your smile soft. "I know. We've had this class together since the start of the semester."

Jisung's eyes widen. "You know?"

You nod, pointing subtly at the front of his notebook, where his name is scrawled in black ink. "Yeah, your name's on your notebook. Hard to miss, honestly."

Jisung's cheeks redden, and Minho has to press his lips together to keep from laughing at his friend's reaction. He shoots Jisung a sidelong glance, a smirk dancing on his face.

Turning back around, you give a small smile, "Anyway, enjoy the lecture, guys."

As soon as you're facing forward, Minho leans in close to Jisung, whispering, "She's acknowledged your existence, man. You're welcome."

Jisung clenches his fists, shooting a fierce glare at Minho before delivering a swift punch to his thigh, harder than before.

"Fuck!" Minho barely contains his yelp, face contorting in pain as he clutches his leg. "Dude, what the fuck?"

"Keep your voice down," Jisung mutters, his face still flushed. "And don't ever pull something like that again, you asshole."

Minho smirks through the pain, rubbing his leg. "Oh, come on. You should be thanking me. You didn't exactly look like you had the guts to make a move yourself."

"I don't need you meddling, okay?" Jisung hisses. He glances at you again, a bit more emboldened now, seeing you jotting notes, completely absorbed in the lecture. He feels a weird thrill knowing that you know who he is. That you remember his name. She knows my name, he repeats in his head, almost in disbelief.

"Sure, you don't need me," Minho mutters under his breath, chuckling. "That's why you've been stalking her with your eyes for the past few months like some lovesick puppy. Face it, dude, you're completely whipped."

"Shut up before I give you another dead leg," Jisung warns, his gaze shifting nervously as you turn your head ever so slightly to stretch, your face calm and focused. He's both relieved and mildly disappointed you didn't catch him staring.

Minho just leans back, folding his arms smugly as the professor starts the lecture, his voice booming through the hall. Jisung tries his best to pay attention, but his eyes keep flicking back to you, noting the small details. How you twirl the pen absentmindedly between your fingers, how your silver rings catch the light, how you bite the inside of your cheek when you're deep in thought.

He's completely lost in his thoughts, only halfway aware of Minho smirking beside him, until the professor's voice jolts him back to reality.

"Mr. Han," the professor calls, eyebrow raised, and Jisung snaps to attention, his heart hammering. "Care to share your thoughts on the influence of early attachment theory in criminal psychology?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, of course." He clears his throat, scrambling for words while he can practically feel Minho's eyes burning into the side of his face. "Well, uh, early attachment theory basically suggests that the bonds formed in childhood can affect...um, behaviour patterns later in life. So, if there's a, uh, lack of healthy attachment early on, it can potentially influence-"

"Very insightful, Mr. Han," the professor interrupts, looking somewhat surprised. "It's encouraging to see you're paying attention."

Jisung sinks down in his seat, feeling Minho's barely restrained laughter beside him.

Minho leans over, whispering, "Congrats, you managed to bullshit your way through that without sounding like a total idiot."

"Thanks for nothing," Jisung mutters, hoping he can make it through the rest of the lecture without any more mortifying incidents. But then he catches you glancing over your shoulder, a hint of a smile on your lips, and he has to look away quickly to hide the stupid grin spreading across his face.

Minho nudges him, not missing a thing. "See? She's looking at you, dude. Progress."

That night in Jisung's room at the Alpha Phi frat house is filled with the flashing lights of Mario Kart on the TV and the sounds of brutal competition. Jisung's focused, leaning forward, button-mashing like his life depends on it, but Minho? Minho's lounging back, one hand on his controller, barely trying.

Jisung's character hits a banana peel, spinning out on the screen. "Oh, for fuck's sake! This stupid fucking game!"

Minho laughs, glancing over with a smirk. "You're terrible at this, dude."

"Shut up. You distracted me!" Jisung grumbles, tossing the controller on the bed beside him. "You're one of those lucky players. No skill, all luck."

"Uh-huh," Minho says, scooting to the edge of the bed and looking over at Jisung. "But I think we've got more important shit to talk about."

"Do we?" Jisung eyes him suspiciously. "'Cause I'd rather just forget the disaster that was today's lecture and how you spoke to her more than I did."

"Yeah, no, we're not forgetting it. Actually," Minho says, setting his controller down, "we're making a plan. You need an action plan, and I'm gonna help you."

Jisung raises an eyebrow, almost laughing at the audacity. "You're going to help me?"

Minho grins, sitting up and nodding, deadly serious. "Yep. What kind of best friend would I be if I let my friend sit around pining like some tragic little Shakespeare character? You, my friend, need a strategy."

"Strategy," Jisung repeats the word as though it's foreign like Minho just told him to build a rocket to the moon. "You realize that I have no idea what I'm doing here, right?"

"Exactly! You are amazing with women for casual hook ups but genuine feelings? You are useless. That's why you have me," Minho says, crossing his arms. "I've got a plan."

"Oh, you have a plan?" Jisung sits up, eyebrows raised. "You're really taking this seriously, aren't you?"

Minho scoffs. "If by seriously, you mean I'm not gonna let my friend completely fuck it up, then yes."

"Right," Jisung mutters, rolling his eyes. "And what is this master plan, Minho?"

"Oh, no, no," Minho says with a smirk, wagging a finger. "I'm not telling you what it is just yet."

Jisung sighs, flopping back on his bed. "Great. So I'm supposed to just sit here and trust you?"

"Absolutely," Minho says, smug. "But don't worry. I'm not a complete asshole. I want my confident, borderline cocky best friend back. You're like this-" He gestures vaguely at Jisung like he's pointing at some hopeless little creature. "Weird, hopeless romantic now."

Jisung grabs a pillow and flings it at Minho, who dodges with a laugh. "It's not my fault, okay? You saw her. She's- She's unreal."

Minho raises his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. And hey, I'm all for it if it means getting you out of this sad sack of shit phase. If I have to help you woo a girl who dresses like she's in the Spice Girls, then that's what I have to do."

Jisung pauses, frowning. "Spice Girls? Nah, she's more of a Sugababe"

Minho rolls his eyes, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Do you want my help or not?"

"Yes, I do," Jisung says, almost begrudgingly. "I need it, obviously."

"Then she's a Spice Girl," Minho declares with finality, earning a reluctant laugh from Jisung.

"Fine, Spice Girl," Jisung mutters, rolling his eyes. "But seriously, you better not fuck this up for me. I'm trusting you, which feels like a massive mistake."

"Hey," Minho says, raising a finger, his tone mockingly offended, "when have I ever let you down?"

Jisung snorts. "Need I remind you of the infamous barbecue incident?"

Minho waves his hand dismissively. "That was different. And technically, you were the one who set the grill on fire."

"You handed me lighter fluid, you idiot!" Jisung argues, laughing despite himself.

"Okay, but that was in the past," Minho says, grinning. "This is the present, my dude. And I'm telling you, I've got this. We're going to break you out of your sad little funk, and you're gonna have that confident Han Jisung swagger back in no time."

Jisung flops back against the bed, sighing deeply. "You think it's really that easy?"

"Trust me," Minho says, his smirk turning into something more genuine. "It's easier than you think. Plus, it's you. You're funny as hell, weirdly charming, objectively hot, and at least on the same planet as her intellectually. She's got no chance."

Jisung rolls his eyes, but he's grinning now. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm basically irresistible."

"Exactly," Minho says with a satisfied nod. "But seriously, dude. I'm not letting you mess this up. It's gonna be fine."

Jisung's grin fades just a bit, a hint of nerves creeping back in. "I just- I don't know, man. I've never felt this way about anyone before. She's just different."

"Of course, she is," Minho says, his tone a little softer. "And that's why you're gonna let me help you. Tomorrow's a new day, Jisung. In no time, we'll get you in front of her without you sounding like a total fucking loser. And trust me, you're gonna thank me."

Jisung rolls his eyes but feels a sense of relief he hasn't felt since this whole crush started. "Yeah, yeah. Just remember, no fuck ups, Minho. I'm trusting you with this."

Minho grins, reaching for the controllers. "Just leave it to me. Now, shut up and get ready to lose again."

It's one of those brisk fall days on campus where the chill in the air contrasts with the bright sun, casting golden light on the trees scattered across Miroh College. You're strolling across the courtyard, books clutched to your chest, barely paying attention to the buzz of students around you.

"Y/N!" someone calls out.

You turn, mildly surprised, to see Minho weaving through the crowd, jogging to catch up. He's got a cocky half-smile plastered on his face, and he's holding something in his hand. As he comes to a stop in front of you, slightly out of breath but still looking annoyingly composed, he holds out his hand, revealing the pen you lent him in class the other week.

"Here," he says, grinning as he offers it back to you. "Didn't think I was actually gonna keep it, did you?"

You laugh, tucking the pen into your trouser pocket. "Honestly? I kind of figured you'd forgotten about it. But thanks." You give him a curious look, noting the way he's standing there as if he has more to say.

He clears his throat, a little too casually. "So, are you free right now?"

"Yeah, I don't have another class for a bit," you say, shifting your books in your arms. "Why?"

Minho shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels like he's considering something. "Wanna grab a coffee at the cafe? I could use some advice about a girl, and you seem like the kind of person who knows what to say and gives good advice."

You raise an eyebrow, surprised. "Me? Giving relationship advice?"

"Yeah, I know," Minho laughs, "but trust me, you're more qualified than anyone else I know. Plus, I'm a little desperate and a female perspective will be really helpful. Power of the female gaze and all that"

You can't help but laugh. "Alright, alright. I'm in. Let's go."

The campus cafe is buzzing with the usual lunchtime crowd, and you slip into a booth by the window, tucking your books beside you. As you settle in, Minho sets his bag down, glancing toward the counter. "I'll get our drinks," he says, grinning before heading up to order.

You're only half-watching him until you notice the guy working behind the counter. Jisung, from your Criminal Psychology class. He spots you almost instantly, and his eyes go comically wide, like he's just seen a ghost, or worse. 

Minho sees Jisung's reaction immediately and, with a grin, flashes him a big thumbs up, clearly enjoying the situation. Jisung's expression shifts to something closer to horror, his gaze flicking from Minho to you, then back again as Minho approaches the counter.

"Relax, dude," Minho mutters when he reaches Jisung. "An iced americano for me and a caramel latte for the lady."

Jisung crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at Minho. "I swear, if this is some elaborate plan to fuck with me, I am going to spit in your coffee. Like big time spit, obnoxious amounts that shouldn't be humanly possible"

Minho smirks, leaning on the counter like he's sharing some big secret. "Ooh, I like a little danger. But seriously, I am wingmanning you right now, so maybe hold the bodily fluids?"

Jisung rolls his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but the relief on his face is evident. "Fine. But what's your big plan? Don't tell me you're just-"

"Listen, man," Minho interrupts, lowering his voice and casting a quick glance back at you, who's busy scrolling on your phone. "I'm gonna ask her for advice. Tell her I like this girl in my vet class and don't know how to talk to her, and the girl barely knows my name."

Jisung frowns, processing that. "But that's exactly- Oh, I get it now!" he says, realization dawning on him. "You're trying to figure out what I should do, aren't you?"

Minho gives him a look, exasperated. "Obviously. You think I'd drag her here just for the hell of it? Now, chill. Act natural and I will get your answers"

Jisung lets out a small, relieved sigh, finally grinning. "I'm not gonna lie, this is actually kinda genius."

Minho leans in closer, tapping the counter with a smug smile. "I know. I'm the best friend you could ever wish for. A blessing, really. You wouldn't live without me, well you'd live in the sad little turtle shell you duck into each time you see her"

Jisung smirks, grabbing the drinks and sliding them onto the counter. "Yeah, yeah. I still might spit in your drink."

Minho winks, grabbing the coffees with a smirk. "Do your worst."

He heads back over to the booth, setting your caramel latte in front of you as he slides into the seat across from you, his iced americano in hand. You offer a small, grateful smile as you stir your latte.

"So," you say, taking a sip. "What's going on with this girl?"

Minho sighs dramatically, leaning back and shaking his head like he's in over his head. "Alright, so there's this girl in my vet class. She's cute, no stunning, way too smart, and honestly, I feel like I barely exist to her."

You smile, nodding. "So, like, what's the problem? You're outgoing, funny, objectively good looking with the whole red hair, football frat thing. can't you just introduce yourself?"

"See, I thought of that," Minho says, playing up the thoughtful expression. "But she's, like, different, you know? Not the type who falls for my usual charm."

You laugh. "Oh, really? And what makes her different?"

"She's actually serious about her studies. And she's, like gentle and kind?" Minho looks at you, brows raised as if for confirmation. "Kinda like you. I feel like I'd come off like an idiot trying to get her attention."

You sip your coffee thoughtfully, thinking it over. "I think maybe just be yourself, then? Like, you don't have to be all charming or witty. Sometimes people respond better to honesty."

Minho nods, his expression almost sincere as he takes in your words. "That's actually good advice. So, just like come out with it? Just be like, 'Hey, I'm Minho, and I think you're cute'?"

You smile, shrugging. "Why not? I mean, sure, it's direct, but if she doesn't know you that well, she might appreciate that. People can usually tell when someone's being genuine."

Minho glances at the counter where Jisung's watching like a hawk, pretending to be busy cleaning the espresso machine. Minho subtly raises his eyebrows at him, as if to say, See? This is gold.

Jisung gives him a tiny nod, barely hiding his smile. From his station behind the counter, he watches as you talk, clearly engaged, your whole demeanour warm and relaxed. He doesn't know how Minho pulled this off, but for the first time in weeks, he feels like he might actually have a chance.

Meanwhile, Minho leans in closer, lowering his voice. "Okay, but what if she thinks I'm too much of a goof? Like, if she sees me as some obnoxious frat guy?"

You wave off his concern. "I don't know her, but if she's smart, she'll see past that. Besides, being a little goofy isn't the worst thing. Just don't go overboard, you know?"

Minho nods thoughtfully, leaning back as if he's deep in contemplation. "Yeah, yeah, keep it cool. Show her I'm not just some frat asshole."

You laugh, taking another sip. "Exactly. Just be Minho, not whatever character you're usually playing."

Minho raises his iced americano in a mock toast. "To being myself," he says with a grin. You laugh, clinking your coffee cup with his, and he makes a mental note to remember every word you just said so he can relay it to Jisung later.

The last slide of the lecture fades from the projector, and the usual rustling of notebooks and bags fills the room as everyone begins packing up. You're sliding your textbook and notes into your tote bag, ready to head out, when you feel a light tap on your shoulder. You turn, surprised, and there he is. 

Jisung wearing an easy smile and an outfit that's surprisingly layered, intentional and kind of hot: black trousers, combat boots, a long-sleeve blue t-shirt beneath a grey graphic tee, and a cream-coloured cap, chains around his neck catching the light.

For a second, you're caught off guard; usually, you only ever catch a glimpse of him as he slips into a seat at the back just as the lecture's starting, often a little flustered. But today, he's right here, all grins and casual confidence.

"Hey," he says, his voice warm as he shoves his hands into his pockets. "So, that lecture was something, right?"

You nod, smiling back. "Yeah, Professor Kim really went in on the whole behavioural implications of early attachment theory thing. Like, there was no mercy."

Jisung lets out a small laugh. "Seriously, I thought he was going to lose it when that one guy asked if criminal behaviour could be 'genetically contagious.' Like, holy shit, man, read the room."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Oh my god, right? I was ready to crawl under the desk."

"Same," Jisung chuckles, relaxing a bit. He remembers Minho's words from earlier in the week: Just be yourself. And he tries to keep that in mind, despite the slight nervousness bubbling under the surface.

"So, you're, uh, you're always on top of the reading, huh?" he asks, trying to keep it light as he leans back casually against the desk beside yours. "I feel like you could practically teach this class."

You shrug, shoving your last notebook into your bag and giving him a friendly smile. "Yeah, maybe. I just find it interesting, you know? All the psychology behind why people do what they do. It's fascinating to think there are patterns to it, stuff you can study and predict."

"Totally," Jisung says, nodding as if he completely gets it, even though half the time he's barely keeping up. "I mean, it's kinda cool to think that there's a method to what seems like total chaos."

"Exactly!" you say, your eyes lighting up as you lean against the desk, looking at him with genuine interest. "It's like unlocking mysteries in people's minds. Or at least trying to, anyway."

Jisung grins, a little taken aback by how animated you are. He's seen you in class, obviously, but seeing you like this, so close, he feels like he's getting a rare glimpse of who you actually are. And, damn, it's even better than he'd expected.

"I never thought of it that way," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I usually just think, 'Okay, study this, survive, move on.' But it sounds way cooler when you put it like that. Makes me actually want to put an effort in to studying"

You laugh, looking down as you swing your bag over your shoulder. "You know, surviving is honestly a valid approach. Sometimes, I feel like I'm just trying to get through the day without having a mental breakdown."

Jisung chuckles, nodding. "Can't argue with that. But hey, you seem like you've got it all figured out."

You give him a playful look. "Trust me, it's all an act. Half the time, I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Same here," he says, feeling a rush of relief. "I thought I was the only one faking it."

You smile, shaking your head. "Nope. We're all just stumbling our way through. Story of student life I suppose"

Jisung's eyes linger on you for a second longer than he means to, and he suddenly remembers Minho's advice to keep things relaxed but confident. "Well, maybe if I can get some of that magic stumbling hiding confidence you've got, I might actually make it to the end of the semester without flunking out."

You raise an eyebrow, amused. "Oh yeah? I'll let you in on a secret, it's just caffeine and pretending I understand what's going on."

Jisung laughs, nodding in understanding. "Noted. I'll double up on the caffeine, then."

You grin, your gaze softening. "Good plan."

After a beat, you glance at the clock. "Anyway, I should probably get going. Got another class in, like, ten minutes, and I'm already halfway across campus from it."

"Right, yeah," Jisung says, moving back a step to let you pass. "Well, thanks for not minding me, uh, ambushing you like that."

"Not at all, it was nice talking to someone who actually listens in the lectures," you say, smiling warmly. "See you next week, Jisung."

You turn and head for the door, giving him a little wave before you slip out. Jisung watches you go, feeling an unexpected rush of adrenaline, and once you're gone, he lets out a long breath, barely containing the wide grin spreading across his face.

He can still hear Minho's voice in his head, saying, Just be yourself. And, for once, that had felt like it was enough.

Jisung practically kicks Minho's door open as he barrels into the room, eyes lit up with excitement. But his enthusiasm stumbles as he takes in the scene.

"Jisung, are you serious?!" Minho exclaims, glaring at him. "You just killed my mood! I was about to bust, man!"

Jisung rolls his eyes, unbothered, crossing his arms. "Yeah, whatever, sorry for ruining your little wank session, but, like terrible porn choice, by the way. Boring as hell."

Minho flips him off as he grabs his underwear, tugging them back up with an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, fine. So what the hell is so important that you've gotta bust down my door like you're the cops?"

Jisung's face breaks into a wide grin. "Dude. She spoke to me. We had an actual conversation! I spoke to her. Like, a real conversation."

Minho stares at him, caught between disbelief and amusement as he pulls his headphones off, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "No shit?" he says, still looking slightly dazed from Jisung's interruption.

"Yeah, no shit," Jisung says, almost bouncing in place.

Minho smirks, his eyes narrowing as he looks Jisung up and down. "Wait, is that why you put actual effort into your outfit today? And the hair, too? By 'styled,' of course, I mean just putting a cap on that mop."

Jisung grins, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, yeah, maybe I tried a little. But, dude, it worked!"

Minho snickers. "So you finally did it, huh? Had a full conversation with her?"

Jisung nods enthusiastically. "Hell yeah, we did! We talked about the lecture, and, like, I don't know, she was so easy to talk to and she said it was nice talking to me, like she wasn't even weirded out that I started talking to her. It felt so normal?"

Minho raises an eyebrow. "Alright, so now what?"

Jisung blinks, his excitement faltering for a second. "What do you mean, now what? I don't know. Help me?"

Minho sighs, shaking his head as he stands up. "How are you so useless with this? Okay, genius idea, invite her to the next game."

Jisung's face lights up again. "Oh, shit. Yeah! I'll invite her to the game, get her there cheering us on..."

"Exactly, dumbass. I'll help you score a touchdown or two, and you'll look like a total beast. Win-win." Minho smirks, clearly pleased with his own idea.

"Dude, you're the best," Jisung says, grinning. "I'll totally owe you one for this."

Minho claps his hand on Jisung's shoulder, a smug grin on his face. Jisung instantly recoils, cringing. "Ew! That's your dick hand!"

Minho laughs, slapping him harder on the back for good measure. "Hey, that's what you get for ruining my nut, you absolute menace."

Jisung groans, wiping his shoulder with exaggerated disgust. "This is why people lock doors, Minho."

"Oh, like you've ever knocked once in your life," Minho retorts, rolling his eyes. "But wait. You got so far today, and you don't even have a way to reach her? A number? Instagram?"

Jisung's face falls, and he slumps onto Minho's bed with a defeated sigh. "Nope. I didn't even think of it until now."

Minho throws his hands up, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Useless. You're actually useless. This is going to take so much more work than I thought."

"Hey!" Jisung protests, but he's laughing now, leaning back on the bed with a sigh. "Alright, alright, I'll figure it out. You're right, though, I'll need her number. Any genius ideas?"

Minho shakes his head with a dramatic sigh. "Good thing you've got me. I'll brainstorm. But seriously, you better not screw this up."

"You'll help me if I do right?"

"After laughing in your face obviously,"

The sun's dipping low, casting a warm golden glow over the field as Chan has the football team running drills. Again. The guys are panting, practically dying under Chan's merciless watch, their bodies burning from the gruelling set of push-ups, burpees, and sprints he's making them do. Even Jisung, who usually manages to keep his energy up, is starting to feel like his limbs are made of lead.

But as he glances over toward the college track, he spots you jogging, a look of relaxed determination on your face as you breeze through each lap. It's ridiculous. You look like you're gliding effortlessly, not a bead of sweat in sight, while the team grunts and groans with exhaustion.

Minho notices Jisung's gaze drifting. He elbows him, nodding over toward you. "Isn't that your dream '90s girl over there?"

Jisung's attention snaps back, his face flushing as he realizes Minho and the rest of the guys nearby are watching him.

Chan and the others follow Minho's gaze, squinting across the track. You're in a pair of low-rise sweatpants that sit comfortably on your hips, paired with a cropped white camisole with a lace trim, and white sneakers.

Your hair's pinned up in that familiar seashell claw clip, a few strands falling loose around your face. It's the kind of look that would have looked right at home in an old music video, and it's like you walked out of a '90s dream.

"Damn, she doesn't look tired at all," Changbin mutters, still trying to catch his breath from Chan's never-ending drills.

"She's putting us all to shame," Jeongin says, half-laughing, half-wheezing. "How is she just breezing through those laps?"

Seungmin glances at Jisung with a smirk. "Wait, don't tell me you're struggling to talk to her?"

Minho nods with a heavy, dramatic sigh. "It's actually hurting my soul, and I didn't even know I had one of those."

Felix raises his eyebrows, laughing. "Revolving door of women Han Jisung can't talk to a girl? Are we in an alternate universe?"

Jisung rolls his eyes. "Oh, please. You guys are being so dramatic."

"Hey, it's not every day that the great Han Jisung meets his match," Chan teases, wiping sweat from his brow. "Honestly though, Minho, we all doubted you had a soul."

"Thanks, Chan, that's what I go for," Minho says with a smirk. "But yeah, Jisung, now's your chance. Go ask her for her number. And invite her to the game while you're at it."

Jisung looks horrified, glancing down at his sweaty clothes and feeling his hair matted from sweat. "Right now? While I'm covered in sweat?"

"Yes," Minho says, his voice firm. "There's no time like the present. You're gonna overthink it if you wait."

Seungmin chimes in with an encouraging nod, his tone mocking. "Go on, man. Ask her out. Don't worry, you can do it. Maybe."

"Shut up," Jisung grumbles, but he can feel the nervous energy building.

Felix elbows him playfully. "C'mon, this is a moment for the history books. Don't chicken out."

With a mischievous look, Minho cups his hands around his mouth, ignoring Jisung's wide-eyed stare. "Yo, Y/N! Come join us!"

You pause, looking over toward the group with a curious expression as you pull one of your earbuds out. After a moment of hesitation, you jog over, slowing to a walk as you approach the crowd of sweaty football players.

"Hey," you greet, giving a small smile as you reach them, taking in the group with an amused look. "You guys look like you're in hell."

"You don't know the half of it," Changbin groans, leaning over to catch his breath. "I think Chan's trying to kill us."

Chan just smirks. "That's how you get a winning team, my friend." Chan's eyes flicker to the Walkman clipped to your waistband, and Chan's face lights up with sudden recognition. "Hold on, is that a real Walkman?"

You smile, nodding. "Yep, authentic. Found it in a thrift shop, and it still works perfectly."

"That's insane," Chan says, sounding genuinely impressed. "I haven't seen one of those in, like, forever."

Jisung takes a deep breath, gathering his courage, and steps forward with a lopsided grin. "Hey, so, uh, we have a game coming up this Saturday," he says, his voice surprisingly steady despite the nervous excitement bubbling in his chest. "I thought maybe, if you're free, you could come by? Cheer us on?"

You tilt your head, clearly considering it as you give him a warm smile. "Yeah, I think I'd like that. It sounds fun."

Jisung's grin widens, the relief flooding through him as you agree. "Awesome, yeah. We'll- we'll definitely put on a good show."

Minho raises an eyebrow, smirking at Jisung's wide grin. "Oh, he's gonna be putting on a show, alright."

Chan lets out a small laugh, nodding approvingly. "Better make it a good one, Jisung."

You glance at the group, laughing softly at the way they're all watching Jisung, clearly amused and intrigued by the whole interaction. "Well, good luck with the rest of practice, guys. Hope you survive it."

"Thanks, Y/N," Jisung says, almost too eagerly. 

The team watches as you jog over to the bleachers, earbuds back in and totally oblivious to the chaos unfolding behind you. Minho's gaze follows you for a second before he turns on Jisung and slaps him upside the head.

"Ow!" Jisung yelps, rubbing the back of his head. "Dude, I asked her to the game! What the hell was that for?"

Minho sighs, looking at him like he's the densest person on the planet. "You didn't ask for her number, you idiot!"

"Oh. Shit."

Chan crosses his arms and nods towards the bleachers. "Alright, well, go ask her now! What are you waiting for?"

"Right!" Jisung says, almost tripping over himself as he prepares to take off, only to freeze in place, still staring at the bleachers as if they're a hundred miles away.

Changbin squints at him, an amused smirk on his face. "Uh, Jisung, you haven't moved."

Jisung blinks, nodding. "I'm going!" But he's still firmly rooted to the spot.

Hyunjin snorts, crossing his arms. "You still haven't moved, man. It's like you're glued to the grass or something."

Minho lets out an exaggerated sigh, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. "There it is again, this pain in the soul I didn't know I had. Honestly, Jisung, you're killing me."

Felix and Jeongin, watching with growing impatience, exchange a glance before stepping forward and shoving Jisung forward with a well-placed push. Caught off guard, he stumbles but quickly regains his footing, shooting them a quick glare before he jogs over to you.

By now, you're sitting on the bleachers, scrolling through your phone, clearly enjoying the peace. When Jisung stops in front of you, a little breathless, you glance up with a curious smile, taking out an earbud.

"Hey! Back already?" you ask, giving him an amused look. "Did Chan finally cut you guys a break?"

Jisung scratches the back of his neck, feeling his usual bravado abandon him in the face of your calm, easy smile. "Uh not quite," he says, mentally cursing himself for how awkward he feels. "But, um, I just realized about the game on Saturday. I could, you know, send you details if you wanted them."

You raise an eyebrow, nodding. "Oh, yeah, that'd be great."

"Right. So, uh, could I maybe have your number?" He's practically holding his breath, his pulse racing, but he tries to play it cool. "You know, as a friend, for game details and stuff."

"Of course!" you say, nodding. You reach into your bag and pull out a pen, scribbling your number on a small slip of paper before handing it to him. "Here you go. Just text me when and where, and I'll be there."

Jisung takes the paper, feeling a ridiculous amount of triumph as he clutches it like it's some sacred artefact. "Awesome. Thanks!"

You smile, tucking your earbuds back in. "No problem. Good luck with the rest of practice!"

As you jog off, Jisung watches you for a second, still gripping the slip of paper before he turns and heads back to the field.

The guys are all watching him expectantly as he approaches, Minho crossing his arms with a knowing smirk. "Well? How'd it go?"

Jisung waves the piece of paper triumphantly. "I got her number!"

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, noting the look on Jisung's face. "But...?"

Jisung sighs, the realization settling in as he slumps slightly. "I friend zoned myself."

The entire team lets out a collective groan, most of them doubling over with laughter or shaking their heads in disbelief.

"What is wrong with you?" Minho says, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Are you trying to sabotage yourself, or what?"

Jisung rubs his temples, feeling his frustration build. "I don't know, man! Usually, I can get a girl's number and have her in my bed in, like, ten minutes. It's like all my usual shit just falls apart when I'm around her."

Hyunjin laughs, patting him on the back. "Maybe that's a sign, genius. Try being, I don't know yourself?"

Chan snorts, crossing his arms. "This is a first. Han Jisung, a bumbling self friend zoning mess"

Jisung huffs, rolling his eyes. "Thanks for the support, guys."

Felix grins, his voice softening. "Come on, man. Just be real with her. No more overthinking. Invite her to the game, hang out, just chill. Don't overcomplicate it."

Minho shakes his head, laughing. "Right. We'll do the complicated part on the field. Just focus on not friend zoning yourself again, okay?"

Jisung lets out a reluctant laugh, tucking the slip of paper safely into his pocket. "Fine, fine. No more overthinking. Just keep it simple."

The team exchanges looks, clearly sceptical but amused, as Chan whistles to get them back on task. "Alright, lovebirds, enough about the romance stuff. Back to drills. Let's go!"

With one last glance toward the bleachers where you'd been sitting, Jisung feels a rush of determination. Saturday can't come soon enough.

The stadium lights blaze down on the field, casting a glow across the crowd and players as Miroh College's football team, the Miroh Maniacs, prepare for the big game.

Jisung stands at the edge of the field, scanning the bleachers with anxious eyes, trying to spot you among the scattered faces. But the stands are filled with students, and it's impossible to find anyone, let alone the person he's been looking forward to seeing all week.

He huffs, scuffing his cleats into the grass, feeling his chest tighten. "She didn't come," he mutters, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Minho, standing beside him in full gear, gives him a sympathetic look and a heavy pat on the back. "Damn, man. That's rough. But hey, maybe she got caught up or something. Doesn't mean she didn't want to come."

Jisung lets out a sigh, folding his arms. "Yeah, maybe. Still feels like shit, though."

As the game begins, Jisung tries to keep his focus on the field, but it's tough when all he can think about is you, not being there. He's distracted, missing cues, and every time he glances at the bleachers, there's a sinking feeling in his stomach. Minho notices, giving him an encouraging nudge whenever he slips up, but Jisung can't shake the nagging disappointment.

By halftime, Jisung's barely even listening as Chan goes over their next moves. He's glancing back toward the stands, wondering if you might magically appear, hoping against hope. And then, as the players start gathering for their pep talk, Jisung sees something that stops him in his tracks.

There you are, sitting at the bottom of the stands, looking around as if you're searching for someone. You're wearing a green long-sleeve shirt that dips into a deep V-neck, showing just a hint of skin, and a pair of baggy, low-rise jeans. The familiar black Converse on your feet, your hair is messily clipped up with that same seashell claw clip. It's unmistakably you.

His heart leaps, and before he knows it, he's jogging over, catching you by surprise as he comes to a stop in front of you.

"Hey," he says, slightly out of breath but grinning. "You okay?"

You look up at him, guilt flickering across your face as you offer a small, apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry, Jisung. I know I'm late. I was finishing up my forensic science paper and, like, totally lost track of time."

He shakes his head, a bit stunned that you actually came. "You didn't have to come if you had a big assignment. Seriously, it's not a big deal."

You smile, and the sincerity in your eyes makes his chest feel lighter. "No, I said I'd be here, so here I am." You gesture toward the field, smirking. "Besides, I wasn't going to miss out on seeing you guys destroy the other team, right?"

Jisung laughs, the weight that had been on his shoulders lifting in an instant. "We're doing our best, but uh got a little distracted in the first half." He rubs the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks warm a bit.

"Well," you say, looking up at him with a reassuring smile, "now I'm here, so no more excuses. You've got a whole second half to make up for it, right?"

The shrill blast of the whistle signals the start of the second half, and Jisung shoots you a quick grin. "Guess I better get back out there. Keep an eye out, alright?"

You nod, laughing. "Oh, I'll be watching. Go kill it."

Jisung jogs back toward his teammates, practically buzzing with energy now. Minho, standing with Hyunjin near the sidelines, spots him and raises an eyebrow. "Finally got that confidence back, huh?"

Hyunjin smirks, crossing his arms. "Alright, man. We're getting you a touchdown. Everyone's in on it."

Minho grabs a bottle of water, shoving it into Jisung's hands. "It's time to wow your '90s dream girl, dude. So hydrate, gear up, and get your ass in the zone."

Jisung takes the bottle, glancing down at it sceptically. "But what if I have to piss? Seriously, I'm not risking that."

Minho rolls his eyes, exasperated. "For god's sake, just drink some water."

Jisung takes a reluctant sip, his face scrunching as he sets the bottle down. "Fine, but if this backfires, you're to blame."

Hyunjin laughs, giving him a shove toward the huddle where the rest of the team waits. "Go kill it, Romeo."

With one last look at you sitting on the bleachers, Jisung heads back to the field, a newfound determination in his eyes. He's ready for the second half, and this time, he's not holding anything back.

The whistle blows to start the second half, and instantly, the team is on high alert. Chan calls the play, and the whole lineup is subtly geared toward making sure Jisung has the perfect setup to score. The guys are practically electric, each one of them more hyped than usual, and it's clear they're all determined to help Jisung pull off his moment.

Jisung lines up, glancing once toward the bleachers where you're watching, leaning forward with your eyes locked on the game. His heart pounds, adrenaline pumping as he gets into position.

Chan snaps the ball, and the play begins. Minho and Hyunjin immediately work to block the defenders, giving Jisung a clear path as he sprints downfield, dodging tackles, his every step fueled by the thought of you watching. He feels every inch of the field beneath his cleats, and it's like everything's in slow motion. He can see the end zone, clear and open, just waiting for him.

"Go, Jisung!" Minho yells, throwing a solid block that opens up the final few yards for him.

With a burst of speed, Jisung dives forward, clutching the ball tightly as he crosses into the end zone. The cheers erupt around him, but the only thing he's focused on is you, standing up in the bleachers, clapping with a wide, proud smile that lights up your entire face and makes Jisung see the world in shades of pink.

Jisung's face breaks into a grin, his chest swelling with pride as he stands up, unable to hide the joy on his face. He can barely hear his teammates around him because all he's seeing is the look on your face, and it's enough to make him feel invincible.

"Hell yeah!" Changbin cheers as he and Minho rush over, pulling Jisung to his feet with matching grins.

"Alright, you've impressed her now," Minho says, slapping him on the back. "But now you've gotta close the deal. We're gonna help you get as many damn touchdowns as possible, but after that? It's on you, bro. You gotta either kiss her or ask her out or whatever you're planning. You get me?"

Jisung nods rapidly, barely able to contain the massive grin on his face. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. I'm doing this!"

Felix and Seungmin clap him on the back, their laughter ringing out as they congratulate him, and Jeongin practically tackles him in excitement.

"That was sick, dude!" Jeongin says, beaming. "Now you just gotta keep this up!"

Chan and Hyunjin jog over, both of them holding out their hands for high fives, which Jisung meets eagerly.

"Keep that adrenaline up," Hyunjin says, smirking. "With this energy, asking her out's gonna be a piece of cake."

"Exactly," Chan says, nodding with a smile. "Now let's help our boy rack up some more scores. If we play this right, he'll be unstoppable tonight."

Jisung clenches his fists, adrenaline flooding his veins as he nods, ready to play his absolute best. The guys all gather around him, their energy infectious as they slap his back, hyping him up before heading back into position. He glances at the bleachers once more, catching your eye as you wave, still beaming with that warm, encouraging smile.

For the rest of the game, the team's strategy is clear: get Jisung every chance to score. Each play is practically engineered to put the ball in his hands, and every time he crosses the line, the crowd roars, sending chills down his spine. And each time, he looks to the bleachers, zeroing in on you. You're standing now, clapping with a bright smile that lights up your face, and to him, it's like the whole stadium fades away.

With every touchdown, his teammates swarm him, cheering, slapping his helmet, yelling about how "the Han touchdown train" can't be stopped tonight. It's like they're all rooting for him not just to win the game, but to win you over.

"Goddamn, you're on fire, Jisung!" Chan shouts, panting as he jogs up beside him after yet another touchdown.

"It's the magic of a girl in the stands," Felix laughs, throwing an arm around Jisung's shoulder. "You better keep this up, man. We've never seen you play this good."

Jisung laughs, breathless, catching his teammates' infectious energy. He glances over to see you clapping again, beaming at him, and for a second, he almost feels like he's floating.

Minho sidles up next to him, catching his breath. "You see her out there, dude? She's cheering just for you. You got this."

Jisung nods, wiping sweat off his brow, feeling a surge of confidence every time he catches your eye. Each touchdown fuels him more, and the team, sensing his determination, rallies around him.

They block defenders with brutal force, ploughing through lines to create space, and hand him the ball again and again, shouting encouragement at every opportunity.

With a little over two minutes left in the game, Chan calls a huddle, his voice rough but steady as he grins at the team. "Alright, let's make this one count. It's our last drive. Get Jisung the fucking ball."

The guys nod, all grins and fierce determination. As they take their positions, Jisung glances once more toward the bleachers. You're watching intently, eyes full of excitement, and it's like an invisible thread pulls him toward the end zone, knowing you'll be there cheering no matter what.

The play unfolds perfectly. Minho and Changbin block two defenders, Felix takes out another, and Jisung darts through the gap, sprinting toward the end zone. The crowd's roar is deafening as he makes the final dive, crossing the line with the ball firmly in his grip.

He stands up, triumphant, the thrill of the touchdown rippling through him, but what really makes his heart race is catching sight of you in the stands, clapping wildly, that same radiant smile on your face. He can barely contain his own grin as he raises a fist in the air, the cheers around him fading into the background as he locks eyes with you.

When his teammates reach him, they're laughing, shouting over each other's voices.

"You're a goddamn beast tonight, Han!" Seungmin yells, clapping him on the back.

Hyunjin smirks, holding up a hand for a high-five. "You'd better ask her out after this, because that was fucking legendary."

As the final whistle blows, signalling their victory, Jisung's teammates surround him, piling on congratulations, laughs, and relentless back pats.

The final whistle blows and the crowd erupts in cheers as the Miroh Maniacs celebrate their victory. The guys are all high-fiving and fist-pumping, adrenaline buzzing through their veins as they revel in the thrill of the win.

Jisung's heart is pounding, both from the game and from the sight of you at the edge of the field, clapping and smiling as you watch the team celebrate.

"Go get your '90s dream girl, Han," Minho says, slapping Jisung on the shoulder. There's a glint of mischief in his eye as he steps back, letting Jisung gather his courage.

Chan, ever the supportive captain, grins and shouts, "You've got this, Ji! Don't choke now!"

"Dude, you've been killing it all night," Hyunjin says, giving him an encouraging nod. "Time to wrap it up with a win off the field, too."

Felix and Jeongin clap him on the back, their voices blending into a jumble of encouragement and good-natured ribbing. Even Seungmin, who usually prefers to stay cool and unbothered, joins in with a smirk. "Don't overthink it, man. Just go."

Jisung takes a deep breath, feeling every bit of adrenaline pushing him forward as he steps toward you. The team's words echo in his mind, and he thinks, Fuck it. It's now or never.

You approach the group, looking radiant, your eyes bright with excitement as you clap for each of them. "Congratulations, you guys! That was seriously amazing!"

Jisung's heart nearly skips a beat as he takes in the sight of you, looking effortlessly beautiful even in the dim stadium lights. He's been imagining this moment all night, and without thinking, he steps forward, closing the distance between you.

And then, with a surge of confidence, he cups your face and kisses you, pouring everything he's been feeling into the moment. His heart's racing, but as soon as your lips meet, he feels that familiar thrill, the world fading out around him.

The team erupts into cheers and whistles behind him, and Jisung can't help but grin against your lips as he hears them hollering.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, still holding you close. Emboldened by the rush, he dips you back, his grin widening as the guys cheer even louder. Minho yells out over the noise, "Strawberries and heaven, my man! Your '90s dream girl right here!"

You laugh, your cheeks pink as you look up at Jisung, slightly dazed. "Wait. What?"

Jisung's face softens, his voice tender as he smiles down at you. "You. You smell like strawberries and heaven. And you're my '90s dream girl." And with that, he leans in and kisses you again, savouring the feeling, the cheers of his friends blending into the background.

When he finally lets go, Minho claps him on the back, looking comically emotional. "I feel so proud, honestly. I coached him through it all, stopped jerking it for him to gush about her. This is basically a win for me, too."

Chan laughs, shaking his head. "Minho, you sacrificed, my guy. I'm proud of you."

Felix raises an eyebrow, his expression teasing. "Seriously, though. I can't believe it took seven wingmen to make this happen."

Jisung rolls his eyes but laughs along, his arm still around you as he finally turns back to face his friends.

You smile up at him, still a little flushed but looking delighted. "So, what's the plan now?"

Jisung's eyes light up, his grin playful. "We're having a post-game party back at the frat house. You should come." He pauses, pretending to think. "I might even make you a cocktail as good as that caramel latte you liked."

"Oh, really?" you tease, raising an eyebrow. "Big talk, Han. Think you're up to it?"

"Pfft, please," Jisung says, flashing you a confident smirk. "Give me a real challenge."

You laugh, glancing back toward the bleachers. "Alright. I'll grab my things while you guys wrap up and shower. Don't keep me waiting."

You head back toward the stands, and as soon as you're out of earshot, Felix leans over, grinning. "Uh, Jisung, dude, you can't make cocktails to save your life."

Jisung's expression falters, but then he looks at Minho, a pleading glint in his eye. "Minho...?"

Minho lets out a long, dramatic sigh. "Fine. I'll make the fucking cocktail. But seriously, you owe me for this one."

Jisung's grin returns. "You're the best, man."

Minho smirks, crossing his arms. "Do you need me to teach you how to fuck her too?"

Jisung snorts, shooting him a playful glare before delivering a swift kick to Minho's ass. "Shut the fuck up, man."

The team laughs, their voices full of pride and joy as they head off the field, congratulating Jisung and slapping him on the back the whole way.

[sansaorgana]

— DECEPTION (VII)

DECEPTION MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader // Adar x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — Adar prepares his army to march towards Eregion and you start to have your doubts as the guilt creeps in.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This chapter is a bit shorter but I hope it's okay since the last one was so long. 😘 It's mostly about the Reader starting to doubt her plans and schemes as she realises she cares about Adar and the Orcs more than she'd like to admit it. The meeting with Galadriel will be in the next part because this one would be too long if I included it here. I also didn't want to rush things and start with this scene in this part. I really can't wait for the Reader and Galadriel to interact in this btw...

WARNINGS — forced/arranged marriage, Reader is NOT a good person – she is proud, greedy, fake and corrupted by Sauron, "love" triangle situationship

WORD COUNT — 4,430

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DECEPTION (VII)

“Your mind seems to be absent.”

Your husband’s voice caused you to stir slightly in his arms. You looked up and met his curious gaze. He was right. Your mind had been absent for days now. You had been reliving your reunion with Sauron – over-analysing every interaction and every word. It was bringing you comfort to know that he was back and that you were assured now that you were truly on the right path to help him with his plans and his schemes.

But you were also anxious about some of his sudden coldness and distance. You hoped that completing his task would grant you the full potential of his love and affection again.

“Mine? Or yours? So fixated on the idea of killing Sauron once again?” You asked Adar, trying to make this conversation about him again. You gave him a soft smile and caressed his scarred cheek with your fingertip.

“You know that I must,” Adar brushed a hair strand out of your face as he looked down at you. You were laying on his chest in the morning as the noises of the outside were reaching your ears – the Orcs were preparing to march again with their army.

“I know…” You sighed. Just like Sauron had ordered, you were trying to convince your husband to march towards Eregion. But you also knew that encouraging him too eagerly would be suspicious. “I am scared of the darkness making its comeback…”

“We are the darkness, though,” Adar chuckled at your choice of words.

“I have not made myself clear enough. Sauron is more than simply darkness. He is true evil,” you explained, a little nervously.

“You have no idea how much,” your husband looked away with a sigh and you hid your face from him as well because you were scared of your eyes betraying you.

In many ways, it was exhausting to deceive him constantly. And it was becoming more and more difficult to lie to him as well. The problem was not to come up with fake stories or excuses. No. The problem was that you were starting to feel guilty.

After leaving Ostirith, Adar was the one who gave you home and kept you safe. And in all of that, he was treating you well. Not just decent – he was truly good to you. As much as a man as rotten as him could.

“I do not need to know…” You whispered softly. “I trust your judgement of him. And as your wife, I shall follow you wherever you go. Even if that is a battlefield that you lead me to,” you added and your eyes met once again.

You could see so much pain in his cold ones when you said those words. Long centuries of suffering in loneliness and now, finally, he had a companion by his side. The adoration towards you was visible in those little, intimate moments.

You wished sometimes that his adoration was enough for you. But you were greedy and he was no half-god like Sauron was.

You walked around the village by Adar’s side and watched the progress of the Orcs putting all of their effort to forge the new weapons and armours before leaving Mordor to march towards Eregion in the upcoming days.

“The preparations are nearly complete, Lord Father,” Glûg informed your husband and then he looked at you as if he was waiting for your permission to keep talking.You nodded at him, softly. “But… we are safe here,” he added. “We have a home. Must we go to war again?” He asked Adar.

You kept walking and glancing at your husband, wondering what he would say to that. You knew he was too fixated on the idea of defeating Sauron completely to give up despite his children’s pleas. But his rotten heart must have been in pain for them – because even yours was starting to feel guilt. Especially when you knew that you were leading them to become Sauron’s slaves. Just like he had intended all those centuries ago.

“You told me Sauron was dead. Let us leave him this way,” Glûg tried to convince your husband and you could see that Adar was thinking intensively about his reply.

“There are some dangers in this world about which it is a father’s burden to know,” Adar answered diplomatically. “And a son’s burden to trust him,” he added and put his hand on Glûg’s arm. “Trust me, my son, when I tell you that we will never truly be safe, until we’ve made certain Sauron is no more.”

You stopped walking just like they did and you looked down as you were playing with the mud by using the tip of your shoe. The very danger they were all so worried about… You were the emissary of it. And they had no idea.

In fact, they respected you. They praised you for being the one who had given them a home. They had forged a small crown for you to wear. They were slowly becoming like your children, too. Well, step-children, surely.

“As you will it, Lord Father,” Glûg nodded his head but he did not sound convinced.

You moved away slightly for Adar to walk past you and continue his walk but you remained by Glûg’s side for a short moment.

“Your Lord Father wants nothing but your safety,” you assured him. “He loves his children more than anything. You have to trust him,” you said. “There are things he cannot say. Like there are things you would not say to your own son either to protect him,” you pointed at his wife holding their baby.

Glûg nodded at you, too. Perhaps he wanted to say something more but his child began to cry, so he hurried to his wife’s side. You, on the other hand, gathered your skirts and followed Adar’s steps.

You reached your hand out to hold his wrist when the scary sound of heavy steps approaching the village reached your ears. You froze while your heart skipped a beat and you turned around as you spotted a huge figure of a hill-troll.

All the Orcs around were staring with their eyes widened and you could not blame them. Hill-trolls were not known to be friends with their kin. And you knew that the troll alone could cause damage around the place, kill some of the Orcs and perhaps even you… if he only wanted to. It would take at least half of this village to defeat him if he decided to attack.

“What is that?” You asked and clinged to Adar’s arm.

“I invited him,” your husband explained to you calmly as he began to approach the entry of the village.

“Without telling me…?” You asked but you let go of his hand. You were too scared to go near that creature. Staying behind with the Orcs seemed like a better idea – and that was saying a lot about how uneasy the hill-troll was making you feel.

The troll was dressed in a net with the skulls of his victims around his waist and he walked inside the village after destroying the wooden entry. Perhaps it was an ugly and obscure construction but it was simply rude to just walk in like that after being invited. He made it clear very quickly that he did not care about any customs.

“Damrod. Hill-troll of the Ered Mithrin,” Adar greeted him in Black Speech. You could finally understand this language after all the lessons your husband had been giving you recently just like you had asked him to.

He walked up to be even closer to his guest but you did the opposite and you took a few steps back, hiding behind one of the Orcs standing nearby. It did not escape your eye that the Orc extended his arm a little as if he was trying to protect his Lady.

“Killer of stone giants,” Adar continued with the praises. “Eater of dragon bones. Welcome,” he stood in front of the hill-troll and for a brief moment you realised that you were scared for him in the simplest and most genuine way.

And yes, of course, if he was killed now, you would be left without protection in front of a troll, although some of the Orcs would surely try to defend you. But other than that, you were also worried because of a different reason – just like every wife would be if her husband stood eye to eye with a hill-troll. You held your breath and squeezed the hilt of your sword even though you still could not fight with it well.

The hill-troll answered by throwing something on the ground. It was a head that rolled towards your husband’s feet. A head of an Orc – one of Adar’s children. You could sense the shift in the atmosphere.

You realised how truly desperate he was to get rid of Sauron but you also sensed amongst the Orcs around you that they trusted him a little less at this very moment. There was betrayal and disappointment at the sight of their brother’s head being rolled as their Lord Father watched. And even though it should make you happy because it would serve Sauron’s plan well in the future… you felt worried instead.

“I gather you received our message,” Adar said as he kept staring at the Orc’s head.

“Where… is… Sauron?” The troll asked and you felt a shiver go down your spine.

You had no idea that your lover had so many enemies. The Elves being against him was something obvious, of course. But to know that even the filthiest and darkest creatures did not like the idea of his comeback was simply concerning.

First of all, it meant that his road to rule the whole Middle-earth would be long and difficult – certainly much more complicated than he had been explaining it to you. Second of all… What if they were all right and it was you who were wrong? If so many creatures of all kinds were scared of your lover becoming their ruler, it could mean that he was more evil and deadly than you knew.

No, you shook that off. It could not be it. They were simply not ready. They were scared of the unknown. Of his greatness, his power and the healing that he would bring. And you would be there, alongside him. You would be his Queen.

You watched Adar welcoming the hill-troll inside the village and instructing others that Damrod would march alongside you to Eregion, which was not taken lightly by anyone. You were trying not to comment because you did not want to argue with your husband in public but you could not wait for the moment when you would be in Sauron’s arms again. Far away from all those filthy creatures – they would become nothing but a distant memory of the sacrifice you had gone through for your lover. Sauron would never require you to be so close to them. They’d be soldiers in his army that you would command from afar.

“I did not want to worry you even further. You seem to be so tense these days,” Adar’s words brought you back to reality as you felt his hands on your shoulders while he stood behind you. “I am sorry for keeping that from you.”

“He is dangerous to your children,” you pointed out.

“Not as much as Sauron,” Adar explained and squeezed your arms. “Be at ease, you are the Dark Lady of Mordor. This is your realm and he is your guest,” Adar reminded you in the Quenya language.

“We are leaving our realm soon and out there we are intruders and invaders,” you answered in the same speech as you turned your head around to look into his eyes. His face was so close that your noses brushed slightly and you felt a shiver go down your spine.

“Let us be,” Adar whispered. “They will never accept us, so let them fear us.”

You could not sleep on the night before marching out of the village, which had been your home for the past few weeks now. The outside was quiet since everyone was preparing for the next day and resting. You sighed and sat up carefully, trying not to wake Adar up while doing so. You grabbed a shawl laying nearby and you put it on your shoulders before walking out of the house.

You could hear the snoring of the Orcs sleeping inside the houses but the hill-troll was definitely the loudest. You took a deep breath in and walked further to the entry of the village where the horses were. For a moment, you wanted to simply hop on one of them and run away from there as far as you could. To run away from your life, the schemes and even Sauron himself.

But you could not. You had already sacrificed so much for him and his plans. You could not stop now. And, when you looked back at the house where Adar was, you also did not want to run away… Not truly. For some reason, your new life was oddly giving you a sense of power and control. When you first had been told you would marry Adar, you were angry that you would become a property of such a man. But you didn’t feel like a property now. He truly treated you like his equal and his companion. It felt… good. Like nothing you had ever experienced before.

So, instead of mounting a horse and running away, you simply walked out of the village and approached the destroyed trees that had been a beautiful forest once – before your very hand had doomed it to die. You took a small walk under the moonlight, which was barely shining through the dark clouds after Mount Doom’s eruption.

And as you walked and walked, you were slowly gaining more and more courage to keep going with your plans. You just couldn’t understand how your heart was able for some compassion and affection even towards Adar – he was the man who had killed your beloved all those centuries ago. Surely, he had his reasons but he had taken your lover from you. He had cursed your existence into a lonely one; filled with yearning and hiding. You could have been the Queen of Middle-earth already by Sauron’s side if he had not been defeated back then. Humiliated, too.

And yet – if someone asked you if you hated Lord Father of the Orcs… You could not say that you did.

After an hour or two, you went back to the village and spotted your husband walking around nervously. At the sight of you, he furrowed his brows and approached you quickly.

“Where were you?” He asked, worryingly.

“I needed a walk to gather my thoughts before tomorrow,” you explained and faked a gentle smile as you put your hands flat on his chest. “Have you been worried about me abandoning you?” You teased but Adar did not smile at that. His eyes filled with sadness once more and you sighed, raising your hands to cup his face. “If I abandoned you, would you look for me?”

“Right after defeating Sauron,” your husband answered. “Killing him is my biggest priority now.”

“Then it is mine as well,” you smiled once more and caressed his cheeks before walking away to go back inside the house.

Adar’s determination planted a new seed of doubt inside of your heart. What if, in the end of this all, it would be Sauron who would be defeated? Everyone seemed to be against him and the only person he had by his side was himself.

And you, of course.

You had been marching with Adar’s army before but it had been a short distance from Ostirith to the villages nearby. It was the very first time you were about to travel so far away alongside dangerous warriors who were about to conquer more and more lands. Although the conquest was not your goal – it was complete destruction. That was the way the Orcs were. It did not matter that your plan was to attack Eregion itself – everything on your way simply had to be destroyed.

Your motivation to keep going was the fact that you were getting closer and closer to your lover, but it was not only that. You would lie if you said that you didn’t enjoy being in charge of the army like that. Of course, technically, you were only a spouse to the leader of it. But in reality, the Orcs would do whatever you told them. So far, it was mostly because of the fact Adar trusted you but you knew that the other factors also mattered for his children. You had been the one to give them home and you were still an Elf even though your light was barely there. In a way, you were intimidating them because you were a beautiful creature amongst the filthy monsters.

Some of the Orcs had gathered their courage to ask you for some of your hair. You had found their question adorable in a way. You had no idea that the Elven hair was precious to their kin as well.

You didn’t hesitate while pulling some of the hairs out of your head to hand it out to the Orcs. And it brought you some twisted satisfaction to see them nearly worshipping their extraordinary souvenirs. They treated them like lucky charms of some sort.

You had even less of the free time now but Adar was still trying to teach you how to wield the sword you had been given. With each day you were getting better and better using it. And one day you even slightly defeated him as he fell to the ground and you had the tip of your sword pointed at his face, standing above him with a challenging face. Some of the Orcs were watching you train and now they were looking at each other, surprised.

“And? How do you find me now?” You raised an eyebrow at your husband.

“Terrific,” he smirked. “You are enjoying this, are you not?”

“How do you know?” You chuckled.

“You enjoyed it when I made the human king bow at your feet. I could feel it,” Adar answered and you pursed your lips. He had absolutely no idea.

You took a step back and retreated your sword. Your husband laughed at that softly and stood up as he grabbed his sword, too.

“You did it on purpose. I defeated you because you let me,” you pointed out, bitterly. “I do not enjoy being treated like a child.”

“That was not my intention. I simply wanted to motivate you. Constant failures have been discouraging you lately,” he explained.

“So, you thought that deceiving me with the fake victory would help me? A lie was supposed to raise my self-esteem?” You rolled your eyes.

Oh, how cruel it was to accuse him of deception and lies. But he was a cruel man, therefore he deserved it, didn’t he? Every time you were feeling bad for him, you were trying to remember that he had killed your lover and how he had been treating all the humans on his way.

You tried to remember that if it was a scheme for something he cared about, he would do the same to you. If not worse.

“Why do you see lies and deception everywhere?” Adar asked. “You see them where there is no need and I bet that where they truly reside, you turn a blind eye,” he looked at you intensely and you froze at his words. “I do not mean to offend you. It was a warning based on my observations of how people often are careless with where they put their suspicions and where they put their trust,,” he quickly added and approached you to lift your chin up with his thumb but you refused to look into his eyes. “I did not let you win to make fun of you or because I see you as weak. I wanted to share my victory with you.”

“The victory was an illusion, though,” you mumbled.

“The victory itself perhaps,” Adar nodded, “but not the sweet taste of it, am I right?” He smirked and you finally glanced at him, a little surprised.

“Why are you so willing to share your power with me?” You asked, genuinely wondering about it. “You are granting me such a gift… Why?”

“Because it is a burden to carry it all on my own. You think of it as sharing. As a gift. But it is not. In fact, I am cursing you,” Adar smiled sadly and pinched your cheek.

“If I must be cursed, gods, let me be cursed with power,” you whispered.

“Why do you want it so much?” Your husband asked. “I carry it in order to protect my children. And you?”

“I want to carry it in order to protect myself,” you answered.

But it was not true. Not fully. You also wanted power and influence for less noble and understandable reasons. For your own pride and your own ego. For all the years you had spent growing up in Ostirith; far away from all the beautiful Elven cities. Forever feeling worse, even when you had finally gone to Mithlond or Eregion to study. You simply could not… fit in. There had been something wrong with you from the day you had been born. You had never carried the light of Valinor in the same way as others. It had been this way a long time before you had met Sauron. In fact, you were sure, that was the very reason why Sauron had chosen you out of all the Elven maidens he could have seduced and lured into his bed.

“The sword you are carrying is more than a piece of iron,” Adar helped you to raise it again. “You must allow it to see you through… You must allow it to see your determination and do not be afraid to show it the depth of your darkness. It is not just a sword, it is a dark magic item. It might appear to you as lighter and easier to wield once you forge a bond with it,” he pointed out and you nodded at him. You knew he was right but you were scared of unleashing all of yourself and pouring it into that sword. 

It was too early for your husband to see how truly corrupted you were.

After leaving Mordor’s lands, you had to continue your march mostly at night because of the sunlight. Most of the time you were with Adar but when he was needed elsewhere, you were ending up surrounded by the Orcs and after each time like that, you realised all of the sudden that you didn’t feel uneasy like this anymore.

Whenever you were asleep with the Orcs nearby and Adar being far away, you weren’t anxious anymore about them attacking you in your sleep. Even when you treated some of them harshly sometimes because of their obscene behaviour, they mostly just looked the other way to avoid your gaze. They didn’t love you but they accepted you. And that had to be enough for now. It surely helped with surviving all of this.

You wondered what Sauron was doing and was he truly thinking of you every day – as much as you were of him? Was he feeling bad for you and the sacrifice you had to be making for him? Was he worried about the Orcs hurting you or Adar finding out the truth?

“We have marched into Elvish lands,” your husband whispered to you as you walked through the forest at night. “Be careful now, look around and inform me if you see anything suspicious.”

You nodded at him and adjusted the sword attached to your hip. You wondered what the Elves would do now if they caught you.

You walked and walked for more time, surrounded by the sounds of the Orcs’ drums and war chants. The hill-troll was walking ahead of you and destroying the trees on the way to clear the path for the army. You were bringing fear and destruction to the lands outside Mordor and some part of you truly enjoyed it but you wished it was Sauron by your side already, on your way to conquer the whole Middle-earth.

“Lord Father!” One of the Orcs ran up to you. He was from a completely different part of the formation but he looked quite scared as he brought the news. “There is an Elven woman and she is shooting us with her bow and arrows!” He announced and his revelation was no surprise to you since the Elvish lands had always been patrolled and the Elves were much more graceful warriors than the Orcs, so they often could slay a few alone despite having less physical strength.

In that moment, you began hearing the screams of pain from far away and the fire burning down the road where the Elven woman had to be slaying the Orcs. You exchanged a meaningful look with your husband.

“I will be right back,” he patted your arm and followed the Orc to help his children.

And, once again, you found yourself worrying even though now he would face an Elf and not a hill-troll. And now he had a whole army with him, ready to defend him and to die for him.

Also, now, if he died, you would just lead the army to Eregion and hand it over to Sauron just like the plan was. So, why were you so concerned? You had a new excuse now – perhaps your deception towards your husband was a product of such mastery that you were deceiving even your own self that you cared about him. 

Yes, that was a good excuse.

But when you finally saw Adar coming back to you with a serious expression on his face, the relief you felt was the most genuine.

“What is it?” You asked him with a smile that showed up on your face on its own at the sight of him being back and unharmed.

“That Elven woman… We have captured her. She is our prisoner now,” Adar said and you furrowed your brows, wondering why he had decided to take such measures instead of simply killing her. “It is Lady Galadriel.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE 2.0 — Hi, it's me again! 👋🏻 I have already decided I am going to write two alternative versions of the last chapter of this story (do not worry, there will be a few more before that happens) but I am genuinely curious anyway which one of the men you would want the Reader to choose in the end... 🤔 I am asking that now because in the next chapter you might change your mind because of the plot twist... (that probably will not be a plot twist to many readers... but still ...😂).

MASTERLIST

[fluoneia]

vi knew going back to piltover after another recent robbery was bad. yet, powder was sick and was in need of more nutrition and possibly some medicines. so, she made the tough, and, probably bad choice, to go back up into piltover to steal.

so here she was, scouting out nothing other then a mansion, much different to her usual small houses that she deemed safe, far away from piltover’s harsh security.

and she swore she saw the family leave for some fancy, to what she presumed to be a ball based on their crisp suits, and extravagant dresses.

so, she carefully picks the lock from the balcony, the dark room barely lit by the moonlight. she slides the door open, taking a soft step inside.

using the light from the flickering flashlight in her hand, she scoffed and smacked it against her hand, before facing it toward the room and peering around it.

her eyes widened. valuables, gold plated decorations all around the room. the gold enough, which she assumed to be real, would be enough to last her a lifetime.

she should really try robbing mansions more often.

vi quickly opens her bag, finding every valuable she could that was worth fortunes in zaun, and stuffed them inside the bag.

when she walked into the bathroom attached to the extravagant room, she takes a second to look around.

soaps, one’s that smelled of fancy perfumes and scents, and random glass jars on the counter filled with products that smelled equally as good.

she picked up a glass, opening the lid, and taking her finger through the white product. she sniffed it, before rubbing her thumb through the product in her hand.

she shrugged, closing the lid and popping it into her bag.

vi hummed, turning around, before freezing, blood running cold when she saw you, standing with a gun pointed toward her chest.

“what the hell are you doing in my house?” you sneer.

she inhaled a sharp breath, hands carefully raising above her head. “sightseeing?” she prompts.

you stare her up and down, before cocking your head behind you. you slowly take steps backward, still holding the gun toward her.

she takes the hint, stepping toward you, until you were both in the open room.

“i’m going to ask you again,” you say, head cocking backward with a frown on your face, “why are you in my house?”

“you asked what i was doing in your house last time.” she sneers.

you scoff. “you should really be more careful talking to the girl holding a gun.”

“you’re not gonna do anything with it. pilties don’t like viole—“

she is cut off as your finger clicks the trigger, shooting just to her right, with precise aim not to hit her.

“i’m not just a piltie. i’m training to be an enforcer. do you know what that means, zaunite?”

she gulped. “enlighten me.”

she stills as you take steps toward her, each soft pad against the floor making her heart thump.

“it means i’m not above killing people like some of these other soft-hearted morons are.”

“why don’t you just get this over with and turn me in?” vi says, head tilting down toward you. “or just shoot me.”

you stay silent.

“go ahead. call for your friends and turn me in to stillwater.”

“i’m not gonna do that.”

“heh?” her brows furrow, “why the hell not?”

“i don’t want to.”

“why?” vi instigates, “come on, you were just going on about how you’re gonna become a big-shot enforcer. so, turn me in.”

“you’re talking like you want me to turn you in.”

“well, why don’t you want to?”

“just shut up!” you jeer, holding the gun with a firmer grip. “what if i.. just don’t want to?”

“then.. i guess, you’re one of those soft-hearted morons.”

your face tightens. yoh stare, before sighing and lowering your gun. you toss it onto your bed, tightening your lips.

“i’m not actually training to be an enforcer.” you sigh. “i’m.. a librarian.”

“hah!” vi snorts, “so you’re just a nerd, then.”

“hey, you’re still in my house. and you’re a thief. you’re not above me.”

she tuts her lips, shrugging.

you purse your lips. “you must be hungry.”

“do you just assume all zaunites are on the brink of starvation?”

“well, aren’t you?” you contest.

she purses her lips.

“what’s your name, thief?” you jest.

“alright, lay off the thief part, cupcake.”

“you’re a thief. are you not?” you decide to ignore the nickname.

“yeah, but..” she runs a hand over her face, “it’s degrading.”

“and cupcake isn’t?” you raise a brow. “are you hungry, or not?”

“.. i could eat.” she shrugs. truth be told, she hadn’t eaten properly in weeks. majority of her food was given to powder, considering she was sick.

“let’s go then.”

you leave no room for argument as you turn on your heel, opening the door to your bedroom, and walking down the hall.

vi followed, peering at the portraits on the wall. you weren’t in any of them. why?

“why aren’t you in these portraits?” vi asked, looking at the family of four with two boys, a mother and a father.

“uh..” you hesitate. “i’m adopted. they don’t really like me in their portraits.”

“oh.”

you stop walking, before turning back around.

“right. kitchens that way.”

“you don’t know the layout to your own house?” vi’s brow furrowed, tucking her hands in her pockets.

“i only moved in last year. it’s a big house, alright?” you roll your eyes, turning around, and walking.

vi hesitates, before letting it go, and following you again.

you step into the kitchen, walking inside and grabbing something out of the fridge.

she pops it into what vi presumed to be a microwave, having seen it in the houses she robbed before. you lean against the counter, and look to vi, before looking around.

“there’s some chocolates on the counter if you want some.” you offer, gesturing toward the island in the middle of the room.

“chocolate?” she questions.

“yeah.. chocolate. have you never had chocolate before?”

vi picks up one of the gold wrappers. “we don’t have candy down in the lanes. i caught powder almost trading something i was going to sell for food for a piece of candy.”

“who’s powder?”

“my little sister.” vi turns around, ears peeking at the beeping of the microwave. you take the plate out of the microwave, plopping it on the counter beside vi. you jump up, sitting on the island while vi inspects the plate.

“you can take some. i’m sure she’d love it.”

“wont your parents care?”

“nah, they won’t mind.” you shake your head, looking around the kitchen once more.

vi picks up the metal fork, stabbing it into the piece of meat on the plate, and taking a bite. her eyes light up at the taste of chicken that she hasn’t had in years, much less this tasty and rich.

she peers to you, looking at you stifle a laugh, and returns her face back to its solemn state.

“it’s alright.”

“alright? you wound me.” you place a hand on your chest, right over your heart.

“you made this?”

“yeah. i cook dinner most of the time since my brothers have extra-curricular stuff.”

vi nods.

“so.. you said your sister, powder, was sick?” you ask, tilting your head toward her.

“yeah.” vi nods, “you know the lanes.. lots of chemicals, and stuff. and it’s not so clean down there. her and little man like to run around, and i guess she caught something while they were out.”

“little man?”

“ekko. he’s with benzo. him and powder became friends, since there’s not a lot of people their age down there who still value their innocence.”

you hum.

“i think i have some medicine that could help her.” you say.

“no.” vi rejects, “no, i don’t need your medicine.”

“well, it could help—“

“why do you want to help me so much?” she drops the fork, “i’m a thief. i was robbing your bedroom.”

you purse your lips.

“you know, most pilties would turn in a criminal like me. not.. treat them to dinner, and offer to help their sick relatives.”

you jump off the counter. “yeah. im feeding you dinner, and im offering medicine for your sick sister. and, im letting you keep the stuff you stole from me.”

“like you said, you’re a thief. just be grateful im offering this to you, and stop asking questions.” you exhale.

vi gnaws at the inside of her lip. “fine. but i don’t owe you anything.”

“that’s fine with me.” you snap back. “give me your bag.”

hesitantly, vi hands her the bag off her shoulders. you thank her, walking toward the door.

and then, you sprint off.

vi’s brows furrow. “the hell?” she whispers, walking toward the door and peering around. that’s when she hears the crash of a window, and she internally cursed herself.

“hey!” she yells, racing toward the now broken window. she leans over, to see you climbing the roof and jumping through the rooftops.

of fucking course.

you weren’t a librarian. you weren’t some prissy piltover. no piltover has that sympathy.

you were a zaunite. just like her.

and you just stole her loot.

vi should be chasing after you. demanding her stuff back. but.. she just.. laughs.

a few weeks later.

vi told no one of the girl she encountered in piltover. she told no one she left for piltover that night in the first place.

you held a spot in her mind, both filled with anger and.. adoration.

vi had to admit, it was kind of funny how quickly she was to trust that girl. she didn’t live in that house, make that food. she was robbing the same house, and took advantage of the fact vi had already taken majority of the valuables.

she kind of admired you.

vi took a sip of her water, not paying attention to the conversation mylo and claggor were having.

and that’s when she saw you. delivering pieces of metal to vander.

vi abruptly stands.

“hey!” she calls out across the bar, “you!”

she races over to you. as soon as you see her, your eyes widen, instantly racing out the bar. she chases after you.

“cupcake, get back here!”

“cupcake?” mylo and claggor say in unison.

“oh, you little—“ vi races out the bar.

“better luck next time!” you laugh, racing down the street.

“i’m gonna find you! you can’t run forever!”

but you were long gone.

vi would find you. because you intrigued her more then anyone ever had, and..

she couldn’t lie and say you weren’t all that bad looking. what can she say?

vi likes the chase.

[redux-iterum]

Salute to a Brief, Precious Companion

I just came home from the vet. If you missed the notice on Friday, Rocky has been euthanized due to failing health. I'm a little bit of a mess right now, so apologies if this post isn't coherent or it's overly-emotional. I just feel I should pay my respects and tell you all Rocky's story. Be prepared. This is a long one.

This was Rocky. Nicknames included Wocky, Rocky-Pocky, Rockadocious, and Little Man. He was an incredibly sweet and incredibly skinny critter who somehow even Jupiter outsized. I only had him for 7 or 8 months, but what lovely months they were.

Rocky came to me from a horrible situation - someone who is technically part of the family (and do I dearly wish they weren't) is one of the worst pet owners I've ever seen in my life, and he regrettably had Rocky for over 10 years. That is, 10 years trapped in a single room with a connected bathroom where his rarely-cleaned litterbox (singular, shared with multiple cats) was located. He didn't have anything: no comfort, no entertainment, pellets that could barely pass for cat food, and no attention. This was supposedly to save him from a dog that had a habit of killing every small animal it came across, but once that dog died, as did Rocky's companions, he still wasn't allowed out of that room because the idiot didn't want cat fur all over his furniture. Mind you, his dishes in the pantries had dust all over them, if that tells you how he lives his life.

Anyway, a relative of his called me and begged me to take Rocky, being unable to stand his solitude and wails for affection any time she went to that house. I wasn't looking for another cat at the time, but I agreed, on the condition that the former owner pay for the initial vet visits and whatever treatments were needed. Rocky was very visibly unwell when I saw him - underweight, crooked-backed and smelling of sickness. I never had a high opinion of his owner in the first place, but as time went on and I saw the effects of Rocky's ailments and the consequences of him never seeing a vet in those 10 years... well. If murder was legal.

Rocky's first 2 weeks in my house were disastrous. He attacked Moses, Jupiter and Moonshine any time he saw them, had no idea that he wasn't allowed to just pee wherever he wanted, and was frightened and confused by toys. It took several months for him to understand the concept of batting a ball around for fun, and he never did fully get that sleeping on a soft pile of blankets is much nicer than a hard table. I was extremely close to seeking out another home for him, certain that this wasn't going to work and I had just ruined the energy of the house for my other poor cats.

But somehow, Rocky turned around! He realized the other cats weren't a threat to him (all three of them are excellent at handling tense situations with fellow felines, and they never struck back or hissed at him during his rampage), and started seeking them out for companionship. Of course, it had been a few years since he'd seen another living cat, and he'd kind of ruined his initial impression on them with his poor behavior, so it took a while for them to fully relax around him. He and Jupiter very quickly were forced to become friends as both of them wanted on my lap at all times and weren't willing to give up their seat to each other. They eventually sought each other out and would sleep together even without me being there.

Rocky practiced being friendly on Jupiter, including grooming him. Amusingly, Rocky didn't quite remember how to groom another cat, so he ended up licking the fur the wrong way and getting Jupiter all slobbery, like a dog had licked his head. Jupiter never minded, purring along and letting Rocky do his thing.

Moonshine was more hesitant to let Rocky sit on her or curl up by her, but Moonshine's never held a grudge in her life and conceded towards the latter third of our time with him.

Moses...

Well, y'all know Moses. He was just as grumpy with this other old man as he is with everyone else. Though interestingly, over this weekend, he was unusually kind to Rocky, and actively laid down next to him and let Rocky touch him.

In fact, everyone was extra nice this weekend. I suspect they knew something was up from my energy and mood. They were sticking close to me as well.

As Rocky got more comfortable in the house, he really showed his personality. He followed me around everywhere, couldn't force out a loud meow if his life depended on it, wanted on my lap at all times (making up for a decade of loneliness, I guess), and demonstrated a sweetness and cheerfulness that couldn't be beat. He was, by far, the best at taking medicine that I have ever experienced with a pet. He would swallow his pills with no struggle and allowed me to give him shots of vitamins without so much as a twitch. It's extra-impressive for how long he went without those things. Really, his only fault was that he would have accidents around the house - everything else about him was wonderful.

I knew he was a hospice case when I took him in. He was sick and old; he wasn't long for this world, whatever I did. I still feel like I failed him for only giving him half a year of a comfortable, happy life compared to the decade of misery he experienced. Everyone tells me that it's quality over quantity, and that he got to live a wonderful last bit, and I should be proud of that. I hear them. But my friends can attest that I've spent the last two weeks kicking a tantrum about how unfair it is that he didn't get more time with me. I won't pretend I'm the very best pet owner in the whole wide world, but god knows I'm at least better than his previous owner, and I provided everything I had, whatever it costed. I felt like I owed Rocky at least a year of joy and love, and he didn't even get that. It's not fair. It's just not fair.

It's amazing how attached you can get to an animal you know will die soon.

Rocky's ashes will be coming to me in a couple weeks. He'll join the rest of my pets on my desk, and that way he'll stay with me. I'm grateful that he got to fall asleep in my arms and that his pain and weakness is over. Wherever he is, he's comfortable.

I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you, Rocky. You deserved the world.

[billieswildflow3r]

Oh plssss give us another blurb with reader, Billie, and baby Siyah🙏🏼

your wish is my command 🙂‍↕️ <3

My Baby’s Mama

SYNOPSIS: you and Billie take a rain check and decide to bake cookies, little did you two know, baby siyah was ready to come.

fluff, kinda long, and time skips !!

Billie stands behind you, her front pressed against your body as she rubs your stomach. She kisses your neck with low hums, leaving tiny love bites between them.

your belly has reached it’s peak and your due date is near, you were mentally preparing yourself day by day to finally give birth to your baby boy.

Billie was ecstatic about the thought of a mini you roaming around the house, even though he wouldn’t have a pinch of her DNA, she’d still invite Siyah into to this world with open arms.

She already had prepared hospital bags, formula, diapers, anything that your baby needed to be healthy and took care of.

“can you check on the cookies, my love?” you hum into her mouth as she sweetly kissed you, she nods her head and pulls away doing as told.

Billie sets the hot pan of cookies on the counter, being careful not to burn herself. “damn these look good..,” she mumbles, hesitant to grab one.

you slap her hand with a giggle “let them cool first greedy,”

she frowns and leans against the counter, her eyes still set on the cookies. you distract her with a peck on her cheek, before you could pull away she holds you in place to kiss your lips.

you wrap your arms around her shoulders, bringing her only a bit closer as you deepen the kiss. Billie moans in your mouth and palms your ass, “you smell so good, mama,” she rasps in your ear before nipping at it.

moments like these made you wish you gave birth sooner.

as the cookies cooled, you and Billie made out. She ran her fingers through your hair and smiled when you whimpered in her mouth after she’d suck your tongue.

those small sounds slowly turned into wincing after awhile.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” Billie said pulling away, you held onto her shoulder in pain, a sharp contraction in your stomach.

you kept your breath steady, but before you knew it there was fluids gushing from between your legs. You whined with wide eyes.

Billie was panicking, she was running around the house trying to get every pre-packed hospital bag, food, necessities and all sorts of things.

“can you walk?” she asked, before you could reply your hunched over position already gave her the answer. she picked you up bridal style and headed towards the car.

once it started, Billie had no remorse for others on the highway, it was less than likely she’d get a ticket this late at night anyways.

listening to you wailing in pain right beside her only increased her speed and soon you two were at the hospital.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

You were laid on a hospital bed with IV’s hooked up all over, you decided to do an epidural since your contractions were so bad. it worked pretty well so now you’re sipping on juice and watching your favorite show.

Billie was editing a music video that would soon to come out on the couch right beside you, showing you little funny things she could do to the video before fixing it to normal.

“Alright Y/N, your dilation is at about 9 centimeters, we only have an hour to go and you’ll be ready, okay?”

you nod your head as a reply to the nurse, bracing yourself for the excruciating pain you’re about to endure. Billie grabs your hand from the couch and looks back at you lovingly with a soft smile, holding eye contact.

She brings it to her lips to kiss it, pulling away shortly to admire the jewls on your nails. She made sure you had multiple self care appointments before this day came.

After an hour, you’re ready. You take slow nervous breaths as you cling onto Billies shirt, subtle pain sitting between your legs.

“I-..I don’t know if i can do this..,” you mutter with pure anxiety.

“it’s okay baby, i’m right here.” She whispers to you softly as she opens your sweaty palm, locking her hand with yours and kissing your forehead.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

“you’re almost done mama, you got it!” Billie praises, wincing silently at how hard you’re gripping her hand. you’re eyes slowly water at the pain and pressure, the epidural only last so much.

you wail in pain, clenching your teeth as you give one final push. The whole room seems to light up at the sight and sound of your newborn baby.

“would you like to cut the umbilical cord?” The nurse said says holding out the scissors to Billie. She pauses, smiling wearily with a nod.

After your wife happily cuts the cord, they bring Siyah up to your chest, you cradle your baby with eyes full of tears, Billie thought you couldn’t look any more beautiful.

She just sat and watched the moment, admiring you and your baby. How much he resembled you, especially with his hair. She couldn’t wait to see the color of his eyes, she’d wonder if they were just like yours.

please don’t mind if this is bad, i haven’t written anything in a while :((

[sasheemo]

When we collide

Chapter 6

Read on AO3

Fic masterlist

Chapter Summary: At the coven gathering, you get lost, thoughts leaving you unsettled. Afterwards, something vanishes in the shadows, instinct and questions compelling you toward something. Or someone.

Word Count: 2k

You sit next to your mother in the third row, hands folded, eyes fixed ahead, trying to absorb the weight of Evanora’s words as she speaks of strategies and defenses. Her voice is firm, unwavering, commanding the attention of every witch in the room, including you—at first.

But gradually, something shifts. Your gaze begins to wander, the sharp focus on Evanora’s speech blurring as an unexpected pull draws you to the left, where Agatha sits in the front row. It’s almost instinctive, like a silent, magnetic call that you can’t ignore. You glance over, just for a moment, intending only a quick look, but as your eyes settle on her, it’s as if something snaps, binding your attention fully and entirely.

From this angle her face is turned toward her mother, just a portion of her right profile visible to you, yet it’s enough, more than enough, to hold you captive. There’s something about her in this moment that’s different, a rawness you’ve never noticed, or maybe just never allowed yourself to see.

A cascade of dark waves seems to flow down her back of its own will, barely tamed yet elegant. The candlelight catches in certain strands, giving them a midnight sheen that suits her all too well. Each wave frames her face with an effortless grace, softening the edges yet amplifying her presence. A single strand, loose, is falling across her cheek, but she doesn’t seem to care. Your gaze traces the way her hair drapes along her neck, the gentle slope of her collarbone hidden by the high collar of her dress.

Her posture is impeccable, but… there’s a tension there, a subtle firmness in the set of her shoulders, as if she’s holding herself together, willing herself to stay perfectly composed. Her cheekbones catch the light with a sharpness that reminds you of a sculpture, cool and untouchable, yet softened by the faintest hint of warmth in her skin. You study the line of her jaw, strong and graceful, balanced between delicacy and defiance.

Her brow seems to furrow slightly, a small, involuntary reaction to something Evanora has said, and the motion just draws you in deeper. Her lips sit slightly parted, as if they’re poised to respond to some unspoken thought. There’s a softness to them that strikes you like an ache. A softness that feels out of place on someone like her, nevertheless you find yourself wondering what it might be like to see those lips curve into a smile. An absurd, unbidden thought, that makes your chest flutter.

And then, in a moment that feels as though it was crafted only for you, her gaze flickers, ever so briefly, and you glimpse the corner of her eye. That icy blue, catching the flame’s light just enough to make it glint, holds secrets of its own. It’s like looking into a shard of frozen glass, cold yet mesmerizing, holding you captive in a way that defies all reason. It holds a mystery, a hidden depth, as though within it lie the answers to questions you’ve barely begun to ask yourself. 

Not being able to see her whole face is almost maddening right now, you need to know more, to see more. Every detail, every minuscule movement, each one carves a deeper impression into your mind, making it impossible to look away.

Suddenly, you feel almost breathless, as if the act of merely watching her is a revelation. You can’t hear Evanora’s words anymore, nor the murmur of those around you, everything becomes a mere whisper and the faces of the other witches blur into nothing. It’s as if Agatha is the only person in the room, as if every candle is lit only for her. The rise and fall of her breathing, the gentle motion of her hand as it rests in her lap, the way she subtly purses her lips and furrows her brows. It’s all a symphony, a rhythm you suddenly feel attuned to.

There’s a strange beauty to her that you can’t define, a beauty that feels both dangerous and necessary, like something you should resist but can’t bear to turn away from. You find yourself wondering what thoughts linger behind that unreadable gaze, what she hides behind that carefully constructed mask. Your can feel you heart quicken its pace as you catch yourself leaning forward slightly, straining to memorize every inch of her.

But you are not just glancing at her. You’re truly seeing her, probably for the first time, and the realization takes hold of you with an intensity that is both unfamiliar and unexplainable. You’re seeing her not as the person you’ve convinced yourself to dislike, but as someone. Someone breathtakingly, achingly real. Maybe… too real.

And then it hits you. Hard. 

An almost painful awareness crashes over you, jolting you back to yourself. The heat of embarrassment, confusion, even frustration burns in your chest as you realize how far you’ve allowed yourself to go. This is Agatha. Your supposed rival, the girl you’re meant to resent or, at best, ignore. And yet here you are, utterly captivated, overwhelmed by a flood of thoughts and emotions you don’t understand and certainly can’t justify.

Before you even know it, the meeting is over. You feel your mother shift beside you, witches around you start to rise, and sounds return to your ears in a rush you hadn’t even realized had faded. The spell shatters as abruptly as it began, and it’s disorienting, like surfacing from a dream. You just sit there, stunned, feeling betrayed by your own mind. How long had you been lost in her? The realization stings, leaving you confused and almost angry with yourself for allowing these thoughts to take root. And as you absentmindedly rise to follow the others, the image of her face remains, etched into your mind like a spell that lingers, defying all sense of reason.

You walk toward the exit, moving almost automatically, following the crowd as they spill from the hall. Outside, in the communal garden, your mother stops beside you, glancing over with a hint of impatience. “Wait here.” she says, before slipping back into a conversation with the witches she’d been speaking to before the meeting. You nod, your mind elsewhere, the urge to simply leave pressing at you.

With a sigh, you glance around, but before long, you’re joined by the daughters of the witches your mother is chatting with. They crowd around you, laughing and chatting, reliving the highlights of Evanora’s words with a shared energy that you don’t quite feel. You exchange polite words, nodding and smiling when expected, but each comment you make feels thin, as if it might snap under the weight of your own discomfort.

In moments like these, you feel the disconnection, that quiet distance that stretches between you and the others in Salem, especially those your age. There’s a sense of loyalty in them, a reverence for the coven and for their mothers, a shared pride you can’t quite relate to. They seem so comfortable in the bonds that tie them to each other, so perfectly aligned with what’s expected. They’re different in so many ways—faces, voices, personalities—but all united under the same need to belong. And here you stand, nodding along, yet feeling like an outsider with each second that passes.

You glance absently toward the building, letting their voices blur, filling the air around you without sinking in. Then, something catches your eye. A flicker, a shape that moves in the corner of your vision. You turn just slightly and see it, a dark figure rushing from the building, slipping around the courtyard where the witches are gathered, disappearing into the trees beyond. Whoever it is moves quickly, the edges of a cloak trailing behind them, a silent streak vanishing into the landscape.

Your mind pulses with a sudden awareness, suspicion weaving itself through your thoughts. Agatha. You don’t know it’s her, you have no way to be sure, not truly, but something deep down tells you that it is. You glance around at the others, but no one else seems to have noticed. And then, as if summoned, Evanora steps out of the building with that composed, polite smile plastered on her face, her hands clasped together as if nothing at all could be amiss.

A new tension takes hold. You look away, feeling that undeniable pull rising in you again, that strange, inexplicable instinct drawing your thoughts back to Agatha, whether you want it to or not. ‘It’s none of my business’ you tell yourself, willing the image of the fleeing figure to fade ‘Even if it was her, especially if it was her.’

In the midst of this internal feud, your mother reappears, her tone brisk as she tells you it’s time to go home. You nod, moving forward, but after only a few steps, the image of that dark shape vanishing into the trees rises up, clear and persistent, making your heart beat faster.

“I… I have something to do” you say, your voice firmer than you expect. “I’ll be home later”. 

Your mother’s mouth presses into a thin line, her eyes narrowing, waving you off with a slight roll of her eyes. “Off to the forest again, are we?” Her tone is mocking, almost amused. “Don’t be late. Be home for dinner.”

“Fine.” you reply, and with that, you turn on your heels and walk away. You start off walking at a calm, steady pace, but the image of that dark figure surfaces again. The shadow slipping from the building, crossing into the trees, disappearing with a quiet urgency. That swift, silent shape, so full of motion yet cloaked in secrecy. Your steps quicken, almost unconsciously, until soon you’re running, faster and faster, toward someone or something you can’t name, drawn by an impulse that refuses to fade.

As you run toward the edge of the forest, a dozen thoughts tumble through your mind, each one louder than the last. Who was that?Why would any witch slip away like that, darting into the trees as if she were fleeing? The questions twist at you, defying all sense. Witches don’t need to sneak off, not in Salem, not after a gathering. And yet… there was something so urgent, almost desperate, in the figure’s escape.

Somewhere, beneath all the thoughts you try to keep logical and composed, your own voice rises again, almost commanding. 'You know it’s Agatha’. Her name slips, once again, unbidden into your mind. You immediately want to discard it, to push it away. ‘Maybe not. It doesn’t have to be her’. You clench your jaw, unwilling to accept that the thought stirs something in you. Because if it is Agatha, then what? Why should it matter to you that she ran off so suddenly, with that same quiet, unyielding energy that feels at odds with everything you know about her?

You try to focus on the rational questions, on the strangeness of the scene rather than the woman who might be behind it. You tell yourself it’s the mystery that makes you run, the unknown of it all. But the harder you try to shake your thoughts, the more they weave themselves through you, like a whisper you can’t ignore.

By now, you’re deep among the trees, breathing hard, your pulse racing. You still don’t know why you’re running or what exactly you’re hoping to find. But something about that figure, about the way she fled, grips you, compels you forward. Your cloak trails behind you, brushing against the forest floor, catching on stray roots and twigs, but you don’t slow. Each step echoes in the stillness, a soft, urgent beat against the earth, mingling with the shallow rasp of your breath. The air feels sharp as it fills your lungs, grounding you even as your thoughts whirl, refusing to settle. And as you press on, the shadows of the forest gather around you, darker, thicker, like they’re hiding secrets just beyond your reach.

[ginxyy]

Lips of an angel

Well, my girl's in the next room Sometimes I wish she was you I guess we never really moved on

The night air hung thick with an unspoken tension, the kind that wrapped around you like a tender but painful memory. You sit on your balcony, the world below you a jumble of busy lives and vibrant lights that somehow feel distant. The echoes of laughter and music float up to where you are, but solitude nestled in your heart feels almost comforting. It’s been a while since you’ve thought of Jeonghan, but tonight, those thoughts loom larger than life. The soft glow of your phone interrupts your reverie, its screen illuminating the darkness as it buzzes to life. And there he is, your past wrapped in the silhouette of words: “Hey, can we talk?”

You hesitate, your heart racing, recalling the whirlwind romance that danced through a year so passionately alive that it felt almost dangerous. Jeonghan, with his gentle spirit and enchanting smile, had swept you off your feet, making you believe in the kind of love that could tore through you like fire, leaving nothing but embers in its wake. There were moments that felt stolen from the world; late-night drives under the stars, laughter that felt like music, and conversations that spiraled deep into the very essence of your souls. You were lost in each other, two presents wrapped in happiness, but then, life had other plans plans that ultimately spiraled you away from each other.

The relationship had been intense, electric, as if every touch held the weight of eternity. But the quiet ache of reality slowly encroached upon your idyllic world; the demands of life and ambitions gnawed at you, leading to arguments that felt more like storms than discussions. When the inevitable happened, and the words "we need to end this" echoed between you, it felt like a death. You’d walked away, choosing the painful journey of moving on. Time passed, and though the ache remained, you did your best to weave a new normal, filling your days with laughter with a new companion, bringing joy and sweetness where your heart had once been a tempest of love and longing.

And yet, on this night, with summer air wrapping around you, the familiar strain of memory is mixed with the weight of your present. A tiny part of you trembles as you reply. When your phone rings again, the name flashing on the screen sends shivers racing down your spine.

It’s him. Jeonghan’s voice spills out, laced with earnestness and something heavier alcohol, perhaps. “I shouldn’t have let you go.” He’s slurring his words, but the sentiment ripples through your heart like soft ripples forming in a still lake. You bite your lip, desperately fighting the floodgate of yearning that threatens to pull you back. His voice is both an anchor and a siren call, urging you back to the shore of a love you thought you’d left behind.

You glance toward the closed door of the room where your current boyfriend sleeps, blissfully unaware of the storm wrestling within you. Your heart aches at the thought of betraying the gentle man who has wrapped his love around you like a warm blanket. Another part of you, though, flares with a desire so strong it scares you. “I loved you, too,” you manage to whisper, swallowing the words and tasting bittersweet memories with every syllable.

The silence stretches, laden with memories of shared sunsets and soft touches, and then Jeonghan speaks again, his voice more steady now, “Do you ever think about us?”

You nod instinctively, though he can’t see it. “Every day,” you say softly, your voice barely breaking the stillness. “But we both moved on, Jeonghan.”

“I know,” he replies, a hint of sorrow threading through his words. “But knowing doesn’t change the fact that I still love you.” The confession lingers in the air, a tether pulling you momentarily back into a world that once was into his arms, where your heart was safe.

Later that evening, after you hang up, you pull your guitar closer, fingers dancing nervously over the strings. You take a deep breath, your heart racing as you remember an unsaid farewell. a song that is everything you feel. “Lips of an Angel” spills from your lips, the lyrics a haunting echo of love lost. You post it on Instagram, permitting the world a glimpse of your world, intertwined with lingering affection and memories of what once was.

You wake the next day with remnants of dreams still petting your thoughts. Your phone buzzes again, the simple yet powerful message illuminating your screen: “I love you.” It is raw, unfiltered, and achingly beautiful. Your fingers hover above the screen, torn between longing and reality as they twitch with the desire to reply.

But what would you say? You feel your heart heavy each beat a reminder of the fragile existence of what you shared once, what you could possibly reignite. This fleeting connection was a beautiful reckoning that pushed against the edges of your heart, both beautiful and devastating.

Through the morning sun streaming in, your current boyfriend wakes up, pulling you into his embrace. He whispers sweet things to you, but your heart is miles away, aching as memories dance just beyond your reach. The juxtaposition of intimacy enveloping you juxtaposed with the echo of Jeonghan's words turns your heart into a battlefield. The comfort you once found here yawns wide, leaving you unsettled with the weight of feelings you thought you’d buried deep.

You sit up, the message still weighing on your mind. The beauty of love is that it can transcend time, but its specter can also haunt. And as the day goes on, you find yourself caught between longing and loyalty, a gentle pull towards the past and the present intertwining in an intricate tapestry of emotions.

That evening, as the sun dips low, you sit again on the balcony, acoustic guitar resting on your knee, and the memories swirl like wind around you. It was beautiful

And despite moving on, there will always be a place in your heart where those memories live and breathe

The world spins on, and so must you. As you type back, “I love you too. Always will,” you feel a small release of tenderness mingled with heartbreak, knowing some loves are not meant to be held tightly but cherished and remembered amidst the rush of life. A soft tear rolls down your cheek it’s sad, yet the love still shines bright, like the evening stars illuminating a profound connection that time may fade but never truly extinguish.

And when you submit the message, wrapped in love and sadness, you realize that even in separations, love finds a way to linger.

[ri0-vidal]

The Kiss of Death

"Is this how Nicky died?" Billy asked.

Agatha froze. A plethora of feelings engulf her all at once.

Rage, at everyone's presumptions of her. Sadness, at not getting to say goodbye to her beloved son. Grief, for her poor Nicky. There was another feeling in there too which she couldnt quite place. Almost a mixture of hatred and overwhelming fondness. All fueled by her ex.

Although she took their child from her in the dark of night, she cherished her. She loved her. The one who knows her better than anyone. The one who understands her and all of her flaws and accepts them without judgement. The one who, despite being apart for centuries, found her bound under the magic of the Scarlet Witch and helped to free her once again.

Despite all of this grief and anger which had previously shrouded Agatha, deep down she knows she got more time than anyone else would have got.

She knows all of those times spent luring in witches to steal their power wasn't just for her own selfish need for more power.

She knows that despite everything that had separated them, their deep rooted love is what keeps bringing them together.

Rio lurks behind her, blissfully unaware of the previous conversation with Billy. Unaware of the inner workings of agathas mind.

Agatha turns on her heels and walks towards death with intent.

~~~~~~

Rio watches over Agatha as she rises up from the ground. The sting along her back from her previous crash through the house still lingering, despite her healing powers.

"Take him" Agatha insisted, gesturing to the boy.

"What?" Billy questioned with a slight quiver to his voice.

"You heard him. The boy. As promised." Agatha persisted.

Rio was amused now. She chuckled at this remark.

She will never change will she, she thought to herself. Even after all of these centuries, she is always so willing to sacrifice the lives of others to keep running away from me. To keep escaping death.

Agathas voice brought her mind back to the present.

"It's over."

Rio watched the two of them exchange a glance. Betrayal was laced in the eyes of the boy. But surprisingly she was struggling to read Agatha. Was this her grief once again clouding her judgement. Or was this fear of reuniting with her son.

Agatha is approaching her now. She must have missed some of the conversation in trying to understand this complicated woman before her. She catches the last part though.

"... plant a few azaleas on your way out."

Her gaze follows the witch, analysing her face. Really trying to understand her in this moment.

Rio thought she had a true likeness for this boy. She even saw the similarities between the boy and Agatha herself.

So how could she discard him like this after Nicky.

Was this so as I couldn't steal the boy from her once again when she wasn't awake?

As if somehow offering him to me despite all her anguish will make it better.

Before she realises, she was looking at the boy again. Confusion. Desperation. Betrayal written all over his face.

She hears the soft crunching of the grass behind her and as she turns Agatha is only but a foot away from her.

She's pressed up against her now, warm soft hands cup her cheeks.

The touch heating up her icy cold skin.

Agatha crashes her lips against Rios. Catches her by surprise.

The warm feeling is spreading throughout her whole body. It's just like she remembers.

Rio gives into her embrace. Kisses her back fervently. Gives herself fully to, once again, be with her love.

She remembers the last time they kissed.

It was winter of 1749. They were in a small log cabin at the base of a mountain in northern New Hampshire. The fire was burning in the background. The heat prickling at her skin. Snow started falling around them while Agatha was making a stew over the fire. Rio approached her from behind and placed a small kiss on the side neck.

She noticed the small moan the other woman tried to suppress and this fueled her more.

The kisses got more frequent. Hands on the others hips guiding her to turn around. Bodies pressed together. Lips meeting lips. Hands wandering.

Despite the cold winters night. The heat in this small, isolated cabin was smouldering. Rio hasn't forgot this night.

Before she realised. Rio was watching as Agatha began to rise up out of this kiss and into the air above her.

Suddenly Rio was overcome with fear.

What had she done...

She finally had the chance to be with her love again. She didn't realise that her elation, her absolute joy would cause her powers to erupt from her. Allowing Agatha to absorb them.

Was this Agathas plan all along?

The woman drifted down to the ground as Rio watched on. Everything was happening in slow motion. Everything else around them has stopped. No noise. No movement. Nothing.

The life was painfully draining out of her. Skin shrivelling up, eyes void of her firery spirit. Darkness spreading over her.

Rio can't control her grief as her one true love lay at her feet. Slowly starting to decompose.

She noticed as her flesh started to disappear and her bones became one with the earth. Flowers started blooming. Mushrooms, azaleas, clover and violets. A blast of colour. Life was being born once again.

Was she doing this? Did she do this?

She could feel the pressure build up in her eyes. Tears started to form as she recounted all of the times she spent with Agatha.

She couldn't bear this anymore.

Her defences dropped and her true form reveals itself.

The thought rushes through her and Rio knows she wants to honour her last wish.

You will never see my face again. Rio Vidal has died along with you, Agatha Harkness.

She turns to look at the boy once more. Fear is in his eyes, but a glimpse of sympathy forces its way through.

"You may go." She instructs.

She needs one last moment alone.

Death leaves pulling her cloak around herself, as if is will cause any lingering warmth and scent the other women left to stay with her. To engulf the feeling of her last touch and hold it closer.

Death shall never love again.

[tvrningout-a]

i wanna see my friends, but i also wanna write up lore :((

[musubiki]

once again thinking about limes very quick descent into madness surrounding the time when he realizes he might like mochi after the first night he spends cuddling with her. always love the slow start of "Okay she's kinda cute I guess. She has cute tendencies sometimes. There, you happy? I admitted it. Now leave me alone." which in the span of about 3 days RAPIDLY spills into being unable to think about anything else to the point he can barely hold a conversation with anyone because his mind keeps daydreaming back to holding her in his arms. All day feeling like "I can still feel her warmth on me..." and has to keep being snapped back to reality by everyone around him

he can barely even talk to mochi because he keeps thinking about it. has no idea what to say to her the next day. is very quiet. and mochi thinks hes mad/uncomfortable with her now, since hes always so standoffish to girls at school she thinks she might be in that category now. so the next night while lime is about to go to bed, STILL THINKING ABOUT IT, and he gets a text from her that reads something like: [Hey lime!! about last night- sorry i fell asleep on you!! i know your not super comfortable with that stuff!! it wont happen again!! 🙇‍♀️ see you tomorrow!] and he feels his heart drop to his fucking stomach. lays there reading it back over and over with his thoughts a mix of "Yeah I guess that makes sense, it happened by accident. It was never gonna be a repetitive thing." vs "Won't happen again...? Like....ever? Are you fucking kidding me? I never get that ever again?"

eventually after an hour of tossing and turning, thinks up some bullshit excuse to sneak over to her house and climb up over her little bedroom balcony, knocks on her window and says something like "Hey uhhh you forgot one of your socks over at my place so I brought it back." or something that is absolutely stupid and could've definitely waited for the next day. manages to weasel his way into crawling into her bed with her because every bone in his body is telling him to.

huheuheu love to see lime aching for her eheheh

[yardsards]

can i ask about your experience as a quaker (or growing up as one? i just saw you mention bein one in some tags)

i jus don't know much about them

so i was not raised quaker, i was raised baptist. which was. 0/10, do not recommend. all the guilt of catholicism with none of the stained glass lmaooo

like, i did resinate with the idea of there being some sort of higher power and i liked the idea of getting together with other believers to discuss spiritual matters but as i got older and started thinking for myself i realized i really didn't like a lot of things about the church. i hated the bigoted beliefs of its members. i hated the emphasis on blind obedience to authority. i didn't believe that the whole literal truth could be found within one book, specifically one group's interpretation of said book. and the idea that people were born inherently bad and sinful and that a supposedly kind and just god would condemn people to eternal suffering just for not believing the "right" things just did not sit well with me at all

when i went off to college i decided to try out a few different churches around town. i ended up settling on a progressive presbyterian church. the community was great and very accepting of queer people. i had some minor qualms with the theology but it wasn't like with my parents' church where every sermon made me feel increasingly nauseous, and i generally felt *good* during and after the services

and then covid hit and while they did stream their sermons, i lost that sense of community and just kinda... fell away

throughout all this i was researching different faiths online, both christian and non-christian. and one faith that kept popping up a lot that i liked the sound of was quakerism. like at one point i remember taking some online quiz of like "what religion do your values most align with" and quakerism was very in the lead. (before this, i'd only really been exposed to quakerism in history textbooks and assumed the religion died out alongside puritanism)

in the end what got me really interested was actually a video by a youtuber i liked, a queer/disability advocate and historical fashion enjoyer who also happened to be quaker

and after looking more into it, i decided to try attending a quaker meeting. which was easier due to covid cuz i could find a church online (located physically hundreds of miles from me) that did their sunday services over zoom

and so i attended and the people there were great and were doing actual good in their communities. and the way services were run, and their beliefs about what god *was* and all of that just hit me with an intense feeling of like. holy shit this is what i've always wanted from religion.

the video explains the sort of core beliefs and practices of quakerism better than i can but the main belief is that like. every person is godly. as such, it's our job to treat all living people as equally and kindly as possible. additionally, since we all have god inside of us, we need to look inwards and come to our own conclusions about our own religious beliefs and practices (and generally respect other people's religious beliefs even if they differ from our own, so long as they're not causing real tangible harm)

i haven't attended any meetings in a while, due to that group going back to semi in person (they still stream it out but it feels more like being a spectator than a member) and there being no quaker meetinghouses in the tiny town i currently live in, coinciding with me being too depressed to regularly attend anything. but i'm planning to start attending quaker meetings again once i move to a real city

[keeps-ache]

brrrba pa pa da de do ♩