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pitchsidestories · 14 hours ago

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ex's and snow II Leah Williamson x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 3583

summary: a snow-covered hut in the Swiss Alps with a few good friends and ex-girlfriend Leah Williamson. Can the former lovers find each other again before the snow melts, or are they simply not meant to be together?

author's note: our first fanfic of 2025, we took our time and tried to make it a bit longer than usual and hope you like it.🥰🥰

The laughter got stuck in your throat when you saw your ex-girlfriend in the corridor.

Just seconds before, you were talking to Mariona and Ana Maria about a funny moment in the dressing room when you were all still playing for Barcelona. The short walk from the car to the cozy looking cottage had felt to you like a scene from the Last Christmas music video where good friends were having a good time together in a snow-capped cottage like this one was.

The magic of the enchanting setting was gone when you looked into the blue eyes of your former lover.

“Leah.”, you muttered in utter shock.

The looks she was sending you across the room were cold as the ice: ”You.”

Behind your back Mariona, Lia and Ana Maria stood silently as they watched the drama unfold in front of their eyes.

Both of your heads turned around to shot deadly glances at your mutual friend. “Keira Fae Walsh!”

“I didn’t do anything.”, she clarified, raising her hands innocently.

Slowly you shook your head: “No, you didn’t tell me she was going to be the surprise guest.”

“If I had known she would be here, I wouldn’t have come.”, Leah said spitefully.

The midfielder rolled her eyes in annoyance: “Stop whining, you both wanted to be included so I invited you both. You’ll survive.”

Knowing that there would only be three bedrooms and a sofa in the cabin plus two couples you turned hopeful to your former Barcelona teammate:” Ana we will share a room, right?”

“Sorry, you'll have to share.”, Ana Maria explained, destroying your hope for some peace in the night and nodding in the direction where your ex-girlfriend was sitting with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“What, no way!”, you protested.

A mischievous smile played on the Swiss woman’s lip: “Oh come on, you’ll survive. Keira and Lucy are exes and get along too.”

“That’s different.”, you told her. Their breakup has been smooth with no hard edges unlike yours with the England national team captain.

She quickly commented:” Yeah, they’ve a dog together.”

“Luckily, we never got a dog.”, you countered brusquely. Even though you were aware that ever since Lucy and Keira adopted the West Highland Terrier Narla the two of you dreamed of a dog yourself.

With an amused smile on her face Lia had followed your verbal duel until asking everyone cheerfully: “Before someone murders her ex-girlfriend and turns this into a cozy mystery, would anyone like a hot chocolate?”

“I do.”, Laura announced smiling, holding hands with the Barcelona midfielder. While Keira’s head rested on the older woman’s shoulder.

“Amor, I’d like one as well.”, Mariona beamed at her Swiss girlfriend.

Grinning, Lia kissed the Spaniard on the cheek:” Of course, I’ll make you one.”

Seeing the four being this in love with each other, showed through those simple gestures, was equally heartwarming to you as well as a bit painful, reminding you of your own singleness.

You tried to cover up your own feelings with a half-joke: “I think I’ll need something stronger than that to survive this weekend.”

Without missing a beat, Laura send you a smirk from across the room: “You can put something stronger into your hot chocolate. We came prepared.”

She got up from her seat next to Keira and opened a cabinet, revealing a surprisingly large collection of liquor bottles. Grabbing a bottle of Irish Cream, she came back and poured a generous amount into your hot chocolate.

You didn’t protest. You just smiled mischievously at her: “You’re the best.”

“It’s not my first winter vacation in a cabin.”, she winked back while pouring some alcohol into her own mug.

“I can tell. It’s quite cozy actually, except for that pouting blonde sitting next to your girlfriend.” You nodded towards Keira who had changed seats to sit next to Leah and was now whispering quietly to her.

Laura only raised a knowing eyebrow at you and grinned: “Don’t worry we can spike her drink too.”

“Oh, she’s horrible when she’s drunk. You should have seen her after the Euros final.”, you laughed, thinking back to the summer of 2022.

“Really?”

You nodded: “Yes, I think I’ve never deleted that video of her in our hotel room.”

Pulling out your phone to show Laura the video, you tried to fight back a fond smile. Everything had felt easier and lighter back then, not just because you won the tournament. Now, looking at the footage of a younger, more relaxed Leah pirouetting around the room, your heart started to ache again.

“Oh, that’s hilarious.”, Laura smiled as she watched your phone screen where Leah drunkenly fell over and pulled the curtains of the hotel room down with her. You both had had a few too many celebratory drinks that night and you really thought it was the funniest thing you had ever seen.

“She refused to fall sleep after that. No one slept for more than two hours that night.”, you continued to explain, the memories filling you with a nostalgic kind of happiness.

Laura laughed politely: “I heard some of those stories from Kei. It sounded like you all had a good time back then.”

“We did but then she changed so much… You know, the fame. Everything happened so fast afterwards.”

Your break-up had been like a tornado. It came suddenly and without warnings. All you knew back then was that Leah was busy with fashion stuff and advertisements and suddenly, she wasn’t your Leah anymore.

Lauras face turned serious, her eyebrows knotting together: “Wait, that was the reason you two broke up?”

“Yes.”

“I heard it was super messy.”, Mariona contributed to your conversation, sliding closer to you and away from the rest of the group.

“You can say that again.”, you sighed.

On the other side of the room, Keira and Leah had their own conversation.

“Kei, I’ll never forgive you.”, Leah hissed at her best friend.

“It’s not that bad, Leah.”

The defender rolled her eyes: “Sure, maybe for you.”

Keira groaned with frustration: “You’re so dramatic!”

Suddenly Leah decided: “I’ll lay down before dinner.”

“What about your hot chocolate?”, the midfielder frowned.

She had barely spoken the words when Lia handed the blonde a steaming cup that smelled deliciously of chocolate.

“Oh, thank you, Wally.”, she mumbled gratefully before sipping the hot drink.

With a warm smile the brunette promised: “Drink it, you’ll feel better afterwards.”

“Does she magically go away after I finished drinking this too?”, Leah wanted to know from her in a hopeful tone.

Hearing that question Lia chuckled:” No.”

“Sad.”, she pouted, closing her eyes for dramatic effect, wishing you’d somehow disappear like you did in the past.

No complaining about her change since you were gone, no one saying that the fame did change her character not for the better, but for the worse.

Wasn’t the England captain so much happier now? Or did the ACL injury made her slow down again to be in the here and now, forcing her to be more selective of the time she had. If you had stayed with her longer, you’d have witnessed it firsthand. The only thing Leah was certain of was that you were the reason her thoughts were running wild.

Clearing her throat the Arsenal midfielder innocently suggested:” Maybe just try to be open for the situation.”

“I hate you both so much.”, the defender growled.

Still smiling Lia stated: “No you don’t.”

“What are we eating?”, Leah swiftly changed the topic.

Amused the Swiss woman lifted an eyebrow:” Why? Are you hangry?”

“Yes, I’m indeed very hangry.”, she confirmed.

Her Arsenal teammate couldn’t help but to start laughing about her dramatics: “Typical.”

Leah knew she wasn’t known for her cooking skills, so the blonde offered:” I’ll do the cleaning who’s going to cook?”

“I can cook.”, Mariona volunteered.

“I’ll help you with that, Mario.”, you responded, squeezing her shoulder slightly. Back in Barcelona the two of you often cooked for your teammates, it was a passion you both shared and over the years you became a good team in the kitchen.

“And Leah and I’ll clean.”, Keira threw in.

As always, when the cooked food was on the table, it was eaten up far too quickly, at least you could see from the satisfied smiles on the faces of your friends that they had enjoyed it and the sight of it was what made you incredibly happy.

When the chatting and laughing was over, you all went to bed. As you closed the door behind you, you realized that you had to share the bedroom with none other than your ex-girlfriend, and to avoid her for a while longer, you stayed in the small bathroom for an extra-long time.

You took a few deep breaths to brace yourself, watching yourself in the mirror as you did. You then changed into a pair of pyjama pants and an oversized shirt before exiting the bathroom.

Leah was already lying on her side of the bed, one hand on her flat stomach: “God, I’m so full.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes: “You never know when to stop.”

“It was too delicious.”, Leah shrugged, unbothered by the judgemental tone in your voice.

You didn’t feel like discussing with her so you just sighed: “I’m going to bed now.”

Leah watched as you climbed into your side of the kingsize bed and turned off the lights.

“Night.”

Sleep came surprisingly easy as soon as you were cozied up under the warm blanket. That was until someone gently shook you awake a few hours later. You didn’t open your eyes, you only managed to groan and bury yourself deeper into the sheets.

“Hey, I think the heater broke down… It’s s-so cold.”, Leah whispered, her teeth chattering with every other word.

“What?”, you yawned, too sleepy to understand anything she said.

“Can I get under your blanket? It’s freezing?”

Still half asleep, you lifted your blanket to let Leah crawl in. “Fine.”

”Thanks.”

Her shivering body pressed against your side, the two blankets laying in a big pile on top of the two of you. Leah felt so cold next to you that you had to pull her in, willingly sharing your body heat with her. “Come closer.”

The defender wrapped her arms around you, her skin icy against yours: “How is your body so hot?”

“Don’t know. You tell me.”, you grinned with your eyes closed.

Leah snorted about that before turning serious again: “No, really. You’re not getting a cold, are you?”

“Not with you warming me.”, you continued to joke.

“Good because Arsenal needs their captain.”

Finally you turned to your side, directly facing her: “Oh, so you should survive and I can freeze to death?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Just that we both can’t get sick right now.”

You nodded slightly: ”Okay, that’s fair.”

The winter break would end soon and neither of you wanted to miss out on training.

You both went quiet for a short moment.

“I saw that… you played a great Champions League campaign so far.”, Leah suddenly admitted quietly into the dark.

You took those words in, unsure what to do with them.

“Are you saying you still watch my games?”

“Sometimes I do.”, she confessed quietly. But the blonde didn't add, because of Keira or Ellie, so you wondered if that included you.

However, you were too afraid to ask her about it and instead teased her about her beloved club: “ I couldn’t get myself to watch Arsenal this season, the beginning of their WSL campaign was so depressing.”

“Excuse me?”, she huffed, her figure looming over you.

Amused, you stifle a smile, it was very easy to wind her up: “Yeah, okay, Keira told me it got better after your female coach took over.”

“Yes, it did.”, Leah confirmed matter-of-factly.

Even though you could feel her intense gaze on you, you began to feel sleepy: “That’s great for you, you must be very happy right now.”

“Sure, believe that.”, the defender smiled sadly, which you didn’t see anymore because your eyes were already closed.

You slipped softly into sleep.

The next morning, Ana tugged gently on her friend's upper arm:” Come on, Kei. We shouldn't wake them up yet, they look so cosy.”

“Look at how tight Leah is holding on to her. She was totally lying about having no feelings for her anymore.”, the midfielder observed.

Her girlfriend continued:” And the one who’s laying in her arms hasn’t let go off their shared past either otherwise she wouldn’t keep videos with Leah on her phone.”

“Let them sleep. Let’s go and make breakfast.”, Lia spoke up.

Glancing at the Swiss Woman Mariona’s face lit up while she talked: “I could really need a coffee or two to be fair.”

“Me too.”, Keira replied.

The Spaniard cheerfully concluded: “Time to get the coffee machine going then.”

“On it.”, Lia answered in a good mood.

The smell of ground coffee beans and the golden rays of the sun touching your face and hers woke you both up.

“It smells of coffee.”, you mumbled happily.

Leah shook her head in amusement: “I hope they made some tea as well.”

“Ugh, I’ll never understand how anyone can hate coffee.”, you remarked.

She immediately countered:” And I will never fall victim to the coffee addiction that you all obviously suffer from.”

The two of you made their way to the open kitchen, where your friends were already there. Their faces were illuminated by the morning light, an open window was letting in some fresh mountain air while they were almost done with preparing the breakfast for an adventurous day ahead.

“Good morning, girls.”, the Arsenal captain greeted them smiling, hugging Lia from behind.

The brunette returned her grin:” Morning. I guess that means no coffee for you?”

“Oh, yes is that tea for me?”, she hummed delighted.

“Yes.”, Mariona confirmed as she pushed the steaming mug towards the blonde defender.

Leah took a deep breath, taking in the smell of the tea before she wrapped her hands around it: “Amazing.”

“You’re welcome.”

After taking a sip from her steaming hot drink, Leah looked at the group in front of her: “So what are we doing on our first full day here?”

“Skiing!”, Laura beamed at her.

You saw Keiras eyes widen nervously in the background, and you had to stop yourself from laughing.

“Yes, it’ll be so fun. For the ones who don’t know how to do that we have sledges.”, Lia explained patiently.

You knew exactly what that meant. Laura, Lia and Ana would enjoy their time on the ski slopes while the rest of you were stuck with sledges.

Leah didn’t seem too excited about that plan: “Just great.”

To lighten the mood and to spite Leah, you asked the group: “Sledge race anyone?”

“I’m in!”, Mariona nodded quickly.

Leah rolled her eyes which usually would have offended you if it weren’t for the way the corners of her mouth lifted into a smile: “Such children.”

Mariona and you got up from the table, ready to get dressed for a day in the snow.

In the meantime, Lia leaned over to her teammate and whispered: “You should talk with one of those children later if you ask me.”

“Shut it, Lia.”, the defender replied.

“No, deep down you know I’m right.”

“No.”

“Yes.”, Keira finally said, raising on eyebrow at her best friend.

“Guys.”, Leah sighed with a pleading tone which was deliberately ignored by her friends.

“Just trust us, Lee.”

“No.”

This time it was Keira who sighed with frustration: “I wish you two weren’t as stubborn.”

“We’re not.”, Leah said cooly and got up from the table, ending the conversation abruptly.

No one said anything about it for the rest of the day. You were too busy playing in the snow. The sledge racing quickly turned into a snowball fight which then turned into you all trying to build a snowman together until the sun set.

Your face and hands still felt frozen when you returned to your bedroom in the cabin. With a tired but satisfied sigh, you let yourself fall onto the bed.

“You look pretty done.”, Leah smirked as she pulled her cold, wet sweater off of her body.

You tried your best not to look so you stared at the ceiling: “In my defense, it was a long day and my manager just called to tell me that I have to leave early tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving again?”

You frowned. Was there actually a slight hint of disappointment in your exes’ voice?

You must have imagined that.

“Yeah… I have to go.”, you confirmed.

“Oh.”, she sounded disappointed.

You suspected with a heavy heart: “I bet you’ll be happy to have one day without me.”

Much to your both surprise the blonde revealed: “Actually I was just getting used to you.”

“Used to me?”, you repeated, puzzled.

The England captain shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly:” Yeah. You’re less annoying than I remember.”

“Excuse me? You’re way more annoying than me.”, you quickly corrected her. In a serious tone you reminded your former girlfriend:” You were the one who had to attend every event, take each interview, miss out on date nights and our friends’ parties.”

As she listened to your accusations, Leah wrapped her arms around herself protectively. “Because I had to, not because I wanted to.”, the defender clarified earnestly.

You remembered loudly, the memories of your breakup returning to you in waves:” You didn’t even cry when I left.”

“What would that have changed?”, your ex-girlfriend asked.

Your voice trembled with both anger and sadness: “It would have shown that you cared about us!”

“I did care!”, Leah hissed back.

You snorted in disbelief: “Sure, Leah.”

“Okay, fine. Believe whatever you want, you’re gone tomorrow anyway.”, she waved it off.

“You were serious.”, you realized.

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips: “Of course I was.”

“Do you think we were together at the wrong time and place?”, you questioned cautiously.

The Arsenal player took the time to think thoroughly about your question before replying: “Maybe we were.”

“Who knows, right?”

“Not us. If we could just go back in time.”, Leah begun with a longing expression on her face.

You promptly interrupted her:” But we can’t. It’s impossible until time travel is possible.”

“Obviously.”, she said annoyed.

“Don’t eye roll at me, Leah Catherine.”, you warned her with a half-crooked smile on your lips.

The defender cheekily raised an eyebrow: “Or what?”

“Or I’m afraid I’ll have to shut you up somehow.”, you explained.

Leah nervously ran her hand through her loose hair, which shone silvery in the moonlight. “Somehow? You used to do that by..”, the blonde reminisced.

“Kissing you, yes.”, you ended the sentence for her. The air was full of anticipation.

She moistened her dry lips: “You’re not trying to do that, right?”

“What if I did?”, you boldly posed.

“But what about tomorrow?”, the defender pointed out.

You returned her gaze with the same intensity: “I told you I’ll leave.”

“We shouldn’t waste more time then.”, Leah decided, her face only centimetres from yours.

Before you could reply, her lips were on yours. Your heart skipped a beat and for a moment it almost felt like nothing had changed since the last time she had kissed you like that. Your brain went to autopilot, your body took over. Wrapping your arms around her neck, you pulled her closer. Your kisses grew hungrier, more impatient. Despite the knowledge that she was your ex, your body ached for her. You wanted her right then and there.

Apparently, Leah felt the same way when she pushed you back on your shared better, her lips never leaving yours. It was almost muscle memory how your hands slid under her sweater, caressing the body that you knew so well. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it.

The next morning, you stayed in bed as long as possible, sneaking kisses and holding hands on your way downstairs for breakfast. Before you entered the kitchen, you kissed Leah one last time on bottom step. Unbeknownst to you, you were being watched through the ajar kitchen door.

“Girls, look!”, Ana said from her seat on the kitchen table.

“What?”, Lia asked as she appeared in the open door, leaving the scrambled eggs unattended on the stove.

Keira pushed the other midfielder aside so she could see what was going on: “Didn’t she want to leave already?”

“I heard her call her management this morning to tell them we were still snowed in.”, Mariona explained, smiling knowingly into her coffee.

This caused a few gasps in the kitchen.

Only then you realized that you were being watched. You didn’t mind, you already knew that this was their plan all along.

Nobody said anything when you sat down at the table, they were trying their best to act casual and went on to prepare breakfast. You subtly reached for Leahs hand under the table. She smiled at you but your attention was directed towards the snowflakes drifting past the window.

A big part of you was hoping that your lie turned into reality, that the snowfall would be getting worse and you would have a few more days here.

But for now, you were comforted by the thought that you had your Leah back.

gif source: https://www.tumblr.com/tracksuitlesbian/769781520922755072?source=share

231 notes · View notes

cybrasigilism · 12 hours ago

Note

I would die if you wrote an nsfw fic about Namgyu x reader 😭😭😭 like what if he’s your toxic ex or you guys just hate each other and it grows into an attraction… I love your writing so much btw!!

IFHY (Player 124/Nam-gyu x Reader)

character: nam-gyu (player 124)

A/N: there needs to be a larger selection of GIFs for 124 man, i can’t find any ones of him NOT being in the background its unfortunate. hope y’all enjoy as always, i found this one sort of challenging to write, it’s definitely out of my comfort zone but i still had fun!

MDNI! 18+ content under the cut, readers discretion is advised

• ─────────────── •

toleration.

that was the one thing keeping you going in these new, uncertain circumstances of yours. as long as you laid low, didn’t complain, and simply tolerated your new life then maybe, things wouldn’t be so bad.

that seems easy, except for the fact that there was one thing, rather one person, you just could not tolerate. and that was player 124.

sure, the crowd he stuck to was overall quite obnoxious, but for some reason 124 in particular really got under your skin. first off, you didn’t like how he and his purple-haired crackhead friend would always pick on that player 333. sure, he may have scammed lots of people out of their money, but surely those idiots had bigger things to focus on over being petty nuisances.

secondly? the way he would stare at you with such hate for no good reason. you assumed it was probably due to the fact that you constantly voted X, even though you both knew it didn’t make much of a difference. it didn’t bother you that he hated you, seeing as the feeling was more than mutual, but you just wish he would focus his stare somewhere else.

and lastly, every single thing about him and his mannerisms just pissed. you. off. his whole smug demeanour really made you want to land a punch square between his eyes, but you figured he might actually be into that since he clearly had a death wish, seeing as how he always picked the O side of the vote. you were convinced that had it not been for his tweaker of a leader, he would have died a long time ago. to be honest, you wished he had.

that’s why, when he grabbed you by the sleeve and yanked you into a room for the mingle game, you were completely stunned. you would have figured 124 would have left you for dead, hell, you would have expected him to purposely knock you to the ground. maybe it was the adrenaline that made him grab you, maybe it was that he actually… wanted to save you? no, couldn’t have been.

unless..?

“what the hell did you do that for?” you asked, out of breath. he furrowed his brows, looking down on you with that usual stare. “well?” you continued, louder this time. he let out a chuckle before taking a glance out at all the unlucky players who couldn’t find groups.

“what’s so funny?” you questioned, steadying yourself against the wall. he looked back at you, with that shit eating smirk that you hated so much. “i just didn’t realize that you wanted to die that badly.” his response took you aback, a sour expression appearing on your face.

“oh, i suppose i should thank you for yanking me by the arm like that then?” you huffed, rolling your shoulder as you adjusted your sleeve. he approached you, and you suddenly felt the urge to swallow the saliva you just became alarmingly aware of. “you don’t have to thank me now..” he started, looking you up and down in such a way that made your cheeks grow warmer. “you can just pay me back later.”

just then, the doors unlocked, and player 124 was more than happy to swing it open and head back to his little group, not without looking back at you with a sly wink. you stayed stood in the room for a brief moment, still leaned against the wall, trying to process why your cheeks felt so hot all of a sudden.

oh god, you weren’t… catching feelings for 124, were you?

———

it was lights out when you started thinking about your guys’s brief mingle room interaction. you still couldn’t wrap your mind around what you were feeling, but now you found yourself squeezing your legs together as you thought more and more about player 124. you couldn’t believe this, you didn’t even know this assholes name, and now he’s got you all hot and bothered like this?

you knew what you had to do, and you were not proud of it.

after about 5 solid minutes of convincing the circle-masked guard to allow you access to the bathroom, you quickly secured yourself in a stall. “i can’t believe i’m actually doing this right now.” was all you could think as you pulled your pants around your knees, along with your underwear, and slid your hand between your thighs. you had hoped no one could hear as you began to moan softly, just as your thoughts spiralled about player 124, and the tension between you two in the little mingle room; how much you wished he would have taken you right there, inside that cramped space. you felt yourself approaching the edge when you heard something that made your heart stop.

his voice. his voice?

something inside you prayed to god that somehow your imagination had just been that good, but you heard him again, calling out your number from just beyond the stall door. you were too petrified to say, think, even do anything. but of course, he pulled the door open and there you were, hand between your thighs with the single most horrified expression painted on your face.

“wow, couldn’t even wait for me, huh?” he mocked, his gaze fixated between your legs. “what the fuck are you looking at, pervert?!” you whisper-shouted, so as to not alert the guards. he laughed, and you don’t know how or why but that did something to you, as if your fingers currently on your clit were helping matters at all.

“pervert? i’d say you’re the perverse one, seeing how you were just jacking off in the public bathrooms. are you that much of a slut that you can’t keep your hands outta your pants for more than a night?” his degrading was not easing things, matter of fact it was only turning you on, and you were sure he knew that. you started to pull your hand away, and he shut the two of you inside the confined stall.

“what do you think you’re doing?” 124 asked, now on his knees so you had to meet his gaze. “i was just-“ you started, before being quickly interrupted by him grabbing your now exposed hand. “stopping?” he finished your sentence for you, cocking his head to the side with the same wide eyed faux-curious expression you’re sure you’ve seen him give others in the games. “don’t you dare stop on my account.” you tried to avoid eye contact, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “i can’t do it.. not in front of you.” your response felt totally out of character for yourself, and 124 totally called bullshit then and there. “fine, then i guess i’ll just have to help you then won’t i?” his boldness shouldn’t have shocked you, and you don’t think it did. you barely had tome to wrap your head around the fact that he now had slithered his own hand between your legs before-

“oh my god.” was drawn from your lips as he slid his fingers up your slick folds, brushing against your clit as he rubbed up at down your pussy. “holy shit, i’ve hardly done anything and you’re already soaked.” he exclaimed smuggly, earning an attempted glare from you. “oh please, don’t take all the credit.” you scoffed, using every bit of willpower you could muster to ensure you didn’t moan, god forbid. “i think i can,” he chuckled, continuing what would be the beginning of his assault on your nerves, “seeing as you know you got this fucking wet thinking of me.” when you least expected it, he pushed not one, but two fingers into your cunt. at this point you saw stars, feeling yourself clench around him so soon you felt as though you should be ashamed of yourself, but you didn’t care.

“shit, already so tight for me, huh?” you could tell through 124’s tone than he was totally turned on by this, by how horny he made you. “if i had known you’d be this easy, i would have done this a while ago.” normally you would be completely offended by his words, but when he started circling your clit with his thumb you really couldn’t bring yourself to mind at all. “p-please…i need to..” you could barely get your words out through your moans, you wouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t understand you. “need ta’ cum, so bad-“

“oh yeah? you need it?” he taunted, only increasing his pace as he pumped his fingers knuckle-deep inside your throbbing pussy. “i don’t think you’ve earned it yet.” he stopped suddenly. you cried out at the abrupt loss of friction as he released his fingers from your firm grip. he took in the sight of how desperate you were as he lowered his pants, ordering you to free up your seat, to which you were shocked you could even stand at this point. “if you need to cum so bad, why don’t you show me that you deserve it.” he grabbed your arm and pulled you over to him. you couldn’t process what situation you were in just now. one minute you were convinced you hated the guy, and now your pussy was inches away from his dick? you can’t say you minded your predicament, you were just terribly shocked.

“why the hesitation? didn’t you say you needed to cum?” the return of the mocking tone was not lost on you, and you could feel yourself begin to shake. not out of fear, but out of pure anticipation. “i’m sorry, i just…” you began, before he grabbed you hips and pulled you down onto his lap, the both of you gasping at the abrupt feeling of pure ecstasy. “holy shit!” you cried out, gripping onto the walls of the stall as 124 began to bounce you on his cock. it’s almost as though he was setting the pace for what he wanted you to do, and you quickly caught on, sliding up and down his dick as his grip on your hips hardened.

“god you’re such a pathetic little whore,” he said through gritted teeth, slapping your ass while you rode him, earning a hearty moan from your lips. “oh, yeah? you like getting slapped like the little cockslut you are?” “y-es! oh fuck, oh fuck.” it was as if you were in a trance, telling him anything he wanted to hear. “yeah? imma need to hear you say it.” he teased, you could still feel him controlling your every move through the grasp he had on your hips. you tell him exactly what he wants. “i..i’m your..” you moan senselessly “your little cockslut-“

“fuck yeah, at least you know what you’re good for..” his words started to get a bit unsteady, maybe it was because of how tight you were clenching on him. “oh shit, are you close already?” he gasped, to which you responded something unintelligible. “fuck, i can barely understand you, babbling like a needy little whore.” you couldn’t take it, the way he made you feel was immeasurable to anything you’ve ever experienced. all you wanted in that moment was player 124, you never wanted him to stop pounding up into you with such tenacity.

with one final squeeze of your cunt, he held your hips down and a hot feeling quickly filled your insides. a slew of profanities were expelled from his lips and you felt your whole body shake. as soon as your breathing both steadied, he motioned you to get off his lap and he pulled his pants back up. you, however, could not possibly muster yourself to stand up at the moment, your legs still vibrating from the wild ride you just experienced.

“like i said,” he started, “if i had known you’d have been this easy.. woulda fucked you a lot sooner.” he turned and left the restroom, and you stayed slumped against the wall. now you could say one thing was for sure..

you definitely tolerated player 124.

• ─────────────── •

thanks so much for reading! i know it’s sort of different than what i usually write but i hope it’s satisfactory! as usual please, if you have any advice or constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing it’s greatly appreciated!

have a great day/night 💋

tags: @gabbystinks

#squid game #squid game 2 #squid game smut #fanfiction #squid game x reader #player 124 #nam gyu #rough smut #x reader fanfiction #imagines #x reader smut

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twst-drabbles · 1 day ago

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Malleus 19

Summary: You're sick as a dog and all you wanna do is lay in bed. The little dragon Malleus, on the other hand, wants you to entertain him.

(Wanted to write about a little cutie. So here you go.)

Ough, you are in a pit of muggy heat and horrible, horrible mucus.

Why did you go out? Why did you decide to go to the festival on Kalim's insistence even though you knew you were coming down with something bad? Past you was a fool, and now you were paying the price for it.

You felt gross. You are gross. Ugh. Nothing to do but wait for this to pass over, and maybe take some meds if it becomes too much, or at least have something before bed so you don't wake up in the middle of the night.

You sighed, coughed when you breathed too quickly, then blindly reached out to the water you kept on your nightstand. Your fingers hit something cold, and you grasped it tightly without a second thought.

Squeak!

…that's not a sound a water bottle should make. That sounded more like a fart than a squeak.

You reluctantly lifted your head, then blinked at the glaring glowing green eyes. He opened his mouth and let a flicker of fire tickle your skin. Whoops.

"Oh," you loosened your grip and Malleus spread his wings, hovering in the air, "Though you were my water. Didn't mean to."

It's right behind him, shining beautifully in the light but, ugh, you'll have to stretch yourself to get it and you really don't want to move. Your muscles were sore from all the walking alongside the fact that your sick.

"Ugh. Well, do whatever you like, Malleus. I'm not feeling the best."

You sniffled and roughly cleared your throat as best you could. You didn't succeed, and now you have more mucus coating your lungs. Breathing is possible, but so very uncomfortable. Horrible. Horrendous.

You heard a few flaps and felt a small dip in your pillow. Two tiny hands patted at your head, then started to shove. You shook your head and flipped yourself to the other side of the bed. You'll get your water later, you're getting sleepy again. Besides, at least you have some soup to look forward to from Crowley. Kalim wanted to take cooking duties but he doesn't exactly have the best idea on what makes a good sick meal.

Small steps traveled over your plush pillows, and now the little dragon was pushing at your shoulder.

Ah, he wants you to get up, for whatever little dragon fae activities he has planned for the day.

"Don't," you lightly pushed him away, "I need sleep."

Little claws hooked onto your blanket, and a small body heaved itself onto your neck. Cool scales swept over your face, tickled your nose, and you shot right up to scramble for a tissue.

You let out a colossal sneeze. "Ough, thank you." You said to no one in particular, glad that you can actually breath again.

You crumpled up the tissue, tossed it into the trashcan, then finally noticed the spread eagle, frozen Malleus. He always had a set of wide eyes that looked at the world with a curious wonder, and if not mystified, then he's usually not thinking anything at all. Empty, empty eyes, but oh so expressive.

Right now, Malleus was looking at you with shock.

"What? Never seen a sick person before?" Your voice was still nasally as ever, but it's clearer than before, at least. "You've been around Silver. Shouldn't he have been sick once or twice?"

Another tickle bloomed from the back of your nose and you grasped another tissue. You scrunched up, ready to let another sneeze rip out, but it faded away as quickly as the wind when you saw Malleus dash under your pillows. Every part of him was swallowed. All you could see was his eerie green eyes.

You blinked, then something clicked. "…ah, my sneezes scare you."

Makes sense, you don't bother being quiet since you've lived here along for a little too long. You get used to having nobody over, so you've stopped being aware of just how loud you can be.

You blew your nose and sighed in relief. "If you want to go home, by all means. Because I'm not gonna stop sneezing anytime soon."

Malleus gave the littlest of growls, evidently annoyed. You squashed him under the pillow he took refuge in.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #diasomnia #malleus #malleus draconia #house pet au #reader insert #unindexed

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yavieriel · 20 hours ago

Photo

This does not have to be a cry of desperation. You do not have to accept the 24/7 deluge of information from for-profit news agencies that want your attention. You do not have to accept despair as the only valid response to the state of the world.

Drastically restricting your news intake is one of the best things you can do for your mental health. Block out a specific amount of time that you are willing to spend on current news, say one hour a week, and mute, block, unsubscribe, etc. from any news sources that you would see passively. During that one hour a week, actively seek out news from trustworthy sources. The rest of the week, if you see something, block it.

During that hour of engagement with the news, when you see something upsetting ask yourself, can I do something concrete and finite that will meaningfully impact this situation?

Not “can I raise awareness of X” or “should I reblog content about X”. Those are not concrete or finite and 99% of the time they're really just shouting into the void pointless.

Concrete and finite means things like:

Donate to a reputable charity

Vote for a specific candidate

Volunteer with a reputable non-profit

Write to my government representatives

You may need to do some research to find out what your options are.

If you cannot find anything to do about a problem that fits these constraints, then put it in the mental box of "not my circus, not my man-eating tigers" and accept that this problem is not yours to solve.

If there is some act you could take that passes the test of 1) concrete action 2) finite 3) meaningful impact

Then ask “Do I have the resources to do this without causing myself harm?”

If yes: Do the thing. Put it on your to-do list, check it off, be at peace with yourself. You have done a Good Thing. Reward yourself in some small way.

If no: Do not harm yourself, physically, emotionally, or mentally. Be kind to yourself and acknowledge that right now you are not in a place to tackle this particular problem. That is not a failure on your part. It may be a limitation imposed by an illness and/or disability, or the fact that you are yourself a victim in some way, or simply the fact that you're not wealthy. None of these things are your fault.

Ask yourself if there are things that you can work on instead that would help you develop the resources you need to help others at some point in the future. Focus on improving your own well-being. Learn to put your own oxygen mask on first. Stop setting yourself on fire to keep others warm. Talk to a therapist about creating healthy boundaries.

Whatever choices you make, let go of the fear, the anxiety, the despair, the panic.

Your negative feelings are not improving anyone else's life. Your suffering in and of itself is not benefiting anyone through some metaphysical balance sheet of suffering. Your unhappiness is not changing the world for the better. All it is doing is keeping you paralyzed and exhausted so that you cannot do anything positive.

The only people benefiting from your despair are the ones who want you beaten down and hopeless. Don't let them control you.

And for the other 167 hours a week, ignore the news. Do the things on your to-do list, take care of your home, spend time with your loved ones, work on your hobbies. Plant that pear tree and watch the pears ripen. Get to know a local sheep farmer and go watch the sheep and learn to card and spin their wool. Talk to your neighbors. Be kind.

#advice #politics #the world has always been full of terrible things #all we can do is choose to try and make it better #and know that bad things will still happen #but the good things matter too

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wdcbox · 2 days ago

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escape⠀⠀⋆·˚ ༘ *⠀⠀lando norris.

pairing. lando norris x gn-platonic!reader.

word count. 1.3k.

summary. a night out to forget the past turns into a moment of healing, as you find unexpected support from a distant friend: lando.

warnings. mentions of depression, alcohol and ex-relationships.

ellis’ addition. once again, please send me some rqs pretty pretty please! hope you lot enjoy this one <3 dedicated to the lovelies @lechrts @therealplaguedoctor and @planetpedri ♡

the club was alive, a pulsing mass of energy that swallowed you whole. music thumped in your chest, a low bass that made the floor beneath your feet vibrate. neon lights painted streaks of pink and blue across the dark, smoky air, catching the glitter on your dress and making it shimmer. you were supposed to feel invincible tonight – this outing desperately needed as a form of a pick-me-up. you had promised yourself this was your moment to let go, to dance, to laugh, to forget.

the past few weeks had rolled on painfully slow as you became stuck in your head. you denied that you were depressed – saying this was one of your spouts of seasonal sadness – but none of your friends believed you. after all, they knew you more than you knew yourself – maybe even too much.

you let your body sway on the dance floor in a huddled circle with your friends, some 2000s club music working to drown out your thoughts. part of you felt free – alive again – as you moved your body to the beat. your worries started to float away in the wind, the slightest bit of intoxication overtaking you.

just as you began to relax, you saw him. dylan.

your breath caught in your throat, your heart freezing mid-beat. dylan was at the bar, casually leaning against it like he owned the place. his dark hair was slightly mussed, his leather jacket the same one he’d worn on your first date with him. he hadn’t changed. if anything, the months since your breakup had only made him more self-assured, more magnetic – and that made it worse.

with a deep sigh, you slowed your dancing, your cocktail trembling in your hand. a wave of nausea rolled through you, panic prickling at the edges of your mind. with a sharp turn, your eyes scanned the crowd for an escape. your friend julia had disappeared to the bathroom and maddison was near the entrance sizing up a man. you felt hopeless, but thats when your eyes found lando.

lando wasn’t dancing like the others. he stood on the edge of the dance floor, drink in hand, his easy smile lighting up as your gaze met with his. though It only faded the moment he saw the look on your face.

“hey,” lando spoke, stepping closer. his voice was warm, steady, cutting through the noise like a lifeline. “you okay?” his voice was a bit louder, giving you the ability to hear his words over the loud bass of the music.

you swallowed hard, your throat dry. you hated to be so vulnerable, so open to lando, but he was offering help that you desperately needed. you let out a sigh, motioning over your shoulder, “dylan’s here.” the words felt foreign on you tongue, like admitting them would somehow make it worse.

lando’s brows knitted together. he wasn’t completely familiar with what had happened between you and dylan, but he was aware the breakup was quite nasty. lando has heard stories from friends, yet he found himself out of the loop.

obviously, seeing your ex at a bar wasn’t the best thing that could happen, but lando itched to know what had happened. despite his slight cluelessness, the look on your face told him everything he needed to know: dylan was anything but a good guy.

“where?” lando questioned, his eyes beginning to scan the room. you tilted your head toward the bar, too afraid to turn and confirm what you’d seen. lando’s expression darkened as he followed your gaze, his normally relaxed features hardening.

“alright,” lando spoke, his voice low but resolute, “we’ll handle this. stay with me.” his voice was at a hum, his words still audible over the music. though you and lando hadn’t seen each other that much in recent times, he still managed to be such a caring person.

you let out a shaky sigh, your eyes locking on the brunette infront of you. you wanted to leave — to run away — but you knew it would somehow make you feel even worse than you already did. despite your thoughts, you croaked out, “maybe i should just leave—”

“absolutely not,” lando interrupted, his tone firm, “you’re not running from fun and you’re most certainly not running from him. he’s an asshole — just let lose and forget about it.”

before you could argue lando, be shifted closer, his broad frame a quiet shield between you and the rest of the club. the world narrowed to the two of you, lando’s steady presence anchoring you somehow.

“come on,” lando ushered, his hand brushing your elbow. it was a light touch, casual, but it sent a warmth up your arm that caught you off guard.

lando guided you through the crowd, his movements deliberate but unhurried, as though he were giving you time to breathe. the two of you wove through clusters of dancers, past couples laughing and swaying under the shifting lights. every so often, lando glanced over his shoulder to check on you, his eyes soft with concern.

“here,” lando spoke up once the two of you reached a quieter corner of the club. the neon glow barely reached this far, leaving the space shadowed and calm. lando leaned against the wall, his posture casual but his gaze alert, scanning the crowd.

you sank into a booth, your hands still gripping your glass like it might steady you somehow. “i hate that he can still do this to me,” you admitted, her voice barely audible over the distant thrum of music, “not matter how much i saw i’m over him — it’s like he still has this chokehold on me.”

lando slid into the booth across from you, his eyes locking onto yours. “it’s not about him. it’s about how bad he made you feel. dylan made you feel like shit and he deserves to feel like shit in return — stay here with me, ok? show him how happy you are and make him regret ever breaking your heart.”

lando’s words settled over you, quiet but firm, like a vow. you had never heard lando speak like that, but part of you found yourself inspired by his words. you felt your chest loosen, the tight coil of panic inside of you beginning to unwind.

“yknow, for a race car driver — i feel like you always know what to say,” you teased, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. lando shrugged, a small grin breaking through his seriousness, “it’s apart of my charm. plus — i have to know how to answer interviewers stupid ass questions.”

you laughed softly, the sound surprising you. for the first time in weeks, you sort of felt alive again. despite that fact your ex stood feet away from you, you couldn’t help but feel relaxed. the world kept spinning and your smile grew more.

for the next hour, the two of you lingered in the shadows. lando kept you entertained with stories and dry humor, his presence so steady it felt like the eye of a storm. he didn’t push you to go back out onto the dance floor, didn’t force you to pretend you were fine. he just stayed, his focus entirely on you, like nothing else in the world mattered. and slowly, it started to feel true.

when you finally worked up the courage to glance toward the bar, dylan was gone. you didn’t know when he’d left, and for the first time, she realized she didn’t care.

“thanks for this,” you spoke, your voice soft as you showed your gratitude towards the boy. lando leaned closer, his face shadowed but warm under the dim light, “anytime.”

it wasn’t much, just a word, a look, a fleeting moment. but it was enough to make you feel like yourself again. and for now, that was all you needed.

#ellis' works #lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #ln4 fic #ln4 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic

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novaursa · 8 hours ago

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A Lion's Folly (sins)

- Summary: A story where a lion falls for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaime Lannister

- Note: Be aware of time jumps and how some events may not match the canon or its timeline.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 1

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

The cold bites harder now, even in the Riverlands. Autumn is creeping closer, and Jaime Lannister feels every inch of it in the damp, miserable confines of the Stark camp. He sits on the rough wooden bench of his prison tent, his armor stripped, his hands bound by iron chains that rattle with every movement. The once-golden lion is tarnished now, his pride battered by weeks of captivity.

But it isn’t the cold or the humiliation that gnaws at him the most.

It’s you.

The thought of you lingers, unbidden, no matter how hard he tries to banish it. You’ve haunted his dreams since Winterfell—the way you stood by Bran’s bedside, the sorrow etched into your face. He’d told himself that time and distance would fade those feelings, that the guilt and longing would wither away like a flame denied air. Instead, they’ve grown, consuming him from within.

And now, as he sits in the heart of his enemy’s camp, surrounded by wolves, he swears he saw you earlier. It was just a fleeting glimpse—someone passing by the edge of the campfires, wrapped in a heavy fur cloak—but his heart had leapt at the sight. His mind betrayed him, conjuring the image of your face beneath the hood. He told himself it couldn’t be you. You would be in Winterfell, or wherever the Starks had scattered in their grief. You wouldn’t be here, amidst soldiers and war.

Yet, he couldn’t shake the thought.

The tent flap rustles, and Jaime looks up to see Robb Stark stride in, Grey Wind at his side. The direwolf’s presence is a constant reminder of his vulnerability; the beast’s yellow eyes seem to pierce through him, a predator sizing up its prey.

“Kingslayer,” Robb greets coldly, his voice steady and sharp. He doesn’t sit, doesn’t offer even the pretense of civility. He stands tall, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his youth masked by the steel resolve in his eyes.

Jaime leans back against the post, smirking despite himself. “Your Grace,” he replies, his tone mocking as he inclines his head slightly. “To what do I owe the honor?”

Robb ignores the jibe, his expression unyielding. “How many men does your father have? Where will he strike next?”

Jaime lets out a short, derisive laugh. “Straight to business, I see. I’d hoped for at least a proper interrogation—some chains, perhaps a few bruises.”

Robb doesn’t rise to the bait, his gaze steady. “I don’t need chains to make you talk, Lannister. The fact that you’re here, bound and defeated, is enough proof of that.”

Jaime’s smirk falters for a moment. He shifts, the chains rattling, before leaning forward slightly. “You’re wasting your time, boy. Do you think I’d betray my father? My family? You’re a Stark; you should know better than that.”

Robb steps closer, his jaw tightening. “You call yourself a knight, yet you killed your king. You’re no man of honor. You’re a coward hiding behind a lion’s shield.”

The words hit their mark, but Jaime doesn’t let it show. Instead, he tilts his head, studying Robb. “Honor’s overrated,” he says lightly, though the edge in his voice betrays his inner turmoil. “It won’t bring your father back, will it?”

The animosity in the air thickens, Grey Wind letting out a low growl at Jaime’s words. Robb’s hand grips the hilt of his sword tighter, his eyes flashing with anger.

“Careful, Lannister,” Robb warns, his voice a low growl of its own.

Jaime meets his gaze, unflinching, though his mind is already elsewhere. He debates for a moment whether to ask, whether it will make him seem weak, but the words slip out before he can stop them.

“I saw her,” he says quietly, his tone lacking the usual mockery.

Robb’s brows furrow. “Who?”

“Your sister,” Jaime replies, his voice tightening. “Y/N.”

The name feels foreign on his tongue, too precious for someone like him to speak aloud.

Robb stiffens, his blue eyes narrowing. “You dare speak her name?”

Jaime doesn’t back down. “Is she here?”

Robb doesn’t answer immediately, his silence speaking volumes. Jaime’s chest tightens, the faint flicker of hope igniting despite himself.

“I thought I saw her,” Jaime continues, his voice softer now, the chains clinking faintly as he shifts forward. “In the camp. Tell me—was it her?”

Robb’s expression hardens. “What business do you have with my sister?”

“None,” Jaime admits, though the lie is bitter in his mouth. “I just… wondered.”

Robb steps closer, his voice dropping. “You don’t have the right to wonder, Kingslayer. My sister is none of your concern. She stays far away from men like you.”

Jaime doesn’t flinch, though the words sting more than he cares to admit. He forces a smirk onto his face, leaning back against the post once more. “Good. She’s better off that way.”

Robb watches him for a long moment, as if searching for some hidden motive. Finally, he turns, calling Grey Wind to his side.

“You’ll rot in this cage, Lannister,” Robb says over his shoulder as he strides toward the tent’s entrance. “And when the time comes, you’ll answer for everything you’ve done.”

The tent flap falls closed behind him, leaving Jaime alone with his thoughts once more. He exhales slowly, the weight of the chains pressing into his wrists.

He tells himself it doesn’t matter if it was you or not. That he’s a fool for even caring.

But deep down, he knows the truth. Even in this cage, even in the shadow of death, his thoughts remain bound to you. A silent torment, far worse than the chains that bind him.

Jaime’s wrists ache from the constant pull of chains as he’s dragged along by Robb’s men. His boots sink into the damp earth with every step, the heavy mud clinging to him as if the North itself wants to swallow him whole. After weeks of captivity he feels more like a tethered dog than a lion, yanked along as the wolves move their camp to higher ground.

His head is lowered, his hair now dulled and dirtied, but a low growl makes him glance up. His heart stutters in his chest.

It’s him.

Winter, the pale direwolf, stands motionless at the edge of the camp, his silver-white coat shimmering in the faint sunlight. His icy blue eyes bore into him, unblinking, filled with a quiet menace. Jaime halts for a moment, his breath catching. He’d only seen him briefly at Winterfell, always at your side, a specter of your presence.

If Winter is here, then so are you.

As if summoned by his thoughts, a familiar figure emerges behind the wolf. His chest tightens at the sight of you—wrapped in a dark cloak, your hair loose, untouched by the grime of war that clings to everyone else. Your face is pale but calm, a stark contrast to the storm Jaime feels rising within himself.

And then Catelyn Stark appears.

She strides forward with purpose, her eyes blazing with fury as she spots him. You follow behind her, hesitant but present, and Jaime feels the weight of your gaze even if it doesn’t meet his directly.

The men dragging him stop as Lady Stark approaches, her voice sharp as the northern wind. “Hold him,” she orders, her tone brooking no argument. The guards immediately comply, gripping Jaime by the arms and halting his progress.

Catelyn steps closer, her jaw tight with barely-contained anger. “So,” she says, her voice low but seething, “this is where the Kingslayer finds himself. Dragged through the mud like the filth he is.”

Jaime lifts his head, forcing a smirk onto his face despite the anxiety coiling in his chest. “Lady Stark,” he greets, his tone mocking but hollow. “A pleasure, as always.”

Her hand twitches as if she’s tempted to strike him, but she holds back, her fury starting to resurfice. “You dare speak to me after all you’ve done?” she snaps. “After my son lies broken because of you?”

His smirk falters, the weight of her words settling over him like a shroud. He forces himself to hold her gaze, though his voice comes quieter this time. “I’ve already answered for that to your son. What more would you have me say?”

Catelyn takes another step forward, her expression hardening. “You could start by begging for your life, though even that wouldn’t be enough.”

Jaime shifts, the chains clinking faintly. “Begging doesn’t suit me. But if it would ease your grief, strike me down now.”

For a moment, her hand moves to her dagger, her knuckles white with tension. Jaime doesn’t flinch, meeting her glare with steady defiance. The silence between them stretches, thick and suffocating, until a soft voice breaks it.

“Mother.”

Your tone is quiet but firm, and it’s enough to make Catelyn pause. She turns her head slightly to look at you, her grip on her dagger loosening. Jaime’s eyes dart to you, his chest tightening as he takes in your expression—calm but guarded, your gaze flickering briefly to his before dropping away.

“He’s not worth it,” you say softly, though there’s an edge to your voice that Jaime doesn’t miss. “Let him rot in the cage he’s made for himself.”

The words cut deeper than any blade. Jaime swallows hard, forcing his expression into something unreadable. He should be grateful for your intervention, but your dismissal stings in a way he can’t quite explain.

Catelyn hesitates, her fury tempered by your presence. Finally, she exhales sharply, stepping back. “You’re right,” she says, though her voice is still tight with anger. “He isn’t worth it.”

She turns to the guards, her tone curt. “Take him away. Make sure he’s secure.”

The men nod, yanking Jaime forward once more. As he’s dragged past you, he risks a glance in your direction. You’re watching him now, your expression unreadable, though there’s a flicker of something in your eyes—disdain, perhaps, or pity.

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come. What could he possibly say? That he thinks of you more than he should? That your wolf haunts his dreams as much as you do? That he still carries the weight of Bran’s fall, that the deed has begun to feel like a noose around his neck?

Instead, he says nothing, allowing himself to be pulled back into the camp, his chains rattling against the ground.

That night, as he sits alone in his makeshift cage, Jaime’s thoughts refuse to quiet. Your voice echoes in his mind, soft but cutting: Let him rot in the cage he’s made for himself.

And maybe you’re right.

He presses his hands to his face, the cool iron of the shackles biting into his skin. For all his arrogance, for all his bravado, Jaime Lannister feels the weight of his choices pressing down on him like never before.

And through it all, he can’t stop thinking about you. About the way you looked at him—not with fear, not with anger, but with something far worse. Indifference.

For the first time, Jaime wonders if the cage he’s trapped in isn’t one of iron and chains but one of his own making—woven from lies, guilt, and the ghosts of what might have been.

The week crawls by in the cold, damp cage Jaime Lannister has come to know as his new home. Each day feels heavier than the last, the chains at his wrists a constant reminder of how far he has fallen: a prisoner of war, kept alive for reasons he can only guess.

He leans back against the wooden post, his head tilted upward as he watches the stars through a small gap in the tent’s fabric. It’s one of the few comforts he has—staring at the sky and pretending, for a moment, that he isn’t shackled like an animal.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulls him from his thoughts. They’re too quiet to belong to one of Robb’s guards. Jaime sits up straighter, his senses sharpening as the tent flap is pulled aside.

Lady Catelyn Stark steps inside, her face set in grim determination. The flickering torchlight casts shadows across her features, making her look even more formidable than usual. Behind her stands a tall, broad-shouldered woman clad in armor—her presence impossible to miss. Jaime recognizes her instantly: Brienne of Tarth.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Jaime says, his voice dry as he sits forward, his chains clinking faintly. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night visit, Lady Stark?”

Catelyn doesn’t respond immediately. She steps closer, her piercing blue eyes locking onto his. Brienne remains just inside the entrance, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, watching him like a hawk.

“I’ve come to make a bargain,” Catelyn says finally, her tone low but firm.

Jaime raises an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “A bargain? How intriguing. And here I thought you only kept me alive so your son could parade me through the Riverlands like a prize stag.”

Catelyn’s lips tighten, but she doesn’t rise to his bait. Instead, she steps even closer, standing just out of his reach. “My daughters,” she says, her voice heavy with emotion. “Sansa and Arya. They’re in King’s Landing, held by your family.”

Jaime leans back slightly, his smirk faltering. “Ah, so this is about them. And here I thought you’d come to finally finish me off.”

“I’ll do what I must to protect my children,” Catelyn snaps, her voice cutting through the cold air. “Even if it means dealing with you.”

Jaime studies her for a moment, his gaze flicking to Brienne before returning to Catelyn. “And what exactly do you propose, my lady?”

Catelyn straightens, her expression hardening. “You will go to King’s Landing. Brienne will escort you there. In exchange, you will ensure the safe return of my daughters.”

For a moment, there is only silence. Then Jaime chuckles, the sound low and humorless. “You’re asking me to trust you? To believe that I’ll make it to King’s Landing in one piece with your she-knight as my escort?”

Brienne bristles at the insult, stepping forward, but Catelyn holds up a hand to stop her.

“I’m not asking,” Catelyn says coldly. “This is not a negotiation. I will not sit idly by while my daughters remain hostages to your family’s schemes. You’re going, Lannister—whether you like it or not.”

Jaime tilts his head, considering her words. “And what does your son, the King in the North, think of this… arrangement?”

Catelyn’s expression darkens. “Robb doesn’t know. And he won’t know.”

At that, Jaime’s smirk returns, though there’s a sharpness to it now. “Ah, so this is treason. How delightfully unexpected from the honorable Lady Stark.”

Catelyn steps closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “If you ever speak of this to anyone, I will have you hunted down and killed before you can utter a single word. Do you understand me, Lannister?”

Jaime meets her gaze, his smirk fading as the weight of her words sinks in. He can see the desperation in her eyes, the fierce determination of a mother willing to risk everything for her children. It’s a look he knows well—he’s seen it in Cersei’s eyes more times than he can count.

“Fine,” he says finally, his voice quieter now. “I’ll go. But don’t expect me to play the dutiful knight. I’m not doing this for you, Lady Stark.”

“I don’t care why you do it,” Catelyn replies sharply. She turns to Brienne, nodding. “Release him.”

Brienne steps forward, her movements deliberate as she unlocks the chains binding Jaime’s wrists. He rubs them absently, the cool air biting at the raw skin beneath.

“Be warned, Lannister,” Brienne says, her voice steady but firm. “If you so much as think of trying to escape, I will kill you.”

Jaime smirks, his gaze flicking to her. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, my lady. I’ve heard you’re quite the swordswoman. It would be a shame to miss the opportunity to see that skill firsthand.”

Brienne doesn’t rise to his bait, stepping back as Catelyn moves toward the tent’s entrance. She glances back at Jaime, her expression unreadable.

“Pray that my daughters return safely,” she says quietly. “For your sake.”

With that, she leaves the tent, Brienne following close behind. Jaime watches them go, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The chains may be gone, but the weight of what lies ahead feels heavier than ever.

The night is dark, the moon hidden behind thick clouds as Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth slip through the edges of the Stark camp. The cold air bites at Jaime’s skin, but he keeps his discomfort to himself, his smirk firmly in place despite the ache in his muscles. The rattling of his chains has been replaced by the quiet shuffle of his boots on the damp earth, a small mercy he’s too proud to admit he appreciates.

Brienne leads the way, her broad shoulders hunched and her hand never far from the hilt of her sword. Jaime follows reluctantly, his steps slower than hers as if dragging his feet might somehow delay the inevitable.

“You’re remarkably quiet, Ser Brienne,” Jaime says after a while, his tone light but laced with mockery. “I’d almost forgotten you could speak. Do the Maiden herself guide your steps in this noble act of treason?”

Brienne doesn’t respond, her jaw tightening as she presses forward.

“Come now,” Jaime continues, his smirk widening. “We’re far enough from the camp. Surely you can share a word or two with your prisoner. Or do you fear the wolves might overhear us?”

She glances back at him briefly, her blue eyes cold. “You’d do well to keep your voice down, Kingslayer.”

“Oh, I see,” Jaime drawls, feigning understanding. “You’re brooding, aren’t you? Thinking of how your honor is tarnished, sneaking me away like a thief in the night. Do you think your dear Lady Stark would weep for you if she knew the shame you bear?”

“I’m doing this for her daughters,” Brienne snaps, her voice low but fierce. “Not for you. Don’t mistake my duty and oath for anything else.”

Jaime chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Duty. Oath. Such a fine excuse for treachery.”

Before Brienne can respond, a low growl pierces the air, cutting through the darkness like a blade. Jaime freezes, his smirk slipping as he looks ahead.

From the shadows, Winter emerges, his pale fur gleaming faintly in the moonlight. The massive direwolf stands rigid, his icy blue eyes locked on Jaime with unmistakable menace. Behind him, a figure steps into view, cloaked and armed—a bow drawn and an arrow pointed directly at Jaime’s chest.

It’s you.

Jaime’s heart stutters in his chest, though he forces his expression to remain neutral. The sight of you, standing there with unwavering determination, is both captivating and terrifying.

“What are you doing, Brienne?” you ask, your voice calm but firm, cutting through the air like a northern wind. Your gaze flicks briefly to Jaime before returning to the woman beside him.

Brienne hesitates, her hand instinctively moving to her sword. “Lady Y/N… this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh, it looks exactly as it is,” you say coldly, your bow steady. “You’re sneaking him out of the camp. You’re committing treason against Robb.”

Brienne’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t back down. “I’m following Lady Stark’s orders. She believes this man’s life can buy the safe return of your sisters.”

For a moment, the silence is deafening. Jaime shifts slightly, opening his mouth to speak, but Winter’s growl deepens, silencing him instantly.

“Stay silent,” you say sharply, your eyes locking onto his. The force of your words, the raw authority in your tone, sends a shiver down his spine.

Jaime swallows hard, his usual bravado slipping as he watches the scene unfold. Brienne steps forward slightly, her hands raised in a gesture of peace.

“I understand your loyalty to your brother,” Brienne says carefully. “But this is about Sansa and Arya. Lady Stark gave me her trust, and I intend to fulfill her wishes. Let me pass.”

You don’t lower your bow, your gaze unwavering. “And if you fail? If this man escapes? What then? Do you think Robb will forgive you for putting his sisters’ lives in the hands of a Kingslayer?”

“He won’t escape,” Brienne says firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You’ll make sure of nothing,” you reply, your voice hard. “You might trust him to play along, but I don’t. I won’t risk it.”

The words sting more than Jaime expects, though he knows you’re right. If given the chance, he would run. He would escape this madness and return to his family, to the war he knows how to fight. But something about your gaze, the sheer intensity of it, roots him in place.

“I’m going with you,” you say finally, lowering your bow but keeping the arrow nocked. “It’s a long way to the capital, and I won’t trust a prisoner like him in the hands of one person. If he tries to escape, I’ll be there to stop him.”

Brienne hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Lady Y/N, you can’t—”

“I can,” you interrupt, your tone leaving no room for argument. “And I will. If my sisters’ lives depend on this, then I’ll see it through myself.”

Jaime exhales softly, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “A family reunion on the road. How quaint.”

Winter growls again, silencing him once more. You glance at him, your expression colder than the northern winds.

“You’ll speak when spoken to, Lannister,” you say, your voice sharp. “If you even think of trying to escape, I’ll put an arrow through your knee and let the wolves finish the rest.”

Jaime raises an eyebrow, his smirk returning faintly despite himself. “Charming.”

You don’t respond, turning to Brienne instead. “Lead the way. I’ll follow.”

Brienne hesitates for a moment longer before nodding, her expression grim. The three of you begin to move, the sound of boots crunching against the frozen ground breaking the silence. Winter pads silently at your side, his presence a constant reminder of the line Jaime dares not cross.

As they walk, Jaime glances at you from the corner of his eye, his thoughts a chaotic mess. You’re closer now than you’ve been in months, but the gulf between you feels wider than ever.

And yet, he can’t deny the spark of something he doesn’t fully understand—something that terrifies him more than chains or swords ever could.

The night air clings to Jaime’s skin as they travel under the faint light of the moon, their footsteps muffled by the soft crunch of the dirt road. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustle of the trees and the steady padding of Winter, your ever-present shadow. Jaime walks between you and Brienne, his hands bound once more, though the chains are lighter than before.

He knows he should keep his mouth shut. Your warning earlier was clear enough, and Winter’s growls had been more than persuasive. But silence has never been Jaime’s strength, and the anxiety pressing down on him feels unbearable.

“So, Ser Brienne,” Jaime begins, his voice light, “how long have you been in Lady Stark’s service? Or are you simply a sword for hire with an impressive knack for loyalty?”

Brienne’s shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t answer.

“Not much of a conversationalist, are you?” Jaime presses, smirking faintly. “I suppose that’s fitting for a lady knight. Though I must admit, your… femininity is rather understated. Do the men in Tarth prefer their women to be more—what’s the word—formidable?”

Brienne halts abruptly, turning to face him. Her glare is as cutting as any blade, but before she can speak, you cut her off.

“Enough,” you say suddenly. You don’t look at him, your eyes fixed ahead, but the authority in your tone leaves no room for argument. “Keep walking, Lannister. And keep your mouth shut.”

Jaime raises his bound hands slightly in mock surrender. “As you wish, my lady,” he replies, though the grin tugging at his lips suggests otherwise.

The group resumes their journey, the silence settling in again like an unwelcome guest. Jaime bites his tongue for a few minutes, but the words bubbling inside him refuse to stay contained. He’s not even sure why he does it—whether it’s the need to distract himself, the desire to provoke a reaction from you, or some desperate attempt to find absolution for the weight he carries.

“So, Lady Y/N,” he begins, his tone softer now but still laced with mockery, “do you often accompany prisoners on secret midnight journeys? Or is this a special occasion?”

You don’t respond, your gaze fixed ahead as Winter moves silently at your side.

“I suppose it’s for your sisters,” Jaime continues, his smirk faltering slightly. “A noble cause, to be sure. Though I wonder, do you trust her?” He gestures toward Brienne with a tilt of his head. “Or are you here to make sure she doesn’t fail?”

Still, you remain silent, your steps steady and deliberate.

“I must admit,” Jaime says, his voice growing more pensive, “it’s strange, isn’t it? Traveling with someone like me after everything that’s happened. I wonder—do you think of him? Your brother? Of what happened to him?”

At that, you stop. Jaime nearly stumbles to a halt behind you, his breath catching as you turn to face him. Your eyes, so cold and unreadable, burn into him now with an intensity that makes even the lion feel small.

“Do I think of my brother?” you repeat, your voice low and steady, though there’s an unmistakable edge to it. “Every single day, Lannister. I think of how he fell, of how he might never wake because of you.”

Jaime swallows hard, his smirk finally slipping entirely.

“And do you know what I think of you?” you continue, stepping closer, your voice cutting through the night like a blade. “I think of how pathetic you are. A man who threw a child from a window to cover up his sins. A man so desperate to hide what he is that he nearly destroyed my family to do it.”

Your words strike harder than any blow ever could, and for once, Jaime is left speechless.

“You disgust me,” you say coldly, your voice shaking slightly with restrained fury. “And if you speak again, I’ll make sure Winter tears out your tongue. Do you understand me?”

Jaime forces himself to nod, though the weight of your words presses down on him like a mountain.

“Good,” you say simply, turning away from him and resuming your pace.

Winter lingers for a moment, his icy blue eyes locked onto Jaime as if daring him to try something. Then the direwolf follows you, his steps silent and deliberate.

Jaime exhales shakily, his thoughts spiraling as he begins walking again. Your words echo in his mind, each one carving deeper into the guilt he’s tried so hard to bury. He doesn’t know why he provoked you, why he pushed you to the point of breaking. Perhaps it was to feel something—anything—other than the crushing weight of his own failures.

But now, as the silence stretches on and your words linger like a brand, Jaime wonders if he’ll ever be free of the choices that brought him here.

The small camp is quiet, save for the crackling of the fire Brienne has managed to coax to life. The days of travel have been grueling, and Jaime feels every ache in his body, though he’d never admit it aloud. He sits with his back against a tree, his hands still bound but resting in his lap, the chains digging faintly into his wrists. Brienne sits across from him, her eyes never leaving him for more than a moment.

The air smells of pine and damp earth, the kind of crispness that can only be found far from the corruption of cities. It would be almost peaceful if it weren’t for the weight of his own thoughts and the absence of you. You’d disappeared into the woods not long ago, your bow slung over your shoulder and Winter trotting at your side, leaving Jaime and Brienne behind to stew in the silence.

Jaime shifts slightly, his gaze flicking to the direction you’d gone, though the trees obscure any sign of you. He tells himself it’s simple curiosity, nothing more. Yet, even as he tries to convince himself, he knows it’s a lie. There’s something about you that pulls at him, an invisible tether he can’t sever no matter how much he tries.

“Stop it,” Brienne says abruptly, her voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

Jaime turns to her, raising an eyebrow. “Stop what?”

“You know what,” she replies, her tone firm but not unkind. She leans forward slightly, her hands resting on her knees as the firelight flickers across her face. “Stop watching her.”

Jaime smirks faintly, though there’s no real humor in it. “Am I not allowed to look at the person who’s been kind enough to threaten me with death every few hours?”

Brienne’s expression hardens. “It’s not just a look. You’ve been watching her since we left the Stark camp. Whatever you’re thinking—whatever you’re feeling—stop it. She deserves better than someone like you.”

The words sting, though Jaime doesn’t let it show. He tilts his head, his smirk deepening slightly. “Oh, I see. You’re her protector now, are you? The honorable Lady Brienne, guardian of Northern virtue.”

“I’m protecting her from you,” Brienne says, her voice low but cutting. “I’ve seen men like you before, Kingslayer. You think you can charm your way into anyone’s favor, but it won’t work here. Not with her.”

Jaime’s smirk falters, and for a moment, the weight of her words settles over him. He exhales softly, leaning his head back against the tree trunk.

“She hates me,” he says after a long pause, his voice quieter now.

Brienne doesn’t respond immediately, her gaze steady as she studies him. “She has every reason to,” she says finally.

“I know,” Jaime replies, his tone almost bitter. He looks at the fire, the flickering flames reflecting in his eyes. “But I can’t seem to stop myself. Every time I look at her, I see… I don’t know what I see. Something I’ll never have. Something I don’t deserve.”

Brienne’s expression softens slightly, though her resolve doesn’t waver. “Then leave her alone,” she says firmly. “She’s already lost enough because of you. Don’t make it worse.”

Jaime chuckles dryly, though the sound lacks any real mirth. “As if I could. She barely acknowledges my existence unless it’s to remind me of what I’ve done.”

“Good,” Brienne says simply. “Maybe that’s the only way you’ll understand the weight of your actions.”

The silence stretches between them again, heavy with unspoken truths. Jaime shifts uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to his bound hands.

“She reminds me of someone,” he says suddenly, his voice so quiet it’s almost lost in the crackling of the fire.

Brienne raises an eyebrow but doesn’t interrupt.

“My sister,” Jaime continues, his tone distant. “Not in looks, of course. They couldn’t be more different. But in… strength. That fire in her eyes, the way she carries herself. It’s maddening, really. It makes me want to—”

“To what?” Brienne presses, her voice sharp.

Jaime shakes his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “To believe I could be better. But we both know that’s not true.”

Brienne watches him for a moment, her expression unreadable. “You’re right,” she says finally. “You’re not better. Not yet.”

Jaime doesn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the fire as your footsteps approach from the trees. Winter trots ahead of you, his silver coat gleaming in the firelight as he pads over to sit beside you. You carry two rabbits in one hand, your bow slung over your shoulder, your face unreadable as you step into the clearing.

“Talking about me?” you ask, your voice calm but with a curious undertone.

“Nothing flattering, I assure you,” Jaime replies, his smirk returning faintly.

You glance at him briefly, your expression as cold as ever, before turning to Brienne. “Let’s get these rabbits cooking. We’ll need the strength for tomorrow.”

As you and Brienne begin preparing the meal, Jaime leans back against the tree again, his thoughts a tangled mess. He knows he should stop. Stop watching you, stop thinking about you, stop searching for something he’ll never find.

But as the firelight dances across your face, illuminating the resolve in your eyes, Jaime knows he’s already lost that battle.

70 notes · View notes

arabella0001 · 2 days ago

Text

i writed like 2 days for this beloved man

kisuke doesn’t reveal his bankai often, lucky for you, he’s got plenty of other things he’s more willing to show

anime: bleach

pairings: kisuke urahara x reader

synopsis: curiosity killed the cat

warnings: long, a lot of tessing, edging, fingering, oral (male receiving), light rough sex, after care

You’ve always been aware of Kisuke.

He’s not the kind of man you can easily ignore. Whether it was that sly smile constantly tugging at his lips that makes him appearing carefree, his strategic mind always masking his true intentions or his frequently teasins others—expecially you. Kisuke Urahara had an irritating talent for making you blush. And as much as you found that part of him infuriatingly attractive, you never thought it was anything more than a game to him.

Why would it be? He’s teased you so many times it feels like second nature—just a harmless habit he indulged in because he could.

So you never let yourself think too much about him that way. It was easier to brush it off, to assume that was just who he was. Expecially when you’re not the only person he does this to.

But you’ve been working at Kisuke’s shop long enough to know when something’s up, like deflection from his true reasons.

His usual antics are predictable—constant teasing, sly remarks—but today feels different. His presence is present more, his touches wandering a little longer than usual, and the way his eyes track you isn’t just casual. It’s calculated.

You try to ignore it. It’s probably nothing.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself until he slides up behind you while you’re reorganizing shelves. His hand finds your shoulder, fingers snaking lazily around it.

His breath is warm against your ear, the flirtatious edge unmistakable.

“Well, well… look at you. Working so hard today. I hardly recognize you”

You fumble with the item in your hand, nearly dropping it. He’s too close—too casual about the way he leans in, his chest almost brushing your back. Is not like your touch deprived, but you’re not used to it, and his attractive persona and unconventional charm doesn’t help either.

“I-I just want to finish up quickly,” you stammer, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel. “The faster I finish, the sooner I can get home.”

“Oh? In a hurry, are we?” His voice dips lower, humor lacing around every word.

You feel his gaze on you, unwavering, even as you force yourself to focus on the shelves.

Kisuke steps in closer, his arm brushing against yours as he pretends to help by reaching for something—his fingers grazing yours. If you believe in coincidences, that is.

“Home’s nice and all,” he murmurs, voice quiet enough that it feels just for you. “But I can’t help but wonder… no date waiting for you?”

Your breath catches. You edge back, pretending to adjust a box. Why he is suddenly interested in this kind of answears?

Kisuke sees right through it, of course.

“A date?” you scoff, trying to recover. “Like I have time for that. I barely keep up with work here, let alone everything else.”

His smug smile widens. “Ah, yes. The ever-dedicated worker. Sacrificing love for labor. How tragic.” And you barely contain to don’t roll your eyes at that.

He leans in slightly. “A shame, really. I would’ve thought you’d have a long line of admirers by now.”

Your cheeks flush despite your best efforts, and you curse inwardly.

“I—I need a break,” you mutter, practically fleeing outside before he can say anything else.

His chuckle follows you out. “Take your time. I’ll be here if you miss me’’

You exhale, pacing just outside the shop.

What the hell is he doing today? Is he bored? Is he messing with you?

But after a few minutes, you manage to cool off. You tell yourself you’re imagining things, you need to just mind your business.

When you step back inside, Kisuke is laughing with the others, his usual breezy self. He’s chatting with Tessai and Jinta, but his eyes flicker toward you briefly—so brief it’s almost dismissible. Almost.

The day winds down, but the weight of his gaze follows you. Every now and then, when he thinks you aren’t paying attention, you catch him watching.

Evening comes, and after the last customer leaves, you finally snap.

“What’s your deal, Kisuke?” you blurt, arms crossing as you glare at him from across the room.

He pauses, leaning lazily against the counter. His hat tilts forward, shadowing his green eyes, but that damn grin remains.

“Deal?” he echoes, tapping his chin. “I’m just admiring your craftsmanship. Can’t a humble shop owner appreciate his employee’s dedication?”

You narrow your eyes, not buying it. “You never watch me like this.”

Kisuke chuckles, but the glint in his eye sharpens. “Well, you did say you wanted me to stop hiding behind jokes. I’m just giving you what you asked for.”

He steps forward. One step. Then another.

You retreat instinctively until your back brushes the wall. His hand lifts, palm flattening against the wall beside your head, caging you in.

You swallow hard, your eyes stretched in surprise. “Kisuke—”

“Oh?” His eyes flicker, and the usual playfulness deepens into something heavier, unsettling. “That’s the second time you’ve said my name like that. I’m starting to think you like this.”

His face looms over yours, his breath fanning across your lips.

“Well?” His voice lowers, teasing but firm. “Didn’t you ask me to stop playing around?”

Your pulse quickens. Heat rises in your chest. You didn’t see this coming at all.

“I… didn’t see expect this… whatever this is,” you admit, voice quieter than intended.

Kisuke hums softly, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw, tilting your face up just enough to catch his eyes hidden behind the brim of his hat.

“Expect?” he repeats, the word rolling lazily off his tongue. “Sweet thing, I live to defy expectations.”

His gaze drops to your lips—smooth and slow. You notice. And he knows you notice.

His hand slips lower, fingers grazing your hip. Light enough to make you shudder, unrushed enough to know exactly what he’s doing.

Your eyes flick between his lips and his unreadable gaze. “You drive me insane,” you murmur, frustration blending with something else.

“I noticed,” he says easily, arrogant while tilting his head. “So… what are we going to do about it?”

You think for a moment and then.

You kiss him.

His response is immediate. One hand slides to the small of your back, tugging you body against him as his lips part against yours. The kiss deepens—measured but heated, his tongue teasing its way into your mouth, coaxing a quiet moan from you.

There’s a moment where his teasing pauses, lips parting as his head tilts back slightly.His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling just enough to tilt your head further. He swallows every sound you make, his grip on your waist tightening.

You gasp when his lips trail down, nipping at the soft skin of your neck. A low, rumbling hum escapes his throat, as if savoring the way you feel beneath him.

“Sensitive, aren’t we?” Kisuke chuckles against your skin, lips brushing just below your ear. His hand drifts lower, fingers teasing the curve of your thigh.

“Kisuke…” you manage, your voice shaky.

“Oh, I like the way you say my name,” he murmurs, his lips tracing your pulse. “But I think you can do better.”

His hand inches higher. There’s weight behind his touch, but it’s not rushed—it’s the slow, savoring kind of touch, as if he’s in no hurry to reach the finish line.

You groan softly, pressing closer. “Touch me.”

Kisuke’s breath hitches faintly. His smirk returns, curling lazily against your neck.

“Touch you?” he echoes, fingers skating just beneath the hem of your shirt. “My, my. Forward tonight, aren’t we?”

But he doesn’t stop.

His fingers deftly unbutton your pants and slip inside, finding your already dampened panties. He rubs slow circles over your sensitive flesh, making you gasp into the kiss.

"Tsk tsk… Someone’s more responsive than I expected. Should I take credit for this?’’ he teases, nipping at your lower lip before trailing kisses along your jawline.

He pulls back just enough to gaze into your flushed face, a mysterious smile playing on his own lips.

“We wouldn’t want to cause a scene—at least, not here. Shall we?”

With a flick of his wrist, the store's security charms disappear, leaving the two of you alone amidst the shelves of Soul Society merchandise.

Your legs tremble as he continues to tease you through your underwear, the sensation of his fingers on your most intimate area driving you wild with need. You almost hate how your body reacts to him.

At his words, you glance around the shop, a mix of excitement and uncertainty coursing through you.

Noticing your glance, he let out a low scoff, fingers never ceasing their maddening caress. "Oh, don't worry, dear. No one will disturb us. These charms ensure our privacy."

He leans in close again as he whispers,’’Let’s take this somewhere more… accommodatin, hmm?’’

With a effortless motion, he lifts you onto the counter, the cold glass beneath your thighs a stark contrast to the heat building within you. His hands immediately resume their exploration, this time slipping beneath your skirt to push your panties aside.

"Such a responsive little thing, aren't you?" he muses, his thumb circling your clit as his big fingers delve deeper, stroking your slick inner walls.

You moan loudly, unable to hold back the pleasure as he touches you so intimately. Your hips buck against his hand instinctively, craving more friction.

"Oh god, Kisuke... Please... I need..."you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders as you cling to him desperately.

The way he's playing with your body, the filthy and teasing words spilling from his lips, you can feel the coil of tension in your pussy tightening, ready to snap at any moment.

"Just... Just make me come," you so close to begging, your voice trembling with desire "I can't take anymore..."

Kisuke's cheeky smirk widens as he watches your reactions, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Feeling a bit overwhelmed, hmm? Can't handle a little teasing?"

He slows his movements, letting his fingers just graze your sensitive spots, stoking the flames of craving rather than quenching them, looking at your submissive look, whimpering for release. He smirks at you, taking your mouth in an intense kiss, his movements low and precise, driving you mad.

He bite your lip and you moan, you can’t take it anymore.

“I hate you” you barely managed to let it out.

With a sudden shift, he resumes his previous rhythm, his fingers plunging deep and fast, hitting that exact spot inside you that left you trembeling.

"Ah… such harsh words for someone trembling under me." Kisuke’s chuckle vibrates against your skin, low and rich, the sound curling around you like smoke. "I must be doing something right to earn that kind of praise."

He drags his tongue along the curve of your throat again, lingering when he reaches the soft thrum of your pulse, his hand grabbing your hair with a light tug making you gasp.

"I wonder if you even realize how much you give away… Naughty thing, getting this worked up over a little attention."

He pulls back just enough to catch your gaze, eyes gleaming with that familiar glint of trouble. "Don’t worry, Y/N. I don’t mind. In fact…" He leans in, brushing his lips just barely over yours. "I find it rather endearing."

You can’t understand how his teasing words make you so aroused, your legs tremble so hard while your vision start blurring.

“Kisuke oh my—“

As your orgasm crashes over you, Kisuke's fingers continue their relentless strokes, prolonging your climax until you're writhing and sobbing with pleasure. Only when your spasms begin to subside does he slow, then withdraw his fingers from your still-quivering pussy.

He brings them to his lips, sucking your essence clean with a satisfied hum. Kisuke smooths down your skirt with practiced ease, his hands on you thighs "There we go—neat and presentable"

His tone is light, but the wicked gleam in his eyes betrays him. It’s as if he hadn’t just left you shaken and undone.

Without waiting for an answer, Kisuke pulls you to your feet gently, guiding you through the dimly-lit shop by your hands until you reach the tucked-away corner of his personal space. The faint scent of sandalwood lingers in the air, grounding yet evidently his.

His gaze flickers with desire as he eases you onto the couch, standing over you with a quiet intensity. "Now, let’s see… where were we?"

Kisuke’s fingers ghost over your skin as he undoes your clothing piece by piece, his movements deliberate but unhurried.

"Ah… what a sight," he muses, trailing a fingertip down the curve of your collarbone, his finger circling your swollen peck, hardening in his wake. “Almost as captivating as the hidden gems of this shop. But I must admit…" His eyes catch yours, glinting with something darker. "You’re far more tempting."

His hands continue their exploratory journey, tracing the curves of your body with a gentle firmness.

Kisuke’s fingers trace delicate patterns over your sensitive skin, your arms and waist, your thighs and hips, drawing out soft whimpers and gasps that only seem to fuel his amusement.

"Oh, I hear you loud and clear, darling. But let’t have a little patience…" his lips hover near your ear, his voice a velvety purr.

With a lazy flick of his wrist, your skirt slips to the floor, pooling at your feet. Kisuke steps back just slightly, his gaze roaming over you, drinking in the sight with a dangerous glint dancing behind his half-lidded eyes making you flusttered.

"Mmm… now that’s a view worth savoring." His fingers ghost along the edge of your lace panties, knuckles grazing your hips as if testing the boundaries of his self-control. "Let’s see what other secrets you’re hiding, shall we? I think these curves deserve a little more… attention."

His hand lingers, not moving further just yet, letting the weight of his words—and his gaze—sink into you.

Your cheek flush under his intense gaze “Your turn now” Kisuke's eyes still flash with amusement as you boldly strip him bare, revealing his lean, toned physique. He doesn't resist, instead leaning back to allow you full access.

"Well now, isn't this a surprise? The tables have turned, haven't they?" he remarks, his voice tinged with fascination intrigue.

As your hands wander across his body, eager and curious, Kisuke’s gaze never wavers.

His muscles tense beneath your palms, subtle but telling. His body responds instinctively, hips canting forward with a deliberate slowness that lets him draw out every second of pleasure.

"Careful now, Y/N… you might unearth secrets even I’ve forgotten I was hiding."

His hands slide effortlessly to your hips, fingers pressing in just enough to remind you who’s leading this dance. With a gentle tug, he pulls you against him, the heat between you igniting like a slow burn.

The heat of his body envelops you, and you can feel the hardness of his arousal pressing insistently against your belly.

"Now, why don't you show me what else you're capable of, my little explorer?" he whisper, tilting his head just enough to brush his lips over the corner of your mouth

Kisuke's breath hitches as your lips and tongue trail a scorching path down his torso, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. He threads his fingers through your hair, guiding you lower.

“Mmm… careful now, Y/N. You're treading dangerous ground," Kisuke muses, his voice low and laced with desire. "Once you start something like this… stopping isn’t so simple."

His warning is light, but there’s no real intention behind it. He makes no move to dissuade you, his gaze fixed intently as you sink to your knees before him. His eyes widen slightly, that flirtatious glint tempered by something far more primal.

"Oh? Bold as ever…" he murmurs, his head tilting slightly, the smirk tugging at his lips betraying just how much he’s enjoying this. "Tell me, my curious little kitten—" his hips shift forward, just enough to tempt, "—will you strike now, or are you going to let your prey squirm a little longer?"

The challenge hangs between you, thick and electric, his gaze unrelenting as he waits for your next move.

You look up at him shyly, your eyes locked with his as you wrap your fingers around his rigid cock, giving it a slow squeeze.

Kisuke's eyes roll back, a low groan rumbling in his chest as your hand closes around his throbbing member. A shaky exhale slips through gritted teeth, and for once, the usual witty remarks are replaced by quiet, indulgent groans.

He rocks his hips, subtly thrusting into your grasp, seeking more of that exquisite pressure. The sight of your flushed cheeks and lust-filled eyes only fuels his arousal. His pupils dilate, lingering on your errotic position as if committing the image to memory.

"Look at you, so bold and daring," he praises, his voice strained with pleasure.

With a fluid motion, he guides your head closer, the tip of his erection brushing against your parted lips. "Why don't you put that clever mouth of yoursto use, hmm?´’ He tilts his head slightly as he watches your reaction unfold. "No pressure, of course… but I’d hate to think all that potential is going to waste."

Kisuke's breath catches in his throat as you take him into your mouth, his hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "Well, well, looks like someone's eager to please—mmm”

His gaze lingers, drinking in every reaction you give, clearly savoring the effect he has on you. He felt your throat muscles flutter around his cock, the vibration of your muffed moans make it so hard for him to control himself.

His eyes narrow slightly, his usual demanour unexpected slipping into something more untamed, running his fingers through your hair, guiding you to take him deeper, he is panting as your tongue swirls around the sensitive head of his cock—it was pure eroticism.

Kisuke's gaze bores into you, his expression a mix of playful smugness and intense focus. He's clearly enjoying the sensation, but there's an undercurrent of something more – a challenge, a game of cat and mouse.

Kisuke's breath hitches again as you increase your efforts, his grip on your hair tightening reflexively, his knuckles turning white.

He press forward hitting the back of your mouth. He held still for a moment, savoring the sensation of being deepthroated by you. He tries to maintain his composure, but the intensity of your oral attentions and you innocent flushed cheecks is quickly eroding his defenses.

"Hah... Y/N, you naughty minx," he manages to gasp out between clenched teeth, his hips beginning to piston faster. "If you keep that up, I won't be responsible for my actions."

Despite his warning, Kisuke allows himself to surrender to the pleasure, his movements becoming more erratic and forceful. His groans make clear he won't last much longer under your skilled onslaught.

He decided to pull out before is too late, panting heavily. He lifts you onto the plush couch, his hands roaming your curves with a possessive touch while you still recover, face ravished and your voice more hoarse.

“Time for the main event, my dear. Are you ready to see what this old fox is truly capable of?" his eyes is searching yours, looking for consent “May I continue?”

Seeing you nod immediately, he settles between your thighs, his hard length nudging against your entrance. With a wicked grin, he teases you with shallow thrusts, barely penetrating you before withdrawing making you whimper.

Kisuke's fingers dig into your hips as he grips them, holding you in place as he lines himself up once more. This time, he drives forward with a smooth, powerful stroke making you moan loudly as he fills you completely, your nails digging into his back.

“Ahhh—“ Kisuke's lips curve into a triumphant smirk as he feels you stretch around him, your inner walls clenching tightly around his invading length.

His back arches subtly, muscles rippling beneath your touch. He stills for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried so deeply inside you, making him gasp. There’s a hitch in his rhythm, as if even he can’t maintain the act when it feels this good.

"Oh, I think the gods are very pleased indeed," he teases, his voice low and rough with satisfaction. "To think, I was worried you might not be able to handle me after all."

With a subtle shift of his hips, Kisuke begins to move, setting a languid, sensual rhythm that has you panting, writhing beneath him. His hands roam your body, caressing and exploring every inch of skin he can reach.

You can’t even control your moans, bucking your hips to meet his deep thrusts

“Fuck fuck fuck—“

Kisuke's eyes glint with delight as he listens to your impassioned cries, his hips snapping against yours with increased urgency. His teeth graze your earlobe, breath hot against your skin. "Don’t worry. I’ll give you exactly what you need”

Kisuke's hands slide down to hold your thighs, spreading them wider as he picks up speed, driving into you with long, deep strokes that have you teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

“Mmmm…you are too big” Kisuke's smirk widens at your indirect praise, his chest puffing up with masculine pride. "Of course I am, dear. After all, I am a master of my craft."

He punctuates his statement with a particularly forceful thrust, grinding against your sensitive clit as he bottoms out inside you. "But size isn't everything, now is it? It's how I wield it that truly matters."

Kisuke's fingers dig into your thighs, holding you steady as he continues to pound into you with relentless precision, each stroke hitting that perfect spot deep within. A soft groan escapes him, muffled against the curve of your neck, and his fingers flex—digging in just enough to leave faint marks in their wake.

Kisuke's smile widen as he watches you writhe beneath him"Oh, you're enjoying this, aren't you? Getting so nicely worked up on my cock.

He rolls his hips, grinding against you with a tantalizing slowness that has you arching off the couch. "I must admit, I'm rather fond of seeing you like this - all flushed and desperate for release. It's quite...flattering, really."

Kisuke's hands skim down your sides, his fingertips dancing along your ribs in a maddeningly light touch.

Your whole body trembeling with the effort of holding back you orgasm “Kisuke…please harder—“

Kisuke's eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise at your plea, a wicked gleam entering his eye. “Harder, you say? Oh, but where's the fun in that, my dear?"

He slows his pace to a teasing crawl, his cock dragging deliciously against your sensitive inner walls. “You know, some people might call this torture. But I prefer to think of it as...extended pleasure."

Kisuke's hands tighten your hips, pulling you onto him with a sudden, brutal thrust that has you crying out in a combination with pleasure and agony. "There, does that hit the spot? Or would you like me to continue our delightful game?”

As you let out a piercing scream, Kisuke's eyes lock onto yours, his gaze intense and unyielding. He doesn't break eye contact as he plunges deep, his thick length stretching you to the limit. He presses his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged but steady, as his lips curl into a faint smirk.

“Such a beautiful sound, ,Y/N he murmurs while his hips begin to move again, each thrust precise and powerful, designed to drive you wild with pleasure. His hands roam your body, fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he pours all his focus into bringing you to the brink and beyond.

Kisuke’s lips curl into a knowing smile as he senses your impending climax, his eyes never leaving yours.

His hips snap forward with a particularly deep, forceful thrust as he aims to send you hurtling over the edge “Don’t hold back now… I’m enjoying the show."

Kisuke's fingers flex against your skin, his movements become more urgent, driven by the need to bring you to completion and savor the rush of your release.

Kisuke's expression shifts from playful to utterly focused, his eyes burning with intensity as he watches you unravel beneath him and for a fleeting moment, you feel the raw, unfiltered need behind his touch.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you, his own orgasm crashing over him in tandem with yours. Kisuke's hips jerk erratically as he spills deep inside you, his hot seed painting your inner walls as he rides out the aftershocks.

Kisuke’s breathing slows, but the satisfied grin on his lips remains as if permanently etched there. His blond hair falls messily over his eyes, though the sharp glint behind them remains as he leans back just enough to meet your gaze.

“Well, well… I’d say that was time well spent,” he muses, voice low and lazy, but pleased with himself. “You look like you’ve had your fill. Though, I wouldn’t mind another round of applause for my efforts.”

His words drip with a harmless humour, but there’s something softer beneath it—something he won’t name, even if you asked.

Kisuke stretches out on the couch beside you, one arm props his head up, while the other lazily draws faint shapes along the curve of your hip, like he’s absentmindedly tracing a map only he can read.

“You know,” he drawls, “for someone who claims not to trust me, you seem awfully comfortable right now. I’d almost say you like having me around.”

His gaze flickers to yours, watching for that telltale flicker of embarrassment he so dearly loves to coax out of you.

Kisuke’s chest still rises and falls against you, slow and deliberate, but there’s an alertness in his posture. He’s aware—always aware—and the slight downturn of your eyes doesn’t escape him. His fingers pause for half a second before resuming their lazy path.

“Well, you’re certainly more relaxed now,” he notes, watching you with that familiar sharpness. His hand shifts, brushing a stray lock of hair from your damp forehead, tucking it behind your ear with careful precision. “Though, if this was your master plan to seduce me, I have to say… you could’ve just asked.” Your cheeck blush at his remark

“I hate to admit but indeed i’m relaxed” Your voice carry a playful cadence, but you catch his gaze lingers too long for it to be entirely superficial. You know him well enough to recognize it—he’s watching for something.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” you shoot back, though your voice lacks its usual bite. You feel raw—too exposed under his gaze. It’s unfamiliar, needing something more than teasing remarks.

Kisuke laughs softly, but there’s a subtle shift in his expression. His hand doesn’t leave your hair, fingers threading through the strands with a gentleness that feels almost foreign coming from him.

“My plan? Ohoho, I wish I could take credit for such a clever scheme,” he purrs, but the usual exaggerated flair is dialed back. “No, I just happen to be exceptionally gifted at identifying tension. And relieving it.”

His arm curls around your waist, pulling you just close enough for his nose to brush against your temple. He doesn’t press for more; the gesture is light, easy, like breathing. Kisuke smells faintly of sandalwood and something sharper—like incense that hasn’t quite burned out.

“Relax,” he murmurs against your hair, voice dropping into something softer. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your body sinks into his chest almost involuntarily, and for once, Kisuke lets the silence hang between you. His fingers resume their slow path along your spine, tracing patterns that feel more like grounding than teasing.

“See?” he hums after a long pause, lips curving against the top of your head. “Much better. And you didn’t even have to buy me dinner first.”

You huff quietly against his chest, shifting enough to glare up at him, though the heat behind it doesn’t land.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Not when you make it this easy,” he replies without hesitation, flashing that trademark grin—the one that somehow manages to be both irritating and devastatingly charming in equal measure.

You bury your face against him with a muffled groan, and Kisuke’s laughter rumbles beneath your ear, quiet but genuine. His hand moves to cup the back of your head, cradling it as though the gesture requires no thought at all.

“You’re dangerous,” you murmur into his shirt, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“Oh, I know,” Kisuke replies smoothly. “I’ve been told it’s part of my charm.”

You sigh, half-annoyed, half-amused—because of course he’d say that. But his hand hasn’t left your back, and the warmth pooling in your chest tells you that maybe, just maybe, he does know exactly what you need.

After a few moments, you shift slightly. “Will you walk me home?”

Kisuke hums, tilting his head to glance down at you, his eyes half-lidded but alert.

“Walk you home?” he echoes, tapping a finger against his chin as if in deep thought. “Mmm, tempting. But then I’d have to give up this incredibly comfortable spot I’ve secured for myself.”

You lift your head just enough to squint at him. “Kisuke—”

“Or…” he interrupts smoothly, lips curving as his gaze sharpens with that familiar playful glint. “You could stay the night. Much less effort. And far safer for both of us.”

You arch a brow at him. “For both of us?”

Kisuke’s grin widens, shameless. “Oh yes. I’m very fragile, you know. I’d sleep much better with you here to protect me.”

Despite yourself, a quiet chuckle escapes your lips. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He leans closer, his breath brushing your cheek. “And I promise to behave. Well… mostly.”

His smirk is impossible to resist, but something in his tone—something subtle, beneath the teasing—feels sincere enough to ease whatever lingering vulnerability lingers in your chest.

“��Alright. Thank you.”

Kisuke pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes softening as he presses a light kiss to your forehead.

“No need to thank me, darling,” he murmurs, already tugging the blanket over you both with the finesse of someone who planned this outcome all along. “Now, get comfortable. I expect payment in the form of breakfast tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes, but your body presses closer all the same, the comfort of his presence settling over you like second nature.

“Fine. But I’m not making you anything fancy.”

Kisuke cackles softly, tucking you against him with ease.

“That’s alright,” he replies, lips grazing your temple one last time. “You’re all the sweetness I need.”

another smut with bleach

aizenxuraharaxreader

aizenxreader

a small appreciation for: @apocalypsesushi-chan

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juullllssss · 3 days ago

Text

John Price x Drunk!reader

CW: Drunkenness, stay safe when you get drunk in public.

You stumbled out of the Club. Immediately the cold pierced your face. Again you had the feeling you should have brought a jacket with you. You shivered already when you got to the Bus stop, just your luck....another 40 Minutes. Nearly stumbling over the curb you curse, that was what you really hated, your lose of balance in this state.

In your drunken mind you think about walking home.. but even that seems to be to much effort to you and if you are honest with yourself you would not even make it.

And then you see him, the most handsome men, absolut your type, with your type of beard and everything. Even in the dark you could see his muscular built and broad shoulders. For a moment you wonder if this is just a Illusion. And how it is, with the extra Courage that the alcohol gave you, and wanting to know if this is real....

"Excuse mee, how are you tonight?"

The man stops in the middle of his step, looks around and turns in your direction.

For a Moment he takes you in, you are aware how his gaze looks you up and down. "Can i help you little miss?" His voice being exactly how you imagined it, deep, raspy with an accent you really liked.

With a Courage you would never have sober you answer, practically beaming "Yes, you are real, are you?" Already shifting on your feet from your excitement and the cold.

This seems to take him back, his eyes crinkle around the edges, amusement and interest playing in them. You don't give him the time to answer. "I just wanted to say you are the hottest men i have evvver seen. Really a piece of Art." You are still beaming at him, being more open then you would normally dare to.

And now he is coming in your direction, steps fast but controlled. For a moment you get scared but at that time his hands are already on your waist bringing you closer to him. His eyes are now fully on you, seeming to drink you in, something in them you can't quite place.

"Then how about we get to know each other a little better, lovie?"

What you didn't know was that this man just came back from a really shit deployment and an even shittier night out, so now he needed a distraction and what better way then with a lovely little birdie like you.

#cod men #task force 141 #price x reader #price x you #i am new to tumblr #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x y/n #john price #price cod

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mythicmanuscripts · 18 hours ago

Note

I want to overstimulate aegon !

You and me both anon!! You and me both.

I've definitely written about overstimulating Aegon before because I don't think it's possible to write NSFW Aegon without it. Thinking about how obvious it is that Aegon would love that made me think about how most of the castle would be at least a little aware that you dom Aegon and that without you doing that he turns into a little terror no one can handle.

So that's what you'll find below the cut! I hope that's alright with you anon. If you or anyone else wants a more in-depth response about overstim then feel free to request it again and just made sure to add some form of detail about it so that I'm not just rewriting my overstimulating thoughts again. Enjoy!

Before you came along Aegon was definitely known for being willing to fuck and get fucked by just about anyone. He could have single handedly kept king's Landing's brothels open.

Aegon liked you from the moment he met you. Even though it was an arranged marriage and done for political power, he would still much rather have married you than any of the other possible spouses he could have chosen from. You were the only one who seemed to have a sense of humour, the only one who could joke with him and clearly wasnt afraid of him. He loved that from your very first conversation with him.

Once you're married, you and him both know your duties. You and him are to produce a few heirs, enough that there will definitely be someone to take over the iron throne even with a few deaths and then after that you could both sleep with whoever you wanted and you hardly had to even see each other after that.

You were prepared to do that, but you had promised yourself that you would not take it laying down (literally). You refused to allow it to be 10 minutes of boring fucking where you just wait til he's finished and then he leaves. Absolutely not. You were going to get some enjoyment out of this.

Aegon also expects for it to be like that, until you walk into your new shared chambers and push him up against the wall. And well... he is most certainly not complaining. You expect some resistance from him but nothing even close to that happens. You take control and he just becomes to pliant?

You have absolutely no idea where the man you had heard so many bad things about was. You had heard so much about his selfishness and desire and how rough he would make it, but you see absolutely none of that. From the moment you had him against the wall he was yours to play with.

You swear he was made for this purpose. There's no other explanation for it. He begs so quickly and so easily, wanting so badly to be good for you.

So of course you have your fun, and you very quickly discover how pretty he looks when he cries after his third orgasm. Poor little thing can't even get his legs to stop shaking.

And when you finished and you got into bed to let him cuddle into you? Well now you're it for him. He got completely wrecked AND he also got cuddles? Yeah no one else will ever be accepted again.

The entire castle is in shock for the next few weeks because Aegon doesn't leave for a brothel once? In fact he sent letters to three brothels informing them that he would no longer need his weekly booked room.

Things start to make a little more sense when they start to see you two together more often. Aegon looks at you like you hung the moon and all the stars. He's always holding your hand, always looking for you, always making sure there's space beside him for you.

It's very clear that you have a grounding effect on him, but what people don't know is how much of that effect comes from you absolutely wrecking him at least once a week.

You always know you've got to make time for that soon when he starts to get even whinier than usual (yes, it's actually possible) and he may genuinely cry if you have to go somewhere alone. Even when he is with you he's alls squirmy and unsettled, constantly moving around and snapping at anyone else who tries to get his attention.

You sort that out by getting an evening free of obligations and taking control the moment you're alone with him. Aegon needs to be pushed to his limits, needs to cum so many times he can barely even think never mind string a sentence together.

(You always start by letting him get you off, because you've learnt the hard way that if he realises at the end of a scene that you havent cum he will go straight into subdrop and feel like a failure.)

After that his favourite is when you sit next to him and drape his leg over your thigh to get full access. He whines and cries against your shoulder, mumbling broken pleas and cumming all over your hand every time you tell him to. He always cleans it up though!!! He'll lick your hand hand clean and then if you don't move your arm quick enough he will take your fingers into your mouth and then you're in trouble because if you pull away without giving him something else to suck on then he will just start crying. Poor thing is too fucked out you must help him!!

You spend the entire night and most of the next morning in bed with him after that. When he does emerge he's always in a much, much better mood and actually does all the things he's supposed to do.

#sub!aegon #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon smut #aegon targaryen x reader #king aegon #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon the second #hotd aegon #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #house of the dragon imagine

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probablysimpledreams · 20 hours ago

Text

Warm Winters (Dabi x reader)

a/n: it's been snowing crazy here, and it's inspired me to write something cutey with my man <3

wc: 1k

The past month has not been kind to the League. After suffering multiple defeats in combat and recruitment efforts, everyone was feeling defeated. Morale was at a low as members sulked around the common room, no one uttering a word.

You laid on the broken couch among the others, mind racing. Was all this really worth it? You asked yourself, picking at the skin around your thumb nail. Are we getting anywhere? What world are we even fighting for? What if-

"IT'S SNOWING!!!" Toga beams with excitement, her voice and clapping hands snapping you out of your troubled thoughts. You run over to the window with Twice and Spinner, smiling as you watch the snow fall down quickly.

"Wanna go check it out? Bet we could grab hot chocolate too," you smile at Toga's excitement regarding your idea. The two of you quickly bundled up, ignoring the snarky remarks and warnings other members threw your way as you two raced outside.

You were always happy when the League had time off like this, time to just exist as the normal people everyone longed to be. You especially felt this way when Toga had the opportunity to be a teenage girl, a smile across your face as you watched her build a mini snow Deku and Ochako as she rambled about her love. Your body shivered as you stood there watching the young girl until it hit you: you grabbed the wrong jacket on your way out the door. Among the excitement of it all, you didn't realize you grabbed one of Dabi's jackets instead of your own. The material was much thinner than what you needed to brace the falling snowing, mentally cursing yourself as the cold grew painful. Before you had the chance to tell Toga you were heading back, the sound of crunching snow became louder and louder.

"You're such an idiot," Dabi's deep voice sent a warm shiver down your spine, causing goosebumps to form as he stood behind you. You turned to face him, noticing that he's holding your fuzzy jacket. You quickly grab it from him, thanking him repeatedly as you throw his jacket off and put yours on. The thick material covers your body and begins warming your cold body up, and Dabi chuckles at the sight of you practically melting under the new warmth. A few moments pass of peaceful silence as you two stand together in the snow, a few feet from where Toga continued playing with her snowman collection.

"I'm surprised you're out here," you finally spoke up, looking up to the sky as the snow continued to fall. The sight was so beautiful, so gentle. "Just didn't imagine you're the type of guy who'd want to be out playing in the snow." You small giggle left your lips as you watched the expression on his face, noticing the hints of embarrassment and annoyance. Despite his cold outer shell, you always noticed how expressive his face would be. He was a man of many emotions that were always trying to escape him, wanting desperately to be seen. And yet somehow you were the only one able to catch onto this, enjoying the game of learning who Dabi truly is under this mask.

"I wanted my jacket back," he shrugged, eyes avoiding yours. As you two spent more and more time together, Dabi was becoming increasingly aware of your ability to see through him. And he had no idea how to feel about it all. It made him feel scared, exposed. He wanted to run away from it, leaving a wall of flames that you'd never dare cross into. But at the same time, it made him excited. He wanted to be seen fully. He wanted to invite you in with the door fully opened, no defenses up. The constant battle between the heart's desire and mind's protection weighed heavily on him.

"Could have just texted me, I would have walked back to the hideout," you hummed. The unnamed tension between you and Dabi was clear to everyone, this included the two of you. While you often found yourself annoyed at his lack of action, you knew that you really didn't have any room to talk. You could just as easily lay all your emotions on the line, but your own fears held you back. I mean it's not like you began walking the villain path because life came easily. You had your own fears and anxieties, your own fear of being seen entirely despite longing for it.

"Your point?" he bites, the hint of anger in his voice would usually be enough to scare anyone off. However you found yourself giggling at his words, heart fluttering as you knew he'd never hurt you. You knew he came out here to see you, to be with you. That fact alone washed a new sense of calmness over you, smile tugging at your lips.

You decided not to push him further, knowing Dabi had his limits when it came to navigating his feelings. Instead you decide to lean against his chest, heart beating faster than usual when you feel his arm wrap around your body. Your face began growing warm as your body was now flushed against his, grip on you tight and secure. The two of you went back to standing in a peaceful and warm silence as the snowflakes continued to fall.

You tilt your head up, looking up to steal a glance at Dabi who was already looking at you. The two of you exchange a smile before turning to look up at the sky, feeling warm despite the cold snow hitting directly on both your faces.

The world doesn't make sense. This fact has brought so much pain and suffering to you and Dabi both. Yet as you stand here feeling warm in the falling snow and safe in the arms of a man you've seen kill before, you discover a new beauty in the world not making sense.

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darlingdreadwrites · 2 days ago

Text

I hear you breathing, baby. Been chasing you all night.

pairing: Jeff the Killer x Final Girl!Reader

part: 1, 2, 3

summary: After arriving at a hospital and leaving the investigation to the police, you start to get sick of locking yourself away in your apartment. An impulsive walk for some air earns you another encounter with Jeff.

contains: fight scene

warnings: 18+ MINOR DNI, violence, stabbing, pet names and name calling (baby, sweetheart, bitch)

word count: 6.1k

masterlist

a.n: FINALLY DONE WITH IT WOOOOOO!!! IT GOT TOO LONG SO I HAD TO SPLIT IT UP THE SMUT TO A SECOND POST!! i think jeff brings out the worst in me because hello???? my first smut?????

You’re suddenly hyperaware that you’re gripping the wheel too tight. Your knuckles are white, and your hands tremble in sync with the rest of you. Your eyes dart to the rearview mirror, expecting to still see the parking lot and him. You’re only met with empty roads. The sun hangs heavy in the sky – glaring down. The heat is suffocating in this stuffy old car, but the cold is still clinging to your bones. You still have that same chill from experiencing what just happened – what you had just run from.

You realize you’re not sure how you’ve gotten here. The motel, the blood, Tony, Steph, Don—wasn’t it just minutes ago? Hours? Days? Your vision blurs, a wave of dizziness pull you under.

The road sign hits you like a slap. The town’s miles behind – farther than you thought. You pull over without thinking, the tires crunching on the gravel as you slow to a stop. The car’s engine cuts, but the silence is deafening.

Your heart pounds violently in your chest, and it almost sounds like it’s echoing in the car you’ve just realized that you’ve stolen. Your clothes stick to your skin, drenched in something you knew wasn’t sweat. You don’t want to think about it – how the blood is caked into your hair or how you can still taste the blood of the motel owner in your mouth. You glance down at your shirt, eyes wide at the still darkening spots across your body. Everything still feels unreal. This whole thing – your body, this car, the road you’re on – feels like someone else’s experience.

You didn’t even realize you’d started the car again until you parked near a hospital. It seemed you were still dead to the world.

Hands shaking, you unlock the door and step out with shaky legs. Your stomach churns as you force yourself to stumble forward. You need to move, you tell yourself. You need to keep going.

The ER’s entrance is a blur. You push through the double doors, the automatic ones sliding open with a mechanical sigh. Nurses and doctors rush around, moving in and out of view. Their faces were filled with confusion, concern – maybe fear. Someone says something to you—questions? Orders? You’re not sure. You’re only aware of the blood staining your skin. The world is too bright – too loud – and you’re too tired to keep standing. You sway on your feet, feeling the air thicken.

“I’m fine,” you say. It sounds like a lie, and you know you’re not fooling anybody.

“Ma’am?” A nurse catches your arm – pulling you in – but you can barely register the motion. Someone else starts talking, maybe a doctor—

“She’s lost a lot of blood.”

No I didn’t, you want to say. This wasn’t your blood that you were covered in.

“I’m—” The words won’t come. You shake your head, trying to find the pieces yourself.

A gentle push. Someone was trying to guide you on a gurney. You sit down, limbs too heavy. Then they’re all around you – too close, poking, prodding, questioning.

“Where are you hurt?”

“What happened to you?”

“I’m not hurt,” you rasp, but the answer sounds as wrong as it feels. How can you explain the truth when you can’t even put it together for yourself?

You must have fallen asleep. You’re in a room that smells too clean, a nurse is humming in a corner. She turns quickly when she hears the rustle of sheets as you try to sit up. She smiles at you, and you think you hear her asking how you’re feeling. It sounded too far away for you to think you can reach her with a reply – your throat felt too dry.

The door swings open, and two officers step in. You immediately want them to leave, but they won’t. They want to ask questions, then more questions. You don’t want to talk. You want to scream. The officer on the left steps forward, a middle-aged man with a face worn by years of routine. He’d be perfect in a cop show, you think.

“Miss.” His tone is carefully neutral – he’s trained well. “We need to ask you a few questions.”

“I…” Your voice cracks, and you clear your throat. The weight of his gaze makes your chest tighten as you look up at him.

The other officer – younger – with sharp eyes steps closer, his notepad ready. “Can we start with your name?”

It takes a moment before the sound of your own name feels real on your tongue. You give it to him reluctantly, like it’s the last piece of yourself you have to offer.

“Thank you.” The older officer glances at the folded bundle of clothes sitting on a nearby chair. You knew they would take the bloodied fabric for evidence soon. “Can you tell us what happened?”

The question hangs heavily in the air. Your lips part, but nothing comes out. The truth is stuck in your throat – tangled up in everything you’ve been running from.

“I’m not hurt,” you say quickly. You’re trembling, your pulse pounding in your ears. You shove your shaking hands under the hospital blanket – hiding them like it’ll make you seem less broken.

The older officer tries again, softer this time. “Where did you come from, ma’am? Were you travelling alone?”

That’s the spark that lights the fuse. A harmless question – probably routine – but it lodges in your mind and unravels everything you’ve been trying to hold together.

You weren’t alone.

The motel’s stairs flash in your mind’s eye – Don’s voice creeps back in.

“What’s wrong, babe? You finally find out?”

You blink hard, your breath hitching. The walls of the hospital room feel closer now – the air thinner.

“Miss?” The younger officer is watching you carefully. You realize too late that you’ve been silent too long.

“I-I can’t.” Your voice is barely a whisper. “I can’t—”

“You’re safe now,” the older one assures, but the words are meaningless. Safe? You’d laugh if it didn’t feel like choking.

“I don’t know…” Your hands twist in the blanket – wringing. “It’s all—”

Another flicker of the past. Don, leaning too close, his grin too wide. The rail under your hands – cold.

“I don’t remember,” you lie, your voice flat and distant.

The officers exchange a glance. It’s subtle, but you catch it.

The younger one presses, his tone firmer now. “You don’t remember where you came from? Or how you got here?”

Your breath quickens. The questions feel like they’re coming too fast – piling you, cornering you. You stare at the floor in an attempt to ground yourself, but the hospital tiles blur and shift.

The stairs had creaked beneath your weight as you climbed them, the knot in your stomach still tight after what you’d just seen. You didn’t want to think about it tonight, but you couldn’t stop – couldn’t erase the image of them together. Your boyfriend and your friend – the betrayal.

You’d barely made it to the second floor when Don stopped you. His smirk had twisted to a cruel sneer when you didn’t respond.

“What’s wrong, babe?” He asked again in that mocking tone you’d always hated.

When you continued with your silence, his grin stretched wider – knowing. He’d known. Had had to have known what you’d seen. He had to have known for months.

“Hey,” he said, stepping closer. His voice was low and coaxing. “I know the perfect way to get back at him.”

You had turned to leave, but he wouldn’t have let an opportunity go. His hand landed on your arm tightly.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” he teased. His hand slid lower, just above your waist to pull you closer. He pushed you toward the railing, and all you knew was that his body was too close. His breath was too hot against your skin.

You snapped.

The world stopped. You shoved him – hard. His eyes went wide for a split second before he tumbled backward, his body hitting the ground with a sickening—

CRACK

The sound of bones breaking – his bones. Your heart slams in your chest, and you hear nothing else except—

“Miss?”

A hand touches your shoulder – it’s the older officer. You flinch violently, jerking away before you can stop yourself.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, raising his hands in surrender.

The sterile scent of disinfectant clings to the air while your mind races – replaying fragments of the questions they asked.

Who were you with? Did anyone see you? Where did the blood come from?

Their faces had been impartial – professional – but you’d caught the flicker of doubt in their eyes. There was a tight set of their jaws when your answers came slow – as if you were piecing together a story instead of recounting the truth.

You’ve been left to stew – to sink into the waiting silence. It’s not intentional cruelty, just procedure. Time for you to gather yourself, or maybe just to let the shock wear off enough for them to catch you in a lie – if one exists.

When the door swings open again, it’s not one of the officers who asked the earlier questions. Her movements were more cautious, and her badge reflects the harsh light of the room. She pulls up a chair and sits across from you, placing a recorder on the table between you both. She introduces herself, but you don’t bother to remember it.

“I know this is hard,” she begins, her voice softer than the others. “But we need you to walk through what happened again.”

You can’t look at her for a moment as you swallow hard. Instead, your eyes dart to the blank notepad she holds in her hands.

“I already told the other officers…” Your voice trails off weakly.

“I understand.” Her pen is poised, but unmoving. “But we need to be thorough. Sometimes, details don’t come out until the second or third time.”

You clasp your hands tightly in your lap as you finally manage to speak. “It wasn’t my blood.”

“Okay. That’s helpful.” She leans forward slightly. “Can you tell me whose it was?”

“It was the motel owner’s.” Your voice is shaky but certain. “He… he was right in front of me when—”

You break off, the memory of Jeff’s blade sinking into flesh and the spray of red flashing behind your eyes. A shiver racks your body, and you fold your arms tighter around yourself.

She nods slowly. “And before that?”

“Tony and Stephanie. My boyfriend and my friend. They—” Your throat tightens again. “He… he carved smiles into their faces.”

The pen finally moves across the page, each scratch of ink feeling like a needle pricking your skin. The officer hesitates, her gaze flicking up to you.

“You said he?” she prods, and you nod.

“A man. He came after me. Pale skin, long black hair, and… his face.” You struggle for the words, the image of that grotesque grin burned into your memory. “His mouth was cut. Like… a smile. It looked… old.”

She shifts in her seat, a flicker of recognition crossing her features. “And you didn’t know him? You’ve never seen him before?”

“No. Never.” You shake your head until a sharp sinking feeling snaps you still. “No-wait—he… I think I saw him at a gas station before we, we went to the motel—”

The officer’s lips press into a thin line, and she scribbles something down. Her silence feels heavier this time.

“What?” you press.

Her gaze hardens, though not unkindly. “Your description… it matches some of our open cases. It’s consistent.”

The words sink into you like stones – the gravity of her implication chilling.

“Consistent?” you echo.

“Yes,” she sighs. “With someone we’ve been trying to identify for a long time.”

“I don’t, I don’t know who he is,” you insist, panic rising. “I don’t know anything about him. I just—”

“It’s okay.” She cuts you off softly before the spiral can take hold. “You’ve done well. You’re safe now. We’ll handle the rest.”

After a few more questions, she rises from her seat, the recorder clicking off with a decisive snap.

“If we have more questions, we’ll be in touch.”

You don’t respond, and the door closes behind her as she leaves you alone with the fluorescent lights and the sterile smell. For the first time since the nightmare began, you cry. It’s not loud or frantic – just silent tears carving tracks down your cheeks. You can still feel his eyes on you – the smirk that didn’t need the scar to be chilling.

You wonder if they’ll catch him. You wonder if it even matters.

You were already broken.

Three Months Later

Although the bloodstains have been washed off of your skin, it still lingers in your mind, on the walls, and in your veins. Tony, being – having been – a jealous boyfriend, you had given up on making new friends. Your relationship with your family being… what it was, meant that you had no support other than the therapist recommended to you by a detective. The detective has made bi-monthly visits since then, and yet you still never felt safe or less alone. But the fear was quickly changing itself into indifference, making you more afraid of yourself. Miller’s voice comes at you like clockwork, filling the silence of your apartment with the same, monotonous warnings.

“Just make sure you lock up. Keep your blinds drawn. Don’t go out alone, not at night—”

You tune him out, having gotten tired of this routine that would lead to nowhere. He says it every time he checks in, which has been far too often for your liking. Even if he doesn’t visit your apartment, he’ll call every other day. You know his speech by heart. You stare blankly at him, arms crossing tightly in front of you – unwilling to give him any satisfaction.

“Yeah, yeah, Miller,” you mutter under your breath.

His eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think he might call you out on your annoyed tone (a silent goal you’ve set for yourself). But, instead, he looks down at his notepad. You hate how this feels – why is he prying into your life like you’re the suspect. Wanting to know what makes you tick, where you’ve been, what you’ve been doing.

“Anything unusual lately?” Miller asks, and you suppress an eyeroll. If anything was unusual, surely you would have told him in the twenty minutes that he’s been in your apartment. Sometimes, you wish something would happen – that you’d see…

But his questions feel like tests – like traps he wants you to fall into, one way or another.

“No,” you reply stiffly, your gaze avoiding his.

His lips press into a thin line as if he’s silently judging you. He’s got that look in his eyes – the one that’s starting to really get under your skin. It’s one part concern, one part suspicion, and it always feels like you’re the one on trial.

“Right.” His voice is tight – he’s not convinced. Because why would you want a serial killer who’s most likely after you found and put in jail? “Well, if anything changes – anything at all – call us, alright?”

You stare at the door where he’s about to leave, your pulse rising with the need to snap. But instead, you just nod – the bitter taste of frustration pooling in your mouth. He sighs before stepping into the hallway, clearly too familiar with your disinterest.

“Remember what I said. Lock the doors, check the windows, and don’t go out at night. It’s dangerous right now, and you’re not—”

“I get it, Miller,” you cut him off, teeth clenched. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t ask for him or the constant reminders – your suffocating apprehension and panic attacks did that for you. You didn’t ask for the nightmares that twist your stomach into knots, or the feeling that someone is always watching. But this is your reality now. His questions, his advice, his presence – it’s all become a constant, and you’re so sick of it.

The door clicks shut behind him, but the tension doesn’t leave. Instead, it presses down on your chest like a weight – suffocating you – filling the spaces between your ribs with the dread you can’t escape. You stand there for a while after he leaves, staring at nothing. You’re caught in the emptiness that lingers in the wake of his departure.

The walls are closing in.

You walk to the kitchen without thinking, your movements automatic, hands shaking as they pull out a bottle of water from the fridge. You drink it all in three gulps, the coolness of it barely enough to settle the burning in your throat.

Your reflection in the window stares back at you as you walk past it – eyes wide and bloodshot from too many sleepless nights. The silence of the apartment gives way to a distant ringing.

It’s driving you crazy. You are crazy.

I’m crazy.

You push the thought down before you become a shell of yourself yet again. But the urge is still there – it always is – gnawing at you. It’s too much – being stuck, being hunted, being studied, being watched. All the what ifs flood your mind, and the ache in your chest gets worse with each passing moment. You can’t keep doing this – living like this. You can’t stay here – wrapped in fear – buried under the wight of your own thoughts.

You slip your fingers along the counter, the cool touch of your hunting knife under your palm bringing you an unexpected sense of calm. A precaution. You know that, deep down, it’s not just for your protection. It’s a tether – something to keep you grounded when the panic starts to swallow you whole. I should’ve had something like this that night, that’s what you told yourself when you bought it.

The decision comes to you in a flash – you need to get out. You need to do something – anything – to break the loop you’ve been trapped in.

You grab the knife, sliding it into your pocket with practiced ease. Your hands are steady now, the panic momentarily quieted. You don’t think about it, you just do it.

You walk to the door, hesitating for just a second as your hand rests on the doorknob. The air in the apartment feels colder, as if it knows of your plan – as if it’s holding you here in a way that’s far more suffocating than any walls.

You open the door and step into the hallway, your steps echoing louder than they should. But you can’t turn back now – you need air. You need freedom – you need to prove to yourself that you’re still in control of something.

The streetlights flicker overhead as you step out into the night, the city now your only company.

The night air cuts through the fabric of your jacket and brushes against your skin like icy fingertips. The streetlights cast uneven shadows across the pavement, their orange glow flickering and mirroring the unease in your chest. You walk quickly with no end goal in mind, keeping your head down and your hands stuffed in your pockets. The knife’s weight was a cold comfort against your palm. The city felt more alive than you had in months – cars honking in the distance, muffled conversations spilling out from bars and restaurants. It feels both active and oblivious to your presence, the crowds indifferent as they pass by. You’ve always thought of cities as anonymous. They were places where you could disappear into the throng. Tonight, though, it feels as if every set of eyes lands on you.

You’re clumsier than you’ve ever thought you’ve been tonight; you’re almost colliding with every person that walks by you. They don’t care enough to look at you or notice how frazzled you are, yet you’re fighting with your body to keep yourself from falling on top of someone. Anything could happen to you at this moment, and they’d still keep walking. Was that a comfort or a fear? You’re dizzy with so many people around you – when was the last time you’ve gone out?

Your pulse quickens as someone brushes against your shoulder.

“Watch it,” the man mutters, but his voice is gravelly – too familiar. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you spin around, tumbling backward into a lamppost.

He’s here – the pale skin, the long dark hair, the way his shoulders hunch forward. Jeff – it’s him – you’re sure of it.

“Stay away from me!” you shout, your voice trembling as you get ready to pull out your knife. A few people nearby stop and stare, their faces painted with curiosity and alarm. The man – no, not Jeff – holds up his hands, confusion etched across his face.

“Hey, lady, relax! I didn’t do anything!” His features are softer – older – lacking the cruel, twisted grin you’ve come to associate with him.

Your chest heaves as the realization crashes over you and you take your hands out of your pockets. Of course it isn’t Jeff. You’ve made yourself look like a fucking psycho in front of strangers, drawing attention you can’t afford. The onlookers begin to move on, murmuring among themselves. The man shakes his head and walks away, muttering an expletive you can’t quite hear.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, but it’s too late. He’s already gone, and the embarrassment settles in your stomach.

You press on, your steps more hurried now. The crowds feel smothering, each passerby a potential threat. You can’t shake the sensation of being watched, the weight of unseen eyes following you with every step. Your fingers twitch against the knife in your pocket, the urge to grip it tighter battling the rational part of your mind that tells you to stop.

The streets begin to thin out as you leave the bustling main drag, your feet carrying you without thought. The noise of the city fades, replaced by a softer, uncanny quiet. You glance up and realize you’ve wandered into a park. The trees loom tall and dark, their branches stretching out like skeletal arms. Your breath clouds in front of you as you move deeper into the shadows despite knowing you should turn around.

But when was the last time you were in control of your own body?

Even before the murders, someone was always telling you what to do with yourself – be it Tony telling you not to wear that dress because it made you look too odd, or a professor completely disregarding a presentation topic you were passionate about for something completely unrelated that they worked on. You’re tired of not pursuing what you want – what you need. And, right now, with the looming threat of a certain someone watching you, your body was needing something you weren’t familiar with. Because despite the fear that kept you awake at night – the nightmares of Jeff finding you to finish the job – a dark and inexplicable part of you burned with the thought of being desired so intensely.

In all that questioning that the countless police officers and detectives would ask you – one of the only living witnesses Jeff had – about his whereabouts, you felt sadder each time you said no. But not for the reason of fear for your life. You wanted to see him – desperately. You wanted to ask him why. Why did he choose to target your group at the gas station? Why did he kill your friends? Why did he kill the motel owner? Why didn’t he kill you? Why did you feel so numb despite everything? Why is the only thing you’ve felt in months a twisted yearning for him? Why did he leave you to be so broken and alone?

Why didn’t he take you?

You tell yourself to turn back, to head toward the safety of the lights and people – but your legs don’t listen. The stillness pulls you in, the quiet whispering promises of solace that you desperately crave. The quiet and solitude of your apartment never felt safe since you came back, and yet these woods feel like a sanctuary.

The events of the night replay as you continue to walk – the motel room, the blood, the crunching of Don’s bones. Jeff’s face – the jagged smile that seemed to turn you on even as it terrified you.

“Poor little thing,” you imagine his voice, low and mocking. “Still running, still scared. Don’t you remember my promise?”

You shake your head violently, trying to banish the voice. It’s not real – he’s not here. It’s not real – it can’t be real. He’s not real. He can’t be. You repeat the words to yourself, but they do little to calm the rising panic in your chest. But the shadows – they shift. Too fast. Too close. You’re imagining it, aren’t you? Aren’t you?

The path beneath your feet turns to dirt, and the streetlights give way to the darkness. The park stretches out around you, its boundaries blurring into the woods. You hesitate, the rational part of your mind finally catching up.

This is a bad idea. I shouldn’t be here.

The wind rustles the leaves above, a sound that seems to ricochet unnaturally loud in the quiet. Your breath quickens, and you glance over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Jeff standing there. But the path behind you is empty.

You jump when a twig snaps underfoot, your hand instinctively going to your pocket. That was your own doing, you realize. The knife feels heavy now.

You freeze – a distant sound – a branch breaking, perhaps. You strain your ears, trying to make sense of it, but the lack of any response is oppressive. The woods are dark and endless, similar to the labyrinth of your mind in these past few months.

You turn back toward the city – or in the direction you think it might be in – and you walk toward it. Your breath comes in shallow gasps – the trees seem closer than before, their shadows stretching toward you and trying to pull you back.

The sense of being watched wraps around you like a second skin, sticky and suffocating. It gets worse the more time you spend trying to retrace your steps. You glance over your shoulder for what feels like the hundredth time, but the path remains empty.

Your pace quickens, your boots hitting the ground harder as though you could outrun the unease crawling up your spine. You insist that it’s nothing – just the wind, the woods, your overactive imagination. But you feel a predator circling just beyond your vision.

That distant crack could’ve been from an animal, you tell yourself. A deer. A raccoon. Anything but him. The thought doesn’t settle the nausea bubbling in your gut as you infuriatingly slow to a stop. Slowly, you turn your head and scan the trees. Nothing moves – nothing stirs. But the sensation lingers – someone is there.

You force yourself forward, one trembling step at a time. Your hand doesn’t leave your pocket now, the knife’s handle being a tether in the oppressive darkness. The trail feels narrower, the trees reaching closer to you as though trying to trap you. Each sound is magnified – the creak of a bending branch, the snap of another stick somewhere that’s too fucking close. Was the echo of your footsteps always so slow? Did it always sound like second footsteps?

Your pulse hammers as your peripheral vision catches something – a flicker of motion, quick and subtle. You spin to look, but there’s darkness. Just shadows – just the woods. Yet your skin prickles, and the hair on the back of your neck stands on end.

You walk faster, not wanting your mind to keep playing tricks on you. The soft thuds of your boots against the dirt trail becomes a rhythmic beat in the silence.

A shape shifts just out of sight – closer now. Your chest tightens, and your legs move on their own, breaking into a near run. The trees blur around you as you push yourself forward, desperate to leave the unseen presence behind. It’s colder now – biting at your face – and you’ve realized you’re nowhere near the path.

But the woods open into a clearing – mist clings to the ground, curling around your ankles, and the distant hum of the city feels impossibly far away. You’re alone, truly and completely. But the feeling of being watched hasn’t left. It’s strong enough to feel tangible, and you curse your stupidity for even leaving your apartment.

You stumble forward to the clearing’s center, spinning in place as your eyes dart to every shadow. The cracking of branches sounds louder and more deliberate, seemingly coming from everywhere. You narrow your eyes to pinpoint any movement in every dark gap between the trees. The silence presses against your skull, your hands tremble as you grip the knife so tight that your knuckles turn white.

The space is deathly quiet, save for the pounding of your heart. The cold air wraps tighter around you, constricting your chest.

“Out for a midnight stroll, sweetheart?”

The voice is unmistakable – low, teasing, and crawling under your skin like worms. You freeze, your breath catching in your throat as your head jerks in every direction.

You whip your head from side to side, scanning the darkness for movement. But the voice doesn’t come again – not yet. It doesn’t need to. It’s already lodged deep in your mind – clawing at your fear.

A sound to your left – a crunch of leaves – and you spin toward it. But he’s not there – he’s not anywhere.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t miss me.”

The shadows shift, and there he is – stepping into the clearing like he owns the night – Jeff. The sight of him is paralyzing. The pale, scarred face; the dark hair falling in uneven strands across his brow and brushing his shoulders. His lanky frame moves with a ravening grace, and his lips curl into that infamous grin, split wide enough to show too much teeth. The knife in his hand gleams under the fractured moonlight. Your grip tightens on your own blade, but his presence freezes you in place.

“You’ve been busy,” he says, his voice dripping with mock approval. He steps closer, one slow, casual stride at a time. You step back instinctively, your foot catching on a root, but you steady yourself before you can fall.

“Stay back,” you manage. His smile widens, and he chuckles.

“’Stay back’? That’s all you’ve got? After everything we’ve been through, baby, I thought you’d at least have a better line ready.”

“Shut up.” The words slip out before you can stop them, your voice trembling despite your best effort to steady it. You curl your fingers around your knife tighter. Jeff cocks his head, eyebrows shooting up.

“Poor Don. Didn’t stand a chance, did he?”

“Just, just leave—"

“What? No hello? No, ‘How have you been, Jeff?’ That hurts.” He places a hand derisively over his chest, before his grin sharpens. “But seriously, you didn’t waste any time, huh? Snapping poor Don like a fucking twig ‘cause you caught your boy with his dick in your homegirl?”

“I didn’t—” You choke on the words. “You did that.”

Jeff’s expression shifts – the tilt of his lips softening, but it doesn’t lose its malice.

“You didn’t tell them the truth about Don, did you?” he asks, his tone veering toward conversational.

The question hits you like a punch, and you recoil. “What are you talking about?”

Jeff tuts, shaking his head. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I was too busy killing your other buddies.”

Anger flares in the pit of your stomach, and you know it’s misplaced. You knew the truth just as much as he did.

“You killed him,” you snap, stepping forward despite yourself. “You killed him, just like you killed everyone else!”

Jeff’s laughter is as sharp and biting as shattered glass.

“Oh, is that how you remember it now? That’s cute.” He takes another step toward you, his knife spinning lazily in his hand. “You’re just like me, sweetheart. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“I’m nothing like you,” you spit.

“You sure about that?” He leans closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper, and making your cheeks heat up. “I’m not the one that shoved him, am I?”

Your breath catches, and the memory flashes in your mind – Don, screaming, the cracking, your hand reaching out—

“No,” you mutter, shaking your head fervently. “That’s not what happened. You’re lying.”

Jeff’s expression flickers with mock sympathy.

“Oh, lying’s your thing, isn’t it? To the cops, to your shrink—hell, you’ve lied enough to yourself that you actually believe it now.” His tone turns just as deadly as his smile. “But come one, baby, we were both there. We both know what really happened.”

“I didn’t—”

He cuts you off with a triumphant laugh. “You can tell yourself whatever you want, but how long do you think it’ll take before the cops realize one of their corpses isn’t smiling like the rest? If they haven’t already, that is.”

Your blood turns to ice, and your fingers jerk around the knife. Jeff’s words wrap around your throat, squeezing tight with every syllable that your mind deciphers.

“Shut up.” You pull the hunting knife from your pocket in one swift motion, and he doesn’t even flinch. It feels pitifully small compared to the blade in Jeff’s hand, but it’s all you have.

Jeff’s grin only grows as he watches you, his eyes glittering with dark amusement. He steps back, just enough to keep you guessing, and flips his knife effortlessly in his hand.

“That’s more like it,” he murmurs. “Now we’re talking.”

Adrenaline floods your veins, and your body tenses – you’re ready for whatever happens next. But Jeff is eerily still – he doesn’t strike. He just stands there, watching you with that infuriating sneer. As if he’s already won.

The tension crackles in the air like static, both of you locked in a deadly standoff in the woods. Jeff lunges with quickening speed. His knife whips through the air, aimed directly at your shoulder.

Your heart flips in your chest, but your instincts are faster than your fear. You duck low, your breath catching as the blade narrowly misses you. With a shaky, frenzied swipe, you aim your knife at him, but he sidesteps effortlessly. He’s beaming at the near miss, and you feel the scorch of his gaze as he circles like a vulture.

“Fuck, I knew you’d try to fight,” Jeff taunts. The venomous words drip from his mouth as his eyes gleam with sadistic delight. “Let’s see how long you last, bitch.”

You straighten and back up, the soles of your boots scraping against the dirt. Your pulse thunders in your ears, but you only think of how pissed Miller’s gonna be if he finds you dead. A tree behind you halts your retreat. Panic hooks onto you as you glance over your shoulder, but there’s nowhere left to run.

With a feral growl, he strikes again – this time his blade catching your arm, The sting of the cut shocks you, sending a rush of pain through your veins. You grit your teeth, and the rising tide of anger and distress pushes you forward.

You swing, reckless, wild. The knife arcs toward him, but it’s a clumsy swing. Once again, Jeff is too quick – too calculated. His taunting laugh echoes in your ears as you try to recover from the near-miss.

His movements blur from his fluid precision, the edge of his blade flashing. The ground beneath you suddenly feels lighter than it should. Jeff sweeps his leg under yours, knocking you off balance. You’re slammed to the ground with a harsh thud – pulling a gasp from you.

The knife slips from your hand, the dull sound of it hitting the dirt not too far from your head. Your heartbeat hammers in your throat as your eyes dart to where it landed, but Jeff is already on top of you.

Before you can react, his hands are on your wrist, pinning them to the dirt. The weight of him crushes you, but you manage to buck your hips, throwing him slightly off balance.

It’s enough – your body moves on pure instinct, your arms flailing in the brief chaos of his stunned pause. You scramble to your feet, gulping for air, and your heart racing in your chest.

Your flingers close around the familiar grip of your hunting knife, and you raise it again – trembling but determined.

Smutty part is -> (here)

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freyascoffee · 3 days ago

Text

You always come to the party

College!Ellie Williams x reader

Summary: 3 months after your breakup, you and Ellie have been seeing each other around more recently. Do you think she deserves a second chance to prove her love?

Author's note: this is my first time writing one of these so bare with me :) Also posting this late because I've been meaning to write this for ages now

December 12th

The silence of entering your dormitory after boring lectures was probably the worst part of your day. You and Ellie broke up to 'focus on yourselves' yet it was hard to focus at all when the polaroid pictures of the two of you hang upon the golden fairylights above your desk. That stupid dinosaur keyring she won for you during your date at the arcade jingled every time you grabbed your keys. The guitar pick she accidentally left on your window sill collected dust; nonetheless, it was left untouched, as if waiting to be picked up again.

Everything reminded you of her. You procrastinated the decision of putting yourself out there because you didn't want anyone else. A distraction would be useful- hell- it was a need. The need to forget about that internal conflict and question what you did to deserve the sudden cold shoulder from Ellie. She was in the wrong. She chose to be dismissive of your feelings the few weeks before your breakup. It was nothing like the Ellie you knew, but you had to put yourself first.

Repetitive and monotonous cycles of talking stages chased you throughout the next 3 months. 'What's your favourite colour?' 'What's your favourite food?' The questions were so vague, only reminding you of the silly conspiracies you and Ellie made up during your smoking sessions, or when you gazed at the stars from a grassy hill close to the campus. The philosophical questions you'd debate just for shits and giggles overlapped the strangers' voices when they asked the generic 'what superpower would you want to have?'.

You only wondered if Ellie felt some sense of remorse for her neglect in the end, or if she was too busy hanging out with Dina, who seemed to cut contact with you after the breakup, and Jesse, who still reached out to you every couple weeks.

"Earth to Yn!" Jesse waved his hand in front of your face.

"Sorry, you were saying?" You asked, tilting your head to face him reluctantly.

"..The party" Jesse raised an eyebrow, implying that you should catch on what he was talking about, if you were listening.

"Absolutely not" You mirrored his raised eyebrow in a 'Are you serious' way.

"Come on, you'll meet some new people. Show yourself off a little, maybe make certain individuals jealous. " he nudged your elbow at the last word. He was completely aware of what happened between you and Ellie, having most definitely hearing both sides of the story.

A narrow glare from you, shot up at him before averting to your textbook, which looked brand new, despite owning it since the beginning of the school year. The spine wasn't even cracked, knowing Ellie, she would've begged you to let her crack it for you. "...I'll think about it"

"Don't give me that," he insisted, leaning forward as he covered the pages of your textbook with his hands. "How long has it been since you got a little drunk? A little cray-cray?"

"Euh, never say that again" you groaned, dropping your head into the palms of your sweating hands. "I might just never go to a party again out of spite"

"I'm just saying, you should go. I'll take you there and we'll will leave any time you feel like it" he pursed his lips into a thin line, mocking your dad's convincing expression.

"Is she gonna there?" You mumbled, gently pushing his hands away from the book and flicking through to the next page, a soft crackling sound cutting through the short silence between the two of you.

"Who?..ohh- nah, she said she'd rather stay in and judge people's instagram pics from the party" Jesse shrugged. "Dina will probably stay with her"

"Right" you rubbed your temples in circular motions, easing the aching sensation of your head.

"Do you want her to go?" He smirked, grabbing his phone from his brown leather jacket, a loud zip of his pocket cutting through the quiet library. "Because I can get that sort-"

"Shut up- I was just asking" you hushed, looking around awkwardly to ensure nobody was giving the judgemental look of disapproval.

"And I was just offering" Jesse was annoyingly quick with comebacks, and you were often reminded of that. "So, the partys December 18th, Margaret's beach house, there's gonna be food, drinks, music, you know, basic party stuff..and a pool"

"Anyone willing to swim in a pool in December?" You winced "..whatever- and what if the cops come because of complaints?" You added. A criminal record was not on your Christmas wishlist whatsoever.

"you were on the track team for a reason" he laughed, looking back up at you from his phone. "If anyone knows how to run away from problems, it's you"

"Was that seriously a secret diss? That's low, Jesse." You scoffed with a goofy smile, propping one leg up on your chair and fiddling with the chain of your locket.

December 16th

The party was only two days away and you had no idea what to wear, you thought as you stood in front of your wardrobe full of clothes. Point was, none of it was essentially party-worthy, basic tees and jeans were all you had since your sister decided she wanted her clothes back. In that case, she should consider that her Christmas gift.

You mindlessly walked through stores, looking for a simple dress, but a lot of the racks were stuffed with outfits that were rave-appropriate at most. You eventually left the mall, and decided to go to your favourite store, TJ Maxx, it had all anyone ever needed.

The glass doors slid open, and the faint echo of a 2010s pop song rang through the building. You made your way towards the dress section and you only found silver sequen dresses which went down to your ankles, so that's a no. You pulled your phone out from your pocket and opened Pinterest, typing 'Christmas party outfit simple'.

You scrolled for a moment before finding a cute top and skirt combination. TJ Maxx definitely had this. It was a skirt and a fitted sparkly long-sleeved top along with tights with patterns. After a couple laps through the aisles, you found everything you needed and made your way to the checkout.

As you exited the store, you were notified of 2 missed calls. Jesse. You audibly sighed and clicked the green telephone icon. It rung once before the other line immediately picked up. "Listen, oh my gosh, okay, so come to my dorm right now, we're trying to build a gingerbread house and I thought, who'd be better to help than Yn? Get your ass here right now"

You heard Ellie's voice in the background, talking, you weren't sure whether it was to Jesse or someone else but you weren't sure if you were ready to see her again. "Uhh..who's with you?" You asked, knowing the answer, but just seeking confirmation to emotionally prepare yourself.

"Ellie and Dina" his voice cut of between syllables. Probably just your data running low again, why did your renewal always have to be at the end of the month?

"Oh I'll try and-" you spoke, before the call ended. Shit. Now you're gonna have to go because it seems like you agreed. You weren't opposed to the idea of building gingerbread houses, but you were definitely against the inevitable tension you'd face when you got there.

After reaching your room, you dropped your shopping bag onto the bed and checked yourself out in the mirror. Fixing your eyebrows and reapplying vaseline onto your lips, winter dryness was the worst. You looked yourself up and down one more time before slipping on your sliders and taking the stairs of the flat down to Jesse's dorm.

You knock quietly, a swift and recognisable pattern you always made against the door of room 47. You heard Christmas music from the other side of the wall and chuckling as the sound of footsteps drew nearer. You twirl a lock of your hair awkwardly whilst waiting for someone to answer.

Oh.

"..hey" the freckled auburn mumbles between the cookie she looks like she just stuffed in her mouth.

"..hi" you smile awkwardly, not moving any closer towards the room, as if hesitating to even enter. You were already regretting coming at all, the sound of Dina's voice further in the room intimidated you.

"You coming in, or are you stopping by to sing Christmas carols?" Jesse called out from his seated position on the floor. "You're letting the warm air out"

"Right- sorry" you nodded once, slipping under Ellie's arm which was propped against the door frame. "So what did you need help with exactly? This looks fine"

"We needed a fourth contestant to make a poll on instagram, you know, see who's gingerbread house looks the best and all" he grinned "come on, it'll be fun"

You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly, realising Ellie already shut the door and sat beside Dina. "Okay okay" you reluctantly sit beside Jesse, crossing your legs and scanning the ingredients. "Shit, where'd you get all this?"

"My mom got it for us, she wanted us to keep the Christmas tradition while I'm away" Dina admitted. Her tone was calm and neutral, maybe that secret amnesty you thought she felt towards you was just overthinking. You nod slightly, a loud silence growing in the dorm. Only the music from Jesse's phone brang a sense of ease to the group of you.

"Let's get started, I'm starving" Ellie groans. "I like the outfit, by the way" she nods in acknowledgement in your direction.

What was supposed to be a subtle smile unfortunately turned into a wide grin, you quickly mask it with a light chuckle. "Thanks" you meet her gaze, it felt more genuine and nostalgic since the last time your eyes locked..months ago. You knew better than that, though.

The day was filled with laughter and 'remember when' stories. You and Ellie spoke frequently within the group, yet direct interactions between the two of you were strictly Ellie asking for you to pass the icing...and also a significant number of exchanged glances, and catching each other looking longingly at the other.

"..kay, mines done" Jesse announced, his country accent slipping slightly. "When are you losers gonna finish?"

You suppress a laugh, avoiding eyecontact with him. The house looked like a five year old made it. The icing was dripping on the sides, the windows were crumbling off, and the roof was asymmetrical. "Is that it?" Your voice trembles. He looks up at you with a confused expression, gesturing his hands at it. He picks it up, as if to pretend he's going to drop it on purpose.

"N-no it's nice..oh..it's so nice" your voice shook with hidden laughs. You look at Dina, who's covering her mouth with her hand, giving you a thousand yard stare. Ellie bursts out into laughter. "Isn't your dad an architect?" You ask, trying to distract yourself.

"What about it?" He frowned, also seemingly holding back a smile. He placed the gingerbread house down on the floor again, the sweet roof collapsed inwards as he did. "..yeah okay."

"It's fantastic, babe" Dina mumbled, tears swelling in her eyes from laughter. "..so beautiful I could cry.." a muffled chuckle escapes from her lips.

"Oh okay I see how it is" Jesse rolls his eyes, taking a piece of the roof and shoving it into his mouth. It made his mouth look rectangular which only brought another round of giggles.

December 18th

Red Solo cups were scattered across the wooden crates and sands. The flickering of strobe lights painted the trees and fences of the backyard with splashes of color. You lost Jesse in the large groups of people and chose to make the most of it. You were drunk, you didn't know anyone, nor did you have to, just make the most of it.

Strangers you danced with flashed into fragments of a familiar girl's face, the fast rhythm of the bass guiding your heart to race along with it. The ginger girl you laughed with as you jumped to the music momentarily twitched into an image of a short-haired auburn, before morphing back into her usual state. The rays of lights illuminated a plaid pattern on her jacket, imitating a recognizable flannel.

"Cannon ball!" A guy, pretty sure his name was Tyler, jumped into the freezing pool. A group of students around you cheered and pushed past you, causing you to accidentally tug along with them before finding your balance. Dropping cans and sliding their shoves off, they sprinted into the water, are they stupid? You slowly made your way to sit on a nearby decorative rock, and watched them in their pre-hypothermic states.

Your gaze shifted to the group of girls singing along to a Shakira song by the campfire. They swayed their hips and lifted their green bottles of booze, followed by a loud cheer for a girl taking chugs from her drink. She then threw the bottle to the side and squealed, good for her.

A cold sensation splashed against your face. You looked up, alarmed, only to see some jock shaking his wet hair like a dog, that was completely unnecessary. Although, it had minimally sobered you up, you stood up and instinctively reached to adjust your locket, it was a habit of yours to awkwardly play with your necklace.

...Where was your necklace? That familiar weight of your golden locket was missing. Your fingers fumbled at the fabric of your jacket, to your hair, to your shoes. It had felt like time slowed down, just for a split second. Your gaze flickered around the rock you were sitting on. The locket was something precious to you. You couldn't lose it, not like this.

You heart raced as panic set in. You had to find Jesse. You frantically pushed through the crowd, trying to stay calm, you were always a collected person but this was unknown. You didn't know where to begin looking, he could be anywhere, the lake was packed. People blended together like blurry smears, faces lost in your clouded vision of alcohol.

"Woah there, you okay?" Your breath hitched, looking up at the familiar voice. It was Ellie. This was a bad time. You were too panicked to let her see you like this. Her and that dark green winter coat. You weren't ready to talk to her.

"Have you seen Jesse anywhere?" You said, just loud enough for Ellie to understand your words above the booming sounds from the speakers. "Is he still here?"

"What wrong?" She asked softly. She gently placed her subtly calloused hands on your forearms to stop you from anxiously fidgeting. You averted your gaze to Dina, who was sipping juice from a silly straw.

"Nothing- I just need to find him, okay?" You hissed. Flickering your gaze back to her, a pleading glimmer in your eyes.

She nodded at Dina before guiding you inside the building. The music was muffled, or at least less painful to listen to. She occasionally looked back at you to ensure you were still following her in the busy hallway.

Jesse was sat on the sofa, laughing with a group of unfamiliar faces. As soon as he noticed the two of you, he stood up and approached you. "You alright?"

"No you are all left" a guy from behind you chuckled, placing hands on yours and Ellies shoulders and peeking between your heads.

"Dude, get outta here" Jesse sighed, pushing him away by his forehead. "You okay?"

"This is really inconvenient, I know, but I-I lost my locket and I can't find it, can you help me? Please?" You bit your bottom lip anxiously, awaiting a response.

"Okay..take a deep breath" he inhaled deeply, gesturing you to mirror him "..and out..is this the locket you always wear? The little gold heart, right?" He smiled reassuringly. You nodded quickly.

"Listen, it's nice n chill in here, look, you can stay right here until I'm back, and I promise we'll find it. You don't leave until I come back because we both know how that's gonna end. If you feel sick, just go to the sink, it's right behind you, alright?" He patted your back. Your gaze followed him until he reached a pair of girls, fuck drunk vision.

It felt like ages had passed, your dizziness had thankfully faded, but the pit in your stomach suggested you weren't going to find that locket. Ellie and Dina walked past you, giving small sympathetic smiles as they went down the hallway and to the front porch. Ellie's clothes were drenched and a scent of chlorine followed behind her.

You closed your eyes for a moment, fiddling with the hem of your top, praying that Jesse would return soon. Your locket dangled in front of your dazed expression. You looked up at the raven-haired male. "Thank you so much." You stood up and hugged him tightly. You pulled away and took hold of the locket, clipping it back around your neck. The locket was cold, and droplets of water trickled along your collarbone from the chain.

"Come on, let's get you back" Jesse mumbled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to support your swaying legs. He guided you to his jeep.

December 19th

You extended your legs as far as you could in the comfort of your warm, morning mattress. Memories from last night flashing through your mind, remembering how pretty Ellie looked. The freezing feeling of the locket around you. The slight shivering of Ellie's lips when she smiled at you last night. Dots slowly connected in your exhausted brain and a sudden realisation hit you like a brick.

Ellie was the one that found your locket. The moment you saw Jesse speak to two girls, was the imaginary picture comparison of the colours they were wearing. Although you couldn't depict their faces, one was wearing all black, and the other was wearing dark green and dark blue; this matched Dina and Ellie' outfits from your previous interaction.

Ellie's hair and jeans were drenched from what you could remember when she was leaving. Her coat was dry, she must have taken it off, implying she looked in the pool. Plus, the necklace was wet when Jesse gave it back to you. Stop it, you're spiralling and overthinking it. You could only ask Ellie to find out the truth.

So there you were, standing in front of room 51, with a warm smile and handful of questions, knowing your signature pattern. Why were you doing this? You and Ellie were over. She stopped caring in the end. It was too late to turn back when the door had creaked open, revealing a pale Ellie with a weighted blanket draped over her shoulders.

"...this looks like a bad time. I can come back la-" you reassured awkwardly, stammering over your words as your gaze struggled to hold hers. She just stood there, intently watching you.

"Shut up, it's fine, come in" she cut you off. She opened the door wider, exposing the messy dormitory, and softly lit salt lamp which brightened the dark room. "Make yourself comfortable"

How was she being so casual right now? Was it casual? Were the feelings one-sided now? Stop analysing, just talk. "..hey..so..I figured maybe.. we could talk?...if I knew you were sick, I wouldn'tve bothered you"

"What do you wanna talk about?" She dropped onto the bed, resting her head against the bedframe to face you. "This isn't about the gingerbread house dm right? Because that was Dina, she took my phone when I was in the bathroom"

"I didn't see it..I came to ask about.. everything that happened..before.. and stuff " you pursed your lips to the side, twisting the golden chain which rested on your neck.

"..right right.." she nodded "I've been meaning to reach out and all, I was gonna talk to you last night" she scratched her lip "then I saw you super panicked and drunk so I..didn't"

"And between the 3 months of not talking either?" You raised an eyebrow, provoking her to continue.

"Listen, ever since we got together, you were so kind..and funny and cool. It made me so..afraid of losing that. It was selfish, I know. I just didn't want you to go, not like everyone else in my life, not you" she admitted "..that day..when we argued, like- for real argued- I hated every second of it. I hated facing the consequences of my own actions. I still hate that I was stupid enough to leave you like that"

Your eyes were wide in surprise. "...and you didn't think to try and tell me?" You were being reasonably confused, communication is key to a relationship.

"I felt too guilty, I didn't want to make you feel obliged to stay with me out of pity" her hand trembled subtly as it lay on her lap. She leaned her head on your shoulder.

"It still made me feel guilty" you murmur, resting your head on hers.

"I know, and I'm so sorry for that. Uhh...I- I'll do whatever you ask me to, just to prove my remorse. I'll post something really embarrassing if you really want me to." She muttered, lifting her head from your shoulder to look at you. "I'd do anything"

"..are you sick?" You asked, scanning her face. You noticed the darker circles under her eyes, and the box of painkillers on her bedside table. "Did you go in the pool, you idiot?"

"Hey-hey now- I was actually in the pool for you, idiot" she mocked your insult. "Your locket was at the bottom for whatever reason...so..yeah"

"What did you get fucking hypothermia looking for my stupid necklace? Are you serious?" Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but the smile on your face couldn't be restrained. "You're kidding"

"Does the medicine receipt on my desk look like a joke to you?" She grinned "it was no big deal, it was whatever"

"Not to me it wasn't. You found my locket. How'd you even know it would be there?" You let out a half-laugh.

"Guessed" she shrugged with a stoic tone, but the glimmer in her eyes said otherwise. "Well I guess I kinda saw it glowing under the lights in the pool. This is gonna sound corny as hell, but that locket kinda made me realise how much I needed to fix...so I I'll say it again, I'm really sorry."

"I forgive you, I do, just please promise that if you ever have a problem like that again, you talk to me. You're my best friend and I don't want to lose that." You stutter "you have a lot to make up for, you know" you smile softly.

"Can I start my redemption now?" Her smirk deepens, those green eyes meeting yours again. "Just a small head start?" You let out a deep breath and nod, eyes flickering down to her lips before returning to her eyes.

You adjusted slightly to face her. She leaned closer. Her lips brushed against yours, ghosting a soft kiss. She pulled away slightly, your stupid smiles mirroring each other's. "Chat is this rizz?" You mumbled shyly, a pink hue tinting your cheeks.

#ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie willams x reader #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fluff #tlou

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