#but it makes sense in my head and it scares me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugurugetoshairbrush · 1 day ago

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Peeping on your neighbor DILF!Getou Suguru

Here I go again starting something new when my drafts are full of WIPs...

Consider this Getou's 35th bday gift 💋

[fanart by: @polariae on X (#needhim) / cw: peeping]

Everyone has guilty pleasures—secret indulgences they hide from prying eyes, vices they pretend don’t exist.

But no matter how satisfying they may be, how deeply they scratch that internal itch, reality always comes crashing down. And when it does, it cuts deep, jagged shards of shame slicing through delusion.

The worst realizations come after you’ve sunk too far, waded too deep into depravity, so numb to your own self-indulgence that you can’t even recognize it for what it is. Like the old tale of the frog in boiling water—oblivious to its slow, inevitable demise.

And right now? Being awake before even the birds have stirred, wedged between your thick curtains and the wall, peering through the narrow slit with bated breath?

That’s your boiling water.

You lift your arm carefully, tapping your smartwatch. The dim glow illuminates the numbers.

4:55 AM.

You don’t move. You don’t breathe. Even the faintest intake of air feels like a risk, as if he might somehow sense your presence.

It’s happening.

Slowly, he stands from the black velvet club chair, folding his newspaper—the Times, maybe?—with meticulous precision before setting it on the bed. He stretches, arms lifting over his head, his body rolling fluidly as he shakes off the last remnants of sleep. A slow bounce on the balls of his feet. A lazy roll of his shoulders.

Then he moves toward the closet, flicking the light on.

You barely stifle a squeak.

Illuminated, his sleep-heavy eyes remain hooded, half-lidded with exhaustion. He crosses his arms over the hem of his faded gray sleep shirt and lifts it in one smooth motion. The fabric slides over his toned torso, revealing the defined cut of his V-line, the faint trail of dark hair disappearing beneath his waistband. His flannel pants dip dangerously low on his hips.

Your mouth goes dry.

As he rifles through his wardrobe, his back muscles flex under the shifting light, honey-bronzed skin rippling as he moves. He pulls out a crisp, white button-up, holding it to the light. The subtle gleam of a barbell piercing peeks through his nipple.

You swallow—loudly.

The wet click of it makes you cringe in embarrassment, even though you’re entirely alone.

You sink down, sliding soundlessly against the wall until you’re curled into yourself, head in your hands.

I have got to get a grip.

𓂃۶ৎ

“You’ve got to get a grip.”

Across from you, Yu stares, wide-eyed and incredulous.

His big, brown eyes are filled with concern, lips pressed into a thin, grim line. He reaches across the table, placing a warm hand over your own, rubbing your knuckles in reassurance.

“I say this with the utmost love and care,” he begins, voice low and serious, “but you are genuinely starting to scare me.”

You tilt your head, amused despite yourself. Placing your other hand over his, you give him a saccharine smile.

“And I fear your love life is even scarier,” you quip, “considering you and Nanami are disgustingly smitten with each other but refuse to do anything about it.”

Yu groans, yanking his hand back as he slumps into his seat.

You’ve been working with Yu for five years now at a highly accredited education company, officially as tutors but often picking up shifts in the adjoining daycare. He’s been a constant source of fresh air in your life—unrelentingly optimistic, perpetually happy, and the only thing keeping you sane when bratty kids, back-talking teens, and overbearing parents strip away every ounce of your patience.

And for the past two years, a certain someone has been an added incentive to showing up.

Nanami Kento.

Tall, broad, devastatingly handsome. Blonde hair, sharp features, and an air of refined old money. He first enrolled his younger brother, Yuji, in tutoring classes two years ago, exasperated by the boy’s athletic prowess but academic struggles.

Nanami, ever the composed professional, is a bank analyst with little time to spare—especially for schoolwork. But despite his packed schedule, he always makes time to bring Yuji in himself. And, without fail, he always requests Yu as Yuji’s tutor.

Nanami never hovers, never interferes—but he stays. Every time. MacBook open, glasses perched low on his nose, working in the corner while his gaze flickers to Yuji…and, more often than not, lingers on Yu.

They’re not slick.

Yu, for all his confidence, is an absolute mess around Nanami. He stumbles over his words, turns an embarrassing shade of pink, and loses all train of thought. Meanwhile, Nanami remains perfectly composed—save for the occasional, barely-there smirk when Yu flusters himself into silence.

It’s infuriatingly adorable.

But despite their obvious mutual pining, neither of them has made a move. You’ve tried to nudge them along, but they’re both stubborn as hell. They have to get there on their own.

Maybe you should have a little chat with Yuji—

“Hey! Hey!”

Yu waves a hand wildly in front of your face, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I know that smirk! Stop scheming.” His expression darkens. “And focus—you wanted to talk about your situation, remember? I have, like, five minutes left on my break.”

Right.

You lean back, exhaling slowly. Recounting the sick, twisted ways you’ve gone from having a harmless crush on your thirty-five-year-old neighbor to full-on stalking him is…a lot.

So you clean up the details.

You leave out the part where you wake up at the crack of dawn just to watch him get dressed. Or how you happen to be outside every afternoon when his daughters get home from school, conveniently offering them sweets as if it’s just a coincidence.

Everyone has flaws. Yours just happen to feel entirely justified every time you’re blessed with the sight of Getou Suguru—all six feet of sculpted muscle, dressed in tailored suits and expensive watches, long hair pulled into a tight bun, sharp violet eyes glinting behind sleek glasses.

And if that wasn’t enough, the way he is with his daughters—that obliterates any remaining shred of reason.

On weekends, he’s outside your apartment complex in casual clothes, guiding them along the sidewalk on their little pink tricycles. He smiles at them, warm and genuine, crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

He moved in a year ago.

And in eleven months, you’ve lost a lifetime’s worth of dignity and grace thirsting over the DILF next door.

Well—not next door, but close enough. Your balconies face each other.

You discovered this little fact a couple of weeks after he moved in.

It had been a casual meeting at first—one of those neighborly exchanges where introductions are made in passing. You were returning from work, tired but relieved to be home, and he had just finished enrolling his daughters in school. He had held the lobby door open for you, a simple courtesy, saving you from the trouble of buzzing yourself in.

You’d jogged a little to close the distance, not wanting to keep him waiting. As you passed through, you turned to thank him, fully prepared to run off—but he stopped you with a radiant smile.

“Hello, I haven’t had the pleasure of introducing myself yet.” He scratched the back of his neck, letting the door swing shut behind him. “We’re new to the building.”

Then, with a gesture toward the two girls at his side, he continued, “This one’s Nanako,”—the jumpy, golden-haired child practically vibrating with energy—“and this is Mimiko.” The brunette clung to his leg, wary but curious.

“They’re adorable,” you had told them warmly.

“Now, girls, what do we say to the nice lady?”

“Thank you, nice lady!” Nanako chirped.

Mimiko mumbled a soft, “Thanks.”

Getou chuckled, ruffling her hair before leaning down to press a kiss to her crown. “Don’t be shy, honey. It’s okay.”

Mimiko tightened her grip on his leg, holding onto him as though you might whisk her father away if she let go.

As he straightened, a sharp breeze carried the scent of musky sandalwood and lavender from him, teasing your senses in a way that felt almost intimate.

“They’re still a little frazzled from the move,” he admitted in a mock whisper, “Don’t tell, but some nights I’ve been sneaking them candy for dessert—except it’s just melatonin.”

You had giggled at his confession, and his lips had ticked upward at the sound.

“I’m Getou, by the way,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “But if I’ll be seeing you often, feel free to call me Suguru—I’m not uptight.”

You’d introduced yourself, mentioning that you were native to the area and worked as a tutor, meaning you were well-versed in the local children’s events. As you spoke, he listened attentively, nodding along to every other word, his eye contact steady. You had to fight every intrusive thought about how distractingly attractive he was—how much you wanted to press your tongue to the line of his jaw, trace the length of his throat.

Not the time. Definitely not the time.

By the time numbers had been exchanged for “neighborly inquiries,” you’d realized you lived on the same floor.

“Well, would you look at that~” He had chuckled, amused by the coincidence.

You’d smiled, bid the girls farewell, and assured Getou he could reach out if he ever needed anything. But the moment you turned away—oh, God. You had to fight the urge to squeal, mouthing a silent oh my God to yourself as you hurried to your apartment, barely processing the fact that an incredibly sexy dad lived just a few doors down.

Then came the accidental discovery.

The first time you caught him dressing in front of his window had been pure chance.

You’d been up early—5 AM, thanks to your turn to let in the clean-up crew for your workplace’s monthly deep clean. Half-awake and desperate for coffee, you had shuffled into your kitchen, only to catch a flicker of movement in your peripheral vision.

And there he was.

Shirtless. Wet.

His long, damp hair fell in dark ribbons down his back, droplets clinging to his skin, catching the dim morning light. He was flipping through a newspaper, one hand resting on his chin, brow furrowed in thought. His serious expression made your brain short-circuit—sending it spiraling into dangerous territory.

A strict professor making you stay after class.

A mean dom forcing you into submission.

A strict boss calling you into his office, locking the door.

You had to physically shake the thoughts away, dragging your gaze back to your coffee like it was a lifeline.

Then he cracked his neck, flexed his fingers, and carefully laid a pair of black work pants across his bed, arranging his outfit with meticulous precision. That was when you realized—you had unintentionally learned his morning routine.

And you weren’t proud to admit that you had grown to love it.

Your favorite part? When he stood before the mirror, brushing out his hair.

He always looked so at peace during that ritual—like it was something grounding, something necessary. It was the last thing he did before spritzing on cologne and stepping out for the day.

Now, sitting across from Yu in the breakroom, you finally admit to your… situation.

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend?” Yu asks, frowning. “Or—God forbid—a wife?”

You wave him off. “No way. If he had a wife, she would’ve been mentioned. Even a girlfriend—I would’ve seen her by now.”

Yu cringes. “Right.”

He places both hands flat on the table, inhaling like he is about to deliver some sage wisdom. “You need to do what I do—just keep running into him, talk to him, wear him down until you two become close.”

You give him a look. “So I can be friend-zoned for a year? No, thanks.”

Yu turns up his nose. “So rude. Even when I try to help.” He pushes back his chair dramatically. “I’ll be on my way.”

He stomps off toward the door, only to pause, his bangs brushing against his lashes as he peeks back in.

“But text me later, okay?” he says with a smirk. “We’ll figure something out if we put our heads together.”

You huff a laugh. What a sweet guy. Even your obsessive behavior hasn’t scared him away.

The rest of your shift passes in a blur. You spend the final hour tutoring Sam—a regular who somehow always smells like cheese puffs and leaves everything he touches sticky. When his dad finally picks him up, you all but shove the sign-out sheet toward him, making a beeline for the bathroom to scrub your hands clean.

𓂃۶ৎ

A hot shower is calling your name as you skillfully back into your designated parking space, humming to yourself before stepping out of the car.

The moment your foot hits the pavement, the familiar sound of drunken laughter and hollering echoes through the garage. Of course. Your downstairs neighbors—wasted out of their minds. Again. On a Wednesday.

Rolling your eyes, you make your way toward the exit, only to find yourself in full view of the rowdy group perched on the hood of a sports car parked obnoxiously across multiple spaces. Among them is a guy you’ve seen before—arguing with his then-girlfriend at ungodly hours over god-knows-what. Spiky pink hair, gelled into stiff peaks, paired with a tight white tank top despite the night chill. You’ve never spoken to him, barely spared him a glance, but tonight, for whatever reason, he has something to prove.

“YO! HEY, YO!”

You ignore him, keeping your pace steady.

“Aye, I know you hear me! C’mere real quick!”

Your jaw tightens. You shoot him a glare but don’t stop, closing the distance to the door.

“Aww, don’t be like that, sweetheart,” he drawls, clearly reveling in the attention of his friends. “That’s not very neighborly. I just gotta ask you a quick question.”

You exhale sharply, finally turning to face him and his little audience. “What the fuck do you want? You can ask from there.”

He scoffs, spitting onto the pavement. “Damn, no need to be a bitch about it.” He jerks his chin toward one of his friends. “My boy here thinks you look good, wanted to get them digits, but you ain’t even all that to be actin’ like this.”

A dry, humorless laugh escapes you as you prop a hand on your hip. “Funny, ‘cause from where I’m standing, you’re the one desperate for my attention. Screams ‘bitch’ to me—but go off.”

His friends snicker, their amusement only deepening his scowl. He swings his legs off the hood, standing up with an air of aggression. The moment he takes a step forward, your fingers slip into your bag, wrapping around the familiar cylinder of mace.

Six steps to the door.

His bloodshot eyes, the reek of weed clinging to his clothes—it sends your senses into high alert. If he lunges, you’ll spray him.

“Stuck-up bitch.”

A firm hand presses against the small of your back, guiding you away just as the tension peaks.

You startle, spinning with the mace raised—only to freeze when you find yourself looking up at Getou Suguru.

And he looks pissed.

Brows furrowed, lips pressed into a firm line, the sleeves of his button-up pushed to his elbows like he’s ready to handle this personally.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Sukuna?” His voice is low, rough, demanding.

Your grip on the mace loosens as you exhale, the warmth of Getou’s hand steady on your back. You’re not helpless, but dealing with scum like Sukuna? That’s the last thing you want after a long day.

Sukuna’s posture falters for half a second before he scoffs. “Relax, man. Just wanted to talk. No need for the hero act.”

“I’m pretty sure she would’ve handled you herself,” Getou counters coolly. “But I figured I’d remind you that you’re one misdemeanor away from that assault and battery charge becoming a felony. So watch yourself.”

Sukuna’s arrogance wavers. His jaw tightens as he glances at Getou, weighing his options before choosing the safer one—retreating back to his car.

“If I catch you pulling this shit again,” Getou continues, “I’ll personally ensure you get a speedy trial—as is your constitutional right.”

The group piles into the car in tense silence. As the engine roars to life, Getou pulls his hand away from your back like he’s just realized it’s there.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, stepping back. “I didn’t mean to—” He sighs, shaking his head. “It just pissed me off seeing him try that with you. You don’t deserve that.”

He smiles, but there’s a quiet sadness to it, as if he’s seen too much of this before.

“I don’t think you know this,” he adds, voice softer, “but I run a non-profit for domestic violence survivors. We’ve helped house a few of Sukuna’s former partners. Got them legal support, protection. He’s—” His jaw clenches. “He’s worse than he looks.”

You take in the weight of his words. On one hand, you’re grateful for his work, knowing how important it is. On the other, the thought of Sukuna being a repeat offender makes your stomach turn.

“Don’t apologize,” you tell him, offering a small, genuine smile. “I appreciate you stepping in. Macing him would’ve ruined my whole night—pepper spray’s a bitch to wash out.”

That earns a quiet chuckle from Getou, the tension easing.

“Sure would’ve been a nuisance,” he agrees.

As you walk toward the building together, you steal a glance at him—at the way the moonlight catches in his hair, reflecting off a few stray gray strands. His jawline is sharp in the dim glow, the curve of his cheekbone accentuated in a way that makes your heart stutter. You watch as a calloused finger brushes his bangs back, tucking them behind his ear.

Ever the gentleman, he holds the door open for you and walks you all the way to your apartment. At your door, he rests a firm but gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Be safe,” he says. “And if you ever feel unsafe, don’t hesitate to reach out. Okay?”

You nod, feigning composure, but he sees right through it.

He narrows his eyes slightly. “Not good enough. Promise me.”

You huff, rolling your eyes before holding up a pinky. “Alright, alright. I promise.”

A slow smirk tugs at his lips as he hooks his pinky around yours, the warmth of his touch lingering even after he lets go.

“Good girl.”

The praise haunts you for the rest of the night, looping in your head like a broken record. You spend hours lying awake, spamming Yu with frantic, half-incoherent texts detailing every second of what just happened.

𓂃۶ৎ

The following week, you don’t see him—not in the hall, not in passing. And though you tell yourself you’re being ridiculous, the lack of interaction leaves you feeling… disappointed. You want to text him, but without a real reason, it feels weird. You’re just his neighbor, after all—and at least a decade younger than him.

Still, you catch glimpses of him in the mornings. His routine never changes, but you do notice something new—he’s started drinking tea with his morning newspaper.

You wonder what sparked the change.

Then, on Friday night, your phone buzzes with a notification. A text.

Getou Suguru Hello. This is Suguru, your neighbor. Got any eggs?

You stare at the screen, blinking. That is… certainly an approach.

You: I do! Need me to bring a couple over? I don’t mind.

Getou Suguru: Oh, thank god. Would you? You’re a lifesaver.

You: Yeah, it’s just eggs. I’ll be right over!

You toss your phone onto the counter, glancing down at your loungewear—a silk two-piece pajama set, your favorite. Soft to the touch, effortlessly comfortable. Deciding it’s appropriate enough given the hour, you slip on your slippers, grab the carton of eggs, and head for his door.

Getou’s apartment has a personalized doormat at the entrance, The Getou Family scripted in bold cursive. Cute. You knock lightly, mindful of any sleeping children. A few moments later, footsteps approach, and the door swings open.

And it’s… not what you expect.

Getou stands there, hand on the knob, dressed in a sleek black turtleneck and chocolate-brown cargos—an effortlessly clean-cut look if not for the pink, frilly “Kiss the Cook” apron haphazardly tied around his waist. His long hair is braided loosely over his shoulder, stray strands falling over his forehead, and he looks utterly defeated—his entire body dusted in flour, even in his hair.

You giggle before you can stop yourself.

“Finding humor in my misery, are we?”

You barely manage to stifle your laughter behind your hand as he steps aside, ushering you in.

“Maybe just a little.” You poke at the apron first, smirking. “Well, don’t you look adorable?”

He swats your hand away with a playful huff, taking the eggs from you and leading the way into the kitchen—which is immediately visible. And immediately disastrous.

Flour streaks the counters. Sugar coats one side of the island. Three bowls, filled with dough in various colors, sit among a chaotic spread of every imaginable baking utensil. The only thing not in complete disarray is the rest of the apartment—modern, sleek black decor, perfectly organized, with a wall full of adorable photos of the girls over the years.

You whistle, taking it all in. “My god… what did you do?”

Getou sighs, brushing off flour from his sleeve in a half-hearted attempt to clean himself.

“My buddy Gojo had the girls today. Took them to a science museum, then dinner, and spoiled them, so naturally, they will be too hyped to care about me when they get home.” He gestures vaguely to the mess. “Thought I’d win them back over with homemade cookies since they love sweets. As you can see, I’m not exactly a natural.”

You move to the island, flipping an overturned bag of flour upright, salvaging whatever hasn’t already been sacrificed to the countertop.

“Clearly.”

Getou grabs an egg and cracks it over a bowl of light caramel-colored dough.

“Hey, I can’t be good at everything.”

You squint at his movements, catching the inconsistency in his technique. “Still cocky, huh?”

You peer into the bowl. This is definitely his third attempt at the dough.

“Instead of making another batch, maybe try tasting this one first? Are you even following a recipe?”

He taps sugar-dusted fingers against his chin. “Not exactly. I was going off memory. My mom used to make cookies for me when I was little, but… I may have mixed up a few ingredients.”

Before he can stop you, you dip a finger into the dough and bring it to your mouth.

“Don’t do that!” He wags a flour-covered finger at you, scandalized. “There’s raw egg in there—you’ll get salmonella.”

You grin, unfazed. “It’s just a little taste. And I can tell you’re missing vanilla. The sweetness is off, and it’ll help bind the flavors together.”

His violet eyes widen slightly before lighting up in realization. “Oh, right! Of course! Let me add some!”

Watching him scramble around the kitchen, searching for the vanilla like a deer learning to walk, is nothing short of endearing.

Together, you tweak the recipe—adding a little cinnamon, a sprinkle of nutmeg, some roughly chopped pecans. He lifts a mixing spoon to your lips, and you taste again.

This time? Sweet, only a hint of saltiness, and the nutty pecans bring a rich depth to the dough.

“It’s perfect,” you declare. “We can roll it out now.”

You hadn’t exactly planned for your Friday night to be overtaken by this bumbling, flour-dusted dad, but somehow, you don’t mind. You take turns rolling and flattening the dough before he slides the tray into the oven. Already, you’ve started cleaning—scooping up flour piles, bagging ingredients, restoring order to the battlefield.

“You don’t need to do that,” Getou protests, frowning. “You’ve done enough. Sit down.”

You comply halfway, still gathering loose flour into the bin. He pours you a glass of water and begins wiping down his own mess.

“Where’d you learn how to bake?”

“I wouldn’t call myself a baker,” you say, shrugging. “But working with kids, having treats around helps as a motivator. So I picked up a few simple recipes.”

He nods, impressed, running a damp rag over his flour-streaked shirt. His glasses have slipped down his nose, the lenses smudged from dirty hands.

“Suguru,” you say, deadpan, “go clean yourself up. I’ll finish here.”

He grimaces at the kitchen’s state, then exhales in surrender. “You’re a saint. I’d hate for the girls to see this mess when I’m always nagging them to keep their rooms spotless.” He presses a thumb to his brow. “Turns out, I’m quite the hypocrite.”

You methodically put the kitchen back in order, enjoying the gradual return to cleanliness. By the time Getou re-emerges, the only mess left is on his apron. His hair is pulled up in a loose bun, and he shoots you a wink.

“Right on time.”

As if on cue, the oven alarm dings. He pulls the tray out, setting it on the stove. The scent of buttery, warm sweetness fills the air. You inhale deeply, taking a seat at the barstool beside the counter.

Getou leans down, elbows propped against the surface, eyes glinting with amusement.

“Well, wouldn’t you say we make a per—”

“DADDY!!”

The door slams open, and Nanako barrels inside, launching herself at Getou’s waist.

“Daddy! Daddy! Guess what Satoru got us?!”

Laughing, he lifts her up, ruffling her hair as she clings to his neck. Gojo enters right behind, overloaded with shopping bags, white hair slightly tousled, Cartier shades barely hiding his mischievous blue eyes. Mimiko shuffles in, latched onto his pant leg.

Gojo smirks. “Took them on an all-you-can-grab shopping spree. Fun, right?” He inhales, pausing. “Mm, something smells good—wait. Suguru. Did you actually—” His gaze lands on you, and his smirk sharpens. “Well, well. Who’s this?”

You quickly stand, waving your hands. “Just a neighbor! Suguru needed eggs, and, well…” You gesture vaguely toward the cookies. “I took pity on his baking skills.”

Gojo snorts. “Little did you know, you probably just saved this entire building from being burned down.”

Getou shoves his shoulder. Gojo nearly drops a bag, grinning.

“Hey girls,” he calls, heading down the hall. “Make sure to thank your dad for wearing the special apron I got him! And don’t forget—no kiss, no cookie!”

Nanako gasps, eyes wide. “Oh! Before you go—you have to give Daddy a kiss too! Or no cookie!”

Mimiko nods solemnly. “No kiss, no cookie. Right, Daddy? Or were you lying?”

You laugh at Getou’s panicked expression.

With exaggerated effort, you stretch onto your toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the edge of his jaw.

“There. No lies.”

You grab your cookie and eggs, heading for the door. “Thanks for the treat! Have a good night, guys!”

As you step out, you catch one last glimpse—Getou, frozen, cheeks tinged pink, his jaw still faintly glossed from your kiss.

Munching on your cookie, you grin.

Bless those kids.

𓂃۶ৎ

The next morning, you wake up lazily, blissfully, embarrassingly late—somewhere around noon. A rare luxury. You stretch across your bed, basking in the slow start to the day before slipping into an easy, indulgent routine.

A long, hot shower.

A hearty, homemade brunch.

A carefully curated R&B playlist humming in the background.

You take your time with the little things—styling your hair, finally trying that shower steamer you’ve been saving, relishing a morning that’s just for you. It’s been a while since you’ve allowed yourself to unwind like this, especially since you’ve just started refraining from peeking in on the DILF next door.

Not that you’ve been thinking about him. Not at all.

The sun is bright today, the perfect excuse to go for a walk. Maybe you’ll drop by Yu’s place—figure out how your night will unfold from there. Something lively, hopefully.

Locking up, you head downstairs, offering nods to other tenants as you step outside. And then—

Giggling. Light, carefree, unmistakable.

You don’t even need to look to know who it is.

“Daddy, look! It’s the Cookie Lady!”

“Hi, Cookie Lady!”

You exhale, shaking your head. You vividly remember introducing yourself properly, but kids? Selective memory at its finest.

Sure enough, Nanako and Mimiko are on their pink tricycles, zooming across the pavement while Getou lingers nearby, guiding them like a watchful shadow.

You wave at the girls first, playing along. “Wow, you two are going so fast! Don’t run me over!”

They giggle, swerving dramatically around you as you pretend to stumble back. Behind them, Getou smiles—warm, effortless, like the sun overhead.

You move closer, eyes flicking over him instinctively.

Baggy denim. A beige sweater. A classic dad fit.

Only… the sweater’s losing a battle against the curve of his bicep, the fabric stretching just a little too tightly over muscle. And his arms—the shape of them, the way the fleece clings to his forearms—

You look away fast. Which is no reprieve because now you’re staring into his eyes—deep purple, sunlit flecks of magenta making them shimmer.

His lashes are obnoxiously thick. Prettier than yours, even with volumizing mascara.

Unfair.

“Any disasters for me to clean up today?” you tease, breaking eye contact.

His chuckle is low, warm, easy. His chest shakes lightly. “Not today. Yet. But can I keep you on call just in case?”

You shrug. “I’m around. And honestly? I could never say no to someone with such adorable little girls.”

Getou hums, eyes drifting toward his daughters, who are now engaged in a very serious race down the sidewalk—little hands swatting at each other as they try to throw the other off course.

“Adorable, yes. But don’t let them fool you.” He sighs. “They’re little devils in disguise.”

You laugh. “That’s just the age. They’re curious about everything. Had a kid at work raid my purse once during a session. Looked away for two seconds, and when I turned back, he was wearing a menstrual pad like a hat.”

Getou snorts. Catches himself. Coughs into his fist. “You’re lying.”

“I wish.”

His laughter fades into something softer. Thoughtful. His brows knit slightly.

“…I know you didn’t mean anything by it, but hearing stuff like that—feminine products, girl things—I get anxious. It’s hard, raising two girls alone.”

Your chest tightens at the look on his face. The quiet weight of it.

Without thinking, you reach for his hand.

“I know it probably doesn’t mean much, but I’ve worked with kids for years,” you say gently. “And I can spot a good parent a mile away. Even with our limited interactions, Suguru, you are one of the most doting fathers I’ve ever met.”

His fingers tighten around yours. Then his other hand clasps over the top, warm, grounding.

“I appreciate that,” he murmurs. “You’re pretty wise for your age.”

You scoff. “Of course. Women mature years faster than men. Be careful—your girls might surpass you before you know it.”

And then—

A piercing shriek cuts through the air.

“D-Daddy! T-The cat scratched me!”

Both of you snap to attention.

Mimiko is curled up on her bike, terrified, while Nanako sits on the pavement beside her toppled tricycle, clutching her arm. Across from her, a fat black cat hisses, back arched.

Getou is already moving. He scoops Nanako into his arms just as the cat lets out a low, guttural growl. You think you see it pounce, but it’s all a blur. You barely register Getou kicking at the ground near it before you swoop in, lifting Mimiko onto your hip and retreating toward the apartment.

By the time you make it inside, the girls’ tear-streaked faces are devastating.

Getou fumbles with his keys, cursing under his breath.

Nanako—the little mimic—parrots him perfectly.

“Shit, fuck!”

“Shi—crap!” he corrects quickly. “No, no, sweetie, Daddy said a bad word. I was just scared you were hurt.”

Inside, Getou heads straight to the bathroom, setting Nanako on the closed toilet lid while you settle Mimiko on the sink. He wets a rag, voice gentle, soothing.

“Can I see your arm, Nana?”

She nods, sniffling. Brave. Mimiko leans forward, eyes wide as she watches her sister.

Getou is careful. Tender hands. Steady voice. He dabs at the scratch, applies ointment, murmurs reassurances as Nanako flinches. A patient, loving father.

And God help you, but it makes him even more attractive.

Once the bandage is in place, Nanako puffs up proudly.

“See, Mimi? I’m too strong for that old cat!”

Getou lifts her up, but as he does, you notice—his sweater has a tear along the back. The fabric darker, wet.

Blood.

“Hey girls,” you say gently. “Why don’t you go play? I’ll help your dad clean up. You were both so brave.”

They perk up instantly, rushing out with another fit of giggles.

Getou starts to wave you off. “I’m fine, don’t—”

“Suguru,” you deadpan. “The cat sliced through your shirt. Let me clean it up.”

He sighs but relents, settling on the toilet lid.

“How do you keep ending up rescuing me?” he muses. “I thought we had a back-and-forth thing going on.”

You snort, swatting his arm before carefully lifting his shirt, rolling it up so he can hold it in place and inspect the scratch. It’s deep—deeper than you’d expect—so the cat must have been a stray with nails sharp enough to cut like that. Skimming your fingers over the wound, you feel Getou’s breath hitch. You murmur a quiet apology before rewetting the rag and dabbing at the injury to clean it properly.

You’ve seen Getou’s bare back more times than you’d like to admit, but up close like this? It’s a whole other story. And—selfishly—you envy the cat for being the one to leave marks on him instead of you.

His broad shoulders shift under your touch, deltoids flexing with every small wince. His spine curves smoothly, leading to two faint indentations at the small of his back. Back dimples.

You suppress the ridiculous urge to trace them with your fingers.

Instead, you focus on the task at hand—reapplying the ointment before resting your hands lightly on his shoulders.

“I think I’m done,” you say, voice steady despite the very unsteady state of your thoughts. “Your scratches are deeper, though, so I wouldn’t bandage them up just yet. They need to breathe so the skin can heal properly.”

Getou hums, the vibrations buzzing through your palms.

“In that case, I’ll just take this off.” He grips the fabric at the back of his collar, crossing his arms as he pulls the shirt over his head in one smooth motion—something you’ve seen him do a million times before.

But somehow, this time feels entirely different.

And suddenly, you’re questioning whether today is the best day of your life—or the worst, because temptation is sitting right in front of you, and you can’t do a damn thing about it.

You poke lightly at the scratch, half out of curiosity, half as an excuse to let your eyes wander. A few scars, pink and raised, wrap around from his ribs. A couple of small, cute moles sit just below his nape.

“—tter.”

You blink. Wait. He was talking?

“Hm?”

Getou chuckles, low and amused. “I said, poking at it like that isn’t gonna help.” His lips curve into something teasing. “Be a sweetheart and kiss it better for me?”

His deep voice lilts, gentle but dripping in lazy, playful seduction.

Heat floods through you instantly.

But you refuse to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that.

Steeling yourself, you swallow down the butterflies flapping violently in your chest and school your expression into something cool, composed.

“I don’t think that’s how healing works,” you muse, smoothing your fingers over his warm shoulder. “But if you insist…”

You lean in, lips parting as you move closer—so close that you can feel his warmth against your mouth. But just as you’re about to press the kiss to his skin, you pause. Then, with deliberate slowness, you pull back, kiss your own palm, and press it firmly against his wound instead.

“I think that’s the best I can do, Suguru,” you say, feigning innocence. “Wouldn’t want to get antibiotics all over my lips.”

He blinks, momentarily caught off guard, before huffing out a laugh.

“Clever.”

Then, before you can react, he shifts—adjusting his position so that you’re kneeling between his legs. His arms rest lazily over his thighs, dark eyes watching you with soft amusement.

He pouts.

Pouts.

Which, despite being a fully grown man, still looks unreasonably cute on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Guess we’ll have to make do,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly. “Right here is also acceptable.”

He puckers his lips dramatically, raising a brow, but he doesn’t move closer. Just waits. Daring you.

So that’s how he wants to play it.

Your hands slide up to rest lightly on his knees, and you lean in—slow, deliberate. Your noses brush, and you let your breath fan against his lips, lingering.

“I’ll make it all better,” you murmur.

Then, finally, you press your lips to his—soft, warm, deliberate.

His lips are plush, moving against yours in a slow, languid rhythm. One of his hands lifts to cup your cheek, thumb grazing your jaw, keeping you there just a moment longer before you pull back.

But he doesn’t let go.

“It still hurts,” he says, voice lower, gaze heavier. “Try again.”

You let out a breathless laugh but comply, leaning in again. This time, he meets you halfway, mouth parting slightly as his tongue just barely brushes against your bottom lip. You sigh into him, fingers instinctively threading into his hair—his stupidly soft, midnight-black hair. The loose bun falls apart easily, strands tumbling over his shoulders.

When you finally pull back, his eyes are dark, half-lidded, hungry.

“Again,” he breathes.

But just as he leans in to kiss you—

“Why are you kissing Daddy?”

The two of you jolt apart like you’d been electrocuted.

Your head whips to the side, heart lurching.

Nanako stands in the doorway, arms crossed, staring point-blank at the two of you with the unimpressed authority of a child who has just caught an adult doing something stupid.

Mimiko peeks out from behind her, brows furrowed in confusion.

Getou fumbles for an excuse, visibly panicking, and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Kiss the Cook?”

Nanako squints. “But Daddy, there’s no cookies.”

𓂃۶ৎ [Tentative taglist: @mentallyillcore]

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hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 1 day ago

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safe and warm

pairing: bf han x gn reader

genre: nightmare comfort

warnings: reader had a nightmare but nothing scary is mentioned, reader is called baby, a few kisses, very brief mentions of food and being hungry.

an: i wrote this for my friend @omgsecretsecret 🥺 i hope that’s okay. this totally isn’t why i was asking if you would prefer han comfort or chan comfort. hehe it’s just some fluffy, cuddly comfort and i hope it makes it to the list. 🩷🫂

masterlist

you woke with a start. your heart was beating out of your chest, your breathing ragged. you frantically looked around the room, palm to your chest. your comforting bedroom surrounded you. it was just a dream. everything was fine. still your heart raced.

you looked over, your boyfriend was sound asleep in his usual spot. his faded blue hair fell in his eyes, his mouth slightly open, his round cheeks just begging to be pinched. you smiled. you laid back down, pulling the blanket up to your chin. you closed your eyes and tried your best to go back to sleep. but the nightmare kept flashing before your eyes. you opened them again, staring at the ceiling.

the house creaked, causing you to jump. you were still a little frightened, still on edge. and now, you were afraid to close your eyes. you pouted. you were so tired. you just wanted some sleep. your boyfriend snored softly next to you, not a care in the world. he’s so cute. you rolled over to face him. you snuggled closer, taking in his body heat. you got as close as you could without disturbing him. being this close to him brought you a little peace. he was warm, and he smelled so good. he smelled like.. him. like your hannie.

clinging to his arm, you let sleep pull your eyes closed again. but as soon as it was dark, the images played on your eyelids. your body jolted again, out of your control. your boyfriend made a soft gasp sound as he woke up. you felt terrible for waking him and it took him a moment to come to his senses.

he looked down at you, clinging to his arm, eyes wide. he wiggled his arm free from your grasp and raised it, allowing you to snuggle against his chest instead, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. “baby, why are you awake?” he mumbled, groggily.

“i had a bad dream..” you said against his skin. you delicately traced his tattoo with your fingertip.

he held you tighter. “aw.. baby i’m sorry. did you try to go back to sleep?” he rubbed your arm gently, his fingers causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

you nodded. “yeah but i keep seeing it over and over in my head.”

he yawned, stretching his body slightly. “how long have you been awake?”

“uh..” you continued tracing the ink in his skin, satisfied after you had traced all of the letters. “i don’t know. maybe like.. thirty minutes?”

he groaned. “babyyyy” he whined. “you should have woken me up.” he held you tighter, kissing the top of your head.

“i couldn’t.” you explained. “you looked so cute and sleepy. and you have a long day ahead. you need your rest.”

“yeah but i don’t want you to be alone and scared.” his voice was still thick with sleep but he was slowly waking up. “you can always wake me up. then maybe if we’re up together, you won’t be so scared.”

he looked down at you, and you looked up at him. his brown eyes were soft and his hair was a mess. “okay?” he asked.

you smiled and nodded. “okay, hannie.”

he kissed your lips softly. and then again. and again. quick, cute, little morning pecks.

it was still pretty early. the sun still hours from coming up. “so what do you want to do? want to watch a show?” he asked.

you thought about it for a moment. you let your head rest against his chest, his warm skin bringing you comfort. you loved being next to him. “yeah a show might be ni—“

your sentence was cut off by the rumbling in his tummy. you lifted your head off of him, and stared as he brought his hand to his stomach. “i’m a little hungry.” he confessed, embarrassed.

you giggled. “well then let’s get up. i’ll make you some breakfast.”

you pushed yourself up, only to be yanked back down. he held you tightly. “not yet.” he said. he gently guided your head back to his chest. “just a few more minutes.”

you wrapped your arm around his middle and squeezed him. trying to get as close as possible, letting his warmth and his scent envelop you. he sighed contentedly.

you would both get up and start your day soon. make some breakfast and head your separate ways for the day, but for now.. you just held each other. and you felt so safe, and loved, and you agreed with him. you just wanted to enjoy it for a few more minutes.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

thank you @hello-stranger24 for helping me read through this and giving a second opinion before i posted it. 🩷

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung stray kids #han jisung x reader #han jisung #stray kids han #skz han #stray kids hurt/comfort #han jisung hurt/comfort #hyunjins orange slice too #emmy and lucy

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chaoticrockmusic · 1 day ago

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↫彡🂡"My Girl can Wear Whatever"🂡彡↬

↫Peter Maximoff↬

You were just trying to get a snack. That was it. But the moment you stepped into the kitchen, Peter nearly dropped his Twinkie.

"Whoa—" His silver brows shot up as his eyes scanned your outfit. Not in a gross way, but in a "Do I need to start running?" way.

You raised a brow. "Problem?"

Peter shook his head way too fast. "Nope! No problems here. You can wear whatever you want, babe."

Jubilee, sitting at the counter, smirked. "Really? You don’t care?"

Peter scoffed, tossing an arm around your shoulders. "Pfft. Why would I? My girl can wear whatever she wants..." He hesitated, glancing at you and then lowering his voice. "...'cause I'm scared of her."

You narrowed your eyes. "What was that last part?"

"Nothing!" He grinned nervously, stepping back. "You look amazing! Stunning! Fantastic! A completely independent person with great fashion sense! I love that for you!"

Jubilee cackled. "Dude, you are terrified of her."

"Well, yeah," Peter said without shame. "Like, you think I'm about to tell her no? You think I got a death wish? Nah, I value my life, I like my face. I’d like to keep it in one piece."

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a granola bar from the pantry. "Good answer, Maximoff."

Peter sighed in relief. You were scary, but hey, at least you were his scary.

彡Logan彡

Logan had been minding his business at the bar when you walked in, dressed in something that made half the room do a double take.

He noticed. Oh, he definitely noticed. But instead of reacting like some jealous, overprotective boyfriend, he just sipped his whiskey.

It was not until some guy at the pool table let his eyes linger a second too long that Logan made a noise in the back of his throat—a low, rumbling ahem that sent a very clear message.

The guy turned, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

Logan smirked, tapping a single claw against his glass. "Nothin'. Just wonderin' if you're stupid or just feelin' lucky tonight."

The guy scoffed. "Relax, old man, it's just a look."

"Mm. See, I ain’t too worried ‘bout what she wears." Logan tilted his head, eyes sharp. "She can wear whatever she wants… ‘cause I can fight." He flashed his Adamantium claws.

The guy raised his hands and backed off real quick. Logan just chuckled, downing the rest of his drink.

You leaned against the bar beside him. "You always gotta scare people?"

He shrugged. "Ain’t my fault they spook easy."

You smirked. "You are such a show-off."

Logan just grunted, but the way he slid a possessive arm around your waist told you everything you needed to know.

🂡Remy LeBeau🂡

Remy was kicked back on the mansion's couch, long legs stretched out, flipping a poker chip between his fingers. He had seen you walk in, noticed the way heads turned, but unlike the others, he did not bat an eye.

Jubilee, being Jubilee, could not help but stir the pot. "Remy, you just gonna let her walk around like that?"

Remy did not even look up from his poker chip. "Remy think his chérie can wear whatever she want," he said lazily.

"Yeah?" Jubilee smirked. "You that confident?"

He flicked the chip up, caught it between two fingers, and finally smirked. "Mm-hmm. ‘Cause she's a houe, and I knew that before we started dating."

Gasps. Laughter. Even Logan huffed out an amused breath from the other side of the room.

Your eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

Remy grinned, finally looking at you. "What? You know it’s true, chérie. I fell for you ‘cause you a heartbreaker. A flirt. A menace." He tilted his head, voice dropping to a lazy drawl. "And yet, here we are."

You crossed your arms. "That does not make it better, you know."

"But it is true, non?" He flashed that dangerous, charming grin. "An’ I do not mind one bit."

You rolled your eyes, but you could not stop the small smirk tugging at your lips. Damn Cajun and his smooth talk.

Jubilee snorted. "I hate that he actually got away with that."

Remy just winked.

Hope you all enjoyed!! Love you all, kits! (houe means hoe in French. Idk what else to put there T ' T)

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akindaflora · 20 hours ago

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Say it with Conviction

Bangchan (idol) x Reader (Fluff)

Warnings: Thoughts about depression, Insecurities in not being enough, Some kissing and some suggestive themes were mention. Bangchan is called Chan, Channie, and Christopher.

Description: Morning depression hits you hard as you awoke in your lover arm. He finds you crying and he comforts you with words of passion and truth expressing his love for you.

Author note: Hey gang was feeling major morning depression and I just couldn't help but think about Chan and how he might comfort a lover in deep insecurity about their relationship. Instead of mopping I wrote this. Now glad that I did because in a way it did help me feel less alone in my little delusional bubble. Hope this warms you as much as it did me when writing this story. :)

WORD COUNT 2,357

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You have always dealt with deep depression since you could remember. Always sad on days you should be the happiest scared for the start of a new year wondering if worse things will come. But when you got together with Chan, you did your best to hide the sadness away. Afraid he would leave like all the others did when they found you crying over nothing or laying in your bed like the wakening of a funeral.

“You are always sad, why can’t you see the good in the world,”

“You are so self-centered it’s not always about your problems,”

“I can’t take it anymore Y/N it’s your birthday and all you can do is be anxious,”

“You need help and I just can’t be it,”

The phrasing of words from past lovers cut through your heart like a knife. Constantly afraid you were undeserving of love and constantly holding back to show only the best sides of yourself. It had been a problem with most of your relationships. And yet while you tried to build your walls so high only a few ever stood up to the test. Your close friends who'd never let you shut them out and to your surprise Chan.

That was the most surprising thing about your relationship with Chan. Every time you tried to push him away he’d do something unexpected getting a laugh out here and there. Finding the root of the problem before you could even find the words to explain. Even going so far as to wash you when the world was heavy. And he never said a word against it only that you should always feel comfortable talking to him about anything. He made it his purpose that you were to always feel love even if he was miles away. And when you simply needed space to process he would give you it but never stopped at making sure you eat by sending a few deliveries here and there. Sending a bouquet of your favorite flowers with simple love notes that remind you why he loved you.

Even when you felt alone he was always there. Apart of you was afraid that one day he’d wake up and leave. Walk through the door and never speak to you again but every day he found new ways to stay. Planning trips so you always had something to look forward to. Buying matching clothes or jewelry so you’d both have a piece of each other no matter the distance. He always did his best to respect your boundaries and still somehow pushed the limit that you didn’t know could be pushed.

But as you lay on his chest listening to his heartbeat you couldn’t help but to let a few tears slide down your face. If there was one thing Chan was scared of in your relationship it was your tears. “You never make a noise when you're sad, please find me don’t close yourself off, you don’t even have to say a word,” he would say as he would caress your head and hold you like it was all he was ever made to do. And while you wanted to wake him up you didn’t. The voices in your head had been growing these days. Reminding you of all the things he did for you but what did you do for him?

Nothing

The voice ranged deep in your head reminding you of feelings you did your best to talk yourself out of. As if he could sense your sadness in his sleep his hand that rested around you tightened pulling you closer to him, his spirit trying to remind you that you were his everything. Tears fell from your face even more like a damn breaking gushing from your eyes. You thought about getting up to whip your eyes before he woke but you remained frozen in his warmth more afraid to ruin the sleep that he desperately needed. No matter the painful thoughts telling you to leave him before he did. You couldn't, he is everything you could have ever wished for.

With that thought you carefully tilted your head to look at him. He was smiling in his sleep, your heart clenching at your lover. You slowly brought a hand to his face pushing away the wild hair that peaked towards his closed eyes. And softly you fell into a trace slowly running your hands on his nose. Softly touching around the shape of his lips. He slightly shudders at the feeling of your touch and his eyes slowly opening. His hand sleepily looking for your face but his eyes shot open at the feeling of your tears.

“what’s wrong baby,” he said voice groggy with sleep as he turned to face you not letting go of your waist. “did you have a nightmare?” he said whipping the tears from your eyes. You only smiled at him, your morning sadness slipping away at every touch.

“It’s nothing do you want breakfast?” you asked stroking his cheek as his eyes looked at you with worry frowning only a bit at your dismissal of your own emotions. He studied your face looking deep into your eyes searching for whatever may be the cause to make you cry so early in the morning.

“It’s not nothing if it makes you cry, tell me what’s wrong I'd find a way to make winter stop if it made you too cold or hid the sun away if it made you too hot. There is nothing in this world that’ll stop me from caring even about the simplest things that make you cry, tell me please so I can find a way to bring you peace,” he said with urgency. You only smiled quietly at his determination to bring you joy.

“but I'm happy right now see I'm smiling,” you said giving him a light peck to ease his mind. “your the reason I'm smiling now so you have nothing to worry about,” you said running you fingers over his furrowed brow you began to try and leave the bed. Key word tried. Chan didn't let go only pulling you closer. Rubbing softly at your back gliding up and down from your arms as he looked see into your eyes.

“Yeah but I found you crying, why didn’t you wake me what do I always say,” he said but as he started you said the words in sync, “Always find me” him giggling at your joking expression. “it’s nothing to worry about I promise,” you said after he still didn’t let go. He only pulled you in more in response. Your head back to his chest as he caressed your head. You couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Tightening your arms around his waist.

After what felt like hours only a few seconds he spoke again into your head. “You know when you say it’s nothing, I get afraid that you’ll leave. I’m afraid that I’ll never be your cure anymore,” he said quietly almost in a whisper. If you weren’t so close you’d probably miss it. Your head rose from his chest quickly as you looked into his eyes sternly. “I would never leave you, Chan, if anything I’m more afraid you’ll leave me thinking I’m too much or too little,” you said caressing his head softly. Trying to push away the fear from his mind.

“Is that why you were crying this morning,” he asked quietly. Putting your head back in his chest you sighed. He always found a way to wiggle the truth out of you. You both never being good at hiding from each other. It was always scary how well you both could see each other and how easy it was to confess your darker sides. But yet you never ran from it. If anything it brought you both closer like it did in this moment.

Tracing shapes on his chest you began to whisper out, “I’m afraid I don’t do enough for you,” you said quietly. He remained quiet as if giving you space to explain more as his grip tightened slightly. “You do so much for me love, you give me space when I need it, you buy me flowers and food and you even help me wash when I can’t. I’m afraid all I do is take from you. I’m worried I don’t add up to you,” you said with a bit more courage. He pulled back slightly pulling you both up to sit and look at each other but he didn’t let go. Fear ranged in your eyes as he did so worried that your words had woken him from this dream to a nightmare of reality.

He looked in the distance as if trying to find the words. This is it said the voice in your head he’s gonna finally break up with you.

He took a deep breath before looking at you carefully reaching for your face to rub away the tears that flowed with ease. And he softly kissed your forehead before he spoke.

“My love, you do more for me than you can even see,” he said with determination. “I’m never leaving you if anything you’d leave me. You do so much for me. When I’m sick you take care of me with such care. When I get hurt from practice you force me to rest and even go so far as to find ways to ease my pain. You make me lunches with cute notes that taste only of your love. When it’s my birthday you make me the most beautiful cake and get only the most thoughtful gifts that I don’t even think about. When I’m stressed from work you give me massages that help ease my mind. When I go to bed sometimes I get too excited to sleep because I can’t wait to experience another day with you. You fill my mind even when I dream it’s only about you. You’re so caring and kind and you have these moments of true bliss that I work hard to keep on your face. Hell, even now when you are crying you are more worried about me. You are my everything I'd never leave you.” In between every sentence that left his mouth, you couldn't help but smile gripping onto him as if he disappeared and he did the same looking into your eyes with worry as he said each sentence. But no matter how worried he was there was a fire of determination to prove his love was real and that you were his end game. “if anything I'm trying to find ways to keep you with me forever. I’d plead to the gods just to have you again in another life,” he said again rubbing your cheek as you laughed.

“Your obsessed with me aren’t you,” you said sweetly looking into his eyes. He only nodded smiling at your smile. “Good because I’m just as obsessed with you,” you said back. his smiling deepening as he rushed to take your lips.

“You’re forever mine,” he said in between pecks. You giggled at his possessives. “And your forever mind right,” you asked questioning. He looked at you with slight confusion a small pout. “Say it with conviction,” he said looking into your eyes studying your face as you smiled again, “Your forever mine,” you said this time with just as much determination as him. He smiled as he peck your lips.

“Louder,” he said simply. “say it again but louder,” he said again pleading running through his voice.

“YOUR FOREVER MINE,” you said again. Him slightly wincing at your loudness but he giggled as he pecked your lips again.

“And don’t you dare forget it,” he said going back in for a longer kiss. Deepening as your lips moved. You sighed happily feeling every loving thought every loving touch he tried to tattoo upon your heart your soul.

The kiss grew with urgency to help you remember this moment for the next time that stupid voice was in your head.

He suddenly pulled away but not before pecking the areas of your face. You giggled in response, “Channie” you said softly with giggles still slipping from your lips. He pulled back so he could kiss your lips softly only touch your lip as if stamping his love with approval.

He pulled back again this time picking you up in his arms as he led you to the kitchen. You laughed loudly and slapped his chest softly.

“What are you doing,” you said as he walked looking down at you with a smile.

“Oh nothing just taking the love of my life to the kitchen so we can have breakfast together,” he said as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Your heart beating at his words and looking at his face for any lies or anything foul but as you looked you only found his love for you. You only leaned up kissing his cheek. “And what does the love of my life want to eat,” you said whispering in his ear. His cheeks blushing at your question.

He smirked a little something naughty brewing in his mind, “I’d say you but sadly humans have these things called stomachs and while I think you are more than enough I guess I can settle for some pancakes and maybe if you're keen I can have a little nibble of you,” he said setting you down on the counter. You looked away as a deep blush settled onto your face. Still to this day, you could never understand how he could be so sweet and charming to so devilish in a mere second.

“Christopher,” you said covering your smile as he only laughed kissing the side of your head. “chocolate or blueberry,” he said simply in response pulling your face back to his own smiling face.

“Chocolate,” you said back with your own smile. But as you tried to get off to help with the ingredients he shook his head keeping you there. “Nope not today,” he said rubbing circles on your hips with his thumb. “Today my love gets to sit pretty as I make them breakfast,” Your face forming to protest but he silent you with a kiss that linger only slightly before pecking again.

“If you're really itching to help you sit their and tell me hot I am when I mix the batter,” he said again. You only laughed at him, “your egos so big,” you said looking lovingly into his eyes. He only scoffed, “How could I not be when I get to wake up to the love of my life every morning,” he said inches away from your lips.

You only pushed him away before he could kiss you again, he looked slightly offended at you pushing him away but smiled as you blew him a kiss, “You dork just go make the pancakes and maybe I’ll cheer you on hot stuff,” you said jokingly his smiling winding at your words as he caught your kiss bringing it to his heart.

Oh yeah, you guys were definitely stuck with each other. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After reading notes: hahahaha I hope I didn't fill your delusions too much. But when looking for my own stores to read I can't help but feel a lack of soft Chan moments. He always written as the leader and this tough steam engine that could if you read the feugo like stories. And while I don't disagree with him being this hot dom, I can't help but to crave more of his softer sides that we get to see pop out every once in awhile when he decides to make his presence known in content. I treasure those moments because it reminds me that he still gets to feed into that inner child every so often. I just hope he feels as loved as he does with Y/N in this. Sorry brb gonna go write in my diary about being obsessed with some random Idol that doesn't know I exist. Ha very much feeling spain again. RIP :(: Hope you enjoyed, write again soon.

#bang chan #bang chan x reader #gyaru #bang chan fluff #bang christopher chan #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids x you

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rebelspykatie · 1 day ago

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Part 5 - Steddie Angst Finale - Happy Ending!

ao3 - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

He settles back on the bench, apprehension clouding his features. “When you kissed me, I panicked. You’ve become such an important part of my life and I didn’t want to lose that. Something shifted in our relationship and I didn’t know what to do. It’s not an excuse for how poorly I treated you, it’s just the truth. I went into fight or flight mode, but I’m sorry for how I reacted that day.”

Steve hugs the blanket tighter. “You’re forgiven.” And he says it so simply. As if this hasn't been uniquely painful for Steve.

“It took me a while to make sense of everything. It never occurred to me that what I felt towards you was anything more than friendship. I know now how stupid that was.” He wants to reach out and touch Steve, connect them somehow, but he’s wrapped so tightly in the protective cocoon of the blanket, Eddie’s not sure how to reach him.

“It’s always been different with you. Everything I felt came on so slowly I didn’t even realize it until it was too late. The thought of losing you scares me, more than most things- and I’m scared of a lot of things these days.”

That gets a subdued laugh out of Steve. He’s all too aware of how much is out there to be afraid of.

“I didn’t have a lot of examples of love growing up. Wayne’s been single my whole life. My parents were fucked from the start. My grandparents hated each other after having their kids.” Eddie shakes his head, “And I’m not using that as an excuse either, I just, well, I didn’t recognize what was right in front of me, man. I never had any romantic fantasies because I didn’t think life was going to give me any.”

At that, Steve finally leaves the comfort of his cocoon. One arm snakes out and takes one of Eddie’s hands, squeezing tightly.

“But falling in love with you was so easy.” Eddie flips his hand over and laces their figures together. “You’re my best friend, but you’re so much more than that. It was there the whole time, I just didn’t recognize it for what it was.”

Steve’s eyes rake over his face, taking in Eddie’s sincerity, a soft smile appearing for the first time since they stepped out into the frigid cold.

“I think about you all the time. You’re the first person I want to call when anything happens. You’re the one that holds me when I wake up screaming from a nightmare. You know that I like to put ketchup on my eggs, and the way I can’t stand black coffee in the mornings, so you add extra sugar just to make it bearable for me and get the ketchup out before I even ask.”

The smile on Steve’s face is growing wider by the second.

“You have my entire heart. You know me inside and out probably better than anyone but Wayne. Hell, Wayne already figured this all out long before I did. Lectured me and everything. Called me a late bloomer,” Eddie scoffs, “as if he has any room to speak as an old bachelor who’s never settled down.”

“Well, he did have his hands full,” Steve chides.

“I want to argue that I have never done anything wrong, but we all know that’s not true. I probably put every gray hair on his head.”

“Probably,” Steve agrees. He shifts a little closer to Eddie, “so where does this leave us?”

“I’ve laid it all out there. Ball’s in your court.” Steve ducks his head, but Eddie tips his too, still meeting his eyes, “I’ve been miserable without you. Every time you’ve pretended to be okay and had to walk away because I hurt you, it felt like a knife to the gut. That alone was enough to tell me we were never just friends. I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out, but if you’ll have me, I’m all in.”

Steve reaches up with his other hand and cups the side of Eddie’s face, one cold thumb mapping the curve of his cheek. “Eddie, I’ve been all in.”

With those few words, a lump forms in Eddie’s throat. He wasn’t sure how this would go, but here Steve is, offering an olive branch. Eddie leans in, pressing their foreheads together, closing his eyes and absorbing Steve’s heat, breathing in the same air. “You were never the problem, Steve. Not now, and not before.”

Steve breath hitches. The thumb stops its slow tracing of Eddie’s cheek.

“You read everything right. You’re so much smarter than people give you credit for, sweetheart.” He hopes that Steve believes him. “I’m the fool. You were right there all along. One of the best things to ever happen to me and I almost lost you.” He pauses, “I haven’t lost you, right?”

Steve pulls back and shakes his head slowly, eyes meeting Eddie’s.

“Good, because I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you again.” A steamy bubble of air escapes between them before his lips meet Steve’s. It’s a short distance, but it feels like Eddie is reaching across miles.

It’s delicate and sweet, their mouths moving together and hands gently curling around each other despite the awkward angle on the bench. They’re a little too cold to get too into this, even if their body heat is trapped between them and Eddie feels like he might implode. He’s all too aware that anyone could come outside at any time.

A part of him hopes that this erases the memory of how Eddie reacted the first time. A clean slate might be too much to ask for, but at least he can pour all his affection into this one moment and show Steve that he meant what he said. Just like the first time, Steve takes all the air with him. Rips it straight out of Eddie and leaves him panting, clinging to the lapels of Steve’s coat, if only that could bring him closer. They could freeze to death out here, but at least Eddie would die in Steve’s arms.

When they separate, Eddie takes in the flush to Steve’s cheeks, and he’s not sure if that’s from him or the cold, but his pink, kiss-bitten lips are all him. It makes him want to dive back in and get another taste. But he also wants to memorize the look on Steve’s face. There’s an incandescent glow that Eddie’s never seen up close. And it’s never more evident than in this moment how much Eddie fucked up. He could’ve been putting that look on Steve’s face every day. How stupid was he?

Nothing he can do about that now except move forward.

“I’m gonna flirt with you for the rest of my life and it’s going to mean something, Steve Harrington.” He takes both of Steve’s hands in his and holds them in their laps. “I can promise you that.”

“Are you promising me forever?” Steve’s mouth has curved into a bemused smile, but there’s something fragile about it, like Eddie could break him. Like he holds Steve's heart in his hands.

“You’ll have me as long as you want me, Steve,” Eddie says, heartfelt and laying as much of himself on the line as he can. Maybe Wayne wasn’t so far off with his comments about love.

“So forever, then?”

Eddie’s breathless from that quiet declaration, but he manages to get out, “Forever, then,” as fireworks erupt in the distance and they start a new year, and perhaps a new life, together.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #katie writes #thank you for reading #i had so much fun writing this #you're all gems for indulging me on the angst

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whitebirdnoir · 2 days ago

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~Where the sky meets the earth~

pairing: Jayce/Viktor

tags: #oneshot #post-canon #alternative ending #dreamlike atmosphere #soft kissing #aftermath of the finale

Summary: Somewhere between life and death, between reality and dream, Jayce and Viktor find themselves in a place created either by fate or by their own hands. If this is the end, they will face it together.

Dedicated to: Dear @scared-nightnurse - Thank you so much for your support! ʕ⁠っ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ⁠っ

Note: My first fanfic. Don't judge me harshly, please :)

words: `658

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Jayce woke up to silence.

It was strange, unfamiliar. Not the kind that follows an explosion—deafening, crushing. No, this silence was soft, enveloping. As if the very air here was different.

He didn’t immediately realize he was lying on something warm. Smooth. Unfamiliar. Earth? Stone? He couldn’t tell.

And then he felt someone’s presence beside him.

Jayce sat up abruptly, his arms tensing, and froze.

Viktor.

He was here.

Close.

Alive.

Or…

“You’re here,” Jayce’s voice wavered, betraying his emotions.

Viktor slowly turned his head, his eyes narrowing the way they always did when he was focusing. He looked at Jayce as if he wasn’t sure whether he was truly seeing him.

“I thought we were dead,” he finally said, his voice quiet.

Jayce swallowed.

“Maybe we are.”

Viktor averted his gaze, his fingers brushing over the strange surface beneath them.

“It’s empty here.”

“Yes.”

“And quiet.”

“Yes.”

“What do we do now?”

Jayce looked at him, studying the features he knew so well.

Damn it.

He couldn’t imagine being here without him.

His fingers found Viktor’s shoulder on their own. Viktor flinched slightly at the touch but didn’t pull away.

“Maybe we should build something?” Jayce suggested, attempting a smile.

Viktor rolled his eyes.

“You really can’t stop building, can you?”

“And you can?”

Jayce saw how Viktor fought back a smile.

They had always created something. Always.

Jayce stood up, glancing around, trying to make sense of this place. A space woven from light and mist. A world without walls, without a horizon.

“This world…” Viktor ran his hand over the soft surface. “It was made for us, wasn’t it?”

“Looks like it.”

“Maybe we created it ourselves?”

Jayce met his gaze.

“We’ve always created everything together.”

Viktor’s smile was barely noticeable.

Silence filled the space again.

Jayce didn’t think, didn’t plan. He just stepped closer, knelt beside Viktor, and reached out to touch his face.

Warm skin beneath his fingertips.

Real.

Tangible.

“Are you… are you real?” he asked, his throat tightening.

Viktor didn’t answer. But his eyelashes trembled. He didn’t pull away, didn’t joke, didn’t dismiss it like he used to. He simply closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his forehead against Jayce’s.

Jayce exhaled.

His fingers trembled as he traced Viktor’s cheek, a bit rougher than he intended.

Viktor frowned slightly but didn’t move away.

And that was enough.

Jayce leaned in closer, slowly, giving him a chance to pull back.

But Viktor didn’t move.

Warm lips. Cautious, almost hesitant. Jayce didn’t know what he had expected, but Viktor didn’t retreat. He didn’t respond right away, but he also didn’t stop him.

Then—a breath. Barely audible.

And Viktor’s fingers clutched the fabric of Jayce’s sleeve.

An answer.

Soft, fragile, but an answer.

Jayce felt something shift inside him, churn, break apart. As if this strange world they had found themselves in—an illusion, a shadow—had begun to shrink down to one simple thing: the feeling of Viktor against him. The warmth they were sharing in this moment.

And why hadn’t they done this before? Before everything…

He didn’t know who moved first, but the kiss deepened. Viktor’s breath came unevenly, his lips parting slightly, allowing Jayce to push further, more insistent. The taste of warmth, the taste of life.

For a moment, everything became sharper. Urgent, unfamiliar for both of them, but not harsh.

Jayce felt Viktor’s fingers threading into his hair. Trembling, but firm. His own hands traced Viktor’s sharp cheekbones, fingers outlining his jaw with quiet reverence.

And then—Viktor was the first to pull away.

His breath was unsteady, lips still slightly parted.

When the kiss broke, Viktor exhaled softly:

“If this really is our world… I hope it stays this way.”

Jayce rested his forehead against his.

This world could be anything. An illusion, a prison, a dream, death.

But if Viktor was here—then it was everything.

#jayvik #jayvik fanfic #viktor x jayce #arcane fanfic #jayce talis #viktor arcane #arcane fanfiction #arcane fic #fanfiction

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clangenrising · 16 hours ago

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Month 20 - Leaffall

Prev | First | Next

In the dark, hidden in a nook of the tunnel that led to Goldenstar’s den, Fogpaw listened.

Goldenstar had returned to camp alone, sobbing and miserable, and she and Yarrowshade had quickly hidden themselves away in her den. Fogpaw had heard something about Scorchplume and had instantly known that she needed to learn more. Quiet as a mouse, she had slunk inside the den and crept as far as she was certain she wouldn’t be seen to eavesdrop.

“I just don’t get it,” Goldenstar sniffled pitifully. “It’s like she was trying to hurt me and I don’t know why.”

Yarrowshade sighed and there was the sound of someone rustling moss as they shifted their weight. “I think she’s probably just… scared.”

“Of what?” Goldenstar asked, her voice cracking. “That I’ll love her?”

“I mean, yeah,” said Yarrowshade. “She’s not used to it. It can be kinda scary when someone tells you they care about you no matter what.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Goldenstar whined, echoing Fogpaw’s thoughts.

“I know,” Yarrowshade sighed again. “It doesn’t make sense to Scorch either. She just knows that she feels cornered by something she doesn’t understand and she has to deflect.”

“How do you know, though?”

Silence hung in the air for a moment. “‘Cause I’m the same,” he eventually said. “When Nightfrost died and people would try to comfort me, I wanted to crawl out of my own skin. Trying to make me feel better makes me think about how bad I feel and that sucks. I try to make jokes and get out of it and I think Scorch gets mean. I don’t know why, but she does.”

Goldenstar sniffed wetly. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said. “It must be awful.”

“It is what it is,” he said. “She’ll come back, Goldie. Just let her have some space so she feels less cornered and then you’ll both work it all out, I just know it.”

Fogpaw had heard enough. Careful not to make a sound, she backed out of the den and looked around to make sure she hadn’t been seen. The camp was empty except for Pantherhaze who sat on watch with his back to her. Fogpaw lowered herself to the ground and moved silently out of camp in the direction of the city.

Eventually, she found Scorch’s scent where it split from Goldenstar’s.

“She’s heading for the desert…” Fogpaw mused aloud. “That’s not good.” Picking up her pace, she bounded after her mentor’s trail, trading stealth for speed.

In the early days of her apprenticeship, Fogpaw had regularly heard Scorchplume threaten to leave for the desert if anything went wrong. It was her way of trying to convince cats that things were serious, that she really was leaving this time. Eventually Fogpaw had stopped believing her when she said it. If she was upset enough to actually follow through, that meant she was really unwell. Plus, the coyotes and their spellcraft were out there. She had to find Scorch and fast.

The trail was easy enough to follow, at least. It cut straight through the grass towards the East and there wasn’t evidence that Scorch had been moving that quickly. After nearly half an hour, Fogpaw spotted Scorchplume’s tail lashing through the grass ahead of her.

“Scorchplume!” she called, sprinting the final stretch towards her mentor, “There you are!”

“Fogpaw!” Scorchplume bristled as she spun to face her. “What are you doing out here!?”

“I came to find you,” said Fogpaw. “It sounded like you were upset and I wanted to help.”

Scorch glared at that, her eyes flashing. “I told Goldenstar I’d come back on my own time.”

“Well she didn’t tell me that,” Fogpaw said, a little annoyed that Scorch expected her to follow rules she hadn’t been told. “She was too busy crying. You really hurt her.”

“Good,” snapped Scorch, tossing her head haughtily. “She was getting too comfortable.”

“Stop that,” Fogpaw glared back at her. “You don’t get to say nasty things to people just because you’re scared.”

Scorch scoffed and lashed her tail. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re my apprentice.” She bared her teeth as she said it, stretching her claws into the dirt.

“So?” Fogpaw pressed. “Just ‘cause I’m your apprentice doesn’t make me wrong. There are still rules, Scorchplume. We still have to be kind to each other.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Scorchplume snapped.

“You’re scared ‘cause Goldenstar loves you,” Fogpaw continued. “It makes you wanna run away so you say mean stuff and hope she’ll run away from you but you don’t actually want her to stop loving you. You want to feel safe.”

Scorchplume’s entire pelt was standing on end, her eyes prickling with tears that glistened in the moonlight. “Shut up!” she hissed. “You don’t know anything about me!”

“Yes I do!” Fogpaw took a step forward, blinking slowly. “You’ve been my mentor for moons and I’ve been watching! And you’re just like me, you’re angry and you’re sad and so you want to rip everybody apart! You almost can’t help it, right?”

Scorch’s chest was trembling. After a delay of a beat too long, she seemed to remember herself and rolled her eyes, looking away. Fogpaw stepped closer.

“You don’t want them to hurt but you want to hurt something and it takes you over,” she said, lowering her voice. “I’ve been there. It’s really scary! But you don’t have to do it alone, you can talk to somebody about it and it will help.”

Scorch scoffed again. “You’re wrong. I’m not like you. I’m like Ghost. I hurt people and I like it.”

“But he doesn’t like it,” Fogpaw said, realizing it was true as she said it, “he just doesn’t know how else to be.” Maybe Scorchplume was like Ghost. Maybe she was too… “But I can help you find another way to be. I want to help you, Scorchplume.”

“That’s your problem,” Scorchplume snarled, rounding on her, “you and Goldenstar both! You think I’m some project -- some broken thing you can fix! But I’m not fixable!”

“You’re not broken, Scorch,” Fogpaw said. “You’re just scared. And you’re alone. And I can help you be less scared and alone.” She closed the last of the distance, butting her head firmly into Scorch’s shoulder and purring as loudly as she could. Scorch tried to pull away but she reached up and wrapped her paws around her mentor’s neck, moving to rub her forehead underneath her chin.

Scorch stiffened as if holding still would get Fogpaw to let go but she persisted. After another long beat, Scorchplume’s chest deflated in a sigh of defeat and she slumped against Fogpaw. Fogpaw squeezed her tighter and she sniffled miserably.

“I am broken,” Scorch said quietly. “I don’t know why but every time I smell something that reminds me of Razor or something touches my scruff, I panic and I can’t do anything right. I can’t even think straight! I let my guard down with Goldenstar and now I can’t put it back up.”

“That sounds really scary,” said Fogpaw in the same quiet tone. “Is that why you got mad at her?”

“Kind of,” Scorch said, trying to pull away again. This time, Fogpaw let her, satisfied that she had been comforted by the hug. Scorch continued, “I did something very reckless in the city. It paid off, but everyone was furious with me, especially Coyotechaser and Orangestar. Goldenstar tried to talk to me about it but I… I don’t know.” She sniffed again and looked away.

“It’s okay,” Fogpaw said, offering her a warm smile. “You don’t have to know.”

Scorchplume huffed a laugh through her nose. “How dare you be so mature. I’m supposed to be the adult here.”

Fogpaw snorted. “I’m almost twelve moons old, y’know.”

“Ugh, really?” Scorch wrinkled her nose in distaste. “No, that’s not allowed.”

Fogpaw shrieked with laughter. “Not allowed?!”

“You heard me,” Scorchplume puffed herself up in the way Fogpaw knew meant she was joking, “Stop aging immediately or I’ll put you on permanent tick duty.”

“No way,” Fogpaw snickered. “I just won’t do it. What then?”

“Ah, you’ve found my secret loophole!” Scorchplume cried in mock despair. “I guess there’s nothing I can do.” Fogpaw giggled and butted up against her, rubbing her body down Scorch’s whole flank until she had turned around so they were side by side.

“Let’s go home,” she said softly.

Scorch frowned. “I don’t want to. Goldenstar will be furious with me.”

“No, she won’t,” Fogpaw jostled against her side. “You know she won’t. When has she ever been furious with you?”

Scorch chewed her lip for a moment, then sighed, “You’ve got a point, I guess.”

“Come on,” said Fogpaw. “We’ll do it together. It won’t be so bad.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Scorch grumbled and Fogpaw couldn’t tell if she was serious. Still she shoved Scorchplume to her feet and started herding her back towards camp.

“Were you really going to the desert?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Scorchplume shook her head. “I was tempted at least.”

“I wonder what it’s like out there,” Fogpaw hummed, craning her neck to peer over her shoulder.

“Dry,” Scorchplume shrugged. “Probably cold.”

Fogpaw wasn’t really listening. She’d slowed to a stop, her eyes glued to the large shape staring back at her with big eyes full of moonlight.

“Scorchplume,” she whispered, “is that what I think it is?” Scorch turned to look and gasped.

“A coyote,” she breathed, pelt fluffing. “It must be.” The air prickled with energy. Fogpaw swore she could feel some kind of force connecting her with the beast.

“We need to go,” Scorchplume hissed. “Now.” As if it could hear them, the coyote started loping in their direction. It didn’t slink or stalk, it didn’t run or chase, it just loped. Its movement struck Fogpaw as intensely open and inviting.

“I think it’s friendly,” she said, unmoving.

“What?!” Scorchplume bristled. “It is most certainly not friendly! Come on!” She had begun to back away, staying low to the ground, hidden among the grass. Fogpaw took a step towards the coyote.

“Fogpaw, this is serious,” Scorchplume snapped. “That thing will kill you! We need to leave right now!”

“Hello?” Fogpaw called to the coyote and Scorchplume made a strangled noise in her throat.

A beat later, a voice called back, “Hey-lo.”

“Did you hear that?” Fogpaw felt a rush of static prickle through her pelt from her toes to her ears. “It can talk!”

“That’s great,” hissed Scorch, “now it can tell us exactly how good we taste. Come on!” The coyote was close enough now that Fogpaw could smell it. It towered over her, twice her height with big pointed ears trained on her position.

“Are you friendly?” Fogpaw called back.

“Friendly?” it echoed, cocking its head. “Yes. Friend. Friendly. Good friend.” It stopped about a fox-length from them and cocked its head the other way.

Fogpaw reared up on her hind legs to get a good look at it.

It was almost like a cat but leaner and more rigid looking, all stiff angles and pointed edges. Its fur was a ticked kind of grey and white with ginger points, the strangest pattern she’d ever seen on a creature. Its muzzle was long and terrible, the kind of thing that sent instinctive spikes of fear through her belly, yet its expression seemed curious and open.

She was entranced.

“My name’s Fogpaw,” she said in a hushed tone. The coyote sniffed at her.

“Na-ame,” it sing-songed.

“Fuck me,” groaned Scorchplume.

“Yeah,” Fogpaw purred. Placing a paw on her chest, she said again, “Fogpaw.”

“Frog-paw,” it tried and she giggled.

“Not Frogpaw, Fogpaw! What’s your name?”

The coyote tried to place a paw on its own chest with its long, stiff looking legs. “Hui-che.”

“Huiche?” Fogpaw repeated.

The coyote shook its head. “Hui-che,” it said again, its voice lifting melodically. “Hui-che.”

“Oh,” Fogpaw’s eyes widened in excitement. “You have to sing it?” She tried to mimic the exact cadence and pitch it had used. “Hui-che?”

The coyote grinned with its mouth full of teeth and sing-songed something she didn’t understand. It seemed like a good something though.

“Fogpaw, I don’t trust this thing,” Scorchplume growled warily, her fur standing on end in a ginger cloud.

“Friend,” sang Hui-che. “Hun-ting.”

“See?!” Scorchplume hopped backward. “It’s hunting us!”

“You don’t know that,” Fogpaw frowned over her shoulder. When she turned back to the coyote, it had advanced two steps, its toothy maw parted to drink in her scent. Fogpaw’s tail bristled automatically and Scorch swore again.

“Hun-ting, friend,” it sang again. “The rotting touch-ing.”

“The what?” Fogpaw asked, swallowing her fear.

“The rotting touch-ing,” it yipped. “Touch the rotting here.” Fogpaw scrunched her nose in confusion.

“I don’t understand,” she shook her head.

The coyote frowned and gave a high pitched growl, sniffing at the grass around them. With one paw, it started to scrape at the ground. Fogpaw’s stomach fluttered when she realized it was drawing shapes.

“Is that magic?” she asked a bit louder than she meant to.

“Magic!” the coyote’s eyes flashed up at her for a split second grin. “Rotting magic touch-ing here. Good touch-ing. Hunting it.”

At this point, Scorchplume had started to creep back towards them, her neck craned to carefully observe what it was doing. Fogpaw smiled at her and wrapped her tail around Scorchplume’s leg reassuringly.

“You’re hunting the magic?” Fogpaw asked.

“Yes!” nodded Hui-che. “Good, rotting magic. Strong touch-ing here.”

“Rotting magic?” Scorchplume curled her lip in disgust. “Of course a coyote is looking for rot.”

Hui-che’s yellow eyes snapped up and fixed Scorchplume with a predatory stare that unsettled Fogpaw. It sniffed at her with its big, black nose and grinned. Fogpaw instinctively shoved herself between the two of them.

Hui-che stood up to its full height and cocked its head again, sing-songing to itself in its own language.

“I won’t let you hurt her,” Fogpaw declared, baring her teeth. Hui-che frowned curiously at the display.

“No hurt,” it yipped, bowing down until its chest touched the ground. “No hurt. Friend! Good friend.”

“Fogpaw, we’re leaving,” Scorchplume said, backing away.

“Yeah,” Fogpaw said slowly, “okay.” She wanted to stay and ask the coyote more about the rotting magic but it was getting to the point where even she couldn’t deny the warning signs.

Still, she said, “Goodbye, Hui-che.”

The coyote frowned but didn’t lunge for them, only went back to scratching runes in the dirt. Fogpaw and Scorchplume backed away until they had a few fox lengths of space in between them and the coyote and then they slank quickly back to camp.

“That was farther in the territory than last time,” Scorchplume said as they walked. “I don’t like how close it was. Next time you need to listen when I tell you to run, okay?”

“If we’d run, we wouldn’t have learned about the rotting magic, though!” Fogpaw protested.

“We learned nothing,” Scorchplume hissed, “And besides, if it had decided to attack you there’s nothing we could have done. You need to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

“Why can’t you trust that I know what I’m doing?” whined Fogpaw. “I’m not stupid, Scorchplume.”

“Mm,” was all Scorch said.

Fogpaw frowned but stayed quiet. She had had a very stressful night and, even in the best of times, Scorch wasn’t very trusting.

“Fine,” Fogpaw sighed. “Let’s just go tell Goldenstar what happened and then you can apologize.”

“Right,” Scorchplume grumbled.

“It’ll be okay,” said Fogpaw. “Just tell her how you felt and say you’re sorry. She’ll understand.” Scorch grumbled again, sounding unconvinced.

Fogpaw didn’t quite understand why Scorch didn’t believe that Goldenstar would be understanding. She understood and she didn’t understand anybody! Surely, Goldenstar would get it right away. Maybe it was something about Scorchplume instead?

She stewed over the idea as they walked, her thoughts of Scorchplume mingling with her thoughts of Hui-che and this mysterious “rotting magic touching.”

#clangenrising #Swear warning #clangen #clan gen #warrior cats #warrior cats oc #warriors #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #Fogpaw #Scorchplume #Goldenstar #yarrowshade #Hui-che #leaffall

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ducksido · 2 days ago

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Dating Ace Trappola Headcanons

(To hold you off, his post should be up at 6pm aedt)

Endless Teasing – Ace lives to tease you. Whether it’s playfully mocking your bedhead in the morning or calling you “cute” just to see you flustered, he loves getting a reaction out of you. But the moment you tease him back? He’ll act all dramatic like, “How could you betray me like this?!”

Casual but Sweet – He may not be super romantic in the traditional sense, but he shows he cares in little ways. If he buys himself snacks, he always grabs your favorite too. If you’re tired, he’ll offer you his shoulder (while pretending it’s no big deal).

Competing in Everything – Whether it’s who can eat more takoyaki, who can get a higher score in a game, or even who can come up with the best insult for Crowley, Ace turns everything into a competition. It’s all in good fun, though—unless you actually beat him, in which case he’ll demand a rematch.

Flirty but Gets Flustered Easily – He’s got game… until you turn it on him. If you flirt back or catch him off guard with a compliment, his face goes bright red, and he’ll try (and fail) to play it cool. “Pshh, whatever! It’s not like I was blushing or anything…”

Random, Impulsive Dates – Ace is the type to drag you out for a date with no warning. “C’mon, let’s go to Sam’s shop and blow our madol on junk food!” Expect spontaneous adventures, whether it’s sneaking into a fancy event for free food or convincing you to break curfew “for the thrill of it.”

Acts Tough but is Lowkey Protective – He’s all talk about how he’s the one looking out for you, but the moment someone actually messes with you? He’s stepping up with a cocky grin, ready to talk (or fight) his way through it. “Hey, back off, loser. They’re with me.”

Super Clingy When Tired – He’s usually a ball of energy, but when he gets sleepy, he clings onto you. If you’re sitting down, he’ll rest his head on your shoulder. If you try to move? “Noooo, don’t gooo… just five more minutes.”

Nicknames Galore – You never just get called by your actual name. It’s always something like “Dummy” (affectionate), “My favorite sidekick”, or “Ace’s #1 Fan”. If he’s feeling especially soft, he might slip in a sweet nickname and immediately try to act like it was nothing.

Late-Night Talks – On nights when neither of you can sleep, he’ll send you a message like “U up?” and somehow, you both end up talking about the most random things—what you’d do with a million madol, whether ghosts can be scared of humans, or what kind of pranks you should pull on Deuce tomorrow.

Jealousy? Him? Pfft—Okay, Maybe. – If someone flirts with you, he’ll act all nonchalant like “Oh, you have such great taste in admirers.” But the second you reassure him or tease him about being jealous? “What? Me? Jealous? HA. As if. …But seriously, you’re mine, okay?”

He Loves Seeing You Smile – Ace won’t admit it outright, but nothing makes him happier than making you laugh. If he notices you’re feeling down, expect goofy antics, dumb jokes, and all kinds of distractions just to see you smile again.

#twst x reader #twst #twst headcanons #ace trapolla x reader #twst ace

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agirlwithdemonblood · 16 hours ago

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Smoke and Storms

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: After crossing a line in their relationship, Dean struggles to express his feelings, hiding behind bad metaphors and fear of losing the person he loves most. But when Y/N finally pushes him to be honest, they both realize that some things—like love—are inevitable.

Warnings: Angst, sadDean!

Check out my Masterlist here!

"You're not listening!"

I huffed, pressing my back against the cool concrete wall, staring back at the older Winchester. "No, I'm just not understanding what you're trying to say!"

Dean pushed off the wall, running a hand through his hair before standing in front of me. "I—I’m not good at explaining, using my words."

I frowned at his vulnerability. I wanted to understand—I really did—but he was making no sense, and it was frustrating. He was never like this, never this lost.

An hour ago, he came home from a hunt looking as defeated as he always did when things went sideways. Normally, he’d find me. He’d sneak into my room, wrap his arms around me like I was his anchor, inhaling every bit of comfort I had to offer. And then we’d talk. For hours, sometimes. I always understood him—every sigh, every subtle shift in his tone, every weighted pause.

But last night, everything changed.

We crossed a boundary. We hooked up. He was feeling low, and so was I, and we used each other to feel better. It wasn’t just comfort; it was something else—something deeper, something unspoken. I thought it was everything we had ever wanted.

Until tonight.

Until I reached for him, and he moved my hands off his shoulders. Until he walked away from me like none of it happened.

Maybe I should’ve given him space, but he was my best friend. For three years, it had been us—always us. We promised nothing would change, that no matter what happened, our friendship wouldn’t break.

But now he was acting stranger than usual, dodging my touch, throwing up walls, speaking in circles. And worse, he wasn’t making sense. Dean Winchester was using metaphors.

And not just any metaphors—bad ones.

"It’s like—I don’t know—it’s like trying to hold onto smoke. The second I think I have it, it slips right through my fingers."

I blinked. "What?"

He exhaled sharply, pacing. "Or—or like driving a car with no brakes. You know you're headed straight for a wreck, but you can't stop."

I raised a brow. "Dean—"

"Or like—damn it, Y/N, it’s like standing in the ocean during a storm. The waves keep hitting, pulling you under, and just when you think you're okay, another one knocks you down."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. "So... I’m the storm? Or the car crash? Or—?"

He groaned, rubbing his hands down his face. "See? This is why I don’t do words."

I sighed, crossing my arms. "Then just say what you mean. Stop hiding behind half-baked metaphors and talk to me."

He went quiet, leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed on the cracks in the floor. "I just... maybe we are inevitable, and I can't stop it. I can't protect you."

The words lingered between us, heavy and unspoken. But I still didn’t understand.

And that’s what scared me. Because I had never been confused around Dean.

Now? I felt like I was losing him.

A sigh escaped his lips before he turned and walked away, leaving the air cold and lonely in his wake.

That must’ve been my answer.

I swallowed hard, forcing back the tears threatening to spill as I rushed to my room. This was it. This was the end. My worst nightmare come true.

It took an hour to calm down. An hour to silence the voices screaming in my head, telling me I had lost him for good.

And it also took an hour for Dean to finally come back.

The soft sound of his knuckles against my door made me turn. He looked just like I did—lost, confused, sad, scared.

Without a word, I lifted the blanket, letting him slip inside. He stripped off his shirt and jeans before climbing in next to me, sharing my warmth.

The silence stretched on—too long—but finally, he spoke, voice thick with regret.

"I know I wasn't making any sense. I'm not good at expressing myself."

I reached up, stroking his cheek, letting him process. Maybe patience was what he needed all along.

His green eyes met mine, filled with sadness. "I thought last night was a big step for us. When I woke up with you in my arms, I was happy. Excited. But then I got scared because..."

He hesitated, and I wouldn't allow it. Not when he was so close to making me understand.

"Go on," I whispered, no judgment in my voice.

He swallowed hard. "I've never felt the way I do, and it scares me. I don’t know what it is or what it means."

"How do you feel?"

He hesitated again, his hands trembling against my stomach, his eyes darting. He was terrified—to speak, to get it wrong. And I was terrified to hear it.

"I—I felt... I don’t know."

I scooted closer, wrapping my arms tightly around him. "Dean, it’s me. You can tell me anything."

His hand came to my cheek, thumb brushing my skin like he needed the contact to keep himself grounded. "I felt like my heart was full. When I got up to shower, I missed you. I felt like I needed to be back in bed with you or I was going to die. And the entire hunt—I couldn’t stop thinking about you. This was different. It wasn’t just a hookup. It wasn’t just some drunk dare. It felt..."

"It felt like love," I finished for him.

He nodded slowly, finally understanding himself. And suddenly, so did I.

He wasn’t pushing me away because he didn’t want this. He was pushing me away because he did. Because he was scared.

"Dean, look at me."

It took a moment, but when he did, his eyes shone with unshed tears.

"You’re right," I said softly. "It did feel like love. And we are inevitable. No matter how hard you try to fight it, no matter how much it scares you, we are meant to be, I can feel that. You can feel that. That doesn’t mean you can’t protect me. It just means you’re more afraid of losing me. And I get it. I’m afraid, too."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. "I don’t... I don’t want to be scared. I don’t want to feel this way."

"Then we stop."

His eyes widened, sitting up slightly. "What?"

"We stop. We mark this as a mistake, and we move on. We’ll always be best friends, but maybe we can’t do the relationship part."

I didn’t mean it. But I needed him to see that losing me was far scarier than loving me.

His grip tightened on my arm. "W-Wait..."

I smiled sadly. "I’m waiting. But I need to know what you want."

Silence. And then—

"I don’t want that."

I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Me neither."

He exhaled shakily. "What do we do?"

I shrugged, snuggling back into him. "What we’ve always done. We’re there for each other. Just because this became something more doesn’t mean anything’s changed. You’re still my best friend. I still love you—just in a different way now."

His arms tightened around me, lips pressing to my forehead. "I love you, too... I think I can do that. Go back to normal."

I smiled. "Good. You scared me there, Winchester. I thought I lost you."

He chuckled, pulling me close. "Maybe a bit, but you always know how to find me."

A slow grin spread across my face. "You know, for a guy who claims he isn’t good with words, you sure know how to make a mess with them."

He groaned, burying his face in my shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. My metaphors suck."

I laughed, running my fingers through his hair. "Oh, they’re awful. Smoke? Storms? A brake-less car? What even was that?"

He chuckled, his breath warm against my skin. "Shut up. You knew what I meant."

"Mmm, debatable. But next time? Just say 'I love you' and spare us both the headache."

He pulled back just enough to look at me, a smirk playing on his lips. "Fine. I love you."

I grinned. "See? So much easier."

He chuckled again, pulling me tighter against him. "Yeah, yeah. Just don’t expect me to be all poetic about it."

I smirked, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Wouldn’t dream of it, Winchester."

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean x reader #supernatural one shot #spn #dean #spn fic #jensen's smile #deanwinchester #spnseries #spnfluff #spndaily #spns

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 1 day ago

Note

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god

🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️

⛰️⛰️⛰️⛰️⛰️⛰️⛰️⛰️⛰️⛰️⛰️

💋

33 for 🧜🏼‍♀️:

---

Buck mounds some wet sand together to keep his arm elevated, and his head. It’s all he can do like this.

He could wait, out of the water, until he can shift back. Then he could carry the man to safety. Theoretically. But that’s a long walk, in the cold, and Buck won’t be in proper gear. He doesn’t even have shoes.

So what? What are his options?

All of a sudden, Buck hears the nearby whir of helicopter blades. Above him. Not far off. One of the LAFD choppers; Air Rescue. They’ll be over him in half a minute. If that. Buck scrambles away from Hank, back into the water. He can’t let them see him. His tail. He needs to get deep enough out.

But as he swims away, he realizes… This could be what saves Hank. If he can get this chopper’s attention, they can save Hank. Buck can take off before they see him. Maybe. Hopefully.

...you have to promise me if it’s between this man and you getting caught, you choose yourself...I am not losing you that way, Buck.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

No. Okay. He can do this. He can get out of dodge quickly enough. He won’t forgive himself if he doesn’t try.

---

33 for ⛰️:

---

But Eddie doesn’t have the experience with Jaylin to confirm that. And Buck? Well, he mumbles something to the affirmative, but Eddie can tell he doesn’t really believe it. He’s still scared this child will grow up half a stranger to him.

Eddie understands the fear. It’s not like Eddie can say that won’t happen with any credibility. How close did he come to watching his own son walk out of his life for good? Too damn close. And Buck watched it all go down. He’s never had a relationship of any value with his own father. Most of the men in his life don’t either. Of course he’s scared.

Fuck.

Eddie needs to help him. He needs to boost his morale somehow.

“Let’s move in together,” Eddie blurts.

The idea slips out of his mouth before he’s done thinking it through. But even as it does, he doesn’t find anything wrong with it. It makes sense. Perfect sense.

“What?” Buck asks, eyes bulging.

“I know, I know,” Eddie says. “It’s fast. Except, it’s also not. Because we’ve known each other for years and spent all this time together, and… And we know each other, right?”

“Right…”

“So move in with me,” Eddie says. “We’ll get a bigger place. Three bedrooms. Your son will have his own place with you. With… With us.”

#daisies and briars writes #mer!buck #upward over the mountain fic

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thehollowwriter · 1 day ago

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It's been 10 billion years and writing is slow sooooo sneak peek for Lamentations part 7 finally! I'm not finished yet but ya'll need something

Key: Regular text is for the present. Italics is for flashbacks, bold is for journal entries

"Raine, if you set the traps like that it won't work."

Silas' voice was soft and patient, but tired.

"I-I know, sir, but Timo's shit at explaining what to do!" Raine said, provoking an annoyed "Hey!" from the cuttlefish in question.

"It's not my fault you don't listen!"

"I do! You just think nonsense yappin' makes any kind of sense! You just drone on and on!"

"I do not!"

"Quiet." Silas hissed, harsher than intended, and took in a sharp breath as his two youngest hires went silent and glared at each other.

"Raine, I'll show you."

It took a few tries and a few snarky comments from Timo (who, freshly 19, seemed to have found himself a bit of sass), but Silas managed to break it down in a way Raine could understand."

She eventually got it, and the blue rings covering her body lit up brightly. "I did it! I did it! Thank you, Mister Silas!"

Raine was only twenty and very new, but she had an energetic dedication to learning that Silas very much appreciated.

Silas nodded at the two mers and began making his way back home, absentmindedly going over the earlier events.

He had to repeat himself and correct Raine a number of times, and Raine looked to be on the verge of tears, muttering apologies and bunching up her tentacles in shame.

"Calm down, it's fine." Silas told her every time, though in retrospect, he probably sounded much harsher than intended. However, if he could pat himself on the back for anything, it would be the fact that he was leagues better than he was in his youth.

Younger Silas was controlling and impatient, snapping and snarling at the hunters Lady Roda had paired him with, frustrated at them for being unable to keep up or follow every demand. He probably would have made Raine burst into tears.

...No, he definitely would have made Raine burst into tears.

Silas came to the large, cave-like rock he called his home and swam inside, shutting the large limestone door behind him.

Before going back to writing, though, Silas turned down the hall to a different room and peeked inside. He stared for a while, then nodded to himself and left.

Then he returned to his office, if you could really call it that. It, just like every room in the "house", was just a big space carved into a rock with a curtain of seaweed acting like a door (a definite downgrade to the nice limestone front door painted light blue)

Inside, there was a desk with some files in the drawers and pictures on the walls, and that was about it.

Silas rummaged around to pull out his little life story and placed it on the desk, sitting down with a heavy sigh.

I struggled after the loss of my grandfather. While I did start spending less time in my room and more time with Morrigan or hunting, I still didn't eat much. I'd pick at my food, often leaving the fish basically whole, the crabs with most of their legs, and so on.

That scared Morrigan, I think. He didn't want me to go back to how I used to be before my hospital stay, sickly and malnourished.

"Silas, please," He'd say, his tones inches away from becoming hysterical. "You need to eat. I-I know it's hard, but you can't- you can't-"

Then he'd shake his head and mumble to himself. Back then, I don't think I appreciated his fear like I should have. I was mourning and hurting, and my partner was, in my eyes, insinuating that I was weak in some way. I never said anything, but it angered me.

If I think of it now... it's scary, seeing someone you care for in so much pain. It was stressed to me that if I hadn't gone to the hospital, I would have died sometime or later.

I didn't... care that much. I'm used to death. To almost dying.

But Morrigan wasn't. Morrigan, though he wasn't necessarily happy or well-treated, was sheltered from death and other forms of suffering for most of his life. The news was like a punch to the gut to him, and after my discharge, he would hover around me whenever I ate.

It... it must have scared him when I stopped eating.

"I don't want to see you hooked up to an IV again," He'd whisper. "You were so sick I... I don't want that to happen to you again."

It's strange to think about how something so normal for me was so horrifying to Morrigan.

In hindsight, though, he was right. I hated my time in recovery, but I'm glad it happened. I don't think I would have recovered from this loss if I hadn't.

Things got better. Slowly. The soul crushing grief I felt lightened. I started eating more, and Morrigan's relief was hard to miss. I felt more alive.

There is a hole in me. It can't be filled, but... it's not so gaping and consuming anymore.

-End (for now)

...........................................

A/N: Welp I hope you guys enjoyed this little snippet! I frankly am very very inexcusably late for an update abdndndnffn

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @sillyslipperybananapeel @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays @theolivetree123 @natsukishinomiyaswife

@authoruio @jewelulu @raguiras @moonyasnow @skibidibabygirl

@quartztwst @yuizenihaswriten @oya-oya-okay @kirans-wonderland @coffinkissez

@idikeis @s-t-y-x @minutewondertwist @random-twst-and-oc-stuff

#silas clearcove #morrigan clearcove #twisted wonderland #twst oc #oc x oc #writing

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dilf-luvr-4evr · 9 hours ago

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Boom surprise Sadie Adler x F!Reader smut because I’m not allowed to kiss girls and I need to write my frustrations abt it </3 I’ve been working on this for a WEEK maybe? It just kept getting longer and longer 😭 also thank you for 207 followers WAAA 🥺🫶🏼 mdni!! (My first published smut!!! 🫣 and first proper fic I think? Lol)

“S-shit- sorry..”

You had kissed Sadie Adler.

“I’m so sorry..”

Couldn’t even say her name.

“T’was- was an accident-“

“No,” came out of those soft lips of hers. It sounded more urgent than commanding, albeit hushed. Maybe it was your wishful thinking hoping she wasn’t mad at you.

Both of you stayed still, eyes darting everywhere but at each other. A hug to welcome her from her travels escalated into something much more.

If it was really an accident, then why was it such a big deal to you? Best friends would laugh it off, if that is what you are to each other. Sometimes, as strange as it sounds, it was really hard to tell.

You turned away first. Hearing, feeling her breath on your face making you uneasy.

But she didn’t let you. The fingers meant to catch onto your wrist caught on your hand before you so much as took another step. You stumbled back into her with a bump.

“I-”

“Did you-..” Sadie paused, voice lower than her usual volume. She didn’t usually think much of her words. But with you, it was as if she weighed every vowel. Always so careful. Even more at this very second.

“Did you hate it?” She braved herself to look at you. The same eyes used to stare daggers into one’s soul, so scared of you. Scared of this unknown thing that’s been festering between the two of you. Scared of accidentally pulling out what might have taken root.

“Hate what?”

“The kiss.”

Your mouth felt dry, eyes locked on your joint hands. Your chest tightened and it felt hard to breathe. What wasn’t real before was real now, the two words uttering everything unspoken.

It was a kiss as much as Uncle had lumbago. Merely a brush of your lips when both of you turned your heads yet it was a kiss to you nonetheless.

You just didn’t think she’d agree.

“No,” you admitted, praying she wouldn’t hear. Your stomach churned at the thought of searching her face. The quiet of the night seemed to stretch on forever and it made you wonder why, why did you wait for her return every night? A question filled with regret as well as genuine wonder.

It was probably the gnawing guilt you felt for somewhat ignoring her before she left. Only you knew why you did it and that it meant more than what it appeared. But why did it disturb you so much? Why does she haunt you so much?

As though sensing your will to leave again, she tightened her grip. Until then, you didn’t know that you could feel suffocated and comforted at the same time.

“Please talk to me..” Sadie rasped, her familiar boldness stripped off, leaving her bare in front of you. It wasn’t like you’re a stranger to this side of her. You’re one of the only person who gets to see it. It’s just that after all those times listening to her past, it’s about you now.

“Am I readin’ this wrong?” Her thumb slid across your palm and your heart skipped a beat. “Cause I feel like I’m goin’ crazy.. W-what is it? With us?”

The stutter in her speech convinced you that she was just as scared. It didn’t provide you any reassurance if not made it worse. You could fight your own doubts and fears. But it wasn’t so simple when it came to Sadie.

You could have your heart trampled on by horses and it would hurt much less than seeing her frown.

“Nothin’s wrong with us,” you shake your head before forcing yourself to face her. She looked almost desperate as opposed to the girl you knew so well and it broke your fucking heart. It strangely made you want to kiss her again.

“I- I just..” I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.

“I can’t lose you,” she blurted out, impossibly tightening her grip on you and adding another hand. “I don’t know what I did. But I know I pissed you off enough for you to act all strange around me before I left and I hate leavin’-”

“You didn’t piss me off..” you shake your head once more, giving her hands a squeeze. “Sadie, I-”

“Then can I kiss you again?”

You felt your heart jump up your throat, you could choke.

Yet you find yourself nodding.

She gently tugged on your hands and pulled you into a soft kiss. You closed your eyes upon the feel of her lips, losing yourself while your hearing loses itself in the beat of your own heart.

It took a while for you to realize that she kept on pulling your hands, leading you further from camp.

“Sadie..” you breathed out between kisses. You wanted to say that whatever’s happening between the two of you still wasn’t resolved. It was like she was in such a rush, it made you wonder if something had happened in her travels. But at the same time, this felt like everything you’ve ever wanted.

She tasted like everything you’ve ever wanted.

And if maybe she was using you for relief, you’d let her.

“Hm?” She sounded like she was too far gone to be listening. That is, if not for how good her name rolled off your tongue when you’re all breathless like this.

Sadie suddenly yelped, having tripped over something and falling on her back, pulling you down with her. Your eyes widened at how close you were. How beautiful she was with her flyaways now that her hat’s knocked off. She just chuckled, holding your face and kissing you again.

“I’m sorry,” she smiled against your lips. “For- for- mph- everything..” The rapid beating in your chest aside, you were relieved to hear the old Sadie again. You groaned and kissed her deeper as though to shut her up, your hands pulling on the collar of her shirt. She snickered even though she felt something else entirely bothering her.

Out of impulse, Sadie bucked her hips up against you, earning a whine from your lips.

Fuck.

She had to hear that again. She repeated the movement and there it was.

“Sadie,” you moaned, scrunching up the fabric of her shirt in your fists. Your mind malfunctioned from whatever she was doing. All you knew was that you wanted more.

She mirrored you with a plea of your name and continued to grind up against you. You could feel yourself getting wetter, so taken with how she feels that your mouth stopped kissing her, staying agape. Sadie gladly watched, in awe of how beautiful you’ve always been to her.

“You like that?” She asked between pants. You found yourself nodding again. “Can I touch you?” And again.

Her hands moved to your hips, grounding you down against her and you gasped. It still wasn’t enough.

Her fingers made their way under your nightdress. It wasn’t noticeable until they grazed your clothed crotch, sending shivers throughout your body. You’d be lying if you said you’ve never touched yourself to the thought of her before. But somehow this all seemed so new. Like it never crossed your mind how it would actually play out in real life.

As Sadie continued to slip her fingers past layers of fabric, your forehead found home in the dip of her shoulder like the many times it has before. Though the motion felt different from when you laughed or cried against her. It was clear now that every part of her was simply made to hold you.

In more ways than one. As more than a friend.

You made another noise that was music to Sadie’s ears when her fingers found your clit. Your hands instinctively grabbed her arms in a feeble attempt to calm whatever’s brewing inside you.

“This okay?” She asked quietly against your temple, hesitating to kiss it. She’s inhaled all the air out of your lungs, her fingers almost inside you this very second, and yet.

“Yes,” you answer like how you would to a god. So she continued to touch you like how she would touch herself.

“I’ve never..” rub. “It’s been a while.” Rub. she said it so sheepishly like your breaths aren’t growing more labored each time she moved. Rub.

“It’s alright.” I’ll take anything you give me.

“Can you look at me?” She nudged your brow with her nose. You obeyed, slowly lifting your head to level hers.

What a sight you were. Your parted lips, your half lidded eyes, how your eyebrows scrunched when she pressed on your bundle of nerves.

“Shit..” she just had to kiss you again. Might just have to keep at it until those glossy lips are swollen, a reminder of how she’s tasted you and that she doesn’t think she could get enough.

She’s been in love before and it felt an awful lot like this.

With Sadie sitting up and holding your waist, her fingers picked up pace and it all became too much for you that you quivered. Even so, you still needed more of her.

“You feel- ah! so-.. mmh..” the way a string of your saliva clung onto her lips when you gasp was too much for her to handle.

“Yeah?” Fuck, you were so turned on by everything she says or does. Like she knew what she was doing when in truth, she was still experimenting with you. Like a girl with a new toy on Christmas day. Careful yet curious. And with every new reaction she got, her eyes practically gleamed.

You nodded, unaware when you started moving against her fingers.

When Sadie pulled away to catch her breath, your eyes landed on the top of her shirt, a few buttons undone. There was something about her chest. How it fogged up your head whenever you talked to her and caught sight of it. You had to look away before you let out a whimper just thinking about what they could possibly look like.

She blushed when she saw what you were looking at. Hell, did she feel the same way about you. How she’s always wanted to see what you looked like under this goddamn nightdress. How torturous it is to share a cot with you and having to just.. Sleep.

When she realized she could taste you, her lips latched on to your neck. She spread your wet folds apart just to see if your pulse would quicken. Your throat deliciously bobbed before you exhaled a breathy moan.

“You want me to push it in?”

“Yes, yes please,” you begged, repeatedly dragging your sex on her fingers. She complied.

She helped you lift yourself up a bit as she slowly inserted her middle finger inside. Watched your scrunched up face the entire time, not willing to miss it for the world.

You let out a breath you’ve been holding once she pushed it all the way in. Almost immediately, she slid it back out, circling your clit before ramming it in again. Your wetness made it easy for her to repeat this a couple of times, making you whimper.

“Does it feel better than a dick, sweetheart?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper, a genuine question as much as a tease. It was true even with one finger. Sadie’s finger. You were too consumed to be embarrassed, the sloshing noises from your cunt speaking for itself.

“Mhm, It’s- ah!” You gasped as her finger stretched you in circles, her palm on your clit.

“Too much?” She looked up at you, concerned, searching your face as she slowed to a stop. Only to be met with your contorted face while you shake your head.

“N-no.. It’s not..” you trailed off, looking down to where you sat while you tried to catch your breath. It just dawned on you the wet patch on her pants. Surely that can’t be all your doing.

Cautiously, you reached for her belt. Your fingers were shaking.

“What’re you doin’?” She chuckled nervously, caught off guard and vulnerable with the state you found her in.

“Can I?” You asked softly, looking down at her. Still breathing heavily, you bit your lip, your eyes glazed as you felt her pull her finger out. As much as she wanted to taste you, she had this overwhelming need to watch you taste yourself. Needed to know what you’d look like after you touched yourself.

She lifted her fingers to touch your lips and without being told, you sucked on them. Your eyes trained on hers as you licked her fingers clean of yourself.

Lord..

Who is she to say no when you looked at her like that? As if she ever knew how.

“Y-yeah.. Yeah, okay..”

You released her finger with a pop and smiled before starting to unbutton her pants. If it was even possible for a heart to race faster, you swear yours did by looking at more of her skin. Meanwhile, Sadie looked at you the entire time. The strands of hair stuck to your face, the focused expression you had as you worked through her garment, your own fucking liquids laced on your lips..

“You’re my savin’ grace,” she suddenly said, quiet enough only for you to hear. You looked up at her, not quite understanding. Though it didn’t really matter when she kissed you. To hide how fragile she felt after that confession and to just.. God, she just wanted to keep kissing you. She hadn’t realized how much she missed kissing. How nice it was to be in love.

You giggled into the kiss, not one to complain. If only you were aware of how much you affected her. Sadie refused to break the kiss, tightly holding onto your face even when you adjusted to remove her pants completely. You straddled her again after, your legs folded on either side of her.

“Christ, the grass is sharp. Pokin’ at my ass,” she huffed, pausing the kiss to look down. You laughed and smacked her arm, not used to such comments in this sort of situation.

“Sadie!”

“What?” She smiled, looking up at you as she held you closer. Her fingers traced the sides of your arms, sending chills down your spine along with the night air. It didn’t help either that you were now sitting right on top of her wet crotch. Her hairs scratched your clit through the fabric in the most pleasant way.

“I shouldn’t have gotten you stark naked in here, sorry,” you said shyly. It suddenly occurred to you how much you wanted her that you were willing to do it in the open.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry about,” she chuckled, pulling your face into yet another kiss for God knows how many times tonight. “Now what were you gonna do to me?”

And just like that, the feeling in your stomach returned.

“Wanted to- mmh- to- try somethin’..” you murmured, right hand holding her waist while your left slowly lifted her right leg from under you, emitting a moan from her. Your lips retreated from hers, now having connected by your foreheads. Immediately, your eyes moved to take a proper look at her sex. You just had to touch her. Needed to. So you left her leg to rest on your shoulder and you touched her.

Your fingers reached her wet folds and oh, it was so wet. Wet in every sense of the word and full of slick. When you felt your way around, Sadie let out a throaty whine that felt warm on your face. Her hands landed on your shoulders. Like she isn’t quite sure what to do with them. Is it okay to wrap her arms around you?

“I got you,” you assured her in a whisper prior to kissing her cheek. It was such a sweet gesture that she was taken aback when you started slowly circling her clit with your thumb. She breathed out your name and you hummed in satisfaction as you started a trail of kisses down to her jaw.

Sadie bucked up against your fingers and you could tell she was getting impatient. It hit you that she wanted this as much as you did and you don’t think you’ll ever believe it.

“I told you I got you,” you say sweetly against her neck. All the while penetrating her with two fingers at once. Not like it was hard to do at this point.

“Shit- oh-” her rasps as you steadily moved in and out of her were intoxicating. Surely this was a dream. You’ve only seen her this way in your dreams and they aren’t even a quarter as wonderful as this.

Her leg twitched above your shoulder as your fingers kept the pace, your thumb flicking and pressing the nub above her entrance. Your other hand gently pushed her down, moved by the way her chest heaved as she panted. You were past being shy.

You opened the buttons on her shirt and she surprisingly helped. It was like your heart counted down with you to the moment she revealed herself.

She was prettier than you could have ever imagined.

You thought you wanted to touch her breasts. What you didn’t realize was that you already did. As though your hand had a mind of their own. You continued to do so, relishing every inch and scar with your fingers. Her face and the noises she made throughout will definitely create a place in your mind.

As you sucked on her bud, you could feel her clench around your fingers and hear her whine. This must be precisely what heaven is like.

You wondered what would happen if you quickened your fingers and you did, making her call out your name.

“K-keep that up and I- shit-.. I ain’t gonna last long.” And you planned on doing exactly that. You pulled out to rub her clit before pushing your fingers in again. She gasped, moving away at the motion until your hand returned to her waist, keeping her in place. You didn’t know what possessed you. You just had to know what she looked like completely undone.

You lifted her waist a bit like how you would yourself as your fingers searched for that place inside of her. You knew you reached it when she let out a strangled noise and grabbed your arm.

“Right there?” She could only nod, jaw slack. You felt yourself clench at the sight, your movements unfaltering to her pleasure. It didn’t take long for her to come.

You made sure to watch her face when it happened, memorizing how she trembled under you, kissed her and swallowed her cries.

Again, you didn’t know what got into you. But you pulled out of her and quickly rubbed her clit throughout her orgasm, making her scream into the kiss before she pushed you off her. You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you laid next to her, sucking her cum off your fingers. You made a mental note to drink it from the source next time.

“Lord, what’s gotten into you?” Sadie panted, a big smile on her face. Not that she’d have it any other way. You just giggled, covering your face. She saw this from the corner of her eye and scoffed, catching her breath before she got up to straddle you.

“Now, you don’t get to be all shy again after doin’ that to me,” she chuckled, removing your hands from your face and pinning them down.

“I’m sorry, I just..” no matter what you do, you couldn’t stop smiling. Despite the loud beating of your heart from what you’re about to say. “I’ve been wantin’ to do all kinds of things to you Sadie.. God, I’m crazy about you.”

Sadie felt like her heart was about to combust from how fast it was beating. Returning her feelings right after making her come? She couldn’t be more sure of how she felt about you at that very moment.

“I know I ain’t a man and I’m not supposed to-”

“Just shut up and let me kiss you again?” Of course you let her.

thank you for reading!! 🫶🏼

my masterlist

#yes they’re about to scissor YAYY #it’s 5am so I will NOT be making this any longer than it is 😭#idk if it’s even good 🧍‍♀️#GOOD NIGHT 🙏#rdr2 #red dead redemption community #rdr2 community #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #rdr2 sadie #sadie rdr2 #sadie adler #sadie adler x you #sadie adler x reader #smut #wlw smut #wlw yearning #wlw

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