#distraction is just a reality of working with animals

[alexispunkkk]

the giver

- pairing: joel x reader x tommy

- summary: the ‘sweetheart’ of jackson has both the miller brothers wrapped around her finger—and they’re ready to take what she’s willing to give

- warnings: sex, threesome (m/m/f), rough sex, oral (m receiving), hair pulling, light spanking, cum eating/swallowing, sort of cucking, alcohol consumption, manhandling, creampie, light fingering, joel lovessss ass, kissing, neck kissing, thigh riding, orgasms

- word count: 10.3k 😮‍💨😮‍💨

very roughly inspired by the song ‘the giver’ by chappell roan…. writing that as i forgot about it being the inspo a third of the way through

on ao3

masterlist

Being the sweetheart of Jackson comes with its perks. 

You’re not one to join patrol shifts. Not one to dig perimeter trenches or be on the lookout for infected or raiders in the distance. Hell, you barely raise your voice in town, and folks just seem to gravitate to you.

Not once have you had any real work to do like everyone else–you sit and look pretty while the world is practically in flames around you. The comfortable town of Jackson keeps you safe from the apocalyptic world outside, and it’s virtually all you know now. Just sunsets dusted over the sky like gold, wooden porches, horses, movies every Friday night. 

It’s never too serious with you, and that’s how you like to keep it. You have the freedom to head out to bars and drink your heart away, sing alone and spend your time however you like it.

Nobody expects much out of you. You’re always in your pretty cowboy boots and tiny tanks, glossed lips, baking for your neighbors and planting flowers.

Maybe it’s your baking. Sugar-dusted pies and muffins that everyone swears are to die for. Or maybe the wildflowers you insist on planting on wooden walkways to bring pops of color to the town saddened by the reality of the outbreak. Or, it could be your smile–looking stitched by sunlight, a certain sweetness that can only come with a warning. 

The rumors say you came from a QZ in Colorado, wearing boots too clean for the end of the world. Some women are skeptical, but many of the men in town are stunned. Two, in particular. They’re wrapped around your pretty finger.

And you, on the other hand, don’t care. You wear that sneaky smile proudly and walk around Jackson calling everyone ‘darling.’ Handing out cookies to children, making friends with the community’s animals alongside Ellie, and sending an occasional wink to the many older and married men of the little ‘commie’ town. Cowboys are a favorite of yours.

You don’t normally need a map to find trouble–or to find men. They find you, and you hear it in the boots clacking on porches and smell it in the sweat and whiskey of Saturday night bonfires. 

You’ve learned how to read a glance. To read pauses, sense held breaths. Quite familiarized with stares.

It’s in your nature. 

So, you sit and look pretty on a daily basis, humming along to old country songs with the warmest voice and making your rounds. While you don’t have your own job, you seem to always help everyone else. You’re a giver. 

When a job needs to be done, they know they can call you. 

And that’s why everyone seems so devout to you–Jackson’s angel and heartbreaker all at once. 

Tommy Miller, though, is a flirt. The man could sweet talk a bloater if he thought it’d wink back. The kind that talks to anything that breathes–but in an effective manner. 

He’s attractive. A smile that belongs on a billboard and the warmest laugh ever that makes women peek over their shoulders. Lucky for Jackson, there weren’t many billboards left–so Tommy’s handsome face is kept safe in the borders of the town. 

And unlucky for you, the man knows how to work that charm a little too well. Often in your direction.

A walking distraction dressed in boots and a perfect Southern twang, he carries himself well despite going through hell–still comes out the other side with a wink and the occasional joke. Where his brother, Joel, is more silence and tension, Tommy is easy laughter and a lazy arm slung around your waist. Before you can even realize he’s too close. 

He always seems to be smiling, even if his mouth physically isn’t.

And it’s unfair. It makes you forget what you’re doing. What day it is. Your own name.

Tommy’s hair is always a little tousled by the wind, messy like he’d just taken off a hat or came in from a horse ride. His tan and freckled face seems to season him, and he wears it proudly. Comfortably. He’s gorgeous.

Strong, sure, after years of patrol and learning to fend and survive after the outbreak. But he doesn’t wear it. He’s laid back, like he’s not trying to intimidate, like he’s so casual and comfortable in his own skin that he doesn’t feel the need to flaunt. He’s the embodiment of warmth wrapped into a gorgeous body of a man–steady hands and touches.

An occasional shoulder bump, knee grazing yours under the table. Even his arm slung around your shoulders while he plants a wet kiss on your rosy cheek during a bonfire. Each touch lingers just enough to make you wonder whether or not he meant it, or if he’s just that friendly.

Joel, on the other hand, is a harder read. 

Tommy is all sunshine stirred into sawdust, and Joel is dusk. Slower movements, eyes that see more than he lets on–he doesn’t say as much as his brother. He’s older, and you can tell. You sometimes see him holding the small of his back when he stands up or hear the crack of his knees when he leans down.

And when he does talk, it’s usually gruffer and quieter. About something pragmatic, not flirtatious in the slightest.

He fixes fences, carries crates by, drops things off you don’t ask for with a small “figured you could use it.”

Not much for compliments.

But he watches, and you enjoy that. The quiet is nice sometimes in contrast to Tommy’s outward flirtation and neverending sweet talk. From across the town square, behind his guitar, over the rim of his coffee mug at his favorite diner in Jackson–he’s always just there. Watching.

Noticing you. The feeling of his dark eyes burning into you makes the rest of the world go quiet, even managing to mute a drunk Tommy on saturday nights. 

Joel has the raw and rough kind of beauty that also doesn’t flaunt itself, but creeps up on you. Broad hands, calloused and rough and capable from years of both contracting and fighting infected. His forearms are tanned from work, sleeves always pushed up to keep out of the way. A salt-and-pepper scruff covering his jaw that doesn’t behave very well, and his hair always sloppily pushed back with his hand.

Compared to Tommy, it’s like he doesn’t own a mirror. Rugged and hardened and messy but so, so gorgeous. Carries himself like a man. The most masculine you’ve ever seen. Big frame, thick and warm like a large space heater. Makes you wonder if all of him is that big. 

He’s older, but not in a way that makes him seem out of place. More like he’s earned the scars and little creaks and marks dug into the crevices of his handsome face. He looks like a fighter and still doesn’t deserve to rest, like he’s carrying something you can’t figure out.

And his voice–god–his voice. Gravelly, but smooth and bourbon-like, hiding something a little dangerous beneath it’s drawl. Everything about him gets to you. The way he keeps greater distance, doesn’t flirt. He doesn’t let himself get close like his brother does, but it ruins you even more. 

So you flirt a little more with Tommy when Joel’s around. Maybe you like watching him try not to look. 

Yes, ma’am. No, darlin.’ 

Their matching Texan accents ring in your head, drawing you to them while you head out in Jackson with an unsurprising batch of cookies–baked to perfection and nestled in tupperware–in your arms. 

The sun today is high, but not cruel, casting a warmth over the town that makes it look as golden and sugary as the pies you normally whip up. Kids are running barefoot down the road while their fathers work on splitting wood. Someone is playing their radio out of an open window. 

You can hear the faint and tinny country music over the hum of townspeople going about their normal afternoon routines. Taking your time for a nice stroll, you have an apron tied around your waist and maybe a hint of flour streaked across your denim-clad thigh. Like your badge of honor.

And, like always, you’re not in a rush. What’s the rush when there's a dozen voices calling out to you when you pass by the men working? 

“Smells like cinnamon again.” One calls out, giving you a charming smirk while obnoxiously chewing on his gum. Hot.

You laughed, but waved them off. Okay, maybe you gave him a wink.

But it’s just a batch of cookies, nothing too fancy. Chocolate chip with a sprinkle of coarse sea salt on top for the added flavor: your signature. You’re not trying to cause a stir, it just comes to you. People happen to notice when you walk by, smelling of baked goods and looking like the sweetest girl Wyoming has ever seen. 

And then, like an answer to a distant prayer, there he is. Your favorite of Jackson’s men. 

Tommy Miller, shirt half unbuttoned and clinging to his broad chest and shoulder blades with streaks of sweat. He’s standing in the gravel yard beside a pile of fresh cut logs. An axe in one hand and a rag in the other.

He’s mid-wiping the sweat off his forehead when he catches sight of you, dragging it along the back of his neck right after while he presents his usual ever-charming smile. Cheeky, but slow. And so, so handsome. 

Normally, you just shoot him a smile and offer a small glance up and down–occasionally narrowing in on his crotch. So you do the same–smile, wave, move on with your day. 

“Hey, hold on.” This time, his voice pulls you back. Easy, like he doesn’t want the moment to end quite yet. Needs a good look at you, a taste of the cookies you’re holding. Maybe of something else. 

He seems to take interest in the outfit under your apron when you stop: a pretty little white tank made of cotton and decorated with innocent lace. Big jeans held up by a dark cherry-colored red belt, matching maroon cowgirl boots thrown on your feet. And maybe he wants to know if what you’re wearing underneath would match the so-perfectly planned boots and belt technique. 

He doesn’t move, not really. One hand is still resting on the axe handle, the other now supporting his weight against the chopping block. Leaned over and propped up on his hand, shamelessly checking you out. Sweaty. Gorgeous. 

“You in a rush? He smiles, tilting his head just slightly to the left.

“Uh-uh. Not unless there’s a line somewhere waiting on these cookies.” 

You giggle and lift the tupperware, showing off the newest batch of everyone’s favorite sweets. Better than the bakery’s, that’s for sure. Your smile distracts him for a second, the pretty gloss pasted over your lips luring him in like a siren.

Tommy chuckles, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek. Kind of makes him look like an asshole. But you like it. 

“As far as I know, I’m the only one who should be getting a fresh one.” He raises his eyebrows, letting go of the chopping block of wood and setting his trusty axe down. He steps closer, resting his thick fingers on the lid of the container.

“Please?” 

He looks down at you, a manipulative smirk crossing his face. His gaze is switching between your face–your lips, eyes, freckled skin–to the batch of cookies you’re supporting. Almost begging.

When he moves closer, you catch a whiff of his scent. Most people wouldn’t exactly enjoy the smell of a man’s sweat after chopping wood for an hour in the summer, wearing a long sleeve shirt, but something about it is alluring to you. Anything that relates to masculinity is alluring to you, really. Musk and the faint scent of cedar from his cologne that was barely holding on but also accentuated by the aroma of the wood surrounding you.

“Fine. One.” You give in to that smile, any woman would. Stepping back, you set the container down on a nearby block of wood, crouching down next to it. You flick your hair back and Tommy is soon gazing at your profile now, the way you bite your lip in focus to get a cookie out for him. Also, the way your ass looks when you crouch down in the dust like that.

You grab one with a napkin, shutting the lid and standing back up to return to him.

“Here. Guess you’re special today. These are actually meant for the preschool.” 

Tommy looks at you for a moment, and this time, his flirting is a little quieter. Muted. Softer. “Special? Not sure I’ve heard that one before.”

You roll your eyes, handing him the warm treat carefully before crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Then nobody’s been looking close enough.” You snort, motioning for him to try the cookie. Your words shut him up for a second, eyes flicking up and down as if deciding something. Looking for the right kind of words.

But he ignores the feeling, taking a big bite of the cookie. You watch his lips as his teeth sink down into the dessert, the way his tongue darts out to clean the crumbs off his bottom lip while he chews. 

And, as usual, his face displays his reaction to the taste shamelessly. He leans his head back, the cookie eliciting a small groan of pleasure from the back of his throat. His head bobs up and down with a nod of approval, of complete satisfaction at the taste of a single bite.

Upon swallowing, he looks down at the treat in his hand and grumbles in delight. “Mmhm. Sweetheart, that’s it. You’ve mastered it this time.”

His reaction is a little dramatic, but it makes you laugh. Makes you proud. Draws out that sweet giggle of yours that he loves so much, which makes him proud in return. 

“It’s the same recipe as always. I did not master it, sweetheart.” You answer, playfully mocking the nickname he likes to use on you. Something about the way that Tommy is an expert flirt changes the way you flirt back. You don’t go easy on him, you’re a little ruder with it–sassy. 

“Yeah, sweetheart. You did.” He rolls his eyes dramatically and mocks back, expression quickly changing back to an amused grin. He finishes the cookie in two short bites, stuffing his face and rubbing the crumbs off on his thighs. 

You go back to the block of wood to pick up your cookies so you can carry on with your day, but Tommy follows. He steps right behind you, wrapping a warm and rough hand around your wrist before you can pick up the container. 

“Hey–hey.” He stops you with a laugh, making your head turn to look up at him. 

You try your best to seem annoyed, but it’s all performative. Really, you’d stay here as long as he wanted. Stay and watch him chop wood, feed him cookies to his heart’s desire. 

“One more. C’mon.” Tommy grins, holding a hand out so you bless him with another. 

“No, Tommy.” You groan, keeping your hands on the container to ensure it stays shut and he doesn’t cheat you for more treats. “They’re for the kids. I’m not gonna keep giving away my cookies to a grown ass man. You had one.”

He grumbles like a petulant child, pouting down at you. It’s annoying, but a little funny. Makes you want to give in and give him all the desserts in the world.

“It’s not for me,” he starts explaining, shaking his head in protest. “For Joel. He’s on patrol, I’m sure he’d appreciate a little snack when he returns.”

The fact that it’s for Joel makes you a little more receptive to the idea. You’re a sucker for that man, for whatever reason. And, unluckily for you, Tommy knows that. Joel Miller is your weakness.

You sigh, shaking your head and slowly opening the container back up. Tommy grins at the sight of the lid coming up and your hand reaching in for a second.

“Atta’girl.” His hand lands on the small of your back while you’re leaned over to get Joel’s treat, a warm presence that brings a flush up your neck and ears. Tommy’s always been a touchy one, especially in comparison to his brother. He loves to swing an arm around your shoulder and ruffle your hair whenever he can. Loves to say things like ‘atta’girl’ and ‘good job’ to watch how you get as red as a tomato.

Once the cookie is wrapped up in a napkin and kept safe in his pocket for Joel, he straightens his back and lets you stand back up, removing his hand from your spine. He rubs the back of his neck, something that would seem sheepish if it was anyone else. But on Tommy, it seems practiced. Like he knows just how to make you wanna lean in even more. 

“Speaking of him,” he starts, pointedly. “There’s a bonfire tonight. Out past the paddock fence.” 

You nod, knowing of it–you’re planning on going already, actually, but you listen anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Couple folks are bringin’ instruments. Drinks and whatnot. I might even get Joel to bring out his old guitar.” 

You lift an eyebrow in intrigue, especially by the sound of Joel bringing out his guitar. You’d love to hear him play–love to see his big fingers work the chords and strings under the light of a fire. 

“You’re working real hard to make it sound casual, Tommy.” You giggle and tilt your head, finally picking up the container of cookies once and for all. 

He snorts and shakes his head, wiping the sweat dripping down the back of his neck again. It catches your attention, distracting you, drawing you to the sight of little beads against his hot, tanned skin. 

He gives you a crooked, stupid grin. “Yeah, well. I ain’t askin’ the whole town if they’re going. Just you.”

Your heart does the little thing–not jumping, not exactly skipping. But warming up. By the idea of Tommy only asking you about the bonfire. Like he wants you there. It felt like settling into a chair that feels just right.

You let your gaze drift down to the sweat-streaked white shirt clinging to his shoulders and the way the sun is catching on his temples. The crumb of the cookie still left on the corner of his mouth. Hell, he could be selling sins door-to-door and you’d still buy it. Of course you wanna go.

“I was already planning on going. But since you’re asking so sweetly…” You start, drawing out the words teasingly. 

“That a yes?” He perks up, the grin on his handsome face growing exponentially. 

“I guess so. Depends. Will you save me a seat with you and your brother?” You grin and lean back, fingers drumming against the tupperware in your arms. 

Tommy nods obediently, crossing his arms over his chest. They look big that way, especially when the sweat seeps through the white shirt he’s wearing and makes it a little see-through. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

Fuck, that always gets you weak. Being called ma’am–by none other than Tommy Miller, in particular, has you aching. The things you would do to hear that in a not-so-innocent context invade your mind. 

“M’kay. As long as you two behave–and don’t talk through all the music–I’ll be there. See you tonight, Miller.”

You lift the tupperware in a little sort of a wave, sauntered off before he can even say anything else. Left with the little cookie in his pocket saved for Joel. Oh, it’s gonna be a long night. He’s in trouble. 

Later that night, the sun starts to dip low and spill gold light into your kitchen window. That sweet, syrupy light that makes your skin glow. Makes you wanna dance in the kitchen and mess around.

You spent the day baking and then handing out cookies to the kids at Jackson’s preschool–it was adorable. But now, you’re getting ready for a night of drinking by a fire. A self-proclaimed “date” with both of the Miller brothers at once. With the town’s two hottest and beaten up men. 

You’re standing barefoot in front of the mirror, one boot on while you weigh the options. Black, brown, or red? The outfit you settled for was a tiny old denim skirt held low on your hips and supported with the same belt as earlier. Paired with a little red gingham top you’d stitched yourself from scraps.

It was only the right option because it hugs your waist perfectly and clings to your chest, enough to surely make Tommy lose his train of thought mid conversation. 

As hard as you tried to tell yourself this should just be another normal night, another bonfire, another excuse to laugh and drink with friends–it isn’t. You know why you’re going. You’re going to get drunk and mess with two brothers to the best of your ability. Fuck it. 

Tugging a brush through your hair and letting it fall around your shoulder in lazy curls, not too fussy, you stared in the mirror. A dull red lipstick painted over your lips, highlighted by a smooth cherry-flavored gloss. Vanilla perfume on your wrists, lotioned legs–you smell as sweet as the cookies from earlier. Maybe Joel and Tommy would want a bite of you instead.

Sure, the world is over outside of Jackson. But tucked safely in the town, your biggest worry is how good you look tonight. And which brother you’d choose. Or if you’re even going to settle for one.

Your mind drifted as you put on all your jewelry.

Tommy. Sweet-talking and warmed from years in the sun. The biggest flirt you know. He makes you feel like the only woman in the room, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. There’s something so easy about him, which makes you feel comfortable. 

He’s never boring, just familiar. Worn-in and all feel-good. 

The only issue with Tommy is his flirtatious nature. Sure, it works on you, and makes you feel seen. But if he’s that good with his words, touch, and eyes, he must have too much experience. You’re sure he sweet talks every single woman in this town the same way he does with you, which makes you uneasy. 

He flirts and doesn’t try to hide it. Makes it clear as day that he wants you. But might also want other women, so you’re not sure if he’s the perfect choice. 

Then there's Joel. 

Quieter, broader, and stiller. Doesn’t flirt or talk you up the way his brother does, but hovers. Makes you feel pretty with his eyes rather than his words. 

He looks for too long, staring at you, whether you’re paying attention or not. His rougher voice settles low in your stomach when he speaks, smoke curling around your ribs and heating up your insides–all the way into your cervix, actually. 

He’s much harder to pin down and slower to trust, but Lord, he’s worth the chase. You just know it. 

Something about the fact that he makes it so much harder to tell if he wants you than Tommy arouses you. The slow burn of it all, confusion at each of his lingering glances. It gets you wondering, which eventually leaves you more hot and bothered than Tommy can get you. If Joel’d ever let himself get closer, he’d hold on tighter than his brother can. 

Tommy is more a sunrise and Joel is a storm on the horizon. But they’re both fucking beautiful and dangerous, all at the same time. 

You tap on your bottom lip in the mirror’s reflection, weighing the options. Most days, you don’t let the thought linger for two long. Jackson is small and gossip gets around quick, and you don’t want to ruin the existing flirtatious friendship with one brother and the stolen glances you exchange with the other.

Truth be told, most men wouldn’t be able to handle it very well if they were to find out that one woman was sharing attention with both him and his brother. 

But, fuck, the idea of it?

Two men, both strong and stubborn and so big. So much bigger than you. Older, beaten by years of working. They’re burdened, and it makes them hotter to you in some sick way. 

One with charm and one with intense heat, both circling you as if wanting to worship you and warn you off at the same time. What would it feel like to be in the middle of that want–to have Tommy’s hot breath and mouth on your neck and Joel’s big hands holding your hips down?

You exhale, slow and deliberate. Your thighs squeeze together and you allow yourself a single quiet smirk in the mirror. 

No harm in thinking of it, right? After all, tonight’s just a bonfire. A little whiskey and music and possibly a seat between the Miller brothers on a bench. Not so bad.

So, you settle on the red boots. They match your belt and lipstick, after all. Lacing them up and giving yourself a last look, you head out. 

The supposed ‘sweetheart’ of Jackson, ready to stir up trouble and, hopefully, have her way with at least one brother. 

Later that night, you arrive just past nine. The bonfire is crackling tall and bright, its flames licking up at the starry sky. The scent of smoke curls through the air, sweetened by sap and pine of the surrounding forest. The low hum of voices–and a guitar being tuned–fills the space.

Tommy catches your eye first, sitting on a hay bale near the fire with one boot planted in the dirt and the other propped up on a small stump. He smiles, not flashy this time, but warm. Warmer than the fire, warmer than the heat beginning to return to your belly.

He knows exactly who you’re here to see. 

Joel’s nearby, hiding more out in the corner, further from the fire. He’s tuning his guitar held across his lap, catching sight of you. 

The signature look. He doesn’t smile or wave yet, just lips tightening in a greeting as he holds your gaze. Enough to make your breath catch in your chest. He looks back down like it’s nothing, deciding the strings of his old guitar need more attention than you do. 

Fair enough, you’re already getting enough in that little outfit. From the men around the fire–Tommy, obviously.

You make your way over with a friendly smile, the firelight catching on your smooth bare legs. The glint of your lip gloss and shine of your hair not going unnoticed by the first brother. 

“C’mere. Finally made it!” Tommy pats the spot next to him, thigh brushing yours while you sit. His gaze is quickly drawn to your lap, how short the skirt is–low on your waist but still only mere inches away from exposing your panties. 

The warmth of the fire pressing on the two of you and making his skin glow more than it already does feels good, settling the moment into something comfortable. The familiar hum of the forest at night around you, all of your friends and neighbors gathered around the fire. 

“I did make it. Can’t deny an invite from you.” You flash a smile back at Tommy, already entirely turned toward his body. With a little bit of whiskey on his breath and a more relaxed outfit now, he seems even more genial to see you tonight. 

“Yeah? He chuckles, lifting the hand that isn’t occupied with a bottle to settle it on your thigh. Your smooth, shaven, and moisturized patch of skin that’s all free for him to touch. The bonfire is heating your skin up, and so is Tommy’s touch, making you feel like you’re truly on fire.

“You look good, though. I’m likin’ the gingham on you.” He nods casually, moving the hand up to toy with the bow on the straps of the top. “Lookin’ like a little cowgirl. Would never guess you’re not from the South.”

His voice is so sweet and lazy, more laid back than normally, most likely due to the bottle of whiskey in his other hand. 

“Made this top myself,” you answer, stealing the bottle from his hand and taking a long swig. The feeling of it burns your throat, makes you almost sputter. You’re still so young compared to Tommy, and the intolerance to the strong alcohol reminds him of the fact.

He raises his eyebrows, shifting to face you more, forgetting entirely about the fire and his brother thirty feet away, tuning away at a guitar. 

“Looks real good. I like it.” He takes the bottle back and drinks, slowly, before setting it down on the ground in front of the hay bale. “Almost didn’t recognize you without the apron and all the flour on your jeans.”

That makes you giggle. Of course you’re known to everyone in Jackson as the sweet girl who bakes, constantly lost in a cloud of flour and never seen without an apron. Valid comment.

“Is that a compliment or an insult, Miller? 

“Both,” he chuckles and leans his head back to gaze down your body again, eyes narrowing down on your chest–the way the homemade shirt squeezes your breasts together perfectly. With the way you’re sitting, he’s got a great view down your chest. And you certainly notice–but, obviously, don’t mind. You’re not one to dislike attention.

The whiskey is rough but sweet, lighting your stomach up, and it slowly brings everything around you into a softer blur. The music presses pause on the rest of the world when Joel starts playing his guitar. Low and easy, something old and slow that sinks into your skin.

Everyone quiets down a tiny bit and limits their conversation as Joel gets up and moves closer. Inevitably, he comes right over, plopping down and sandwiching you between you and his brother. 

The weight of the two men on your sides is two very different kinds of attention. Tommy’s is neverending, letting you know how he feels. His hand gravitated back to your thigh possessively when Joel sat down, silently pulling your leg against his.

And Joel’s was muted. Barely looking, focused on his guitar. But every chance he got to look away, it drifted toward your lap with his brother’s hand resting on it. If the guitar wasn’t strewn across his body and covering him, it’d be hard to miss the tent forming over his crotch. 

The conversations around you died down to a low whisper, leaving you able to soak up Tommy’s touch and Joel’s music. His fingers stretched out on your thigh while he let out a satisfied sigh, lazy and confident and familiar on the skin. 

He’d occasionally lean in, whispering all up close in your ear–on purpose, obviously. His breath is warm and smells of the whiskey and faintly of a cigarette he must’ve smoked before you showed up. His touch is unmoving, keeping you grounded by his side like you’re his. 

His whispers are a random assortment, making you laugh and quiver all at once. He’d mention something stupid, like making fun of someone across the fire, or he’d lean in and remind you how good your tits look in that little top. 

Joel’s playing slowed after a while, then stopped altogether. When he sets his guitar aside without ceremony the conversations pick up around you again.

You can finally take a breath as Tommy backs up and it isn’t as quiet anymore. But within seconds, it all gets more intense. Joel finally lets himself lean in and speak, smelling dangerously of cedar and something darker. 

His thigh brushes yours, jaw clenching when he gives you a polite nod. 

“Cookie was good earlier. Tommy gave it to me when I got back.”

You don’t even register what he’s talking about for a moment, awfully distracted by the feel of both their thighs pressing into the sides of yours, especially when accompanied by Tommy’s hand that seems to keep moving higher and higher. 

“Oh, right. Thanks.” For a girl who’s normally confident, you choke up a little. Tommy laughs to himself, covering his mouth and letting his thumb rub the inside skin of your thigh. 

Fuck, they’re actually getting you nervous. This isn’t what you planned for. You turn to look at Joel upon sensing he’s gonna speak again, the slow pull of attraction tightening in your belly. 

But he whispers, glancing at Tommy leaning back with his hand splayed so intimately on your leg.

“You’re lettin’ my brother get real close tonight, huh?”

He questions, finally letting on a small smirk. He’s fucking into this. They planned this. And you’re only just now realizing.

It overwhelms you, but it makes the wetness build in your panties more than it may ever have before. The idea that the two brothers actually discussed this beforehand–sharing you–gets you weak. 

“Pretty dangerous sittin’ between us like this.” Tommy interrupts before you can respond to Joel, making your head snap back around to him. You almost let out a nervous whimper, you can’t even register what’s happening. But somehow, you’re into it. You let it happen.

“Okay? I like it here.” You manage out with a gulp, eyes trained on Tommy before his brother’s hand lands on your other thigh. Still sassy. Both of them tighten their grips, squeezing at the supple flesh shamelessly as if you’re not all in public right now.

Too gone to care.

Joel snorts, shaking his head, and you look over at him now. He’s smiling, which isn’t too common of a sight. Must really be satisfied with their work right now.

“Careful what you ask for, baby.” He whispers and strokes your skin, hand moving up and down tantalizingly. You don’t know who to look at. Hell, you don’t actually know what you just asked for. 

The moment goes entirely silent, the three of you exchanging glances. You–confused, but into it. The two men–seemingly have practiced this scenario millions of times before actually illustrating it. 

Tommy’s watching you with a little half-smile, like he’s been waiting for this moment for longer than either of them would like to admit. His gaze zeroes in on your chest yet again, almost predatorily. Then, to Joel–his gaze is unreadable but filled with more desire than you’d like to imagine.

It hits you. Not fear or nerves, but want. This isn’t something to be scared of. Fuck, you were hoping for it in your bedroom while you were getting ready. You wore this outfit just for the hopes of this happening. Said ‘fuck it,’ so why would you be afraid?

In return, you let your hands rest on both of theirs, fingers trailing lightly over their knuckles. Your thumbs brush their skin, and nobody moves. The fire crackles and everyone nearby is laughing, drinking, and–most importantly–distracted. 

As if reading your mind, Tommy leans in. 

“We could get outta here,” he whispers, almost too casual. “Back to mine. Joel’s. Yours. Wherever you want.”

Your eyes flicker up to his, licking your lips and letting the overwhelming desire shine through once he essentially confirms what’s about to happen. 

“Only if you want to.” Joel adds, ever the gentleman compared to his brother.

Their hands slide a little higher on your thigh, wanting and ready, and nothing else is exchanged but a quiet nod of approval from you.

Yet again, you’re the one left breathless. 

The next thing you know, you’re at Joel’s, laid out on his bed like prey. 

His place wasn’t far from the bonfire, a quiet little house on the edge of Jackson, tucked behind fencing and lots of trees. Quiet in the same way he is. You’ve been here before, dropping off food or supplies, but never like this. Never with your heart thumping this hard, two sets of heavy footsteps made by boots following behind you, two sets of warm hands ready to explore you and converge the different flavors of need in one space. 

Joel opened the door without second-guessing anything, no more ‘are you sure?’ The two men gave you a look for confirmation when you reached the bedroom, and that’s all they needed. You, on the other hand, didn’t even have to answer.

Inside his house is warm, very lived-in. Very Joel. An old lamp in the corner and a woodworking table in the living room where he carves little animals and whatnot. He walks ahead, dropping his guitar in its case by the couch while Tommy peels off his jacket and throws it mindlessly on the floor. 

You stood quietly for a second to process, and they both just looked at you. The air shifts, thick. So, so heated.

And this time, the older brother moves first–stepping close once you’re in his bedroom. You don’t stop him. His hand comes to your waist, rough and solid, checking one last time that you’re still good with a raise of his eyebrows.

You nod wordlessly, and Joel lifts you up by the waist.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear before tossing you gently onto the bed. Neither of them took the time to get their boots off–or yours. Nothing stopping the three of you.

He climbs over you while Tommy stands back for a bit to watch. In seconds, you feel the first pair of lips on yours–firm and grounding. One big hand on the back of your neck, the other slipping underneath you to the small of your back, pulling you up against him as if he needs it. 

Joel tastes amazing. Darker than you imagine Tommy will. More tobacco, stronger liquor. 

Tommy steps forward finally, climbing onto the bed next to the two of you and smoothing a hand over your hip. While his brother is on top of you, kissing you, he waits his turn and instead lets his lips brush your shoulder. 

Their energy is different, obviously, but they move together in harmony. Joel is slower, more intense, seemingly controlling the moment. Tommy is more free and tactical, his touch lighter but never giving up. 

And you let yourself be used. 

Growing up as brothers, they had to learn to share. And, naturally, they carried that ability into adulthood. So Joel gets off, freeing your body to his brother.

Tommy laughs, diving right in and attaching his lips to yours. It’s softer but more playful, like you don’t have to take him seriously in the way you just had to with Joel. He encourages you with his hands on your waist, squeezing and tickling at your sides teasingly.

“Tommy,” you gasp and giggle, leaning your head back and breaking the kiss. 

“What?” He chuckles in return, peppering the kisses down your chin and to your neck, focusing on the soft area just beneath your ear. That way, when he whispers, it feels even better.

You don’t respond, laughing and laying back while he works at your neck so perfectly. Everything is revolving around you right now. They just want to give you everything. 

In minutes, you’re forgetting where you are, overwhelmed by the feeling of not one, but two sets of hands exploring you and worshipping you in every way possible. 

“Pretty little thing,” Tommy would laugh, sitting up and tangling his hand in your hair to give it a tug.

Joel was more quiet, but still whispered little instructions. He was more of a guidance while his brother was the fun part: both necessary in the moment. 

“C’mere,” Joel whispered, moving back on the bed after you all actually took the moment to remove your shoes. He sits back against the headboard and pillows, spreading his meaty thighs and patting the right one. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping a hand around your waist to get you nice and close. 

You comply, climbing right up and settling yourself on his thigh–legs spread and straddling his denim-clad leg. You’re surely leaking and making a mess on it, your skirt pushed up to your waist. 

Joel’s head dips down, nose brushing your jaw while he murmurs and begins to guide your hips. 

“Good girl. C’mon, you can move, sweet girl.” He manages out, hoarsely, with a bite at your sensitive earlobe. It makes you shudder, following his orders and shifting your hips.

The feeling of his jeans pressed against your clothed pussy elicit quiet gasps from your lips, leaning in and resting your head on his shoulder. He keeps an arm wrapped around you, grounding you against him and ensuring you feel safe while getting off on his thigh like this.

By the foot of the bed, Tommy is forgotten now while Joel’s scent and touch invades your brain. He’s fine with waiting his turn, though. He undoes the buckle of his belt, the clank of metal not disturbing you and his brother.

Discarding his jeans, Tommy pulls himself out of his boxers shamelessly, unable to help himself. He’s been hard since you sat down with him at the bonfire in that pretty outfit. Hell, since he saw you earlier today and you gave him a cookie. 

He begins to stroke himself–one hand moving up and down the shaft, stretching himself, while the other rests under his balls and gently tugs at them to heighten the pleasure. His eyes are trained on the way your hips move back and forth on Joel’s leg, the small wet patch he can see forming on the denim fabric, even through your panties.

“She looks so good on you like that, doesn’t she?” Tommy groans, thumb brushing over the tip of his own cock while his brother nods. 

“Mm–real pretty.�� Joel grumbles, leaning back and letting his head hit the wall when you let out a particularly pretty little moan. His big hands come back to your waist, squeezing it and holding you tight to guide you in a slower rhythm.

You whine, opening your eyes back up to look into his. Eyebrows furrowing, you pout and try to speed up again.

“Baby,” Joel chuckles, squeezing you harder to keep you in place, to keep you going the speed he wants you to. “Gotta slow down for me, yeah? Be good. Take it slow, relax.”

His words are meant to be soothing and encouraging, but the low tone of his voice that gets you so wet only makes it all worse.

“Want–wanna go faster. Please, Joel.” You whimper, trying to rut your hips and speed up the agonizingly slow pace he’s got you going at. “Feels good.”

“I know, I know it feels good.” He sighs, giving up for now and letting you do it how you want to. Tommy laughs from across the bed, amusement and arousal all wrapped into one while he jerks himself off to the sight of you and his brother. 

Joel only lets you get off on his thigh for maybe a generous twenty seconds before lifting you up, patting your ass in the process. The pressure was building in your belly, tiring you out, making you feel so good. You were approaching an orgasm in a short time, motivated by the arousal the scene itself produced in your brain, but soon were stopped by his big hands. 

“Joel.” You frown, writhing on the bed and reaching down to touch yourself instead when he sets you down. 

Tommy sits up, abandoning his achingly hard cock, crawling up to you and grabbing at your wrist. 

“Uh-uh. Don’t gotta do that, angel.” He laughs, collecting both of your wrists in one hand and pushing them back. You’re pinned down and whining under him, but eventually give up protesting when you remember it's you versus two–very, very large–men. 

He passes your wrists to Joel, who holds them with even more ease due to the size of his hands. 

“Let’s make sure Tommy gets some lovin’ too, sweet girl.” Joel kisses you once, a soft peck, holding you down for a moment to let his brother get settled. Both of you watch as Tommy fully discards his boxers, stripping off his shirt and socks in the process until he’s entirely bare.

The man is a work of art. Tanned skin, some sun damage from always working outside–little spots all over his body, and freckles. He’s covered in hair, which you’d always expected due to the thick head of it he carries. 

His lower stomach, especially. It’s got the most gorgeous spread of tiny hairs leading to something even more beautiful–thick and wiry. Not graying just yet. His cock is long but thin, already red and twitching from jerking himself off to the sight of you just a couple minutes ago. The fat tip of it is leaking desperately, just begging to be treated.

Tommy lays back, seated against the headboard like Joel was, his legs spread out wide. His head tips back lazily, sinking into the bed and patting his thighs. 

Joel lets your wrists go, and you’re lunging forward like an animal in seconds. His thick, hairy thighs open to accommodate you while you kneel between them on the bed. 

“Nice n’ big.” You whisper and giggle, hands on his thighs while you sort of nestle your head down for now. Nuzzling into his crotch, you worship Tommy’s cock–nose exploring every crevice, tongue darting out under his heavy balls. 

He moans out quietly, hand finding your hair before you even begin and wrapping it up into a tight makeshift ponytail. 

“Look at you, baby.” Tommy praises, lifting his hips up to encourage you to take him. You were resting your head on his thigh and taking a moment, but the sight of him literally aching for you has you moving quickly. 

You grab the base of his cock, giving it a slight squeeze to draw more noises out of the man. Satisfied by a little grunt, you snicker and open your mouth, taking his tip into it eagerly.

“Fuck.” He jolts, head tipping back and eyes shutting happily. You focus on only the tip for a moment, swirling your tongue around the head and collecting the embarrassing amount of precum before sinking your head down and taking as much of his length as you can.

You sputter for a moment, just as you did earlier on the whiskey, but regain your bearings and start to move. His tip is hitting the back of your throat as if urging you to take more, but you physically can’t. He’s so big,

Tommy’s hand tightens in your hair, a little rude with the way he’s tugging and forcing your head down. 

“Jesus, Tommy.” Joel interrupts after watching carefully for a few moments. “Careful with ‘er. She’s gonna gag.”

The older brother’s hand comes to your back, gently stroking it to keep you grounded while his brother forces your head down on his cock. Tommy doesn’t mind too much, easing up on the pushing but not entirely stopping. He’s always been much less of a gentleman.

“You’re okay, angel. Go slow if you have to.” Joel whispers to you, patting your back before standing up and discarding his own clothes. You hear the sound of fabric and a belt hitting the floor, and want nothing more than to look.

But you can’t, because his brother is holding your head down on his dick. It’s not all bad, though. You’re still eagerly taking it, hollowing your cheeks and sucking him with near-perfect technique. He’s very vocal, noisily encouraging you to somehow work him even better.

The mattress sinks as Joel returns from undressing, and while you can’t see, you feel where he’s going. While your head is buried between Tommy’s thighs, Joel gently unfolds your body and pulls your skirt off for you, leaving you in pretty panties and that damn gingham top.

He smiles, stretching the elastic of your underwear and letting it snap back against your skin. You gasp.

“Tommy, look at this.” He rubs your ass, giving it a gentle smack, showing off the fabric. It’s little cherries over the same red gingham that your top is made of. Matching, making you look like the prettiest cowgirl they’ve ever seen.

Tommy snorts, opening his eyes and giving your head another push down on his lap at the sight.

“How cute. Bet you wore 'em just for us, ain’t that right?” He smiles and uses his free hand to cup the side of your face, stroking it with a thumb while you suck on him so perfectly. “Fuckin’ slut.” 

Joel shoots him a glance to be nice, because he’s already pushing your head down. He shouldn’t be calling you a slut like that.

“Ignore him.” He advises you, rubbing the skin of your ass that’s now pink from the little slap. He pulls at the fabric, tugging it down gently and working it over your feet before throwing them on the floor. On his way back to your ass, he kisses the back of your feet, ankles, calves, and thighs, leaving a trail of fire all the way to where he really wants to be.

His fingers go straight to the source, not even bothering to spread your legs. He digs two digits into your folds, groaning lewdly at the filthy feeling of how wet you are. Soaking his fingers, soaking the bed underneath you. Genuinely dripping for the two brothers.

“If only you could feel how wet this girl is,” Joel huffs in amusement, slipping his fingers back out and gripping the supple flesh of your ass again. The loss of touch elicits a quiet whine from the lips you have wrapped around Tommy’s cock. 

“I bet.” Tommy answers, groaning and leaning his head back yet again in pleasure when he hits particularly deep in that warm, wet mouth of yours.

Joel grabs at your body with a mix of gentleness and fervor, lifting your hips until your knees are able to support your weight. Your head is down between his brother’s legs, your back arched, and your ass in the air for him to do whatever he desires with.

He leans over you, pressing a trail of kisses down your back–the center of it. Between your shoulder blades and down your spine, while his fingers trail all over your soft skin. Exploring. Taking his time. 

He ends the trail at your back dimples, the spot where your butt and the small of your back meet. One last little kiss before he sits back up, spreading your legs just a bit so he can fit.

Once Joel ensures you’re not overwhelmed with what you’re doing with Tommy, he grabs his own cock and strokes it before gently pressing it against your ass. You moan around the other man’s length, and Joel taps him to let you have a break. 

Tommy releases his grip on your hair, gasping when your mouth comes off of him–a string of spit connects his crotch and your mouth due to the excessive slobbering you’d been doing. Dirty and beautiful.

“Fuck.” The two men say, almost in perfect unison.

You take a moment to catch your breath, glancing back at Joel behind you when you remember he’d gotten undressed.

And, lord, he’s somehow more perfect than Tommy. 

He’s built. Broad, hairy chest and a little tummy coming over his hips. Looks like he works out but certainly doesn’t deny a beer when offered. He’s hairier, even, a thicker and grayer trail leading to his pubic bone that’s pressed against your ass currently.

Older. Seemingly more experienced. He’s scarred and hardened, and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. The mere sight of him makes you moan.

Both of them laugh at the little strained moan you let out, Joel’s hand rubbing your hip while Tommy’s strokes your hair. 

“You like him that much?” Tommy chuckles, kissing your forehead.

You nod mindlessly, still searching for the air you’d lost when your head was getting pushed down. 

“Mm–mmhm. Like Joel. A lot. Fuck.” You manage out, dropping your head back on Tommy’s thighs and resting it there.

Joel smirks and lets the hand on your hip travel back to your ass, rubbing it before gripping his cock and giving it a few small strokes. “Yeah, baby?”

You nod again and groan against the fatty flesh of the thigh under you, kissing his warm skin. Your hips naturally move backward when you feel movement behind you, subconsciously begging for Joel. Your back arches as well, giving him quite the sight. 

“You want it? Gonna take me good with my brother’s cock in your mouth?”

He smiles, teasing your dripping hole with his own leaking tip. Of course you want it. You’ve been dreaming of this all day–maybe even weeks before. But back then, it was a fantasy. Never a possibility in your mind. Now, you’re bent over, face down and ass up between the two of them. You couldn’t want it more. 

“Yes, please.” You gasp out, arching more and forcing your ass back against Joel’s cock. You feel him twitch.

He hums in approval, not saying anything else before lining himself up. At the feeling of him against you, you know what you’re supposed to do in return. Tommy is back in your mouth in mere seconds, and you’re sucking and slurping to the best of your ability in hopes that it’ll get you more. More of Joel. More praise. More cock.

Joel slides in once Tommy looks satisfied, slowly stretching your tight pussy out. The noises are filthy, squelching and wet. 

“Fuck–” He groans, panting and bracing himself by gripping your lower back. He isn’t even fully in yet and he’s ready to come all over you. He’s dreamed of painting you in ropes of release, of fucking you senseless and filling you up with his seed. Now it’s happening, and, God, he doesn’t know if he can even handle a minute. 

You whine around Tommy, but he doesn’t push your head down again. He knows it probably hurts a bit, given the Millers are genetically big men. They let you adjust to Joel before resuming, going nice and slow. 

“Pretty. So fuckin’ pretty, taking me this good. Just like that.” Joel becomes more vocal as he moves inside you, picking up the pace slowly, ensuring you’ve adjusted enough to take his size before doing anything you can’t handle.

The praise makes your head spin. Apparently, Tommy’s is too. You feel him twitch more in your mouth, see the way his hips are stuttering with each little bob of your head. 

So you pick up pace. And so does Joel. Everything gets more intense.

Sucking in your cheeks, you take Tommy’s cock so deep that it hits your uvula, resulting in a soft gag. His first instinct is to let you take a break, but you continue despite the tears spilling from your eyes and the urge to vomit increasing.

Your hands fiddle with his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze that draws out the loudest moan of the night from the man. Success.

If you could smile, you’d be doing it. But he’s so deep in your mouth that you can’t move a muscle–not until you feel hot strings of release fill your throat. 

You didn’t realize Tommy was that close, but he fills your mouth up more than it’s ever been stuffed. You’ve never felt a man come so hard. So much. He’s shaking as he finishes, piping it into your mouth and seeing it dribble down your chin as he pulls out.

“Ah-” he whimpers, actually whimpers, when your lips reattach to his tip to give it a final kiss. 

Joel sees his brother’s orgasm, getting a little jealous. He would give anything to be filling your pretty mouth with his come right now, cleaning it off your lips where it spills out. But he remembers he’s the one inside you, and he has a better dumpster than Tommy does right now. 

Once Tommy’s cock is removed from your mouth, he knows he can go a little harder. He wants to go a little harder. He can actually hear your pretty little moans and whimpers now that you’re not occupied. 

When Joel starts hitting your cervix, the lewd noises slipping from your throat are unstoppable. You still haven’t swallowed the come, gurgling while moaning and trying to keep it in your mouth–almost to savor it. 

His hand comes forward to grip your hair, remaking that damn makeshift ponytail his brother was just using. He tugs, forcing your back to arch as your head flies back with a whimper. He’s fucking you harder now, one hand gripping your hair and the other on your hip to press your cunt as close to him as he can possibly get it, pounding into you at a near-painful speed.

“Joel,” you cry out, more tears slipping from your pretty eyes that are quickly cleaned off by Tommy. You gasp and finally swallow his come, groaning in satisfaction and letting your head fall forward until it’s rudely tugged back by the other brother.

“You got it, darlin.’ You can take it. C’mon now, don’t go dumb on me.”

He groans, the hand on your hip giving your ass a solid smack. You cry out again, squealing with the mix of pain and pleasure. Pain, mostly now, as he’s fucking you deep and painfully harsh.

“Hold her still. She’s shakin,’ Tommy.” Joel leans forward with a growl, draping his body over yours and letting his head fall to your shoulder while he fucks you from behind. His teeth bare, nibbling on any exposed skin he can get, licking and sucking and kissing like an animal.

Tommy’s hands come to your shoulders, holding you still and shushing you while you cry under Joel’s hard body. “Almost there, angel. We’ve got you.”

And within the next minute, you and Joel’s orgasms approach at once. You can tell with him because his pace gets sloppy, hips slamming into your ass uncontrollably and inconsistently. He can tell with you because you’re impossibly more vocal, whimpering out and trembling. 

When your thighs start to shake, he snakes a hand down your body and attaches his index and middle finger to your clit. That’s your weakness.

It’s not even eight seconds after he touches your clit that you’re coming, gasping and writhing and falling forward against Tommy. Joel follows suit, finishing deep inside you and smacking your ass as he comes.

The next thirty seconds go silent. You fell forward against Tommy, he pulled you into his arms. Joel’s now-soft cock slipped out, leaving you pumped full of his seed.

Tommy strokes your hair, kissing your forehead in an attempt to get your shaking body down from the intense high his brother had just given you. The other man lays next to the two of you, senseless now and in his own little world. His eyes are pressed shut, sexy pants coming from his mouth and into his pillow. 

The room is quiet and hazy, heavy with sweat and the familiar scent of sex. It’s absolutely filthy. Wrecked.

Your limbs are all tangled up, breath catching. The silence isn’t awkward. It’s earned. 

The sheets are tangled and damp, clinging to your thighs when Joel manages to sit up. He grumbles, moving closer and cuddling into your side that isn’t occupied by his brother.

On the floor are your clothes, laying scattered and forgotten. Tommy is on your other side, hand curled over your hip and quiet breath in your neck where his head is buried. Joel is curling onto your left, kissing your sweaty shoulder and arm, anywhere he can get. 

And you–God. You’re spent, utterly and completely fucked-out. Used. Wrecked.

You’re past satisfied, actually sure that your bones probably aren’t solid anymore. Your limbs are too heavy to move, cheek pressed to Tommy’s chest and an arm slung over his brother’s body. They hold you like they’re afraid you’ll float off somewhere.

“Nothin’ left in me now.” Joel mumbles, lips brushing your skin. His voice is hoarse and dried out, more of an exhale than actual speech. “Not movin’ at all.”

The only part of him that can move is his fingers, trailing so slowly up and down your spine. 

Tommy nods and huffs in agreement, kissing your cheek and pulling you closer. You just smile–lazy and slow and perfectly wrecked. Everything aches in the best kind of way. You feel as if you’ve been pulled apart and put back together with hands that know exactly what they’re doing. 

Your throat is burning, hips stinging from Joel’s grip, your pussy leaking out his seed. And no one said much. They didn’t have to.

The air is thick and sticky, but also soft. Comfortable. Hearts beating in sync and bodies pressed so closely that you can’t tell where one ended and the next began. 

Tommy is the last to speak–“Might have to stay here ‘til winter. Jus’hibernating.”—and you laugh. Blissed out and tangled between the men. Just laughed, warm and slow, like the fire hadn’t gone out yet.

WOO that was a journey to write. I’m going to hell. Love yall though 💋💋

TUMBLR ONLY LETS ME TAG 50 👎👎 I’m so sorry to everyone else ik i got like over 100 asking to be tagged so i tried my best

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[gojoscinnamonroll]

sleepovers with your boyfriend satoru !!

the first time you had ever invited your boyfriend satoru gojo over for a sleepover, he felt like that was the best moment of his life. spending quality time with you and he doesn't have to leave you for the night right after?? hell yeah, that was a win for the giddy and clingy, fluffy white-haired man. once he received the "come spend the night with me 'toru, i can't sleep without you." text, he started squealing and bouncing on his toes like a teenage girl in love, throwing all the clothes and necessities he had into a bag and immediately racing over. since then, the sleepovers had turned into a every weekend thing for the both of you, never having one boring sleepover with your loving boy.

he never fails to show up at your door with your favorite snacks and junk food to munch on while the two of you watch trashy reality shows or emotional, cheesy, sappy movies. and in return, you always buy silly face masks (sometimes matching hello kitty or animal print) for the two of you to have on while watching.

of course, with ‘toru having a sweet tooth and you always needing a sweet little treat, you two always decide to bake something delicious around 12am. whether that be cookies, cinnamon rolls, kikufuku, cakes, etc with some jams playing in the background to listen to together (and satoru definitely getting distracted by the music that he starts dancing & ends up getting frosting or sugar or something all over himself with you having to clean him up.)

when you and your lover finally get into bed and settle down after stuffing your faces with sweets to cuddle with the lights off, he always has some random late night thought he always likes to converse about to keep you awake just a little longer.

"sweets, do you think aliens are real and will take over the world someday? or or or maybe, what if they think we're the aliens?" he ponders. " 'toru baby.. what the heck?? are you talking about???" you murmured sleepily but trying to hide your grin.

and when the night’s festivities end, when you fall asleep laying on satoru’s chest as he combs through your hair and admires all the features of your face as you sleep soundly with quiet snores coming from you, he lets out a soft giggle as he thinks about how he'd spend everyday and night for the rest of his life with you like this pulling you in closer and falling into a slumber as well.

likes + reblogs appreciated <3 please don't steal/copy/modify my works!

[mariasont]

schrödinger’s relationship

spencer never needed to define what this was, until you did. now, the box is open, the outcome inevitable, and he has never been so happy to lose an argument.

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: situationship (ish? it gets resolved fast lol), mutual pining, friends to lovers (except they've been kissing for months), mention of heavy makeout, lap sitting, shirt removal, spencer kissing you to shut you the fuck up, cat does not survive the experiment (metaphorically speaking, there is no animal killing in this fic LOL) wc: 1.4k request: here

Your body is warm in his lap, your weight pressing down just enough to be distracting — no, disorienting — and Spencer is trying very hard not to look at your lips. Not just because they’re parted, slick, and kiss-swollen, but because the soft smudge of your lip gloss is evidence that this has been happening. That he’s been kissing you long enough to leave proof of it.

Mascara has clumped just slightly at the corners of your lashes and there’s a half-moon of pink polish chipped at the very edge of your thumbnail.

He’s obsessing over details. Your pupils are dilated, swallowing every fleck of color. He knows it’s a physiological response. That it’s dopamine, norepinephrine, oxytocin, all working in tandem to make you look like this, flushed and increasingly pretty on his thighs.

It’s easier to focus on biology than it is to focus on the fact that this moment exists in a state of suspended reality.

This was new. Not just in the way that everything between you had been new, in the way that months of small, careful steps had led to this, but in the way that Spencer had never felt like this. Overheated. Overwhelmed. Overrun with sensation. It had started as everything else had, soft and slow, the kind of kissing that didn’t lead anywhere except to more kissing. 

And for months, he convinced himself that he could exist in this purgatory of lips meeting and parting, of hands resting politely at your waist. That he could always pull away before the ground gave away beneath him.

Today the ground was gone.

Spencer had never been particularly drawn to categories, not in the way people seemed to crave them. Labels had always felt limiting, reductive, forcing the complexities of human relationships into neat little boxes that never quite fit. He had been content in ambiguity, had never needed something to be named in order to understand it. 

With you, the lack of label wasn’t liberating, it was frustrating. Because if this wasn’t something that could be named, then what was it?

“I’m just saying, I feel like if Rossi can write a whole book about a case, then I should at least be able to mention it in passing at brunch.” Your fingers skate absentmindedly across the dip of his throat, and Spencer, entranced, forgets to do something as basic as breathe. Oxygen is apparently optional. “But no, apparently that’s an inappropriate topic over eggs benedict. Which, okay, sure, but if I have to sit through another conversation about Carly’s fiance’s fantasy football league, I think I deserve to liven it up a little, you know?”

Your genuine need for an answer is clear, but Spencer can’t even remember what brunch is.

You gesture when you talk, and it’s so innocent, just for emphasis, but right now, it’s destroying him. Your fingers drag absently up his arm, over the soft material of his sweater, mapping the line of his forearm before skimming back up his neck. And then, like you don’t even realize you’re doing it, your palms smooth over his chest, fingertips tapping lightly against his collarbone like you’re idly counting his heartbeats. Spencer is painfully aware of every single one.

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies. But he can’t decide what would kill him faster — how you touch him, or the moment you stop. 

Spencer manages to clear his throat, barely.

“I think your friends don’t appreciate you enough.” His voice sounds strained, but any attempt at analyzing tone evaporates the second his fingers breach the barrier of your shirt. 

Warm fingertips skim over bare skin, and suddenly, the conversation seems wildly misplaced. Because what was that about appreciation? If he’s trying to prove a point, he’s making it very convincingly.

You hum, shifting against him, not intentionally, probably, but it doesn’t matter, because he feels it all the same.

“Well, I can’t just hang out with you constantly.”

Spencer isn’t sure how to respond, because if he’s honest, that’s exactly what he wants. You, constantly. No breaks, no buffer. Just you.

Instead, he stares at your mouth again, because his brain is broken, and this is the inevitable destination. He never really understood the appeal of making out before you, before that first time, when he was supposed to just kiss you once and somehow ended up losing entire minutes of his life to your lips, to the sheer pleasure of pressing against you, of drinking in your sounds.

His broken brain is built to reinforce pleasure-seeking behaviors. Neurochemical feedback loops, all of it designed to keep him coming back. To keep him wanting. As if he needed the help.

Spencer doesn’t even pretend to think about it before saying, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

Your lips twitch. You’re about to tease him, he can tell.

“It wouldn’t be a bad thing at all,” you say, tilting your head. “But wasn’t it you who went on that tangent about how platonic relationships significantly improve cognitive function?”

Spencer tries to find a loophole in that statement.

“And we,” you say, tracing a path down the trail of hair at his navel, “are not exactly fulfilling the platonic requirement.”

There was a time when he would have insisted — vehemently, even — that their relationship was strictly platonic. Fool’s errand.

“I mean, technically, if we wanted to be platonic, we could just… say we are.” That alone is egregiously incorrect. Spencer prepares to say as much, but then you pause, rolling the thought over like you’re actually considering it, before adding, “Like if we don’t label it, then it doesn’t count, right?”

His first instinct is to argue. His second instinct is to really argue. But neither one survives the sensory overload of you pressed against him.

“It’s like when you don’t open your credit card statements,” you continue, lips pursed. “Sure, the debt exists, but if you don’t acknowledge it, then it doesn’t feel real. So technically, if we just never say what this is, then it’s…”

“Schrödinger’s relationship?”

Spencer doesn’t know why he gives you the words, why he hands you the metaphor like a loaded gun and watches as you take perfect aim.

“Exactly! We exist in a state of undefined possibilities. We’re both platonic and not platonic until we open the box.”

Spencer sighs, rubbing at his temple, because now his entire brain is consumed by the implications of your logic. 

Schrödinger’s cat was never meant to be a real experiment, just a way to illustrate how, in quantum mechanics, particles can exist in multiple states until measured. The cat is placed in a box, along with a vial of poison triggered by a completely random quantum event. Until the box is opened, it’s both alive and dead, trapped in an impossible in-between, a paradox that shouldn’t exist but somehow does. The problem is, that concept doesn’t translate perfectly to relationships. People aren’t quantum particles. Relationships don’t exist in probability states.

Except, apparently, this one does. Because as long as neither of you put a definitive label on what’s happening here, you exist in an undefined state. 

He glances at you, at the expectant look in your eyes, and something about it makes him laugh, not because this is funny, necessarily, but because of course it would take a physics analogy for him to see what’s been obvious all along.

“I’m fairly certain that if we opened the metaphorical box, we would find that the cat — that is, our relationship — was decidedly not platonic.”

He hopes you’ll take the words for what they mean. That, for once, you won’t take the obvious escape route, won’t let yourself tuck this moment nearly into the realm of plausible deniability.

Because what he really said, what he really meant, was that he wants you. Only you. Singular, exclusive, definitively. If you pressed him for stronger language, he’d give it to you.

Your face was quick to light up.

“Are you asking me to go steady? Because Spencer, that’s a serious commitment. That means shared desserts, and, like, the expectation that I text you goodnight. And what’s the policy on PDA? Full access or —”

The rest of your sentence vanishes into fabric as Spencer pulls your shirt over your head, words muffled into cotton. You let out a muffled protest, momentarily caught in the fabric, and Spencer swears he’s never been more tempted to laugh at anything in his life.

By the time he tosses your shirt aside, you’ve recovered, blinking at him like nothing happened, hair adorably mussed.

“ — case-by-case basis?”

Spencer drags his hands down your hair, smoothing out the worst of the damage. He sighs dramatically, but his lips are twitching. “If I had known going steady required this much paperwork, I would’ve reconsidered.”

You grin at him. “Oh, you think this is bad? Just wait until we get into the holiday gift-giving policies and date night scheduling. Speaking of which —”

He doesn’t let you finish. He kisses you mid-sentence, less because he wants to shut you up (though that’s a nice bonus) and more because he can. Because he gets to. Because somehow, without him even realizing it was happening, this wonderful, impossible thing has become real.

This thing between you, this thing that was supposed to be undefined, a quantum maybe, it’s never been uncertain. It’s never been both platonic and not platonic, no matter how long he tried to pretend otherwise.

No, the box is open now. It probably always was. 

And Spencer had never been so happy to kill the cat.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Yandere batfamily x neglected reader

From the moment you were ten, you had sought their attention like a moth drawn to a flame. But the flame was always too hot, always too far away, and with every desperate attempt to get close, they burned you. You had been a shadow in their world, hovering at the edges of their lives, wanting, needing. Needing. That word, so simple, yet it had been the curse of your existence. You needed them. You needed their time, their care, their love. But they never saw you, never acknowledged the pit of loneliness that gnawed at you every time you begged to be included.

They had brushed you aside, every single time.

The family, your family, was never really yours.

It started when you were just a kid. “Not now, kid,” they would say. Or “Go play somewhere else.” Every time you tried to insert yourself into their lives, they shoved you away, like a toy they’d grown tired of. They didn’t need you. Not when there were bigger things at stake. Not when Gotham was drowning in its own darkness, when the Batcave was filled with the hum of machinery and the rush of adrenaline.

You were just a distraction.

You were nothing.

The words didn’t change as you grew older. They only got sharper.

When you were twelve, you tried again—this time with more subtlety. You offered to help, to be something, anything that would make them notice you. I can be useful, I promise. But no. No, they couldn’t have you tagging along. Not when there were more important things to do, more important people to be with. You were only a child.

By the time you turned fifteen, the bitter reality had set in. You weren’t wanted. You weren’t needed. They were a family—their family—and you? You were the outcast, the inconvenience they only tolerated because they had no choice. They didn’t want you, but they had to keep you around. The occasional glance from Tim, a brief acknowledgment from Dick—enough to keep the illusion of familial love alive, but never enough to make you feel like you mattered.

It wasn’t just Bruce anymore. He had become an empty figure in your life, a distant authority figure who only spoke when there was something to be done. Do this. Do that. Don’t ask questions. That was how you learned to live under his roof—like a shadow. Like a nothing.

There were moments when you thought you might be able to break through. When you thought maybe—just maybe—they would see you for who you were, someone who could stand beside them, shoulder to shoulder, not as a burden but as a part of the family.

But those moments were fleeting. They were crumbs, pieces of hope that you clung to like a starving animal, only for them to be yanked away, leaving you empty once again.

By the time you turned sixteen, you no longer asked. No longer begged. You had learned that your needs were nothing but noise to them. So, you stayed quiet, retreating into the corners of their lives. You were there, but invisible. A ghost that haunted the edges of their family but was never invited to sit at the table.

But it wasn’t just the coldness that broke you. No. It was the sharpness of their words.

The day it all ended—the day your last shred of hope died—had come like a storm.

You were seventeen when you finally broke. You had asked, yet again, for something so simple. You wanted to hang out, to spend the evening together, just for once. No work. No patrols. Just them. Just family. But Dick—always so perfect, so composed—snapped.

“Stop nagging, goddammit!” His voice was low, but the venom was there. The venom that cut deeper than any blade. “I don’t have time for this. You’re not a kid anymore. You should know better.”

And it was in that moment, when the words hit you like fists to your chest, that you knew. It was over. They will never care about you.

No more pleading. No more silence. You were done.

You wanted to scream, to break down and tell him how it felt to always be ignored, to always be pushed aside. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. All you could do was stare at him, the person you had once looked up to, the brother who had made you feel like you belonged. And now? Now he hated you. He resented you. You were just a thorn in his side, something he couldn’t wait to get rid of.

The Batfamily didn’t need you. They didn’t even want you. You were just a memory in the background of their perfect little world.

And so, you left.

You packed your things and left Gotham without a second thought. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care about them. You didn’t care about the lies you had told yourself for years, that someday they would come to love you. No. You were done.

You found a small apartment in a city far, far away. The rent was cheap. The food was okay. It didn’t matter. For the first time in years, you felt a strange kind of peace. No more begging. No more hoping for something that was never going to come.

But the peace didn’t last long. It never does.

Months passed, and the Batfamily went on without you. It wasn’t like you expected them to notice, but they did. They always did.

It started slowly at first. A message from Bruce, terse and businesslike, asking how you were. A phone call from Dick, his voice hesitant, full of uncertainty. Tim sent an email—just a few lines, but still. He’d written “We miss you.”

You didn’t respond. The first few days, you let it sit there, those words ringing in your ears. We miss you. The words came so easily now, but where had they been all those years? You stared at the screen, a hollow laugh escaping your lips. Miss you? They had pushed you aside when you needed them most. They had ignored you, told you to shut up, told you to go away.

Now they missed you?

You threw your phone across the room and sat down, gripping your hair, letting the quiet take you over.

It wasn’t until the second month that they started to call. At first, it was Tim—his voice softer than it had been in years, like a penitent ghost, when he called you.

“Please… just talk to us. We’re… we’re worried about you.”

You didn’t pick up.

Then, Dick. His voice cracked when he asked if you were okay. Just talk to us. How many times had you told them that? How many times had you begged? And now, they were begging you? You felt the rage swell inside you, the bitterness of those years threatening to break you apart.

And that was when they came.

It wasn’t just a phone call. It wasn’t just messages anymore. They came looking for you.

Nightwing was the first. He showed up at your door, standing there in his familiar suit, but his smile was tight, his eyes uncertain.

“Please,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “We just want to talk.”

You stared at him, the same person who had once smiled at you like you meant the world to him. And now? Now he looked like a stranger. Someone who didn’t know who you were. And maybe, in a way, he didn’t.

“Why?” you asked, your voice rough from months of silence. “Why now? Where were you when I needed you?”

The guilt in his eyes only deepened. “We were wrong,” he said, the words fragile, like he was afraid they would break if spoken too loudly. “We… we miss you.”

The anger rose in your chest. They missed you?

The words sounded so hollow. What good was their love now?

They all came. One by one, each member of the family arrived at your door, apologizing, begging for forgiveness, for your attention, your love.

But it was too late.

They had pushed you away for too long, and now you could feel it: the suffocating weight of their regret, the twisting hunger of their need.

They needed you. They needed you so badly. They would never let you go again.

It wasn’t just about family anymore. It wasn’t just about reconciliation. Now, it was about possession.

And the family would do whatever it took to keep you close—no matter the cost.

Gotham had never felt farther away, yet the shadows of the family loomed larger than ever.

You weren’t sure if you were ready to go back, to reopen that door. But deep down, you knew one thing.

They would never let you leave again.

And now?

Now, they were willing to do anything to make sure of it.

(A/n: no part 2 becuz it's a one shot 😸)

[cylci]

☘︎🄻🅄🄲🄺🅈🄲🄷🄰🅁🄼☘︎

PT.2 ೃ࿐ 𝒮𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓀𝒶 𝓍 𝐹!𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 🍀

Summary: Sevika is on a mission to find her old lover after she became a counselor at piltover and asked for a petition to relook the charges done on every zaunie in the prison to give them a second chance. Well.. that’s what she told Caitlyn but in reality she is looking for you. How will she react when she find out you were already released.

Disclaimers: unbelievably sad sevika, slow burn (kind of), lil smut,Rebonding, Sevika and reader are both in their late 30s to early 40s in present time of this fic, deaths, reality shock

MEN + MDNI !

Pt.1

As you guys arrived to the bar, where you’d be meeting up with the others. You were met with Felicia and Silco talking about some things he was working on his notebook. And Vander in the back of the bar seeming to clean up some dishes.

You and Sevika walked towards them and greeted them all w a peck on the cheek custom you had for greeting family and friends. Sevika just smiled and sat down near them.

You guys were getting prepared for the leave also waiting for Benzo to finish up at his father’s work shop, a responsibility he was obliged to take under every circumstance.

Right when the clock hit 10pm, Benzo walked right thru the door “You guys ready to go?” A smile crept up your face and everybody else in the room stood upright all of you had waited for this moment.

Now….it’s here.

━━━━━━━༻☘︎༺━━━━━━━━

Around these times Piltover hadn’t open the bridge to the public of Zaun to cross over. So they had to go through a small boat. The only time and only people who would go down to Zaun where the enforces to abuse their power against zaunies, to enforce their laws and rules against them and their councilors to inspect and label them as monsters their people of high status should “fear.”

They were treated as Animals.

The plan was so hijack the boat once it reaches the dock of where all the merchandise and supplies get loaded in.

By this they hijack the boat and take off with the boat AND the weapons. Obit before they arrive there they have to be off their own small boat so they don’t see it anywhere. They’d have to be off their own boat and IN Piltover shores.

━━━━━━━༻☘︎༺━━━━━━━━

As you guys arrived there with no issue. Now you have to get out of the boat without being seen by any enforcers or any civilians.

Vander was the first one out the boat, Sevika followed checking the premises around the dock.

The dock is filled with boxes and goods forgetting by Piltover people.

They hid behind them trying to not be seen by the 2 enforcers assigned the morning shift.

You guys knew this. That’s why if anything happened before the cargo came.

6 against 2 is an easy slap on the hand.

As Sevika held her hand out to you so you could get off the boat, Felicia stayed being the last one off she assured to untie the boat of the rails so it roam free around the waters. She’s plan B.

It was a distraction for later.

From afar you could see the cargo ship coming in.

You took your places some of you hiding among civilians, hiding behind cargo, around enforcers. But never seen.

You were hiding near the dock around some cargo. Sevika was hiding on the opposite side of dock. You were their eyes, you kept on some binoculars keeping watch whenever the cargo kept coming in closer and closer.

��Pss.”

immediately turning your head towards the sound, Sevika.

You scrunched up your nose to signal her a ‘what?’.

You see her mouthing something trying to be quiet. Squinting your eyes, you read her lips.

“Once, we finish…

We will get a new home.

For me.

You.

And your sisters.”

You smiled brightly at her mouthing back a yes.

Bitting your smile back…you hear a thug.

huh..w-what.

What was that? ..

Your eyes lock with Sevikas eyes widen, as your binoculars had fallen out of your hands. To the ground, making a loud noise hitting the ground. Immediately you shift your body to look where the enforcer on your right shoulder behind you was at.

He was gone. Out of sight.

Your mind panicked as you were in between the binoculars or getting the fuck out of there.

1. If you moved you risk getting caught.

2. If you move WITHOUT the binoculars, you leave evidence of people being there. And risk your friends and YOU getting caught.

FUCK. Is the only world running across your mind.

You look out to where the boat was and see it was coming in fast.

You look back at Sevika to see her lounging herself at you.

You see a bullet coming right thru the boxes.

Everything happened so fast.

One you were watching the boat.

Now two, running out of the docks.

Sevika dragged you in between the civilians knowing Silco was one of the ones keeping watch in between them.

You look back to see Vander and Benzo Running towards you guys.

What you don’t see is the swarm of enforcers running towards all of you like a crazy pack of wolves. Hungry. Hungry for blood.

You fucked up, fucked up real bad.

“We got caught.” Sevika spat at Silco and ran to the other side across the city. Where another dock resides. Praying to Felicia she will be there once they get there. It’s not as close as its sounds.

The whole other side of the fucking city. The people, the shops, the bridges all their fancy carts. In the fucking way.

Running like your life depended on it. Or you take a bullet or risk getting locked up forever.

You snapped out of your trance and started to pick up your running.

Benzo and Vander were upfront making way for anyone in the way. Slammed or pushed.

You’re getting the fuck out.

As you ran you saw an easy exit remembering the maps you had studied. For over a year.

“THIS WAY.” You yelled running past them and leading them off the streets were all the civilians. At least one hoping you’d trip and fall to be captured.

Tuning into the alley way you smacked your thigh with a sharp edge of a trash can. Gripping into your thigh and running the way out. You knew you couldn’t stop to even look at it, cause each second here counts.

The other guys and Sevika are right behind you. Following you.

You felt like shit how a mission like this you planned for the longest, just cause of one simple mistake. Is now all over.

All you have to figure out now is how to get out of there, and quick.

━━━━━━━༻☘︎༺━━━━━━━━

Flying bullets, cuffs, stones,anything, anything to stop you guys from running was thrown at you. By civilians and enforcers.

You were sweating, drops falling into your eyes. Legs numb and knees bending. You couldn’t keep up with the group.

You look back to see how far the enforcers were. You couldn’t see them anymore.

You stopped your tracks “Guys, give me a second.” Gasping for breath you tell your group.

“We gotta keep going we’re close.” Said sevika “I’ll carry you-“ she offered draping your arm to her shoulders.

“N-no no- it’s fine I can-.” BAM.

Your ears started ringing, all you could see was red.

“NOOOOOOO!!!!” Sevika screamed. Holding onto you. She was gripping on a spot that felt wet, mushy even.

You stomach, a bullet came right thru you.

With this, your sight was becoming blurry and your words sluggish.

The guys were yelling and screaming looking and trying to figure out who shot you.

As they panicked, a group of enforcers could be seen running towards you guys.

“Let me carry you.” Sevika grabs your legs to pull your body to her chest.

“ARRRGHH. FAUCK.” You scream, the pain shooting up your body. As your bleeding out.

“Stop it!! Shiit just leave. LEAVE.” You scream at them. Wanting desperately to see them escape and see them arrive back to their homes with their families. Yours becoming blurry as the desperation is crippling in your mind. Your try your hardest to make them leave. Giving them reassurance that you will be okay.

You try to walk holding yourself so stop the bleeding.

“NO , WHAT THE FUCK.” Sevika yells and everybody freezes their panic.

BAM.

Not leaving another second to react another bullet was shot. This one missed.

Sevika didn’t let you process, putting your arm on her shoulder and running. Everyone ran right beside you both.

Crying and groaning as the pain tortured your body.

The enforcers were catching up.

You guys were able to lose them or at least giving you some time as you find another short cut to the dock.

“Go here” your voice now in a whisper as the pain is so strong your throat hurts to even work.

Running thru this alley you see the dock about 30ft away from you.

“We are almost there hold on” sevika tries to comfort you, as she ran her best without trying to hurt you. Her eyes filled with fear, she couldn’t stop her eyebrows from arching or her lips from trembling.

“GUYS WHAT HAPPENED??” Felicia yelled as you guys were getting closer.

That is until.

“WATCH OUT.” Sevika hears, looking behind her. Only being able to hear a screeching sound from under her.

Once she looks back she trips with herself and you fall to the ground with her. She smacked herself on the head.

It made her so dizzy she couldn’t get up, she was bleeding on her head.

the guys were in front of you before you fell.

“SEVIKA, Y/N” Vander yelled making Benzo and Silco look. He ran back at you guys to get you back up and running.

You were so close. So close.

But as another shot was fired. And another. And another. They were shooting at you guys in te ground.

This made sevika instinctively get up to try to get out of the way. But by doing this she made the space between you and her farther.

Unable to move, you received another shot. Right in your leg as you laid numb on the ground.

You screamed once you felt the impact, your screaming unfogging sevikas mind.

Right when she turns around to run back to you. You were thrown cuffs right to your legs as the wire wrapped around them. You were huddled up by enforcers.

Them not realizing the time they took to try and get to you.

Benzo and Vander get ahold of sevika “LET ME GO! “ she is screaming your name, pushing Benzo and Vander off her as they grabbed her arms to run back to the boat.

“We will come back for her Sevika,I promise.” Vander says pushing her into the boat as sevika screamed and cried.

Felicia started the boat, your screams were heard as the boat parted with the dock.

Sevika fought and pushed Vander and Benzo off as they held her down in the boat. She couldn’t just leave you. Her world was falling apart and everything feels so chaotic and unreal. She doesn’t even know wtf is going on anymore.

━━━━━━━༻☘︎༺━━━━━━━━

Once the enforcers secured you, you were thrown into a enforcers cart (like a police car ) you fought and screamed at them.

One of them grabbed you by the hair as they dragged you to the cart.

“Stop fighting, or you’ll get another hole shot right thru you.” spat the enforcer as they threw you in.

You groaned in pain having been shot, not once but twice.

You were sent to the place were they prepare the prisoners for the leave. They left you sitting down cuffed to a chair without any medical assistance.

The chair was filled with blood and all your clothes too.

Being dragged in you left a trail all the way to where your sat. Just waiting, waiting to see if you’ll be alive once you close your eyes or in complete darkness.

━━━━━━━༻☘︎༺━━━━━━━━

Back to the undercity, Sevika was manic. She fought and screamed at anything or everyone in her way. She even tried to get back on the boat but instead got into a fight with Vander she punched him and he let her.

“WHY DIDNT YOU FUCKING GRAB HER, WHY. WHY DID THIS FUCKING HAPPENED.” She yelled at her groups in frustration. Punching and throwing everything.

“I’m sorry, Sevika.” Was the only thing Vander could say. Knowing this was only going to make things worst.

“No one knew Sev, please. Calm down.” Silco said walking up to them.

grabbing her hair and pulling it as hard as she could, she jammed her fist right in her head.

Sevika was losing it, right in front of their eyes. No one had ever seen her, not even once shed a tear.

Sniffing was heard behind them, once they turned they were met with Felicia crying her head in her hands as she kneeled on the ground.

“Felicia-“ Vander spoke out, but stopped as he looked down to see sevika breaking down on her knees looking up at the sky.

Her eyes red with tears streaming on her face, nose runny and mouth wide open.

She slammed her fist repeatedly against her chest. Sevika was crying.

Everybody went silent just to hear her cries, begging Janna to bring you back to her, to forgive her for not being able to save you. She cried and cried.

Felicia got up and hugged sevika sobbing right into her neck. “I’m so sorry Sevika, she’ll be okay.“

It felt like a chunk of herself that she so held close to her heart, she felt like the vulnerability she expressed to this place was just taken. Like that. And it was you. Her true self was gone now. The family she wanted to create was gone. The family she had was gone. It was gone with you cause that’s how she could only feel to be herself. With you.

━━━━━━━༻☘︎༺━━━━━━━━

Sorry for the wait!!

Part 3 is out !!

Enjoy ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Tag list: @mikuley , @sugurulefttesticle

DO NOT REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS ON ANY OTHER PLATFORMS. This is my one and only account.

[levisjinchuriki]

forever yours

summary: you and gojo have been separated for six months due to his troubles. you try to juggle co-parenting your young son and moving on, but gojo makes it obvious he’s not ready to give you up on your relationship yet

warning: just angst

word count: 2.3k

the separation of you and gojo was hard. you had devoted so much of your life, time and energy to him only to feel like you weren’t a priority. it was a terrible feeling you could push past during the first few years together, but after your wedding and the birth of your son, you started to realize how unfair it was. 

gojo’s job kept him away from home a lot, leaving you to take care of your son, haru. when he did manage to get some time off- things just didn’t feel the same as they once were. he always seemed distracted. 

he still loved you, of course. you were the only woman in his life he had ever truly been in love with. that will never change. and he didn’t realize how much he was slacking until you served him divorce papers one night- looking so defeated. it caught him off guard, and he was surprised that you had taken such a step. 

you were steadfast as gojo tried to convince you out of your decision. and when you didn’t budge he realized how many mistakes he’d made leading up to this moment. he couldn’t blame you, but he also couldn’t force you to take him back. 

he didn’t sign the papers. there’s no way in hell he’d do that. delusional or not, he’d convinced himself you’d be together again and going through the motions of a divorce would just complicate everything. he did reach a compromise with you, though. he was forced to accept the reality that he had lost you as his wife. gojo had enough money to take care of both you and haru so you could focus on raising him without having to work. per your request to live separately, gojo moved into an apartment on the other side of town. 

and when gojo put the last of his belongings in the moving truck haru ran up to him, sobbing as his small body clutched at gojo’s legs. 

“don’t go daddy” haru cried against him. it broke gojo’s heart. not only was he losing you as his wife, but his actions had torn his family apart. haru, the light of his life, was forced to be in the middle of his parent’s separation. it wasn’t fair to him and the guilt ate at gojo everyday.

your son loved his father, and if there was one thing gojo prioritized- it was haru. 

you had to turn away as tears slipped down your cheeks. it was almost too much for you to handle. you tried to stick through your marriage for haru’s sake, but you couldn’t keep up the act anymore. and although you were the one pushing him away, it hurt so much to see satoru leave. but it was the best decision for you, both mentally and emotionally. 

he had moved out six months ago now and still, the house felt all too empty.

—

the sound of Haru’s footsteps echo as he moves from room to room, looking for something to occupy his mind. he's become used to his dad not always being around, but he’s just a boy and he still needs his father in his life. gojo is still present, though only on the weekends when he has most of his free time. you would never completely take either of them away from each other. 

you sit on the couch, staring blankly at the screen in front of you- not sure what you had been watching as you aren’t paying attention. haru had been quiet tonight, spending most of his time drawing or playing alone. he’s almost four, now. he’s bright and everything you need. 

you smile as haru walks into the living room, clutching his favorite stuffed animal and rubbing his eyes. 

“mommy,” he yawns softly, “can i call daddy?”.

even after all these months the question is like a knife to your heart. you’ve tried to protect him from the worst of the separation, but the longing in his eyes is something you can’t ignore. you nod, forcing a smile. “of course, baby”. 

the phone rings a few times before gojo answers. his voice always has a warmth to it that makes you melt every time. 

“hey,” he greets. “is it bedtime?”. haru would talk to his dad every night before bed, a ritual that he tries his hardest not to break, even if he is busy with work. 

“yeah, he wants to speak to you”, you say.

haru’s small hands eagerly hold the phone to his ear, his face lights up at the sound of his father’s voice. “daddy! it’s me!”, he says excitedly. your heart melts at how much he loves his father.

gojo’s tone immediately softens. “hi, sweet boy. how’s my little guy doing?” he coos. gojo cherishes every moment he has with haru. it means so much to him to talk to him every night and make sure he’s okay, even if he isn’t around anymore. 

haru babbles about his day and gojo eagerly listens. he loves it when his son gets excited. 

haru clutches the phone tightly after he finishes, suddenly becoming upset. his small voice trembles slightly at his next sentence. “i miss you, daddy. when are you coming home?”. 

the silence on the other end of the line is heavy. gojo’s breathing is a mixture of sadness and regret. he wishes he could be there with the both of you. 

“i miss you too”. he’s not sure how to answer the little boy’s question. it all depends on you and if you are willing to sort through your issues together or not. he hopes you will decide to, but your relationship hasn’t improved much since he moved out. he’s not even sure if you still wear your ring. 

you can see haru’s eyes welling up with tears as he tries to hold back his emotions. 

“why can’t you come home? i want you here with us.”. he didn’t understand why his father had left in the first place. he’s too young to understand the concept of separation, even though you and gojo have explained it to him before. in his mind, if you both love each other then you should all be living together as one. he can’t grasp that even if you love someone so much, sometimes you have to let them go. 

gojo clears his throat. “i know, precious. things are complicated right now, but i promise i’m working on it”. whether he’s successful or not, gojo intends to try to mend things with you in any way he can.

“i’m coming to pick you up tomorrow and we can spend the whole weekend together. how does that sound?”. he tries to cheer haru up. 

the boy sniffles and wipes his eyes. “okay, daddy. i love you”. 

“i love you too, haru,” gojo says softly. “more than anything”. 

after a few more exchanged words and assurances, haru hands the phone back to you before climbing in your lap. you rub his back comfortingly as you bring the phone to your ear. 

“you still there?”, gojo asks. without needing to mask his tone for his son, you can hear just how defeated he sounds. 

you confirm you’re still on the line. the conversation is short- you and gojo discussing when to meet at the park tomorrow for him to pick up haru. in the last few months you’ve stopped having personal conversations with him- just trying to focus on co-parenting. it was easier for you that way.

you look down at your son and brush his hair from his face. he’s a spitting image of his father- same ghostly white locks and stunning eyes that held all the potential of the world within them. every time you looked at him, it was like seeing a smaller, more innocent version of satoru. and that made it harder to move on.

“daddy loves you very much. we’ll see him soon, okay?”, you assure him with a kiss on the head. 

haru nods against your shoulder, his small frame cuddled up to you. “okay, mommy”.

you hold him tightly, wishing you can offer more than just words of comfort. the house is still big and empty, but you try to fill it with all the love and reassurance you could muster. for haru’s sake, you hope that someday soon, this will all be behind you.

—

haru’s laughter rings out as he chases a butterfly through the empty park, the pure sound filling the air with a sweetness that tugs at your heart. you watch him, torn between the joy of his innocence and the ache of the life you once dreamed of with satoru. the butterfly flutters just out of haru's reach, and he giggles, his happiness a stark contrast to the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

the crunch of footsteps on gravel snaps you out of your thoughts, and though you don’t look up, you know who it is. satoru’s presence is unmistakable, a force that commands attention even without a word. he slides onto the bench beside you, close enough that his warmth seeps into your skin without touching you. he watches haru play for a moment before turning his attention to you. 

“i missed you”. his voice is sweet like honey, the words slipping out effortlessly. it’s that natural charm, the way he makes even the simplest phrases sound enchanting, that drew you to him in the first place. 

you turn to face him, finally meeting his gaze. those damn blue eyes–deep and endless like the ocean—have always been your weakness, pulling you in no matter how hard you try to resist. they hold a mix of emotions, swirling with the memories of a past you can’t quite let go of. his eyes search yours, and for a moment, it feels like time stops, as if the world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you and the unspoken feelings hanging in the air.

“what we had was a life full of complications,” you respond, not allowing yourself to get pulled into his trap. “you’re still in that world, satoru. and i can’t be a part of it anymore. haru can’t be a part of it”. 

his jaw tightens as a flicker of determination flashes in his eyes. “just because you’re pushing me away doesn’t mean i’m gonna give up”, his voice is low, laced with a quiet resolve.  “i haven’t given up on us”. the weight of his words hangs between you, thick with emotion, as if he’s daring you to believe him, to see the fight still left in him.

your heart aches at his words. you want to believe him, to let yourself fall back into the warmth of his promises. there is still so much love in your heart for satoru, but love alone isn’t enough to mend the things that had broken you apart. the dangers he faced daily, the secrets he kept hidden away, the growing distance that had slowly stretched between you until it became an uncrossable chasm—it had all become too much. the memories of what you once had clash with the reality of what you've lost, leaving you torn between the past and the painful truth of the present.

“don’t make this harder than it already is.” you plead, feeling your resolve weaken. he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. 

i’m not ready to let you go,” he admits, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “i don’t know if i’ll ever be.”

the confession hangs between you, heavy and unresolved. it would be so easy to slip back into old habits, to let him back in and pretend that everything could be okay again. but you deserve more than that. and deep down, you know the truth. satoru isn’t ready to change, and you aren’t ready to keep living in a world where he could be taken away at any moment. the weight of his unfulfilled promises and the uncertainty of your future press down on you, a reminder of the painful reality you can’t escape.

“haru needs stability,” you say softly, pulling your hand away. “he needs a life that doesn’t revolve around waiting for his father to come home in one piece”. gojo doesn’t miss a beat

“and what about you?” satoru asks, his voice laced with a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “what do you need?”

for a moment, silence envelops you both, the weight of the question hanging heavily in the air, unspoken yet profoundly understood. you look at him, at the man who once meant everything to you, and feel the tears well up in your eyes.

you need to move on. it’s been half a year, and you’re still in the same place, still foolishly hoping that satoru will change overnight. still waiting for him to burst through the door, fall to his knees, and apologize for everything that’s gone wrong in your relationship. the reality of your stagnant situation presses down on you, a painful reminder that hope alone isn’t enough to mend the fractures that have grown too deep.

haru’s laughter rings out again, drawing both of your eyes to him as he runs toward you, blissfully unaware of the tension between his parents. satoru stands up as haru reaches him, lifting him into his arms with a grin that makes your heart clench. he showers haru’s chubby cheeks with kisses, telling him how much he’s missed him this week, making haru giggle with delight. Satoru is such a good father, and that only makes everything harder.

“ready to go?” he asks, holding haru close. the boy nods, and satoru tells him to say goodbye to you.

“bye, mommy!” haru waves enthusiastically. you kiss his cheek and tell him you’ll pick him up soon.

“i’ll see you sunday?” satoru confirms, his gaze searching yours.

you nod, unable to trust your voice. with one last wave at haru you watch as they make their way toward his car. as they disappear from view, the weight of what you’re leaving behind settles heavily over you. moving on was never easy, but with satoru, it feels almost impossible.

----

>> ch 2

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[sadnymi]

「 ✦ One of your girls .✦ 」

[Theodore Nott x reader]

Summary: Theodore Nott was the love of my life, the one I'd trade my whole world for. But this summer, I yearned for a different role in his life, even if it meant becoming just one of his girls

Warning:fluff,angst,smut, oral (f!received), fingering, lying about virginity,(+18)

Words:8k

In this world of labels there are , "good boys" and "bad boys," Theodore Nott existed in a category all his own. like devil in disguise, but manlier. And definitely hotter by like a thousand degrees .

As I stood there, captivated by his interaction with a Gryffindor girl, two stark realizations crashed over me. First, I desperately needed to refine my Marauder mischief skills. And More importantly, I needed to bridge the chasm between myself and Theodore. This summer, I wouldn't just be his little sister's best friend; I craved a different role in his life.

Lana's voice, sharp and cutting through my reverie, jolted me back to reality. "Y/N, are you with me?"

"Forgive me, my thoughts wandered," I muttered, composing myself with practiced neutrality.

“I was just saying, I really want Dad to approve this environmental camp," she continued, her enthusiasm undeterred.

"Absolutely," I agreed, forcing a smile. "Those Larus birds undeniably deserve all the protection we can offer." However, my gaze remained tethered to Theodore and his seemingly animated conversation with the Gryffindor girl.

"Right?" Lana beamed. "Perhaps Theo or Christian could help us sway Father?" Lana suggested hopefully.

"An excellent suggestion," I managed, a barbed comment forming on my tongue.

Perhaps your brother would engage in more productive activities than fraternizing with the Gryffindor girl. But I swallowed the retort.

"Christian can be a bit overprotective, bless his heart," Lana began, "but I do believe the 'puppy-dog eyes' technique, as he calls it, might work on Theo," Lana mused cheerfully.believe

A pang of curiosity shot through me. Could this "puppy eyes" technique be effective on Theo as well? I stifled the urge to inquire.

As if sensing my scrutiny, I almost choked on a gasp when he turned, our eyes locking for a beat too long. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, he resumed his conversation with the Gryffindor girl. My mind conjured elaborate – and disturbing – daydreams of her demise.

"Are you alright?" Lana's voice held a hint of worry.

"Perfect," I muttered, the word a lie heavy on my tongue. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the backdrop of my escalating jealousy.

"Then let's proceed," she declared, taking my hand in hers.

The world became a blur as we walked, the proximity to Theo and his unwelcome companion amplifying my agitation. My pulse pounded in my ears, a relentless drumbeat against the backdrop of muted classroom sounds.

Finally, we passed them. Still, Theo's gaze lingered on me, a silent connection that sent a wave of heat through my body. Just as abruptly, , Then in a move that stole the breath from my lungs, the Gryffindor girl cupped Theodore's jaw, pulling him down for a rough, aggressive kiss. I averted my eyes, a wave of nausea washing over me.

“ EWWW “ Lana muttered, mirroring my own disgust.

“Perhaps," I ventured, my voice tight with unspoken emotions, "you should utilize those puppy dog eyes sooner before he gets distracted again “

Potions became a blurry mess of bubbling cauldrons and swirling fumes. Snape's usual scathing commentary faded into the background, as my mind replayed the scene on loop: Theo, his lips locked with the Gryffindor girl, a stranger who somehow managed to snag his attention. Her triumphant smirk as she pulled away felt branded onto my eyelids.

Jealousy gnawed at me like a rogue Flobberworm. Every stolen glance his way felt like a betrayal, a secret message only I could decipher. Was this what Lana meant by "puppy eyes"? Because right now, all I wanted to do was unleash my inner dragon and set the damn girl ablaze.

The Great Hall echoed with the boisterous chatter of lunchtime. As I joined my friends at the Slytherin table, a familiar warmth washed over me – camaraderie, yes, but something more potent simmered beneath the surface. My stolen glance at Theo, however, sent a jolt of conflicting emotions. He was already there, his dark eyes locked on mine for a lingering moment before he averted his gaze.

A playful tug on my braid brought me back to reality. Lana, a mischievous glint in her eyes, was trying to get me out of my misery that she can’t quite understand what gets me into

Mattheo, being his usual blunt self, decided to stir up some trouble, "Just want to make sure the rumors are true. Did our little Y/N break Cedric Diggory's heart?"he said, causing Theo's gaze to intensify on me, igniting a mix of excitement and nervousness within me.

"Sorry, what?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay, y/n, we can see that you're at that age for those kinds of things. What puberty did to you can't go unnoticed,"

My cheeks burned a furious red. The air crackled with tension as Blaise's words hung in the air.

Before I could retort, a cold fury replaced Theo's usual nonchalance. "Shut the hell up, Zabini, before I make you."

His sharp tone silenced the table. I stole a glance at him, he looked relaxed despite his tone , his eyes locked in a silent battle with Blaise. And that was well- very awkward

Matteo, unfazed by Theo's outburst, pressed on. "Back to the broken heart thing, did you really ditch a date with Diggory?"

My cheeks burned under the scrutiny of the table. "It wasn't like that, he understood," I stammered, desperately trying to salvage the situation. "I just said I had to study."

Lana, oblivious to my boiling frustration, jumped in. "No, no, she's just being humble! Cedric was head over heels! He was moping around for days after she said no, his heart practically shattered. Still he can't seem to take his eyes off her today."

I shot her a glare that could curdle milk, but she just winked back, clearly enjoying the drama.

"Why'd you turn him down, then?" Blaise pressed, his amusement evident.

Theo, however, surprised everyone. "She's still too young for that," he muttered. Really? The audacity! My hand twitched, a silent promise of violence aimed at his handsome but infuriating face.

My temper flared. "First of all," I stated, fixing him with a hard stare, "I'm only a year younger than you. Second, I said no because it wouldn't be fair to either of us. I already have feelings for someone else."

A collective gasp rippled through the group.

"You never told me that!" Lana exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise.

"No," I said, trying to project a confidence I didn't entirely feel. My gaze locked with Theo's, daring him to look away. "I was planning on telling you… tonight."

"Who is this mystery man?" Matteo leaned forward, his tone laced with curiosity. "Do we know him?"

"No, you don't," I lied smoothly, a flicker of defiance sparking in my chest. "He graduated."

A wave of disappointment washed over Blaise's face. "Oooh, Y/N, you sneaky minx! Who knew you had that in you?"

The Hogwarts Express rumbled to a halt, signaling the end of the semester and the glorious (or dreaded, depending on who you asked) freedom of summer. Bidding farewell to Lana, whose eyes held a knowing glint that made me sweat, I trudged off the train, eager to reach the familiar comfort of my own home.

Living just two houses away from Theo and Lana meant constant proximity, which could be either a blessing or a curse depending on how things unfolded. The lie about a mysterious older boyfriend sat heavy in my stomach. It was a desperate attempt to buy myself some breathing room, a chance to navigate the confusing maze of emotions swirling within me.

The oppressive heat of summer hung heavy in the air, mirroring the nervous knot in my stomach. Lana's father had finally approved the conservation camp, and while I was happy for her, a pang of disappointment shot through me. That meant less time to figure things out with Theo.

Taking a deep breath I slipped into a summer dress – the kind that hugged my curves perfectly and left a trail of cool air on my skin.

Taking a deep breath, I crossed the two houses separating our homes and knocked on Theo's door. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. What was I even doing here?

The door creaked open, revealing Mrs. Finch, the Nott family housekeeper, her face etched with surprise. "Miss Y/N? What a surprise! Mr. Theo is the only one home, I'm afraid. Miss Lana's still out."

My cheeks flushed crimson. This was not the grand entrance I'd envisioned. "Oh!" I feigned surprise. "Goodness, how forgetful of me. I just realized I left something in Lana's room. Terribly sorry to bother you, Mrs. Finch."

The housekeeper's expression softened. "No trouble at all, dear. Just head on up, third door on the right."

With a mumbled thank you, I practically sprinted up the stairs, my heart thundering in my chest. This impulsive, poorly-planned visit was already spiraling out of control. Would he see through my flimsy excuse? Most importantly, what was I going to say to him once I was alone with him under the guise of borrowing something from Lana?

The familiar chaos of Lana's room swam before my eyes. Clothes littered the floor, forgotten textbooks sat precariously on the desk,I don’t know why she insisted that no one else but her clean her room when she barley do it

"Are you lost?"

The sound of Theo's voice cut through the mental fog. I spun around, heart hammering against my ribs like a frantic hummingbird. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his gaze lingering on me a beat too long.

And then, his eyes scanned me from head to toe, a slow, deliberate sweep that sent a jolt of heat straight to my core. Merlin's beard, I wanted to be on my knees (respectfully, of course). That summer dress, the impulsive visit - everything suddenly felt like a terrible, wonderful mistake.

"N-no," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I, uh, just came to… borrow something from Lana." The lie tasted like ashes in my mouth, but I couldn't bring myself to confess my real motive. Not yet, anyway.

Theo pushed himself off the doorframe, taking a slow step closer. The air crackled with a tension that had nothing to do with the summer heat. "Is that right?" he drawled, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. His eye held an unreadable depth that made my breath hitch.

"Yes," I managed, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "She mentioned a book on… Larus migration patterns? I thought I might borrow it for some summer reading."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "Larus migration patterns, huh? Sounds like a fascinating read for a summer day."

His words were laced with a double meaning, and a blush crept up my cheeks. Was he teasing me? Did he suspect my real reason for being here?

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. My carefully constructed plan was falling apart faster than a poorly brewed Amortentia potion. But before I could stammer out another excuse, Theo surprised me with a soft chuckle.

"Well," he drawled, his voice softer now, "since Lana's not here, perhaps I could help you find the book."

The breath caught in my throat. Here I was, caught red-handed (or rather, red-dressed), and yet, Theo's amusement was oddly disarming. His casual demeanor didn't quite match the intensity I'd glimpsed in his eyes moments ago.

"Really?" I squeaked, my voice barely above a whisper. The air crackled between us, charged with a sudden shift in energy.

A slow smirk played on his lips. "Yeah, why not? Did you want someone else to help you, maybe?"

He took a slow step forward, his presence filling the room. I instinctively leaned back, my back hitting the wall with a soft thud. A thrill shot through me as his eyes lingered on my face, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

"He's not here, though," he drawled, the amusement leaving his voice. "So bad."

Confusion clouded my mind. "He?" I stammered.

Theo's brows furrowed. "Oh, your older, hot crush? That's what you said, right? So you're here all dressed up and making excuses for nothing." The smile that had been playing on his lips vanished completely.

A wave of panic washed over me. "Are you kidding me?" I blurted out, unable to contain my frustration. Heat crept up my cheeks. "Are you that blind?" just then I realized the depth of my mistake. He thought my crush was Christopher, his own brother!

He was close now, so close I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His hands braced themselves on either side of my face, caging me in. My breath caught in my throat.

"Trapped?" he murmured, his voice a low growl.

If looks could kill, I would have been dead. Theo's expression was a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion. I reached out hesitantly, my fingers brushing against his cheek. Thankfully, he didn't pull away.

"It's not Christopher," I whispered, my eyes darted drawn to the tempting curve of his lips.

"Oh yeah?" he challenged, his voice husky.

I couldn't hold back any longer. This was it. With a surge of desperation, I cupped his face with one hand, the other finding its way to the back of his neck and I kissed him.

It was a moment of pure, unadulterated passion. I was kissing Theo it wasn’t a dream , feeling the heat and intensity of the moment wash over me. My lips on his, our breaths mingling, it was my first kiss, but that fact faded into insignificance. He was the only thing that mattered.

Panic briefly gripped me when he didn't immediately respond to the kiss. I pulled away, searching his eyes for any sign of reciprocation, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Fuck," he muttered, pulling me closer, lifting me effortlessly until my legs were wrapped around his waist. His kiss this time was harder, more urgent, our bodies pressed against the wall as he devoured my lips.

It was a hungry kiss, filled with raw desire and longing. I moaned into his mouth, unable to contain the pleasure that surged through me. As his tongue sought entry, I responded eagerly, my hand finding its way to his shoulder, the other tangling in his hair. It felt intoxicatingly good, every touch sending sparks of pleasure coursing through me.

He didn't stop, his kisses growing more intense, more mind-blowing with each passing second. I felt myself teetering on the edge of something powerful, something I had never experienced before.

When he finally pulled away, our lips still touching, he whispered, "We shouldn't do that." I leaned in, wanting more, desperate to recapture the fire he had ignited within me. But this time, he stopped me with a gentle hand on my cheek.

"We shouldn't," he repeated, his words laced with a battle between desire and control.

" You ... don’t want this?" I asked, desperation creeping into my voice.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, before claiming my lips once more in a kiss that left me breathless and wanting more.

He kept kissing me, then his lips dipped lower, trailing a path of fire down my neck. Each touch ignited a new spark within me, a desperate need for more. But just as quickly, he pulled away, his hand clamping over my mouth the moment a moan escaped my lips.

He released me with a ragged breath, fingers brushing my lips – a touch that felt both accidental and deliberate. "Don't fucking let me do that again," he growled, his expression unreadable.

"Theo..." My voice trembled, a choked whisper lost in the deafening silence.

"Don't," he cut me off, his voice laced with a raw emotion that sent shivers down my spine.

I ignored him, the dam of my emotions threatening to burst. "No, Theo, I do like you so much! No, I think I love–"

He slammed his hand down on the nearest surface, the sharp crack echoing through the room. "Stop talking! Stop fucking talking and get out!"

My heart plummeted to my stomach. I stared at him, disbelief etching lines on my face. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't the answer I'd envisioned.

"I said, get out!" he roared, his voice raw with something akin to despair.

My body reacted before my mind could catch up. Fear, a primal and cold sensation, gripped me. I couldn't stay there, not with that look in his eyes. Tears blurring my vision, I turned and fled. I ran blindly out of the room, my feet pounding against the wooden floorboards. I didn't stop until I was out of the house, gasping for breath on the front porch steps. My legs felt like jelly, my vision obscured by a torrent of tears.

After four days of crying in my room, watching romcoms, and indulging in ice cream, I had practically shut myself off from the outside world. Ignoring calls and messages, I had no intention of leaving my room anytime soon.

But then, my phone started ringing, and the name that flashed on the screen caught my attention – Blaise Zabini. Why was he calling me? I debated whether to answer or not, but curiosity got the better of me.

"Hello?" I answered tentatively.

"Hello, beautiful lady. What are you doing tonight?" Blaise's smooth voice flowed through the phone, surprising me.

"Did you mistake my number for someone else?" I asked, slightly bewildered.

Blaise chuckled. "No, Y/N, I'm calling you. There's a party tonight, and you should come."

I couldn't believe it. Blaise inviting me to a party? It seemed surreal, especially considering how distant I had been lately. "Is this some kind of dare?" I half-jokingly asked, recalling how Lana and I had once begged to be included in their circle last year.

"No, of course not. Lana is away at camp, and I figured you must be bored. Plus, you're old enough now. So, are you coming?" Blaise explained.

I was shocked but managed to say, "Yes."

"Good, I'll pick you up," he said confidently.

"Um, what should I wear?" I asked, feeling a bit out of my depth.

"Something hot for sure," Blaise replied, causing my mouth to drop open. Surely, there must be more to it than just small talk and an unexpected invitation.

I dragged myself out of bed, feeling a bit more alive than I had in days. The prospect of going out, even to a party, was both daunting and oddly exciting. I made my way to the bathroom, deciding that a hot shower would do wonders for my mood.

The water cascaded down my skin, washing away some of the heaviness that had settled over me. I washed my hair, taking extra care to make it look presentable. After all, Blaise had mentioned something about looking hot, and I wanted to at least make an effort.

Once out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and stood in front of the mirror, contemplating my options. My wardrobe seemed to mock me with its array of dresses, each one a reminder of happier times. But tonight was different. I wanted to feel good, even if just for a few hours.

My eyes settled on a vibrant off-shoulder red dress, short enough to be playful yet elegant. It had been a while since I'd worn something so bold, but tonight felt like the perfect occasion. Slipping into the dress, I couldn't help but admire how it hugged my curves in all the right places.

With my hair styled in loose waves cascading down my shoulders, I turned to my makeup. Opting for a subtle smokey eye and a bold red lip to match the dress, I added a touch of highlighter to give my skin a healthy glow.

Just as I finished applying the last stroke of mascara, my phone rang again. It was Blaise, letting me know that he was waiting outside. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my purse and headed out.

A slow smirk spread across Blaise's face as he took in my entire outfit. "Damn, Y/N," he said, his voice dropping a cool octave. "You look goodness. Tonight, you're not just breaking hearts, you're shattering them."

"Thanks," I managed, trying to project an air of confidence I wasn't entirely sure I possessed.

The drive to the bar was a blur of conversation and upbeat music. Blaise gave me a heads-up that this was a different scene than the usual hangouts Lana and I frequented. No sticky floors or questionable punch here. This place oozed sophistication with a healthy dose of trendy vibes.

The closer we got, the bigger the butterflies became. "Just a heads-up," Blaise said casually, "Theo's gonna be there."

My eyes widened like headlights caught on high beams. "Why are you telling me this?" I blurted, my voice shaky.

Blaise held up his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa there, little firecracker. Easy now. Listen, I know what happened," he said, his tone gentle but firm.

He paused, his gaze meeting mine in the rearview mirror. "You've got two choices tonight," he continued, his voice low and serious. "Option one: Go in there, drown your sorrows in overpriced cocktails, and cry yourself to sleep like you have been for the past week. Option two: You walk in that door, head held high, and have the best damn night of your life. Show him what a colossal mistake he made. But more importantly, have fun. Forget Theo for the night. You deserve it."

My initial suspicion flared. How did Blaise know about Theo? Did Theo tell everyone, maybe even paint some twisted narrative of what happened? The worst-case scenario played in my head: everyone knowing I'd forced myself on him. I pushed those thoughts down, refusing to let them take root.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I asked, my voice laced with a hint of suspicion.

Blaise raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Oh, the nerve! Here I am, trying to be the ever-so-charming host, and you accuse me of… niceness?" He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "Honestly, Y/N, I'm deeply wounded."

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and genuine. It felt good, a welcome change from the constant ache in my chest. As we pulled into the bar's crowded parking lot, I spotted a familiar face – the Gryffindor girl from school, the one with a permanent case of RBF.

Suddenly, the prospect of a night out filled with new faces and zero Theo drama seemed a whole lot more appealing.

"Alright," I announced, a determined glint in my eyes. "Going inside and having fun sounds way better."

Blaise's smirk widened. "Now you're talking," he said, finally pulling the car to a stop. "Let's do this."

We pushed through the heavy bar doors, the sudden wave of loud music and flashing lights hitting me like a physical blow. My eyes squinted against the assault, struggling to adjust to the dim, pulsing atmosphere. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, spilled alcohol, and something vaguely floral that I couldn't quite identify.

Then I saw it.

Bodies. Everywhere bodies. Couples intertwined on couches, limbs tangled in a way that left little to the imagination. People grinding against each other on the dance floor, clothes barely clinging to their sweaty forms. My mouth fell open in a silent scream.

"Are you kidding me, Blaise?" I shrieked, my voice barely audible over the pounding music. "Did you invite me to an orgy ?"

Blaise chuckled, his earlier cool persona replaced by something a little more… suggestive. "Not quite, sweetheart," he drawled. "But if you're interested, I know a guy…"

Blaise winked, then turned his attention to a group of women across the room. My stomach churned. Had he brought me here just to ditch me?

"Where are you going?" I demanded, grabbing his arm before he could slink away.

He looked back at me, a sly smile playing on his lips. "You wouldn't want to know, sweetheart. Trust me." Before I could argue, he was weaving his way through the crowd, leaving me stranded in a sea of strangers.

Panic clawed at my throat. I was completely out of my element, suffocated by the throbbing music and the overt displays of affection. Trying to navigate the throng of people felt like trying to walk through a mosh pit. Elbows jabbed, drinks sloshed, and muttered curses collided with the music. Every step forward felt like a battle.

Just when I was on the verge of tears, a familiar voice cut through the din.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

I snapped my head towards the source of the sound, relief washing over me like a tidal wave. There, standing a few feet away, was Cedric Diggory, a friendly face from Hogwarts. He looked as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

"Oh, thank God!" I exclaimed, practically throwing myself at him. He caught me with a smile, a steady presence in the swirling chaos.

"What are you doing here?" I blurted out, clinging to him like a lifeline. "I came with Blaise, but… well, he kinda ditched me."

Cedric's smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. "Don't worry about him," he said reassuringly. "I can take you home if you want."

The offer was tempting, a safe haven from the overwhelming sensory overload. But then my gaze fell across the crowded room, landing on Theo. He was… well, making out with someone. Not just anyone, but two someones. His hands were everywhere, his lips moving feverishly between two very enthusiastic girls.

The sight of him sent a fresh wave of anger and hurt coursing through me. I wanted to scream, to cry, to set the whole place on fire. But instead, I did something completely unexpected.

"Actually," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, "Do you want to dance?"

A slow smile spread across my face as Cedric offered his hand. Relief momentarily eclipsed the anger simmering beneath the surface. He led me onto the dance floor, his touch light and hesitant on my waist. Compared to Theo's rough possessiveness, it felt… foreign.

"Theodora Nott," I muttered under my breath, the name a bitter curse on my tongue. Every fiber of my being ached to tear my gaze away from Theo.

Cedric's breath tickled my ear as he spoke, but my mind was elsewhere. Then, our eyes met. Theo's. His face contorted in a mixture of surprise and disbelief, like he'd seen a ghost.

Theo seemed momentarily speechless, his jaw clenched tight. Then, in a move that surprised even me, he shoved the two girls aside, their confused faces momentarily forgotten. He barged his way through the crowd, a determined scowl on his face.

"Diggory," he spat, his voice laced with venom.

"Nott," Cedric replied, a flicker of confusion crossing his features.

"Think I can take this from here?" Theo said, his gaze never leaving mine. "Thanks for keeping Y/N company."

Cedric glanced between us, a hesitant frown creasing his brow. Knowing I needed to act fast, I plastered a sickly sweet smile on my face.

"It's alright, Cedric," I chirped, my voice dripping with fake sincerity. "Theo's here now, and you know, practically like a brother to me."

Theo's jaw clenched tight, his anger barely contained. It fueled a fire within me, a perverse satisfaction at seeing him squirm. Cedric, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, simply nodded and melted back into the crowd.

As soon as he was out of sight, I reached out and lightly touched Theo's arm. "Hello, brother," I purred, the word laced with mockery. "Enjoying yourself?"

He swatted my hand away, his voice tight with irritation. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

"Dancing, drinking, you know ," I replied, my voice light and carefree. "Hopefully getting some… you know, without having to share." I couldn't resist adding a pointed jab at his earlier display of affection.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "That's not the right answer, Y/N."

"Oh, so now you're the authority on what's right and wrong?" I scoffed. "Just get lost and let me enjoy my night."

"Not happening," he growled, stepping closer. For a fleeting moment, I swear his eyes flickered to my lips, sending a tremor of something unexpected through me.

"Not happening," he countered, his eyes flickering towards my lips for a fleeting moment.

A shiver ran down my spine, but I refused to let it show. "So you get to have fun, but I can't? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you were having a blast with your little… (here I paused, searching for the perfect comedic insult) …buffet." I forced a smile, pushing myself away from him in a playful, yet firm, manner.

He didn't get a chance to retort before a gasp escaped my lips. A clumsy dancer, fueled by who-knows-what concoction, careened into me, spilling the entirety of his drink down my dress. The scarlet fabric clung to my body like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination.

Theo let out a frustrated curse under his breath. "Damn it, Y/N, and your damn stubborn red dresses ," he muttered, before grabbing my arm and pulling me away from the crowd. His gaze darted around frantically, before settling on a nearby staircase.

The world spun a little faster as Theo pulled me through the crowd, his grip tight on my arm. We navigated through bodies and flashing lights, finally ending up near a darkened stairway leading upwards. He pushed open a door, revealing a large, beautifully furnished room – a stark contrast to the party raging outside.

"Stay here," he instructed, his voice low and urgent.

I rolled my eyes, annoyed at his bossiness but strangely comforted by his protectiveness.My mind was still reeling from the sudden alcohol shower, my thoughts fuzzy and disconnected.

Theo's presence alone was overwhelming. All the anger, hurt, and confusion I'd been feeling seemed to coalesce into a potent cocktail of emotions. My mind, however, wasn't processing things clearly. The red dress clinging to my body, the sting of Theo's earlier words, the memory of seeing him with those girls – it all swirled together in a chaotic mess.

Ignoring the instruction to stay put, I crossed the room and locked the door with a satisfying click. Grasping the hem of the ruined dress, I ripped it upwards in one swift motion. There, standing before a giant mirror, was me in all my red lace glory – bra and panties matching the ruined dress.

Theo stepped in, a black t-shirt clutched in his hand. His gaze locked with mine, a slow burn spreading across his face. He scanned me from head to toe, his eyes lingering on the shocking red lace bra and matching panties that were now my only attire.

For a moment, the room seemed to shrink, the music fading into a distant hum. The air crackled with a tension that sent a jolt of electricity through me.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" he finally managed, his voice rough with a mix of concern and something else – something deeper.

The question snapped me out of my haze. A defiant chuckle escaped my lips. "Not a single Shot," I replied, my voice surprisingly steady as I walked towards him.

The t-shirt fluttered to the floor, forgotten. His eyes were fixed on me, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. I stopped just inches from him, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, his face just inches from mine. The heat of his body radiated against mine, intensifying the buzz in my head.

"We don't have to be in love," I slurred, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. A part of me knew this was insane, But another part just craved his attention, his touch.

All I craved was his attention, his touch.

"I just wanna be… one of your girls tonight," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. A shiver ran down my spine as the reality of my words hit me. Was I really saying this? But then I remembered Theo with those other girls, the way they would whisper about him at school, the way they boasted about their "experiences" with him.

Suddenly, a strange sense of defiance mixed with a simmering desire fueled my next words. "I want what you give them," I confessed, my eyes locked on his. "The kind of thing they brag about to their friends for years."

He reached out, a single finger brushing against my cheek. My breath hitched at the contact.

"Give me tough love don’t hold back," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "Push me, choke me. Show me what it's like to be… yours even if it’s just for a night ." My voice dropped even lower. "Anything," I whispered, "just don't pretend you don't want me."

My words hung heavy in the air, the audacity of them making my cheeks burn. But before I could even think about backtracking, Theo surged forward, scooping me up into his arms. A gasp escaped my lips as he pulled me close, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over me.

He lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist as he pulled me close. My hands instinctively found purchase on his broad shoulders, the heat radiating through his shirt setting my skin alight.

"That's wrong," he rasped, his lips brushing dangerously close to mine.

"It's not," I insisted, the defiance laced with a desperate plea.

He didn't answer. Instead, he kissed me. It was a hard kiss, desperate and hungry, as if he was trying to erase everything that had come between us. My body melted against his, all thoughts fleeing my mind except for the fierce press of his lips against mine.

He carried me across the room, depositing me onto a large table. pulled away after what felt like an eternity, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a tremor through me. He pushed a stray strand of hair from my face, his eyes searching mine. "I'd hold onto something, if I were you." he murmured, his voice thick with possessiveness that both terrified and excited me.

My fingers brushed against his face, his warm breath ghosting over my lips as he leaned down.

His hand moved down my body, a slow, deliberate caress that sent shivers erupting across my skin. His fingers grazed my thighs, a light touch that somehow managed to ignite a fire within me. My breath hitched, a moan escaping my lips as desire battled with the remnants of reason.

His lips brushed against my ear, his voice a husky whisper against my sensitive skin. "Choose a word," he murmured, his breath sending shivers down my spine.

I nodded numbly, unsure if I would even be able to speak if I needed to.

"Red," I managed to whisper, my voice laced with desire as his lips trailed along my neck, eliciting a soft moan from deep within me.

"Fucking red again," he muttered, his lips pressing against my skin with a hunger that ignited a fire within me. I arched my neck, offering him more access, more of me.

"You use this if it gets too much, understood?" he said, his voice commanding. I nodded eagerly.

He continued to kiss my jaw and neck with an intensity that left me breathless. My hand tangled in his hair, urging him closer. When he bit down on a sensitive spot on my neck, I couldn't contain a scream of pleasure.

His hand cupped my core through my panties, and I instinctively gripped his shoulder, my body responding to his touch. I had never experienced anything like this before, but I couldn't admit that to him.

"Have you done anything like this before?" he asked, his breath hot against my earlobe. I moaned softly as I lied, nodding in response.

"Yes," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the rush of sensations.

He parted my legs forcefully and held my jaw in his hand, locking eyes with mine. "You did?" he questioned, a hint of possessiveness in his tone.

I nodded again, unable to speak as desire coursed through me.

"He's dead, whoever he is," he declared, sending a shiver down my spine. His fingers slipped inside my panties, and I gasped at the sudden intimacy, my body responding eagerly to his touch.

"Theo," I managed to gasp out, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Yes, baby?" he responds, his voice deep and husky. The way he says "baby" sends shivers down my spine. It feels too good, too right, felt like a sweet caress to my soul.

"You can do whatever you want to me," i whispered, my fingers tracing his jawline. "Anything."

He responds by parting my lips with his finger leaning down to take my lower lips into his kiss. It's so soft, so gentle, that I feel like I've been transported to heaven. His tongue enters my mouth at the same time he touches my clit, and I moan.

He rubs my clit in gentle circles, and I hold onto his shoulder, digging my nails into his skin. He pulls away from the kiss, my lips are still on his, and I moan into his mouth. His tongue continues to explore mine as his fingers work their magic.

"Oh Merlin," I cry out, and he smiles against my cheek.

"Not Merlin, baby, but me," he whispered against my cheek, his touch sending me spiraling further into ecstasy. He added a finger inside me, and I cried out, my back arching with pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so tight. You sure you've done this before?" he questioned, a hint of disbelief in his voice. I've done this before, in my dreams, with him. I bite my lip to keep from moaning too loudly, and he looks displeased with that.

"Keep making those sounds, I love the sound of your voice," he says, and I do it again. He stops kissing me” you did that again and i stop, understood? “ I nodded immediately.

He’s not done yet. He pushed my bra strap down, placing kisses along the exposed skin.

His fingers start to move faster, as he kissed me, swallowing all my moans. He adds another finger, and I scream, my back arching again.

I bite my lips without even noticing and he slowed his movements I hold onto his hand fast, afraid he'll stop.

"Please don't stop, I'll be good, I promise," I beg, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Fuck, say it again," his gaze intense with desire.

"I'll be good, Theo," I repeated, my voice a desperate plea.

He moves his fingers faster in response, hitting a spot inside me that makes me see stars. He keeps hitting it, over and over again, while circling my clit.

"I'm going to--" I try to say, but I can't finish my sentence. Pleasure consumes me, and I scream his name. He plays with my hair, pushing my tears and hair away from my face.

"I know, sweet girl," he murmured, his words pushing me over the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm."So sweet, so good."

He watched me with intense desire as I came, his fingers never ceasing their movements. "And so fucking hot," he added as he looked at me while experiencing his own release.

“you look so pretty when you’re cumming for me,” he murmured, placing soft kisses on my neck

I breathed heavily as he pulled his hands from me, bringing his fingers to his mouth and savoring my cum. "You taste so sweet, baby," he murmured, his gaze locked on mine.

He cupped my face, placing soft kisses on my lips, again and again. "So sweet, so angelic,"

With a gentle touch, he lifted me from the table, carrying me softly and placing me on the bed. His face was close to mine, his nose brushing against mine, and he kissed me deeply. I moaned as he opened my bra clips, leaning down to place a soft kiss on my jawline, then my collarbone.

He traced his way down, kissing every inch of my body until he reached my breasts. I closed my eyes as he put a soft kiss on them, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Eyes on me, baby. Don't shut them," he commanded, and I nodded, my breath heavy. I looked at him, my love for him overwhelming.

With each lick and kiss, I moaned louder, the pleasure building with every touch, and I arched my back, my fingers gripping the sheets.

With a final lick, he traced his way down, kissing every inch of my body. He kissed my stomach and looked up at me, his gaze intense.

He parted my legs, the sight of him between them is my idea of heaven. I nodded, and he pulled my panties down.

As he pulled my panties down, I felt a rush of shyness,"You will keep them open," he said, and I nodded again , my breath hitching.

"Good girl," he praised, his lips trailing kisses along my thighs. I couldn't resist running my fingers through his soft hair, pushing it from his face.

"You want rough love, you say?" he stated, using my own words against me.

"Yes," I moaned, my mouth gasping as I felt his mouth on my wet pussy.

"And you keep listening to what those girls say?" he asked.

"Yes, and it hurts," I managed to say.

"So I have to make up for it then, baby, don't you think?" he asked,

He didn't waste time. His tongue explored my folds, and it felt strange but in a good way. He licked and sucked, and I felt like I might explode.

He kept doing it, for what felt like an eternity. He kept my legs open, and my back ached. I cried heavily, it was the best thing I had ever felt. I could feel my body already over the edge.

"Don't cum," he said, and I shook my head. He continued eating me out, so much. I could feel his fingers inside me, and I screamed again.

"Please," I begged, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure he was giving me.

"You cum, and it's over," he warned, his finger entering me gently.

I held onto his shoulder tightly, my body teetering on the edge. "Say the word, and I'll stop," he offered.

But I couldn't bring myself to say it. "No," I managed to whisper, my voice filled with need and desire.

His tongue flicked my clit, and I felt my orgasm building. I screamed his name, and he kept going, pushing me further and further over the edge. I screamed again, and again, and again. I couldn't take it anymore, and I came hard, my body shaking with the force of it.

He looked up at me, his lips glistening with my juices.

I was still trying to catch my breath from what just happened as Theo's words registered in my mind. "You are a virgin," he said, and I shook my head fast, trying to dispel the shock.

"No, no, I'm not. The boys I've been with before weren't experienced," I managed to say, feeling a rush of embarrassment at my slip of words. Why did I say "boys"?

Theo's gaze held fire as he processed my words. "Boys?" he repeated, his voice tinged with something I couldn't quite decipher.

I immediately felt the need to defend myself. "You don't think I'm attractive enough to be with more than one boy in my life?" I asked, a hint of defiance in my tone.

"Quite the opposite," he assured me, but his expression remained serious. "I want to know who dared and did that," he added, his eyes searching mine.

I bit my lip nervously, realizing the implications of what I had unintentionally revealed. Boys were afraid to pursue Lana because of Theo's reputation, but the way he reacted made me wonder if he wasn't threatening the boys for just getting close to lana .

"You can't just control who I can be with, Theo," I said, surprised at my own boldness.

"I think I can," he asserted firmly.

I took a breath, trying to calm the tension that crackled between us. "I won't mind," I said softly, my voice pleading. "I would do anything to please you. I would do anything you ask me to."

"Stop talking like that, y/n," he ordered, his tone strained.

"Okay," I acquiesced, sensing that I had crossed a line.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, clearly struggling with his own emotions.

I reached out and touched his hand that was on my face, trying to ease the tension. I smiled while kissing his hand, then surprised both of us by putting one of his fingers inside my mouth and sucking on it gently.

"You are going to be the death of me," he muttered, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I need you, Theo, all of you, even just for the night, please," I pleaded, desperate for him to understand.

"Don't cry, unless it's from the pleasure I give you," he said, brushing away my tears gently.

I propped myself up on my elbow to get closer to him, craving his touch and his reassurance. He kissed me again, and in that moment, I felt like I could live in this bliss forever.

He reached for a condom, and I tried not to show my nerves as he prepared himself. His size was daunting, and I couldn't help but wonder how it would fit inside me. My head hit the pillow again as he spread my legs, his hardness teasing my entrance.

He entered me slowly, and I cried out as the pain shot through me, tears streaming down my face. "You are a fucking virgin," he exclaimed, his own frustration evident.

"It's not a fucking game, y/n," he continued, his tone softer but still edged with tension.

"I'm sorry, please do something," I pleaded, feeling overwhelmed.

He wiped my tears away, his features softening. "Fuck, baby, don't cry. It will get better, I promise. Just relax," he reassured me, his voice soothing.

"Breathe, it's just me," he added, placing kisses on my forehead and then my cheek.

"I think... I think you can move now, please," I managed to say, trying to regain my composure.

He held my face in his hand while the other supported him as he moved slowly, allowing me to adjust to him. I closed my eyes, focusing on the pleasure and the connection between us.

"You want fast, I can take it," I said, unsure if I was ready but wanting to prove myself to him.

"It's not a competition, y/n. You don't have to prove anything, baby,"

"The girls you've been with, they must have..." I started to say, but he cut me off.

"They didn't matter. You do," he said, surprising both of us with his confession.

He settled into a rhythm that felt perfect, and I closed my eyes, reveling in the sensations. His thrusts ranged from slow and tender to fast and intense, driving me wild with pleasure.

"Talk to me," he urged, and I struggled to form coherent sentences amidst the pleasure.

"It feels... good," I managed to say, my words coming out in fragmented breaths.

"Yeah?" he questioned, and I nodded, unable to articulate just how amazing it felt.

He increased his pace, and I arched my back, meeting his movements eagerly. "What about this?" he asked, his touch sending waves of pleasure through me.

"Do it again," I begged, wanting more of him, more of this intense pleasure.

He obliged, and the pleasure intensified, pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. I moaned and cried out his name, lost in the sensations that only he could evoke.

He thrust a few more times, then finally reached his own peak, his body collapsing slightly against mine as we both caught our breaths.

After a moment, he pulled out and disposed of the condom, then lay beside me.

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I was afraid to talk afraid to ruin what we just had, My hand hovered in the air, reaching for his face, but Theo stopped me, his grip surprisingly tight on my wrist.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum solo against the backdrop of my racing thoughts. Please, no. Not the cold shoulder again.

" The- Theo," I whispered, my voice trembling, but he pushed my hand away before I could say more. His sudden change left me feeling lost and vulnerable, like I had done something terribly wrong.

"You… sore?" he finally spoke, his voice strained.

I blinked, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. The Theo who had been making love to me just minutes ago seemed to have vanished. This was the cold, distant Theo I knew all too well.

"A little," I managed to whisper, my voice cracking.

"Then get dressed," he said curtly. "I'm taking you home. Your big night is over." his words cutting through me like knives. I tried to speak, to explain, but he silenced me with a stern command. "Not a word, y/n. Not a fucking word."

He got out of bed and started putting on his clothes, tossing a t-shirt and his jacket in my direction. As he grabbed my phone and things, I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces. It was as if everything we had shared meant nothing to him.

As shaky legs carried me to my feet, I pulled on the clothes, tears blurring my vision. A choked sob escaped my lips, and another, and another.

"Congratulations, Y/N," I whispered to myself, my voice raw with emotion. "You're officially one of his girls."

"Congratulations, y/n. You’re officially one of the girls," he remarked, his words cutting deep into my already wounded heart.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Part2

[flower-blossoms654]

Each time I think about how they took out the Goldy Pond arc, I get so angry. Cause like not only was it a good ass arc, getting rid of it takes out something integral to the story as a whole, that I just don’t think they realized/cared about:

The validation of Emma’s beliefs.

Emma is established to be this happy-go-lucky character right? And as the children are still in Grace Field, you see that she still keeps this demeanor while juggling the new graveness of the situation she is in. While losing some of her naivety, she still shows herself capable of being someone hopeful for the future who will not let her circumstances get the better of her. The most important part of what makes this WORK for her character (instead of making it annoying and unrealistic) is the fact that she both acknowledged and experiences the tragedy of the world she is trying to be hopeful in. It’s not some little girl being like “I believe everything’s gonna be fine! Sparkles and rainbows!” while being shielded from the darker parts of the world. It’s a little girl who looks in the face of the darkness and that terrible world and is in the MIDST of it. It’s a little girl who found the dead body of her younger sibling and was faced with the reality that her whole life was a lie. It’s a little girl who realized her whole family was going to die and fought to grab onto her hope despite how overwhelmingly bleak their situation was. She knew and yet she didn’t hesitate to believe that they could escape. She knew and still wanted to yell to the world that she was going to save EVERYONE. Seeing someone so unwaveringly hopeful even after being hit with devastating loss and despair is like a beacon for anyone else struggling to keep surviving. Emma is lovable for how she loves—how her hope and determination stands fast in the face of adversity and still goes forward even as more events threaten to shake and bend it.

For whatever reason season 2 was changed the way it was (I’ve heard many things)(if it was because of the guns then WHY pick up the anime in the first place bc you derail EVERYTHING) it could never stand completely without Goldy Pond.

Goldy Pond is in plain terms Emma’s defining arc. It seems to be pushing forward a question whose answer will define the rest of the series.

“Who is Emma?”

Not as she is with her siblings. Not as she is when there is her family there to keep her going. Who is Emma, and how will she grow from here on out?

Goldy Pond is the first time Emma is “alone”. She has none of her siblings around her and she is in an unfamiliar environment, with people she does not know. People by all means unconnected to her when she has a family to get back to and protect.

But Emma doesn’t treat them that way. She cares for each stranger she meets, jeopardizing her safety by using herself as bait—by charging forward into battle to protect them and change the demons’ focus. As the arc progresses and she meshes herself into the other children’s ranks, treating them as family as well, it seems to be clear what the answer is. As she serves as a distraction in this main fight. As she reminds them of details of HOW they can win this fight even when there seems to be no hope left. When she gets empaled and STILL takes a shot to kill Duke Leuvis.

Emma is hopeful and kind and self-sacrificing. She treats strangers as she would treat her family, and cares for all lives the same. She is so overwhelmingly forthright and sincere in her emotions and love, that you can’t help but want to support and follow her. That is who Emma is. She is not naive. She has seen death and battle and bleak circumstances but still rises to the challenge EVERY time — and most importantly this time was the bleakest so far. This time she was “ALONE”.

She has the experience behind her to make her care for all things “valid”. This is not a silly, childish little girl not knowing all the different aspects of her declarations. She says they will survive and you can take her for her word because she knows what it’s like to be near death. But specifically and more crucially for Goldy Pond (and therefore the rest of the series): Emma says that she wants to save demons. And with Goldy Pond, you can take her word for it.

When Norman declares that his way of saving everyone is to have a demon genocide, the most important part of this is that we as the readers support Emma and her viewpoint (that the demons should not be killed.) Her viewpoint is valid in the manga because of what she has gone through. Emma says she wants to save demons and we can take her for her word because she has experience at the hands of some of the worst cruelty from demons possible. She and other children were hunted for sport. She was placed in a mockery of a sanctuary and hunted down for demons entertainment—not for the demon’s hunger or survival but for FUN. And she still turns around and says that she believes there are GOOD demons.

Without this, Emma has nothing in her experience for her to stand toe to toe with Norman’s beliefs. She looks like a naive, silly child trying to justify a foolish dream when she has experienced nothing of the world. It’s practically an insult to Norman and his experiences and it doesn’t give off what it should to the watcher. How are we supposed to believe in Emma (and go against a GENOCIDE) when it seems as if the writers want to paint that the genocide is the reasonable answer (when it fucking ISNT). And this is all because without Goldy Pond, Emma doesn’t have the experience to be meaningfully hopeful. She can’t properly value her positive experience with Mujika because she doesn’t not have a big enough negative experience to weight it against (and gracefield isn’t good enough bc Norman has gone through more than that). For Emma to have weight, she needs to be able to weight the good and the bad and STILL choose good. To still choose to be hopeful and caring.

Getting rid of Goldy Pond got rid of such an important foundation of Emma as a character and I can never forgive them for that.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I wanna write fluff for this traumatised fandom but all that comes to my head is pain.

In another life you wouldn’t have to be forced to say goodbye to Viktor, only good nights before you both drifted off to sleep side by side, or good mornings as you greet each other with a kiss to the cheek while making breakfast.

In another life you were happy, Viktor was happy, everyone you knew and love was happy that both Piltover and Zaun were thriving. There was nothing but peace and prosperity for as far as you could see. No war, no fighting, nothing for you were all living how many could only wish would be a reality one day.

In another life you got to hold Viktor however long you wanted, his skin was still that of warm flesh and bone beneath your touch and the kisses you planted along his shoulders.

In another life Viktor was well rested, well fed and even smiled and joked more then he ever had before. His amber eyes were alive and observing everything as he talked you through how some of the inventions worked in vivid detail, all with a excited smile upon his face as his hands before more animated with his every word. You loved whenever he got like that.

In another life you got what you wanted and what you wanted was him, was Viktor as you cuddled into him while he read, his hand moving to rub your back as though it was muscle memory at this point and kissing your temple now and then before continuing his reading. He’d playfully claim that you were a distraction but of the best kind and your heart never felt fuller.

In another life you didn’t have to worry about Viktor leaving you, you didn’t have to fear a possibility of him becoming lost in his ideals for a glorious evolution and forgoing his humanity, shed his human skin for a form of cold, biting pliable metal. Lost to the hexcore of which did not exist within this other life.

However you didn’t live in this other life, did you?

You lived in a life where tensions between Zaun and Piltover was at an all time high.

You lived in a life where hextech was high in demand to be used against those who threaten people’s ways of life.

You lived in a life where you saw more death and destruction then you ever did anything else, almost as if a tranquil life was prohibited and everyone was born to suffer, Zaunites more so then those residing in Piltover, unable to mourn nor bury the dead as survival of the fittest was a way of life rather than just a motto.

You lived in a life where you had to say goodbye to Viktor, multiple times, each one being more painful and heartbreaking than the last.

You lived in a life where proclamations of love did nothing to stop him from leaving the academy as he looked at you with the eyes of a stranger.

You lived in a life where the possibility of a happy ending was few and far between. Not many were blessed to have it no matter how much good they’ve done in their lives, fate was often cruel to those least deserving of such treatment.

You lived in a life where you wished you could’ve done more for viktor as the arcane consumed him, leaving you alone with nothing but his cane.

You lived in a life where you wished the pain would end, you couldn’t take it and didn’t want to say goodbye to anyone anymore. It hurt far too much as you left with the memories Viktor left behind with you, as though that was going to heal your broken heart but did anything but made the pain worse.

You lived in a life where your dream life with Viktor was nothing more than a fantasy, a dream you’ll never reach.

You lived in a life where nothing was fair, everything was taken from you and nothing was given back in exchange for your suffering. You lost Viktor, you’d never get to live the life you wanted with him.

You lived in a life where you were never meant to.

Viktor knew this too, for he had those same dreams of a perfect reality himself, but then he remembered he was a man of science and ignored it no matter how much he wanted it to come true. He knew it wasn’t plausible.

Viktor knew he could dream, but he wished he didn’t.

[mischiefmaker615]

Helpless

Summary: "If I'm helpless, then tell me now.."

Song Request: John Mayer - "Helpless"

Requester: @bri_lostinharmony (wattpad) 

Rating: PG14

Loki’s body seemed to have a mind of its own now- simply coming to life whenever its intentions were focused on you without him fully realizing it.

Now a days, he felt just like his old self.. his old old self, back in the days of the palace where he had his gentlemanly persona, maidens and festivities- but you were by far the only maiden he’s had his heart for.

He would stand whenever you would enter a room, feeling his muscles tense before he had to stop himself from bowing whenever you would leave. His fingertips twitched with the ache to take your hand, to bring it to his lips and kiss your soft knuckles whenever he would merely near to begin conversing. Half the time one would think he wasn’t paying attention to a word you were saying while he was merely getting himself lost in your eyes and voice, childishly resting his chin on his palm.

Visuals reminded you of him. flowers, animals and even particular characters in the films Thor would be having on blast in the living room as if the tower was his personal home.

You were driving him crazy, and didn’t even know it.

Sleepless nights.. he’d merely blame it on sleep issues when it reality, he’d be merely keeping himself up thinking about you. A hand ran through his hair while a frustrated sigh left his nostrils, having the need to bang his forehead into the nearest wall if it meant promise to get past a simple paragraph of his book without getting himself distracted by the thought of you.

There was no point anyway.. half the time, he’d merely read in the main room in hopes to catch of a glimpse of you passing by or the rare occasion you might talk to him.

It was on friendly terms, Loki being to worried he might pry to much into specifics and scare you off. Yet the conversations were never bland and you both often laughed and taught each other much from where you both were from. Again, you’d be doing more of the talking while Loki seemed to be distantly distracted and zoned out, gazing at you while he memorized the way your cheeks turned red when you would notice his stares.

He just wasn’t sure if your feelings were mutual.. you most certainly did act different around him compared to the others in the compact. You laughed, smiled more and everything about your body posture showed that you were relaxed. Yet.. it still wasn’t enough to clarify where you stood.

Perhaps Loki didn’t want to find out.. he couldn’t handle rejection.. not from you.. but the sleepless nights and distracted thoughts made functioning practically impossible. He grew quiet, distant, and you noticed how he would tend to leave whenever you would show up.

For a while, you tried to think if it was something you did, something you said, but nothing seemed to come up to explain his cold behavior. Your feelings began to feel hurt, wondering if perhaps he just lost interest when you both shared such a fond friendship before. He tended to gravitate closely to you within his ‘house arrest’ amongst the tower, and you gladly offered his company. So.. what did you do wrong?

There came a night where you just couldn’t sleep. Restless, tossing and turning with your mind all over the place with no promise of rest anytime soon. It was a short battle, and figured perhaps trying that method of warm milk people told you about to help sleep would come in handy.

It was the middle of the night, no one should be up so you figured you’d go as you were: pajamas that took resemblance of a tank top and booty shorts.

You shivered as you padded to the kitchen, having been here long enough to work in the dark with very little light except for the one above the stove. The warm bed will be waiting but the room took on a temperature colder than usual. It wasn’t until you closed the fridge- you found the culprit that nearly had you jumping out of your skin.

‘’Loki- you scared me..’’ you yelped, having to quickly lower your voice while he raised his hands in a surrender position.

‘’my apologies love, it was not my intent. I merely heard sound and wished to investigate.. I was unaware it was you..’’ he whispered, taking a step back while you caught your breath, as well as the view.

He was in comfortable shorts, but the dim light was enough to scream at you that he was shirtless. You couldn’t help but look before the cold temperature in your hand reminded you that you had the milk and quickly moved to the counter.

‘’investigating? Nice to know you’d come to our rescue.’’ You lightly tease and pull out a glass from the cupboard.

‘’your rescue.’’ He corrected, his eyes having left to the side of the room a moment before he quickly clarified. ‘’I care less for the ones that have forced me here. You have merely offered your friendship away from the group.’’

‘’you don’t think I would have tried to stop you if I was part of the Avengers back then?” you teased, a topic the both of you were okay discussing. All offense would have gone out the window anyway when you noticed his eyes on your choice of outfit. ‘’I.. wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up..’’ you said quickly and moved yourself to the other side of the island counter with him right across. The least you could do was shield your ass.

‘’I couldn’t sleep.. I’m sure that is why you are up also?” he asked, his hands being rubbed at his sides while he felt his fingertips again. Everything about you pulled up those feelings he’s been trying to ignore, and your exposed flesh was not helping.

‘’yeah.. to many thoughts, figured I’d try a rumored remedy.’’ You shrug a little and place the cup into the microwave.

‘’what were you thinking about?” he asked, perhaps a little to quickly while your hand stilled form pressing the button.

You bit your bottom lip, kind of bringing yourself into this while you felt him stare at your back. Your cheeks reddened but you dare not move, let alone lie considering you were incapable of it.. he’d see right through anyway. ‘’..our friendship..’’

Loki held his breath, his palms being pressed to the top of the counter while he leaned forward, as if trying to see if he heard right while he forced his voice not to shake. ‘’..is there a problem?” he asked, almost lower than a whisper while you continued to have your back to him.

He knew damn well he was the problem. He’s been avoiding you, ignoring you in hopes to rid of the feelings rather than clarify them encase it risked rejection. It was childish, perhaps cruel, but he didn’t think he could bare it.. but distance hadn’t helped either, if anything- it made his feelings worse. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as one would put it. But now perhaps he had a chance to see how you truly felt, to see what you would say, to perhaps.. maybe.. just maybe..

‘’yes Loki.. I’m not sure what I did wrong..’’ you voice indicated hurt, feeling your vision going blurry while your nails dug into your palms.

Norns..

‘’I favor your friendship.. the only one I care keeping around here if life would have me cornered.. but I’m not sure what I have done wrong, you’ve grown cold.. distant, silent.. this right now is practically the longest conversation we’ve had in weeks.. and by your disappearance, it just shows how much I really miss you.. how much I cherish you around.. how much I.. how much I feel for you.. so if I’m helpless then tell me now’’ you whisper, your eyes blankly gazing at the microwave while you felt your hands begin to shake. You just confessed.. confessed to Loki and now you realize the risk you had taken. The fear of turning around, to face rejection, to hear him shoo you. How could he like you? How could he love you? The god tried taking over the world.. your world. You, a mortal, couldn’t possibly be seen in his sights if you are so far below him in his royal chain of stature. How could he..

The silence was almost maddening, drawn out by nothing and your body began to tense. Slow, you looked over your shoulder, finding him not there. Oh gods.. he left.. your breath hitched, turning yourself around to find yourself alone. ‘no..’ you felt your vision going blurry once more while you sniffed and turned yourself back to the microwave, only to practically jump when you felt two soft lips crash onto your own with determined hands stabilizing you by your waist.

The act surprised you both but Loki was quick to recover while his hands ran up to cup your cheeks, his desperate pressure moving to a softer one when you showed no signs of pulling away. He was gentle, his thumbs brushing your tears while you blinked to try to collect yourself. He was kissing you! The one thing you’ve longed for since you’ve both began to water your relationship!

Your hands shakily came up to his rest against his wrists, at first making his movement pause a moment as if you were to rip yourself from him before you suddenly pressed your lips against his more. Your eyes fluttered closed while you stood more on your tip toes, feeling his knees brush against your legs to indicate he was bending down to help accommodate as well.

A soft hum left his lips, a hand leaving your cheek to slowly move down to your waist and pull you closer, though leaning at the same time where your back was leaning against the counter. your heart fluttered, as did his and he forced himself to slowly pull away to look you in the eyes, the side of his pointing finger tipping your chin so you could look up into his soft eyes you could have sworn had been tearing.

‘’I never wanted to hurt you Y/N.. I only wanted to love you but was to afraid to know the possible truth that you might not feel the same.. I tried to rid of these feelings but discovered I went about this whole thing all wrong.. I’m sorry..’’ he confessed, his eyes pleading into yours while your hands rested on his shoulders, wide eyed but of understanding.

‘’it’s okay Loki.. we’re just going to have to make up for lost time..’’ you gentle teased, your teeth lightly capturing your bottom lip while your hands relished in the feeling of his smooth skin. You suddenly became aware of just how close you two were, how shirtless he was and how bare you practically where while he seemed to smirk and realize the same.

‘’well darling, if you wish to put away the milk.. I might have a remedy that just might do the trick with your sleeping problem.’’

‘’you have a sleeping problem too-‘’ you pointed out, avoiding eye contact before his hand moved your chin to face him again, his expression seductive yet playful.

‘’which is why I’m going to need your help as well..’’

DM a song for your own Loki Musical Mischief one shot :D

Tag List: @foxherder13 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz @nervouseden @kathren1sky-blog @eleniblue @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @queenofstarsign85 @slytherinqueen4life @soulpiercing

[raingems-blog]

Work at Home

Summary: While doing Victoria's laundry, you find something interesting.

Warnings: Blood, implications of murder

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A blazer, some work pants, Zoe's favorite top, another blazer. You sorted through the clothing in the laundry basket as you hummed along to the music playing from your phone. The repetitive actions were almost therapeutic as you separated piles of clothing to be washed and dried. Victoria sat in the other room at the kitchen island as she poured over some work emails while the muffled sounds of Zoe's cartoons could be heard coming from the living room.

Oftentimes, you and Victoria split chores around the home, having a schedule chart that hung on the foyer wall. Today, it's your turn to do laundry, and the melodic singing of Selena Quintanilla blasting from your phone often made tasks much more manageable.

A pair of pants, some underwear, a skirt, Victoria's favorite top, and some work blouse with red stains on it..... a work blouse with red stains?

That immediately pulled you out of your mindless sorting as you began to examine the stained cotton. Small droplets of something red coated the front in an almost splattered pattern, and while it wasn't much, it was noticeable to you, it always was. She always was, Victoria's subtle manipulation, glints in her eyes that often ran shivers down your spine. The way her voice became chillingly soft when she lied or masked, you saw it, you knew it, you ignored it.

You knew that your wife was more than the charming politician or the doting wife and mother that she presented to the public. And while was doting, while she was charming, you knew that Victoria was also something else. Something that you never wished to dig further into for fear of what you may find.

In truth, you knew that she was ruthless. Though it had never been directed to you, you knew what she was capable of. You knew that she had the connections, the wealth, the ability to wipe someone clean off of the map if she had to.

Often, did you turn a blind eye to those things, pretending that she was nothing more than the charming politician and the doting wife and mother who you slept next to every night. Who you kissed and told I love you to first thing in the morning when you woke up and late at night before you went to bed. The woman who checked under Zoe's bed for monsters, read stories too and tucked her in every night, giving Zoe and her stuffed animal a kiss on the forehead.

But you knew. You knew that the stains on the shirt weren't food of any kind or spilled ink. It the small dots of red glared at you, a small indicator of the reality that you refused to face.

Suddenly, you felt sick, and the sounds of your music could no longer distract your mind from the slightly browned color of sparce splotches on the top in your hand. The detergent overwhelmed your senses as your thoughts began to spiral as you considered the reality before they were quieted by your delusions. "Maybe she was hurt. Had a simple nosebleed. Maybe it was hers."

Slowly, you opened the door and put on your best face of indifference as you approached your wife. Each step felt heavier than the last, and the shirt almost burned against the skin of your palm, the soft cotton of the blouse becoming almost overwhelming.

"Hey, did you get hurt or something?" Your voice sounded slightly strained with worry, whether it was for her or the person who possibly stained the shirt, you weren't sure.

Victoria looked up at you before looking at the item in your hand. Her brown eyes zeroed in on the almost imperceptible dots before looking back at you.

"Just a small nosebleed, nothing to worry about." She replied, her mouth forming into a tense smile as that soft, deceptive tone that she used crept into her voice.

You knew she was lying. She knew that you knew she could feel it. Your heart was hammering loudly in your chest as your blood rushed through your veins. You knew. Yet she knew that you'd once again turn a blind eye, pretend that you didn't know. So when you gave a small, unsure nod, she wasn't surprised.

"Okay." You said, your gaze lingering on her before you slowly trudged your way back to the laundry room. Halfway there, you stopped, turned, and said the words that had been clawing their way out. "Victoria, whatever you do, whatever you're doing... make sure that it never comes home with you."

A short but tense silence passed between before Victoria answered. "It won't." Her expression was unreadable as her dark eyes searched yours, a certain coldness briefly settling in her warm browns before it disappeared as you nodded before completing your journey back to the laundry room.

And with that, you began sorting again. A top, some pants, a dress, and a blazer.

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This one was a bit longer than usual. I hope you enjoyed it.

[johns-walker]

fifteen minutes

shepard leopold/f!reader (death of a unicorn)

cws; smut, basically p without plot, unsafe sex, hot tub sex, creampie, no real movie spoilers / 3.5k wc

big shout out to the one singular other person who felt compelled to write about him... lets get more people in this club. anyway i guess i write on this blog now or whatever.

It wasn’t every day that you were able to find a job where your boss would offer to bring you on an illusive weekend vacation so you could better learn the ins and outs of how the business worked - but, considering that you doubled as an assistant just as much as you did a trainee, you shouldn’t have been overly surprised when Elliot asked you to attend the meeting that he was having with Odell and his family at their home. 

What had surprised you, and seemingly everyone else in the car, was when Elliot had been so distracted that he didn’t notice the giant animal that was right in front of him. Granted, you didn’t notice it either. You were too busy trying to research everything that you hadn’t had time to look into when he sprung this trip on you. It wasn’t really his fault that Odell hadn’t gotten back to him about bringing two plus-one’s until the last minute, especially since it didn’t seem to be Odell’s decision at all, but rather Belinda who told Elliot that he could bring you along. 

Even still, you were blindsided and nose-deep in your reading when a large crash sent you lurching forward, gripping onto the edges of the seats in front of you and bracing for any sort of impact. The only impact seemed to be whatever the car had collided with, and upon inspection, it fully seemed that the car had collided with a unicorn. Now, did you want to say that the horned creature that your boss bludgeoned to death was probably a unicorn? Of course not! You wanted to pack it up in the back of the car, and uncomfortably sit in the trunk of the car with the luggage as you anxiously awaited the arrival at the mansion. 

With all of that considered, you were more than ready to try to put it behind you as you stepped out of the trunk. Stretching your body, you allowed yourself to augment to not being smushed in with all of your suitcases anymore. 

“Maybe we should put a blanket over it, or something. I brought a blanket.” You commented, acknowledging the anxious way that Elliot was peering into the window. “I mean, it’ll look like your car is super messy and damaged, but it’ll look better than a dead… creature in the back seat.” 

“Yeah, yeah-”

“Just go inside, I’ll take care of it.” 

“I can help you.” Ridley offered, though there seemed to be something off about her tone. You knew that she had witnessed something when she touched the unicorn’s horn, but whether that was something in her head or something real, you were unsure. Maybe she was just tormented from the idea that something was killed because of a car she was in. 

“It’s okay, I’ll take me a few seconds. They’re probably already annoyed at us.” 

After a moment, Elliot brought Ridley inside with him as you turned to the still-open trunk, grabbing the zipper on your luggage and taking out a blanket. Looping around to open the door to the backseat of the car - furthest away from the windows of the house - you couldn’t help but notice but looked to be twitching coming from the creature. Trying to brush it aside, you hoped that it was just some sort of post-mortem behavior. It wouldn’t be typical for twitching to occur so long after something had died, but this was a unicorn you were talking about, the science behind it obviously hadn’t been studied since - up to this point in time - it only seemed to be treated as a reality in ancient mythology. 

Quickly brushing your worries aside, you covered the creature with your blanket and reached into the front seat of the car to press a button, ensuring that the doors would lock once you closed the backseat. 

After a moment, you walked back around the car to shut the trunk before allowing yourself a moment to compose yourself and go inside. 

The moment you walked into the doors, you were greeted by the few pairs of eyes on you. At first, this made you a bit nervous. You hated the idea that was running through your head that these people could see right through you, that they knew what you had just covered up despite not seeing it with their own two eyes. 

Elliot saying your name got you out of that moment of insecurity, snapping back to reality as you looked at the people in the room. “This is my legal assistant, she’s just here to learn more about how this sort of thing works.” 

“Pleasure to finally meet you.” Belinda was the one to reach out to shake your hand, your demeanor switching back into one that you were more used to as you forced a smile onto your lips and took her hand into your own. 

“The pleasure is all mine, thank you for inviting me into your lovely home.” 

She nodded in response, seemingly pleased with at least one of the two people that Elliot had brought with him. But it wasn’t really her that caught your eye, it was her son - bathrobe-clad, sipping on a Bloody Mary, and somehow looking like the most attractive person who you were certain that you had ever met in anything related to your work. 

Noticeably, he seemed to straighten himself out a bit when he took note of there being a woman seemingly around his age in the same room as him. His movements down the steps were almost graceful, but not quite there. They didn’t need to be, though. You were more than happy to take the time to shake his hand as well, though you didn’t speak for a moment. 

“Shepard, Odell is my father.” 

“Nice to meet you, Shepard.” 

“You can call me Shep, if you want to.” 

You let a small smile cover your lips as you uttered his nickname, though your moment with him was quickly cut off by the sound of Belinda leading you all into the other room. Walking with her, you didn’t mind sticking behind a bit so you could stay closer to Shepard, and he seemed just as drawn to you as you were to him. Granted, he looked a bit like someone who you should write off as trouble. He was the son of the people who you indirectly worked for - indirectly or not, his family technically paid you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care too much as you let him make silly comments about them in your ear, trying to suppress the laughs that wanted to come from your lips in response. It wasn’t until Elliot called you forward to review the documents that he was looking over that you finally snapped out of it and did what you were truly there to do - which wasn’t flirt. 

Though, you couldn’t help but notice the small glances from Belinda. She had invited you to her home, not her husband. She knew that you were close in age to her son, though you didn’t know his exact age, and she also knew that someone who spent her entire amount of free time working on legal documents probably didn’t have the time for much of a romantic life. All that being said, you were almost sure that she invited you there for the actual purpose of flirting, though you weren’t sure why yet. Maybe she just thought her son had been a bachelor for too long, or maybe it was something to do with his personality or habits. You couldn’t be too sure. 

What you could be sure about was that it didn’t seem to stop throughout the day, even with the weird developments that occurred. 

It wasn’t until later that evening, when his continuing questions about joining him in the hot tub got you to do what was being asked of you and change into the bathing suit that you had packed. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but be glad that you brought a cute swimsuit. You half-considered packing swim trunks and a t-shirt because this was a work event, but you eventually decided that you would probably not be expected to be dressed professionally if you were to get into a pool or hot tub. 

Finally joining him at the hot tub, you would be remiss if you failed to notice the way that his eyes scanned over your body. You didn’t mind, though. You didn’t stop yourself from glancing at his chest, your eyes navigating around his body just as his did to yours. 

“Took you long enough.” He finally said, breaking the quiet of the moment. There was no real malice in his words, no expectation for you to have changed any sooner than you did. 

Setting the robe you brought out down beside his, you smiled widely as you stepped into the hot tub. “I overpacked, my swimsuit was kinda buried.” 

Shepard hummed in response, seemingly calmed by the warm water that he was sitting in. You wondered what it must’ve been like to be like he was, to have access to something like this every single day and not have to worry about paying the bills on an apartment that you could be kicked out of at the drop of a hat. But those thoughts left your head after a moment, sinking into the warmth of the water and letting a sigh leave your lips. 

“You’re sitting so far.” His voice almost came out like he was pouting, and as you opened your eyes to look at him, you noted that he was. Though, he was still failing to look at your eyes, his gaze flickering between your face and your chest that was just barely peaking out above the hot tub water. 

“I didn’t think it would be very considerate to sit right next to you.” You commented, though you had no gripes with moving so you were next to him. You were next to him at dinner, too. In fact, you were pretty sure he had yet to leave your side if it wasn’t for either of you changing, using the bathroom, or Elliot wanting to speak to you about something privately. For the most part, you had remained together, so you weren’t too perturbed or even surprised by sitting so close to him, his arm still splayed out on the rim of the hot tub and now directly behind your back. 

“I think it would be inconsiderate not to.” 

Turning your head so you could look at him, you took note of the proximity. You knew that he was sitting close to you now, hip to hip even, but you didn’t take into account just how close he was until you were both looking at each other. Your breath caught in your throat for a moment, your eyes trying to remain on his. But if he was going to let his eyes bounce between your lips and your tits and barely look into your eyes, why should you be worried about trying to maintain a polite amount of eye contact.

“You know, I’m pretty sure my mom invited you here because she knew I’d like you.” He stated, his words echoing the thoughts that you had been having for hours. But you were too distracted to agree, as you felt him press a hand on the back of your neck. He was respectful with his touches, his hand light enough that you could easily pull away if you so desired. “She worries too much, because I used to go hard on the drugs.” 

Ah. That would make more sense. You almost wanted to ask if he was still doing them, if that was why he had such odd behavior at times. But you didn’t want to pry, you didn’t want to take the time to ruin the moment. You knew what was coming, and you knew from the aching between your thighs that you wanted it to happen. Interrupting it so you could ask someone you just met about something so personal just seemed like it would turn the whole interaction sour. 

“I hope she was right, at least. About you liking me.” 

“Oh, I do. Why else would I have asked you to sit so close?” His voice almost seemed genuinely confused, rather than teasing. It made you laugh, but he quickly concealed that laugh as he pressed his lips against yours. 

Despite the sudden action, you responded quickly to his affections and kissed him back. Your hand moved to rest on his arm that was behind you as you turned slightly so you were facing him, your knee pressing into his thigh in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable for him, but did make it clear to you both how close you were sitting and your change in position. Shepard didn’t waste too much time before letting his tongue brush against your lower lip, his hand that wasn’t behind you and pressed against your neck moving to squeeze your hip. 

“You ever get fucked in a hot tub?” His voice was matter-of-fact but slightly breathy as he pulled back, urging you to move so you were sitting on his lap - something that you happily complied with. 

“Can’t say that I have.” You responded, though your voice was more strained than you would’ve imagined. “But- but, you know, anyone could come out here.” 

That didn’t stop him from pressing his lips against your neck, a sigh leaving your throat. It didn’t help matters that you could feel how hard he was getting underneath you, his hands sliding down to rest on your ass. You wanted to remind him that this was a bad place to do this, that you could very easily go inside. But you really didn’t want to stop him, you wanted to do whatever he wanted to do because you knew that you wanted it to. 

The moment he pulled away from you ever-so-slightly so he could look at you, waiting for your permission to do what he was about to do as he brought a hand up to the fabric of your bikini top, his fingers teasing the edges of it as though he was about to pull it just slightly away from your chest, you knew that you would let him do anything to you.

“We just need to be quick, I think Elliot said he was about to take a shower anyway.” You finally said, a smile covering his face as he pulled the fabric of your top away from your chest, his lips moving so he could wrap them around your nipple. You let out a quiet moan, taking your lip between your teeth in an attempt to silence yourself. Though, it was difficult to find any sort of silence as you felt his hips slightly grind against yours, his hardened cock pressed right where you needed him to be pressed throughout the layers of your swimsuits. 

Bringing your hands away from the water, you let them explore the expanse of his torso as he pulled the other side of your bikini top away from your other breast, giving his attention to that nipple as well. You let your hands navigate lower, undoing the draw-string on his swimming trunks. You knew that you were going to have to be quick, just as he did. You could take your time with each other later, but if you wanted to do this, you were going to have to do it as fast as possible. Besides that, you were certain if you didn’t have him inside of you soon you were probably going to have some sort of emotional breakdown. 

The feeling of one of his hands sliding down your body got your attention as you locked eyes with him, the same desire that you were sure was in your eyes reflecting in his as he reached in between your thighs. You parted them slightly, better straddling his legs as he pushed your bottoms to the side. The water surrounding you made it easy for him to run his fingers through your folds, but you were sure you were wet enough already for it have been just fine without the help.

You did your best to keep quiet as his fingers ran circles around your clit, before sliding lower so you could push two of them inside of you. 

“So fucking tight, are you sure you’re going to be able to take it?” His voice was strained as you let your hand dip beneath his swimming trunks, pulling his cock out of them and taking him into your hand. The moan that left his throat as you pumped him for the first time was downright sinful, and you were sure that you needed to hear more of that. 

“I can take it, Shep. Please, just fuck me.” 

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” He reassured, before removing his fingers from your cunt, you whined at the intrusion, though his hand wrapped around yours quickly after so he could help you guide his cock to your aching cunt. Shepard pushed himself inside of you, but let you sink your hips down until you were situated in his lap again. He gave you a moment to adjust to the size of him, but shortly after you pressed your lips against his as you started to move your hips. 

Shepard allowed the slow pace for a few moments, just holding onto your hips rather than guiding you as you found your rhythm in fucking him. He liked watching you in control, liked kissing you while you took what you needed from him - while your slow, drawn-out moans filled mouth and vibrated against his lips. 

But he was impatient, and he understood just as you did that you needed to be quick if you were going to do this. He found that it took little effort to begin thrusting into you, guiding your hips down against his in a quicker pace. He let one hand leave your hips, his finger pressing against your clit again. You broke the kiss as you let your forehead rest against his, your moans mingling together and ever-so-quiet as to lot alert the people inside of the house as to what you were doing. 

“When we go inside-” He started, though his voice came out as more of a growl that was cut off by a moan. “I’m going to bend you over my desk, and fuck you until you can’t remember why you came here.” 

You were almost ashamed to admit that the only think that came out of your lips was a whimpered ‘please’, but you knew that if you tried to say anything else you would make more noise than you intended on making, or could make given the circumstances. 

The feeling that someone might make an appearance outside intensified within you as he got you closer and closer to the edge, your face pressing into his neck to muffle the noises that wanted to fill the air. He let you press against him, his movements becoming a bit disoriented especially as you bit down onto his neck. But he let you finish before him, the feeling of your walls tightening around him making him just as thoroughly satisfied as he came. If you were in a more oriented stated of mine, you would have disliked how much you enjoyed the feeling of his cum filling you, but instead you just let your lips press against his neck, sucking a mark onto his skin as you rode out your orgasms. 

Finally, after a few moments, you caught your breath and pulled him into a sloppy kiss, whimpering into it as you felt him pull himself out of you and tuck himself back into his trunks. You did the same after a moment, adjusting your bathing suit so it looked like it did before he moved it. 

It only took a minute or so for you to decide to move, letting yourself sit beside him and pulling your lips away from his. You were glad that you did, too, because it was only shortly after that Elliot would come out from the house and all three of you would decide that it would be a much better idea to go inside. 

Shepard would make good on his promise after you got inside, multiple times throughout the night, in fact. Even if neither of you could shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen in the coming days, you were still excited by the prospect of something so new. Maybe, if circumstances were different, you’d have to consider the possibility of actually forgetting why you came here.

[chaiifluuf]

Go kitty go! — d. osamu

synopsis. coming across a lonely kitten by the streets doesn’t happen everyday and it would be a crime not to take it home with you

content. gn!reader, ada!reader, fluff with extra fluff, reader likes cats(i love them okay.), established relationship, lowercase

notes. got this silly idea one day out of nowhere hehe, also thank you for all the love on my last fic! i really appreciate it <3 hope you enjoy !

meow!

suddenly you heard a high pitched cry and could identify it immediately. it was a cat. you stop in your tracks and turn your head around to the source of the noise. in a rather dark alleyway by the dumpster you notice a small kitty with a black coat and white paws. your heart melted in a second. why was there a kitten alone here, especially in this part of the city?  

“hey…” you speak out with a gentle tone, slowly crouching down so you could be more on the same level as the young feline. and to your satisfaction, it carefully started to make its way to you, seeming interested in you. with a smile you reach your hand out and invite the kitty to smell your hand, hoping that by doing so it will know that you won’t harm it. 

the black cat curiously sniffs the tips of your fingers before nuzzling your hand and letting out a small meow again. god you forgot how cute the sound of a kitten can be. you lightly stroke its back and you can’t believe how soft the fur is. you start to wonder how it ended up here. did it run away from home? was it a stray from the beginning? but then the coat wouldn’t be so clean and fluffy. or maybe someone kicked the kitten out or abandoned it? you really hope that’s not the case because who would do that to such an innocent creature.

the cat enjoys your affection quite a lot as it keeps rubbing itself against your legs. you stand up again as you remember you should really get home now. you’ve been dealing with a case for almost the whole day, leaving your poor boyfriend all alone for so long as dazai would describe it while you were about to leave in the morning. it was already hard enough to get out of bed since he would just not let go of you and pull you right back into the sheets with him, softly whining into your ear.

though now you were done with work, planning to return home. the kitty let out another cry and you knew you couldn’t just leave it here. who knows what might happen if you were to leave it alone here. 

and so you made up your mind to take it with you for the meantime and then later decide what to do next. you pick the animal up and continue walking, never before anticipating to encounter something like this but you were definitely not complaining.

•••

dazai is quietly laid down on the couch as he reads the book he always reads. it started out okay but overtime he has gotten bored of even reading that as time seems to go slower than usual. truth to be told, dazai just wanted you to come back, no matter how hard he tried to distract himself. it was awfully quiet in the house, and ultimately there was just nothing particular to do.

he sighed, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. dazai would have gladly come along with you but you insisted you wouldn’t take long and told him to go back to sleep as it was a little early in the morning when you had to leave. funny how you think he’d be able to normally sleep without you there. the amount of times dazai has thought about wanting to stay in bed with you for as long as even a day, cuddling and resting together, just you and him. even if you two wouldn’t be doing anything productive, he would still enjoy it to the fullest.

the sound of keys jingling and a door opening brought him back to reality. his face immediately lit up as he sat up straight, looking towards the front door, already excited to see your face. 

“my love! you’re finally back, how— …oh?”

as soon as you were in his view, he noticed something small in your hands. it took him less than a second to realise what that was.

“well as you can see.. i came home with some company today. look how adorable it is!” you tell him with a big smile while keeping the creature in your arms and rubbing its head with your thumb. the cat looks around curiously, examining the room.

dazai, for the first time in a while, was dumbfounded. he knew about your liking to cats but he never expected you to simply come back with one. 

“…you found a kitten?” he says unsurely as he stares at the kitty with slight confusion, trying to make sense of the situation.

“yeah, on the streets. i couldn’t possibly just leave it there when it came to me,” you speak with a soft tone and slowly put the kitten down so it could move freely. dazai watched the cat as it let out another meow. he blinked and turned back to you.

“surely you’re not planning to keep it right? someone might be looking for it,” he points out although he thinks his heart skipped a beat when he saw the pure look of adoration in your eyes. the overall image of happiness on you made his chest feel warmer.

you nod. “i know. however for the time being we can take some care of it, can’t we?” you say with a hopeful look, moving to sit down next to him and also helping the kitty to join you two as it followed you around.

“look I know you aren’t fond of dogs but i've never heard you say anything bad about cats,” you mention, slightly leaning on him as you wonder about his opinion on cats. 

he lets out a low hum, wrapping one of his arms around you and giving you a small kiss on your temple before responding calmly. “i don’t have anything against cats as long as they don’t attack me out of nowhere.”

you seemed pleased with his answer. “exactly! i’m sure that this cutie here is no problem at all,” a slight chuckle leaves your lips as you feel the black kitty between you and him lightly lick your finger, not used to the sensation of its rough tongue.

dazai’s grin grows a little. “are you talking about yourself?~” he teased, using that flirtatious tone of his. and of course he didn’t miss that pink tint that raised to your cheeks right after saying that. 

“‘samu! you know what I was talking about,” you tell him, and you can feel your cheeks burn a little. you should’ve honestly seen that one coming but oh well. he has always been too good at making comments like this to get you all flustered.

before he could respond, the kitten started meowing again, only slightly louder this time. both you and dazai are caught off guard by that. you blink in surprise. “what’s wrong?” your tone is softer, trying to figure out what’s going on as you stroke its back. 

“maybe it’s hungry?” dazai guesses since if the kitty has been a stray for some time then it must be hungry.

“oh you’re right,” you now realise that as well. what should you feed it though? you get up to go over and check the fridge, scanning over all the food items there are. you hum in thought. “pretty sure that cow milk wasn’t good for them… but we have some ham,” you speak while taking a package of it out.

dazai returns his gaze back to the black kitten. it really did have rather big and innocent eyes, he noticed. and before he had the chance to react, it made its way into his lap, seeming curious about him now. dazai’s body slightly tensed as he wasn’t sure what to do or what it wanted from him. the cat merely lets out a small cry as it stares at him.

after a moment of thinking, he slowly moves his hand near the kitty’s head and to his surprise, the kitten rubs itself against his palm right away. his gaze softened. Its fur really was as soft as it looked and after about a minute of petting it, he heard a different noise. It was undoubtedly purring. did this little one like him that much?

“aww socks likes you, ‘samu! this is the first time i'm hearing it purr,” you speak up with joy from behind as you prepare some small pieces of ham on a plate. dazai can’t help but chuckle at the mention of the name.

“socks? that's supposed to be its name now?” he says as he turns his head to you, a casual smile on his face. 

“i mean i think it is a fitting nickname, considering its black coat and white paws which seem like socks,” you explain while putting the rest of the ham back into the fridge and returning to the couch. You place the plate of some ham on the ground and glance at socks. “Look here, i got you something,” you tell the kitty as you point to the ham.

the kitten immediately perks up and jumps off dazai’s lap. it sniffs the pork and a second later starts eating it. your face beamed as you looked at socks, it is quite obvious that the poor animal was starving considering how hastily it’s eating.

dazai however had his eyes on you the entire time. he swears your beauty multiplies when you look so content like this. the way your eyes are sparkling, a soft smile gracing your lips, your whole figure seems to shine. and once again he's reminded that he is dating an angel. he really can’t fight the way the corners of his lips turned upwards. he wished things stayed this way forever. because if you are happy then he is happy.

it doesn’t take long for the kitten to finish its food, licking its lips in satisfaction. you reach out your hand to pet it, murmuring a small praise as well. 

“y’know we have to go to the animal shelter sooner or later,” dazai brings up with a quiet tone and intertwines one of his hands with yours. a moment of silence passes before you subtly nod, your hand squeezing his slightly. “yeah i know… i imagine someone could be worried sick, with no idea where their pet is,” you say calmly, a quiet sigh leaving your lips.

yes, that was the right thing to do after all. it’s the least that this cat deserves.

•••

in the end, the kitty reunited with its real owner. you still remember the image of pure relief on her face when she hugged her pet tightly, a few tears escaping her eyes. she also thanked you dearly with a hug as well. she was beyond grateful to you over the fact that you decided to take it with you to the shelter.

oh and you found out that the kitten’s real name was molly. it was a perfect name for her no doubt, but you won’t regret calling her by your created nickname before. 

molly is now with her owner in her real home, loved and cared for. problem solved. so why don’t you feel happy about it?

you honestly felt a little guilty for even getting this attached. you should have expected this one way or another, it wasn’t like you were going to keep a cat all of a sudden just because you found it on the streets. you should forget about this and move on with your life.

dazai noticed your changed behaviour after the whole thing. he always does. you were more quiet at times, and he could tell you missed her even if you didn't bring it up. the affection you had for her was clear to him from the beginning. he often thought about how to make you feel better, what he could say to see that smile of yours again. one day he finally got an idea.

“love, i’ve been thinking about something,” dazai says, leaning slightly against the kitchen counter as he watches you cook breakfast.

you hum in response. “i'm listening,” you say simply while you sprinkle some salt onto the fried eggs you’re cooking. after a moment he decides to continue.

“i wouldn’t mind adopting a cat some time in the future,” he tells you truthfully as he glances at you, waiting for your reaction.

your movements pause. “...are you serious?” you turn to him and look deep into his eyes. for a second you were unsure if you heard him right.

dazai smiled fondly before nodding, and after processing what he meant, a smile grew on your lips too. he sees that familiar light in your eyes again now and he couldn’t feel luckier.

you moved closer to him and gave him a simple yet sweet kiss on the lips. dazai placed his hands on your hips, slowly drawing circles on them as he focused on the kiss.

afterwards, you kept your forehead in touch with his, murmuring your next words so tenderly.

“i love you so much.”

and dazai responds just as softly.

“i love you even more, my dear.”

wow this came out much longer than I thought whoopsies, anyways this guy definitively is secretly a cat person (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

[xuchiya]

Hello! Firstly, thank you so much for sharing your beautiful writings with us online 💕

I saw your post about your inbox being empty and I was wondering if you could write Jongho angst/fluff about his new relationship with reader who likes skinship, so like he gets shy and conflicted at first, maybe even insecure about not being good bf or angry about having to do skinship but then they both work things out and it has good ending? 🥺

I'm in desperate need of Jongho scenarios, maybe you'll bless me and other ribos with one 🙏

If not, it's okay too! Have a good day/night :D

Hello my loves, thank you so much, I'm quite rusty since i have stop writing for many years and this year was the only time I returned writing!! I am happy to always share my works with you ... and feed your delulus heheh 👹kidding my loves. Anyways, your wish is my command my loves.

"I'll hold your hand, eventually" || choi jongho || one-shot

|genre: non!idol jongho. fluff. angst. girlfriend! reader |mentions: fear. self-doubt.

When you first meet Jongho, you notice the way he is conservative. At first you thought he was shy—which you were correct as it took him a lot of time to adjust. You were patient enough to let him bask in the presence and the reality of being in a committed relationship. Meanwhile, inside his head numerous anxious thoughts hit him at once; being in the relationship, skinship does happen in some kind of way. Either it be a choice of savoring in the closeness or sweetness of your partner or by accident closure, either way it happens and he is not prepared for it. 

The air between you and Jongho had grown thick with an awkward tension that neither of you seemed to know how to cut. You put your lips in a thin line as you glance his way before directing it somewhere.

 It wasn’t always this way. 

When your relationship had first begun, everything had felt easy, light, like walking on a cloud. He is gentle with his words assuring you, making his presence a sense of comfort whenever you walk outside to take a breather— to which you both have loved to do ever since.

But now, four months in, a certain weight hung in the space you shared.

It had started with the little small things. One morning, you and Jongho decided to eat breakfast outside since the weather is nice; weather is warm to your skin, the sky greets you with its fluffy clouds and it feels like a good day. Unknowingly under the influence of the beauty of nature, you reach for his hand, a moment you wanted to share with him but it all shattered when Jongho smoothly pulls away from your hold. He thought that you wouldn’t notice when he started pointing things in general to distract you.

You felt it and it left you awkward and embarrassed as you thought you were going way too fast and nodded at his facts and such.

But what you didn’t know is the way he stiffened when you leaned into him on the couch during movie nights. Your favorite routine with him was to watch various shows and anime movies. Howl’s moving castle was your favorite of all time and it always leaves you with a fluttering heart.

“Howl is so sweet, he reminds me a lot of you.” You spoke with a huge smile on your lips as you gaze at the man beside you. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“He looks more like Wooyoung-hyung.” Your lips jutted to the side and nodded, agreeing with him “Yeah well he acts more like you.” 

You watch how he subtly rolled his eyes at you, jokingly to which you threw the small pillow you were hugging at him. He kept teasing you until you narrowed your eyes and moved towards him. The sudden short distance made Jongho’s eyes widen as he subtly moved backwards.

“You still are my Howl.” Even the joke had died and the awkwardness born in the middle of your playful bickering; It made you move away as you mumbled a small apology and kept your eyes on the screen.

That moment hurt you as you notice in the corner of your eyes the way he moved in his seat to make himself comfortable and placed a pillow just between you two. It was embarrassing and painful as your eyes blurred for a minute until you pushed it down and distract yourself, unsuccessfully, on the movie.

The last one was the final straw. He never reciprocated your hugs.

You tried not to let it bother you, knowing that Jongho wasn’t as naturally inclined toward skinship as you were. But the more it happened, the more the doubt crept in. Did he not like touching you? Did it mean something deeper about your relationship? 

You knew how shallow your reason is for distancing yourself from Jongho but it felt like the world was playing with you for finally having the thought of happily ever after. Of course! You promised Jongho and whoever hears it that you will always extend the patience you have within you all throughout your relationship.

But a simple gesture is enough to doubt whatever you have. Whoever you were.

On the other hand, Jongho was battling his own storm of thoughts. He loved you deeply, and that scared him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hold your hand or embrace you—it was that he wasn’t sure how. He wasn’t sure if he’d be good enough for you, if he could meet your needs the way you deserved. The last thing he wanted was for his awkwardness to disappoint you.

The weight of his doubts grew heavier with each passing day, an invisible barrier he couldn’t bring himself to cross. His heart raced every time you smiled at him, every time your fingers brushed him. He wanted so badly to close the gap between you, but something inside held him back—fear, uncertainty, a quiet voice whispering he might not be enough.

It all came to a head one chilly evening as the two of you were walking home from dinner. The streets were quiet, save for the soft crunch of your shoes against the pavement. The glow of streetlights painted golden halos on the wet ground, and your breath mingled with the cold in small, visible puffs. Without thinking, your arm instinctively looped through his, seeking warmth and comfort.

But Jongho hesitated. After a brief moment, he gently pulled away, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets. The absence of his touch sent a pang through your chest.

You didn’t want to cause a scene in which he was already awkward with what was happening between the two of you, so you sighed and stopped in your tracks, the soft clink of your shoes on the pavement cutting off abruptly. The suddenness of your pause made Jongho stop as well, his back stiffening as he turned to face you.

“Jongho, why do you keep doing that?” you asked, your voice steady but carrying a weight of emotion that was impossible to ignore.

It was the moment Jongho had been dreading, the day he wasn’t ready to face. And now, he stood before you, caught in the headlights of your question, his throat dry and his heart pounding like a drum.

“Doing what?” he asked, feigning innocence, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew exactly what you meant, but he wasn’t prepared to confront it—not now, maybe not ever.

“Pulling away from me,” you said, your voice quieter now, laced with vulnerability. The look in your eyes told him this wasn’t just about tonight. This was about every moment he’d retreated, every time he’d let his hesitation overshadow the love he felt.

Jongho felt your words like a sharp knife, slicing through the layers of fear and doubt he’d built around himself. He opened his mouth, as though to speak, but no words came. He swallowed hard, frustration bubbling within him as he grappled with the emotions threatening to spill over.

“Do you even like me, Jongho?” The question came out softer than you intended, almost a whisper, but the impact on Jongho was like a thunderclap.

His eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. “What? Of course, I do!” he blurted out, the suddenness of his response surprising even him.

“Then why does it feel like you’re always holding back?” Your voice cracked, the dam of your own frustrations breaking at last. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them away, determined not to cry.

Jongho looked down at his feet, his hands still buried deep in his pockets as though they could shield him from the weight of the moment. He drew in a shaky breath, the cool night air filling his lungs as he tried to summon the courage to speak.

“I’m scared,” he admitted at last, his voice trembling with raw honesty. “I’m scared of messing this up, of not being enough for you. You deserve someone who knows what they’re doing, someone who isn’t… me.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard, and your anger softened into something gentler, something understanding. You took a small step closer, closing the space he’d put between you.

“Jongho,” you said softly, “I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be here—with me.” Your words hung in the air, fragile yet powerful. It has come to you that this is what he has been going through and you instantly felt guilty for not noticing the turmoil he is in; you could have taken it in a way to understand more than just letting your emotions get the best of you. 

Jongho finally lifted his gaze to meet yours, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. It was like a weight on his shoulders had lifted and he could finally see the pain of his absence in touch. He would have already you in his arms if it wasn’t for his fear and doubt. But because your simple but impactful words had melted those thoughts away; gradually, hesitantly, he pulled his hands from his pockets, reaching for yours. His fingers trembled slightly as they intertwined with yours, but this time, he didn’t pull away.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice barely audible but steady. “And I’ll try. I promise I’ll keep trying.”

The weight of the moment settled between you, not as a burden but as an unspoken agreement to face the challenges ahead together. And as you walked the rest of the way home, hand in hand, the silence between you felt different—warm, reassuring, and filled with a quiet hope.

[astrolook]

Decode the Universe: Why astrology and tarot are the ultimate power couple! #6 - Final

Aquarius - Jan 20 -Feb 19 : Venus / Mercury / Moon in Aquarius

Venus in Aquarius - King of Swords - "Love me for my mind… or don’t. Either way, I’m good."

These people looks good, thinks even better.

They are loyal but detached.

Their style of romance is an intellectual exercise.

Straight to the point, no sugarcoating.

Logical, futuristic, and somehow attractive? That's Venus in Aquarius for you.

If venus is afflicted, can be cold as ice and too logical in love. Can be too blunt and ignores others opinions.

Mercury in Aquarius - The Fool - "I have no idea what I’m doing… but it’s brilliant!"

Thinks so outside the box, they forgot boxes exist.

Their ideas sound crazy—until they work.

Spontaneous thinker and quirky AF.

They text at 3 AM with life-changing thoughts.

Conversations with them? A rollercoaster.

If mercury is afflicted, they say wild stuff, then watches your reaction like a science experiment. Believe in crazy conspiracy theories. Easily distracted and reckless curiosity. Loves saying weird things just to confuse people - Troll energy.

Moon in Aquarius - The Star - "Weird? Nah, I’m just from the future."

No matter what happens, they believe in the glow-up.

Feelings? Managed. Chaos? Observed, not absorbed.

Always thinking light-years ahead of you.

They have an unconventional wisdom. Might drop life-changing advice mid-meme.

Their dreams are bigger than the solar system.

If moon is afflicted, they love you from a distance. Loses hope easily and gives up easily.

Pisces - Feb 20 - Mar 20 : Saturn / Jupiter / Mars in Pisces

Saturn in Pisces - Knight of Cups - "Hopeless romantic, but with a five-year plan."

These people now love isn’t a fairy tale—but still believes in magic.

Dreams big, but also does the work.

Will write poetry about you and show up on time.

Soft heart, strong spine.

If saturn is afflicted : wants and waits for the perfect moment, which… never comes. Carries emotional baggage - neatly packed. Trust issues and the walls they built for themselves aren't gonna go down soon.

Jupiter in Pisces - Hanged Man - "Going with the flow… straight into another dimension."

Sees life differently. Finds luck in weird places.

Spiritual AF. Probably has deep conversations with ghosts.

Knows things without knowing how they know.

While others rush, they marinate in wisdom.

Believes the universe handles things for them and trusts the divine timing.

If jupiter is afflicted, they could be the master of procrastination. Could be delusional. Zero sense of urgency. Sacrifices too much and cannot pick a path. Could be staying in an abusive relationship and be waiting for the right time to come out.. No, it won't come.

Mars in Pisces - The Moon - "Fighting battles… mostly imaginary ones."

Mysterious AF and a spiritual warrior.

Could be having prophetic dreams.

These people are the defender of underdogs, lost souls, and stray animals.

Can turn daydreams into reality.

If mars is afflicted, jealousy arises. Passive aggressive. Uses guilt as a weapon. Plays the victim and the villain at the same time.

I hope you all liked it. I'll come back tomorrow with another topic and stay tuned!

Curious about your birth chart and what it's really saying about you? 🌟 Slide into my DMs for a personalized astrology reading, and let's unlock the secrets of your stars. ✨ Don’t forget to check out my pinned post for pricing details! 🔮 Let’s make those cosmic connections happen! 🌙🌌

[gatitties]

Hi! Love your work!

I was wondering if you could do a headcannon with the straw hats in the skypiea arc, if a child reader got merked by Enel (maybe not actually dead just looks as if) and what would be the reactions? And action taken?

Feel free to ignore (please dont😭) bye bye!!

─Strawhats x child!reader (platonic)

─Summary: general headcanons of you being attacked in Skypiea

─Warnings: none

oh!! don't worry I barely ignore requests, I just take a long time to write 😔✋🏻

─ The moment you arrive at Skypiea the crew may give you up for lost, you are a curious child and this whole world of clouds keeps you distracted long enough to forget that you have a crew with which to continue a journey.

─ Everyone is so immersed in the place and its customs that they don't seem to notice how you enter that jungle full of enormous trees.

─ How you stayed alive during all that time of exploration taking into account that you were a wanted criminal for not having paid the initial bail, the number of wild animals in the forest and even Enel's priests is a mystery.

─ You come face to face with Enel, in reality, he approached you because he could feel you, being the weakest link he thought it wouldn't be fun for someone like you to be in his death game, so he decided to get rid of you before it started.

─ You put up a good fight ─bites─ but you didn't have enough skill to defeat the self-proclaimed God, running away only served you for a while until your energy was completely exhausted.

─ Enel's first mistake was thinking that you wouldn't need an attack that was too powerful to knock you out of the game, although you got a good spark, since you started traveling with this crew your body had learned to withstand a certain amount of pain, in short, you did not have the same resistance or abilities that a child your age would have, which helped you stay alive.

─ Robin was the one who found you, despite having just gotten out of her own fight, finding you limp on the ground with barely any breathing made all the pain in her body disappear, she crouched down and took you in her arms in the hope of reaching as soon as possible with the rest, but especially with Chopper so that he could treat you if he could.

─ Everyone seemed gathered except Nami, everyone was completely hurt, their expressions only darkened more when they saw how Robin brought your body, Luffy clenched his fist in anger when he saw you, not knowing if you were going to open your eyes, Usopp hugged Zoro praying in murmurs as Sanji and Chopper approached you.

─ Luffy didn't even wait to find out if you were okay or not, he simply started running towards Enel again, not only for revenge but to rescue Nami as well, Sanji joined in after knowing that you would be in the hands of the crew's doctor.

─ The others couldn't do much more than watch, hoping it wasn't the worst.

─ Everyone's face seemed to light up when you began to cough desperately, you opened your eyes and moved like a fish out of water, when you adjusted to the lighting you found everyone's face looking closely at you.

─ Everything continued as it should, maybe Enel took a couple more punches than necessary while fighting Luffy, but the important thing was that you didn't have any casualties during the trip.

─ Maybe it's a little more annoying for you now, but the crew refused to let you wander alone when there would be potential dangers lurking, so your exploration time was over, only until you could escape of course.