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summervb · 18 hours ago

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𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

open requests!!

summary | you have an unexpected reunion with Jun-ho after believing he was dead

warnings | angst, unresolved love, smut, explicit content, p in v, unprotected sex

word count | 1.7 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

The road stretched endlessly in front of you. You were a police officer, but at that moment, as you drove down that lonely highway, you didn't feel the rigidity of your uniform or the weight of your job.

Your mind traveled back to the past, to moments you would rather forget. Years had passed since you lost him. Since that night when he simply disappeared and you never heard from him again.

Suddenly, the lights of a patrol car reflected in your rearview mirror. The blue glow made your heart leap in your chest. Quickly, you checked your speed, confirming that you had been speeding. You cursed under your breath.

You stopped the car and parked it by the side of the road. The blue light continued to shine behind you, but something twisted in your stomach.

You prepared for a short exchange, a speeding ticket, something routine. But when the driver's door opened and you looked up, something made you stop.

There he was. In a traffic police uniform.

Hwang Jun-ho.

You couldn't believe it. Your mind went blank for a moment, as if time itself had stopped. He was staring at you, his dark eyes reflecting something you couldn't identify. For a moment, the air between the two of you thickened, dense with the memories of a past that had never completely faded.

"Good evening" he said, his voice as deep as you remembered, but with a tone you hadn't heard before. "Did you know you were speeding?"

Your body tensed instantly, but it wasn't because of the speeding. It was because of the surprise. For the feeling that the past had returned to hit you hard. You didn't know what to say, you just looked into his eyes, searching for a sign that what you saw in front of you was nothing but an illusion.

"Jun-ho…" you whispered, the word slipping from your lips as if it weren't yours, as if you couldn't believe what you were seeing.

He nodded slowly, his expression unchanged, but there was something in his gaze, something that made you doubt everything you had believed. How was it possible that he was here?

"Didn't you expect to see me here?" he asked, his tone now softer, but with a weight of nostalgia that seemed to hang in the air. "You thought you would never see me again".

A knot formed in your throat. You had asked yourself so many times what had happened to him. If he would ever come back. But the pain of the separation, the void left by his disappearance, was still fresh in your mind. And now you had him in front of you, alive, real, and in a uniform you had never imagined.

You didn't know if you had been waiting for this moment or dreading it.

"Why... are you in transit?" the question slipped out almost unintentionally, but Jun Ho cut it off before you could finish it.

"I needed to start over. Change of scenery" His voice became softer, as if the words he was saying had too great a weight to let go.

You stared at him, unsure if you could believe his words. The situation was surreal. How had he ended up here? What had happened to him since his disappearance? The last time you heard from him, it was when they found him adrift in the ocean, almost lifeless, recovering from everything he had endured. But now he was here, in front of you, as if time hadn't passed at all.

"I thought you had... died." The phrase came out before you could stop it.

Jun Ho let out a sigh, his eyes softened for a second.

"Everyone thought the same," he said, with a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "But I survived. And here I am".

The silence settled between the two of them, heavy, full of unasked questions, of unmentioned memories. And in that moment, something inside you broke. Something you had tried to contain for so long. The need to understand what had happened, to comprehend how it had all been. And more than anything, the need to feel it close again.

"I didn't think I would ever see you again," you said, almost like a whisper.

Jun-ho didn't respond immediately. Instead, he leaned toward the passenger seat, his face now just a few centimeters from yours. The proximity made you tremble. You couldn't deny what you felt, what you had always felt for him. The connection you shared, even after everything that happened, was undeniable.

Suddenly, he moved closer, his lips almost touching yours. A shiver ran through your body as you felt his closeness, and the air became thick. The memories, the emotions, everything you had kept inside overflowed in that moment.

Without thinking, you kissed him.

The kiss was immediate, as if time hadn't passed, as if everything were back to how it used to be. The touch of his lips on yours ignited something within you, something you had kept extinguished for years. The spark, the fire you shared, had never gone out.

Jun-ho's hands traced your face, as if he feared you would vanish at any moment. The gentleness with which he touched you contrasted with the urgency in his kiss. It didn't matter what had happened, what had occurred in the past. At that moment, only the present mattered.

The car no longer seemed like a closed space. The connection between the two of them was palpable, almost electric. You pulled away from his kiss for a moment, taking a breath, but before you could say anything, he leaned in again. This time, he was more determined, more firm.

His hands traveled down your neck, tracing the contour of your skin, and a shiver ran through your body. You felt how desire took hold of both of you, how the chemistry that had remained between you hadn't faded with time. It was as if it had never left.

"I've missed you so much," he said softly, as he kissed you again.

Jun-ho's words made your heart race even faster. You felt as if you had returned to the past, when everything was simpler, when there were no distances, when you both shared dreams and promises. But that promise was broken, and now only the shadows of what once was remained.

The tension in the air was rising, and you couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened between the two of you. But in that moment, the only thing that mattered was him. All you wanted was to feel him close again.

Jun-ho looked you in the eyes, and without a word, his hands began to unbutton your uniform. The desire grew with every second, with every caress, with every touch of his skin against yours.

You moved to the passenger side, sliding over his lap as his hands removed your uniform. You nestled against his chest, feeling his lips kiss your shoulders, while his hands brushed against your bare skin. The touch of his fingers tracing your curves made you gasp.

Jun-ho kissed you again, deepening the kiss, and his hands moved to the back of your body, towards your buttocks. The gesture made you tremble, and you felt something within you beginning to give in. The tension you had held for so long was fading away.

He leaned close to your ears and whispered something, words you couldn't quite understand, but that seemed to promise something beyond that moment. And instead of waiting, his fingers slid between your thighs, searching for the spot he knew would drive you wild.

The caress of his fingers was soft, tempting, as if they were about to make a promise. The closeness of his body, the proximity of his mouth over you, the softness of his fingers on you, it was all as if you were returning to the past. Everything was as if they had never been apart.

Your breath caught when his fingers found the spot. The desire intensified in an instant. The excitement had brought you to a point you didn't want to leave, and the touch of his hand on you was too much to resist.

You moved slowly over his lap, feeling the bulge of his pants against your thighs. The friction was inevitable, but Jun-ho didn't seem to mind. Instead, he moved with me, his fingers slowly penetrating you. The moans that escaped your throat were involuntary, and Jun Ho muffled them with a kiss. The rhythm of his fingers increased, the penetration deeper and more rhythmic. You couldn't hold out much longer.

Suddenly, Jun Ho stopped you. His fingers left you with a softness that made you gasp. But before you could protest, Jun-ho leaned closer to your ear and whispered.

"I want to feel you" His words made you lose your composure completely. The air in the car had become dense, heavy with desire.

I didn't need any more stimulation. Quickly, you took off your underwear and sat on his lap again.

You slid your hand between his pants, caressing his erection. The sensation of his skin, soft and warm under your touch, was all you needed. You slid it down, revealing his erection in all its glory. It was just as you remembered, big and thick, ready to be fucked.

You didn't take any more time to think. There was no more time for that. You moved over his erection, the position of the car forced you to be the one on top, and that was exactly what you wanted. The position of control was yours at that moment.

You sat on him, his erection brushing against the edge of your entrance, but without penetrating. The torture was as good as it was painful. The friction was all you needed to reach the climax, but it was also what made you want more.

Suddenly, his arms enveloped you, and he pulled you towards him. The movement was abrupt, and his erection sank into you in an instant. The penetration was stronger than you expected, but also more pleasurable.

The scream that escaped your lips was involuntary, but the pleasure was undeniable. Jun-ho moved beneath you, pushing his erection inside you over and over again. Each thrust made you tense a little more, made you sit a little deeper on his cock.

The position of the car made sex a bit more uncomfortable, but that was the last thing on your mind. At that moment, all that mattered was the feeling of having him inside you again, feeling his breath on you, having his body in contact with yours.

"Tell me you haven't forgotten me," you whisper in his ear.

The request was simple, but what lay behind it was much more than just words.

"I have never forgotten you," you replied sincerely, your words coming out in gasps. "I will never be able to do it".

Jun Ho smiled at you, his eyes shining in the darkness of the car. His arms tightened around you, and he pushed a little deeper inside you. Your breath caught for a moment, the pleasure rising to a new level.

"Then, tell me that you will always love me" he whispered again.

The words slipped from your lips without thinking.

"Yes, I always loved you. I always will".

Jun-ho smiled again, but this time, there was something in his eyes, an emotion that seemed to shine like fire. His arms tightened around you a little more, and he began to move beneath you again. The position was uncomfortable, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the rhythm, the feel of his cock inside you.

Their breathing became labored. The pleasure intensified with each thrust, but it wasn't just the sex that made you lose your composure. It was the closeness of having him there, of having him back in your life.

When you reached the climax, the scream that came out of you was not just one of pleasure. It was one of liberation, of having released everything you had been holding back for years.

Jun-ho arrived just a moment later, his body tensing beneath you as he came. The warm fluid spilled inside you, and you felt his erection pulsing within you.

Both of your breathing became gentle, and for a moment, there were no words between you. Only the sound of the air moving in the car was audible. Jun-ho gently stroked your hair as you leaned on his shoulder, feeling his skin against yours.

"You won't give me a ticket for having sex in the car, will you?" you joked a moment later.

Jun Ho laughed softly, his lips brushing against your hair.

"No" He smiled in the darkness. "I think you've already paid me in full".

You laughed softly and leaned a little more into his arms.

#squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game 2 #squid games #squid game #hwang jun ho #hwang jun ho x reader #hwang jun ho x reader smut #squid game x reader smut #squid game season 2 #squid game smut

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raekensluver · 3 days ago

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i've been craving fics that show how lu's backpain effects his realtionships someone said he struggled with intimacy i'd love if you can write this! him struggling post or mid sex. sometimes i struggle to find most lu fics realistic.

ohhh me too darling. whenever i write a lu smut the thought of him most likely not being able to do what's going on in the scene is always in the back of my mind. but thank you for requesting this because i lowkey was itching to write some more realistic luigi fics. (also i tried to do a little research on spondylolisthesis so hopefully what i have written down is accurate!)

contains: smut, p in v, spondylolisthesis (luigi's back condition ☹️)

luigi mangione x fem!reader

"i'm so close, so close," you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt the warmth of luigi's breath against your skin.

the room was a canvas of shadows and moonlight, the curtains drawn aside to let in the cool evening air. the sound of crickets outside seemed to crescendo with your every movement. you felt a bead of sweat trickle down your spine, a delicious contrast to the shiver that ran through you. but as you reached for the peak of your pleasure, something changed in the air. the atmosphere grew taut, the anticipation thickened like the silence before a storm.

luigi's face was a portrait of pain, the lines around his eyes tightening and his jaw clenched. you looked into his eyes, those warm pools of brown that had once been filled with passion now clouded over with discomfort. you could see the effort he was making, his body tense as he tried to hold back his grimace. your heart twisted in your chest, knowing that he was enduring this for you, because he didn't want to disappoint or cause you any distress.

you reached up and gently touched his cheek, whispering, "are you okay?"

his eyes searched yours, a silent conversation passing between you. the pain was etched in the furrow of his brow, but the love in his gaze was unmistakable. "yeah, i'm fine," he managed to say, though his voice was strained. but you knew him better than that.

you felt a wave of guilt crash over you. how could you be so selfish? here he was, trying to make you happy, and all you could do was cause him pain. your own desire took a backseat to his well-being. you shifted slightly, changing the angle to alleviate the pressure on his back. "luigi," you said, a little louder this time, "we need to stop."

his eyes searched yours for a brief moment, a flicker of relief passing through them before he nodded. he gently pulled out, and you felt a twinge of regret mingled with the ache of unfulfilled desire. you moved closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his forehead. "i'm sorry," you whispered. "i didn't mean to hurt you."

his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "it's not your fault," he murmured into your hair. "i just… i want to make sure you're happy."

you could feel the tension in his muscles, the way his body was coiled tightly like a spring. you knew that his condition, spondylolisthesis, made certain positions unbearable for him. but tonight, you had been too caught up in the moment to remember. "i'm happy," you assured him, stroking his back gently. "but i don't want to hurt you."

his sigh was warm against your skin. "you didn't," he said, but you could hear the doubt in his voice. "it's just that sometimes, i feel like i'm not enough for you. that i can't… satisfy you."

you pulled back and looked at him, a mix of concern and determination in your eyes. "luigi," you said firmly, "you're more than enough. we'll figure it out together, okay?"

his smile was weak, but genuine. "okay," he agreed.

you slid out of bed, the cool floor against your feet a stark contrast to the warmth of the sheets. you reached for his hand, tugging him gently to stand. "let's go take a hot shower," you urged, leading him towards the bathroom.

his steps were stiff, his gait slightly altered as he followed you. you knew the pain was a constant companion for him, especially during moments of intimacy. you'd been together long enough to recognize the signs, to understand his winces and the way his breath hitched when the spasms hit. it wasn't your first time experiencing this dance of pleasure and pain, but it never got any easier to navigate.

you turned on the shower, the sound of water hitting the tiles a soothing balm to the tension in the air. you stepped in, the warmth enveloping you, and beckoned him to join. as luigi entered the shower, you could see his muscles relax slightly, the heat acting as a gentle massage. you moved closer, pressing your body against his, the warm water cascading over both of you as you kissed him gently.

"is this better?" you asked, your voice soft.

"yeah," he said, his eyes closing as the warm water pounded against his back. "thank you."

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione smut #uhc shooter #luigi mangione x reader #uhc assassin #real person fiction #rpf #luigi mangione fanfic #deny defend depose #luigi mangione imagine #mara's inbox *ੈ✩‧₊˚

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cherrixpie · 23 hours ago

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ACCISMUS

↬ maybe it was stupid trying to make theodore nott jealous by going to the yule ball with mattheo. maybe.

↬ sfw; wc: 9.4k; cw: violence, suggestive; theo nott x reader, friends to lovers

Mattheo Riddle was a genius. At least after today he was. Though it wasn't like he wasn't sharp, it was more so the fact that his desire to punch someone got in the way of his composure that had earned him the reputation of a beater rather than a schemer. Usually, it was Theodore with the observant eyes, perfect composure and the thoroughly thought-out plans. Mattheo would know, as Theo’s quick-witted responses and excuses were likely the only reason he hadn't been kicked out yet. But today, he would turn the tables.

As usual, younger students jumped out of his way as he stormed through the halls, climbing the stairs that led up to Gryffindor tower. A group of his peers that were climbing out of their common room entrance cast him incredulous looks as Mattheo surged forward to hold it open and slip in in their wake. The second he entered the lion’s den, conversations fell silent and a sea of Gryffindors wearing expressions of varying shock stared at him, standing panting before the exit.

With a sweeping glance, Mattheo spotted you, sitting by the fire with your friends and playing chess against Weasley. When he had entered, you had looked up from your game and were now looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He called your name and motioned outside, hoping you'd get the hint. You did and rose from your seat, quelling the nervous remarks of your Gryffindor friends.

In spite of your house, you had been included in Mattheo’s friend group ever since you’d had a charms project with Enzo in fifth year, who had introduced you to them. Against all odds, it had been an instant match, and you hung out with them whenever you could, even though your housemates had been opposing the idea from the start.

Now, you stifled their complaints and slipped past Mattheo out of the portrait hole, who followed in suit, not sorry to leave the room of judging stares behind. When he let the portrait fall back into place, he found you frowning at him. “Did you run all the way up here, Mattheo?”

“Maybe,” he grinned cheekily and you rolled your eyes, though actual annoyance was missing from both your eyes and voice. “Whatever for?”

His appearance was slightly unnerving. Though completely out of breath and heaving heavily, an eager, almost crazed smile tugged at his lips and his eyes glinted dangerously. “I have a proposition for you,” Mattheo grinned and you sighed. Oh Merlin. You were going to get roped into another one of his schemes, weren't you?

“So, here’s the deal,” Mattheo whispered conspicuously and dragged you into a darker part of the corridor. “I think we can both do each other a favor that benefits both of us.” He swatted his hand at your skeptical expression. “I mean, actually benefitting both of us.”

“Let's hear it,” you replied and crossed your arms. You had your doubts wether this wasn't just an elaborate plot advantageous to exactly one person: Mattheo. That wasn't prejudice talking, but experience. Just a few years ago, you would've thought it impossible that you would be friends with Mattheo Riddle one day, but he had turned out to be a genuinely funny and easy to talk to person. But that didn't mean you trusted him when he looked at you like that. Especially because Mattheo had a way of causing trouble that rivaled Harry Potter’s.

“Be my date for the Yule ball,” Mattheo blurted out and your brows only rose higher.

During the last few weeks, nobody had known another topic of interest than the Yule ball that would take place at the end of the week, the hustle and bustle around it had been exhausting. Not to mention the drama resulting from the dating rumors. Secretly, you’d been hoping that Theo would ask you out. You had been crushing on him since even before you were properly introduced, and befriending him had only intensified your feelings for him. But he hadn't made a move. And now this.

“How would that benefit either of us?” you said, stunned. “What use could either of us possibly have to gain from stepping on each other's toes for a whole evening?”

“Well,” Mattheo started, rubbing his neck. “Ya see, I have a lot of … options, but I don't want anyone to become attached and start bugging me or expecting a relationship.” He pulled a disgusted face and you suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. Out of his whole friend group, who were all very sexually active, Mattheo had earned himself the title of the biggest whore, but it looked like that came to beat him in the ass for the first time.

“Why don't you go alone, then?” you asked sensibly. “I'm sure no one is going to doubt your sexual prowess just because you go solo to the Yule ball.”

Mattheo shook his head. “Not an option. I did a bet with Draco and I have to eat a hundred living flubberworms if I don't get a date.” A shudder ran through his body at the thought. “So I’m thinking I'll just ask a friend. But Pansy and Blaise are going and Draco and Daphne have made arrangements and Merlin forgive me for not wanting to go to the ball with Enzo or Theo.”

You couldn't help the snort that escaped you and turned into a laugh at the incredulous look he gave you. “God, Mattheo, I can't believe it. This is absurd.”

Patiently, Mattheo waited for you to come down from your laughing fit. “So, what do you say, angel? I can dance, I promise.”

“What's wrong with going out with Enzo or Theo?” you asked elusively. Though you had become used to the looks and stares that you earned every time your friendship to the Slytherin gang came up, you weren't keen on the attention you’d get for going out with the Dark Lord’s son, even if it was merely platonic.

“Come on,” Mattheo pleaded with you and it was a genuinely curious sight to hear him beg. “Think about what's in it for you!”

“Having to listen to you for hours on end and a public witch hunt?”

“Aha!” he called and sprung up. “That's where part two of my plan comes in.” When you opened your mouth to protest, he waved his hands to stop you. “Listen to this. I get to escape the flubberworms and the nosy girls and you get to make Theo jealous.” Ignoring your spluttered response, he continued. “That boy’s head over heels for you, and with a little luck, seeing you with me will make him explode and confess, and the two of you can ride into the sunset together yada yada yada.”

Luckily, your hidden corner was so dark the blush on your cheeks would not be visible to the eye, but in the deafening silence that followed, you could hear your heart beating faster. Finally, you broke it with a wavering laugh. “You’re ridiculous, Theo doesn't like me like that. He isn't- he wouldn't-” But Mattheo grinned wider the more you stuttered on and you glared at him. “If he likes me, why hasn't he asked me out yet?”

It was impossible. Too good to be true. Theo was stunning, he was smart and just overall great. When you first joined their friend group, he had warmed up to you the fastest, after Enzo of course, even though it was quite unusual of him to be open to strangers. But you had bonded over your shared academic interests, and once you had started recommending each other books and studying together, you were a done deal. But it was a purely platonic deal, at least from his perspective. Right?

“He will,” Mattheo interrupted your train of thought. “And he’ll give you the same spiel as me. He just needs a wake up call to realize he wants to fuck you!” Ignoring your piqued look, he gesticulated wildly. “Come on, are you just going to let him use you when you love him and he can't wrap his head around his feelings for you?”

“Like you are using me?” you reminded him but it couldn't deter Mattheo. “That's different. You don't have feelings for me, do you?”

You avoided his eye as you pondered his proposal. What if it didn't work? Well, at least you'd know and finally be able to let go of your stupid crush. There was, objectively, nothing wrong with going to the ball with Mattheo, you could just say you were helping out a friend.

Mattheo had said Theo had feelings for you- but what did he know? Why would someone as amazing as Theo be interested in you? Then again, there had been those moments, between bookshelves in the library, or in his common room, or out at the lake, shuffling closer to each other because of the cold. Moments when he had said or done something more befitting of a boyfriend rather than a friend. Rare smiles, interlaced fingers, sweet compliments, weirdly romantic Italian nicknames you had researched in a muggle library over the holidays. Was there a chance that Mattheo, who had the emotional intelligence of a tree trunk, was right about Theo’s feelings, or was he simply misinterpreting them?

“He really likes you,” Mattheo added quietly, as if he had read your thoughts. “He just needs a little push. Come on, angel, what could go wrong?”

Angel. That nickname. The first time Mattheo had called you that had been in the Slytherin common room. You had been lounging on the couch next to Theo, a book abandoned in your lap, and tried to cheer them up after a depressing quidditch practice. When Mattheo had called you an angel, Theo’s hand on your thigh had tightened and you had looked up just in time to see him throw a warning glare at Mattheo. Maybe there was something to his words.

But then again, you reminded yourself, Mattheo had an agenda with this, and when had someone else ever been more important for him than he himself? It was ridiculous to think that Theo liked you, but you were so hopeful. What if Mattheo’s stupid plan did work in your favor?

“F-fine,” you spluttered out before you could start to doubt yourself again. “I'll go with you. But it won't work because Theo doesn't like me like that. And you’re just taking advantage of my stupid schoolgirl crush. So, if it doesn't work, which it won't, you’re going to let me test my practice potions on you for a weekend. Deal?”

“Deal,” Mattheo grinned, shaking your outstretched hand. “But I fear you’ll have to find another guinea pig for your potions, because it will work.”

When Mattheo strode into the Slytherin common room fifteen minutes later, he walked in on Pansy beating Blaise at chess maliciously. The light of the flickering green fire made the shadows of their chess figures flicker over the walls in giant dimensions. Both of them looked up when he fell down on the couch with a triumphant grin and exchanged a glance. Usually, Mattheo's good mood could mean one of two things: someone was bleeding or someone was going to bleed.

“So…,” Blaise began when Mattheo made no indication of speaking. “What's got you in such a good mood?” Immediately after, he began to curse bitterly when Pansy took advantage of the distraction to get rid of his Queen.

“I’m not going to eat any flubberworms any time soon,” Mattheo said, satisfied. “y/n just agreed to go to the ball with me.”

The reaction was immediate. Pansy choked on a chocolate frog she had been eating and Blaise was too shocked to pat her back when she began to cough. In the armchair a few feet away, Enzo shot up and stared at Mattheo as if he had just announced he’d take a Hungarian Horntail to the ball. Then, he folded up his edition of the daily prophet he had been reading and sighed. “Mate, Theo’s going to kill you. Like, properly murder you.”

“That's what I'm counting on!” Mattheo retorted enthusiastically, undeterred by the skeptical looks on his friend’s faces. “Hold up, it's actually genius. I go out with y/n, Theo’s jealousy overloads, he explodes, finally confesses to her and stops yapping to us about how great she is.” He had framed his words with dramatic gestures, but they didn't have the planned effect.

“Mattheo, you absolute idiot,” said Pansy, so outraged at this display of foolishness that she didn't catch Blaise sneaking some of his chess pieces back onto the board. “You think jealousy is going to work? Have you met Theo? He’ll just brood in the corner forever.”

“She's got a point,” said Enzo, rolling up his newspaper and staggering over to his friends. “Also, Theo’s not going to confess if he thinks she’s into you!”

“You all underestimate his selfishness,” said Mattheo, still wholly convinced of this plan. The others exchanged looks. “Of course he’ll be broody and torn, but in the end, he’ll choose himself, as much as he loves her. And then he'll finally man up and tell her how he feels, she’ll confess right back and they ride out into the sunset together. Come on, it's guaranteed to work!”

A long silence followed, in which Mattheo smiled to himself giddily and the others contemplated the plan. Then- “this is why no one trusts you with anything emotional, Mattheo,” said Blaise, shaking his head. “Why not just talk to Theo instead of creating this drama? Oh, right, because you’re Mattheo.”

“We’ve tried, haven't we?” Mattheo asked in an exasperated voice. “We’ve told both of them again and again to finally get off their ass and make a move and they never listen, because they are oblivious angsty idiots.” He did have a point. Since the start of term, it had been obvious to the whole friend group how head over heels in love the two of you were for each other. Their attempts to get you together had failed miserably, however. Though the two of you were probably the smartest in your friend group, in this matter, you were wholly oblivious.

Enzo was the first to speak. “I swear, if you ruin this for Theo and y/n, I’m taking you down myself.”

“You can try, Berkshire,” grinned Mattheo, reaching for his wand, but Enzo only rolled his eyes and retreated back to his armchair, unfolding the daily prophet and continuing to read where he had left off.

“Wait,” said Pansy, narrowing her eyes at him. “y/n actually said yes to this? She's either braver than I thought or just as mad as you are.” She groaned exasperatedly and rubbed her temple, giving Blaise the opportunity to wipe a few of her chess pieces off the board without her noticing. “I give it two days before Theo starts plotting your untimely demise. Maybe less.”

“Well, that's the spirit, isn't it?” Said Mattheo, brimming with excitement. “Haven't had an equal fight in months.”

“Oh, that's what this is about,” murmured Pansy under her breath and gave Blaise a sharp look at if to say 'I've done all I can, it's your turn now’. Blaise, who wasn't one to let down his girlfriend, frowned thoughtfully. “Mark my words, this isn’t going to end well- for you, at least. I’ll enjoy watching, though.”

“Watching what?”

All four of them shot around at the sound of a drawled out voice coming from the entrance. It was Draco, covered in mud and shouldering a broom, and in his wake Theo, looking no less in need of a bath. “Why weren't you at practice, mate?” Draco asked Mattheo, who surely didn't regret ditching practice now that he'd gotten a clean shirt and a date out of it.

“I had to make a trip to Gryffindor tower,” he answered honestly, eyes roaming over their dirty forms. “Equally as unpleasant, I figure. Though it did ultimately work in my favor. Because I have a date for the ball now.” His observant eyes rested on Theo, who’s tired ones briefly flickered over and narrowed at him in suspicion.

“You’re taking a lion to the ball?” asked Draco skeptically, he seemed unable to imagine Mattheo having the audacity to ask you out, since, as everyone knew, you were Theo’s girl. “You must be really desperate. Who's the unlucky girl?”

“y/n,” grinned Mattheo simply, but the words had their intended effect nonetheless. A loud clatter silenced the common room when Draco’s broom landed on the floor, having slipped right out of his hands. His face was almost as white as his platinum hair as he gaped at Mattheo and then glanced back at Theo who had frozen mid-motion. Now, he straightened up once more to look at Mattheo. Theo, other than Mattheo, understood it to hide his reactions behind a mask of indifference, but his blue eyes were as hard and cold as ice.

“She said yes?”

“Yeah,” grinned Mattheo, failing to read the room, or he simply said the following out of madness. “She seemed pretty stoked!”

“Did she?” asked Theo tight-lipped and Mattheo only grinned in response. Teasing Theo, prodding him, holding you over his head, waiting for him to snap, for his oh-so-great composure to crack was the definition of fun. Mattheo could almost see it flicker in his eyes, the desire to punch him, to punish him, for taking what was his. And then, Theo’s annoying righteousness when it came to you, how he would remind himself that you didn't belong to him, that you could do whatever you pleased.

Mattheo could imagine both sides battling viciously in Theo’s head as he returned his gaze, it was delicious to have him squirm. He only had to watch his step, not play with the fire too much. Theodore Nott was one of the few people he knew that could actually beat his ass if they got poked too much. But he didn't take his eyes off Theo's who seemed just as determined to hold his. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see his hands tighten around his broom before they relaxed, he spread his fingers like spiders and disciplined his own body into submission.

“So,” said Theo cooly, a certain bitterness tinging his tone that he kept to a minimum. Of course Theo knew Mattheo was trying to provoke him, and he was determined not to give him the satisfaction, or that was what Mattheo himself concluded. “When exactly did you decide you were into her? Before or after you knew I-” Theo paused and clenched his jaw “Never mind.”

“Does that bother you?” Mattheo asked in faux consideration and he could feel his friends holding their breath. Theo's infamous death stare fell upon him and the grin fell off his face, though the daring look in his eyes did not subside.

When Theo answered, his voice was smooth and controlled. “Doesn’t bother me. I just… didn’t think she’d be your type.”

“Why not?” asked Mattheo, his body ready for attack, every nerve tense in excited anticipation of a good fight. “She’s sweet, pretty, smart-”

“She's too good for you,” Theo cut him off with narrowed eyes, but Mattheo only shrugged. “It's the damn Yule ball, mate, I just need a date so I don't have to eat three courses worth of flubberworms, and I could imagine way worse than spending the evening with her. I mean,” a light smirk curled his lips, “she's not your girlfriend, is she?”

Oh, he could just feel Theo’s fury in his fingertips, the way he looked at him as if he wanted to take his head off. How he had to regret not asking you sooner, how confused over his anger he had to feel. Mattheo reveled in the power he had over him. But Theo smoothed out his features and stared at him through a mask of indifference. “Right.” Looking somehow a lot moodier than when he had stepped in, already brooding, he shouldered his broom and left for the boy’s showers.

His absence left behind a tense silence. Blaise was the first to speak. “Mattheo, mate… you're dead.” But Mattheo only laughed, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, unbothered by his pessimistic outlook and still wholly convinced of his plan.

You wondered if Theo had caught wind of the Yule ball arrangement when you caught sight of him the next day in the Great Hall, looking more somber than ever. Even from the Gryffindor table, you could see him staring gloomily down on his porridge as if it had wronged him somehow. You were equally as unable to eat. Gnawing on your lip, you weighed the explanations in your head. Could he be jealous? No, that was too good to be true. It couldn't be.

Maybe he too had made a bet with Draco and had to eat flubberworms if he didn't find a date? Maybe there was some other explanation as to why Theo seemed to be answering all questions directed at him with either a frown or a shrug. Hunched over, his dark locks fell into his eyes as he glowered at his meal, fingers flexing around his fork. It was true, Theo was a grim person, and on bad days, he tended to glower at everyone who crossed his path- could this be just another one of his mood-swings?

“Everything alright?”

Taken aback, you looked at Hermoine who surveyed you with a cautious look in her brown eyes. “You haven't eaten.”

“I'm just not hungry,” you smiled truthfully and discarded the fork. No use pretending, you weren't getting any breakfast down today. Not when Theo looked so distractingly sinister and gorgeous.

But Hermoine didn't look convinced. “What did Riddle want yesterday? When he wanted to talk to you, what did he say?”

Your attention had been captured by Theo giving Mattheo his nastiest death glare, so you only registered the words slowly. “Huh? Oh, he only asked me to be his date for the Yule ball.” you replied, making Hermoine choke on her cereal. “He did what?”

Biting into the sour apple, you decided to come clean. “I said yes.” To escape her unbelieving and quite frankly accusing eyes, you rose from your seat. “See you in Arithmancy, Hermoine,” you said hastily and walked along the Gryffindor table in long strides. When you reached the doorway, however, you turned left and walked along the Slytherin table towards your friends.

Pansy noticed you approaching and waved, making the others look up as well. Mattheo grinned at you and blew you a kiss you rolled your eyes at. When Theo’s eyes fell upon you, however, they softened visibly. He scooted to the side, making space for you to sit down next to him. You smiled at him, albeit intimidated slightly by his bad mood, and moved closer to him. To your immense relief, he returned your smile and grabbed an empty glass to fill it with pumpkin juice and place it before you.

“Decided on a dress yet?” Pansy asked from the other side of the table and you looked at her, therefore missing the slight narrowing of Theo’s eyes at the mention of the ball. You did, however, notice his hand, reaching for yours over the table and interlocking your fingers with his. The Nott family ring on his ring finger burned cold against your skin, the calloused tips of his fingers from all the smoking burns felt even more uneven against your soft skin. You didn't know why you noticed his hands so clearly at this moment. Maybe, you realized, because you had never actually held his hand.

“Uh- yes,” you said, a little flustered, and returned your attention to Pansy who gave you a knowing look. “And you?”

The two of you slipped into a conversation about the ball and your dresses that the other boys participated scarcely in. Blaise asked questions about Pansy’s dress that he had never actually seen before. From time to time, Draco threw in a comment about his dancing skills and Enzo laughed along to Pansy’s teasing. Mattheo made flirty comments towards you when you talked about your dress, glancing at Theo to gauge his reaction.

Only Theo didn't participate in the conversation, though his fingers stayed interlocked with yours. Every now and again, they seemed to tighten, especially when Mattheo directed one of his flirty comments at you. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on your part. When everyone rose to go to class, he tugged you down again by your interwoven hands. His expression was serious. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Uh, sure,” you smiled, waving the others goodbye. Mattheo winked at you and you rolled your eyes at him. You sat back down, but Theo didn't speak immediately. His eyes studied your face, roamed over your features, as if he was seeing you for the first time- really seeing you. Merlin, he was an idiot. He should have asked you before Mattheo would be able to. The thought that you had looked up at Mattheo this sweetly just a day prior, before he had gotten ahead of him and asked you, was gnawing at him.

“You're going to the ball with Mattheo?” he forced the words past his lips, but managed to make them sound casual, as if he was asking about the weather.

“Yes?” you said and immediately scolded yourself for making it sound like a question. Your tone made him lift his brow as his eyes searched yours for any hesitance. “You don't have to go out with him, if you don't want to,” he said.

You could hear your heart beat in your ears. Was he trying to tell you that you had other options? Like him? For one second, you could see yourself, in the dress you had already picked out, side by side with Theo. He had to be a wonderful dancer. But then, you remembered what Mattheo had said. It was a platonic offer, even if he had feelings for you. Which you doubted. The thought of going with him when it was a merely platonic deal for him but meant so much to you, it was almost unbearable.

“I want to,” you replied and your voice sounded steadier than you’d dared to hope. For a second, you thought you saw his expression drop, but you could never trust your eyes with him, his fleeting expressions and flashes of emotions were hard to keep up with, even for you, who could see through him better than most people, by his own admission.

Theo merely nodded and stood up. Before you could, he shouldered your book back as well. Like the gentleman he was, he fended off your protests and held out his arm for you to take, as if you were at a special occasion, when, in truth, it was just another Tuesday in the Great Hall. Both glad and disappointed that nothing had changed, you slipped your arm into his and you left the Hall on your way to the Arithmancy classroom.

The soft hum of chatter filled the entrance hall as students in glittering gowns and sharply tailored dress robes gathered beneath the glowing light of the enchanted candles. The winged doors to the Great Hall were still shut as students who had partners in another house pushed through the crowd in search of them. You, however, didn't have much of a hard time finding your group of Slytherin friends, as any sane student steered clear of them. Before they could make you out in the wave of Gryffindor students that swept over the hall just now, you spotted them in a more secluded corner.

Of course, you noticed Theo first. He looked impossibly handsome in his dress robes. They were black, but with subtle hints of dark green. A dark green that matched the color of your dress. As if you were just meant for each other. Well, in your dreams. You noticed he didn't have a girl on his arm, neither did Enzo. Pansy and Daphne both looked gorgeous in their dresses, and especially Blaise looked hopelessly smitten. Then, there was Mattheo. You were somewhat surprised to see that he was actually wearing something formal. It was already a rarity for him not to be bloody, but to wear something festive was not a sight you ever expected to be subjected to.

Mattheo was the first to spot your approaching frame, a slow grin spreading across his face as he leaned casually against the wall, hands stuffed in his pockets. His gaze seeped over you with an aporoving nod. “Well, aren't you dressed up nicely,” he drawled when you were in earshot, causing the others to take notice of your presence as well. Pansy, ever supportive, let out a low whistle, Blaise wiggled his eyebrows and Enzo gave you a thumbs up. But it was Theo’s reaction that you felt most acutely- a subtle shift in his posture, his jaw tightening ever so slightly as he looked you over. His gaze felt hot on your body and you felt your breath hitch when his stormy eyes locked with yours, a flicker of something unspoken flashing across his face before he quickly glanced away.

Fuck. You were gorgeous. Of course, he'd always known you were pretty, but seeing you in that dress did something to him. That green was the color of his house, of his family, the color of him. You looked like his, even though Mattheo put an arm around your waist and pulled you towards him. He could have killed him, he might have, if you hadn't let out a bright laugh at something he had said that stilled every and all remains of fury in him. Your laugh was disarming, especially when you looked over at him and gifted him one of your sweet smiles. “Hey, Theo.”

He could only nod, unable to take his eyes off you, even when the doors to the great hall opened and the group slowly made their way towards them. His gaze zeroed in on Mattheo's hand on your lower back. That was not Mattheo's spot, that was where his hand lay when he was walking you to class or Hogsmeade. Unable to look anywhere else, he followed the others mechanically, unaware of the glimpses you stole at him to gauge his reaction. But all you could see was indifference.

When you stepped through the doors you were momentarily distracted from Theo. The Great Hall was alight with blue light, decked in ice crystals. The usual four house tables had made way for a multitude of smaller, round tables surrounding the dance floor that took up the better part of the hall. Mattheo led the way to one table in close proximity to the dance floor, which surprised Theo. Usually, Mattheo preferred corners over the center.

Mattheo pulled out your chair for you before Theo had the chance to and - wether by chance or because he was a snarky asshole - sat down in between Theo and you. With a sly grin at Theo, he interlocked your fingers over the table and moved closer to you. In that moment, Theo swore to himself that he would dance with you today. He'd stay up until three in the morning if necessary, but he would hold you in his arms tonight, twirl you around in that damn dress and see the light of the crystals reflected in your eyes. And if he had to hex Mattheo, he would gladly do so.

Your laughter rang in his ears and he cursed himself. Hex Mattheo, and ruin your night? What right did he even have to feel like this? As much as he hated to admit it, Mattheo was right. You weren't his girlfriend, he had no claim over you. His possessiveness was sick, twisted and entirely selfish. You were his friend and he should only want the best for you. What he had masked as ‘the best for you’ was no more than what fulfilled his desires. He was being a horrible friend to you.

“Wanna dance, angel?” Theo couldn't even find it in himself to feel anything but bitterness when Mattheo rose and offered you his outstretched hand. Over his death stare directed at the table, he missed the way you glanced over at him before taking it and allowing Mattheo to eagerly drag you to the dance floor. The music was fairly quick and as Mattheo twirled you around, you let him pull you into him and mirrored his steps. Mattheo was a fairly skilled dancer, but you struggled to keep up with his extravagant style and quick steps.

Mattheo twirled you around so fast you could barely see beyond the flashes of blue that remained of the room. And even when a more slow piece came on, he found a way to keep you on your toes. “He's looking over,” you whispered after daring a glance over your shoulder to see that Theo's brooding gaze was fixed on the two of you.

“You even have eyes in your head?” grinned Mattheo, pulling you closer by your waist. “He's been looking at you the whole evening.” A smirk curled his lip. “Told ya”

You were a little too out of breath to answer, but when Mattheo leaned close to whisper a question in your ear, you nodded, albeit a little hesitant. Your rowdy dancing partner pulled you even closer until there was barely any space between you two. When he said something, anything, you giggled and he laughed along, even though neither of you remembered what he had said. In spite of the dancing, Mattheo managed to dip his head down and trail pecks up your neck to the shell of your ear. The shudder that went through your body was not as much a result of his lips, but a reaction to the way Theo’s fists clenched as you locked eyes.

Worry and stupid excitement coiled in your stomach. The way he was glaring at you through his dark locks, his fists clenching and unclenching, his cerulean eyes so dark, his posture so tense as if he was a predator ready to devour his prey, was so damn attractive that you couldn't help but stare longer than you intended to, before you managed to avert your eyes and focus them back on Mattheo. But you couldn't help but worry what his tense appearance might mean. Had he seen through Mattheo's plan to make him jealous and considered this a betrayal of your friendship?

Meanwhile, Theo had to summon up his last reserves of restraint when his best mate’s hand crept down your back, further than he was supposed to, teetering the edge of inappropriateness. But you looked so happy, laughing along to Mattheo's jokes. Though somehow, he had missed the repeated glances you cast at him all throughout the dance.

When the next number came on, you parted from Mattheo who lifted his brows. “That's enough. If he hasn't done anything by now, I must be right. You were wrong about these supposed feelings, Mattheo.” You sighed and shook your head about your own stupidity. Of course Theo hadn't reacted, you’d been right all along. Still, disappointment stung in your heart. Maybe you had held on to hope. Oh, who were you kidding, a part of you had believed Mattheo, and now you felt way worse than you had before. Before Mattheo could talk, you parted from him and left the dance floor.

Theo slowly, dangerously, lifted his head from his knuckles as his gaze followed your figure, ducking in between dancing couples to make your way back over. Your expression showed disappointment, sadness… you’d always been easy to read for him. When he asked you about it, you said you showed your emotions openly on purpose. Why, he had asked, and you'd laughed and said that you wanted to make people feel at ease and safe when talking to you, so you showed yourself to them to invite them in, make them feel welcome.

Even though he didn't fully understand, he admired you for it, recognized it as a strength when Mattheo had outright laughed at your explanation, earning him a sinister glare. But right now, Theo desperately wished he wouldn't be faced with your sorrow, it would make it easier to keep himself from walking over to Mattheo, drag him out into the hall and finally confront him. A horrible suspicion dawned on him as he locked eyes with Mattheo, who had been watching your retreating figure as well. When they locked eyes, he grinned, winked and disappeared into the crowd of dancing bodies. Had he been using you to make Theo jealous, to tease him for his personal satisfaction?

His sinister thoughts were quelled when you reached the table and sat down next to him, bending over with a groan and slipping out of your heels. But before you could even grab a slice of cake to drown your sorrows in sweets, someone got a hold of your hand. You followed the arm and saw Theo, looking at you with a serious expression. His grip was soft, as if you were fragile, made out of glass, made to look pretty and shatter. But his eyes were hard as stone. “What did he say to you?”

“Huh?” you asked, genuinely perplexed at the growl in his voice. “Who- what- You mean Mattheo?” A curt nod. You understood. Theo must've misinterpreted your bad mood upon leaving the dance floor for hurt at something Mattheo had said. “Nothing,” you said quickly. “Everything's alright.” But your reassurances couldn't wipe the skepticism from his eyes. “Look, it's just my feet that started to hurt, alright? It's not Mattheo's fault.”

Though he still looked doubtful, Theo seemed to accept your explanation and reached over to cut you a large piece of cake. In spite of your expensive dress, you brought your knees to your chest as you started eating, but your sudden appetite quickly subsided. With a long sigh, you leaned your head on Theo’s shoulder and reveled in his warmth. “‘M sorry,” you murmured under your breath, unsure if he would even catch it.

He did, and frowned, you could hear it in his voice though you didn't see his face. “What for, amorina?” Amorina. It meant ‘little love’, or that was what the muggle dictionary books said. Those damn Italian nicknames. His accent, barely noticeable in everyday conversation, was thicker when he spoke hushed and you allowed yourself to revel in how it made you feel, just for a moment. Then, you shrugged, hoping it would be enough of an explanation for now. Would you ever be able to tell him why you had gone to the ball with Mattheo or would you sooner die of embarrassment?

This wasn't so bad. Actually, it was quite nice. You rocked slightly in the rhythm of the music and leaned into Theo who, in turn, leaned onto you carefully. Somehow, your hands had found each other. Draco was dancing with Daphne, Blaise and Pansy were making out in a distant corner of the room and Enzo was at the buffet to get seconds. It was quite peaceful, almost like you two were the only thing that mattered and all around you was just noise and light and colors. They would fade, he wouldn't, and you wouldn't either.

Your peace was only disturbed when Mattheo arrived, who, to your not-really surprise, had a giggling girl holding onto his arm. Unbeknownst to you, Mattheo had not given up just yet. If Theo's selfishness wasn't stronger than his desire to see you happy, maybe his knight-in-shining-armor urges would be. He grabbed your plate from in front of you, ignoring Theo's frowns, dug the fork into it and held it out to the giggling girl that was clutching his dress robes.

“You enjoying yourself, darling?” he asked and she nodded, giving him a sultry look. He cast you a deliberately indifferent look. “You don't mind, angel, do you?” Though he didn't dare look at Theo and give himself away, he could practically feel him fuming.

“Knock yourselves out,” you replied with a wave of your hand but Theo was not so quick to dismiss the scene. He rose from his seat, feeling as if all his frustration and resentment of the last week had reached its peak and was ready to boil over. In moments like these, when he allowed his anger to escape, to be felt just for a moment before funneling it towards the intended target with deliberate precision, he could feel himself getting calmer. The rushing in his ears subsided, his heartbeat slowed to a normal pace as he looked down on his best mate.

“What do you think you're doing?”

“Taking a gorgeous girl to dance with me,” Mattheo answered casually, grinning at the girl on his arm. How could he act as if you weren't even there? How dare he run to another when he had taken you to be his date, was he never satisfied?

“You already have a date, scemo,” he growled. By now, a few pairs of eyes had gotten wind of the brewing storm. A few of them stepped closer to observe the scene, others pushed through the crowd to put some space between them and the two boys who now glared at each other. Mattheo was tense, brimming with excitement and pushed away the girl. Theo, on the other hand, seemed almost unnaturally calm, his hand slowly slipping into his robes in search of his wand.

“Theo,” you said quietly, in an ineffectual attempt to avoid more attention. “I really don't mind.” He cast you a quick glance and you knew it hadn't been enough. His eyes were soft all of the sudden, but you knew he wouldn't back down. And you weren't going to lie, it did warm your chest that he was so willing to stand up for you. Though you didn't want the situation to escalate into an actual fight because of your’s and Mattheo’s stupidity.

Mattheo would apologize to you for the following later, but now he had to wound Theo up so much that he’d attack him with bare hands, Mattheo's preferred method of fighting, because he knew he couldn't beat the academic weapon Theo in a wizarding duel. “Yeah, she was kind of a bore so I-” But he didn't get to finish that sentence, because Theo had abandoned the search for his wand, surged forward and tackled Mattheo so they fell to the ground in a heap of robes and fists.

You had rarely seen Theo fight. Well, that was not quite true. You'd seen him hex people, curse fellow students, but never like this. The punches he delivered to Mattheo’s face were less deliberate and full of rage. It was a show of force unlike any you'd ever seen from him. When tackling Matteo, he had discarded his robes and now his white shirt got the first red spots. Mattheo hit and kicked back with the same fervor you already knew from him, and you could see it in his eyes, this was all just a game for him.

Students screamed when a resounding crack echoed through the hall, amplified by the sudden silence that had come over the crowd as everyone formed a circle around the fighting boys. Theo had broken Mattheo's nose, you were sure of it, and for a moment, you thought Mattheo was down, but of course not. Without a sound of pain, he shot up and tackled Theo, who had hesitated for a split second too long, to the ground. Wherever they threatened to crash into the wall of onlookers, the students moved back like a coordinated swarm of fish.

Slowly, Theo seemed to get the upper hand on Mattheo who seemed slightly knocked out from the hit in the face that had broken his nose. But nonetheless, while Theo’s expression was bitter and hard as he brought his fist down on Mattheo's face again and again, the latter laughed, almost crazily, coughing up blood. His laughter was the loudest sound, and for a good minute, you doubted his sanity. In contrast, Theo was eerily silent as he beat Mattheo with the utmost concentration, jaw clenched and eyes full of disdain.

Finally, the headmaster managed to push through the crowd. Some of them were chanting, others were covering their faces with their hands. Dumbledore assessed the situation in one glance, and you thought he even winked at you, before he pulled out his wand. As if pulled apart by invisible hands, Mattheo and Theo were ripped apart and both stumbled a few feet back, making the crowd on either side burst to scramble away.

They were both heaving. Mattheo looked worse than Theo, his nose was visibly broken and his face was littered with cuts and bruises and two black eyes. Theo’s lip and nose were bleeding, dripping crimson upon his stained shirt, as were his fists, and a darkening bruise bloomed above his right jawline. Both of them looked ready to jump back into it, if it hadn't been for a very disgruntled Snape, who stepped in between and sneered at Theo especially. “What a display! You have dishonored your house with your public brawling-”

“Now, now, Severus,” said Dumbledore calmly and smiled in understanding. “Tempers run high at events like these. I can remember, in my youth, there was no ball without a good duel. Of course, some choose the more direct approach.” His eyes twinkled.

Unfortunately, Mattheo chose the exact moment to send you a wink and Theo, who looked just about a hundred percent done with his bullshit, took a step towards him, only to be roughly pushed back by Snape. It couldn't stop the words leaving his mouth through gritted teeth, though. “Sei praticamente mio fratello,” growled Theo with a wild look in his blue eyes. “come hai potuto farmi questo, pezzo di merda?"

Mattheo was still gasping for breath and wincing at every inhale, but he grinned nonetheless. “non parlo italiano, you dumbass,” he sneered with what you could only assume was a heavy British accent, and Theo, still fuming, spit on the ground over Snapes shoulder who was still holding him back.

“Now, now,” said Dumbledore with a level of indulgence you could only admire him for. “I believe, Mr Riddle, you should see Miss Pomphrey. As for you, Mr Nott, how about a walk to, ah- cool off?”

Theo pushed Snape off of him who glared at him, only to be glared at right back. “Twenty points off Slytherin, Nott,” he said with clear disdain in his voice. Before Theo could protest or do something rash (you had never seen him like this, he looked like he was capable of anything), you grabbed his hand and started pulling. To your immense surprise and relief, Theo gave in immediately, following you as you pushed through the students, out of the door, through the entrance hall, and finally, out into the dark grounds where the chilly night air finally cleared your head a little.

You sat down on the stone steps and Theo followed suit, still breathing heavily and flexing his hands. For a few minutes, you didn't dare speak. When you finally managed to work up the words and the courage, it was Theo who spoke first. His voice had lost all temper, all edge, it was full of regret. “I'm sorry, fiorellino.” Taken aback, he turned your head to look at him. His gaze was fixed on his hands, covered in both Mattheo's and his blood, seeping out of his knuckles.

“What for?” you asked and he finally looked at you, albeit as if you were asking a very ridiculous question. “Cazzo, for ruining your night. You deserve better, I was a-” But you didn't let him finish, you reached over to wrap your arms around him and pull him in, needing his warmth more than ever. Immediately, his arms engulfed your form and he pulled you into him so that you were sitting halfway in his lap, but neither of you cared. Maybe even without realizing, he rocked you back and forth lightly and you breathed out, breathed in, let the smell of him consume you whole. Cigarettes had never smelled better.

When Theo reluctantly released you, his gaze trailed over the goosebumps on your arms. Your dress, as wonderful as it was, did not have sleeves. “Let's go,” he said softly. He didn't say where, but you didn't care, you trusted him. So you let him pull you up and back inside, down the staircase to the dungeons. None of you said a word. When you stepped inside, the Slytherin common room was deserted, as everyone was still upstairs, enjoying themselves.

Theo urged you towards the couch, but you had come to a halt. You knew you needed to come clean. Now. Before he had the chance to actually take Mattheo's head off. Mistaking your hesitation for doubt rather than guilt, Theo let his arms engulf you once more. It may have been a trick of your imagination, but you thought you heard him breathe in the scent of your hair. “Maleditelo, that bastard. Merlin, I could have broken his fucking jar if they'd given me one more minute. Curse him for doing that to you. I’d never have-” He fell silent.

You sighed against his chest, silently wishing you'd never taken part in Mattheo's crazy plan. “I didn't mind that,” you murmured into his blood-stained shirt, reveling in the feeling of his thumbs brushing over your shoulder as he held you. But it stopped, and Theo pulled away, face contorted into a bitter smile as he began to pace in front of you. “No, of course you didn't. Sei troppo dannatamente bonario, troppo gentile, troppo perfetto.”

“Theo!” you said loudly and that made him look down on you. Your voice was shaking slightly. “I’m sorry.” He frowned, and then it all spilled out of you. How Mattheo had proposed the idea of making him jealous because he was convinced he liked you, how you had said yes because you were a lovesick idiot, how he had been purposefully riling him up and you had went along with it all. “I'm sorry,” you said shakily, holding back tears. “I was so stupid, this is all my fault, I'm so, so sorry Theo.”

During the whole tale, Theo hadn't moved an inch. Now, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from out of his pocket, ignited one with a bit of wandless magic and took a long drag. Usually, Theo didn't smoke when you were around, because he knew you didn't like it. But desperate times seemed to call for desperate measures. Staring down at the glowing cigarette between his fingers, Theo seemed to gauge the words, weigh them on his tongue, before he spoke. “You like me?”

“I love you,” you confessed, hiding your face in your hands. “God, Theo, I'm so sorry.”

“Why didn't you just talk to me?” You peeked at him through your fingers, but he seemed calm. Sure, he was frowning, but the cigarette seemed to have helped. His gaze was fixed on you as he studied your expression, what little he could catch a glimpse of, anyway.

You let out a helpless sigh, feeling ridiculous. “Because… you know, you’re you.”

At that, his frown deepened and he took another drag of his cigarette, as if to calm himself. Then, he flicked it into an ashtray and approached you slowly. His gentle hands came up to pry your hands from your face. They fell helplessly at your sides. “What's that supposed to mean?” he asked with furrowed brows. “Are you intimidated by me, amorina?”

“N- no!” you stuttered desperately, “it's just…” You let out a long sigh, not daring to look at him. “I was scared it might ruin our friendship, it just… seemed like the best way.” As you spoke them, you realized the stupidity of your words, and Theo, too, raised his brow at you. “You thought going to the ball with Mattheo to make me jealous, letting him kiss you on the dance floor and rile me up all evening was the best way, did you?”

“Yes?” you squeaked, never having felt this abashed in your life.

Theo rolled his eyes, but he leaned down and suddenly he was so close. So close you could feel, hear and smell his breath, still reeking of cigarettes. So close you suddenly realized just how blue his eyes were, a deep cerulean blue. So close your breath hitched. Theo's voice was but a whisper, but he seemed distracted, his eyes darting between your eyes and - could it be? - down to your lips. “Stupid plan.”

“I know,” you breathed, looking at him with wide, teary eyes that Theo wanted to burn into his memory forever. He couldn't find it in him to be mad at you. Not when you looked at him like this, not when he could smell you.

“It worked,” was all he said, and you could barely comprehend the words before his lips crashed onto yours.

You'd imagined many times how it might feel to kiss Theo, too feel those soft lips on yours. Would it be messy? Gentle? Rough? It turned out to be none of those, or perhaps all of those. Kissing Theo was dizzyingly overwhelming. His lips moved in yours in a controlled passion, slow and meticulous, but at the same time, hungry. So, so hungry when he let out a groan and parted your lips with his to slip his tongue into your mouth. To explore, to discover, to make you whimper against him as he pulled you in tighter by the waist.

You suddenly felt impossibly hot and bothered, especially when Theo's lips departed from your mouth to nip at your jaw and travel down the crook of your neck, biting, sucking, caressing, worshipping. When you felt something solid poke against your thigh, you gasped, nervousness coiling in your stomach. “M-maybe,” you stuttered, “now that all is cleared up, we should maybe go look after Mattheo in the-”

You gasped loudly when Theo bit down hard on your neck, silencing you effectively with the growl that escaped his throat. “Don't say his fucking name, amorina.” You nodded frantically, biting back moans, and Theo started lapping at the bite, rubbing his tongue over it in soothing circles as his hands travelled down, further down before they reached the slit in your dress and he grabbed a handful of your thigh. “You can scream mine instead.”

Suddenly, the door burst open and you jumped, Theo took a step back from you to glare at your intruders. It was Pansy, and, following right behind, Blaise. She had her brows lifted and grinned. “Holy hell, get a r-”

“Get out, Pansy,” Theo cut her off, fingers digging into your thigh. Though she held Blaise back from standing up for her, she rolled her eyes at his tone and turned to leave. “Lock the door,” Theo called after them and you somehow found yourself giggling. “Theo, you can't just shut your whole house out of the common room.” You felt light headed, slightly dizzy, but you smiled and he managed to return it. “'Course I can.”

He let go of your thigh and walked a few steps, over to what had to be an enchanted record player. With a tip of his wand, it started playing a slow song. Theo looked back at you, extending his arm, offering you his right hand. A small smile played around his lips as he crooked his head to the side. “Dance with me, amorina.” And of course, you took it, let him pull you towards him and closed your eyes as he began to move you to the slow rhythm. Somehow, your head landed on his shoulder, his came to encircle your waist as you moved, barely taking a step.

He would make the stolen night up to you. Every single second.

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theo nott x you #theodore nott #theodore nott x you

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beloveds-embrace · 15 hours ago

Note

NORTHERN DUKE KÖNIG STEALING DUCHESS PRICE PT 2 !! Where he finally puts his plans into action and maybe gets a moment alone with the duchess and confesses his feelings and maybe she tells him she's been wanting an escape because she's been trapped in a loveless marriage and has lost hope on John ever loving her so she's 100% on board with his plan. Maybe König even tells her that he doesn't believe in the rumors of her being barren, that he thinks it's John whose infertile only for the duchess to reveal she hasn't slept with John at all and idk maybe Konig becomes angry with how neglected she's been and makes an intense vow to never leave her unsatisfied.. mentally, emotionally, physically 😏.

The garden was silent beneath the heavy cloak of snow, save for the crunch of your boots as you followed Duke König down the winding path. Lanterns lit the walkway, their golden glow casting long shadows against the frost-kissed hedges and frozen roses.

It was beautiful. Quiet. Safe.

But your pulse pounded in your ears. König hadn’t spoken since he’d asked you to walk with him, and the weight of his silence filled the space between you like smoke.

You stopped beside a stone bench, your breath curling in the cold air. “Your Grace?”

He turned sharply at the sound of your voice, his pale blue eyes catching the light and glowing like ice under a full moon. For the first time, you saw something raw there- uncertainty, vulnerability, and something far more dangerous simmering beneath the surface.

“I cannot keep this to myself any longer, Duchess,” He said, voice low and rough.

Your lips parted, but he stepped closer, towering over you with a presence that stole your breath.

“I have tried to resist it,” König continued. “To be honorable, to keep my distance- but it is impossible when every moment apart from you feels like torment.” His gloved hand brushed your cheek, hesitant and reverent, as though he thought you might disappear if he touched you too firmly.

You shivered, not from the cold, but from the intensity in his gaze.

“Your Grace…”

“Tell me I am not mad,” he pleaded, soft and fervent. “Tell me I am not imagining this connection between us.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, and your throat tightened. “You’re not.” You whispered.

Relief washed over him like a crashing wave, but it didn’t temper the fire in his eyes. He cupped your face with both hands, his calloused thumbs brushing over your skin as if memorizing the very shape of you.

“Then come with me,” he said fiercely. “Let me take you away from all of this.”

Your breath hitched, eyes wide. “You mean… leave John?”

His lips curled in frustration. “A man who does not deserve you,” he snapped. “Who parades you around as a trophy while the world whispers lies about you. Who neglects you so cruelly that you-” He stopped, exhaling sharply as if the thought pained him. “You deserve more.”

You swallowed, your voice trembling. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t hold back the next words that poured out. How many nights have you spent in the aching loneliness of your bedroom, aware that your husband merely tolerated you out of necessity and nothing else?

“I know.”

König froze, searching your face. “You… know?”

You nodded, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. “I’ve wanted to escape for so long. I just… I didn’t think anyone would ever care enough to take me away.”

His expression twisted, anguished and furious. “Care enough?” he repeated, dangerous. “I would burn kingdoms for you.”

A sob broke from your throat, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him, letting him pull you into the warmth of his embrace. His arms wrapped around you tightly, as if he could shield you from the world. There was something so delightful, so safe, in the way he held you so wholly- hiding you in his arms from all the world.

“But what if the rumors are true?” you whispered against his chest, saying aloud the doubts that have started to take root in your mind from hearing all the rumors swirling about you. “What if I can’t give you the future you want? What if I can’t give you children?”

König pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his hands bracketing your face. “I don’t believe the rumors,” he said firmly. “Not for a second. It is Price who is unworthy- he is the one who has failed you, mein Liebe, not the other way around.”

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping you. “He hasn’t failed me because we’ve never even tried.”

König stilled, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

You looked away, ashamed. “We’ve never lain together. Not once.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

König’s hands dropped to his sides, his shoulders trembling with barely contained rage. “Not once?”

You flinched at the venom in his tone, but when you looked back at him, there was no anger directed at you- only heartbreak.

“He’s treated you like this?” König growled. “As though you are unworthy of his attention, his affection? Like a possession to be displayed but never cherished?”

The tears were freely flowing now, and no verbal confirmation was needed.

A guttural sound rumbled in König’s chest, his fury barely leashed. “He has neglected you. Deprived you.” His voice dropped, dangerously soft. “I swear to you, I will never make that mistake.”

You blinked up at him, startled.

He stepped closer, his presence alone overwhelming. “I will never leave you unsatisfied- mentally, emotionally, or physically.” His voice was a vow, sharp and unyielding, not allowing any space for doubt. “You will never have to wonder if you are loved, worshiped.”

The heat in his words sent a shiver down your spine, but you didn’t step away. If anything, you leaned closer, tearful eyes wide.

“Say you’ll come with me,” König urged, his thumb brushing away your tears. “Say you’ll let me take you away from this emptiness and give you the life you deserve. Be my Duchess.”

Your breath caught. This was a horrible decision- you couldn’t imagine what would be said about you, about König, what your parents might do, what John might do-

“Yes.”

König didn’t wait. His lips crashed against yours, fierce and desperate, as though he’d been holding himself back for far too long. You melted into him, clutching at his coat as he deepened the kiss, claiming you with every stroke and sigh.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, and his eyes burned with promise.

“Two days from now,” he said. “I will send that Narr your divorce papers, and I will take you away from this nightmare.”

And for the first time in years, hope bloomed in your chest.

#noona.asks #cod x you #cod x reader #cod #konig x you #konig x reader #könig x you #könig x reader #konig drabble #könig drabble

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melminli · 1 day ago

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Dirty Cash (Money Talks)

summary - you had nothing against your colleague, but you weren't stupid enough to be fooled by his innocent smile and appearance since you knew exactly what kind of corrupt person was hiding behind that costume. after all, you were wearing the same one.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. recruiter reader

word count: 1.4k

contains: talk about gambling + death and murder, sexual tension?, crack and just evil morals tbh

a/n: i watched maybe the first fifteen minutes or so of bullet train, but i thought of the two funny dudes from it while writing this bcuz their dynamic was funny af. also, i will use the actor's name in this fic since the character itself doesn't really have an official one that was mentioned in the series!

You straightened your tie with your free hand while watching your train approach from the side. The station was always pretty empty at this hour, which saved you the jostling and squeezing as you entered. After that, you sat down comfortably with a light sigh - next to the free seat beside your devilishly handsome colleague. “Are you alright? Don't tell me that you had a exhausting day?” he asked you worriedly with his typical innocent smile on his face but you've known the guy for a while now and you knew exactly how dishonest he sounded right now.

You returned his gaze for a second, uninterested, before turning it back in front of you to observe your surroundings from the window. “Exhausting day? Don't make fun of me or I'll punch you in the face,” you replied monotone and Gong Yoo didn't doubt your statement for a second - or Ji-choel as you preferred to call him since you weren't a big fan of nicknames. “I had a great time punching those bastards in the face one by one. It feels kinda therapeutic, so I'm actually feeling pretty good right now,” you told him, talking about the subject as if you were talking about the weather.

Your colleague grunted with delight at your good news. “And I would never disagree with you on that.” he said and then just watched your figure silently for a while before speaking up again. “Since you're in such a good mood, would you be willing to play a more private game between the two of us?” he suggested, making you look at him in utter disbelief.

“A private game? With you?” you repeated, amused and laughed in his face. “Hell, no. But don't worry, I'll let you know next time I want to get totally screwed by a freaky pervert,” you added, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Which will be, never.

“Come on, don't be like that,” he asked you sweetly. As sweet as the wolf who pretended to be the mother of the seven little goats before he ate them all one by one. “It's just a tiny, harmless game. It's been so long since we've played anything together.” he complained to you earnestly as if you actually cared, and you didn't.

Yeah, you remembered the last time very clearly, even if you would much rather prefer that you didn't. You hummed. “Is that so? Huh. I mean, it could be because you almost killed me in a fucking game of tic-tac-toe the last time, but that's just a theory.” You said with a shrug, clearly still resenting him for that. However, he just rolled his eyes unaffected by your grudge. “But you didn't, right? It was the other guy who got the bullet in his head.” He replied, not even remembering his name. Not that he had to.

You just glared at him while you rubbed your forehead. “Yeah, maybe. But I'm tired of risking my life just because it makes you horny and you can jerk off to it.” You made your feelings on the matter clear. “You know that the whole living on the edge of death thing isn't really my cup of tea. At least try to understand me a bit here, too.”

I suppose she's not entirely wrong, I could give it a try. I never thought about it like that before, did I? He thought to himself in his head as he ran his tongue over the back of his teeth while he pondered. How selfish of me. “So what exactly do I have to do, to convince you?” He asked you while he already had a few ideas in mind.

You grinned. “You know that very well, don't play dumb.” You demanded as you leaned closer to him so that he could hear what you were singing softly. “Money talks, money talks - dirty cash, I want you, and dirty cash, I need you, oh ~”

He raised an eyebrow, not particularly surprised. “So you want to play for money?” He repeated it, not outright rejecting your request. “Don't you have enough of that already? You're really insatiable when it comes to cash and now you want mine, too?” he joked just to get you worked up.

Though, you didn't get the slightest bit offended by what he said. “Can you ever have enough money? Besides, I'm not forcing you to give it to me, am I?” you said with a smile, already knowing that he would agree to your terms. “But if you want me to play with you, I want eight million won for every round I win.”

She's so greedy for someone who is already more than wealthy. “Aren't you exaggerating a bit? Most people don't earn that much in a month,” he continued his act of - whatever this was - because he just loved arguing with you.

“So? We both have the same salary, I know you can afford it,” you said, holding a hand in the air as soon as you felt that he wanted to stretch this unnecessary conversation even more. “You have to decide now what you want to do or I withdraw my proposal again.”

Gong Yoo closed his mouth and started grinning even wider. “You don't even want to know what kind of game I want to play?” he asked curiously, nodding and accepting whatever you wanted as soon as he saw that you actually weren't interested. You couldn't even imagine how gladly he gave in to you at this moment. “All right, I agree with your request.”

You stood up with your briefcase in hand after your station was announced. “Good. Text me when you have something in mind, I'll be there as long as it fits timewise.”

Your colleague continued to watch you with a look on his face that used to make you more than just uncomfortable back in the day - though it didn't even bother you in the slightest now. “You don't want to accompany me to the...office?”

You smiled while the train started to slow down. “Au revoir, Ji-cheol.” you just said your goodbye to him and stepped out of the doors. You didn't even spare the poor guy a second glance when he waved his hand at you from the window. She can be so heartless sometimes, he thought to himself, even if you were like this pretty much all the time. I'll have to think of something good to ask for in return should I win. I'm definitely not going to hold back when there's this much money at stake.

You didn't give a second thought to anything as you made your way home after a day's work like any normal citizen would do. However, your steps slowed considerably when you noticed a beggar in your field of vision and even though the rest of the crowd ignored the man and his entire existence, you couldn't help but focus your full attention on him. You looked at your watch, I've been off work for a while now. But even then, you couldn't help but notice that he was one of the people on your list to recruit for the game. He'll still be here tomorrow, but I don't mind another round of Ddakji. I love money more than anything - but I'm not doing this job for only that since I don't even have anything against working a bit of overtime when it comes to this.

“Excuse me,” you spoke to the man with a polite smile on your face, and he only submissively avoided your gaze as he listened to you. After all, one rarely approached people like him and why would they? He held his cup of loose change out in front of him, probably expecting you to give him a small donation, but you wanted to give him so much more than that. Even if the guy didn't know it right now - you wanted to give him another chance in life, so that he wouldn't continue to be just a miserable failure.

You ignored his donation cup. “I was wondering if you might have a moment because I'd like to make you an offer,” you continued politely and the man met your gaze at that. Yeah, you were really looking forward to what was about to happen - after all, you were known for letting your opponent only win if you allowed them to.

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drewstarkeysring · 3 days ago

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She did what?- Drew Starkey

˚⋆ ୧ ‎ ࣪ Warnings Cheating , Odessa , swearing Summary Hollywood is so overrated, but when Larissa finds out what our beloved Drew is up to, shit hits the fan 💋

The windows are open and the breeze couldn't feel any better.

The past few months have felt way too long. Drew is away filming Queer, and interviews for my new movie Anora have kept us away from each other. Every day felt like agony. I miss my boyfriend.

Calls were answered, Facetimed was longly awaited, and text messages were delivered for hours. You needed date nights in the apartment you bought with wine and your hand and pizza you bought from down the street from both you and Drew's favorite spot.

Your head snaps away from the thought when your phone starts ringing.

"hello," you say, The familiar voice echos in your apartment.

The voice you miss, and want all over you.

"Hi, beautiful," Drew responds, his sweet voice blessing the lonely voice in your apartment. Giggles are filled in the background of the hotel he is staying at, but you ignore it and continue your talking.

"I miss you so much; it hurts," I say while twisting my hair and looking out the window of my apartment. "who are you with," you say nervously.

"No one, it's the TV you hear, I miss you more, baby," He says. He lying; she is in his room, and he staring at her. " I fly back tomorrow night, I can't wait to see you, pretty girl." He says.

You get up and go to the mirror in your room. "I am so excited to see your face and kiss you again, I hate being far away from you". you say. Throwing your hair in a bun and going back to your bed. You feel something going on with him but do not want to ruin the moment you miss his voice.

The girl in his room he knew forever, and rumors always went around with them, Odessa. She was always with Drew. Pogulandia was with him, Paris for Loewe, Disney for her birthday, and New York. And now she is in his bed in Rome. You hated her but how could you express that to Drew when he and her were best friends before you had a relationship with him.

You had your doubts, but you're a people pleaser, you never wanted to upset anyone. You trusted Drew and thought of him highly. Plus, when did he have time for cheating when he was so busy filming.

After 20 minutes, you and Drew ended the call with exchanges with "I love you."

Drew ended the call, " Finally done with her yet, her voice is exhausting," Odessa said. "Stop," Drew expresses. She climbs on him and kisses him. "make me feel good," she says.

9:32 in the morning, Drew woke up and packed for his flight. Odessa left an hour ago to go back to her house. He did feel shame, but in his stupid boy head, he needed familiarity. He had always had a thing with her in secret.

In LA, it's 12:32, 13 more hours to go, and you get to see the love of your life. I missed waking up to him with his bed head and the smell that filled the room, and I missed him in general. 2 months away from him was the longest time they had been separated. 2 months he wasted with her. his free time would be with her.

13 hours later 1:32 pm

At the airport, waiting, counting down the minutes. "He told me 1:30," you whispered to yourself. You see him, and he sees you. you get out of your car and run to him.

"I missed you so much, baby," you say while hugging him. Felt like the world was so silent, and it was only him and you that existed.

He kissed me and whispered in my ear "Miss you more pretty girl" he says. It feels like you are you again, him being with you and you cannot wait to get him home.

The drive home felt like an eternity; it didn't feel real that he was with you. He has been away so long that you could only feel him so far away. He landed his hand on your thigh, and you laid your head on his shoulder.

After he settled in, it's been a couple hours. He was lying down in bed, saying he was jet-lagged.

*Ding* *Ding* *Ding*

His phone was on the nightstand next to you. Do or do not look at his phone. You never look through a boy's phone before. Yes, you trusted Drew, but you have your doubts. What could you possibly find, little did you know...

The contact said Odessa, This fucking bitch. You looked over at Drew. Sleeping Tight, you knew you had time to look at what she said. The Devil is telling me to do it.

"I miss you how you made me feel last night"

"When can you leave her house already, I need you"

You're Gut feeling all your friends talked about having when they have gotten cheated on. You said to yourself you would never feel that. Drew was good to you, no signs, no evidence. Until now, you can't breathe. heartbroken is the feeling you felt.

#drew starkey smut #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron imagine

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solarhysm · 20 hours ago

Text

"what’s your name again?" | JEON JUNGKOOK [FOLLOWERS POLL’s CHOICE]

one shot

> summary: jungkook met you at a costume party for the new year eve. you're bold, drunk and horny.

> pairing: jungkook x reader

> genre: small smut, one shot (shorter than i thought tho)

> warnings: smut, protected sex!!, public quickie in the female restroom (i'm not good with warning)

> word count: 2.8k

*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!

Jungkook never likes masked parties. But when Hoseok suggests going to one where everyone is in costumes, he reluctantly agrees. He has nothing better to do for New Year’s Eve anyway, and it seems better than drinking alone in his apartment. He sighs as someone bumps into him—that’s why he avoids crowded places.

Everyone wears costumes as if it’s Halloween. He’s not surprised to see most of the women in tight, short dresses. Jungkook considered dressing as a character from Squid Game but decided against it—there are already too many of them here.

Instead, he throws on his old Spider-Man costume from Halloween three years ago. It’s been gathering dust in his closet, but it saves him time and money. To account for the cold, he adds gray joggers and an old black sweatshirt. Tonight, he’s not Peter Parker but Miles Morales. He doubts anyone will notice the reference, though.

“Damn, I didn’t expect it to be this crowded,” Jimin says, handing beers to his friends.

Jungkook glances around and nods. It’s New Year’s Eve, so of course, people their age are out celebrating.

“It’s been a shitty year,” Taehyung groans, downing his beer in one gulp before heading to the bar for something stronger. His girlfriend dumped him last month, and he’s still obsessively checking her Instagram, where she flaunts her new boyfriend.

Jungkook shakes his head, amused. It was a rough year. His grandfather was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, none of his romantic flings went anywhere, and the company he worked for went bankrupt. Now, he’s living with his parents –again- and working a terrible job under an abusive boss. He sighs and takes a sip of his beer.

“At least we’re still standing,” Hoseok says, ever the optimist.

As the night goes on, the four friends drink steadily in their corner of the nightclub. Taehyung ends up crying on Hoseok’s shoulder, while Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“I don’t understand,” Taehyung whines. “I’m a good boyfriend! I used to bring her flowers all the time and give her all the attention she wants.”

“She’s a bitch. You’re a good guy,” Jungkook says, leaning closer so Taehyung can hear him over the music. “Stop wasting your tears on someone like her.”

“Maybe I’m bad in bed?”

“Stop it,” Jimin groans, grabbing Taehyung’s shoulder. “With your third leg, it’s definitely not about sex. Some women are just terrible people. Go find someone new tonight.”

“What?” Taehyung sniffles, while Jungkook silently gestures for Jimin to stop talking.

“Yeah, Tae,” Hoseok chimes in. “Find a girl, have some fun, and forget about her.”

Jungkook buries his face in his hands. Taehyung is too drunk for this advice. He’s not a one-night-stand type of guy and will probably end up vomiting on whoever he approaches.

“I need a smoke,” Jungkook mutters, getting up and wiping his hands on his joggers. He weaves through the crowd toward the exit, hating how packed the nightclub is.

“I’m sorry!” a voice gasps as their bodies collide. Jungkook instinctively grabs the stranger’s arm to steady them. Both of them are clearly tipsy, but they look more unsteady than he does.

His gaze falls on the person in front of him—his very own Gwen Stacy. The mask hides all of their face, but the costume piques his interest immediately.

“It’s my fault,” You begin. “I didn’t—” You stop mid-sentence when you look up at him. “Oh, Miles Morales!” You giggle, recognizing his costume. And your laugh makes him smile.

“Hi, Gwen,” Jungkook smirks, the alcohol making him bolder.

“Hi,” you reply as you both step outside into the chilly air. It’s a welcome relief from the stifling crowd inside. Jungkook pulls out a cigarette and lighter.

“I like your costume,” he says, noticing you scanning the crowd inside, probably looking for your friends.

You remove your mask and smile. Jungkook doesn’t expect you to be this attractive—especially the kind of attractive he’s drawn to.

“Thanks. I like yours, even if it’s a little inaccurate,” you tease, making him chuckle.

You pull out your own cigarette, accepting his lighter with a nod of thanks.

“It’s too cold to be Spider-Man.”

“Well, not Tom Holland’s Spider-Man,” you quip, freeing your hair from the costume.

Jungkook’s eyes linger on you briefly before smirking. “Marvel fan?” he asks.

“Hm, you?”

“Hm.”

You’re pretty and a Marvel fan? Jungkook looks up at the dark sky, silently thanking the universe for this coincidence. Before he can come up with something to say, you speak again.

“I almost dressed as Wednesday Addams, but it’s way too cold for that,” you explain, and he nods.

“Wednesday was my first choice, too,” Jungkook jokes, making you laugh.

“I’m Y/N,” you say.

“Jungkook,” he replies.

“Did you come alone, Spiderman?” you ask, and Jungkook shakes his head.

“I came with some friends.”

“Yeah, me too. It was either this or sleeping early. I figured it’d be more fun to get drunk,” you say, tossing the bud of your cigarette. Jungkook licks his lips with a smile. He guesses you’re a yapper, which is a good thing because he’s not drunk enough to talk freely without embarrassment. “Do you drink tequila shots, Spiderman?”

“Are you offering?” he teases, and you nod. “Alright.”

Even though he asks, once you’re at the bar ordering a round of six tequila shots, Jungkook is the one handing over his credit card to the bartender. You scold him, insisting you’ll pay for the next round. He’s just happy that you’re thinking about continuing the night with him, though he’s a little apprehensive about drinking more.

“Alright, on three,” you say with a smile, counting down before you both toss back the first shot and bite into a lemon. “Where are your friends?”

“Somewhere in the club,” Jungkook replies, his head nodding to the rhythm of the music.

You grab his hand and guide him to the dancefloor. Jungkook marvels at how easygoing you are. Most girls he meets play hard to get, but you’re different—just here, vibing with everyone around you. His smile widens as he watches you mimicking the dance steps of a guy dressed as a banana.

You burst into laughter when you mess up the choreography, and the banana-guy spins you back toward Jungkook, probably assuming the two of you came together. You stumble into his arms, your rosy cheeks and bright giggles captivating him even though he can barely hear it over the music.

After the fourth shot, Jungkook has to stop, reaching his limit. He isn’t used to drinking this much, especially tequila. But he chuckles, watching as you confidently take down two more. When you turn to him, he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Already?” you tease, giggling, and he rolls his eyes, amused. You finish the remaining shots by yourself, and he’s genuinely impressed. How can someone as small as you handle so much alcohol?

Jungkook blinks a few times, shaking his head. He’s almost certain you’re going to regret this if you keep bouncing around to the music like that.

“Are you drunk?” you ask, leaning closer, and he nods, patting his chest to settle the burn in his throat.

He grabs a bottle of water he ordered, takes a sip, and offers it to you. But you shake your head, and Jungkook can’t help but feel a strange responsibility to make sure you’re okay. You’ve only just met, but he’s already trying to sober you up a bit—anything to avoid you ending the night sick.

“Do you drink often?” Jungkook asks, grimacing as he takes another sip of water. He’s already done with tequila—probably for life.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you chuckle, your tone playful as you make him smile and shrug.

“Just that you definitely know how to hold your liquor.”

“I just needed to get drunk and forget this year,” you admit, tossing your hair over your shoulder.

“Do you want me to walk you to your friends?” Jungkook offers, his voice laced with concern.

“Are you tired of me, Spider-Man?” you joke, swaying slightly as you both half-dance to the pulsing music.

“W-What? No!” Jungkook stammers, looking adorably flustered, and you laugh at his reaction.

“I’m kidding,” you say, nudging his shoulder with a grin.

“Can… I have your number? Or maybe your social media?” he asks, leaning closer to your ear to make himself heard over the music. You pull back to meet his gaze, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders for balance. Both of you have hooded eyes, softened by the alcohol and dim lights.

Jungkook feels a rush of admiration for your boldness. You don’t care about the people around you or their opinions. His hand hesitates before resting on the small of your back. You tilt your head, your nose brushing his as your lips hover dangerously close.

“Do you want to have fun?” you murmur, your mouth brushing his ear, the music muffling everything else.

“What kind of fun?” he asks, his breath caressing your cheek. He feels himself leaning into the moment, emboldened by your energy. Why not? There’s nothing wrong with a little flirting with a stranger on New Year’s Eve.

You smirk slowly, your hand slipping into his to guide him off the dancefloor. Jungkook frowns slightly in confusion when you lead him into the women’s restroom. Before he can ask why, you cup his face, pulling him into a kiss that sends his heart racing.

He finds it thrilling—kissing someone he just met, in a place he’d never expect. It’s not the kind of fun he was imagining, but he’s definitely not complaining. You guide him blindly into one of the stalls, closing the door behind you as he presses you against it.

“What if someone catches us?” he whispers, his lips trailing along your jaw.

“We can stop if you want,” you reply, threading your fingers into his hair before pulling him into another heated kiss.

“No,” he says honestly, making you smile. “But we’re drunk.”

“Can’t get hard when you’re drunk?” you tease, your lips brushing the column of his neck. Jungkook chuckles darkly, grabbing your hand and guiding it to his joggers. Your eyes light up as you feel his growing arousal beneath the fabric.

Jungkook’s breath hitches as your hand starts to stroke him above his jogger. His mind races—this is new for him. He’s had his share of casual flings, but never with a stranger and never in public. Surprisingly, the thrill of possibly being caught makes the moment even more exhilarating.

He wonders if you’ve done this before—you seem so at ease. But before he can ask, your hand slides under the waistband of his joggers, palming his growing bulge. His eyes close almost instantly, a soft groan escaping him as your touch sends heat coursing through his body. His own hands find your backside, squeezing gently, grounding himself in the moment.

“Do you want to fuck me?” you whisper, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin of his neck.

“What—I—right now?” he stammers, wide-eyed, and you nod. Pressing your back against the door, you reach behind to unzip the bottom of your costume, your movements deliberate and teasing. Jungkook’s gaze remains locked on you, his mind racing.

His eyes widen further as he begins patting the pockets of his joggers in a frantic search for his wallet. He knows there’s a condom in there—he’s certain he hasn’t used it. A chance like this? No way he’s letting it slip by. He’s just a guy, after all, and if a beautiful woman wants him, Jungkook isn’t about to say no.

“What are you doing?” you ask, laughing as his wallet slips from his fumbling hands. He scrambles to catch it, earning another amused giggle from you.

When he finally retrieves the little plastic wrapper, he holds it up proudly. You smirk, pulling him into a heated kiss while he helps you peel off the bottom half of your costume. The black panties underneath match the dark tights perfectly, a sight that makes Jungkook’s breath hitch. His hands twitch at his sides, trying to maintain control.

“I’ve never done this before,” he admits softly, hiking your leg up to wrap around his waist, pressing you against him.

“Yeah, me neither,” you reply with a playful giggle, one hand gripping his shoulder for balance while the other threads through his messy hair. “New year, new experiences, right?”

“You’re really something else,” he chuckles, his tone equal parts admiration and disbelief. His eyes meet yours, silently asking for permission. You nod, and his hand slides between your thighs, fingertips brushing against you through the thin fabric of your panties.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your head falling back against the door as your hips instinctively press into his touch. Your reaction sends a shiver down his spine; he swears he’s never heard anyone curse so beautifully.

Jungkook frees himself from his boxers, giving his cock a few slow strokes while watching your every reaction. His gaze flickers between your face and the way your body trembles under his hand. When he pushes your panties aside, he hesitates momentarily to open the condom.

“Tell me to stop,” he says suddenly, his voice wavering as he tries to cling to the last shred of his rationality.

“Don’t you dare,” you reply with a grin, tugging at his boxers to free him completely. He groans, any semblance of self-control slipping away as he feels your hand stroke him again, this time skin-on-skin.

The muffled music from the club outside only adds to the surrealness of the moment. Every so often, someone walks into the restroom, and Jungkook tenses, half-expecting a knock on the door. But the thrill of being caught only seems to heighten his excitement. When you grab his face to focus him on you, your lips brushing against his, he realizes he’s long past the point of no return.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath as he rolls the condom over his length. His other hand pushes his joggers just low enough to give him room to move. “Are you sure?” he asks one last time, his voice trembling with need.

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation, guiding him to your entrance. His fingers dig into your hips as he presses forward slowly, the stretch eliciting soft gasps from both of you. He stills for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he adjusts to the overwhelming sensation.

“God, you’re so tight,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire.

“Please, move,” you urge him in a whine, your nails digging into his shoulders. He doesn’t need to be told twice. His hips pull back before snapping forward, setting a steady rhythm that has you biting your lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

Jungkook’s movements grow more erratic as he loses himself in the sensation of you. The cramped space of the stall, the muffled music, and the ever-present risk of being caught only add to the intensity. His hands roam your body, gripping your thighs and waist as he thrusts into you with increasing urgency.

“You feel so good,” he groans, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

“Faster,” you gasp, your hands sliding down to grab his ass and urge him deeper. He obliges, his pace quickening until the sound of your bodies colliding fills the small space. “Fuck –“

You bite down on his shoulder to muffle your moans, and he curses under his breath, the combination of your teeth and the tight grip of your walls pushing him closer to the edge.

“I’m close,” he whispers, his breath hot against your neck. His thrusts grow rougher, the door rattling slightly with each movement.

“Me too,” you manage to reply, your voice shaky as the tension in your body builds. His thumb finds your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to send you spiraling over the edge. Your walls tighten around him as you climax, your muffled cries vibrating against his skin.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans, his hips stuttering as he follows you, spilling into the condom with a final deep thrust. He collapses against you, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. The countdown outside ends in cheers and shouts of celebration, but neither of you notices, still lost in the aftershocks of your high.

For a moment, the two of you stay like that, tangled together in the aftermath. Then Jungkook pulls back slightly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The sounds of celebration seep back in as you both begin to steady your breathing.

“That was…” he trails off, unable to find the right words. “Hot.”

You smirk, cupping his face to leave a lingering kiss on his swollen lips.

“Happy New Year,” you whisper, your voice soft but playful.

“Happy New Year,” he replies, his hand snaking behind your neck to pull you into another kiss, this one just as passionate as the last. Jungkook knows he has to go back to his friends soon.

“What’s your name again?” you laugh, your breath mingling with his as he chuckles.

“Jungkook. Yours?”

“Y/N.”

hiiii!! first of all, happy new year to you all. may 2025 be a better year for you. secondly, i know, I KNOW, i'm a little late with the one shot i promised, i'm sorry! i was too busy those last few days. to be honest, the one shot didn't result as i was hoping for. I had a few ideas about it and it doesn't look like... what i expected. but i promise you a jk one shot for the new year so here it is. i'll do better next time, i swear!! but i do hope that you enjoyed reading it <3 I'll see you around, and on that, i'm going back to write the DOU chapter 6 now that i have free time!! luv y’all — Riza

#bts fanfic #bts jungkook #bts #bts fic #jungkook x reader #solarhys #jeon jungkook #bangtan #jungkook fanfic #smut #jungkook bts #jungkook smut #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook one shot #jungkook oneshot #new year 2025

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vbecker10 · 2 days ago

Note

Hey odd request but I have a lot of tummy issues could you write Loki comforting reader with tummy cramps.

Tummy Troubles

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Loki discovers you curled up in your bed trying to deal with your stomach issues and offers to help you feel better.

Warnings: 🤷‍♀️ stomach issues, mention of throwing up previously, feeling ill but not specific illness mentioned... there will be fluff!

A/N: I'm really really sorry this took so long! I've been having a rough time finding inspiration but last night, while I was curled up in a ball trying not to die from my own stomach issues, I came up with the idea for this fic in an effort to distract myself. Thank you for sending this request! I hope you like it! 💚

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand for the second time and you groan, gripping the sheet around you tighter as your stomach cramps and your body shivers. After what feels like forever, the pain subsidies but you still can't force your body to move so you can reach your phone.

You've been laying curled up in a near fetal position for at least the last hour, even since you dragged yourself back to bed after loosing the battle to keep from throwing up your lunch. Even the slightest movement brings a wave of nausea so you've decided your best bet is to stay perfectly still until you finally fall asleep which will hopefully be soon but you doubt it. You're utterly exhausted but as far from sleep as possible. This is not a new feeling unfortunately, once every other month or so your stomach decides to revolt against you for seemingly no reason.

Closing your eyes tightly, you feel chills run up your spine as your stomach cramps. Your muscles slowly relax and just as you take a deep breath to steady yourself, your phone buzzes for a third time.

You don't need to check it to know who keeps calling, it's Loki. He was due back from his mission roughly half an hour ago and somewhere in the last six months, it became a habit of his to call you to let you know he landed. You thought it was sweet and normally you couldn't wait to hear his voice again but there was no way you would let your ridiculously attractive best friend see you sweaty, nauseous and curled up in pain.

The doors open for the elevator and Loki steps inside, his phone pressed to his ear as he listens to it ring over and over. When he hears your voice mail pick up, he sighs and ends the call without leaving a message.

Putting his phone back into his pocket, Loki walks into the kitchen in the common area in an effort to locate you. Instead, he finds Wanda and Natasha making tea and discussing their plans for the evening.

"Have either of you seen Y/N recently?" Loki asks, trying to keep from sounding overly concerned.

"She didn't come to our last two meetings," Natasha answers. "She's sick, some stomach thing I think."

"Thanks, I'll go check on her," Loki says then he leaves the kitchen, walking down the hall to your apartment.

He knocks, waiting a moment but when you don't answer he lets himself in like he has dozens of times before. He sighs when you're not on the couch like he had hoped you would be. He looks around your dark apartment and realizes that means you're in your bedroom. He walks towards the closed door and pauses.

The door is always closed when he's come over and he often found himself wondering what your bedroom was like or more specifically what your bed was like. What color sheets did you have? Was your mattress soft or firm? Did you sleep on the left side or the right side? What he wondered most often though, was what it would be like to fall asleep with his arms around you. He'd never ask you any of those questions of course but now he was about to find out the answer to most of them.

Loki knocks on your bedroom door, putting his ear to the dark wood and hears a soft groan in response.

Your bedroom door opens slowly and you pull the thin sheet tighter around yourself. Despite your back facing the door, you can immediately tell by the sound of his leather boots that it's Loki.

"Are you okay, love?" Loki asks. "Natasha said you were sick."

"Go away," you mumble, squeezing your eyes closed as your stomach cramps. You feel the bed dip lightly as he sits on the edge and you groan. "Don't move the bed," you force the words out, afraid speaking will trigger your nausea as it often does.

Loki gets up quickly and apologizes, "Sorry."

You can feel him watching you but you can't move to face him. Part of you wants him to leave, close the door on his way out and act like he never saw you here. The other part of you desperately wants him to hold you until you fall asleep.

"Let me help you," he says finally.

"I'm fine Loki, you can go," you say through gritted teeth and the instant you hear your voice you know the God of Lies isn't going to believe that.

"Y/N," he says softly as he sits gently on the bed again, careful not to move it as much as before. "I can make you feel better if you're sick."

"How?" you ask then cringe in pain as your stomach cramps tightly, a second later you feel something unexpected. Loki's chest presses lightly against your back as he lays on your bed next to you.

"I can use my magic to heal you. I've used it to heal wounds and illnesses before," Loki explains as his arm wraps around you, his hand settling on your stomach gently. "Just relax love, this will only take a moment."

You nod but you're body remains stiff, you've spent almost every night for the last three or four months wishing you could lie in bed with Loki but this is not how you wanted it to happen. Your attention is drawn to Loki's fingers as they begin to glow green, his seider spreading slowly over your body.

Almost instantly, your stomach settles as the cramps release and the nausea subsides completely. You find yourself inching closer to Loki as the chills fade and the only things you feel are tired and comfortable. Your hand covers Loki's, his seider fading once the spell has finished healing you.

You nod and smile, "So much better. Thanks Loki."

"Better?" he asks quietly, his lips a few inches from your ear. 'Black cotton sheets, firm mattress, left side of the bed,' Loki thinks, answering the questions he had about your bed, a smile spreads across his lips as his fingers intertwine with yours. The only thing left for him to do was try to hold you for as long as possible since he wasn't sure when our if he'd get to do it again.

Your eyes flutter open. "No," you reply quietly, still holding his hand to keep his arm around your body. "Please stay."

"Of course, love," he answers.

You yawn, closing your eyes for a moment. You've cuddled with previous boyfriends but Loki was so much more comfortable than you had imagined he could be.

"I'll leave so you can rest," Loki suggests even though it's the last thing he wants to do.

He shifts as close to you as he can, thrilled by your request, "Okay love."

You yawn again, struggling to keep your eyes open and in your exhausted state you find yourself asking Loki something you've wanted to know for months. "Why do you keep calling me love? You never call anyone else that."

Loki places a soft kiss to your neck, just below your ear and whispers so quietly you barely hear him, "Because I love you."

You smile as your eyes close and just as you slip off to sleep you whisper back, "I love you too."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

@soubi001 @mochie85 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @animnerd @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @mischief2sarawr @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @goblingirlsarah @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @kneelingformyloki @jiyascepter @eleniblue @ash-muses @muddyorbsblr @alyeskathewave @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @javagirl328 @princess-asgard @morally-grey-variant @soulpiercing @km-ffluv @glitterylokislut @biodegradable-glitter-fest @wolfsmom1 @simone818283 @hopefuldreamers-world @blackhawkfanatic @sabspoetic @anukulee @lovinglokilaufeyson @beaniemoon

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amoressb · 21 hours ago

Text

☆ LOWKEY

pairings : childhood bsf!riki x reader ; friends to lovers

synopsis : in which you and riki have been best friends since you guys were in kindergarten. youre both now in your last year of high school and with all that time together, people would think that you guys were bound to end up falling for each other, right? well, that seems to only be the case for riki. hes fallen in love with you after all this time, especially since you guys tend to flirt constantly, but he knows you dont feel the same. right? either way, he doesnt want to risk losing you so he tries to keep his love for you on the lowkey. will it work?

☆.。.：*。.：*・.：*・.。.：*。.：*・.：*・.。.：*。.：*・.☆

will you be mine?

small smau + written wc. 4.05k

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as the riki walked down the quiet street, his heart raced faster than his footsteps. the bouquet of daisies and soft pink roses he held in his trembling hands was a stark contrast to the biting winter air that turned his cheeks redder by the second. he kept glancing at his reflection in store windows, adjusting his scarf nervously.

today wasn’t just any day—it was the day. the day he’d finally confess his feelings to you. for years, you’d been his best friend, his confidante, the one who made him laugh even on his darkest days and now, here he was, walking toward your house, knowing this wasn’t just a casual outing. it was you guys first date.

the thought made his stomach twist in knots. what if you didn’t feel the same? what if he ruined everything? he shook the doubts away, taking a deep breath. you had agreed to this date after all and that had to mean something. he gripped the flowers tighter, his palms sweaty despite the chill.

as your house came into view, he paused, his heart pounding louder than ever. He took another deep breath and forced himself to smile. no turning back now. today was the day he’d tell you—tell you how much you mean to him, how you’d always been more than just a friend. whatever happened next, he was ready to take the leap.

riki stood at your doorstep, heart thudding in his chest as he stared at the polished wooden door. he adjusted his scarf one last time, took a deep breath, and raised a shaky hand to knock. before he could, the door swung open, and there you were, framed by the warm glow of the house behind you.

“hey!” you greeted, your smile wide and welcoming. your cheeks were a little flushed, whether from the cold or something else, he couldn’t tell. you looked effortlessly beautiful, your cozy sweater and scarf making you seem so at ease, while he felt like a bundle of nerves barely holding it together.

“hi,” he managed, his voice cracking slightly. he cleared his throat quickly and thrust the bouquet forward. “uh, these are for you.”

your eyes lit up as you looked at the flowers, and you let out a soft laugh. “they’re beautiful, thank you!” you reached out to take them, your fingers brushing his for a moment, and he swore his heart skipped a beat. “you didn’t have to, you know.”

“i—uh, i wanted to,” he said, fumbling over the words. “i mean, it’s a special day… i mean, not just because of the date—uh, i mean the calendar date, not our date—” he stopped himself, realizing he was rambling. “sorry i’m nervous.”

you laughed again, this time a little softer, your gaze meeting his. “you don’t need to be nervous, it’s just me,” you said, your tone reassuring.

“that’s exactly why i’m nervous,” he admitted before he could stop himself, his cheeks immediately heating up. “i just… i want today to be perfect.”

your expression softened and you stepped closer, your eyes searching his. “it already is,” you said quietly, holding the bouquet to your chest. “come on, let’s go. we’ll figure out the rest together.” he smiled then, feeling a bit of the tension melt away. together. maybe today would go just the way he’d hoped after all.

the crisp winter air nipped at you and rikis noses as you two arrived at the ice skating rink. string lights hung above, casting a warm glow over the sparkling ice. the sound of laughter and the scrape of skates against the rink filled the air. you looked around, your eyes wide with excitement.

“i haven’t been ice skating in ages!” you exclaimed, turning to him with a grin. “me neither,” he admitted, though he wasn’t sure if it was the truth. his focus wasn’t on skating—it was on making this day special for you.

you two picked up your skates and as you two sat on a nearby bench to put them on, he noticed you struggling with the laces. “here let me help” he said, kneeling down before you could protest.“you don’t have to-” you started, but he was already working on the first skate, his fingers deftly tying the laces with care.

“i want to,” he said, glancing up at you with a small, nervous smile. he couldn’t help but notice how close you two were, your face just inches from his. you smiled softly, your gaze lingering on him as he finished the second shoe. “there all set,” he said, standing and offering his hand to help you up.“thanks,” you said, slipping your hand into his. your touch was warm despite the chill, and he found himself reluctant to let go.

on the ice, it was clear you were both rusty. you wobbled almost immediately, letting out a squeal as your arms flailed for balance. “woah, careful!” he said, laughing as he reached out to steady you. you grabbed onto his arm, gripping it tightly.

“you said you were rusty too!” you accused playfully, though your grin gave you away. “i am!” he protested. “but i think i’m a little less… wobbly than you.”

you gave him a mock glare but clung to his arm as you glided—well, shuffled—across the ice together. every now and then, you’d laugh as you nearly lost your balance and he couldn’t help but join in, his nerves slowly melting away with every smile you gave him.

at one point, you tugged him toward the middle of the rink. “let’s try going faster!” you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “are you trying to make us both to fall?” he asked, but he couldn’t say no to you. now picking up speed, your hands clasped tightly together. when you stumbled, he caught you, pulling you close to steady you. “see? you’re getting the hang of it,” he said, his voice soft as he looked down at you.

“only because i have you to hold on to,” you replied, your cheeks pink—not just from the cold. you and rikis eyes met and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away.

as you two skated, you found herself stealing glances at him. there was something endearing about the way he focused so intently, like he was determined to make sure you didn’t fall. you felt your heart flutter every time he reached out to steady you or laughed with you.

he, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about how effortlessly you lit up the entire rink. every laugh, every smile, made his chest feel warm despite the freezing air. he wanted this moment to last forever, wanted you to know how much you meant to him.

as you two reached the edge of the rink, both cheeks flushed from the cold and laughter, you slowed to a stop. you leaned on the barrier, brushing a strand of hair from your face, your breath visible in the chilly air.

“you’re not so bad at this after all,” you teased, glancing at him with a playful smile.“thanks,” he replied, grinning. “but i think you’re the one stealing the show out there.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “sure, if by ‘stealing the show,’ you mean almost falling on my face every five seconds.”

“you call it falling, i call it making a dramatic entrance,” he said, earning another laugh from you. the sound made his chest feel light, like he could float away.

standing there for a moment, catching your breath. riki hesitated, the words he wanted to say lingering on the tip of his tongue but instead of speaking, he shoved his hands into his coat pockets and glanced at you.

“you know,” he said, breaking the silence, “all this skating has me craving something sweet. want to go grab some ice cream?” your eyes lit up and you turned to him with an incredulous laugh. “ice cream? in this weather?”

he shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the slight tremor of nerves in his voice. “what can i say? ice cream is a year round thing.” you tilted your head, pretending to think it over. “hmm, i suppose i could be convinced. but only if you promise not to steal all the toppings.”

“deal,” he said, his grin widening. he offered his hand, and when you took it, your fingers fit perfectly in his.

as you two left the rink and walked toward the nearest ice cream shop, laughter echoed into the crisp evening air. neither of you said it out loud, but you both felt it—this was more than just a good day. this was the start of something you’d both remember for a long time.

the warmth of the ice cream shop was a welcome contrast to the crisp winter air outside. the smell of freshly made waffle cones filled the air and the glass display case showcased an array of brightly colored ice cream flavors. you pressed your face to the glass, scanning the options with wide eyes.

“okayyy,” she said, pointing dramatically. “strawberry cheesecake, always the winner.”

“solid choice,” he said, nodding. “but i think i’m going with cookie dough.”

“you’re so predictable,” you teased, shooting him a grin.

“and you’re not?” he countered with a laugh. “strawberry cheesecake every time?”

“hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” you replied as you two stepped up to the counter to place your orders.

minutes later, you and riki were sitting at a small table by the window, your cones in hand. outside, the world was still covered in a blanket of winter, but in here, the laughter and warmth felt like a bubble just for the two of you.

“so,” you said between bites of your ice cream, “do you always eat ice cream in freezing weather or is this just a special occasion?” riki shrugged, smirking. “ice cream’s good anytime but i guess today feels… special.” you paused, your ice cream hovering in the air and smiled softly at him. “yeah…it does.”

as you took another bite, a tiny smudge of ice cream clung to the corner of your mouth. he noticed it instantly, his heart skipping a beat.

“you’ve got a little…” he said, motioning to his own mouth. you frowned, confused. “what? where?”

“here,” he said softly, leaning in. before you could protest, he reached out with his thumb and gently wiped the ice cream away. his touch lingered for a moment, his hand close to your cheek.

your breath caught and you sat still, looking up at him. your eyes met and the playful banter faded into silence. the world around you two seemed to blur, the warmth of the shop and the soft hum of conversation fading into the background. all tiki could see was you—the way your eyes sparkled under the shop’s lights, the slight flush on your cheeks.

you felt your heart racing as his gaze held yours. his hand dropped slowly and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“thanks,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper, your lips curving into a small, shy smile. “anytime,” he replied softly, his own cheeks a little pink now.

the moment lingered between you both, full of unspoken words and something new, something neither of you were ready to name just yet. then, as if on cue, you laughed lightly, breaking the tension.

“you’re lucky i didn’t get sprinkles,” you said, your tone teasing again. he chuckled, grateful for the ease in your voice. “true, that could’ve been a real disaster.”

you both laughed and just like that, the moment passed, leaving behind a warmth that neither of you could shake as you finished your cones and ventured back out into the winter air.

as you two stepped out of the ice cream shop, you and rikis laughter lingering in the frosty air, he glanced at you with a small, nervous smile. his hands were tucked into his coat pockets and his heart raced as he finally worked up the courage to say it.

“so, uh… i have one more surprise for you,” he said, his voice tentative.

you turned to him, your eyes lighting up with curiosity. “another surprise? you’re really pulling out all the stops today.”he chuckled, shrugging. “well, i just thought you deserved a day that’s… special. come on, you’ll see.”

intrigued, you followed him as you two walked through the softly illuminated streets. the quiet crunch of snow beneath you and his boots were accompanied by your soft hums of contentment. eventually, you two arrived at a gated entrance glowing with an otherworldly light. a sign read “the imaginarium”, and through the entrance, the entire area seemed to sparkle and shimmer like a dreamscape.

your breath hitched as you took it all in. “this… this is amazing,” you whispered. “come on,” he said, offering his hand. you didn’t hesitate, slipping your fingers into his. your touch sent a warmth coursing through him that no winter chill could touch.

inside, the Imaginarium was a wonderland of lights and color. twinkling displays of glowing flowers, cascading streams of light that looked like waterfalls, and luminous arches stretched across the pathways. ypu walked slowly, your eyes wide with wonder, marveling at each glowing creation.

“this is incredible,” she said, your voice filled with awe. you pointed at a field of tiny glowing mushrooms that pulsed gently with shifting hues. “look at that—it’s like a fairy tale come to life.”

riki barely heard you. his gaze wasn’t on the lights or the displays—it was on you. the way your eyes sparkled brighter than the lights themselves, the way your breath fogged in the cold as you spoke, the soft, genuine smile that hadn’t left your face since they’d entered.

you let out a delighted laugh when you spotted a tunnel of stars, their golden light shimmering above like a celestial canopy. as you walked ahead to admire it, your hand still in his, riki couldn’t take his eyes off you. the glow of the lights danced across your face, illuminating your soft features in a way that took his breath away.

you turned to him, catching him mid stare. “what?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, a playful smile on your lips. he blinked, caught off guard. “nothing,” he said quickly, his voice soft. but then, unable to stop himself, he added, “it’s just… you look so happy. i love seeing you like this.”

your cheeks turned pink, though whether it was from the cold or his words, he couldn’t tell. “well, this is kind of magical,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “thank you for bringing me here.” “anytime,” he said, his tone sincere. “i mean it.”

you and riki continued walking, your hand still in his. every now and then, you’d stop to admire another display, gasping softly at the details, while he simply stood beside you, his gaze never leaving you. to him, the lights, the beauty of the imaginarium—they all paled in comparison to you. the way you lit up, the way your joy was so genuine, it made everything else feel like a backdrop to your presence.

at one point, you and him reached a small pond surrounded by glowing reeds and lily pads that seemed to float on the surface, their soft hues reflecting in the water. you leaned against the railing, taking it all in with a dreamy expression. riki stood beside you, his heart full, unable to stop himself from memorizing every detail of your face—the curve of your lips, the way your eyes shone, the gentle way your scarf framed your features.

you turned to him again, your smile soft this time. “you’ve been quiet, are you okay?” he nodded, his throat tight with emotion he wasn’t sure he could put into words. “yeah,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “i’m more than okay.” your gaze lingered on him for a moment before you squeezed his hand. “good,” you said, your voice just as soft.

as you two continued through the glowing wonderland, hand in hand, he knew one thing for certain : he could have spent the entire night in the imaginarium and never looked at a single light, as long as he was with you.

the path through the imaginarium led them to a grove bathed in soft, golden light. the trees were wrapped in strands of tiny, glimmering bulbs that cascaded down like waterfalls, swaying gently in the breeze. overhead, a canopy of suspended orbs glowed like floating moons, their light shifting from white to gold to the faintest pink. the snow beneath their feet sparkled faintly, reflecting the magic of the lights above.

you walked ahead of him, your hand still in his, your soft laughter carrying on the crisp night air. your eyes were alight with wonder, darting from one glowing creation to another. occasionally, you’d point something out, a strand of lights that mimicked shooting stars or a delicate sculpture made entirely of shimmering glass. your voice was filled with awe and your smile was brighter than any light around them.

but while you admired the world around you, riki admired you. the way the lights danced across your face, casting delicate patterns on your skin, made you look almost otherworldly. your hair caught the golden glow, framing you in a soft halo that seemed to pulse with every step you took. your cheeks were flushed from the cold, your breath visible in tiny clouds and your scarf was slightly askew, but to him, you had never looked more perfect.

you stopped beneath an archway of intertwining lights, the beams curving overhead like the ribs of a glowing cathedral. you turned back to him, your eyes wide with excitement. “look at this,” you said, gesturing upward. “it’s like standing inside a constellation.”

riki barely heard your words. his heart was pounding in his chest as he took you in. your face, so full of wonder, seemed to glow from within. every detail of you—your sparkling eyes, the gentle curve of your lips, the way your hand fit so perfectly in his—was etched into his mind. in that moment, the beauty of the lights around them seemed to fade, paling in comparison to you.

it hit him like a sudden wave..this is it. the feeling that had been growing inside him, simmering quietly for years, could no longer be ignored. seeing you like this, so radiant and full of life, made him realize that no moment would ever be more perfect. he couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“hey,” he said, his voice soft, yet steady. you turned to him fully, your head tilting slightly. “what is it?” you asked, your expression curious.

he took a deep breath, his fingers tightening around yours. the words felt heavy, like they carried every ounce of emotion he had been holding back. “i need to tell you something,” he began, his voice quieter now, almost trembling with vulnerability.

your expression shifted, your eyes searching his face. “you’re being serious,” you said softly, your tone laced with concern and curiosity.

“i am,” he said, nodding. he took a step closer, so close now that he could see the reflection of the lights in your eyes, the way they shimmered like liquid gold. “i’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and… i can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

your brows furrowed slightly but you didn’t say anything. you just waited, giving him your full attention, your hand still warm in his.

“you—” he paused, swallowing hard as he gathered his thoughts. “you mean so much to me, more than i think you realize. and today, seeing you like this, seeing you so happy, so… beautiful…” he trailed off for a moment, his chest tightening. “i realized that i can’t go another day without saying it.”

your lips parted slightly, your breath visible in the cold air as you stared at him, your expression unreadable. “saying what?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he exhaled shakily, his gaze locked on yours. “that i care about you..not just as a friend, not just as someone i love spending time with… but as someone i’ve fallen for. completely.”

your eyes widened slightly, the lights above catching the faint shimmer of emotion in them. the world around you two seemed to pause, the sounds of distant laughter and soft music fading into silence. all he could hear was his own heartbeat, thundering in his chest as he waited for your to respond.

he took another breath, his voice growing steadier as the emotions poured out of him. “you’ve always been this… light in my life, you know? like no matter how hard things get or how much the world feels like it’s falling apart, you’re there and suddenly everything makes sense again. you make things better, just by being you.”

you were silent, your lips slightly parted as you listened, your hand still in his. the golden light above them danced across your face, illuminating the soft flush of your cheeks, the slight shimmer in your eyes.

“you’re the first person i want to talk to when something amazing happens,” he continued, his voice filled with quiet urgency. “and the only one i want to see when things feel impossible. i look at you, and it’s like..it’s like the world slows down. and today, seeing you here, like this..it’s made me realize something i’ve been trying to deny for too long.”

he took a small step closer, the space between them narrowing until he could feel the faint warmth radiating from you despite the winter chill. his gaze softened as he looked down at you, taking in every detail of your expression.

“i realized that i don’t just like being with you. i need to be with you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “you make everything brighter, everything better. and i-” he paused, his throat tightening, but he pressed on. “i’ve fallen in love with you, completely. and i don’t know where this will go, or how you feel, but i had to tell you because you deserve to know just how much you mean to me.”

your eyes glistened as you stared at him, your breath hitching slightly. the silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken feelings, as the golden lights flickered softly above. he held his breath, waiting for your response, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

riki took another step closer, your hands still intertwined, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. his heart raced, the weight of the moment pressing against his chest. the lights around them seemed to blur into a soft golden haze, as if the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting for what would happen next.

“i know this might feel like a lot,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less earnest. “and i know this changes everything but i also know that i don’t want to keep wondering, or waiting, or pretending these feelings don’t exist.”

his gaze locked with yours, his eyes soft and full of vulnerability. “you mean so much to me, more than i can ever put into words and i want to be the one who makes you smile like this every day. i want to be by your side, not just as your friend, but as..something more.”

he let out a breath, the faintest mist forming in the cold air as he finally asked the question that had been building inside him for so long. “will you be my girlfriend?”

the words hung in the air between them, fragile yet powerful, carrying every ounce of hope, fear, and love he felt for you. your eyes widened slightly, your breath catching as you stared at him, the golden lights reflecting in your gaze.

you opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out at first. the world seemed to slow, every second stretching out endlessly as he waited, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it. your lips parted again and you drew in a breath, your expression unreadable.

and then she gave him a response—

wouldn’t you like to know - (hobie brown from spiderman)

☆.。.：*。.：*・.：*・.。.：*。.：*・.：*・.。.：*。.：*・.☆

taglist - @notab1tchwho @minjicharm @heartheejake @heenzie @annoyingbitch83 @getoxo @sunooluuvr @moony-mari @luvgiselle @yjwxfxr @crimson-reaper576 @jungwonsjellies @ikeulove @inaisis @jiiyen @stvrriki @keylimejake @seungminsapuppy @who-tf-soddhi @wonziz @enhytan @reikaxslvr @i03jae @jkslvsnella @kamfaye @yangjungwonnie @babygirlskz98 @heirdollies @noiiny @brendz00 @sugarikiz @nctrawberries @aishigrey @h33seungz00 @en-ctzen @bananna-12 @rikidaze @nikistar @lilifiedeans @vixialuvs @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @jenniferecand @jakeslvt @swanyvess @kittsnewera @rairaiblog @haerinheartss @hooneyz-luver @rikikiynikilcykiki @ribbioniki

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sanjisleggy · 2 days ago

Text

let your husband help you (shanks x reader)

eq: HELLO HELLO, GOD I DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD YOUR REQUESTS OPEN, I LOVE YOUR WRITING OF SHANKS, I LOVE WHEN THEY PUT READER AS SHANKS' WIFE AHHH‼️‼️‼️‼️ something about shanks, with a fem!reader (if possible) that has wings and sometimes the wings with feathers require molting and there are areas that cannot be reached closer to the back and requires help to remove the loose feathers

a/n: (i am playing valorant as i write this help) ty for the request anon! :D the enthusiasm is very endearing ;;0;; hope you enjoy reading! also man i love writing for Shanks :3c

contents: a bit of angst (fem!reader is having a hard time), descriptions of itchiness and pain, comfort, fluff :D, a tad bit suggestive bc it’s Shanks

wc. 1.2k

wanna be on my taglist?

these past few weeks have been torture. today especially so.

alone in your bedroom aboard the Red Force you writhe in itchiness and pain as your back aches in a way it hasn’t in a long time. lying face-down on your bed, you feel your wings twitch and tremble as you contort your arms to reach behind you as far as humanly possible; only to groan in defeat when the most you can do is brush the offending feathers with your fingertips.

for days now a small part of your brain has been nagging at you to go get Shanks for the sake of your poor back and wings but you’ve heard from your crewmates how busy he’s been so you’ve pushed the urge aside. now, though, the idea has forced its way to the forefront of your mind out of desperation, no doubt.

holding back a sob of frustration that threatens to make its way out of your throat, you nuzzle your face into your husband’s pillow, hoping that his scent can serve as a distraction of some kind. more than anything though, it simply acts as a poor placeholder for the real thing and only makes your aching heart (and wings) yearn for him even more.

“c’mon, (Y/N), don’t be shy,” his gentle voice called from outside the utility closet in which you’d chosen to hide–away from him. you felt your face heat up at Shanks’ persistence to help with something he wasn’t even totally aware of; he just knew you were in pain so he had to help.

“it’s okay, i can deal with it myself,” you lied, wincing when one of your wings brushed against a shelf behind you. most of the molting feathers had already been dealt with but your wings had grown a lot since the last time you molted and now they were far too big for your hands to reach. “just leave me alone.”

“if you don’t tell me what’s up, i’ll tell Rayleigh.”

“no!” you protested instantly. as much as you trusted the first mate of your crew with your life, this was far too embarrassing to get him involved. “if you tell anyone i’ll leave the crew, you asshole.”

you had meant it only as a false threat but the sudden silence told you Shanks took it a bit more seriously than you thought he would.

“okay, fine,” he replied and you could hear the pout on his face. “i just wanna help. there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. you know you can trust me to take care of you.”

a particularly sharp pain shoots through your spine from your right wing and the whine of discomfort slips past your lips before you can help yourself. too far gone to care about anyone hearing from outside your quarters, you let yourself sob aloud, the relief from crying doing little to ease your discomfort.

the immense helplessness of your situation makes you realise how pampered you’ve been all these years. how lucky you are to have had such a loving friend-turned-lover who always took it upon himself to care for you. now here you are: alone in your bedroom, struggling with a task that you long should’ve learned how to deal with yourself.

you nearly give in to the urge to seek out the one person you trust to alleviate your pain but at this point, you’re too tired to even get off the bed. maybe it’s for the best, you wonder to yourself. your eyes flutter closed as you pull Shanks’ pillow a bit closer and bury your face deeper into it as you allow yourself to be lulled to sleep by your exhaustion, hoping that at least you can sleep away the next few hours of aches and itching.

ii.

letting out a sigh of relief, the one-armed Emperor takes his time returning to his ship after a grueling few weeks of settling disputes between several smaller pirate crews. normally such tasks would never take this long–hell, most of the time he didn’t even have to step in–but civilians’ lives were at stake so he had no choice.

now, as Shanks nears the dock and sees the Red Force coming into view, all he can think about is taking a nap with you. not only have his duties kept him away from you all day every day, he’d also been going to bed at ungodly hours, crawling under the sheets beside you long after you’ve fallen asleep. though he can’t wait to spend some quality time with you, he wants nothing more than to rest by your side with the knowledge that he’ll finally be able to wake up after you for once.

“hey Captain,” Benn calls out from aboard the deck once Shanks reaches speaking-distance. “i think (Y/N) needs your help.”

“see, what’d i say?” you could practically hear him smiling as he sat behind you, tenderly plucking out the final few loose feathers. “there’s no need to be shy around me.” Shanks tugged at a particularly stubborn feather and when it finally came loose, you couldn’t help the moan of relief that came out of your mouth.

you felt your cheeks rapidly heat up in shame as you buried your face in your hands, fully prepared for the boy to make fun of you. but it never came. instead, Shanks stayed quiet as he soothed the particular spot of skin with his fingers in a manner so tender you couldn’t believe it was him.

“there, all done,” he said. you were grateful but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and face him even though you knew you had to in order to thank him properly.

as though sensing your dilemma, Shanks leaned forward to press his lips against your shoulder blade, right above where your wings sprouted from your back. it sent shivers down your spine and goosebumps appeared all over but you didn’t tell him to stop, if anything, you wanted him to continue.

you’re ripped out abruptly from your dream when the door of your quarters slams shut. from your face-down position in bed, you’re unable to see who it is but only one person in this world would be brave enough to make such an entrance.

“welcome back,” you groan, using your arms to push the upper half of your body off the mattress as you turn your head to glance over your shoulder.

“why didn’t you call for me?” your husband responds, tossing his cape onto the floor before rushing over to guide you back down into a resting position. Shanks pulls over two other more pillows and places them in a way he knows, from years of experience, makes you the most comfortable. “how long have your wings been molting?”

there’s a slight hint of frustration in his voice but you know it’s not directed at you. it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty, though.

“it started… two weeks ago…” you mumble into Shanks’ pillow.

“you–” he cuts himself off with a deep sigh before he says anything impulsive. the Emperor understands you just didn’t want to disrupt his work and he appreciates the sentiment greatly, he’d just hoped that after all these years of marriage, you’d know how he’d do quite literally anything for you. this, he decides as his eyes scan your twitching wings and tangled feathers, is a conversation for another day though.

“poor thing,” Shanks coos instead, leaning down to press kisses all over the back of your neck and around your shoulder blades as he runs his hand down your side. you can feel his lips smile against your skin when your body shivers in response. “you must’ve been in so much pain, hmm? let your husband help you out.”

—

taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x yn #one piece x you #op x reader #op #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #one piece live action x reader #opla x reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #comfort

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puck-luck · 21 hours ago

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a lesson in control | trevor zegras

warnings: daddy kink. HEAVY daddy kink. m!dom, f!sub dynamics. kneeling, throat training, face-fucking, degradation and praise, use of the word slut (twice? three times?), masturbation, VIDEOING oneself masturbating, sexting but it's one sided, locker room traditions in hockey being slightly misogynistic ("boys will be boys" hey what?), dirty talk, references to squirting, overstim, orgasm denial, face slapping ONE TIME, crawling, exhibitionism, spanking. THERE ARE PROBABLY MORE THINGS THAT I MISSED. SRY. i think i got everything else tho

summary: after breaking one of daddy's rules, tz reminds you who you belong to.

wc: 3862

“Do you think this is fucking funny?” Trevor snaps, crashing through the front door and throwing his gym bag to the side. “Sending me that shit while I’m at the gym with the team?”

He’s not exactly giving you the reaction you expected. You’d sent him that video during his workout on purpose, knowing that it would rile Trevor up and result in the fucking that you have been wanting since he left the house this morning. The thought of him all sweaty and lifting heavy weights, muscles bulging, had you all riled up. It’s only fair that he experienced the same thing– even if it meant you broke one of Trevor’s rules.

There are only three.

If you misbehave or act bratty, Trevor gets to decide your punishment.

Don’t touch yourself without Trevor’s permission.

When you’re in a scene, you have to call Trevor ‘Daddy.’

So you might’ve broken two of Trevor’s three rules.

The video had been worth it, though. Seeing his girlfriend spread out on the bed, two fingers buried in her cunt and whimpering for her Daddy? Forget it. You know that Trevor will go back and look at it during roadies, imagining that it’s your hand around his cock instead of his own. He may even memorize it so that he can close his eyes and pretend his hand is your pussy, wet and slick just for him.

Which, to be fair, it always is.

Unable to hold back a smirk, you blink up at Trevor from your spot on the couch. “Sorry, Daddy,” you apologize sweetly.

Trevor hasn’t stopped moving since he entered the apartment, so he’s easily able to reach out and wrap his fingers around your neck, squeezing slightly. “You’re sorry,” he repeats sarcastically, voice dripping with doubt. “You’re going to be by the time we’re done.”

His first kiss is harsh and angry. Trevor bites over your bottom lip before he forces his tongue into your mouth, filling the space and effectively gagging you before you can make much noise. Trevor draws you up from the couch and walks as he kisses you, eventually pushing you up against the wall of the living room.

The thing you like most about the living room is that the wall has a beautiful section of windows that reveal the view.

The glass also feels incredibly cold against your body, a welcome contrast against Trevor’s impatient hands. He’s tugging your leggings down already, pushing them to the middle of your thighs before he draws your sweatshirt up and removes it completely, leaving your top half entirely bare. Your nipples harden when exposed to the air– which makes them an easy first target for Trevor.

“Keep stripping,” he commands lowly before grasping your tits in his palms. “I want you naked.”

Eager to comply, you nod. “Yes, Daddy,” you say breathlessly.

He manages to keep a hold on your breasts as you move around, shedding your leggings and panties as quickly as you can. Trevor pinches your nipples hard. “You’ve been bad,” Trevor tells you. “What happens when you’re bad?”

“You punish me,” you reply.

“That’s right,” Trevor says, a proud smile tugging at his lips. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s clear that he’s plotting something already and enjoying the visual in his mind. “Bad girls get punished. Who gets to decide the punishment, sweetheart?”

“You do,” you say. There’s a slight pause before you can muster up his title in a tone that reflects what he called you– sweetly adding, “Daddy.”

“Smart girl,” Trevor praises before planting a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. He reluctantly takes his hands from your chest and brings them to his sides. He takes a step back. His eyes turn almost mournful, pitying you. “Smart, but bad. Daddy has to teach you a lesson, huh?”

You nod, keeping your hands at your own sides even though you itch to cover yourself up. You’re fully exposed and Trevor is completely clothed. Humiliation creeps up your neck like a blush. That feeling has yet to go away, even though Trevor has been domming you all throughout your relationship.

Trevor smirks again, his face contorting. It’s fascinating how Trevor can jump from emotion to emotion. He settles into his role seamlessly every single time, using his tone and inflections and expressions to manipulate you and remind you why he’s the one in charge. He tilts his chin up, quirking his eyebrows. “On your knees.”

You drop down, the hardwood floor digging into your knees uncomfortably. “How long?” you ask. Normally, Trevor gives you a timeframe. It keeps you grounded.

The smirk on Trevor’s face grows. “As long as I want.” He holds a finger to his lips, a reminder that you aren’t supposed to talk to him when you’re on your knees. You’re something pretty for him to look at when you’re on your knees. It’s one of the ways that Trevor asserts his dominance over you. His evaluating gaze always makes you shiver.

Today, though, Trevor leaves the room. You can hear the shower start, then you hear Trevor step inside. Occasionally, you catch snippets of his hums and the song he’s singing. Since you can’t hear him all the time, you can’t estimate how long you’ve been kneeling. Your knees have been aching from the second you dropped down, so there’s no gradual pain to use as a timer either.

Just to spite you, Trevor makes sure his shower runs long, too. He’s sure to tell you that when he returns.

“Sorry, baby,” Trevor says, ruffling his damp hair before collapsing on the couch and spreading his knees wide. Your eyes fall to his bulge, half-hard and covered by, but clearly unrestrained within, his Boston University sweatpants. He bounces one of his knees, the fabric covering his groin shifting with the movement. “Lost track of time in the shower. You know something about touching yourself, don’t you? It can be very distracting.”

Your eyes are wide when they snap to his face. Trevor looks smug. He throws his arms over the back of the couch and cocks his head at you, as if he’s catching you in the act of checking him out… as if you’d be embarrassed by something like that. Humiliation might raise the hairs on the back of your neck, but you never feel ashamed or sheepish when Trevor catches you looking at him. He’s sexy.

“You were very pretty in that video, baby,” Trevor says at a normal volume, as if you’re having a nonchalant conversation.”Really. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

This is the reaction you were looking for when he came in– the slow, methodical domination that Trevor normally defaults to instead of the angry, reactive domination that appeared when he stormed through the front door. You want to shift to relieve your knees slightly, but Trevor will only add something else to your punishment if you do. You merely blink at him, a breath leaving you through your parted lips.

Trevor brings a hand to his mouth and rubs over his lips, sighing. “But… well, you know what happens when one of the boys gets a text from his girlfriend during a workout.”

You do. That was part of the motivation. Trevor doesn’t like to share, but he likes to brag. There’s a very delicate balance there and you knew what you had to do to make Trevor angry. If one of Trevor’s teammates sees that another teammates’ partner texted them, then the original teammate is allowed to look at that text.

“So imagine my surprise when I open my phone and McTavish sees my baby coming all over her fingers, asking for her Daddy.” Trevor sneers when he says Mason’s name, even though you know he’s glad it wasn’t another teammate, one that doesn’t already know about your sex life.

A question arises in the back of your throat. It’s a heavy lump, hard to swallow, yet… you’re not allowed to speak like this.

Trevor becomes even more smug as he watches you remember that fact. It’s not really an official rule, but Trevor prefers it, and you want to be good for him. He’s pleased when you snap your lips shut and blink at him. “Don’t worry, little one. He couldn’t hear you. I had my headphones in. Good thing, too– I wouldn’t want anyone to hear how pretty you sound when you need Daddy.”

Your breath catches in your throat, but not because of the lump that rose up only moments ago. That disappeared when Trevor answered your question without even trying, like he can read your mind. No, your breath catches because he answered your question in the sexiest way possible.

God, you love when Trevor becomes Daddy.

Trevor tilts his head down, his gaze dark and prodding. It washes over you like an actual touch from your boyfriend. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself without asking me,” Trevor says. His voice becomes more and more like a simper as he continues to speak. “But you couldn’t wait for me, huh? Couldn’t even take the time to ask before you got all wet and needed to be full? What had you so worked up?”

Sweat, arm veins, a natural musk, endorphins…

“Did you have a dream about my cock? I know you’d said you were sleepy before I went to the gym and that you’d try to take a nap while I’m gone.” Trevor nods to himself. “That must have been it. You woke up all empty after being so full. Poor girl just needs her Daddy.”

Hearing Trevor talk in the third person has you clenching down on nothing, suddenly feeling very empty. That’s not what actually had you worked up, but now… maybe Trevor’s right. It would drive you crazy to be so empty after experiencing Trevor’s cock. To have his length stuffed inside of you, filling you out, and then nothing? Oh, you’d die.

“Let me give you my cock, then,” Trevor says. He spreads his legs just an inch wider and beckons you with a curled finger. “C’mere, baby.”

Your knees feel ready to creak as you move to stand. You get one knee up before Trevor starts to shake his head and you freeze.

He holds his palm up flat, stopping you before you can stand. Trevor snickers. “Nuh-uh, I don’t think so,” he corrects, chuckling. “Do bad girls get to walk to Daddy? Stay on your knees.”

You blink up at him, cheeks growing warm at the thought of crawling to him. It’s so demeaning, but God it’s hot. You’d be kneeling right between his thighs at the end and you know what comes from that position.

Something Trevor started when you were just starting this dom/sub thing was throat training. Trevor knew you liked to have his hand around your neck, causing you to go short of breath. He applied the same logic and asked if you’d like to hold his cock in your mouth for a long time. You’d tried it, and it was fine, and it sparked a second idea. Trevor wanted your throat to hold him perfectly, for your mouth to be ready for him to take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Now, he can fuck your face whenever he wants.

He can take whatever he wants.

You lower yourself down again, back onto two knees. Then, you lean forward, one hand a bit further than the other. You shift the opposite knee forward in a hesitant step, eyes rapt on Trevor.

“That’s my girl,” Trevor coos, his stare raking over your figure. “Come get Daddy’s cock. I’ll fill you up.”

Another step, then a third. You’re moving to Trevor like he’s reeling you in, the tension taut as fishing line between your bodies.

Trevor’s quick to drag himself out of his sweatpants. Your mouth is already open, accepting whatever he gives you with a slack jaw. He fills you until his tip bumps the back of your esophagus, then he withdraws.

You breathe through your nose and gag at all the right times, feeling the precum from Trevor’s cock mix with your saliva and drip down your throat with each swallow.

Trevor uses you for what he needs. He draws your head up and down on his cock, his hips occasionally twitching and thrusting like they have a mind of their own. “You know what’s– shit– you know what’s funny, baby?” Trevor asks, clearly affected by your touch and itching to regain control.

You hum around his cock, eyes drifting to his face. They’re shining with tears from all of your gagging around his base and Trevor curses again.

“Fuck, so pretty,” he says, taking the hand still thrown over the back of the couch and using his fingers to wipe away the tracks on your cheeks. “You’re so good at taking my cock, sweetheart. Making me feel so good.”

The hand on the back of your head grips your hair and rips you from his cock.

You’re nearly eye to eye with Trevor, whose mirthful smile means trouble.

“I’m going to come in your pussy.” Trevor’s voice is a near whisper. “And you won’t come at all.”

“What?” You demand with a jolt, caught off guard by his statement and forgetting your manners.

Trevor’s hand strikes your cheek, branding your skin with the heated echo of his touch.

You’re stunned silent, jaw dropped and mouth open.

Trevor caresses the hollow pocket of surprise on your face with his thumb. Trevor smiles down at you. “Daddy wants you to be quiet when you’re on your knees, baby, don’t you remember?”

You stare blankly at him.

He continues to pet over your face, admiring your glossy eyes and rosy cheeks. His eyes even roam to your hair, a flicker of pride passing through his expression. He fixes a piece of hair, then taps your head. He quotes the short list of rules by which you abide. “Don’t touch yourself without my permission.”

You breathe in, preparing for him to continue. He taps your cheek and waits for you to nod. You do, after a moment.

Trevor guides your head back down, towards his cock. “Then what?” He asks.

You open your mouth a little wider, spit pooling at the thought of licking up the precum that leaked from his cock while you were recovering from his slap.

Trevor laughs, bringing your head to his tip and making the length jump between your lips. “If you misbehave or act bratty, Daddy gets to decide your punishment.” He brings your mouth down a little further, cock sliding against the flat of your tongue.

The taste makes you feel like you’ve gone cross-eyed, relaxing into his touch. Sliding back into the throat training routine you’d created over the months, your head grows a little fuzzier and your body feels a little lighter.

Trevor pulls away again.

You don’t snap at him, but your eyes fall into sharp focus on his face.

“Who am I, baby?” Trevor asks, winking at you. His mouth forms a proud curve.

“Daddy,” you reply, voice ruined from disuse.

Trevor likes that. You can see how his jaw subtly twitches, tensing up. “Are you gonna let Daddy fuck your pussy right here?” He asks, then his eyes go over your shoulder. “For anyone to see?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you breathe out, sounding rough and awed at the same time. “Please, Daddy. Fuck me against the window.”

The smile that encompasses Trevor is purely rueful pride. How easily he can ruin you. “Because you want the world to see that you’re Daddy’s,” Trevor assumes, feeding you the words like they’re fact.

You sear them into your memory. He’s right. Who else can do something like this to you? To you, what Trevor says is gospel.

“That’s why you sent that video,” he continues. He’s all-knowing. Smug, even. “You needed Daddy to remind you that you’re his little slut, right?”

All this nodding has you feeling like a bobblehead.

Trevor helps you stand, touching your hips and backing you towards the window. At the last second, he spins you around and presses your front against the glass.

“For everyone to see?” Trevor checks again, his voice soft for a second. God, he’s perfect. He’s the right amount of concerned, without leaving much room for argument. He’s still in charge here. He’s still punishing you.

You don’t even get to come, but you don’t care. You just want to feel him leaking from your cunt. Instead of kneeling again, you’ll stay like this if he wants you to, presented like an art exhibit for him to study.

You moan in relief as soon as his tip breaches your hole, bare and throbbing as he inches forward. He allows himself to thrust shallowly, stimulating his tip and denying you the full pleasure of his cock.

Even still, you’re a mess.

Then he brings his hand down on your ass cheek, much harder than he’d slapped your face. Instinctively, you clench around him and your head droops. The glass window cools the skin of your forehead.

You’re not silent by any means. It’s like you’re unable to silence yourself– a broken dam. With each shallow thrust and each slap to your behind, Trevor makes you feel so good that you feel like you’re crumbling into dust.

“You gonna take my whole cock like you wanted to?” Trevor probes, kicking your legs a bit wider and pressing you into the glass. Your nipples are squished against the surface, restricting your movements. Trevor crowds against you, body warm and solid behind you. “Like you tried to pretend in that little video? When you whimpered and cried because your little fingers weren’t a match for my cock?”

“Daddy,” you whimper, a mirror image of yourself just hours earlier. You’re humming out the same soft pleas that spur Trevor on, that convince him to chase his pleasure.

“That’s right, baby,” Trevor praises. “Daddy’s cock, making you feel good, just like you wanted?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes…”

Trevor spanks you again, the burning sensation of impact marking your body. “Why do you ever act up, sweetheart? I could’ve been fucking you like this all nice and making you come if you’d just asked me for permission,” Trevor simpers, teasing you. He speaks like it’s a big, heavy burden on him, this choice to deny your orgasm. He wants to give you an orgasm– a mind shattering, leg-numbing, shaking and squirting orgasm– but you just had to be bad.

“Of course I’d make you ask again,” Trevor continues, his half-thrusts pointed. “You’d have to show me again how good you can be. You know I like to see my good girl.”

A strangled noise falls from your lips, landing on the floor like a bowling ball. Trevor knocks the wind out of you sometimes with his words.

“I want to show you what it would be like,” Trevor says. “Ask me, baby. I want to hear your sweet voice beg Daddy to come.”

Finding your voice and losing control of it like a helium balloon, you’re able to gasp out exactly what Trevor asks, thinking maybe, maybe if you’re good enough now, he’ll let you come now, too. “It’s so good, Daddy, I always need your cock,” you say between moans. “I never stop thinking about it. So good, please, Daddy. I need to come, I need to show you how good I feel, please let me come.”

Trevor moans and nudges his nose against the top of your spine as you speak. His seed flows from his body and fills yours in the midst of your testimony, the low and fucked-out grunts from Trevor making you that much more desperate and teary to come. His cum settles inside of you, warm and as good as godly nectar, in your mind.

“I’d come, just like that,” Trevor tells you, speaking slowly. His voice is gravely like it is when he first wakes up. He presses kiss after kiss to your spine, working lower and slightly withdrawing from your heat. “And then I’d tell you that you can come…”

Just when you think he’s going to shift back into you, his length sheathed inside of you so much that your pussy brushes against his pelvis, and fuck you until you do exactly that–

Trevor’s softening penis leaves your pussy. He shifts his hips even further back, then touches your sides to spin you back around. He faces you and brings his hands up to cradle your face. With a devilish, con-man-like smile, Trevor stands his ground. “This is mine,” he reminds you. His blunt fingertips collect some of the cum that has started to slide down your thighs, unable to escape gravity. Trevor lifts his fingers to your mouth, the wet slick brushing against your lips. He makes no move to push past your teeth and press down on your tongue. He’s just dangling a carrot in front of your face, further reinforcing his control over you.

“Yours,” you agree.

A grin plays over Trevor’s face. “Good. You just broke the rules to get Daddy’s attention. You needed Daddy to take care of you.”

You helplessly nod, preening under his touch.

“You’ve got my attention now, baby,” Trevor assures you. “And to prove it to you, we’re going to do one last thing. I’m going to sit on the couch and look at you, pretty girl. You’re going to kneel right here and let the cum drip out of you until you’re empty.”

You blink at him, feeling lightheaded. That’s before he paints his cum over your lips and ponders, “Kneeling in a puddle of my cum, you really are a slut.”

A gush of his seed seems to leave you at the demeaning nickname. You clench again to keep it inside– what Daddy wants, Daddy gets. It can pool beneath you as your knees dig into the floorboards and bruise.

“Daddy’s little cumslut,” Trevor says with a chuckle. He shakes his head and backs away from you, returning to the couch and manspreading. He pushes his sweats all the way down to mid-calf, revealing his thick thighs and pretty cock entirely. “I should put that on a shirt and have you record that video again for me.” He wraps his hand around his soft cock, fisting it like he’s going to start pumping over the skin at any moment. “With your hard nipples poking through the fabric and those pretty words of yours, begging for your Daddy to satisfy you the way that you need.”

You drop to your knees and clasp your hands behind your back, hovering only slightly above the floor and only parting your lips to breathe. After all, you’re on your knees again, so you have to listen to Daddy speak.

“Or on FaceTime for our next roadie,” Trevor decides, evidenced by the way his cheeks dimple. “Yeah, baby, we’ll see how desperate you can get before I let you come. This time, you’re going to be so good that I make you come until the sheets are completely soaked.”

#puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#trevor zegras #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras fanfiction #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras x y/n #nhl #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #hockey smut #hockey fanfiction #tz11

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polarisjisung · 1 day ago

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LOVE ON THE COURT | 38 LAST NIGHT WAS A MOVIE

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | sexual innuendos, swearing

NOTES | smau/written/smau format for this chapter!! also we're super close to the end now gang I'm excited 😼

"Hey, come in." Y/n let Jaemin into her apartment, smiling awkwardly—something Jaemin's seen countless times before— only it had never been directed at him.

They weren't awkward. They didn't do awkward. Or, at least, they hadn't.

His heart sinks just a little.

"Hey, how have you been keeping?" Jaemin asks the question, and as natural as it feels, he wishes he hadn't asked at all. He didn't need to anyway. Not with her.

Jaemin doesn't think he had ever asked Y/n that question. It wasn't what they did, who they were. They didn't need to ask, they just knew.

And even now, when everything seems to have changed, some things are exactly the same, like how Y/n fiddles with a loose strand of her hair, and rocks back and forth on the couch.

He tries desperately to ignore the fact that she'd chosen to sit as far away from him as possible, instead waiting for an answer to his question.

But when she does speak, Jaemin can't bear to hear the response.

"I'm fin-" he interejcts, not wanting to have to see her lie to his face.

"You're nervous," he states, a matter of fact, "don't be peach." his tone softens, his eyes locked on hers, but she doesn't look his way at all.

"How are you?" Y/n's eyes are trained to the floor.

Jaemin hates it.

The question feels too empty, like they're two strangers just passing each other by. Making small talk, it wasn't something they'd ever done, and he didn't want to start now.

He can't help himself when he shuffles towards her, the soft touch of his fingers just below her chin, causing her to look up. And thought she doesn't look into his eyes just yet, Jaemin smiles, knowing she's looking at him. The racing of his heart eases just a little.

Despite the thick air in the room, the weight of the situation, despite the invisible force between them that tugged in all the wrong places, despite all those differences, one thing remained unchanged.

All these years later, Y/n looked his way just the same. Like he was everything. Her everything.

"Look at me, angel," his hand rests softly against her cheek, cradling it, as though she was the most precious thing, "it wasn't your fault."

That causes her eyes to snap upwards, meeting his.

And Jaemin sees it, clear as day, the guilt in her eyes. He wishes he could take it in his hand, pull those thoughts out of her mind and see her, the Y/n who never went through this at all. He wishes she wouldn't blame herself. He wished he could erase the memories, erase it all.

But Jaemin knew that it wasn't possible.

"Me and you," he looks at her, gaze deeper, more intense, "We're stronger than this." His voice comes deep, low and soothing, laced with such tenderness that Y/n hears her heartbeat resounding in her ears. "I won't let this ruin us anymore."

It felt like a promise. A dream.

Y/n swears she can't breathe, no amount of air enough for her to finally exhale. He was right, but somehow, it all seemed too good to be true. She found herself too caught up in everything that had passed, analysing each moment like something more was yet to come, like she'd missed something. Like a plot twist waiting to happen, a hidden truth waiting to stab her in the heart.

"I should have known better." Her words come out, barely a whisper, the ache in Jaemin's chest growing as her notices how her eyes begin to water.

"You didn't know Y/n." as much as Jaemin wants to admit his mistakes, express just how badly he wishes he'd just heard her out, listened to her side of the story just once, he can't, afraid that he'll break. And if he did, she would too.

"I just wish it never happened," she sighed, her voice shaking desperately, "i just wish you were there, I wish it wasn't us."

She almost doesn't make any sense, but that's what Jaemin was best at, understanding her when she barely understood herself."I know angel," he leaned forward, gently laying a kiss to her forehead, "but we made it, didn't we?"

Y/n gulps, nodding. Her throat feels dry despite wanting to scream out in agreement.

Jaemin's eyes overflow, with warmth, with adoration, with assurance.

They'd made it out. They always would.

"Then that's all that matters."

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it-happened-one-fic · 2 days ago

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Twisted Wedding: Photoshoot #6 - Illuminating Love - Idia

Summary: Your sixth photoshoot was with Idia. The first and possibly the most unwilling model of the bunch. But even then, you couldn’t deny that he made for a rather marvelous looking groom, with his pretty face and surprisingly steady gaze.

Type: Female reader/ 800 Followers Event/ Series/ sfw/ fluff/

Twisted Weddings Series Masterlist

Word count: 1412

I stumbled slightly, resting my hand on Idia’s shoulder as I mumbled irritatedly about my lengthy skirt, and he glanced back at me. After a brief moment we continued on though, and I followed the tall young man through the darkened room we were having our photoshoot in.

The pairing of the lengthy dress, unfamiliar heels, and the darkness was hardly a good one, though, even if I could understand the thought process behind it all.

With Idia’s hair being the mass of brilliant blue flame it was, the pictures were bound to look amazing in a darkened space like this one.

As for the dress and heels…. They were just my outfit for this photo shoot.

But, in the same sentence, moving around in a dark room in a full-length wedding dress was hardly something I dreamed of, even if the entire outfit was gorgeous. But by now, I expected that. I’d yet to see an unattractive bridal outfit in Crewel’s line of clothes, and I doubted I was going to at this point.

“You good?” I glanced up at Idia as he spoke. His voice still perfectly disgruntled as he made no effort to hide exactly how displeased he was to be taking part in this photoshoot.

But then, he apparently hadn’t entered himself in the running for modeling in the first place. Apparently, Ortho had done that for him as a means of forcefully expanding upon Idia’s experiences.

Even if Idia himself did not want that.

Rumor had it Crewel had gone to Ignihyde himself to fetch my stand-in groom, who was currently staring glumly at me as I nodded. Silently opting not to mention the fact that Idia actually looked rather nice in his dark suit with his hair down up the way it was. It’d probably just earn me a rather spectacular eye roll from the young man anyway.

“Yeah, I just kicked something,” I scowled slightly down at the ground before continuing forward to where I assumed Idia and I were going to be standing for the pictures.

At least I hadn’t been taken aback by Idia’s appearance the way I had been with some of the other guys. But, to be fair, I'd received a preview of what Idia would look like as a groom back when Eliza had kidnapped him during the entire ghost bride fiasco.

And even if the entire situation with the forced ghostly wedding had been a bit of a nightmare to deal with, there had been no denying that Idia had looked really good.

And the same could be said now.

But then, Idia wasn’t exactly a hideous young man. In fact, he was downright attractive.

It wouldn’t be hard to argue that he was one of the prettiest classmates I had, and while that might not be much of a statement in many schools, it certainly was at Night Raven, where the student body was virtually flooded with attractive young men of every type.

It was just that Idia usually didn’t dress the part, which always made it more eye-catching when he did.

“Okay, you two. I just want you to stand still and look at one another without making any faces,” Crewel’s voice was blunt and left no room for argument even as the urge to stick my tongue out at Idia rose the very moment we were ordered not to make any faces.

I controlled the urge, though, and faced Idia as Crewel started subtly adjusting my clothes.

Flipping my veil down so that the sheer fabric covered my face and adjusting the way my skirt lay behind me.

And the entire time I could hear Idia mumbling to himself about how he was going to speedrun this mission and be on his way.

And then Crewel gave us his final directions: “Alright, Idia, put your hand here like you're about to flip Y/n’s veil back and then hold that pose. Make sure you look directly at them. Y’m, I want you to look down slightly but not fully close your eyes.”

I pressed my lips together, willing myself not to smile at Crewel’s final, rather sharp directions as Idia not-so-subtly rolled his eyes.

But then he reached over, his gloved fingers barely curving under the edge of my veil as his amber-yellow eyes met mine and then stayed there. Surprisingly steady considering how nervous Idia had been around me when we’d first met.

But quite a bit of time had passed since then. Idia no longer minded ragging on me in his own playful way about not knowing certain things or making a stupid move while we played a game, be it online or at a table.

He’d even jokingly called me the worst player two he’d ever had, with nothing but fond amusement behind his biting words.

But that was just the way Idia was. And perhaps that was when I felt myself go perfectly still as I looked down, almost like I was too shy to hold his stare.

I half expected him to say something and snap the weighty atmosphere that now accumulated in the dark space where the only thing that illuminated me and him was the fluttering light from his long hair that was currently bound in a ponytail in an attempt to clean up his appearance just a little bit more.

I swallowed slightly, having to fight to not fidget or lace my gloved fingers together as a distraction for myself. But I held still as the camera clicked before exhaling softly as I heard Crewel and the photographer start discussing the image, our pose, and a myriad of other aspects of the photograph and felt myself relax, looking up at Idia and meeting his gaze almost immediately.

And almost immediately he frowned at me as I held his gaze, quietly pondering the amber colors of his eyes.

“You're staring,” I blinked at Idia’s judgy words that caught me largely off-guard before hurriedly shaking my head.

I frowned at him as I swiftly denied his accusation, even though that was absolutely what I had been doing, “No, I wasn’t. I was just staying posed for the picture in case that one wasn’t good enough.”

He openly grimaced at the thought of having to stand here longer, and I felt myself snort at his displeasure, humor slipping into my voice as I smiled at him, “It’s not that bad. And you can buy a new game with whatever Crewel pays you.”

“That’s the only even slightly good thing about any of this,” His tone was perfectly bitter, and I shook my head at him. Amused by his sulkiness that he didn’t even try to hide.

“Come on, I thought I looked nice at the very least,” I leaned towards him teasingly as I smiled up at him. And it was tempting to flutter my eyelashes at him.

But I didn’t have to in order to get a reaction. He was already rolling his eyes at my teasing and openly snarking back as he gestured to our surroundings, “Oh yeah, because I can see you so well in this lighting.”

I frowned at him playfully before leaning back and smiling at him more genuinely, “Well, you look nice at the very least. Ortho would probably be thrilled to see you in a suit, and I bet the rest of your family would too.”

“More like they’d mock me,” He openly shuddered at the mere thought of his parents seeing him dressed like he was. But then he shook his head, continuing as he looked back, “Normal, comfortable clothes are far better. They tell you more about a person than anything fancy they’ll only wear a single time for a special occasion ever could.”

I blinked at his words, half-startled by them as he eyed me before an almost maniacal grin curved across his face and he snickered, “Besides, it’s not like you picked the dress out anyway.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes as his behavior started catching on, “Such a romantic.”

He just snickered more as Crewel finally glanced over at us, “Alright, looks good. I’m cutting on the lights now.”

“Better make a run for it before he starts prepping for your next photoshoot,” I snorted again at Idia’s half-muttered words. Shaking my head at him as he snickered before walking off. No doubt about to shed his suit as quickly as possible so he could head back to his room.

If you would like to read more:

Next: Coming Soon!

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lola-kitagawa · 2 days ago

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You’re a nun surrounded by cute Priests… That all want you?!–

“𝕀 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕞𝕪 𝕖𝕪𝕖𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕕, 𝕜𝕚𝕤𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒 𝕓𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕕, 𝕗𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕠𝕦𝕥~”

Characters: Midoriya, Bakugo, Kirishima, Shinso, Todoroki, Fem!Reader.

Synopsis: Having just transferred to a church as a newly renound sister. You found yourself meeting 4 Priests that seemed to be men of Christ… Unless it came to you.

warnings: suggestive themes, mentions of religion (duh).

A/N: NO BLASPHEMY AND NO SEXUALIZATION OF NUNS!! Don’t sexualise nuns yall.🫡

Notes: Fake religious procedures and logic. Reader is not wearing anything sexual, reader is kind and sweet but is a bit oblivious (but defensive).

Today was the day.

With your arms full of belongings and your heart weighed down with nerves, you stepped onto the marble steps of the church, letting out a shaky breath.

The sight before you was breathtaking: tall, intricate arches painted golden and white, radiating an almost divine glow under the afternoon sun.

This was your new beginning.

You adjusted your veil, steadying yourself as you approached the grand doors.

The sharp knock of your fist echoed against the wood, the sound swallowed by the church’s stillness. You waited, silence greeting you.

Hesitating, you knocked again, harder this time. Just as doubt began to creep in, the door creaked open, revealing a man with dark purple hair and tired eyes.

“Who is it…?” he asked, voice low and rough, like someone unused to small talk.

His gaze lingered too long before flicking away, as if embarrassed.

He immediately notices your long black dress and veil, nun attire.

"Ah, you must be the new Dame they mentioned. We’ve been expecting you.” He opens the door fully, making way for you to enter.

You politely nod as you enter, you hear him slowly close the door behind him.

"Thank you, Father..?" you ask him, waiting for a name.

His eyes look you up and down once more, but something told u he might not be examining u like the first time. Atleast not in the way you thought.

"Shinso, Father Shinso but you can just call me Shinso. I don't do well with titles," he introduced himself in the same monotone voice.

You smiled at his reply and followed accordingly.

As Shinso led you further in the church to greet the rest of the people, your eyes couldn't leave the beautiful sight of the church's insides.

Magnificent paintings on the walls and ceilings. The altar and pews designed with intricate wooden patterns.

You swear you could almost shed a tear.

The place's beauty was beyond words. it was so lovely, arches painted golden and white, a pure house of the lord. It was filled with—"Sister, this way please," Shinso said, catching your attention.

You snapped out of your thoughts and hurried behind him.

Shinso walked ahead of you, his steps measured but unhurried, the echo of his shoes against the marble floor filling the silence between you.

You struggled to keep up, your gaze drawn to the grandeur of the church’s interior—the intricate woodwork of the pews, the painted angels that seemed to watch you from the ceilings.

“Shinso, this place is…” you started, but his voice interrupted.

“This way,” he said flatly, motioning you to follow him into a sunlit courtyard.

The scent of blooming flowers hit you first, followed by the sight of a man sitting on a stone bench, hands clasped in prayer. His dark green hair caught the light, and his refined vestments seemed to command authority.

“Father Midoriya,” Shinso said, tapping the man on the shoulder, “she’s here.”

The green haired priest turns his head, revealing his bright green eyes and cute round freckled

face—honestly? He looks more like a altar boy more than a priest.

You noticed he was wearing a much more refined vestment than Shinso, he definitely has more experience than the other Priest you'll see.

"Ah, you must be Y/n." He stands up to greet you, holding out his hand to shake, "Pleasure to meet you, sister."

He had a warm smile on his face, unlike Shinso's solemn expression. He was more welcoming, how sweet.

You take his hand, shaking it gently. "The pleasure is all mine, Father Midoriya."

You swear you felt his grip tighten for a split second, it was unnerving but, oddly comforting.

He lets go of your hand, "Shinso, has she met Father Bakugo yet?" he asked him.

Shinso shakes his head, "No, i thought you would have a better impression on her. Bakugo on the other hand…”

You raise your brow at the sudden change in aura.

Both men look to the side, nodding their head in agreement. Like a mutual understanding.

Needless to say it was obvious this Father Bakugo was... something.

"I understand, Shinso. Come, sister." Father Midoriya moves past you, "This is a big church, you'll need to settle down first before meeting everyone."

You fidget your hands at the thought.

Father Midoriya points you to the dame's quarters. Showing you where your room should be.

After showing you to the Dame’s quarters, Father Midoriya gave a quick bow and left you with a polite, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

You stood there for a moment, clutching the strap of your bag. The hallway was long and eerily quiet, the faint hum of a hymn drifting in from somewhere far away. With a sigh, you turned, attempting to find your room.

The corridors seemed endless, each corner looking exactly like the last. You glanced at your map again, only to realize it was no help at all. Frustration bubbled as you wandered, your footsteps echoing faintly.

Just as you were about to call out for help, a sharp voice pierced the stillness.

"Who in God's name did that Deku invite now?"

The voice was deep, rough, and very intimadating. You gulped, turning to the voice behind you.

And there standing tall, was a spikey blonde haired man. Wearing the same attire as Shinso.

And sharp red eyes that made your breath hitch.

He's terrifying.

The priest stared at you for a couple more seconds before letting out a hard tsk.

"Tch. Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?” he asked, his gaze almost threatening you to answer quick.

You're frozen in your tracks, backing away as you squeeled: "Y/n! My name is Y/n! | was appointed by Father Midoriya to transfer here!!'

You hold ur hands up in defense, afraid to look in disrespect.

As you slowly look back up at him, he had a less frightening look.

More inquisitive than anything. Like he was curious about you.

Before you could think of a response to the intimidating priest towering over you, another voice interrupted.

“Bakugo, don’t scare her. Remember Midoriya’s words.”

The speaker emerged from the shadows—a man with striking two-toned hair and a burn scar that made his face look both kind and solemn. His calm tone contrasted sharply with Bakugo’s aggression, and his piercing gaze landed on you for a moment before shifting back to the blonde.

“Tch,” Bakugo spat, glaring at the newcomer. “I wasn’t scaring her.”

“Of course not,” the man replied evenly, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. "He said that Sister Y/n is special and should be treated as such."

Father Bakugo turned to the man with disdain and contempt.

"I KNOW half n half!! Stop barging in on everyone's conversations!"

"I'm not, you're just so loud that everyone can hear you?"

"SHUT UP! I'M NOT SO LOUD!!!"

You cover your right ear to reduce ear shatter, Father Bakugo, upon noticing this tsks and sulk in

the corner. You look back up to the other priest with two toned hair.

Upon noticing your eyes on him, he plainly smiles in return.

"Sorry for Father Bakugo, he can be quite fiesty with new people in general," he approaches you with a calm presence. “I'm Todoroki, a close friend of Midoriya, im assuming you've met him already, no?"

His words bring a soft laugh to your lips, how politely funny.

"Yes, i have. He has quite a welcoming personality, made me feel right at ease."

As Todoroki was about to speak, Father Bakugo had a few words to say.

"Oi! Don't ignore me."

"You weren't saying anything Bakugo-"

"Not the point!! The damn Deku told me i was in charge of taking her to her quarters and YOU'RE holding her up."

He suddenly takes you by the arm rather roughly, tugging you away from Todoroki.

You almost tripped and fall as he dragged you to your designated room. It was a quick walk, and you have definitely passed by it as you were looking for your room. He lets go of your now aching arm as you reach your room.

"Here, this is your room. If you need anything, don't bother.”

Without even opening the door, he leaves you with nothing else.

After Bakugo’s brusque departure, you lingered for a moment in front of your door, your arm still stinging from his rough grip. With a sigh, you pushed it open and stepped inside.

The room was simple but welcoming: a small bed neatly made, a vanity with an oval mirror, and an altar tucked into the corner with a single candle waiting to be lit. You placed your bag down and sank onto the bed, letting your body relax for the first time since arriving.

Honestly, if it were up to you, you’d choose to stay in your old church.

It felt more like home, more familiar, and more… welcome.

Just as you began to settle, a knock at the door startled you.

You stood, adjusting your robes as you hesitated. Who could it be now? Slowly, you opened the door to reveal a man with spiky red hair and a grin that was both sharp and disarming.

“Hello, you must be Y/n!”

You almost jumped at the sight.

Upon seeing you slightly frightened by him, he holds up his hands for you to see.

“H-Hey! Don’t worry! I’m not here to hurt you or anything…” He chuckles awkwardly.

You tilt your head at him, lowering your guard a bit.

He sighs and scratches the back of his head, “I’m Father Kirishima, sister. You ca—may, call me Eijirou. I’m a friend of Father Bakugo.”

Oh, the angry pomeranian looking Priest has friends? Interesting.

“I came here to uh, apologize for his tone and actions earlier. I promise he’s not always like this,” He gives a pitiful smile, asking forgiveness in a way.

Who knew Father Bakugo would befriend such a gentleman?

“It’s alright, i reassure you i’m fine. I understand he’s not really the most welcoming.”

With a soft smile, he politely bows at you. “Thank you sister, please, rest for the night. We’ll see you in the morning.”

With one last bow, you slowly close your door.

As the door clicked shut behind Father Kirishima, you let out a small sigh and turned to the modest altar in the corner of the room.

The flickering candlelight gave the space a warm glow, but it did little to settle the unease curling in your stomach. Something about this place—and the men within it—felt different, unfamiliar. You whispered a quick prayer for peace, hoping the strange tension you felt was just the strain of a long journey.

Unbeknownst to you, beyond the walls of your room, other prayers were being whispered—though none were pure.

…

Shinso leaned against a stone pillar in the dimly lit hall, his eyes half-lidded but far from tired. He replayed the way your lips had curved into that polite smile, how your eyes had sparkled with curiosity despite your nervousness. It made his chest ache in a way he didn’t want to name.

“She’s trouble,” he murmured to himself, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips said otherwise.

…

Midoriya sat alone in the courtyard, fingers twitching as he stared at the rosary in his hands. He could still feel the softness of your palm when you shook his hand, the warmth that lingered longer than it should have.

“You’re so… soft,” he whispered under his breath, his face flushing a deep red. He shut his eyes tightly, whispering prayers for forgiveness, but his mind wandered to the way your voice sounded when you said his name. The faintest tremor in your tone had him gripping the rosary tighter.

…

Todoroki’s hand hovered just above the door to his quarters, but he didn’t open it. He had seen the way Bakugo had dragged you through the hall, his rough grip on your arm. His lips pressed into a thin line.

“She doesn’t belong here,” he muttered. But even as he said it, his mind betrayed him. He thought of the way your veil framed your face, your soft voice, the nervous way you’d glanced at him. The thought of those wide eyes looking up at him—searching for something—was a temptation he couldn’t ignore.

…

In another part of the church, Bakugo sat alone in one of the pews, scowling at nothing in particular. His fingers drummed against the wood, the memory of your startled expression when he’d grabbed your arm playing on repeat in his mind.

“Damn it,” he hissed, running a hand through his spiky hair. He hated the way your scent lingered on his sleeve, hated how his body reacted every time he thought about you.

Hated that he already wanted to see you again.

…

Kirishima stood just outside your room, his hand lingering on the wood for a moment before pulling back. He could still hear your voice, soft and full of cautious curiosity, echoing in his ears.

“She’s so… sweet,” he thought, biting his lip. The way you had looked at him, even briefly, made him feel like a starving man seeing a feast. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer—not for strength, but for forgiveness.

Because the way he wanted you had nothing to do with God.

The priests’ thoughts were as far from holy as they could be, but none dared say a word.

For now.

You know, for my first post on tumblr? It's kind of a death wish to make it a long ass story TT^TT

But! Let me know what you all thinkkk I'd love some comments and feedbacks and even small praise is welcome!! :33

!!CHAPTERS TAKE WEEKS TO WRITE!!

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th3mrskory · 2 days ago

Text

Chapter 1: Unspoken Goodbyes

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

______________________________________________________________

Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Fiancé (past/present) / Original fem!Reader x Lumberjack Logan (future)

Word count: 2.3k

The morning of her wedding should’ve been a dream—a culmination of love and promises. Instead, she stood before the mirror in silence, the soft rustle of her wedding dress the only sound in the room. The knot in her stomach tightened, its weight dragging her heart down with it.

Memories of their last argument played on a loop in her mind, the words sharp and unresolved. Had she missed something? Ignored the signs? The questions clawed at her, each one pulling the knot tighter, as if her body already knew what her heart refused to admit.

She glanced at the clock—ten minutes, then fifteen—still no sign of him.

The bridal suite grew quieter with each passing minute, the hum of voices from outside the door fading into a distant murmur. Her mother had checked on her earlier, fussing over her veil and assuring her everything was perfect. But now, as she sat alone in the priest's private room, the knot in her stomach tightened.

Her bouquet lay on the table next to her, the vibrant blooms a vivid testament to what the day should have been—a celebration of love and unity. Yet, their liveliness seemed to mock the pallor of her trembling hands, a cruel juxtaposition to the ache that tightened her chest. They reminded her of the promises they had made, the plans they had woven together, and now, the sharp sting of those fractured dreams. She tried to breathe, to steady herself, but her thoughts raced, louder than the silence around her. Where is he?

He wasn’t one to be late. He had always been the responsible one, the steady rock in their relationship. If anyone had doubts, it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him.

The door creaked open slightly, its groan breaking the oppressive silence of the room. She looked up sharply, her breath catching in her throat as her heart skipped. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and the faint scent of the wooden frame mixed with the distant murmur of voices outside, amplifying the moment's tension. For a moment, she thought it was him. Relief bubbled up, but it quickly evaporated as she saw who it was.

It wasn’t her fiancé. It was his best man.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. He looked uncomfortable, almost pained, his hand fidgeting with a piece of paper.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice strained as she stood, her heart pounding harder. “Where is he?”

The best man hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the floor. “He wanted me to give you this,” he said quietly, holding out the folded letter.

She stared at it, her stomach twisting into knots. Her hands shook as she reached out to take it, her mind racing with every possible explanation except the one she feared the most.

The paper was light in her hand, but the weight of it pressed down on her chest, as though the words scrawled within it carried a gravity she wasn’t prepared to face. Her breath hitched, the air feeling heavy in her lungs. Slowly, she unfolded it, her breath catching as she read the words written in his familiar, careful handwriting:

"I can’t do this. I’m sorry."

The world seemed to tilt. Her vision blurred as the words echoed in her mind.

She looked up at the best man, her voice shaking. “What’s this?”

His shoulders slumped, his guilt palpable. “He left the letter this morning,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Didn’t tell me anything. Just... left this for you.”

Her legs felt weak, and she sank into the nearest chair, the letter crumpling in her hands.

The best man nodded, his expression pained. “I’m so sorry, Evelyn. I tried to stop him, tried to get him to talk, but he wouldn’t. He just...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

The air felt suffocating, the walls of the small room closing in around her. The sound of muffled laughter and conversation from the guests waiting outside was like a cruel reminder of what was supposed to happen today.

Her mother burst into the room moments later, her expression shifting from excitement to worry the instant she saw her daughter’s face. “What’s going on? Where is he?”

Evelyn didn’t answer, couldn’t find the words to explain. Her mother’s gaze flicked to the best man, who still stood there, looking like he wanted to disappear.

Her mother’s gaze flicked to the best man, her expression sharp and demanding. “Where is he?”

The best man shifted uncomfortably, his hand running over the back of his neck. He glanced toward Evelyn, hesitant, before finally saying, “He’s not coming.”

Her mother froze, her brows furrowing as the words sank in. “What do you mean, he’s not coming?” Her voice rose, each word more incredulous than the last. “This is his wedding day! What the hell does that mean?”

The best man’s jaw tightened, his guilt and discomfort clear as he said, “He couldn’t go through with it. He’s gone.”

Her mother’s face turned red, a mix of disbelief and fury twisting her features. “Gone where? How could he just leave? What kind of man does that?”

“Mom,” Evelyn said weakly, her voice barely audible, the letter crumpled in her hands.

“No,” her mother snapped, rounding on her daughter now, her anger spilling over. “He doesn’t get to do this. He doesn’t get to just walk away! There are people waiting out there. He owes you—he owes all of us—an explanation!”

Her voice cracked, and for a moment, her anger seemed to falter, replaced by the raw pain of watching her daughter’s heart shatter.

The murmurs outside the door grew louder, the guests undoubtedly beginning to wonder what was causing the delay. She could already imagine the questions, the judgment, the whispers.

“What do we tell everyone?” her mother asked, her voice trembling.

Evelyn stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. Her hands trembled as she clenched the crumpled letter, her emotions bubbling to the surface. Anger. Pain. Humiliation.

“I don’t know, Mom!” she snapped, her voice cracking under the weight of her hurt. “Just... get me out of here.”

Her mother froze, her expression shifting between shock and heartbreak, but Evelyn didn’t wait for her to respond. She grabbed her bouquet off the table, not because she needed it, but because her hands needed something to do—anything to stop them from shaking.

She turned back to the best man. “Did he say anything else?”

“No…” he replied.

Her heart broke all over again at those words. She pushed past them both, leaving the room and making her way to the car waiting outside. She ignored the stares, the questions, the looks of pity. She needed to get out, to get away from all of it.

That night, while the wedding venue emptied and the guests went home with their unanswered questions, she packed her belongings in silence. The apartment she and her fiancé had shared during their engagement felt suffocating, every corner filled with traces of a life they would never have. Her wedding dress hung limp over the back of a chair, mocking her with its unfinished story.The bouquet sat on the kitchen counter, its once-vibrant blooms already wilting.

Her parents arrived just as she was throwing the last of her clothes into a battered suitcase. Her mother, still in her formal gown, clutched her pearls with trembling fingers, while her father’s tie hung loose around his neck, his face etched with exhaustion and worry.

“Sweetheart,” her mother began carefully, stepping into the room.“You can’t just leave,” her mother insisted, her voice sharp yet quivering with emotion. “You’re upset, and I understand that, but running off won’t fix this. It won’t undo what he did to you.”

Her father stepped forward, his tone measured but firm. “Selling the house? Taking off? You don’t even know where you’re going.You need to take a breath, let us help you figure this out. This isn’t the answer, kid.”

She froze for a moment, then turned to face them, her eyes red-rimmed but blazing with defiance. “And what is the answer, Dad? Stay here and keep pretending everything’s fine? Wake up every day in a place that reminds me of him? Of what I wasn’t good enough to hold on to?” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t care.

“Sweetheart, no one’s saying that,” her mother began, but she didn’t let her finish.

“Yes, you are!” she snapped. “You want me to stay here, smile through the pain, act like nothing happened. Well, I can’t. I won’t. I need to go. I need to get out of this town, out of this house.” She gestured around her, her hands trembling. “It’s like he’s everywhere. I’ll never get away from it.”

“Please,” her mother said, tears welling in her eyes. “At least sleep on it. You’re not thinking straight.”

She let out a hollow laugh, running a hand through her hair. “I’ve never been thinking clearer in my life, Mom. Staying here will kill me. I need to leave.”

Her bestfriend, Martha, showed up later that evening, carrying a bottle of cheap wine and wearing the dress she’d worn to the ceremony that never happened.

“I get it,” her friend said, breaking the silence. “I’d want to burn the whole damn world down if I were you. But you can’t just pack up your life and disappear. What about work? Your family? What about us?”

Evelyn shook her head, her fingers gripping the rim of her coffee mug so tightly she thought it might shatter. “I’m not running. I just…” She shook her head, biting her lip to keep her voice steady.“I can’t be here anymore. Every time I close my eyes, I see him standing at the altar. Except he’s not. He never was.”A tear rolled down her face, she sniffed and whipped her cheek“I just know I can’t be here anymore. It’s like... everything about this place is choking me. I need space to figure out who I am without him.”

Her friend sighed, but there was no point arguing. The decision had already been made.

Her friend hesitated, her expression softening. “What if you regret it? What if you run, and it just... follows you?”

“Maybe it will,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “But I’ll take that chance over staying here and pretending like everything’s fine.”

The house sold faster than she expected. Within days, strangers had walked through it, commenting on the potential it had—the very same potential she and her fiancé had dreamed of building on together.

Walking through it one last time, she couldn’t stop the memories from flashing before her eyes—the corner where they’d put up the Christmas tree, the creak in the floorboard he always promised to fix, the way the light filtered into the bedroom where they’d planned to start their mornings together.

By the time she handed the keys to the new owners, her chest felt hollow, but it was a relief to walk away.

She packed her things into her old Chevy, a mix of essentials and sentimental items—though not much of the latter remained. The radio became her only companion on the road, playing Fleetwood Mac, The Eagles, and Pink Floyd as she drove for hours aimlessly through towns that all blurred into one.

There was no plan, just the old creased map folded on the passenger seat and the faint hope that somewhere out there, she’d find a place that didn’t remind her of everything she’d just lost.

The miles rolled by in a haze of faded road signs and forgotten gas stations. The highways blurred into narrow backroads, lined with towering trees that seemed to close in around her. A week passed before she saw it—the sign, small and weathered, half-hidden by overgrown brush: Welcome to Clearwater.

The sign was small and unassuming, barely visible through the overgrowth vegetation.

The town looked like it belonged in another decade—or maybe another century. Small shops lined the main street, their faded signs creaking in the wind. A church with a tall steeple stood proudly against the skyline.

It was the kind of place that seemed untouched by time.

She parked outside the church, stepping out of the car and stretching her legs. The air smelled of pine and damp earth, and for the first time in days, her chest didn’t feel quite so heavy.

Pinned to the bulletin board by the church steps was a weathered “For Sale” flyer. The edges were curling, and the ink was faint, but the words were clear:

Small cottage for sale. Fully furnished. Need’s lots of love. Located near the river. Please Contact Pastor Edwards.

She tore the flyer from the board and dialed the number from the payphone outside the general store, fishing a few coins from her pocket. Each turn of the rotary dial echoed loudly, and she tapped her fingers nervously as the line clicked and rang.

“Pastor Edwards speaking,” came a warm, steady voice.

“Hi, Pastor Edwards my name is Evelyn” she said, clearing her throat. “I’m calling about the cottage. Is it... still available?”

“It is,” he replied. “It’s a little rough around the edges, but it’s got good bones. Peaceful, too. Folks around here say it’s the kind of place where you can hear yourself think.”

She arranged to see it that afternoon, and when she did, it took her breath away.

_____________________________________________________________

The cottage sat nestled at the edge of the woods, its shutters faded and crooked, the porch sagging with age. Ivy climbed the stone walls, and the river just beyond the trees glimmered faintly in the sunlight. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a sanctuary.

Pastor Edwards smiled kindly as he handed her the keys. “It just needs someone to put in a little love.”

The transaction was quick—cash exchanged for a set of old, rusted keys—that night, as she stood in the center of the dusty living room, surrounded by creaking floorboards and chipped paint, she felt something she hadn’t felt in weeks: hope.

The house wasn’t perfect. Neither was she. But maybe, just maybe, they could rebuild each other.

______________________________________________________________tagging some amazing people that showed interest on my previous post (if you don't want to be tagged please let me know):

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