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totalswag · 1 day ago

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raw next question? pt 2 ⎯ RAFE CAMERON!

authors note the amount of support i got on my last fic is unbelievable, thank you so much. i tried my best for part two so i hope you guys like it. so, here you go 👀. raw next question

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary after leaving a comment under rafe's post, he responds back showing interest and reaches out.

warning(s) flirting, kissing at the end, cuteness, and meeting rafe for the first time.

rafecameron: hey! bold move, I think we should talk.

The only thing running through your mind is⎯what the actual fuck. To be fair, you were expecting a response or comment, not even a dm. You don't know what to say.

"Okay, we need to think of something to say because," you hesitate for a few minute, "yeah, I don't have anything to say" you trail off before stretching the back of your head.

Zoie lets out a breath: "I say we wait to respond then once we come up with a response, send it to him."

Five minutes later, you open your phone, click on the text, and begin typing a reply. "This is what I'm going to respond with," you say, pointing to your phone to the girls.

yourusername: hey haha, thought I’d hop on the trend. didn’t expect you to reply tho.

Two minutes later, he responds.

rafecameron: oh, so I’m just part of a trend? damn, i thought i was special... 😔

yourusername: haha so funny, rafe

yourusername: i admit though you're attractive

rafecameron: ahh the truth comes out huh

rafecameron: since we're speaking the truth, you're gorgeous

Rafe and you started conversation among other topics. One of the main things you two found out is that you live an hour away from each other. By the end of the week, you exchanged phone numbers.

After Rafe responded to your comment, you two started leaving sly/flirty comments on each other's posts that spiked conversations between your supporters.

They're messing with us right?

They keep playing eye tag... HOLLA AT YO BOY!!

"Would you like to meet up sometime?" Rafe asked casually over FaceTime while searching the kitchen cupboard for something, his phone resting against a glass cup.

It's been a month since Rafe and you have been texting and calling. Constantly texting⎯quick responses. It became a routine for the both of you. Learned a lot about each other in a span of a month.

Your back was against the headboard as you sat on your bed. He wants to meet you in person, and your eyes almost pop out of their sockets. "Yeah, I would like that," was all you could offer.

Peeping over his shoulder, Rafe chuckles quietly and smiles. "I'm thinking this weekend if you aren't busy?" "I would drive to you," he says, suggesting.

You raise your upper body off the headboard and reply, "I'll send you my address the day before, I'm not doing anything this weekend."

"Perfect!" He smiles.

Today was the day⎯Rafe and you are meeting for the first time. Nervous and excited about all this. You don't want to make a fool of yourself. Rafe was forty minutes away, in the meantime, you were on the phone with Zoie and Evenly.

Rafe offered to drive to visit you, and you couldn't help but be anxious. He was an hour away, yet his attempt to see you meant more than you could express.

"Bitches I'm shitting bricks" you confess feeling anxious, running your hands down your thighs, walking around the kitchen.

"Y/N, it's normal to feel this way especially since you're meeting him for the first time. Take a few deep breaths and if you need anything from us, we're one call, and few doors down" Evelyn reassures you in a soothing tone.

"Agreed, you got this, it's normal to feel this way," Zoie expresses.

"Thank you, you two are such great friends, I love you so much" you say with honesty, your phone buzzes, you put your phone back.

rafe: five minutes away

you: perfect, see you soon!!

You gasps, quickly putting your phone back to your ear, "he's five minutes away um, I'll text you guys throughout the day."

Once Rafe got to the apartment complex, you walked down the stairs to where he parked⎯he was getting his bags from his trunk. You were amazed how tall he was too.

Before you can say anything, he turns around and says, "Hey, Y/N," with a smile that conveys how happy he is to see you.

Seeing him in person made you realize he's even more handsome. Rafe couldn't keep his eyes off you, he couldn't help but think how he's standing infront of someone as beautiful as you.

"Hey, Rafe, It's good to see you" you say, taking a big breath and gazing up at his towering body. You grin and lean into the hug. The height difference between you two is insane. He

"It's great to finally meet you; you're even more beautiful in person," he says to you, smiling. You chuckle softly at his compliment, "thank you handsome" and smile.

After arriving at your place, you show Rafe where everything is and where he will be staying—either your bed or the guest bedroom, which has been thoroughly cleaned and sanitized.

Rafe was happy to see your apartment and commented on how well it matches your vibe. He took his time looking around the apartment. Since you were already ready for the day, you spent ten more minutes in the apartment before heading out.

You have no idea what the plan was today. Rafe intended for a lasting and enjoyable day. You persisted on showing him around, but he said he wanted to be the one to take you places, even if he didn't know where.

"This is has been such a great day, thank you Rafe" you tell him with full honesty as you two get settled to play mini golf.

He looks up from the floor and responds with a kind, sincere smile, "I'm glad you're enjoying it." "I remember you mentioning you loved mini golf too."

He is able to recall the small details.

Your heart sank to your feet since no male has ever recalled the small information you shared with them. As you playfully nudge him, you exclaim, "I can't believe you remember that."

He chuckles, "I'm just good at remember."

Mini golf was a lot of fun, with plenty of laughs and competition between you two. In the beginning, he noticed your concentration and took out his phone to record you until you spotted him flipping him off.

Towards the end of the night, Rafe and you drove to an ice cream shop and ate it outside. You had little conversations and learnt more about each other today.

Before putting a scoop of his ice cream in his mouth, he says, "We should make a tiktok."

After contentedly leaning back in your chair, you decided to do it. In addition, many who support you have been wondering if you two will ever cross paths. They're going to be amazed.

she knows remix slowed.

Rafe began lip-syncing, his expression playful and undoubtedly attractive. When it got to looking like the Fourth of July, you're officially coming with me, he switched the phone to you. You were already staring at him, eyes full of admiration, unable to conceal the warm smile on your lips.

The camera returned to him, and he tried not to chuckle, tilting his phone downward as he giggled. The final second of the video showed your arms wrapped around his neck.

rafe cameron: 👀

tagged yourusername

Fans were blowing up the comment section.

⇾ fan23: DO YOU SEE THE WAY SHE LOOKS AT HIM!!

⇾ fan12: you know you have thirty minutes

⇾ fan1: i decided if i want y/n or rafe 😔

⇾ fan3: im sat for this

By the time you returned to your flat, the tension had grown to a point where it could no longer be ignored. Rafe took a step closer as you paused nervously by your door. His hand softly stroked your cheek, his gaze seeking yours, before he asked, "Is this okay?"

You barely had time to nod before his lips touched yours, gentle and languid, like if he was savoring the moment. The kiss was pleasant, but it also hinted at something deeper.

When you eventually pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours, chuckling. "Best decision I ever made was replying to that comment."

"Best decisions I ever made was commenting" you softly say, smiling.

⎯⎯ my taglist! 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ��

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springloadedcontraption · 19 minutes ago

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This is the first time in a LONG time I've had access to tumblr with an *at home* device that I could just let myself out freely on.. so bare with me..

This is a perfect post for me to start my *incessant* rants with. First of all.. I remember VERY CLEARLY as a child that ALLL I wanted to do was grow up so I could leave the house, do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted.. I was a FIERCE advocate of independence. I was 11 years younger than my two twin sisters, and I IDOLIZED them.. There was this local bar in town they'd always go to with their best friend, Rachel, and it was called "Little Bit" back then. They'd go out basically every single weekend, plus a couple days during the week (this was a local, small town bar that never ID'd anybody, as it was also a college town so nobody gave a shit where the money for the alcohol/cover charges were coming from, as long as they were coming in)

I can remember countless evenings being alone as a child.. Most of my childhood, as a matter of fact. My sisters both had babies at 18, making their youngest children just 7 years younger than me. One of these twins ended up living with us for a little while, giving me the taste of what a little brother/sister (or even a child of my own, which I was NOT a fan of from day fucking ONE) would be like.. and honestly, this trend would end up carrying through a few more children from both sisters based on how much time I spent with said nieces/nephews. Anywho, one sister and her first child lived with us for an amount of time, not sure if I remember just how long.. All I remember is that it was long enough to make sure that this nephew is still, TO THIS DAY, my favorite nephew. But that hardly matters to the point of this post..

While I'm very happy for the things I've learned over the years I've been alive.. from an observant abusive childhood, to an almost divorced household, to teen pregnancy (not my own, obviously) to drug/alcohol problems from both sides of the family, including myself.. I can confidently say that I'd NEVER be at the point I'm at today, or as proud of myself as I am and as in love with who I've turned out to be as a woman, without the trials and tribulations I've faced. Obviously everyone says that to a degree.. but I genuinely mean it.

I've had my fair share of EARTH SHATTERING heartbreak.. more times that I'd like to relive. And honestly, as childish and useless as it sounds.. these romantic heartbreaks have taught me more than most life lessons have.. about love, pain, trust, loyalty, and how fragile the human connection can be. It can be severed in an instant if we all let it.. Obviously death is a little different than regular earthly separation.. But you catch my drift.. I say all this just to make a very vague point..

E V E R Y T H I N G you go through in life is for a MOTHER FUCKING R E A S O N - and more important than that, it's A L L FUCKING T E M P O R A R Y. You learn something from each and every single situation you go through.. No matter whether it's self inflicted or not. Honestly, you sometimes learn more from the self inflicted wounds than you do any others.. I know that's the case with me. And as much as any of those wounds hurt.. whether it was romantic heartbreak, losing a best friend after X amount of years for no real apparent reason, or even a death in the family (even if death hits me differently/less aggressively than it hits most people.. the death of both of my parents happening about 18 months apart when I hadn't even moved out of the house yet was an EXTREMELY low blow.. even if I never admit it to the general public).. Or even on a smaller scale.. work heartbreaks.. your favorite coworker leaving finally to move onto their dream job, or one that just pays more that they didn't bring you along with.. having to quit a job you were really enjoying and learning a lot from and wanted to turn into a career because they weren't valuing you, or the fucking U.S. DOLLAR the way they should have been and you were tired of coat-tailing off your male, non romantic roommate because it was just flat out awkward to ask the man for financial help all the time..

I'm rambling at this point, and it's probably because I've had QUITE a bit to drink (as per usual..) but today, I DESERVE IT, DAMNIT! I finally passed my written/driver's license exams so I finally got my drivers license back after SEVERAL years of driving illegally and paranoid.. I got my nails done (completely unintentionally a Valentine's day theme) and they're BEAUTIFUL.. the man I'm in love with that claims he doesn't actually wanna be with me, but he really does (as terrible as that sounds, I don't think the situation is as doomed as it sounds.. hear me out on future posts lol) went to dinner with me last night and lingered a bit longer than he usually does with any of our friend group.. together or individually.. and he kept using the triangle method on me where he'd look in both my eyes, then at my lips.. and based on the fact that we just had one of the most passionate fucks of our entire relationship not even a month ago and it's pretty obvious that he wants to do it again just tells me that it's not all over with.. that and the fact that NOT A SINGLE EX has ever stayed away completely. I just know it's not ever between us, and thank GOD.. that break up nearly shattered me completely and make it to where I had to admit myself into a mental institution and take a literal mental break from the planet for a while.. God don't get me started with how much I love this man and how much I PRAY that we end up together one day. After all, I've lasted longer than any other woman that he's dated after he got his divorce ;)

I say all that seemingly random ass shit to say this - if you're going through a hard time.. please don't give up. reach out to me. you an find beauty in the world at whatever age you are, no matter what you've been through. While I'm still young, I've been through my own fair share of shit, then most of my family's fair share of shit because I'm so God damn empathetic that it's detrimental to my health at this point.. Just trust me.. I'm here if you need me, even if I don't know you or if you wanna hit me up anonymously.. Don't go through whatever it is you're going through alone. Let me help you find the beauty in this fucked up world again. If I've found it as many times as I have with as much shit as I've fucked up/gone through.. I know I can help you see the light at the end of the tunnel, too.

I love you. Hit me up anytime.

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covenofagatha · 2 days ago

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ok after the FFF post i think we now need your thought on reader teasing agatha during no nut november.

maybe first they make a bet about whether agatha can even make it through no nut november, and of course agatha is like what do u mean i can’t do it? and so she takes on the challenge.

you then start waking agatha up to the sounds of you fucking yourself with a dildo or smth and she already wants to quit.

you then proceed to tease her nonstop every day, and of course it’s harder for agatha because november has a few more days than february

- 🥕

Well it is only fair that reader gets a little payback for all of Agatha's teasing

You've been waiting ever since finger free February for this and you've been planning

It's a few days before November starts and you casually bring it up to Agatha over dinner. She scoffs it off at first, but then you appeal to her competitive nature: "Oh come on, mommy, you don't think you can last? I did. Guess you can't, though. Such a shame. You're just too desperate for me, aren't you? Can't control yourself at all?"

She takes the bait immediately and is outraged that you would even imply that she wouldn't be able to, and accepts

You two have the most sex you've ever had in the next few days, courtesy of Agatha trying to get out as many orgasms as she can

The first few days of November pass and you're her perfect baby, only making a few dirty remarks here and there and only attempting to brush her cock through her pants a few times

Agatha gets lulled into a false sense of security and thinks that maybe it won't be that hard (pun intended) after all

Until the next morning when she wakes up to hear wet squelching sounds and rolls over to find you with a dildo buried up to the hilt in your cunt, panting

But not just any dildo, no, the one you made with the penis molding kit that is an exact silicone replica of her cock (purposefully for this month - but she doesn't need to know)

So not only is she watching you fuck yourself with it, but she also now has the memory of you on your knees in the shower in front of her, blowing her to a full erection, and then stroking the molding powder over her cock to make the toy

"Fuck, mommy, your cock feels so good inside me," you moan, pumping it fast inside you, and Agatha is instantly hard as a rock, the few days without an orgasm finally catching up to her. She starts to hump the air and wonders how embarrassing it would be if she didn't even make it a week into it

She barely avoids cumming untouched when you orgasm all over the toy

Thus begins you starting to tease her for real

You've never been a big banana fan, but you certainly are now and you make eye contact with her every morning as you slide as much of it as you can take down your throat before gagging (which only makes her harder)

You give her your best "fuck me" eyes every night as you hold a vibrator to your clit, hips bucking, while you beg for her to put her cock inside you. "It's okay, mommy, you can just stop before you cum and it won't count," you tell her, but you both know that the second she gets inside you, she'll blow her load instantly

When she sits at her desk doing work, you saunter over in nothing but lingerie and straddle her lap, claiming you just want to be close to her, but that doesn't stop you from grinding on her rock hard cock through her pants while she grits her teeth and turns red as a tomato

It gets to the point that she's pretty sure if you were to touch her cock with your bare skin, she would fail

"Only four days left," you say cheerily and she grumbles something incoherently. She's been irritated and a little quick-tempered and you love it.

"It's not fair," she says. "November is two days longer than February."

You mockingly pout and suck on a lollipop. "Oh, poor mommy. But just think, on December first, you can fuck me again. God, I can't wait to have your cock inside me. I love when you twitch and pulse and throb and then fill me up with your cum and leaks out of me."

Agatha has to leave the room with a whimper because she's so painfully hard and doesn't trust herself to look at you without cumming right now

That night, you're laying next to her in bed, idly playing with your clit and sliding your fingers into your cunt every now and then. Agatha is making a pointed effort not to look, but you can see how tense she is. It comes to a breaking point when you push your wet fingers into her mouth and she groans before getting up, positioning herself between your legs, and hauling your cunt into her mouth

It's the first time she's touched you since October and you can't help yourself from making louder noises than you're used to because of how good it feels and you're so lost in pleasure that you don't even notice how she's started to grind against the bed

You're so close to an orgasm when she suddenly freezes and pulls back with a strangled sound. Her eyes are wide with panic, face red, and you can see her hips rutting

"Fuck fuck fuck," she chants and a thrill runs through you before her head drops down to rest against your stomach with a groan

When she flops over onto her back, you can see a wet stain on the front of her boxers and you laugh

"Guess since you lost, you can just go ahead and fuck me now," you sigh. "No point in waiting a few more days."

Agatha can't even be mad about it because at least her torture is over

You never fail to remind her that you made it longer than she did

#asks #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut

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jsabimi · 16 hours ago

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. . . still trying

. . . synopsis: when an aspiring painter - who knows how to love deeply, but has been left hesitant to trust again - gets to lead a pastries-and-painting night at your best friend's café every friday night, meets you - a fiercely independent lawyer's assistant who has no interest in romance - he knows he's ready to give love another try. you, however, have seen love fall apart one too many times and are determined to keep your heart out of his reach.

what you didn't expect was his quiet patience, the way he sees past your walls without ever pushing. you can't tell if this would be another love story that ends in heartbreak or if it could be the real deal for you.

. . . pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader(f)

. . . genre: strangers to lovers, non-idol au, social media au, super slow burn, fluff, angst, pining, suggestive - so minors dni!

. . . warnings: heartbreak, talks of past toxic relationships, reader struggles with emotions, will be using images in this fic of 2023 hyunjin because..2023 hyunjin got me weak and i wont get over it, mentions of alcohol, mentions of house parties, mentions of sex - other warnings will be listed on individual chapters.

. . . author's note: haha~! i bet you guys thought i was gone, but no, i was just working on this - an idea i've had for a while (like... months lmao) but haven't been able to actually sit down and put it together until a couple weeks ago. this is still a work in progress, but the outline of the story is pretty much all set! just need to finish a few layouts of the chapters. but i'm really excited for this story and hope you all enjoy it and the journey of my first actual smau series! xoxo

. . . taglist!: okay after popular demand, i've decided to make a taglist. but i will only tag those who agree to reblog, comment or leave feedback. that's all i ask. and yes, i will be able to see who does or doesn't and have no problem removing those who don't. as a writer feedback and reblogs are our life line. if you want to be on the taglist please either comment on the post or send an ask to be added! again, thanks for the support and love for this story - it's my first born smau and i'm proud of her 🥹

. . . I N D E X

. 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚜

. 𝚌𝚑 𝟷

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ps-cactus · 2 days ago

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No Voices But Ours | HL oneshot

5,400 words | also posted on AO3 Ominis x f!MC, & Sebastian (unnamed MC, no appearance descriptions)

Thank you, the ever-amazing beta @accio-bagel

Tags and TWs: Major Character Death, Post-Canon (10 years later), Haunted House Vibes, Thriller, Mystery, Unreliable Narrator, POV Multiple, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Survivor’s Guilt, Redemption, Tragic Love, Tragic Friendship, Hallucinations, Implied Suicidal Thoughts, Found Family But Also Lost Family, Mental Instability, Self-Loathing, Depressive Themes, Nightmares, Fear of the Unknown.

Summary / Preview:

If the past calls, can you ever ignore it? Should you run—or listen closer?

Ominis is right, of course. Sebastian Sallow died months ago, and she saw it happen. He’s gone. Completely gone, because this is certainly not a ghost. She recalls clearly from Hogwarts: ghosts are visible, faintly tangible, capable of conversation, and some even of heated discussions. Whatever voices reach her, whether in dreams or waking hours, they don’t truly exist. It’s nothing more than something perfectly normal that comes with grief—the wish that he were still alive. ... Tonight, he receives another reminder that it's not even a ghost. He knows what ghosts look like and how they behave... Sebastian crouches down but makes no effort to pick up the book. Resting his palm against the polished wooden floorboards, he feels this again. The faint, rhythmic pulses, like the ghost of a heartbeat. After all this time, he knows the pattern—once the rhythm fades, all the odd sounds fall silent too. Not forever, no, but for a while at least. Usually, it fades fast. And it's fading already. Good.

“Are you hearing him again?”

Familiar hands grip her shoulders firmly, bringing her back from the depths of sleep. They also force away a lingering echo of her own scream that still rings in her head. She lets go of the wall where she had probably instinctively clung to escape the familiar rhythmic pulses coursing through every surface in moments like this.

“Yeah,” she answers, feeling the scratch in her throat, and hastily adds, “I know. Just a dream.”

Ominis brushes a strand of hair from her forehead, and she knows he’s using the gesture to feel for fever. She watches his face, bathed in pale moonlight, and his eyes, where this light glimmers in fleeting reflections. It keeps her from acknowledging the never-ending shadowy hallway looming behind him. At night, this house always seems oppressively enormous.

“Just a dream,” Ominis reassures her, placing a light kiss on her forehead. The suffocating dread slowly fades, and sleep starts pulling at her again.

Whatever voices reach her, whether in dreams or waking hours, they don’t truly exist. It’s nothing more than something perfectly normal that comes with grief—the wish that he were still alive.

Sebastian doesn’t move, hardly even breathes, standing barefoot in the dark corridor. The moonlight carves a pale path beneath him. The screams have faded. Except for the ones that will never leave his head, of course. But in his mind, that same voice isn’t screaming. It’s casting spells. Calling his name sometimes. Spitting out curses occasionally.

But here, it’s always the same—a scream of fear, a scream of pain. He holds back from speaking to that voice again. Maybe there’s no voice at all. Maybe it’s just this old house driving him mad. Tonight, he receives another reminder that it's not even a ghost. He knows what ghosts look like and how they behave. This is a haunting punishment.

He checks a few unused rooms, just in case—filled with nothing but silence, as expected.

Of course. He’s just going mad, plain and simple. Serves him right.

He leaves without another glance back, retracing his steps toward the bathroom.

The trees stand bare, having surrendered into an early slumber even before winter’s touch, yet she always finds comfort in strolling through the garden. Especially as soft strains of a piano drift through the air from a slightly open window.

She is careful enough not to glance toward the far end of the grounds, taking an early turn to avoid the white tombstone among the old oak’s fallen leaves. Clutching the book she failed to concentrate on to her chest, she lifts her head, absentmindedly looking for the seagulls in the silent sky, but the island’s autumn fog is thick as wool, even at noon.

Lunch passes soon, as unremarkable as so many that came before. The house-elf follows every request, preparing the meals exactly to their liking, but they all taste like nothing to her. Just like the familiar groans of the floorboards, the whispers of the drafts in the old house are simply background details she doesn't even notice anymore.

But her cup slips from her fingers, rolling on the table and sloshing its remaining tea the moment she hears a sharp, furious thud from the room above.

Sebastian brushes the book off the table. Useless. Worse still, he can’t even leave to search for something more useful on his own, depending instead on booksellers he barely trusts.

But there is always this fear whispering to him: what if, by leaving, he risks the protective spells faltering or vanishing altogether? He doesn't trust his own magic anymore. Whatever that risk is, it isn’t one he can take. He has to finish what he started. No one must find him before that. He won’t be able to explain. No one could ever understand.

He barely understands himself these days. Least of all can he grasp what truly happened after she used the spell meant to rid them of the relic for good. But he just blacked out—no other term fits better. When he regained consciousness again, it was long past the moment it mattered.

Maybe the confusion goes back even further, because he still has no explanation how the relic found its way back to him after almost a decade.

He hadn’t looked for it, of course. That much was certain. The moment he saw it again, he knew only that it had to be destroyed. He had the audacity to ask his friends for help without having any semblance of a plan. What a fool. How dare he even call them friends now?

She quickly says, "There's something upstairs," even though Ominis hasn't yet asked. He’s just frozen, worried, across from her at the table. “Something fell. Dusky, see what’s going on up there.”

The house-elf, having already cleaned up the tea from the table with practiced efficiency, nods and disappears with a sharp pop.

A muffled pop, both remote and unnervingly near, makes Sebastian turn to the middle of the room. Nothing.

A second noise, like the lingering reverberation of the first, makes him blink and peer at the empty space. Still nothing. Not a shadow, not a whisper. Not a ghost.

He almost wishes it were just a ghost. He wonders if just a ghost would even bother speaking to him. Or would it simply linger, observing in silence, with no words to give? Would it despise him? Or pity him?

He’d take hatred over pity any day.

“Nothing?” she asks sceptically, irritation rising as the elf shrugs and shakes his head. She knows he returned too fast. She sees he’s scared. “Are you lying?”

His frantic head-shaking intensifies, eyes flickering in panic for a moment before he dashes from the room.

“House-elves can’t lie,” Ominis notes calmly.

“Wait!”

The elf doesn’t stop, his retreating steps disappearing down the hall toward the kitchen. She turns sharply toward Ominis.

“House-elves can’t disobey, either.”

Sebastian crouches down but makes no effort to pick up the book. Resting his palm against the polished wooden floorboards, he feels this again. The faint, rhythmic pulses, like the ghost of a heartbeat. After all this time, he knows the pattern—once the rhythm fades, all the odd sounds fall silent too. Not forever, no, but for a while at least. Usually, it fades fast. And it's fading already. Good.

He frowns at the book on the floor before eventually placing it back on the table, where there’s still a little space left among all the glasses and plates.

Beneath the papers, Sebastian notices an envelope resting at the very edge of the table. This one holds nothing but more grief and pain. So be it.

He tugs at the corner of a letter a little. The recipient’s name stings his mind. His own handwriting looks foreign. It’s the last letter he ever sent here. He never should have written it. Even if it had been the last thing he ever did, he should have handled it alone.

Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? That’s exactly how it will be now. Alone as he is, and with this probably being the last thing he ever does, he will see the relic destroyed. There are already a few ideas he’s considered. For instance…

A gust of wind scatters some papers from the table along with that letter, making Sebastian glance up, noticing the seagulls flying by again, their cries unusually loud today. With an annoyed flick of his wand, the window snaps shut, and the glass rattles in protest.

“...Or suddenly go mute! But all of this—” Her voice rises, frustration mounting with every syllable of a conversation they’ve already had too many times—until she stops. “Did you hear that?”

Ominis doesn’t answer, focusing instead on making a genuine effort to understand, just as he does every single time she hears something he does not. As usual, for him, there’s only silence. Her chair screeches against the floor right before she darts past him out of the room. Soon, her hurried footsteps reach the top of the stairs.

Ominis hesitates before going after her. Whatever these ‘sounds’ are, they terribly exhaust her. She doesn’t know how to stop them or make some sense of them, and he has no idea how to help. All ever since that day.

He still remembers the rage that consumed him—his entire being, the whole world at once—when Sebastian, after ten years of a perfectly decent life, claimed that the relic had simply turned up in his house. How convenient, Ominis said then, because it was agonising to realise that every bit of faith he had in his friend’s redemption had been misplaced.

However, she had always been the one willing to trust people, to believe in them. It’s because of her he agreed to listen to Sebastian at all. Now her faith is likely the reason she still can’t accept how truly catastrophic his mistake had been and why she can’t let it go.

When Ominis finally follows her into the room, she comes to him at once. He searches for any disturbance, any inconsistency in the signals from his wand—but there’s nothing. Nothing but silence and stillness.

“There’s nothing.” Her voice comes out quiet, almost shaking, just like her hands. “I don’t know… Must have imagined it. Sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he squeezes her hand slightly, repeating the simple words that still seem to help them both. “It’s alright. It’s an old house; I used to hear things here all the time. It’ll pass.”

Later that night, Ominis leans over a sink in a bathroom far from their bedroom, gripping the porcelain with both hands. The rush of water fills the silence around him.

Yes, he still remembers that all-consuming rage. But the rage and anger are long gone. Ominis has had no will for anger in a long time. The little strength he does still have, he hoards for forgiveness but never quite reaches it. If there’s one thing he has in excess, it’s pain—so much that, deep down, he knows exactly what she feels, far better than he cares to admit.

Each time he jolts awake from that nightmare, detailed as ever, Ominis edges closer to acknowledging what she had always seemed to know. That the person coming to their house that day wasn’t a reckless teenager, but a man genuinely terrified of something he wanted to but couldn’t explain. Terrified of what came true after all.

Odd enough, Sebastian’s death had never once appeared in his nightmare. The final moment is never about him at all. And her dream is the exact same. There are moments when Ominis almost speaks aloud the theory forming in his mind. He may not hear voices or strange sounds, but he feels the way the silence here lingers unnaturally. It makes every room feel emptier than it should, stretching the time even. Or the way the fire in the hearth loses its warmth the more attention he gives it. The simple yet so complicated theory. Almost impossible. Rather insane.

“No. This is ridiculous,” Ominis murmurs, shutting the tap off. He presses his hands, insufficiently cooled by the water, against his face. Wrapped up in his own mind on this troubled midnight, he fails to notice that the tap seals itself shut, ceasing its quiet dripping.

Sebastian twists the tap tighter and hurriedly returns to his usual spot—the blanket spread out on the bathroom floor. Thick enough that he can’t feel the subtle impulses beneath him, though he knows, without a doubt, that they’ve started the moment the tap started dripping by itself.

He sleeps right here often because the space is just small enough not to smother him with its hollowness and because, until now, this was the only place where they had never reached him. He always hears them from afar, from other rooms, but never here.

Although now he would swear on anything, he just heard Ominis’ voice right beside him.

He isn’t afraid of such things anymore. He doesn’t even indulge in these imagined voices, either, weaving the illusion that he was never at fault at all. But lately a mere voice seems a rarity, because what he hears more often is the scream. And it gets closer. Just like the voice was right here in this room. As though any semblance of peace is vanishing from his reach completely.

“You’re gone… you’re not real… you’re gone…”

She rushes through the garden, her tears sliding off her cheeks just as fast. This time, she doesn’t turn away from that path. She is barely awake from yet another dream that returned the terrible, aching thoughts.

She doesn’t even wait for Ominis to come back, so desperate is the need to see the tombstone again, to remind herself of reality, of acceptance, and—please—just calm down.

It’s too late to change anything. She must live on. Must focus on the future, or at least the present. Anything but the past.

She steps closer to the white stone standing out in the darkness and wipes off the soggy leaves clinging to it. Her fingers trace the rough-cut letters briefly before they freeze.

Sebastian hugs his knees closer, still sitting on the bathroom floor. Her voice. The deafening ‘No!’, as distant as it seems resounding straight from within his own head. He senses the faint, rhythmic pulses coming off the floorboards and walls. Stronger than he’s ever felt them. The pain is no longer confined to his chest; his whole body hurts.

He knows what’s doing this to him. Knows it’s punishing him and knows why. But he can’t take it anymore. No matter how—it just needs to be over. He has to act. He has to try.

As he stands, he keeps his gaze on the door, refusing to acknowledge the mirror. One of the reasons is the grey in his hair. As if he has any right to still be here, growing older, when they will never get the chance.

Determined, he steps into the hallway.

Each step down the creaky staircase is deliberate, and the grip on his wand is firm.

All the resolve drains from him as he reaches the entrance to the vast, empty basement. Almost empty. He leans into the cold stone as his breath catches.

Is he really allowed to take another step? Will it let him even try? What if it already knows what he wants?

The house drafts feel much colder than before. He’s barefoot again, clad in only pyjama trousers and a thin shirt, but sweat drenches his skin.

As she drops to the ground, the wet leaves beneath her knees smear into mud. Ominis calls her name again and again, but her voice is just as lost as her mind might be. It’s only when he touches her shoulder that she jolts and tries to speak again, unsure, however, she will make any sense at all.

“Th—there…” She chokes out, unable to finish, her eyes locked on the letters on the white stone. “And you… your…”

Ominis kneels beside her, dropping his wand on the leaves. One arm wraps around her, steadying her trembling body, while the other gently finds her face.

“Shhh… I’ve got you, shhh… It’s alright.”

That’s when she notices that unlike her, he hasn’t even thrown on a coat. She doesn’t think when she starts to rise, oddly happy there is a reason to leave. She keeps swallowing her tears, trying to say, “It—it’s freezing. Why are you—”

“No, it’s not,” Ominis stops her. There’s tension in his voice, but it carries a quiet steadiness hers lacks. “Feel it. The wind, the ground—they're not cold. Please, just stop and feel.”

The request stuns her for a moment, but she lowers her hand to the damp leaves. Her fingers dig into them, seeking for the earth beneath, searching for a chill that should be there, that must be there—but isn’t.

“How? Why?” Her voice falters as her eyes snap back to the white stone. It doesn’t make any sense. She begs it to be some nonsense. Another nightmare. She finally speaks the words she had meant to, even as each one feels unbearable. “Ominis, the tombstone… It has our initials. Both of ours. Ominis, please… Why?”

“That dream we both have sometimes,” he says, drawing closer, his fingers skimming her cheek again. It hurts him too, to speak, but he can’t keep holding this in. “You had a feeling it was the truth, didn’t you? But something stopped you from saying. Like a word on the tip of your tongue, just out of reach, no matter how hard you try to grasp it, so you let it slip away.”

The truth.

The truth is somewhere so painfully close.

It is in so many things she keeps both accepting and hopelessly missing. All this time, she had never questioned when their break from work, taken months ago, would end. There were no letters sent or received. No owls for so long. No seagulls in the ever-quiet sky, not once in months.

And yet, she never questioned it.

She had turned away from these questions, just as she had turned away from the tombstone, because deep down, she knew too well. Because even though Sebastian’s body and the relic had vanished without a trace, she knows that the stone was more than a memorial and that beneath it, the ground was not empty.

She knows why the nightmare always ends there.

She understands why it always ends the same way.

Another drop of sweat trails along his temple, blending into the single tear streaking down his cheek as Sebastian steps into the basement. He lights a few torches along the walls.

The relic waits, undisturbed, right where he left it.

A monument to his foolishness.

Spells are echoing in his head again, desperate, never-ending.

Slowly, he advances toward the small pyramid on the stone floor, more surprised at each step. It didn't even let him this near that day.

Blink. A glance to the side—that’s where Ominis was. He was closer, so Sebastian reached for him first, fingers searching for a pulse. He hoped. Listened for breath. Heard nothing. Blink. His eyes dart to the farthest, darkest part of the basement—where she fell. Walking toward her, he knew already. Blink. He turns, just for a moment, toward the door. That’s where a curious house-elf was peeking inside, terrified.

Sigh.

He raises his wand, aiming directly at the relic. He doesn't know if he could cast the spell or if he could even force out a single word and what might follow.

He simply wants this all to be over.

She once believed that facing some kinds of truth can be painful enough to unravel someone completely. And still, even through the ache, her mind is sharp; it feels clearer than it has in such a long time. To understand, to recognise the truth, is now as effortless to her as drawing breath had once been. A pang of guilt and disappointment in herself stirs inside her—is she really so selfishly determined to deny her own destiny that she chose to believe it had belonged to someone else?

For so long, she had been spiralling, lost between reality and endless illusions, unable to comprehend whatever this is that’s happening to them. But now all her thoughts, both clear and still taking shape, flow down her cheeks in the form of tears…

No, not quite. They flow onto the fingers that slowly trace her skin.

Ominis is here. Beside her, just as he always has been. Even as she pulled away, as she lost herself, when he had been struggling just as much.

“Ominis, I’m so sorry…” She whispers, leaning on his knee, clutching at the thin fabric of his pyjama trousers. “I’m so sorry…”

“No—Why?” His hand moves carefully as he brushes against a stray strand of her hair near her face before returning to settle beneath her chin.

“I think… the last thing I remember before everything changed… Is using Ancient Magic. Something went wrong. That must be why we’re both… I’m sorry. I don’t know… Merlin, I just…”

"No, don’t say that," he says firmly, holding her tighter against him. "We made that list of ideas together, didn’t we? We all chose to take the risk. That relic was far more complicated." He breathes in deeply before continuing. "You remember when I said that if it found him, rather than the other way around, it could be worse than anything else?"

She watches as his hand trails down her arm, finding her hand clenched into a fist on his knee. Carefully, he unfurls it, weaving his fingers through hers.

“I do. It would have meant this relic is so powerful and complex, it may have something like a consciousness of its own…” She looks up at him. “So… you believe him? That he didn’t try to find it again?”

“I truly don’t know. But if both he and the relic are gone, and that means he’s facing it alone somewhere... then I genuinely hope he can overcome it.”

“He loathes himself so much. There’s so much pain inside him. But whatever happened then, I know the relic has no hold over him anymore.”

Her eyes drift back to the gravestone with six letters on it. It hurts more the more she understands; her mind is flooding with all the realisations she used to suppress. And yet, she still doesn’t fully get it. “You truly haven’t heard anything? Nothing at all? No thuds, no footsteps, no voice?”

“I swear, I didn’t hear anything,” Ominis says, as if regretting that it’s true. “No voices but ours, no footsteps, nothing unusual at all.”

“But you had the same dream as I did?”

“Yes.”

She grips his fingers tighter, and his thumb strokes hers in slow, steady movements. Her mind swirls with thoughts, and though some facts settle easier than others, they wound her just as deeply.

Sebastian has some bond with the relic because he once wielded it, and she has one because she attempted to destroy it with magic she believed she understood. Could that be the reason she had heard his voice?

But why—why is Ominis here? And the elf...? What if she is the reason they are all somehow trapped? That would be too cruel. Is there any part of this she can still change? Is there anything left for her to undo at all, or did all the possible moments pass beyond reach?

“What if… maybe this is all just another dream?” She breathes out, pressing her eyes shut, unable to handle the number of questions—some unanswerable, some too painful to even voice.

Ominis says nothing. He simply leans forward, pressing his forehead lightly against hers.

Sebastian clenches his teeth so hard it hurts—from sheer anger. Mostly, he is furious at himself. At the foolish fifteen-year-old boy who once decided this damned thing was the answer he needed.

The relic had changed—there are no Inferi on its edges, it seems smaller, and utterly silent. And he didn’t black out after unleashing magic on it, spell after spell.

Still, none of it worked.

The only thing left to try is the spell he had used the first thing back then. The relic had changed so much in the months. Maybe this time, it will work.

Anyway—

He is so done he’s ready to tear the whole world down and himself afterwards just to make it all end. He takes a deep breath, his wand already starting the precise movement.

A flash.

A thunderous crash.

He freezes, eyes narrowing as he notices something new. The smallest, almost invisible crack on the relic’s surface. He feels something he hadn’t felt in eternity—a sharp, unexpected jolt of joy that almost makes him laugh.

Ominis lowers his hand from her face, his head tilting toward the house.

“There’s someone there,” he whispers, his words almost lost in the wind. “It’s not the elf.”

“True… Not an elf,” she whispers back, placing her palm to the ground again out of habit, expecting the usual pulses, but there is nothing. The shock of it—both the missing sensations and the man standing before her, whom she hadn’t seen for so long—is so great that it takes her a moment to realise she wasn’t the first to notice.

“Hold on, you actually heard it?”

The silhouette doesn’t move closer, stopping just a few steps away.

“Is that… Is that you?” The distant voice wavers, hesitant, uncertain.

“I hear,” Ominis nods. “It’s Sebastian.”

“Forgive me,” he still hesitates, as if afraid to take another step. “I fixed it. I think I did. Just… please…”

For the first time in forever, the voice doesn’t come from within her own head—it’s real, right beside her. His real voice. But the weight of the new suspicion is so heavy, so full of sorrow, that if they had been near the island’s shore, she is certain the grief alone would have pulled her under the waves straight to the ocean floor. From the way Ominis remains perfectly still and silent and only furrows his brow, she knows he feels the same.

The brief hope they had is mercilessly gone.

The pyramid’s peaks emit a soft silver glow, their rhythmic pulses no more spreading through the ground and the walls. A faint light seeps from the crack, sluggish and indifferent, as though the relic knows it has no audience. And even if Sebastian Sallow weren’t lying motionless on the stone floor and was still able to be interested in anything, he wouldn’t have seen this glow no matter how hard he tried.

The glow pulses at the four peaks, climbing the ridges toward the highest, the only still unlit point. When it reaches the top, it gives a last, weak flicker. And fades.

A last, feeble shudder runs through the relic. Then, there is only stillness. Probably the kind that exists in the last fragile second before an unstoppable storm.

The relic cracks.

One thin line becomes many, crawling over the relic’s surface like vines overtaking a house, claiming it entirely.

“He just vanished,” she murmurs in disbelief. She barely has time to process it before noticing something worse. “Ominis, the house—it’s fading. Something’s changed.”

The world transforms quickly. She doesn’t even have time to describe what she sees, but soon there is nothing left to describe at all. The wand on the ground is gone. Ominis’ arm remains wrapped around her waist, and she suddenly understands that she must not let him go, so she clasps his hand and presses it tighter against herself.

The house is gone. The elf is nowhere around. There’s even no earth beneath them anymore. No leaves. Nothing but the blackness where the world used to be.

Beside them, on what looks like a floor made of black glass, lies Sebastian. In the vast, consuming darkness, the only glow emanates from beside him. Covered in an endless network of fine lines, the relic appears to still be whole only because of this soft, familiar glow.

“He destroyed it,” she realises, looking closely. “The relic. It looks slightly different now, and it carries a little trace of Ancient Magic.”

“So using your magic wasn’t the wrong choice. Maybe that’s what altered the relic and allowed it to be destroyed. But why did he appear so briefly?”

“He’s… he’s here as well.”

She guides Ominis’ other hand to Sebastian’s shoulder, and he tightens his fingers uncertainly around the damp fabric of the shirt.

“Tell me, is it just me, or…”

She knows. She doesn’t understand why, but she’s glad to know. “This is strange, but… yes. Maybe…”

She glances around quickly, but there is nothing. Nothing at all. The void stretches on, endless, empty. The last traces of the faint glow continue to fade.

“Nothing?” Ominis asks, but she can hear it in his voice—he knows the answer.

“Nothing,” she says, because she has to say it out loud. “If all this was tied to the relic, that means we… we’ll be…”

She knows, with unbearable certainty, what’s happening. There’s nothing they can do to change it. And the only thing that truly matters now remains unknown—what comes next.

“Hey. It’s alright. This is just a dream. Any moment now, we’ll wake up,” Ominis murmurs, lightly lifting her chin. “You hear me? There will be no more nightmares. All of them are over now.”

She watches the tiny reflections of light flicker in his eyes as she trembles in his arms again. She doubts it will happen the way he describes, but the way he says it soothes her.

So she accepts it.

And from acceptance comes peace.

From peace comes… hope. The last one.

She reaches for the silver glow of the relic, if anything of the original relic remains at all. For the last time, she calls upon this magic, and it obeys, eagerly, almost as if it’s glad to. The glow drifts with her hand as she lowers it onto Ominis’ fingers, which have just returned to Sebastian’s shoulder, as if he had known exactly what she was about to do.

“It’s alright,” Ominis says, leaning slightly toward Sebastian. “It’s not your fault. None of us is to blame.”

“No more nightmares,” she adds firmly, watching as the edges of their fingers blur, dissolving within the dwindling glow. She looks away, squeezing her eyes shut, curling forward, her forehead pressing against Ominis’ chest.

The sharpest pain now comes from knowing that their final days, their last months together, had been filled with confusion and suffering. And that those months were truly their last.

“I… I wish we had more time,” she says.

“Let’s find each other again when we wake up, alright?”

She barely nods. “Alright.”

“Just please, don’t be too hard to spot. I’m not exactly great at hide-and-seek.”

A weak laugh escapes her as she sinks further into his embrace. His hand settles over her head. His other hand moves slowly, smoothing down her back in a measured rhythm—steady, unchanging, like the tide rolling in and out. Her trembling lessens with each pass of his touch, and at last, she feels safe, fully sheltered—not just from the endless emptiness that’s already around, but from whatever comes next.

The last traces of the silver glow fade away. The relic lingers only for a heartbeat more, as if offering a final farewell, before it shatters into countless fragments, each no larger than a speck of dust.

xxx

Sebastian Sallow’s pulse hammers against his ribs, wild and unsteady. Each breath he exhales pushes the tiny piles of dust away from his face. He doesn’t dare to move yet.

He listens.

The voices reach him, but for the first time, they bring no fear. There is no anger in them for some reason. No hatred. He doesn’t like that. He thinks back to his own thoughts, but the weight of self-loathing is no longer there somehow. It isn’t his choice—he doesn’t want any relief—but he lacks the strength to fight. His gaze catches on the scattered dust, and suddenly, he knows what it is.

He actually did it. It worked. The relic is gone.

As he steps outside on unsteady legs, he shields his eyes from the light that burns his eyes. It’s too bright and feels almost too warm for autumn. He looks toward the white tombstone. There’s no one there, of course.

He trembles, feeling his body surrendering to exhaustion. He stumbles back inside and sinks onto the first sofa he finds.

He sleeps for hours, peaceful, dreamless, and unmoving. This sleep will definitely settle something inside him. When he wakes up, he will know what to say to people who keep asking. He will know how to return to work he once loved, and he will love it again. He will live.

And no one in this house will ever suffer another nightmare.

P.s. I couldn't have said in the beginning but it was partially inspired by 'The Others'. Thank you for reading, your feedback is very much appreciated ❤️🥹

#MIND THE TAGS #something possessed me again #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis x fmc #sebastian sallow fanfiction #ominis gaunt fanfiction #hogwarts legacy mc #ominis x mc #Ominis Gaunt x fMC fanfiction #hogwarts legacy oneshot

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nanasrkives · 1 day ago

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── .✦ "LINES WE CROSS" ─ Gojo Satoru

Finally posting the gojo smut, took me two goddamn weeks to write it MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! content : fem!reader. mentions of alcohol. heavy tension. explicit smut. oral fem receiving. oral male receiving. piv sex. overstimulation. 5779 words.

The bottle of whiskey had long been drained to the last drop, leaving a haze of alcohol in the air and a certain buzz between you and Gojo that neither of you had planned for.

The silence had grown heavy with unspoken words, but the words didn’t matter anymore. The air between you was too thick with tension—tension that had been building ever since the first mission you’d worked together. That first time you’d hooked up, the night of wild abandon that had made you swear off ever letting Gojo in again. Once was too much. And yet here you were again, barely holding on to any kind of rational thought.

You leaned back against the couch, your arms folded across your chest, the same way you always did when you were trying to hide how much his presence affected you. You’d done this dance too many times before. Every little push, every little tease—he knew exactly how to get under your skin. But you also knew exactly who he was, the strongest. Untouchable. Someone who would never truly let anyone close, least of all someone like you.

You swirled your glass, watching the amber liquid slosh around. “I should have just left when I had the chance,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him, though you knew Gojo had heard every word.

He tilted his head, his lips twitching in that damn smirk that always made your heart skip. “What’s the matter? Changed your mind? Don’t think you can handle another round?” His voice had a teasing edge, but underneath it was that dark undertone—the same undertone that had caused you to make one of the most reckless decisions of your life the first time you let yourself fall into his orbit.

You ignored the heat that crept up your neck and looked him dead in the eye. “You know exactly what I mean.”

A chuckle escaped him, low and slow. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the first time.” There it was — the exact moment you both had been dancing around for months. The hook-up that never should have happened, but had — and now, it was looming like a shadow between you, taunting you both.

You turned your gaze away, staring at nothing, trying to fight the memory of that night. His hands on your skin, the way he had kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered for those brief moments, the way everything had blurred together in that dangerous combination of recklessness and desire. That night had made you question everything you thought you knew about him... and about yourself.

But you couldn’t afford to get lost in that again. Gojo was chaos wrapped in a pretty package — too powerful, too untouchable, too... dangerous. The world knew him as the strongest, but you knew the truth. You’d seen enough of what that meant —enough to know it wasn’t a title you wanted to share with him. There would be consequences, there always were.

“I can’t do this again,” you said, more to your own sanity than to him, the words slipping out before you could stop them. But your voice was shaky, and you knew—he knew—it wasn’t because you didn’t want it. It was because you did.

He was close now, too close. The heat of his body radiated against you, his hand casually resting on the back of the couch just a few inches from your shoulder. You could feel the air between you thicken, the undeniable pull that always existed whenever he was near.

Gojo’s voice dropped an octave, the teasing gone. “You really think you can just walk away from this, huh?” His fingers brushed against the back of your neck, slow and deliberate, a touch so light, yet so heavy with meaning. The last time he’d done that, your breath had caught in your throat, and you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from leaning into him.

And there it was — the tension, crackling in the air like lightning. You clenched your fists, trying to steady yourself, but his proximity was too much. His presence always was. The way his eyes locked with yours, like he could see right through every wall you’d carefully built between you.

“I’m not some easy fix for whatever twisted thing you think you want tonight,” you said, your voice low, trying to convince both him and yourself that you weren’t already halfway lost. You tried to ignore the sharp pang in your chest—the ache that came from the truth you’d buried too deep.

Gojo’s lips curled up into a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something darker there now, something that made you hold your breath. “You think I don’t know exactly who you are?” he asked, his voice softer, almost a whisper. “I’ve known from the moment we met, how rational you are, how you try to keep yourself in control. But tonight…” He trailed off, stepping closer until your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “Tonight, you’re just like me.”

You felt his thumb trace along the curve of your jaw, and your breath hitched. That was the problem — he was right. You were just like him. Just as reckless. Just as hungry. And the truth of it — of what was happening between you right now —terrified you in a way you couldn’t put into words.

“No more games,” he murmured, leaning in, his breath hot against your ear. “One more time. Just one more time, and then we can forget about it. You don’t have to feel anything.”

You closed your eyes, fighting the wave of desire crashing over you. You hated that he was making it sound so simple. You hated that you did want it.

But you knew better. You always knew better. You’d seen the way he was with others, seen the damage that followed in his wake. Being with him once had been a mistake. Being with him again? That could break everything. You could break everything.

But you also knew that tonight—this moment—was slipping out of your control. And part of you wanted to let it.

“I won’t be your damn distraction,” you finally whispered, breathless. But even you could hear the lie in your own voice.

Gojo didn’t need to hear any more. With a sharp, almost predatory move, he closed the distance between you. The kiss was hard and demanding, the kind that said words were pointless now. His hands roamed down your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt, as if he couldn’t wait any longer.

You should have stopped him. You should have. But you didn’t.

The kiss deepened, and your hands instinctively tangled in his hair, tugging him closer. The urgency of it was almost frantic, like you were both trying to find something in the other — something you couldn’t name. Something dangerous. You could taste the whiskey on his lips, your teeth clashing as his lips moved against yours in a way that had your pulse spiking. It was messy. Reckless. Just like the way you both lived your lives.

Gojo’s hands were on you, too quick, too desperate. His fingers slid down your back, tugging at the fabric of your shirt, pulling it free from your waist. There was no hesitation in his touch — no second guessing. It was like he knew exactly where to touch, where to make you gasp, where to make your body respond. He was good at this. Too good. And you hated it, but you couldn’t stop yourself from reacting.

His breath was hot against your lips when he pulled back just a fraction, his voice low, almost guttural. “Still think I can’t handle you?”

You swallowed, trying to steady your breath, but his words sent a sharp tremor through you. “Don’t get cocky,” you managed to say, but it came out more breathless than you intended. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you hated how easy it was for him to break through your defenses.

Without warning, his hands unclasped your bra, fingers brushing the curve of your ribcage, sending a shiver down your spine. You wanted to pull away — wanted to remind yourself of who he was, what he was — but your body was betraying you. You could feel the heat rising between you, could feel your body inching closer to his, craving that contact, that release.

Gojo didn’t waste time. He took one of your breasts in his hot mouth, twirling his tongue around your hard nipple while his fingertips pinched your other nipple, making you bite down on your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. He was so confident—too confident. You felt him smirk against your mouth, sensing your reaction, and it only made everything worse.

His lips moved down from your chest, planting soft, deliberate kisses across the curve of your ribs, trailing lower with each kiss, as his breath warmed your skin, making its way down to the sensitive skin of your lower stomach until, without warning, his teeth sank lightly into your sensitive skin. The sudden bite made your body jerk, and you gasped, "fuck! Gojo!" before a breathless moan escaped your lips, as the sharp sensation left you reeling.

“Satoru,” he corrects, his voice thick with amusement, before his hands pulled your skirt down “If you’re gonna scream my name tonight, might as well get used to it now.” His fingers ghosted over your inner thigh, dangerously close but never quite where you needed him. Then he paused, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as his fingers brushed against the damp fabric, feeling the heat radiating through. “Damn, this wet already ?” he murmured, voice dropping to a low rasp, “just for me”

Gojo slid your damp panties down, peppering kisses in your inner thighs until he was face to face with your leaking pussy. He spread your thighs gently, settling between them like he belonged there. His eyes met yours, holding your gaze as his mouth lowered, a silent promise hidden in his cerulean irises. The first touch of his tongue was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to memorize the way you tasted. He never looked away, even as your back arched, even as your breath hitched—like he needed to watch you fall apart.

Before you could catch your breath, he did it again, this time with more pressure, his tongue flattening against your lips, deliberate and unrelenting. A sound slipped out—half gasp, half moan—and you hated how easy it was for him to pull it from your mouth. His fingers tightened, thumbs digging into the soft skin of your hips like he liked the way you were already unraveling for him.

"Fuck, right there," you breathed, head tipping back against the pillows, your fingers instinctively sliding into his hair, gripping like you needed an anchor . His hair was soft, but there was nothing gentle about the way he worked his mouth against you—teasing, tasting, like he had something to prove.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against my slick skin. “So sensitive,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement and something darker, more possessive. His tongue flicked against your core again, quick and sharp, and you choked on a moan, your thighs trembling around his shoulders.

“Satoru,” you gasped, not even thinking, just feeling—too much, too fast, not enough.

That smug grin curved against you before he growled, low and satisfied, “Yeah, just like that.”

Then he was back at it—faster now, tongue and lips working in tandem, relentless in the way only he could be. Your body arched off the couch, heat coiling tight in your stomach, every nerve ending sparking like you were going to come apart right there in his hands. And maybe you would. Maybe that’s exactly what he wanted.

Just when you thought you'd found your footing—breath ragged, heart pounding—his mouth shifted slightly, and you felt the slow drag of his fingers sliding along your inner thigh. The anticipation was unbearable, your body already hypersensitive from the relentless pull of his tongue. Then—

His fingers slipped between your folds, slick with your juices, and the sudden contrast of his touch—cooler, firmer—made you gasp, your hips bucking helplessly into him. He didn’t miss a beat. One finger eased in, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to feel every inch, like he wanted me to feel every inch. You clenched around him instinctively, a breathless moan spilling from your lips.

“So fucking tight,” he muttered against you, the words a low growl vibrating right through your core, making you shudder. He sounded almost wrecked himself, like the effect he had on you was doing something to him, too.

Then he added a second finger, stretching you just enough to make go into euphoria, his movements unhurried but devastatingly precise. His fingers curled inside you, searching—finding—that spot that made your vision blur for a second, a choked cry slipping past your lips.

“There it is,” he murmured, smug and satisfied, like he’d just solved some impossible puzzle. His tongue didn’t stop, circling, flicking, sucking—his fingers thrusting in a steady rhythm, hitting that perfect spot over and over until your thighs trembled around his head, until you were gasping his name like a prayer you didn’t believe in.

“Satoru—” It was barely a whisper, more a broken sound than a word, but it made him groan against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure crashing through your entire being. Your fingers tightened in his hair, anchoring as the heat coiled tighter, sharper, until it felt like it might snap.

His pace quickened, fingers curling with more purpose, tongue dragging slow, deliberate circles around your clit before sucking it between his lips, and that was it—

The tension snapped, sharp and blinding, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your back arched off the couch, a broken moan spilling from your lips, too loud, too raw to care. Your thighs clamped around his head, shaking as the orgasm ripped through you, white-hot and endless, every nerve in your body lit up like a live wire.

He didn’t stop—not right away. His fingers kept moving, coaxing every last ripple of pleasure from you, his mouth softening from relentless to tender, easing you through the aftershocks until you were nothing but a trembling, breathless mess beneath him.

When he finally pulled back, his lips shiny, his grin wicked, he looked up at you with that infuriating glint in his eyes—the one that said he knew exactly what he’d done.

“Told you,” he murmured, voice low and smug, “you’d be moaning my name.”

You were still catching your breath, your core still pulsing, when he moved to hover over your figure, his grin lazy and smug, like he’d just won some unspoken game. But two could play at that.

You pushed at his chest, flipping him over with a burst of energy you didn’t know you had, straddling him before he could make some cocky remark. His grin widened, clearly entertained by your sudden boldness, but it faltered just a little when you leaned down, your mouth brushing against his ear.

"Your turn," you whispered, your voice still ragged from the moans he’d pulled from you moments ago.

His breath hitched—not that he’d ever admit it—and you felt the shift in his body beneath your hips, the tension winding tight as you kissed your way down his neck, nipping at the spot just below his jaw that made him suck in a sharp breath. You didn’t rush, dragging your lips lower, over his chest, pausing just long enough to let your teeth graze his skin. The way his muscles tensed beneath you was addictive.

By the time you reached the waistband of his pants, his cock was already hard, straining against the fabric. You shot him a look—half challenge, half promise—before sliding them down, watching the way his chest rose and fell a little faster, like he was finally feeling the same edge he’d left you on for far too long.

You wrapped your fingers around him first, just to hear that sharp inhale, the way his jaw clenched like he was trying to hold back. Smug bastard deserved a little payback.

Leaning down, you licked a slow stripe along the length of him, watching his reaction out of the corner of your eye. His head tipped back slightly, a low curse slipping from his lips, but that wasn’t enough. You took him into your mouth, slowly at first, letting him feel every inch, hollowing your cheeks as you sank deeper, your tongue working against him.

His hand found its way into your hair, fingers tightening reflexively as you set a rhythm—slow, then faster, alternating just enough to keep him on edge. You could feel the tension in his thighs, the way his hips twitched slightly, like he wanted to thrust but was holding back. Good.

"Holy fuck," he breathed, his voice low and rough, a stark contrast to the usual cocky confidence. “You’re really trying to kill me, huh?”

You pulled back just enough to smirk, your lips slick and swollen. “Who said I’m done?”

Then you took him back in, deeper this time, your hand working in tandem with your mouth, determined to unravel him the way he’d done to you. His groans grew rougher, his grip in your hair tighter, his control slipping with every flick of your tongue, every bobs of your head, until his head fell back with a strained moan, completely undone beneath you.

"Shit, shit, fuck—," his breathing grew ragged, chest rising and falling in quick, uneven bursts, but it was the way his fingers tightened in your hair—just enough to make your scalp tingle—that told you he was close. That cocky edge in his voice had long since faded, replaced by something raw, his control slipping with every flick of your tongue, every twist of your wrist.

You didn’t ease up. If anything, you went harder—sucking him deeper, your hand stroking the base in perfect rhythm with my mouth. His hips jerked slightly, instinctive and desperate, a low, guttural groan spilling from his lips like he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

"Shit—” His voice was wrecked, strained with the effort of holding on, but you weren’t giving him the chance to recover. Your free hand gripped his thigh, feeling the tension coil tighter beneath your fingertips as his muscles locked, his whole body straining toward that edge

You glanced up through your lashes just in time to see it—the way his jaw clenched, head tipping back against the pillows, eyes dilated and wild as he met your gaze. That look alone sent a rush of heat through your soul, like you were the one unraveling.

"Fuck, I’m—” The words cut off with a sharp inhale as he finally let go, hips bucking slightly despite the grip he still had on your hair. You didn’t stop, didn’t pull away, swallowing every last bit of semen as he came, his groans low and ragged, spilling into the thick, heated air between you.

When he finally went still, chest heaving, you pulled back slowly, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, smirking just enough to let him know weren’t done having the upper hand.

His eyes found yours, half-lidded, a lazy grin spreading across his face even as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re trying to kill me,” he rasped, voice rough and satisfied.

"Maybe," You shot back, your voice low, leaning in just enough to brush your lips against his. “Or maybe I just like watching you fall apart.”

His breathing was still uneven, chest rising and falling in heavy waves, but the lazy grin on his face didn’t last long—not when you shifted, straddling his hips again, feeling the hard line of him still pressing against your core already recovering. His hands found your waist, fingers digging in like he needed to ground himself, but there was hunger in his eyes now, something darker and sharper beneath the smugness.

“You think we’re done?” you whispered, your voice low, teasing, rolling your hips just enough to make him curse under his breath. His fingers tightened, dragging you down until there was no space left between you both, the heat of him pressed right against where you were still aching, slick and ready.

“Not even close,” he rasped, voice rough and frayed around the edges.

In one quick motion, he flipped you, pinning you beneath him, his mouth crashing against yours—desperate, all teeth and tongue, tasting your lips like he couldn’t get enough. His hand slid between you, fingers gliding over your sensitive skin, teasing for just a second before lining himself up. Your eyes met, breath mingling, the tension stretched so tight it felt like something might snap.

Then he pushed in, slow but relentless, filling your pussy inch by inch until the stretch stole the air from your lungs. Your back arched, nails digging into his shoulders, a broken sound escaping your lips before you could stop it. He groaned against your neck, his control unraveling as he bottomed out, the heat and pressure overwhelming, perfect.

He didn’t move at first, just stayed there, buried deep, like he wanted you to feel every inch of him, to know exactly what he was doing to you. Then he pulled back, hips snapping forward with a sharp thrust that made you gasp, your body clenching around him instinctively.

“Fuck, you feel—” he cut himself off with another thrust, harder this time, his rhythm quickly losing that teasing edge, turning into something rougher, more desperate. His hand slid under your thigh, lifting it to angle deeper, and the new position made you cry out, fingers clawing at his back, trying to anchor myself against the onslaught.

“Oh my god—Satoru,” you gasped, your voice barely recognizable, wrecked and breathless.

He growled in response, his pace brutal now, like he was trying to fuck the words right out of you, and maybe he was—because soon, all you could do was moan, his name spilling from your lips over and over, tangled with curses and gasps, completely undone beneath him.

"Harder, fuck me harder," you suddenly panted, digging your nails on his back. Beads of sweat trickled down Gojo's forehead as he fulfilled your plea, his hips slamming more vigorously in your tight cunt. "God you're so fucking tight baby," he moaned feeling your walls clenching as you could feel your orgasm building up.

He slid his finger to your clit, flickering it at an ungodly pace—and shit—you felt your mind going into delirium. Gojo thrusted even deeper within you, hitting in an instant your sweet spot. "shit, i'm gonna cum," you whispered, your body convulsing with pleasure from his thrusts and friction of his fingers on your clit. "fuck, fuck—cum for me baby" You clenched your legs against his hips sending jolts of electricity in your bodies, moaning his name like a mantra, until, you unfolded feeling all your senses crashing out, and you swore you could see stars.

His breath hitched as you orgasmed, feeling your walls clench impossibly tight around his length sending him over the edge. "You did so well for me baby" he whispered, stroking your head. "Now hold on a little longer for me," he rasped as he kept thrusting at a fast pace.

You can feel the tension building again, your body already overstimulated from the previous round, but Gojo is relentless, his pace not slowing down. His hands are all over you, fingers digging into your skin, pulling you closer as he presses deeper. Your body is responding to him before your mind can catch up, trembling with every movement, every brush of his body against yours.

“Satoru…” You barely manage to whisper his name, your voice shaky, desperate. The sensations are overwhelming, and yet, there’s no stopping now. You’re close again, too close to the edge, and it’s like your body has no choice but to follow his rhythm, even as your mind screams for relief from the intensity.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice hoarse, and the sound of it only drives you further toward the breaking point. His movements are getting faster, harder, and you can feel him tightening inside you, his own need growing, but it doesn’t stop him from making you feel every inch of him as he pushes you to the edge once more.

You’re gasping for air, barely able to focus on anything but the overwhelming pressure building in you, your body already raw from the overstimulation. The heat surges again, your senses on fire as he hits that perfect spot deep inside you, and you can’t hold back the cry that escapes your lips, a broken sound of pure pleasure. You come apart beneath him, your body trembling underneath him as your second orgasm crashes down on you like a wave, leaving you trembling, breathless, your fingers digging into his back as if you might break.

But Gojo doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting, his hips snapping against you in an unrelenting rhythm. He can feel you tightening around him, but he’s not finished yet. The way you just fell apart under him only pushes him closer to the edge, makes his own control slip just a little more. He’s fighting to hold on, his teeth gritted, and you can hear the strain in his voice as he breathes out, voice rough with need.

“Not done yet,” he growls, his hand slipping between your bodies, fingers brushing against your clit with just the right pressure, driving you even crazier. The sensation of him so close, still so deep inside you, combined with his touch on that sensitive spot sends another shock through your body, your muscles tensing as if your body has no choice but to react. You feel like you're drowning in pleasure, the overstimulation so much that you can barely breathe, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down.

His name slips from your lips in a breathless gasp, and you can feel his control unraveling, his movements getting sloppier as the release starts to build inside him. You’re still trembling from your own orgasm, but as his pace picks up one last time, you can tell he’s close. His eyes are squeezed shut, his jaw clenched, and when he finally comes, it’s with a deep, guttural groan, his body trembling as he fills you, his hips stuttering against yours.

He collapses against you, his body heavy and warm as he catches his breath, but there’s a moment where neither of you moves, both of you feeling the aftershocks of the intense release. You’re both shaking, your bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding as the room finally falls silent except for the sound of your labored breathing.

You’re still gasping for air, your chest rising and falling unevenly as you try to catch your breath, the remnants of your orgasm still pulsing through you. Your body is a mess of tingling nerves, overstimulated, every nerve ending still on edge as Gojo holds you close. He doesn’t pull away immediately, staying connected, his arms still wrapped around you, keeping you anchored to the present.

“Shit…” Gojo mutters, his voice rough, breathless, as he rests his forehead against your shoulder, his chest rising and falling with the aftershock of his own release. There’s a sense of exhaustion in his movements now, but his grip on you doesn’t loosen. He stays there for a moment longer, as though reluctant to break the connection between you two.

You feel the heat of his body pressing against yours, the weight of him both comforting and overwhelming. You’re still reeling, your body aching from the intensity of what just happened. Every part of you still feels sensitive, your mind hazy from pleasure and overstimulation. Gojo’s breath slows as he shifts slightly, pulling back just enough to look at you, but there’s a softness in his gaze that wasn’t there before.

“You good?” he asks, his voice low, rough with the aftermath. There’s no teasing now, no cocky smirk, just genuine concern. His thumb brushes over your cheek, his touch unexpectedly tender as if checking that you’re still intact after everything. His other hand trails down your arm, fingertips tracing the outline of your skin, grounding you in the moment, reminding you that he’s still here.

You open your eyes, looking at him through the haze of exhaustion, and try to muster some semblance of a response. “You didn’t break me, if that’s what you’re asking,” you say, your voice still shaky, but there’s a teasing tone there. It’s the best you can do right now, but the truth is, you don’t have the energy to play games. You just need to recover, to breathe.

Gojo’s lips curl into that familiar smirk, but it’s more tired than usual. It’s almost… affectionate, a rare side of him that you don’t always get to see. He shifts, pulling his arm from around your neck, but not completely pulling away from you. His eyes linger on you for a moment, something unspoken passing between you both, before he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your temple, a quiet gesture that makes your heart skip a beat.

He shifts his weight, finally pulling out slowly, and the absence of him inside you feels strangely empty, like the room is suddenly too quiet, too still. You can still feel the warmth of his skin against yours as he moves beside you, his hand finding yours, fingers curling around yours in a possessive, yet comforting gesture. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s something in the way he holds onto you—something almost protective as if he’s not ready to let go just yet.

And even though neither of you says it, neither of you moves away, as if acknowledging the weight of the moment—too much, too heavy, but still lingering. Eventually, the tension begins to settle, replaced by the quiet exhaustion of two people who’ve crossed a line they can’t easily return from.

2025 © NANASRKIVES. / do not copy, repost, edit, plagiarize, or translate any of my works on any platforms, including ai.

Taglist (OPEN). / @cherrysurf @gothamscunt

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo x you #jjk smut #smut #x reader #fem reader

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avifaunaa · 2 days ago

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Natasha + R rambles [ htwswy ]

Authors Note: I’m a little tired from posting that monster of a chapter for Rio yesterday — so until I regain some brain juice back I’ll share some little cutsie rambles about Nat/R from the htwswy-verse! I know you guys love this fic a lot so if you want to know more about it please know my anons are open!

Masterlist

Summary: N/A | rambles

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Content Warnings: a tiny mention of self-harm, but other than that none! Mostly humor, fluff, the good stuff.

• Natasha and you probably get another cat not long after you guys get super duper serious — Liho was so pissed

• Out of the two of you, believe it or not, Natasha’s likely less likely to start an argument and more likely to find a solution to one.

• It actually took a while for Yelena to warm up to you despite whatever we think we see in chapter 1. Natasha is her sister and nobody is good enough for her sister until she can decide they are. “A while” is actually six months — making the offhand Yelena-like comments even when she agreed to your attempts to reach out for hangouts to watch Studio Ghibli movies.

• When she does decide you’re perfect for Natasha [ “I’m glad you approve,” you told the blonde blandly as you sat across from her at breakfast, oatmeal untouched and eyes uncaring, “but we’ve been dating for a year now.” She pointedly ignored you, as she usually does. ] she goes to Natasha herself and says so.

• Natasha wasn’t amused.

• Natasha who doesn’t seek out cuddling at bedtime immediately due to her fear of what could happen if she’s tangled up with you during a night terror. Short of flinging you into the wall and making Tony pay a hefty repair fee, you weren’t sure there was much.

• She admired the size of your balls, honestly, considering she could kill you.

• You laughed at her despite the severity of the situation she felt — whereas you didn’t. You didn’t think she’d be able to before waking up.

• It turns out you were right — she always ended up awake with you somehow touching her. On top of her chest, curled up against her, spooning her, spooning you.

• When Natasha sat you down and told you the full story about her history — from the Red Room until the defeat of Thanos — you didn’t seem to know how to take it. But you did know how to respond to her opening up: you took care of her. You disappeared only to return with a dangling Liho in your arms and plopped her into Nat’s lap while you gathered various items for a lazy day on the couch.

—> “I need you to say something,” Natasha finally admitted after you hadn’t spoken about it for a few minutes, television murmuring in the background as she stroked Liho’s soft fur. “Just tell me what you’re thinking?”

—> You lifted your head off her shoulder to look directly at her. “I think,” you started slowly, picking at your leggings, “that you’re one of the bravest people I have ever met and the good you do in the world despite the amount of wrong it has done to you is a feat that I will always admire and love you for.”

—> It was a beautiful response — and not an “I’m so sorry” to be found in there either. She kissed you just to tell you how much it meant to her. That her past didn’t change how you in her eyes. As your partner, your fiercest protector, and your best friend.

• Natasha Romanoff who comes home busted up form missions and you hackle like a cat and fuss over her, poking and prodding each wound, demanding to know where they came from and “why the fuck did you come see me before going to Cho?” and only when did she notice you were in near tears did she stop coming to you before going to Cho.

• Natasha who finishes trying the coffee menu at her normal spot and approaches you about how it makes her feel.

—> You bring a list of suggestions for other local places in the city to start going to

—> It’s cute how she worries about never going back — but you make a promise that for every new place you try you always go to the usual spot once a week

• Natasha who notices your ticks and understands when you work as a way to self-soothe or self-harm.

• This causes her to visit more frequently and break the streak of the period you work so you can go to bed, or eat some food, take a shower — whatever it takes to get you away from the lab.

• Natasha who introduces you fully to the team. She looks entirely too proud of herself, eyes so lovely and soft, and you as Thor slams down the hammer and dares you to play the game nobody ( but Steve Rogers, but Thor conveniently leaves that out ) can win but him.

—> Natasha comforts you when you go :( after ten long minutes of attempting to peel that stupid hammer off the table while everyone eggs you on, knowing full well it won’t happen

—> “It was not a game you were excepted to win — none of us can,” she assured you.

I LOVE THESE IDIOTS SO MUCH CHAT

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #htwswy #blurb #PART THREE WILL BE COMING I PROMISE #IF U THINK IT CANT GET SOFTER UR ABSOLUTELY WRONG

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berryispunk · 9 hours ago

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Grocery Shopping

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

summary: Your plan was to shop for groceries, Frankie had other ideas.

tags/warnings: explicit 18+, dirty talk, public sex, teasing, nickames (baby, princesita), Frankie has a filthy mouth, unprotected PinV, creampie (wrap it up, folks!), established relationship, soft! dom Frankie, a mirror, soft! Frankie, porn with a tiny sprinkle of plot, no physical description of reader apart from a pony tail, no use of y/n

notes: This only exists thanks to the post of @marshmallow--3 and their dream I found this morning. I hope this does your original idea justice :) <3 no beta reading, we die with the sinking ship

word count: 2k

After your ex left you you swore off love and men.

He made you feel unwanted, kicked your self worth with his feet and generally was an awful human being, but it didn’t stop you from crying.

Days turned into weeks where you were mourning something that only was perfect in your imagination because if you’d be real to yourself you knew you’re better off without him.

After the grief switched to rage you found yourself slowly enjoying going out again. Mingling with your friends in your standard bar like every Friday was when you spotted him. Tall, broad and a smile so contagious it created little butterflies in your stomach instantly.

You didn’t dare to go over to him and his equally attractive friends, so you observed for a while instead.

Some stolen glances and a Friday later, same time, same place, he finally came over and took a seat next to you at the bar. Asked what your drink of choice was, held eye contact the whole time, seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say and the warm feeling in your chest grew with every minute.

You quickly learned that his name was Frankie and you adored his name, repeating it in your head, tasting it on your own tongue and liked the taste more than you should after this short encounter with a man you just met. But something was different about Frankie and it made you both nervous and intrigued.

As weeks went on you enjoyed every single date with Frankie. He always showed up, kept his promises and never made you question your worth in any way. He worshiped the ground you walked on, wasn’t afraid to show public displays of affections, not when you were alone and also not when you were out with his or your friends.

Frankie effortlessly healed all the wounds your ex left and made you feel like floating.

It was too good to be true you told yourself, there had to be a catch.

But as weeks turned into months, him crashing at your place every chance he got, filling in the empty place in your heart and bed perfectly, it made you happier than you ever were before.

He made your heart skip a beat with his sweet nothings he never was afraid to whisper into your ear and he also never failed to make your panties wet just by his attentive nature. Frankie thrived in your pleasure, never grew tired of letting you know how much he adored every single inch of you, even the parts you were so insecure about like your soft belly and back rolls. But Frankie loved it all the same, covering every inch of your soft skin with kisses and tiny love bites which made you giggle every time.

He made you feel absolutely desired, something you so vainly missed in your prior relationship. This man made you feel like you could conquer the world as long as you were together.

Today, when the two of you are at the supermarket to grab some groceries for dinner you can’t help but tease him a bit. You’re wearing a strapless tank top without a bra because it is a particularly hot and humid summer day in Florida. All your clothes sticking to your skin, same as his but it isn’t gross. Actually the slight smell of his sweat turns you on incredibly much and in this heat he even has ditched his damn baseball cap for once, revealing his messy curls and a few of his unruly strands sticking to his temples and you withstand the urge to kiss and lick his sweat covered skin.

In the store you are at now, the AC is turned up all the way to max making your nipples almost painfully hard and mostly visible under the thin cotton fabric of your top.

You stand in the cereal aisle as you reach for the highest shelf, tip toeing while your tongue sticks out in exertion.

Just in this moment Frankie comes around the corner and freezes in his step as he sees you reaching up and your breasts on full display.

You don't notice him until there’s a low sound from next to you, almost a growl coming deep from his throat as he steps behind you and mumbles

“You need some help over there, baby?” as he presses his way bigger and hard frame against yours, making you feel his reaction to your little act against your backside.

You have to bite your lips to not moan out loud at the feeling.

He effortlessly reaches the cereal package and throws it into the basket you're holding before his calloused fingertips caress along your bare arms which are covered in goosebumps, definitely not only because of the icy AC air.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You want me to fuck you right here in the store or what was that lil’ act for?” he whispers against the shell of your ear and you shake your head, but you feel the heat pooling in your lower body immediately.

His goddamn filthy mouth.

“ ‘m sorry…” you purr and his hands find your hips, grabbing them tightly, pressing you even more against his hardened need and you mewl in response.

“Damn tease”, he whispers hoarsely before he turns you around and takes your hand,the basket you were holding dropping to the ground and walks with fast steps through the aisles towards the restroom.

Once you’ve reached the restroom you try not to think about the hygiene too much but you don’t have much time to wrap your head around it because Frankie’s lips crash into yours with such force your back slams against the door of the restroom.

He’s not breaking the kiss while he locks the door and hoists you up like you weigh nothing as you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

The kiss is so intense it leaves you breathless real quickly and you don’t remember him ever invading your mouth like this.

His kisses wander over your neck, to your collarbone, hot and open mouthed before he pulls down your top and latches onto your breast.

His tongue skillfully plays with the hardened bud before his teeth graze it gently which makes you whine desperately and the grip on the locks in the ape of his neck tightening.

He gives your other nipple the same attention, his tongue swirling around it as he braces himself up with one hand against the door.

His other hand wanders between your bodies as it snakes into your thin linen shorts and he grins against your neck triumphantly as he feels you're already soaking.

“Damn naughty girl, you like that don’t you ?” he purrs as he sucks at your neck and his hands explore your folds.

Drawing small, teasing circles before his two digits enter you and curl inside your walls coaxing a really needy moan out of you which he swallows as he kisses you again.

You’re mirroring his eagerness as you open his jeans shorts and pull them down just as much as needed to wrap your hand around his girthy length which makes him hiss instantly and it’s one of your absolute favorite sounds.

You pump him a few times, your hand already covered in precum as your thumb runs over his rosy tip before he bucks his hips more into your hand.

“Just as eager, hm?” you tease him as he gives you a throaty laugh in return before he removes his hand from your center and uses it to help him ease into you instead, pushing your airy shorts just to the side.

Your eyes find his as he does, making your cheeks burn hot but you don’t look away, neither does he, and it makes the moment so much more intense as he slowly pushes all the way in, burying himself up to the hilt and giving you a moment to adjust to him.

The familiar sting of him filling you up completely is the only pain you’re happy to endure before both hands palm your ass, squeezing it and he begins thrusting into you, gentle at first but he’s too pent up to hold back as the thrusts quickly get harder.

The obscene noise of him pumping into you fills the air and without warning he lets you down the ground and guides you in front of the milky mirror of the old restroom, bending you over the sink while he yanks your head back on your pony tail, his other hand guiding himself into you again and you moan loudly at the new angle he fucks you in.

“Look at you”, he commands, nudging his head towards the mirror.

“Look how fucking beautiful you look when I fuck you. Taking me so good, baby” he praises, his grip on your ponytail tightening and forcing you to look into the mirror and you whine helplessly.

His face is one grimace as he hisses again, this time paired with Spanish curses as he picks up the pace and it’s the fucking hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed as you hold onto the sink for dear life while watching him in the mirror.

“What would people think if they saw you like this, dirty girl? Your perfect tits on display for everyone to see?”

You wish you could answer but your mind is way too dazed to even be able to form any coherent words as the knot in your lower belly tightens.

“Frankie, please…” you whimper and it’s sounding way more pathetic than anticipated but you’re too high on pleasure to care.

“Please what, princesita ? Oh, you’re close aren’t you?” he purrs against your neck as he leans forward, his soft stomach pressed against your back as his hands palm your breasts, playing with your hardened nipples and it’s all you need to find your climax.

For a moment it feels like floating as your orgasm reaches you like a freight train and you cry out his name, definitely too loud for a public restroom like this.

“Fuck, baby, shhh” he shushes you, his voice thick with desire.

“Don’t want someone to catch us, do you?” He reminds you and you shake your head as his final last, brutal thrusts rock your world all over again and he finds his own release with a low moan into your ear.

“Fuuuuck….” he exhales breathlessly before kissing the spot behind your ear gently while he paints your inner walls with hot ropes of his cum, making you almost lose it again.

Really contradictory to his previous hard thrusts, you’ll definitely feel for a while, he covers your neck in soft feathery light kisses as you feel him soften inside of you.

After a moment he straightens back up, helping you to rearrange your own clothing to make you halfway presentable again while he grins mischievously, closing the zipper of his shorts. You take one last glance into the mirror, smirking yourself and shaking your head.

“That was definitely a premiere…” you retort and he smirks as he steps towards you again, his hands now on either side of your face.

“You okay?” he asks as he always does when he gets a little rougher with you.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you” you answer and nuzzle his nose with your own.

“You think they already put away our groceries from the basket?” he chuckles, his forehead resting against yours before he kisses it gently and pulls away.

He steps towards the door, unlocking it and holds it open for you.

“I don’t know”, you answer as you step into the store again.

“But what I do know is that I’m fucking hungry now” you laugh and he chimes in with his warm laugh that makes his eyes crinkle, the one you love so much.

It’s moments like this you’re certain that Frankie is the best thing ever happening to you.

my masterlist in case you’re hungry for more :)

most recent work

#frankie morales #francisco morales #triple frontier #frankie catfish morales #fanfiction writer #berryfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #smut #pwp fics #oneshot

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riftdancing · 1 day ago

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Hey...

I know its been a while and I don't usually talk about my IRL on here. I've mentioned briefly in passing that I've been struggling lately and I have every intention of coming back here to continue interacting and posting content.

This is still true.

It is my every intention to resume content soon, but it might be a slow process.

I've been trying to reblog a lot of content but you might notice it doesn't have my usual comments in the tags. That's because I'm just trying to get in the habit of being around this space again and supporting the work I find inspiring. I'm working my way up to leaving comments, but that's a lot of energy from me at the moment.

So I'm starting small.

If you're curious about where I've been, last fall I had a whole bunch of health problems arise that honestly should have put me in the ER (according to my Doctors.) ...But I'm also a stubborn idiot who worked in health care for a few years so I was a dumb ass who didn't go to the ER. ...As a result my current doctor repeatedly stresses at even the most minor inconvenience if I can't get a hold of her now that I should go to the ER because she knows how stubborn I am.

I won't get into what happened or the details of treatment, but I will touch on the fact that as a result of my treatment my hormones went insane for a few months and while my hormones were raging and I was learning to control and understand new felt emotions... the last place on earth I should have been at that time was social media. So I took an extended break, only popping in here and there to deliver on some screenshots.

I'm still kinda... navigating that emotional space, but I also started therapy in November and I've been doing a lot better since with the help of my therapist. So, I'm feeling a bit more socially confident in post.

With some other stuff being resolved, its my plan to get back into the game with this coming patch and live letter. I've really missed being here and in game, and I hope I have a lot to share with you for the rest of the year.

My plan is to slowly start interacting again so I wanted to ask if you could please interact back! I have RSD (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria) which can make it hard for me to come back into spaces like this and I sometimes struggle to understand if I'm still accepted in a space. Your interactions help me to understand that I'm welcome and wanted here so any sort of interaction, be it on tumblr, discord, or whatever, is always deeply appreciated.

Lets make 2025 a great year!

#my pain may be chronic but this bitch is iconic

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hergrandplan · 1 day ago

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"He's the one"

thank you @enjoythesilentworld for this fun tag!!

Post a 1-5 paragraph excerpt of a WIP/fic idea that may never make it out of your drafts but is near and dear to your heart.

I started this so so long ago and actually looked at it a few days ago and realized that this may simply be one I can't figure out. I know what it's supposed to be (exes who are friends, and then Simon gets engaged and Wille becomes his best man) but I don't know how, and either way, I don't think this particular scene will make it in! So here it is, for your enjoyment (yes. this is longer than 1-5 paragraphs. it could have been even longer but there were too many square brackets in the final few that I couldn't figure out. but hey. More cake!)

With a loud “Wille, you’ll never believe what happened!” Simon stormed into the living room, temporarily making Wille look up from the book he was reading. A book he was enjoying.

He already regretted giving Simon the keys to his house. One of these days, he was sure, Wille was going to come home and find Simon splayed out on his couch, having raided his cupboards and eating all his snacks.

“What, Simon?” he said with feigned disinterest, while trying to finish this last paragraph.

Simon grabbed the book out of his hands before he could, and tossed to the other side of the room.

“Hey!” Wille exclaimed. [maybe this needs to be more of a description of the sound like ‘disgruntled noise’ or something but not disgruntled] “I was reading that!”

“You can read later, I have something to tell you.” Simon sat down on the couch next to him, the widest grin possible on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. “I met someone. And I’m pretty sure he’s the one.”

“You said that about the previous guy. And the guy before that. And the guy before that.”

“Yeah, but this time I’m sure of it.” Simon fell back against the couch cushions, and ran a hand through his black curls. “He’s sweet, and considerate, and incredible in bed. I mean the way he–“

“Okay, okay, I do not need to hear you go on about your sexual escapades again, please. Where did you meet him?”

Simon’s hand got stuck in his curls, and he blushed. Actually blushed, and that’s how Wille knew the answer.

“Please don’t say the club.”

Simon didn’t reply.

“Simon, we talked about this. Not every guy you fuck is the one.”

“Yeah, but this time it’s different! I mean, I met him last Saturday and we went out for dinner last night and Wille,” Simon sat up again, stared into Wille’s eyes. “I came from his place just now. I haven’t even been home yet since Saturday. He has a bed frame. A bed frame that is incredibly suitable to – ” Wille gave him a look, and Simon stopped mid-sentence. “Okay, it doesn’t matter what it’s suitable to, but c’mon.”

“Wait, but if you met him Saturday –“ Wille quickly did the math in his head. “Simon, you’ve known this guy for what, 4 days?”

“I know, I know, it’s too soon but truly, I’m telling you, he’s the one. For real this time.”

Wille rolled his eyes and get up to get his book from where Simon had flung it to heedlessly.

“Sure. Tell me again in a month when it hasn’t crashed and burned again, and maybe I’ll believe you.”

Simon’s problem, according to himself, was that he just loved too much and that they were never able to handle it. And maybe he was right, a bit – almost every guy he met was the one until he found they weren’t ready for a relationship, were still in love with their ex, or, in more than one case, had a girlfriend already.

Simon’s problem, according to Wille, was that he couldn’t see past all the raging red flags. Simon would have killed it if he were a bull fighting in the arena.

Not tagging anyone bc Idk who has been tagged already and I sadly dont have the brain capacity or the time for that rn. So if you see this and want to join in: this is your sign!

#young royals #young royals ficlet #yr ficlet #young royals fanfic #young royals fanfiction #yr fanfic #yr fanfiction #wilmon

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delight-angelsbliss · 2 days ago

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Hello! Could I request S1 number 26 with Sonic?

Thank you 🫶

Prompts: "I can never get enough of of looking at you like this"

Warnings: none to my knowledge there aren't any specific pronouns:3

Notes: Heya cutie patootie thx for requesting and I hope you like these<33 sry this got out so late my queue only posts two things a day lol and I had some business I still can't believe I worded 26 so stupidly but sucks to suck ig I hope this just short and sweet enough

Sonic isn't much of a romantic person, but when he is, it's always fun and entertaining

His ideas flow like a river and his enthusiasm is unmatched

So it wasn't a surprise that when the month of love came up, he was all over you with chocolate, physical affection, and much more

On this particular evening he decided to stay home with you and bake some heart macaroons while dancing to music

He asked a few friends for help and got some recipes online to know what to buy and how to bake them

It was a fool proof plan

The two of you were cleaning the mess from flour and anything that might have got messy while dancing to music during the baking session

Sonic even started breakdancing (please tell me someone has seen him breakdance because oh em gee why is he lowkey good at it) the macaroons were in the oven and you two finally had a moment together, away from harm and stress

As you continued to mop, you didn't notice sonic looking at you, he was admiring you, the way you were dancing, singing and just enjoying life

"I can never get enough of of looking at you like this" he suddenly blurts out, you look back at him, smiling

"Ok, Mr. Charming, don't forget the macaroons" you retort, before turning back to the mess on the counter

It wasn't a rare occurrence for sonic to compliment you, quite the contrary! He was always on and with you whenever he could or when he wasn't on some adventure

He looks back at you

"I know your smiling!" He says, beaming, he knew you loved when he was affectionate and so did he. Sonic always felt guilty when he had to cancel plans because of something going on, but he knew this was enough to make it up to you

He loved every second of it, maybe it would be nice to do this more often

There's always the rest of February

#sonic x reader #x reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic reader insert #sonic the hedgehog #જ⁀➴ ♡ janahts february

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aviradasa · 13 hours ago

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The lost boys main hcs

Marko

5th times the charm with trying to post this.tumblr hates me. This isn't proofread. Sorry it's short I'm tired as fuck and irritated. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless 🖤

Marko is an only child, and he grew up without a father. His mother was a seamstress and worked out of their home when he was a child. His mother was Italian, and his father was Swedish. When Marko was born, they were already living in the united states though so Marko had never been to either country, and he had never met any of his other family members. his dad died when he was 8, so he hardly remembers him now. His mother, on the other hand, died on his 16th birthday, falling victim to the san Francisco plague in 1904. Which was an epidemic of the black plague. He had to abandon her in their home to avoid catching it himself. Taking the last of the money they had and the necklace his mother wore with a picture of their family in it. Not long after, he found the boys, and they all stuck together (as you can guess), but not until after he struggled around town by himself for a few months. God, i need to stop making this shit sad hand on switching gears. He was the youngest when the boys got turned into vamps he had only turned 18 that summer He really tries to act more mature than he is, but as soon as something funny happens, that's over. Marko has a really good sense of humor, but he finds a lot of really stupid shit funny. He's the type of dude to watch his friends fall face down ass up on concrete and start laughing and snapping a photo before asking if they are ok (he is me) This also can lean into how he does lowkey bully people on the boardwalk. Mostly surf nazis but let's be so deadass he's kind of a dick to everyone there in his own special way. Him and paul have a tendency to double team people to: like whoever they come at wont have a chance to say anything cause as soon as one of them pauses the other jumps in to just dog on the person who annoyed them. Some of his insults get pretty creative as well: so if he says something to you thats just out of pocket,like 85% of the time its one of the ones that makes you stop to think about it before you can even get offended 🤣 Strange enough, though. He is very well spoken and charismatic when you talk to him normally. When talking, you notice after a while that he's not one of those folks that cuss every other sentence. Like he will throw it in there like everyone does, but not all the time if you feel me Idk how to describe it. he still talks like a normal person and uses slang and stuff, but he is oddly classy vocabulary wise. He's got a slightly softer tone to his voice as well, which makes his way of speaking come off smoother. He's also extremely smart. Having conversations with him is never really dull or unpleasant. (Unless you're an unlucky boardwalk asshole) Marko is very imaginative and creative. He never stops coming up with things. He hoards hobbies like a dragon hoard gold. From painting to sewing to cooking to wood carving, He just knows how to do this stuff, and he loves it. You will never catch him doing nothing. Even when he's spaced out at the wall, the dude is fiddling with something or sewing. Something together, he just can't stop. He loves giving gifts to friends as well. All of the boys have gifts from Marko that he's made himself. Mostly cause he loves showing off he has skill and unlike Paul he doesn't care if people touch his stuff so he will drag you around his space handing you stuff and showing you everything he's made/ collected cause he's just so proud. Just don't break it. He will be fucking pissed if You break it. Or if you give away anything he gifted you. Also he will talk to you about this stuff for hours on end if you let him (Do let him. He will love you for life if you show Intrests in the things he likes) his space is really cluttered. But looking around, it's mostly albums,art, fabric,patches, and various random objects.

other then that he's really clean. On that note He does not like getting covered in blood when he eats just sayin. He's like the least messy eater of the group mainly cause he hates getting it on his jacket. Plus the texture of dried blood on him makes him want to rip his skin off. It's just one of those things he can't stand So he makes sure to clean up fast. That doesn't mean he doesn't like toying with victims though he's a jumpscare master. He likes to scare his victims half to death before beating the shit outta them. He jokes that hes “tenderizing The meat”. When he does this He gets a kick outta that one. Oh he also likes music, he's not like overly into it though He likes alot of different types as well. Some of his favorite generas are Rock,goth,classical, and some 30s jazz strange enough. He does not give a DAMN what the others have to say about his music taste. if He wants to play his music it will be loud and proud. If they don't like it they are free To take it up with him. (They never will)

#the lost boys #tlb #tlb marko #marko hcs #the lost boys hcs #marko tlb

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sunshinesickies · 3 days ago

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Feveruary Day 3— Caught in the Rain— Arcane Caitlyn x Vi

Yes, I know getting sick from being in the rain is somewhat of a myth but I’m pretty sure us sickfic writers don’t care 🤷‍♀️

Post-War, Violyn established relationship, mostly fluff because they deserve it

Warnings: swearing, slightly suggestive if you squint

“You almost ready, Cupcake?” Vi calls out gently to Caitlyn, dawning her signature red jacket while her girlfriend puts the finishing touches on her ‘casual’ makeup look for the evening. Violet smiles to herself as she recalls the conversation they’d had earlier where the two of them agreed that neither half of their shared date night required anything too fancy, yet Caitlyn has still been in the bathroom for the last 45 minutes doing heck knows what.

“Just a second!” Caitlyn’s accented voice travels through the rooms, and true to her word, she emerges only seconds later, looking so gorgeously stunning that Vi may or may not have forgotten how to breathe for a hot second. Vi can’t believe she finally gets to call her, hers. Although she loves when Cait does something a little extra, she thinks she looks perfect all the time.

It’s been about 6 months since the war with Noxus and the tragic losses that came with it, and the two of them have worked hard to adjust themselves into a new way of life, and a life with each other. Even though it’s been tough at times, Vi will never get over how much she loves being in Caitlyn’s life, and how lucky she feels to have her. Her blessings throughout life have been few and far in between, so Vi makes sure to savor every last ounce she has now, and she makes it her daily mission to make sure Cait knows she’s her top one.

“Violet, are you speechless?” Caitlyn muses with a half smirk-half smile as she approaches her girlfriend, wrapping her arms around the shorter girl’s waist. Violet can feel her face blushing, one hand nervously rubbing the back of her neck. “W-what? Speechless…noooo…” she rolls her eyes playfully and Caitlyn chuckles.

“Well, if you have nothing to say, our night awaits.” Caitlyn’s hand finds Vi and she starts leading her towards the door before Vi can answer. A knowing smile spreads on Caitlyn’s lips when she feels Vi tug her hand gently, signaling for her to stop. “Cait…” She turns around to face Vi. “…you really do look beautiful tonight.” Vi hums softly, pulling her girlfriend close and pressing a warm loving kiss to the lips that now feel like home.

“And you, my darling Violet, charming as ever, are looking very hot tonight.” The end of her sentence comes out almost in a purr as they pull away. “Oh?” Vi quirks an eyebrow, smirking. “You better show me why later.”

She tugs on Caitlyn’s hand this time, and they finally make their way out the door, into the hall, then out into the quiet streets of the Kiramman’s neighborhood, strolling together in the golden rays of the last sunlight of the day peaking around the buildings.

The two of them had been planning this date night for weeks now. A joint date night, where they each choose a part of it, Caitlyn wanting to show Vi her favorite restaurant in Piltover, and Vi wanting to show Caitlyn around the Lanes—now that it’s becoming a less rough place to be.

Piltover’s Finest walk hand in hand as they make their way towards the first part of their evening, Caitlyn leading Vi through the city streets, conversation flowing with ease. They walk longer than Vi expected and by the time Caitlyn finally pulls Vi to a gentle halt, they’re no longer in extremely high end part of Piltover.

The street they’re standing on appears to be a working class one, with dozens of stores for shopping, restaurants with outdoor seating areas, and little kids running through the crowd of people chatting happily away, their families close on their heels. Vi couldn’t help but smile at the scene before her. The energy was chaotic, but infectious in a good way, making her want to run around like the kids and press her nose against shop windows. Caitlyn watches her take it all in, a soft smile on her own face as she finally gets to show Vi a place that means so much to her.

“Cait, where are we? Gotta be honest this isn’t what I expected when you said you were taking me out to dinner.” Vi chuckled for instead of answering, Caitlyn just smiled wider, gripping her hand tighter as she began to pull Vi through the crowded street. Even with her street skills, Vi struggled to keep up with her girlfriend as they jogged, dodging kids and dogs left and right until Caitlyn skidded to a stop.

They both pause a moment, slightly out of breath and Vi gaped at the storefront before her. “Pizza?” She inquires, looking up at the bright neon sign that pointed down to a small, bustling joint, a strong smell of yeast and various cooked toppings wafting out from the propped open door. “Best in the city.” Caitlyn pulls her inside.

They ended up each getting a few slices to go, Caitlyn insisting they needed to walk around so Vi could see the street lit up at night. “I’ve gotta say Kiramman, this is the best pizza I’ve ever had—not that I’ve had a lot, but still.” Vi spoke through a mouthful of hot cheese as she started wolfing down on her second slice. Caitlyn laughed and handed her a few more napkins.

“My dad brought me here once when I was really young. Only the one time. It was because I begged to join him on a last minute business meeting. It ended up being way too boring and ran much longer than expected. By the time we were on the way home, it was getting dark, and I was a wreck. I gave him every reason to just pick me up and continue marching home, but instead he bought me this pizza and we walked around a while. It was one of the first times I saw so many families together, so many fun looking shops, it was my first time in this part of the city, my parents didn’t often let me leave the few surrounding neighborhoods in our area.” She explained and Vi listened to every word.

“I never told my parents this, but often, when I could, I would sneak here after school, buy a slice and just sit in the window and watch people go by. Even convinced Jayce to accompany me a few times at night so I could see everything lit up like this again. I spent most of my days alone, no siblings, private tutors for school, so I cherished these moments when I could tuck myself into the crowds, be a part of so much light.” She finished and Vi was gazing at her now, the reflection of thousands of twinkling lights reflecting in her soft blue eyes.

“I see what you mean. There’s so much life here, you can feel it. Everyone’s in their own world, but somehow we all fit perfectly into the chaos, creating this atmosphere together.” Vi replies as they keep walking, strolling at a leisurely pace now. “Exactly.” Caitlyn nods, finishing her food and taking Vi’s hand back in her’s.

They walk in a comfortable silence for a bit, letting the energy of everyone around them fill their sense. “We should bring him here next time.” Vi leans over to speak in Caitlyn’s ear to make sure she hears her over the noise. “Huh?” Her brows twist in slight confusion. “Your dad. I bet he’d like to come with us next time.” Vi clarifies.

“On our date?” Caitlyn jokes and Vi bumps their hips together, rolling her eyes. “You know what I mean.” She laughs as they reach the end of the street where the crowd starts to thin and the various bright lights fade to just street lamps. “Ready for round two?” Vi questions and Caitlyn agrees. “We can’t have dinner without dessert.” Vi winks up at Cait as she begins to pull her towards the river, the barrier between Zaun and Piltover.

Once they reach Zaun, still hand in hand, it’s Caitlyn’s turn to follow Vi as she leads her through an intricate dance of twists and turns. They don’t see many others along the way, as Vi had planned out. Luckily for her, some things are still the same and her backwards ways of getting through the streets still simultaneously efficient and much safer than traveling through the main streets.

Even though both cities have been hard at work to make Zaun a more peaceful place, Vi’s not taking any chances since Caitlyn’s with her. She knows without a doubt the Piltie can handle herself if necessary, but she’d rather not them get anywhere close to that point, plus if she’s being honest, Vi likes running around through the Lanes like this. It reminds her of being a kid when she would work her way through the maze of streets, mapping out every route in her head, creating new ones and secret ones each day.

Not much later, Vi leads Caitlyn to a more central street, not as busy as the one in Piltover, and no where near as nice, but it’s special in its own right, and to Vi, it’s absolutely perfect. She’s actually really relieved to see this street stayed the same. So many got destroyed and so many businesses shut down over the years, but as fate would have it, the one place she wanted to bring Cait was still running, as gloriously tacky as ever.

“This isn’t going to be like when we first met right?” Caitlyn asks as she eyes the many strange looking establishments the line the dim street. “If you mean Jericho’s, no don’t worry. Dessert will be perfectly normal and non-fish related.” Vi chortles, amused by how hard Caitlyn is trying to be polite. It’s clear as day to Vi that she still isn’t used to environments like this.

Vi pulls her closer into her side. “Ease up Kiramman, it’s time to embrace the Lanes.” Her voice holds no ridicule, the softness of her tone easing the slight unease in Caitlyn’s shoulders. She relaxes under Vi’s comforting touch and smiles, a slight blush rising in her pale cheeks. They walk until it appears the shops have been left behind them, but Vi keeps going a little further until they reach a small staircase jutting out into the street, the uneven steps leading down to a surprisingly brightly colored door.

Vi leads Caitlyn confidently inside, holding the door for her as she unveils her part of date. “It’s…a candy shop.” Caitlyn takes in the warm tones from the lamps, a stark contrast to the darkness of the street, and she her senses are immediately overwhelmed by a sweet sugary scent that makes her mouth water. Vi smiles at her girlfriend’s surprise.

“Best in all the Lanes.” She mimics Caitlyn’s earlier statement, hands spread out in front of her as if she owned the place. “Get whatever you want, Cupcake. Though if you need help deciding I’ve got some favorites I can steer ya towards.” Vi smiles wide as Caitlyn starts slowly strolling through the large room, taking in all the colors. Candies of all kinds, some she recognizes and some she doesn’t covers ever surface in the place, all circling back around towards the entrance where a small case of larger, finer desserts are displayed by the register.

“Whenever Vander was able to scrape up enough for a special treat, he’d bring us all here. Claggor, Mylo, Powder, Ekko, all of us.” Vi starts explaining her own reason for the chosen spot as she follows Caitlyn around. “When we got older, he let Mylo and Claggor take us when he had to work, but sometimes he’d close up a little early to join. Some of my best, only, good memories are here.”

“It’s wonderful, Violet. I didn’t know there was such a place here. Well to be fair, I really don’t know much about the Lanes anyways.” Caitlyn stops to pick up a small bag of her favorite chocolates and Vi smiles at her choice, reaching to grab another bag of something Caitlyn doesn’t recognize.

“Well good thing you’ve got me to show you where all the best sweets are.” Vi leans in close, wrapping her arms around Caitlyn as she lowers her voice. “Though I can think of something much sweeter, Cupcake.” Her warm breath tickles Caitlyn’s neck and she laughs, pushing Vi away playfully.

After a little more perusing, they pay for their chosen treats and sit down in a little corner of the shop that has sprinkling of tables and chairs, similar to a cafe, though there’s nothing to be served, its simply a spot for people to enjoy their sweets.

They stay here for a long while, talking and munching on chocolate, watching as customers wade in and out, until the owner comes over and alerts them its almost closing time. Wrapping up the rest of their candy, Piltover’s Finest thank the owner and make their way back up the stairs and out to the street where they’re taken by surprise by the heavy rain that’s now falling from dark puffy clouds. They can see others running into stores to get out of the storm.

“Shit.” Vi murmurs as they linger under the awning of the store. “We don’t happen to have any emergency umbrellas do we?” She jokes, knowing the answer even before Caitlyn shakes her head. “Well, we can’t wait it out here. It shouldn’t last too long. I don’t know what normal weather is for you guys up in Piltover, but down here, sudden storms like this are common.” Caitlyn watches as Vi shrugs off her red jacket.

“Here, love.” She motions for Caitlyn to take it and put it over her head to shield her as best as they can from the rain. Caitlyn frowns. “What about you? You’ll get soaked then.” She tries handing it back but Vi only smiles and shakes her head. “Like I said, it’s common. I’m used to it. Spent many hours in the rain by choice as a kid, I’ll be fine. Rather not have you catch a cold or something.” She reassures and steps out into the downpour.

Caitlyn chuckles with a shrug. “If you say so, darling.” She follows, the thick leather jacket actually doing a pretty good job of keeping her dry. She looks at Vi as they start hurrying through the streets, her bright red hair is already glued to her face which is practically dripping with as much water as any one of the clouds. Vi hears her girlfriend murmur something about her being ‘too stubborn for her own good’ as they make their way back home.

By the time they reach their bedroom, Vi is absolutely soaked through to the bone and Caitlyn hums softly, watching Vi shivering as she stands, a puddle of water quickly gathering by her feet. “Hot shower and bed?” Caitlyn tosses Vi’s jacket aside and quickly finds a soft towel to shove into Vi’s hands. “Only if you join me.” Vi smirks through chattering teeth and Caitlyn raises an eyebrow before turning around, knowing Vi is watching and following as she makes her way towards the adjoining bathroom.

After a long hot shower, it was evident they were both tired from the day and decided to just go to bed, so no sooner was Caitlyn helping Vi into some sweatpants and a t shirt was she wrapping her in her arms and pulling the blankets tightly around them as they sink into their cushy bed. The shower had helped and she was no longer uncontrollably shivering, but Vi still help cold, like the chill of the rain had settled its way into every cell in her body.

“Are you warm enough, darling?” Caitlyn murmurs sweetly as Vi tucks her face further into Cait’s neck, throws her leg over her waist, and tries to get as close to her girlfriend as possible. “Not really, I don’t know how I’m still this fucking cold.” Vi complains against her skin. Caitlyn kisses her pink hair with a small chuckle.

Caitlyn get up for just a second, much to Vi’s dismay, but returns with two more blankets to wrap her up in, so Vi doesn’t grumble too much about her momentary absence. “Here, Violet.” Caitlyn tucks them both in again and they cling lovingly to each other, Caitlyn reveling in the comforting feeling of her girlfriend’s body against hers, and Vi doing her best to retain as much heat from Caitlyn as possible.

“Tonight was really fun.” Vi whispers after a while, unable to fall asleep. Caitlyn, often taking much longer than Vi to fall asleep, is still awake too. “It was, love. Thank you for letting me share more of myself to you, and thank you for doing the same.” She murmurs and Vi smiles at the sound of Cait’s sleepy sounding voice. “Anytime, Cupcake. Let’s do it more often, because you know I’m still thinking about that pizza…” Vi presses a kiss to Caitlyn’s collar bone, and the last thing she hears before falling asleep is Vi chuckling at her own musings.

Although she had fallen asleep cold, it was only a few hours later that Vi’s body takes a turn, becoming a radiator of heat. Turns out the rain got one of them sick after all. Still asleep, deep in a fevered slumber, Vi subconsciously curls away from Caitlyn, the shift in position and movement of the blankets causing the latter to stir awake.

At first she just attempts to go back to sleep, used to Vi moving around a lot in her sleep, but Caitlyn soon notices an uncomfortable heat lingering under the blankets. She rolls over to find Vi, curled into herself, clutching the blankets tightly to her chest, a restless furrow etched into her brows. Even in the dark, Caitlyn can see a thin sheen of sweat coating the Zaunite’s face and a deep pink flush strewn across her cheeks.

She frowns, her own brows knitting together as worry bubbles in her chest. She sits up slightly, reaching to place the back of her hand gently to Vi’s forehead, she gasps slightly at the amount of heat she feels. “Oh darling.” She sighs, cupping her cool hand to Vi’s cheek, momentarily unsure of what to do. Should she let Vi sleep? Or wake her get some medicine in her?

The decision is made for her when Vi stirs and lets out a sleepy groan. The soothingly cool sensation of Caitlyn’s hand against her face pulling her from her slumber. “huh…wha?” Vi slurs feverishly, her eyes fluttering open for a moment or two before growing too heavy and closing again.

“Violet? Vi honey, you’re sick, love.” Caitlyn murmurs gently to help orient her, her thumb softly stroking Vi’s cheek, her hand having never left its position. “oh, well, go back to ‘sleep, ‘m okay.” Is all Vi mumbles with a heavy sigh.

“So stubborn.” Caitlyn whispers so softly that Vi doesn’t seem to hear. “No way, darling. I’m going to take care of you, okay? You gave me your jacket and now look at you.” Caitlyn fusses, a bit of guilt rising in her even though Vi had made her decision and one of them was going to get soaked either way. “Better me than you.” Vi murmurs back and Caitlyn can’t believe her ridiculous girlfriend.

With a sympathetic hum, Caitlyn makes her way out of bed, hearing Vi let out a single groan, but doesn’t hear any more protests as the sick girl is too out of it to really notice her absence.

“Open your mouth.” Vi hears the words distantly, but she does and Caitlyn gently places the thermometer under her tongue. “Close and hold for a moment.” She instructs softly, one hand holding the thermometer steady, the other returning to Vi’s cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against her hot skin.

Vi’s silver eyes flutter open and she gazes hazily up at her girlfriend as they both wait for the small beep. “When I said you looked hot earlier, this is not what I meant.” Caitlyn frowns deeply at the high number shown on the tool.

Vi groans softly as she moves to sit up, Caitlyn immediately helping to ease her up against the plush pillows. She brushes Vi’s sweaty hair away from her face so she can see her more clearly. Vi offers Cait a small smile, trying to ease the worry she can see in her ocean eyes. “Don’ worry, cupcake, I always run hot, ‘member?” She reassures and Caitlyn’s face softens a little, though her worry stays.

“I know, Violet. I just hate that you feel so miserable…here drink some water, it’ll help.” She remembers that she’d grabbed a fresh cup of cool water and holds it gently to Vi’s plump lips. She drinks more than half, surprising both of them at how thirsty she is. But Caitlyn doesn’t set the cup down, instead, offering Vi a couple small fever-reducing pills which she begrudgingly takes with another gulp of water.

“Let’s get you back to bed, hmm? You look exhausted, love.” Caitlyn hums and Vi nods, the two of them finding their way back to laying cozily under the blankets, though Caitlyn made sure to toss a couple of the extra ones off. She doesn’t want Vi overheating any more than she already is. Vi clings to Caitlyn, burying her face in her chest with a noise somewhere between a whine and a groan.

“Cait?” She whispers a moment later, her voice uncharacteristically small as she feels her girlfriend’s gentle touch, soothing hands running along her back. “Yes, darling?” Caitlyn murmurs in return. “I-I don’t feel good.” Vi grumbles with a whine.

“I know, Vi. Just try and rest. I’ll be here.” She promises, one hand remaining on her back, the other moving to run through her damp hair. She holds her a touch closer and Vi hums contentedly. “mmkay.” She presses a featherlight kiss to the closest bit of bare skin she can reach on her girlfriend, and moments later her fevered mind is drifting off to sleep, knowing she’ll probably wake up feeling even crappier, but that she’ll be okay, because she has Caitlyn.

“Sleep well, my darling Violet.” Caitlyn whispers with a kiss to her forehead before promptly following her to sleep, making a promise to herself that from now on, anytime they leave the house, especially if they’re going to Zaun, Caitlyn will make sure to have an umbrella tucked away somewhere in her pockets or bags, just in case.

#sunshinesickies #fluff #sickfic #feveruary #feveruary2025 #caitvi sickfic #caitvi hurt/comfort #caitlyn arcane #arcane violyn #vi arcane #soft vi #caitlyn kiramman #caitvi #sick vi

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nameless-jamie · 5 hours ago

Text

GOAL, GOAL, GOAL

Glimpse Into the Future - Jamie Tartt x fem!PA reader

Masterlist

TW: cursing, suggestive talk

Y/N sat on the couch, curled up with a pillow resting against her stomach, idly rubbing small circles over the fabric of her hoodie. She was a few months along now, just far enough that the little bump was noticeable if you were really looking for it. It had been their little secret for a while—a sacred, quiet thing between her and Jamie. But now, it was getting harder to keep it quiet. She was feeling better after the rough first trimester, and the world would find out soon enough anyway.

Jamie, sprawled out beside her, twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers, looking at her with that stupid, lopsided grin she loved so much. "We should probably tell people soon, yeah?" he murmured.

Y/N exhaled, tilting her head to look at him. "Yeah. Keeley already knows, obviously. And Rebecca."

Jamie snorted. "Yeah, figured. They’re not exactly subtle."

Y/N smiled, shaking her head. "Nope."

They had told Keeley almost immediately, mostly because Y/N had needed someone to help her navigate the overwhelming realization that she was carrying Jamie’s baby. Rebecca found out shortly after when Y/N had run straight to her office after throwing up in the middle of a meeting with Jamie's sponsors. Rebecca had just stared at her for a moment before nodding knowingly and then immediately offering to have her doctor on call for anything Y/N might need.

Jamie ran a hand over his face, then turned his attention back to her. "So, how do you wanna do it? Like, a cute Instagram post? A party? Oh—" His eyes lit up, sitting up slightly. "What if we do one of those cool-ass videos? Like the ones where people kick a football and it bursts into pink or blue powder—"

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Jamie."

"What?"

"We are not doing a gender reveal."

Jamie huffed. "Alright, fine. No powder footballs. But we should still make it fun, yeah?"

Y/N bit her lip, watching him. She could see the wheels turning in his head, the anticipation already building. "Do you already have an idea?"

Jamie smirked. "Maybe."

Y/N narrowed her eyes. "Jamie."

Jamie sat up fully now, bouncing slightly where he sat. "It's gonna be a biiiiig surprise. Do you trust me?"

Y/N opened her mouth, then shut it again. She had no idea why she was surprised. Of course, Jamie Tartt—the most theatrical, over-the-top man she had ever met—would want to announce their baby in the biggest way possible. So big that he couldn't even tell the mother of his child.

She groaned, but she couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at her lips. "Alright, I trust you. I just hope you didn't secretly film a sex tape of us conceiving the baby just to show it to everyone."

"Fuck no baby. If I had that tape, it would be just for me." He smirked.

The stadium was electric, the crowd roaring with excitement as AFC Richmond played against their fiercest rivals. It was a tight match, tension building with every pass, every tackle. The team had been pushing hard, and Jamie could feel it—a goal was coming.

Jamie Tartt was at his best today—agile, fierce, and determined to score. His sharp eyes darted over the field, his heart pounding in time with his feet as he set himself up for a perfect shot.

His whole body buzzed with adrenaline. His muscles were screaming, his lungs burning, but none of that mattered. He had to score.

And then—his moment came.

With a swift movement, Jamie struck the ball, sending it flying past the goalkeeper and into the back of the net. The stadium erupted into an explosion of noise—cheers, chants, and applause filled the air. But Jamie wasn’t done yet. He knew this moment was bigger than just the goal. It was his chance to make the biggest announcement of his life. Just like he planned...

Jamie barely even registered his teammates running toward him. He instead took the ball with him and ran toward the sideline, the roar of the crowd still ringing in his ears as he approached the TV cameras broadcasting the match. Jamie stopped, grinning like the cocky player he was, and with a mischievous wink, he slipped the ball under his shirt—just like a pregnant belly. Jamie wiggled his eyebrows, held the ball belly with one hand, and put his thumb in his mouth— like a baby.

Then he raised his arms, looking directly into the nearest camera, smiling proudly.

“Hey, world!” he shouted, his voice carrying through the stadium and into every broadcasted home. “I’m gonna be a dad!”

The commentators froze, their voices cutting off in surprise. The camera zoomed in on Jamie, now standing with the ball under his shirt, making it clear that this wasn’t just about his goal. This was about something much bigger.

“I’m gonna be a dad!” he repeated, his voice full of pride and excitement while pointing at the stands and mouthing 'I love you, baby.'—directly at Y/N. He smiled widely, winking at her before making a hand motion to form a heart with his hands.

The crowd went wild. The reporters, stunned at first, quickly began to speak over each other, trying to process what was happening.

Arlo: "Is Jamie Tartt really… announcing he’s going to be a father mid-game? This is huge! What a moment in football history! What do you think, Chris?"

Chris: "I’ve never seen anything like this before! It’s absolutely brilliant, and I have to say—what a goal and what an announcement. He’s got the world watching, and it’s like he’s bringing the world in on his personal joy."

Arlo: "Jamie Tartt, the man who’s been all about his career, is now sharing this personal milestone with us, and it’s making me tear up, honestly! The man’s a new dad-to-be, and I couldn’t be happier for him. The emotion, the commitment… it’s a whole new side to Jamie."

Meanwhile, Y/N was watching from the stands, her heart fluttering. She had no idea he was going to do this. The joy on her face was palpable—her eyes shining as she put her hand to her heart, still in disbelief at the love and excitement Jamie was sharing with the world.

As Jamie stood there, his hands on his hips in his usual cocky manner, the teammates ran towards him.

Dani Rojas was the first to reach him, practically jumping into his arms and nearly knocking him over.

"Congratulations, amigo!" Dani shouted, holding Jamie’s face and planting a big kiss on his cheek.

Isaac was next, shaking Jamie roughly by the shoulders. "Mate! You’re gonna have a kid! What the fuck?"

Then, one by one, the team members and even the coaches gathered around, pulling Jamie into a massive group hug.

Even Roy fucking Kent, the ever-grumpy captain-turned-coach, was grinning. He clapped a heavy hand on Jamie’s shoulder. "You better not fuck this up, Tartt."

"Not a chance, mate." Jamie, still catching his breath, just laughed.

“Oi, Roy, my kid still needs a grumpy old godfather, you in?” he said, trying to keep it cool.

"Fuck yes," Roy said all too quickly.

The crowd was still going wild, Y/N still looking completely overwhelmed in the stands. Keeley was with her, her hands on her hips, looking at Y/N with a proud smile. “I’m so proud of you, babes. And you know what? I’m gonna be the best godmother this kid’s ever had. I’ll start shopping for baby clothes ASAP.”

The whole stadium was still buzzing, with fans changing Jamie’s famous chant, the energy in the air almost tangible.

"BABY TARTT DU DU DUDU DUDU. BABY TARTT!!!!"

And it wasn’t just about the goal or the match anymore—it was about the future, about a family being built, about Jamie Tartt stepping into a new chapter of his life. And Jamie—well, Jamie had never felt happier in his entire fucking life.

The cheers and chants continued to echo through the stadium as Jamie, now standing with the rest of his team, couldn’t help but grin. He turned to look at Y/N in the stands, still waving at him, and gave her a small nod. He was ready for this. He was ready for fatherhood, ready for everything this new chapter would bring.

And as the game continued, with the team riding high on the momentum of his announcement, Jamie Tartt knew that nothing—absolutely nothing—could top this feeling. He had it all now. The family. The love. The future.

And when the final whistle blew, the first thing he did wasn’t celebrate the win—it was run straight to Y/N, take her in his arms, and kiss her with the passion of someone who was about to start the biggest adventure of their life.

The day was unforgettable. Jamie’s surprise announcement had everyone talking, but to him, it was only the beginning.

As the world watched, Jamie Tartt had just scored his biggest goal yet—and it wasn’t on the pitch.

Later that night, as they lay tangled together in bed, Jamie pressed a kiss to Y/N’s temple.

"You mad at me?" he murmured.

Y/N huffed a small laugh. "You’re a ridiculous man, Jamie Tartt."

"But?"

She turned slightly, looking up at him, her expression soft. "But I love you for it."

Jamie grinned. "Good. ‘Cause I love you, too. And I can’t fucking wait to meet this kid."

Y/N’s heart swelled. She rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes as he absentmindedly traced circles over her belly.

Jamie Tartt was going to be a dad.

And, honestly?

She couldn’t imagine anyone better for the job.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso show #afc richmond #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #roy kent #jamie tartt imagine #PA x Jamie Tartt

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peachglazewrites · 16 hours ago

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soo i’m on the girls powerlifting team at my school (currently omw to a meet wish me luck) and it got me thinking abt what sports would abby do/how well would she be at powerlifting yk

what sports do you think she would be in 👀

a/n: hey!!! first of all GOOD LUCK AT YOUR MEET OMG??? that's so beyond cool!!

second of all!! I had such a big think about this and I decided to do it as a silly little headcanon post ♡︎ AND THIRD I don't play sports… I played basketball in high school for a few years and that was IT so please excuse my poor poor googling attempts </3

hope you enjoy!! ♡︎

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1037k

˗ˏˋ𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜´ˎ˗

: ̗̀➛ 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐

★ 100% would be into powerlifting I feel like that's hardly a headcanon at this point! We know in canon that she's on the leaderboard for the women's bench press (205lbs btw) in the WLF fitness club, so I feel like she would enjoy deadlifts and squats too!

★ Abby thrives on having a perpetually moving goal. She loves that she always has something to work on and improve, a reason to push herself. She's so incredibly dedicated in what she does, and so I can see her taking this as seriously as she needs to!

★ Abby would be hesitant about getting a coach when she starts out, which can be for a lot of reasons but mostly out of the need to be in control. She hated the idea of having someone else do her numbers and tell her what to do? It's her body, so obviously she knows what she's doing.

★ But after not seeing much progress or struggling with a certain element she tells herself she'll do a single coached session to get over this and that'll be it. But the improvements after one session were enough for her to reconsider, and so after some shopping around she found her current coach and they've been working together since.

: ̗̀➛ 𝚋𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚗𝚐

★ Abby would pick up boxing when Owen did, joining group sessions. Owen liked it, and found a lot of the benefits in it that he wanted, but kind of fell off with attending sessions and decided to keep up with it somewhat casually. Abby was the complete opposite. She quickly moved from working in a group setting to finding a private studio and trainer, training on a dedicated schedule.

★ She loves the way it makes her feel. Boxing isn't just about the arms, and she lives for the strain and ache in her muscles of her legs and abdomen. It also provides her an outlet, a truly cathartic way of unloading all of her stress and emotions she'd rather not talk about.

★ One of the trainers at the studio pulls her aside one day and asks if she can help out a friend of theirs. He owns a studio downtown that does junior classes, and their regular trainer has called in sick. They need someone to cover. Abby refuses, says absolutely not, but then she learns she'll get paid and eventually she agrees.

★ Surprise surprise, she loves it. There's something about how enthusiastic the kids are, how excited they are to learn and grow. A contagious optimism that kids exude. She's employed within the month.

★ The boys think she's super cool, amazed by her bulk and her broadness. But it's the three girls in the class that make her want to do this, want to be a role model. The way their confidence boosts every class, how they become just as eager to jump in and join as the boys are.

★ One of them runs up to her during a water break one day to show her her arms, flexing in the way an 11 year old thinks flexing works, boasting about how she can feel herself getting stronger-- just like her. That's what breaks Abby, makes her realise that yeah, she can do this. She wants to be someone these kids will look up to.

: ̗̀➛ 𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐

★ Now look… I know she's scared of heights, but I honestly think that Lev would introduce the sport to Abby in an attempt to work through her fear of them.

★ Lev's a little speed demon, scrambling and climbing up the rock wall in no time. The first time he convinces Abby to come with him, she stands at the sidelines and calls him a show off. It takes a while but he eventually gets her harnessed up and climbing along the lower sections.

★ It takes an embarrassingly long time in her eyes for to get used to things. The feeling of being so high up, to ignore the vertigo. Lev, as much of a smart ass as he is, helps her through it all, always a few feet above her and goading her on.

★ Lev's number one way to motivate Abby is to prod at her competitive streak, her pride. It works every time, and he gets Abby chasing after him up the wall without her even realising it, cursing and playfully arguing with him the whole way.

★ It's not a sport Abby would ever do by herself, and she somewhat doubts she'd want to do it with anyone but Lev. She doesn't trust anyone to do this kind of thing with, except for Lev. He knows just how to push her, motivate her, talk her down from a panic attack without making her feel embarrassed and like shit afterwards.

okay here me out... this is next one is SUPER self indulgent but I literally can't stop thinking about it....

: ̗̀➛ 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚋𝚢

★ Abby 100% is the team captain, and she runs that shit like it's her actual job. Not just in training, but with everything that comes with being captain. Developing rosters, taking care of injured teammates, organising team bonding activities, helping out with uniforms.

★ Mel, Nora, Leah, and Yara are also all on the team, and when the five of them get lined up together for a jam it's carnage in the rink. They tear it UP.

★ Abby really enjoys it, as it works out parts of her body that she wouldn't prioritise otherwise. The strain in her muscles after practice or a game makes her feel good, accomplished.

★ Abby also enjoys and cherishes the team aspect of it, even though she's a bit of a hardass and has these girls working HARD. She cares a lot about her team, and will do anything for them. She has a bad habit of letting rink-talk get to her sometimes, but that comes from her being so competitive and fiercely protective of her team.

Why do I want to write a roller derby au… team captain Abby and Reader who goes to every game of theirs because she has a huuuge crush on her, but doesn't realise that Abby spots her in the audience every single time and feels the same way!!! Someone finish all my WIPs for me I need to write this…

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #the last of us #tlou #peach glaze writes #abby anderson headcanons #abby headcanons

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