#ill write it down as soon as i wake up and write it using the main points i remember

[potchi-fics]

note: no smut LOL IM SORRY, I GOT HOME AND I FELL ASLEEP ON THE COUCH CUS IM SO TIREDDDDDDD YALL THIS IS ALL I GOT, THIS IS ALL I GOT. i cannot even fathom how i managed to write this (not proofread, ill do it when i wake up pls meow meow) this is the part two of playing with fire

      the twitch of your eye portrays the frustration seeping through you, the paper in your hand greatly souring your mood. you do not know how many hours you have been hunched over your desk, but the soreness in your shoulders and the glasses slipping on the bridge of your nose tell you.

something isn’t right with what you’re seeing; the numbers, dates, even the signatures are incorrect. you straighten your posture, your weight leaning on the elbow of the hand you’re using to hold the sheet of paper, your hair falling into the frame of your face, and your other rubbing your chin in deep thought.

“arden,” you called out to your assistant beside you, “who did this sloppy of a paperwork? i thought i made myself clear about doing work proficient–”

      you’re cut off when the door to your office is suddenly opened. you mask your surprise when you see her, ambessa medarda. 

she has a scowl on her face; her stare is full of anger, the tips of her fingers turning white with how hard she’s clenching her hands.

“never learned of knocking, general? and i believe our meeting is set for next week.” you look back down to the paper, doubt still gnawing in the pits of your stomach, “i also believe that i did not summon for you. what brings you here?”

      she all but growls, but, she doesn’t know if it's due to her anger or… you—the appearance of you: your posture, your tired-looking face, the skin of your legs from the split of your dress; a goddess is what you are, she thinks.

she savours the image of you before her. however, without even sparing her a glance, you spoke.

“general, speak.”

instantly responding, she baffles you with her words, “the supposed resources that are to be delivered to me have not reached me, your majesty. what is the meaning of this?”

“pardon?” you motion to arden to leave, bowing to you, she quietly leaves, “i am afraid i do not know what you are saying, general.”

ambessa walks a step closer, “this will put a strain on our contract, your majesty, i hope you are aware of that.”

“general, i am fully aware.” a hand takes your glasses off, and you lean back on your chair, eyes closing at the feeling of your back stretching. “on the other hand, i do not know what you mean when you say the shipment has not been completed.”

“i do hope you are not playing dumb, your majes–”

“i can assure you, general, i am not.”

      how she loves riling you up. how your fingers twitch in anger, your eyes scrutinizing her, knowing how powerful she is and yet, you hold your ground. she loves all of it.

ambessa reveled in it.

“apologies for the inconvenience, general,” ignoring her smug look, you stand up, and walk around your desk to show her the papers, you beckon her over,  “come. take a look at this.”

she does, nearing you until you start to feel her figure looming over you. “sloppy paperwork, your majesty.”

“do not even get me started. that is filthy.” you spread the sheets on your desk, ignoring how the proximity is sending warmth to your abdomen, “look, something is not right, correct?”

she leans over your shoulder, and a soft exhale emits from you, “correct, your majesty.”

“what’s worse is not only did this happen once, but thrice.” you can feel your anger bubbling over, “three times. someone has been stealing from me, selling it to others. i will take care of everything, general. see to it that the shipment will be delivered soon.”

ambessa made no move to back away, “hoping to dismiss me so quickly, your majesty? here i was thinking you’re finally softening up on me.” she pressed on, her breath hitting the back of your ear, “i must say, that does hurt.”

“need i remind you of your so-called thoughts about professional entanglements, general? i am starting to think you want me to break them.” your eyes close, the heat on your abdomen traveling down, pooling between your legs. “oh, you would love that, won’t you, general?”

you let out a shaky breath when you feel her hand on your stomach, your back pressing against her front, her nose slotting it behind your ear, smelling the fragrance you sprayed, “so innocent for a bold little lamb.”

“mhmm,” the hum vibrates your chest. you raise your right arm, your fingers grazing her cheek, then burying them into the back of her head, pulling her head down slightly, and you push back against her to whisper into her ear, “you aren’t exactly subtle, as well, general.” 

      she could destroy you with the strength she has, she could tear you into pieces by pieces. you focus on her body, on her bulging muscles, her long fingers, and her firm-toned stomach.

your thoughts run wild; you would take everything. ambessa places a kiss on the side of your neck. this is wrong. both of you knew that, but why aren’t you stopping? 

you give her more access, and her kisses leave a fire in their wake, from your jaw to your pulse, pecking it over and over again, you scratch her scalp tenderly in appreciation. she grabs your hand that’s on her head, manhandling you to turn you around.

you peer up at her through your eyelashes, eyes parted and your breaths shallow. your neck and cheeks are flushed. ambessa was no better: her irises darkened, she was breathing heavily, and she looked like she was holding herself back from doing something. 

her palm gently meets your cheek, her thumb running along your bottom lip, “i am far from innocent, ambessa.”

      and she is spiraling. she nudges herself between your legs, forcing you to sit on your desk. her hand is now grasping the whole side of your neck, with her thumb now tracing along your cheekbone. she needs to hear you say her name again. she yearns for you to utter out her name once more.

“say it again.”

“ambessa.”

      she leans in. she’s a mere millimeters away when a knock stopped her. you gently push her away, hurriedly fixing your appearance. she could only grit her teeth, her gaze was fixed on the door, fury evident in her eyes.

if looks could kill, the person on the other side would be dead.

you clear your throat, you soothe out the creases on your dress, “come in.” 

“your majesty, general,” arden greets, “i dug around, asked around, too, and i found out who did those papers, your majesty.” you nod for her to keep going, “it’s holloway.”

your gaze snaps to her, a deep frown mars your expression, “lieutenant holloway? but why? where is he?”

“at the docks, your majesty.”

…

the soles of your boots slam down against the pavement, your mood beginning to turn bitter once you spot the man you’re looking for, “holloway.” he turns around and quickly meets a fist to his face. “what have you done?”

“yo-your majesty,” he crumples to the ground, holding his bleeding nose, he spots arden and the warlord behind you, “what–what’s happening?”

“you have been stealing from me,” the blade of your sword is pressed dangerously against his throat, “and the general. have you got no shame and brain? you have put my–OUR nation in danger. let me ask you again, what have you done?”

“our nation? oh please, i’ve been making much more money than you.”

“is this what it’s about? money?” your sword hovers, “you would risk an entire nation for money? you would betray me, your queen, your empress, for money? you are easily bought.”

he shouts, “and you are a whore. a whore for that slut of a gener–”

with a swift slash, you cut off the hand that’s holding his nose. blood spurts and bursts out of the now stump, “mind your mouth, holloway. if it is i you wish to speak ill of, do it. however, if you dare to insult the general, then that is simply a foolish thing for you to do.”

      ignoring the blood gathering at your feet, or some of it getting on your dress, you turn to your army of men who are watching.

your gaze cold and dead, you point at holloway using your bloody sword, “make the same mistake and i will ensure that you will hold a much worse fate.” you walk to him, grabbing him by his hair, dragging him to kneel in front of the general, relishing in his screams and whimpers, “apologize.”

“in your dreams, bitch. i’m not apologizing to this slu–” 

“holloway, you are beginning to test my patience.” grabbing his head once more, you force him to look up, “apologize.”

      she has never seen this side of you. this ruthless and unforgiving side of you sends tremors to her hands, weakens her knees, and dries her mouth and lips. 

the fire never left ambessa and it is spreading throughout her body, it’s burning and uncomfortable.

“fine. have it your way, holloway. hold him down.” you call out to your men, and they seize him by his arms, legs, shoulders, every part of him, “you brought this upon yourself. hold out his tongue.” knowing what you’re about to do, he thrashes in their holds but it’s no use. he begins to plea, escape, anything. “i have given you your chances, holloway. accept the consequences.”

      only his screams of terror and agonizing pain can be heard, his screeches making the birds flock away, his blood staining the ground, creating a puddle.

he looks at his hand and tongue in horror that is dying on the floor, and then up at you, only to be met with hollow ones—lifeless eyes of yours that are like staring into an abyss of darkness. you cover his mouth, your hand squeezing his jaw, adding more pain.

“a hand for stealing, a tongue for disparaging remarks,” you shove him away, not caring that his blood is on your hand, “run.”

      you turn around just as he takes off, clutching his hand to his chest, looking around wildly as the men he used to order around are looking at him with disgust in their eyes.

you bow your head to the general, “i must apologize for all of this mess, general. i… stay for a little while i assort your shipment. i will have my men board your resources to your ship.” you turn to look at the retreating figure in the distance. “kill him.”

     a bang ends your day at the docks.

…

“my, my, what a wonderful sight that was, your majesty.” ambessa sipped her tea, her legs spreading as she sat, “didn’t take you for a killer.”

crossing your legs, your silk dress, now having changed, riding up, “i have done worse, general. much worse things that would make yours look like a child’s play.”

      she raises a brow at you. though her stare quickly travels down to your legs, openly looking at you, from your legs to your thighs, all the way up to your chest.

absolutely no shame, you think to yourself, smirking slightly. this woman is a piece of art, her skin, her stature, her scars. and then you remember how she felt like when pressed against you. her solid frame, how her presence can engulf your being, it suffocates you.

yet you want more.

“your majesty, i doubt that. i have killed everything that stands in my way.”

you hum, your eyes raking over her form, “that, i don’t doubt.”

      you wonder how it would feel to be underneath her, holding you down from moving, to force you to take everything she will give you. unconsciously, you squeeze your thighs together.

ambessa notices. 

“it seems like we were interrupted earlier, no?” her voice drops an octave. 

      you bite your lip. your action spurring her on. she can’t help it anymore. all these playful banters, the tension, it’s too much for ambessa. you are too much for her. 

maybe it’s time you let yourself indulge.

“i believe so, yes…” you take it yourself to move and sit on her lap. in the blink of an eye, her hands are on your thighs, rubbing smooth circles and slipping under your dress, “would you like to continue, ambessa?”

[chipinabag]

The human brain is so weird. This is the third night in a row that my brain has started writing it's own merthur fanfiction. Like it's a full on scenes from fanfiction I have never read before. Like tonight, it was cannon era, established relationship, implied mpreg. They had two kids and the oldest one was going through an angsty arc and merlin thinks it's because Arthur has been too busy as king to spend time with the kids. And when Merlin was going to confront him about it and it was leading into a smutty scene I woke up.

The night before that was about I don't really remember but I know there was a magic reveal at some point and you know that classic "I'm not angry because your a sorcerer, I'm angry you didn't trust me" trope. Then like knights were helping merthur get together because Arthur is missing Merlin. Some more dramatic stuff happened, but I can't remember.

And the first night my brain made fanfiction, I woke up and told my sibling my dream and they were impressed and asked, how long until my brain makes fanfiction on its own.

Well it was a modern au, CEO!Arthur and coffee barista! Merlin and merlin thinks that the guy in the suit is kinda hot but he's a bit of a prat and Arthur is trying to get Morgana to help him ask out the cute barista. Because everytime he tries to ask him out he ends up with a coffee/drink/food he doesn't want, and somehow ends up calling his crush an idiot.

[gracieheartspedro]

For Cryin’ Out Loud

pairing: post-outbreak! joel miller x afab! reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 7.9k

description: living with joel is complicated, especially when you can’t sleep due to nightmares. when you find yourself in his bed, you can’t help yourself. but joel sure can. give him a day to mull it over.

warnings: pretty slow burn, kinda forced proximity, kinda angsty, unspecified age gap (don’t like it, don’t read it), joel gives you tons of nicknames (darlin’, kiddo, etc.), discussions of nightmares and possible mental illnesses, some fluff, reader isn’t really described, joel is kinda a gaslighter, he’s also a bit pervy, unprotected p in v (wrap it y’all), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk, joel like worships you!!!!!, joel licks his fingers clean, giving genitalia pronouns, joel’s a big boy. think that’s it. lemme know what I missed!

author’s note: I really enjoyed writing this. the idea is pretty simple but I love domestic jackson!joel. I promise i’ll try to switch it up soon and write something that isn’t jackson!era lol. support your fav fics by reblogging and commenting!! thanks love ya <3

For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep. 

The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jackson’s thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you. 

It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar. 

The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos. 

When Ellie and Joel’s relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot. 

In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you. 

He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often. 

“What are you doing awake?” He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance. 

You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without a justification. 

You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. “Can’t sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.”

He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s that workin’ for you, sweetheart?”

You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again. 

“Hm,” You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, “‘Was better when you weren’t looking over my shoulder.”

He chuckles, “Get back to bed.”

“I can’t, Joel.”

“You can and will. You’re no good when you’re tired.”

“If I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what I’m doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.”

“You’re not gonna forget ‘em with some fresh air. You just need to… get over them.”

The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, “And how do you get over yours?”

"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."

"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.

“I get it. One day they will subside, I’m sure of it. But for now, you gotta-”

You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. “You remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?”

“Yeah,” His tone was wary, “What about it?”

"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You don’t want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I don’t like you like that. I never will. That Joel. 

“And? Why are you bringing this up now?”

"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.”

He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, he’s only gotten more handsome. 

But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.

"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didn’t like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.

"I don't know." You manage to say.

Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not. 

Because in Joel’s mind, he’s trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and that’s it. Strictly platonic. 

He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.

"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.

You nod, "I don't know if I want that."

You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed. 

Joel’s temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked. 

“Well, what do you want then? Because standin’ at the door and letting all the cold air in ain’t gonna work for me or you.”

You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.

"I want to sleep with you."

Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do. 

He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty. 

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Joel couldn’t believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you. 

You signal for him to go upstairs, “You lead the way.”

-

Joel’s room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in. 

The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photo—a picture of you and him on some horses from last year. 

A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joel’s bed if you were stuck on the left. 

Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him. 

“Uh, can I sleep on that side?”

He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. “My side? Why?”

You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing. 

“Because I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."

Joel wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection. 

"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."

You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesn’t hate you. 

“You could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.”

He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that you’re back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.

But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you. 

You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.

"Do you sleep on your side or back?"

Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night. 

"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."

You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"

Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.

"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "’n I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."

You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldn’t say them, but your mouth betrays you.  

"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"

Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.

Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, it’s an interrogation.

He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.

You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.

"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."

Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.

"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. “You just can’t help yourself, sweetheart.”

He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.

You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. He’s throwing a wrench in your plans.

"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.

"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."

You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now. 

"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."

Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed. 

"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.

"Go on..."

Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.

"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"

Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.

"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified. 

You mentally slap yourself in the face.

"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."

Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.

"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."

"Yeah, exactly..."

He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.

You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you can’t help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.

Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something.  He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.

"So… ten years and no sex?”

You could seriously, not help yourself.

"Correct.” He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.

"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.”

He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But that’s how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town. 

“You just give off the energy…”

“What?”

You huff, laying back on the pillow. “I don’t know, Joel! I feel like when I’m around you all the ladies think you’re handsome. They stare.”

“They are staring because you’re always following me around and we aren’t married or… together. They think we are odd.” 

You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms. 

But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldn’t give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.

“Well fuck ‘em.” You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.

Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.

You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When he’s finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle. 

You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter. 

It’s the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and that’s it.

-

When you wake up, it’s slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that you’re laying on top of Joel’s shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy. 

You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across. 

His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-

His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles. 

“Mornin’ darlin’,” He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, “That’s good kiddo. I’m glad you slept well.”

The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.

“Woulda slept even better if you didn’t talk so much in your sleep.”

Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.

"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.

"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..." 

You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him. 

Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you. 

"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."

You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.

Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him. 

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you. 

“You’re a brat.”

You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly. 

"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreams…"

"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"

"So, you don't believe me?"

"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."

"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.

"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlin’. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."

"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You don’t even care that he’s calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful. 

“‘Course I do.”

You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him. 

“You always this nice in the morning?” You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him. 

But it’s driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.

“I am always nice to you.”

You let out a scoff, “No, you’re not.”

He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, “Now you’re just lyin’.” 

Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. “No there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-”

“Because I am!”

And there’s the wall. The only constant in you two’s relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it. 

“And the world’s fuckin’ ended, Joel! Big deal!” You almost yell, moving your hands from him. 

Why does he already miss your hands?

He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. “We have had this conversation for the last 10 years.’M not sure why we keep rehashing it.”

“And every time you turn me down it’s another fuckin’ stab in the heart.”

“You know why we can’t,” He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over. 

“Whatever, Joel.” 

As soon as you say it, you’re already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.

Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. It’s not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live. 

He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them. 

You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen. 

“You got pat-”

“Yes.” You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move. 

“Who are you-”

“Jesse.”

He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer. 

“Hey, can you-”

You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time. 

“Can I what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you fuckin’ not be a brat about this?”

You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor. 

You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond. 

“Are you serious, right now?” You press, keeping your voice from cracking. 

He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. “You always pull this shit-”

“No, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckin’ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!”

You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard. 

The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning. 

“I ain’t tryin’ to make this harder than-” “Too fuckin’ late.”

You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.

He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word. 

-

All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here. 

You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him. 

You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt. 

You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals. 

You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom. 

You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off. 

You hear Joel’s footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water. 

When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. He’s on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. “What’s goin’ on?”

He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He can’t even be mad that you tracked in mud. 

He swallows, gripping the cloth he’s using tighter. “You got mud everywhere.”

You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?

“Sorry, I could’ve cleaned it up.”

He returns to wiping the wood, “It’s fine, I got it, kiddo.”

You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joel’s nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest. 

But it’s been like this all day. You’re all around him even when you’re not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?

He’s on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because he’s fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore. 

Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once he’s not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once he’s thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point? 

His body was on fire, thinking about you. 

You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you. 

You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce he’s in your room, you scream. Loud. 

“For cryin’ out loud, woman!” 

You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy. 

“Joel, what the fuck?” You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.

He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. He’s biting back everything. “Can we talk?”

“Talk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?” 

You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. He’s only really talking about one thing. 

He scoffs at your last statement. “Boundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.”

Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates. 

“Joel-“

“I ain’t doin’ this back and forth anymore,” He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. “I can’t live how I've been livin’. Somethin’s gotta give.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. 

“You are the one who won’t give, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that he’s been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.

His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences. 

“Joel, you said we can’t-”

“Fuck what I said,” He cuts you off, “Do you want this?”

You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you. 

But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him. 

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.

“Darlin’-”

“Yes,” You finally manage. “Yes, I do want this.”

It’s all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies. 

You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first. 

His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own. 

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful. 

“I need you,” You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. “Right now.”

He mumbles “jump” into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back. 

He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time. 

You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. He’s still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way. 

He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans. 

“Joel… I-“

He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body. 

“God, I have wanted this for so long,” He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. “Been wanting this.”

That’s when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance. 

“Please, Joel.”

He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then. 

You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan. 

“You are divine, baby.”

The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, it’s no longer a laughing matter. 

He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. “This all for me?”

“Y-yes, Joel.”

“God, I was a fuckin’ fool for so long. Could’ve had her earlier and I never fuckin’ caved. Such an idiot.”

Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core. 

“Yeah, you’ve been missin’ out. Every night…” You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, “E-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckin’ myself just thinkin’ about you.”

He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. “Every night, hm, kiddo?”

“God, yes.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself. 

His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming. 

You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you. 

“That’s it, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, hm?”

You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress. 

“Oh my god…” You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.

When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.

“Mm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?”

You shake your head. “Never expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.”

“Wait ‘til you hear what else I got to say.”

He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance. 

“Joel…“ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, “I don’t know if it will fit.”

He grins, “It will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”

You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his. 

But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way you’re squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. It’s the prettiest sight. 

“Ready?”

Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You don’t think you have ever been this wet for someone. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god, Joel…”

He smiles as he inches in, “Squeezin’ my cock so good, darlin’.”

When he’s fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming. 

He’s trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes. 

You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you don’t feel like you will completely split in half. 

He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. I can’t believe I was missin’ out on this cunt,” He babbles, “Need this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.”

You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.

“‘M all yours, Joel.”

He smiles, slowing down a bit. “Keep talkin’ like that and ‘ll finish a lot sooner than you.”

You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.

“Please, Joel,” You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time it’s like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. “I’m gonna cum.”

“‘M with you, darlin’. Soak this dick. I’m right behind ya.”

His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile. 

Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.

He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring. 

“You okay, kiddo?” He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself. 

“I’m more than okay.”

He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. It’s just another thing to hand wash tonight.

Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. He’s gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.

Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.

So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking. 

Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to. 

You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” You pose, scrunching your nose. 

He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. “I just can’t wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.”

tags of people I love and who may wanna read (no pressure I just love u) (some of u did ask tho) : @ashleyfilm @hockeyhughes @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @myownwholewildworld

[luveline]

this request may be a bit of a long shot, but would you be willing to write a drabble for mouth of september? maybe she gives the boys a scare either by going out and then not coming home at the time she said she would or maybe she faints from not having eaten enough? totally okay if you don’t want to or if you want to use this as a prompt for something else, mos has just been one of your fic series that i think about pretty consistently even two-ish years later.

anyway have a great day and hope you’re doing well jadey <3 love u

I love you! me writing this actually did feel like a longshot but not cos I didn’t love it and not cos I don’t love u, I hope you enjoy it!! been so long since I wrote this !!🩵 fem! 4k words

cw suicidal thoughts/suicidal ideation

It’s cold tonight. 

You blow on your fingers, feeling them warm, stiffness lanced for precious few seconds. You didn’t mean to walk so far from the house, not while the wind is racing like this. The corner shop just seemed to move around while you weren’t looking. You should’ve asked Sirius to go with you, he has a better sense of direction, even if he would’ve complained the whole time about the shit weather. 

Remus would’ve come and not complained, but he was sleeping at the time and waking him felt cruel. James would’ve come, racing around in Lily’s car, but then he would’ve followed you back into the house insisting on making you some supper or a cuppa or something, and what you’d wanted was to be alone. A bar of chocolate wouldn’t hurt either. 

Stupid travelling corner shop, you think to yourself. Stupid me for fucking losing it. Should’ve just stayed home. Can’t even walk to the shop. 

You take a deep breath. You give the streets a wretched, embarrassed glare and flop down onto the nearest bench. Fuck’s sake. Lost and freezing to death. 

If Sirius were here, if he heard what you were thinking, he’d frown at you with that dark pinch to his eyes and tell you to Stop it, now. 

He’s maybe half of the reason you’re out of the house tonight. Maybe all of it. It’s all complicated and horrible and everyone thinks it’s a bad idea but the thing is that Sirius himself isn’t complicated, he isn’t horrible. He’s kind to you in funny ways, and when you’re together Sirius makes you feel like you’re someone worth being kind too, which doesn’t happen often. 

Your self annoyance fades to something more familiar soon enough. Everything goes quiet, leaving you there with your heart, quick and slow beating, can’t seem to choose, and your cold feet. Your socks feel too tight. 

Your teeth start to chatter. You can’t sit here forever. 

(But wouldn’t it be better? If you stayed? Caught cold?) 

If you get poorly from the cold, you’ll feel miserable from the moment you wake up. You’ll be ill at work, which will make work worse. You’ll have to stay in your room so you don’t get one of the boys sick, and that really would ruin your week. Nothing means anything if you don’t get to see your best friends. 

You gather yourself up and turn toward the street you’d just walked down, determined to retrace your steps. 

In the distance, a familiar shape is jogging toward you. 

“Y/N?” James shouts, sounding as though all the breath in the world has been sucked from his lungs. He doesn’t stop jogging until he gets a few feet from you, where he bends to catch his breath. “Fucking hell!” His head snaps up. “Fuck, shortcake, are you alright?” 

You close the distance. “I’m fine.” 

“Are you?” He forces himself to stand, breathing hard as he grabs you by the wrist. “Are you okay? You scared me so badly.” 

You grab his arm back. “I’m really fine, I’m fine, what’s wrong?” 

“You’re what’s wrong, you aren’t home!” James swallows a lump. “You left a note, you’d be home by seven. It’s nearly ten. Remus rang me in a fit ‘cos he didn’t know where you’d gone, we thought–” James gives you an imploring look, though it’s so so sorry at the same time, you feel your stomach twist into a hard knot. “We thought you were having a bad night.” 

“James.” Embarrassment makes you soft-toned. “I’m really sorry I scared you, but I got lost, that’s all.” You don’t really like to lie, only James seems to need to hear it. “I’m glad you found me. I was worried I wouldn’t get home.” 

James gives a breathy laugh. “Oh, good.” 

You’re pulled into a hug. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“No, it’s okay.” He rubs your back with force. It feels more for him than you, though you don’t exactly mind it. You can pretend as much as you want that you don’t like it when the boys give you affection, but they know it’s not true, and they know it’s alright to give it to you most days. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine as long as you’re fine.” 

“Fine,” you say. 

He pulls away. “Oh, god. Alright, let’s go back to the house. It’s freezing, you’re not wearing a proper coat?” 

“I didn’t plan on being out long.” 

“No?” 

He takes you by the shoulder to encourage you back the way you came. “Just wanted some chocolate,” you say. 

“I’ll get you some.” 

You both know it doesn’t add up. James doesn’t make you say much else, relieved you’re alright, and you fester in the guilt of worrying him so harshly. 

“Where are your glasses?” you ask. 

“I forgot them in the car.” 

“Where is the car?” 

“Remus thought you might’ve gone to the library, you were supposed to take that Sky-Fi back.” 

“Sci-fi.” 

“Right, the space books. He took it to see if you were walking home, I said I’d come this way, and Sirius…” James grimaces. “Not sure where he went. He was already out by the time I got to the house.” 

“How are we gonna find him?” 

“He’ll come back eventually.” 

You stick close to James’ side, dodging crisped up leaves and following him down the dropped kerb and finally onto a familiar road. “Guess I’ve lived here so long, I should’ve known the way,” you say. 

“It’s alright.” 

You bite your cheek for a second. “I’m really sorry, James, I– I didn’t– is it really ten?” 

“…Aren’t you cold?” he asks softly. 

“I didn’t think about it.” 

“I wish you would.” He pokes his tongue against his cheek. “I want to know if you’re having a bad night. It’s alright if you were. If you need more time, more help, it’s okay.” 

“It’s not like that… not all of it. I was walking to the shops, I swear. Just feel so,” —your voice slips into a colour of shame you despise— “weird sometimes. I’m sorry I made you worry. I don’t know why I keep doing this.” 

“Is this a common occurrence?” 

“Not the walk, just. Just this. Making you worry. I didn’t mean to make everybody worry.” 

“Well, I am worried. When you disappear for a couple more hours than you say you will, it’s scary.” James gives you a shrug. “I love you, I’m gonna wonder where you are.” 

“But–”

“I worry about Sirius when he goes to the pub until who knows when, worry about Lils when she does too many hours at work. I worry about Remus every day, his eyes are worse than mine ‘cos all he does is read,” he says with a laugh. “It’s fine.” 

“I worry about you too,” you say. 

“About what?” he asks, stricken. 

“Remus told me you can pop your knee out from your kneecap when you weight lift. I know you think it’s fun and stuff, but that’s scary.” 

“I’m getting fit!” He rolls his eyes. “Lily likes my abs.” 

“Well I liked you when you were soft.” 

James cackles at your poor fake-flirting. “I’ve never been soft, take that back! You know being captain made me solid as a rock.” 

“James?” a voice calls. 

You look up at the same time. Sirius is sitting on the wall in front of the house smoking; he takes a harsh, quick drag and stabs it out so hard that ash sullies his fingers as he stands. 

“Oh,” he says, blowing the smoke from his mouth quickly, his breath a ragged thing as he bounds across the road to hug you. “Sorry.”

You don’t get what he’s sorry for. “It’s okay.” 

He smells so strongly of smoke it’s like he’s blowing it under your nose, but he’s not so sharp to the touch. You falter at being touched kindly, feeling tension in his back as you curl an arm around him. 

Sirius digs his face into your neck. 

“Hey?” you ask quietly. 

He steps back suddenly, an accusing fist held between your two abdomens. “Where have you been?” he asks, and there’s the sharpness to match his smell, scowl turning his grey-blue eyes to pitch, lashes in a furious tangle. “You can’t do that. You can’t just disappear for hours.” 

“I’m sorry–”

“It’s not okay.”

“She said she’s sorry,” James interjects, “maybe let’s leave it?” 

“Being sorry doesn’t erase the last two hours of us panicking, though, does it?” 

“She got lost–”

“James, it’s okay, it’s–” You shake your head. “Maybe you should go inside to warm up? You’re not wearing a coat either.” 

“I was in a rush.” James gives Sirius a warning look. “I’ll make you a cup of tea. Five minutes and I’m coming back out.” 

James trudges up the garden path to the house. You twist your hands together, staring into Sirius’ face, wanting to see every bit of his anger, keeping tabs on all of it so as not to be surprised. You should’ve known he’d run out of patience with you eventually. He’s had to deal with your awful moods more than anyone else. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Do you realise how scary it is to worry you’ve hurt yourself?” Sirius asks starkly. 

You flinch. “It doesn’t exactly feel great for me, either.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Still, he softens. You feel like you’ve cheated. “I don’t understand. You got lost? How far away from the house were you?” 

“I don’t know, I was trying to go to Del’s.” 

“You’re not being honest with me, or any of us. It’s not fair. My heart is like a fucking racehorse,” he says, pressing his hand to his chest, fingertips smudgy with ash, “’cos all I’ve thought tonight is that you’d gone off and jumped off of a bridge or something. I know you wouldn’t.” He lets his hand fall. He quietens. It is almost apologetic, how he slows. “I know you wouldn’t. I knew you’d come home. But please don’t make me think about it.”

He’s gone pale in the cold, his hair in twists and tucked haphazard behind his ears. In his thick bomber jacket and his jeans, he could’ve just hopped of the bike, windswept as he is, but it’s the mark of worried hands having pushed his hair back repetitively rather than the weather, though the longer you stand there in the wind, the more tangled it becomes. “I dont get why you’re so determined to be alone,” he says. 

You don’t want to talk about it. When do you ever? More than ever, you’d like to stalk past him and slam your bedroom door, let him know you’re fine by yourself and seething, let him stay ignorant to you as you squirm in a bed you’ve come to hate. How often do you lay there wishing you could be alone forever? It’s not fair to anyone. It doesn’t make sense. They all love you and you feel sorry for them, ‘cos you tricked them, ‘cos you’re nothing worth thinking about for long. 

Sirius won’t stop frowning at you. It makes the drowning feeling worse. 

“I’m sorry,” you say again, hoping this time it’ll stick. “I don’t know what happened, I just wasn’t thinking. I don’t feel very well.” 

“I know.” He scoffs to himself. You relax at the hint of self-deprecation. “It’s not your fault. I’m fucking furious with you but I know you can’t help it.” 

“Sorry.” 

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. For saying you’d jumped off a bridge, that’s horrible, but you really fucking worry me sometimes and I’m so relieved that you’re okay that it’s making me horrible.” 

“You’re not horrible.” 

“I’m mean.” 

“You’re not.”

“No, I am. You’re the only person who doesn’t see it. Or at least doesn’t say it.” Sirius rubs his face, scraping a stray hair from his nose. “Sorry for shouting. Here,” —he holds out his arm— “let’s have a proper one.” 

He hugs you nicely, no force to it, less lingering smoke. The scratch of his cheek catches yours, his hand at the bottom of your back, your jacket and shirt rising with every sweep of his touch. You press your closed eye to his hair. 

“Why didn’t you come and sit with me or– we could’ve talked. Could’ve just led in bed, doesn’t matter, I would’ve gone to the shop with you.” He squeezes you, pressing his nose to your shoulder. “I can be morbid. We can be two miserable layabouts together.” 

“I didn’t…” You cringe. “Sirius, it’s not on purpose, I swear. I didn’t do it to make you worry.” 

“I know that, Jesus.”

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re home.” 

You pull apart as a car turns onto the street. That’ll be Remus. Another for your troupe of worry. 

“What do you think, is he mad at me too?” you ask. 

“Remus?” Sirius gives you another half hug. “‘Course not.” 

And true to form, Remus climbs out of the car with a fond smile. “Hey, where have you been?” His hair ruffles in the wind, scars turned palest purple in the cold. “You need to learn how to tell time.” 

You let him hug you. “Sorry.” 

“That’s alright, let’s go inside though. Have some tea. Did you eat much today?” 

You ignore the question. “Tea,” you say. 

“Yeah.” 

Remus ushers you down the path to the house, Sirius on your other side like bodyguards. 

“Thanks for, uh, looking for me.” 

Remus takes you by the forearm. “We’ll always look for you. But next time, wake me up first.” 

You nod gratefully. “Uh, okay. Thank you.” 

“Stop saying thanks. It’s alright, Y/N. It’s fine.” 

That’s what you’ve all said, but it doesn’t make it true. 

—

James goes home, though he doesn’t want to. “I can stay,” he says over the rim of his mug, half-pleading, wanting you to ask him to. “We can have a sleepover.” 

You insist that you’re really fine, he has work tomorrow, it’s late. When he doesn’t move, you say, “I feel bad enough that you were out looking for me in the cold.” 

Your voice is pathetic and scratchy and he can tell you’re going to cry, they all can, so he doesn’t push it anymore than that. He goes home, and you go to bed, and Remus follows you up a little bit later with a glass of juice and some thick, buttered slices of teacake. 

“You okay?” he asks, climbing into bed next to you where you’re laying down. 

“Fine.” 

“Didn’t eat much today?” 

“No.” 

“Have the juice, at least.” 

You take the glass. 

Between your sorry sips, Remus picks at one of the slices of cake, steals looks at you, though he doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing. 

“Sorry about today. Didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“You can stop saying sorry.” Remus lets his head tip from one side to another. “I can hear it in your voice that you don’t want to say it. Not that I don’t believe that you’re really, actually sorry. But you keep repeating it because you’re worried I want you to do that, and I don’t.” 

“It’s what I should say.” 

“Well, you’ve said it.” Remus turns to you, all bookish and rakish at once, lovely but tired, and he must be giving you a similar appraisal. “I wanted to be your friend the second I first talked to you. It wasn’t guilt.” He shakes his head. Wasn’t ’cos they’d played that prank on you with the shoe-eating goo, spied on you crying in a school hallway, overwhelmed. “I just liked you, and that was without any sort of knowledge of what you’re like. Now that I know you, I couldn’t be rid of you. Truly. I love you, you know that?” He smiles gently. “Even when you need time and you disappear. Please… don’t really go anywhere though, will you?” 

“I won’t.” You decided a long time ago that ending your life wasn’t in the cards. There are terrifying moments, numb ones, blink-and-it’s over ones, where you feel like it’s the only option you have. But it ends eventually, or it sinks into a background to be forgotten until the next time it aches. 

“Are you eating properly?” he asks. 

“Remus–” You shake your head as he brings a hand to your forehead, like he might stroke your hair. “You don’t have to do this.” 

“You don’t like answering, that’s all.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“I’ve made you talk much more than you would’ve liked to, tonight.”

“I like talking to you. To all of you.” You rest your head on his thigh. “You really are my favourite people in the world, Remus. I wouldn’t… wouldn't give you up.” 

“Good,” he says, stroking your forehead just a few times. “‘Cos we can’t be without you.” 

Sirius finds you collapsing in on one another a little later and rounds the bed to lay on your other side. He doesn’t bother sitting as Remus did, pulling the blankets up and slipping in beside you without worrying about what parts of you are touching parts of him, nor the slip of your back where your shirt’s riding up, nor how warm it is under the quilt. He grabs the end of your t-shirt and pulls it flat over your stomach, before his hand spreads out there, and you realise half-heartedly that he’s hugging you from behind. The room is barely seeable. Remus is nearly sleeping. Your tea cake went uneaten, left stodgy and dark on the nightstand. 

“This okay?” Sirius asks. 

“Yeah.” 

He burrows nearer, rubbing his nose against the back of your neck, then taking a long breath of you. 

“Are you mad?” you ask. 

“Not anymore.” 

You can’t believe that any of them could love you so much as to look for you. That James would want to stay the night, and that he’d let you turn him away. If you had any energy left in you tonight you would’ve done the same to Remus, and then Sirius. James won’t be happy when he finds out they’d slept in the bed with you and left him out, but he’ll forgive it eventually. None of them should care so much about you, what’s special about you? What’s even really good? What’s worth it? 

Sirius breathes behind you. He doesn’t seem scared to touch you, not worried to lay as close to you as your bodies will allow. His heat sinks into you. 

“Know any poems?” he asks, letting you shift into his back as he pushes an arm beneath you, curling, really holding you to him, a spoon of a hug. 

“What kind did you want to hear?” 

Sirius doesn’t answer. You hold still as his hand begins looping over your stomach. 

“I can’t remember anything right.” 

“Can you guess at one for me?” he asks. 

You stare at Remus’ falling chest. You’re lucky to have good friends. 

“I read one a few days ago, a couple of times, it was only a few lines.” You wait. Sirius doesn’t say anything, so you start to relay the poem slowly, stringing the words together as they come. “The world was a… nautilus shell... And the world was a grain of sand.” Your voice is odd, but the lines come to you regardless. “The world was a honeycomb… And the world was a strip of tender bark.” 

Sirius lets his lips warm your neck, asking softly, more touch than sound, “That was the whole poem?” 

You take his hand where it’s against you. “That’s it.” 

He nods. 

The world was a nautilus shell. And the world was a grain of sand. The world was a honeycomb. And the world was a strip of tender bark. You run through the poem again, three times, tripping over strip and tender and bark as Sirius’ breath warms your nape. 

“Please don’t do that again,” he says. 

“I didn’t mean to–” You force yourself to stay still. “I would never do something like that to scare you.” 

“Nobody in this room or out of it believes that you went on your walk tonight to scare them.” His nose tips down your neck. His hand spreads wider over your stomach. It feels so weird, so warm and rigid. It’s the best touch you’ve ever been given, and it doesn’t matter because you’re so ashamed of yourself —you went on your stupid little walk with at least some bad intent, and your friends noticed because they love you when they shouldn’t bother. This is a stain now, something you’ll remember. “But I can’t take it. Do you get that? I can’t take it. James found you two hours ago and I still feel like I don’t know where you are.” 

“Didn’t mean to.” 

“I know, love.” He actually does kiss your neck then, quiet smack of a real kiss. “I know. I know.” His forehead presses to your shoulder as he settles in. “You’re okay. I’m not mad.” 

“Me neither,” Remus croaks. 

You let yourself relax enough to feel tired. Warmth from either side of you threatens to bowl you over. 

“How are you feeling now?” Sirius asks. 

“Fine.” Always fine. They deserve better honesty. “I didn’t want to hurt myself. Jus’… I needed to move, like, go, and I hate this part. I don’t think it should matter that I’m not– that I don’t feel well.” 

“Don’t get upset,” Sirius says quietly. 

“I’m not.” You sound tight. “When I want to be somewhere, it doesn’t make sense that it matters. In the moment, I don’t remember that you…” 

“Love you?” Sirius asks. 

“I know why you were worried, I promise. I don’t live in a bubble. I know I’m selfish.” 

“Not selfish.” 

“It was, though.” 

“You’re thinking about it like we have a problem with what you did, and it’s my fault because I got so mad, but it’s not really that you did it.” His hand curls shy of your breastbone. “I was mad, but– darling,” —you squeeze your eyes shut— “you’re not on trial. You don’t have to prove your way out of this, all we need to know is if you’re alright now.” 

“Not really.” 

Remus gives a half-sleeping mumble. 

Sirius sits up in bed to look at both of you. “We love you. We,” —he gestures between you and Remus emphatically— “aren’t going to stop. No matter how many walks you go on, how many scares you give me.” He frowns at you sympathetically. “We’re not getting any further, are we?” 

“Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry.” He grimaces, dark around the eyes. “I’m a right prick and I’ve made a right mess of everything.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, chancing a touch, terrified you’ll be reprimanded for it but knowing, as you know he loves you, that you’re allowed. The tips of your fingers touch his collarbone. Sharp thing. 

He pulls a jib, lips all up and thinned like a smirk gone wrong. “Love you.” 

You must’ve petrified him. He’s never so open with his feelings, even when it’s half-joking like this. 

“I love you, too.” 

He makes another face. Good enough, it says. 

“Make me hot chocolate?” you whisper. 

“Mm, come on.” He pulls you from the bed by your wrists. “Don’t complain when it’s gritty. I’m not skilled as Remus.” 

“Quite right,” Remus mumbles. 

You hug him quickly before you leave. 

[claramelooo]

Hey, babies! Let's go to a another chapter (penultimate chapter)! To write this chapter all i needed was a sad playlist, beign on my period and one KitKat, can you believe that?

If you want, I can make available the playlists that helped me create the story.

Now, enjoy it <3

FEEL FREE TO FEEL

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warnings: ANGST, ANGST, ANGST, HOMOPHOBIA, CHRISTIAN GUILT

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem Reader

Summary: The consequences of your actions arrive.

Read here: Prologue | Part 1 - Predator | Part 2 - The Prey | Part 3 - On your Knees | Part 4 - The Spider | Part 5 - The Lamb | Part 6 - Pure Crimson | Part 7 - Dependece | Part 8 - Passion | Part 9 - Revenge | Part 10 - Control

VELVET CHAINS

Consequences

The last month had been an emotional rollercoaster. The time at Wanda’s house had been intense, almost surreal, like a dream you never wanted to wake up from. But, like all dreams, it came to an end. Returning home brought reality back, with controlling parents and suffocating expectations. You and Wanda kept talking, but something had changed.

She didn’t text as much as before. The calls, which used to be long before bed, now barely lasted 30 minutes. And even when you took the initiative, her responses became colder, shorter.

You tried to ignore it.

The SAT was approaching, and that consumed all your energy. “She must be busy,” you told yourself. But an uncomfortable feeling of loss began to grow, like a silent emptiness.

As soon as the test was over, you felt like you could breathe. You felt confident—the test model this year was the same as what you had studied. But now, all you could think about was fixing things with the woman who haunted your mind, even in your dreams.

You wanted to see her, to get answers. But when you arrived, no one was there. A neighbor mentioned that the Maximoffs were at the hospital—Billy had fallen ill. Panic gripped you. You spent days trying to contact Wanda, sending messages, calling, but it was like shouting into an abyss. Her silence was deafening.

Then, during a family lunch after Sunday service, your mother casually said, “Wanda really needs our prayers right now.”

You furrowed your brow, confused.

Your father fervently agreed. “Yes. Now that Billy has finally received his diagnosis, it will be easier for our prayers to reach the ears of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Your heart seemed to stop for a moment.

“What… happened to Billy?” you asked, fear creeping into your voice, gripping your utensils harder than necessary.

“Oh, dear! Billy has cancer.”

The world stopped.

Your mother’s words echoed like thunder inside you, shattering any fragment of calm left. Billy has cancer.

The utensils fell from your hand with a dry clatter onto the table. The air seemed to freeze in your lungs as the weight of those words seeped into your mind like poison.

Images of Billy flooded your mind: his mischievous smile, the spark in his eyes when he ran through the garden, the way he threw himself into your arms without hesitation. Now, all of that seemed distant, fragile, as if it could disappear at any moment.

“Are you okay, dear?” your mother asked, but her tone felt more like an obligation than concern.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to blame your mother for treating the news so lightly. But the words wouldn’t come. There was only a tight knot in your throat, choking you.

“Excuse me,” you murmured, hastily getting up from the table, your legs shaking with every step.

In the bathroom, you slid down the door to the cold floor, your chest burning with despair. The news hit you like a violent wave, and you couldn’t breathe. The tears came, hot and uncontrollable, as you pressed your hand against your mouth to stifle the sobs.

All you wanted was to see him, to see Wanda, to say you were there for whatever they needed. But how? Wanda wasn’t answering. She didn’t want you around.

Without thinking twice, you went to the Maximoffs’ house.

However, when Wanda opened the door, her gaze was cold as she looked at you.

“What are you doing here?” The question cut like a knife.

“I... I heard about Billy. I wanted to know how you both are,” your voice trembled, but you tried to sound firm.

The woman sighed, crossing her arms—building a wall between you.

“This isn’t your problem,” she replied, her tone sharp.

You stood frozen at the threshold, as if the icy pain of her words was physical. Her tone was distant, almost cruel, but her eyes… Ah, Wanda’s eyes told a different story. There was something there, a shadow of pain, of something unsaid, that made your chest tighten even more.

“Wanda, please,” you tried, taking a step inside, but she raised her hand, blocking your entry.

“I said it’s not your problem,” she repeated, more firmly, though her voice had a slight tremor at the end.

“How can you say that?” Your voice cracked, the words coming out desperate. “I care about you both. I care about him! About you!”

Her green eyes closed for a moment, as if gathering strength. When they opened, they were harder, but the pain you saw there almost made you collapse.

“You don’t understand. You can’t understand.” Her voice dropped, almost a whisper, but still heavy with weight.

“Then explain it to me!” you pleaded, feeling the tears threatening to fall. “I’m here, Wanda. I’ve always been here!”

She laughed, but it was a bitter laugh, without humor. “You think that’s enough? That being here will fix anything?”

You took another step, desperate to break the invisible barrier she had placed between you. “I don’t know, but I want to try. I want to help!”

Wanda shook her head, her golden hair swaying with the motion.

“You can’t help. Not now, not ever. You need to go.”

“Don’t say that…” your voice broke.

“You need to go,” she repeated, quieter this time, but still unyielding.

Silence fell between you like a stone, heavy and unbearable. Her eyes, so bright and so full of everything she didn’t say, pleaded with you for something her words denied.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered, unable to contain the tears now.

She took a deep breath, looking away, but not before you saw the glimmer of her own unshed tears. “Because it’s better this way.”

“Better for who?”

She didn’t answer. She simply closed the door slowly, leaving you on the other side.

You stood there, your forehead pressed against the cold wood, the sobs finally taking over you. The emptiness she left was suffocating, and all that was left were her cold words, which didn’t match the warmth and pain you saw in her green eyes.

You left with half of your heart shattered.

A month later, the SAT results finally arrived. You were in the living room, your heart pounding so loudly it seemed to echo through the space. When you opened the email and saw the word “Congratulations!”, tears immediately filled your eyes.

“I did it,” you whispered to yourself, disbelief mingling with happiness.

But it wasn’t just a “Congratulations.” It was Yale. The university you had spent countless nights dreaming about, imagining its halls, the lectures, the debates that would shape your future. It was the beginning of something monumental, the start of a journey that always felt so distant and yet so viscerally yours.

You ran to the mirror in the hallway and looked at yourself, laughing as tears streaked your flushed cheeks. “I did it! I did it!”

The dreams you’d held close to your chest began to take form. Studying International Relations at one of the world’s most prestigious universities was more than a personal achievement; it was the first step toward making a difference. You envisioned nights buried in books, exploring cultures, questioning systems, trying to understand—and maybe, to change—the world.

Above all, there was your dream of becoming a writer. A quiet desire that grew with every story you created, every character you brought to life, every corner of the world you translated into words. You wanted to be more than an observer. You wanted to be a storyteller, someone who could take the complexities of life and turn them into something that could touch others.

Changing the world—that had always been the goal, even when it seemed impossible. Perhaps it was too ambitious, maybe even foolish, but it never stopped you. You knew that, with the right words, you could reach hearts, open minds, and perhaps inspire someone like you to never give up.

In that moment, alone in the room, you allowed yourself a moment of pure joy. Every sacrifice, every sleepless night, every doubt—it had all been worth it. You weren’t the girl who just dreamed anymore. Now, you were the girl who made it happen.

And Yale was just the beginning.

But when you were ready to share the news with your parents, you were met with a suspicious look. “So?! What’s this news you have to share with us?!” your father asked, his tone sharp, leaving you confused.

You swallowed hard, the paper with the printed Yale email trembling in your hands. The pride you’d felt just moments ago was suffocated by the tension in the room, as if the air itself might shatter.

“I… I wanted to tell you that I got into Yale,” you started, trying to ignore the edge in your father’s gaze and the false softness in your mother’s voice. “I did it. I’m going to study International Relations. My dream—”

“Yale?” your father interrupted, his voice icy, almost harsh. “And what exactly do you plan to do there, huh? Continue with this shameful behavior we’ve been hearing about?”

“Shameful?” Your voice came out as a whisper, confusion and fear gripping you.

Your mother let out a deep sigh, as if exhausted by something beneath her notice. “Don’t act innocent, Y/n. People talk! One of the sisters at church told us you’ve been behaving… inappropriately with Yelena.”

You felt your heart plummet, your hands tightening around the paper until it crumpled. “Yelena is my friend!” you tried to explain, but your mother raised a hand, silencing you.

“Friend?” She laughed, but there was nothing warm in that sound. It was cold, harsh. “We hoped you would understand what happens to girls who stray from God’s path. Or do you think you can ignore His teachings and still expect us to tolerate it?”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice faltered, but anger began to simmer beneath the surface, mingling with humiliation and hurt.

Your father took a step forward, his expression dark as a storm. “You know exactly what I’m talking about! Don’t pretend to be blind. Or do you think we’re fools?”

“Dear, please,” your mother attempted to soothe him, but he ignored her.

“I’ve always known there was something wrong with you, Y/n. Always so… different. Strange. God knows we tried, we prayed, but maybe this was a mistake. Maybe we never should’ve given you life.”

Those words landed like a knife, slicing through everything inside you. You stepped back, wide-eyed, trying to process what you had just heard.

“How can you say that?” Your voice trembled, but it was strong enough to echo through the room.

Your mother shook her head, a look of false sadness on her face. “No one’s saying you have no worth, Y/n. We just want you to understand… this path you’re taking is wrong. We don’t want you to lose your soul.”

You felt tears burn your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not in front of them. The pride of getting into Yale, the dream you so desperately wanted to share, was ruined—drowned in the pain of prejudice from the very people who should have loved you unconditionally.

“I haven’t lost my soul,” you murmured, your voice breaking. “But I think you’ve lost yours.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked out, clutching the crumpled email against your chest. The pain was suffocating, but the small flame within you—that dream of changing the world—refused to go out.

Their words were cruel, irreversible, leaving a wound you knew would never fully heal. You cried, but instead of drowning in the hurt, you did what you always did: you turned to Wanda.

When you arrived at her house, Wanda was in the living room, absently toying with a book.

“I needed to see you,” you began, but she didn’t even look up.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice cold.

“Wanda, please. I have no one else. Let me explain—”

“There’s nothing to explain,” she interrupted, finally looking at you.

Her eyes glimmered with something that felt both vulnerable and cruel. “You need to move on with your life.”

“You’re pushing me away,” you whispered, the pain spilling over.

“Yes, I am.”

“Why?”

She closed her eyes, sighing deeply, as if searching for calm—or perhaps the words. “Because I need to be here. With my children, with my husband.” The mention of Vision as her husband made your heart bleed.

The pain in Wanda’s words was like a direct blow to your chest. You searched her eyes for a spark of truth, something to tell you this wasn’t real, that she didn’t mean it. But her gaze was implacable—cold and empty.

“Is that it? You’re saying everything we had… was nothing?”

“It was a mistake.”

The word hit you like a dagger. You stepped back, feeling the ground disappear beneath your feet. “A mistake?” Your voice was barely audible.

“Yes,” she insisted, as though repeating it could convince herself. “I can’t keep doing this. You’re young; you have your whole life ahead of you. I’m just a woman trying to keep my family together.”

Her words left you shattered.

“You’re lying,” you said, tears finally escaping. “You feel it too, Wanda. I’ve always seen it in your eyes.”

She hesitated—a crack in the mask. But then she shook her head, bitterness lining her expression. “You need to leave, Y/n. Don’t come back. Don’t write. Don’t look for me.”

“Wanda…” you started, but she raised her hand—final, definitive.

“Go.”

You stood there for a moment, searching her face for anything—anything to hold onto. But all you found was emptiness. So you turned and walked away, feeling like each step took you further not just from her, but from a part of yourself.

Outside, the air felt colder, heavier. You didn’t know where to go. But you knew you couldn’t stay. And as the door shut behind you, the sound echoed like a full stop on a story you weren’t ready to end.

The bus that would take you to the university was crowded, yet somehow, you felt completely alone. The worn-out suitcase rested at your feet, carrying the little you had decided to take with you. Everything else—the memories, the broken bonds, the weight of unspoken words—was stored somewhere else, too deep to reach.

As the vehicle moved along the road, you stared out the window. The trees turned into blurs of green and brown, as though the world was rushing away from you, leaving behind a trail of silence and emptiness. Yet, amidst that emptiness, there was something different. A faint but unbreakable strength that kept you standing.

The first days in Connecticut were difficult. Loneliness felt alive, pressing on your shoulders as you explored Yale’s campus. The dream that had once seemed so bright now felt clouded, dimmed by the absence of something—or someone.

Still, you forced yourself to keep going. Routine began to fill the empty spaces: classes, books, notes. You threw yourself into studying, as if every word absorbed was a step toward rebuilding yourself. But at night, when the world grew silent, your mind wandered.

Wanda.

Her name was a constant whisper, echoing through the most fragile parts of your mind. You saw her in small details: in the brown of an autumn leaf, in the faint scent of citrus perfume, in the muffled sound of laughter in the distance. No matter how hard you tried to push her away, she always found a way to return.

But amidst the pain, there was resilience. You forced yourself to remember why you were there. It wasn’t just for a diploma; it was for something bigger. For a future. For a version of yourself that Wanda could not destroy.

One morning, as you sipped coffee at a small café near the university, you noticed something. The bitter taste of the coffee didn’t seem as bad as before. The sunlight filtering through the windows carried a warmth you hadn’t felt in a while. Small things that once went unnoticed now felt... possible.

You knew there was still a long road ahead. There were still nights when the weight of Wanda’s absence was unbearable, and days when the world seemed empty without her. But amidst all of that, there was a growing strength.

You were learning to stand up again. And maybe, one day, you could look back and realize that even in loss, you had found yourself.

[...]

"Mom!" Wanda dropped everything the moment she heard the boys’ scream from the bedroom.

“What happened?” She grabbed their cheeks harder than necessary, checking them over.

“Look, Mom, a hair grew!” Billy said happily, and Wanda smiled at the sight of a small brown tuft growing.

“Oh, look at that... We can finally pick a hairstyle for you, can’t we?”

Wanda laughed, feeling a genuine relief for the first time in months.

The joy in Billy’s eyes was contagious, as if that small strand of hair was a trophy—a victory over everything they had faced.

“I want a mohawk!” Billy declared enthusiastically, crossing his arms in a defiant manner.

“A mohawk?” Wanda raised an eyebrow, pretending to be horrified. “Do you know who's in charge of the style in this house?”

“Oh, Mom! Please!” Billy begged, pulling his best puppy-dog face, while Tommy, always the smartest, joined the conversation.

“If he gets a mohawk, I want one too!” Tommy said, already messing with his own hair.

Wanda placed her hands on her hips, staring at the two of them with a mockingly stern look. “If you two show up with mohawks, you’ll have to explain to Dad why he’s the only bald one in this house!”

The boys burst into laughter, and Wanda couldn’t help but laugh too, sitting on the carpet between them. It was a simple moment, but one filled with meaning. As the two argued about the most ridiculous hairstyles they could try, she realized how much these little things mattered.

She ran her fingers through Billy’s newborn strand of hair, her smile soft. “You know, you’re the bravest boy I’ve ever met.”

“I know I am!” Billy replied confidently, earning more laughter from her and Tommy.

As the boys laughed and made impossible plans, Wanda allowed herself something rare: hope. Perhaps the weight she carried could, little by little, dissolve in moments like this.

For a moment, she felt the urge to share this joy with you. To send a picture of the small tuft of hair or tell you how well the boys were doing. But then, she remembered you weren’t there anymore.

Even so, looking at her sons, Wanda knew she still had a reason to fight, to smile. She pulled both of them into a tight hug, ignoring their playful complaints.

“I love you both, you know that?” she said, kissing their foreheads.

“We love you too, Mom,” Billy replied, with the same smile that lit up Wanda’s world, even in the darkest moments.

Later, as Wanda stirred the stew with a wooden spoon, her thoughts drifted to ten months ago.

Discovering Vision had been like a lightning bolt shattering the perfect world Wanda had fought so hard to maintain. He hadn’t yelled, hadn’t confronted her directly. He didn’t need to. He simply looked at her with a mixture of disdain and disappointment, and in a cold tone, made his threat clear: “If this continues, I will take the boys. You know I can. And you know I will.”

That night, while Vision slept, Wanda sat at the edge of the bed, her hands trembling with pure rage. She watched him silently, battling thoughts that terrified her. A dark part of herself whispered that it would be so easy to end it all—one move, one spell, and Vision would be nothing but a distant memory. But then Billy coughed from the other room.

Reality came crashing over her like a wave—cold and crushing. The boy’s soft cough was the harbinger of the nightmare to come. Within days, the diagnosis arrived: skin cancer.

Wanda’s world collapsed.

Seeing Billy so fragile, so vulnerable, was a pain no words could express. The chemotherapy sessions left her boy weak, his bright smile fading little by little, replaced by a weary expression. He began losing weight, and the soft curls Wanda loved to caress fell out, untilnothing remained.

Wanda stayed by his side, but every treatment session was like a dagger to the heart. She held Billy’s hand as he cried, his small body shaking with pain and exhaustion, and the guilt grew inside her like a monster. She wondered if all of this was divine punishment—for betraying Vision. For letting herself be carried away by you.

And yet, in the quiet moments, while Billy slept, she thought of you. She thought of how you made her feel alive, how your presence illuminated the darkest corners of her soul. Of the smiles you pulled from her, even when the world felt too heavy.

But now you were part of the weight, too. Vision knew. Vision was watching. And Billy needed her. Wanda knew she had to cut off what existed between you two. As much as it hurt, it was the only way to protect her children.

So, she hardened her heart. She said the cold words she knew would push you away and that she knew she would regret later—even as her eyes silently begged you not to believe them. When you left, she cried in silence but tried to convince herself she had done the right thing.

As Billy began to recover, the guilt and emptiness only grew. With each day he grew stronger, Wanda felt grateful but also painfully aware of your absence.

And it hurt. Wanda began to experience withdrawal—she saw you in everything.

You were in every corner of the house, in every shadow of the sunset that lit the living room. Wanda heard your laughter echo through empty hallways, your soft voice whispering things only she could hear. It was as if the entire world conspired to remind her of you, and the more she tried to escape, the more you haunted her.

The nights were the worst. The pillow beside her seemed soaked with your scent, and it drove her insane. She would clutch the fabric, eyes closed, trying to recreate the feeling of your lips on hers, the warmth of your skin. But it was useless. It was torture.

Wanda began spending more time in her room, sitting on the bed, holding a book she couldn’t read. Every page she tried to focus on was a blur, replaced by images of you smiling, you laughing, you crying. The memory of your voice calling her name was almost tangible.

She began to wonder if she was losing her mind. The withdrawal was physical. There was a hole in her chest that couldn’t be filled, an insatiable hunger that no food or drink could satisfy. Wanda stopped eating, stopped sleeping. The woman who controlled everything and everyone in her life was now at the mercy of a desire that was slowly destroying her.

In a desperate impulse, Wanda grabbed her phone and typed in your number. Her hands trembled, and her heart beat so hard she could barely breathe. But before pressing the call button, she stopped.

She knew she couldn’t. That you were better off away from her. But knowing that didn’t make her feel better. It didn’t stop her from wanting you with an intensity that made her hate herself.

Wanda threw the phone onto the bed, her eyes burning with tears she refused to let fall. She leaned forward, hands in her hair, pulling it hard as she breathed deeply, trying to erase you from her mind. But you were an addiction.

An addiction that was killing her slowly.

“I hate you,” she whispered into the void, her voice hoarse, broken. “I hate you for making me feel this way.”

She loved you. She loved you so much it destroyed her. And as the days passed, Wanda knew she would never be whole again. Because even as Billy grew stronger, as life returned to some form of normal, somet

Another Sunday, another church service. But the woman had a plan—Wanda was nervous, though she tried to hide it. She dressed with her usual elegance, maintaining the calm posture that often intimidated others, even when everything inside her was chaos. As she walked to your house after the service, she rehearsed in her mind what she would say to your parents. Nothing too direct, just a casual question. She needed to hear something about you, anything that could connect her to you again.

When the door opened, your mother greeted her with a hesitant smile, as if she already knew the visit wasn’t purely social. After a few exchanged words, Wanda asked the casual question—or at least tried to make it sound that way:

“So, how’s Y/n? It’s been a while since I’ve seen her…” The woman’s eyes scanned the room, searching for your figure, for your shadow.

Your mother’s face hardened, and your father, who was sitting on the couch, let out a bitter laugh.

“How is she? We don’t know, because she left without even saying goodbye.”

Wanda froze, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it was crushing her ribs. “She... left?” Her voice came out low, almost a whisper, but heavy with disbelief.

“She did,” your father replied, his voice cold. “After everything we did for her, she decided to abandon us as if we were nothing.”

Your mother sighed, though she seemed more irritated than sad. “She was always… difficult. And now, look at her. Yale? Big deal. It means nothing if she doesn’t have respect for her own family.”

Wanda couldn’t hear the rest. The phrase “she left” echoed in her mind, a mantra that ripped apart every piece of logic or self-control she had left. She stood abruptly, mumbling something incomprehensible as an excuse to leave.

As soon as she stepped out the door, the mask fell. Her hands trembled violently as she searched for her car keys. The thought that you were gone, that you were far away and out of reach, was unbearable.

On the way back, Wanda could barely drive. The road was a blur as tears filled her eyes. She parked haphazardly in front of her house and rushed inside.

As soon as she shut the door, she collapsed onto the living room floor. Tears streamed down her face as she held her head in her hands, her body shaking with sobs she could no longer hold back. You had left. You weren’t there anymore. And she had never said goodbye.

“Why did you do this?” she whispered to the emptiness, her voice broken. “Why did you leave me? I… I just wanted to protect you…”

But she knew. She knew that pushing you away had been the greatest mistake of her life. And now, you were gone, and Wanda was alone, trapped in a world where everything felt colorless, lifeless.

That night, she picked up her phone again and typed in your number. But, just like before, she couldn’t bring herself to press “call.” All that remained was the emptiness of a name on the screen, and a hole in her chest that nothing could fill.

[...]

The morning was like any other over the past five years: a stifling Sunday, and Wanda sat in the back seat of the car next to the boys while Vision drove with his usual precision. She didn’t pay attention to the words he was saying, only nodding mechanically, keeping the serene face that had become her mask.

The twins, now 16, were as irreverent as teenagers could be, arguing over something trivial. Wanda heard the sounds but didn’t process the words. Her heart beat in the slow, hollow rhythm of a life on autopilot.

When they arrived at the church, Wanda adjusted her dress and put on sunglasses to hide the tiredness in her eyes. The family looked perfect—Vision held her hand with a polished smile, while Billy and Tommy walked ahead, grumbling about how much they hated being there.

Then it happened.

As they walked toward the church’s grand doors, something caught her attention. It was a woman standing across the street, scrolling on her phone. Her hair, the way she held her bag, her posture… everything made Wanda’s heart stop for a moment.

It was you.

Wanda blinked, feeling the blood freeze in her veins. It couldn’t be. You were far away. For years. But that woman...

Without thinking, she let go of Vision’s hand. “Wait here,” she said quickly, not looking back.

“Wanda? Where are you going?” Vision asked, confused, but she was already crossing the street.

“Hey, Mom! What the hell?” Tommy shouted, but she didn’t respond.

Wanda’s heels struck hard against the asphalt as she ran, her heart racing. Every step made her believe more: it was you. It had to be you. The world seemed to stop, all the noise around her muffled by the sound of her ragged breathing.

“Y/n!” she shouted, her voice hoarse and desperate.

The woman stopped and turned slowly, a confused expression on her face.

But it wasn’t you.

Wanda’s heart plummeted. Reality hit hard, like a cold blow to the stomach. The woman was taller, her eyes a different color, and the smile she gave was polite but completely unfamiliar.

“Are you okay?” the stranger asked, unsettled by Wanda’s intensity.

“I… I’m sorry,” Wanda murmured, stepping back, her face burning with shame. “I thought you were someone else.”

Without further explanation, she turned and began walking back to the church, her shoulders tense, trying to hide the trembling in her hands.

Vision was at the entrance, arms crossed, with the boys beside him, both looking visibly confused.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice laced with irritation.

“I just… thought I saw someone,” Wanda replied, her tone flat.

Billy tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at her. “Are you okay, Mom?”

She forced a smile, briefly caressing his face. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t. Because as Wanda climbed the church stairs, the emptiness inside her felt even larger, as though it had been ripped open again by the memory of you. And she knew, with crushing certainty, that she would never stop searching for you—in crowded streets, in dreams, in the past she could never bury.

That afternoon, the house was silent, except for the distant clatter of dishes being washed in the kitchen. Vision had gone out to deal with something for work, and Wanda sat on the couch, her hands clutching a cup of tea as if it were a shield.

Billy and Tommy were upstairs, but she knew it wouldn’t take long for them to come down. That’s how every Sunday was: a mixture of monotony and tension that seemed to suffocate the air in the house.

When the sound of their footsteps began echoing down the stairs, Wanda tried to brace herself. She knew the boys were growing up, becoming more curious, more incisive. And lately, they seemed much more attentive to her.

Tommy appeared first, followed by Billy, whose expression was more serious. They sat on the couch opposite her, exchanging looks before Tommy finally broke the silence.

“It’s time for you to talk, Mom,” he began, as direct as always.

Wanda lifted her eyes to them, frowning. “Talk about what?”

“About you,” Billy replied, his voice softer but just as firm. “You haven’t been the same in years.”

She laughed nervously, trying to deflect. “Of course I’m the same. You two are just growing up and becoming nitpicky.”

“No, Mom. That’s not it,” Tommy insisted, leaning forward. “You’re different. Since… I don’t know, since we were younger. It’s like you’re living on autopilot, like you’re here, but not really.”

Wanda looked at them, her heart tightening. They were so perceptive, much more than she wished they were.

“And, like,” Tommy continued, hesitant now, “there’s something you don’t want to talk about. There always has been. We just didn’t know what it was before.”

“Tommy…” Billy shot a warning look at his brother, but Wanda was already on alert.

“If you have something to say, just say it,” she said, her voice low.

Tommy took a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before blurting out, “It’s about that girl, isn’t it? Y/n?”

Wanda’s world seemed to freeze. Her breathing stopped, and the name rang in her ears like an explosion.

Billy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Tommy!”

“What? You think I don’t know? Every time someone mentions her name, Mom gets that look…” He gestured dramatically at Wanda’s face, which was now completely pale.

“That’s none of your business,” Wanda finally managed to say, her voice trembling.

“But it is our business,” Billy replied firmly. “Because you’re our mom, and this has been eating at you for years. Who was she, Mom? Why is she so important?”

Wanda looked at them, her chest tight, her eyes burning with tears she wouldn’t let fall. How could she explain? How could she put into words something so overwhelming?

“She was…” Her voice faltered, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to find strength. “She was someone I never should have met. But someone who changed everything.”

The boys exchanged confused glances but didn’t interrupt.

“She… She made me feel alive in a way I never had before,” Wanda continued, her voice barely a whisper. “And I lost her. Because I chose to lose her. Because I had to choose you.”

Tommy fell silent for the first time, and Billy looked as if he was about to say something, but Wanda stood up, gripping the cup tightly.

“That’s all you need to know,” she said, her voice now firm. “She was a mistake I couldn’t keep.”

Tommy was the braver of the two, while Billy had always been more sensitive. Billy pulled the woman into his arms, even though she hadn’t asked for the hug. Wanda didn’t refuse—she wasn’t in a position to.

“So that’s it? She was a mistake in the past, but what about now?” Tommy asked, his tone impassive.

Wanda looked at the boy, cursing how much they had inherited her stubbornness.

“Tommy, I’m married to your fa—”

“Oh, Mom! Don’t start!” The boy huffed. “We all know your marriage is just a façade. Everyone knows.”

Tommy’s words hit Wanda like a punch to the stomach. She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He was right. Everyone knew. She knew.

Billy still held her in his arms, squeezing her with the tenderness that only he seemed capable of offering. Wanda relaxed momentarily, letting herself be embraced by her son, but Tommy’s gaze remained fixed on her, as if he wouldn’t let her escape so easily.

“Tommy, you don’t understand. I can’t just…” Wanda started, but her voice faltered.

“Can’t what?” Tommy interrupted, standing up from the couch. “Can’t go after the one thing that actually makes you happy? Can’t fight for someone you still love? That doesn’t make sense, Mom!”

“Tommy, it’s not that simple,” Wanda insisted, her voice trembling. “There’s so much at stake. I have you, I have responsibilities—”

“Responsibilities that leave you like this?” Billy murmured, letting her go but staying close. “We can tell, Mom. You pretend all the time, but you’re not happy. You haven’t been happy for as long as we can remember.”

Wanda ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. “You don’t know everything. You don’t know what I did, the choices I had to make. You don’t know how much I lost.”

“Then tell us,” Billy said softly.

Wanda looked at him, feeling tears burn her eyes, but she held them back. “I can’t. I don’t want you to see me differently.”

“We already do, Mom,” Tommy shot back, his tone serious. “And you know what we see? A woman who sacrificed so much for us that she forgot about herself. It’s not fair. Not to you, not to us.”

“Tommy…”

“Listen,” he continued, his voice firmer. “If she’s still that important to you, why don’t you try? Why don’t you do something? You’ve always told us to fight for what matters. Why is this any different?”

Wanda looked at him, stunned. “You’re… encouraging me to go after her?”

“Yes,” Billy replied, nodding. “We don’t want a mom who lives on autopilot. We want you to be happy, even if it means things have to change.”

“But what about you? What about your father?”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Dad can keep pretending he’s perfect. He’s more worried about appearances than the truth.”

Billy took her hand, squeezing it gently. “Mom, you deserve this. If she’s the one you love, then go after her.”

Wanda felt her heart tighten, but also a spark of something she hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. She looked at her sons, her boys, who were now almost grown, and saw in them the strength she herself seemed to have lost.

"You two are impossible," she muttered, but there was a small smile on her lips.

"True," Tommy replied, crossing his arms. "And you'd better do it before it's too late."

Wanda closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop running from what truly mattered.

[...]

The rain was falling heavily, but Wanda didn’t care. Her soaked coat clung to her skin, golden hair plastered against her face as she walked down the nearly deserted sidewalk. Each drop seemed to press against her harder, as if the force of the storm was trying to send her back home. But she couldn’t turn back. Not now.

When she finally spotted Yelena's small shop, Wanda felt a mix of relief and nerves. The dim light inside cast a faint glow, and the blonde’s silhouette moved behind the windows. Wanda pushed the door open with force, the bell above ringing in a tone that sounded almost desperate.

Yelena, who had been shutting off the lights and closing the register, turned around slowly, a cigarette between her fingers, her face faintly illuminated by the ember. She didn’t look surprised at all.

"Well, look who decided to show up," Yelena remarked, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. Her eyes assessed Wanda with both disdain and curiosity. "What do you want here?"

"I need to know where she is," Wanda replied, her voice firm, but her eyes betrayed her desperation.

Yelena let out a short, humorless laugh, extinguishing the cigarette in the nearest ashtray. "You think I’m just going to hand that information to you on a silver platter? After everything you did to her?"

"I didn’t come here to argue," Wanda replied, fists clenched at her sides. "I just need to find her. Please."

"Please?" Yelena raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. "You think a ‘please’ can erase the years of pain you caused? She loved you, Wanda. And you broke her heart."

Wanda swallowed hard, the guilt pressing heavier on her chest. "I know," she admitted, her voice wavering. "I know what I did. But I need to fix it. I need to talk to her, to explain—"

"Explain what?" Yelena cut her off, crossing her arms. "That you chose the comfort of a false life over her? That you preferred hiding behind a sham marriage while she suffered?"

"I didn’t have a choice!" Wanda exclaimed, the pain overflowing in her voice. "I had to protect my children. I had to protect everything that was important to me."

"She thought she was important to you too," Yelena shot back, her eyes hard.

The silence between them was broken only by the sound of the rain pounding against the windows. Wanda took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

"Please, Yelena," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "I need to see her. Just tell me where she is."

Yelena was silent for a moment, her eyes carefully studying Wanda. Finally, she sighed, grabbing a small piece of paper and a pen. "This isn’t for you," she said, scribbling something down. "It’s for her. Because, despite everything, she deserves the chance to decide whether she wants to hear you or not. Go there, and bring my little sister back."

She handed the paper to Wanda, but before Wanda could leave, Yelena grabbed her arm. "Don’t screw this up again. If you do, don’t ever look for me. Not for her, not for anyone."

Wanda nodded, clutching the paper as if it were a lifeline. Without another word, she stepped out into the storm, the rain now feeling slightly less heavy.

Wanda stopped in the middle of the street, the rain beating relentlessly against her face, but she hardly felt it. Her eyes were fixed on the paper in her hand, the address already smudged by the water but still legible. A distant thunder rumbled, but nothing could drown out the turmoil inside her.

The truth was raw and inescapable: she hadn’t been alive since the day you left. Every heartbeat since then had felt borrowed, as if she were just occupying space in a body that no longer belonged to her.

"Be it too late or not," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling but full of conviction, "I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering."

She gripped the paper so tightly it nearly tore, her fingers trembling—not from the cold, but from sheer desperation. Because if Wanda knew one thing now, it was that she had already lost too much. She couldn’t lose you again, even if it meant facing the worst parts of herself.

Lifting her face to the sky, Wanda let the rain wash over her—though it could not lift the weight from her chest. Then, without hesitation, she took the first step, the sound of her heels echoing against the wet asphalt.

Each step was a declaration. Each beat of her heart, a scream. She loved you. Loved you enough to tear down any barrier, to face any storm. This time, she wouldn’t let fear win. This time, she would be brave enough to fight for what truly mattered.

Even if it was too late.

~*~

Mommy Wanda will go after what is hers.

UREVISED CHAPTER

Tag List <3

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[sh1-n0bu]

This anon know what is good, i guess i never make a ask so i'm doing now. Can u do that concept with any character (and mc of course) , may a hybrid? Idk, sorry if is confuse, a lil nsfw maybe?

-🍑

✿ 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙩𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙘𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 ✿

characters: cat!6reeze x nb!reader

warnings: fluff!!!! fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff! also modern au!

notes: wanted to take a break from writing smut and take inspiration from my own fluffy bby for this one. also @junerixi , simping for only one☝️anemo boy is an illness. i hope you recover soon😚 honkai:star rail ver can be read here!

art by Mechodes on twt

oh gods

a menace

a complete menace i say

you know that thing cats do? when they just keep a direct eye contact with you as their little fluffy paw slowly pushes your potted plant or a cup full of drink to the edge of the table while you watch hopelessly bc your hands are dirty or busy doing smt?

yeah, it’s the 5th time the flower shop owner is seeing you this week and your wallet is crying

it’s almost as if you two were sworn enemies in your past life and scaranya is out for blood

doesn’t have that much of a zoomie episodes but when he does oh boy

you better retreat into a safe place but even then you’re not safe from scaranya’s terrifying zoomie powers

he’s literally running and jumping around everywhere

the table, on top of the fridge, the curtains, on top of the washing machine, your little bookshelf - everywhere

scaranya is such a little shit (affectionately)

his preferred way of waking you up is faking puking noises and when you throw your covers off and literally zoom into the living room, he gives you a look as if saying “finally awake, you silly human slave”

sometimes he even jumps on top of your chest harshly but that’s only used if you’re oversleeping with your alarm clock snoozed for the past 20 minutes and you’re running late to work

despises baths with a burning passion

if you’re taking him anywhere a large body of water is, he’s trashing around, kicking, hissing, biting, scratching - the whole pack

after a successful bathing time, with added new scratch marks on yourself, he would not approach you until you fall asleep

after you have fell asleep, he would quietly approach your sleeping figure and give small, shy licks to the angry red scratches he caused as if apologizing for being so aggressive

hates rainy days too, especially the ones with thunder and lightning

jumps up 5 ft into the air if a thunder strikes and runs into your lap, shaking small body curling into himself with all of his cockiness and pride out the window

scaranya appreciates you greatly but he’s just a bit too bad at communicating and so he shows his affection by lapping up the scratches he gave you

“scaranya, aren’t you gonna go out to the back garden and play with the rest? it’s nice outside today”

hmph! what do you mean by play with the rest of the cats? he’s a royal! he’s superior! scaranya has never heard of such bullshit befor- oh! a bird! must. catch!

scaranya and miao gets into fights sometimes and whenever you separate them, scaranya goes to sulk in the corner of the house silently

until you go over to him with a sigh and pick him up gently, he doesn’t even resist - just choosing to simply curl his tail around your wrist

a solid 9/10 kitty if he would just stop being a tsundere

art by Mechodes on twt

miao acts more like a guard dog than a cat sometimes

the smallest out of all the kitties yet also the strongest one. honestly the sheer amount of times miao has taken down a wild dog 10 times his size just keeps giving you more and more heart attack

doesn’t get zoomies, if anything he stops the other kitties’ zoomies if they go a bit too far - which most of the times escalate into scaranya and miao fighting

cleanse the land house through slaughter bug hunting

a sweet baby

miao’s preferred way of waking you up is to silently sit on your side of the bed and stare until you get that feeling of being watched and wake up to 2 piercing yellow eyes just staring holes into your soul

yes, you have yelled and fell off of your bed many times due to that

you found little miao at a dark alleyway, covered in blood and barely on the brink of death with his tiny paws twitching constantly

grew up malnourished on the streets with his 4 siblings dying out one by one, so due to that miao’s body is very small and he’s extremely territorial with you - his one and only sweet human

always leaves his scent on you by rubbing his head around your ankles

miao is indifferent when it comes to taking a bath, unlike scaranya, and he can be very obedient as well

when rubbing soap into his legs and washing his paws he would stretch out his limbs to make it easier for you to wash him - anything to lessen the load of his favorite human

he also seems to like your co-worker, zhongli a lot

one time you came home with zhongli due to a deadline of a great project coming closer and upon seeing him, miao immediately jumped into his lap, purring lowly, rubbing his head on zhongli’s hand

yes your heart broke at the betrayal and yes miao apologized with a dead rat in his mouth

but if it’s any other guests you’re bringing home, then miao would either get on top of the fridge and simply watch or hiss at the guest

oddly likes being in high places

one time, you made him a small necklace-collar thingy out of a few pearls and he wears that with pride, chest puffed out (a replica of his necklace)

loves sleeping on the lower parts of your bed at night. it’s soft, fluffy and he can keep an eye on you and keep you safe so it’s a win-win in miao’s book

“miao-miao, do you wanna come with me to the back garden to pick up the tomatoes?”

before you can even finish your question he’s already at the back door, staring at you expectantly with his tail thumping slowly against the floorboards

thanks to miao and kazunya your house will never get any bugs, roaches or mouses inside

if feeling incredibly vulnerable and soft, miao paws at your arm to ask for pets bc he just needs the comfort of his favorite human

literally a 9/10 kitty if he would just change his way of waking you up

art by ayon🌿 on twt

heinya is another little shit (affectionately)

he likes to cause trouble and drama here and there

also really enjoys spilling tea to you

it doesn’t matter if you’re waking up and is still groggy or just coming in through the front door, back from work - heinya is spilling all the drama of the shows he watched on the tv while you were away or the different birds he saw through the window - meowing away at you excitedly

another helpful hand

if you’re coming back from grocery shopping then heinya can take some of the smallest and lightest bagged things and dragging them to the kitchen alongside miao, kazunya and nyaether

heinya’s preferred way of waking you up is to make biscuits - you know that cute thing cats do with their paws squishing at their favorite spot over and over - on your stomach or lower back or! he just meows besides your ear over and over until you eventually wake up

the perfect alarm - heinya

he’s such a sweet baby

and heinya really likes watching real life crime documentaries for some reason

at first when you found this out, you couldn’t help but think heinya is going to murder you in your sleep but soon you realized he just loves crime related things

and bc he like crime related things, you bought heinya a cute spy glass shaped squeaky toy

when getting the zoomies, heinya decides to bite and kick at the spy glass shaped squeaky toy - making the toy let out squeaks at every little kick

heinya enjoys spending time outdoors, sniffing at the different scents wafting in the air, tracking down all different sorts of footsteps and paw marks with great interest - you sometimes wonder if heinya was a detective in his past life

loves to bring you all sorts of interesting things he found - an old ripped part of a newspaper article, a weirdly shaped leaf, a flower he has never seen before, a half bitten chicken still warm - wait where’d he get this?

loves to sleep using your hand as a pillow my cat does that to me so rip bc you have been captured by the amazing detective heinya and you won’t be moving for hours on end, let’s hope you had a nice snack and a toilet break beforehand

chose to wear the smooth, black satin you tied around his neck as a collar - either bc he loves to wear soft things or he just loves it bc you gave it to him

heinya is an incredibly affectionate kitty, always meowing for you for pets, cuddles and perhaps his favorite soft wet food? he’s been really good!

doesn’t really mind taking baths as well, if anything he uses this opportunity to shake bubbles everywhere!

for some reason, also loves to groom your hand. maybe it’s just something your kitties all share?

overall another solid 9/10 kitty, if you don’t mind being splashed with water and bubbles while bathing him

art by @bbadtime on tumblr

kazunya, me beloved

literally an angel, how could you ever be mad at him even as he took a whole bite out of your potted plants’ leaf?

another kitty that loves staying in high places like miao and stay outdoors like heinya

joins miao on his duty to cleanse the land house through slaughter bug hunting from time to time

a lazy, sweetheart of a cat that loves to sleep on warm places and the sunlight - you literally had to buy a window sling just for him to nap under the sunlight

another helpful hand!

will drag the lightest and smallest bagged things to the kitchen whenever you come back from grocery shopping - more so if it’s cat food

isn’t a picky eater but sometimes, just sometimes, prefers food with fish in it’s ingredients

kazunya is mostly tasked to wake you up by the other kitties bc he’s the sweetest

wakes you up by purring and snuggling with your face, neck, hands - anything just you in general

soon enough, the small fluff purring and cuddling you wakes you up and as a reward for waking up, kazunya gives you a small kiss - a lick to the tip of your nose - making you laugh

doesn’t meow a lot, only when he has to or if it’s an emergency such as the litter boxes not being cleaned, the food trays being empty etc

always gives you a kazunya kiss as a thank you

a gentle baby, even to the guests

whenever a guest comes over to your house, they always gush about the cute white cat with a small red streak in his fur

kazunya doesn’t get zoomies. even if he does it’s rare like only once a week

always grooms himself to keep himself clean, not to mention his white fur sparkling as well

surprisingly enjoys bath times, would even suggest you to bathe him by tugging on your sleeve then pointing to the bathroom with his fluffy paw!

however there’s just one thing that kazunya does that makes you shiver

it’s that he always, always! brings you dead animals or bugs. birds, rats, mouses, cockroaches, crickets - anything that he managed to hunt - he brings over to you with his tail swishing happily behind him

it’s considered a gift in cat language, you know that! but it’s just a bit dirty especially if he brings over different bugs. the rats, mouses and birds you can handle but the bugs brrr

one time, kazunya proudly brought you a dead wolf spider as you held back a tear and a screech, deciding to take his gift with a forced smile

you never recovered from that

a 10/10 kitty if he would just stop bringing you dead spide - kazunya is that a mf dead tarantula in your mouth?

art by os_Amaniwa on twt

another best kitty!

a sweet kitty that never complains!

helpful, never complains, never picky with his food - a literal angel

however sometimes nyaeather disappears randomly, coming back after a day or so

he always seems to be searching for something - his twin - you soon found out, by registering him and getting his pet password

and so you decided to help him reunite with his twin by putting up posters, articles, news on the internet, tv, radio - anything to make nyaether happy

after a whole half year of dedication and endless search, nyaether’s twin was finally found!

turns out the person who adopted nyaether’s twin was your co-worker, dainsleif, the quiet and mysterious tall man

after talking to him about the situation of the twin kitties, you both have come to an agreement to let the kitties have a play date once a week

when the day of the first play date has arrived an someone knocked on your door, your kitties gave you a confused look

upon taking nyaether in your arms, you walked over to the front door before unlocking it and letting dainsleif inside. as the blond man placed down the catbag and opened it, from inside stepped out a cute, similarly blonde furred kitty with a baby blue colored collar

upon seeing the kitty, nyaether jumped out of your arms and tackled his twin. cuddling her and licking at her face with a teary eyes - you and your co-worker dainsleif couldn’t help but laugh at the adorable situation

since then nyaether had made a silent oath to always be beside you and be your best kitty! you have done a lot for him by helping him reunite with his twin - nyumine - so he would do anything in his power to lessen your load!

nyaether’s preferred way of waking you up is by giving a gentle meow beside your ear and give your cheek three kisses - repeat the process on the other side until you eventually giggle and wake up

another kitty that doesn’t mind taking baths! however he just prefers the water to have a bit of bubbles to soothe his nerves

likes to sleep in your arms since he has separation anxiety like scaranya - due to the incident with his twin

“nyaether, keep the others in check okay? i’m going out on a quick grocery shopping!”

“myaaa!”

such a sweet baby🥹

his meows are higher pitched and not full “meow” like kazunya or miao’s instead it’s a short “myaa!”

a solid 11/10 kitty. highly recommend, get yourself a nyaether today!

art by os_Amaniwa on twt

a little shit AND a menace (affectionately)

very hyper too! sometimes you wonder if nyenti has ADHD but in cat version

it’s like he’s always in his zoomie mode as if to make up for having 2 kitties that barely has zoomies - which are miao and kazunya

his affectionate attitude doesn’t help as well

twirling, rubbing himself on your lap, hand, bageling his way around you - he’s always sticking close to you 24/7

one time as nyenti was rubbing himself on your hand while you were working on your computer for an important document, he tripped and fell on your keyboard - deleting your entire progress of work with a “myeeew!”

yes, you cried that night

unlike heinya, nyenti doesn’t really enjoy being outdoors - he just prefers to stay on your lap, lazily bathing in the sun - as he sometimes meows with heinya about some dramas

another kitty that loves to spill the tea to you

him and heinya meows your ears off with the things they have seen, watched, witnessed and heard - sometimes even adding some dirt on the other kitties such as kazunya eating leaves from your potted plants, scaranya sleeping on your hoodie bc he missed you, miao destroying the pantry during his duty to cleanse the land etc etc etc

nyenti’s preferred way of waking you up is to play with your hair. whether it be grooming at your hair, playing with them, tugging on the ends gently - it doesn’t matter which form - as long as nyenti wakes you up, that’s all

he also doesn’t do much hunting either, preferring to watch from the sidelines as the others chase some bugs and small animals they found

for some odd reason nyenti likes you to put flowers on top of his head or a flower shaped charms as a collar - his most favorite and preferred one being the white lily

cut the flower's bud and place it on top of nyenti upside down like it's a cone hat and nyenti would give you the biggest, affectionate "myew!" while rolling around on the ground, showing you his tummy

a sweet kitty if he would just stop being a little zoomie induced shit

nyenti is another kitty that hates taking baths

doesn't react as aggressive as scaranya but he likes to yell his defiance a lot and i mean a lot

overall, a solid 8.5/10 kitty if he would just stop meowing loudly in your ears everytime you take him for a bathtime, making you more and more deaf

[olderthannetfic]

I accidentally killed my own desire to write, and I need some advice. To be really blunt about it, what's the point of writing? When I would spend lots of time laboring over making a good story with a plot and characters who were in-character and connecting all the dots narratively so payoffs were satisfying, my reward was dead silence and virtually no clicks. I posted some mindless smut to my side account one day and got more hits in a day than most of my other works combined got in a year. I know, I know. "Write for ~*~yourself~*~" is the common response. It's the "be yourself!" of writing. It's supposed to be a magical phrase that'll make everything okay. But... I don't like knowing that something I spend months working on won't be read by anyone while something I write in a car while bored got thousands of clicks. I don't like making something I'm proud of and then no one ever looks at it. That's not fun for me. It's not fulfilling.

For a solid decade, I've tried to ignore how the level of interactivity in fandom is falling. Fewer comments. Fewer kudos. No comments in the bookmarks. You put your tumblr and Discord in the AN and get a handful of asks and one person who adds you, talks to you twice and then ghosts you. Most of the comments are "well, actuallys", made even more annoying by them being wrong as opposed to actually correcting an error. I avoid fandom drama, wank, and infighting. I don't engage with things I know will make me unhappy. I try to be happy over in my own little corner. I comment on every single work I read. I want people to enjoy fandom. I used to.

Some dumb smut I wrote in 40 minutes gets five times the hits of the writing I'm most proud of, and it gets it in just under three months. I am not a great smut writer. I haven't stumbled onto an incredible talent I had that makes it so the issue is that I'm so amazing my smut brings all the boys to the yard. People just don't like what I write and put effort into. It's very likely that despite 20 years of writing fic, I suck at writing. And people enjoy my writing most when they don't have to put up with anything substantial and can just skip to the sex.

So for the last eight months, when I write, I just sort of give up. Close the Word doc without saving. No one will read this. No one cares about this. There is no fan eagerly awaiting every update like I await updates from my favorite authors. There's not even someone saying, "update soon!" Close the Word doc. Delete old WIPs. There's no point. I do not tell stories worth reading. I used to. In the FFN days people genuinely enjoyed my work. I'd never have had an opportunity to do the 'I won't update until I get 3 reviews' thing because getting that many on a chapter was usually something I'd do overnight. Post before bed. Wake up. Read the reviews before school. I peaked in high school, I guess.

And now I'm just sort of lost. I still have lots of ideas. Ideas for fics fall into my head all the time. That's never been a problem. What I don't have is any motivation to write them. What's the point of writing? If no one else is reading, I guess the point would be so I could go back and read my own story and have fun with it. Write for myself. But I can review the story and have fun with it in my head without writing it down. It's substantially faster and more importantly, isn't incredibly depressing.

So, at the risk of definitely being calld the second-coming of True Art Anon or a troll or validation-seeking or haha mentally ill haha... what's the point of writing?

--

Okay, so write porn in a car while you're bored.

Look, you can whine all you want about my response, but what you've written here is blatantly about depression.

Lots of people in fandom are still interacting. And no, it isn't just on fics that are objectively written to some pro fiction standard or whatever. Teenagers still breathlessly review poorly spelled cracky masterpieces about this year's big anime and so forth.

Yes, there may be reasons why you in particular are in a slump when it comes to fandom friendships or "plz update" comments. We can talk about that. But this ask is all gloom about fandom in general. That's not realism: that's you having a problem.

--

As for why a person should write: because the actual hours you spend doing the writing are fun.

If they aren't pleasurable in some way, find another hobby.

--

But if you want an answer to the age old "Why did my 5 minute fic get 1000000x more asspats", I've seen meta about this for literally decades.

The most likely reason is that the fic we write quickly and without much thought often feels fresher and more fun. The things we labor over endlessly can feel overworked. Even in cases where they don't, they're often heavier subject matter or more niche subject matter. On top of all that, we just care more, so even a high level of feedback doesn't really feel like enough for the effort and care we put in.

--

Do you really need me to tell you why you don't feel the same as in high school when things were fresh and new?

Go read up on combatting burnout or dealing with post-college anxiety or managing stress in a dead-end job in your 30s or finding meaning in your 40s or whatever is going on.

Everyone goes through fallow periods in fandom and in life.

Feeling reinvigorated has to do with internal factors and some general life circumstance stuff. It doesn't have that much to do with number of kudos. That's just the surface trigger for a mood that was already there.

[liliewrites]

Hii! Do you still take requests? If so, could you please write some fluff with soft Arlecchino x fem!Reader, who has big sleeping problems and stuff like that. And maybe Arle humming a quiet little lullaby/tune, to help calm us or stuff 👀

Or! 'Cchino with Fem!Reader, who's afraid of thunderstorms

If you have an idea on a way to combine both that would be so so cool and amazing! Sorry if there is something wrong about it. You ofc dont have to write it, if you dont want to

HELLOOOO ANONNNN!!:) it is i, kylie, here to make ur wishes come true and lemme tell u because i actually do struggle with sleep sometimes and to have arlecchino comfort you.. what a dream.. (funnily enough i have a plushiecchino and i have it next to me when i sleep she's so skrunklydoo) anyw here's ur request! hope u like itttttttt!!

-warning/s ; none! just tooth rotting fluff with soft arle:))

(men pls dni utc!)

it was a cold, stormy night.

your lover lay beside you, sound asleep with her arms loosely wrapped around you. you let out a sigh, this was one of the many nights that you were just hit with the inability to sleep and the thunderstorm was not helping either. it frustrated you greatly as lacking adequate sleep extremely made you feel more tired during the day when taking care of the children. however, your efforts were futile, completely giving up as what you've estimated to have wasted at least half an hour on trying to force yourself to sleep, you carefully slip away from your lover's hold, being wary of not waking her up. as soon as you were able to get out of bed without issue, you stretched a little before grabbing the silk robe on the nearby armchair. you put it on and messily tied your hair into a bun, slipping your feet into those fluffy slippers to further silence your footsteps.

you then headed for the door so you could leave for the study room down the hall as you decided to just read instead yet not even a few steps away from the armchair near your bed, your wife had started to shuffle around making you halt your movements. you were startled when she immediately sat straight up, eyes darting everywhere as she looked for you. "beloved??" she exclaimed, unable to see you as her eyes adjusted to the dark.

you looked at her, finding her adorable as she sat there with an alarmed expression, but the sleepiness was evident on her face. "darling, hello.." you greeted her with a sheepish smile, and you could see the look of relief that was then replaced with worry. "is there something the matter, my love? it's in the middle of the night.." she mumbled, getting off the bed to approach you. clad only in her pajamas and a loose tank top, you couldn't help but blush a little, your wife looked handsome and gorgeous as she walked towards you.

"is it because you cannot fall asleep again, love?"

she asked as strong, firm arms had found it's way around your waist. arlecchino was taller than you, no doubt, and she placed her chin on your shoulder. her bigger figure that slightly engulfed yours always provided you a sense of safety and comfort, so you were able to let out a sigh of relief as she tucked herself in the crook of your neck, pressing her lips on your skin.

"unfortunately, that is the case, my beloved. i was just going to head to the study room to read, you can go back to sleep.."

at your words, arlecchino separated from your shoulder to look at you. she's noticed that you've been having trouble sleeping more often lately, and it worries her greatly. "are you ill, beloved? perhaps any issues or problems that plague your mind?" she asks, and your hands find it's way to her face. your touch a soothing balm to her troubled soul, but her worries remained nonetheless and you knew that.

"nothing much, really. i just cannot fall back asleep, and the thunderstorm isn't helping. it's.. scaring me a little." you told her truthfully, and it assured her at least a little to know that you were unharmed and safe from any sort of illness, but the issue of you losing sleep while being frightened of the ongoing thunderstorm stays nagging her mind. she lets out a sigh and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, before whispering in your ear. "then lay with me, my love. let me put you back to sleep."

with no objections, you nodded, deciding to put your faith into arlecchino's capabilities of putting someone to sleep. after all, you guessed that before you, it was her who took tucked the children in bed. she grabbed your hand and led you back to bed, tucking you under the sheets before climbing in beside you. she leaned on the headboard, pulling your head to lay on her chest as she held you close. "i wonder, will i be experiencing what you do to the kids when they cannot sleep?" you jest, and she pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "no, do you want to? usually they end up crying when i use my preferred method." she answers with her usual deadpan tone, making you look at her with a slightly upset gaze. "arlecchino! what did you do to the kids?" you asked, with a scolding tone, causing the harbinger's heart swoon a little with your concern for the kids. her lips break into a small smile, patting your head. "kidding, my dear. i do not harm them but also do not "tuck" them. when they tell me that they cannot sleep i just tell them that i will make them fall asleep, and they usually scurry off." she confesses, and you sigh, now you know why the kids ask you to tuck them in bed. before you could speak a word, she cuts you off.

"- but that is besides the point, love. for now, we should focus on getting you back to sleep."

you nod, settling back into her chest, deciding to let it go for tonight and talk about it in the morning instead. the moment you close your eyes though, a roaring thunder crackled, making you flinch. arlecchino says nothing, but she wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding you in a tight and protective embrace.

"beloved, i.. want to hear your voice. could you perhaps sing me a lullaby?"

arlecchino was a harbinger-- and one known to be a bringer of death. she was not a singer. she was a trained soldier, one among the highest ranks. she wouldn't agree with your request.

but..

"very well, but i will not sing. humming a melody is the best i can do."

"fair enough."

you couldn't help but smile, knowing your wife couldn't outright and completely say no to you, so much for being feared across teyvat, you think. arlecchino notices the smile on your face, and she may not have shown much of a reaction, but she feels her heart flutter-- and really, even if it means looking like a fool, then she would. she'd be true to her name and act like a harlequin if it meant seeing you smile.

you close your eyes to the sound of her heartbeat, accompanied with her soft humming. her hand caressing your shoulder in a comforting manner, before wrapping two arms around you to hold you much much more closer. the thunderstorm was loud and it persisted, but as of the moment, all you could focus on was your wife, and it was helping. a lot.

and by a lot, it meant that you were able to close your eyes without flinching, despite the roaring thunder. all you could hear was your wife's humming. oh, how she sounded so beautiful along with her gentle heartbeat, and that was what you focused your mind on.

not more than 5 minutes, you felt yourself slowly succumb to sleep. her humming, her heartbeats, her warm embrace, all of it were the missing factors to the perfect solution for your lack of sleep.

she noticed that you had leaned in and pressed more weight into on, so she brushed a strand of hair from your face and tucked it into your ear. beautiful, was all that she thought as she stared at you for a while before concluding that you had already fallen back to sleep.

slowly, she leaned back down so both of you could now lay on the pillows instead of the headboard, but she still held you close to her chest to ensure that you felt safe and protected even while asleep.

it was indeed, a cold, stormy night.

but your wife held you through it, comforting you and thankfully, you had finally drifted back to sleep. "goodnight, beloved. i hope you have good dreams." she whispers lovingly into your ear, then pressing a kiss to your forehead. she closes her eyes, finding it easy to fall asleep almost immediately. the love of her life was beside her after all, and your presence alone was enough to lull her back to sleep.

the next morning you ask the kids what arlecchino usually does when they can't fall asleep, and you find out that having them be tucked in bed by her is something that rarely happens. often times, she does actually tell them that she'd make them fall asleep by force, but when they r sick, scared or troubled then arlecchino takes them back to their room and once they get climb in bed and get snug, she pats them on the head, says goodnight and leaves. when they are really freightened though, she stays for awhile and waits them to fall asleep, before leaving. arle good dad just not affectionate--

[kib-ble]

okay so idk if u have requests open pr not but HEAR ME OUT(ignore this if it makes u uncomfortable): SO YOU KNOW HOW SERVICE DOGS USE PRESSURE TO CALM PEOPLE DOWN? by like putting their heads on peoples laps, ect. SO IMAGINE LIKE KONIG OR GHOST (i think this works with anyone tbh) having like a panic attack of nightmare and then insert reader who is just rlly calm and just comes up and higs them yk LIKE ANGST TO FLUFF HEHEH

AHHHH THATS SO CUTE OMG

IM JUST GONNA DO SHORT SCENARIOS CAUSE I DOTN HAVE THE ATTENTION SPAN TO WRITE LONG STORIES RN

I DO TAKE REQUESTS BUT I CANT PROMISE ILL DO EVERYONE OF THEM I GET

(i tried to follow your request as much as possible, i hope you enjoy!!)

slight tw: detail panic attacks

simon “ghost” riley:

simon was used to waking up with nightmares, but nothing this bad. his breath was caught in his throat. his mind was racing, his hands sweaty, and the room felt like it was spinning. and worst of all, you were gone.

you had woke up a few minutes before simons panic attacks went to work and got a cup of water. you heard the bed silently creak from your bedroom, which meant simon was awake.

his brain felt like mush, he couldn’t hear anything or see anything but his nightmare over and over again. this is so much worse than the other panic attacks, he realized. as soon as you walked into the room, you knew what was happening. watching simon claw at the bed sheets, his head pointed towards his lap, his body twitching like he was hiccuping. you walked to his side of the bed, wrapping your arms softly around his shoulders, holding him close. your hand rubbing his back softly.

his face was mushed into your chest, gripping your shirt. he felt air slowly enter his lungs. his hiccup-like movements stopped and calmed down after a few minutes. you fingers tangled in his short hair. his arms soon wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap.

your hands cupped his face, semi-forcing him to look at you. the small hallway light shown through the doorway, lighting up his tear stained face. your thumb wiped his tears, a small smile showing on his, then your face. it was a smile that showed his love to you, no words needed.

konig:

after meeting you, konig’s anxiety had lessened. but his nightmares still increased with every mission he went on. he knew what would happen when he joined the military, of course, and he still took the chances.

his nightmares always used you to fuel them. you were always a victim, which was something that scared the shit out of konig. he tossed and turned till he woke up, his hands covering his face. his tears continued to flow down his face.

the silent shuffling next to him brought him out of his thoughts. konig turned his head to look at you, your sleeping frame. you looked so peaceful, so alive. his hand reached out to touch your face. his finger traced your nose, to your jawline, and then to move your hair out of your face. your eyes slowly opened at the contact, immediately looking into his sad eyes. you hand cupped his face as his did to you.

“are you okay?” your voice came out very small. he nodded, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. he felt calmer in your awakened presence. “turn around…”

konigs back face you and your arms wrapped around his waist. your face smushed against his back. you could feel konig hold your arms, tracing his fingers along them softly.

when you felt him stop, you knew he was asleep. you pressed a small kiss to his neck and closed your eyes to fall asleep, hoping to still wake up with your arms wrapped him in the morning.

[h0neysp1ce]

Hello, Saw your request open, Can I request fluff Headcanons, (Tighnari, Cyno and Gaming) how they would take care of Sick s/o, but here's the thing, she has anemia so it takes longer for her to get better.

(This is basically me just seeking out comfort from my fav characters because I'm currently sick lol)

Fʅυϝϝ Hҽαԃ ƈαɳσɳʂ

Summary: How does he take care of s/o when she's sick?

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Characters: Tighnari, Cyno, Fem! Reader Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff Constellation: Head canons Warning(s): Mentions of sickness, nothing too graphic or detailed, mentions of reader being Anemic, mentions of anemia symptoms, just general illness/sickness mentions. Reader Is fem! alined uses of the word Girlfriend. °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A/N: Hello Anonie, I'm so sorry to hear that :( I hope this brings you comfort, get well soon 💛

Extra Side Note: Also I did a little research on Anemia to help write this, I hope it's not too scuffed . (Edited Post)

Word count: 1139

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Tιɠԋɳαɾι 🌻

He had been aware of your anemia since you first met, so he was always prepared for when you might become ill.

He would keep plenty of herbs and remedies on hand to ease your sickness and discomfort, especially since it tended to take longer for you to recover.

He’d make you soup (specifically a vegetable type ) or prepare foods rich in iron, as anemia results in low iron deficiency.

The moment he noticed a hint of illness, he’d immediately have you sit down or lie down, especially if you mentioned feeling dizzy or weak.

Since you’d often have cold hands due to your condition, he had a habit of interlocking his hands with yours and warming your hands with his. He did this often when you weren’t feeling well, and it was incredibly comforting. You soaked up his warmth as much as you could.

Your symptoms ranged from dizziness and tiredness to general weakness. Tighnari was more than prepared to take care of you and attend to your needs.

He’d give you forehead kisses, always hold your hands, and place kisses on them every now and then.

He’d have you cuddle up to him for warmth, holding you close while you slept or simply throughout the day.

He frequently checked up on you, asking how you were feeling. He wanted you to be upfront and honest; your well-being meant everything to him.

If your condition worsened, he’d take you to the Bimarstan for more advanced treatment if his remedies weren’t effective.

He’d always brew some herbal tea or another type of tea when you felt an illness coming on. That was his first line of defense.

He wouldn’t let you get up from bed because of your condition. It was imperative that you stay put and avoid straining yourself.

He wanted you to take it easy throughout your long recovery.

He’d get you anything you needed if you asked, so don’t be shy about making requests.

He always reassured you that he was there for you.

He had a habit of cupping your chin and the sides of your face with his hands. Not in a negative way, but because he considered you his delicate flower, needing to be taken care of with utmost care.

It pained him to see you unwell, and he’d do anything to alleviate your discomfort- even trade places with you if he could.

You’d scold him when he leaned in to kiss you, warning him that he might get sick from you. He’d always insist he’d be fine.

He would definitely shower you with love throughout your illness, not just by taking care of you but also by giving you loads of affection and attention.

If you were tired, he’d have you rest, and he’d wake you up periodically to ensure you took your medication, ate before taking it (as medicine on an empty stomach isn’t ideal), and stayed hydrated. If you allowed him, he’d even feed you himself.

He always kept extra blankets on hand for you and would wrap you up in them for sure.

Cყɳσ 🌙

He’s knowledgeable about your condition, and when you’re ill, he’s prepared for the most part.

If you’re up and about and start to feel dizzy or experience a spell, he’ll be right by your side to prevent you from fainting and hurting yourself.

His arms will be wrapped around your middle to support you if you do faint.

If you insist on doing things yourself, he’ll agree, but only if you let him carry you to where you need to go (ex: living room, kitchen).

He’s always one to kiss your inner wrists when you’re unwell, as a form of comfort.

Though his hands are calloused from wielding a spear, they’re comforting when he draws small circles on the back of your hands.

He doesn’t mind kissing you while you’re sick; nothing will stop him from loving you and giving you the care you deserve.

When you both lay down, you’d be on top of him with his arms wrapped around your lower back. Sometimes, if you want, he might rub circles on your back to help you fall asleep and might even tell you jokes as you drift off.

He’d try to limit his duties as General Mahamatra to stay by your side when you’re ill. He wouldn’t leave you unattended.

In the morning, while you’re still recovering, he might wake you up with a kiss on the cheek or a soft whisper that it’s time to get up (likely to take meds, eat, and drink something).

If you fall asleep before him, he’d gently run his hand across your forehead, combing through your hair, slightly frowning as he hates seeing you in pain or discomfort.

As your boyfriend, he loves you immensely and would do anything for you.

He’d let you sit sideways on his lap whenever you wanted and lean into him. No matter if you’re sick or not, he finds you to be the prettiest woman he’s ever known, even in sickness.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

[delusionisaplace]

Do you do smut-related prompts? I'd love scenarios of cute, funny things that can happen during sex to make it more real and less perfect

yeah, for anyone that was wondering, i do write smut from time to time

in terms of what you're asking for, idrk if this is what you wanted but i gave it my best try lmaooo

"𝙢𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙚𝙜…" 𝙨𝙚𝙭 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙥 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨

have fun with these :) | tag me if you use any | if yall want more prompts like this, jus drop an ask nd ill respond as soon as possible :)

explicit warning: dont read on if you're not comfortable with reading anything nsfw/smut related

𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙀𝙎:

B is kissing A when they suddenly begin to run their lips down A's neck, tracing the contours of A's body with their lips, leaving a fiery trail of sensation in their wake. B finally makes it down to A's abdomen when A, overcome with pleasure, lets out a high-pitched squeal, causing B to stop and laugh.

A offers B a chaste kiss on the cheek, which turns into a passionate dance of tongues as they make their way from the doorway to the living room, where B forces A down on the couch, getting lost in the heat of the moment, and the feel of A's skin on theirs. B and A start desperately gripping and grabbing at each other's bodies, the cushions shifting underneath them with each movement. The cushion slips from under B's knee, causing them to accidentally roll off the couch and hit their head against the coffee table, to which A responds by holding back giggles as they frantically ask if B is okay.

A is sprawled out across the bed in a seductive position, stroking their thighs and chest as they plead for B to come over, their voice a sensuous melody that rings through the room. B keeps saying they'll be there soon, but B can't get hard.

A goes down on B, carefully sliding off B's pants and releasing them from restraint of their underwear. A slowly wraps their mouth around B's shaft, their tongue wrapping rings around the tip. With a low moan, B comes, a thick, viscous liquid filling A's mouth. A glances up to look at B--B has an awkward expression on their face that A can't help but laugh at, causing them to choke on B's cum.

𝘿𝙄𝘼𝙇𝙊𝙂𝙐𝙀:

"move your leg, it's hurting me" "i already moved it, though" "then move it again!"

"you're crushing me"

"are you going to do something?" "just wait, i'll get this to work..."

"does it feel good when i touch you here?" "no" "oh. well how about here?" "no" "really? i give up then"

“im going to fucking ruin you” *laughs* "you sound like you're in a romcom"

"that doesnt feel right..."

"is this the right position? is this how they do it?"

"wait, stop--my hair is stuck"

"i can't feel my thigh anymore..."

"maybe we should try this again some other time" "yeah, maybe"

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 1610! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Based off of Conan Gray’s song, Heather.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Unrequited love, one shot

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Unrequited Love, Really rushed, It’s like twelve here damn, short one shot, Reader is a hopeless romantic idk anymore, not proofread, it’s mostly just poetic shit idk

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ ill design it tomorrow goddamn it i just wanted to write, might wake up and rewrite idfk

“𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫,”

Suddenly, all of what was left of November passed, with the dead, scarlet leaves the only homage remaining of the autumn that’s escaped your grasps. Autumn left as quick as it came, you couldn’t even bid a proper adieu.

When you think of December, you think of this icy wonderland— a winter that’d leave you huddling in the comfort of thick coats and hot chocolate, while patiently waiting on the nearing holiday that was prancing around the corner. Instead, what poured was not the icy flare of snow, but rain heavy enough to send you and Miles bolting off for cover.

In the thick downpour, your giggles emanated throughout the dim alleyways as the two of you sought sanctuary beneath a bus stop, somehow able to shield yourselves from the pitter-patters that raged on in a sideway fall.

“Oh my God, your hair.” You pointed at his drenched curls, a low laugh following along. Miles shook his head, running his fingers through the fluff of his waves when it poofs up again after a few turns. “It’s got magic, don’t worry.”

You brush your hands over the drenched skirt of your uniform, cursing to yourself. “Kinda need that magic for my clothes too.”

“That’s ‘cause you ain’t a magical being like me,” He huffs while wiping his hoodie. “You’s a mere mortal.”

“Okay, extraterrestrial being, control the damn weather then.”

“Hell yeah I will,” He snaps his fingers up to the skies. “Rain harder f’me, clouds!”

And the rain oh-so-gracious heeds his command. After a short while of cursing him out, you and Miles sat by the bench with your laughs easing down— replacing the excitement with a shared sort of exhaustion. With your heads pressed against the graffiti-covered glass wall behind you, you take a moment to subtly angle your head and look at Miles. He doesn’t notice it at first, but when he catches on, he turns and exchanges the stare with his own, a subtle “What?” escaping his lips.

From the chill of your spine, you mumbled.

“Nothing.”

You sheepishly looked away. “I’m just.. So exhausted, God. I need to work on my cardio.” A small fit of coughs exit your lips, covered up by the block of your wet sleeve. “I don’t understand how you get to run so quick— I couldn’t even see anything.”

“You still caught up pretty quick,” He beams. “Gotta admit, you’re a quick runner.”

“Thanks, I practice by running away from my problems.” A heft chuckle followed. “M’just kidding.”

Miles takes notice of your quivering hand— a frail shiver emanating ‘til the tips of your fingers. For a moment, the short idea of wrapping his hand over yours crosses his mind, but he shoots it down as soon as it came. It inches only a tad bit closer, but the image of someone else flashes in his mind when he looks at you like this.

“What a mood.”

“Running away from problems?”

“Yeah.”

You raised a brow. “You? You run away from your problems?”

He lazily shrugged with a hum. “Everybody runs away from their problems every now and then. It’s aight.”

“In a way, I guess,” You lean a little closer, but your shoulders never touching. “But in the end, no matter how much we run away, it’s all gonna end up catching up to us.”

Miles shoots you an amused look. “You been paying attention to philosophy class lately?”

“Prof Martha and I are besties, y’know.” A tint of sarcasm colored your words, redefining your connection to the strict teacher. “She likes me so much, she calls my name first during every fucking recitation.”

“It’s cause you’s always on that damn phone.”

“With or without my damn phone, nothing can make me sit still throughout her lecture.” A gruff huff escaped your mouth.

“Damn, not even me?”

You looked at him, wondering if he was flirting with you or if it was just your delusional brain whispering sweet theories into your ear. But even then, you admit.

“Ionno, maybe.”

You couldn’t even look him in the hazel of his pretty eyes.

“Maybe?”

He sounded half-disappointed, but you didn’t want to plant a presumptive seed inside your overly creative brain. That word alone’s enough to craft you a million what-ifs later on when you’re fading into the world of your dreams.

A chill runs down your spine.

“… I think I’m definitely gonna get sick tomorrow.”

“Oh, shit,” He sits up. “We definitely can’t have that happening.” Immediately after, he starts taking off his sweater. You flush, rambling on with the same question; “What the fuck are you doing!?”

“Our presentation’s tomorrow, and if anybody’s gonna be presenting the damn thing, it ain’t me— so you,” He tosses it over to you. “You wear this for now.”

You hesitate for a moment, dragging your hands towards the red polyester with a raised brow.

“How about you?”

Miles shrugged. “I can make do. My system’s made out of steel.”

“Made out of steel but you can’t perform for shit?” You pull the sweater over your head, the fluffy thing engulfing you into warmth. It was still somewhat damp from the rain, but it was better than earlier.

“Huh,” Miles sat back as you looked up to meet his gaze. “.. Would you look at that. It looks better on you than it does on me.”

Your eyes glanced down at the crimson, your hands smoothing out the creases of the cloth. “Really? I don’t usually wear this shade.”

“You don’t?”

“I’m more of a.. Less saturated kinda gal.”

“.. I mean, you can have it if you want.”

You shot him a look of disbelief. “.. Does this sweater have a hole because if you’re giving this away I—“

“It doesn’t have a hole, [Y/n].”

And your name rolled off his tongue so gently, it caught you off guard.

“I just think it looks better on you.”

Upon that murmur, he crossed his arms over his chest and sunk deep into the comfort of his seat. You’re stuck contemplating with an open palm, straightening the creases of his sweater. “Are you really giving this to me? ‘Cause I can give it back to you after laundry day.”

He shook his head. “Just.. Think of it as an early Christmas gift.”

“.. Thank you, then.” A smile crossed your lips. “I’ll keep it forever.”

When you see the way he looks at you— like a sort of guilt laced in hesitation, but a certain sort of awe. At that moment, a sense of hope lingered inside you like a dream. You think, maybe, just maybe, that helpless look in his eyes— that sort of gut wrenching longing— was crafted entirely and solely, exclusively for you.

But you knew that gaze of his wasn’t for you.

And you knew exactly who he was pretending you to be.

Oh, if only I was her.

Feelings, your feelings— erratic, volatile, and erupting out of you like a bird unwilling to be caged. You wanted to speak, say it— just say it.

But your hair wasn’t as golden as hers, your cheeks weren’t as rosy as hers. You wanted her effortless pixie hair cut, her ballerina grace. She reminded you of those flowers fleeting in the wind, like the purple heaths they called ‘Heathers’. You wanted to smell like her sweet perfume, do everything the way she does, just so Miles could look at you the way you imagined he’d look at her.

His doe-eyed sweetness. You wished you could own it, you wished he’d spare at least a part of it for you.

Rather, you wanted all of him for yourself.

You wanted a glimpse of this girl beyond the confines of Miles’ dabbles in watercolor and markers. You’d much rather prefer the object of your jealousy walk across your sights, smile with the bunny teeth he likes so much, and make your stomach churn rather than have you dwell over a 2D image you couldn’t help but gauntly skim past.

What is it about you that I can’t make Miles look at me?

Maybe if you’d meet her beyond his sketchpad and recollections, then maybe you’d understand why he can’t get her out of his mind.

At that moment, she was just someone you wished to be.

The bright red of this polyester which you deemed unfitting of your skin. You wondered if Miles truly meant it when he said it suits you— or if what he truly meant was that the shade would’ve looked great on her.

As the sweater was yours, but Miles was hers.

Your arms meet with a tiny press, and you feel his shiver. It was only so subtle, but at the ease of his shoulders, you couldn’t help but think as he looked onto the empty space with a blank stare.

Wish I were Heather.

[oopsiedaisiesbaby]

I know you usually write quite grounded stuff but what about a world where everyone has a little innate magic, even if most can't use it. And if someone wished hard enough, or was stressed enough, or did the wrong combinations of things and words, little changes could happen. Maybe you have blue hair for a while until a magical illness passes. Maybe you can only tell the truth until you say the right counter spell, or someone de-ages for a bit when they're feeling too stressed to think.

There are two scenarios that I think would work really, really well for this world:

1. One of the boys wakes up with a pussy

2. One of the boys wakes up with the urge to obey every command, even sarcastic ones. ( "Go fuck yourself" and "blow me" are quickly discovered)

Oooh I have never written anything with even a hint of fantasticalness to it… let’s do this 😍 Full disclosure… it’s the middle of the night and I’ve just finished a 6 hour drive, you’ve been warned 😘

1. Sorry not sorry, but Gale is waking up with a magical vagina and the only thing to cure it is getting dicked down. I know I’ve seen a fic like this in Hangster fandom, so apologies if there’s similarities, it’s wholly unintentional. Unedited rough draft beginning of a fic below… second half coming soon… just like Gale 😉

2. Notoriously allergic to authority John is definitely getting this curse because this would be such a comical way for him to find out how much he likes being bossed around by Gale. I really wanna write this too, fingers crossed my brain eventually cooperates!

To say that the war was stressful would be the grossest understatement of the century.

Even Gale, ice cold and forever calmer than the evening air before a storm, had been shaken by that first mission. However, he quickly learned how to lock it down and move forward like he did with everything else.

Stress was inconsequential and unnecessary to his existence. He wasn’t going to let it get in his way and end up with a spontaneous stress affect like Hambone who woke up with blue hair, or Crank who spent a whole day ribbiting like a frog every time he tried to talk.

Gale was above that kind of stress, knew how to get ahead of it or handle it when he couldn’t prevent it. Until he didn’t.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to realize something was off. He was always hyper aware of his body, it came with being a great pilot.

Gale was tired that morning though. Had flown back to back missions that had both gone horribly awry.

Made it all the way to the bathroom to pee before he realized something pretty integral to his person was missing as he went to grab his dick and wrapped his fist around air. He frowned, blinking down at his cock before realizing it wasn’t even there.

Panic seized him as he pressed his hand where his dick should have been and felt nothing but pubes and a flat surface. He let his fingers drift between his legs where his balls should have been and jolted as his rough fingertips parted soft skin and nudged up against something unbearably sensitive. He gasped, yanking his hand away from his apparent vagina and accidentally hit John’s arm where he was pissing in the urinal next to Gale.

“What the hell are you br-” John cut off suddenly, eyes going wide and lips parting in surprise as he noticed Gale’s lack of a penis almost immediately. “Gale, that’s - are you - wh- fuuuck.”

Gale shrugged helplessly, unable to answer any of John’s unasked questions. Nobody knew how or why spontaneous stress affects happened, they just did. The only cure was to lessen stress. Gale was a goddamned bomber pilot in the Second World War though.

He still needed to pee.

He shouldered into a stall, John following close behind him and standing in the way of Gale shutting the door behind him. Gale didn’t care, he sat on the toilet and started peeing, slumping in relief at the sudden release. He glanced up at John, unsurprised to see that his dick was still out.

“Can you put that away?” Gale asked, raising an eyebrow when John’s brow furrowed in confusion.

That’s all it seemed to take before John’s mouth dropped into an understanding “o” and he tucked himself back into his pants.

“We gotta get you to medical,” John insisted as he watched Gale figure out wiping after peeing.

“Absolutely not,” Gale bristled. No fucking way was he letting this particular spontaneous stresss affect get around base. His squadron would never follow an order again.

“Buck,” John started, like he had any room to be telling Gale how to handle his business after he goaded some RAF pilots into a fight just the night before. “I really -”

“No,” Gale snapped, his tone final. They were not going to tell a soul about this. “I just need to lower my stress and I’ll be fine.”

Except Gale woke up the next day with his magical vagina still very firmly in place. He shook his head at John’s raised eyebrow, ignoring his pointed look and went about his business.

As the days wore on, Gale’s irritation grew at every knowing, disappointed look John gave him. His frustration mounted each time he had to sit down to pee. He felt wretched every time his pants rode up and the seam of his pants pressed against him just right.

He was so sensitive physically as well as emotionally as the stress didn’t lessen, it just built and built into an itching, burning crescendo until he was snapping at Ken forcing everyone around them to freeze at just how out of character it was. John whistled before grabbing him by the shoulders, apologizing on his behalf and guiding him away from the scene he had just created.

“We have got to get a handle on this, Buck,” John insisted, rubbing his hands up and down Gale’s arms, over his jacket. “This has gone on long enough, don’t you think?”

Gale simply shrugged, determined to avoid ever having to actually talk about it.

“C’mon, Buck,” John urged. “We gotta get your stress down, and I know the most sure fire way to do it.”

Gale stopped in his tracks, whirling around on John, furious to find out he’d been withholding information from him. That’s when he noticed the filthy smirk on John’s lips.

Shoving him away, Gale stormed off tossing an, “Absolutely not,” over his shoulder only to receive a delighted cackle.

The dirty bastard.

Gale thought his rejection would be enough. He should’ve known John would test his limits like he was getting paid to do so though.

At the pub he leaned into Gale’s space and asked what it was like to get wet. In the officer’s mess, he leaned back in his chair and asked if Gale had tried fingering himself much to Gale and Jack’s chagrin.

It was when he asked what Gale thought about eating pussy one evening during a movie, his obscenely large tongue sliding out to sweep across his top lip suggestively, disturbing his mustache that had Gale squirming. Something between his legs tingled pleasantly and Gale could feel himself flushing. John’s teasing grin slipping into smirking awareness did nothing to quell the staticky interest buzzing through Gale’s belly and centralizing between his clenching thighs with slick interest.

“That’s it, baby?” John teased, tossing an arm behind Gale and leaning in real close. “You want someone to bury their face between those incredible thighs and eat you out until your legs are shaking, huh?”

It shouldn’t have been so hot. John was his best friend, John was just teasing him for getting himself such a ridiculous spontaneous stress affect. He was just so wound up though.

Gale cleared his throat, directing his attention back to the screen as he shifted in his seat, his underwear already sticking to him uncomfortably.

“Shit,” John cursed like he too was surprised by how affected Gale was. He pressed his forehead against Gale’s temple making Gale feel grateful they were in the back row. “Know you’d taste so sweet too, all hot and wet and needy.”

John groaned quietly and Gale felt the hot gust of his breath before John was pressing his mouth against the hinge of his jaw. This had already gone too far, he crossed his legs.

“No,” John pleaded, his hand shooting out to cup between Gale’s legs and press.

Gale gasped at the overwhelming pleasure as it pressed the seam of his pants, right up against where he needed it most. He tossed his head back against John’s arm that was still behind him, gasping up at the ceiling quietly.

“I would make it so good for you, baby,” John promised, rubbing his fingers against Gale through his pants and Gale fought back a moan at how sensitive he felt between his legs. “Make you come with my mouth first before slipping you a couple of fingers.”

The whispers were filthy and hot in Gale’s ear as he started to rock his hips against John’s hand. Electric shocks, jolting through him with each press. He nearly groaned with relief when John moved his hand to start unbuckling Gale’s belt and undoing his fly before slipping his hand inside of Gale’s skivvies. They both whimpered as John’s rough fingers slipped between his wet lips and started rubbing at his painfully swollen clit.

“God,” John moaned quietly against the skin of his jaw, mustache scraping Gale’s sensitive skin.

Gale let his eyes flutter closed, panting up at the ceiling as electricity built dangerously between his legs, ready to burst and strike out as John continued to move his fingers in tight, quick circles over his clit.

“Just know your pussy’s so fucking tight,” John told him, licking at the taught skin of his jaw. “Would probably hurt but I’d love it. Christ, wanna feel just how wet you are around my cock.”

Gale was embarrassingly soaked, the slick sound of John’s fingers rubbing at his clit was deafeningly loud in the limited space between them. Apparently it was loud enough to be heard outside of the space between them too.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?” Jack snapped, a look of horror pinching his face as he turned around in his seat to glare at them pointedly.

John unashamedly took his hand out of Gale’s pants and it nearly had Gale sobbing at the lack of release of the pressure built between his legs. Jack turned back around in his seat as Gale buttoned his pants back up and fixed his belt.

His pussy throbbed as he watched John slip his wet fingers into his mouth and suck lewdly. Gale was going to get them a weekend pass come he’ll or high water.

Part 2 coming to your screens soon 😘

[kel-lance]

JJK Mafia Au (JJK x Reader) PART 3

Warnings:

- TW: Dead dove dont read (DDDR) Minors do not interact (MDNI): SA, Physical Assault, DubCon, NonCon, Mindbreak, Public Humiliation, Breeding, Ownership, Gaslighting, Multiple manipulation, RWORD, PTSD, a lot more toxic sh.

Premise:

Reader lives in a city where the two biggest gangs keep things line until the third gang showed up. That had nothing to do with you though, until dumb luck just happened to favor you one day. Basically You’re picked up and used by every dangerous criminal within the clans due to some alliances they had to create due to some members messing up the previous alliances. ((Almost everyone’s gonna have a turn 🤗)) ( i have 12 chapters planned out right now meaning after i write those ill still be writing more.)

___________________________________________________________

AN: Sorry for the long update im trying not to get evicted bc i was fired a while ago bc of a protest (surprise surprise big companies dont like or care about palestine or other places like it.) but i had to give away my cats and am still struggling i have my socials in my masterpost if you could help if not its okay ily

____________________________________________________________

You weren’t even conscious when you realized that you were still full of him. “Now he just thinks he can do as he pleases, oh my god, what a prick.” You were about to tell him off until he put his hand on your back. Stirring awake, Sukuna can feel as you tighten yourself around him. You realize you’re being stretched while laying upright on his chest. 

You don’t think opening your eyes right now would be a good idea. Mostly because you could hear other people nearby? Sukuna laughs as he feels your realization. You could only pray that this phone call ends soon, and glad no one could see how red you thought you were, as your skin was glowing hot.

The base of your spine and neck  were sore, like the rest of your body. Your back started to hurt, you needed more support. Sukuna caught this and moves you off of him, making a fwopping noise, and putting you back onto him with your back to him, like you wanted. But now you were facing his table, and he wasn’t on a phone call, you two were in a meeting. He was sat at the head, and quickly you catch a few pairs of eyes on you, your left hand grabs onto him and your right hides, your face.

“No way no way no way no way, oh my god,” You shook as Sukuna pushes himself into you. It was a lot, you could only throw your head down and cringe your face as this angle put pressure on another part of your sore body. 

You stifle your yelps, trying not to look at anyone sitting in front of you.  No one else is trying to look, most were red and blushing while the rest tried to ignore it. You didn’t need to be saved in this situation, but this was a worse way to wake up than not waking up at all. Your squirming had the leader release into you like it was nothing, his body and breathing stayed the same as he twitched violently inside of you. “He’s got to have done this before.” —————————————————————

“I couldn’t just leave you in that room. I needed all my men this morning, it was important.” Sukuna was talking out loud as he carried you to the infirmary. Now that everyone was free to go back to their posts, he wanted to bring you back to the twins to be able to go back to work. 

“So I’m left to guess, you’re really just a random citizen that I met in an alley way?” He asks as he approaches the doors. He looks down at your pouting self, embarrassed to hell and back about what he just did to you infront of 20+ people. 

Taking that as a yes, he heads in and instructs the girls to take care of you again. There are still no words spoken between you 3, not even the twins talked to each other, they can just telepathically communicate, adding to the creepiness they were embodying. You almost wanted to close your eyes and let them do what they needed to but this wasn’t a spa, and they weren’t happy with where they were currently. All you knew was that Sukuna was holding someone important to them hostage, and they were good nurses too so it seemed to be in Sukuna’s favor to have them all. After they finished, they gave you a few napkins w different pills on them, about 2-3 pills on each napkin. They finally spoke, explaining that each one would be for the next day in the morning and at night. You needed to rest and they would be busy, yet back to care for you randomly as they’re needed for the upcoming missions. 

After they leave, you’re left to just lay there and thing about last night. Was it really worth it? You acted out due to desperation, in your head you didn’t feel bad because he did it to you first, and worse things after that. You just wanted some relief and god you got more than 7 times worth last night. You added 2 more this morning as Sukuna fucked you in front of his people. 

You were briefly given time to think before the door opened suddenly, and a new man came in. It was one of your guards from the first few nights, you think he might be the one who fell asleep outside your door last night. You were still sat upright from what Nanako showed you to be the morning and nightly pills you were supposed to take. 

The strange man comes up to you with urgent speed, his hand finds itself around your face as he pushes you into the wall, your head pounding from the collision. “Why would you do that? Why did you do that? What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice was high in dismay, eyes wild and pink hair like Sukuna’s. Speaking of which he looked so similar to him, the man in front of you had a kinder face, his eyes glowed red but his features were younger, softer. 

His fingers squeezed your face together like he was trying to ball it up. You could only raise your hands enough to try and push him away but your aching body was barely letting you move. His grasp spoke volumes, you just wished you knew what you did. Was he mad because you broke out? He didn’t look hurt or punished in anyway, so what was his problem?

“You fucking idiot.” He spat out, letting go of your face, he sits at the end of your bed with his head in his hands. Youre left to check on the bruises his fingers left on the sides of your face, not scared but apart of this new man who barged in, not knowing if Sukuna knew if he was with you currently. 

“What did I do?” 

“WHAT DO YOU THINK?!” The younger man was so upset you’d even ask. “Another few days and you would’ve been set free, I talked to him and we made a bet,” What was he taking about? “If you aren’t part of the other two gangs, that we’d let you go and he’d never bother you again, but if you were part of them, and especially if you broke out to do something stupid, we’d send your head back as a message.”

He throws his head back up to look at you. “I already know you’re not part of this, but why the fuck did you do that last night?” 

He could be anybody, it didn’t matter if they looked similar. You weren’t about to make more trouble so you decided you weren’t going to tell him anything. You could only trust the people he assigned to you. “Listen dude, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about-“ 

“Of course you don’t!” He slammed his fist into the bed. “You could at least play along to get out of this! Ughhhh.” He groans further into his hands. “At this rate everything could go to shit.” He grabs your hands from your face and holds them in his, looking you square in the face. He stares at you for a second, examining your expression and the bruises his older brother inflicted on you. “What you did could have trapped you here forever, but you deserve a life of freedom, especially since you were dragged in this by accident.” He squeezed your hands tightly. “But seeing how you acted last night… Seriously do u want to die?”

You were pissed, how was it your fault? Why did you have to explain yourself in this situation? “He started it.” You huffed. The man’s hands let you go, reeled back, and backhanded you across the face, having you hit the wall behind you. “This isn’t a game. I’m gonna have to set you free myself.” He rips the blanket off from you and climbs on top. His large body has you immobile, and he wasted no time. He pulled apart your robes, flipped you around, and spat in-between your legs, taking his already hard on and smearing the spit around with his head before stuffing himself in, not caring if he covered himself fully or not. 

The sudden entered had you scream into the pillow, writhing as the dry skin hooked at you from the inside. What was going on, is this allowed? You had so many questions. Living through another rape was nothing, living through another beating, just to still end up alive, you couldn’t be worried, you were more bothered that everyone was just doing what they wanted to you. Much to your surprise, this man who invaded your body, he stopped moving once he was fully in you, and he started to whimper. 

The noises he was making weren’t something that should be coming out of a violent gang member, you would’ve never thought you’d witness something like that, much less actually feeling him start to slowly sob as he lets himself go, coating your walls inside, pressing himself deeper in, his dick twitching consecutively as his chest caved in and his voice wavered, trying to break out of the choke in his throat. 

You were more confused than anything. Being used as an object, okay whatever, but why is he crying?? You hated people like that, it’s not up to them in this situation to feel that way, but whatever, he was done right? What was his deal? Now you were going to need another shower. 

Sighing and shuttering, you were still regaining yourself from hitting the wall and the injuries his hands inflicted just minutes before, the shock of it all just put fear on the back burner. No, you couldn’t be scared of men, you were only angry. 

“I- I’m sorry.” He managed. “I’m so sorry.” It wasn’t like he had realized what he did was wrongs but that he had to do that. “My brother, he doesn’t like to share, rather, he hates me so if I touch anything of his-“ 

Once again the door swings open. The man still inside of you is frozen, and youre still facedown into the bed, but you can only guess who it was. “You’re wrong, Yuuji.” 

Yuuji slides out of and covers himself while sitting beside you. Raising your head, you watch to see how this new situation was going to play out. You only got that this brat was throwing a tantrum over his older relative, and he was trying to act equally as cruel, but the truth was surprising. 

“You really thought they wanted to leave? I told you about them, and you asked yourself to guard them bc you believed they wouldn’t try anything…” He walks in further to taunt his sibling. 

All you could do was watch. Yuuji, being the big guy he was, looked like he shrank in size as his brothers footsteps led him closer to your bed. Sukuna had reeled his fist back and sent Yuuji flying back, knocking into the next bed around. 

“You see Yuuji, I was starting to like this one, but you’re right, sharing isn’t really my thing.” He walks closer to you now, his aura would be enough to choke anyone up, and his eyes glowed, not like anything you’ve seen before. “That’s why I’m going to surprise you all today. I’ll share. I’ll be as generous a guy as you couldn’t believe… COME IN!” 

His words were instructed as a group of people walked in the door. It was a few men, and one woman. Only two paid Yuuji’s back hand some mind while the rest stood at the end of your bed. Sukuna’s at your side now, trying to figure out how to be gentle and play with your hair, but only managed to pick it up and toss it out of your face. 

Someone from the group groaned, he was a taller man but around the same age as Yuuji. He was huge, buff and with a wild ponytail, to be honest he looked as equally scary as Yuuji and Sukuna combine if that made sense. Sukuna points him out, “Ever since Todo brought you to our attention, Yuuji just couldn’t help himself. He actually wanted you first.” He looked back at his glaring relative, “And I would have let him have it too if you didn’t break into my room last night.” He pulls you to him, his eyes eating up the sight of you before the feast. “Was it worth it Yuuji?”

Yuuji tries to get up and lunge at Sukuna but Todo and someone else hold him back. “Keep holding him, I’m gonna show him how badly he failed.” The large man picks you up, flip you around and splay you legs out, exposing you to the rest of the room. You can’t fight much, letting them see Yuuji’s remnants leak out of you.

“Yuuji, we’re not gonna stop until you finish, too.” That’s when you really looked up, there were six other people in the room with you, and what sucked was that you knew he was serious. “You might even be the dad, that’s the only way how I’ll let you have her.” Though you were in his arms just hours before, even had spent the night with him, yet now you’re squirming away. He grabs your bruised cheeks and shows you the line.

“Who wants to go first?” What do you even think in this situation? Were you scared? Were you ready? Were you angry? Would you adapt? Or would you freeze? It all didn’t matter, you didn’t get any time to think about how you were feeling for even a minute after they started.

A man with messy dark hair stepped forward. His dead eyes and face tattoo made him look so pretty, along with all the jewelry, brought out by his cool yet mean look. “Choso! Not a surprise; Hurrying to not hurt Yuuji?”

“I have shit to do.” He growled back to Sukuna. Coming forward he takes you away from the older man, pushing him adjacent the crowd. Driving right in, he kisses you roughly and climbs on top of you. His hands find their way up your torso, pulling your body closer to his, you’re basically a toy to him.

Because it was so sudden, you couldn’t really respond quick enough to hold him off. At this point there was really no fighting it. You sure did try, and you could but you thought with this group, they’d just get off on it. Knowing Sukuna, just meeting his brother, and now their other “brothers” are just here to try you out, especially remembering that they’re the new gang that pushed the Kamos out.

The large man has pushed you back into the bed, putting his weight on your legs as he completely buries you. Remembering that you’re fully naked now, your body goes into flight mode, all you can try to do is flail or move your face away but Choso has more control of your body than you did.

“Choso, you’re doing it wrong.” The woman chimes in. Walking over to critique his abrasive actions, the blonde comes from across the room to the side of the bed next to you two.

Choso parts his face from yours to groan into your chest. “We gotta hurry up…”

“I get that, but this is a break! And a great one at that,” she turns around and gives Sukuna a thumbs up.

“What the fuck? Why is she in on this?” The blonde lady was scaring you more than the men, it was like she was having fun just being invited.

“Here Choso, like this.” She nudges him off of you, and picks you up by the arms to sit you on her lap. Her muscles bulged, she made it look so easy picking you up like that. Your legs wrapped around her waist, as there was no other way to position yourself comfortably. She places her hand on your back as she brings you closer. “Good girl.”

You could only blush as her other hand found its way across your hip, caressing you up and down that sends a shiver down your spine. She kisses at your beck and teases your ear lobe so much your hips start to move on their own. She catches you with her fingers, plunging two deeply in you. “See? She’ll come right to you if you do it right.”

She has you sitting back pressed up against her, her changing movements kept you excited from her unpredictability. Digging her fingers deeper, she twirls them around to spread around Yuuji’s kids within you, not letting anything spill out. The only reaction you were strong enough to let go was just uncontrollable moaning. She has you in such a mess that you could only be vocal.

She takes out her fingers and uses the wet to flick at your clit, holding you down with each jolt and spasm the lady got out of you. “Kamo Jr.~ come ‘ere.” She calls to someone across the room.

“Stop fucking calling me that.” Finally, the last man you hadn’t observed yet started to make his way towards you, his hair was cut short and neat, but his face was stone cold. That comment riled him up enough to have him start unbuckling his pants.

“You act like you hate it~.” The woman caresses your body, making a display for the upcoming man. “I got her all ready for ya, so give us a show..”

You lol your head up and hold onto her forearm for support, looking up at ‘Kamo Jr.’ who was standing between your legs. This was the closet you’ve come to regain control in this situation, just being conscious enough to know who was next, you could only hope your mind erases and forgets it all.

“C’mon Kamo, you need to let your anger out…” She spreads your lips apart while her other hand moves your head enough to expose your neck. “And Sukuna’s given us a treat.”

Kamo stood there silently, upset wasn’t even the word for it. It looked like he was holding himself back for a while, considering that they broke up his family with recent discoveries. He was the promised heir, that idea was now thrown out the window the second sukuna killed his father.

He just learned that Choso was alive too, another rogue from the family who was stronger, smarter, older, etc. His future fell apart in seconds, and he hadn’t a moment to take it all in as they started bossing him around as one of the heirs of the top three gangs in the area. He just couldn’t catch a break really.

When he got to the bed, he gripped your thigh so hard he moved your entire body towards him in one movement. Your thoughts of his fingertips leaving bruises was quickly dropped to your stomach as he pressed himself onto you.

“Jesus fuck, what’s in their DNA why are all these dudes so hung?” Your poor mind and pussy, you really couldn’t continue this session if you wanted to keep the last peace of mind you had. You couldn’t lie though, the blonde lady’s tactics really did help to relax you, but knowing she’s just there to help them get off makes you still anxious about her.

This new guy though, as cold as Choso, was quick about it. He pulled himself out of his pants, only exposing what he needed as to say “Let’s get this over with.” Finally peering down at you, his eyes were almost dead until the lady brought up his anger. His remaining family was taken hostage and was released when Kamo offered to help Sukuna in exchange for their lives.

This was probably the last thing he could have wanted. Given his situation, with no other options, literally commanded to do something morally and ethically wrong, there was just so much going on in Kamo's head while he roughly repositioned you. To be honest it didn't seem like he was paying much attention until he realized he had pushed himself inside.

His mind was engulfed by only things he couldn't control, to now groaning due to the sudden change of overstimulation. Obviously you couldn't do much, but being on your back, spread out and being quickly devoured by the crowd invited, you had just a moment, a quick second to regain your senses and be in control. The last thing you remembered was Kamo starting to pick up speed, making your whole body involuntarily start to shake from each stroke, while the blonde woman brought her lips to yours and told you to eat.

The sequence of events went like this, Kamo fucked the shit out of you, basically blacked out when it started to really take off. As you struggled to stay focused on helping Yuki, Choso came to join, while all you could offer him was a hand, he pushed Yuki out of your face and shoved himself down your throat.

As Choso roughly played with you as he facefucked you, tugging your hair back and slapping your cheeks to feel the vibrations inside, Yuki snaked her way down to help pleasure/torture you more as Kamo was getting all his allowed frustration out. If you could get a glance at Sukuna, he would be smiling proud, you didn't know if it was because he was proud of his family, maybe even you for being good enough to satiate them, or maybe it was even just the thought of being in control once again.

If you got a glance at Yuuji, he would be looking away or have some weird look on his face. Was it pity? Was it sorrow? Regret? What was with this guy? "He called dibs." What is that supposed to mean, there's literally no common factor between us, so why would he really be feeling this way?

Choso started to bruise you throat, Kamo and Choso both ramming into you from opposite ends, basically using you for their anger, it was honestly becoming the best fuck of your life. It almost couldn't matter anymore, you were already getting fucked crazy with another man's cum lubricating the next man's round. Seriously if they didn't get you pregnant by now, the next set of people surely would.

[wintersera]

would you be open to writing mommy!kim lip fucking reader with her strap

mommy!kimlip x f!reader

notes: felt like i needed to make reader a little bratty but i dont know if it’s bratty enough ☹️ kimlip is also a little mean.

cw: mommy kink, spanking, STRAP!!! (term cock is used for strap too), bratty reader (sorta), edging at the end?

word count: 0.9k

it’s currently 9am in the morning and it seems that lippie was in a horrible mood. you know how it is with her, sleeping at 8pm at night and waking up at 6am in the morning. but of course, oec are performing and she had to stay up late as hell.

now, as the youngest of the group, you were well… a bit of a brat. you wanted the attention of your mommy on you and not on whatever the manager was saying, so like an annoying little kid you came from behind, wrapping your arms around her waist.

the people around, and kimlip herself, were pretty much used to your behaviour, you’d always follow lippie around like a kid, hugging, touching, doing whatever to her. it seemed innocent at first, everyone just ignored what you were doing and carried on with their day, but as soon as you slithered your hands into her pockets to caress her thighs, she grew sort of annoyed and undeniably turned on. she wanted to listen to the manager so bad but your annoying ass was distracting her.

whispering under her breath “y/n stop. can’t you see i’m trying to listen?”

you ignored her.

continuing to rub your hands on her thighs, she had to stifle a moan. it was embarrassing for her, the manager questioning if she okay and if she was ill due to her flushed face. oh she was getting pissed off.

“we’re in public y/nie. save this for later or else…”

or else what? you thought to yourself. what is she gonna do with so many people in the room?

“manager. can i excuse myself? i need to have a talk with y/n. it’s important” with a stern tone and a cold look she turned to you… oh fuck you forgot that she was your leader.

dragging you outside the room and into another, she threw you into the wall with force, not enough to hurt you though. “what was that all about, huh?” her voice was flat, at this point you knew you were screwed.

“wait, sorry. i didn’t mean it.”

“didn't mean it? as if you weren’t trying to fuck me right in front of the manager” its as if her words were like daggers. cold and piercing. “why don’t you be a good girl for once and follow mommy's orders” reaching for the bag she brought with her, you couldn’t help but wonder what she was going to do. punish you? it seems like it. “strip. now.”

a shiver ran down your spine. strip? with the chances of someone walking into this room right now? “come on, obey mommys orders or else”

“o-okay mommy…” with ease, you took off your flimsy hoodie followed by your sweatpants, leaving you almost completely bare. it was embarrassing, she was standing there with full authority over your exposed body, lights on and everything.

“atta girl. now bend over”

and you did what you were told, fearing as if she was going to punish you badly when you got back to the dorms.

you wanted to please her, you obviously knew she was pissed off but you didn’t know it went to this extent. so with that in mind you spread open your pussy, arousal coating your folds.

if it wasn’t anymore humiliating, she suddenly slapped your ass, a loud thud echoing around the room. hissing at the hot throbbing pain in your cheek, it was quickly replaced by a feeling teasing your dripping hole.

“fuck- jungeun?!” another slap to your ass,

“that's mommy to you, another mistake and i’ll leave you here” hands on your hips, she steadies herself as she prepares you for her strap…? she brought her strap into the music bank changing rooms?

“oec we’re back on stage in 10 more minutes” panic starting to set into your body, what do you mean 15 more minutes? “m-mommy wait i don’t think we have enou-“ within seconds you feel her cock reach deep into your pussy, ramming into you without any mercy. an unbelievably loud moan ripping out from your throat, followed by the sound of her tutting in disapproval.

“be quiet”

fuck it was good. your legs were already shaking from the immense pleasure, her cock hitting your favourite place with every thrust. “oh my god, mommy- fuckfuckfuck slow down p-please” you could tell she loved being called ‘mommy’ noticing that whenever you call her that, she groans. her nails sinking hard into your skin leaving red stripes across the sides of your waist.

hands supporting yourself on the wall, you moan out loud on accident. as if you weren’t red before, your face was now flushed red, the embarassment was too much for you that you felt overwhelmed.

pulling your hair from behind, jungeun made you look back at her. eyebrows furrowed as she slams into your abused pussy relentlessly. “do i make you feel good? baby do i make your tight pussy feel good?” only focused on yourself you answered her with a small nod. unhappy with, your reaction she slapped your ass harder than earlier. “good girls use their words, are you gonna cum? tell mommy you’re gonna cum” the anger in her voice being oh so delicious, it was driving you so close to the edge.

“cum- cumming mommy pleasplease i’m cumming” legs beginning to spasm and your eyes rolling back, you felt your orgasm come close and then…. she pulls out. “what the fuck?” whining at the loss of her cock in you, sadness crosses your face, “why’d you pull out?”

she doesn’t answer, instead, she let’s your managers booming voice answer for you “oec, you’re about to get on stage” taking the strap of her, she places it back inside her backpack (specifically for the strap) walks to the door and stops before she could open it.

“if you perform well, i’ll think about letting that punishment go later” then she walks out without a care, leaving you without an orgasm. fuck…

[lunarleonardo]

i refreshed ao3 at least twice an hour to see if you updated the fic and let me tell you i JUMPED FOR JOY when i saw you did

but first of all HGRGAJJRGSGJ4AGG$ SHUICHI FOUND OUT OHMY GOD AND WHAT TSUMUGI SAID?? I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TDR DID BUT THAT MAKES MORE EXCITED TO SEE WHAT YOU HAVE IN STORE FOR THIS :3 also the little snippets of shuichi’s backstory are always cool!!! i need to see more. 😇

please tell me nobody’s gonna die in this….. (other than tsumugi i lowkey dgaf if she dies 😭 mastermind hate) if kaito succumbs to his illness i WILL throw hands/j

also how do you come up with ideas for these fics? do you just have a list of them in a notes page or something or do you wake up suddenly at 3am and go “hrmmm yes…. kokichi whump”

also shuichi to tsumugi

:3c oh trust me I have Quite A Bit planned out . none of which I can share unfortunately because of spoilers :(

None of the tagged characters will die in this! ^^ The Team DR mfs are fair game though. The funnest part of whump is being able to kill the whumper after all :3c

It's aahh. Kind of a mix of both?? It's a combination of a lot of things but I mostly just write what I feel is missing ^^" if that makes sense. If Im lacking on an idea I use my certified Whump Wheel to reinspire me... and I write down my ideas in my private Discord server :p Here's some of those if anyone's curious about what else I might have up in my head.

as you can tell there is . A Lot. Really unfortunate for somebody who has a rule to not write more than one fic at a time. a rule i'm going to be breaking very very soon