#in all honesty i'm still in shock that it's actually over

[hollowflight-propaganda]

Ngl, I'm pretty excited to revisit arc 3 + Dragonslayer for my series reread because book 11 is the only one of those I've done a proper reread of, and that was 4 years ago

I'm also excited about that because then I can imagine my own complex rewrite for it all :)

[leviathansmistress]

Caving Heart

Jurassic Park AU: Divorced Wife!Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Tags/warnings: Allusions to sex, we rock with Wanda because Wanda rocks with us, angst then fluff :D

Chapters/Blurbs: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

In which you're starting to let her in, once again...

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

This is Natasha looking at you, scrambling as you put your clothes on. You didn't know how it happened, she was just putting the kids to sleep and the next thing you know is she is putting you to bed as well.

"This is just one time, this will never happen again." You said calmly. Natasha could only bite her lip, she didn't say anything but the words cut deep in her chest.

For the first time after 2 years of being a fucking celibate—you had sex. A life changing, toe curling, breathtaking orgasm from the same person who gave you your first orgasm. Not that you literally practiced celibacy because you still had the vibrators and toys your wife actually bought when you were still together and not that you don't want to have sex but…you just can't—you can't with someone else.

Natasha was the first to worship your body, the one who loves tracing and kissing the stretch marks that etched in your thighs. She admired every part of you and with all honesty? You can't see anyone leveling how your ex-wife looked at you.

You were standing, fixing your clothes, ready to kick your ex-wife out of the house since it's already late at night. But then, you felt a strong arms wrapping your waist. "Baby, please…" She begged.

"Natasha, stop." You tried to remove her locked arms on your stomach but her grip was strong.

"Baby please, I'm sorry." She kissed your shoulders over and over. "Please forgive me, I want you back. I want you back Y/N. I need you back." She cried. "I need you baby please. I'm sorry. I love you so much, please."

You started crying as well but you held your stance, you tried to thrash away from her grasp but whenever you try to move away Natasha makes sure to not let you go, not this time—not anymore.

"Natasha, stop." You hissed, wiping the tears from your face. "Jesus, you'll wake the kids up." But she did not say anything despite your angry tone, you can only hear her cry and sob behind you, her forehead pressed against the back of your shoulder.

And it went on the rest of the night. Both of you standing and crying in each other's embraces.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Your friend, Wanda, the godmother of your children, decided to visit you at your home, bringing you some tea and a real tea.

"I told you Mrs. Hart's husband was cheating with the chief." She said with a wide eye, pouring you some tea she made.

"Well, that one is actually not included on my bingo card this year…" you chuckled lightly. Then, there was a knock that interrupted your tea with your friend and your first born immediately ran to get it.

"Mom!" She squeaked, Natasha easily brought her up using just her right arm. You watched as she peppered her kisses before putting your daughter down. Meanwhile, your friend, Wanda, switched her shocked eyes between you and Natasha. She watched as your ex-wife handed you a huge bouquet of flowers and kissed your temple.

"Ashana's asleep." That was the only thing you said, then Natasha nodded. She gave Wanda a smile before heading upstairs.

When Wanda was sure your ex-wife was already gone upstairs, she switched from being a nosey neighbor to being a detective that needed some answers.

"What exactly was that?" She left her mouth open, you're afraid a fly might come in.

"What?" you giggled playfully.

"That!" She now hissed, pointing at the stairs of your house. "And that too." She pointed to the bouquet of yellow daffodils in your hand.

"Stairs..? And flowers?" you laughed, blushing at the satisfaction you're feeling with your friend's interrogation.

"Oh, c'mon don't play stupid. Since uh when." She sassed.

"Since last week."

"Last week and you didn't tell me?"

"Well, this is the first time we saw each other again so how am I supposed to tell you?" You defended, transferring the flowers from the vase.

"Girl, don't you have a phone?" She barked, standing and she motioned towards you. "Daffodils, daffodils, daffodils…" she said in a sing-song snapping her body to lean on the counter where you have been fixing the flowers, you cannot help but laugh at her silly movements. "Did you know that daffodils mean a new beginning? A start of something fresh—whether it's a new relationship or an existing one. So what's the deal huh? You two?" she asked, scrunching her nose. You hide yourself behind the bouquet of the flowers but your friend snatched it away from you.

"You're such a bitch, you're blushing!" She whacked the bouquet playfully on your face and you immediately dodged it.

"Noooo!" You whined, retrieving the flower back.

"Look who's in love? Hm?"

"Who?" you asked innocently, focusing on putting the daffodils on the vase.

"This bitch right here." She whispered before attacking your sides with her fingers.

"Wanda! If Shane heard you cursing again, I swear…" you warned, swatting her hands away.

She made an offensive look, palming her chest, "Hey, don't bring the kids in here. I have been nothing but a good influence auntie."

"Shane said you called someone a bitch in the market."

"Because she cut through our line." Wanda defended. "Damn, I can't believe my homegirl will snitch me. But anyway, I need to go now. I will pick my twinsies to school." She rushed to hug you, then she proceeded to get her keys and purse.

"Thank you, Wands." You walked her to the door but then, she stopped, right at the doorway and turned to look at you.

"Daffodils means a new beginning…and a new life." She started. You tilt your head before breaking into a laughter, forcing her to turn around.

"Hey, hey wai—aw!" She grabbed your hands away from her shoulder and held it firmly in front of her. "I just wanna say, I am ready for another goddaughter."

"Okay. No." She let go of your hand and immediately ran away from the porch of your house.

"You're not sure about that my friend!"

"I hate you!" you shout.

"I love you too, sis!"

You waved as your friend finally drove away from your house. When you got inside, you saw Natasha coming down the stairs. "Where's Shane?" you asked her.

"Asleep." She trailed behind you, as you went to the dining room.

Your phone vibrated behind your ass but you ignored it. "Did you eat?" you looked at her, already grabbing a plate for her. You knew Natasha so well, she doesn't eat lunch and if she does, it's always late. She hugged you from behind, wrapping her arms around your stomach.

"Nope." She said, while her face was buried on your shoulders. You hummed already expecting that answer from her.

"I'll reheat the lunch." You touched the side of her head. The phone vibrated again, but you chose to check it later.

"I was thinking of eating something else." She mumbled.

"Oh…do you wanna order?" You asked, feeling offended she doesn't want to eat the food you cooked for lunch and Natasha immediately sensed it.

"Nope, food's here." She said lazily, wrapping you tightly in her embrace.

Finally understanding what she meant, you slapped the side of her thigh so hard that she let out a cry.

"I was just joking." She cried as she stepped back, rubbing her thigh. Well, she actually was not joking.

Then, your phone buzzed just right behind your ass for the third time now. You took the device from your pocket and read the message that was from your friend.

Are you having sex with your ex-wife right now?

Reply 'ugh' if you are doing some baby making activities with your ex-wife.

Okay, I'll take the no replies as a sign that I am having another goddaughter or godson soon. I love being a fairy godmother!

[itoshiabi]

"I'm going to tell her about my identity myself"

I personally think by taking this step jinshi is clearly indicating that he's ready to take his relationship with Maomao to the next level. The flashbacks of his conversation with the old man and the empress actually clearifies it. He's not going to let anyone take Maomao away from him even if it means he has to make Maomao his consort for that. And since he's going to take that step, before that he wants Maomao to know his real identity. Telling her himself is not just about honesty, but about building a deeper connection and showing his seriousness about their future.

Also this is probably the first time I'm seeing Maomao "openly" worrying about Jinshi. Her feelings for Jinshi is gradually improving too. She doesn't find him annoying anymore lol.

When Maomao touched him—this small, unexpected gesture—it pierced straight through his carefully built defenses. He knew it's not the touch of someone trying to claim him, nor someone infatuated with his beauty. It's real. Thoughtful. And it meant everything to him. And that's why he blushed.

Jinshi's expression looks like this moment is something he's been waiting for—or something he didn't believe he deserved until now. His expression is calm on the surface, but there's a quiet vulnerability beneath it. It's like he's surrendering to whatever happens next, trusting Maomao completely. There's a silent question in his eyes "Are you really here for me?"

As for Maomao, she sees something in Jinshi's gaze that shocks her. His eyes aren't playful. They aren't teasing. They're not masking his true emotions behind flirtation or charm like he usually does. Instead, his expression is laid bare—calm, open, and completely vulnerable and for the first time, Maomao sees him. Not the flawless, untouchable beauty of the inner palace. Not the high-ranking, enigmatic figure others fawn over or fear. But the man behind all of that. And what she finds there shocks her.

The look in his eyes is intense—soft, yet piercing, like he's seeing only her in that moment. There's a deep tenderness, an unspoken confession lingering behind his gaze. His violet eyes reflect a quiet vulnerability, as if he's silently baring his soul without saying a word. It's the kind of look that speaks volumes: he treasures her more than anything, and there's a longing there, like he's afraid of losing her, but is still drawn closer despite that fear.

Also the shock in Maomao's eyes tells that she has realised the truth. For so long, she thought Jinshi was just toying with her—an aristocrat playing a game of amusement with the lowly, odd apothecary who caught his interest. She had convinced herself that his attention was fleeting, shallow, and rooted in curiosity or boredom. She thought she understood the rules of their dynamic, and she was comfortable in that belief. It was safer that way. But in this moment her mind reels, trying to process this new truth that turns her world upside down. It's written all over her face—the widening of her eyes, the subtle parting of her lips. Her heart is pounding because she realises the depth of Jinshi's feelings, and with that realisation comes the weight of what it means. He's not playing anymore. He never was.

It's all just my thoughts though, I haven't read the manga yet! But I'm really loving the fact how their relationship is progressing!

[sukunas-wife]

I wonder how would Yuji react to the news that he is going to be an older brother. Also, I'm just picturing little Yuji being protective of momma the entire pregnancy. He wants to look after his mom like big daddy Sukuna.

It took a while- and I mean this as in this ask was from January 😭 and I hate when I actually become active, my life decides it wants to pick up also

But 🤍🤍🤍

Yuji is confused but excited when you sit him in your lap and tell him, “Yuji, I have good news.” He just smiled up at you with starry eyes hoping you’ve gotten him another pet. “Yes?” “You’re going to be an older brother.”

His smile drops and he pouts for a second, “No pet?” You have to tell him no and explain what you mean by he’s going to be an older brother. The moment he learns his brother or sister is in your stomach he’s quick to stand between your legs pressing his ear to your stomach trying to listen and see if he can hear them.

“I don’t hear anything… it’s empty.” He pats your belly lightly with hand before saying “hellooo.” You have to hold back your laugh as you run a hand over his head brushing back his hair. “You won’t hear anything for a while. Maybe when they get bigger you’ll get to feel them kick and you’ll know they’re there.”

He nodded his face with a serious look holding his little fists, “They gotta get bigger.” You couldn’t fight back squeezing him in a hug and he laughed hugging you back just a tight.

Of course he forgets your holding his sibling captive in your stomach. Until, you’re out on a walk to the village and a man runs right into you and your swollen stomach while holding a heavy crate of fruit.

All he remembers was his dad holding the man by his neck with one hand, threatening to cut the man alive with the nails on his other hand and telling him since he felt generous he’d let him live for now.

After taking the man’s crate of fruit that he abandoned, you were already scavenging through it for something. Stopping only when you felt your husband stare and you smiled sheepishly at him. “What? The baby’s hungry.” Sukuna sighed, “But is it well?”

Of Course when you stood up holding a mango and patting your stomach, “Just excited, it started kicking the moment you yelled at that man. I get the feeling it’ll come to be another replica.” You scoffed with a smile before holding the mango to him, “Will you please?”

That’s when it kicks into Yuji, “I GOTTA MAKE SURE NO ONE HURTS MOMMY!”

He’s the incarnation of this c:<

Now that he’s seen his dad do it, in the palace the servants beware of Young Yuji. He once saw a male servant walking towards you with a knife, and with all his might ran at the man and tackled him screaming.

The servant man cut his own hand while falling, profusely apologising to Yuji for getting blood on his suit and for dirtying your fruit knife. You were shocked, staring at the scene before you dismissed the servant telling him not to worry about it and to tend to his wound while you sat Yuji on your lap. You couldn’t help but smile and hug your boy while he rambled on about how he showed that man not to mess with his mom.

After a stern talking too and explaining he needed to watch people before just running at them full force he understood his assignment. Even more when his dad called on him to “speak” with him alone.

In all honesty your beloved husband dropped a heavy hand on his head in a prideful way, his massive hand shaking Yuji’s head around while showing his affection. Yuji, who was used to it, was happy and smiling big. Then came his dad’s serious face. He sat Yuji infront of him on the floor. It was his father but he was still an intimidating man when he became serious.

“Yuji, I need you to understand that I may not always be around. As my son, my only son, my first born child, I’m going to trust you to take care of your mother and your sibling. You’re young, but I know you are more than capable of putting a few petty fools in their place. I need you to understand that I’m trusting you, not only with your mother, but my wife. One of the few things I would risk everything to protect, even more when your sibling is in its way. I don’t want you to think that I’m putting all of this weight on you, but there are very few in this world I trust, and I’m trusting you. Please understand how important this is to me, and how important it should be to you. Your burdens are mine to carry, your mothers are mine to carry, I won’t push my own onto either of you, but now I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I knew you weren’t capable or trustworthy.” Yuji sat there staring up at his dad, who was staring down at him. Yuji smiled brightly out of nowhere before tilting his head to the side. “Taking care of our family isn’t a burden.”

It was interesting for Yuji the more your stomach swole. He watched his dad kneel in front of you pressing his ear to your stomach tapping on it like it were a melon listening to see if it were good. Yuji became curious and wanted to listen also. It led you to laugh when he felt it moving.

He was scared, saying it felt like a snake moving around. And just like his dad he was smiling like a fool when your child would give a strong kick to their hands for tapping and bothering them so frequently.

Yuji thought it was funny how sometimes his dad would stand behind you and lift your stomach with his lower set of arms. And you’d always perk up and be happier. So, one day when he noticed you complaining and whining while rubbing your stomach and back he did his best to stand in front of you and push your stomach up so he could lift up some of the weight.

Of course you cried and let him panic, almost dropping the entire weight of your stomach, until you placed a hand on his head smiling at him with teary eyes. His scared face fell into a soft smile, you couldn’t fight back squishing his cheeks. “My sweet boy, you’ve been helping me so much.” Caressing his face with a soft hand he can’t help but smile wider, shrugging his shoulders up as he let out a giggle. Of course not being as well built as his father he was caving in the first five minutes which made you laugh as you sat down only to have him tuck a pillow under your stomach to try and help you. He stood there looking at you hopefully.

He was smiling big when you smiled down at him, placing a hand on his head, ruffling hair in a far more gentle manner. He loved your little head pats and head rubs, they always made him feel loved when neither of you could find the words.

It was a humid spring day, and you were currently curing your husband for not getting you pregnant in the spring so you could at least have the comfort of the cool winter on your skin when you were laying on your bed more than anything else in your final days.

Laid out on your back you had felt your child shift a while ago. The movement had disappeared not long after that, but you were certain you were going to be prone to peeing yourself if it didn’t stop pressing against your bladder soon. Still, here you were, hands in your stomach feeling your intestines grumble as the little bit of fruit you ate started to move and settle.

Yawning and stretching while arching your back relieved you a bit before you slid down into your bed further. The blankets and sheets had been thrown over to the side where your husband was just laying before he got up to bring you cool water. The sun was setting but the rainstorms had left the day and night humid in an incredulous manner. You cursed your husband for being a man who could walk around without a shirt in this heat.

To think all those months ago at the summers peak when you complained that you couldn’t and he stripped you saying of course you could, was the same day he had actually gotten you pregnant upset you more. You refused to listen to his reasoning as you laid there in your thin white under robes.

You remember Yuji’s birthday, a woman was killed that day because she was too eager to see your husband and you were walking around like a badass with contractions for 8 hours. Now look at yourself, whining at the heat as you struggled to sit up, Yuji not only had softened you but also his father who was currently walking in yawning while holding a clay pitcher topped with a cup. “I brought it.”

He sat beside you placing the pitcher on your night stand as he helped lift you up to sit. You both sat in silence as he watched you drink your water and whine about wanting to stand and get out of that hot room.

He helped you up supporting your weight on his side as you waddled the cold floors of your shinden zukuri. You both came across Yuji’s room, you laughed quietly as you heard him snoring through the door. “He’s tired, he’s been with me everyday for the last month doing everything now.” Sukuna hummed, taking your hand and squeezing it, “That’s our son.”

You smiled up at him, you saw the shift in his face as he smiled at you which quickly changed when yours did. It felt like the wind was knocked out of you when you heard that heavy trickle of water. Both of you looking down, you knew well enough what was coming next.

—- —- —- —- —-

It didn’t take long for your daughter to come into the world.

It took longer for a frightened Yuji to walk in and see his sister. He slowly walked into your side as his dad nudged him forward.

You cooed at your boy squeezing him into your side and rubbing his shoulder and arm in a comforting way. He leaned against your shoulder and stared at the bundle in your arms, pink hair, pale skin, little angry fists and pout as she whined. “She looks just like dad….” You laughed, accidentally jostling the child in your arms. Yuji smiled at you before turning to smile at his dad who had the same angry pout only directed at his words, “I DON'T look like that.”

You smiled and kept rubbing Yuji’s arm, “Do you want to hold her while she’s sleeping?” You tried to shuffle your way up the bed to sit before Yuji held your arm down, “I’ll take care of her mom, so you can sleep.” His bright eyed smile warmed your heart, as you did your best to guide him on how to hold his sister.

Sukuna was right there with Yuji watching him as you leaned back into your bed feeling the exhaustion weigh over you. You wanted to rest a bit only to hear Yuji’s small voice, “‘m gonna take care of you, I’m your big brother, I'll always protect you.” Through squinted eyes you could see Sukuna place a heavy hand on Yuji’s shoulder smiling down at him, Yuji was cooing and smiling at his little sister Anya.

Tag list: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks @bofadeezs @shytastemakerthing @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira @princessluvz @furiousblacktiger @anyaswlrd @shytastemakerthing @alialucille

[woso-dreamzzz]

Allergies II

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: You have another allergic reaction

In all honesty, you didn't really think it was that serious.

Nutrition meetings at Barcelona were a lot more in depth than what you were used to at Arsenal. They took ages and were full of information that would probably be interesting if you actually cared but, alas, nutrition had never been as interesting to you as other subjects so you tended to just zone out.

You were handed a new smoothie with some kind of new protein powder in or something you would have known if you actually listened.

You drank it.

That's when things start to get weird.

The nutritionist continues to drone on and you frown, scratching at your neck.

You stare down at your bottle for a moment as your throat goes all scratchy and intense.

You force yourself to swallow before glancing around.

Your throat gets a bit tighter.

No one else seems to be having such a reaction so you unscrew the top of your bottle to peer inside. You sniff the mixture before standing up.

You can feel people watch as you make your way over to the first aid kit at the front of the room. Your throat has fully closed up now and you know that you're turning alarmingly red and probably breaking out in hives.

Honestly, you feel a little bit shocked how you're even conscious right now but you grab your epipen and stab it into your leg.

"Banana," You say plainly," I can't eat that."

Even with the adrenaline now pumping through your system, you slide your way down the wall to sit on the floor, breathing in deeply.

The room erupts into chaos the moment you sit down.

The medical staff come in to check your blood pressure and your throat and the expiration date of your epipen. The nutritionist leading the session is going absolutely ballistic yelling at one of her assistants for not checking the allergy sheets before making and handing out the smoothies.

Talia looks close to tears as she forces her way towards you, practically shoving some of the medics away. "Are you okay? Is it bad? Do I need to call your mums?"

"No! Don't call my-"

Talia's already gone out into the hall, phone pressed up against her ear.

You wonder which one of your mothers she has in her contacts.

Surely not Morsa because she's still in that stage where she's pretending to hate your girlfriend but you can't remember your Momma and Talia interacting enough to have swapped numbers and you know for certain that you weren't one to hand out people's numbers without explicit permission.

As the medics fuss and the nutritionist yells, the team also gather around to check that you're alright but you just give them a gallant shrug.

"I'm fine," You say," The epipen did its work."

"I think I'd prefer if you take the day off," The head of the medical team says," Just to be safe. You can come back tomorrow."

You know better than to argue with him so you just nod with a little sigh of annoyance.

"I can take her home," Talia says as she re-enters the room," I've got her."

"I can take a taxi home," You insist.

You and Talia drive in together so only one car is used. If you go home in that car now then she'll have to get a taxi in the middle of rush hour.

"I'll take you home," Talia says," Coach can spare me at training today. Someone's got to make sure you actually follow medical advice."

You roll your eyes. "I swear you've been hanging out with my Momma behind my back." You take the hand she offers to help you stand. "You sound just like her."

You end up back home fairly quickly, curled up on the sofa and practically forced to take a nap.

Prins joins you, curled up in the bend of your knee. Reina settles on the top of the sofa behind your head, completely stretched out and at ease with herself while Kung manages to wiggle himself between your arms to nap there.

You don't know how long you nap for but it must be a while because the sun is setting when you wake up and you can smell Talia cooking up your favourite pasta dish in the world.

You sit up.

You've definitely been sleeping for a while because Reina has migrated to her cat tree, poking her head out of the cave to watch Kung bounce around the floor in outrage at not being allowed up there with her.

Prins has taken Kung's place between your arms and his tongue rolls out of his mouth in a semblance of a dopey smile when he notices you awake, his tail beginning to wag happily.

"Hi, little man," You say, gently scratching between his ears," Did you keep me company?"

Prins' tail wags even more fiercely than before.

"Didn't want to leave your side."

You jolt, shrieking and Prins whines a little.

"Morsa! What are you doing here?!"

"Talia called your Momma," Morsa says, tucking the blanket more firmly around your body," Your allergies acted up."

"I dealt with it," You insist," You didn't have to fly out."

"Yes, we did," Morsa replies," Because if we waited for you to tell us, it would take weeks!"

You puff out your cheeks. "I wouldn't want to worry you over something so silly."

"Are you calling your allergies silly again?" Momma says. She enters with two plates worth of food and you sit up.

Prins leaps down to wander over to his own dog bed. Seeing him lying there, Kung wanders over, jumping up onto Prins' back to finish napping there as Reina ducks her head back into her cave.

"No, Momma," You mumble, accepting your food as Morsa takes a seat on the armchair and Momma to the left of you, leaving an empty space for Talia, who also brings out food for herself and Morsa before taking her own seat.

"Are you feeling better, mi vida?" She asks," You look better."

You nod. "I feel fine. My leg aches a little but that's expected."

"We'll put an icepack on it once we've finished eating. Prins was very worried about you."

Prins raises his head at the mention of his name, tail wagging.

"He's good boy."

Morsa grins from across the room. "I knew getting you a dog was a good idea."

Momma scoffs. "You told me that we should have gotten her a fish."

Morsa coughs to clear her throat and mumbles," Don't lie, Pernille."

"You wanted to get me a fish?" You laugh in disbelief," And you say Rocky is the most disappointing pet in the world."

"Are you really saying your pet rock is more exciting than a fish?"

"Am I?" You pretend to think for a moment. "Yes. Yes, I am."

[kuniihoonii]

Don't Leave Me

Warnings: angst, hurt comfort(?), Scaramouche has suicidal thoughts, he has trust issues. Not proof read. Feel free to correct any spelling mistakes !

You both know each other and you never left Scaramouche's side however his trust issues don't let him believe you won't actually leave him.. maybe up until now.

A/N: hellaur~ had a small idea for angst scara since I'm still heartbroken over the fact that no one caught him after the battle so 😔 had to make a drabble of it <3. It's been a while since I wrote soooo finally got something going. I have more thoughts for writing ideas !! Hopefully I'll come around to them soon.

Nahida and Traveler had just left the joururi workshop where they battled with Scaramouche. Now he's left hanging from his machine by the wires that connect to his back. Tears rolling down his cheeks but he doesn't make a sound. He's looking blankly at the ground which is a couple feet up away from him.. he just hopes the fall will take him out now.

He's so tired of living the life where no one wants him and everyone either hurts or betrays him if not both. He's almost counting seconds to his fall until you come in. He doesn't notice you at first. His want to be gone is too loud for him to hear your footsteps.

Meanwhile when you see him your eyes widen. Youve heard there was some fight going on with Scaramouche and you knew you had to come as fast as you could. You know him, you were probably the only one who understood him but his trust issues make it hard for him to understand why you care for him.

So now, you're running up under where his hanging from the machine and that's when you get into his line of vision and his eyes slightly widen at the sight of you.

"you.. what are-" he gets cut off by a snap. The wires connected to his back from the machine break and you catch him before he can hit the ground. You stumble back slightly onto the ground but you still have him in your hold as you're now sitting on the ground.

His eyes are widened in shock.. trying to process why you're here.. and.. is this reality or is he breaking into insanity. The warmth of you body against his, and the feeling of your heart beating against his chest makes him realise this is still reality and you really are here for him.

"why didnt you leave me like the rest of them" He asks you. His voice weak and weary. You hold him closer at the sound of his voice, your heart aching at the sound of him. It's clear he's still so used to people leaving him, betraying him and hurting him. You don't blame him for feeling that way with all that he's been through.

"I don't want to leave you." You tell him with a soft, caring voice which makes him look at you. He subconsciously relaxes into your arms. He's so touch starved, he doesn't want you to let go. His walls start to slowly break down.

"Kuni, you know I'll always be here for you. I've always stuck with you and I won't leave you now, not ever." You tell him and he can hear the honesty in your voice. He lets out a soft sigh as he hears you use his old nickname too.

He closes his eyes, "don't leave me.." is all he has the energy to say. Your heart aches more at his voice. His voice sounding so weak, exhausted.

You let out a soft sigh and hold him closer to you. "I won't leave you. I promise." You say truthfully. There's no more words exchanged between you both. You stay there like that for a moment longer.

He's too tired to keep his guard up and a part of him trusts you. After all.. you wouldn't be there for him right now if you'd plan on leaving him... Right? Your promise makes him feel somewhat at ease too.

He hesitantly wraps his arms around you too and he closes his eyes, melting into your touch as you're the only one bringing him comfort now. You're the only one who's brought him comfort after so long of not having anyone to give him comfort. He really hopes you won't leave him like everyone else did, this thought makes him tighten his arms around you. Scared of losing you too.

You speak up once more to him. "It's okay.. you're okay now. I won't ever leave you, Kunikuzushi". Your words are like a bandage to his wounds.

[noturfavartist]

Reveck's Monster, Viktor's Muse

Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends, Riot Games, 2021) Core Relationship: Reader x Viktor, romantic/queer-platonic Genre & Disclaimers: Hurt/Comfort, Friends to lovers, Third person (you/your pronouns used), contains discussions of plastic surgery/mutilation, self-image issues, body horror, Dehumanisation - Reader is effectively a riff on Frankenstein's monster with alterations to fit the Arcane worldbuilding. Take care of yourself and read at your own discretion <3 A/N: Round two baybeee - I finished reading "Under the Skin (Canon)" by Michael Faber and had an idea to make a oneshot inspired partially by that and by the main concept of "Frankenstein" by Mary Shelley :)) also very likely out of character behavior from Viktor here but 1) I've never written him before and 2) what can I say? I'm gay for this man, leave me alone- the ending might also be a bit crap, I might rework it another time when I have more brain power

Corin Reveck never hid what you were from you and always opted to act like that fact was a gift - a small mercy only he could afford you after everything you've been through despite the problems it's caused you. As virtuous as you're sure it is to be honest and as glad you were to know what you were now without having to dig through the ruins of your past to find what you can only assume is ashes now, you could never bring yourself to share that sentiment. Reveck only knew so much about what happened before you'd been sent to him, but everything he did know he had shared; you'd been caught up in a fatal accident, Reveck had found your unclaimed "remains" and decided that you were perfect for him to "save" with his experimental procedures that he had been developing to save his daughter. You were missing limbs and had other severe injuries that required grafts and "donated" - or stolen, more realistically - limbs. The main issue was that he'd failed to realise you were still alive, and it wasn't until after that he realised he had not actually cured you of death but just prevented it with Shimmer and surgery. He very clearly held some resentment for you over that.

Unfortunately, your saviours honesty came with a level of brutality that you never seemed to really get used to. You were his experiment, his creation; something he created with his own two hands, but still nothing more than a by-product on his venture to something far greater. He never let you be deluded into believing that you were his child or a replacement for the daughter he was trying to save, but sometimes you almost wished he would - to have some dignity whenever you needed a shot of shimmer, or some actual care when you needed to be stitched back together or have a limb replaced to keep up with the growth of what was left of your original body. Everything was cold and clinical, all hard facts and blunt reminders that you and Reveck weren't one in the same. He was still human, but you weren't; you were hardly even the same person you were before he found you, now something more akin to a machine created from spare parts and running on a specific cocktail of chemicals to stop you from falling apart. You were more creature than human in his eyes, and that's what he drilled into you for the entirety of your time under him.

Eventually, that treatment came to an unexpected end when you met Viktor, and that end was an extreme shock to the system because he was absolutely enamoured with you. It was purely scientific at that point, of course - there was no real documentation on projects like you, he had never even considered it a possibility to effectively construct a human being over again by using almost completely organic parts instead of mechanical prosthesis. You still remember the odd expression on his face; he was curious, as anyone would be, but you also recall the awe on his face. He had looked at you like you strung the stars in the sky, silently tilting his head to take in every detail of your skin; each freckle and blemish, each visible vein, and scar, and bruise, and stitched up joint, and his adoration never seemed to falter. He looked at you like you were a piece of art, and it was strange and new to you... After Viktor finished that conversation with Reveck, he'd actually returned a few days later and convinced him to allow you to move to Piltover with Viktor for the sake of further study. It took some debating, but Reveck did eventually concede and let you go.

That's the long and short of how you got to where you are now; you'd been in the lab with Viktor up in Piltover for about two years now, and Vikor was treating you in an extremely different manner than Reveck. He treated you like a person - when you spoke, he listened and responded, he didn't poke and prod at you like you were an animal in a cage, he helped you when you needed it, and he even went as far as helping you indulge your newfound interests as you gained a better sense of the world around you again. Naturally, the two of you grew close given that you spent near enough all your time together, but even with all the empathy he extended to you, there were still just some walls you couldn't fully break down. It wasn't Viktor's fault, really - after all the alterations that had been made to your body in the name of saving your life, you found it hard enough to look at yourself so the idea of letting someone else gawk at the mess of what was left created an awful pit in your stomach. He'd tried to coax you into discussing the issue more than once when he'd asked to check your stitches to ensure they were healing properly, but you had shut down the conversation immediately and promised to check them yourself.

One morning, you'd found an issue with some of the stitches in the back of your shoulder and were struggling to repair the stitches on your own. In your struggle, you'd lost track of time and failed to realise you were late going to the lab and noticed too late that Viktor had come to find you. You startled when Viktor walked in on you shirtless and trying to stitch yourself up, but Viktor seemed unfazed by the scene.

"Jesus, Vik, learn to knock-!"

"Sorry, sorry, I was just wondering where you were... What are you doing?"

"Just-... Routine maintenance," You mumble with a shrug, going back to the task at hand. Viktor waches you in silece for a few moments before moving into the room and sitting beside you.

"Let me help - you can't reach," The observation is blunt, though not unkind as he reaches for the needle in your hand to coax you into handing it over.

You relented with a sigh, looking down as you allowed him to take over and stitch up the joint for you. You're surprised by the tenderness and care he takes with you - you'd never been handled so gently before, feeling the warmth of his skin as he uses one hand to close the suture while the other rests on your shoulder with his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. The new treatment is almost overwhelming, and instead of causing the usual pit in your stomach and bile in your throat when it comes to medical procedures, instead it makes your face feel hot and causes a lump in your throat.

You're both silent for a few long moments before you're startled by a new sensation - the gentle press of a pair of lips against your shoulder just above the stitches and scars that marred your skin. You look back over your shoulder at the man sitting behind you with shock, listening to his quiet mumble as you struggle to find your own words.

"You are beautiful, you know that...?"

"Vik, you- What-? No, I'm... I'm not,"

"You are..."

"Vik, what has gotten into you?" You near enough choke on the words as you force them out, giving Viktor a perplexed look. As you speak, you see him put the needle and thread aside once he finished the process before his hands move to rest on your waist.

"There has to be something wrong for me to be affectionate with you...?"

"It's just... not what I expected," Viktor only responds with a hum, pressing another tender kiss to the back of your neck as his hands wander over your sides. "... No explanation...?"

"Do I need more of one than I already gave?"

"I- Vik, that wasn't a real reason-"

"Fine then," Viktor gives a light chuckle against your skin. "Maybe I just want to."

You open your mouth to argue before you feel more tender kisses that send a shiver down your spine as you suddenly find yourself at a loss for words and unable to really argue with him... You supposed there was no harm in just enjoying it while it lasted, right? You sigh again and shake your head, your body relaxing and leaning back against Viktor slightly as his arms wind around your abdomen.

"You sure that's all it is? This seems... random,"

"I'm sure,"

"Alright... I'll take your word for it," You allow your eyes to drift closed as you feel Viktor press his face into the crook of your neck and lean closer to you, his chest flush against your back as you lay one of your hands over his. You feel Viktor press more kisses to the side of your neck and have to take a deep breath to avoid making any embarrassing sounds in response. "Never took you for the touchy type..."

"I'm usually not... you're just an exception,"

"Why...?"

"You just... are," Viktor shrugs before moving to turn you around, and you comply as you shift into a more comfortable position and feel Viktor raise his hands to cradle your face. You look up at him to see him staring at you with a look of unrestrained adoration, and all you can do is stare back as you take in the warmth of his skin and the sound of his soft breathing. "You're perfect..."

"I-... I'm not, Viktor... I'm-" The words get stuck again, and you feel an odd discomfort rise in your chest while your eyes burn and fill with tears. "I'm a monster..."

"I don't think you are..."

"Look at me, Vik, I-"

"I am looking," Viktor's insistence is firm, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he speaks, but his expression of affection never falters. "and you're not a monster, you're perfect as you are..."

You let out a shaky breath as you close your eyes again, unsure of how to argue with Viktor when he's being so sweet to you as you feel the tears in your eyes begin to spill. Viktor gently tugs you closer and holds your face against his shoulder to encourage you to press closer to him, and you comply. Your body near enough goes limp in Viktor's hold as you enjoy affection for the first time in a long time. A soft sob is forced from your throat when you feel Viktor press more kisses to the top of your head.

"Why, Vik...?" You mumble into his shirt, voice shaky. "Why're you being this sweet...?"

"Because I love you... I thought that much was obvious," He laughs a little, as though the question was absurd, and all you can do is grip the back of his shirt and lift your head to lean into the sweet kisses.

Viktor smiles and leans down to kiss your lips, and you return the smile as you return the kiss. If there was anyone that could make you feel whole again, it seemed to be Viktor.

[heeliopheelia]

"i think i've always loved you" (jungwon x reader)

genre: fluff word count: 0.9k requested by @miukityy-deactivated20230802 ♡

masterlist

The hallway is unusually silent as you walk through the empty school with an injured Jungwon hanging on your neck. It's an irony, really, that you, out of all people, have been chosen as the one to walk him to the nurse after he'd hurt his ankle in a result of bumping his head with one of his teammates and falling down roughly.

"How's your leg?" You ask to somehow fill the silence, hand gripping his waist tightly.

He shoots you a pointed look before scoffing with slight amusement. "Not the best," he hums, finding humor in your shy words. "I think it might be twisted."

"That would suck," you murmur quietly.

This finally gets a laugh out of him. "Why are you still so awkward around me?" He chuckles, pinching your side playfully. "You really have no reason to be, after all those years. Makes me think you hate me or something."

He's teasing, you know that. But still, his words make you squirm a little because they couldn't have been farther from the truth.

You know it's weird that you're still so tense around him even though you've been, more or less, friends for such long time. But you like to tell yourself that your behavior is absolutely excusable. Because how else is one supposed to act around their long time crush without blowing their cover?

You lower your head, deciding on an honest answer this time. "Funny cause I always felt like you're the one who hates me."

Jungwon snorts from your ridiculous thought. "That's crazy. C'mon, everyone knows I've always liked you." His confession does little to pacify your already pounding heart and just when you think about letting it slide, he goes on almost as if someone treated him with an honesty potion. "No, scratch that. Actually, I think I've always loved you."

The quiet, almost embarrassed mumble just can't go past your ears this time, completely disregarding Jungwon's deepest wish that you didn't actually hear his words. Your body tenses up as you halt your steps, head shooting to the side to cast a shocked glance at Jungwon.

Did you hear that right or are you just this far gone into your delusion?

"What?" You manage to stumble out. His arm wrapped around your shoulders all of sudden leaves a nearly burning trace behind and you shiver slightly. "You really must've gotten it hard in the head, huh?"

Jungwon strangles a groan that bubbles up in his throat, knowing well that this slip up was no one else's fault but his. Oh God, he's really doing this. Running his free hand over his face, he unsuccessfully tries to shake off the sudden nervousness spreading over his system like some kind of a parasite.

"No, what? I wasn't- Okay, fuck, whatever," he breathes out quickly, stumbling over his words and slightly loosening his grip on you to face you better. "I'm in love with you. I mean it. I've been ever since you barged into my class and hit Riki's head with this brick-ass notebook of yours."

You flush at the mention of the memorable momentum from over four years ago. With ears burning, you forget about his injury for a hot moment and step away from his touch, the sudden movement catching Jungwon off guard and causing him to stumble forward with a whine, right back into your smaller frame.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," you rush out the apology, arms instinctively finding their way around his middle again, keeping him steady.

You're left breathless, feeling absolutely each and every emotion striking your heart one by one. And in this moment, looking up at his ever so pretty face, cheeks slightly flushed with pink and eyes wide with nerves; you decide to show your answer through actions rather than words.

So you raise to your tippy toes and capture his lips with yours without even a hint of hesitation. Even if Jungwon's heart literally jumps out of his chest, all hair rise up on his arms and world nearly halts to a stop – he never lets you know any of these things as he dips his head down, allowing you to get more comfortable and settle back on your feet, kissing you twice as intensely as he finally lets go of all the pent up tension in his body.

He presses his lips deeply to yours, drinking every quiet sound that you make as his hand makes its way up to your face, fingers brushing your skin so gently in the total contrast to his relentless mouth biting and bruising yours.

And fuck him for not growing the balls to confess to you sooner.

You let his desperate lips do anything and everything to yours right now, ignoring the tingling that guarantees they're gonna be swollen and burning after he pulls away. But you're way too infatuated and greedy to loosen your grip around his neck.

You're unwillingly forced to break the kiss when your lungs feel as if they're about to collapse, so with one, two, three more pecks to his wet lips, you take a step back, yet not far enough from him to not feel his heavy breath on your face.

"I might like you a little too," you can't help but tease quietly, now finally content with your feelings and watching giddily as a fond smile makes its way to his red lips.

He hums, hands moving to your hips. "Only a little?"

"A tiny bit," you keep the banter up, squirming with a squeal when his fingers dig into your sides in a tickle.

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi

[dianaburnwood]

THE SPLITTER

SPOILERS AHEAD -

Is this the best elusive target we've ever had???? The LORE on this one? Also very interested in the timeline as 47 and Diana are still working for the ICA in this contract, they're not freelance.

I feel like I have been awakened from Hitman hibernation to freak out over the implications of Valiant and Hei's work on the Romanian programme.

First of all, we have Max Valiant - Jean-Claude Van Damme helloooo - who is a disgruntled ex-ICA agent. The best they had, before 47. Assassinated by his own agency for playing both sides, but Valiant lived, and now has a major bone to pick with the ICA. His master plan is pretty brilliant - giving him the opportunity to take over from his old employer or become their greatest competition - all by creating his own version of Ort-Meyer's work.

This is where my jaw DROPPED.

Valiant has created his own clones. However, they aren't clones like 47, who was born as a baby and raised to adulthood. Valiant, like Ort-Meyer, wanted a way to accelerate the process and have clones who were completely obedient. His clones are grown in tanks to accelerated adulthood - just like Ort-Meyer's 48 series. But in them we see the same flaws. While these clones are excellent, they are inexperienced. Everything they do is mechanically perfect, but it lacks the critical thought that an actual adult has.

Due to this, Valiant's clones are like children. They ask if they've done well, they seek his praise. It's kind of heart-breaking. He pushes them to their physical limits and they do it without question. They are "perfect" and yet lack everything that makes 47 so calculating. They are, in all honesty, innocent.

And so 47 has to take them out. And oh. my. God.

Dressed as a guard he takes over from the one supervising the shooting range. The guard happily tells him he can have the freaks, to which 47 responds with venom: "Think you're the freak."

Because of course. Watching people create clones could not be closer to home for 47. He hates this in as much as he has the emotional capacity for hatred. This makes him as uncomfortable as he can get.

We also get a glimpse of when things go wrong on his project. We have one of the clones in a padded cell, dancing to himself. He is unaware of everything around him. He is childlike in his happiness. And 47 kills him.

The researchers thank 47 for taking him out, saying they couldn't bring themselves to do it. They ask him how he did it with such ease. And 47 responds: "You get numb after a while."

Oh my God????? We rarely get to explore how 47 feels about what he does, because even though there are so many hints throughout the series, he doesn't actually talk about it himself all that much. And numb is such an interesting word choice. Because numb is not indifferent. When you're numb to something, the feelings are still there, but you can't access them. You know they are there, but you are removed from it. Either through shock, or desensitisation, or your brain is protecting you or whatever - you are deprived from the feeling. We've heard from Diana before that 47 knows he is broken and tries to be whole. Here we are getting this from himself, he is numb to what he does. And "after a while" - ahhhhhh???? Now that he has his memory back after Grey, he remembers what it was like to feel and to care. He remembers how he was. He is numb now, but he knows he was not always this way. I'm crying????

Walking into the room with the tanks reminded me so much of Hitman: Contracts when we get that replay of the asylum. All these new clones, grown in tanks instead of raised. I felt sorry for them then, but Valiant's clones have given me an even greater perspective on how these men are essentially children. It's so sad.

Pritchard's open disgust for the whole thing - but also his admitted awe - is another interesting angle for the ICA. I didn't realise before that Pritchard is the ICA's CFO. The board was not aware of what Travis was doing with Victoria in Absolution, and it seems to still be the case that they wish to be "ethical" with their assassination business. But given the cost and the time, I can't imagine that someone on the ICA board wouldn't see the value in what Valiant was doing. And we never find out what the board's answer would have been to Pritchard as he sat on the phone with them during this mission.

Also interesting to me that Hei was not a target. Why did the board authorise the death of Valiant and his clones, and not take out the researcher who made it all possible? Imo, there's material for a whole new game here. I can't imagine that the ICA would not reach out to Hei and have her work for them instead going forward.

My real question is - does Hei know how to restart the program that made 47? Or does she only know about Ort-Meyer's later program that accelerated the growth of the 48 series? Because if she knows how to create new clones the way that 47 was made, and the ICA board sees the value in investing in that rather than in the 48 model, I could see a really interesting future where they start their own child soldier program with Hei. Especially now since Diana and 47 have left the ICA and are essentially their competitors.

[sleepyboywrites]

@justkeepscrollingscrolling

Hey all! In case you missed my last post Tumblr updates ruined my life and asks no longer allow you to save as drafts and then update them. Since I normally don't write all in one session I have quite a few in my drafts currently that I have to get creative in actually answering so that you all still get notified when I get around to your asks. Moving forward I'll just answer in one go but for older asks (ones before I noticed/before the update) will be answered like this! Also I haven't written in a while so I apologize if it's shit.

Save a horse ride a cowboy

Masky knew you were raised on a farm. His favorite, albeit slightly teasing pet name for you was 'Cowboy' or 'Farm hand'. He's seen you carry corpses of fully grown men in one arm since joining the proxies. He had confronted you on multiple occasions how and why and you had replied. "I've hauled hay when our tractor broke and carried a newborn filly to the truck to rush to the vet after she wasn't walkin'. I can hold my own Darlin'." And he had been oh so kind to remind you who you belonged to for your lip and sweet farm boy ways. Yet he still sometimes underestimates your strength and in all honesty it's your own fault.

Play fighting and rough housing was nothing at all new. Mostly because Masky suffers from cuteness aggression and you, farm boy, are sturdy enough to handle it as well as dish it out. You two did it so often that if you didn't people assumed you were fighting fighting. On top of this you had a bad habit of letting Masky win because he's just so cute all smug on victory and everyone likes to be shoved into the couch face first by their partner sometimes cause being manhandled is just as fun as manhandling.

That is until one day, a really busy one, you didn't really have the time nor energy to let him win.

Masky had been extra annoying today. Poking and proding and shoving and basically all over you. Normally no complaints whatsoever but you had a shit ton you needed to get done. The list of cleanup tasks you were assigned today was two pages long and with your boyfriend attacking you at every turn in some form of cuteness aggression taking over and possessing him the second he saw your face, you getting fuck all done. Cleanup from the cannibals of the mansion plus the targets of the main proxies (because apparently scrubbing the remains of EJ's lunch off of the kitchen walls for three hours wasn't enough to deal with) had made for an unusually large amount of work for the sole cleanup crew member, you, and you were over it. So as Masky tried to tackle you in greeting for the fifth time today hoping to instigate you to wrestle him and to in turn win and coerce you to get a little 'closer', you just held your ground picked up the corpse in one arm, pried his arms off with a "Hold on Darlin' I have work to finish and I'm running behind. Later." And walked away.

Masky had stood there for a moment with a confused look on his face before the realization struck and he remembered his view of you and your 'softness' was heavily skewed. But once the shock disappears he became determined to genuinely tackle you. Stalking, lurking, and hunting you as you attempted to finish your work as Cleanup. He had proven himself to be quite the pain in your ass as you avoided his attacks and eventually lost him all together getting to finish the long list of tasks you had been assigned. You took a shower changed clothes and were scrolling on your phone on the couch when you finally sensed him again.

His vaguely pissed off and irked in general aura slowly approaching you from behind. You pretended not to notice that he's approaching and place your arms over his as he hugs you, clearly mopey, from behind. "Hm... So we're doing angry cuddles now, are we love?"

Masky didn't reply shoving his face into your neck, you could feel his intrusive thoughts to bite you, his hesitation to do so. Masky begins walking away from you and into the kitchen.

Without warning you chase after him and pick him up as he shouts and squirms playfully trying to escape your grasp and flip the script, "Look, I'm sorry I was avoidin' you, 'm not angry at you darlin, I was just overbooked on what needed done. Now quit your moping." You explained as you threw and pinned him to the couch. Masky going fully silent and still as you pin him down, giving you an odd territorial and excited look. "What?" You ask as he stares up at you, an eyebrow raised.

"Save a horse..." He replied looking you up and down. As it slowly processes in your head what he's referring to and you scoff and chuckle as you shake your head.

[local-crying-boy]

Hi!i don't know if your ask is open,but if you feel like it,could we maybe get a Viktor with an s/o who preffers staying up and working as well unless he comes to bed with them?

Not Without You.

Gender Neutral! Reader X Viktor

A/N: You asked and I shall deliver :D

——————————————————————————————————

Pairing: Viktor X Gender Neutral!Reader

Genre: One-Shot, fluf, established romantic relationship

Warnings: Short fic

Summary: After a long day of work, Viktor expects you to go to sleep due to the late hour, but you refuse to unless he comes up with you.

Word Count: 700

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Translations:

My dove = мой голубь

I love you = Я тебя люблю

I love you too = Я тоже тебя люблю

Love = любовь

——————————————————————————————————

The two of you sat in almost complete silence, the only sound that echoed throughout the room was the scratching of pencils on paper. It was well into the night, you both knew that, the sounds of faint chatter and footsteps from outside of the lab were no longer heard.

You wondered when Viktor was going to leave, hoping that your boyfriend was actually going to go to his room this time. You didn’t mind the company, since you’d often stay up, but also worried for how how sleep Viktor was actually getting.

Viktor glanced at the clock, then turned to you, "It's late, you should be getting to your room."

You chuckled at him, "You should be heading up too, Viktor."

"Well, I have important work to be doing." He quickly said, "You know how much I have to do." He meant no malice in his statement, he had no intention to come off rude and you knew that, he was just stating a fact that you both knew.

"Then I'll stay with you and help, I'm your assistant, remember?" You smiled, pulling your chair closer to him and looking over his work, "We can split it, I have nothing to do. In all honesty, I finished my work about half an hour ago and was only proof reading it."

Viktor looked at you with concern, "любовь, you should get rest, it is important you take care of yourself."

“Not without you.” You simply said, smiling as you put your arms on the desk leaning on it as you looked at him, “Now either we can finish this now, or we head up to bed now and leave it for the morning.”

Viktor stared at you with narrowed eyes. He couldn't just abandon this important work because you wouldn't go to your room without him, right? It wasn't like he wanted to prioritise his work over his love for you, but sometimes he really did question if the work he and Jayce were doing was too important to ignore.

"You work to hard, love." You said gently, your voice as sweet as honey to his ears. "You can take a break, no body is asking you to work until you drop dead."

He had let out a small huff of air, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments. This would have been seen as a moment of annoyance to some, but with Viktor's often exhausted appearance, you've learnt over the years that it was just him being so tired that his eyelids felt too heavy to keep open.

'A sign he should take a break' you've told him several times throughout the time you have, not only worked with him, but dated him.

Viktor took a few moments to reply, he looked over at you with a small expression of shock, he sighed quietly. "You won't go to your room unless I do too, will you?"

You grinned at him, your usual bright smile that Viktor loved to see. "No, no I will not."

He let out a small smile, but you knew that a part of him just wanted for you to go to bed so that you didn’t end up developing unhealthy sleeping habits similar to his.

He shook his head as he muttered quiet words under his breath that you couldn’t make out, but you knew they wouldn’t hold any malice since you could still see that smile pulling on his lips. He stood up, hauling himself up with his cane and looked up at you.

“Come on, then.” He said with a quiet sigh, his ever so small grin still remaining on his face.

You smiled over at him and stood from your chair, walking over to the door with him on your right. The soft sound of the bottom of his cane hitting the floor and both of your shoes clicking against the ground being the only thing you could hear for a few moments.

You then turned to him with a big smirk plastered on your lips, a smile that he would never be able to get enough of. "I knew I could make you cave in."

"Congratulations, мой голубь." Viktor said with a quiet laugh. "You've bested me, then."

Masterlist

[atinylittlepain]

Chapter One

jackson!joel miller x witch!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

He thinks he might fall in love with her. She can't let him fall in love with her. Or: a reimagined take on an infamous Practical Magic au by yours truly.

wordcount | 6.1K

series content info | 18+ slowburn-ish, strangers to friends to lovers to estranged acquaintances to ???, discussions of death and grief, a little magic, just a little, jackson era joel and all that entails, eventual smut, angst obviously, and love that requires a little elbow grease.

a/n | yeeeehaw, here we go. I have to just say, it was so damn fun writing this, and while I haven't gotten started on chapter two quite yet (hello, finishing undergrad, you thankless wench) I'm real excited to get started soon. As always, I'd love to hear what you think, thank you for reading.

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

He doesn’t understand this world of a town. Two months, maybe three, actually, and still not used to any of it. Not used to warm water and light switches that work. Not used to three whole meals, not used to whole anything. Tomatoes and peaches, sweet snap peas, the taste of summer. Not used to people living so closely and not trying to kill each other. He feels like a livewire strung taut, waiting for the shoe to drop, for the catch of it all. He’s starting to think there is no catch. And if there is no catch, he’s worried he’ll get too comfortable, too soft.

The people of Jackson live a different life. May as well be on a different planet. And as such, they treat him and the kid with a pitiful patience and a cautious distance. Careful, feral animals, still being housebroken, still learning not to eat with their hands and swear in the dining hall. Still learning not to flinch, or do much worse, when a friendly hand is placed on their shoulders. This strange world, strange life he’s walked into, and he’s pretty sure it’s not for him. But he wants it to be for Ellie, so he tries. 

In this world, help is expected, and given freely. White-knuckling isn’t requisite, there are things that can be done for a fever besides waiting it out, ways to relieve a little suffering. Time and space, a luxury, he thinks. And so when the kid came home with a bloom of welts on her palms and up her bare shins, unaware of how easily poison ivy can spread, there was, for once, something he could actually do about it. 

Tommy was the one who clued him in. The little shop that sits a few storefronts down from the Tipsy Bison which, in all honesty, he had never paid any mind to. He doesn’t get out much to begin with though, so that says very little. Unassuming, peeling blue paint and tall windows obscured by bursts and blooms of plants. A piece of smooth wood has been turned into a sign hanging above the door, letters seared into the grain. Apothecary.

He calls out, hesitant when he steps inside, unsure now if he came at the right time. No one in sight, the shop sits perfectly quiet, still, just the hum of a fan tucked into one of the windows, sending a faint shiver through the plants around it. He’s admittedly surprised by the sight, not that he had been expecting the clinical white of a pharmacy. Still, the shock of green all around him, warm clay pots on wooden benches, vines and leaves spilling over the edges like languid limbs in repose. Lush and strange, he steps further into the shop, foliage brushing against his shoulders, the cool, damp smell of earth. He calls out again, still silence.

There’s something that looks like an old checkout counter further back, a rusted-out cash register that now has thin vines growing along and in between the keyboard. The remnant stub of a receipt sits in its mouth, he thinks he can make out 2003, ink all but faded away. But the strangest of all things, as he’s studying the slumped machine. Someone else joins him. Or something else. 

“Well, look at you.” It doesn’t exactly startle him, more like a small kick in his chest at the intrusion. Like black ink, sleek and shine and slipping up onto the counter, all ease, perched and staring at him. He thinks a bit idly to himself that he hasn’t seen too many cats in the last two decades. And this cat looks well taken care of, maybe even a little prim, if a cat can look such a way, sitting on its haunches and looking at him, unblinking, unwavering, and a little unsettling. Little impulse, before he can think too hard about it, he holds his hand out, a scratch between the ears that’s rebuffed as soon as it’s accepted, little snit and swipe, the sharp pin prick sting of blood over his knuckles. He presses his other palm over the small throb, the cat long gone by the time he has half a mind to look for it. 

“Did she get you?” Now that does get a jolt out of him. Animals are easier. But people, well. He looks to his left, then to his right, deeper into the shop. He sees her hair before he really sees her. Piles of curls, gray starting to bleed through all that darkness. She’s standing in a doorway he hadn’t seen before, the cat rubbing its cheek against her shin. Somehow, he feels like he’s been told on, thick flood of something warming up the back of his neck.

“Just a scratch, think I deserved it though.” Somewhere around his age, he thinks, maybe a little younger. Her eyes do a lift and crinkle when she smiles, stepping closer to him. He sees the same years he recognizes in his own face, though she certainly wears it better, tempered smile, glasses getting pushed up into her hair, more mane now than anything else. What was he here for again?

“You’re Joel Miller.”

“I am, how did–”

“Tommy told me he was sending you my way. I didn’t know a person could come with a warning label.” Something southern in her voice, little twang, little twinge. Her words rasp just a bit, and it sounds like kindness, like a sharpness that could turn sour, though she keeps it sweet, tilt of her head, sweet. 

“I guess my reputation precedes me then.”

“It’s a small town.”

“I’m starting to catch onto that.” The cat has taken an insistent twine between his legs, chewing at his shoelaces, until she, still nameless to him, hooks her arm around its belly, easy as anything, and Stevie’s a little curious is all, sending the creature slinking off and away from them, disappearing between all the green. 

“I’m sorry, older I get the less I remember my manners. I’m Maggie.” Palm extended, and when he takes it, it’s like that thing he and Tommy used to do as kids, bored out of their minds and making a game of shuffling in their socks, fingertip shocks to the backs of each other’s necks, just a quick gasp of static, there and gone.

“Tommy said you could help me out with something for poison ivy?” Oh, she says, mostly pantomime when she takes her hand back and wipes it on the thigh of her jeans, is it for you? He’s surprised how easily that makes him laugh.

“No, it’s, well, it’s my kid, got it pretty bad.” 

“Your daughter is in luck then. I’m almost sure every kid in Jackson under the age of sixteen gets it at least once, and I treat every single one of them.” A slip, a stutter, because did she? Did he? He must have, right? Must have used that word, daughter, for her to say it. Even though he’s pretty sure he didn’t, pretty sure of his pause, but he can’t give it any more thought because she, Maggie, has already turned heel, a cursory look over her shoulder at him that tells him, yes, he should be following her further back into the shop. 

“So, witch hazel is going to be your daughter’s new best friend. Soak a little of this into a cloth or towel and dab it onto the rash a few times a day, you really can’t overdo it though.” He’s trying to keep up, really, nodding and mmhmming as she hands him a small bottle, already onto the next thing, her glasses now sliding down to the end of her nose as she looks through drawers and cabinets, plucking out things that look like old shoe polish tins, jars covered with cloth toppers. A mix of method and madness, a grace to her movements, though something skittish is threaded through. Bird of prey, he thinks, something of fierce and feather in all that motion.

A combination of workshop and kitchen makes up what he thinks is the backroom of the shop, large butcher block taking up most of the middle of the room, back door propped open with something that, frankly, looks like an urn. An impressive-looking range spans the back wall, and he thinks that, maybe, in the before, some kind of restaurant. But now, very different means to very different ends. 

“Alright, this’ll help most with the itching. It’s a bit potent, so just tell her to take a little bit, warm it up between her palms, and rub it over the worst spots.” Ultimately, he’s left with a bottle, a small tin, and a few sachets of oatmeal bath soak, only half sure he got all her directions, trying to balance listening to her, and letting his eyes wander over all the cabinets, dried plants and variously odd containers spilling out from everywhere. Head spinning, already spun out actually, and he can’t help but wonder how he’s just now meeting this woman, a strange sense that she’s important, though why, or to whom, he isn’t sure. 

“That should have Sarah all cleared up in about a week, but if it’s still persisting–” 

“I’m sorry–” Whatever he’s sorry about, it cracks and fails in his chest. Like he’s been winded, or maybe wounded, a sort of deep suckerpunch shock hearing that name come from a stranger’s mouth. He has to clear his throat before he speaks again, posing it like a question, you said Sarah? And there’s a peculiar thing that happens in the silence, the quick pass of her eyes over his face, pull of her brow like she’s the one that’s confused. But whatever it is, it’s gone just as quick, lines smoothing, a smile so small it can only be apologetic. That queasy twist in his gut has loosened, but there’s still something unsettled, that lingering static all over his skin. 

“I thought I heard that was your kid’s name, but judging by your reaction I  must be getting people mixed up again.” She says something else, something about taking care, a lot of folks around here pass through my hands, sometimes they blur together. He believes that well enough, still uncertain about the rest, though too skittish to do anything other than drop it. That name isn’t for anyone else, not even a bird of prey, so he keeps it folded up close and tight between his ribs and lets out a sigh to blow out all of his held breath, slumping civility.

“No, it’s alright, I’m not too good with names myself.”

“Well, there hasn’t been much need for that in this world, don’t you think?” 

“I guess not, though I’m getting the sense it’s a little different around here.” It seems like a nervous thing, a pulse point reassurance in the way she brushes a hand back through her hair, lets her palm curl at the nape of her neck for a moment, then hand to wrist. Never still, she’s done it a few times now just standing here talking to him, though her words come easy, if not a little sharp, a single, high note of a laugh.

“Oh yeah, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to work on that, unless you wanna hurt some poor bird’s feelings, you know.” Wave of her hand, you know, and the thought occurs to him, errant, that this is the most normal conversation he’s had with someone since deciding not to leave. And quickly after that, the thought that he doesn’t hate it, this, doesn’t hate normal, doesn’t want normal to stop. For once, he feels like he can do normal. For once, it feels easy.

“Any advice?”

“What, on assimilating?” That word rolls languid and loose off her tongue, making a joke out of it as she pronounces each syllable, that sour twang pitching up another key. He nods, try me.

“Give it time, the names that matter will shake out eventually. In the meantime, just avoid direct eye contact and the rumor mill will leave you alone, relatively speaking.” 

“That right?” Shrug, sigh, she tilts her head to the side, smile going slanted and shoulder hiked, it’s been working for me, kinda, sorta. His eyes trail the slope of her collar bone, bare now with how the sleeve of her shirt has slid a little askew. Sunspots, a silver knick of a scar, paper thin and fine.

“Ellie, that’s, um, well, my kid’s name.”

“Got it, and you’re Joel.”

“And you’re Maggie.”

“Look at you, already getting better at it.”

“Is that short for something?” 

“Unfortunately, my mother saddled me with Magdalene.”

“Don't hear that one often.”

“Nope, she was a little, well–”

“Eccentric?”

“I was going to say righteous, but that works too.” 

“Religious then?”

“In a way, yes, you could say that. You too? Joel sounds very bible-y.” 

“My folks were, I never really acquired a taste for it though.” 

“Hmm, amen.” Easy, easy, easy, until time does that thing it always does, starts to fissure beneath that delicate freeze. She glances at her watch, a polite sigh, and he notices the thin band on her finger, a foolish drop of disappointment souring his stomach, trying, and failing, to double check if it was her left, if it was her ring finger. Not that it matters though, not that it would, or could matter. Already on the move, something about a colicky baby I have to go check in on, leading him back out to the front of the shop, and he finally remembers the bottle and tins he’s holding, what he came here for in the first place. 

“I appreciate all this, really, just name your price and–”

“Oh, no, consider it a welcome gift. I hope Ellie starts feeling a little better.” And he wants to accept that, her kindness, and how easily she offers it. But there’s no muscle left in him for that, weak and wilted and wary of shoes dropping, catches, and being caught. Whatever remains in its place, she notices it, that nervous hesitation, that one step back, that shifted glance toward the exit, softening some of her sharpness. And it’s not pity, because he knows pity, seen a lot of pity in these few months he’s been here. No, not that, something simpler and saner. Seeing and being seen, the cool slip of relief from it. 

“I might have an idea for a trade if you’re up for it.”

“What’d you have in mind?”

“Tommy said you’re handsy–” She stops herself with a gasp that sounds like a hiccup, seemingly just as stunned as he is by the word, hair falling in her face with the shake of her head, little laugh, little brightness. Handy, oh my god, I meant handy. 

“I’m sorry, clearly I don’t get out much, lord.” All hands, talking with her hands, palm to her forehead, then back through her hair, quick flickers, he tries to track that ring through its orbit, a dizzying  effort. Hummingbird hands, a woman who is all wings.

“It’s alright, reckon you’re still better at this than I am.”

“On the contrary, I think you’ve been the picture of civility.”

“Will you tell Tommy that?” 

“I’m sure I can put in a good word.”  He’s lingering, or maybe she is, or maybe they both are. Not used to this, taking time for time’s sake. 

“I am though. Handy, I mean, if you need help fixing something?” She does, she tells him, stair railing that’s come so loose she’s worried she’s going to go right through it one of these days. And it’s been twenty years since he’s been in a world in which people worry about the upkeep of their stair railing, but it’s an easy fix, he tells her, he can do that, he tells her. Sunday? Sunday works fine. They shake on it, stepping out of the shop into the mid-day glare of sun, her with a deep canvas bag hanging off her shoulder. She squints at him, it was nice meeting you, and he says the same, and finds himself actually meaning it. But there’s still something strange slicking up and down his spine, he’s reminded of it watching her walk off in the other direction, though he’s not really watching her any more, but the people she passes by.

Small town, close town, everyone knowing everyone else, names pinned down under thumbs. Ellie had let out a loud what the fuck when a stranger greeted them, by name, the first time they went to the dining hall for dinner. He’s been feeling a similar way about all the greetings, all the good neighbors doing what good neighbors do. But Maggie gets none of that walking down the block. No smiles, no tipped chins, no knowing and being known. He swears he even sees a few swept away glances, a few steps back the closer she gets. If it bothers her, she doesn’t show it, a sort of easy sway to her gait, walking hips-first, there, and there, and then gone when she turns a corner. Strange, and stranger even, when he looks down and notices that the puddle of black ink is chewing on his shoelaces again. 

Little trouble, yellow eyes that round and narrow on him, he takes one step, and little trouble follows him, close on his heels. He imagines that they’re putting on an absurd show walking down the main drag of town, him stopping every few steps to turn around and see that yes, little trouble is still following him, though at an admittedly respectable distance, settling back on its haunches and staring him down every time he glances back over his shoulder. Little trouble follows him all the way to the front steps of his house, seeming to finally lose interest in favor of a bee humming lazy around a patch of weeds. The last thing he sees of little trouble is pink-padded paws batting at dandelions, curled-lip grin and white fang chewing on stems, beheading thick yellow manes. 

… 

She lives on the other side of town. Older builds, he thinks, been here longer, windows with glass that warbles a little in its age like melted sugar, and deep-set porches washed with dark blue shadows in the early morning light. Cottonwood trees sway and dip, old limbs that arc and curl over the cracked-up sidewalk, slumbering giants making the sounds of all the small life it hosts. It’s a side of Jackson he hasn’t seen until now and it reminds him of a younger, simpler time. 

The town follows an old rhythm, late starts on Sunday. There’s even a church somewhere, though he’s not particularly concerned with finding it anytime soon. It’s still early enough, however, that he’s one of the few people already up and out. She told him to come as early as he wanted, really, I’ll be up. And he sees for himself that she was being honest, because when he walks up to the house she told him to look for, he finds her waging a zealous war with a rose bush in her front yard, and it doesn’t seem like she’s winning. 

When he told his brother he had taken his advice, he was met with a surprising amount of interest, talking quietly over a shared drink and well, what did you think?

I didn’t realize you were waiting for my report.

She’s a little different is all, does things her own way.

Well, she got the kid fixed up. 

I had no doubt she would.

I’m helping her on Sunday with something, as a trade.

Oh?

Stair railing in her house is loose. Been a long time since I thought about stair railing.

Wait, you’re going to her house?

Yes.

Into her house?

I’d presume so. Is that a problem?

No, just surprising. 

Why’s that?

She keeps to herself, not exactly one to make friends, though I don’t blame her with the way– well, people can be cruel, I guess.

What’s that supposed to mean? 

There’s talk, stupid stuff really. For what it’s worth I like her just fine.

Talk, his brother said. People spinning stories out of fear, or maybe something weaker than that. He’s been gathering up some of that talk all week, enough of it to make his head spin. The only thing he’s sure is truth, Maggie was here before Jackson was even called Jackson, just a nameless group of people that somehow managed to survive, until it became something else entirely. The rest, however, weft and warp of fact and fiction. Plenty of good words, broken bones set back in place and flu seasons weathered, babies born and grown, though the praise seems to be given with a reluctant respect, skittishly, but, well. But, well, something strange about her, isn’t there? He’s heard plenty of strange too. Strange, the way she talks to the wind, and the way it seems to listen. Strange, that cat of hers, with lingering eyes that watch and watch and watch, a shadow showing up in all the close, quiet places. Strange, whatever it is she keeps on the stove in the back of her shop. He asked Ellie if she’s heard anything, and she, pleased with herself, offered up a fantastical report of flight and dancing naked under the full moon, a perfectly tall tale he could imagine the children of Jackson passing around a classroom. 

One thing he hasn’t heard anything about, the ring and whichever finger she wears it on. His right, her left, she’s still wearing it this morning, simple silver glinting and a pair of garden shears aloft in her hand. She smiles sheepish when she sees him, like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t be. 

“Those are pretty.” She doesn’t seem to realize he’s talking about the roses, big white blooms that she absently looks at over her shoulder, scoffing, her mouth screwed to the side. 

��They’re useless is what they are, taking up too much space and overcrowding the rest of my plants.” As he gets closer, stepping beyond the gate and into the front yard, he sees the errant chaos of her work, stray petals and entire threads of flowers lopped off around her feet. She’s a little breathless as she speaks, back of her hand to her forehead to wipe stray salt, and he wonders how long she’s been out here at this.

“Not a fan of roses then?” 

“To be honest with you, I don’t know where these are coming from. It seems like I cut them back and by the next morning they’ve taken over even more.” She gives a weak stab to the flowers that remain intact, a shake of her head as she abandons her work, and he shouldn’t, just here to fix her stair railing, he shouldn’t, but he already is, already saying the words before he can think about keeping his mouth shut, you’re bleeding.

“What?” He gestures, at least having half a mind not to touch, his hand hovering somewhere in the vicinity of her forearms. Long, thin welts where he’s sure the thorns got her, and maybe he’s a little startled by her breathing out oh, those fuckers, and this again, on the move again, and expecting him to follow her up the porchsteps and in through the screen door and just let it slam or it won’t close all the way. She’s already tramped further into the house and he finds himself utterly unsure of what comes next, shuffling a little in the hallway she left him in, head tilting with the sound of a faucet turning on somewhere, pipes groaning. 

Another truth he gets to see for himself, Maggie has lived here a long time, all the acquired detritus of life that only time can allow, that leaving washes away. Paintings dripping off the walls, a craned-neck glance into the rooms around him revealing worn-looking furniture, shelves of books and little nothing things, trinkets and half-melted candles. And more plants, more plants everywhere. 

“So, the stairs.” The stairs, in question, are an easy enough fix. How nice, he thinks, to know what is needed, and to know exactly where to go to get it, a few tools and materials only a ten minute walk away. She tells him to make himself at home, let yourself in, I’ll be in the back, I’d warn you about my guard dog but she’s not very good at her job. The guard dog in question is rubbing its whiskered cheek against the leg of her jeans, thrumming a purr so loud he thinks it’s at least partial performance, yellow eyes skewing up at him every now and again. 

The work itself makes up the morning. Methodical, monotonous work that allows his mind, and his eyes, to wander. Whatever that ring on her finger means, he’s nearly certain that nobody else lives here with her, except for the cat who spends the first few hours sitting on the bottom step, watching him. As for Maggie, he catches glimpses of her, in and out all morning between what looks like a sunroom and the backyard, never still, always something in her hands, always moving like she’s got an important destination to get to. She comes back inside just as he’s finishing his work, dressed down in a tank top now, all her hair pulled into a precarious knot at the nape of her neck. His eyes linger on bare collar bone, sun high in her cheeks, even though he tries not to. 

“I completely forgot to ask if your kid is feeling better.” He tells her that she is, tries for a joke about teenagers and all their drama that just feels weird in his mouth, though she still smiles at it. And he feels it again, just the same as when he met her, that tug, that want to linger, even though the work is done, and she’s thanking him for it, and even he, and all his dormant manners, knows that’s his cue to leave. 

“I was about to make some lunch if you wanted to stick around?” He shouldn’t.

“Yeah, okay, thank you.” And so he stays for lunch, and so there’s tomato sandwiches, thick and bursting, summer sweet and savor on her back porch, wiping dripping ripeness off on the thigh of his pants, a hum in his throat to be enjoying something like this. 

“How’s another week of domesticity suiting you?” Words that crackle with a half-grin, her cheek cupped in her palm, a picture of afternoon haze, sleep and sate, and he finds himself being lulled by the sight, little slump back in his chair.

“Don’t think it’s something I’ll get used to anytime soon.”

“That’s to be expected, I don’t think anyone ever fully gets used to it though. Not unless this is all they’ve known.”

“Where were you before you came here?” It’s a question that borders on prying, he apologizes and you don't have to almost as soon as it’s out of his mouth, but she waves the apology off, it’s a little complicated. And she tells him that this is where she lived in the before, right up until the after, and that she, like so many others, got funneled into a quarantine zone in the earliest years. 

“Were you ever in one?”

“Boston, for a while.”

“Then you know how maddening those places are.” Bird of prey, trapped in a cage. Bird of prey, who flew back home. Bird of prey, who found that a few other people had the same idea.

“It wasn’t called Jackson back then, wasn’t called anything, just people, you know.” Until it became something else, something bigger, and a little more serious, and if that bothers her, she doesn’t show it. And now he really is prying, asking after her accent that surely doesn’t come from the mountains. He’s not wrong, she tells him.

“I moved here when I was, oh, maybe nine? My parents, we lived in Mississippi before they passed, and when they did I was sent up north to live with my aunt.” It’s an old wound, whatever pain that remains from it has been transfigured into a sort of tired nostalgia around her eyes, the tempering of her smile. She’s quick to brush it away, a bright laugh and a shake of her head, I think I just told you all my secrets. He knows that isn’t true, though warmth still starts to unfurl in his chest. And when she asks him the same questions, he offers the same piecemeal parts of the whole truth. Offers Texas, and his brother, and a halfway truth about Ellie. Shards and fragments passed between each other’s hands, it surprises him how easily he has given his to her. 

“I guess we’re not strangers anymore then.” 

“No, I guess not.”

“I should– I feel the need to warn you.” Like she’s not sure how to put these words together right, brow pinched low and smile slanted nervous, you might not want to spend too much time around me.

“Why’s that?”

“People around here like to talk.”

“Right.”

“And they like talking about me.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“And I don’t want– you seem like the kind of guy who just wants to keep his head down and get by.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“I’d like to be friendly, but I don’t want to take that from you.” The word friendly does something unpleasant in his chest. He does his best to ignore it.

“Why’d you invite me to stay?”

“Because I like talking to you and because I’m selfish. Because I wanted to.” And there’s something else, he thinks, something else unspoken behind her grin. Because he hasn’t made up his mind about her in the same way everyone else has, at least not yet. 

“I have heard things, about you, I mean.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“And I have questions.” She sits back in her chair, an edge of a challenge in her jutted chin, palms turned up and open, try me. But given the chance, he doesn’t know where to begin, which thread to pull first. What comes out, ultimately, isn’t even a question, but plain and blunt observation. This is a big house.

“It’s just me, and Stevie. I’ve offered up rooms to folks around here, haven’t gotten any bites so far.”

“But it wasn’t always, just you.” Absent-minded, she spins that silver band with her thumb, another wound revealed. 

“I was married until I wasn’t.”

“Before or after?” He doesn’t know where this is coming from, this plainly brash openness, though she doesn’t wince, doesn’t recoil from it, just as steady as he is.

“After, about a decade after. You think you’re in the clear and then, yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for now. Ask me something else, why don’t you? Something more interesting.” Wave of her hand and a clipped laugh that’s more like a sniff, tender, don’t touch, don’t dig into that wound any deeper. 

“People say you’re strange.”

“Strange.” Dragging out the word, letting it crackle with a grin that’s all teeth, little laugh on the end, picture perfect amusement in how she tilts her head at him.

“That you can do strange things.” 

“That’s kind of a nothing word, isn’t it? Strange?”

“I thought you were gonna answer my questions.”

“Oh, I will. You’re gonna have to be a little more precise in your language though.” Back and forth, back and forth, why does he like this so much? Dragging his palm down his jaw to stop the spread of anticipation, heat-hazy in the mid-afternoon sun.

“That cat of yours, for starters.”

“Mmhmm?” Raise of her brows, voice high in her throat, and he has to huff, do I really have to say it?

“Are you referring to the rumor that my cat spies on people and reports back to me all their wicked, little secrets?” 

“Sure, yes.”

“That cat right there?” His eyes follow her pointed finger out into the tall grass of the backyard, where the cat in question seems to have contented itself with tangling its paws in a loose length of twine, belly-up, writhing around in all that green. Maggie snorts.

“Oh yeah, she’s a real mastermind, you better watch out, she’ll be visiting your bedroom window next.” 

“Then what about the rest of it?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific than that.”

“I’m glad you’re finding this so amusing.”

“Mmhmm, I really am.”

“I feel foolish even saying it.”

“If there’s a word you’re skirting around, and I think there is, it’d be better if you just come out with it.”

“This really is a nothing word though.”

“Oh?”

“Made up, make-believe.”

“Are you sure about that?” 

“Frankly, I’m not sure of anything about you.” She hums, chin cupped in her hand and her elbow propped on the small table between them, her brow dipping in mock consideration of his words. He can see that she really is finding all of this entertaining, something in her eyes like a squinted challenge, ghost of a smile twitching in the corners of her mouth.

“How about I say the word I think you’re thinking of?” Spiraling words, circling each other, he nods, and she purses her lips, getting ready for some kind of lift off. 

“People have told you my cat is strange.”

“People have told you I’m strange.”

“People have told you I do strange things.” Yes, yes, yes, he nods with each statement, and her smile only seems to brighten.

“Joel, have people been telling you I’m a witch?” And that’s it, isn’t it? Foolish, and he doesn’t know why that word has seemed to stick in his mind. Maybe just because he’s heard it from enough mouths in the last few days that it almost makes it seem plausible. Maybe he’s lived in a world turned inside out on itself long enough that there is very little imagination that hasn’t been eaten away by reality. Maybe he’s just like the rest of them, looking for any way to explain someone who doesn’t do things the capital-w Way they are supposed to be done. Maybe he’s still thinking about Sarah, and where Maggie could have possibly plucked that name from. And maybe that word is just holding the place of something else, an uneasiness he feels around her, though not unpleasant, just other, and so very unlike any other. He opens his mouth to speak, but decides against it, and this seems to amuse her most of all, sharp smile now softening, no longer playing at a game because they’ve both caught each other now, haven’t they? 

“That’s what people say.” 

“And you? What do you say?” 

“Does it matter?”

“If we’re going to be friends, yes, I’d like to know what you think.” Friends, they’re going to be friends. When did that happen? He thinks that may be the strangest thing of all. 

“I think I don’t know enough yet to tell you what I think.”

“How judicious of you.”

“I think you’re different though.”

“Well, I think you’re different too.”

“Why?”

“Most people wouldn’t have gone past the front porch, and here you are staying for lunch.”

“I don’t mean to impose or–”

“That’s not what I meant.” The words are kind, but they’re also a conclusion, enough, for now, enough. He watches her get up and collect both their plates before he can think to move, and then another kindness, touch, her palm on his shoulder as she passes behind him, there and gone. He’s a stranger to touch that isn’t economical, or clinical, or plainly violent, and he finds himself unsure what to do with that, though inexplicably wanting more of it. 

She thanks him again for the fix to the railing, and he thanks her for lunch. He lingers, and she lets him, helps with the dishes, checks the railing one more time. I’ll see you, she says, walking him out onto the front porch, and she does it again, touch again, somewhere at his elbow, as simple as anything. The roses are still raging in her front yard, a whole wave of them. 

Somewhere in the middle of his walk home, he realizes the cat is following him, second shadow slinking low to the ground, dipping her head when he turns around, pretending at predator. He keeps walking, pays little attention to her pursuit. He’ll get used to it eventually. He thinks he already is.

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

taglist: @suzmagine @joelsgreys @vee-bees-blog @noisynightmarepoetry @kungfucapslock @iloveenya @evolnoomym @wannab-urs @survivingandenduring @thereaperisabitch @schnarfer @jessthebaker @tobethlehem

[fitztragedy]

Ranking my own fics

I've had writers block for almost a year now so I decided to go down memory lane and re read all my Rivusa fics to see if I should go back to writing them or if the mood is officially dead. And then list/rank/rec them here in case any of you are interested in my thoughts of my own writing.

I decided to keep this list to just shippy rivusa fics that are over 6k words because otherwise it'd be a huge post.

Gonna be a long post so it's all under the cut! I'm curious to see what you guys think of them or if you agree with my order. And if you think I should go back to writing those two.

1st place: TEMPTING FATE (collab with @septemberrie)

I feel like this one is obvious. It's by far the most popular of my fics and one that I never get tired of re-reading. It was so fun to write and make the arts for and I loved working with Skye on it. I still get butterflies when I read all the comments, it truly warms my heart to know so many people loved it. We still get the odd comment here and there of people re-reading or reading for the first time and it makes my day whenever I see those. This fic not only holds a dear place in my heart because of all of this but it truly is, for me, the best written out of the list. I'm not very good with descriptions and since english is not my first language I feel like sometimes my dialogue comes across a bit stiff, but since this was a collab with Skye, she filled in where my weaknesses were lacking and the result was a masterpiece.

2nd place: THIN WALLS (collab with @theperfectrose)

It started as my first attempt at a multichap fic written by myself and soon I realised I did need help so I brought Iva in and I'm so glad! The result was something I'm super proud of and I also love re-reading it. It has around the same wordcount as Tempting Fate, and it's also a rom-com type fic, but it only has half the hits, kudos and comments, so if you liked TF and don't know this one I'd say maybe give it a shot and let me know what you think?

3rd place: TIRED OF PRETENDING (collab with @gossipqueen2000)

In all honesty I had forgotten this existed until I re-read it and I'm so shocked I forgot about it because it's so good! The start of the fic is probably the best start of any of my fics. Mo was the first stranger-I-met-online I collabed with and it was such a nice experience, she brings such a depth of emotions in the descriptions and you can really feel it reading her fics (and collabs). I'll definitely not make the mistake of forgetting about this fic again. And I'll never be fixing that one very obvious editing mistake contained in it.

4th place: TOLERABLE

I consider this to be the most underated of my fics, because I think it's super good but it has very few hits/comments/kudos comparing to others that I don't love as much. Not only I wrote it all by myself but I really loved how it turned out, the dialogue and the descriptions, the worldbuilding and setting of the story, the way Riven and Musa slowly fall for eachother in a arranged marriage situation. I meant it when I said in the notes that I poured my heart and soul into this and I am proud of it and actually finishing it and posting. I keep thinking of coming back to it, add another chapter or another fic in this same universe because I love the premise of it, but because of the lack of feedback I'm not sure if people would actually read it or what they'd be interested in reading about. So if you do read it pls lemme know!

5th place: TAKING IT SLOW

This is me, dipping my toes in whump and going out of my comfort zone and I'm so proud of myself for doing so. I loved how this came out. I know I keep saying I'm proud of myself for the fics I've written but I really am. I'm very self concious and I'm always comparing myself to others, thinking what I do isn't as good or thinking I shouldn't keep doing something because others do it better. Even if I tell myself that I shouldn't write for others and I should do it for myself and not mind if a fic gets few comments or kudos a part of me will always look for validation. But re reading this fic made me feel so good about my own writing, genuinely proud that I did it. I love this fic so much.

(Here is where I realise my top 5 fics' titles all start with T for some reason??)

6th place: AN INNOCENT TRUST EXERCISE

I always think this is a lil' one shot that I wrote and an okay one but then I realise it's over 10k and really good? lol I guess I have a habit of forgetting my own fics. It's the first "big" fic that I wrote by myself and I remember being so happy about this fact. Re reading it I feel like it could be better, the pacing is a bit off and the ending doesn't really match the tone of the fic, the smut feels like it came out of nowhere and some bits are cringy to read. But I still love it. Maybe one day I'll go over it again and make some edits.

7th place: SHARK WEEK (collab with @gossipqueen2000)

I love this fic and I know a lot of people adore this too but I feel like it isn't as good as the others, maybe because it's been so long since I wrote it. I do still re-read it from time to time (maybe sometimes during that time of the month for me).

8th place: ANY WAY YOU WANT IT

This is more like a collection of one shots than an actual fic but I do like it a lot. Is it self-indulgent? yes, a lot. It is a collection of smut after all. I feel like my specialty is writing funny smut and I have a blast writing it, inserting comedy and fluff into sexy situations even being an ace person in real life, lol. I have a couple more wips for the next chapters but writers block is a bitch.

9th place: THE LAST RESORT (Colab with @septemberrie)

I'm only putting this this far down on the list because we just posted 1 chapter but I still love it. This was mine and Skye's second attempt at a rom-com type multichap fic after the success of Tempting Fate and I feel like it could have turned out amazing too, but life got in the way and we haven't managed to get back into it. If you think we should give this another try let us know!

10th place: I CAN FEEL YOU

I really like this one, but I'm putting it here in the list because it isn't just Rivusa. It's Rivusa + Sky, PWP. More focused on Sky than Rivusa. But I do really like the emotion I managed to write in this and I am proud of stepping a bit our of my comfort zone with this.

11th place: WHY NOT

I feel like this one is too basic, bland, not a lot of effort or emotion was put into it. I mean not all fics need to be deep and whatever and this one is basically just PWP, which is fine too. But idk it feels unfinished, like a first draft. The first half has too many characters and I feel like I get overwhelmed when I have to write that many voices at once so it's basically just dialogue with no description. And then it switches gears to just Riven and Musa and smut. Feels like 2 different fics glued together.

Honorable Mentions (Rivusa fics listed on my AO3 that fit the +6k words criteria I set for this post but that don't quite fit my ranking list):

EN GARDE: I don't really consider this my fic because @septemberrie wrote the majority of it, I just came in as a final push at the end, but I absolutely love it and I'm so happy she let me dip my little fingers on it and write a bit. Definitelly a must if you love period/medieval AUs.

A LADY'S GUIDE TO FOOLS AND FORTUNES: Another one I don't consider my fic but had a part in the making. It was written by the forever-amazing @septemberrie with art/gifs I made for the Reverse Big Bang event. I adore it and am so SO proud of the gifs I made. One of my best ones for sure.

REASSURANCE and JUST FOR YOU (both collabs with @gossipqueen2000 and AmandaLovegood): Both of these were witten back in 2021 when Fate had just come out. Feels like ages ago. I'm putting them here because I feel like they have more Mo and Amanda than Val to be honest, I don't really remember writing them or the process of it but I really like them a lot. Again Mo has this way of writing emotion and feelings and you can just tell it was her. It feels real and raw and so good to read, whump in the best way.

[theamityelf]

Because I'm in a Naeouma mood, I would like to know how a Makoto and Keebo swap would be like please

Wait, I missed this ask! 🤣

Swap as in Makoto is a robot? Or Makoto-the-person swaps with Keebo? (I'm going to assume the latter.)

If Makoto is just another human but happens to wake up in the same room as Kokichi instead of Shuichi or Kaede, a part of me still wants to imagine him doing some miraculously clumsy tumble out of his locker where he bumps his head and everything, just because I think it would be funny to have Kokichi react to that. (My initial thought is, he'd probably make fun of him to his face and then leave, but he'd make sure to tell someone– probably Kaede and Shuichi –that "Some dork died in there," to make sure someone goes to check on him.)

But supposing Makoto doesn't fumble right off the bat and they both make it out of the locker normally, I think (in the absence of a robot), Kokichi would process that he doesn't remember how he got here and this confusion would be externalized at Makoto's expense.

So Makoto goes, "What's going on? Where am I?"

And Kokichi pretends to be shocked, like, "You mean you don't remember?"

"Remember? I...I think I was being chased...? And then...I don't know. I just woke up here."

"You don't remember the trip here?" Basically, Kokichi asks a bunch of probing questions to see if Makoto's memories match his, and Makoto answers with complete honesty. And then, once Kokichi feels he's learned all he can from Makoto, he goes, "Oh jeez, this is bad! I can't believe my boyfriend lost all this memories!"

"Boyfriend?? Really?! I...Sorry, I...I really don't remember you at all! What's your name?"

Kokichi bursts into tears, and Makoto tries his best to console him, completely bewildered, but then Kokichi abruptly stops crying and says something to the effect of, "Oh well. If you don't even remember me, I guess that means I can start seeing other people. Unless you can win me over again, of course. Bring me gifts!"

Only then is Makoto like, "Wait, were we actually dating, or...?"

"Of course! You think I would lie about that?"

"Then...what's my name?"

Kokichi pauses, then smiles and says, "Oh, this is a good time to tell you: I lost my memory, too."

"Then...!"

Shuichi and Kaede walk in, and Kokichi introduces Makoto as his boyfriend, and that becomes one of his more consistent lies, alongside "My organization has a lot of people" and "I'm enjoying the killing game." He regularly calls Makoto his boyfriend, saying things like "Don't talk to my boyfriend like that!" and "Miu, are you accusing my boyfriend? (insert extreme, off-the-wall insult)" He still pairs off with Gonta a lot, and if Makoto ever expresses curiosity or concern about what they're up to, he'll make some joke about Makoto being jealous.

Heaven help Makoto if there's ever a situation where both he and Kokichi don't have an alibi, because Kokichi will be like, "Oh my gosh, sweetie, we're both suspects! Hashtag CuteCoupleThings."

[delilahgrey14]

୨⎯ An Educational Affair: Chapter 2 ⎯୧

Pairing: Wolverine/Logan Howlett x fem!Reader 

Word Count: 1,701

╰┈➤Summary: After a steamy “encounter” with Logan the week prior, a spark has been formed between the two of you. How will things proceed from here? Will you become a love everlasting or a flame that burned out too fast…

╰┈➤TW: Fluff, References to a Prior Hook-Up (but no actual sex), Pet Names

╰┈➤Author’s Note: Hi again! So I never intended to make this story a series (and in all honesty it can stand alone if you aren’t into smut and don’t want to read the previous entry), but I LOVE this concept. Being a future educator myself, I adore the idea of a passionate romance between you and teacher Logan. All of this to say, I hope that you take the time to read this if you enjoy this concept too! Let me know if you guys want anything else like this! Okay I’ll stop yapping now and let you read, byeeee. 

-D.G.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

About a week after your previous…”encounter” with Logan, you still found yourself questioning the emotions that followed your time with him. You were just friends with Logan for so long, but in all honesty, you never wanted to be just that, and looking back, did he drop hints of feeling the same and you just doubted that anyone could feel the same way about you? It was all so confusing, and you knew that this could all be answered by a simple, “hey, what do you think about us?”, but who wants to have that conversation ever. And on top of that, Logan wasn’t always the best at talking about his feelings, even with you two being friends for so long. You decided that for now you were just going to play it cool, if he said anything about the other day then you would cross that bridge when you got to it, but for now, not a word. You did decide though to wear that same perfume from the other night, maybe it would spark some…memories. As you make your way to your classroom in the morning from your room in the X-Mansion, you catch a glimpse of Logan doing the same. He shoots a smile in your direction,

“Hey darlin’, how are you doing this morning?” He quickly looked you up and down with a grin. 

“Hey. I'm doing well, and you apparently seem to be doing good too!” You state, commenting on his sudden chipperness this morning. 

He chuckled, then his face morphed from a cheerful expression to a more flirtatious one,

“What man wouldn’t be at the sight of an angel like you?”

You blushed. No man had ever really talked to you like that, and it seemed genuine. When he looked into your eyes, even just for a second, he softened and gazed into your soul like it was a piece of fine artwork. The way his eyes lingered too, they would remain on your lips when you spoke, on your eyes when you listened, or they bounced all over when he would see you approach him, almost as if he couldn’t figure out which part was his favorite. 

“Uh, I…um.” You genuinely couldn’t come up with a better response than that one due to being in absolute shock with the sudden change in his tough guy persona. 

He displayed a mischievous grin, he loved making you all flustered with his words. He motioned for you to follow him into his classroom, you both had a few more minutes before your classes had to start. As he guided you into the classroom, you saw a few of the students beginning to arrive early. You recognized most of them, a lot of them took your literature class, it was always so interesting to see them outside of class time. They were all such obedient students and were so quiet during lectures, that it was always so nice to see bits and pieces of their true personalities. Some were chatty group leaders, others read books or enjoyed drawing. You liked to see students when they were not students yet, but just kids. When they saw you they waved and shouted out a few hellos. When you reached Logan’s desk, he handed you a folded scrap of paper and whispered to you, 

“Read that when you get out of here doll, I’ll be waiting” He smirked, looking like a little kid in anticipation of your reaction to a drawing they gave you.

“Of course, Logan. I mean, Mr. Howlett” You said the last part a little louder than the rest, wanting to set a good impression for the class. 

As soon as the interaction between you and Logan was coming to an end, you looked once again over at the class, it was instinctive to want to keep an eye on them, a trait that came with being a teacher in general, but especially of at times mischievous mutant kids. A few murmurs and giggles circled around the room. 

“Hey kiddos, what's so funny?” Logan asked, puzzled by the response from the students.

You exchanged a look in confusion at the reaction arising from the students. One of the students spoke up for the rest, posing a question for you and Logan.

“So do you guys…like like each other?” A cascade of giggles and whispers fill the room once more. 

Your eyes widened, face flooding with color. You let out a small sigh and then a nervous laugh, usually comments like this didn’t get to you, they were just students after all, but this time they hit a little too close to home with the thoughts that you had been worrying about for a while now. You looked to Logan to see how he would handle the situation, it was his class after all. As always, he played it very cool, despite the split second nervous glance and the quick catch in his voice that you observed right before he addressed his class. 

  “Hmm, interesting question, but how about we stick to history, not matchmaking. Get out your textbooks and flip to page 274” 

You were always so impressed by how smooth his responses could be. Whether to the X-Men, his students, or really anyone, his effortless confidence never seemed to waiver. He could make the most awkward conversation turn casual in a sentence or an expression. Come to think of it though, the only time you had ever really seen him flustered was when talking to you… 

You decided that you needed to get back to your class, it was almost time and your presence alone seemed to be provoking more giggles and distracting the class. As you left the room, you turned your head to see Logan flipping to a page in the hefty history textbook and beginning to read to the class, but not before flashing you one more quick grin and a wink. The class erupted with ‘oooooooh’s and a bunch of accusations on whether you two were getting married or not. Once you made it back to your classroom, you began your lesson on relevant literature, mentioning some of the classics and some more contemporary authors who had written allegories for both human and mutant strife and the battles that the two fought and are still fighting for acceptance from society. You loved teaching literature, it was one of your passions, alongside reading it, but today you couldn’t seem to keep yourself focused. The note that Logan gave you was burning a hole in your pocket and you couldn’t wait until you got a second to read it. Was it a confession? Was it a dismissal of anything coming from your recent…event? You were never more nervous yet excited in your life, and once the kids went off to their trainings or next classes, you were finally able to read the note…

“Hey darlin’, will you meet me tonight in the garden? I have a little surprise planned out for the two of us…wear something nice.  -Logan”

WHAT! You couldn’t believe it, by the looks of it he felt the same about you as you did him! Now you couldn’t wait for night to come. Once the rest of your classes were finished for the day and the sun began to set over the mansion, you made your way to your room and got ready to go meet him. As you slid on your nice, soft green dress and white flats, you couldn’t help but feel a little anxious about this whole date thing. You knew Logan well, and you two were very good friends for a little while now, but what if when you got to know him more he wouldn’t be who you thought he was. Despite this, you made your way to the now moonlit garden. Somehow it was like even the sky knew how important this date was, or like Logan was able to somehow hand place the stars to illuminate a path to the little sitting area that was beckoning you to walk to it. The closer you got, you took notice of a very smiley, very formal looking Logan, tugging at his collared shirt and then returning to his assumed position, staring at you like you were the only woman in the world. 

“Hey there darlin’. I see you read my little note. God, you are stunning!”

You couldn’t help but blush at the comments and looks that he showered you with as soon as you appeared, and just like a movie, the wind provided that little sprinkle of magic that blew your hair and dress just enough to add to the perfection of the moment. He approached you, placing one hand softly, almost as if he wanted to make sure he didn’t break you, and with his other hand, tucked your hair behind your ear. As he looked into your eyes, and you looked into his, the moment became more and more intimate and the world seemed to just fall away. 

“Logan?” You asked, in a quiet tone as to not shatter the serenity around the two of you.

As if he was able to sense the concern in your voice, understanding all the thoughts that were racing through your head about what you two were and what it would mean, he softened his eyes, pulled you into a warm embrace and let out a “shhhhh” before planting a delicate kiss on your lips. You no longer cared about anything you were worried about before, all you could think about right now was that you were wrapped in the strong arms of an amazing man that you hoped you would get to know like you never knew anyone else before. For the rest of the evening, you enjoyed wine and conversation until the two of you were caught in a midnight rain shower. As you attempted to rush to the mansion door, he grabbed your hands and spun you into a dance. Dancing in a moonlit rain was like a scene right out of a romance novel, and you couldn’t  be happier to spend a night like this with a man as wonderful as Mr. Howlett.

[cerridwen007]

I Want You.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1.8k (18+)

Summary: After spending all of your situationship trying to convince you that you’re the only one he wants, Joel decides to take a different approach to get you to understand.

Inspired by the song “I Want You” by Reignwolf.

Notes/Warnings: SMUT with a touch of Angst, porn with feelings, insecure reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, rough sex/foreplay, primal play, creampie, dom Joel, sub reader, biting, choking, swearing, no y/n, fluffy ending.

A/N: Kinda self indulgent but I mean who wouldnt want Joel to fuck the insecurity out of them? Once again I am apologizing for being inactive in writing and posting my fics. I've been a bit burned out with writing and been busy with work and life. So this time I know to not make promises about weekly posts. Instead I'm going to give myself grace and instead try and do at least one fic a month. So some months I might write 3-4 fics and others only one, it honestly will depend on how I'm feeling. But what I will try to do within this next month is finish updating my masterlist with some new, sexy banners and maybe also make a fic rec masterlist for all my favorite works. I will say I have been working on a few wips and am about half way through Corruption of Innocence part 3 and have also come up with another series this time for Joel, so stay tuned for that some time in the future. Thank you as always for any interactions with my posts, it means the world to me.

******

You couldn't actually justify why you did it. You shouldn't have pushed him away. But some part of you couldn't believe that he could love you and only you and that he wouldn't get bored of you and seek pleasure in someone else's bed. In all honesty, you were silly to think that, even being the soft-spoken man Joel was, he still always tried his best in reassuring you that he wanted you. And never did he ever give you any reasons to doubt his loyalty to you. But yet you decided to end your situationship with Joel in fear of getting hurt.

Joel, on the other hand, was first distressed and then annoyed that you pushed him away. He had been spending more of his nights at the Tipsy Bison, drinking away his troubles, trying to forget his feelings for you. He just couldn't seem to understand why you called it quits. You had spent so long dancing around your feelings for each other, and then when you finally did get together, everything was great, the best he had ever felt in a long time. Then it all came crashing down one night when you said that you wanted to stop seeing each other.

You took some convincing to admit the reasoning why. And when you did, he was shocked. Maybe he hadn't been expressing enough of his affection towards you. Maybe he should have told you he loved you already. You were quick to reassure him that it was yourself and not him. To which he scoffed and rolled his eyes at. But you pleaded with him that it was completely you, that you couldn't handle losing him. At first, as much as it hurt him to do so, he respected your wishes, and then one night about a month after your split, something inside of him snapped. He wasn't going to let the best thing in his life go that easily.

You were spending your night at home by yourself like usual, trying to forget Joel in your own way, distracting yourself with a book and a cup of tea. Your heart skipped a beat when it heard fairly loud knocking at your door. The knocking stopped for a second, and you thought about just ignoring it until it started again.

“Alright, I'm coming, jeez. You scoff annoyed, walking to the door before opening it.

Your voice and breath immediately hitch in your throat. Eyes widening as they take in the intimidating, tall figure before you, leaning against your doorframe. You scan over his body, the way his shirt and pants stretch over his wide thighs and shoulders, his eyes brown and soft but filled with something deeper and darker tonight. God, has he gotten even hotter since you last saw him? Your thoughts are interrupted when he coughs to get your attention and speaks.

“Came to talk to ya, sweetheart.” He says darkly.

You move aside and invite him in.

“Oh..yeah come in.” You whisper back.

You can smell the whiskey he likes on his breath as he walks by and the smell that is undoubtedly him, something you missed all so dearly. You take a deep breath, working up the courage to speak before you talk.

“Why are you here, Joel?”

“I think you know why I'm here.” 

You cross your arms and raise your eyebrow.

He speaks through gritted teeth, like an animal baring its fangs, holding back, ready to devour its prey. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know…cause I told you…I told you, I want you.”

“Joel I know, but I…” You whisper.

The words seem to slip away. Your brain can't seem to find proper reasoning as to why you still push him away, yet you still do, as if your body is working on autopilot.

“You know I want you, you're in my head.” His tone softens for a moment as he looks deep into your eyes. Wishing that you would just believe him and give your relationship a chance.

You go to interrupt, but he shuts you up by roughly grabbing your cheeks and jaw in one hand, the slight pain and abrupt motion to make you stop talking and listen. You can't help but let your desire continue to grow. Your middle is dripping from his dominance and assertiveness. You're almost whimpering at his touch.

“Joel.” You manage to mumble out, the last of your denying uttered in that one word.

He tightens his grip ever so slightly and lowers his head closer to yours, his lip curled.

“Well I'm telling you. I want you…..I get the feeling that you just don't understand, I'm crying, wolf, and I'll always be your man.” he growls.

The tension is thick in the air. Joel never failed to make you wet at the sight of him, but this was something else, a primal need to feast on each other's mouths and flesh like you won’t have the chance to again.

The point of tension breaks and your mouths attach to each other like magnets drawn together. The kisses are  filled with desire, lust, and want, but also with ‘I missed you’s’, don’t let me go again’s, and love. Teeth are clashing, lips smashing, hands flying about, trying to grab onto each other and hold them close in any way they can. 

Joel pushes you against the wall harshly, pulling you up so your legs wrap around his waist. You moan into his mouth, feeling his craving for your body, nestled against your clothed middle. His desire to be gentle and take his time is long gone out the window as he feverishly explores your body, ripping away any clothing that stands in his way of touching and tasting your bare skin. He marks all along your body, your neck, jaw, and collarbones, anywhere he can reach, claiming you for his own. 

His hands reach up behind your back and pull your hair firmly, giving him move access to attack your flesh with bite and hickey’s. You find yourself a grinning and whimpering mess under him. He growls into your breasts after ripping away your shirt and bra like a wild wolf, warning others not to touch his meal. He finally pulls you both off the wall and quickly walks to your bed and throws you down. Not wanting to waste a moment, he pulls your pants and panties off swiftly. He groans as he gets on his knees and takes in the scent of your arousal. 

“God I missed you and this sweet pussy, sweetheart.”

Before you can respond his hands wrapped around your thighs are pulling you to his mouth, he makes quick work of you, his tongue licking every inch of you, switching between, fucking into you pulsating hole and teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. It feels so good, yet you can’t help but squirm around only to be pinned down by Joel's forearm, keeping his meal still for him. 

Your hand reaches down into his graying locks as Joel undoes you with his skilled tongue. Your first orgasm comes quickly. He groans deeply at the sweet taste gracing his taste buds, but he doesn’t stop or slow down. Instead he speeds up his actions and begins thrusting two fingers into your drenched cunt and curling them to reach that spot that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back. The pathetically beautiful sounds coming from your mouth do nothing but egg him to continue, urging you to your second orgasm of the night in mere minutes. Two fingers become three that mercilessly fuck into your tight hole.

“Cum for me.” Joel quietly groans in your cunt. 

Taking his words as a stern order, you let go, drenching his face with your second release of the night. He is grinning ear to ear as he drinks up every bit of your sweetness, your hands grip the sheets tightly, cunt verging on overstimulation. He finally lets up when he feels satisfied and crawls back up to give yourself a taste of your own pleasure from his tongue. He groans deeply as you begin pulling him down on top of you and arching your back up into him, insinuating you want more, need to feel him inside you. He chuckles darkly and reaches down between you to tease your folds with the tip of his cock. 

He keeps teasing despite your whines for him to put it in already. 

“Please….Please Joel.” You whine quietly.

He grins devilishly. “Begging me to fuck you sweetheart, Need it that bad, don’t you honey?”

You nod your head in response, but Joel doesn't like that answer. He grips your throat lightly and speaks through gritted teeth.

“Use your words baby.” he growls.

“Y-Yes, need it so bad Joel.”

“Atta girl.”

He quickly thrusts his whole length into your quivering hole, making you gasp out. He lets you adjust to his size for a few seconds before slowly yet brutally dragging his length almost all the way out before slamming it back into your tight cunt again.

You unconsciously bring your fist up to your mouth and bite into, so overwhelmed with the deliciously brutal pleasure you were feeling.Before you could have even comprehended, he flips you over and brings your ass up to his cock, slamming into your hip mercilessly. Your eyes rolled back into your head, he holds the back of your neck down as he pounded into you. Your hands find purchase in the sheets, gripping them tightly. He lowers himself so his front is flush with your back, and the new angle hits even deeper inside you, urging you to the precipice of climax. 

“All mine, This pretty cunt is all mine.” Joel snarled into your ear, biting your ear lobe.

“F-f-fuck yes, only yours, Joel.”

“That’s my girl.” He praises you, before reaching around to rub your clit, sending you over the edge.

“Shit! Joel!” You whine as your high comes crashing down.

His thrusts never stuttered as he worked you through your high and chased his own. Joel roughly grabbed your hips as he creamed inside of you, a final step in marking his territory.

You both collapsed on the bed, Joel’s full weight comforting as you caught your breaths. A comfortable silence blanketed the room, which only moments ago was filled with obscene noises.

“I love you.” he whispered.

Your eyes opened wide in surprise at his remark, the first ever time he has ever said those three words to you. You turn your head to try and look at him better. You see his eyes have returned a closer shade to their normal deep brown, his pupils blown wide. You can’t help but smile at his softness, a stark contrast to him behavior only moments ago. Nevertheless, you loved every bit of Joel you could get.

“I love you too.” You whisper before placing a gentle, lingering kiss on his lips.

You couldn't be certain of what was the future for you and Joel, but you knew right now there is no place you rather be than snuggling with your person.

********