#it's just cause when i started doing this i like really had to think and there were so many other great eurovision songs that i had to put | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

consistantly-changing · 23 hours ago

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[Image descriptions in order: screenshots of reblogs on this post.

Images in the first reblog:

moregaythanyourealized: i was at an antique store in Austria once and when I went to check out they guy was like "Oh, that was my wife's. Oh well, she'll be okay without it!" I felt a little guilty]

[takk: #bought a ceramic seal at an antique store and the woman at the counter said 'do you know what this is?' and i said 'a seal?' and she said #nothing else]

[vintagegarf: #this has happened to me multiple times #I tried to buy a lamp they were using for light that got unplugged #they let me buy it but i had to haggle for a bit]

[tackyflamingosarah: I was in a local used bookstore once and they had an original finalized script for The Breakfast Club. That was pretty cool to see. Still have no idea where they got it from]

[shakespearerants: #ahahaha throwback to the one time I went into THEE most expensive antique store in the city to ask about a ring that was haunting me #and the about 90 year old sales lady a. didn't recognize the peice b. immediately told me if she'd have seen it earlier she would've kept i #for herself c. turned the tag around and was surprised to find a price in her own handwriting d. deduced I don't have a job by my manicured #for-once hands e. offered me a 100€ discount because she liked my vibes f. immediately invited me to come to her property and meet her #horses after I expressed the slightest interest. when I say property I mean castle with grounds. when I say horses I mean own private stud. #OH YEAH and this whole interaction started with her wanting to throw me out of the store as soon as I walked through the door bc she had a #private client coming in 10 minutes. #vladi speaks]

[cosmic-courtroom: #me when i find radioactive glass in some random persons booth and it's just labelled 'green glass $2.50' like. #stares. girl. and the owners of the store see my blacklight in hand and go 'oh so is it [uranium/depression] glass??' and i flash it with #light and sometimes it's the brightest shit they've seen like. Hey That's a Really High U Concentration Actually.]

[agdab: #this was how i got a cursed ring #i had to bury it in a graveyard to get rid of it]

[chikinan: #still thinking about the cow fetus]

[horneboy: #omfg no i got a 60s soviet union biscuit tin from a vintage shop #and the guy was like wtf whats this never seen it before #and i was like it's your shop blud]

[thirdchoiceurl: #love when they ask why I picked something out and I get to tell them about all the uranium they have]

[Images in the second reblog:

abyssalterrors: #me w my collectible nsync marionnete puppets #jt i WILL find you]

[therebloger22: #the employee going i don't think we have postcards cause postcard lady hasn't been in lately and then here i come with postcards]

[ghostphy: #i once tried to buy a little Pikachu figure from a thrift store #and they would NOT sell it to me #because they were convinced it wasn't from the store #so they just took it and kept it #like. ok]

[phi-says-bullshit: One was at an antique store, he asked "where did you find this?" I said, in a bucket marked a dollar? And he gave me a handful of things from the bucket for free. What a score]

[tinygreenbug: #one time i bought an atrocious lamp because it was only $4 and i thought it was funny and she went 'oh thank god']

[chrono-of-june: #me: waltzes up to the counter with a pink frilly parasol and a gruff also plush #*gruffalo #the lady there: ?????]

[mothmanns: #one time i found a little ceramic piggie at the antique store #not my first but one of the early ones #and i fell in love with him instabtly even though he is missing an ear #and i took him up to the counter and said 'i know hes broken but i love him so much' and the owner smiled at me #and she said 'he was broken when he got here but i kept him because i knew someone special would want to take him home' #and she gave him to me for free and also i cried #im looking at him rn !!!]

[speakingofdoorknobs: #I once found an autographed photo of the Professor from Gilligan's Island at an antique store #yes of course I bought it how could I not?]

[bubsu: #i went to an antique store with a basement and nothing had price tags #also you could only access stuff on the perimeter of the absolute pile of stuff #i took a pic of chairs i wanted and the guy was like oh yeah i remember those i sold them and then bought them back #couldnt buy them lest i find him in my apartment taking his chairs back in the middle of the night #also they were $400]

[stan-pines-mullet: contrary to mom n pop thrift stores, where you can go to the deepest corner of the shop, find a tunnel created by chairs and dressers, crawl into it, be meeted by diverging paths but eventually picking the path less trodded, and at the end you'll find like a cute lamp or something and bring it to the desk and shes like "ahhh yes the lamp" and probably tell you exactly when she got it and who gave her it".]

[Images in the third reblog:

fairyundead: #Or the store is owned and staffed by just one dude who knows exactly when and where he got each and every item #And while he's ringing you up he tells the story of how he found the item and how he had planned to do XYZ with it #He seems almost sad to let it go but when you're like "you don't have to sell it to me?” He's like no no it's yours now #And it makes the item just a bit more special to you whenever you see it]

[idyllic-idioms: #bought a hat at the charity shop yesterday and the guy at the checkout was like #is this hat yours #and i was like ????? #and he was like did you find it in this building or bring it in yourself #and i was like oh yeah it was in that bin over there #and he was like hmm interesting]

[sleepysuccubi: #either that or they have extensive knowledge about the random Pyrex bowl you found in the basement]

[ereborne: #when I got my cuteass little teapot I wanted a little trivet to keep on the floor in the corner of my room for my teapot to perch on #and the first of the little antique/consignment shops we went to didn't have any trivets we could find #the second one I found a trivet in the first main room and I was much encouraged! I marked its position in my mind and kept looking #and by that point my family had gone farther in (an acknowledged fact that I am always the slowest and should be left) #and the lady behind the little desk asked if she could help me with anything so I told her I was looking for a trivet #but also we were all just there to poke around no worries and she was like 'oh well I don't think we have any trivets but enjoy!' #and I was like 'ah well you do have at least one. right here. on this shelf maybe two yards from where you spend all your time' #very funny to scoot a milkjug aside and lift a bunch of plates to show a little cast-iron maple leaf trivet and see her be like oh!!!!!! #that is the trivet I ended up buying but they did have at least four in the shop. maybe more hidden where I didn't see them #and also actually we never went to the other floor so who knows how many there! but yeah at least four and the first in that front room

mariedemedicis: #quoth queue quoth i]

[dreamshappytrail: #this happened when i bought a clown once #cashier had. never seen it before ???? #so they let me have him for free :3]

[roominthishell: #this happens in normal shops too if the customers are insane enough #ive had people come up to me with our wall decorations that we like nailed onto the wall trying to buy it #and i have to be like 'where did you get this from????']

[uncivilliberties: I bought an eight inch tall cast iron Michelin Man coin bank the other day and the cashier looked at it blankly for a full thirty seconds and then just whispered "what"]

[everlastingrandom: #me every time I find a new lead crystal piece #that guy at the counter is like 'we had that in the store???' #and I'm like yeah man #:3 treasure hunting]

[wierdrocks: #bought a framed cross stitch when i moved #and the guy at the antique store squinted at it and was like #i... sold this #were there two?? #guess there were two]

[lachlame: #bought a sword at a thrift store one time #had a price tag and everything #but that cashier swore on a stack of bibles that theyd never seen it before]

[Images in the fourth reblog:

lichensings: #a friend of mine when she found a doll that looks exactly like her in the back #(they let her have it for free)]

[fisherkings: #once someone semi accusingly asked if i got my sweater there and i said no and she said hm. well i wish we sold it. okay?]

[ivytwines: #the walk of shame to show them the rando booth you picked it up at]

[aquilathefighter: #the awkward description of which booth and what dusty corner of said booth #listen gertrude i like to DIG through all the musty crap]

[obfuscatingintelligence: #i found what i think was a Christmas tree topper from the Soviet Union #hammer and sickle and everything #still no idea how it showed up in small town lowa]

[turtledactyl: #my friend once found a large jar of various stones and jewelry and the person working was like idk where you found that but its uhhh $20 #there was like hundreds of dollars worth of stones and cabachons in there]

[pumpkabitch: #i know ive reblogged and tagged this before about this #but i wanted to look at this little gold frog in a case and the guy opened it took the frog out and said Ive never seen this thing before]

[goosefeathered: #one time it was a rat #the only thing worse than being a customer is being the customer that finds that rat #she put it in a jar and gave it to me? #i let it go in a creek #weird day]

[berry-femme: #me like hello I want those three musical ceramic wall masks please #and they're like #the what now.]

[comradecrab: #that one lamp shaped like a ship i bought with little sails and an anchor #at least five older ladies crowded around me to watch me see if it turned on and cheered when it did #cashier was like i swear i have never seen this in my life anyway that'll be $15]

[Images in the fifth reblog:

ectogasm: #found this absolutely fucking DELIGHTFUL antique store in keyport the other day #just packed to the gills #some of the strangest shit just piled onto shelves #religious pamphlets from 1895 thrown into a bin stacked next to a shelf that had uranium glass plates and an old box of antiseptic dressing #nixon political pins and a BOTTLE OF MERCURY and antique rolls of film #i wanted to move in #anyway i bought a pair of earrings and had this exact exchange w the shop owner]

[thesunshookwithjoy: #shout out to the lady at the antique store who said 'what the hell is a gyroscope' while we were buying said gyroscope #and then I think just guessed at the price #it's really cool though it's from an old boat]

[midnight-herald: #LITERALLY #there was this antique store in boston i would go to after moving #because there was so much good kitchen stuff in the basement that the owners forgot about #so they'd cut me a crazy deal #i'd be trying to add up how much for everything i had grabbed based on what the signs downstairs said #and the guy working the counter would just look at this shit and me with my calcualtor (not even joking) and say '$35' #ever september we would do this song and dance #got a rlly nice cast iron skillet from him this way]

[shower-man: #everytime i come up to check out with the dustiest crustiest doll that looks like it no longer believes in light]

[bohello: #"oh yeah theres a mannequin in the bathroom btw" after getting jumpscared by the mannequin]

[tyronetoastertime: #me when I got my hand caught in a bear trap at an antique store]

[ghxsttowns: #i love tiny cutlery. like tiny tiny. and whenever i find any in antique stores and go 'hi how much will it be for this' theyre like damn #those are minuscule where were they ??? u can just take them Imao dont worry]

[songsfordustmites: #usually they dont comment on my purchases but last time they did #yes there are captain kangaroo records out there. yes i did get a great deal on that bag of colorful thread. #yes the little toy that i bought is so cute. thats why i bought him.]

[cookinguptales: #I also love the opposite #when you bring some little tchotchke up to the front desk and they're like oooh do you know what this is #and you're like yes it's a little kitty with a pumpkin and I love him #and they're like THIS is a FIGURINE that came packaged in TEA and people COLLECTED them #and you're like fascinating thank you I've named him timothy]

[maximum-snoot: I briefly worked at an antique mall in highschool, the kind where they rent out spaces to different vendors and whatnot... Well one day a customer brings this skull up to the register and like, that's fine, a lot of vendors have the occasional animal skull, but we had to be like UHHHH WHERE DID YOU FIND THIS because it was a fucking PORPOISE skull, which is EXTREMELY illegal to own and even MORE illegal to sell and I guess the vendor who was trying to sell it somehow didn't know this??? So we had to be like "Sorry, you can't buy this. Nobody can buy this. We shouldn't even have this. Please don't tell the authorities."]

[Images in the sixth and final reblog:

zooophagous: #"i got it from the booth full of santa claus decor" #i also love the random booths that are selling clearly brand new items and handmade soap #like girl youre lost this place is for mildew covered magazines and racist salt and pepper shakers]

[autisticmisabel: #my favourite thing is when they're so confused about you wanting whatever useless knick knack #that they just give it to you because they can't think of a reasonable price #it's happened to me twice now i think]

[goomygoomygoomy: #me at river market all the time #'where did you even get this' in a dark corner of the basement floor dw about it]

[quillkippsisalilbitchandilovehim: #one time i asked the guy behind the cash desk about something and he tried to walk over before realising he was literally trapped behind the #desk because of all the stuff piled up around him. had to help this dude climb out lol]

[catskincass: #when I bought a pair of vintage rare binoculars for pennies because they put the decimal in the wrong place]

[siixxeyes: there's an antique store across the street from my house. i collect vintage poodle related things (i show poodles) and i found a really gorgeous poodle brooch from the 60's. the owner looked at me and said "where the fuck was this?" and proceeded to write down my name and put the word POODLES next to it. i get a phone call every few weeks when they either find something or get something new.]

[asstrainmcfucktruck: #'who let you into the forbidden relics section' 'fred??' 'NOBODY NAMED FRED WORKS HERE']

[carneflower13: #not even the creators of the labyrinth are truly aware of what lurks within it #memes]

[zzazu: #once found a 300 year old history book and the store owner was like #where did you find this? weve been looking for this for 8 years]

[night-creeps: #the best and only time I went to an antique store #i was like 3/4 years old #i dont remember if i was with my mom or my aunt #but near the counter they had their small/ easily steal-able things in a glass case #and i saw this set if two wooden cats that are vaguely reminiscent of lucky cats #but they were painted black and with slight floral detailing #and i was obsessed with cats as a kid #and in my brain i was like convinced they were super valuable because they were in a glass case #and the lady who owned the place thought i was adorable and let me hold them #and i was begging to get them but was told we couldnt #but the lady gave them to me anyway #now that im older im p sure they arent that valuable #and i only have one becayse i gave tge other to my best friend in elementary school #but I was so wowed as a kid that the lady let me have something i was convinced was extremely valuable]

/End ID

i love antique stores you go to check out & theyre like “where the hell did you get this”

#antiques

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covenofagatha · 2 days ago

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hiiii <33

Could you write something about Agatha being a little insecure about being older than the reader?

Maybe they're at a party and someone the reader's age is going to talk to her and Agatha feels jealous and a little insecure, but pretend not to feel anything?

Then they go home and the reader shows Agatha that she loves her more than anything :)

If it's not too much to ask, the reader could have an obsession with Agatha's breasts and... really like eating her out? (like, a *really* big obsession) (sorry, Mrs Fletcher is on my mind a lot lately)

sorry for the details, lol, this came to me in the middle of the night

and by the way, I love your writing <33 you write very well

and I'm looking forward to the but you are my stepmother update :D

kisseess <3

I may have changed the setting a little bit (I've been watching Succession and was influenced lol) but hopefully you like! Also, Mrs. Fletcher literally changed my life so I completely understand

I combined this one with another request for being obsessed with Agatha’s breasts

Happy New Year to everyone!

Glitter on the floor

When Agatha gets jealous at the company New Year's Eve party, you remind her that she has nothing to worry about

Word count: 4300

Warnings: oral sex, oral fixation, breast fixation, marking

“Do you think anyone would notice if we just leave before the party even starts?” You ask, throwing a stress ball up in the air and catching it without even looking.

You’re laying on your back on the couch in Agatha’s office and she snorts from her seat at her desk.

Unlike you, when Agatha said she was going up to her office to quickly read over a contract before the company New Year’s Eve party, she meant it. You had just followed her up here to see if she was willing to get up to any funny business.

“You don’t think they would notice that the CEO and General Counsel of the company aren’t at the company party?” Agatha asks amusedly, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

Spellbound Network is a multi-billion dollar news conglomerate that Agatha Harkness is the Chief Executive Officer of. She’s absolutely ruthless and doesn’t hesitate before tearing anybody and everybody down. Nothing will stand in her way of world domination.

As General Counsel, you’re a little less important, but you know that Agatha is right. The last thing you need is people speculating.

The two of you have been involved in a more than professional relationship for seven months now. It all started when you offered to stay late to help her finish up with some end-of-quarterly reviews before the deadline and the two of you had ended up going out for drinks when you had finally finished. Agatha had let her hair down and told you just how stressed she was, and you had stupidly told her that you could help her relieve some of that stress.

She had raised an eyebrow and you had taken it as a challenge. The next thing you knew, she was calling a car and the two of you were making out in the backseat on the way to her penthouse.

It had grown into a relationship, a relationship that no one else in the office knew about. Things were getting pretty serious, and Agatha had even brought up you moving in with her.

But you roll your eyes anyway. “It’ll be boring,” you drag out the last word slowly, sitting up to face her. “Wouldn’t you rather go back to your place, or even just stay up here?” You give her an impish grin and a wink.

It’s a lost cause. Agatha has never let you touch her nor has she touched you in the office.

She fixes you with a glare. “If you’re not going to behave, you can go downstairs and help set up for the party.”

You hum in acquiescence and you’re about to resume your position on your back when Agatha leans forward and props herself up on her elbows, pushing her visible cleavage together.

Your mouth runs dry. She’s wearing a long black dress with a low neckline that puts her breasts — that you may or may not be obsessed with — very much on display. You wouldn’t be surprised if she did it to tease you.

“Agatha,” you whine, trying to sound pathetic so she’ll take pity on you. You can practically taste her skin with how badly you want her.

She knows what you’re thinking, as always. “Stop,” she says without even looking up from her desk. “You aren’t going to goad me into touching you. Hasn’t worked any other time, isn’t going to work now.”

You pout. “What are you talking about? I’ve never tried to.” It’s a bold-faced lie and you both know it.

“Oh yeah?” She asks, at last looking up at you. “So when you got me that vibrator for the Secret Santa at the Christmas party, ‘not realizing that it was a public gift swap’; that wasn’t an attempt to work me up? Or when you just happen to come in here almost every day and knock over my pens so you have to bend down and shake your ass in my face?”

You can’t help but chuckle at the reminders of your brazenness. To be fair, you had genuinely thought that the Secret Santa swap would be done in a group but then the gifts would be opened alone. And much to your surprise, you were wrong and when Rio Vidal, the head of Human Resources, had announced that it was time for everyone to open their gifts, you had quickly dragged Agatha upstairs, making some excuse about a phone call about a breaking news story.

She had been furious at almost having to open your gift in front of the entire staff, and instead of having a very Merry Christmas Eve, courtesy of your generous gift and a well-placed bribe to the person who had actually drawn Agatha in the swap, she hadn’t touched you at all that night.

But Christmas Day was much better, when she had put you on your knees for almost an hour and you made her cum four times with just your mouth.

“You’re not letting those go anytime soon, are you?” You mutter.

She throws a paper clip at you. “Go downstairs and stop bothering me,” she orders, fondness still in her voice.

You huff a big sigh, one that tells her that just because you’re obeying doesn’t mean you’re happy about it, and walk over to place the paper clip and stress ball back on her desk. You straighten out your own dress, a long maroon one, and lean over to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

To your surprise, she lets you do it and she even deepens it, flicking her tongue against the entrance to your mouth. When she pulls away, her eyes are dark and you’re about to ask her to reconsider, but she ushers you away with her hand and turns back to the contract.

There’s not very many people in the lobby where the party is taking place, so you stand alone at a table and accept a glass of champagne from a waitress. It’s only ten pm and you know most of the staff won’t get here until closer to midnight, which would’ve been smart.

If only Agatha hadn’t insisted that you and her come in for the entire day and get ahead of all the stuff that’s coming up in the new year. She didn’t even let you go back to your apartment once you both had finished, instead letting you shower in her private adjoining bathroom.

And she wonders why you’re already so bored; you’ve been at the office for fourteen hours.

Still at least two more to go.

You take another glass of champagne and set it down next to your already half-empty glass. You’re going to need it once more people start showing up.

It’s not that you don’t like them, it’s just that…if the building was on fire, you’d only really think or care about saving Agatha.

“Hey there, General Counsel,” Rio says, slinking up to you.

You smile. She’s an oddball, but her wry sense of humor sometimes is the only thing that gets you through business trips. Besides Agatha, of course.

And it’s not exactly a secret that she has a bit of a crush on you. On paper, it would make more sense than you and Agatha. Rio is your age, and for all intents and purposes, doesn’t have any power over you, nor you her.

But you’re in love with Agatha, and older women have always been more your type anyway. You’re perfectly happy with being friends with Rio, and it seems that Rio is content with your relationship now too.

“Hey, Rio,” you greet, lifting your glass in a silent toast to her. She lifts up the other one and smoothly downs it in one gulp.

And then the elevator dings and Agatha steps out and you forget all about Rio and everyone else. Your eyes follow her as she glides through the lobby, not even looking at you once, and she picks up a plate of caviar while the Chief Financial Officer, Jimmy, goes to talk to her.

Rio taps her fingers to the rim of the empty glass. “So, I heard Harkness is thinking about acquiring Hex Industries for better tech.”

“Water cooler gossip,” you say dismissively, not wanting to talk anymore business for the day. You’ve done enough with that with Agatha. And then you lower your voice conspiratorially. “But I did hear that Jimmy got divorced again?”

It sends Rio into a fit of giggles and the two of you swap the details you’ve heard from various people and try to piece together what really happened. It does make the party go by faster and before you know it, there’s only about an hour before midnight.

You cannot wait to go home with Agatha and forget all about work and this party and just focus on her. Ever since she changed into the dress she’s wearing tonight, you haven’t been able to focus with how delicious her breasts look in it.

Some might call it an oral fixation, some might call it mommy issues, but there’s no denying how much you love to suck on her nipples. And to eat her out.

Fuck. You can’t be thinking about that. Rio is saying something, something now about Tony, the Chief Operating Officer, and you’re shifting your weight thinking about the sounds Agatha makes when you get your mouth on her.

You look around the room and you find her, standing alone, nursing her own glass of champagne. But what startles you is that she’s already watching you with a strange look on her face. You give her a small smile, your heart filling with adoration for the older woman, but she looks away.

“Will you excuse me for a second?” You say to Rio, who nods. You walk over to Agatha and slide up next to her, your hand brushing against her lower back. “You okay?” You murmur into her ear.

Agatha clears her throat and rolls her shoulders back and you have to make a pointed effort not to stare at her boobs that get pushed forward. “Just ready for this party to be over,” she says, voice clipped.

“Oh yeah?” You whisper, cocking an eyebrow. “What do you have planned for when we get home?”

She looks at you, finally looks at you, and you can see a guarded look in her eye. “We’ve had a long day, and this party won’t be done until after midnight. I’ll probably turn in.”

“Oh, Mommy, your age is showing,” you tease mockingly in a hush, wearing a dramatic pout, another joke about how much older she is that she usually rolls her eyes at and then makes a comment about how much you like it.

But she stiffens today. “Well, you’re more than welcome to go home with Rio if you want someone your own age.” The retort hits you like a punch in the gut and you’re left dumbfounded as she walks away, heels clacking on the floor.

Is she…jealous? Surely Agatha can’t be, she knows how much you want her and love her. She knows how willing you are to show her.

And maybe, just maybe, she’ll let you remind her right now.

You check your watch. Forty-five minutes until midnight. You can feel her gaze from across the room, but when you try to make eye contact, she pretends like she isn’t looking at you, and you make the executive decision to try something that will probably backfire.

Pulling out your phone, you pretend to take a call. You can feel her air shift; she knows that if someone’s calling you this late, it must be something urgent. You nod like you’re listening and then after a minute or two, you put your phone down.

You meet her eyes and tilt your head toward the elevator, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. This could backfire. She could get so mad at you.

But you have to try.

Agatha excuses herself from the small group of people that have congregated around her table and she follows you into the elevator.

“Who was that? What’s wrong?” She demands, and you almost feel bad for making her this panicked.

You shake your head. “Just wait until we get to your office.” You think it should be a hint, but she doesn’t pick up on it. Instead, Agatha chews on her bottom lip and tosses her hair back over her shoulders.

The doors ding open on the sixtieth floor and Agatha trails behind you, hot on your heels, as you take her to her office. You tell her to get on the couch while you draw the blinds to the glass windows facing the interior of the building, just in case anyone should happen to walk by. The television is on outside in the hallway and you can faintly hear the sounds of the New York Ball Drop show. A little over thirty minutes left.

“What is going on?” Agatha asks again, clearly exasperated by you dragging this out.

You turn around and almost moan at the sight of her sitting with her knees pulled up under her and her elbow propped up on the couch. This time, you really can’t help your gaze from darting down to her breasts and she snaps her fingers to get you to focus. “Rio’s just a friend,” you say bluntly, and Agatha scoffs.

“What does this have to do with anything?”

You slowly walk over and kneel down in front of her, pulling her legs out so that her feet are on the floor and you rest your chin on her knee and look up at her through your eyelashes. “There wasn’t a call,” you confess, already wincing on the inside at how she’s going to react. Her face remains stoic. “You were bothered by Rio and I talking.” It’s a statement, not a question.

But Agatha jeers. “Is this your excellent counsel that I pay you so much for? That I’m bothered? Don’t think I don’t know about the little crush she has on you.”

“So what if she has a crush? I don’t like her like that. You know I only have eyes for you,” you say, slowly inching the hem of her dress up her legs, waiting to be rejected.

Her hand slides up your head and fastens into your hair, tilting you back so you can look straight at her. “Oh yeah?” She asks, daring, challenging you to go further.

You swallow hard. “Let me show you?” You offer timidly, praying it’s the right answer and you’re not reading this wrong.

Agatha growls, a guttural noise deep in her throat, and she yanks you up and kisses you, nipping at your bottom lip. Her tongue forces its way into your mouth and you moan at the feeling, settling into her lap with your legs on either side of hers. She tugs at your hair and the sting makes you keen, only making you need her more.

You can’t even wait, you’ve been on edge for too long, and you trail your lips down her neck, scrape your teeth against her collarbone, and then she helps you take the straps of her dress off.

The second her breasts are free, you’re on them like you’re starving and they’re your salvation. You cup both of them with your hands, feeling the sturdy weight of them, and you knead softly, running your thumbs over both nipples. The dusky rose color stands out against her pale skin and you watch with fascination as her nipples harden under your gentle touch. Part of you still can’t believe she’s letting you touch her in the office.

Not that you’re complaining.

You swoop down and take one into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the little bud, and Agatha’s back arches off the couch as her fingers dig into your hair to keep you there. You’ve never felt more content in your life than like this, and you happily suck on her as the most delicious sounding noises fall out of her mouth.

Her free hand finds your hip just as your fingers tug at her nipple that isn’t being occupied by your mouth and you can make out what she wants. Without moving away from her, you shift and place a leg in-between hers, able to feel the heat radiating from her pussy through her underwear and dress.

“Fuck,” you mutter brokenly when she grinds up against your knee and you can feel just how wet she is.

Agatha huffs out a chuckle. “You love sucking on Mommy’s tits so much, don’t you?” She asks and you switch sides and hum against her skin. “Mommy loves it, too.”

You groan and take a break from directly stimulating her, instead, opting to lightly bite at the skin around her nipples, taking extra care to mark the curvature under them. She’s especially sensitive there, and her little gasps only spur you on.

After you’ve left sufficient proof that you were there, you pull back and admire your work and you sharply inhale. Her breasts are absolutely painted with red marks that will surely fade into bruises by tomorrow and her chest heaves, a ragged look in her eyes. Agatha is still undulating against your leg and you can visibly tell how turned on she is.

“Am I convincing you yet?” You ask, your voice coming out a little hoarse, and Agatha barks out a laugh.

Her wicked grin has a thrill running inside you and she shifts underneath you until you figure out what she is trying to do. It’s a bit awkward, but she manages to turn her body so that her legs are on the couch horizontally but you’re still on top of her.

She hums thoughtfully. “Think I might need a little more. If you’re willing, that is.”

Only too willing. You can’t help yourself from leaning down and giving her a hard kiss, pulling away and sucking one nipple and then the other roughly until she moans, and then you move down her body and bunch up her dress at her hips. You put your hands on her shins and guide her legs up so they’re bent, her heels on the couch.

And then you settle between her open legs and mouth at her sopping cunt through her underwear. A groan tears out of you before you can stop it at tasting the wet fabric, thick with her scent which you’ve become addicted to. You suck on her underwear, pulling the moisture out of it, and Agatha jerks underneath you.

“We don’t have all day, pet,” she says tightly and you can hear the television outside saying there’s fifteen minutes left until New Year’s Day.

You chuckle at her impatience and finally pull down her underwear. You wish your dress had pockets so you could store it for later, but you made do for just throwing it somewhere in her office.

And then you drag your tongue up her slit and absolutely lose yourself in the taste. There’s something so indistinguishable and indescribable about it, and you lazily explore her pussy, getting as much of her wetness as you can into your mouth. You vaguely realize that she’s wrapped a leg over your shoulder and her heel is digging in, the sting only turning you on more.

Small gasps are pulled out of Agatha’s mouth and her hips buck, trying to get more stimulation, but to no avail as you are completely focused on just licking her slowly. You moan into her and the vibrations make her whimper, but you almost don’t even hear it. This is your favorite place on earth, between her legs, and you don’t want to ever leave. She’s so warm and wet and responsive against your tongue and you fucking love it. Love getting her wetness all over your face, love feeling her clench around your tongue, love the taste and smell and how she reacts when you lap at her clit.

You do that now, and her thighs tighten around your head and she sighs like she’s finally getting some of the relief that she needs.

“I love your pussy,” you say, but the words are garbled. She lets out a muffled sound and you look up through hooded eyes to see her head strewn back in pleasure, dark hair fanned out beneath her, bottom lip between her teeth, and her fingers tweaking her raw nipples. The sight makes you moan against her again and her hips jump.

She looks down to meet your gaze and you feel the fire inside you only being stoked more when you realize that almost all the blue in her eyes is gone, entirely swallowed up by dark desire. “Please,” she begs, sounding more needy than she ever has since you’ve started sleeping with her. “Mommy needs this so bad.”

And the only thing you love more than tasting her with your mouth is making her cum with your mouth.

So you oblige, thrusting your tongue inside her and almost losing all composure when her walls flutter around it. She lets out a loud whine when your nose brushes against her clit and you keep doing that, curling your tongue inside her and moving your head up and down so she can get some desperately needed stimulation to her clit.

“Fuck, baby, your mouth is so good,” she practically sobs, and you can feel her throb. She never takes long, which is almost a shame because you’d stay between her legs forever if you could. Building her up, feeling her legs tremble around you, that’s half the fun right there.

But she needs it, and you can hear that it’s getting closer to midnight. Only a few minutes left.

You double the intensity, dragging your tongue over her clit again and again, feeling it pulse. You slip a hand between your own legs and groan at the wetness you find, fingers strumming at your own clit through your dress and soaked panties. Nothing gets you more turned on than Agatha’s pussy in your mouth, absolutely coating your face.

She’s pinching her nipples now and you almost lose your rhythm from wishing you were the one doing that to her, but you don’t falter. Wetness is dripping out of her cunt onto the couch below and you almost smirk at the thought of seeing the stain tomorrow.

Agatha better let you fuck her in her office more often. You clench at the thought of being under her desk, eating her out while she’s going through contracts or in a meeting or having lunch. Anytime you can.

“Fuck, fuck, baby,” she chants and you can hear the minute countdown start. You lick and suck and nip and her hips are moving furiously, grinding on your face and you can’t breathe but you don’t even care because she tastes so fucking good.

“Five…four…” You shove your tongue inside her and curl it up, stroking against the spongy spot that makes her gasp. “Three..two…” You scrape your teeth against her clit and she keens. “One…Happy New Year!”

You suck her clit into your mouth hard and that does it. She goes flying over the edge, wetness gushing out onto your face, and you blissfully lick her through her orgasm, not even realizing that she’s too sensitive until she’s tugging at your hair, pulling you away from her.

She brings you in for a kiss, a tradition when the clock strikes midnight on January First, but also something she always does when you eat her out, moaning at the taste of herself on your lips, and you don’t even care that you haven’t cum yet. You clasp her cheeks and your tongue sweeps into her mouth until you finally have to break apart to breathe.

“What a way to start the new year,” you joke and she laughs and fluffs her hair. She looks like a thoroughly-fucked mess, but also the hottest you’ve ever seen. You soften and press a gentle kiss to her lips. “You know I love you, right? I don’t care about how old you are, you know I fucking love that. You don’t have to worry about Rio, or anyone else, no matter if they’re my age or not. I want you and only you.”

Agatha smiles and kisses you again, and then kisses your nose. “I want all your midnight kisses, baby. I love you too.” It’s the most romantic thing she’s ever said.

And of course you immediately have to ruin it with a joke. “Office sex isn’t that bad, hm?” She pokes your side and you giggle.

“Let’s get back downstairs before anyone notices that we’ve been gone for so long,” she says.

You whine but reluctantly get off her when she pats your hips and she finds her underwear that was thrown to the ground. You both fix your make-up in the mirror and then you’re back in the elevator, descending the sixty floors. If anyone asks, you’ll say it was an emergency with an acquisition. But you doubt anyone will. The champagne is flowing and it’s a party.

Before the doors open, Agatha takes your hand, squeezes it three times as if to say I love you and then there’s a ding and it’s back to reality.

But she gives you a wink meant only for you when she toasts to the company and all the good things yet to come and a warm feeling fills you.

What a way to start the new year, indeed.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #agatha all along

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creamiecoups · 2 days ago

Text

conditioned - seungcheol x reader

↠ pairing : seungcheol x reader

↠ summary : you were too naive, too sweet, and seungcheol had to be the one that gets to wreck and destroy you… and also make sure you were conditioned enough to never dare to leave him.

↠ word count : 5.1K words

↠ warnings : swearing, drinking/getting drunk, dom!seungcheol, noncon, use of pet names, mentions of past cheating, rough fingering, slight choking, drugging

↠ author’s note : heyy guys sorry about the delay on this i was busy with new years stuff and i realised that this was wayy too long and also wanted to make it a series so this is just part 1! i hope you guys like it so far and lmk what you think :) also happy new year !! i hope this year is filled with happiness and love for each and every one of you 🫶🏼

part one part two part three

It all started on that rainy night.

You still had half an hour until closing time, when you could finally go home to your warm and cozy bed.

The cafe you recently started working at was in a busy part of Seoul so it wasn't much of a shock to you that it was bustling at 7pm on a Friday night. But with the looming worry of your piling assignments and all the bills to your tiny apartment, you just really wanted to go home. Even with so many worries and stress, you were never one to show it too much, preferring to keep it within you while you be the best version of yourself while talking to others.

And so, when the tall and extremely handsome man came to the cash register, voice dripping in honey as he ordered from the menu, you still maintained your good behaviour.

"Is that by cash or card for today?" You asked, not paying much mind to his observant eyes scanning over you as you clicked away on the screen.

"By card, sweetheart, thank you."

You looked up as soon as the word fell from his lips, but all he did was flip open his wallet, pulling out the sleek black card before pushing it towards you with a cute smile, his eyes mimicking crescent moons.

After taking the card from his hands you hovered it over the pay screen, suddenly feeling small as he watched you before you gave it back to him.

Working at a cafe in the city means you always serve cute customers, but this one just felt different.

"I'll sit by the back... can you bring it out for me when it's done?" He asked, taking you aback as you just stared at him like he grew ears and a tail.

"Hello? Did you not catch that?" He asked again, honeyed voice still gentle as he tilted his head to the side slightly, causing you to shake your head.

"S-Sorry um... I'm a-actually just a cashier, my co worker will bring it out—"

"Do you know who I am darling?" He cut you off, causing you to crease your eyebrows.

"N-No—"

"Oh my god...M-Mr Hong, I'm sorry Sir, she's new to Seoul and only recently started here, I'll make sure I teach her well."

You watch in shock as your usually strict and nonchalant manager stumbled over her words, bowing down repeatedly before your eyes trail back to his, as he eyed you down.

"That's alright... when my order is done, make sure she is the one that hands it to me."

You both watch as he walks away without another word, before Soyeon, your manager, all but drags you into the kitchen area, shutting the door behind her rather loudly.

"Where the fuck is Yugyeom? I told him to watch the newbie for a bit while I was on break, didn't I?" Soyeon spat as she stormed around before a confused Yugyeom walked in through the staff room door.

"Oh shit my bad, I went to drink water," he mumbled, clearly confused as Soyeon rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure you were. Mr Hong is here, alone it seems...and this girl spoke to him like a normal customer! I don't have the time to explain anything right now but from now on, no one leaves her to the cash register alone...Yugyeom take over for a bit he requested her to bring his order," Soyeon went on before looking towards me as I looked around at all the people in the kitchen that stopped upon hearing that guys name.

"I'm s-sorry did I do something wrong? Is he-he like political or—"

"Political," Soyeon scoffed, shaking her head before leaving the room as everyone slowly went back to what they were doing, except Yugyeom.

"Hey don't stress, I'll explain after we close.... I'll cover for you until you get back but, don't talk to him too much okay? Only answer whatever he asks, nothing more, and definitely nothing less....he's dangerous."

Yugyeom pushes the tray in front of you before walking away soundlessly, as your left stunned.

He's dangerous.

Yugyeom words rang in your mind as you carefully walked past the tables to the very end of the store, where there was a couple of booths.

"Here's your iced americano... I-I hope you enjoy—"

"Where you running off too that quickly? Come sit," he spoke, hand wrapped around your wrist tightly before you could've ran back. You hesitantly nodded, before sitting opposite him as he took a sip of his drink, eyes still trained on yours through the rim of the transparent glass.

"Your manager said you're new....where are you from?" He asked innocently, although he already knew almost everything about you.... the rest you would have to fill in for him.

"Y-Yeah....I'm from Iksan actually....came here for....for university," you answer truthfully, although you felt wary talking about yourself in detail to him.

"Oh? What are you studying?" He asked again, as you looked towards the front of the cafe.

"I-I think I'll have to head back I'm sorry—"

"Darling you're with me, your manager won't mind, now answer me," he shot, causing you to swallow thickly.

"I-I study psychology," you almost mumbled, before his pretty face was contorting in interest.

"So you like studying how minds work, huh? That sounds cool," he says, taking another sip of his drink before you both turn to see Yugyeom telling a customer that they're closed now so they can't order.

"Oh pity, you guys are already closed," he says, making you turn back to look at him.

"W-Who are you?" You muster the courage to ask, mostly the curiosity getting to you.

"I never introduced myself, I'm Joshua sweetheart, I work nearby."

"It was nice meeting you, but I think I'll have to help close," you said, almost getting annoyed of the man in front of you.

He was gorgeous, there was no doubt about that...but everything about the way he was acting along with your co workers, held up red signs in your mind.

You swore he almost rolled his eyes, before he was standing up and walking towards the front cash register as you followed behind him in confusion.

"I'm sure you guys can manage a close right? Y/N looks really tired today she's going home," He blatantly said, before looking towards you again.

"Go get your things."

You don't know what it was, but you found yourself complying to his words as you walked into the staff room to get your bag, Soyeon no where to be seen. Yugyeom looked horrified when you came back out, his eyes looking at you as if trying to convey that he hopes your safe.

You slightly nod his way before looking back towards Joshua.

"Thank you," you mumble, before quickly speeding out to the car park outside as he followed you out.

You don't really know why you said thank you, or why you even listened to his words but you deemed it a good idea considering Yugyeom did mention he was dangerous.

Fishing out your keys from your tote bag you quickly got into your car, pushing the key in to start your car as you noticed he was just standing not too far from your car almost expectantly.

And as expected, your car made no effort to start up even as you turned the key, your eyebrows furrowing as you cursed under your breath. After trying a few more times you gave up, letting out a deep sigh as you exited your car again before shutting the door.

"What's wrong?" Joshua instantly asked as you shrugged.

"My car is dead, I don't even know why," you mumble, trying to walk past him before he grabbed your arm again.

"Where are you going?"

"Inside, im gonna ask my co worker for a ride," you answer, pulling your arm out of his grasp as he shook his head.

"No need, just come with me, I can drop you off."

"What n-no," you instantly deny, staring up at him in shock.

You didn't even know him, why did he think you'd say yes?

"Do I look like a murderer Y/N?" He asked, tilting his head to the side as his big doe eyes stared at you.

"N-No but.... but I don't know you and it's fine you—"

"I'd love to, really..... do you live far?"

"No just a few minutes away," you answer, slowly realising it might not be such a bad idea.

If you waited for a co worker you'd have to stay back closing, and you were beyond tired to do that.... and Joshua, although slightly weird, didn't give you any doubt to think he was a threat.

Even though Yugyeom had called him dangerous....

"If we're not far than just come, the longer you take your losing time sleeping," He stated, as you bit your lip in thought.

You guessed it wouldn't be so bad.

"Fine yeah," you mumbled, nodding at him as he flashed you that charming smile that had your stomach doing flips.

"Good, follow me."

You followed behind him, completely unaware of the smug smile on Joshua's face as you both passed your old car.

It wasn't too hard for him to make sure it wouldn't work, but that battered car was hanging by a thread anyways.

Your mouth hung open once you saw the black Porsche parked not too far from the entrance, as he opened the passenger door for you with a chuckle leaving his lips at your reaction.

"Are you gonna get in?"

"S-Sorry," you mumble awkwardly, before quickly sitting inside as he shut the door.

You knew he was probably rich as fuck, if anything that ironed to perfection suit with a Chanel pin gave it away, but being inside such a luxurious car made you feel sick.

This was definitely worth more than a whole year of your college tuition fees.

"Can you put your address in for me?" Joshua asked, pointing towards the huge tablet in the middle as he started the car.

You nod shortly before typing away, still not being able to shake away the utter shock you were feeling sitting in such a nice car.

"Do you like working there?" Joshua suddenly asked after a few minutes of silent driving.

"Yeah I do, it's fun," you say, playing with your fingers nervously as he hummed.

Thankfully you saw your apartment complex come into view, making you let out a sigh without even realising.

"It was really kind of you to offer me a ride, thank you," you say politely, as he smiled at you warmly.

"Of course, get home and rest up you've had a long day.... your cafe is my usual so, I'll see you around," he says, giving you a small nod before you thank him once again before getting out of his car.

The whole elevator ride up to your apartment and for the next two hours laying in bed, all you can think about is that mysterious but kind man. It's as if all the sleepiness you felt throughout the day disappeared, your mind running with so many thoughts. You thought back to how Soyeon and Yugyeom acted around him, and how odd you found him when he asked you to sit with him. Although you knew it was very sweet of him to give you a ride, you were a stranger to him too, his aura was comforting almost, and something told you that was definitely not the last time you'd see him around.

And you were right.

Something you were terribly wrong about though?

There was nothing comforting and sweet about Joshua Hong.

———————————————————————————

A few days passed since your first encounter with Joshua, and almost every one of those days in between he was at your cafe, ordering the same thing and having conversations with you.

One iced americano, bring it out for me.

Although you still found that weird, you kind of enjoyed his company. You soon found out he worked at a law firm, he lived alone but was thinking of adopting a puppy soon, and he was so interested in your studies and out of work lifestyle.

Lies, lies, and more lies.

But you didn't need to know that yet.

You tried keeping your words on the low though, not giving away too much about your not so pretty life at the moment and how you manage to make a living. Yugyeom and Soyeon had become rather silent everytime you interacted with them.... and Yugyeom never explained to you what he wanted to say about Joshua the first time you saw him.

"He's cool, just really intimidating cuz he's like a law dude y'know?"

"Gyeom you called him dangerous.... I don't really believe you would've used that word so lightly without a reason," you had said, to which he just shrugged and brushed off to another random topic.

Anyways that was over a week ago, and for now you just wanted to let go of every thought for the night as you enjoyed some drinks with a couple of uni friends at a club of their choosing on a Sunday night. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't get wasted since you had work the next morning, but alas one drinking game bled into another and by 11pm you were already nearly gone.

You didn't feel like going home anymore, not that you could until all your friends tapped out since you guys promised to Uber together, but eventually the games got boring so you excused yourself to go sit on one of the stools in front of the main bar, chin in your palms as the cute bartender came your way.

"Can I get a cosmopolitan, please," you say politely before running a hand through your hair.

"A cosmopolitan? Thought you'd choose something more sweeter," a voice from next to you spoke, making you whip your head to look at the man.

Your mouth slightly hung open, staring across at who you were sure was the hottest man to grace the world, all the alcohol in your system making you much more bolder than your usual quiet self.

"And why do you think you have a say in what I order? It's my favourite," you huff, as the man's eyebrows go up in amusement.

"Now, now....no need to be snappy, I was just curious.... think you'd like an expresso martini more," he chuckled, tongue swiping across his red plush lips as he eyed you up and down.

"Alright, let's see," you say, as the man smiles your way before calling over the bartender.

"Swap that cosmopolitan for an expresso martini, and get me my usual."

"Usual? Do you come here often?" You pique, resting your chin on your palm as you look at him.

"Something like that... I've never seen you here before though? I must say.... this doesn't seem like your setting," he smiles again, before the bartender was sliding your cocktail in front of you.

"Enjoy your drinks," he bows before running off, his playful smiles and comments completely gone.

"Come on, have a taste."

You slowly bring the glass rim to your lips, before opening your mouth.

"Oh shit, it's so good I can't believe I've never tried this before," you gleam, eyes sparkling as you quickly take another gulp.

"I'm surprised you haven't as well, so now you can stop having boring old cosmopolitans," he said, as you watch him drink an almost brown liquid.

"That however does not look inviting," you say, as his eyes flicker to yours.

"Wanna try? It's my personal favourite."

You hesitantly grab his glass, if anything the strong whiff you get should've thrown you off but you take a sip anyways, instantly gagging and coughing as he chuckles.

"How are you drinking that? It's horrible," you whine, drinking your martini in hopes of flushing that horrid taste from your mouth.

"It's whiskey darling, should've known you might not be able to handle it actually," he chuckled again, making you knit your eyebrows together.

"What is that supposed to mean?" You question, as he smiles widely, dimples sinking into his cheeks as you felt like your knees would've given out if you weren't sitting down.

god. he was an eye sore.

"Nothing, sweetheart.... now tell me your name?"

"Y/N, L/N Y/N.... and yours?" You ask, trying to ignore the set of butterflies that were released in your stomach from his pet names.

He leaned forward, tucking your hair strands behind your ear as his soft brown eyes were glued to yours.

"Seungcheol, Choi Seungcheol."

You probably should've just ended the conversation there and gone back to your friends, but hours pushed the night deeper, a couple more cocktails with Seungcheol listening to him tell you all sorts of stories as you swore you've never gotten so drunk to the point where you couldn't think anymore.

"It's really no big deal for me," he pressed on, opening the back door of the club with his right arm as his left stayed firm around your waist.

"N-No just....just get me back in there to the first table—"

"Y/N your friends are drunk off their minds, they're not taking you home in that state," he laughed shortly, dragging you to his black Mercedes that stood alone in the private parking lot.

"Then call me a cab!" You whine, pouting slightly before the back car door swung open and he was pushing you in.

"W-What are you—"

Your words were stuck in your throat as you watched in confusion as he got in next to you before shutting the door.

"A-Aren't you going to d-drive," you stutter out nervously as he smiled lopsidedly before dragging you onto his lap, your soft thighs on either side of him.

"I will take you home sweetheart don't worry, just want to have a look at you first, I've been dying to touch you," he groaned, hands feeling you up, groping and sliding across your heated skin as your vision doubled.

"You're so fucking pretty baby, and this excuse of a dress leaves nothing to the imagination hm?" He cooed, fingers hooking onto the straps of your short red dress as you shook your head weakly.

"W-What are you doing?" You hiccup, smiling for no reason as you felt the alcohol thrum through your body, taking over your better judgment and control.

"What am I doing? I'm just finally getting to have my hands on you baby, so im feeling you up," he whispered near your ear before a deep chuckle left his lips as you began trying to free yourself from his hold.

"This isn't right—"

"Of course this is right, just stay quiet for me, okay? You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," he groaned, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his hands on your thigh slowly rolled your dress up until it was bunched up against your waist, your covered pussy coming into his view.

Seungcheol had to hold back a growl, shutting his eyes tightly in a way for him to suppress the carnal thoughts from taking over, he wanted nothing more than to take you right there and then... but he knew he had to wait, this is merely just him getting a taste to suppress his hunger for now.

You leaned your back against the front seat, eyes trying its hardest to fight the tiredness and haziness seeping in from the drugs Seungcheol made the bartender crush into your many cocktails earlier.

"Do you always wear cute pink panties like these baby? Or did you somehow know I'd play with you tonight?" He whispered, fingers ghosting along the inner skin of your thighs as you squirmed in his hold.

"Fuck baby your skin is so so soft."

His fingers were hooking onto the thin straps of your dress before slowly pulling them down, his dark and unwavering eyes glued to your chest as you shook your head feverently.

"N-No not here we're in p-public," you manage to breathe out, before he was stopping abruptly.

"Oh so you wanna go back to your apartment and continue this?" He asked in bewilderment as you were quick to say no.

"My windows are tinted baby relax, no one outside can see how im defiling you," he whispered darkly, licking his lips as he continued to pull your straps down.

"Let's get your hands out of this hm?" He asked sweetly, hands already moving to pull your arms out of your dress as you could do nothing but watch with a misty vision.

You felt odd, like all the energy had been ripped away from you and all you could do was sit there on his lap completely dazed.

"Fuck," Seungcheol breathed out, eyes dark and heavy as they gazed upon your frame, your dress now fully bunched together at your hip as you were now just left in your bra and panties.

"You're being such a good girl for me.... just how I like it," he whispered into your ear as his hand smoothed down your stomach before cupping your covered pussy.

A soft sigh left your lips even as you shook your head, hands fisting at the material of his black blazer.

"N-No," you manage to weakly say, as Seungcheol began rubbing slowly circles into you.

"No? You don't think you're a good girl?" He questioned, thick fingers sliding up and under the waistband of your panties before making straight contact to your pussy lips.

"N-No this isn't right," you mewl, your words betraying you as you felt your pussy gush with wetness.

"Just sit here and let me feel you, understand?.... Don't think your that upset over this considering your fucking dripping anyways," he chuckled, slightly dropping the sweetness he was treating you with as he increased the speed of his fingers rubbing you while his other hand stayed firm against your hip.

"B-But—"

Your words were caught in your throat, your mouth hanging open in a scream instead as he roughly pushed in two of his fingers in your unprepped hole.

"But nothing. Another word from you and I'll have to use my tie as a gag, you want that?" He asked, his tone menacing as he leaned closer to your face.

You shook your head instantly, tears forming in your eyes at the sudden intrusion of his fingers as he slowly began thrusting them in and out of your tight hole.

"Now.... I have questions I'd like answers to baby, will you answer me truthfully?"

"Y-Yeah," you manage to slur out, vision doubling as his hand on your hip slowly trailed up to your covered breasts before dipping under the material to cup your warm mound.

"Good....lets start with this, you don't have a boyfriend back in Iksan right? And no crushes or foolish boys at your feet?" He asked, fingers pulling at your taut nipple as you gasped softly.

"N-No no," your quick to say as his fingers stilled inside your pussy, knuckle deep as you clenched down on him.

"Hm that's good to know baby, didn't really wanna have to kill anyone right now.." he trailed off with a chuckle, before suddenly pulling you closer to his face with his grip on your neck.

"Although something tells me you're not as pure as you look, have you had sex before sweetheart?"

His questions along with the way he was answering sent shivers down your spine, but his dark gaze fixed on yours almost compelled you to answer truthfully, scared to find out what he'd do if you didn't answer him.

kinda like how you felt with that Joshua guy, but just somehow worse.

"Y-Yes with my ex.... it's been... it's been o-over a year," you manage to squeak out, watching in almost fear as Seungcheol's face instantly dropped, thick fingers slipping out of you.

"Ah, you just really pissed me off baby, it's just a shame someone's already tainted you before I got the chance to... no matter though if it's been that long.... it just means you're practically a virgin all over again just for me, hm?"

He sounded almost delirious, wet fingers coming up to grip your jaw tightly as you winced, trying to form sentences to ask him what he meant before he was speaking again.

"Did you like it, baby? Did he make you feel good?" He questioned again, eyes narrowing on you as you slightly nodded.

A cry instantly left your lips as his fingernails dug into your jaw, his teeth gritting as he bought his face closer to yours until you could feel his warm breath fanning across your cold skin.

"Wrong answer. Do you still have contact with him?"

"N-No I wouldn't he... he cheated, r-rubbed it in my face," you stumble upon your words, as Seungcheol instantly laughs.

"Oh your poor thing," he tuts, letting go off your jaw as both his hands smoothed down your body before resting on your hips.

"Don't worry baby, when we properly get to know each other and you tell me the whole story, I'll kill that bastard for you, how does that sound? You want me to kill him for what he's done to you baby?" He asked almost sweetly, as you shook your head almost instantly.

"N-No he...I don't care," you struggle out, shifting on his lap uncomfortably as your head began throbbing in pain.

Seungcheol watched your every movement with dark unwavering eyes, taking note that the strong drug was beginning to settle in and that you'd fall unconscious any moment now.

"Mmh.... you're about to fall asleep soon sweetheart, but don't worry, I'll come see you soon okay? You'll meet a different version of me though, can't scare you away so quickly, Shua did mention you were pretty shy," he chuckled, but you barely managed to catch a sentence of what he said, your headache only getting worse as a soft groan left your lips before you were falling forward to lean your head against his shoulder.

"Okay this is acting faster than I thought, let's get you home."

Seungcheol pulled you off his lap and carefully placed you down on the seat before fixing up your dress, inhaling sharply in an effort to ignore how salvageable you looked to him even if you were about to fall unconscious.

next time he had you like this, he wouldn't stop his lascivious thoughts from taking over.

"Last question baby, what's your apartment code? I'll need to get in to lay you down," he asked, tapping your cheek lightly to wake you up.

You mumble out some numbers he manages to catch, before you were falling into a deep slumber.

Seungcheol sighed as he started the car, pulling out of the driveway as he thought of his next few planned steps.

He didn't want to rush it with you, there was no need of it, he had you and no one would dare touch you.... and you couldn't even try to escape regardless.

A red light had him pulling the car to a stop, before calling Joshua.

"Hey man, I'm guessing she's fast asleep if you've called?"

"Mhm, got her to tell me her apartment code, I'll put her to bed and have a look around before setting up a camera. I need you to keep an eye on everyone that she's close to, see if it's for sure that no one would get too curious if she went missing.... ah, and I found out about an ex, but we'll worry about that later once I have more information."

"Got it. She's fucking gorgeous up close isn't she? I know she's all yours man but fucking hell she's a gem," Joshua groaned, as Seungcheol could only smile as he thought back to how responsive you were.

"Hmm.... but even with drugs in her system she was still a pain, I think she'll be much more difficult than I thought," Seungcheol answered, tapping his fingers against the wheel as he looked at your sleeping form through the mirror.

"Wait you fucked her?! Bro you said you'd wait—"

"No I didn't you fucking idiot now stop talking about her. I just called to let you know I might end up being a little late for the group meeting, but don't wait up and start without me."

Seungcheol ended the call as he saw your apartment building come into view, a smile making its way onto his face as he thought about how smoothly everything was going, and tomorrow morning you would wake up with a severe migraine and no recollection of what happened the night before.

Everything was going according to plan.

#s.coups smut #seungcheol smut #joshua smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #kpop smut #dark!svt

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dooberific · 3 days ago

Note

I absolutely love your writing!! Idk if you're open for request, but if you do, can I request doctor!reader with Harumasa? He loves to go to infirmary not only he can pretend to be sick but also just to see them

Double trouble cause I thought it sounded like a fun combination. Does using a 1988 song name as the title make me sound old? 🤔

❝ 𝘉𝘢𝘥 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯' 𝘠𝘰𝘶 ❞

harumasa x afab!doctor!reader

genre: fluff, I projected a little bit into this???

summary: if being in love with your cute doctor wasn’t bad enough, she’s completely clueless when it comes to romance

wc: 1.6k

The end of your pen tapped thoughtfully against your plush lower lip as you skimmed your notes. Once. Twice. Your eyes dart to the opened paper file on the counter beside you.

Even cracked it was a solid two inches high and crammed full of health histories, specialty consult results and prescription sheets all bound haphazardly with what looked like ties from a bread bag. You really needed to get an actual binder to hold it all, but as of now you had other problems to address.

“Well,” you swiveled your chair around as you clicked your pen, eyes still skimming your intake sheet before you looked up with a smile, “Good news is nothing seems to be wrong. Well, let me rephrase that, wrong when compared to your baseline.”

It was an important differentiation to make when you were dealing with one of your most tasking patients. In your two years of clinic practice in the city you had never needed to spend a series of days pouring over a patient file, heck, even before you graduated and were staged as a resident in the clinic in the Outer Ring it wasn’t so extensive.

Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome was a bad actor, and Asaba Harumasa seemed to be its favorite role to haunt.

He coughed pitifully, a hand splayed over his chest as he shook his head. “Are you sure, Doc? My body’s aching all over and my head feels funny, and I—,” he coughed again, “can’t seem to shake this cough.”

You frowned, scribbling another note on your papers. “Have you been taking all your medications as indicated?”

“Just as the doctor ordered…actually,” a pensive expression decorated his face as he fisted the fabric of his work shirt, “maybe I have a deficiency in something, I think I ran out of some of my vitamins.”

You perked up immediately, flipping quickly to his laundry list of medication and supplements. “Which one have you been missing? A? C? K?”

“I think it was vitamin you.”

“Oh.” You pulled your prescription pad off the desk. “I’m going to write you an order for Vitamin U. Try adding some cruciferous veggies to your diet, leafy greens, broccoli, stuff like that. Call me if it starts giving you stomach problems.”

You tore the slip off your pad as you extended it to him, the paper decorated in your curling and messy script.

“Do you need a work excuse?”

Should he just quit? This was the question he asked himself every time he stepped out the door of the clinic back onto the street, paper bag of medication in his hand.

White coat syndrome was a very real affliction, though his heart wasn’t racing and his blood pressure wasn’t spiking because he was anxious. After the fourth visit you just assumed it was his baseline response to see his pulse spike randomly through the exam, after all, his syndrome mainly seemed to impact his heart and lungs.

What you didn’t know was that wasn’t his baseline, nor was it a mutation of his syndrome not documented by his past physicians. It was simply a biological response to something else you conveniently seemed to not notice: the raging interest he had in you.

Rest assured he was absolutely mortified when he figured it out himself, laying on his back staring at the ceiling in the dark as he realized he was enthralled by the very idea of you. Your intelligence, your nimble hands, the way you tapped your pen against your lips when met was a challenge you hadn’t quite deciphered, your warm smile.

It wasn’t a complete lie when he would tell you he felt feverish, or that his stomach felt sick and his heart was racing, he felt all those things with horrifying clarity tenfold when your hand pressed against his forehead after noting aloud that his skin seemed flush and clammy.

Was it crossing a line to be flirting with your doctor? Definitely, he was sure he was toeing some doctor-patient professional relationship line, but if he ended up in someone else’s care later then there really wasn’t anything holding him back.

But he was growing increasingly convinced that if you weren’t intentionally playing dumb that you might be a little thick when it came to the nuanced science of flirtation because he had shifted from casual to nearly outright and you never batted an eye.

How else could you have misinterpreted his texts from last week? He was half-giddy with excitement, sure he had you this time.

I miss you.

Your appointment isn’t until next week, you didn’t miss anything. Have a good night :)

It haunted him nearly as much as the day he forgot his work excuse and asked you to text it to him, how proudly he had flipped the phone screen to show Tsukishiro until she squinted and asked, “Why do you have heart emojis around your doctor’s name?”

A devastating blow to his ego. But so was every failed attempt to catch your eye.

“Do you have an inhaler? Cause you just took my breath away.”

“Hold on, I’ll grab one from the cart. You’re supposed to carry your own inhaler, Mr Asaba!” You scolded, disappearing for a moment before tossing him an inhaler.

“You look a little under the weather yourself, Doc. Sure you aren’t deficient in vitamin M E?”

“Ah, I didn’t put as much makeup on today.” You cupped your cheeks with your hands thoughtfully. “I feel fine though, thanks for your concern.”

“I’m no organ donor, but I’d love to give you my heart.”

“Your medical condition prevents you from joining the organ donation program.” You didn’t even bother to turn around when you acknowledged him.

“I think my heart just skipped a beat when I looked at you.”

“You’re on a medication that regulates heart rhythm, should I write you a cardiology referral?”

He went to text you again as he walked home for the evening. Typed. Deleted. Typed again. Deleted again. You just weren’t getting it, or maybe you were just too kind to tell him you weren’t interested or even that you had a boyfriend already on his numerous visits. Maybe he should just give you some space?

But maybe that would be cruel when you were standing on the sidewalk waiting for the light to change, mascara smeared down your cheeks as you sniffled. He pocketed his phone.

“Hey Doc, you alright?”

You tensed, head swiveled in his direction before you quickly turned your face away, hands swiping at your cheeks before wiping them on your dark scrubs hastily.

“Oh, hey Mr. Asaba.” He frowned at your attempt at a cheerful tone, your voice still wavering from your tears before you cleared your throat. “You, uh, don’t have to call me Doc when the clinic is closed.”

“And you don’t have to call me Mister when I’m not sitting on your exam table.” He retorted, catching the little quirk at the corner of your lips as they quivered in a small smile.

“Want me to walk you home? It’s kinda late.”

“No, but thank you.” You peered over your shoulder towards the restaurant just behind you. You gripped your bag tighter, inching closer to where he stood beside you on the curb. “Actually, would you mind..?”

He didn’t have to ask you what was wrong, within the first five minutes of your walk you had apologized to him multiple times, started crying again, and spilled your heart out.

Six bad dates in the span of a couple weeks came to a head over a plate of chicken parm, your date kicking back as he declared you to be dull, hopeless, slow, and much uglier in person than your dating profile picture (which was your clinic profile photo).

“He said that I “couldn’t take a hint”, whatever that’s supposed to mean!” You cried indignantly before you turned to him, eyes puffy and wet from your tears.

“Am I that bad?”

He sucked a breath between his teeth. “Well, not to play the devil’s advocate but I’ve been flirting with you for weeks and you didn’t notice.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. “What?!”

He held up his hands defensively, but before he could say anything your head had already hung low, shuffling your clinic sneakers on the dirty sidewalk outside your apartment.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was small as your shoulders sank. “I’m not very good at stuff like this.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, fingers grazing his choker. “I noticed, but it’s fine. You just need things to be a little more straightforward.”

He took a deep breath, clasping his hands together as he pointed at you. “I think you’re very pretty and charming in your weird doctor-y kind of way, so I would like to take you out for dinner sometime. Like, romantically.”

He was sure you gave yourself whiplash for how quickly your head snapped up, eyes wide. You brushed your tousled hair back from your face, cheeks flushing brightly enough he could see them burning under the streetlights.

“Oh, okay….when?”

“Tomorrow after you get off? I’m dreaming of beer and fried chicken if you aren’t opposed.”

“Of course not!”

He was a little taken aback by how aggressively you answered, your hands clasping around one of his as if he was about to dematerialize before your very eyes.

“Great, then I will see you tomorrow. Have a good night, Doc—I mean, (y/n).”

“Good night to you as well.”

He turned to leave. He was practically screaming inside like a teenage girl you just secured a prom date, a new lightness to his step in the wake of his victory.

“Harumasa!”

He paused in his step, head whipping around to face you. You still stood on the stoop, a smile plastered across your face like he hadn’t seen before, one that lit your eyes up and dimpled your cheek.

“Thank you!”

He gripped his chest over his heart as it flipped wildly in his chest. His grin was pained when he looked up at you.

“Doc, I might actually need emergency care this time--,”

Rey 2024

#asaba harumasa #harumasa x reader #zzz harumasa #zzz x reader #zzz #zenless zone zero #harumasa zzz #zzz requests

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morlock-holmes · 19 hours ago

Text

The Conspiratorial Mindset

So, I've always had a bit of an interest in scams and hokum, and what people call "Cults".

One of the common refrains when you talk about religious Cults is, "If you think about it all religions have beliefs that seem odd to outsiders" and this is true, but as I read more about cults I started to think,

"Wait, a lot of these groups aren't united just by having unusual religious or supernatural views; a lot of them also seem to have matching patterns of behaviors that have nothing to do with belief in psychic space aliens"

I'm talking about things like,

Having a leadership structure which is absolute, where the top leaders cannot be disciplined or even openly criticized by lower members;

Exerting tremendous control over the dress and behavior of adherents;

Telling adherents that outsiders are untrustworthy and that contact with outsiders should be strictly limited and heavily monitored by organizational leadership;

The extensive and common use of shunning and reprogramming in response to violation of any of the above rules.

In some groups, failing to adhere to the dress code and spending a lot of time with outsiders is, at worst, the subject of a few little jabs at family gatherings. In other groups, those same behaviors are treated as Defcon one crises and become the central issue of the adherent's relationship with everybody else in the organization until they can be bullied back into doing the organization's bidding.

It was gratifying to learn that other people have noticed these patterns (Some people prefer the term "High Control Group" to "Cult" because it highlights what the actual problem is)

I am starting to notice similar dynamics in what are commonly called "Conspiracy theories".

The thing about conspiracy theories is... Well, conspiracies exist, and sometimes groups of powerful people get together to do something in secret which would get them in big trouble if they were to do it openly.

But I am starting to notice a particular, I don't know, a particular way of conceptualizing the organization and purpose of conspiracies which is unique to some people and which characterizes the kind of conspiracy theorist who takes Alex Jones seriously.

I kind of think of it as a "Witch-Hunting mentality".

For certain people in more primitive times and places, if they, say, slipped off a ladder and hurt themselves, their first thought would be, "That must have happened because a witch cursed me. We need to find and punish the witch who cursed me."

And this isn't just the attribution of malice that characterizes this idea:

One malicious conspiracy that might make you fall off a ladder is a manufacturer who doesn't care about safety ratings. Imagine that the manufacturer is really deliberately malicious here. A subordinate comes to him and says, "Our ladders can't reliably hold the weight of a person and a lot of them will probably break and cause people to fall and hurt themselves." and he says, "I know that but who cares, by the time people figure it out it'll be too late to get their money back."

That's a malicious conspiracy, but, importantly, if Bob buys a faulty ladder and falls off, the conspiracy wasn't trying to hurt Bob; it merely didn't care whether Bob got hurt.

Now, this distinction doesn't take away the malice and hostility towards Bob, but if you go to the ladder manufacturer and say, "Hey boss, Bob bought one of our faulty ladders, but he's really skinny so the ladder didn't break" the manufacturer will go, "Who the fuck is Bob? And good, that's one less angry person."

Whereas imagine Bob's ladder has been cursed to break by a witch. The witch did it because she hates Bob, and wants him to fall, and if she finds out he didn't fall, she'll go, "Curses, I'll have to find some other way to hurt Bob."

Conspiracy theorists, it seems to me, are far more inclined to conceptualize conspiracies as acts of deliberate malice aimed at them rather than acts of negligent malice.

@loving-n0t-heyting posted this article from the New York Post which contains a good example of what I mean:

“I thought I was on the cutting edge of promoting rights for gay people,” Yang said. “But then I started looking deeper into where this was coming from and who was paying for it, and I started to get very disillusioned...

I assume the people paying for it are LGBT advocacy groups? Did you, uh, not know that the people you were working for were paying you to work for them?

“When you really dig down you can see how much of this comes from documents and plans at the United Nations,” Yang said, referring in part to the UN’s “Gender Equality” initiative. “It’s part of a global agenda to restructure society, re-structure our social norms and the economy,” Yang claimed. “They are undermining the sexually dimorphic nature of reality and breaking down the differences between the sexes to break down our identity. They are constructing identities for us and they want us to adopt them.”

Oh, I see.

This is exactly what I mean. LGBT rights efforts make Yang and others feel disoriented, like society is being restructured and that they are being left behind, like they aren't quite in control of social norms and that stable identity categories can't be relied on anymore.

Now, one kind of conservative might look at that and say, "These are bad second order effects of LGBT people trying to assert their lifestyle in public and that's why we should oppose them."

But another kind says, "These changes make me feel unstable. Therefore, the main purpose of the changes is to make me feel unstable. In order to understand these changes, I need to figure out who wants me to feel unstable and what they would gain from making me feel unstable."

The idea that Yang's feeling of instability is simply a side effect of a series of efforts mainly focused on LGBT rights is incomprehensible. Instead, she believes that there is a series of efforts focused mainly on making her feel unstable, with LGBT rights as a kind of side effect to the main goal of making her feel unstable.

This kind of thing is, to me, a big red flag that indicates that we are starting to float away from reasonable conspiracy thinking into crazy town.

I am particularly curious if folks can recommend any writers or researchers who have noticed this dynamic.

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spideysbruh · 2 days ago

Text

Still Want It All

a/n- this is kinda a part two to i want it all, but it can be read alone !!!

~~~

A couple of months after Y/n and Timothée get together, their press tour is about to start. Y/n has no idea how they're going to hide that they're together. They honestly can't keep their hands off each other.

Things have been great, Timothée just met her parents and they absolutely loved him, telling Y/n how great he is and how well he carried himself at their dinner.

She met his parents as well, she was extremely nervous, but it went well. He told her afterward that they’d never reacted this nicely with any other girl he’d brought home, they thought she was pretty, nice, and charming.

They’ve been seen out together a handful of times, but it didn’t cause anything too crazy online, since they had filmed a whole movie together and have posted each other online before.

Y/n liked that she could still post the occasional photo or video of him, and whenever he posts a story of her, it just comes off as two friends hanging out. Which is true to an extent.

They’re in a news building right now, getting ready for their first interview of the press tour. She’s sitting next to their director, Aaliyah, and Timothée is on the other side.

They answer a handful of regular questions about the movie, making jokes here and there. Aaliyah gets a question primarily for her and Timothée takes the opportunity to lean back in his chair and make eye contact with Y/n behind Aaliyah. She raises her eyebrows at him, wondering what he wants.

He grins and sticks his tongue out at her, making her snort and shake her head.

He does little things like that throughout the day, poking her side, flipping her off, and even sneaking a quick glance at her boobs making her jokingly roll her eyes.

“You're a sick fuck.” She says at the end of the day as they head into the elevator to get to their shared room.

“What did I do? I'm just a chill guy.” He sarcastically says, pushing their floor number.

She laughs, “Shut the fuck up.” he chuckles and as soon as the doors close completely he grabs her face, kissing her fervently.

She hums and kisses him back, her hands tangling in his hair, tugging on the strands gently.

He pulls away and sighs against her lips, “Been wanting to do that all day.”

She smiles and quickly kisses him again before the doors to their floor open.

He takes her hand in his and walks to their room, swiping the card to unlock it.

The weeks pass and they get used to acting like nothing more than just friends for the interviews, maybe a little flirting here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary for them.

Timothée is always touch starved throughout the days, but sharing a room with her every night makes it worth the wait.

Today, they have a few fun one on one interviews, the first one being a 'friendship test'

“Hi! I'm Y/n L/n.”

“And I'm Timothée Chalamet. And this is the friendship test.” He said, interrupted by Y/n giggling.

“You said that really seriously, it was weird.” She laughs, nudging his arm.

“Oh, my bad.” He chuckles, admiring her for a second.

She smiles and looks at the card in her hand, “Do you remember when and how you guys first met?” She reads, looking back up at him with a smirk.

He hums and thinks for a moment, having to look away from her to resist the urge to kiss her. He puts his finger on his chin to make it seem like he's thinking about it, which makes her laugh again.

“I do, I remember being reallyyyy fucking nervous because it was you, and you're awesome and brilliant and extremely talented. I remember thinking you probably wouldn't talk to me off camera.” Y/n says, blushing at the memory, “But then you came into the room and you were the nicest dude ever! You introduced yourself like you weren't literally Paul Atreides, and then you asked if I wanted to get lunch with you in the cafeteria. Which really helped for our chemistry on set and everything.” She finished.

“You know what's crazy? I was nervous to meet you because I had already seen your audition tape and you were just fucking spectacular that I thought I'd look stupid next to you.” He laughs, Y/n's mouth drops at his words.

“Don't play with me, bro!” She says, he chuckles and shakes his head.

“I'm so serious. I knew you were extremely talented from the second they showed me your tape.” He shrugs, crossing his arms and meeting her eyes.

Y/n pouts, “You never told me that.”

Timothée eyes her mouth and bites his lip before responding, “Well we never talked about this before.”

“That's true. Okay okay, your turn.” She says, watching him grab his card and scan over it.

“Best moment together outside of filming?” He reads, they both smirk as a rush of other kinds of memories fill their minds.

They make eye contact and burst out laughing, Y/n shoving Timothée while laughing, “There's so many.” Y/n says, trying to make their laughing seem normal.

“So so many.” Timothée helps as he leans back towards Y/n, and then feigns thinking.

“Ummm, I'm thinking of when you went to that Sabrina Carpenter concert with me instead because my friend flaked on me and you let me serenade you the whole time.” She replies, trying to think of one that was innocent and doesn't expose that they're dating.

“Awww I was thinking the same thing.” He says, touching her arm.

“Were you really?!?!” She asks, surprised.

“No.”

She rolls her eyes and lightly shoves him with her shoulder, “Well I like that one. It was still pretty early on too, like we only knew each other a month or two by that point, but you still came with me.” She smiles, “What would you say, then?”

Timothée hums, “How about when we had that movie night, and I met your cat and you cooked for me? You made that one puerto rican dish, remember? I'm forgetting the name.”

Y/n smiles at the memory, that was the night that she knew she liked him more than a friend. He was so cute and respectful, he even had a second plate.

She blushes at the fact that he thinks of that as one of their best memories.

“Yeah, I wanna change my answer to that one too, actually.” She giggles, Timothée watches her carefully before looking back at the cards in front of them.

Y/n clears her throat as they switch to standing face to face for the next exercise.

“We're gonna have you guys compliment each other, you can write them down on those cards.” A crew member explains as he hands them markers to write with.

“Wait, y/n turn around, so we don't see what we're writing.” Timothée says, grabbing her shoulders and turning her away from him, he turns himself too as he starts writing.

“Wait oh my god, you're writing so quickly.” Y/n giggles, “There's just soooo many amazing qualities that I have, huh?” She teases, jokingly flipping her hair.

Timothée laughs, “There really are.”

She blushes at that as she writes down her compliments. “Okay, I'm ready when you are, Timmy.” She smirks, knowing how much he likes when she calls him that, maybe just not right now.

Timothée groans and turns around in sync with her. “You can go first, y/n/n.”

She sighs and reads her card, “I wrote that you're a very kind and generous person. You always look out for the people you care about. Which I find very admirable.” She says, smiling at the way his eyes soften at her words.

“Thank you.” He appreciates, “Um, I wrote that I love how good you smell.”

It's quiet for a second until y/n speaks, “Are you serious?” She wonders.

“No.” He shakes his head, making her laugh, her booming laugh echoing across the room. Y/n once again shoves him as she laughs, Timothée snorts and watches as she calms down, patiently waiting with a small smile on his face.

“I'm sorry, T. Go ahead.” She giggles, wiping her eyes.

“I actually wrote that I love your laugh. I like how when something is really funny to you, you basically lose all sense of mobility and just shove the person closest to you. And your laugh always fills the room with so much delight and makes everyone else happy too. It's never a bad thing to make others cheerful.” He finishes, seeing her smile widen at his words.

“Thank you, Timothée. You don't even know how many times I've gotten crazy looks because of my laugh.” She grins, he huffs and shakes his head at that.

“People just hate happiness, I swear. Your laugh is adorable.”

“Thank you.” She blushes and looks down at her card, “My other one that I wrote was that you're very witty. You always know how to lighten the mood and make someone feel better when they're down.”

“I try my best.” He nonchalantly says.

“Well, you're really good at it. You've helped me a couple times!” She says, placing her hand on his arm.

“Thank you, thank you.” He responds, running a hand through his hair. “I also wrote that I love how confident you are. You never let anyone harsh your mellow, and you're extremely comfortable in your own skin.”

“Well, that's what a lifetime of bullying does to a person.” She replies, jokingly shaking her head.

“Stop, were you actually bullied?” He asks, reaching over to comfortingly rub her arm.

“Oh yeah, to this day!” She laughs it off.

“Why would they bully you?” He asks in genuine disbelief.

She shrugs, “Too weird or something, who knows?”

“Well, I love you just the way you are.” He says, she blushes and leans over to nuzzle her head against his shoulder for a second.

“Awwww thank you Timmy, I love you too.” She smiles, his cheeks redden at that and he sighs.

The next exercise is a mind meld, they have to name the same things at the same time.

“Okay, condiments.” She says, and he nods, “on three… one, two, three. Ketchup!”

“Ketchup!” They say in unison, Timothée cheers and jumps around, making her laugh.

“Dude, we're literally so in sync.”

Timothée agrees and places his hands on her shoulder, shaking her a bit as he jumps up and down excitedly. “We're not done, T. Your turn.”

“Right, right…. okay a color. One, two, three- green!”

“Green!” They once again say in sync.

“Bro!” He exclaims, clapping as she giggles.

“Bab- bro we're so.. mind melded.” She catches herself, making him laugh.

“Hell yeah we are! Let's finish strong. Animals!”

“Okay okay, one, two, three- Giraffe!”

“Whale shark!” He says at the same time that she says giraffe, she frowns and stares him down.

“Why the fuck would anyone say a whale shark?!” She questions, he sighs and defeatedly lays on the ground, jokingly putting his arm over his eyes.

“Just leave.” He jokes, Y/n snorts and lightly kicks at his legs.

“Come on, we're gonna get this on the second try, watch.”

“Join me down here.” He says, peeking up at her, she giggles and jokingly groans as she sits down next to him.

“Okay, one two three- elephant!”

“Peacock!” He yells, y/n frustratedly sighs, putting her face in her hands.

“Timothée! Once again, why is peacock the first animal you thought of?!” She teases, he laughs and sits up.

“I don't know!” He chuckles, admiring her as she sighs.

“Okay, third time’s the charm! Let's think more domestic, okay?” She says, meeting his eyes, he nods, “one.. two.. three- cat!”

“Cat!” he says, y/n cheers and lunges forward, tackling him to the floor.

“THAT'S HOW YOU DO IT!” She exclaims as Timothée laughs, wrapping his arms around her. “We're literally the most mind-melded people ever.” She jokes as she pulls away.

Timothée grins, “I think it's safe to say that we passed the friendship test.”

“Oh yeah, with flying colors.” She knowingly smiles and takes his hand to help him up.

After filming that, they have a one hour break for lunch and Timothée keeps trying to hold her hand and kiss her in risky places.

“I miss youuuu.” He whines as they walk down the hall.

“Baby, we've been together all day.” She giggles as he intertwines their fingers.

“I know, but-” She's cut off by him pushing her into a private bathroom, “Timothée!” She exclaims, turning to face him.

“Yeah, but it’s literally torture not being able to kiss you whenever I want… and do other things.” He complains, pouting at her.

“I'm sorry! I just wanna make out with my girl for a minute or two pleaseeeeee.” He begs, softly kissing her cheek.

“You're such a horny little fucker.” She giggles as he kisses down her neck.

“I didn't say I wanted to fuck… unless you want to.” He suggestively says, raising an eyebrow.

“You know what, you did say for a minute or two…. you'd still have about a minute for cleanup. Give or take.” She teases, he playfully tugs on her hair at that.

“Funny.” He says, and then leans in to kiss her, sliding a tongue between her soft lips.

She moans and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He groans and lifts her to sit on the sink, she chuckles into it and wraps her legs around him. He rubs his crotch against hers and she pulls away.

“Don't get any ideas baby, we're not having a quickie right now.” She mumbles against his lips.

He sighs, “No no, of course not. Just a fun little makeout of course.” He goes back to her lips as she giggles.

His hands respectfully stay on her thighs, squeezing them occasionally as they kiss passionately for another minute or two before reluctantly pulling apart.

“I guess we should go eat.” He says begrudgingly, helping her off the sink.

“Yeah I guess so.” She says, reaching forward to fix the collar of his shirt.

He smiles lightly and gently rubs some smeared lip gloss from underneath her lip before opening the door for her.

“After our last interview today, I'm all yours tonight.” She promises as they walk down the hall.

When the video posts a couple of days later, Y/n watches it in their hotel room while Timothée is showering. She laughs at how cute they are and can't help but love how it's kind of obvious that they're together… or maybe not.

She's reading the comments when Timothėe comes out in only his underwear, his hair dripping as he sits down beside her, kissing her head before speaking.

“What you doing?” He mumbles, looking at her laptop.

“Mmmm, reading the comments on that friendship test we did.” She says, he chuckles and leans in closer so he can read them too.

THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HERRRRR

BRO HES IN LOVE W HER ISTGGGG

or maybe they're just friends promoting their movie..

THAT FACE SHE MADE AFTER HE SAID HIS BEST MEMORY W HER OH M HHHGGH SHE LIKES HIM FR

the way for his compliments he said he “loved” them… oh he wants her

that was so funny when she tackled him to the ground, BUT THEN HE HUGGED HER 🥺🥺😭😭😭😭 she's so lucky

HE SAID HER LAUGH IS ADORABLE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

“You in love with me, Timmy?” She says softly, he laughs and turns his eyes away from the screen to her.

She smiles and kisses his lips, setting the laptop on the dresser as he slowly deepens the kiss.

He caresses her face, “Of course... How couldn't I be?”

“I love you.” She moans as he kisses her neck, he sensually licks at it before softly sucking a small purple spot onto an exposed spot. “Timmyyyy, people will see.” She whines, but doesn't make any effort to stop him.

“Mmmm, let them, you can do me next.” He mutters, nipping at the collar of her shirt. She giggles, tangling her hand in his hair. “I love you, y/n/n. These past few months have been the best of my life.” He says, his lips now centimeters away from hers as he speaks.

“You still want it all with me, baby?” She wonders, he nods and pecks her lips, pulling her to lay on top of him.

“Of course I do.”

#timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee imagine #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet au #timothee chalamet x you #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée x reader #timothée chalamet smut #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée imagine #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee fanfic

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novaursa · 3 days ago

Text

Legacy (of snow)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the pyre

- Next part: homesick

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi @alkadri-layal @butterflygxril

The chill of Winterfell's courtyard lingered in your memory like the sharp bite of frost. It was a day long past, but the echoes of it returned to you now with a clarity that pierced your heart. You had been a young woman, yet already burdened with secrets and responsibilities far beyond your age. Hidden in the North under the protection of House Stark, you had learned to navigate a world of whispered truths and silent threats. But that day, the quiet peace of Winterfell had been shattered by the sound of boys fighting.

“Give it back!” Jon’s voice rang out, high-pitched and angry. He stood in the snow, fists clenched, his dark curls tumbling over his pale face. Opposite him was Robb Stark, his half-brother, taller and broader but no less stubborn.

“It’s mine!” Robb shouted, holding a wooden practice sword high above his head. “You can’t just take it because you want it!”

“You weren’t even using it!” Jon retorted, his grey eyes flashing with indignation.

You had been passing by the armory, bundled in a heavy fur cloak, when their raised voices caught your attention. You paused, watching for a moment, unsure whether to intervene. But then, Robb gave Jon a hard shove, sending him sprawling into the snow.

That was enough.

“Robb!” you snapped, your voice sharp as the winter wind. Both boys froze, turning to look at you with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

“He started it!” Robb said defensively, lowering the practice sword but still clutching it tightly.

“I didn’t!” Jon shot back, scrambling to his feet. His face was red, more from embarrassment than the cold. “He said I couldn’t use it because I’m not a Stark!”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest. You glanced between them, your gaze softening as it landed on Jon. “That’s enough, both of you,” you said firmly, stepping between them. “Robb, give Jon the sword.”

“But—”

“Now,” you said, your tone brooking no argument.

With a huff, Robb thrust the wooden sword into Jon’s hands before stomping off toward the great hall, muttering under his breath. Jon watched him go, his small hands gripping the sword tightly, his shoulders hunched as though bracing for another blow.

“Are you all right?” you asked, crouching down so you were at his level. You reached out to brush the snow from his cloak, your fingers lingering for a moment on his arm.

Jon nodded, though his jaw was set, his pride clearly wounded. “I don’t care what he says,” he muttered. “I’m just as good as him. Better, even.”

You smiled faintly, tilting his chin up so he’d look at you. “You are good, Jon. And you don’t need to prove it to anyone. Least of all Robb.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “You really think so?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with doubt.

“I know so,” you said firmly. “You’re strong, Jon. Stronger than you realize.”

Before he could reply, a stern voice cut through the air. “What’s going on here?”

You turned to see Catelyn Stark approaching, her skirts sweeping across the snow. Her blue eyes narrowed as they landed on you, then flicked to Jon, her expression cooling further. “Another argument?” she asked, her tone laced with disapproval.

“It was nothing,” you said quickly, rising to your feet. “Just boys being boys.”

Catelyn’s lips thinned as she looked at Jon. “He seems to have a habit of causing trouble.”

Jon bristled, clutching the wooden sword tighter, but you stepped closer to him, shielding him from her gaze. “It wasn’t his fault,” you said firmly. “Robb started it.”

Catelyn’s eyes snapped to you, her disapproval shifting into something sharper. “And of course, you would take his side,” she said coldly. “You always do.”

“Because he’s treated unfairly,” you shot back, your voice rising despite yourself. “He’s just a boy, Catelyn. He doesn’t deserve to be punished for things beyond his control.”

Her eyes narrowed further, her voice dropping to a hiss. “And why do you care so much? He’s not your son. He’s not even your blood.”

You stiffened, her words cutting deeper than you cared to admit. “Because someone has to,” you said quietly. “Someone has to care about him. He was given to me to be raised, not having the same blood doesn't make him less mine.”

Catelyn’s face hardened, her hands clenching at her sides. “I’ve often wondered why Eddard insists on keeping you here,” she said, her voice cold and measured. “You’re a Targaryen—a daughter of the man who tried to burn this kingdom to ash. The man who killed his father and brother. What purpose do you serve here, beyond stirring up trouble?”

You felt Jon’s small hand grip yours tightly, grounding you as your anger flared. “Eddard keeps me here because he’s a man of honor,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging within you. “And because he knows that holding me here ensures peace. I’ve done nothing to deserve your scorn, Lady Stark. But Jon has done even less.”

Catelyn opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, Eddard’s voice rang out from the steps of the great hall. “What’s going on here?”

All three of you turned to see Eddard descending the steps, his expression stern but curious. Catelyn hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line again, before she turned away without a word, retreating into the hall.

You let out a soft breath, your shoulders relaxing slightly as Eddard approached. He looked between you and Jon, his brow furrowing. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice gentle.

Jon nodded quickly, but you could see the tension still lingering in his small frame. “We’re fine,” you said, offering Eddard a faint smile. “Just a disagreement.”

Eddard studied you for a moment, then nodded. “Come inside. It’s too cold to be out here.”

You placed a reassuring hand on Jon’s shoulder, guiding him toward the hall. As you walked, you glanced down at him, your voice soft. “Remember what I said, Jon. You’re stronger than you realize.”

He looked up at you, his expression thoughtful, and nodded. “I’ll remember.”

And even now, all these years later, you hoped he still did.

The chill of the night air clung to Castle Black, the walls of the ancient fortress illuminated by the flickering light of torches. The sounds of uneasy murmurs and the occasional clatter of equipment drifted through the courtyard, where Viserion rested, her massive form coiled in a serpentine curve. Smoke curled lazily from her nostrils as her golden eyes scanned the surroundings, her presence a constant reminder of the fire that now loomed over the Wall.

You sat inside the Lord Commander’s chambers, the small space lit by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken questions. Jon Snow sat beside you, his posture slouched, his hands resting heavily on his knees. His grey eyes, so familiar and yet so changed, stared into the fire crackling in the hearth.

He was alive. That truth still felt unreal, even as you looked at him, your hand resting on his arm as though to reassure yourself that he wouldn’t vanish. But there was no denying the difference in him. His face was pale, his expression haunted, and his gaze carried the weight of what lay beyond death.

Outside, the voices of his brothers and the Wildlings rose and fell. Edd Tollett and Tormund Giantsbane had been among the first to approach Viserion in the courtyard, their reactions a mixture of awe and wariness. The Wildlings had grown used to stories of dragons, but seeing one in the flesh had shaken even the bravest among them.

Tormund’s voice echoed faintly through the walls, his disbelief evident even from here. “A bloody dragon. Right here. Just sitting there like it owns the place.”

“Maybe it does,” Edd had replied earlier, his tone dry but tinged with unease. “Would you argue with it?”

You couldn’t help but smile faintly at the memory, but the humor quickly faded as your gaze returned to Jon. The firelight danced across his face, but he remained silent, his breathing steady yet shallow.

“Jon,” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice was tentative, as though afraid to disturb him. “How are you feeling?”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on the flames. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough. “I don’t know.”

You squeezed his arm gently, your heart aching for him. “It’s all right not to know,” you said. “You’ve been through… more than anyone should ever have to endure.”

He glanced at you then, his gaze searching yours. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly, the words heavy with guilt and confusion. “I died. I should’ve stayed dead.”

The admission made your chest tighten, but you refused to let the sorrow overwhelm you. “You’re here because you’re needed,” you said firmly. “Because your fight isn’t over. The Wall still stands because of you, Jon. The Wildlings, your brothers, the North… they still need you.”

He looked away again, his jaw tightening. “Do they? Most of my brothers wanted me dead. And now… I don’t even know what I am anymore.”

You leaned closer, your hand moving to his shoulder as you forced him to meet your gaze. “You’re still you,” you said, your voice steady. “You’re Jon Snow. You’re the boy I raised, the man who became Lord Commander, the one who’s always fought for what’s right. That hasn’t changed.”

Jon’s lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of the boy you had once known.

A loud rumble from the courtyard broke the quiet, followed by startled shouts. You both turned toward the sound, and Jon let out a faint, humorless chuckle. “Your dragon’s scaring everyone.”

You managed a small smile. “They’ll get used to her. Eventually.”

Jon shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I doubt Tormund will. He keeps calling her ‘the winged lizard.’”

The levity was short-lived, but it eased the anxiety in the room for a moment. You watched as Jon’s expression grew serious again, his gaze returning to the fire.

“Do you believe it?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet but filled with an edge of vulnerability. “What she said? About the Lord of Light?”

You knew he was referring to Melisandre, her ominous words and cryptic explanations lingering like a shadow over everything that had happened. You hesitated, choosing your words carefully.

“I don’t know what I believe,” you admitted. “But I believe in you, Jon. Whatever brought you back—whether it was her god or something else—it doesn’t change who you are. You’re here, and that’s what matters.”

He nodded slowly, though his uncertainty remained. “I just… I don’t know if I can do this again. Leading them. Fighting. Dying. It’s too much.”

You leaned closer, your voice soft but firm. “You’re not alone, Jon. You never were. And you never will be, as long as I’m here.”

He looked at you then, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “You’ve always been there,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Tears pricked at your own eyes, but you smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You’ve always deserved it, Jon. You’re my son, in every way that matters. And I’ll always fight for you.”

The weight of your words settled between you, and for the first time since his return, Jon’s shoulders seemed to relax. The burden he carried was still immense, but he was no longer carrying it alone.

Outside, Viserion let out another low rumble, her eyes scanning the walls of Castle Black. The men below continued to adjust to her presence, their fear mingling with awe as the reality of her existence settled in.

But inside, in the quiet warmth of the Lord Commander’s chambers, a different kind of miracle had occurred. Jon Snow, back from the dead, was not just alive—he was beginning to live again.

The air within Dragonstone’s Great Hall was charged, the massive stone table shaped like Westeros sitting between Tywin Lannister and his gathered advisors. The week’s failures hung heavily over the room, souring even Tywin’s formidable patience. Reports and theories had been debated endlessly, but the outcome remained the same: the young dragon residing in Dragonmont refused to be subdued or captured. Every attempt had ended in injury, chaos, or retreat, and the creature showed no signs of leaving its lair.

Tywin’s stren gaze swept over his assembled men, each one avoiding his piercing green eyes. The weight of his presence alone was enough to stifle any rash suggestions.

“The dragon has claimed Dragonmont as its territory,” Tywin said, his voice cold and precise. “It has shown no intent to leave, nor has it ventured beyond its lair in the past days. We cannot afford further losses to subdue a creature that has no interest in threatening us.”

A low murmur rippled through the room, the men exchanging uneasy glances. Varys, standing at Tywin’s right, nodded thoughtfully. “A wise decision, my lord. The beast is young and untrained, but it remains a dragon. To provoke it further may result in consequences we are ill-prepared to handle.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, his frustration kept carefully hidden behind his impassive expression. “We will leave it be—for now. When my wife returns, she will decide what is to be done with it.”

One of the soldiers, his face pale with nervousness, hesitated before speaking. “And if it attacks again, my lord? What then?”

Tywin’s gaze snapped to him, silencing any further objections. “If it attacks, we will deal with it. Until then, no one is to approach the lair without my direct command. Is that understood?”

A chorus of murmured agreement filled the hall, and Tywin dismissed the men with a curt wave of his hand. Chairs scraped against the stone floor, boots echoing as the advisors and soldiers filed out, leaving the room to its usual silence.

Varys lingered for a moment, his hands folded neatly in front of him. “A prudent choice, Lord Tywin,” he said, his tone calm but calculating. “Dragons are… particular creatures. Best not to tempt their ire without necessity.”

Tywin inclined his head slightly but said nothing more. Satisfied, Varys offered a small bow and followed the others out of the hall, leaving only Tywin and Jaime Lannister behind.

Jaime leaned casually against one of the high-backed chairs. He watched his father in silence for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well,” Jaime said finally, breaking the quiet. “That’s a first.”

Tywin didn’t look up, his attention focused on the parchments spread across the table. “What are you referring to, Jaime?”

“You,” Jaime replied, his tone light and teasing. “Giving up on something. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it happen before.”

Tywin’s gaze snapped to him, sharp as a blade. “I am not ‘giving up.’ I am delaying action until the appropriate time.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Of course. And it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re waiting for her to come back.”

Tywin’s expression remained impassive, but Jaime caught the faintest flicker of something in his eyes. “Your stepmother’s presence would not change the situation.”

Jaime straightened, his smirk turning into a grin. “You mean her comfort, Father. Don’t pretend you don’t miss her.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, though he refused to rise to the bait. “You’re wasting my time, Jaime.”

“I don’t think so,” Jaime said, clearly enjoying himself. “I’ve been watching you these past days, and I have to say, it’s quite entertaining. You’ve barely scolded anyone, you spend half your time staring at letters you don’t even read, and now you’re letting a dragon live in your mountain because—what? You think she’d be upset if you killed it?”

Tywin’s gaze turned icy, though he still didn’t respond. Jaime took a step closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Admit it, Father. You miss her. You’re human, after all.”

Tywin’s lips thinned, and for a moment, Jaime thought he might have pushed too far. But then his father straightened, fixing him with a look that was both annoyed and resigned.

“She is my wife,” Tywin said, his voice calm but firm. “Her presence is valuable—for more reasons than you can comprehend.”

Jaime chuckled, unbothered by the veiled insult. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Tywin’s gaze darkened, and Jaime wisely held up his hand in mock surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll leave you to brood in peace. But for what it’s worth, I hope she comes back soon. You’re far more tolerable when she’s around.”

With that, Jaime turned and strode out of the hall, leaving Tywin alone. For a moment, the room was silent once more, the only sound the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth.

Tywin exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting to the empty chair beside him—the one where his wife always sat during their discussions. He didn’t miss you, he told himself. He simply recognized the void your absence had left. That was the truth. Or so he told himself as he returned to the endless tasks at hand.

Jaime Lannister left the Great Hall, Tywin’s stony expression still fresh in his mind. His boots echoed against the cold stone floors of Dragonstone as he made his way through the winding halls. The castle had a peculiar stillness to it, even with the distant hum of waves crashing against the volcanic cliffs. Jaime knew it wasn’t just the castle—Tywin’s brooding presence seemed to weigh on everyone.

As he rounded the corner toward the living quarters, he heard the soft sound of a child’s laughter mixed with the hum of a woman’s voice. Intrigued, Jaime pushed open the door to a cozy chamber where he found Damon, his three-year-old half-brother, surrounded by a handful of servants. Damon was seated on a plush rug, a collection of carved wooden animals scattered before him. His silver-gold hair shone in the dim light, and his eyes sparkled with delight as he directed a servant pretending to be a fearsome dragon.

Nearby, another servant held little Maelor, who was barely six moons old. The wetnurse rocked him gently, cooing as the baby squirmed in her arms, his tiny fists batting at the air. The room was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold tension elsewhere in the castle.

Jaime leaned against the doorframe, his golden hand resting casually on his hip as he watched the scene unfold. Damon caught sight of him first, his laughter fading as his gaze shifted to the imposing figure in the doorway.

“Ser Jaime!” Damon exclaimed, his voice high and bright with excitement. He clambered to his feet, stumbling slightly in his haste to reach him. The servants immediately stiffened, bowing their heads slightly at Jaime’s presence.

Jaime knelt to meet Damon at his level, offering the boy a rare smile. “What are you up to, little lord? Conquering the Seven Kingdoms already?”

Damon giggled, holding up a wooden lion and dragon. “I’m the dragon,” he declared proudly, his tiny fingers waving the carved creature in Jaime’s face. “And the lion is scared!”

Jaime chuckled, plucking the lion from Damon’s hand and holding it up. “Scared, is he? Well, I think this lion has a few tricks up his sleeve.” He playfully swooped the lion toward the dragon, making exaggerated roaring noises that sent Damon into another fit of laughter.

“Be careful, Ser Jaime,” one of the servants murmured nervously. “He’s rather fond of winning.”

Jaime smirked, handing the wooden lion back to Damon. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

Damon beamed, clutching both figures tightly as he scampered back to his spot on the rug. Jaime straightened, his gaze drifting to Maelor. The baby let out a soft coo, his bright violet eyes—so like his mother’s—blinking curiously at the new arrival.

“He’s grown,” Jaime said, his tone lighter as he approached the wetnurse. “Already looks ready to take on the world.”

The wetnurse smiled faintly, adjusting Maelor in her arms. “He’s a strong one, my lord. Just like his brother.”

Jaime glanced back at Damon, who was now engrossed in directing a servant to stage an elaborate battle between the lion and dragon. “They’ll need to be,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

The wetnurse nodded, her expression softening. “Their mother will see to that.”

Jaime looked back at Maelor, his golden hand resting on the back of a nearby chair. “And their father,” he added, though there was a faint edge of amusement in his tone. “Tywin Lannister isn’t exactly one to raise weaklings.”

The wetnurse hesitated before replying, her voice cautious. “Lord Tywin has been… attentive. He ensures the boys want for nothing.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Attentive? That’s one way to put it. I’d wager my golden hand he’s already planning their futures down to the last detail.”

Before the wetnurse could respond, Damon bounded back over, clutching his wooden dragon. “Ser Jaime, do you have a sword?” he asked eagerly, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Jaime knelt again, ruffling the boy’s hair with his healthy hand. “I do,” he said, gesturing to the sword at his hip. “But it’s not a toy, Damon. You’ll have to wait a few more years before you’re ready to wield one.”

Damon pouted, his bottom lip jutting out. “But I want to fight dragons! Like you!”

Jaime laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Dragons, huh? I think you’ve got that backward, little lord. Dragons don’t fight dragons—they fly together.”

Damon considered this, his pout fading as his imagination took over. “Can I fly with Mother when she comes back?” he asked, his voice filled with hope.

Jaime hesitated, glancing toward Maelor and then back to Damon. “Maybe one day,” he said softly. “When you’re big enough.”

Damon’s face lit up, and he ran back to his toys, the idea of flying with his mother clearly occupying his thoughts. Jaime watched him for a moment, his smirk fading into something softer.

“They’ll have their own battles to fight,” he said quietly, addressing no one in particular. “But they’ll be strong enough.”

As the servants murmured their agreement and returned to their tasks, Jaime’s gaze lingered on his half-brothers. For all his teasing, for all the chaos surrounding their family, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of protectiveness for the two boys who bore the blood of a lion and the fire of a dragon. They would need it.

The biting wind of the Wall whipped through Castle Black’s courtyard, ruffling cloaks and sending loose snow swirling through the air. The gathered men of the Night’s Watch stood somber and uncertain as Jon Snow addressed them. His dark cloak billowed behind him, and his pale face was illuminated by the flickering torches. Beside him stood Edd Tollett, Tormund Giantsbane, Davos Seaworth, and you. Ghost stood by Jon’s side, his red eyes focused at something ahead. Melisandre lingered in the shadows, her crimson robes blending into the background as her unyielding gaze remained fixed on Jon.

Jon’s voice carried over the gathered crowd, strong and steady despite the storm of emotions behind it. “You all know what has happened,” he began, his gaze sweeping over the men who had once called him their Lord Commander. “I was killed by the very men I swore to lead. Betrayed by those I trusted.”

The men shifted uncomfortably, a murmur rippling through the crowd. Some looked ashamed, others defiant, but none dared speak.

“My watch is ended,” Jon continued, his tone firm. “I gave my life for the Night’s Watch, but now my duty lies elsewhere. The Wall still stands, and the Wildlings are safe here. But winter is coming, and so is something far worse than we’ve ever faced.”

He paused, his jaw tightening before he added, “I’m going home. I’m going to Winterfell.”

The words sent a wave of shock through the gathered men. Even Edd looked surprised, though he quickly masked it with a determined expression.

“You’re leaving?” one of the brothers asked hesitantly, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“I have to,” Jon replied, his voice unwavering. “My family needs me. Sansa… she’s in danger, and I won’t sit idly by while she suffers.”

Davos stepped forward, his gruff voice breaking the silence. “If you’re going to Winterfell, you won’t be going alone, lad. You’ll need help, and I’ll be right there with you.”

Tormund grinned, his teeth flashing in the torchlight. “Aye, me too. I owe you that much, crow. And besides, I like a good fight.”

Jon offered them both a faint smile, gratitude flickering in his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll need all the help I can get.”

Davos cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Well then, we’d best get moving. Winterfell won’t take itself back.”

Tormund laughed, clapping Jon on the shoulder. “Let’s hope the Boltons don’t run too fast. I’d hate to miss the fun.”

Jon turned back to the gathered men of the Watch. “Edd, you’re in charge here now. Keep the Wall standing and keep everyone safe.”

Edd nodded solemnly. “I’ll do my best. Try not to get yourself killed again.”

Jon managed a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Nearby, Viserion loomed like a mythical specter, her massive form coiled as she rested, the occasional puff of smoke escaping her nostrils.

You stood beside Jon, the both of you slightly apart from the others. His dark cloak was wrapped tightly around him, and his eyes held a mix of resolve and sadness. Despite the strength he exuded, you could see the boy you had raised, the boy who had looked to you for comfort and guidance, now burdened with a man’s responsibilities.

Jon broke the silence first. “I wish you could come with me,” he said softly, his voice barely audible above the hum of the courtyard.

You smiled faintly, reaching out to adjust the edge of his cloak, just as you had done countless times when he was younger. “And I wish I could, Jon. But you know I can’t.”

He nodded, his expression tightening. “I know. Damon and Maelor need you. And Tywin would probably march an army north if you stayed too long.”

A small laugh escaped you, though it was tinged with melancholy. “He probably would. And you’re right, my boys need me. But so does the North—and Sansa. She’s been through so much, Jon. More than she ever should have.”

Jon’s jaw clenched, and he looked away briefly, his eyes flickering toward the distant gate. “I failed her,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t there when she needed me.”

You placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. “You didn’t fail her. None of us could have predicted what would happen. But now you’re here, and you’re going to bring her home.”

His gaze softened as he looked at you, the weight of your words settling in. “I’ll try. For her. For all of us.”

“And you’ll succeed,” you said firmly, your voice filled with the kind of certainty only a mother could muster. “Because you’re Jon Snow. You’ve always been stronger than you think.”

Jon let out a soft breath, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “You’ve always said that.”

“Because it’s true,” you replied with a small smile. “And because you’ve always needed reminding.”

He shook his head slightly, a faint chuckle escaping him. “You sound like I’m still that boy in Winterfell, trying to keep up with Robb.”

“To me, you’ll always be that boy,” you teased lightly, though your voice carried a deep warmth. “Even if you are now a man leading men into battle.”

Jon rolled his eyes, his pale cheeks flushing slightly. “You don’t have to embarrass me in front of everyone.”

You laughed, patting his shoulder. “It’s my right as your mother, Jon.”

The affectionate term lingered between you, and for a moment, Jon’s usual stoicism faltered. His eyes shimmered with unspoken emotion, and he reached out to briefly clasp your hand. “Thank you,” he said, his voice rough. “For everything. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “And I wouldn’t be here without you. You’ve always been my strength, Jon. Remember that.”

A sharp growl from Ghost and the distant calls of Tormund interrupted the moment, reminding you both of the duties that awaited. You stepped back, composing yourself as you turned toward Viserion. The great dragon stirred, her head lifting as her golden eyes locked onto you. Smoke curled from her nostrils as she rose, her massive wings stretching out before folding neatly against her sides.

You approached her saddle, glancing back at Jon one last time. “Take care of yourself,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “And take care of Sansa. She’s going to need you more than ever.”

“I will,” Jon promised, his gaze steady. “And you take care of yourself, too. And Damon. And Maelor.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with pride and sorrow all at once. “Always.”

With practiced ease, you mounted Viserion’s saddle, the leather creaking as you settled into place. The dragon shifted beneath you, her powerful body vibrating with energy as she prepared to take flight.

Jon stepped back, his dark cloak billowing around him. “Safe travels,” he called, his voice carrying over the wind.

You nodded, gripping the reins. “And safe battles.”

Viserion let out a deafening roar, her wings unfurling as she launched herself into the air. The force of her takeoff sent snow swirling through the courtyard, and the men below shielded their faces as the dragon ascended into the sky. You glanced down, catching a final glimpse of Jon standing tall, Ghost at his side, as he watched you go.

As Viserion soared toward the horizon, her massive wings slicing through the cold northern air, you couldn’t help but glance back at Castle Black one last time. Below, Jon and his companions were preparing to leave, their path leading them toward Winterfell and the unknown battles ahead.

Your heart ached, but you held your head high. You had raised him for this moment. And now, he would make you proud.

#game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #house targaryen #house lannister #house of the dragon #hotd #got #got/asoiaf #asoiaf x reader #got tywin #tywin lannister #tywin x reader #tywin x you #tywin x y/n #legacy #x reader

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xoxoavenger · 2 days ago

Note

I just read all of your Thomas Shelby x reader and i fell in love with all of it 😍

I honestly don't have any idea or specific request for you but i will send you these GIF in hope that maybe they will spark something for you to write.

Now that i have pick these i kinda realize i want some more hurt comfort 😅

thank you so so much! I'm glad you love them. I really locked in for this to try and get an idea, so hopefully you like it!

Up The Duff

pairing: Tommy Shelby x Pregnant!Fem!Reader

word count: 2536

warnings: pregnancy, hurt w/ comfort :)

"Good of you to join us." Y/N said to Ada when she finally walked into the main room. She and Polly were having tea, gossiping about practically everyone in Birmingham.

"Where have you been all day?" Polly asked in a much flatter tone than Y/N had, looking into her tea as if she were preemptively reading the leaves through the liquid.

"In bed." Y/N raised her eyebrow while Polly picked up a news paper, sharing a look with Ada. Oh, Ada had been in bed alright; in bed with Y/N's cousin. But, Y/N was in bed with Ada's brother, so she couldn't really say anything.

She kept Ada's secret well, and for awhile, Ada kept Y/N's secret. That was, until the entire Shelby lot had walked in while Thomas had her bent over the desk, clawing at the wood like an animal.

It took quite some time for her to gather the courage to look any of the Shelby's in the eye.

"Couldn't sleep. Then I couldn't wake up. Then I was cold, and then I had to go for a wee." Ada was cutting herself some bread, and Y/N rolled her eyes as she over explained everything. "Then I was with this bear on a boat, but that was just a dream. Then I was hungry." Ada sat down across from Y/N, who sipped her tea and looked at Polly. "I've never seen you read the paper, Pol." Ada said as she put jam on her toast.

"The BSA are on strike. The miners are on strike. IRA are killing our boys, ten a day." Polly gave Ada a look, the younger girl simply licking the jam off her fingers.

"What?" Ada asked, looking between Y/N and Polly.

"Stand up," Polly told Ada, making Y/N raise an eyebrow once more.

"Why?" Ada asked, and Y/N tried to follow Polly's reasoning. She wasn't getting anywhere.

"Just stand up." Polly instructed. Y/N stood with Ada, going around the table to stand behind Polly as Ada wiped her hands. "Side on," Not even a moment later, Polly was grabbing Ada's breast, Y/N and Ada both letting out a gasp.

"What are you doing, Pol?" Y/N asked, walking up beside her. The older woman paid no mind to Y/N.

"Ada, how late are you?" Y/N's eyes widened. Was Ada pregnant?

Ada crossed and uncrossed her arms. "One week." Good, not too bad. Still a chance. "Five weeks." Ada said at the silence. Y/N looked a Polly, who was still looking at Ada. "Seven if you count weekends. I think it's a lack of iron." Ada tagged onto the end, and Y/N almost lost her breath. She knew Freddy and Ada had sex, but they weren't married, and she never thought this would have been the outcome. Polly sat down, and Ada sat next to her, causing Y/N to be on the outside behind them.

"What about those tablets?" Y/N asked, hoping to help.

"They didn't work, did they?" Polly asked, a sympathetic look on her face.

"No," Ada shook her head, and Y/N sighed. "I blame Y/N for my lack of notice. We're synced, and she hasn't asked for anything in two months, at least." It was quiet in the room as they all realized what Ada was saying.

"What? I just started buying my own." She lied, crossing her arms.

"No," Polly said, looking Y/N up and down. "Not both of you. Not two Shelby's." She begged, making the sign of the cross.

"I'm not a Shelby." Y/N informed Polly, as if she hadn't already known.

"You might as fuckin' well be!" She yelled out, making Y/N look around.

"I am not pregnant!" She yelled, taking a deep breath and calming herself down as Ada and Polly stared. She looked around, glad all the men were out. "I am not pregnant." She walked around the table and sat at the space across from the Shelbys.

"At least I've come to terms with it." Ada muttered, making Y/N scoff.

"We might not be pregnant. Just," She paused as she tried to think of a reason why her and Ada would be almost two months late.

"That's it," Polly hit the table, even though no one was talking.

"What's it?" Thomas asked as he walked in. Y/N's heart basically stopped beating for a moment, and she swore she was going to throw up.

"Y/N just came up with a new idea for jam." Ada covered, reaching over Polly to grab her toast. "Nothing special."

"Right." Thomas paused, turning to Y/N and nodding. She nodded back, giving a small smile to him. "I just came to pick up Y/N so she could get ready for our date tonight." Thomas walked over to Y/N, grabbing her hand and helping her up. His hand then went to the small of her back, and she smiled up at him.

"Oh, but she just agreed to go out with us." Polly feigned sadness, and Y/N raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, we were going to go to the new pub." Ada added, causing Y/N to squint. She didn't make any plans, and they had no reason to go out tonight.

"Oh?" Thomas questioned, and Y/N licked her lips.

"Uh, yeah," She wasn't sure the reason Polly and Ada wanted to go out, but she could guess that it had to do with their recent discoveries. "Sorry. I forgot we were going out." She bluffed, looking up again at Thomas. He cocked his head slightly, looking down at her.

Oh shit. He has to know.

"Right," Thomas looked at his family then, putting his free hand in his pocket. "Well, in that case, I will just be stealing her for the afternoon." He began to usher Y/N out, the two barely able to utter goodbye at Thomas' pace.

"Tommy, slow down!" Y/N said, tripping over her heels as they stepped out the door. He caught her, continuing all the way to the car. He helped her in as fast as he possibly could, practically pushing her across to the passenger side. "What was all that?" She asked as Thomas started the car.

"I think I should be asking you the same question." He responded, pulling into the street and driving down the road to her apartment.

"Why?" She asked, leaning against the door as she looked at Thomas. His side profile was something she could admire on a daily basis, and today was no exception.

"What was Polly talking about when I came in?" He cut straight to the chase, and she licked her lips as she shifted to face the windshield.

"The jam?" Y/N questioned, trying to stall.

"I'm not buying that shit." Thomas told her, glancing at her quickly before looking back at the road. "Just tell me what you were really talking about." He put a hand on her thigh, making her insides heat up. She forgot what they were talking about for a moment until Thomas hummed in question.

"It really was jam." She said innocently, nodding as if he were watching.

"Right," Thomas nodded, licking his lips and clearing his throat. "And this jam, what's the idea?" He questioned, still not moving his hand.

"The idea?" Y/N repeated, trying to think of something, anything, to tell Thomas.

"Yes, that's what I said." He told her, turning onto her street.

"Of course," She looked out the window; she didn't know the first thing about jams.

"Do you even know the ingredients to make jam?" Thomas asked, causing Y/N to scoff.

"Why would I have an idea for jams if I didn't know the ingredients?" Yes, this was good. She was getting him off topic.

"That's what I'm asking." He told her, not even seeming angry as he pulled up outside her building. She hopped out and met him on the other side, letting him hold her hand and lead them into the building.

"D'you want some tea?" Y/N asked as she opened the door to her apartment.

"Ah, best not. Where did Pol say you girls were going tonight?" Thomas asked, taking his hat off as he entered her small room.

"Oh, ya know, out and about." She said, pouring some water into the kettle to heat it, even though Thomas had said he didn't want any tea. She had forgotten the lie that Polly had made up already, and it made her heart sink.

"Ah, the Garrison?" He asked, taking a cigarette out and putting it in his mouth. Y/N turned, trying not to let her eyes widen.

"Could you not smoke in here, Tommy? It's a small room." She requested, walking up and taking the cigarette out of his mouth, replacing it with her own lips. He responded in kind, hands traveling to her side.

"What's really going on?" Thomas asked as they parted, causing Y/N's brain to come back much faster than she would have liked.

"What do you mean?" She whispered against his lips, trying to distract him again. Thomas was unfortunately strong willed, and he stepped back slightly.

"Come on, love. I know you don't make jam, and I know you and Ada and Pol aren't going to a pub tonight. Why're you lying to me?" He looked genuinely upset, and Y/N took a deep breath, turning back to the kettle as it whistled. As she was pouring the water, he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her cheek and pressing his face close to hers.

"Tommy," She whispered, tears in her eyes. "Tommy, I'm late." She muttered, letting a tear fall from her eye as she put the kettle down.

"Late?" He asked, and Y/N could tell he didn't understand because he hadn't tightened his arms or moved away.

"Yes," She said, not able to explain further.

"For," Thomas led off, leaning into her more causing her to spill some of her tea on herself. She hissed as she put it down, taking a deep breath.

"Tommy," She turned to him, looking up and watching his face fall as he realized she was crying.

"You're late," He said in understanding, taking a deep breath. She nodded, more tears falling down her face.

"We're going somewhere tonight," She told him, not able to look at him. "To confirm it." She kept Ada's secret, knowing that eventually Thomas would figure it out and it wasn't her place to tell him.

"I see," Thomas let go of her and walked backward running his hands over his face as he looked out the window. He licked his lips, rubbing his hands together. "How, um, how long?" He asked, finally looking at her.

"I wasn't keeping track, but, um, probably two months. Maybe 3." Her voice got quieter as she said the last part, and Thomas just nodded, looking back out the window. He then grabbed his hat and wordlessly walked out of the apartment, leaving Y/N in shock. She fell softly to the the floor then, staying there until Ada and Polly came to pick her up.

Tommy wasn't sure what to do.

He was feeling a lot of emotions, and his heart hadn't stopped beating out of his chest for thirty minutes. He sat on his bed, his door locked, with his hands over his face as he tried to breathe. He didn't want to leave Y/N, but he didn't want to freak out in front of her either.

How could he be a father? He knew Y/N would be a good mother, but he wasn't so sure about himself. What if he fucked up this kid? He would never be able to live with himself. And his work wasn't the greatest; he wasn't sure if he would ever get to the point where kids would be a good option.

And God, Y/N. His sweet girl. It was his fault that she would go through this, that she would have to birth a child. Was she ready for it?

He should have stayed and talked with her, he realized suddenly. He ran down the stairs and back to his car, speeding to get to Y/N's. But by the time he had got to her apartment, banging on the door and begging her to let him in, he realized she had already left to go out with Polly and Ada. And he doubted they were going to a pub.

Shit.

He waited outside the door, sitting in the hallway and watching multiple people walk by before Y/N finally showed up, face free of any makeup and eyes swollen, probably from crying.

"Tommy?" He had his head down against his knees, and he jerked up at the sound of her voice. He took her in, wondering if she was angry at him for leaving, before hopping up.

"I am so, so sorry," He whispers, not sure what else to say.

"Let's go inside." She offers, unlocking the door before walking in. She'll definitely have to move in with him, because he doesn't like how there's only one lock separating her from someone that may want to hurt her in order to get to him. Just the thought makes him sick, and he locks the door as soon as he closes it. It's quiet as they both try to figure out what to say, neither of them looking at each other.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, putting his hands on his hips and then quickly crossing his arms instead.

"What?" She questions, not sure what Thomas was asking. She wasn't expecting that to come out of his mouth, especially after he stormed out.

"When you first had the idea that you were pregnant, why didn't you come to me?" He seems so hurt, so upset, and that makes Y/N even more sad. She looks away.

"I didn't know what you would do," She tells him, tears running down her face. She looks at the floor, rambling. "We're not married, and I know you're trying to build your business and I just-"

"Do you want to be?" He cut her off, stepping closer to her.

"Want to be what?" She asked, too caught up in her worries to understand what he was asking.

"Married." He told her, completely confident. She blinked at him, not sure if he was being serious or if he was drunk.

"Is that how you're asking?" She questioned, crossing her arms and smiling slightly.

"If that's what you want," Thomas told her, grabbing her left hand and getting down on one knee. "I would be honored to be your husband." Y/N took a deep breath, trying to think about her answer.

"Are you only asking me because I might be pregnant?" She muttered, tears falling fast out of her eyes. She wanted to marry Thomas, but she didn't want him to marry her just because she was pregnant. "Because you don't have to do that," She sniffles.

"I wouldn't." He tells her, shaking his head as he puts his other knee down. He pulls her in by the waist, and she lets herself be tugged toward him, her stomach reaching his face. She cards a hand through his hair, smiling slightly.

"We'll be okay." She whispers, smiling as Thomas looks up at her. He stands, wiping her tears and pulling her in for a kiss.

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @jbrownta

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine

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everythingseasoning · 2 days ago

Text

Love, forever? (Updated Masterlist moved here)

vampire! suguru x reader x vampire! Satoru

vampire! Suguru x reader. includes: Morality, and selfishness vs selflessness themes. // Vampire! Suguru and Satoru, who are vampire hunters that protect humans from evil ones. // Blooming rivalry between Satoru & reader for Suguru’s attention. // AU characters. Satoru is clingier and more emotional than his canon self. Suguru despises the strong (vampires) for hurting the weak (humans). // New vampire lore ;). // Angst. Suguru battling his inner demons, trying to do good despite his vampire nature and urges. // Reader has multiple targets on her back (Naoya appearance!) // Both Suguru and Satoru fall for reader. // Eventual smut in later chapters. //

Ch. 01 Teaser // NOTE: if you saw the teaser already, I’ve edited it a lot and added in more juicy dialogue & scenes ;) feel free to read it again, I recommend that.

The drink is nothing short of young and dumb, the blend of tooth-rottingly sweet flavors hitting your taste buds as you stare holes into Suguru’s back. You can see the sculpture of his muscles and beautiful bones through his tight tee, your ex’s sculpted body turned away from you. He’s speaking to a girl you had heard about— the life of all parties, pretty, smart, and fun. Was he moving on already? Did you really mean so little to him? Would she be the one to make him stay?

You take another swig from the plastic blue cup, hoping the painful twisting motion of your heart would be soon dulled. Coca Cola, sherbet, and yakult alcohol would be your poison of the night, you think, swallowing down the concoction as tears prick your eyes.

“Another one of those people who drinks their troubles away?”

The voice amidst the bass and booming music causes you to turn, your eyes meeting striking blue ones. Snowy hair rests soft and thick on his head, your heart skipping a beat when you see such a beautiful stranger.

If you were being honest, you weren’t in the mood to talk to somebody else— not when your heart was still tied right onto Suguru’s. You love Suguru, you really do. The recent past haunts your every waking moment. And even in your dreams, he’s there, chuckling as you braid his hair, the nonfiction book he’s been reading facedown in his lap as your fingers thread his silky locks; He’s watching you with a fond smile as you run ahead of him in the campus garden, jumping amongst the flowers; The warmth and sturdiness of his hands against your face as the two of you kiss— his soft, supple lips meeting yours in that familiar dance and tangle. In your dreams he’s still yours. You both made up. In your dreams, things are warm and right.

When you wake up in an empty bed, with an aching heart, it just feels cruel. The light slipped away again. You thought you had it. You had your dream come true only to realize it was just that— a fleeting dream. There’s no respite from the memory of all his adoration, thoughtful gestures, all the times you’d stare mesmerized as he sat focused, his eyebrows pinched as he worked… The way he felt when you were wrapped in his embrace, your face buried in his sturdy chest— that feeling of being cared for—

You missed him bad, with every fiber of your being.

Suguru is still all you can think about. You’re at this damned college party because, even a month after he’d broken up with you, all you wanted was to be close to him, to see him. It’s pathetic. Knowing he’d be here, knowing you’d be tearing your heart open again, the wound freshly cut back open— and you still came here. How many times had you stalked his social media despite having been removed from his following?

“Cat got your tongue?” The beautiful stranger breaks you out of your thoughts, forcing a reply.

“No—” you start to say, raising your voice. It’s just barely audible over the clamor of the party.

“Really?” He butts in, raising an eyebrow. “‘Cause it seems like there’s some hard evidence against your statement.” His small smile is as unconventional as it is disarming.

“And you are?”

“Satoru Gojo, if you haven’t heard about me already. I go to a different university. A better one.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “And why would I know of you?”

Satoru just tilts his head ever so slightly, his smile unwavering as he replies, “Your head is under a rock, is what I heard you say.”

Confusion flits across your face before your mouth falls open slightly, a feigned look of offense stretched on your features. You feel like ignoring this pesky person. You glance away for a second, in search of Suguru’s back— the spot he’d been standing in holds a different person, somebody you don’t know, somebody you’re not at all interested in. You frown, scanning the crowd.

Satoru waves a hand in front of your face. You look up at him, annoyed.

“Why are you talking to me?”

“What? Need a reason to talk to a pretty girl?”

“That’s an overused line,” You shout back, the music so loud you can barely hear yourself. Your attention shifts away from the snowy haired man back to the sea of party goers. You desperately search the throng of buzzing chaos. No sign of Suguru. Just dancing, mingling, kissing, drinking, the typical activities going on under the strobe lights. Fuck.

Suguru, where did you go? Please… Your heart feels like it’s a rock in your stomach. Please don’t tell me you’re fucking her right now in somebody’s bedroom. It’s not my business— but I can’t stand the thought of it—

Satoru chuckles, and you look back at him, unable to hide your expression of pain. You’re about to excuse yourself to find a bathroom to cry in, when he speaks again.

“You’re right. How should I flirt, hm? Wanna coach me? It’ll lift your blues, too,” His smirk would’ve had you folding had you not ever met Suguru. But you did cross paths with the raven-haired man— collided and intertwined, more like— and now nobody compares to him. Nobody would ever be him.

“Not really. Excuse me,” you begin to say, before turning slightly, about to slip away—

“Suguru is my best friend,” he says.

You freeze, whipping around now to face Satoru.

“He told me about you— first time he ever told me about anyone, actually. Suguru said you were somebody he actually loved.” Satoru’s cheeky expression has been wiped off, replaced with one of aloof nonchalance and detachment. It’s almost eerie, but your focus isn’t on that.

You’re at a loss for words, eyes caught on Satoru’s, hanging onto everything he says like maybe, just maybe, it means that Suguru wants you back.

“He’s had his fair share of flings and hookups, after all.” Satoru teases, smirking again, bending down to your level.

“I thought I was losing my best friend to a weakling.” His breath is surprisingly chilly against your face. “Turns out you were never the one. Sucks that you couldn’t make him stay.” You feel everything shatter. “Sucks for you, I mean,” Satoru finishes. He leaves out the part where he gloats about being the one Suguru has always admired, and stuck with.

You’re shocked, mouth hanging open. You’re hurt. You’re aching in confusion about what wasn’t good enough about you. You’re angry and betrayed— all the feelings clash like giant waves crashing against one another inside your heart.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Satoru grins, shrugging. “It means what it means. But I’m curious,” he says, leaning closer, his pearly teeth glinting red under the strobe lights, “What is it about you that had Suguru caught up on ya?” His lips graze your cheek, his voice in your ear, “I don’t get it.”

You slap him before you can realize what you’re doing. Violence is not the answer, but this time, it sure as hell felt like it. Your fingers sting, your panicked thoughts a running train. Did I just? Oh my god! I didn’t— I fucking did—

“I— I’m sorry—” you stammer quickly, eyes wide in shock at your own actions. Satoru is eerily emotionless, staring down at you with those startling ocean eyes. You shiver despite the heat of the stuffy, overcrowded room.

“Hm.”

It’s all he says. You open your mouth to speak again, blinking—

And he’s gone.

— — —

A swig of the liquor causes the liquid to slosh in the green bottle.

“Thought you liked shy girls, Suguru?” Satoru pokes, a red handprint on his cheek. He’s kicked back on the couch outside the bathroom, grimacing when the alcohol hits his tongue. He’s spitting it out back into the bottle immediately.

“I do,” Suguru replies calmly, a streak of lovely bare skin showing amidst the shaving cream on his face. He runs the razor back down, taking off more of the fluffy white foam.

“Yeesh. Can’t believe we used to drink this shit,” Satoru sticks his tongue on dramatically, tossing the full glass of alcohol across the room. It lands right in the trash bin with a clang. “That’s where it belongs,” he huffs.

“So?” Satoru prompts, kicking his feet up. “You realize she doesn’t fit your ideal type, right? Why’d you get with her for a whole year, then?”

“She was shy at first,” Suguru says softly, a glint of something like pain in his eyes. He catches Satoru’s gaze on him in the mirror and the glint disappears. Satoru notices, but says nothing, now peeling open a candy from its foil wrapper.

“And I told you already, Satoru,” Suguru continues, sparing his friend an exasperated glance. “I love—d her.” A blip. A mistake so quickly covered that if it was anyone but Satoru, they’d have missed it.

Blue eyes pierce Suguru.

“But it wasn’t going to work out. Love isn’t meant for us. You and I… We’re not meant to be with humans,” Suguru murmurs, looking at his face in the mirror. It was myth that vampires didn’t have reflections. They do. But there’s something the myths forgot. Some sort of change is written in a vampire’s eyes. There always has been, and always will be, some sort of difference from a person’s antecedent human form, and their new, evolved one, hidden in their eyes after they turn. Suguru touches his eyebags, dark and heavy.

That’s not what changed. No. His warm, earthy brown eyes had turned purple the night Satoru turned him. He woke up with them, the day after everything changed.

Suguru’s tired reflection stares back at him, rich amethyst irises shining like glossy, sharp stars in the mirror. He wishes he didn’t recognize them. Now he’s stuck dealing with people commenting on his “cool contacts,” for the rest of eternity. Suguru exhales deeply, softly, his still, dead heart aching.

“Being undead with a vital thirst for human blood will do that,” Satoru ho-hums, blissfully unaware of the insensitive nature of his obliviousness.

Suguru is silent, continuing to shave, but the blade knicks his skin. He curses quietly.

“So,” Satoru grunts with chocolate melting on his tongue, grateful that at least his cravings and delight in sweets didn’t change when they turned, “You don’t trust yourself to be around her without hurting her. But you were doing well for a year. What do you say changed?”

Suguru dabs at the blood dripping down his otherwise unmarked face. It would heal, his skin would be perfectly smooth again in a day, not a trace of his mistake, or scar, would remain. All wounds heal within 24 hours for vampires. It’s something Suguru was grateful for, considering his job of being a vampire slayer.

“My urges got insatiable. Blood bags weren’t enough,” Suguru says curtly. Despite the battle of breaking up with you being long over, Suguru’s mind is a war zone. I couldn’t even look at her… without… needing to taste her blood. His fists clench on the marble sink. It got bad. I almost hurt her.

Satoru stares at his best friend, knowing that in this silence, his mind is a maelstrom. Suguru sees Satoru’s unflinching gaze, but remains quiet. He knows his friend won’t understand.

But Satoru presses on anyway, nodding, looking bored.

“Right. You can’t suppress your urges right now. That happened to me too. The second year is the hardest.” Satoru was the one who turned Suguru, after all, on that unwelcomed, fateful night. “It helps when you just feed on multiple pretty girls a night and compel them all to forget— You could’ve had both, you know. Her and human blood from others. You’re so mopey now.” Satoru’s callous remark piques Suguru’s irritation, a flame of anger burning in the raven-haired man’s chest.

“I won’t do that and be in a relationship.”

“I saw you feeding on that random chick an hour ago. If you and I didn’t always ask for consent before feeding, I’d never have believed she would be okay with that,” Satoru’s eyes gleam playfully. Suguru doesn’t reply, and Satoru deflates.

“You’re still grumpy. You move around like you’re actually dead, Suguru. You torture yourself by still caring about your ex. She’s nothing special. I don’t get it.”

Ah. The truth comes out. Suguru’s eyebrows knit, his mouth pressed into a firm line as something dark flickers in his eyes.

“Satoru, she has a name, and she’s worth something even if you can’t see it. Just shut up.”

“And what worth do you see in her?”

Suguru is silent for a moment. How could he convey the light and warmth that you were in his life? He’d died twice, once literally, once figuratively, and yet— you brought him back. “…She’s… good.”

“And?”

Suguru’s temper flares. “You just don’t get it, so will you just leave it?” He snarls, fangs involuntarily popping out. He curses silently in disgust at what he has become.

“You’re such a grouch nowadays,” Satoru huffs, before popping another chocolate into his mouth. He gets up, stretching.

“Well. I need to feed again.”

“Be safe about it. And I’m not referring to your safety,” Suguru says sternly, his whole head turned to look at Satoru now, some white foam still on the man’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, mom, I got it.” With that, Satoru pulls his black coat over his lean, muscled body, a wolfish grin on his face as he slips out the apartment door. Did he need the black coat? No. Not at all. Vampires don’t get cold. They’re already icy to the touch. But it helps him blend in, both with humans and the night.

— — —

You’re intoxicated. It’s two AM and you’re stumbling around campus like a fucking idiot.

Well how about that? Satoru spies you from across the quad, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated.

He slips through the shadows.

You nearly jump when a tall, dark figure appears before you, looming over you.

Snowy hair shines in the lamplight, blue eyes flashing like glaciers, staring right at you. You swear they flash red for a second.

“You again?” You slur your words. You aren’t scared. He’s Suguru’s best friend, which means he by extension must be a good guy. Almost as if he hears your thoughts, Satoru grins. His teeth are brilliant, his canines shining ivory and glistening like expensive accessory jewels.

Do not plagiarize my writing in any way. Do not feed my writing to ai.

Comment to be on the taglist :)! Sharing your thoughts are appreciated!!!

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lost-in-fandoms · 2 days ago

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Winter Warmers Day 8: Holiday baking. Maxiel. About 1.1k words.

When Max asks Daniel if he wants to go with him to walk his mother's dogs, Daniel refuses. He is curled up in an armchair, a blanket in his lap, chatting with Victoria, and he's way too comfortable and warm to think about going out in the cold.

It's not snowing, not really, but the ground is frozen, and there's a humid chill in the air that digs its cold fingers into Daniel's bones as soon as he dares stepping foot outside.

Max just shrugs, not pushing for it, bends down to kiss Daniel and goes to put on his shoes. Daniel does his very best to ignore Victoria's teasing smile and his own pink cheeks.

It's not that Max is not affectionate, or that he doesn't love kissing Daniel at any given opportunity, it's just that usually they can't do it in public. Even if Max wasn't such a private person, they wouldn't want to deal with the shit storm it would cause to be papped kissing, and even when they are in friends' company they keep it very PG, brushing hands and bumping hips.

But it's clear that Max feels safe here, comfortable and happy in a way Daniel rarely sees him outside of their own home, so he apparently has no problem with PDA in front of his mother.

Daniel loves it for him, really, he would love Max to always be this open, but he also wants to disappear under the blanket when both women look at him with matching grins and he has to try really hard to pretend nothing has just happened.

He slightly regrets not accepting Max's invite when a few minutes later Sophie gets up, looking at the clock on the wall.

"I will go make cookies, for when the boys wake up," she says, her accent curling around the words. Then she points at Daniel, "you will come help me?"

And what can Daniel do, if not get up too?

He doesn't want to offend her, or to get on her bad side, if Sophie even has a bad side, especially not when it's the first time they spend Christmas together, so he follows her to the kitchen, dutifully washing his hands.

"I am not much of a baker," he warns her, accepting the light blue apron she hands him, hoping Max's walk will be long enough to allow him to take it off before he's back.

"Just sit, do what I say," Sophie says, shrugging in a very similar motion to her son, before starting to take out ingredients.

Daniel gets tasked with whisking the butter and sugar, as Sophie melts butter and chocolate on the stove. It's peaceful, despite it being an arm workout, and it reminds him a little of helping his own mom when he was little, sneaking bites of whatever she was cooking when she pretended to look the other way.

"He's a sweet boy."

Daniel jumps a little in surprise at Sophie's voice, turning his head to look at her, still fully focused on the chocolate.

"He is," he says carefully, not really knowing where she is going with it.

"Keep whisking," she reminds him, pointing him back to his task. "He loves you very much."

Daniel wonders if this is what Dutch shovel talk feels like. And also wonders why it wouldn't have come a couple years ago, when Max had told her about their relationship.

"I love him too," he replies, still confused but truthful.

Sophie leaves the chocolate to hand Daniel two eggs.

"Those go in," she tells him, grabbing a second bowl to start weighting the dry ingredients.

Daniel luckily doesn't get any shell in, gives himself a second to feel very proud about it, and then goes back to whisking.

"Do you want to marry him?"

Daniel chokes on his spit. He looks up sharply to find Sophie hiding a smile behind her hand, and to hear Victoria giggle in the other room, clearly listening in.

"I..we...yes? We haven't really talked about it," he stammers.

It's not lack of commitment. Daniel knows Max is it for him, he knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with him, but marriage? A wedding seems very complicated to plan, and very tiring to go through with, and he's pretty sure both their families would kill them if they eloped.

"You should," Sophie tells him, taking the now melted chocolate off the stove, drying the condensation at the bottom of the bowl with a tea towel.

"He is..." she pauses, methodically sifting the flour. "complicated. About marriage. He thinks he ruined mine."

Daniel nods, looking down at the light yellow contents of his own bowl.

"It is of course nonsense, Jos and I broke it ourselves, but he is very stubborn."

"He got that from you, mama," Victoria says, sliding into the kitchen and sitting down on one of the free chairs, apparently done with pretending she's not listening in.

Sophie smiles at her, unapologetic.

"He loved my wedding," Victoria adds, turning towards Daniel, "and he loves love. He's a romantic, deep down. But he worries."

"I don't need to marry him to never leave him," Daniel says, a bit defensive.

Both women smile at him, Victoria bright and knowing, like he just won something, and Sophie soft and sweet, reaching out to gently pat Daniel's hand.

"You should tell him that," Victoria tells him, making Daniel frown. He's pretty sure Max knows how much Daniel loves him, how much he wants their futures to be together.

"He worries," Sophie says, echoing Victoria's words. "He worries that marriage will ruin you, and that not being married will also do it."

"He's very stupid."

Daniel snorts at Victoria's words, and Sophie frowns at them both, shaking her head. Then she takes Daniel's bowl and starts slowly combining the ingredients.

"He is a very smart boy," she defends, folding the chocolate in, "but he can be very stupid."

Daniel laughs again, and this time Victoria joins him, leaning forward on the table, body folding with it just like Max's.

"I'll tell him," Daniel promises once he's serious again, feeling like he has just done something very right when Sophie just nods at him, offering him a ice cream scoop.

"Do the cookies, I will do the dishes," she tells him.

Victoria steals the bowl where the melted chocolate had been, earning herself another eye roll from Sophie, and Daniel dutifully starts scooping the batter into neat little rows on the baking sheet.

When Max comes home, cheeks red from the cold, Victoria is upstairs, waking the boys from their nap, the house smells like chocolate, and Daniel is waiting for him in the kitchen, ready to be teased about the apron he's still wearing.

#maxiel #my writing #winter warmers 2024 #it was supposed to go in a slightly different direction but then sophie took over so...yeah #the cookies are real btw brownie cookies are the best

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whalesforhands · 23 hours ago

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what’s yours is mine (12/?)

previous masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse AU)

“The plan goes this way—“ Suguru’s finger taps against the wrapping paper upon your brand new desk, smoothing against the surface Mama had skillfully wrapped over it to somehow, in her own words;

“Makes the surface last longer.”

(You kinda get it. It keeps it looking ‘new’, you know? Who doesn’t like new things?

Wait— You think you were supposed to be listening.)

Your shoulder brushes against Geto’s as you stare on thoughtfully, even when pressed this close against him, even when repeating his words over and over again inside your little head and even as your heart starts beating a little too fast for your own liking.

(Getting nerves right before the start of this impromptu mission is never good. Being afraid is never good.)

“Are you okay?”

You snap out momentarily to hear a voice close to your ear, his breath cool from the melting bowl of ice cream nearby as his fingers graze over your own, purple eyes alight with a gentle worry.

“I-“ You don’t really know. “I’m good.”

Just nervous, you guess. He needs to continue talking so that you have this plan memorized to a T. Needs to keep talking so that your brain stops running all over the place.

“Say something if you get lost, okay?”

If. If? If… So many ‘ifs’ could happen. Too many for you to relax, too many for you to panic about and far too much for you to suck it up and go in blind.

“Since Mijou-san’s home isn’t too far from where Satoru and I will be hiding, we should be able to keep track of you even when you’re inside.” A finger points at the crudely drawn image of a girl, her home an even more scrawled out looking box with purple crayon streaks jutting out to represent the cursed energy activity.

“And then all ya gotta do is get in there and exorcise it!” A snowy head pokes itself inbetween the shoulders that were pressed against each other, his chin settling on them as you hear Suguru click his tongue just as an arm winds around your own.

“It’ll be,” His hand slams confidently down against the table, shaking it with its sheer triumph. “Your 1st ever unofficial mission!”

(You can even see the small fangs peeking out whenever he grins. Looks like being an Alpha didn’t come with accelerated puberty, even if he was the Gojo Satoru.

You’re happy he at least remains cute. At least that’s not an ‘if’.)

“Shouldn’t we be— Um, telling Kimiko-san?” Because she is literally the only trusted adult you know who will actually make sense of the Jujutsu system and… Exorcism.

(You’re not nervous, you swear you’re not.)

Suguru perks up. “I did think about it and— Mmf!“

“Nope!” Gojo Satoru even leans into you, his hand pressed backwards and muffling poor Suguru’s face as Satoru’s nose nearly brushing against your own from his close proximity. “Suguru’s last plan sucks!”

He stares you down with those far too familiar, far too unblinking eyes of his. “I scoped out the area after ya told me about it, and the cursed energy was like—“

His index and thumb squish together, leaving a minuscule space barely even caught by your now squinted eyes, before it teasingly reaches out to tap against your nose.

“Satoru, if you would just let me talk, you dam—“

“Thissss much! So y’er good cause it’s obviously small fry anyway!” Because no way will the likes of that annoying girl have any sort of major curse.

You stare into his eyes. Blink once, twice. Maybe thrice. And maybe, it’s the way Gojo Satoru looked so excitable, looked so confident that has you tottering over your mind.

(Because you don’t really think you believe in yourself.)

“But…” You take another breath in as you pat his cheek. “What if I fail?”

Like that time with that quiz you thought you would pass; studying all night only to barely even be able to understand next day’s questions. Or maybe even that time where you thought playing volleyball was going to be a piece of cake—

“Pahh! That second time was cause ya weren’t good enou—“

Before a fist unceremoniously lands upon your cute friend’s head, bonking him and making his knees buckle and crash to the soft carpeted ground of your living room.

“Ow!” It didn’t exactly do much damage. “What gives, dummy?! Ya didn’t have to hit so hard!”

“You need to stop watching your words, Satoru.” Suguru’s brows are furrowed and irritated, eyes narrowed and turned into a glare. “I told you so many times.”

“What?! (name) doesn’t mind!” And he’s grappling onto your legs from the floor, his arms wrapped around them in a hug as you nearly stumble— Barely catching yourself by using his fluffy head of hair for balance.

You think you can hear them arguing. Think you can feel your heart racing as you stare into space. And definitely think you might have a chance to finish up the remaining ice cream since they’re so preoccupied with arguing.

You hope it goes exactly as planned.

——

“Oh… It’s just you?” Mijou Kana looks almost disappointed when you arrive at her gate, dressed in your most formal-casual-smart-appropriately cute outfit that you had mulled over for far too long before arriving here.

Who doesn’t want to make a good impression? Especially when you’re at another person’s house for the very first time.

“Why’re ya even takin’ so long to decide?” Gojo Satoru is thoroughly unamused as you comb through the clothes in your closet, his feet kicked up in the air as he lays on your hastily rolled out futon, his hair slightly damp from taking a shower and his eyes glaring at your form.

(You’re starting to think he’s treating your home as his own now.)

“Ya don’t even dress up ta see me or Suguru.” He’s frowning, pouting and every word that can describe his face in one emotion; Annoyed.

(You’ve seen how many ‘guests’ have hurriedly patted down their hair, dusted off their expensive clothes and powder their noses with exquisite looking makeup on the rare occasion that you visit the Gojo household.

He turned them all away anyway. That must mean that Satoru prefers casual clothing more than anything, right? You’ll make sure to try to whisper it to one of them next time.)

“Because you already like me, right?” You don’t need to impress him, you think. It’s said soft enough to carry over to his ears, in a tone so delicate and sweet—

All because that was how you always talked to him.

So you turn, a plain looking shirt in your hands as you show it off to him. This should be considered ‘nice’ to him, right? It isn’t exactly what you had in mind, but having his approval would definitely help build confidence.

“What about this one—“

You can’t see him. Not when he has already hurriedly pulled your soft blankets over his head, your eyes catching a glimpse of red just before he had fully taken refuge inside as it twitches.

Looks like you won’t be getting an answer.

“You tried inviting the others, right?” She’s slightly pensive, a bit rushed in her words; and definitely looked agitated. Like she was expecting more of you, like you disappointed her.

(Technically, they are here. Not so far away and watching you intently.)

“Mhm. Satoru had…” You take a deep breath in. “A violin… Competition. Shoko didn’t feel like coming and Suguru hates yo— Going into new neighborhoods because his mother thinks they’re bad luck.”

(Lying isn’t exactly your strongest forte.)

“Oh.” Her eyes look off into the side, briefly flashing onto the ground and back onto you. Even as her gaze pinned onto you— It didn’t feel like she was quite looking at you at all. “I see.”

Mijou Kana was always quite the strange girl to you. Always so friendly, so generous with her smiles… Yet she always feels so far away. You never really could tell what she was thinking about.

Do you regard her as a friend? No— Not really.

Do you think she’s a nice girl? Definitely.

Do you want to help her with the curse? Yes. Of course.

(That’s why you’re here, aren’t you?)

The outside of her kind of big home is nice, you think. All pretty and tidy and new looking, metal fences coated with a perfect shine, the paint on the house perfect— Not at all chipping. So picturesque, so pretty.

What a nice place she lives in.

But the inside was plainer, more rough. As if all the budget had gone into maintaining the outward appearance of this mini mansion— And totally foregoing the interior.

(Not exactly cozy, but it’s still very nice. Satoru would probably call this poverty, though.)

“Kana.” Her tone is rough when it calls for Mijou’s first name, throaty and coughed out as if it was raw and hoarse. As if she had had something terrible for her voice not too long ago—

“Who is that?”

(Cigarettes smell bad. Your Papa smells like this too.)

“M-Mother, I told you we had a guest today…” You hear something clink as the woman stumbles over herself, the neck of a bottle clenched tightly in her hand— As it clangs against the wall, just shy of breaking as you blink in confusion.

(Certainly. This isn’t right etiquette for having guests over, you’re pretty sure. Saya-chan would rank this pretty high on an ‘inappropriate’ tier list.)

It doesn’t shatter, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. No, not at all. Past the bottles of empty wine bottles and aluminum beer cans, past the shadowy interior and dimly lit hallways—

Cursed energy pools.

“I made a friend, Mother. Just like you asked—“ She drags you closer, pulling you by the sleeve and presenting you, yet her body was positioned behind— And almost as if she was using you as a physical shield.

You felt it before you even saw it. You’re no Gojo Satoru, not even a lick close to the amount of sheer talent Geto Suguru has— But Satoru was right about the amount.

(Maybe only a little bit off? It feels like it’s increasing.)

You blink. Your fingers twitch and your heart quivers. That’s a human, right? Mijou Kana was confirmed to be unable to see them, unable to wield cursed energy. So—

What exactly are you looking at right now?

No curse, no grotesque creature slithering around her mother, no looming shadow on the ground the hovered near.

No physical form.

Therefore, it was not something you can exorcise— Not without getting rid of the source. Not without harming the humans you were meant to protect.

Because it was simply… Her. Dark energy emanates from the woman herself, brimming and overflowing as you take in her drunken and haggard appearance.

(You can’t even see her face anymore— So darkened by her own aura that it hid her human form.)

It’s scary. Daunting. Heavy. It makes you feel helpless, makes you feel scared.

You know how curses are made. Stemming from the negative emotions of humans, taking form from the accumulation of hate, of regret and disgust and animosity.

Curses are the bad ones. Curses are the ones that bring humans sadness and grief.

(So getting rid of the Curses means helping the Humans, right?)

“But she’s not any of the ones I told you about, right?” She looks annoyed, gruff and— Scary. So overcome by the shadows of her cursed energy as it swallows her and makes your eyes swirl. “So uneducated that she can’t even greet me properly.”

(How exactly do you exorcise this?)

“N-no, but she’s—“

“Tell your little,” Her stare pins onto you, lips curled into a sneer that you can’t see as if to mock your very existence. “Friend to prattle along if they’re already done.” Her stance was clumsy and sloppy, as if her feet were walking in the same direction— At the same time.

“We don’t need other poor vermin in this house.” It’s spat out. So vile, mean, rude and goes against everything that you thought mothers were.

She’s so cruel.

She stumbles again, her arm gruffly pushing past your shoulder as your own cursed energy responds in tandem, sparking against the area she had brushed just as she yells—

Skin on skin contact. Trying to exorcise her energy… Would just harm her.

“Fuck!” And she shoots her eyes towards you, glaring deeply as she loses her grip on the glass bottle. “Fucking brats…”

It shatters, yet she pays no attention— Stumbling up the stairs and off to her bedroom.

“Make sure to clean that up, Kana!”

“…yes, Mother.” She’s despondent, staring at her feet and the worn out rug beneath her— Trailing slightly to the broken pieces of glass that she is now responsible for as you spot her hands unclench and her shoulders sagging downwards.

“I guess you weren’t enough at all.” It’s muttered quietly, said so softly that you barely even catch it.

(Oh. You suppose you weren’t any help.)

Awkward silence swallows you both whole. Just the slight crinkling of glass against the wooden floors, and Mijou-san clearing her throat.

“Do you… Still want to stay, (last name)-chan?” There’s a smile so stiff on her face, her eyes upturned into tight squints that told— Begged you to say no.

Mijou Kana was a strange girl, after all— Someone that never let her true intentions show through her words. Yet, you think you kinda get what Suguru means when he says that she’s;

“Trying too hard to hide something too evident.”

(It must be painful. Why can’t she just be honest?)

“No—“ Don’t hesitate. “No, thank you. I forgot I had homework to do.”

“Oh right!” She claps her hands together, beaming that empty, empty smile that never seemed the way it looked. “The one Futari-sensei gave right? I thought I reminded you about that!”

(She didn’t.)

“Yea.” It’s better to just agree.

And as she walks you to the door, you can only think about how curses aren’t the only bad things in the world. Your eyes look back, following the thin slither of shadows up the staircase as you blink.

(You feel… Bad.)

You hope that energy manifests a physical curse. Something that you can exorcise, something that you can get rid of.

(You can’t let her live forever like that.)

Yet, as Mijou Kana waves you goodbye with that smile of hers and shuts the door just as you turn around; You just can’t help but feel that some people are simply miserable because they can’t help it.

(Mission failure.)

——

You’re 14 when you’re wiping down the blackboard, specks of chalk dust falling onto your hair and your slight coughs into the mask you were donning— At least you’re almost done.

It’s unfortunate that Mijou decided to skip out on cleaning duty. It must’ve affected her too much.

“It’s cute, isn’t it, Ieiri-san?” The keychain jingles as the girl awkwardly tries to keep conversation with the infamous Ieiri Shoko.

(Infamous for her looks! The pretty, blank-faced and blunt Ieiri Shoko! A simple remark from her would possibly end with you collapsing to your knees—)

“Could you,” A flick of her hair back as autumn-brown eyes dismiss the girl with an emotion you can’t quite explain, a blank, empty look in her eyes as she removes her lollipop. “Stop talking to me?”

It must’ve been quite the blow to poor Mijou-san. You pat your own hair, trying to shake off chalk dust and any remnants of dirt that had gotten onto you.

It’s not easy trying to accomplish a 2 person job with only half the manpower.

“Do you need help?” Your ears perk up just as you nearly trip over yourself from holding the too heavy bucket—

Geto Suguru.

“I just got back from the temple.” His hand brushes over his ears, tapping lightly against the black gauge earrings and tucking a stray strand of his hair back as he smiles.

You stare. Maybe for a bit too long, your eyes concentrated on the way he just looked so, so pretty— Before your sight gets covered by his hand waving over your eyes.

“Thank you.” It’s said with a prettier chuckle, amused and with a blush so pleasant upon his skin.

(You think you’re going to embarrass yourself one day. Curse your mouth that runs without you noticing.)

You don’t even notice that he’s already gotten hold of your wrist, slipping a simple black string bracelet around it as

“The school allows simple accessories,” His touch lingers, warm and gentle against you as his purple eyes trail upwards. “We don’t have to worry about getting in trouble.”

Oh.

“I don’t think I’m that plain.” You pout, obviously disheartened by the implication and letting the very obvious simply fly over your head. “Shoko thinks—“

And Suguru only laughs. Wholeheartedly. Cutely.

“I think you’re pretty with or without accessories.” A pat to your head. “But because I gave this one to you,” A tap against your wrist.

“You’re extra pretty.” And a smile to soothe your heart.

Always so charming, always so— It makes him not want to say it. As expected of Geto Suguru, much to a certain person’s chagrin. Because it’s impossible for someone to be that appealing, right? It’s too pretentious, too— Full of shit.

“Hmph.” And Gojo Satoru looks dissatisfied, his cheeks stuffed to the brim with sweet, sticky red bean mochi as he chews.

Angrily.

He shouldn’t be, you know? A similar bracelet sits on his own wrist, a version that exactly matched yours. If he placed them together they’d be identical, would be the perfect pair that matched the studs on Suguru’s ears. Yet, even as he watches the both of you in front of him, busily writing away and studying…

Why does he feel like he’s lost somehow?

Was it the way you always look so fond of the little trinket? He’s bought you entire clothes before, you know? He doesn’t see you ogle them like crazy, doesn’t see you give him anything more of a—

“It looks nice today too, right, Satoru?” With your attentive eyes waiting on him to say something, say anything at all whilst dressed in the plainest, most boring thing he’s ever seen in his life.

He thinks you can’t be serious, as cute as you do look, that he needs to get Kimi-chan to get you prettier things, that you seriously have something wrong with your hea—

“Ya look okay.”

“(name),” His elbow is now on the coffee table, his hand propping his chin up as his stare pins onto you specifically. “Fix my hair.”

And you do so— Without even looking up from the passage you were trying to read, the wrist donning Suguru’s gift reaching towards Satoru— Before it’s grabbed out of the air and the sound of a metal clasp takes you by surprise.

A new bracelet. Shiny, compact, surprisingly extremely light— And very expensive looking.

“Hmph.” It’s satisfied, smug. As if he’s seen something that couldn’t get any better than this as he makes hasty final adjustments, throwing your wrist about as you’re unceremoniously tugged forward unwillingly.

“Wha—?” You haven’t exactly processed everything yet.

A hum, an annoyed, almost exasperated sigh from a certain black-haired friend as he pauses to watch the situation and Gojo Satoru’s triumphant words.

“Mine definitely looks better, right, Suguru?”

——

“Mama,” Your hands stop peeling the potatoes, its brown skin brushing against your arm as you stare blankly at it. “What’s your type?”

And she pauses. Just for a moment, just for that tiny little bit.

“Someone who can peel the potatoes evenly.” There’s even a small giggle tacked on at the end of it, as if she couldn’t hold the same monotone throughout the entirety of the sentence.

And you blush— Embarrassed. It’s not everyday that your own Mama makes fun of your potato peeling.

(And…! To be fair this was a new potato peeler! The tools of the future certainly seek to hinder your progress— As Saya-chan says, over engineering will only lead to more stress.)

“But to answer you,” A thoughtless hum as she gently continues to chop up the mushrooms. “I have no preference.”

It’s only the next line that gets you thinking.

“Humans are all… Different, after all.” So nonchalant, so passive. If it were any other person, they’d do a double take. If it were any other person, they’d be confused; especially with that odd tone of voice.

(But you’re you.)

“Then I think you’re the best one.” She’s gotta be, right? Who else would take the mantle if not her?

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

So basically, from this conversation… She wouldn’t approve of anyone you’d bring home.

(“My ideal type?” Ito Saya has her hands gingerly placed on her cheek, a thoughtful look on her face before she lets a sweet smile take over, coupled with a cute laugh to boot.

“Somebody my mother likes!”)

Saya-chan and dating. 2 words you’d never thought you would ever live to hear. She’s your idol, your bias, your one and only— Could you really handle her giving all her cute fanservice to someone else?

“Then… What kind of person would you want me to date, Mama?” It’s rhetorical. It’s not like you have anyone in mind, lest Saya-chan came to your home and gave you the privilege of proposing to her.

But it’d be interesting to know. Just because. It’s definitely not because Mijou-san asked. Not at all.

(“You don’t even have a type, (last name)-chan?” Her eyes still have that same faraway look, her face in that neutral, almost blank smile that you’ve come to get so used to.

“You’re kinda boring. Don’t you ever have your own opinion?”)

There’s no hesitation this time in your Mama’s reply, no other words needed— As if she had had already came prepared long before you even thought about it.

“Someone sincere.”

“What does that even mean?” You’re both 15 when Ieiri Shoko is laying back on your futon, all regards for the ‘proper, ladylike’ image gone without a trace as her shirt flips up and her shorts ride up her hips.

Summer is hot, after all.

“Maybe someone like Saya-chan’s boyfriend?” You’re lying next to her, sweaty hands lazily entangled with each other as you stare up at the ceiling.

(“Isn’t she in some dating scandal right now?”

“She doesn’t deserve it…! My Saya-chan deserves to date and marry whoever she wants to find happiness!”)

There’s a silence in-between the both of you. It’s not uncomfortable, it’s not awkward. It’s just there because the both of you allow it. A chime of your brand new phone breaks it, disrupts that thin barrier of laziness that overtook your laziness as you reach for it.

“Is it Geto?” And she knows simply because she has never seen you text or call anyone other than 4 specific people; inclusive of herself.

“Mhm. Suguru wants to come over.”

She stays silent, not even moving to adjust her clothes as she lets the breeze of your fan flow through her hair.

“Tell him to bring ice cream if he wants to.” She can just imagine the boy spotting your slightly open window, watching as your curtains shifted ever so slightly in the summer breeze. A thought would probably pass through him, 1 that would make him pick up his cellphone, his eyes never leaving that ajar window.

“Ah— But you already made Satoru buy them.” She did. It was cheeky, was just a surefire way for her to get something out of him.

(Because if he even wanted an invite to hang out with you on the day she had personally ‘reserved’, he better listen close and listen well.)

“Make ‘em bring extra.” She pushes herself up slightly. “It’s gonna be tax for daring to disturb us.”

That makes enough sense, you think. A whole lot of sense, and not because this sweltering weather is making you crave too many cold things.

“Oi.” Not too long passes when he’s already made his way in, not at all mindful of manners as your door opens to reveal— A not at all sweating Gojo Satoru.

(Infinity, he says. Must be nice to have free sunscreen and UV light reflector. Your Mama would love that.)

His socked feet pad against your floor, stopping just shy of the futon he’s all too familiar with as the plastic bag he carried rustling with its familiar contents.

“I didn’t know what Shoko liked so I just bought whatever.” Maybe it’s the 1st time you notice just how tall he’s gotten in these short years. Especially when he’s towering over you, crossing his arms and watching you intently— As if he was expecting you to say something.

(…did you do something wrong?)

“Satoru.” There’s a smile on your face, saying his name with that familiar softness. There’s a quaint, polite look in your eye and an innocent tilt of your head. “Did you buy your favourite too?”

(You’re kind of craving that super deluxe, ultra premium choco-vanilla-strawberry swirl.)

And he frowns. Quickly. Immediately. As if it soured his whole mood and as if he hated your response.

“Is that all I get after going through all that trouble?” He’s huffing, before plopping down onto your soft floor before you, crossing his legs and grumbling, his posture slouched over and his lips in a pout.

Ah.

So your hand reaches up, gently brushing away locks of pure, snowy white as you press the back of your hand against soft— Pleasantly non-sweaty skin.

(His skin is so nice.)

“It must’ve been hot, right?” You hope he didn’t get heatstroke. Not that he even could, but it didn’t hurt to check.

And blue eyes just stay extremely locked onto you. A sound caught in his throat that makes you worry slightly just as you’re about to pull back.

“It was!” His ears are reddening as you nod along, listening intently as you use your hand to fan his face.

(It really must be hot outside. He’s burning up.)

“It was soooooo hot out there!” His cheeks can’t help but heat up as you continue to brush back locks of white— All in cute efforts to let him cool off more.

(Does he need a fever patch? It’s quite worrying to see him like this.)

“I could barely even stand it, ya know?” He’s hoping you pick up an ice cream bar and feed it to hi—

“Are you both done flirting yet?” Ieiri Shoko is thoroughly unimpressed as she bites off another chunk of the GariGari-kun. It’s only slightly chilly, only that little bit biting. Yet, if you were to ask her;

She’s only slightly bothered by it.

“The ice cream’s melting.”

And when Geto Suguru’s knocking on your bedroom door, his head politely poking in— He’s only met with one prodding question.

“Oiiii! Suguru!” An arm wraps around his shoulder, pressing all of its weight onto him as it threatened to drag him down to your bedroom floor— To have a face full of your carpet, that is.

“What’s your type?”

And there’s only a twitch of his hand, his smile barely staying on his face before Gojo’s hand was grabbed, barely even activating Infinity in time before the entirety of his body was flipped over Geto’s shoulder and onto the floor.

(“Cheater.”

“More like y’er too slow.”)

So he finds himself here. On your floor, sitting just in front of you as you pull at his face and awe at his fangs. Your fingers are poking around at the sharp objects, and his cheek twitches from soreness.

You really need to stop asking for things with your pleading eyes. It’s hard for him to deny them.

“And you’ve grown really tall, too…” Your hand pokes at his hard arm. “Did Kimi-chan give you both some sort of cursed energy imbued potion to make you both so big?”

“If she did, we’d give both you and Shoko some,” There’s even a gruff huff as Satoru rolls his head onto your shoulder. “Ya both need it real bad.”

(“Saya-chan’s boyfriend is pretty big and tall, too… Do I need to drink more milk?”

“Ah. Isn’t the guy she’s dating some sort of athlete?” Suguru’s words kind of sting when they interrupt your train of thought.

Tall. Big. An outstanding athlete.

You’ve lost.)

“I’ll never be able to date Saya-chan…��

previous masterlist next

nvy’s aftertalk:

i’m trying my best to make it romantic ok :(. pls reblog since tumblr doesn’t like showing my work in tags :(

#jjk x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader

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floylia · 1 day ago

Text

# MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾

18. It means, my dear sister 💌

Spending money becomes a hobby when it doesn’t come out of your pockets.

“So what are you thinking of buying him?” You ask while sipping a bubble tea–the very drink that caused your descent into a comfortable pile of pillows.

Thoma runs a hand through his golden hair before scanning the clothing racks, “That’s why you’re here because, I have no idea.”

“And I’m supposed to know?”

He stops in his tracks, tilts his head, and squints. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. You always can–Thoma is an open book, but something about his gaze makes you uneasy. He takes a sip of his drink and shrugs, “Two heads are better than one.”

You sigh and it’s not a breath of relief, “How about clothes?”

Thoma shakes his head in disapproval as he feels the fabric of a navy blue polo, “He has more luxury brands than I can count.” That’s not surprising considering the car Childe owns or the clothes he wears in his posts. You can tell he comes from a wealthy family both in love and money.

“Did you ask him what he wants?”

Thoma looks at you as if you were a failed experiment he had the consequence of cleaning after–synonymous with the expression he gives you every day so it’s no different, just exaggerated, “If he told me, I wouldn’t be here. He said, “Surprise me,” With what? A successful talking stage? A therapist?”

You chuckled, recalling the conversation you had a few hours ago. You surmise that the ginger is more of a provider than a receiver. Perhaps in all context, “I bet he’d like anything you give him.”

“He would. He’s like a golden retriever on crack. He’s a dumbass, but he’s funny so it cancels out. It reminds me of a time when he was practicing in the gym for a swim competition—and a girl walked in looking for something. He thought she was pretty so he started acting cool but in the locker room there was a huge rat and he came out screaming, “I’m not a pervert.”

You giggle with your brother whose head is thrown back from a fit of laughter. His free hand hovered over his stomach and his face was bright tomato. You recall the day it happened–how gorgeous Childe looked in the water and how silly he seemed running out for help. That was a throwback.

“That’s insane.”

He nods aggressively while catching his breath, trying to form the right words without coughing, “Exactly, but I think he’s hung up on that girl.”

“Really?” You act surprised.

“I just have a hunch.”

“Does he like that girl?” Maybe you shouldn’t have pressed. But when Childe is the subject of conversation you seem to want more, to know more, to see more.

Your brother thinks. You know that expression too well. Something he does as a habit every time he’s being witty, thinking of trouble, or giving you the best advice your parents couldn’t compare to. Finally, he finds his thoughts, “I’m not sure, he has a habit of getting attached and disconnecting. It’s happened before–multiple times.”

“Oh.”

The thing about the English language or any language for that matter is that there are words used interchangeably depending on the tone one uses–either surprise, disappointment, or disgust.

And the thing about Thoma is that he reads people, especially those he holds dear.

“But with her…” He begins, “It’s different. The way he talks about her is the same as when he talks about swimming–You can see the passion.”

That comforts you. It gives you hope, but too much of it is dangerous. Childe is a book everyone discusses with praise and you want to know why but a part of you dreads that once you do, you won’t like the ending. That you’ll be disappointed with the money and time you spent because the hype wasn’t for you.

But curiosity is human greed. And Childe is a conversation you want to have, “What does he say about her?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Because I’m scared of being disappointed again.

“I’m just curious—you made him sound like a playboy. Maybe the girl needs to be warned.”

“It’s not like he’s a bad guy. I just don’t want him or her to get hurt. Relationships aren’t easy—you know that.”

“What if…” You start, already regretting the question in your head. But Thoma looks at you expectantly, urging you to continue, “I started seeing someone like him… what would you say?”

“I’d say fuck him.”

“I’ve been trying to.”

He shoves you out of the store and you almost stumble next to a person.

“I’m joking! Give me a serious answer then.”

He crosses his arms and squints his eyes before raising a brow, “Why? Who’s this guy? What’s his name?”

You give him a look.

He matches it but he gives in, “Someone like Childe? There’s no one like him. As much as I shit on him, he has a good character, and I respect that. So I’d say unless you’re bringing the real one, don’t come home at all.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, my dear sister…” Thoma opens his mouth then shuts it close only to shake his head as if constricting himself, “Don’t worry about it.”

“What?”

He shrugs and says nothing more.

You follow your brother, pushing back the conversation you had despite the questions ramming your head every thirty seconds.

But when you pass by a cosmetic store, a new thought comes to mind.

“You should buy him skin care.”

NOTES:

👀👀 i’m on a roll with these updates

SYNOPSIS: There’s a line Childe knows he shouldn’t cross; A line built on years of friendship; A line that happens to cross you, his best friend’s younger sister, grieving her first love; A line where he plays savior, wears a halo, then feign ignorance, because love is a game for fools—and he happens to be the biggest idiot when it comes to love.

When a new stranger invades your life and an old poet writes back

CHILDE x FEM!READER

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TAGLIST (OPEN): @thegalaxyisunfolding @stratusworld @tiramizuloz @miy-svz @trulyylee @batatinhafriita @scaradooche @yuminako @m1njizzie @mtndewbajablasted @fadedpinkpen @vavrin @kioffy @kokoomie @ashveil @tired-jaz @nia333 @riabriyn @kyon-cherri @kitsunetori @morgyyyyyyy @kazumiku @ichorstainedskin @hanilessa @s4ikooo1 @matolka @appy-slicez @monocerosei @mostlymoth @heathnyfangirl @meigalaxy @x-hihihi-x @lunaavity @ladyofpandemonium @coffeeisbehindyou @mentallyunpresent @wrangleanangel @littlesliceofcheese @ell1e2010 @vi0let-writes @strawbyan @blupi02 @eccendentesiast-sapphic @aixaingela @fo-love @mickey-d-luffy @nanfufu @cryoarchoness @li-x1nyu @crucnhice @jayzioxx @lumineskies @scalyalpaca @saechiro @tojisball @lulumallow @idkwhattoputasmyusernme

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crybabyddl · 3 days ago

Text

Balcony Cigarettes

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warning: swearing, miscommunication/cluelessness, friends to lovers, kissing, smoking

Author’s Note: I’m at work and this popped into my head. I wish I had a whole story behind this, but I don’t. I was just thinking about the sunsets at the college I went to, and how it would’ve been cool to smoke there. Now I’m here, writing a random thing and making it about a fictional character that I’m in love with. Second Note: I'm home now and really want to publish this, so I'm forcing myself to finish it one way or another. I apologize if that makes it end up sucking, but I just need to get this finished or else it will sit in my drafts for eternity. I'm considering just posting what I have in my drafts even if they're unfinished because I have like, 80 drafts and I think at least 70 of them are actual pieces of writing and I feel selfish holding onto them bc some of them are not too bad. Most of them are from 2021, but that was when I was writing like a fiend and had a bunch of motivation, so they might not be terrible, probably a tad cringey though.

—

God, what you wouldn’t do to be smoking a cigarette right now…

Almost as if the universe heard you, the sliding door of the balcony swishes and shuts. Without needing to look, you know it’s Eddie—the sound of heavy bootsteps tipping you off.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks softly, just shy of mumbling. He mirrors you as he rests his elbows along the railing.

“Not at all,” you keep your head forward, too entranced by the flow of cars passing by on the streets below. “By any chance, do you have a pack of ciggies on you?”

Eddie can’t help but laugh.

“What kind of question is that?” His tone is lighthearted, but not energetic enough to disrupt the mood. It was a stupid question, Eddie was rarely ever seen without a cigarette between his lips.

He fishes a half-used box of Newports and a lighter out of his pocket. You turn to watch as he pulls two cigarettes out of the pack, putting both between his lips. You feel the corners of your mouth turn upwards as he brings the lighter closer, igniting your vices before handing one to you. You take the cigarette from between his index and middle fingers.

From the first inhale, you can feel the menthol working its magic. It wasn’t something you did often—smoking. You knew it was a nasty habit, but you figured if this was the worst thing you did tonight, you’d be okay with that.

“Do you ever miss Shores Hollow?” Eddie poses the question casually, but it still causes the nervous pit in your stomach to sink like a stone.

“All the time. Don’t get me wrong, I love it here,” you take another drag. “But nothing compares to those sunsets.”

It’s silent between the two of you as you finish your cigarettes, getting lost in the swirls of smoke that float around you. The logical part of your brain blames the cigarette for the uneasy feeling that starts to reside in your stomach and leaves pitter-pattering knocks on your temples, but the sentimental part of you wins and blames it on the man keeping you company.

You dare to look over at the culprit of your mixed feelings, his eyes fixated on the cloudy night sky. You want to say something, you want him to say something, but no words seem to fit in this moment. It’s like torture—having the one thing, the one person you want the most right in front of you, in addition to the weighted memories that come along for the ride, but it’s all just out of your grasp.

Your lips part, no ammunition loaded on your tongue. Eddie’s head turns rather quickly, as if he too was waiting for you to say something. He’s staring at you through windows of deep brown, like a wooded forest just before snowfall. You wish you knew what was making his mind turn, because the hopeless romantic in you looks into his eyes and reads

Tell me you want me the way I want you.

It’s too much of a risk to interpret a simple look in such a way. Maybe if you were a more confident person, you’d be willing to take that risk. But you’re not, and it seems neither is Eddie. He’s turning on his heel to leave, dropping his cigarette butt into the ashtray that sits near the folding chairs along the exterior wall. You realize this is the last time you’ll ever see him if you don’t do something, anything.

“Eddie,"

His name is all you can force yourself to say, but it’s enough. He turns around and something about the look in your eyes lets him know you need him to come back over, so he returns to his previous position, at your side, leaning over the railing.

Another minute of silence is shared between the two of you, and throughout its duration, your mind is plagued with the possible outcomes of all the different things you could utter to the patient man beside you. Just when you felt your brain was about to explode, you mentally scream fuck it and decide to express what you’ve wanted to for the past couple months.

"Please stay here."

It wasn't exactly what you were trying to convey, but it didn't fully matter. It seemed as though Eddie understood, or at least to the best of his ability--he wasn't a mind reader.

"I'm here." his voice was soft, reassuring.

He places his hand over top of yours, an unexpected gesture you welcomed fully--albeit flustered.

"I really need to get better at articulating my thoughts." you were thinking out loud, but it was something Eddie deserved to know as well.

"Is there any way I can help you with that?"

"Maybe."

Eddie looked down, taking both of your hands in his now, giving them a comforting squeeze.

"Is what's on your mind something recent, or is it a thought you've had for a while that you've been holding onto?"

"The second one."

"Okay, that's a start," the smile that graces his features burns your insides like a shot of whiskey. How was it even possible for one man to be so effortlessly attractive? "Is it something you specifically wanted to tell me?"

You nod.

"Well, that makes this a lot more interesting. And to think I almost went back inside!"

You smile sheepishly, thankful that there were no bright lights to illuminate the redness of your cheeks.

"Hmm. Is it something positive or negative?"

"Uh, I think that would be dependent upon you."

"Well shit, Y/N. At this point you've gotta just tell me."

"Fucking hell," you whine. "Fine. But you can't hold it against me."

"No promises."

"I think I'm falling for you."

"Oh."

Eddie's face is pale, but his expression isn't one you can decipher. He's still looking at you, and as much as you wanted to tear your eyes away, look anywhere else but in his beautiful brown eyes, you were frozen. It wouldn't matter if you ran inside, you uttered the words out loud and he heard them--there was no coming back from this.

"Yeah." It was all you could offer, too scared to make excuses for making things unbelievably awkward.

"How long?"

"Hmm?"

"How long have you been feeling this way?"

That wasn't the direction you expected the conversation to go, not that you expected the conversation to even continue.

"A month... or two."

Eddie's quiet. You realize you probably just freaked him the fuck out and he was most likely planning his escape route, despite his only options being to walk through a door or jump from a third story balcony.

"I'd say you're pretty lucky. I've been going on five months."

Huh?

"Huh?" Your confusion was the first thought you didn't worry about expressing the entire conversation.

"I've been thinking the same thing about you for five months."

"Really?"

"Mmhm." he nods. Eddie was hardly ever one to be shy--seeing him like this was cute.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Probably for the same reason you didn't."

Fair enough.

"Now what?" you asked, not sure what to do with your hands, your face, or any part of you.

"I'm not sure. We could just stay here and take in our surroundings, or we could go back to my place and make out-"

"That one. The second one."

"Someone's eager."

"You don't seem eager enough!"

"I've had a lot of time to learn how to be patient. Five months to be exact."

"You say that like it's my fault!"

"Maybe it is! It's not like I was being subtle, I flirted with you every chance I got! I figured you were just too scared to flat-out reject me."

"You flirted with me?"

"A million times!"

"You're joking."

"Dead serious."

"When?"

"Remember your birthday party?"

"Yeah...?"

"I literally told you that you looked sexy!"

"I figured that was just 'cause I was the birthday girl!"

"Then explain why I called you a few weeks ago and told you all about this girl I couldn't get off my mind, and literally just described you!"

"You were talking about me?"

"Oh my god, Y/N! Seriously?"

"Well unless you say it's me, I'm not going to assume you're talking about me!"

"Jesus Christ. Okay, what about the time I brought you flowers at work?"

"Those were from you?"

"Uh, yes. I literally handed them to you!"

"I figured you intercepted the delivery guy and that they were from my parents! My mom texted me earlier that day and asked me if I had decorated my apartment yet, so I just assumed that she sent me flowers so I'd have something to put on the kitchen table."

"Just my luck, honestly."

"Maybe you should've left a note."

"God damn it," Eddie slapped his forehead with his palm. "What about when your car broke down and we had to stop in that diner and the waitress told us we were such a cute couple and she gave us free coffee while we waited for the tow truck?"

"What about that?"

"We played along! I gave you a kiss on the cheek and everything! Friends don't do that, Y/N!"

"They do when a sweet old lady gives you free coffee and you don't want to break her heart!"

"Okay this is getting ridiculous. Clearly, we misread some things, but now we know we both feel the same way. You like me, I like you, right?"

"Right."

"So can I kiss you, on the lips?"

"Please."

Eddie took a swift step forward, his hands reaching and grabbing either side of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he brought his lips against yours. The kiss was passionate, fervent with all the emotions the two of you had been withholding from one another for far too long.

You separated after a moment, looking at one another with blown out pupils, blushed faces, and a newfound tenderness that cleared away any doubt that threatened to tear you apart.

sorry the second half of this lowkey sucks. I just kinda ran with it. Sorry again.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson oneshot #oneshot #writing #crybabyddl writing #crybabyddl writes #original work #stranger things one shot #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie x reader #friends to lovers #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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serraphinm · 2 days ago

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⋆.˚@Messy#⋆.˚

Summary: Ellie has been off for weeks now and you have no idea why. So when you've finally had enough you snap, causing a fight.

Happy New Year! This is my gift to all of you!

@vxsellie - For you girl <3

Masterlist

Ellie was in a mood... She had been for three weeks now. Why she was in such a mood I had no idea but she refused to tell me, let alone calm down. The worst part was she was taking her anger out on me. Since we lived together it was impossible to truly get any space unless one of us left. We had been living together for a few months now and dating for two years. Her duality is what made me fall in love with her in the first place. But now her underhanded insults were starting to sting.

I scan the room once more, avoiding her eyes. The stale air in the room mixed with the smell of weed made it suffocating. My eyes water a little from a fresh puff of smoke blowing into them. Our home was practically a hot box with how much she had been smoking. The couch felt rough beneath my calloused fingers. I had been working in the gardens for a few weeks now and my hands had gotten a handful of cuts and calluses. Ellie wouldn’t let me touch her anymore and I blamed my hands.

“Are you even listening or what?” Her voice reaches my mind and my eyes finally snap to hers.

“I’m listening, Ellie,” I say, hoping she doesn’t snap.

“Fucking finally..” She mutters. Another puff of smoke that I wave out my face. Despite all the weed she still seemed on edge, which was a feat in itself. “I have patrol today.. Need you to get a job gardening,” Ellie sits up slowly, a little dizzy.

“I was actually thinking of going on patrol with you today.. You know.. Switch it up?” I say standing from the couch to grab her some water.

“Did you not hear what I said?” Her green eyes narrowing,“I don’t want you outside the walls, just go garden like you always do,” Her voice is harsh but I try to focus on the fact she wants me safe inside the walls.

“I understand that Els but-”

“Why can’t you just fucking listen?! I’m trying to keep you safe!” She snaps. This rage was uncalled for.

“I don’t need you to make decisions for me Ellie.. I’m fully capable of being safe.” I argue back, my fist clenched around the glass of water. My eyes met hers once more as she sat on the couch. All I see in her eyes is anger, no fear.

“Cordyceps is no joke! You’re not immune like I am!!” She argues, standing to meet me

on an equal level.

That sent me back to when Ellie had told me of her immunity. We had been walking outside the wall on a warm summer night. She was awkward as hell grabbing my hand with her own sweaty ones. Her eyes sparkled as she told me about her day. She and Dina had been on patrol when they ran into a bear—scared the shit out of them, causing them to finish patrol early and ride all the way back to Jackson. They laugh about it now. She got so serious though when she told me Dina almost got bit. I watched fear etch her features before she turned to me.

“Babe, I need you to know something..” She whispered, my brows furrowed. It seemed this was serious so I stopped smiling and faced her.

“When I was younger I had a friend… sorta… her name was Riley and, well we were really close. Long story short.. We both got bit…” That last part left her mouth slowly. I looked at her confused.

“But.. there’s no way you should be alive right now if you were. Are you pulling my leg?” I asked as I tilted my head in her direction. Confusion all over my face. Ellie huffed and scratched her neck before holding out her tattooed arm and running her fingers over the chemically burned section.

“That day I found out I was immune…” She said softly, her eyes not meeting mine anymore.

She had to be shitting me.

“Immune..? Like.. immune immune?” I asked, grabbing her wrist and pulling her arm closer to my face.

“Yea..” She whispered.

“Really Ellie? That’s some bullshit and you know it,” I said before dropping her arm, “Tell the truth.”

“Wha- hey! That is the truth! Look, the chemical burn was me covering the bite mark!” She said as she lifted her arm back up again and practically shoved it in my face.

“Alright! Alright! So let’s say this is true.. Why tell me?” I asked as I pushed her arm out of my face.

“Cause… cause I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you…” Her voice is so quiet, like a whisper. She stared at the floor beside me while I looked at her shocked.

“You… you love me…?” I whispered as I stepped closer to her. Ever so slowly her eyes met mine. I could tell she was nervous so I sent her a smile.

“Something like that..” Ellie muttered. My smile grew and I moved forward once more as I wrapped her in a hug. She hugged back almost immediately, but not before she wiped her palms on her jeans.

“I love you too Ellie..” I whispered to her and the stars. My eyes trailed to the moon and I wished then and there that this moment would never end…

“You have got to be fucking kidding me. You’re not even listening again!” Ellie’s harsh voice snaps me out of my daydream. She must’ve been going on a rant again. I often zoned out when she did that. “What did I just say?? Huh?”

“I’m sorry, Ellie, I don’t listen to you when you get like this.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, “You’re so clever so how can you be so dumb?”

That hurts a little so I send her a glare, “You have no right to talk to me like that!” My hand clenches around the glass of water again.

“I can talk to you however I want!” She argues back, her arms waving around in frustration.

“No! You can’t! I am your equal and partner! Not someone you can just talk down to cause you’re pissy about something! I have been nothing but kind and patient with you and you’ve just been rude!!” I snap. My anger gets the better of me and I squeeze the glass so hard it shatters. Pain reaches my senses as I realize I’ve been cut. Blood seeps from my palm and I grimace. Without looking at Ellie I rush to the door, wrench it open, and slam it behind me. The cool fall air hits my face and I shiver.

I decide to patch it up before dragging my feet to the gardens. Getting work done with this was going to be a pain, but it was better than staying with Ellie right now. One of the sweet women I work with gives my hand a concerned glance. She offers to help but I decline as I slide a glove over the hand. Work takes a few hours and by the time I’m done, it's as dark as the stains of dirt on my clothes. Trudging back home I decide to take my time and marvel at the lights in Jackson. The peaceful walk back shatters when I open the door to see Ellie sitting on the couch still- -clad in her patrol gear. When I walked in her head snapped to me. Ellie stands quickly and walks over to me.

“Where the hell have you been?! I’ve been worried sick!” She looks me over before noticing all the dirt spots. “Why are you filthy? Did you fall or something?” All my patience vanishes.

Deciding I’d rather not fight again today I start walking to the kitchen to just put some space between us when she grabs my wrist.

“Ellie let go,” I say, not in the mood.

“No.. you left without even saying anything and left a mess for me to clean. You’re so messy.”

That does it.

“Really Ellie?! You wanna sit here and nitpick me?? I get what you’re saying, but really??”

Ellie lets go of my wrist, a little shocked at my outburst. But I wasn’t done.

“I’m too messy and then I’m too fucking clean! I’m too perfect till I open my big mouth. I’m too clever till I’m too fucking dumb!” It all starts pouring out as I step closer and closer to her. She begins backing up as tears well in my eyes.

“You told me to go to the gardens then wonder where I’ve fucking been!!” I poke her chest as I stare into her eyes. She seems to start to understand so I keep going.

“You can’t even talk! You smoke weed to help you sleep. Then get stoned at four o’clock! You come home from patrol to me and don’t even say hello before you’re yelling at me. All 'cause I made a mess!”

Her face falls as she stares at me in realization.

“I want to be me! Is that not allowed?! I wanted to go on patrol! But no! Instead I had to work all day in the gardens with a gash on my hand!”

Ellie stares down at the floor. It seems I finally woke her up from whatever cloudy haze she was in.

“Thousand different people I could be for you Els.. and you hate the fucking lot…”

That last line seems to finish her off and she starts to tear up. My breath is fast and my hands shake. Rage truly overtook me. I wasn’t the most patient person in the world. But usually, I was a bit more composed. Seems Ellie really hurt me…

“I…” She whispers. Tears drip down to her chin before falling onto the cold floors. My breathing slows a little as she fiddles with her fingers.

“I just.. Joel did some really fucked up shit… and I lost it…took it out on you…” She takes a deep breath and wipes her face with one hand.

“What the hell happened?? And why didn’t you tell me that?” I ask gently. Ellie takes another deep breath. She begins to explain that she could’ve been the cure for cordyceps.. If Joel hadn’t taken her from the fireflies and killed them all. I stare at her in shock.

“I just got so furious… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive him for that…” My heart hurts and I take a hesitant step towards her.

“Ellie..” I start. She brings me into a hug and cries into my shoulder. Tears well up in my own eyes. Now I felt bad for snapping. One of my hands rests on the back of her neck while the other wraps around her. I could tell she needed this hug. We both did.

Slowly I move us over to the bed and take off our dirty clothes before laying back in bed with her. She holds me like a lifeline as she calms down, her skin cold on mine. Moving the covers overtop of us I secure it tightly around her as she snuggles into my chest. My fingers rung through her short auburn hair. I take her hair tie out and pull it onto my wrist.

“Look.. all those things I said… I never really meant them.. I just.. I wanted someone to hurt with me... So I’d feel less alone..” She was surprisingly self-aware.

“Dork,” I mutter. She looks up at me with a glare.

“I open up my thoughts and feelings to you, and you call me a dork?? Really?” I watch as her composure cracks, a smile spreads across her face.

“Yup. Dork.”

“Rude..”

“You love me.”

“Yea… I do…”

Ellie spends the next few hours talking everything out. We discuss it all before deciding to put steps in place to prevent this from happening again. It takes us a while but we work it out. I glance at the clock to see it’s almost 2 am. With a yawn, I relax further into the pillows.

“Ellie.. I know it’s going to be hard… but could you try and forgive Joel..? If not for him or yourself.. Maybe for me..?” I say gently.

She says nothing for a moment before take a deep breath… and ever so slowly nodding her head.

“Yea.. for you.. anything..”

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #afab reader #spotify #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #messy #fighting #angst #Spotify

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