#like i talked to him first bc i pitied him like what if he felt alone it was only his second day but boy literally could not stop talking😭

[girlivealwaysbean]

real

[slashersweethearts]

if i had a nickel for every time i had a 5cream oc who was an absolutely 100% fruity girl who kept hitting on white boy wes w ZERO intention of actually following through on anything i’d have TWO nickels. which isn’t a lot but its weird that its happened twice right.

[hwallazia]

XMAS DINNER GOES WRONG – 정우영

⋆ synopsis. it seems like your husband can’t keep it in his pants, not even on a fucking christmas dinner with his family. but, as the lovely wifey you are, you gotta give him some relief, right?

pairing. husband! jung wooyoung & fem! reader.

wc. 3,2k

warnings. smut (mdni!), suggestive language, cussing, almost!! getting caught by wooyoung’s mom (oops), pet names (love, babe, my wife, pretty girl & more), nipple play, wooyoung sucks your entire skin (neck, collarbone, tits and the list can continue…), teasing, wooyoung tears your panties to shreds heh, not dirty—NASTY TALK, begging, yn at some point says “stop” but it’s bc she’s far too blissed out; not bc she actually wanted him to stop, this is alllll consensual!!, unprotected sex, praise ofc, squirting, gut-wrenching fluff in the end ‘cause love him too much.

nic’s notes ⋆ first ff of the xmas event yes sir !! i felt some shit writing this istg (๑/////๑ " )

you know holidays, right?

the perfect opportunity for the entire family to gather and celebrate achievements, blessings, and thousands and thousands of other things. cousins, nephews, aunts, uncles, and even great-grandparents were reunited in that cold and windy winter night. an entire feast was splayed on the table for everyone’s delightfulness, different kinds of foods and smells mixing and creating a delicious, toe-curling experience for anyone’s nostrils.

the hours you had spent shopping for every ingredient for each dish, cutting the vegetables, cooking everything to the exact, perfect point and term really paid off once your and your husband’s family were brought together at the large, dark oak table to celebrate your very first holiday — both families now joined together as one.

nothing could go wrong. the chatting flew as calm and joyful as spring water, sharing experiences and old memories pleasingly, smiles spread like the most enchanting disease—as well as the wholesome ambience, and everything was accompanied by a delightful meal, the well-deserved five star bonus of the evening.

so, if everything was meant to go perfectly, then why the hell was your husband staring at you with the most explicit, sluttiest “fuck me” eyes you’ve ever seen?

wooyoung sat in front of you, his two cousins sitting each on his sides. his plate was rather full, and that had an explanation: he was far too gone and busy burying heart-shaped daggers into your eyes while his hand cupped his cheek, head tilting to his right — his tongue glided over his dry bottom lip every now and then. you’d bet that none of his thoughts were in the bible. ‘cause fuck, even his younger brother would guess that something’s odd about him. that that’s not the usual behavior of his dear older brother.

“yn? darling?” the voice of wooyoung’s mother dragged out quickly of your insulation bubble. her tilted head clearly showed that she had been trying to talk to you for a while. a soft, warming hue of red struck your cheekbones.

as you gyrated your head to meet her worried gaze, you replied. “yes! mrs. jung, ‘m sorry. what were you saying?”

“are you doing fine, sweetie? you were gone for a bit.” she stared at you intently, genuinely worried about her daughter in-law. oh that woman was almost a fallen angel—if not one. if only she knew it was his own son who was to blame—the very last person she’d suspect, and oh, how deliciously ironic that was.

the figure of your husband’s shit-eating grin could be seen out of the corner of your eye—a sight that ignited a fiery rage within you, yet one you couldn’t help but savor, lingering on the view as long as possible before responding to your sweet mother-in-law. “oh, it was nothing. i’m prolly just zoning out because of how tired i am. y’ know, spending the entire day in the kitchen was exhausting.” the cherry on top of the excuse was the little, innocent giggle you emitted by the end. the woman gave you the most pitiful, yet endearing look. she lifted her arm, indicating with her open palm the white stairs, the reflection of the christmas-decorated banister lighting up her eyes.

“oh, sweetheart. you should go rest, it’s pretty late after all.” her gesture softened your heart, chest clenching a bit.

this woman was going to be the death of you! … uhm, never mind. first place is taken by wooyoung, who seems quite excited with the idea of going upstairs with you, by the way. take a guess at what his mind is scheming.

you shook your hands in front of your chest, quickly denying the opportunity. “thank you really, but i’m okay. i’ll just go wash my face.” you excused yourself, hovering your leg over the other and getting yourself up. “maybe that way i can wake up completely.” ending with a little giggle, you started walking towards the staircase when suddenly, the voice of your dear husband rang inside your ears.

“excuse me. i’ll go help my wife.” his foxy eyes curved into crescent moons, and his lips stretched wide, forming an upward line. oh fuck, you were done for.

“oh yes, i was about to ask you to do the same. please, son.” she stated, nodding approvingly. oh what a gentleman she had raised.

you resumed your steps quickly, arriving to the second floor in less than you expected. you turned your head, only to be met with an empty corridor. thank goodness he hadn’t gotten there yet.

or so you thought. ‘cause when you refocused your attention to your front, a pair of arms grabbed you by your waist and swung you around the air in a swift motion as he dragged you to an empty room. the last sound heard in the corridor was the slam of a closing door.

your breathless body was pinned against a cold wall, trapped between two quite familiar, tanned arms. simultaneously, your disoriented irises tried to adjust to the darkness of the room and focus on the feverish, hungry eyes standing in front of you.

“wh… what the fuck was that.” you muttered as the remains of your breath flew away. wooyoung seemed enchanted by your current state though.

“heeey, don’t curse at me like that.” his gentle, cocky voice penetrated your mind like a bullet. knuckles crept up the sides of your exposed arms, providing soothing strokes — goosebumps prickled to life in response. he opened his warm palms and reached to your also bare shoulder, massaging them. “after all, ’m jus’ here to help you.” he pulled his secret weapon and started making out with your neck, licking your flesh like a starving man and spreading wet kisses all over it.

“help me? how are you helping me like this?” you uttered as your breath hitched, head leaning to the side at the right angle to give him enough space.

wooyoung sucked that sensitive spot that always made your eyes roll to the very back of your head, dragging a whine out of you successfully. his chuckle and victorious smirk didn’t go unseen by your already blissed-out self. he leaned back a little to admire you. just for a bit, palms not leaving their place. “you’ll know when we’re done.” his hands moved in a swift motion, arms wrapping around your thighs and shoulders, lifting you effortlessly in a princess carry. “for now, just shut up and enjoy it, hm?”

“w-wooyoung—you know we can’t do this now— angh!” your anxious, flustered self made a futile attempt to reason with wooyoung, hoping he’d remember that both your families were gathered downstairs for a fucking christmas dinner—while he, entirely unbothered, seemed more than eager to spend the evening thoroughly ruining you in the bed just one floor above. and that was clearly shown when he threw you to the bed as if you were the lightest feather and immediately crawled to you.

“c’mon, love. i just wanna help you stay awake” his gravelly voice purred gift next to your ear as his taunting hands played with the sides of your dress, fingertips aching and itching to rip it off you.

he had you underneath him, completely flustered and nervous. he knew you were really anxious about the dinner—you’d spent a whole hour straight ranting about how nerve-wracking the preparations were, only to end up feeling physically ill from the overwhelming surge of dopamine flooding your system. but your reddened cheeks were smiling at him and your plump lips were whispering nasty things to him. holy fuck, how couldn’t he be tempted?

he needed to be balls deep in you. now.

his skillful tongue found home in your neck and collarbone, sucking cute love bites all over. but, your body was still tense, too uneasy at the thought of the possible scenario of someone entering the room and catching the two of you in such a compromising position.

“b-babe, please—hmph”

in a sultry tone, he muttered, “already begging. so fucking cute.” a smirk was drawn on his lips before his hands reached to your cleavage and popped your tits out of your low-cut dress. “y’ want me to fuck you? ‘s that what it is?”

before you could even think of an answer, he dived right into your breasts, licking your sensitive nipples as though they were his favorite toy — because they absolutely were.

god, the incessant thoughts that ran through your head and his tongue lapping around your buds were too much. everything was starting to be too much, and he hadn’t even taken your clothes off. with heightened sensitivity, your lips fell open and a beautiful, sweet melody of your moans and whimpers escaped through them — a delightful melody for your husband’s ears.

impatient hands stripped you of your glittery dress, leaving you with nothing but your black, thin panties. wooyoung took a moment for himself — well, more accurately for you, to admire and revel in your beauty as he should. a rush of blood surged to his cock, making it throb even harder than before. he was no more than a man, overwhelmed by desire. “you’re fucking irresistible, y’ know that?” he started down to where your and his crotch connected, brows furrowing when he saw your clothed pussy. “i think it’s time for this to go.”

a sharp rrrrrip! bounced through the walls and brought your attention. “woo did you just—?!” you followed the movement of his hands, which discarded the shreds of black fabric to the floor. “that was my—! hahh” and his thumb flew right to your already swollen clit, stimulating it with circling motions.

“why’re you whining when you know i’ll buy you ten more pairs,” he whispered as he soaked in the unsteady shiftiness of your body — and for that, he posed a strong yet harmless grip on your waist. his fat thumb worked nonstop over your bud, sending sparks right to it. your body jolted upward at the feeling of his middle and index fingers tracing soft lines up your pink folds. the sight of your walls clenching and relaxing around nothing spun him. “ooh, what a greedy wifey i got.” he chuckled under his breath, gaze stuck to his home — and i mean your cunt. “sooo desperate for my fingers, huh?”

at this point, any sense or unsteady thought had already vanished away, completely replaced by a selfish state of mind. you wanted him to finger you, fuck you, drive you insane. and you wanted it right fucking now. and so you mewled, “god, please just do something.”

“got the name wrong, darling.” and with that, he pushed two fingers at once inside your fluttering walls, tugging a satisfied moan out of you. “it’s wooyoung. or hubby” he giggled. he fucking giggled as he rammed those fingers mercilessly, shooting stars and fireworks filling your vision.

“w-wait stop— baby, please— fffuck!” stuttering words and incoherent gibberish spilled from your swollen lips, too red and slick from how often and harshly you’d bitten them; eyes welling up with tears from the intense pleasure overload.

“stop?” a chuckle rumbled through his chest. “fine then” he withdrew his long phalanges, leaving you empty. completely fucking empty, with velvety and throbbing walls already missing him. you cried as you felt the void of your pulsating pussy, but before you could coax a desperate “please” from your lips, wooyoung grabbed you by the waist. you gasped, as he manhandled you, positioning you on top, naked folds grazing his clothed sex.

you pouted and wooyoung laughed. he was finding this shit way too funny. “since you so nicely begged me to stop, then put your back into it, mm?” a loud smack! reverberated through the walls as his heavy palm landed on the flesh of your ass. “fuck yourself on my cock, pretty girl.”

and did he have to tell you twice. desperate, shuddering hands worked on his dress pants, quickly undoing his belt and zipping it down just enough to uncover his rock-hard bulge. you grabbed the band of his boxers and pulled it down as well, his cock springing finally free. with a smooth movement, you took his member and positioned it below you. and just before you sit down on him completely, someone knocked on the fucking door.

the surprise caused you to jolt and lose control, sinking in a faster and sloppier motion than you intended — a loud cry resonating through the thin walls the moment his tip kissed your cervix perfectly. with eyes wide open, you slapped a hand over your mouth, cursing yourself for being so fucking noisy and sensitive and—

“yn? are you in here?” the muffled voice of wooyoung’s mother echoed from the other side of the door.

shit shit shit.

“y-yes, ma’am! i… ’m kinda busy over in here—ugh!” you tried to speak as loud and clear as you could, but wooyoung seemed to be unbothered by your efforts since he grabbed your hips and started swaying your core up and down his girth. up, down, up, down.

you stared at your husband with glaring eyes, stabbing knives into his. fuck, did this man even care about being heard by his own mother? now, with all doubts gone, you’re certain you’ve married a freak.

“are you okay, sweetie? what’s going on over there?”

and you swear you heard the door creaking open, so you exclaimed. “no! everything’s fine!” you yelped, your voice higher-pitched than you intended. “please don’t come in.”

wooyoung chuckled underneath you, soaking in the sight of your nervous self trying to mute your cries as your tits bounced right on his face. he could die right there and then and he’d be happy. “what’s wrong, baby? can’t take it?” he whispered as he gazed directly into your tightly scrunched eyes, your partially open mouth releasing nothing more but silent cries and pleas.

“fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” you hushed soundlessly, yet willingly bouncing up and down his length. the low, manly giggle he uttered spun you. fuck, he had you wrapped up around his finger.

“oookay? uhm, do you know where my son is? is he there with you?”

he grinned. that shit-eating grin you hated so damn much appeared all across his face. “c’mon pretty, tell her the truth. tell her how good i’m fucking you, how good you’re taking my cock, hm?” he growled into your ear, his voice low and raspy, sending shivers down your spine. the sound was intoxicating, clouding your thoughts and turning your mind into mush.

your throbbing walls clenched around him subconsciously, his head rocking back in reaction. “he’s… he’s here with me, h-helping me like he said he would.”

wooyoung seemed utterly satisfied by your answer, his grin only spreading wider. “that’s my wife. so beautiful.”

“perfect then! i’ll see you in a bit then.” after those words, no other sound was heard — other than the wet clapping of your flesh against his hips.

“‘s she gone?” your half-lidded eyes stared down at your husband, who was hugging you by the waist, face deeply buried in your bobbing, soft tits. your hands flew to the back of his head, cupping his neck whilst caressing his raven hair fondly. at your words, his head lifted, and took a glance at your divine expression.

“baby, i didn’t care, not even a second, if she was hearing or not.” his intoxicating, dark irises sent love letters to yours, utterly drunk in love. “i jus’ wanna cum inside your sweet pussy.”

skillful fingers crept to your hardened, overstimulated nipples and all the way down where your bodies collided, positioning right on your clit. his left hand stroked your firm nipple and played with one breast, letting wooyoung’s tongue take care of the other whilst his right hand shifted rapidly over your bundle of nerves.

he fell in love with you again as he saw your back arching into a perfect crescent moon. “good girl.” your loud whines and moans only encouraged him to keep going. “so responsive to me.” he exhaled breathlessly. “fuck, are you about to cum, baby?”

“y-yeah, fuck— woo, i-i’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna fucking cum” you yelped as your bounces became sloppier, more desperate and more reckless. wooyoung motivated you by whispering sweet things and heart-melting praises right into your ear.

“cum, baby. cum for me, milk me dry.” and with one last bounce, you sprayed your juices all over him, soaking his pants and white shirt even more.

exasperated grunts and exhales left your husband’s mouth at the sensation of your folds clamping down on him — you definitely understood the assignment of milking him dry. ‘cause your pussy received the hot ropes of cum that his dick spurted out with great pleasure, sucking the life out of his poor, now softened length.

you crumbled down on him, your weakened core landing on top of him with his dick still inside you. your head found home in the crook of his neck as his hand reached to your back, wrapping your waist safely whilst the other provided soothing ministrations to your face. with your last ounce of strength, you pulled the sheets over your naked bodies, an even warming sensation drowning the both of you.

“fuck” was all you could mutter. “how’re we going to get back there, they’re waiting for us.”

wooyoung hummed thoughtfully, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and brushing against your skin. “we could pretend we fell asleep. with that, they shouldn’t suspect a thing.”

“hey that’s actually a great id—“

the door creaked open and your bodies jerked softly. the both of you knew exactly what to do, so your eyes flew shut. wooyoung even started snoring quietly to add a spec of realism to the scene.

the sound of your mothers’ voice echoed through your ears. “she said wooyoung was helping… her” wooyoung’s mom immediately lowered her voice as she took in the scene. an almost soundless aww escaped your mom’s lips.

“well sure he was helping her.” your mother sighed at the wholesome moment she had the luck of appreciating.

“i think he was massaging her. ‘cause when i knocked on the door, i could hear like— muffled sounds, that seemed like moans.” she stated, and you froze in place — well, not like you could move an inch. “at first i was confused, but then she clarified that wooyoung-ah was helping her “like he said he would”” she remarked your words as if she had studied them.

“oh i see.” your mother spoke. “i think we should let them sleep. my poor yn had a long day.”

and with that, the door shut closed with a soft click.

wooyoung giggled under the covers as your face burned from the embarrassment.

“massaging? well, that’s a way to put it.”

“wooyoung, babe, as much as i love you, please shut the fuck up.”

he laughed wholeheartedly, a gut-wrenching sound that never fails to make you smile. “you embarrassed, my love?”

you slapped your open palm against his exposed chest as you whined. “stoppp.”

his small, soft giggle buzzed inside your eardrums before he left on the top of your head a kiss full of fondness and affection. “cutie.”

| masterlist

[hearts4chriss]

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍.

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬!𝐁𝐒𝐅! 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐏𝐎𝐂 𝐛𝐬𝐟

prompt by this request: "chris getting jealous bc his bsf seems flirty with matt so he confesses his feelings and it ends with smuttttt”

contains: HELLA SMUTTT, Chris confessing his feelings, mad jealous Chris, dom!chris, suggestive, “flirting” w Matt??, Chris and yours first kiss, choking, spanking, degrading names (slut, whore yktv), MUCH dumification, use of pet names (mama, baby, sweetheart, good girl, pretty girl, sweet girl ), stomach bulge!, flashbacks of Chris fantasizing about you, overstimulation, cream pie, squirting, Chris having a massive cock obviously, missionary, slight m!oral, aftercare as always!! Heavy ( bath tg, praising, concerned!chris reassurance

a/n- this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so here it is

For years, since we were kids. I’ve always had a huge crush on my bestfriend.

I couldn’t get over her no matter how hard I tried and it grew more and more especially since she lives in LA now and we see her almost everyday.

It got worse. So bad. I needed her

I remember seeing her in an orange bikini complimenting her gorgeous features. The way the bottoms hugged her curves making her ass pop out was enough to make me finish in my pants.

She was gorgeous, I wanted to have her badly but it was Nearly impossible fo get her alone.

Especially with Matt around. It pissed me off when I’d see them laughing together or making tiktoks.

That’s my girl

I remember sitting in my room scrolling on instagram when I got the notification she posted on her story

Fuck she looked so good.

the way the grey shorts hugged her ass just how I liked, she looked so gorgeous too.

I, unintentionally started palming myself through my sweats.

I couldn’t help it she had such an affect on me.

I pulled my sweats down revealing my boxers with a wet spot where my tip was.

“Shit”. I groan pulling them down fully as my dick slapped against my stomach begging to be touched, wishing it was her hand and not mine.

I began to stroke myself with shaky hands imagining it was her lips wrapped around me and I throw my head back against the pillows as my mind wandered

She was irresistible, I had to have her.

We always had a flirty thing going on and I didn’t think it would get this far.

Until…

Today was on of those days where I was in the kitchen leaning on the counter drinking a Pepsi pretending to watch TV as I listen to her faint giggles as her and my fucking brother watched TV.

I felt my hand tighten around the can as I saw how close they were, knowing he didn’t like her but I didn’t care. I wanted her all too myself.

I sighed throwing my can out coming up with an idea to figure out a way to get her for me.

Matt and nick going to get food.

“hey Matt, wanna go get some food? Y/n likes this Chinese place it’s about an hour away, nick prob wants to go”. I say smiling with a cocky grin and he rolls his eyes.

“Okay fine I’ll be back in like 4 fucking hours nick let’s go!”. Matt tells and Nick comes downstairs.

“Y/n, you’re so lucky we love you”. Nick says sarcastically and they walk out the house but fuck something about the way Matt looked at her before he left just made me more pissed off.

“Chris?”. I stand up adjusting my shorts as the grey material rolled up my ass and my tank top hugged around my tits the watching Chris’s eyes wander.

“What the fuck are you trying to do to me”. Chris mutters into my ear, his hand wrapping around my neck and my breath hitches.

“W-what are you talking about?”. I shudder as his blue eyes pour into mine with an unhappy expression giving me a pity laugh.

“Flirting with my brother in front of me? Seriously?! Is it not obvious how much I want you?”. Chris confessed his nose touching mine making me gulp, my thighs closing together accidentally.

There was no doubt Chris was attractive but hell if I knew he liked me shit I’d probably let him fuck me or something.

“You? Want me?” I said slightly confused and utterly shocked and he takes a deep breath.

“you have no fucking idea how much I want you, and I have no problem showing him that your my girl”. Chris gave me a sly smile picking me up by my ass carrying me downstairs to his room.

“C-Chris wait-“. I was cut off by him kissing me and I melt into his touch. His hands grip my ass tighter making me gasp, his tongue massaging mine as I moan into the kiss.

“Strip”. He demands standing me up and I tilt my head. And he gives me those eyes and immediately comply beginning to peal of my clothes leaving me in a matching set of orange. Chris’s favourite colour.

“Fuck ma you look so pretty..all for me right?” He asks his hands playing with my bra strap making my panties dampen.

“Yes Chris- all for you”. I match his gaze and he smirked pushing me on the bed as I scooted back leaving him room to climb above me.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to fuck you”. Chris leaves a soft kiss to my cheek practically ripping my panties off me and I squirm.

“Chris! I liked those!”. I whine and he rolls his eyes pulling down his sweatpants and boxers in one movement and his thick, and painfully hard cock springs out hitting his stomach and my heart beat picks up

how the fuck was that supposed to fit inside me?

Chris took in my nervous expression and let out a soft laugh placing his hands on my thighs

“Spread ur legs for me”. He taps my legs and I spread them apart revealing my wet pussy, the arousal glistening on my inner thighs.

he runs a finger along my slit and I jolt slightly at the sudden sensation.

“shit- ur so wet, did i make you like this? Or was it my brother”. Chris asked tilting his head, his jawn clenched ans my breath hitched as he continued moving his finger.

“No answer? Guess I’ll fuck the answer out of you”. Chris pressed my legs against my chest before slamming his cock deep inside me, stretching me out painfully I almost couldn’t take it.

“f-fuck Chris! T-too much!”. I stutter trying to push his hand away but he quickly slaps it away, using my legs as leverage to begin pounding my inside me.

Chris didn’t give me time to adjust to his large size, tears already forming on my eyes from the pleasure.

“shit- your pussy feels so good, better than I’ve imagined”. He let out a deep groan watching how my pussy sucked him in, Chris’s hips driving into mine as I squint my eyes shut.

“Already becoming a mess on my cock? Should’ve kept matt here so he could see how much of slut you are for me”. Chris grips my neck angling his hips to thrust deeper and I squeal, my eyes meeting with his blues, an electric feeling shooting through me.

He wouldn’t let up his pace, his cock plunging into my tight hole as the pain turned to pleasure thankfully as my cunt morphed to fit his dick.

And Chris was fucking right, I was a slut for him and I has tried to hide it this whole time by being innocent and flirtatious with his brother but the second I was underneath him, I was begging for him to touch me

“Oh shitt- d-don’t stop- fuck”. I throw my head back on the soft pillows, moaning curses breathlessly, my tits bouncing with his quick and hard movements, bound to leave bruises between my thighs burning with sensation.

“mmph fuck- wasn’t planning on it pretty girl”. He moaned, completely infatuated with how I wrapped around him perfectly, like I was made for him. And shit- was he made for me.

She felt so good, almost as if her pussy and every thing about her was made for me.

I couldn’t get enough of her, the Moans and squeaks of my name leaving her swollen lips could’ve made me cum on the spot.

the way she could barley form a sentence as I fucked her, and I wasn’t even close to being done with her yet.

I was going to make sure she knew that she was mine, my fucking girl.

“Chris-you feel so good”. She moaned my name again, turning me on much more than it should’ve, the way her eyes barely opened, and how she’d bite her and stare at me grasping her breasts.

“yeah? you like when I fuck you dumb like this? Can’t even get a word out?”. I taunt, I gripped her neck tighter, her legs finding their way up on my shoulders crying out my name like it’s the only one she knew.

I couldn’t even answer, the things he were asking me required my full attention and shit- I was so far gone.

“I suggest you answer me ma because your about to to cum”. Chris presses his chest on mine, our noses touching as he breathed heavily into my mouth while I reciprocated the same action.

“mm-m I-fuck I-i love it”. I shudder on each word, praying he heard me because I really could not talk right now. I squeezed my eyes shut and he chuckled seeing how speechless he fucked.

“God I could listen to you like this all day”. Chris grunted into my ear as I felt the stomach coil I had began to burst unexpectedly from the overwhelming pleasure.

Chris made me squirt

“S-shit! I’m sorry I-“. I shook as the fluids made a mess over his lower stomach but gasping as he didn’t slow down.

“Never apologize that was hot as fuck- got one more in you?”. He pants resting his head on my shoulder quickening his pace and I whimper gripping his back.

“Oh god Chris- I-I can’t”. My nails run down his back making marks and he bites his bottom lip as I pulled him closer.

His hips pushing into mine, as my juices had coated his cock, leaking out of me creating a wet sensation of our sex.

“You can take it baby, being such a good girl, fuck just one more”. He let out a shaky moan throwing a my leg around his waist and I let out a loud moan at the angle Chris’s cock hit, brushing my g-spot.

“C-Chris ur so deep-“. I let out pornographic sounds and he gave me a deep kiss before pressing his hand where his dick was poking through.

his hand pressed down on the bulge in my stomach and I felt the tears run down my face from the overwhelming pleasure.

“that’s all me baby- fuck I love ur pussy so much-“. He stutters throwing his head as hair sticks to his forehead, the sight was more than appealing.

His slightly parted lips producing whimpers, curses and moans of my name. The way he squeezed my hips making sure I could feel every thick inch of him and the sweat coating over his body.

Her lips parted releasing pants and moans of my name and the occasional “fuck”, her hair now sweated out with hickeys along her neck and tits reminding her that she was mine now. The way her nails would grip my back drawing marks that showed how much she enjoyed it.

“Oh shit- ma- can I cum inside you? M’need you so bad-“. He moans into my neck and I shiver and chant yes’s.

Chris released his seed inside me triggering a second hard orgasm for me, creaming his dick as my body shook.

I turned my head to lay on the pillow before he could catch a glimpse of me, slowly sliding his cock out of me.

He took one look at me and his eyes immediately shifted to one of concern

“wait wait shit- did I hurt you?”. Chris started, seeing how my legs shook from the orgasm I just had.

“please talk to me”. He cupped my cheeks and I gave him a soft smile.

“I’m fine Chris that was- shit- the best sex I’ve ever had”. I let out a quiet sigh and a smirk tugged at his lips as he pulled me into a bridal style hold.

“Well come on let’s get you cleaned up, I wanna spend time with my girl”. He giggled like a child and I rolled my eyes as he carried me into the bathroom running a warm bath for both of us

“No seriously tho your okay?”. He said softly rubbing my shoulders as we soaked in the warm tub.

“Chris the way you put that dick on me I’m more than ok”. I kissed his cheek and his cheeks flushed a bit as he leaned back against the tub whilst I’m in his arms.

She’s really my girl.

@sturniolopowers @gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog @blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chriss @nonamegirlxsturniolo @luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @hoesformatt @luv4kozume-deactivated20240512 @kikisturnioloo @itzdarling @pepsiimaxx @babyddolly @iiheartstef @junnniiieee07 @vanteguccir @ast3ro1dzz @sturniolowhore @st7rnioioss @emma4eva @braindead4l @ihearttsyouu @kqyslyho3 @imaslut4kehlani @sturnsfav @sunsetsturniolos @sturniololoverr @gamermattsgf @lilyloveschris @dlyansworld @chrisloyalgf @soimightlikeoldmen69 @abbie13sworld @ineedchriscock @sturniol0s @chrissgirlsstuff @luhsexcbihh @nickgetsmewetter @rubyjaneaxx @love4chris

[freshbakedbreadstick]

The Physicalities of Grief - Season 2 Arcane Viktor x F!Reader

Season 2 Arcane Viktor x F!Reader

Summary (SPOILERS): It's hard to grieve someone when their not really gone.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. HEAVY SPOILERS OF SEASON 2 ACT 1 OF ARCANE!! BE WARNED! Reader is described as having a vagina and uses she/her pronouns. Reader’s backstory is kept vague but is mentioned to be from Zaun (the Undercity), worked with Jayce and Viktor, and was childhood friends with Viktor. Mentions of masturbation, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, heavy grief, angst (not a breadstick fanfic if there isn’t angst), bad coping with grief and emotions, grief horniness LMAO, spoilers, brief fear that someone broke into your place, slightly improper use of his powers (not really use tho more like hinting at it), brief mention of vomiting but not in detail (!!), this is basically shameless PWLP (porn with little plot) that i'm using to cope ok? 

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Unfortunately i am using Arcane Season 2 as a form of escapism bc i am not ok (context , i live in the US and i am a woman of color , , , , enough said ) anyways i am a Viktor stan and i love him SO SO SO much anyways AS PROMISE HERE IT IS ! LMAO i can't wait for act 2 to come out ! ! ! ! ENJOY ! (awhhh doesnt he look so normal in season 1 ?)

It feels like all you have ever known was this feeling.

This feeling of… swelling and crashing waves of anger and sadness. Of overwhelming crying screams, of bubbling tears that blind you, of aching emptiness that makes your joints feel sore and body retch after every meal.

Mel had to remind you that you were grieving, but you could see the way Jayce looked at her, shaking his head softly when she spoke. 

“He isn’t dead,” he would whisper once Mel would leave, but you could only weakly utter “Then why does it feel like he is?”

He never knew what to say to that, just stepping back, face falling. 

It was ridiculous at this point, the way he looked at you with… almost pity. You were sick of it. Everytime he came to you, updating you on the latest findings while you laid in bed, pathetically. Feeling like a waste as he went from spending hours in the lab, working beside his friend’s body encased in who knows what, to desperately fighting you to get you to eat something, anything.  

You felt like a burden, like a waste of a mind and body that was once so ambitious and passionate, moving around the lab to help with whatever you could get your hands on.

“I’m useless,” you would whisper to yourself in the cover of dark, chest empty and eyes red and dry. 

But his words… his words hurt the most. 

“Please eat something, anything!” He cried, trying to ever so gently pin your arms down as he lifted a small cup of soup to your face. 

“No Jayce, no! Stop it!” You cried, barely able to flail against him. 

“I need you to eat something, please! You can't keep going on like this!” His voice cracked. 

You pushed his hands away, successfully hitting the cup and making it clatter and crash to the floor. 

Both of you flinched, pausing mid movement to hear the sound of the porcelain shattering into millions of pieces. 

Stillness for a few seconds. Peace from him for a few seconds. 

Until his voice brought you back. 

“...Viktor would've wanted you to eat… to keep going…” 

It made your eyes burn, chest tightening, throat closing. It made your heart race, limbs suddenly energized for the first time in days, feeling ready to run marathons. 

Did Viktor feel this way the first time he touched the hexcore?

You shoved him away with surprising strength, making Jayce yell and fall to the ground, his arm moving up to shield himself. 

Leaping from bed, you yanked the sheets around yourself, heavy and dark fabric covering the weakness of your flesh from sight. 

“You have no idea what he would've wanted!” Your throat burned as you screamed, lips twisted into a sneer as you glared at him on the floor.

He couldn't even bear to look at you. Coward.

Paled hands moved to claw at your bedside table, yanking the drawers open. You yanked things out, throwing them to find it. Where is it?

Where is it? Where is it? Where is it?

Then you felt it. Soft beneath your fingertips, the embroidered ‘V' he asked you to add onto it scratching your skin ever so slightly. It made you pause, mind rushing and mouth rushing even faster.

“Better yet, you knew what he wanted and still went against him!” Your voice quivered as you yelled at Jayce.

Jayce gasped softly, head jerking back. 

“W-what friend you are,” You stuttered, tears rushing back into your eyes and making your voice sound watery. You felt stupid. 

Jayce’s breath hitched, his mouth opened to respond but you were too quick. You grasped the red fabric into your hands and rushed off, snatching your shoes on before you ran out the door with a choked sob, Jayce yelling out your name as you did so. 

Your body ached as you ran, running into corners and slamming into walls you didn’t sense as you rounded hallways. Your body feverish, only shivered when you stepped out into the chill of the quiet darkness of the supposed city of progress.

Your lungs ached as you ran, panting and gasping between cries. You ran and ran, stumbling and nearly collapsing as you made your descent.

Down, down, down… to the city you knew too well. 

Back home. 

You tucked the blanket closer as you rounded corners with ease, effortless as you hopped over piles of trash and twisted into darkened alleys, avoiding the sounds of twisted laughs and growls. 

You nearly ran into the door of your little old home, scratching at your neck to yank the necklace into the light of the partially broken street lamps. A trembling hand shoved the key into the lock, tugging yourself to press your cheek against the cold door with a hiss. 

It was hard to tell what you were doing in the darkness of the studio, staggering as you closed the door and moved around, getting bruises as you ran into old furniture and beat up tables. You cried out, howling in pain as you made your way toward your bed, hidden in the back of the room. 

One hand reached out, feeling the end of the furniture with heavy pants, eyes wide and barely able to make it out. But it was there, sturdy and reliable, the scent of comfort, of home, reaching your nose as you collapsed onto it, bursting out in wails.

The bed creaked as your body shook, the utter power of your lament echoing in the darkness of the room, red fabric clutched to your chest. 

You could smell him, smell the mixture of coffee, toast, and the unmistakable scent of the lab. 

You cried louder, rattling the windows with each sound as you held the fabric he used to tie his tie, nose buried into it. But it did nothing to muffle you, nothing to withhold the sounds of your cries. 

It felt like days passed before you passed out, falling unconscious without a second thought. 

But when you finally woke, it was dark again. 

Body aching, you sat up in with a heaved breath, wincing at the pain that echoed throughout your being. It was hardly bearable, making you sigh as you realized that you finally did it, you pushed yourself too much and rendered yourself alone, sleeping the day away.

You felt like a ghost skirting around your home, blanket clutched around your form and hand clutching the red fabric to your chest with paled knuckles. Feet made soft sounds as you stomped, using all your strength to collapse onto the sink, holding onto the ledge as you stretched, one hand opening the tap and lips greedily sucking in the water that came down.

You knew that you would probably regret this later, Zaun’s tap water was not meant to be drunk without extra precautions made to ensure it was clean. Afterall, this wasn’t Piltover, where you could drink fresh water from the tap without worry. 

You remembered the way your mother would have to boil it over the fire as a child, wincing as you drank the warm water after running circles around your childhood best friend, who would laugh and watch with a sad glint in his eyes as you did so. All you wanted was fresh, cold water after sweating, throat scratchy and knees scraped with a wonder only a child could possess. 

It made you want to cry again, as your familiar scratchy throat was soothed by the cool water, if only temporarily. 

Your hand barely had the strength to push the faucet shut, slipping onto your knees soon after. 

The fabric pressed against your nose, darkening under the tears that slipped and hit it on its way down your cheeks. Burnt toast… coffee… metal. Burnt toast, coffee, metal. Burnt toast, coffee, metal, Jayce. Burnt toast, coffee, metal, Jayce, you. 

You crawled back into bed, grunting and groaning as your limbs screamed, desperate for you to stop and give up. ‘Forget it, you're alone now’ they said, desperate for a break. 

“Just… let me get to the bed… please,” you heard your gravely voice whisper out, begging yourself.

“...I’ll quit once I get to bed… please…”

‘Fine,’ you told yourself. 

Crumpled there on the sheets, you encased yourself with the blanket like a body laid to rest among the flowers, eyes closed and breathing getting slower. You could hear chatter from just beyond the walls, the sound of people chattering before rushing off, the occasional argument either followed by commotion or silence. It soothed you like a lullaby, as it soothed all children of the undercity. 

But as a fight breaks out nearby, harsh voices echoing the sounds of punches, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried desperately to think of something else. 

Like the day he convinced you to go with him to Piltover.

“Come with me,” he whispered, hand extended out to you, amber eyes glinting with hope for what this opportunity would bring.

“Oh Viktor,” you whispered aloud, voice breaking just like in the memory.

“Please,” he said, brows creasing. 

“But will I fit in? Will they accept me?” you murmured, holding your own hand, looking between his hand to his eyes.

“They accept me,” he breathed.

“That’s because you are a scientist.”

He scoffed, “Do not reduce yourself to utility, regardless of where you come from, you deserve to live amongst them.”

“But they will stare at me like… like I'm trash.”

“Nothing we aren’t used to already… besides… I need you there.”

Your breath hitched.

“You do?” you whispered to yourself, hand clutched to the fabric rising to press it against your nose again. 

Eyelids softened as you thought of the way he smiled, chuckling softly at your bewildered face, smooth voice like melody that made goosebumps spread across your skin as he said, “Of course I need you…”

You didn’t even realize your free hand had inched its way down your torso until your fingertips hit the waistband of your bottoms, making you freeze up, eyes snapping open to stare into the inky darkness.

You panted, chest rising and falling. 

“No…” you whispered, “N-no, no I… I can't.”

“Of course you can,” his voice echoed in your brain, smooth as a ray of sunlight, “Whatever it is you're worried about, I'll help you.”

Finally, your hand fell into his. He pulled you close, so close, that his eyes flickering onto yours felt like it had replaced the sun and the moon, “Come with me.”

Trembling, your hand pushed under the waistband and under your undergarments, fingers tracing over your mound before dipping down to the unabashed wetness of your core. 

You gasped, chest tightening. 

“No,” you whispered into the fabric. 

Burnt toast, coffee, metal.

Your fingers glided down, hips rising and legs spreading, skin so so hot under your touch. With a smooth swipe, the wetness gathered itself on your fingertip, moving to ever so gently press against your throbbing clit.

It made you whine, voice muffled by the fabric held tight against your hand. 

“No please…” you whispered once more, your resolve slipping as you thought of those amber eyes and how they glistened when he spoke about his work.

“C-can’t…” you just couldn’t bear it.

This was your childhood friend you were imagining, your friend who cared so deeply about you that he was willing to take you with him when he got a new opportunity in Piltover. Your friend who sacrificed his health for the sake of finding new tech to help people like you, who weren’t given a fair chance in the undercity. Your friend whose gaze would transfix on you as he explained what he was doing, voice tinged with an eagerness that made him whine when he thought your mind was straying from his words. 

“Darling, are you listening to me?” he would say as you played with some geared models he set out for you to see.

“Yes Viktor, I swear!” 

He would always chuckle and nod, either continuing to explain or instead staying silent, moving to stand behind you.

Your knees and mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut.

Burnt toast, coffee, metal.

Heavy pants filled the silence of the room. 

You could almost feel the way his hand would slide over yours as you played with the model, long nimble fingers gliding over your skin. 

You would gasp, hand stilling until he began to move it, guiding it with his own.“Here, let me show you… This is how you use it,” he would murmur, warm breath hitting your skin. It was so hard to suppress the shiver he gave you, no longer able to focus on the way he would turn the model the other way, guiding your fingers to press against a gear, turning it in a slow circle to get it working.

Your breathing hitched, hand moving in the way he showed you how. 

His hand would speed up, moving away to let you try it. The gears then began to move on their own, prompting you to move your own hand away, watching the model with an excited smile.

The swelling pleasure in your belly grew, making the smooth movements of your hand become erratic, unable to keep a steady pace. 

“V-Viktor,” you breathed, hips bucking into the air. 

You could imagine it, the way he spoke so smoothly to you, an air of calm to it as if he was speaking to a frightened animal, “Yes, my darling?”

“L-like this?” you croaked, fingers dipping to press against your sopping hole, feeling it drool onto your fingers. 

“Yes, exactly like that… you're doing so good…”

Your breaths grew more and more ragged, shivering as you chased your climax. It was so close, making your head fall back onto the sheets, fabric clutched to your nose, using it to run it up and down your body.

Burnt toast, coffee, metal.

“S-so… close…” you whispered. 

Then you heard it.

A whisper.

You stilled, eyes snapping open and wide in terror. 

You didn’t breathe, you didn’t move. 

‘Go to her’, it whispered once more, a feminine voice you couldn’t make out, too low for you to distinguish.

But you could hear staggered steps, moving. 

You knew you were hidden from view, allowing you an advantage, but this person was moving toward you, slowly but steadily.

You were frozen in place.

Did they come to rob you? Had you even locked your front door when you came in?

But you had no time to think, you were sitting here unarmed and vulnerable. 

Gathering yourself, you sat up in bed, careful to avoid making noise as you peaked above the furniture that hid you, seeing a cloaked figure moving in the dark. You saw nothing, just them staggering. They didn’t seem to be here to steal, brushing past your things without a second glance. 

You prayed to anyone who could hear you that it was just some weary soul needing to rest.

But right before you looked away, you saw it. 

You saw the glow.

A faint blue-purple glow of footsteps that led toward you. 

You swallowed, curling back and into yourself as your eyes trailed the faint humming glow of these footsteps, the way they led right to the foot of your bed. 

The cloaked and hooded figure approached, moving around what hid you to stand at the edge of your bed, looking right at you. 

Then you smelled it. 

Burnt toast, coffee, metal, and… something… more.

Your breath hitched as a bony hand reached up and out, moving toward your face.

You flinched, squeezing your eyes shut as it moved. You didn't see the way it hesitated, pausing right before the warmth of your cheek.

“My darling…” They whispered, voice rumbling in a way that made your eyes snap open and body instantly and unconsciously sag, “Am i that scary?” 

You gasped, shaking as you made out the iridescent eyes that traced over your sunken cheeks and eyes with dark bags underneath. 

“Oh my darling…” he murmured, fingertips finally pressing against your cheeks. 

He was cold, but somehow warmth thrummed through him like… machinery. 

His thumb traced underneath your eye, gently, “Have you been suffering because… of me?” 

You said nothing, pinned to the spot underneath his gaze. 

You tried to say something, but nothing came out. Your mouth only opened and closed, silence emitting from it instead. 

His gaze swept over you, making a shiver go down your spine as you sat there. His gaze stilled, eyes widening ever so slightly as he followed your hands. He paused and, after a beat of silence, he spoke up.

“Here… let me show you.” 

Burnt toast, coffee, metal, and something indescribable. 

The hand cupping your cheeks trailed down to your jaw, tilting it upward to look at him as he shifted to sit in front of you, the overwhelming scent of Him invading your senses.

His other hand moved, gently wrapping itself around your wrist, feeling the warmth of your skin underneath his own. He then slid in, over and down underneath the waistband of your clothes and to your soaked fingers.

You could only stare into the pools of opal that peered into your soul.

A gasp wormed its way out of your mouth as his fingers pressed against you, index tracing around your throbbing clit to your clenching hole. He moved in circles, teasing you by pressing his longest finger just against your entrance before pulling back, moving to press a tiny bit deeper with every movement.

You felt yourself instantly relax, unable to help yourself as the familiar face of Viktor stared at you, eyes softening as he saw the panic melt away. 

“V-Viktor i…” you breathed, “You… d-” 

“I'm supposed to be dead… I know…” he whispered. 

His finger pressed in, making you groan softly as it moved against your warm walls, carefully pressing to find that spongy bit inside of you. He was always so calculated, even now as his gaze focused on your face, tracking every miniscule movement like the way your pupils dilated when you saw him, the way your breathing picked up when his thumb brushed against your clit, and the way your lips parted when his fingers curled. 

“But I'm here now, my darling… you don't have to worry anymore… I just want you to come back with me.”

His voice made your eyes struggle to keep open, soft moans filling the once empty room. You were drunk off him, drunk off the way his fingers moved so deliciously deliberate, stimulating you in multiple ways and making you melt. 

“Viktor…?” you sighed, barely registering what he said. 

“Yes?” Viktor whispered, leaning to press his forehead against your own. 

It sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body, tingling with a purple glow over your skin. 

“I…” gasping for air was all you could do, the overwhelming sensation flowing through your veins as his thumb pressed against your clit, fingers curling in and out of you. You were so close again.

“More?” He murmured, voice soft. 

Your eyes could barely hold his gaze, “N-need you…” 

“Like I always needed you?” 

You moaned out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you shook, the pleasure reaching its peak. 

“Cum for me… come with me.” he murmured, lips brushing against your own. 

He swallowed your moans as you cried out his name, body shaking. His hand on your jaw held you in place, continuing to move his fingers in you and on your clit, your hand wrapped around his wrist as he did so, the other still clutched onto his red tie. 

Pure, white, hot, pleasure stole your vision and voice, making you see visions of a future where you and your people would never have to suffer anymore, not with someone like Viktor to lead them. 

As you came down, body heaving and shaking, he carefully moved his hand off your core before wrapping your weak body with his lapis blue cloak, pressing you against him. Your head lolled, slotting against his neck, smelling the scent of burnt toast, coffee, metal, and something… something otherworldly. 

“Come with me.” He whispered, “I need you.”

“I will.” You whispered, this time not hesitating. 

[garagepaperback]

What are your favorite drarry fics?

oh. ooooooooooooh oh oh.

here are my staples:

draco, the magic dragon - libbydrew a fic i first read on livejournal (showing off the varnish of my casket here) that i thought about regularly for the almost two decades i fell out of fandom. canon to me tbh. libby invented my draco rubric: proud lil showboat even when everything around him has gone to rancid shit, sarcastic and aloof personality as a poor facade to distract from the big ol' gaping well of hurt.

Potter took a great breath, then let it out slowly – a low whistle between his teeth. "Malfoy, I had no idea. I thought—" "Why are you here?" Draco cut him off before the idiot embarrassed them both. Their shared past was water under the bridge – even if Draco had drowned in it.

nightingale - michi_the_killer

another back-in-my-day fav, even though i can only stand to read half of it. actually even thinking about it is making me stare off in a distance for upwards of three minutes. this one i would hand off wrapped in about a million miles of caution tape. + also a huge fan of michi's gory veela fic.

It was better than fighting, Harry thought, although sometimes he still wanted to rip into Malfoy, to hurt him. Other days, he thought, it was better than anything.

rookie moves - peu_a_peu

what can i say that hasn't already been said - peu is a MASTER. if you somehow know who i am but haven't read this, reassess your life choices through professional means but not until after you dive in.

“Feels kinda big,” Malfoy said, smirking. “For a guy your height.” “My height is average,” Harry said, although he was undeniably glaring upward at Malfoy’s face when they stood so close together. “And it is kinda big.”

stately homes of wiltshire - waspabi another one that crept into my heart and made a home. hard to choose between this and waspabi's other drarry fic, but there's something about the decrepit manor that just does it for me. a perfect harry and draco, perfect soft reaching towards each other.

Draco smiled and dragged Potter from the shop before he could charm any more elderly ladies with his unkept, take-care-of-me-I’m-confused-and-have-nice-shoulders aesthetic. Once outside in the drizzle, he realised he still had his hand around Potter’s forearm. He yanked his hand back immediately.

i wake up falling - warmfoothills

warmfoothills :,) just reading this moniker makes me vision go soft around the edges. their writing has made me out loud, quietly say "oh," multiple times. the prose is darling, this story is such a brief, aching glance. it was also really hard to pick just one (flashback, warm nights i also go in for).

“I love you,” he says, unable to stop himself. Draco blinks, a barely-there flinch, like Harry’s taken a swing at him. “I know,” he says, still oblivious to the reference, oblivious to the way his words scoop right into the meat of Harry’s stupid, hopeful heart. “It’s not enough, is it?” Draco shakes his head. Above, the stars watch unfeelingly on.

the pure and simple truth - lettered no one does dialogue with the mastery lettered does. my GOD. my god. i feel like this fic is drarry perfectly distilled.

“What’s he going to be?” Blaise raised a brow. “Pardon?” “You said he says Hermione should be Minister, and all those other things. What does Malfoy think he should be?” There was something much like pity in Blaise’s eyes. “He thinks he should never, ever be forgiven for the things he’s done.” Harry felt ill. “That’s not fair.” “When has Draco ever been fair?” “I meant―” Harry swallowed hard. “That’s not right.” Blaise looked more pitying still. “When has Draco ever been right?”

far from the tree - aideomai

the writer i avoid talking about the most bc once i start i cannot physically restrain myself from going on about their beauty forever. i sat for forty-five solid minutes frowning, trying to choose between this one and in the hand. and dwelling. okay anyway. i keep a doc of quotes from fics that resonate and it's 50% aideomai.

Draco wondered what Potter thought of this day, in the future the twins came from. If he had told Ginny about it. If he had forgotten it. He couldn’t forget it, could he? It felt burned into Draco’s body already, a final point that he had been moving toward for years without knowing.

i could go on but i think seven is a nice solid number tyvm for this ask!

[jjscrybaby]

prompt 66: ‘i smell smoke.’

jj maybank x fem!reader | hurt & comfort | (fire, kie being ur wingwoman, near death experience, cringey confessions bc i am cringe🙂‍↕️)

this is half inspired by another au but i can’t find the writer! if you know lmk so i can give credit!

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

For the first time in weeks everyone had smiles on their faces. It felt like ever since the Pogues got back from ‘Poguelandia’ things have been tense, not just with John B’s father but with the entire group. They haven’t been seeing eye to eye, constant fights and bickering.

Your’s and JJ’s relationship was utterly confusing, things were calm and fun on the island but since you got back his commitment issues have been in full-swing. He refuses to admit his feelings for you, it doesn’t matter that you’re well aware how he feels.

Kie’s ukulele filled the Chateau, John B and Sarah had snuck off to rekindle their relationship in his bedroom, Pope and Cleo were chatting on the couch and you and JJ were sat beside each other struggling to talk.

“Look—” JJ began, letting out a soft sigh.

“Do we have to do this now?” You interrupted. Whatever he was going to say was presumably going to ruin the calm atmosphere you were finally experiencing; and as much as you loved hearing his voice you just weren’t in the mood.

“Uh… no,” he murmured, giving you an awkward smile. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that, and you felt a little guilty.

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you, Jayj. I just want to go for a shower, be proper rested for tomorrow, y’know?” You explained softly.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course,” JJ nodded, looking down at his thighs. “Go shower. We can talk once we’ve got Big John back and got rich as fuck.”

You giggled, giving him a sweet smile as you stood from the couch. You grabbed a towel and made your way into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

JJ sighed as he leaned back, running a hand through his hair. In your defence, he probably was going to just upset you yet again. He desperately wanted to tell you how he felt, but anytime he opened his mouth the words would get caught in his throat and instead he’d make up excuses.

“You know, you’re being ridiculous,” Kiara stated, putting her ukulele down just to shoot him a glare.

“What?” He huffed, looking over at her.

“She loves you, you love her. Stop with the self pity and just let it happen, stop ruining something that’s going to make you the happiest you’ve ever been,” Kiara argued.

He opened his mouth to retaliate, or agree, he hadn’t decided yet, when he stopped. He sniffed the air, eyebrows furrowing. “I smell smoke.”

“What?” She questioned, sniffing the air. “Shit, what is that?”

JJ jumped off the couch and ran to the window, eyes widening as he saw orange flames. “Fire! There’s a fire!”

“What?” Pope exclaimed, jumping up also to run to the blonde’s side.

“Get them!” JJ demanded, pointing to John B’s closed bedroom door. His mind instantly went to you, he ran to the bathroom and banged his fists against the door. “Hey!”

You switched the water off, climbing out of the tub to dress in one of John B’s shirts and your shorts. “What, JJ? I’ll just be a sec—”

“No! There’s a fire! Open the door!” JJ yelled, continuing to hit his knuckles against the wood.

With a panicked look you rushed to the door, trying to pull the lock back; it didn’t budge. It wasn’t unusual for the lock to get stuck, especially recently when it hasn’t been used in over a month. “It’s not opening!”

“Shit,” JJ hissed. “Okay, don’t panic. We’re gonna get you out, okay?”

The more time that passed of you trying to pull on the latch and him throwing his body against the door the hotter the room got. The metal was burning your fingers, smoke filling your lungs as you cried out.

“It’s not working!” You croaked out, pulling your shirt over your mouth.

JJ tried not to let you hear how panicked he was, the tears running down his face as he carried on trying to knock the door down. It was when your coughing started that he freaked out, sobs leaving his mouth as he finally knocked the wood down.

“C’mere, c’mere,” he soothed, grabbing at you to pull you into him.

He held his hand over your mouth and dragged you out the door they’d smashed open to get out, the others were all waiting outside worriedly. You collapsed onto the grass, coughing up a lung as he fell beside you.

“Fuck, you’re okay,” he cried, rubbing your back with one hand whilst the other held your head to his chest.

“I’m okay,” you croaked out, looking up at him. You saw the tear tracks down his face and your eyebrows furrowed in worry. “Are you?”

He didn’t answer with words, instead leant down and pressed his lips to yours. You reciprocated the kiss, smiling against his lips as he held you tightly in his arms. He pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours as he caught his breath.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice breaking with emotion. “I thought I was gonna lose you.”

“You can’t lose me,” you murmured back, wiping a tear with your thumb. “I’m okay, I promise. You saved me.”

“I’ll always save you,” he responded softly.

For the first time he wasn’t afraid to be in love, because he’d felt a fear even worse; the thought of losing you.

[writing-mlm]

Is it real?

Summary: It’s thanksgiving, current plan: ignore your family, backup plan: stay for Alfred’s left overs. Pairing: Damian Wayne x Male reader Wc: 7.1k A/n: I saw comments asking for part 2 so… rushed this out bc Thanksgiving is like… two(??) days away Warning: mentions of homophobic family but they’re silent the whole time, nothing negative is really just it’s just the feeling of knowing that they are

Damian had always known he liked men, there wasn’t one defining moment in his youth where it clicked. He didn’t watch some movie and fall in love with the lead actor, he didn’t have a love-at-first-sight moment that made everything make sense. It’s just something that’s always been. But falling for you had been something that had been gradual. 

At first, you were just some intern with a loud laugh and clearly hung out with not the best people. He’d seen you in the hallway of Gotham University, which was a surprise considering how large the campus is and he grew a little suspicious. He’s Robin, of course, he’s going to be suspicious of a coincidence. 

But falling for you had been incredibly easy when he looked back at it. He just remembers that one random night, after work and school, on your way back from patrol where he looked at you as you sang along (badly, he’d tease you and you’d say it was on purpose) to your patrolling playlist. It was this warm feeling that washed over him, his stomach tossed up and he was thankful that he got to spend his days next to you. It made him realize he’d been falling for a while now and in that moment, it all just felt right. 

Truly Damian had never expected love to be that simple. He had expected it to be something akin to trials of battle. Something he had to defend like he defended himself. How grateful he is that he was wrong about something. 

He considers himself lucky in that regard. 

He looks at you as the two of you sit in the garden, looking at the fallen white snow cloaking the nearly barren bushes. The cold is nipping at his nose and it’s starting to snow again. His pants are wet and cold, his hands tense with what he thinks are the early signs of frostbite. But you look lovely, you look like everything he wants and more. 

A part of him wonders if he deserves this. If his happy ending is something he has been able to get; if he’s atoned for his past. If the blood he’d split has finally dried and he’s able to truly move along. But he tries not to remind himself about his past, focusing on his present or whatever stupid thing Grayson always preaches about.

Sighing, he taps the cold bench with his knuckles before standing up. 

“I believe father should be done talking with your family,” He says and you hum, following after him. You walk hand in hand, your bodies begging for warmth. He notes the recent footprints that aren’t his or yours and figures it was Diana. She’d been wearing kitten heels and that’s the print of them. It makes him smile, figuring she probably got the hint. 

He glances at you as the two of you walk in tandem; he’s known about your family issues for a while. Sworn to secrecy because you didn’t want the others to pity you or try to somehow make up for your family’s shortcomings. You knew his family; you knew how much they liked you and how if they knew the truth, how your family wouldn’t even be allowed to step foot inside. 

He doesn’t know why, honestly he’s tried to imagine it, but you still love them. You still answer their texts, you still wish them a happy birthday even though they rarely do the same, and you haven’t spoken truly ill of them to anyone but him. 

You believed you never did anything remarkable; born to live in the middle child’s role for the rest of your life and he cannot imagine that. 

Gotham University is comparable to Ivy League in almost every regard. You managed to be one of his father's best interns long before you’d gotten your powers. You had enough self-preservation and drive to uproot your entire life, growing used to the harsh environment of Gotham alone. You’ve been beaten and broken enough times to make a grown man quit and yet, you put on the suit night after night, fighting crime with a joke and a smile. You had literally no one in your corner for years and yet he watches as you smile at the snow falling on your nose. 

He knows you’re incredibly strong and he wishes nothing but the best for you; which is why he’ll proudly wear your relationship on his sleeve. 

You look at him, feeling his intense gaze and he grins, kissing you again. 

“You okay?” You ask when he pulls away. He nods, looking back towards the manor as you exit the maze. 

“I’m happy I can kiss you freely.” Is all he says and you playfully roll your eyes. Your siblings are waiting on the porch while Damian’s siblings and further in the snow, talking using sign language when Cassandra waves you both over. 

“We have a plan,” She says. “We are going to act like I can’t speak. Only sign language with your family,” They do that every time the family is introduced to someone new, kept it up with Bernard for nearly a year before someone broke. You managed about two months but that’s only because you accidentally walked into a very heated conversation between her and Jason about ballet plays. 

“I agree.” Damian nods. 

“It’s only natural.” You agree. 

“Yo,” Jason suddenly says while smacking your arm. “Is your stepmother the mom of your sister?” You cringe when you think about it and the weird family drama around them. 

“No, she’s an affair baby,” You start and scratch your cheek. “She’s my mom's god-sister's daughter. Her and my dad didn’t date, though. It’s complicated.”

“Oh, okay,” Steph sighs. “Because they look so similar.”

“Oh, yeah. They’re cousins.”

“Huh?” They all blink and you glance at Damian. He shakes his head; he’s not going to explain this mess. 

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m going to need a full explanation,” Tim shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest while you inhale. 

“Okay, her mother is Lupe. Lupe and my dad slept together for about five years before they had my sister. My mom found out because Lupe’s mother told her because she thought my dad would ��step up’ and marry Lupe; spoiler, he didn’t. My dad's wife  is Lupe’s older sister's daughter.” You explain, using your fingers to keep track of people. 

“Okay,” Cass nods. “So, how old is everyone and when did they divorce?”

“My sister, Nadia, is twenty-seven, Pat is twenty-four, Diana is eighteen, and Lupe is ten. My parents divorced before Lupe was born.”

“She has her mother's name?” Jason gasps, holding back a laugh. 

“Dad tried to change it; but you need both signatures. Everyone just calls her Lulu. My mom doesn’t acknowledge her.”

“Are we done here?” Damian sighs. 

“Yes, you can go back to kissing your boyfriend,” Tim rolls his eyes while Jason just shakes his head; still in disbelief that Damian had decided on his own that was in a relationship. He feels like he’s done that in another universe, too. 

“So,” Steph starts just before the two of you can walk away. “When’s your anniversary? Or do you celebrate both of them?” She teases and the others laugh. 

“I’m not answering that,” He grumbles and grabs your hand, pulling you away. 

On the porch, he looks at Nadia and her roommate. They’re holding pinkies, testing the waters while your fingers haven’t left Damian’s in nearly twenty minutes. He feels bad for them; despite his upbringing and hardships, he can confidently say that neither side of his family is homophobic. Not even in the slightest; he’s heard about Ra’s and Bruce’s escapades— although Bruce thankfully reassured him that his grandfather was not on his vast list of people he’d taken to bed. 

He goes to remove his hand, fearing you wouldn’t want your family to know but you squeeze his hand, keeping his hand firmly pressed against your skin. He looks at you and you offer a smile, guiding him to a porch bench while you wait for Bruce to let everyone back inside. 

He blinks, holding back a smile while you pull out your phone with your free hand. You’re playing some tedious game about placing blocks that he finds himself captivated in. It’s as if he can see your thinking in real time; understanding how your brain works. 

“So,” Nadia’s roommate— girlfriend, he corrects himself, Kendall, starts. Her voice feels almost surreal in the soft silence that fills the backyard. He’d nearly forgotten you weren’t alone. Nearly. “Are you two…”

“Dating?” You ask, voice carrying a sort of understanding that Kendall smiles at. She nods and you smile, nudging Damian’s shoulder with your own. “Yeah, we are.” 

“Cool,” She says, eyes darting to Nadia’s who just looks down. 

“Gross,” Pat says, eyes flickering to Damian’s. “You can do better.” Rolling your eyes, you return to your phone. 

“There is no such thing,” Damian answers and you pause, your thumb-stopping as you’re about to place a block. “Your brother is the best thing to happen to me.” Smiling, you lock your phone but pretend you’re still using it. Pat rolls his eyes but he doesn’t say anything further. 

From what you’ve told Damian he knows that Pat is an envious man. Envious that Nadia had won the lottery, envious Diana got your parent's love and affection, envious that you were able to escape the suffocating clutches of your parents when no one else could. 

He feels bad for Pat. He wanted to be an elementary school teacher but your parents had pushed for a ‘more respectable’ degree. You said after that he lost his spark. Became a shell of himself; not that you liked him before all that. He wasn’t a good brother to you, always thought you were too childish. Too head in the clouds to do anything. It was strange, considering the close ages between the two of you and you remember a time the two of you were close. 

The door opens and Damian looks over at his father as he fixes his jacket. His neck is tight but he forces himself to relax and he smiles. It’s the smile he puts on for a crowd, during gala’s, during meetings; whenever he has to put on his Brucie Wayne persona. Because anyone who knew Bruce, really knew him, knew his smile was different. 

“Come on, children.” He says, stepping aside as Tim rushes in. 

“He’s too anemic to be in the cold for so long,” Jason snickers, stepping in after Tim. 

Damian has you walk inside first, watching as his fathers eyes track you with a solemn look. It’s the look he had when you opened up about your family and he looks forward, staring at the back of your head as you enter the room for the third time that day. 

Your step-mother is no longer on your father's lap, she’s sat next to him and settles with just holding his hand. Your mother is opposite to them, her expression— Damian hates to admit it, he’s sorry for even making the connection in his head— is nearly identical to yours when you’re annoyed. Your father— again, really, he’s sorry for the connection— has the traits too. It’s the eyebrows and nose flare with your mother, the eyes and lip curl with your father. 

He wonders if you realize it and that’s why you don’t like getting upset. The reason why you try to avoid conflict if possible. 

Lupe climbs onto your fathers lap, the coldness has only made her more tired and he kisses her head, providing the warmth you’d never gotten from him. 

Damian looks at you as you’re holding a recording device between your fingers; a conflicted expression clear on your face before Bruce slyly takes it and crushes it under his finger. 

“Bruce-!” You gasp but he shakes his head, hand on your shoulder. “Okay,”

The two of you take your seats again, your head naturally finding a home on his shoulder while his arm wraps around your shoulder; tracing shapes into your arm absentmindedly. 

Diana scowls as she enters the room; the two of you sit in the middle because she just knows- oh, she knows you’re doing this on purpose. You’re jealous of her so this is your revenge, you’ve always done things like this. Getting better grades, turning her friends against her (she doesn’t know how for that one yet, despite it being nearly six years ago), countless others and now this. You can’t just be happy for her. 

You ignore her, still playing that damn game that Damian doesn’t know why you play. 

For some strange reason, Damian remembers back to when you learned Wonder Woman’s identity. How your face had dropped and how he snickered when you muttered; ‘that’s an unfortunate name’ that Diana had raised an eyebrow to. You had quickly apologized, of course, later recounting how embarrassing it was when you were alone with Damian. 

You still call her Ms. Prince, though. 

His eyes flicker to Nadia and Kendall; Nadia is pressed in between your mother and Kendall, her leg bouncing while Kendall seems almost unfazed being between Nadia and Jason. 

He’s probably wondering when the food is going to be done; he’s been preparing for this day. Literally; him and Tim and sometimes even Duke will take on extra patrol shifts the day before and not eat the day of Thanksgiving just to make sure they have enough room in their stomach for the feast Alfred prepares. 

While Damian is a little sad that Duke wasn’t able to make it this year, he’s glad he’s able to spend it with his family this year. He says they’re getting better, it’s taken several years but the Joker venom is weaning off of them. He can tell and the doctors confirmed it. They’re good enough that he can have an actual meal with them again. 

You check the time; five-sixteen, and almost sigh. Dinner always starts at eight on the dot and man, you’re hungry. Alfred doesn’t let anyone in the kitchen for a nibble on anything; just a glass of water before he kicks them out. 

Maybe if you texted Damian he could sneak out and bring some food for the two of you. 

“No,” He whispers when you’re hovering over your texts, debating typing it out. Grumbling, you put your phone down and look around. 

There’s not much going on, a couple of conversations have broken out but nothing worthy of note. Bruce is almost guarding the door with the way he’s placed his seat, facing over everyone. You wonder what he talked about; you’re not stupid, you know it’s about you, but you want to know exactly what was said. It’s stupid but you worry that Bruce is tired of you, maybe he agrees with your parents that you’re just that kid. Nothing special. 

Damian feels your pulse when his hand travels to run across your neck, his fingers ghosting from your elbow up and you shudder. His eyebrows furrow when he feels the beating and he discreetly checks on you, your eyes darting about the carpet as your worry vein starts to show on your forehead. 

“Father,” Damian says and Bruce looks over, a quiet hm of acknowledgment coming from the man. “Can we be excused?”

“Of course, Damian,” He nods as a thank you and taps your back, beckoning you up from the couch and you follow him out of the room. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks once you’re a couple of steps away from the room. You shrug, fingernails digging into the rubber phone case. He hates that; hates when you don’t give him a verbal response because how is he supposed to help? He’s great at reading body language, yes, of course he is, but he wants you to talk. 

“You’re worried about something,” He says as you’re traveling up the large staircase. The old wood creaks under your footsteps, the banister sharing it when your hand presses down against it. 

“Does Bruce like me?” You ask and he blinks over at you. 

“My father adores you. He’d adopt you if he could,” He reassures with ease and you smile. “You’re worried about what he spoke to your family about?” Nodding, he looks up the stairs and thinks for a moment. 

“I’m going to be honest with you; I have a couple of theories myself. The most likely one is that father invited them here on purpose; he wants to know them because he realized at the tree that your family doesn’t treat you well. He probably played the aloof character he often does and sang your well-deserved praises, watching as your parents squirmed.”

“You really think that?”

“I’d never lie to you,” He promises, kissing your knuckles. “Do you want to take a nap?”

“Yes, please,”

—

Damian had stayed awake at his desk while you napped on his bed, curled up on his blankets and his pillows, Titus happily sharing the space with you. He hates to admit it, but he definitely watched you as you slept; simply admiring you. 

The others had checked on the two of you periodically, finding Damian was more often than not simply sitting in the silence of the room. Jason wanted to make a joke, something about day one relationship bliss but he held his tongue, he didn’t know why. Don’t ask him. He totally should’ve made the joke. 

When you woke up, he put his book down and waited for you to say something.

“Is the food done?” He laughs and checks his phone. Two minutes until eight. 

“It should be once we head downstairs,” You smile this sleepy smile, face still pressed into his pillow and he swears his heart swells. With a quick fixing of your clothes and hair, the two of you head downstairs as Bruce is heading up. 

“Good,” He breathes. “I was on my way to get the two of you.”  He waits for the two of you to walk past before heading back down himself. Jason and Dick are helping bring the food into the large dining room. Two trays of food in each of their arms while Alfred carts in more trays. You can smell the food from the bottom of the stairs and you’re so glad Damian forced you to go. 

You can imagine the leftovers now. 

Bruce sits at the head of the table as he’s always had, Damian pulls out a chair, one away from the corner seat where he’d be sitting, and nods with his eyes for you to sit.  

“He’s such a gentleman,” Tim cooes from across from you. 

“Just because you were raised without class, Drake doesn’t mean the rest of us were.” Damian quickly replies. Bruce wants to smile; he’ll never admit he loves his children’s banter, but he puts on his old man's tired face to save Damian the embarrassment of knowing his father finds his actions cute. 

Cassandra takes the seat across from Damian while you find Kori next to you. Dick is next to her, but Mar’i is asleep in a mobile bassinet between the two of them. They promise she’s a heavy sleeper but everyone is ever aware of their volume as she sleeps. 

You wonder why more partners aren’t at the dinner. Jason usually invites at least one of the Outlaws, the Kents are almost always there, and maybe one or two of Dick’s Titans show up. You were hoping at least Jon would be there; it’s been a while since you’ve seen him. 

Stephanie settles next to Tim, followed by Jason. He likes to be as far as he can from Bruce without being too far because… Bruce and Jason's things. 

You don’t care where your family sits, honestly you try to block them out. Between your parents, siblings, aunt, and cousins (plus Kendall and your father's wife), you can’t bring yourself to care. 

The last of the food is set and Alfred takes the seat at the other end of the table. Head of household go on the ends, is what Damian had told you when you first questioned it. 

“Wanna say what we’re grateful for?” Dick grins the same way he does every single Thanksgiving that the others mouth the words as he’s saying it. 

“Sure,” Bruce nods, his eyes scanning over the table. “I suppose I’ll start, then.” 

“I’m thankful for my children finding happiness,” He smiles. “Wherever that may be.” He adds, looking at Jason. 

“Oh, I need a drink,” Jason mutters and grabs his glass, pouring whiskey out from his flask.

It’s Cassandra’s turn and she looks around before signing

‘I’m thankful for ballet.’ Everyone replies in sign, not because they actually want to reply, but because it’s funny. You catch your family's embarrassed glances at each other when they realize they have no idea what she said and no one is willing to translate for them. 

Tim doesn’t realize it’s his turn and returns to staring at his lap, trying to hide the fact that he’s working. Stephanie nudges him and he looks up, not even embarrassed that he’s been caught. 

“I’m thankful for the internet in the dining room.” 

“I’m thankful for…” Stephanie trails. “Cassandra.” 

“I’m thankful for alcohol,” Jason says as he takes another large gulp. He wanted to say guns, he always says guns, but you guess Bruce had told him not to this year. 

Kendall is next, her eyes flicker to you for a brief moment as she thinks. 

“I’m thankful that I have someone to celebrate with,” Is what she settles on before it’s Nadia’s turn. 

“I’m thankful for Kendall,” She smiles, her voice shaking as she says it. Kendall smiles down at the table, hiding her pink face. It continues on, your cousins are thankful for Kai Cenat, your brother says some corporate answer you forgot immediately after, Lupe says her iPad, your father says his wife, his wife says him, your mother said her husband, her husband said her, your aunt said her kids, and then it’s Diana’s turn. 

“I’m thankful that Mr. Wayne opened his doors to us,” She says in this sickly sweet voice that makes you inhale and hold your tongue. Thankfully that Kori’s hair mostly blocks you from the others, you shake Damian’s shoulder and he stifles a laugh. 

The married couple says sappy married couple answers and suddenly it’s your turn. 

“I’m thankful that I have all of my organs,”

“You’re still on that?” Tim glares, looking up from his laptop and you laugh, the others joining in. “It happened one—“

“Kids,” Bruce says and Tim looks back down at his laptop. He looks at you and you sigh. 

“I’m thankful for the blue— I’m thankful for the food Alfred cooked so tirelessly,” You say and the family nods to that, even Tim. 

“I’m thankful for (Y/n),” Damian says and Jason cheers when Dick slides him a twenty. “You’re childish.”

“And you’re predictable,” He sings, holding up the crisp twenty-dollar bill. Damian goes to say something but Alfred clears his throat and anything he was going to say dies before it reaches his tongue. 

“I’m thankful for another year with all of you,” Alfred smiles fondly at everyone, even you. 

“Dig in.” Getting food is nearly a free-for-all hell. It’s why Alfred always makes enough that you don’t need to reach too far to get your favorite foods. You pile food onto your plate, fighting Tim with the spoon and ever aware of your family’s bewildered expressions. 

It’s strange for them to see; you’re so happy here. Clearly, in your time in Gotham, you’ve been integrated into the family, settling nicely in their bunch. You’re laughing with Jason about something they don’t get, sharing a forkful of food with Damian because he wanted you to try the tofu ham he loves so dearly. You never liked tofu before, your mother tried once, but you love their tofu ham. 

You have inside jokes with them, even with Bruce. Bruce asks about your classes and they realize they can’t name a single class you take; they don’t even know your major. 

But somehow, someway, it’s your fault. You don’t call enough, you don’t text enough, you don’t come home. It’s not because of them; they’ve done nothing wrong. 

And you know that’s what they think. 

With the initial food free-for-all done, you settle into nice conversations that often have breaks of silence because you’re talking to Cassandra. It’s also the first time Bruce participates in the ongoing gag. 

“No, you nearly killed Jerry on his first Thanksgiving,” Damian insists to Jason. “You’re the reason we didn’t have a Turkey for four years.”

“I’m not the one who tried to kill me.”

“Pretty sure you have,” Tim comments, and Jason snorts before covering his face. 

“We agreed to no more suicide jokes,” Bruce lazily reminded. 

“Was it ever a joke…?” You test the waters and he sighs, holding his face while the others laugh. 

“That’s so rude, (Y/n)!” Diana shouts and everyone goes silent. Dead silent. “Don’t joke about suicide!” The others glance at her, unsure of what to do. You blink, pushing food into your mouth and slowly chew. 

“It’s harmless banter between friends and siblings,” Damian says. “You wouldn’t get it.” 

“Oh…” She settles in her seat. “I guess,”

“Anyway,” Stephanie looks away from her, giving you a glance that says ‘seriously, you’re related?’ and you just shrug. “Did Jason try to kill Jerry?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Okay, let’s ask Alfred.” Alfred looks up from his plate, wiping a napkin along his mouth with wide eyes when he sees the children have turned to him for his verdict. 

“Oh, well. That was so long ago, I suppose I’ve forgotten what’s happened.”

“Nonsense Pennyworth; your memory is sharp. No need to spare Todd’s feelings.”

“I know the demon spawn can be a bear but you can tell the truth, Alfred.” 

Bruce sighs because he knows this topic will never end.

“It wasn’t him.” Bruce blurts before covering his mouth with a napkin. Alfred gives him a thankful look but Damian slowly turns to look at Bruce.

“What?” Damian leans over, eyes wide as he stares at his father. “Who was it, father?”

“It was…” He sighs. “Me.”

Shouting erupts at the table, you and Cassandra sit, shell-shocked as years of a feud had been for nothing— something Bruce could’ve stopped long ago. 

‘Wasn’t it you?’ You ask and she nods, serving herself more mashed potatoes. You snicker, reaching over to finish Damian’s glass of wine. He takes the last sip of his father's glass, angrily downing it because the shouting has made his throat dry. 

“I cannot believe you let Todd take the blame,” Damian breathes as he settles down. “It’s been nearly ten years, father!” 

“Oh heavens,” Alfred shakes his head. “I shall bring out more wine.”

“Bourbon, please, Alfred.” Bruce and Jason grumble. 

“Having fun?” Tim grins over at your family. The bunch are shocked; well your cousins are eating this up and Lupe is still playing on her iPad. You didn’t expect anything less from them if you’re being truthful. 

“You have a… lively family,” Your father’s wife smiles. 

“Hopefully you’ll marry into it, right?” Tim continues to egg them on. “Then we’ll be one big happy family.” He winks at your mother who gawks.

“Yup,” You nod, much to Damian’s shock. “One big, gay, happy wedding, right, Dames.” He quickly collects himself and nods. 

“Honeymoon to whatever island you want; after our destination wedding. I’m thinking Istanbul or Cape Town, South Africa.”

“Mhmm, and then we’ll get a big mansion somewhere.”

“A farm, too.” 

“That sounds nice,” Kori agrees. 

“You’ll be my maid of honor, of course.”

“And Dick will be my best man.” 

“He’ll be mine.” You disagree, turning to Damian. 

“You cannot have both!”

“Fine, I’m taking Casandra.”

“No! She’ll be my maid of honor. Why don’t you pick Drake or something?”

“I’m busy that day,” Tim responds and Damian squints. “I might be able to squeeze you in.” Tim concedes. 

“I’m taking Jon, then.” 

“Oh my god,” Bruce puts his head in his hands as Alfred pours him a glass of bourbon. He downs it and Alfred quickly pours another glass. “There won’t be a marriage until you’ve finished college.”

“I didn’t know you moved that fast,” Jason teases. 

“It’s not fast if I’m sure he’s the love of my life.”

You pause, staring down at your glass as the room falls silent. 

Honestly, this is moving… fast. You’ve never been in love, at least you don’t think you have. You’ve never really known love; your father cheated for five years, your mother married your father's (now former) boss out of spite, your father is currently married to someone the same age as his eldest daughter, and your sister was in a hidden relationship. 

Your girlfriends have been nice. You liked them enough, they weren’t bad in any way. You enjoyed being with them but you wouldn’t say you’ve ever loved any of them. 

With Damian, you aren’t sure if what you’re feeling is love. Maybe puppy love but… love. You aren’t sure about that; you’d been joking about the marriage stuff. It was a joke to get your family uncomfortable. You weren’t even sure you wanted to get married! Let alone to Damian. 

The relationship was literal hours long at this point— sure longer in Damian’s eyes but he’s clearly had romantic feelings for you for longer than you’ve had them for him. Maybe you hadn’t realized before, sure, yes, that’s entirely possible. But you don’t love him just yet. 

“I’m gonna… use the bathroom…” Diana excuses herself, her kitten heels clicking against the freshly polished floor. 

Your ears are ringing as Damian continues his conversations like normal. You glance around, finding Tim’s eyes in the chaos that’s your current state. He raises his eyebrows and you must’ve made a face because he did a short nod. Damian says something; something about you. He wants your opinion about something but you don’t know what he said. There was just one fact running through your mind. 

He was in love with you. Like genuinely. 

You must’ve been a horrible gay boyfriend because you smile and ask him to repeat himself. 

“Oh, (Y/n),” Tim cuts you off, closing his laptop. “I wanted your opinion on something about… stuff; join me.” 

“Can’t it wait?” Bruce asks. He assumes it’s about his case because Bruce was considering asking you some questions about it anyway. It had to deal with your major and why not ask the kid who’s currently studying what he thinks? 

“Don’t wanna forget,” Tim shakes his head. 

“It’s okay,” You smile. “I’ll be back in the second, yeah?” Damian nods, squeezing your hand as you leave the room with Tim. 

“He’s a lot.” Is the first thing Tim says when you’re walking into a nearby room. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” You mumble, falling onto a couch with a loud sigh. 

“Really? Because he just said you’re the love of his life and you looked sick.”

“I’m just—“ Any reasoning dies before you find it and you look at him. “It was shocking.” You settle on saying. 

“Yeah, you’ve been dating for maybe six hours and you were asleep for half of them. Congrats, though. You’ve clearly won him over,” Tim settles across from you, his legs hanging off of the chair while he hangs his head, staring at the dead fireplace. 

“I don’t know what love is.” You blurt and he looks up, half interested. 

“Considering your family is a weird fucking situation, I figured.” 

“Shut up, fucking detective.” 

“Ouch,” He teases with a grin. “Put ‘World’s Greatest’ in front of it next time.” 

“Can you explain love? Maybe then I'll put the title.”

“You’re great at barging,” Tim sits up, now resting his chin on his fists. You stare at him, waiting and he sits there. Thinking. 

“If Jon was to walk through the doors and declare his love for Damian, how would you feel?”

“Upset. Confused.” You shrug. 

“How often do you look for him?”

“Not often. We’re never apart.”

“When you are.” He corrects, rolling his eyes. 

“Often, I guess. I worry;” You shrug. 

“About what?”

“During…” Glancing at the door. “Our side jobs, I worry that he’s been taken. I guess. Maybe worse. During classes I just miss him, I’m used to being around him.”

“Used to or want to?”

“What do you mean?” Your face pinches and Tim tilts his head. 

“Are you used to being around Damian or do you want to be around Damian?”

“I want to,” You answer without hesitation. “I miss him when I sleep and he’s not there. I think of him whenever I’m shopping because I often see something he would like. I’ve…” You trail off, rubbing your hands on your legs. “Never told him I’m mildly allergic to dogs because he loves Titus.”

“You’re allergic to dogs?” 

“Mhmm, my throat gets itchy for a bit when I touch them or something they’ve come into contact with. I try not to touch them too often. I think I’ve built an immunity, though.”

“I’d say you’re in love. I would never do that,” He laughs. “Maybe baby love and Damian’s full deep-end love, but love.” 

“Really?” You smile and he nods, looking you up and down as if he’s judging you. He totally is. 

“Yeah, only fools in love would do something that stupid.” 

—

When Diana returns to the dining room, you pay her no mind. You're holding your goddaughter as she stares up at you, holding your finger. Her eyes really are green like her mother's. She smiles, cooing when Damian strokes the top of her head. 

She’s not old enough to have normal food, but it doesn’t mean she likes it. She tries to grab the fork whenever she can and even tries to remove the tablecloth to get to the delicious food. Against your wishes, Kori takes her upstairs. Dick says she needs to eat and you reluctantly understand, missing her already. 

“It’s time for dessert,” Alfred announces as he stands some time after Kori comes back, Mar’i once again fast asleep. Everyone had finished their plates and slumped in their seats, sure they were going to fall into a food coma. 

“I’ll help clear the table,” You offer, standing up and grabbing some of the trays. Jason does the same and you stare at each other; silently agreeing you’d split the leftovers evenly if you don’t argue and alert the others. 

Alfred takes the trays the two of you don’t and once they’re set on the table, he watches as the two of you rush to grab the tupperware he takes out for Thanksgiving and pile food inside. 

“Do leave some for the rest of us,” He comments as he goes back into the dining room to fetch the dirty plates and utensils and you apologize but continue filling the trays. You end up with eight heavy bowls; four for you and four for Damian. It’s not a lot, all things considered. No one else really gets the vegan things so it's always going with Damian. But even with Jason’s filling, there’s more than enough for everyone else. 

You put your tubs into your toolbox, preserving them exactly how they are while Jason has to put his in the fridge after slapping several sticky notes and writing on the tubs that the food is his and he will shoot whoever takes them. 

You’re nearly tempted. 

Alfred returns with the dishes, scraping the bones and scraps into the trash before he places them in the sink to soak. 

“Go inside, you will not have first dibs on dessert.” He says, eyeing the two of you while you stand in the kitchen's doorway. 

“Aw man,” You frown, dragging your feet as you walk away. 

“I assume you stole the leftovers?” Damian grins when you sit back down.

“Absolutely,” You grin back, knocking his leg with yours. “All the favorites, enough for a week.” He nods in approval, once again looking over the table. 

Alfred wheels in the desert and you swear it’s like feeding time at the zoo because the right side of the table eye the trays like they’re raw meat and they’re wild animals who hadn’t eaten in ages. Even Bruce. 

He sets the left side first; which will have the same things as the right and your mouth waters when you see the knafeh. You know your family won’t love it the same way you do and god, you’re going to take the whole pan home. There’s an elaborate strawberry cheesecake, three pies (apple, pecan, and pumpkin), banana pudding, and crème brûlée donuts. 

“I’m gonna cry,” Stephanie whispers, her leg bouncing with anticipation. “It’s so beautiful.”

When Bruce gives the nod to dig in— after Alfred pre-cut slices and gave everyone warning stares—, the dessert free-for-all is more contained. Everyone gets two slices of each pie, two of the cheesecake, enough of the pudding, and three donuts. It’s typically that way but everyone starts trading for their favorite things. You trade your pecan and pumpkin pie slices for: an apple slice, a donut, and two cheesecake slices. Or you don’t. Maybe you made it up; it’s up to your imagination, really. 

Your focus is on the knafeh; everyone always gives you one of their slices out of tradition. No need to trade for those bad boys. 

Alfred pours eggnog for everyone as well— he even makes special ones for those with diet restrictions. 

“This is so good,” Your cousin says, face stuffed with pumpkin pie. “You’re like Gordon Ramsay, dude.”

“Thank you, young man.” Alfred gives him a warm smile that makes your cousin beam. 

“I’m a man,” He whispers to his mother, eyes twinkling. She laughs and ruffles his hair. 

“So, you two are in a real relationship?” Your father's wife asks, pointing her fork between you and Damian. “Like… actually?”

“Yup,” You nod, licking your spoon clean of the apple pie filling. 

“Unfortunately,” Jason teases. 

“Just so you know; I’m like totally cool with gay people.” She says, holding her hand in your general direction as if you were going to grab it. “I’m an ally!”

“Nice,” You nod again. She smiles and nods, sipping her spiked eggnog. She spiked it, and everyone saw. She’ll deny it later. 

“They’re clearly lying!” Diana shouts. You were waiting for that; she’d been incredibly silent for most of the dinner. It was only a matter of time. “(Y/n) is jealous that me and Damian clearly have a spark! He’s… he’s messing with Damian’s mind! You saw the way he looked at me at the tree and besides— (Y/n) has had girlfriends before!”

“I’m bisexual.”

“As if! You don't even like Ryan Reynolds and I remember when you were eight and you said you’d date Red Hood if he was a girl!”

“I never said that!” You quickly shout, face heating up as the others around you snicker. 

“Yes, you did! You made Nadia make you that Red Hood costume for Halloween and made posters of him! You painted our Nerf guns black! And you said you wanted to marry ‘Girl Red Hood’!” 

“No, I didn’t! Oh my god, I didn’t!” You swear, shaking your head. 

“You did,” Nadia nods and you cover your face, unable to look at the Wayne’s. “It was clear, in hindsight.”

“So,” Jason slowly nods. “Red Hood was your gay awakening?”

“No! I was not into Red Hood!”

“And then he was fixated on Robin for a while. The one with the swords,” Nadia continues and you almost sob, collapsing in your seat. “He wanted swords and he swore his Robin hoodie for almost two months straight; convinced dad to buy Robin bedsheets.”

“They’re lying,” Your voice is muffled under your hands. Damian rubs your shoulder but you can just tell he’s enjoying this. 

“It was so much worse than the Red Hood phase,” Pat slowly agrees. “Is that why you moved here?”

“No, because that never happened.”

“It did,” Your mother slowly agrees. “But you stopped because of…” She trails, looking at your father. The conversation dies there and you’re able to breathe. 

“Damian’s not even gay!” 

“Diana,” You groan. 

“Considering there’s a video going around of them kissing; I’d say he’s pretty gay,” Tim says and you look at him.

“You recorded us kissing?”

“Not me; that’s too weird for me.” He shakes his head, flipping his laptop to show you. “Diana was live and someone screen recorded. You’re trending with the hashtag: stuffing.”

“That’s just crazy,” You snicker but try to be serious. 

“Hickeys so soon?” Stephanie wiggles her eyebrows at Damian as she watches the video. 

“This is unbecoming,” Damian blinks at the video but everyone can see he’s red in the face. “I demand you stop playing the video.”

“I actually sent it to everyone already.”

“Drake!”

“Tim!”

“What?” He grins, looking between the two of you. “All of us have one— it’s a rite of passage for Bruce’s sort of kids to get caught making out and having it posted.”

—

Dinner wraps up, and you’re in the kitchen with Alfred, putting your leftovers into more Tupperware to avoid… all of them really. He’s washing the dishes, insistent that he does it alone and you let him. He won’t budge on his Thanksgiving dish duties for some odd reason. 

You’re finishing up when your phone buzzes and you check it. 

Diana : 

Mom and dad are yelling at each other because of you. I hope you’re happy. 

Just stop pretending you weren’t even bisexual yesterday. 

It’s actually really sad. 

They’re talking about changing custody because of you, now I won’t be able to see mom or dad EVER again. 

Nadia:

I can see Diana texting you

it’s not your fault

you know how they are

and i’m proud that you came out, sorry i didn’t say it earlier 

Your family had left in a haste, mostly rushed by your mother and father who climbed into a large uber with the kids and spouse. Your aunt and cousins were driven back by Dick. 

You:

thanks, you too, btw

Nadia:

LOLLL maybe one day

you two should come visit us one day, see the farm

damian likes animals, right?

You:

yeah

loves them

She sends you some pictures of animals she’s gotten over the course of a couple years and you smile. 

You:

oh he’ll definitely want to see them

maybe during spring break?

Nadia: 

sounds perfect. stay safe, ill worry about mom and dad 

You:

okay love you

Nadia:

love you too

—

Later that night, everyone is doing a late-night patrol when you hear Jason start speaking. 

“Girl Red Hood?”

“They were lying!”

“For Hood’s sake, he better pray that is true.”

[simplygojo]

A Path I Can't Follow

Author's Note: SO I was already writing this one shot when I got this awesome request from an anon, so I merged it into this. My Star Wars fans will be so happy with this one LOLL, well actually not happy bc its mega angst (iykyk). JUSTICE FOR ANAKIN AND SUGURU!!!

I recommend listening to your favourite sad playlist while reading, makes the experience 1111000% better.

Pairing: Suguru Geto x f!reader

Also, I have a giveaway event going on rn, if you'd like to enter to win an Amazon gift card then check it out here.

Request linked here

Warnings: violence, grief, loss, death. (yeah, I said mega angst...)

Tags: @simplyyyuji; If you'd like to be added to my taglist pls comment/dm me!

It had been almost a month since Suguru Geto abandoned the Jujutsu world, leaving behind a trail of devastation that none of you could have anticipated. 

The day Gojo gave you the news…your world fractured in ways you couldn’t comprehend.

When Satoru found you in the training hall, his usually carefree expression was replaced with something grim, something haunted. 

The lighthearted banter you’d come to expect from him was absent, replaced by a heavy silence that stretched between you like a void. 

You had known something was wrong before he even said it, but nothing could have prepared you for the words that followed.

Suguru had cursed an entire village—men, women, children—and even worse, his own parents were among them.

Your mind couldn’t grasp it at first. 

The Suguru you knew, the one who held you close on quiet nights, who used to laugh softly at your terrible jokes and talk about a future that didn’t involve exorcisms or endless battles, was suddenly unrecognizable. 

How could he have done something so monstrous?

You remembered staring blankly at Gojo, your body numb, the room spinning as he continued speaking, his voice distant as you felt something hot stream down your cheeks. 

You had been dating Suguru for three years—three years of knowing every side of him…or so you thought. 

But this? 

This was something you could never have imagined.

The ache in your chest was unbearable, it felt as if someone had hollowed you out from the inside. You shook your head violently “No…no…”

You couldn’t produce an image of the man you loved according to the monster Gojo had described. 

The same man who used to trace circles on your back as you fell asleep, whispering that everything would be okay, had now left a village in ruins, and your mind couldn’t process it.

Gojo’s voice had softened when he saw the look on your face, but the pity in his eyes only made it worse, and you fell to the ground in a broken mess. 

"I’m sorry," he’d said, and though you knew he meant it, those words felt hollow, as you knew he had lost someone important too in all of this.

You barely remembered what happened after that. 

The days blurred together in a haze of disbelief and grief. You stayed in your room, replaying every conversation, every mission, searching for the moment when it all went wrong. 

How had you missed this? 

How could Suguru have changed so completely without you realizing it?

The weight of his absence crushed you. 

The empty spaces he left behind—the way your bed felt too big without him in it, the quiet moments in the common room that you used to fill with laughter—were suffocating. 

And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape the truth: Suguru Geto, the man you loved, had become someone you didn’t recognize. 

And you didn’t what from him, no goodbye, no I’m sorry—nothing from the man you loved.

You had been avoiding your phone, pushing the thoughts of Suguru away because they hurt too much to hold onto. 

The soft knock at your bedroom door made your heart jump, only for it to fall when you realized it wasn’t him—It was never him.

But when you opened the door to see a letter laid on the ground—folded, worn edges, and unmistakably his handwriting—your world spun for a moment. 

He had sent it. After everything, after weeks of silence, Suguru sent you a note.

Your fingers trembled as you opened it, heart racing, unsure whether you should laugh or cry at the mere fact that he reached out.

"Meet me."

And, God help you, you went.

—

The air was thick, and the sky was dark when you arrived at the temple. 

It clung to your skin, heavy with unspoken words, with things left unsaid between the two of you. 

Your feet felt like they were sinking into the earth as you climbed the steps, each one pulling you deeper into a place you weren’t sure you could return from.

And there he was.

Suguru stood by the edge of the open hall, staring out into the night, his back turned to you as the wind stirred his long hair. He didn’t move as you approached, didn’t say anything, even though you knew he had to have sensed your presence. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, willing your voice to come out steady. "Suguru."

It barely came out as a whisper, but it was enough. His shoulders stiffened, the only sign that he had heard you. 

You waited for him to turn, for him to say something—anything—that would make sense of the last few weeks. But he didn’t move.

The silence pressed down on you, suffocating.

“Why did you do all this?” You finally asked, your voice cracking under the weight of the question that had haunted you every day since he disappeared.

Suguru exhaled slowly, a sound that was more sigh than breath. "I had to." He said before finally turning around to face you. 

That was all he offered. 

No apology, no explanation, just that hollow statement, like it was meant to answer everything.

You could see his features soften as your eyes locked. 

He had almost forgotten how beautiful you were, how your features calmed him and brought him warmth—a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

You shook your head, trying to hold yourself together as you spoke softly. 

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t have to curse an entire village to death. You didn’t even tell me—” Your voice cracked as you felt the pain of his absence catching up to you. “You left me. You left all of us.”

Finally, he began slowly walking towards where you stood in the doorway. His eyes met yours, and the sight of him, standing there so composed, so distant, shattered something inside you.

"I couldn’t stay," he said, his voice steady in a way that made your chest ache. "This world… it’s broken. Staying wouldn’t change that."

You took a step toward him, desperation clawing at you. "We could’ve fixed it together. You didn’t even try to talk to Satoru or me. You didn’t have to leave."

He shook his head, his eyes hard, resolute. 

"You shouldn’t bother yourself with Satoru…” He paused, “I’m building something new. Something better. I can’t fix this world from the inside. I can’t pretend anymore." He took a few more steps, closing the distance between you with agonizing slowness, each step erasing the space but widening the gap between who he had been and who he had become.

You felt the urge rise, the instinct to reach out, to touch him like you used to, like it would somehow bring him back to you. 

But your hands stayed frozen at your sides, weighed down by the fear—no, the fact that your beautiful boy was already too far gone.

Your heart dropped. 

The person standing in front of you wasn’t the Suguru you had known, the one who held you close after every mission, the one who whispered your name like it was a prayer. This man was a stranger, distant and cold.

“And what about us?” Your voice cracked again, tears burning behind your eyes as you fought to keep them at bay. “What about everything we had, Suguru?”

His jaw clenched. For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes, something soft and familiar. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same, chilling determination. 

"I can’t go back." His voice was quiet but firm as his thumb ran over your sift skin, reminding you of the happiness you once had with this man.

Unbeknownst to you, tears began to slip down your cheeks, hot and unchecked. You leaned into his touch, your voice trembling with emotion. 

“What you are doing…I-It’s insane. You, me, the others—we were building something.”

He shook his head, his expression hardening as his gaze turned distant again but still locked onto your crying eyes, his hand moving down to rest on the side of your neck, his touch was cold on your warm skin. 

“No, y/n. We weren’t building anything. I was just wasting my time.”

You flinched as if he had struck you, the weight of his words slamming into you, stealing the breath from your lungs. 

“Wasting time?” 

You staggered back, away from his grasp, shaking your head, hands gripping your arms as though trying to hold yourself together. 

“This isn’t you, Suguru. You’re not this... this person. You’re not—not a monster…” Your voice faltered, a sob finally breaking free from your quivering lips as you looked away from his once-kind eyes. 

“Come home to me, baby. Please.”

You hated how desperate you sounded, how your heart felt like it was shattering in your chest as you stood there, pleading with the only person you had ever truly loved.

“I can’t,” he said softly, and that softness hurt worse than anything else. His eyes met yours, and you saw it—the finality in them. 

“I’m building something new. A world where the weak don’t suffer. A world that’s right.”

Tears streamed down your face, hot and bitter, but you couldn’t stop them. “We could do that together! We could—”

“No, y/n!” His voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and cold as ice. 

He had never yelled at you, never raised his voice like this, and the sound of it sent a fresh wave of pain and fear crashing over you. 

“We can’t.”

You flinched at his harshness, your breath hitching as his words sank in. He looked away, jaw clenched tight, as if the mere sight of your tears was too much for him. 

"I’m doing this for us," he continued, his voice lower but no less resolute. "For everyone.”

"Suguru…you’re breaking my heart, you’re going down a path I can’t follow” The words slipped out, quiet but forceful. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him, the man you always thought you couldn’t live without.

He shook his head softly, slowly approaching you as you moved away from him. “Y/n…everything I’ve done, has been necessary…"

“Necessary?” You spat, your voice trembling as your grief twisted into rage, angry tears streaming down your face. “You think abandoning me—abandoning everything we have worked for—is necessary?”

He shook his head, taking small steps towards you slowly closing the space between you once more. 

“You don’t understand,” he murmured. “I’m not abandoning you. I’m—”

“Then what is this?!” You interrupted, your voice breaking as the pain inside you twisted into something desperate, broken. 

“What do you call this if not abandonment?!” You screamed, your tear-filled eyes locking with his, and you knew he could see the pain in your soul, the pain he caused you.

Suguru’s eyes flashed, a familiar glint passing through them, and for the first time since you arrived, you saw something close to regret in his gaze. He looked at you in a way you never thought you’d get to see again—with love.

Before you could even react, his lips were on yours, urgent and full of emotion. 

The kiss hit you like a truck, your breath stolen from your lungs as his hand moved to the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair as he desperately pulled you closer.

The shock of it left you frozen for a heartbeat, but then your body responded on its own, your hands reaching up to cup his face. 

Your fingers brushed against the familiar curve of his jaw, the rough stubble beneath your touch grounding you in a moment that felt both surreal and inevitable. 

The kiss wasn’t gentle—it was raw, a mixture of desperation and longing, as if he were trying to pour every unsaid word, every unresolved feeling, into the press of his lips.

Suguru kissed you like it was the only thing that mattered in the world, as if he could somehow erase the pain that he saw reflected in your tears with this one act. 

His lips were soft, but his grip on you was firm, holding you as if he couldn’t bear to let go. 

And for a moment, you let yourself fall into it—into him. You let the world fall away, let the ache in your chest dissolve into the warmth of his touch.

Your hands trembled slightly as they moved from his jaw to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, refusing to let him slip away again. 

His kiss deepened, and you felt the weight of all the emotions he wasn’t saying—the regret, the sorrow, the love that still lingered between you, even in the midst of everything.

But as your lips moved with his, the reality of what was happening began to creep back in. 

This kiss wasn’t a promise—it was a goodbye, a last grasp at something that had already been broken beyond repair. 

You could feel it in the way his body pressed against yours, in the way his breath hitched slightly as he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath.

His hand lingered on the back of your head, but there was a distance in his touch, a hesitation that hadn't been there before. 

When you opened your eyes and looked into his, you saw the tears welling up, threatening to spill from the depths of his deep purple gaze.

“Suguru…” Your voice was soft as you spoke, 

“I love you, I have, continue to, and will forever love you.” 

You watched his eyes search yours, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air as a single tear slipped down his cheek, his lips quivered slightly, and you felt your heart shatter within your chest. 

Instinctively, you raised your thumb to wipe it away, your gentle touch resting on his skin as your hands cradled his face. The warmth of his skin under your fingertips contrasted sharply with the hot tears streaming down your own face, the ache in your chest growing as you held onto each other tightly. 

His fingers traced small, soothing patterns on your cheek, evoking the memories of laughter and love you once shared, of moments that felt invincible and eternal.

“Please, baby, come h—” you began, desperation threading through your voice, the plea heavy on your lips. But before you could finish, he cut you off with another kiss—this one frantic and urgent, a collision of emotions. 

Your lips moved together, moisture mixing due to you both crying, it was as if he were trying to convey everything he couldn't articulate, the weight of his sorrow and regret pouring into the embrace. 

His hands became tangled in your hair again as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth with familiarity.

He kissed you with a fervour that spoke of longing, a need to bridge the gap that had formed between you. 

This kiss was deeper and more intense, echoing the confessions left unspoken, the promises he had broken. 

In that moment, you both surrendered to the flood of feelings that surged between you, clinging to each other as if the world around you had ceased to exist.

He pulled away gently, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“Please, Suguru,” you said through your tears, your voice raw. “I love you. I love you so much.”

For a long, agonizing moment, he didn’t say anything. 

He just looked at you, as if memorizing the way you looked right then—broken, crying, desperate. 

“Love won’t save you, y/n, only power can do that.” He said, straightening his spine and letting his hands fall to his sides. 

“But at what cost? You are a good person, probably the best I’ve ever met. Don’t do this!” You cried, watching his eyes darken with something you weren't familiar with. 

“You don’t understand, y/n, I am bringing about the world of the sorcerers! Those monkeys needed to be taken out in order for us to survive.” He tried explaining, and you felt your heart practically tearing apart.

“I don’t believe what I’m hearing…Satoru was right…You’ve changed.” You said, taking a few steps backward to create some space between you. You noticed his eyebrows crinkle at the sound of your words.

“I don’t want to hear any more about Satoru!” He shouted, growing visibly angry as he continued, “He thinks he can take anything he wants, don’t you let him take you from me too!” 

You let out a defeated sigh, but the hot stream of tears didn’t stop flowing. “I don't know you anymore Suguru…”

“Because of Satoru?” He said accusingly.

You shook you head, a look of disbelief sprawled across your face. 

“Because of what you've done—What you plan to do! Stop! Stop now... come back! I love you!”

Suguru’s features softened and he took a gentle step towards you. Before you could get another word out, his eyes darted to the doorway behind you, and that dark angered look returned. 

You turned your head to meet the object of his gaze and were surprised to see Gojo standing in the doorway, his shades loosely between two fingers at his side.

“You’re with him! You brought him here because you know he’s the only one who can kill me!” Suguru shouted, his eyes meeting yours with a raging fire you hadn’t seen before, sending a wave of fear through your body. 

“No! I don’t know why he’s her–.” You pleaded your hands clasping together in front of you—But Suguru wasn’t listening. 

All he saw was red—the overwhelming rage and betrayal clouding his judgment, twisting every word you said into something darker.

Without hesitation, his hand lifted, fingers curling into a fist. The motion was swift, almost instinctive, and before you could react, the sensation of his familiar snake-like curse coiled around your body. 

Its grip tightened with terrifying speed, constricting your airway, and your breath hitched violently.

Panic surged through you as your vision began to blur. You tried to speak, tried to plead with him, but the pressure around your throat made it impossible. 

Your hands flew up to your neck in a futile attempt to loosen the curse’s grip, but it was no use.

Your eyes locked onto his, searching for some sign of the man you once loved—some hint of the tenderness he used to show you. But the fire in his gaze was all-consuming, the rage overpowering the softness you had once known.

Tears streamed down your face, each drop burning against your skin as your body began to falter. 

Yet, through the haze of suffocating pain, you noticed something—the glistening tears that fell from Suguru’s own eyes, tracing silent paths down his cheeks.

Even in his anger, his heart ached. 

But it wasn’t enough to stop him.

Before you could let out your final breath, you managed to say one last thing as you stared into his dangerous eyes–the same ones you fell in love with, searching for one last glimpse of the man you loved.

“I will–always love–you.” You breathed, voice hoarse as you felt your body slip into unconsciousness. 

A single tear slipped down his cheek, one he didn’t bother wiping away this time. The weight of your final words crushed him, cracking through the hardened shell he’d encased himself in. 

‘I can’t let Satoru take her from me’ he thought to himself.

Suguru’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing as your words hung in the air like a ghost. 

‘I will—always love—you.’

It was as if the last shred of your strength had been spent in those words, the way you looked at him, your eyes full of love and pain, piercing through the darkness he’d embraced.

His grip on you tightened, the snake-like curse coiling around your now limp neck with unrelenting force. 

His thoughts were frantic—disjointed. 

But then, Gojo’s voice boomed, snapping through the suffocating tension like a whip, 

“Suguru, let her go!” It wasn’t a request—it was a command. At that moment, the intensity of Gojo's eyes was enough to shake even Suguru.

“Let her go, damn it!” Gojo’s voice cracked, desperation seeping through his usual unshakable composure. 

“You’ve probably just killed her!”

Suguru’s hands faltered, his eyes widening in sudden horror. 

Gojo’s words pierced through the haze of rage clouding his mind. 

Killed her? No… That couldn’t be true. 

He hadn’t meant to hurt you, hadn’t meant for this to happen. He’d only wanted to protect you—to keep you by his side.

“No…no, no, no…” Suguru muttered, releasing the curse, causing your body to fall to the floor with a loud thud. His hand covered his mouth as he stumbled back. 

His eyes flickered between you and Gojo, and he quickly went to hold you in his arms. “No!” 

Panic seeped into his gaze as he saw your limp form cradled in his arms, your head lolling to the side. 

‘No, she’s not—she can’t be—’

“Y/n…?” Suguru whispered, dropping to his knees beside you, his trembling hands hovering over your neck, unsure, terrified of what he might find. 

His breathing hitched, and for the first time in a month, Suguru Geto was terrified.

“Suguru, what did you do?!” Gojo's voice rang out again, fury and heartbreak mingling together. 

His hands clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body taut as he fought the urge to tear Suguru apart. 

But even now, beneath the rage, there was still that glimmer of hope—hope that you could be saved.

Suguru shook his head, his movements erratic, his denial absolute. “She’s—she’s fine, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to—” His voice broke, trembling as his eyes darted between your pale face and Gojo’s stricken expression. 

He hadn’t meant to kill you—he never meant for it to end this way.

“I-I didn’t—” His words trailed off, his mind spiralling as he realized the depth of what he had done. 

The weight of his actions crashed down on him, and for a moment, he was paralyzed by the enormity of his guilt.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, his hands trembling as he walked towards where you laid in his arms.

“Suguru,” he growled, voice laced with cold fury. 

“You’ve killed her.”

“No!” Suguru shouted, backing away from you, as if Gojo’s words were physical blows. 

His chest heaved, his breath shallow as panic surged through him. 

He stumbled to his feet, shaking his head in disbelief, refusing to accept what had just happened.

“No, I didn’t—she’s not—she’s still alive!”

Gojo’s pained gaze flickered to your still form, and in that instant, Suguru knew—he couldn’t stay. 

Not with Gojo there. Not with the full weight of his crime pressing down on him. He turned on his heel, his heart hammering in his chest as he muttered incoherent apologies to the air, his mind fractured and overwhelmed.

Without another word, Suguru bolted from the room, his footsteps echoing in the hollow silence. 

Gojo didn’t move—he couldn’t. Not yet. Not when your life hung in the balance.

The room fell into a suffocating quiet, the remnants of your final plea still echoing in the air.

There weren’t many thoughts going through Gojo’s head as he carried your lifeless body back to Jujutsy High, just one—he had lost his two best friends that night.

—

5 Days Later

Suguru had recruited a few curse users since his incident with you and Gojo at the temple. He had managed to knock you out so Gojo wouldn’t be able to stick around and kill him, he couldn’t afford to delay his plans. Or so he convinced himself.

One evening, he was approached by two girls he had adopted, Nanako and Mimiko, who claimed to have news from Jujutsu High, as they were responsible for gaining intel from the school to keep tabs. 

“Let's hear it. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble for you girls,” He said softly, a warm smile playing on his lips as the two girls sat beside him. 

“Not at all, Mr. Geto.” Mimiko said taking out a piece of paper from her pocket to read some bullet points, written in glitter gel pens. 

“Um, no one is making any real progress on tracking you down, probably because they’re all idiots,” she said, rolling her eyes. Suguru let out a small chuckle.

“Well that’s good news, anything else?” He said, that same smile plastered on his face.

“Oh yeah, that girl sorcerer you fought with is dead, what was her name? Ummmmm, oh yeah! Y/n y/l/n!” 

Suguru’s entire body went rigid, the casual warmth that had coloured his voice just moments ago draining in an instant. His heart seized in his chest as Mimiko’s words echoed in his ears.

‘Y/n y/l/n… dead.’

“No,” he muttered, his voice strained and barely audible as the room seemed to tilt around him. 

“That’s impossible. I—” He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. 

“I just knocked her unconscious… I didn’t—” His words trailed off, his mind spiralling back to that moment, to the look in your eyes as his cursed spirit wrapped around your neck.

‘I didn’t mean to hurt her. I didn’t mean to…’

“Yeah,” Nanako added, her tone indifferent as she glanced at the paper. “That doctor lady’s  report said her neck was broken—shattered, actually. Sounds like there was nothing they could do. She died instantly.”

Suguru’s breath hitched in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. 

His mind raced back to that final moment, your whispered words replaying in his head over and over again. ‘I will—always love—you.’

‘How had it come to this? How had he let it happen?’

His hands trembled as he gripped the edge of the table, trying to steady himself, but the world was slipping through his fingers. 

He hadn’t meant to kill you. He didn’t want that. He had only wanted to stop you—stop you from siding with Gojo. Stop you from leaving him, like everyone else had. 

But now… Now you’re gone.

“Mr. Geto?” Mimiko’s soft voice attempted to pull him out of his thoughts, but it did nothing to soothe the storm that raged inside him. 

He couldn’t hear her. He could barely hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears, the distant echo of your last breath.

He stood abruptly, pushing away from the table, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. Both girls flinched, their eyes widening in confusion as they watched his usually composed demeanour unravel.

“Mr. Geto?” Nanako called out again, her voice small.

But Suguru wasn’t listening anymore. He turned away, his mind a tangled mess of disbelief and horror. 

He had to get out—out of this room, out of this suffocating realization that he had killed the one person who had loved him enough to try to save him.

His chest heaved as he stumbled toward the door, his vision blurring at the edges. The air felt too thick, too hot, and for the first time in years, 

Suguru Geto felt like he was drowning. 

‘I killed my beautiful y/n…’ The thought reverberated like a haunting mantra, suffocating him from the inside.

He barely registered the sound of the girls calling after him as he staggered outside, cold night air hitting his skin but doing little to calm the chaos inside him. 

Suguru collapsed to his knees, his breath ragged, his hands clutching at his head as if he could somehow block out the reality of what he had done. 

The tears came, unbidden, hot and stinging, falling freely down his face as he let out a broken, anguished sob.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

“Y/n…” he whispered into the cold night air, his voice shattered. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

But it was too late. He had chosen the dark side…

The world he sought to create, one where the weak no longer suffered, now felt more hollow than ever.

And all that remained was the bitter taste of regret, the price of his ambition.

[unluckilyimnot]

can u do the "i like you I said I like you" thing with any random blue lock boy if u don't know it just search it up and it will be there it's pretty cute and when you do or u already know can u make like a big misunderstanding and it's a happy ending ty!

 I like you - rin, yoichi, hiori

– In which the popular kid (you) asks them out and they can't believe it.

Note: I hope I find the right thing 😭 rin is longer bc i missed the happy ending part at first. reader really doesn't take 'no' for an answer. mia 🤝 writting only with her favs

m.list | rules

Rin isn't the type to make friends in the first place, so when he found a note on his desk asking him to meet up with an anonymous person his first reflexes was to put it in the trash. He had better things to do than to talk to someone he doesn't even know.

He never expected this note to be from you, his pretty seatmate that, surprisingly,  liked to work on a few projects with him. Everyone has a crush on him, but only a few can actually manage his personality. 

But here you were, hands on his desk before he could take his remaining papers before leaving for practice. He glared up at you to realize you were frowning at him too, obviously upset. Yet you weren't saying anything, stealing glances around to see if people would actually leave one day.

"You're waiting for a deluge of what ?!" You yelled at the duo whispering behind him and he heard them running out in a second

"What's your problem?" He asked about your behavior.

"What is your problem! You never came yesterday," you argued, cheeks flush red and he can't tell if it's from embarrassment or anger. "I've waited for a while you jerk."

"You should've signed then." He added while looking away from the small pour on your face, trying to pull away his papers beneath your hand. "Now I have to go so be quick."

Lifting your hand so he can organize his bag, you didn't wait for him to finish before talking.

"I like you." You said, a lower voice, less confident ; a voice that sounded nothing like yours. He scoffed at your face, getting up and putting his bag on his shoulder. As if someone like you could actually have feelings for him, ridiculous.

"I don't have time for your joke. Get lost." Without caring to look back at you, he left the classroom with a bothered face. It's not that he didn't like you, but everything sounded fake. Despite himself, he doesn't want to be the joke of your stupid friends' group.

"Wait Rin !" Your voice followed by footsteps suddenly sends shivers down his back. Couldn't you just leave him alone ?

But your hand grabbed his wrist in a hurry to try and stop him in his tracks. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, already trying to hide the emotion in your voice.

"I wasn't kidding ! I really do – "

A million thoughts pass by his silly little brain in a second but he sadly didn't have time for this right now. Or he didn't want to think about it at all.

"If you do then let me go." He sounds sharp and uncaring but his heart is weak when you let go of him with a pitiful try to hide the disappointment written on your face. Yet the only thing he does is run away from you, already late for his schedule.

"We'll talk later."

He sent it out of guilt before starting, not liking how he left you like this. Yet the notification of his message fell in deaf ears as you were already crying, hiding yourself in the bathroom.

After crying your emotions out you still went and checked your face after – bad idea. Your eyes are red, cheeks flushed and you can't get rid off the mascara that fell below your eyes. Great.

You sighed, getting yourself together before leaving the building to go home. You've seen his message but honestly you don't think you'll ever have the strength to face him now. Ever. Tears are always on the verge of falling from your eyes and you’ve never felt this shitty in your life. It was the worst day ever ! And your friends would tell you "I told you so." . You hated it.

Yet, without meaning to, you still passed by the football field and saw Rin was still there training, all sweaty and panting as he scored yet another goal. As you ponder if you should stop by and wait for him, since he told you you’ll talk later, you stopped in your tracks right in front of the tribune. From where you stand, you staying or not wouldn’t probably change a thing to your situation. No-one’s waiting for you and you certainly don’t wanna see your friends at that moment. So you decided to stop and take a seat in the front row, gazing at him as your head lay on your arms. 

It doesn’t take long for him to notice you, you can tell and even if you didn’t expect much from him, he stopped and slowly made his way to you.

He feels like an asshole, for once in his life. It’s like he really did something bad that he regrets.

“You’re going to catch a cold.” was all he could think about to break the heavy silence between you two. He doesn’t expect much either, knowing well that you might be upset.

“It’s summer’s end though, it’s still hot…” you answered, muffled in your arms. He was right, the light breeze past nine was in fact colder than you thought but you never wanted to admit that. But you weren’t dumb, you knew he'd notice the goosebumps on your arms. 

Soon his jacket fell on your shoulders, making you blink a few times in a vain attempt to process what happened.

“Take this and go home. Don’t forget it tomorrow.” he finally said before leaving you behind, flustered but with a small smile on your lips. At least he cared more than he looked like.

Putting it on properly, you took your bag and made your way to the exit, following his words – he made sure for you not to get cold, you could at least listen. You expected it to smell like him or some strong cologne he might wear, but instead it simply smells like detergent. And for some reason, it comforted you even more. 

It was a good idea to stop by. 

Hiori never was on the popular side, even if he was a good football player for his two years of high school, he never compared to some of his teammates that got way too much attention for their well being. Not that he ever minded, it was just like this. He prefers his routine to stick to what it is, meeting with his small group of friends, talk about games then go back to his training. It can be boring, but it was simply his life.

Or it was before you came into his life out of nowhere during his last year. You’ve always been in his class but for some reason you two never talked before, he knew your name and that’s it. Until you started to come see him play and encourage him with everything you’ve got.

After that, it seems like you’ve never missed a game and always come to see him at the end of it to tell him how well he played and then proceed to talk with him. It was nothing particularly weird, anybody can start to like football at some point and tell themselves that it’s never too late to befriend someone – beside the fact that you were the prettiest person he had seen.

For some reason, all this happening out of nowhere seems way too suspicious but he never mentioned it to you and was still happy to talk to you and learn more about your interests. He was really awkward at first but as the days went by, turning into months and you never stopped being nice to him, he thought he may have had the wrong idea. Until that day.

“I like you,” you mumbled to him after catching his sleeve before he could leave. Time stopped and your words were echoing in his head endlessly – he couldn't come up with an answer. His mind went blank and all he could do was stare at your feet, trying to ground himself. But you pull on his sleeve once again, right when he feels able to answer.

“Come on, don’t ignore me when I just said that…” He can see you chewing on the inside of your cheek and a disbelief scoffed escaped his mouth.

“Look, I know but it’s just not funny,” he answered lightly but he couldn’t look into your eyes or else he would’ve cried. Saying he didn’t develop a crush on you would be a lie, but he knew it was one sided and was fine with it. But you joking about it wasn’t funny.

“What– No ! I’m not kidding Hiori, listen–”

“I’m sure your friends are laughing a lot but you really should stop now…” he cut you out before you could explain yourself and it felt like it was now or never. You took a step closer to him who was still avoiding your gaze and left a peck on his cheek, close enough to the corner of his lips for him to realize you weren’t lying. His cheeks heat up at your move and he backs down quickly, taking a few steps away from you.

You were the awkward one now, looking away from him. You didn’t want to seem too much of a push over so you nodded to yourself before.

“Just because you don’t like me back doesn’t mean you have to say I’m joking. With that,” you added before waving at him awkwardly and were about to leave but this time it was Hiori who stopped you. Leaving a quick peck on your lips, he smiled shyly at you who was now a blushing mess – trying to hide your face away but with nowhere to do so.

“It just feels weird, because you’re the pretty one you know.” he giggled. “But I like you too.”

When Yoichi discovered the letter in his locker this morning, his heart stopped. It seemed normal from the outside – and thank god for that – but the inside contained words about how the person felt for him but he felt like dying. Nobody ever confessed to him, even less with a letter.

Nothing helped that he knew who it was. It wasn’t as anonymous as he wished it was, it’s always like this in the movie. He looked like his soul left his body, making his friends worry – even more when he never wanted to mention what was up. He couldn't just tell them, they'd ask to read it and he didn't want them to know who it was. While being asked a thousand questions about it, he secretly glanced your way, a blush on his cheeks. 

You were looking their way, not catching his eyes but with a knowing smile on your lips and he prays for them not to look away from him. He needed to talk this through with you, even if he didn't want to. 

You squeal when your arm is suddenly pulled to the opposite side. Yoichi shushed you down, panicked at the idea of you screaming all of sudden. You blinked a few times, flustered at the sudden proximity. He was only a few centimeters away, looking around to be sure nobody would come and annoyed you and your heart had a hard time following. 

Out of nowhere, he took out the letter from his pocket and almost shoveled it into your face. 

“What is this ?” he whispered as if everyone around was listening to him, making you giggle. 

“A love letter ?” you said, trying to hide your trembling voice. You never expected him to face you like this, he was the kind you can easily forget and yet he was bold enough to ask you straight about it. It charmed you even more at first. 

“Yeah I can tell,” he scoffed. “But that's not funny ok. Get it back and leave me alone.” 

The small shadow of a smile fell from your face in a second, horror rushing in your body when he gave you the letter back – more like pushing it in your hands – before leaving the other way. You have to compose yourself a second before gripping on the letter and run after him.

Stepping out of the corner he pulled you, you rushed after him before tugging on his sleeve. Once again, your letter flew away from your hand right to his face.

“I just told you I liked you ! You could at least keep it even if you don’t feel the same !” you yelled in the middle of the highway, people were sending Yoichi weird looks and he couldn’t control the blush on his cheeks. On the other hand, you never felt so dumb in your entire life. It wasn’t because he seems the most normal boy that he would like you back, not when he didn’t know anything about you, yet you really hoped he would at least treat it well.

“I thought you were joking !” he yelled back, not sure what to believe anymore. “you can whoever you want… why me ?” he subtly asked, not daring to look you in the eyes.

“Why not,” you argue with a pour on your lips. “You’re cute, that’s it. You’re caring with your friends and your mom – I overheard you on the phone once.” your ramble started to get a bit creepy, so instead you got close to him and bump into his shoulder. “Even if you don’t like me yet, we could at least, I don’t know, hang out from time to time.”

A sweet smile formed on his lips. “I’d love to.”

let me know if you liked it !

[melrosing]

got bored made some Lannister ocs

besides Stafford we don’t have names or deaths or anything for Joanna’s other two brothers and her two sisters so since everyone else has ocs I decided I wanted some and it was free real estate ✨ names/ages/personalities under the cut

joanna lannister (247AC - 273AC) guess what i didn't actually make her up but not like we have much detail on her anyway so w/e. eldest child of Jason Lannister & Marla Prester, and just a frustratingly perfect girl (at least as far as Cerella is concerned) who always seems to get her way. has always enjoyed gossip and that becomes an interest in court and politics once she moves to KL at 10 to become one of Queen Rhaella's companions. as a child at the Rock she was best friends with Genna, but it was a complex relationship where Joanna was slightly resentful of Genna's power over her (as Tytos' daughter) and Genna was resentful of Joanna's apparent perfection, and the way she seems to wring an affection out of Tywin where he has none for his siblings. Joanna isn't exactly a mean girl but is well aware of the effect her charisma has on others, and can make you feel like shit by looking straight through you (albeit w a smile on her face) if she doesn't feel you're much worth her time.

stafford lannister (248AC - 299AC) i didn't make him up either but canon says he's a blundering idiot so we'll go w that. Stafford just had the luck to be the firstborn son of a Lannister knight, so he gets wealth and riches with little responsibility to show for it. he's thought of as a bit of a Tytos 2.0 but without his humour or heart of gold. thinks he has a fascinating life but is just rich. tells dreadfully boring stories but never seems to notice the snores. constantly landing himself in shit and waiting to be rescued. that's all there is to say about Stafford.

gerold lannister (249AC - 280AC) yay my first oc. well he's just a bit of a creep really. twin to Cerella, born first of the two. Gerold thinks he's the perfect Lannister specimen (he's more like.... weedy handsome squidward) and figures he ought to have been born in Tywin's place. but somehow he ended up the second son of a fourth son and nothing much is expected of him. he's not much good at anything and noone likes spending any time around him because he's perpetually consumed by bitterness. he's not close to his sister Cerella either, bc he seems to treat her worse than anyone, constantly talking down to her etc and mocking her crush on their cousin Tywin. in his final years, as his other siblings are growing up and moving on w their lives, Gerold remains bitter & stagnant, and no-one cares to see what's up except youngest sibling Loren, who has never been close to his brother but takes pity on him, believes maybe Gerold just likes men (specifically he suspects he likes TYWIN) and Loren is a theatre kid all his friends are gay it's fine. he decides to reach out. except Gerold isn't gay and in a confrontation between the two, Loren discovers that the true object of Gerold's affections is: their sister Cerella!!! who has already been married off to Sumner Crakehall. his secret out, Gerold kills himself shortly after, and Loren never tells anyone what he learnt but is consumed by guilt and disgust for the rest of his days.

cerella crakehall née lannister (249AC - 295AC) younger twin to gerold. Cerella has a cold demeanour but the heart of a romantic. when she was a small child she was in awe of Joanna and followed her everywhere, and Joanna likewise enjoyed Cerella's hero worship and treated her as a mini-me. however, as Joanna blossomed, Cerella felt ugly and awkward by comparison. Joanna only seemed to verify this by gradually ignoring Cerella in favour of Genna, and later in favour of her friends at court it KL. Joanna seems to get everything she wants before she can think to ask for it, whereas people seem to forget Cerella is in the room. and the one thing Cerella has always wanted is Tywin: she thinks they're entirely alike, and she's even modelled herself on him in hope that one day they would make a perfect match. except Joanna gets Tywin too: she has his attention without even seeming to ask for it, and takes him because she can. Cerella thinks she might have got her comeuppance when Jo is sent home from court, after Aerys affections for her become a little too heated. Tywin won't want her now. except he does, and they're betrothed not long after. Cerella, despondent, doesn't argue when she's married off to Lannister bannerman Sumner Crakehall (his second wife), and never returns to the Rock thereafter. she notices Joanna's son training in the yard at Crakehall but wants nothing to do with him; Jaime Lannister will wonder why in all those years his mother's sister never deigns to speak to him.

rowena cary née lannister (255AC - present) her father's favourite (though he dies before she turns six), Rowena looks the spit of her grandmother Rohanne Webber. Jason never knew his mother, and so has highly idealised notions of her (whilst the rest of the Lannisters loathe her for leaving without a trace). he likes the idea that Rowena is Rohanne born again, but wouldn't get away with naming her Rohanne - so names her an approximation. and she's just a fuckin disney princess lol. extremely amiable, not a girl of any great talents but does her best to please everyone. she never sees much of her eldest siblings, who are at court or squiring by the time she's old enough to engage with them, and the twins pay her no particular attention, but the adults around her love indulging her, and she's close to her younger brother Loren. there are no great expectations of Rowena, so despite many great westermen begging her hand, she marries for love to a wealthy merchant of Lannisport. sadly, they're unable to have the children they long for, but enjoy entertaining at their Lannisport manse, and enjoy welcoming nieces and nephews into their home (Tyrion is a regular visitor uwu). w her red hair, people tend to forget she's a Lannister at all, and so does she tbh.

loren lannister (257AC - 297AC) born in what many thought were finally past Marla's childbearing years, Loren is the youngest of Jason's brood. there are no great expectations of Loren, and Loren has none of himself - but in some ways he ends up being the most successful of the bunch, besides Joanna. he likes writing plays, acting in his own plays, and generally getting merry with the folk of Lannisport. the Lannisters of the Rock tend to forget Loren exists because he's seldom there, always in the city instead - till he moves out of the Rock entirely with little fanfare, and uses his inheritance to build a theatre in the middle of town. his plays do well and he's popular with the people, but very much a rich kid cosplaying poor lol. he never marries but has affairs w men and women, and when he hears of a bastard that might be his he throws a load of money their way without checking to see if it's true. Loren enjoys attention and pays close attention to others in turn, but is largely estranged from the Lannisters besides Rowena. after trying and failing to help his estranged brother Gerold, Loren falls into something of a depression for a time, doubting himself and all his instincts - his estrangement from the rest of his family becomes much more definitive as a result. anyway after a fairly prolific career Loren falls from some theatre scaffolding to his death at 40 years old, to the misery of Lannisport and the faint bemusement of the Rock

[writtenbymoonflower]

hey I just wanted to say I love your work!!!! I keep binge reading your marauders posts especially!!! You are such a good writer. If it’s ok, can I send a request for the managers with an autistic reader? Maybe where they feel insecure bc of overthinking bc they act different to everyone else? I hope you have a good day xxxxxx

thanks so much for reading hunny! i hope this is okay. i'm not autistic myself so this may not be the most accurate, please let me know! autistic gn!reader x poly!marauders. modern!au

cw: insecurity, overthinking, mentions of alcohol

1k words

You couldn’t stop replaying all the interactions you had that day over and over in your head. You were scrutinizing every word you had said, every way you had gestured. You didn’t know if everyone loved, hated, or pitied you. It was possible that everything was fine, but it was equally as likely that everyone who you talked to today were still thinking about your conversations and were still annoyed with you. It was an indescribable feeling, it just made you want to curl up in bed and never see anyone again. Everything was just too much. You were grateful you were home alone right now so no one would have to see the state you were in. 

You had taken off your work clothes from the day, changing into a comfy sweater and soft lounge pants. You were on the couch wrapped in a fluffy blanket. (You thought that maybe Sirius had used it last, it smelled just like his soapy and musky cologne. You hummed in satisfaction from the comforting scent.) You buried your face in between a cushion and a pillow, hoping your nest would just swallow you whole and never release you. You had a few minutes to calm down before your boyfriends started barreling in. 

First it was Remus’ soft steps as he shucked off his coat before making his way to the kitchen. He probably assumed you were asleep, because when he passed you on the settee all he did was lean down to kiss your temple. You heard him (quietly) clanking around as he put the kettle on. Thankfully the sounds were familiar and comforting, rather than overstimulating. 

Then was James and Sirius, being very loud as they burst through the door, laughing and joking. It made you smile against the pillow. They were talking about something they had seen on the way home. 

“Moons,” Sirius made a beeline to the kitchen. You heard James hiss when he looked over to you. 

“Quiet, Pads.” He scolded. “Baby’s sleeping.” 

“Shit,” Sirius whispered, walking past to get to the kitchen. 

“It’s okay. ‘M awake.” You mumbled, shifting to sit up. 

“Oh, hi sweetheart.” James crouched by the couch. He could cry at how adorable you were, all wrapped in the blankets and what he recognized as his jumper. Sirius and Remus came back into the living room, each holding mugs of tea. 

“Wow, Prongs.” Sirius rolled his eyes. “Gettin’ onto me for being loud only to wake them up right when I leave.” He tsked disappointedly and shook his head. 

“I wasn’t asleep, just resting.” You took a mug from Remus while James sat beside you, hauling Sirius into his lap. The ink-haired boy turned to face you excitedly. 

“Babydoll,” He started. “I was thinking, Marlene is havin’ a thing at her house tomorrow. Not really a party, just a little get together. She was saying something about ‘playing Cards Against Humanity and getting shitfaced.’ How’d you feel about going?” 

You were contemplating heavily. You wanted to go, yes. It sounded like a lot of fun. But hangouts like that stressed you out. You always felt like you were saying the wrong thing, not acting the right way. Especially in small groups. You loved Marlene, you loved her girlfriend and probably everyone else that would be there. But that only made it worse. You wanted them all to like you so much that you overanalyzed everything you said, which likely only made things more awkward because you sounded so robotic and scripted. You tried to keep the worry from your face, but unfortunately James could read you (and almost everyone) like the morning paper and he usually felt the need to call it out. 

“You okay, sweetness? You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” He reached over to rub your thigh with his warm hand. 

“No, I want to go, I do!” You cut in quickly. “I just-” You snapped your mouth shut before taking a big gulp of your tea. 

“You just what?” Remus asked curiously from where he was sitting on the coffee table. 

“Are you sure she wants me there?” You asked, worriedly. Sirius looked like you had asked if the sky was green. 

“Yeah she does. She wouldn’t have asked if she didn’t. Why wouldn’t she anyway?” His sculpted brows scrunched in confusion. You sighed and set your tea on the side table, starting to fidget and stim with your nails, using enough force to shred your cuticles. James grabbed your hand, encouraging you to play with his fingers instead. 

“I just feel like I never fit in at those things. Like, I don’t know. I just make things weird.” You muttered shamedly. 

“You don’t make things weird.” James said, squeezing your hand. “Why do you think that?” You lost your words suddenly, feeling all too vulnerable. Sirius was looking at you with enough gentleness to make you sob, like he knew you inside and out (he does). 

“I know you get anxious about this stuff. But baby, everyone loves you. I don’t see how they couldn’t. I can promise no one is thinking about how you act as much as you are.” He looked at you, seeing right through you. He abandoned James, making him let out an indignant huff to catapult himself on top of you, wrapping you up and squeezing tight. 

“You know,” Remus started. “I was at work today and Aoife would not stop asking about you. She kept saying I need to bring you over during break because you’re ‘heaps of fun.’” You wanted to scoff but you were too tired. 

“Angel, everyone loves you. I know it doesn’t seem like it, because your brain can’t always tell what people are thinkin’ but they really do.” You looked at James over Sirius’ shoulder. He was looking so soft as he leaned forward to peck your forehead. You were looking doe eyed at Remus and James. 

“Promise?” You asked, quiet and insecure. Sirius pulled away, bringing his hand up to your face. 

“Pinky swear, dollface.” You knew how seriously he took those. You reached up to wrap your pinky around his, face heating as he brought your hands up to kiss your knuckles. 

“Okay, it sounds fun. I’ll go.” You relented happily. 

“Oh thank god.” Remus sounded oddly relieved. “Lily texted me earlier asking if you would be there and I said yes. I really did not want to face her fury.” 

[syrupfog]

Zoro who grew up in the foster system, passed from house to house because he’s labeled a flight risk after continually getting lost on his way home. No one ever believes him that his sense of direction is really that bad, but every new house is a new neighborhood to learn. No matter what home he’s at, as soon as he gets lost they ship him somewhere more restrictive until he ends up in someplace similar to juvie, where he can’t get lost bc he can’t leave. 

He meets an angry blond kid his own age there, who was dropped off by his own family, and

I assume they don’t get along, for a myriad of reasons not least of which that Sanji has a family, and Zoro hates that about him. They get paired in a room together and Zoro can’t understand why Sanji hates his family when Zoro would give anything to have one

It takes until a visitor day months down the line for him to figure it out. 

Because Zoro never attends visitor days. He doesn’t have visitors. But he shows up to this one bc he literally got lost and ended up there. 

He gravitates toward the group that’s clearly Sanji’s family

Just close enough to hear the way they speak to him and about him, about how he’s bringing down their name and he’s lucky he’s here and not on the streets and Sanji weakly mumbling that maybe he’d rather be on the streets they won’t even let him cook here

And his dad backhanding him at that. And Zoro sees the staff witnessing this and doing nothing and draws the correct conclusion that this is a regular occurrence and completely allowed. 

So of course when Sanji appears in their room later Zoro loudly declares, “I’m watching out for you from now on, we’re in this together.” 

And Sanji’s like “fuck off I don’t need your pity.” 

Zoro says, “what fucking pity? This is about me hating your fucking family, we’re gonna get out of here someday and I’m going to kick their asses.”

Sanji doesn’t accept this pronouncement for a long time but Zoro makes himself the Sanji Guard Dog and he hit his growth spurt before Sanji so he’s able to tower menacingly behind him, it works well. 

And Zoro’s angry inside but he hasn’t felt sadness for a while, until Sanji.

And Sanji’s sad inside and his anger’s a facade for that. So like, they balance each other out. 

Sanji turns 18 eight months before Zoro and Zoro tells him not to show up to visitor days but Sanji always does, and talks about this fucking chef he’s found who’s taken him in.

And for the both of them life starts at 18, living in a tiny rundown flat above the Baratie and they’re still full of anger and sadness but when Zoro gets lost the first time, he’s so worried Sanji’s going to throw him out like every other family did.

But he doesn’t. Zoro comes home five hours late from getting on the wrong train and Sanji throws his arms around Zoro’s shoulders and says he was worried. Zoro snaps at him because he was so wound up ready for a fight.

But Sanji doesn’t just give up on him like he thought, and Zoro learns the city ever so slowly and he gets lost less (it doesn’t ever entirely stop, though) and Sanji learns his habits, gets good at finding him.

Zoro spends a long time stunned at this. Confused that Sanji is never more than grouchy or worried. 

The only time Sanji is ever truly upset is one night when it’s been raining hard and the landmarks are harder to find on the dark so Zoro’s hours late, and Sanji’s pissed When he walks in the door, yelling about where has he been, it’s been fucking hours, fucking hell, Zoro. 

Zoro’s so hurt and overwhelmed (and sopping wet from the rain) and having flashbacks to his childhood and feeling like, oh this is it, the straw that broke the camel’s back for Sanji apparently. 

He turns to leave, just walk right out that door and disappear, but as he wrenches the door open suddenly there’s a hand clenched tight around his wrist and Zoro can’t pull out of his grip

And he starts saying that Sanji had better fucking let him go, only to see that Sanji’s crying, lips pressed tight together, trembling, looking at the floor, tears running down his face. 

Zoro realises maybe this isn’t about him.

He learns after he’s closed the door again that Sanji’s family had been by, had threatened a number of things directed at the both of them, and then Sanji had sat and waited for so so long for Zoro to get home, to prove to himself Zoro was Safe.

Zoro pulls him into a hug, tight enough prove he’s real and okay. 

They have a shitty little one bedroom flat as it is but that night they share Sanji’s bed. And then most nights after, too. 

They fall into a relationship sort of backwards but that’s okay.

Both of them were abandoned in different ways. Both of them needed finding, holding, keeping. And they get that in each other.

[0livdocx]

Howard Hamlin: illusion of burning sins

Inspired by Better Call Saul S04E01 - Smoke:

“There’s something else that’s still burning after the fire that took Chuck’s life.”

I originally drew this piece at the start of the year, but recently I got back to it and decided to add some spice. Despite some small errors, I like how it looks now. Yum!

My creative process & thoughts for this piece:

It’s originally a self-projective piece partially about my mental struggles, but I won’t be talking about myself here.

Let’s focus on Howard Hamlin in this episode, right after Chuck’s death - Unforgivable as Howard Hamlin thought he was, he was partially a scapegoat for Jimmy McGill’s deeds. I’m putting Howard in the frame, but it is reflecting an aftermath of Jimmy’s self-denial and psychological manipulation driven by his own insecurities. Jimmy told Howard “that’s your cross to bear” while the sentence also serves as a suggestion to the audience that Howard is indeed a sacrifice to Jimmy’s self-loathing and avoidance. Jimmy McGill would be the illusionist who casted this whole “illusion of sins” upon Howard Hamlin’s already conflicted mind. Would you feel pity for this guy? Vince legit made him cry for your pity.

Everything is still about Jimmy McGill, our cunning, venomous perpetrator. Self-loathing and antisocial tendencies are a part of his true nature. Did he see Howard’s distress? Did he see Howard Hamlin’s suffering? He did. But this man closed his heart to them, just like the way he run away from himself. Jimmy McGill’s lack of sympathy is one of the very things that brought Howard into his grave. Just how pathetic Howard is? Grieving for his misplaced error in the dark, this man is oblivious to the fact that he was already entwined by the serpent: a cold blooded creature who would never change its nature - the snake here serves as a symbol of Jimmy McGill’s inherent antisocial tendencies. Howard could never foresee the future of this serpent sinking its teeth into him and pump out its deadly poison, which will finally give him the kiss of death. Even the stars that will guide him on his path cannot save him from this misery. Personally, 401 feels like the beginning of the downfall of Howard Hamlin, and the rise of Saul Goodman.

If we think about the causes of Chuck’s death, it’s not hard for anyone to see that Howard Hamlin, this poor man is overshouldering someone else’s sin - someone who’s unable to face the responsibilities to their own actions, someone who’s in constant denial, someone who’s too much hatred in their heart. (Naw Howard is legit Jesus here💀) it’s why I chose to cover Chuck’s face with the cross too, for how Jimmy mislead Howard into believing that Chuck’s death was all his fault, when Jimmy himself was the main perpetrator.

Anyway, in later seasons of the show, we can notice that Howard was crumpled up and put into somewhere he didn’t belong, he’s forced to face this superficial alienation - his marriage was falling apart too. With this vulnerability, Vince showed that this lead lawyer of HHM was stuck, he was conflicted, his glory was wearing off, he was struggling like every normal person would. He was burning not only because he’s trapped by guilt and sin, but also for the reason that he has the vitality to “burn” and release energy: He is resilient. He has the life inside of him to be burnt.

Compassion creates a sense of closure between characters and audiences. The entire tight spot in Howards life conveyed by Vince makes audiences empathize with him easily - honestly I never felt a thing for Howard Hamlin’s boring ass because I was busy siding with Jimmy McGill in my mind in the first few seasons. What’s interesting about Brba/Bcs is that Vince put us in front of a quandary: who would you side with in a fucked up world with fucked up people? When watching the first few seasons of BCS I put my empathy in Jimmy McGill, but then my empathy slowly detached from him as the show progressed.

As for Howard, I just pity this man as an audience after witnessing his fall presented by Vince in the later seasons: what Howard deserved was anything but a nameless grave with his murderer, a defamation, and a twisted, made-up story stated by his perpetrators on his funeral. Vince made it obvious to the audience. Yes. Let’s make this glorious man suffer. Let him be guilt tripped. Let his life fall apart like a roller coaster so you’ll lay your compassion and love onto him - Howard Hamlin lost everything, he didn’t even have a death with dignity thanks to the people operating the fucked up bullshit in the dark - It’s interesting to notice my “love” for this character is originally out of compassion.

Despite Howard, there are lots of characters who deserve audience’s love. There are Nacho, Mike, Gus, their motives are even noble if you try to look at it from a humane perspective, but anyhow they’re all part of this gut-wrenching predatory game - it’s basically how everything is so complicated in a world depicted in Better Call Saul and Breaking Bad, they create intricate conflicts. I do love how fictions like BrBa and BCS allow us to explore the complexity of humanity in a safe distance.

As Howard Hamlin was buried, Saul Goodman buried Jimmy McGill alongside with him too. And then there’s Lalo Salamanca lying beside Howard Hamlin like they’re doing pillow talk - they are both powerful beings taking high positions in the BCS food chain. As they disappeared, the path for Saul Goodman’s career to ascend is broad and clear. A cucaracha rising to the top, and this time he’s fully embracing the darkness.

In conclusion: Great make-believe, Vince!

[izartn]

The way in Charles death scene, Edwin is talking about how ghosts don't really experience the world with their senses, they can't really touch things, etc. (bc charles is about to die and he wants him to be prepared, Edwin oh boy)

And Charles immediatly answers. I'd miss kissing. Do you? And Edwin can't answer because he died without one, because he was gay and unable to even admit it to himself due to the time and place he was born into.

(how charles mind goes there so quickly, to an act of love, pleasure, warmth so different from what he has to be feeling right now)

The way Charles has that makeout session with Crystal and then tells all giddy to Edwin that he didn't really felt it physically but mentally it was good. He hasn't lost kissing after all even if it's different than if he were still alive. My god.

Charles is so very emotional and I bet when he was alive, also very much in touch with his body, for good or bad. It breaks my heart; he misses being alive, he wants to kiss and date. He's never going to last with Crystal because she's alive, but he's enjoying while it lasts. He's going to spent all his death and beyond with Edwin and one of the first conversations they had while he was dying was that he was going to miss kissing. He answers with wht is basically a not yet the love confession.

How does desire works for ghosts that don't have a physical body? It seems like the mind and the romantic attraction take the lead. (It's like the software for physical attraction is there even if the hardware is missing. Ghosts willing their bodies to act as the living do).

It's the way kisses are important to both of them in season 1, both as something never had before (Edwin) and something to miss and long for (Charles). When they kiss if we have a season 2 (or even 3 though I hope hey take pity and have them kissing in season 2 if it's greenlighted on light of Netflix sudden cancelations) I'm going to scream to my TV.

They're already together for what matters but the romantic/kissing aspect is clearly important for both of the so I'm just. Gripping my hands on the sofa thinking about them having that with each other.

[nelle-y]

We Become We

Synopsis: you’re arranged to marry the one and only yashiro commissioner, Kamisato Ayato

Content: Ayato x fem!reader, arranged marriage, one-sided love (Ayato) not proofread

Note: titled and inspired by the song ‘We Become We’ from Journey to Bethlehem (this is a little bit messy bc i tried making it shorter than my usual stuff😭)

—

“Do you like dogs?” Ayato guided you away from a puddle of rain. He has been asking you questions since you began your walk in the garden.

Still down in the dumps, you asnwered dryly, uninterested. “I’m fond of them.”

Your father had arranged a wedding for you and Lord Kamisato sooner than you had thought. You weren’t able to let everything sink in when he announced the date, there was still a little bit of aftershock left until now.

Lord Kamisato was ever such a gentleman—as he should. Flattery and friendly statements have accompanied you since he arrived at your clan’s estate. Nonetheless, you felt nothing for him. His chivalry was all for show. You knew this was just an arrangement, a sacrifice to make for your clan—for your father.

You were sure he felt the same, and that you would live in your separate houses as you tended to your duties, unbothered and concentrated. But the way he spoke to you made you think otherwise.

“Is that so? Then maybe I could show you my friend’s dog? His name is Taroumaru—the dog, not my friend.” Normally, Ayato wouldn’t speak so freely and childish around a person, but he felt safe enough in your presence to loosen his tongue. You nodded dryly, again.

He began to tire of your meekly responses. He sighed, “I’m sorry. You’re clearly upset about this whole… situation.”

After what felt like an eternity of silence, you looked at him for the very first time. Now he could properly see your monotonous eyes. “What gave it away?” You finally spoke in a more sincere tone.

“Well,” Ayato hesitated. “I won’t go into detail, but I’m no novice at taking hints.” You shyly laugh at this—a step in the right direction, he thought.

“I suppose I have to be careful next time.” Your gaze glued to the ground once more. “I wouldn’t want to offend you, Commissioner.”

“You don’t have to hide a thing, Y/N.” He leaned down slightly for you to see him. “It’s gonna take more than a secret to offend me. Oh, and you can call me Ayato; we are getting married, after all.”

You looked at him strangely, “I don’t understand how you’re so calm right now. Aren’t you disappointed that you’ve got your freedom taken away now that you’re engaged?”

“I’ll be honest here, I haven’t had that much freedom even before getting engaged!” He laughs, “If anything, choosing you as my wife is the only freedom I’ll ever have.”

“Only freedom?”

“When you become a leader, especially at a young age, you make it a habit to decide for the development of your clan. Your duties, fortunes, you should always think if it would benefit your people. There’s hardly any time to think for yourself.”

All of the sudden you felt pity for the man, with empathy lingering over. “Then you became the commissioner,” you draw out, to which he sighed. It seems like he’s unbothered by it now, like he’s gotten used to this overwhelming lifestyle. “Do you ever wonder about retirement?”

“As long as there’s no heir, I believe retirement isn’t an option for me.”

Ah, another reason for your engagement—producing an heir. Archons, you pray your children will have a much better life than you and your groom-to-be. “What about Miss Ayaka?”

You see a small grin on Ayato’s lips. “She’ll want to explore the world, meet new friends and what not. Best not to trouble her.” You both sit on a small bench with an overlooking view of the sunset, purple and red-colored leaves matching the tall sky.

“You really care for her, don’t you?”

“Of course, she is my sister, after all.” Ayato found you leering your head near his shoulder. A warm feeling buzzes in his chest as he nudged closer to you. Oh, he’s been talking all this time! You haven’t said a word about yourself since you met him, he realizes. To correct his mistake, he asks, “What about you? How are you feeling?”

“Well,” you uttered, unsure where to start. You lean against him. “I find it charming that you care for your sister so much.”

“I meant with the marriage.” His voice wasn’t judgmental, but more like a friend lending comfort and safety. It lures you to open up to him.

“This was all just an arrangement,” you confess. Ayato couldn’t help but feel disappointed, yet he doesn’t speak a word of it. Maybe there will be a small rainbow after a drizzle of rain. “That was how I felt at first. But now I’m slowly growing more fond of you, my lord.

If you think of me as easily-caught, then I claim to be fond of you as a friend. At least, for now.”

“For now,” he repeats. “I’ll take that as a good sign. In truth, I fear I’m falling for you sooner than I thought.”

His confession makes you rise from your comfortable place, shock and sudden nervousness pulsing through your veins. “Pardon?”

Ever such a lady, he thought, even when shocked you still hold face. When he looked at you, he saw how you got antsy. Fearing for your comfort, he said, “I’m only joking, miss Y/N! I feel the same as you; a friend.”

You let out a breath, slightly relieved. You were flattered, but love at first sight just felt ridiculous to you—that was just physical attraction. True love takes time and understanding. With Ayato saying he was falling for you, you feared it was only for your looks and not for your soul. Though, you weren’t entirely opposed to the idea of loving him.

“I do admire your elegance, though,” he added.

“Thank you.”

Ayato couldn’t be happier that he was about to be your husband and you, his wife.

It was the way his name seemed to echo in songs from the loveliness that is your voice. It was the way you nodded when people passed by despite not knowing them. It was this sense of perfection he saw in you, and it only took him a smile to tell.

But the question in his head paralyzed him, anxious and, he wouldn’t lie, a little embarrassed. His feelings would be null and void if you didn’t—or wouldn’t—feel the same. “Will this always be just an arrangement to you?”

The stars peeked through the violet sky like fireflies by the time you walked back. The smell of the nearby sea and the woodlands blew with the air. You looked straight, watching your step in case you trip, while Ayato had looked at you like you were… everything. “I don’t really know you that well, Ayato. It can be difficult to tell.”

“But do you think, with time, this blossom of ours will grow into a beautiful flower?”

You appreciate his metaphor. “Maybe, someday.”

Someday.

—the end.—