#said with the overwhelming understanding that none of this even matters

[all-seeing-ifer]

like i've complained about this before and lord knows why i even bother bc a) none of this matters and b) buffyverse shipping drama is truly where nuance goes to die so why would i even expect any different. but it is annoying to me personally that the only two opinions one can have about cordy/angel in this economy are either "their relationship HAS to be romantic if you think it's platonic you are a fool!! a charlatan!!" or "what noooo their relationship definitely isn't romantic and in fact they barely even care about each other as people". well what if i think their relationship is platonic and also they're the most important people in each others' lives and are wholeheartedly dedicated to one another. what then. well i don't get popularity points on buffyverse tumblr i can tell you that much

[junezsq]

nice to meet ya

harry james potter x fem!reader

summary: your first day after transferring to hogwarts is up to a good start when a certain black haired boy can't stop staring at you

warnings: none really? maybe first day nerves, does this count? lol

word count: 1.3k

a/n: maturing means realising harry is underrated in his own series. i was genuinely shocked by how few harry fics there are so decided to take matters into my own hands. here's the beginning to a whirlwind of a love story, enjoy! x

── ᵎᵎ ✦

before daring to enter the great hall of hogwarts for the first time you took a moment to observe the scene playing out in front of you. the grandeur of it all was slightly overwhelming — the enchanted ceiling stretching above like a sky full of clouds, the long tables brimming with students, and the shimmering candles floating in mid-air. a weird mix of excitement and nervousness started swirling around in your stomach.

starting as a third-year transfer, you were aware that the curious glances from some students, the quiet whispers of “new girl,” and the subtle judgment that often accompanies a fresh face were bound to follow you for the upcoming days — maybe even weeks. despite this, the warmth of the hall was undeniable. the voices of fellow students, the laughter, and clinking of cutlery, almost made it feel like home — even if it was a place you'd only just arrived at.

there was something magical about the space, something comforting, like a promise that this would soon be your place, too. the smells of the breakfast feast filled your senses, making your stomach growl.

you glanced down at the crimson and gold fabric of your tie, signifying the house you were sorted in only a moment earlier. your fingers brushed over the edges of the tie as you took a deep breath, feeling uncertainty rise, but you knew that if you'd linger too long, you would only feel more out of place.

with a quiet sigh, you tucked your hair behind your ears. you glanced at the gryffindor table, and after a brief hesitation you took the first step towards your future.

seated somewhere in the middle of the gryffindor table, harry, hermione, and ron were in the midst of their breakfast; the table was littered with plates of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon.

ron, toast in hand, glanced up from his plate, it was then that he noticed you walking through the massive doors leading to the great hall. "isn't that the new girl?" he asked through a mouthful of food, "i heard she just arrived this morning."

hermione, who was sat across the red haired, looked up in curiosity. “she’s a transfer, i think." she murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "i believe she used to go to beauxbatons."

ron tilted his head, watching you intently as you adjusted your tie. “do you think she’s... i dunno, nervous?” he asked. “this place is massive. i’d be proper lost if i was new here.” he glanced at harry, "i mean, we actually did get lost, remember, first year?"

harry, who was sat next to hermione and had been quietly eating, glanced at you as well. his eyes followed your movement as you slowly walked along the gryffindor table — obviously trying to find an empty spot — and his empathy kicked in with a brief tug of understanding. “it’s probably hard, starting a new school in the middle of the year,” he said quietly. “i wouldn’t want to be in her shoes.”

ron sighed, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “i know i wouldn’t. wonder if she’s looking for somewhere to sit... we could—”

“ron, don’t be daft,” hermione cut in gently, though there was a kind smile on her face. “she’ll find her way. besides, she might not want to sit with us just yet.”

the red haired grumbled but nodded in agreement, and while he returned to their breakfast, harry couldn’t help but keep a sidelong glance on you, curious about what your story was.

as you made your way along the great hall, you felt the weight of a pair of eyes on you. when you looked around, trying to find who they belonged to, your own eventually fell on the boy with messy jet-black hair. you could sense the quiet curiosity in his look, the way his eyes lingered just a moment too long before flicking away.

your heart beat a little faster, and with a deep breath, you made a decision. instead of shying away, you slightly fastened your pace towards where they were sat.

meanwhile, across the hall, ron’s voice rang out loud enough for hermione and harry to hear, not having noticed you were now heading in their direction. “so, what d’you reckon happened with her sorting? she's in gryffindor judging by her tie.” he asked, taking a dramatic bite of a sausage.

hermione shot him a slightly exasperated look. “ron, you’re not still on about that, are you?”

ron, however, was already getting into his own theories, grinning widely. “what, i’m just saying! i bet the hat had a real hard time deciding where to put her. probably because she's already got a few years of school experience. it’s got to be tough.”

harry, still a little distracted by you, especially since you were now making your way toward them, gave his friend an absent minded nod.

ron continued, oblivious to harry’s distracted expression. “maybe it was, like, really close between gryffindor and slytherin. could you imagine? the sorting hat probably tried to put her in slytherin first, but she was like, ‘no way! no way am i going there.’ which i completely understand, by the way.”

hermione raised an eyebrow. “really, ron?”

ron leaned in slightly closer, “or maybe,” he said dramatically, “the sorting hat was just so impressed with her bravery that it just had to put her in gryffindor. It could’ve been like, ‘you’ve got the guts to stand up for yourself — gryffindor it is!’” he looked up at hermione, beaming as though he’d cracked the case.

at that moment, you had reached their table. ron looked up, finding hermione with her lips pressed together — as if she was trying to hold in her laughter — and harry whose focus had shifted to somewhere behind him. with his mouth still half full of food, ron's eyes widened in realization. “oh — she’s behind me isn't she?” he muttered to the others, a little stunned by how quickly the conversation had shifted from theory to reality.

"surprise." you gave a small, somewhat shy smile. “this is the gryffindor table, right?” you asked, your voice quiet but clear.

ron, still a little flustered, blinked at you, momentarily forgetting his elaborate sorting tale. “oh, yeah! yeah, it is. you’re the new girl, right?”

hermione gave ron a harsh glance before looking up at you, her expression suddenly kind, “you can sit with us,” she said warmly. “we’re all in gryffindor. i’m hermione, by the way.”

you were slightly taken aback at her kindness, but sat down next to ron either way. hermione motioned to her two friends, "this is harry, and ron."

"nice to meet you." you spoke softly, glancing at ron before letting your eyes fall on harry. the pair of eyes that had followed you earlier still had a sense of curiosity to them, and you couldn't help but stare at him as a small smile formed on his lips, "nice to meet you, too."

ron spoke with a grin, causing you to snap your attention away from the boy in front of you, “don’t mind my stories about the sorting hat. i tend to make them up as i go along.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at that, "you weren't too wrong, it told me it could sense my bravery the moment i stepped into dumbledore's office." you shrugged, grabbing a strawberry, "whatever that's supposed to mean?"

a mischievous grin crept upon your lips as ron looked at you with wide eyes. the tension in your shoulders seemed to ease just a little. maybe hogwarts wasn’t going to be so intimidating after all.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

SOUNDTRACK // nice to meet ya, niall horan

[tojisth3rdwife]

BabyDaddyToji didnt react to your positive pregnancy test the way you expected him to. He was surprisingly chill about it despite all of the conversations the two of you had in the past about him not wanting anymore kids. Megumi was school-aged and wasnt nearly as bad as Toji made him out to be but you could understand his standpoint. Kids are a big deal. Theyre expensive. Theyre loud. They smell. They amplify your anxiety to the nth power. So yeah, you got it.

But for someone who didnt want any more kids, Toji wasnt that great at doing things to prevent them. He hated condoms and you understood birth control wasnt 100% effective, but there he was nutting you every night anyway.

So naturally when your period never came and your started to feel strange, your mind went straight to those conversations and how he would react if you were indeed pregnant.

He surprised you though. It was actually him who encouraged you to get a test because he’d noticed the change in you. And when you were sitting on the closed toilet seat, staring at the pee stick in shock with trembling hands, it was him kneeling in front of you with his huge hands resting on your knees.

“Tell me what it says.” he said calmly, his thumb skimming over your skin soothingly. Your jaw clenched and your eyes stung with the flow of tears threatening to coat them. Taking your silence as a response, Toji takes the pregnancy test from you and flips it to see for himself. When he sighs, a knot forms in your stomach and you brace yourself for the worst as his hard expression never changed.

“Toji..I..Im..” you begin, not even sure of what you wanted to say. Your voice shook with emotion, the sound making Toji’s cool green gaze jump from the test to your face. Before you could blubber anything else, the pregnancy test was set aside and Toji’s arms were pulling you from the toilet to join him on the floor. He stumbles back so that he’s seated with you cradled in his lap, rubbing your arm and cupping your cheek. You were crying by now, coherent words impossible as you sobbed into his chest.

“M’s-sorry..” you huffed and Toji furrowed his brow in confusion.

“For what? Im the one that did it..” he chuckled, though you didnt see what was so funny. You pull away just enough to brave a look at him, chin trembling pitifully.

“You…Youre not mad?” You blink, fat tears rolling down your face. Toji sighs at the sight of your sadness, feeling his heart was being squeezed and twisted just from looking at you. His expression remains stoic though, apart from the soft smirk on his lips.

“Nah..” he shakes his head. Your eyes flutter shut as Toji’s thumb rubbed over them to wipe the freshest tears away before continuing.

“Why would you think that, pretty girl? Hmm?”

This wasn’t part of your plan at all. Not that you were the traditional or conservative type but you at least wanted to be further along in your relationship with Toji before something like this happened. It had only been a few years of you being in a relationship, less than a year living together. Megumi was just now getting used to you being a consistent presence in his life and now here you go bringing a baby into the picture, someone else he’d have to tolerate and get used to.

And then there was Toji. He didn’t seem like the type to cut and run out on you over an unplanned pregnancy but would he resent you? Would he treat you differently now that things were about to get even more serious than they were?

Thinking of it all overwhelms you to the point of hysterics, and you hide your face in Toji’s neck to keep from facing the disappointment you just knew you’d find in his eyes.

If only you know how the only concern he had was comforting you.

“I just know this isnt what you wanted…I feel so stupid..” you find the strength to say between maintaining a steady breath, and Toji hugs you tighter. He kisses your forehead and exhales heavily, resting his cheek in your hair.

“It’s all good baby. None of that matters. Im here. Not goin anywhere, I promise.” He assures you, keeping you in his steady embrace until your breathing was no longer shuddered. You’d been quiet for a few minutes before Toji’s deep voice cut through the silence.

“Whew..hormones fucking you up already, huh? Damn…” Toji jokes half heartedly, earning him jab in the abs that he laughs off as he continued to hold and console you.

So boom. There you were. Pregnant af with Toji’s baby.

Much to your relief, Toji didnt change the way he treated you as the weeks passed. He was still sweet , in his own way, and very present. He went with you to the first appointment to confirm everything and make sure you were ok. He held your hand when your blood was drawn and watched the large monitor on the wall with interest when you were probed with the transvaginal ultrasound device.

“And there we are...” the OBGYN mutters distractedly as the probe stalled in a particular position inside of you, showing the small cavity of your womb and the little bitty bean nestled inside of it. Your eyes widen at the wiggly blip and it’s tiny heartbeat, your own starting to kick up in pace. Toji says nothing but he watches your reaction to seeing evidence of life growing inside of you. A life the two of you created.

Damn.

“What the hell...” you exhale, making Toji chuckle.

“Yep! Theres your baby. Id say youre about 9 weeks. Projecting your due date to be around...” the doctor pauses, typing something into the keyboard quickly.

“May 17th.” she finished.

She withdraws the scope and hands you a box of tissues to clean yourself, leaving for a minute to give you some privacy. Once alone with Toji in the small room, you looked to him with mixed emotions clear in your eyes. His expression is as stoic as it usually was but there was a warmth in his gaze that you found comforting.

He smirks.

“Looks like I knocked you up good, huh?” he jokes and you giggle.

“Yeah. It would appear so..”

You sigh as you sit up to get dressed and Toji sits back to watch you wiggle your booty back into your jeans. A magic trick if you asked him. You turn to him as you zipped your fly, uncertainty still clear on your face.

“What you thinking bout over there?” Toji asks, his eyes falling from your face to your trembling hands that worked over the button of your jeans. You exhaled a nervous laugh, shaking your head.

“Im honestly still in shock. Seeing the baby moving didnt bring me the feeling I expected it would..”

“What were you expecting to feel?” your man asks and you shrug solemnly.

“I dont know…Like I’m not making a huge mistake, I guess.” You chuckle humorlessly, blinking to resist that stupid urge to cry.

Toji’s head leans slightly, his eyes panning over you with concern. He sits up in his seat, offering you his hand.

“C’mere , mama..”

The irony of his usual pet name wasn’t lost on you but you were too emotional to be amused by it.

You walk towards him to stand between his legs and his hands come around to rub the backs of your thighs over the denim. He looks up at you with a softness that immediately disarms you, causing the tension in your body to melt away on contact.

“You cant worry about all of that shit right now. This is all gonna feel weird and new and scary but bright side is, you wont be going through any of it alone. Lucky for you, Ive kinda been through this before. Well..not being pregnant but..you get what Im saying..”

“I get it..” You smile at Toji stammering and lift a hand to cup his cheek, sliding it back to tug on his ear affectionately. Toji leans into the touch, grunting softly in reaction.

“Good. I also have some dad experience under my belt. Megumi survived a whole 3 and half years before you came into the picture and you see how he is. So you’re not just dead in the water here, babe. Ive got you.”

The image of Toji struggling with Megumi as an infant on his own comes to mind. You didnt know him then, only having his stories of that time to paint the picture for you. You couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for Toji to cope with the fact that person he thought he’d be spending his life and raising his son with was gone, leaving him to take it on alone. The sleepless nights and tearful days, with very little support since she was all he had.

You never told him, but there was a soft spot in your heart for Toji’s deceased wife, since she was the one who taught him how to love in the first place. And it was her love that lived on in him and Megumi that was allowing you to step in. What a privilege that was, that you didn’t realize until this very moment.

Of course he wasnt going to tell you that he was terrified. Terrified of history repeating itself. Terrified of him not being able to save you. Terrified of fucking up royally and leaving another gaping hole in his chest that he wouldn’t allow anyone else in to fill. He’d never show you his fear when he saw the amount of it you were already battling.

With a soft smile and another squeeze, this time on your ass, Toji pulls you into a hug you wouldn’t dare refuse. His head rests against your chest and he inhales the scent of your perfume.

Youre pulled out of your moment when a few knocks at the door have you both turning to look just as the doctor is peaking her head in.

“You two ready to come back in the exam room for a consult to go over everything?”

You look to Toji and he gives you a wink and a soft pat on the butt before he’s standing.

“Yeah Doc. We’re ready.” he responds before you can, giving you a tiny smile of reassurance as he encouraged you to walk ahead of him.

Part 2

[theemporium]

[4.6k] as the season dwindles on and the new year approaches, luke comes to a handful of realisations. some of them were unsurprising. some of them were not. one of them leads to a very interesting interaction during his captain's new years party. (smut)

series masterlist

.

Whoever said it was better to be self aware was a fucking liar. 

It had been a few weeks since the Hughesbowl and Luke had come to a few realisations in that time. Some epiphanies that had been tormenting him over sleepless nights as the season dragged on into December and quickly approached the end of the year. 

One: No matter how many times he had said it before, Luke still couldn’t quite grasp just how different NHL hockey was to the hockey he had been playing his whole life. And it sounded stupid to say, considering he had grown up being around NHL players and had two brothers in the league before him too. But it was tiring and rewarding and, fuck, he didn’t think he had ever been so hungry in his damn life before he joined the NHL. 

Two: Adulting in college versus adulting in real life was weird, different and not as fun as he liked to think it was when he was growing up. He felt like he spent most of his free time fighting the washing machine, wondering if groceries had always been this expensive and bribing Jack to do things for him when it got too overwhelming or confusing. Which, also wasn’t great considering his brother was just as helpless as he was, and Quinn was too far away to bother. 

Three: Despite the concerns tucked away in the back of his mind when he signed his first contract with the Devils, none of the team had made him feel like he was just Jack’s younger brother. He knew Nico had said as much at the start of the season, but experiencing it and really feeling like a part of the team brought a fuzzy warmth in his chest that he wasn’t quite ready to confess to anyone—but it was a nice feeling that followed him through the season, even after the losses. 

Four: Figuring out you were kind of in love with your friend who also offered to take your virginity was not exactly the best crisis to be having in the middle of your rookie NHL season. But he was having said crisis regardless and there wasn’t much he could do about it. 

And five: the Devils took New Years very seriously. 

As in serious enough that Jack was looking at him like he was the crazy one at this current moment.

“Did you hear what I just said?” 

Luke blinked, his spoon hovering awkwardly over his bowl of cereal as he stared at his brother across the table. “Yeah no, I heard you. I am just trying to wrap my head around why you decided to tell me at—” His eyes glanced over at the clock on the wall before returning to Jack. “Seven in the morning that I am banned from leaving the state for New Years?”

“Because you’ll make Nico sad,” Jack said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Luke put his spoon down. “Nah, you’ve still lost me.” 

Jack let out a deep sigh. “You can’t upset him like that, Luke. He’s our captain.”

“And me leaving the state in the three days off we have between games around then will upset him?” Luke deadpanned. He wasn’t even planning on leaving. He doesn't even know where he would go. But his sleepy brain almost wanted to pretend he had plans just to spite Jack right now.

“Duh,” Jack huffed. “He throws a New Years thing every year. Jonas missed it once when he had some family in town and Nico was pouty as fuck after, even if he didn’t admit it. It’s, like, a team bonding thing for him. Hockey families and real families coming together.”

Luke blinked. “It’s way too early for me to understand half the words that just left your mouth.”

“Plus we have a game on his birthday,” Jack added with a shrug. “It will probably be a double celebration.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke grumbled as he shoved another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I’ll be there. You know I’d be there. I don’t get why you’re asking.”

Jack didn’t say anything for a moment before he spoke again, trying (and failing) to sound casual. “He doesn’t mind if you bring some guests. The more the merrier.”

Luke bit back his yawn. “Who would I even bring?” 

Jack shot him a deadpan look. “You’re so dumb.”

“Whatever,” Luke murmured, almost tempted to lay his head down on the counter and fall asleep right there. “M’not gonna miss Nico’s New Years party, don’t gotta get defensive about your boyfriend.”

Jack let out a noise that sounded vaguely close to a squeak. “He is not my boyfriend—” 

Luke zoned out after that. 

…

It wasn’t until a few days later, when Luke was sprawled on the floor in some feeble attempt of stretching his muscles after a late morning gym session, that Jack’s words made sense. 

He stared up at the gym room ceiling, listening to the various noises around the room: machines humming, metal clinking, guys talking. It was oddly soothing, almost mindful. These were noises Luke was familiar with, that he sought out to cling onto when the noises in his head were a little more irritating. It reminded him that he was actually there in the moment.

“Are you stuck down there?” 

Luke blinked as a shadow suddenly casted over him, taking a few seconds before he saw Nico staring down at him with an inquisitive look, though he seemed more amused than concerned. 

“Cardio days suck,” was all he was able to supply, his hands resting on his stomach as he made no move to sit back up or head towards the locker room to shower and change.

Nico just snorted, shaking his head in a way that almost seemed fond. “Welcome to the big league.” 

“Every league has cardio,” Luke replied, a little snottily if he was honest with himself. “And it sucks no matter what age you are.” 

Nico’s grin just widened in response.

For a moment, Luke was happy to just lay there for a few more minutes and let Nico wander off to go check on some of the other guys dotted around the gym. He knew his captain, knew he was doing his rounds and knew that he would have done them anyways, regardless of the ‘C’ on his chest because that was just the type of person Nico was. Luke was happy to let him shift that attention onto someone else.

But then Nico turned to head towards Haula and Bastian on the treadmills and a thought suddenly entered his head and Luke was opening his mouth before he even realised it.

“Hey, are you still doing your New Years thing?” 

Nico paused, his face brightening up. “Yeah, I am.” He paused, his smile faltering a little. “Why, can you not make it? I swear Jack said you could—”

“No, yeah, I am,” Luke answered quickly, scrambling to sit up a little so he would feel less exposed. He ran his fingers through his curls, wincing a little when his pinky nabbed a tangle before making his eyes meet Nico’s curious gaze. “I was just wondering if it would be okay if I brought someone.” 

Nico’s shoulders dropped in relief but his head tilted in interest. “Brought someone?” 

“A friend,” Luke supplied. 

“A friend,” Nico repeated, looking as though he was biting back his grin. “Yeah no, bring her with you. The more the merrier.”

Luke raised his brows. “How did you know it was a her?” 

Nico smiled knowingly. “Call it a captain’s hunch.”

Luke frowned. “That’s not a thing.”

Nico just shrugged in response. 

He tried not to let the question linger too much, instead finally forcing himself to finish his stretches before heading towards the locker room. The noise of his teammates blurred in the background as he reached for his phone, typing out a message before heading towards the showers.

hockey boy: u got any plans for nye?

…

“You suck.”

“I literally don’t know how else you expected me to answer the question.”

“I asked you what the dress code was and you said ‘nice’,” you scoffed, shooting the boy a look as you settled into the passenger seat of his car. “Nice isn’t a dress code. Nice doesn’t tell me if I should be wearing jeans or a dress.”

Luke tried—and failed-–to bite back his grin as he glanced over at you. “I see you went with the dress.” 

“No thanks to you,” you retorted with a small huff, but your lips were already twitching upwards. “I would rather your teammates think I am weirdly overdressed than weirdly underdressed.” 

“They won’t think you are weird,” he assured you, deciding not to point out the fact you had been around them on previous occasions and had never ran into that issue before. He didn’t think you would want him playing know-it-all. “But maybe stay away from Curtis.” 

He could hear the glee in your voice, even if he didn’t turn his head around. “Scared he will give me some ammo against you?” 

“Yes.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. “My new favourite Devil.” 

Luke rolled his eyes, also deciding not to mention the small burn of jealousy that bubbled in his stomach at your obvious joke. 

“Don’t worry,” you said after a few moments of silence, playfully knocking your hand against his thigh. “I wouldn’t embarrass you in front of your people.”

Luke snorted. “My people?”

“Yeah, you athletes are all super weird about your teammates. You guys kinda seem more like a cult than a family but it’s cute,” you teased. “Does this mean I get to join the cult for the night? Special access?” 

“We aren’t a cult,” Luke scoffed, choosing to also not mention the handful of weird superstitions half of his teammates complete before every game. 

“But they are important to you,” you retorted.

Luke nodded, smiling a little softer. “Yeah. They are.” 

“Then I’ll keep the fact you thought the Titanic was a documentary a secret,” you concluded, snickering when the boy let out an exaggerated groan.

“It’s based on a real ship, okay!” 

“Yeah but Leonardo DiCaprio wasn’t on the ship back in 1912 when it went down.” 

“Whatever, there was room on that door and everyone knows it,” Luke grumbled, sniffling slightly before he turned to glance at you once again as the car came to a stop at a red light. “You’re important to me too, you know.” 

You turned your head to look at him, wiggling your eyebrows. “Working towards a midnight blowjob instead of a midnight kiss?” 

“I—no,” his cheeks burned hot and he was suddenly glad the car was too dark for you to see the full extent of how red his face must have been as memories of you on your knees—of his number on your cheeks—flashed to the front of his mind. “I mean it. You’re important to me.” 

You blinked, your smile faltering a little when you realised he was serious. “Oh.”

“Like,” Luke quickly cleared his throat. “We’re friends, right? My friends are important to me.” 

“Yeah no, of course,” you laughed, and maybe it was still a little awkward and stilted but he was glad you weren’t jumping out of the car and running off. “I didn’t realise I reached cult level though.”

Luke smiled. “Maybe just for tonight.”

“Knew it!” 

He turned his eyes back to the road for the rest of the journey to Nico’s place.

…

Luke knew he shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. He knew that. He didn’t even mean to. It just kind of happened somewhere between him disappearing into Nico’s kitchen to look amongst the weird European beers and ciders until he could find two flutes of champagne for you both and walking back with said flutes in hand to overhear you talking to Jack. 

Jack, who he remembered being on the other side of the room almost on Nico’s lap, before he left to grab your drinks.

“You watch our games?” 

Luke paused, a voice in his head telling him to take that step forward, to walk back into the room, to intervene before Jack inevitably embarrassed him. The other—and louder—voice kept him put, holding onto the champagne flutes tightly as he listened. 

“Yeah, the ones I can.” 

“Really?” 

“You sound surprised.” 

“Guess I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“I mean, I don’t understand a single thing that is happening.”

“Luke hasn’t explained the game to you?”

“Oh no, he has. I still don’t get it. But hey, the commentators tell me you guys are pretty good.” 

Luke listened to the way Jack laughed, noted how it sounded more like his actual laugh rather than the stilted media one.

“I’m surprised Luke had the balls to invite you.” 

Luke’s eyes widened, his cheeks growing hot again as he silently vowed to trip Jack up during their next practice for that line.

“Am I that scary?” 

Jack didn’t respond for a moment. “I don’t think it’s you he’s scared of.”

“What? He thought you guys would scare me away?” 

“We can be overwhelming.”

“You guys fight other grown men on ice for a living, I think I can survive.”

Jack laughed again. “Mom would love you, you really know how to keep a guy humble.”

“You mean keep his ego in check.”

“Professional athletes with egos? Unheard of.”

This time it was you who snorted out a laugh.

“You’re not what I expected, Cherry.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?” 

But before Jack could say anything, before he could possibly embarrass Luke any further and continue whatever weird interrogation he had going on with you, Luke quickly rounded the corner and practically shoved a champagne flute into your hand whilst shooting his brother a look.

“Shouldn’t you be bothering Nico or something?” 

Jack shot his brother a knowing look, glancing between the two of you before he took a step back. “Yeah, I guess I have a few things to tell him.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. 

“It was nice to meet you, Cherry,” Jack said earnestly, tipping his beer bottle towards you. “Maybe I’ll catch you at the house. It would be nice to see Luke around instead of running off to yours.”

You snorted. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Luke watched the new but playful camaraderie between you and his brother. The banter and the shared laughs at his expense. He watched it as he chugged a mouthful of champagne, hoping the bubbles would drown the other fluttering feelings he was feeling in his stomach. 

…

“I’ve been looking for you.”

You snapped your head around, your smile widening a little when you found Luke standing by the door of the guest room. His sleeves were now rolled up, a few more buttons of his shirt unbuttoned and his curls looked as though they had been ruffled by a drunk and very handsy Haula more than once.

“The main bathroom was occupied so Nico said I could come in and use the guest room bathroom,” you explained, nodding your head towards the other door. 

“And you decided to hide in here afterwards?” Luke asked, mostly playful and teasing but there was a hint of concern in his voice. The team could be a lot sometimes and, despite the fact you seemed more than capable of holding your own, the last thing he wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable and as though you couldn’t leave.

“I got intrigued,” you shrugged as you gestured towards the bookshelf that seemed to take over a large portion of the guest room wall. “How many languages does this guy know?”

Luke snorted as he walked deeper into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed with a small huff. “I think three?” He shrugged, leaning back against his hands. 

“That must be so cool,” you murmured, your eyes flickering over the book spines before turning back to look at Luke. “Do you know any other languages?” 

Luke shook his head.

“None?” You laughed in disbelief. “Buddy, most of your teammates down there speak English as a second language and you haven’t picked up anything?” 

“Do three words in standard German count?” Luke retorted, playful and sheepish all at once. “Jack tried learning on Duolingo for, like, two weeks to try to impress Nico during summer before realising Swiss German and standard German are different.”

You shook your head, trying to bite back your smile as you wandered closer. “F for effort on your part. I’m pretty sure Jonas taught me more in one conversation than you’ve learnt all season.”

Luke rolled his eyes, his fingers twitching against the comforter with the urge to reach out for you. “It can be my New Years resolution.” 

“Yeah? You have a list?” You questioned, watching as he spread his legs without thinking and let you into the space like it was instinctual. 

He shrugged. “I try. Achievable stuff, you know?” 

You raised your brows. “Like?”

“Eat better, workout more, start a new hobby,” he listed off, trying and failing to keep a straight face as he finally gave in, as he finally reached for your waist to tug you even closer to him. “Learn a new skill. Or improve on ones I already know.”

You hummed, your hands resting on his shoulders as your fingers skimmed the fabric of his shirt. “Hockey skills?” 

Luke glanced up at you, swallowing a little. “Not all of them.”

Your lips twitched upwards. 

His thumb smoothed over your hips, feeling the small details of your dress under his touch. “What’s on your list?” 

“I don’t have one,” you admitted with a shrug. “No point to it. If I want to do something, I’ll do it.” 

“Sounds like one of the media trained answers we are forced to give,” Luke teased, pressing his thumb a little harsher to gain your attention when your head tipped back with a laugh. “No, but really. There’s nothing new you wanna try?” 

“Are you offering?” You retorted, lighthearted and teasing. 

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Maybe I am.” 

Your head tilted slightly, your hand moving to lightly grasp the back of his neck. “We probably shouldn’t. I hate to break it to you, Hughes, but you’re not very quiet once you get going.” 

His cheeks burned but he didn’t tear his eyes away from you. “Who said I was the one getting off?” 

And that seemed to catch you by surprise.

“Pretty boy is feeling confident, huh?” You mused, your fingers brushing against the curls at the nape of his neck. “As hot as it is, I don’t think we have time.” 

And your words sent a spark through, soft and buzzing and persistent. A spark that he knew very well, a spark that made his grip on your waist tighten. A spark that he felt every single time he stepped onto the ice.

“Is that a challenge?” Luke asked, his voice a little lower than he intended. 

You smirked, shaking your head. “Depends what you have in mind.” 

His heart was pounding in his chest, loud and strong and overwhelming, but it didn’t stop him as he leaned his chin against your stomach. “I want to make you come.” 

Your eyes wandered over his face, at the pure determination in his eyes. “Oh?” 

“Mhm,” he nodded, his hands trailing down the side of your thighs. “That’s on my list too.” 

Your lips twitched. “Thinking of becoming a ladies man? Live up to the hockey sex god stereotype?” 

He shook his head. “No. Not other girls. Just wanna make you come.”

You didn’t have a reply for that. 

“I wanna make you come right now. In here.” There was a flicker of something else in his eyes that you couldn’t quite read. 

Your brows lifted slightly.

“If you want to,” he added, his hands squeezing the back of your thighs. “Consent is sexy, you know.” 

“Show me what you’ve got, pretty boy,” you murmured, leaning down to close the distance between you as you pressed your lips against his. 

The rest of the world was a distant buzz in the back of his mind once you finally kissed him, his shoulders dropping with some unexplainable relief that only being around you seems to bring. Your fingers were already in his curls by the time his tongue swiped over your bottom lip, leaving the boy groaning and gasping into your mouth as you tugged him closer. 

You pulled back for a second, to catch your breath and appreciate the flush on his cheeks before leaning back in. But it was enough. It was enough to have his mind spiralling faster than he could even keep up with.

For a split second, you weren’t smiling down at him. For a split second, the two of you were back in his car and you were staring at him with an expression he didn’t understand, an expression that made his stomach turn nonetheless. For a split second, he was just staring helplessly at you as you doubted the words he said. 

And whilst Luke never claimed to be the sharpest tool in the shed, he knew it would be a monumentally stupid idea to repeat the words. He knew that if he repeated the words he said in the car, if he tried to insist on their truth, you would shut down again. 

And he didn’t want that.

Not at all.

But the overwhelming and insistent need to show you what you meant to him was bubbling inside him, swirling along with the bottled up feelings and glasses of champagne he had drank over the course of the night. 

And if he couldn’t tell you, he would show you. He would make you see that you were important to him, that this unlikely and unconventional friendship may have started with you helping him but he was in this for you too. 

That your pleasure was important to him too.

He swallowed your gasp with another kiss as he tugged you closer, as he finally broke whatever restraint the two of you had until you were finally on his lap. Or, almost on his lap. But when you tried to shift in his hold, when you tried to straddle his lap properly, Luke’s strong grip on your waist kept you locked in place.

“Stay,” he murmured, swallowing harshly as he leaned back enough to watch the confusion wash over your face. 

“I thought—” You started but he was already shaking his head.

“Like this. I want to get you off like this,” he confessed, his voice rasping as he tried to pretend like his whole body wasn’t thrumming with excitement and nerves and something else he wasn’t quite ready to name. “On my thigh.” 

You tucked your lip between your teeth. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. 

“Fuck, Luke,” you murmured under your breath before pulling his lips back onto yours through the hold you still had on his curls. 

He sunk into the kiss as easily as he breathed, moaning softly when he felt your tongue against his own. His hands clung onto you, squeezing your waist like he needed to make sure you were actually there, like this was real and not some sex-crazed dream he would wake up from, half-hard and alone in his room. 

But the silk of your dress remained under his touch, soft and smooth and bunching in his fists as he clenched the fabric in his hold. And then his hands started wandering as you continued to kiss him senseless. 

He pushed the skirt of your dress up until it pooled at your waist, until his hands were engulfing and squeezing your thighs. His fingers continued to skin upwards, until his fingertips were brushing against the waistband of your panties, until he could hear the small gasp you let out as he lightly traced them. 

It made his head spin the way you were straddling his thigh, the way he could feel the warmth of your cunt pressed against his leg, feel it through the fabric of the dress pants he wore for the party. It made his head spin how he wished he could pull them off, how he wished he could just feel you with no boundaries between. 

His hands were pawing at you before they started to guide you, rocking you back and forth on his thigh. It was slow and deliberate, almost unnoticeable until the first choked out noise you let out between the soft kisses he was giving you. 

“C’mon,” his voice was low, rough, full of desire. “Want you to take what you want.” 

One hand remained entangled in his curls but the other shifted down to grip his shoulder, to dig your nails into the fabric of his shirt as you continued to follow the pace he set. It shouldn’t have felt so good, but it did. It felt so fucking good with his sweet words smothering the slow pace he refused to relent.

“Shit, Luke, I—” You cut yourself off, biting down on your lower lip as he continued to guide your hips, as he continued to let you grind yourself against his flexing thigh. 

“Whatever you want,” he murmured out, feeling like he was in a daze as he watched your eyes flutter shut. You were breathtaking when you let the pleasure take over, when he got to see you with no walls up and unguarded. “Just tell me.” 

“More,” you managed to mutter out, your head falling back as you continued to ride his thigh, to feel the rush of what you were doing just down the hall from his teammates wash over you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Look so pretty like this,” he whispered because he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t hold the thought back even if he wanted to. “Wanna make you come more, Cherry baby, shit.”

Because he did. He wanted to do this a million more times if he could watch you like this for the rest of his life. He wanted to see you riding his thigh, unashamed and unabashed, so lost in your own pleasure—pleasure that you were receiving from him—that you had no other worries in the world.

He wanted to watch you lean your head forward against his shoulder, his name leaving your lips between soft moans and a list of curse words as your orgasm washed over you. He wanted to watch the way your body shook with the after effects, the way you clung onto him like a lineline. 

He wanted to watch the way you lifted your head, giving him a smile so soft that he felt like the rug was pulled out from underneath him. 

“I have been severely underrating hockey thighs all these years,” you muttered, your smile widening a little more when Luke let out a disbelieving laugh.

Luke couldn’t tear his eyes away from you if he tried. “What? No thank you?” 

“That’s your thing, pretty boy, not mine,” you teased before you relented, leaning forward to press a soft but lingering kiss on his cheek. It was somehow the most intimate act you shared in the last fifteen minutes. “Ten out of ten for your thighs.”

Luke swallowed harshly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Good, because that won’t be the last time we are using them,” you said to him, so sure of yourself and unaware of the muddle of thoughts in his head at that moment. 

“Happy New Years, Cherry,” he managed to mutter out, not even sure if the clock had passed twelve or not. But it was the last of his concerns when you smiled at him.

“Happy New Years, Luke,” you murmured softly. 

And yet, all he could think about was how he wanted to hear those words leave your mouth every year. 

.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

PART ONE

After accidentally causing Reader’s very first orgasm, Anthony does what any gentleman would do: he teaches her how to make it happen again, anytime she likes… ♥️

In keeping with Bridgerton’s vibe, Reader is a young woman with zero sexual knowledge or experience. I imagine she’s around nineteen or twenty years old and while she has had suitors, none of them have inspired in her the feelings Lord Bridgerton evokes…

Lord Anthony Bridgerton. Six days have passed since your carriage ride together, and instead of making peace with yourself over your embarrassing display in front of him, you now have even more questions than answers.

Firstly, what was that overwhelming rush of feelings you experienced in his carriage? And secondly, why had Lord Bridgerton reacted so calmly while watching you carry on as you did? And thirdly, had he never really intended to call on you, even though he said he would?

In truth, Anthony Bridgerton had been preoccupied with thoughts of you since delivering you home last week. He’d originally intended to call on you, but felt that approaching the subject of what he could obviously tell was your very first orgasm would be impossible while in the company of others. So, he’d conceived an admittedly unconventional plan to discuss the matter with you, in private…

Anthony knew you had questions, and as a gentleman, he didn’t want to leave you confused or even worse, feeling as if you’d somehow done something wrong. Anthony was well aware of the fact that for young ladies, sexual education was limited to none. With all the privileges of a male upbringing, Anthony had acquired plenty of sexual knowledge and experience without the attached shame and social stigma a woman would receive if expressing herself in such a manner…

The sun had gone down over Mayfair, a crisp Autumn evening settling in as its residents did the same. You’d retired to your room for the night, ready to sleep and hopefully dream of carriage rides with Anthony Bridgerton, and without embarrassment. Being so close to Anthony had felt exhilarating, at first, until that terrible-wonderful-beautiful-terrifying surge of energy had taken hold of you. If only you could repeat the events of that afternoon, the ones that involved Anthony’s recusing you, his chivalry, his act of kindness…his touching you…without the resulting fit that had seized hold of your body. A realization washed over you. Could what you experienced have somehow been caused by Lord Bridgerton? He had observed the extent of your outrageous display with complete ease. It was a bit irritating, in fact, that he seemed to understand exactly what was happening to you, while you remained completely overwhelmed and in the dark.

You gazed at the ceiling, frustrated tears burning your eyes. What would happen if Anthony told anyone of your frightful episode? You could only assume he had not spoken word of it to anyone, because surely Lady Whistledown would have mentioned it in her latest scandal sheet. Clearly, Anthony Bridgerton was an honorable man. You chided yourself for thinking anything less than a gentleman of him moments ago.

Suddenly, a shadow at your window caught your eye. Usually, birds didn’t perch on your windowsill this late in the day…and what else could have caused the shadow, besides a bird? You closed your eyes, preparing for sleep. A dull thudding sound came from the direction of your window, lurching your body forward in bed and forcing your eyes open wide.

Anthony Bridgerton was crouched outside your window. Surely, you must be dreaming. And what a scandalous dream to be having, you thought to yourself with a giggle. It was only when Anthony tapped his knuckles against the glass that you realized, much to your horror, that you were most definitely not dreaming.

He smiled and pointed to the latch on your side of the glass, making a turning motion with his hand. You left your bed for the window, quickly grabbing a robe to cover your nightgown, which did little to conceal the shape of your breasts.

You unlatched the window and lifted it only so far as to hear each other speak. “Lord Bridgerton!” you whispered harshly. “Are you mad??”

Anthony’s smile faded only slightly, his head tilted in thought. “Possibly,” he conceded. “But nevertheless, I had to speak with you.”

“And why now?” you asked. “At the most inappropriate time? In the most inappropriate way-??”

“-Because,” Anthony interrupted. “The nature of my intended conversation with you demands privacy.” He sighed, glancing down at the latch again. “Now, are you going to allow me inside?” Anthony asked. “Or would you prefer I catch my death of cold? Or perhaps-.” He peered over his shoulder at the ground below. “-Falling to my death would better suit your-.”

“-Oh for heaven’s sake!” you snapped, throwing open the window, to Anthony’s delight. “Hurry in before someone sees you…”

He swung his legs over the windowsill, nodding a polite “thank you,” while keeping his steps as quiet as possible. Your eyes swept over the yard, trying to make out the face of anyone who might have witnessed the Viscount Bridgerton of all men climbing through your bedroom window. Thankfully, the grounds looked bare; you sighed gratefully, content with remaining free of scandal. For now, at least.

You turned to find Anthony seated on your bed, a sight that nearly gave you a heart attack. He saw the horrified look on your face, and immediately stood up- “Forgive me,” he said. “I did not wish to offend you. I find it…” He paused. “…Difficult, to know where you and I stand…to judge the nature of our relationship, after-.” Anthony swallowed, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

“-After my frightful display in the carriage?” you offered, and he nodded.

“Yes,” Anthony replied. “Which, to be completely transparent, is exactly the reason I called on you tonight-privately,” he emphasized. “Because the nature of such a conversation is surely too sensitive as to be eavesdropped by others, do you not agree?”

Your eyebrows lifted, confusion written all over your face along with a blush of shame spreading over your cheeks. “People fall ill regularly, Lord Bridgerton,” you said, trying to calm the embarrassment making your voice tremble. “I fail to see how my…spell, though humiliating, as you seem eager to remind me, should warrant such a clandestine meeting as this...”

Anthony took a step closer; you flinched backward. “I do not wish to harm you,” he insisted. “Nor do I mean to imply wrongdoing of any kind on your part. If anything, it is I who acted thoughtlessly in not calling on you sooner, for not explaining that your-.” He smiled softly. “-Spell, or, falling ill as you call it, was not humiliating at all…”

You realized, for the first time in six days, that the feeling had returned. It stirred between your thighs like a dangerous, delicious secret. And while you couldn’t understand how, you were somehow sure that Anthony knew of your secret, too.

He took another step closer, and this time, you didn’t move backward. “Are you familiar with…” Anthony chose his words carefully. “…With the ways a woman’s body experiences pleasure?”

Your eyes widened; Anthony realized he may need to proceed with even more caution than he’d anticipated.

“When you…feel good,” he tried, watching your eyes for any sign of understanding. “That warmth you experience…inside your body…”

Anthony took another small step closer; you swallowed, feeling as if all the air had suddenly left the room. “…When you…touch yourself…”

He saw the lack of understanding in your eyes, and asked “you do touch yourself…don’t you?”

You shook your head, bewildered by Anthony’s lack of actual explaining. “Of course I touch myself, Lord Bridgerton,” you replied matter-of-factly; he seemed surprised by your blunt response. “I touch myself every day.”

“I’m glad to hear-.”

“-Everyone touches themselves every day-.”

He tipped his head in thought. “Well, it’s doubtful everyone-.”

“-In fact, I fail to see how that explains anything about my behavior last week, Lord Bridgerton,” you finished. Anthony looked slightly confused, and asked “when you touch yourself…do you not feel the way you felt in the carriage?”

You shook your head, embarrassment washing over you again. “No,” you replied. “I’ve never felt anything comparable to that while touching myself.”

Anthony considered his next question, and his reasons for asking it, carefully. “How do you touch yourself?” he asked, worrying immediately that he’d gone a step too far. Everything about this conversation was becoming more inappropriate by the second, but at least you seemed to have some experience in pleasuring yourself. It was a good start, Anthony reasoned.

You didn’t seem offended by his question in the slightest. “I touch myself each time I pull on my gloves, for example,” you explained, still not at all sure how this was relevant. “I brush my hair, which means I must touch myself to do so…” You continued to describe absolutely innocent everyday examples of ways in which you touched yourself, none of them pertaining to masturbation, as Anthony soon became aware.

He held up a hand to stop you, a gentle yet frustrated smile on his face. “While all of the examples you’ve given do indeed describe touching oneself,” Anthony replied, his smile fading. “They do not describe the manner of touching that would arouse feelings like the ones you experienced during your…spell, in my carriage.”

You stared at him blankly, completely confused. “How else would one touch themselves, my lord?” you asked. Anthony’s chest dipped as he exhaled, deeply. He hadn’t stopped thinking of the sounds you made in his carriage the week prior…of how you looked seized with pleasure, your pretty features contorted in ecstasy…the way your scent had remained in his carriage, how he’d used it to get himself off on the way back from your home…

Anthony knew he was treading on very dangerous ground. But despite his better judgement, he found the words he should not say passing through his lips, and his fingers drawing closer to touch your cheek: “Perhaps I might teach you, then?”

Your skin warmed beneath Anthony’s touch, his fingertip tracing your cheek and resting on your lips. It was all too much, the racing of your heart, the intensity of his gaze holding yours like no man had before. The beautiful ache between your legs was now pulsing, throbbing in time with your heartbeat.

“May I teach you?” Anthony asked again, softly. His thumb stroked the curve of your chin; your legs felt weak, unable to hold you. “Yes…yes,” you replied, every inch of you trembling. “Please…”

Anthony’s lips curved in a slight grin, but his behavior retained the calm sensibility of an instructor preparing to teach. He guided you toward your bed, gently imploring you to “lie back.” You followed Anthony’s direction, taking his hand as it was offered. His lips parted when your robe slipped off your shoulders, revealing the curve of your breasts, your peaked nipples lifting the fabric. You moved to cover yourself, but Anthony stopped you. “Do not be embarrassed,” he murmured, his voice low, sincere. “Your body is beautiful, (Y/N). It should not be a source of shame…not here. Not now.”

Anthony brought your hand to his lips, pressing your index finger to them in a pretend ‘shh.’ “No secrets,” he whispered. You whimpered softly, unconsciously pressing your thighs together, attempting to soothe the tension between them. Anthony noticed your discomfort…every part of him noticed. His cock twitched at the sound of your arousal, at the way your scent lifted through the thin fabric of your gown and straight to his nose. He watched your body tense as you tried to fend off the inevitable; you were going to come. And Anthony was going to watch it happen, again.

He loosened the cravat at his neck, the heat in the room increasing by the minute. He led your hand over your breasts, watching you gasp as your nipples perked to meet your palm. “That’s a good girl,” Anthony praised, his voice slightly strained. “Do you see the way your body responds?” He exhaled slowly, his cock pressing uncomfortably against the restraint of his trousers. “Now,” Anthony continued. “Bring your hand lower, like so…”

He guided your touch downward, dusting along your belly. You watched with widening eyes as your fingers moved closer to the space that throbbed more intensely with every breath you took. Anthony swallowed, feeling his resolve weaken. He had to keep himself under control; you were fragile, completely unaware of just how vulnerable a position you truly were in. A less honorable man than he would likely take advantage of an innocent young woman in such a state, having given him her full trust, legs spread and waiting for his command. Anthony clenched his jaw and resolved to continue your lesson, his desires forced into check.

He paused your hand just above the tender space you’d never touched, that no one had touched before. A space that in some ways belonged to Anthony already, as only he seemed able to arouse these desires in you from the start. How fitting, then, that he should be the one to guide your hand in exploring yourself, to the place that swelled and wept only for him…

Anthony’s erection was becoming distracting. He wondered if you’d notice, and ask about it. Thankfully, you seemed too consumed by the sensations affecting your own body to notice anything around you, for which Anthony was grateful. If you did ask to see it…looking all wide-eyed and innocent at his cock…asking why it stood like that, why he looked so intense-did it hurt…? What is it for…? Can you show me, my lord…? Anthony knew he’d crumble like a pastry and end up doing god only knows what…

He pressed his wrist against it, a subtle attempt at soothing away some of the pain denying himself was causing. Instinctively, you’d pulled your hand (and Anthony’s covering it) further between your legs, till your touch was hovering just above your clit. Anthony’s eyes were hooded, his lips parted and dry as he watched you. “Touch yourself, (Y/N),” he murmured, his voice husky, wavering. “Allow your body to tell you what she needs…”

Anthony gently lowered both his hand and yours, his fingertips fanning over your clit. You drew in a sharp breath, your hips bucking, the muscles in your stomach tensing as you lurched forward. “Shh…shh,” Anthony comforted you. “It almost hurts, does it not? A feeling so intense, it frightens you…like bringing your fingers too close to a flame…”

He lightly circled his fingertips over your clit again, pulling a helpless whine from your throat. Anthony’s cock twitched against his wrist, begging for relief. Sweat beaded along his hairline, his brow tense with concentration as he forced himself to maintain control.

“Focus,” he said, both to himself and you. “Lean into the feeling, frightening though it is…” Anthony used your hand to massage yourself. Your heels dug into the bed in response. “Let go of all the tension you carry,” Anthony whispered, his hand working over you. “Give in to the feeling….give in to...”

Anthony’s words failed as all his senses were consumed by the image, the scent, the sound, of you coming undone beneath his hand. You whimpered and wept, soft sobs of pleasure that spilled from your lips as your body convulsed. Your feet kicked wildly, making a mess of the bedding, sheets tossed this way and that as you flailed. In your beautiful struggle, your nightgown was thrown above your knees, putting your pretty, pouty lips on full display for Anthony. The scent of you was abundant, no longer inhibited by the cover of your gown. Anthony abandoned his pretense of modesty, aggressively rubbing the outline of his cock through his trousers while his other hand continued clutching yours.

He pulled away suddenly, a labored groan roaring up from his chest. You were just beginning to come down, your mind awash with the fuzzy, delirious bliss of orgasm. Anthony climaxed beside you, grunting through his release, filling the front of his trousers with semen. He turned to find you lying with your arms outstretched, your chest rising and falling and glistening with sweat. Your legs were still spread wide, your embarrassment long-abandoned, a big, satisfied smile lighting your eyes. Your smile faded just slightly when you noticed the look of exhaustion on Anthony’s face.

“My lord?” you said, concerned. “Are you alright?”

Anthony chuckled, nodding his assurance that he was well. “I assure you,” he replied, kneeling to sit at your bedside. “I am more than alright…”

He took your hand in his once again, feeling the slickness of your arousal on your fingertips.

“Did you…” you began, unsure how to ask. “…Did you do what I did, just now?”

Anthony’s brow lifted, his smile widening. “In fact, I did,” he said, to which you replied, in happy surprise, “I did not know that men could do it, also!”

Anthony threw his head back laughing, before quickly admonishing himself for making too much noise. He leaned closer and gave your forehead a chaste kiss, before making his way to your window.

“My lord?” you whispered. Anthony paused at the windowsill.

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“If there’s anything else you might wish to teach me,” you said. “You’ll find my window open, from now on.” A mischievous grin turned the corners of your lips. “Remember that, will you?”

Anthony smiled, his mind already teeming with a thousand filthy things he wanted to show you. “I will remember,” he said, and exited through your window. ♥️

PART THREE

[m-robinavitch]

It’s no longer Trope Tuesday, but just in case you’re still taking prompts: Andrew Pope Cody + 9. Accidental pregnancy?

I always take requests for our sweet boy Andrew 😭💕 I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Andrew “Pope” Cody x Reader

Trope: Accidental Pregnancy

Warnings: Slight abortion discussing

“Get rid of it,” that’s all he could say- he didn’t hear much else after you told him that you were late. “You don’t know what you want. Don’t do this to yourself.” The pregnancy? No. Don’t submit yourself to being tied down to Pope forever. Don’t force an innocent child to having a father like him- a family like his. But even if he’s fighting with himself to change your mind- Andrew has wanted nothing more than have a baby with you. He lies awake at night with his head on your chest imagining a baby that you’d give him. Sweet and gentle just like you- nothing like him. None of his evil damned traits or behaviors.

“Don’t say that,” you take his hands in yours, grabbing a hold of them tightly and pressing your forehead against his. “Andrew please don’t say that. I want this. I want this baby- with you.” He was shaking his head. Shaking his head because there’s no reason you should want his baby. He hears Baz echoing in his mind- telling him that no woman would want a child with him. Why would you? Even if you tell him how much you love him- no matter how many times you repeat it for him, he can’t let himself believe you. Eventually the hormones overwhelm you, you cry because the man you’ve loved for years is telling you that he wants you to get rid of the baby you’ve dreamt of- half of him. You’d get lost in the fantasy of a baby that is half of Andrew- maybe the baby would have his smile, rare but sweet and gentle and accompanied by a dimple. Maybe the baby would have soft auburn curls like Andrew does- loving the way you twirl the ones at the back of his head around your finger. Maybe the baby will have his eyes, beautiful hazel eyes where the green on the outside comes out more in some lights and in the sun they have honey colored flecks on the inside- obviously framed by serious looking eyebrows that are constantly furrowed but soften while he sleeps and you run a finger over his forehead. Maybe the baby will help him understand how much you actually love him.

Andrew panics the entire pregnancy. He tried to convince you to not go through with it- need you to reassure him every other day that this is exactly what you want. The first few months his mind won’t stop screaming at him. He gets no rest- lying awake at night watching you sleep and thinking about how many ways he can mess this up. His own mother believes he’s bad and evil and is constantly used for other’s purposes- he doesn’t know how to be gentle. He’s never hurt you and will never hurt you but what if he gets angry or frustrated or starts to spiral and- what if he’s like Billy? Or what if the baby turns out to be more like him than like you- unstable and angry and-

“And there is the heart beat-“ the ultrasound tech said, turning the volume up so you can hear while Andrew stands as close as possible- watching over you like a protection detail but as soon as he hears the rapid echoing of the baby’s heart, his eyes immediately lock in on the screen. His child- alive and healthy and even though it’s nothing more than a speck on the screen he loves them. He would die for both you and the baby immediately. After that appointment- Andrew came around to the idea of the baby more. He was still afraid- every fear bounced around his head in the middle of the night while he watched you sleep. He watched the bump grow and move- never allowing himself to touch when you’d ask him if he wanted to feel because he was scared that he’d hurt either of you or that the baby would absorb his sins through osmosis. Finally one night you took his hand and put it on your belly so he could feel the baby move around- you would drink cold water so he could feel the baby jump. You would poke and prod and he even joked- telling you to let his child sleep. His child.

Finally when the contractions started- he panicked again. He held your hand while you cried and pushed and kissed your sweaty forehead after hours of labor and thanked you. Thanked you for trusting him enough and loving him enough to give him the one thing he’s dreamed of with you. The nurse shoved the pink bundle in his arms while they worked on you before he had a chance to protest- he didn’t want to taint the pure innocent child. He didn’t want to hurt her. But she immediately stopped crying in his arms and Andrew cried. Because she barely opened her little eyes but she looked up at him like he meant something to her. He’s still questions your decision- questions your judgment about loving him and continuing to love him. Because every day you tell him as much. And you gave him the ultimate embodiment of that love that you have for him.

She has thin strands of fiery red hair atop her head, she hasn’t stopped frowning in the few hours since she was born, and her dad hasn’t put her down for a second since she’s been in his arms.

[gf2bellamy]

hello, i absolutely adore your writing! i was wondering if you would write a spencer reid x bau! reader that takes place during the after math of the revelations episode: basically where the reader is comforting/reassuring spencer after the trauma he endured from hankel. if you’re not comfortable writing that i totally understand!

revelations — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer crying , reader being concerned for spencer , it's implied that spencer hasn't been taking care of himself , just very angsty ( but also some fluff ) a/n: hi hi i hope you like this !! <3

You weren’t sure if you were intruding, but honestly, you didn’t care. The thought had crossed your mind as you climbed the stairs to Spencer’s apartment, but it was quickly drowned out by the overwhelming concern that had been gnawing at you all day.

It didn’t matter that it was late at night, or that you’d just spent hours buried in paperwork.

None of that mattered. All you could think about was Spencer. 

The entire day had felt off. Spencer hadn’t shown up at work, and honestly, you weren’t surprised. After everything that had happened, you doubted anyone expected him to. You didn’t think you’d ever been that scared in your life. And when you’d finally seen him, alive and safe, you hadn’t been able to stop yourself. You’d hugged him so tightly that you were pretty sure you’d squeezed all the air out of his lungs. But then again, he’d held you just as tightly, his arms trembling slightly as he buried his face in your shoulder.

Now, you stood at the top of the stairs outside his apartment door, your heart pounding in your chest. You took a couple more steps until you were standing right in front of it, staring at the wood grain.

For a moment, you hesitated, your hand hovering in the air. What if he was asleep? What if he didn’t want to see anyone? But then you shook the thoughts away. You needed to see him. You needed to know he was okay. 

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door, the sound echoing softly in the quiet hallway. It was quiet for several seconds after you knocked, and for a moment, you thought he wasn’t there. But then, just as you were about to turn away, you heard slow, shuffling footsteps approaching from the other side of the door.

When the door finally creaked open, there he was. 

Spencer stood in the doorway, looking utterly exhausted. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were red-rimmed, as if he hadn’t slept in days. He was wearing a wrinkled sweater and sweatpants, and the sight of him looking so worn down made your chest ache. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from immediately falling into his arms and pulling him into a tight embrace, wanting to shield him from everything that had happened. 

Spencer stared at you. It was clear he hadn’t expected to see anyone from work, let alone you, standing at his door. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“Hi, Spence,” you said quietly, breaking the silence. “Can I come in?” You didn’t want to continue the conversation out in the hallway, and besides, you’d brought a few things with you.A small gesture, but you hoped it might help, even just a little. 

Spencer hesitated, still not having said a single word. He slowly opened the door wider, letting you in, and you stepped into the dimly lit apartment.

The space was almost entirely dark, save for a single lamp in the corner. It was clear Spencer hadn’t been taking care of himself.

“I got you some things,” you said softly as you looked up at his taller frame. He was standing there, his shoulders slumped, his expression unreadable. When his eyes met yours, they were tired, haunted.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in hours. Maybe he hadn’t. 

“Well, I wanted to,” you replied, your tone gentle.

Spencer didn’t respond right away, his gaze dropping to the floor. He seemed so lost, so unlike the brilliant man you knew, and it broke your heart.

You’d never been in his apartment before, and while you’d always imagined it would be filled with books and the faint scent of coffee, the reality felt… empty. It was as if the life had been drained out of the space, just as it had been drained out of him. 

“I got you some things to eat,” you continued, trying to keep your voice light. “Where’s your kitchen?” 

It seemed like you’d have to take the lead for now. Spencer was still standing there, barely moving, as if he were stuck in some kind of trance.

But then, after a moment, he finally stirred, gesturing vaguely to the right. “This way,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You rushed to take your shoes off, your socks hitting the floor as you followed him. They were a cute pair of socks he had once gotten you for your birthday, after you’d mentioned how much you liked a similar pair with butterflies on them. Maybe you’d unconsciously chosen to wear them today because you missed him.

Spencer leaned against the counter, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, his gaze distant.

The kitchen was small but tidy, though it felt colder than it should have, as if it hadn’t been used much recently. You set your bag down on the counter and began rummaging through it, trying to fill the silence.

“So, I got you some cookies,” you started.“I know you like these,” you added, pulling out the familiar package. They were his favorite, the ones you usually snacked on together during late nights at work, when the cases dragged on and the coffee wasn’t enough to keep you going. Spencer glanced at the box of cookies, his expression softening just a little as he took it from your hands.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, his voice quiet but sincere, as he set the box down on the counter next to him.

You were standing on opposite sides of the kitchen, the distance between you feeling both too far and too close at the same time. You nodded, trying to keep the mood light.

“I also got you some fruit and vegetables,” you said, reaching into your bag again. “Some” was an understatement, you’d practically bought out the entire produce section at the store. One by one, you pulled out apples, bananas, oranges, carrots, cucumbers, and even a container of pre-cut watermelon, plopping them down on the counter with a soft thud. 

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly at the sheer amount of food, and for a moment, he just stared at it, his lips parting in surprise. You couldn’t help but feel a small spark of relief at the sight of some kind of emotion on his face, even if it was just mild shock. It was better than the blank, distant expression he’d been wearing since you arrived. 

“You really didn’t have to do this,” he mumbled, his voice still hoarse but with a hint of something warmer now. He finally met your eyes, and the look on his face, grateful, overwhelmed, and maybe even a little guilty, made your chest tighten.

Dear God, you were about to cry. 

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay composed. “Of course I did,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “I just… I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.” 

You paused. Then you added, “I missed you.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, but they were true. Spencer didn’t respond right away. Instead, he just looked down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting nervously.

The silence stretched between you, until you finally broke it again. 

“How are you doing?” you asked, though the moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them. It was probably a stupid question. I mean, how was he supposed to be? But honestly, you didn’t know how else to get to the point.

And then the expected answer came. “Good,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. 

You had to suppress a groan. Of course Spencer Reid would reply with good. It was so like him to downplay everything.

But you knew better. You knew him better. 

“Spencer,” you said softly, your voice quiet. It was a small word, but it carried so much weight, and it worked.

Spencer bit his lip, his eyes flickering up to meet yours for just a moment before looking away again. You knew him well enough to know what that meant, he was holding back, trying to keep it together, but he was on the verge of breaking. Without another word, you stepped forward, opening your arms in a silent invitation. You didn’t need to say anything; the gesture was enough. Spencer hesitated for just a second, his breath hitching, before he practically collapsed into your embrace.

His arms wrapped around your waist, holding onto you.. You hugged him tightly, one hand gently rubbing small circles on his back, the other cradling the back of his head. For a moment, it was quiet.

But then you heard it, the first quiet, muffled sob. It was so faint, so fragile, that it made your heart shatter into a million pieces. You felt your shirt grow damp where Spencer’s face was buried against your shoulder, but you didn’t care. Right now, all you cared about was him. 

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you mumbled, your voice small and trembling as you kept brushing your hand over his back. Spencer held onto you tightly, his face still buried in your shoulder, his breathing uneven. The two of you just stood there in the kitchen, wrapped in each other’s arms, and it didn’t seem like he wanted to let go. And you didn’t mind at all. You would’ve stood there forever if it meant he felt even a little bit better. 

Five minutes passed, maybe more, before Spencer finally loosened his grip on your waist and pulled back. You could see his face now, tear-stained and exhausted, his eyes red and swollen. Your heart ached at the sight, and without thinking, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands as you gently brushed his tears away with your thumbs. You studied his face, taking in the dark circles under his eyes. You knew Spencer struggled with sleep even on his best days, and after what had happened, you were sure it had only gotten worse. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“You need to sleep,” you mumbled affectionately.

Your hands continued to make gentle circles on his cheeks, and Spencer closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.

“I can’t,” he admitted in a low voice.

Slowly, you dropped your hands from his face, and Spencer’s eyes fluttered open at the loss of your warmth, a faint flicker of disappointment crossing his features. 

You turned around to grab your bag, which you’d dropped on the counter earlier. “I got you chamomile tea,” you said, pulling out the small box of tea bags. “You once told me about how it’s supposed to help with sleep,” you continued, your voice soft.

Spencer stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he finally nodded. “Thank you,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

But it wasn’t just the tea he was thanking you for, it was the fact that you listened to him. You always did. Whether it was a random fact about the chemical composition of tea or a quiet confession in the middle of the night, you always listened. And he knew that. 

“Do you want a cup?” you asked, holding up the tea bag in your hand. 

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then nodded again. “I’ll help you make it,” he said, his voice a little stronger now. He moved to the stove, filling the kettle with water and setting it to boil. You watched him as he worked and you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of relief. At least he was doing something, even if it was just making tea. 

Once the two of you had your two cups filled with tea, you started drinking it while leaning against the counter. This time, you stood close to each other.

You reached up slowly, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, your fingers lingering for just a moment. Spencer didn’t pull away; instead, he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. You watched him take a sip from his tea, his lips chapped and dry, and you were glad the warm liquid would help with that.

“Do you need anything else?” you asked softly, dropping your hands back to your cup. You took a sip of your own tea before setting it down on the counter again. “I walked by this bakery earlier, and they had some really tasty-looking donuts there. I thought maybe—” you started, but Spencer interrupted you. 

“Can you stay?” he asked, his voice quiet. 

You stared at him, caught off guard by the question. Honestly, you hadn’t even expected him to let you into his apartment, let alone ask you to stay.

“Yes. Of course,” you said without hesitation, finishing the last sip of your tea. You glanced at Spencer’s mug, noticing he had finished his as well.

He seemed content with your answer, his empty eyes gaining just a tiny bit of life.

“I can lend you some clothes,” Spencer said suddenly.He set his mug down on the counter and walked out of the kitchen, leaving you to follow him.

You trailed after him, your socked feet padding softly against the floor as you took in the apartment. Books were everywhere, stacked on shelves, piled on tables, even scattered on the floor in some places. As you walked into his bedroom, you couldn’t help but look around. The room was cozy, with soft lighting and a warm, lived-in feel. There were even more books on the nightstand, along with a pair of glasses and a half-empty glass of water. The walls were lined with shelves filled with books, and there was a small desk in the corner, covered in papers and pens.

It was nice. Very Spencer. 

“Cozy,” you mumbled, and you meant it. Spencer glanced at you, a very tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The sight made your heart flutter with happiness.

Oh, how you had missed that smile. 

“Uhm, you can wear this one,” Spencer said, breaking the silence as he handed you a soft-looking sweater and a pair of sweatpants. You took them from him, your fingers brushing against his for just a moment, and hesitated. 

“Oh, you can change in there,” he added quickly, pointing toward the bathroom. His cheeks flushed slightly, and you couldn’t help but smile at how endearing he was. 

“Thanks,” you said, giving him a small smile before heading into the bathroom. 

Five minutes later, you had changed into his clothes. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you couldn’t help but smile slightly at your reflection. The sweater was a little oversized, the sleeves falling past your hands, and the sweatpants were soft and cozy, hanging loosely around your hips.

You couldn’t help but wish you were wearing his clothes under different circumstances, maybe after a lazy morning together, or a quiet night in, but you quickly pushed those thoughts aside. Now wasn’t the time for that. 

You opened the bathroom door and walked back into his room, where you found Spencer sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked up as you entered, his eyes scanning you briefly before a small, almost shy smile tugged at his lips. 

“Your clothes are comfy,” you said, returning his smile as you stood in the doorway. 

Spencer’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of you in his clothes. “They look good on you,” he said quietly.

You felt your cheeks heat up slightly at his words, but before you could respond, Spencer looked away, his fingers tapping nervously on his thigh. He seemed to be wrestling with something, his brows furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Do you—” he started, then stopped himself, closing his eyes as if gathering his thoughts. His fingers continued to tap against his leg, a nervous habit you’d noticed before. Finally, he took a deep breath.

“Do you mind sleeping in the same bed as me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He stared at the ground as he spoke, as if he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. 

You stared at him, your eyes softening. “Of course not,” you said gently, stepping closer and closing the door behind you.

The room felt smaller now, more intimate, and both of you hesitated for a moment. Spencer finally broke the silence, pulling back the bed sheets and lifting them up, scooting over to make room for you. Once he had settled his head on his pillow, his movements stilling, you climbed in beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. You turned onto your side, facing him, and he mirrored you, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light. 

“Hi,” you mumbled, a soft smile tugging at your lips. 

“Hi,” he replied, his voice quiet but warm. He paused, his gaze searching yours for a moment before he spoke again. “Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He hesitated, biting his lip. “For everything.” 

You shook your head gently, your hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his face. “Don’t thank me,” you said softly. “I’m here for you. Always.” 

Spencer closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as your fingers lingered against his temple. He scooted closer, his movements slow and tentative, until his head rested on your shoulder. Your hand naturally moved to brush through his hair, your fingers gently carding through the soft strands. It didn’t take long for Spencer to relax, his breathing slowing as he nestled closer to you. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding onto you tightly.You continued to stroke his hair, your touch soothing and steady, and soon enough, you felt the weight of his body grow heavier against you.

Spencer had never fallen asleep so fast.

Well , of course he did, here, with his hands around your waist, with the knowledge that someone was taking care of him, someone who would always be there for him, no matter what. 

As you lay there, listening to the soft rhythm of his breathing, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace. It was going to take time for him to heal, but you’d be there every step of the way.

[mikkies]

「 THE OVERWHELMING SENSE OF DREAD MADE ME SNAP AT YOU. OH SO BEAUTIFUL YOU. 」

Chance x GN! Reader

warnings: none that I know of 🤷‍♀️

notes: thank you to @/telamonisms for letting me take inspiration on his Chance's personality🙇‍♀️ ANYWAYS.. reader doesn't want to talk to Chance for unknown reasons (you can assume). Kinda angsty with the side of comfort.

THE FOREST FELT suffocating tonight. The cool night air, usually a comfort, carried a weight that pressed down on Chance’s chest like a vice. The usual symphony of crickets and rustling leaves was swallowed by the oppressive silence that hung in the cabin, stretching between him and you like an unbridgeable chasm.

Chance leaned against the doorframe, their arms crossed tightly over his chest, his fedora tipped low over his eyes. Their clockwork headphones clicked and whirred softly with every subtle movement, a familiar sound that usually grounded him. But tonight, even that felt hollow.

He’d been standing there for what felt like hours, watching you without watching you. His gaze was fixed on your figure curled up on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a blanket like it was armor. It wasn’t just keeping you warm—it was keeping him out.

The dim light from the oil lamp painted the room in muted tones, highlighting the tension in your hunched shoulders. Chance adjusted his hat, taking a shaky breath as he tried to piece together the right words. Words had always come easily to him—a sly comment, a clever gamble, a charming quip. But now, faced with your silence, his usual confidence faltered.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said finally, his voice cutting through the stillness. It wasn’t a question, just a statement of fact. A desperate attempt to start a conversation, to break through the wall you’d built around yourself.

You didn’t answer.

Chance sighed, his fingers brushing against the edge of his belt as he fidgeted. He wasn’t good at this—this vulnerability, this uncertainty. He was used to risks, to games with clear stakes and rules. But this? This was a gamble he didn’t know how to play.

“Hey,” he tried again, softer this time, stepping forward. The floorboards creaked beneath his boots, the sound louder than it had any right to be. “Talk to me.”

Still, you said nothing. You shifted slightly, your face turning further into the shadows, and something inside him broke a little more.

Chance bit their lip, his hands clenching at his sides. He wanted to ask if he’d done something wrong, if you were angry with him, if he could fix this. But the words felt too heavy, too vulnerable. He didn’t want to seem weak, even though that was exactly how he felt.

“I just…” He trailed off, his voice faltering. “I don’t understand.”

His mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last. Had he said something to upset you? Had he failed to notice something important? Or was this about something else entirely, something he couldn’t fix no matter how hard he tried?

He hated this. The not knowing. The helplessness. It reminded him too much of before, of the way iTrapped had toyed with him, feeding him scraps of affection only to snatch them away just as quickly.

He shook his head, trying to banish the thought. This wasn’t the same. You weren’t the same. But the fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of his mind.

“I’m here,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you want to talk.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, leaving a small gap between the two of you. The space felt like miles. He hesitated, his hand hovering in the air before finally resting it on the blanket draped over your shoulder.

The tension in your body was palpable, and he could feel you stiffen under his touch. They pull their hand back quickly, as though burned.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his gaze dropping to the floor.

The silence stretched on, heavy and unyielding. Chance could feel his chest tightening with each passing second, the weight of your rejection suffocating him.

“Please,” he said suddenly, his voice cracking. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

For a moment, they thought you might answer. Your shoulders shifted slightly, and he held his breath, waiting. But then you shook your head, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

“I can’t,” you said finally, your voice barely audible.

Chance felt like the floor had been ripped out from under him. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands.

“You can’t, or you won’t?” he asked, his voice muffled.

You didn’t respond.

The silence was unbearable. It wrapped around him like a noose, tightening with every second. He felt like he was drowning, and there was nothing he could do to save himself.

“I just want to help,” he said finally, his voice trembling. “But I don’t know how.”

His mind raced, filled with memories of iTrapped, of the way they had manipulated him, used him, discarded him. He had sworn he would never let himself feel that way again. And yet, here he was, sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling like a lost dog begging for scraps.

“I don’t understand,” he said again, his voice louder this time. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

Your head snapped up, and for the first time that night, you looked at him. Your eyes were red-rimmed, filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite place.

“Because I can’t!” you snapped, your voice breaking. “I don’t know how to explain it, okay?”

The outburst startled him, and they recoiled slightly, their chest tightening even further. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.

“I just…” You trailed off, your voice trembling as you looked away. “I need to be alone right now.”

Alone.

The word echoed in his mind, dredging up memories he had tried so hard to bury. Of empty rooms and cold smiles. Of being abandoned, left to pick up the pieces on his own.

“No,” he said suddenly, his voice firm.

You looked at him, surprised.

“I’m not leaving,” he said, their gaze meeting yours. “I don’t care if you need space. I’ll give you space. But I’m not leaving.”

The vulnerability in his voice was raw, unfiltered. It was a side of him he rarely showed, a side he was terrified of exposing. But for you, they would.

“Please,” he said, his voice breaking. “Don’t push me away.”

Your gaze softened, and for the first time that night, the wall between you began to crack. You reached out hesitantly, your hand brushing against his.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “I’m so sorry.”

Chance shook his head, his own eyes glistening. “Don’t be,” he said, his voice trembling. “Just… let me stay.”

Chance stayed seated on the edge of the bed, the weight of your fragile trust anchoring him to the spot. His fingers fidgeted with the brim of his fedora, the nervous motion betraying the tension he carried despite his determined words. The silence between you wasn’t oppressive anymore, but it was still heavy—laden with unspoken words and fragile emotions.

Minutes stretched into hours, the faint crackle of the oil lamp filling the void between your hesitant breaths. Chance didn’t dare move too much, afraid of shattering the fragile moment. He let his thoughts drift, watching the flickering shadows dance along the walls of the cabin.

“I used to hate silence,” Chance said softly, his voice almost drowned out by the faint hum of his clockwork headphones. “Always felt like it was... accusing me of something, you know? Like it knew all my secrets and was just waiting for me to crack.”

They glanced at you, unsure if you were even listening, but it didn’t matter. He needed to say it out loud. Maybe it wasn’t for you—maybe it was for himself.

“It’s why I always had to be doing something,” he continued, his fingers now tracing the grooves of the wooden bedframe. “A game, a gamble, a fight. Anything to keep my mind busy. But I realized… sometimes, the quiet is the only thing that can make you face what you’re running from.”

You shifted slightly under the blanket, the movement drawing his attention. Though you didn’t speak, your posture seemed a fraction less guarded, as if his words were beginning to find their way through the cracks in your armor.

“I don’t know what you’re going through,” he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. “And maybe I can’t fix it. But if you let me, I’ll sit here with you. As long as it takes.”

The words hung in the air, sincere and unvarnished. For a moment, the room felt warmer, the oppressive weight lifting just enough to let a sliver of understanding pass between you.

After a while, you finally spoke, your voice trembling but steady enough to be heard. “It’s not you.”

The admission caught him off guard, and they tilted their head to look at you, curiosity and concern mingling in his eyes. “Then what is it?”

You hesitated, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “It’s... everything. The forest, this place, the things we’ve been through. It feels like it’s closing in on me, and no matter what I do, I can’t stop it.”

Chance’s expression softened. He wanted to reach for you, to offer some kind of comfort, but he held back, respecting the delicate boundary you’d set. “That’s not easy to deal with,” he said quietly. “But you don’t have to face it alone.”

Your gaze met his briefly before dropping to the floor. “I don’t want to drag you into it.”

“Too late for that,” he replied with a faint smile. “I’m already here, remember?”

The ghost of a smile flickered across your lips, and it was enough to ignite a flicker of hope in him. He leaned back slightly, trying to ease the tension in his posture. “We can figure it out together. One step at a time. No rush.”

The room fell into a more comfortable silence this time, broken only by the occasional rustle of the blanket as you adjusted your position. Slowly but surely, the distance between you didn’t feel quite as vast.

Chance settled into their spot, his resolve firm. He wasn’t going anywhere, not tonight, not ever. Whatever battles lay ahead, he would face them with you, even if it meant sitting in the quiet and waiting for the storm to pass.

And in the stillness of the forest, with the faint glow of the oil lamp casting its warm light, it felt like the first step toward healing.

[porcalinecunt]

𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 ‘𝐄𝐌 𝐔𝐏!

🎀 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wondered what boothill has that lasso for . . ♡

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

cw — ftm!reader. mean dom!boothill. crossdressing. bondage. fingering. (reluctant) praising. dumbification. squirting.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : boothill brainrot has me going hogwild for him hmmphmmammm. my last post abt him has been popping off lately, i hear your cries boothill nation and i'm here to serve! enjoy ~♡

“quit whinin’ boy, will ya?” 

he rasped, swallowing another bullet. the taste of lead spread in his mouth, crunching noises from the ground up ammo made you flinch a bit. 

your wispy gown was bunched up to your thighs, held in place with the rope he uses as a lasso outside of the bedroom. every curve was shown in it’s full glory, soft flesh suffocated from the harsh material. you sat on your knees with your wrists tied tightly behind your back, rendering you helpless as you couldn’t even close your legs. you could only watch helplessly as the ranger pumped his metal fingers in and out of your soaked cunny. his cold palm pressed up against your clit, overwhelming you with an electrifying friction no other man could give you. 

“mm..b-boothi–” 

smack!

you flinched as your thighs instinctively tried to press themselves shut, much to the amusement of your robotic boyfriend. a shit eating grin spread across his lips, flashing his shark-like teeth. 

“what did i say baby..? too cute to understand now?” 

the bullet between his teeth moved up and down, his speech slightly glitched at the very term ‘cute’. if only he could spit out what he really ment, but then again, his sarcastic tone dripping with faux sympathy spoke volumes. boothill was a sweetheart at his metal core, but if you asked so nicely, he might flick his own switch just to see you fall apart at his touch. you were too adorable to turn down. 

you shook your head, syrupy eyes stared back into his bloodshot ones. a silent beg for release, added on by your impatient grinding. two teasing fingers were no longer enough for you, no, you needed him to do his absolute worst. fucking you while bound like the good little minx you were for the hunk of steel. to hear his annoyed tone forced to say sweet nothing while his body said otherwise. maybe, he might get the gun involved. none of it mattered. 

through mindless babbles and high pitched whines, you pleaded for more. the ranger’s eyes flicked up towards your fucked out face as he swallowed the last bullet. you were pulled forwards by the rope, forced to face boothill’s mean grin. 

“use your words doll.” 

you tried, you really did, but whatever you wanted couldn’t come out right. almost like you short circuited, spitting out all of your desires. from him fingerblasting you ‘till you soaked his whole forearm to being stuffed to the brim by his synthetic cock, his ridiculous girth stretching your cunny till you cry. as you begged, his fingers quicked until the noises were too loud to even hear him praise you in your ear. you cracked your eyes open and almost orgasmed at what was being done to you. three fingers pumping themselves in and out of you, with boothill using the strength from his forearm to dig himself deeper until he touched your cervix. your thighs shook violently, shifting the rope to reveal the marks it’s already left on your soft flesh. you were close, and he could tell so easily. the way you clenched around his fingers to how quickly your moans subsided into lewd silence was made so stupidly obvious. 

“nasty one aren’t ya? y’gonna cum already?” 

he chuckled, nipping your earlobe as the final knots in your stomach finally snapped. tugging onto his leather vest, you came and came hard. your vision blurred and your legs went numb while you sobbed out in both shock and pleasure. boothill drank up the view in front of him, his pretty baby fucked out and dumber then a lost trotter. your once flawless sundress now ruined at the bottom with the top slipping off of your shoulders. of course, the rope that’s definitely gonna leave some lasting marks, which is exactly what he wanted. 

after all, you’ll come running back with it in hand the moment they fade. ♡

© porcalinecunt 💌 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[narxcisse]

plz do romantic hcs for longan, millennial tree and sugar swan cookie I barely see any good x reader fanfics about them PRETTY PLEASE WITH THE CHERRY ON TOP 🙏🙏🙏

— Romantic HCs - Longan Dragon, Millennial Tree and Sugar Swan

CW: none

A/N: I'm sorry for the inactivity, I've been busy with personal matters and creative block. 😞

English isn't my native language.

— Longan Dragon

You’re probably not someone Longan expected to care about. They don’t “fall” in love—more like… slowly acknowledge your significance. It starts with them tolerating you, then choosing to keep you around.

Longan doesn’t flirt. Ever. Their affection is shown through protection and blunt honesty, no sugar-coating.

They have a hard time understanding emotional nuance. If you’re upset, they might ask what outcome you seek so they can fix it. Not exactly comforting, but they’re trying.

Don’t expect casual touch—when they do touch you, it’s very intentional. A hand on your shoulder, an arm shielding you in danger, or standing silently beside you while scanning the horizon.

If you’re injured, Longan reacts with visible tension. They may not panic, but they’ll insist on ensuring your survival first—even if they pretend it’s for “efficiency.”

Conversations with Longan often turn into philosophical debates. They enjoy your opinions even when they disagree, but won’t admit that directly. You’ll notice they remember and quote your words later.

When they finally call you something intimate—like "important" or "irreplaceable"—you know they mean it absolutely.

Longan isn’t interested in superficial dates. If you want quality time, you’re probably joining them somewhere remote—watching weather patterns from a cliff, or discussing cosmic omens.

They do not understand jealousy. If you mention someone flirting with you, they might just say “Then tell them no” and move on. Not because they don’t care—they just do not see competition as real.

When Longan is stressed, they go silent and withdraw. They don’t seek comfort, but if you stay nearby and stay calm, they’ll eventually look at you like you’re anchoring them.

You have called them out on how cold or dismissive they can be. Longan took that seriously, and after that, they started making small efforts—asking how you feel, or watching their tone more.

When they admit feelings, it’s always framed through logic. “You improve my judgment. You make decisions easier. I operate more effectively when you’re present.” But it’s all love.

If you ever leave or disappear, Logan will do everything they can to find you—no question, no hesitation.

— Millennial Tree

He’s patient. He never rushes you or the relationship. He lets feelings grow slowly and naturally.

Millennial Tree listens more than he talks. You’ll notice he remembers every small thing you’ve said, and will reference it days or even weeks later with subtle care.

He’s extremely tactile in a soft, non-overwhelming way. Holding hands while walking through quiet forests, resting your head against his shoulder under the trees—he’s very warm to be around.

He gently encourages you to rest, to eat, to care for yourself. Not controlling—he just checks in often. If you’re overwhelmed, he’ll help you ground yourself.

Conflict is rare. He communicates very directly but kindly. If there’s tension, he’ll talk about it calmly and work with you to understand both sides.

He shares his inner thoughts very selectively, but you’re one of the few he opens up to. When he does, it’s raw and thoughtful—never performative

You’re always made to feel safe—emotionally, physically, spiritually. That’s how he loves.

He enjoys routines with you. Shared morning, evening walks, tending to a garden together. Familiarity makes him feel close.

Millennial Tree gets quietly emotional sometimes—especially if he thought he’d never have this kind of bond again after so many centuries. You’ll catch him watching you with a distant, soft expression.

If you’re angry or venting, he listens without interrupting. He doesn’t try to fix it right away—he validates your experience first. Then offers guidance if you want it.

He’s not easily flustered. But if you catch him off guard—by teasing him or being especially affectionate—he’ll smile and go very still, almost bashful.

He doesn’t like being apart for long. If you’re away, he’ll send soft winds carrying messages or leaves that carry his energy. It’s comforting, not clingy.

If you're sick or exhausted, he becomes incredibly nurturing—cool hands on your forehead, gentle touch, making sure you rest even if it means carrying you.

— Sugar Swan

She doesn’t “fall” into romance quickly. She observes you from afar at first, measuring your presence, energy, and intentions.

Once she begins trusting you, her affection shows in subtle gestures: brushing her wing-hand against yours, sitting beside you without speaking, offering a feather when she leaves.

She prefers quiet companionship. You might sit together on a balcony during sunrise, or share tea in complete silence. She likes peaceful moments that feel sacred.

Sugar Swan can be emotionally reserved—she sometimes withdraws into her duties or solitude. It’s not a rejection; it’s how she recharges. You learn to give her space, and she always returns.

She’s incredibly observant. You won’t need to tell her how you’re feeling—she already knows. Her responses are validating, nonjudgmental, and always calm.

Public affection is rare, but private affection is consistent. She’ll hold your hand under a table, or rest her head on your shoulder when she’s tired.

Occasionally, you’ll catch her looking at you with an unreadable expression—something between awe and gratitude. She won’t explain it, but you know it’s deep.

She’s hard to read emotionally, but her affection comes in care-based actions: brushing crumbs from your clothes, adjusting your collar, bringing you food without asking.

Sugar Swan is not confrontational. If you hurt her or argue, she becomes quietly disappointed—and that stings more than yelling. You’ll talk it out once she’s ready.

She likes it when you walk beside her in public. Not behind, not ahead—beside. It makes her feel like you see her as an equal, not just a divine figure.

When you’re emotionally overwhelmed, she helps you slow down—offering a hand to hold, dimming the lights, whispering that you’re safe until you calm down.

You’ve probably heard people revere her like a goddess—but she never expects that from you. She wants you to see her, not worship her. That makes you special to her.

If you cry in front of her, she’s incredibly gentle. She cups your face, wipes your tears, and says very little—but her presence is grounding and wordless in its comfort.

[missmoonfrost]

Found in Barty's kitchen - a Jegulus microfic

@into-the-jeggyverse - May 8: Disappear - Words: 600 - warning: alcohol consumption

Regulus found himself sitting on Barty's kitchen floor, hyperventilating and drinking straight from the bottle of wine that Barty offered. No judgement there.

It had been a while since he had spiralled like this, but apparently, he still did when things got too much.

His phone rang again. He didn't answer.

The bottle was almost empty and Regulus had started remembering how to breathe when there was an insistent knock on Barty's door.

"Is he here?" Regulus heard Sirius' concerned voice.

"What am I, your private intelligence service?" Barty drawled coldly.

"It's okay," Regulus croaked, "I'm here."

Sirius shoved his way past Barty and crouched beside Regulus with his arms crossed.

"The fuck, Reg? Answer your phone!"

"Don't talk to me."

"James is getting hysterical. And you are..."

"Pathetic? Failing at everything?!"

Sirius sighed and sat down beside Regulus with his back against the kitchen counter.

"I wanted to say selfish and mean, but seeing you, I think it's rather scared and irrational."

There was a long silence. Regulus took another sip from the bottle, then offered it to Sirius, who drank the last of it.

“Oi, I never offered you”, Barty muttered, “you owe me a new bottle.”

“Piss off, can’t you see we need a moment?”

“This is my home, for fuck’s sake!”

Sirius showed him his middle finger. Barty returned the gesture, then disappeared.

Regulus took a deep breath. “He asked me to move in with him.”

“You don’t have to. It’s a big step and –“

“I want to.”

“Then what is the matter?”

“He has a baby.”

“I admittedly only got James’ version of the story,” Sirius said cautiously, “but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t expect you to be involved if you don’t want to.”

“I know.”

“Are you worried you will be anyway?”

Regulus looked down, picking at the edges of the label on the bottle. What could he say to make Sirius understand this? “Sort of.”

“You know what I’m terrified of?” Sirius continued in a lower voice, “Being like them one day. But I don’t think we will, none of us. If we inherited being bad parents, why wouldn’t we be able to change that just as we have changed everything else?”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m a good parent or not. If I’m there… You know what: even if I don’t move in, even by just being part of James’ life, Harry will see me. He will get to know me. He will look to me as an example of how to be an adult. And I’m just not… I’m not someone that anyone should strive to be.”

“Oh, Reg!” Sirius wailed and looked painedly at him. “You are amazing! Only for thinking that way, you are a better person than most. You don’t have to be perfect to be a good role model to a kid. You just have to be trying your best.”

Regulus looked at him doubtfully.

“Okay”, Sirius sighed and put an arm around his shoulders, “like this: you feel overwhelmed and like you’ll never be good enough, but you know it’s not really true, right?”

Regulus nodded reluctantly, and Sirius continued: “What do you want to teach a child to do in that situation? What behaviour do you want to model?”

Regulus took a few deep breaths, letting that sink in. Screw his brother for always being so emotionally well-articulated. Maybe therapy wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Regulus put the bottle aside, cleared his throat and asked: “Could you give me a ride?”

“Of course. Were to?”

“I imagine you know where James is?”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

The Host | Yandere Zoldyck Family

“I’m so happy, we were able to locate the portal so quickly! Now you all can return to your world without breaking the space-time continuum!” You mused, happily sipping on the piping hot tea in front of you.

Whether you liked it or not, you wouldn’t have refused this cup. After all, it was specially crafted for and given to you by the reclusive Zoldycks. It was an honor—more like a miracle that you were being served an un-poisoned cup of tea. 

You were used to prickly (read as: murderous) anomalies that were ejected into the aimless void of time. As per your occupation you housed and befriended said anomalies until it was time that they returned to their dimensions.

When you were selected at the end of your life for this position, the galactic overlords in charge assured you that this was a duty perfect for you. That no matter what, your tenants would find themselves comforted by you during their time there. 

You begged to disagree even though none of your tenants had successfully ended your life yet. You prepared yourself for the day they one day would. 

“Yes, it will be a shame to lose contact with a host as pleasant as you.” 

Zeno smiled, closing his eyes as brought his own cup to his mouth. Letting a hand fall over your heart you silently thanked him. Another hand reached for you tearing your attention away from the former head.

“It is a shame your work keeps you so busy!” Kikyo cried, holding your hand. Gingerly running the pads of her fingers over your knuckles. 

“Ah, but I feel as though I haven’t worked a day.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you like this job of yours?” The old man raised his brow.

“Of course! When I’m not hosting I’m free to do what I please and the guests that come by always make things interesting.”

Memories of the various visitors came to mind as you smiled; Kikyo puckered her lip in a pout. Her clutch on your hand had gotten slightly tighter, nothing alarming but noticeable.

“But don’t you feel overworked? Tired? Lonely?”

“There’s always the other people in the town.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have expected them to have any intelligible conversation.”

You dismissed the slight towards your community, it’d be impossible for her to realize their worth within the year. Granted they weren’t particularly strong or inquisitive; it wasn’t like they were built to be outstanding anyway. Nonetheless, they were kind to you and always understanding when it came to the guests. Not once have you needed to send a complaint to upper management. Everyone played their prescribed roles without fail.

“They can be really pleasant, once you get to know them.”

Zeno sighed, “So you say but I can’t imagine you not caring for them. You're always so forgiving.”

“Well…they have their flaws.”

“Ah! You’re too humble (Y/n)! The least they can do is honor your contribution to their pathetic lives!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Zoldyck but a cake every once in a while is good enough for me.”

“Ah! So simple (Y/n), it screams you no nothing of luxury!”

“Really I feel as though I’ve almost been overwhelmed with it with the Zoldycks here.”

“Please! If you could see the Zoldyck Estate in our world, you’d truly know luxury!” 

You let her continue, chatting with her and Zeno, who occasionally chimed in. It was time to enjoy their company for they’d be gone before you knew it. 

____________________________________

“Ne (Y/n)! Alluka wants to hold onto your jacket for a bit is that alright?”

“Oh? I barely noticed I left it behind but sure.” 

You continued to walk side by side with Killua making your way to your destination. The wind was cold. Wisping at your cheeks and nose as you mesmerized yourself with the smoky puff your breath made. Catching cat-like blue eyes watching you with amusement you stopped, replacing it with an embarrassed smile. 

He snickered. “What? Don’t stop on my account.”

“Oh Killua you're the only kid that makes me feel like a silly child again.”

“Eh?! You make it sound like I’m the reason you’re just childish anyway.”

You playfully hummed. “Hm. Maybe I am.”

You shared a laugh before letting your eyes begin to wander. Looking past the trees of the park to admire the clouded sky blending into the freezing lake. Despite having walked this path millions of times before, it never failed to take your breath away. Making you sigh in awe, you minded the frozen droplets hanging off the naked branches; looking as though they were a part of some artist’s canvas.

Even the rosiness that danced at your cheeks brought by your body’s attempt to warm you in the frigid season, felt magical in its own right. It was easy to lose sight of your path as your feet remember the way; allowing you to drift. 

But before you could go too far the warmth of another hand-a smaller hand in your pocket brought you back. Looking down in surprise at the blushing owner looking away from you. You chuckled intertwining his smaller, rougher hand with yours as you walked with a pep in your step. 

“I-I’m just keeping my hand warm. Where I’m from it never gets this cold.”

You smirked. “Sure!” 

You didn’t believe him and he knew that. But that wasn’t the point anyway. 

“You two seem to be getting along well.” 

The monotone voice stopped the both of you in your tracks. Standing in a slim-fitted insulating jacket was the eldest of the Zoldyck children. Standing precisely on the crack in the sidewalk he demanded you meet at. You didn’t miss the annoyed click of Killua’s teeth. Or the blank foreboding stare directed at a specific pocket of yours.

“Yup, Killua offered to walk me to our meetup spot. If you’re alright with it, I wouldn’t mind if he came with us.”

Illumi robotically tilted his head, his eyes still trained on the same spot it had been focused on since he started watching you. 

“I doubt Kil would find any enjoyment in where we’re going.”

Killua's eye twitched. “Oh? Where are you going?”

“Somewhere for adults, I’m sure you’d find it boring.”

“Really try me,”

The two intensely held each other’s gaze, vaguely conveying that this may need your intervention. With a well-timed sneeze, you might have saved yourself and the whole park from their ‘playful’ exchange of blows. Illumi seemed to back down first stepping closer to your unoccupied side where he waited for his brother to leave. 

Said brother didn’t look all too convinced. Squeezing his hand in yours brought his attention to you, already smiling in silent reassurance.

“Hey, take care of my sweater for me ‘kay.”

The silent message was heard as Killua, who begrudgingly released your hand from his hold. With a final glare towards his brother, he’d begun to leave, watching as you turned and waved to him as he went. He also watched as his brother slipped his hand into your opposite pocket. With a final click of his tongue, he moved at speeds practically impossible for the human eye back to the apartment you’d organized for him and Alluka. 

Making your way wordlessly out of the park, finally stopping within the toasty insides of a ceramics shop. With the unmolded clay in front of you and the guide having finished their instruction, you finally giggled at Illumi. 

“I’d hardly call ceramics an adults-only event.”

Illumi didn’t laugh, he didn’t even look up from the shape he was focused on molding. 

“I would. He isn’t a part of this so it isn’t bizarre for it to be considered an adult event.”

You decided to keep quiet about the toddler two tables down. Instead, you poked your head over the assassin’s shoulder to see what he was making. Glad you hadn’t started working on your own creation, you pulled back the raven locks that were spilling dangerously close to his work in progress. 

Missing the slight stutter of his fingertips as he registered the soft, gentle hold of your fingertips he continued. Opting to focus solely on his creation with more intensely.

“I’m so glad I brought a hair tie for this exact moment.”

“...if you don’t hurry up your clay will dry and your money will go to waste.”

“Ah. So money conscious.”

Finished with a nice low ponytail, you scooched back into your seat; prepared to begin your own creation. Sparing a glance at Illumi, you expected he’d be laser-focused on his work but instead he was staring at you unapologetically. While you found this wasn’t uncommon for him it didn’t change the fact that it was still odd. 

“So uh what are you making?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just asking, are you worried I’ll make fun?”

“My finished product will be more than enough to answer you, right?

“I guess so.”

You had an inkling of worry that he’d create something graphic and horrific. But you had to remind yourself: he wasn’t Milluki. Who unapologetically, on multiple accounts, scarred surprised you with animal entrails, graphic posters, and concerning digital art that bore striking resemblance to you.

Speaking of striking resemblance…you had a glorious idea. 

____________________________________________________

“So…what is it?” 

You hated to ask but you had to. The ceramic resembled the bare requirements of a face colored by a paint color akin to your skin tone. Somehow when you turned your head to the left side you saw a screaming face but when you turned your head to the right it looked as though it was smiling. 

“....” 

He just stared at you blankly (as he usually did) but you could tell there was something unfamiliar. He turned his head away from you as he reached for his creation back. 

“If you can’t tell than it shouldn’t matter.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, I’m sorry!” 

You held the…thing in your hands with care as you bore witness to the rare sight of an embarrassed Illumi. 

“Even if I don’t know what it is I think it’s beautiful in its own right.”

“Don’t lie its unbecoming of you.” 

“I’m not lying!”

You let him snatch it from your hand and tuck it in his pocket. Smiling to yourself, you found comfort in that he didn’t immediately toss it into the trashcan by the doorway. Catching up with his quick pace you held you’re wrapped creation to your chest. 

“I would like to continue on now.”

“Don’t just sweep it under the rug! It’s all about growth.”

_____________________________________________

“Here you are Kalluto!”

He was doing what you had suggested: finding his own style. Alas, he still found himself taking the most buried articles of clothing from your closet and posing in the mirror. If you had noticed you didn’t say much, when you let yourself into the room he’d been given. 

“I made it just for you.”

The vase had a pink hue, with speckles of purple. He liked it but he was curious why he was gifted this. 

“I based it off the color of your eyes. I saw the shade being offered and I thought it’d be a perfect souvenir for you.”

His cheeks were overtaken by a hot crimson as he gingerly accepted the small vase. He loved it! Holding it close to his chest he almost missed the presence of his eldest brother outside his room. Judging by the slim-fitted jacket, his hat, and his pointed stare at the gift itself told Kalluto everything he needed to know. So that was his decision, for his day out with you? The ceramics shop?  

The image of you crafting something while smiling along with him. Hands touching one another while you both crafted something beautiful. Your attention solely focused on him. 

He’s so jealous. 

“Thank you. It looks beautiful.”

“ I’m so happy you like it! I was worried I wouldn’t get the color right but looking at you now I see I’m right on the mark.”

Kalluto’s cheeks never changed from heir red color, causing him to tuck his head into the collar of the shirt he stole from you borrowed. Sending a cautious look at the figure in the doorway he took a gamble. He put the vase down, quickly moving to nestle his head into your stomach almost immediately having your arms wrap around him. He didn’t bother locking eyes with the observer, instead pretending to be fully enveloped by your attention. 

If he did have a problem, Kalluto could argue that his time with you was limited. Therefore nothing was off the table. Not when their access to you would be gone forever. He’d rather it not be that way.

__________________________________________________

“Silva.” 

The call of his wife had the current head of the Zoldyck family, wordlessly asking what she needed. Nonetheless, he responded in kind. 

“Kikyo.”

The two of them were seated a ways apart from one another each sipping on their respective drinks as the candles slowly burned. 

“We need to talk about (Y/n).”

“What is there to talk about?”

He knew what she wanted to talk about. Those of any authority within the Zoldyck family already had a gray consensus about their host. All that was needed was definite words, so that they could be a united front on the subject. 

“On the topic of (Y/n) coming with us.”

Silva crossed his arms. 

“We cannot.”

“Why not? All of us like them! They show promise in maintaining the family, they’ve even convinced Kil to come home more often!” 

He wanted to grit his teeth but he didn’t. Only brought his cup to his mouth for a pensive sip.

“No, they’d never survive training. Let alone our world in general.”

He maintained his composure as he parroted Zeno’s consultation. Even as his wife slammed her own cup on the tray and opened her mouth to protest. He knew she’d ask because he had asked. 

“Mr. Silva. Is it okay if I call you that or would you rather it be Mr. Zoldyck?”

It amazed him that such a meek, small, weak host would have made him even consider bringing you along with them when they returned. Their host couldn’t be farther from them brimming with compassion and mindfulness that brought out a side the family had long since fought against. 

It shouldn’t have enamored them as it had. But it did. Leaving everyone in the family vying for their attention. With them the family’s prowess in killing meant nothing and it didn’t do any favors in garnering positive response. 

But it was for that exact reason Zeno mused that they’d never fit in the Zoldyck family. Even if they chose the route of marrying you into the family it would diminish your time with the everyone. Favoring the one they’d marry over all others. It’d be so unfair

“Husband, this opportunity to attain a sliver of another world would benefit the Zoldyck family! Even more so as a tenant or as a servant under all our care! It wouldn’t impede the family’s strength and their rules to serve would make them an asset to explore.” 

“And have them reach a butler’s strength alone. At their level?”

Kikyo hung her head covering her visor with her hands as she resisted the urge to weep. Silva refused to look at her, focusing intensely on the still liquid in his cup. The pain in this revelation was mutual. 

“Mr. Silva, did you go to aquariums when you were younger?”

“For missions.”

“What about on your own?”

“What would be the purpose of that?”

“I don’t know, to see the animals. To learn about them.”

“What use would learning about these animals do? If there is no time that I’ll be within their biome it would do nothing for me to retain this information.”

“Isn’t it nice to just be in awe though? To just fathom loosely about the world we barely have begun to discover?”

The image of their excited face illuminated by the tank was the moment Silva’s first felt that emotion. It reminded him of meeting Kikyo, of having his heir, of establishing a budding lineage. He learned that feeling was better not left ignored for it could very well determine the safety of the ones he felt it for. 

He’s seen it in his children, in all his children, so he could only see what he could control spiraling for the others. He could only think about the repercussions for when they returned home. There’d be no way to cull it easily; with you being literal dimensions apart.

Kikyo’s sulking stopped abruptly her hands folding to sit on her lap.

“Perhaps there is a way to bring them without breaking the rules.”

Blue eyes look at her expectantly.

“The Zoldyck’s have not encountered anyone worthy enough to consider adoption.”

“Adoption?”

“Yes, the process hasn’t been used within the family before…if it were to be implemented–” There was something hopeful within her voice and a twitch of a smile on Silva’s lip. 

“Then the rules that qualify the one adopted would be entirely up to the head of the family.” 

Silva attempted to resist the smile that spread across his face, as he leaned back onto his hand. How apparent would it be that their host had such an impact on them since they left the mansion? But even so, this was proof that they should have their host after all. 

“I’ll have to check with Zeno…but perhaps it might be a veritable solution.”

____________________________________________

You were glad you spent the night before sobbing your heart out. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to smile through the Zoldyck’s goodbyes. Granted none of them, except for Kalluto and Alluka, were even close to shedding a single tear. Nonetheless, you hugged them all trying to calm yourself. 

The otherworldly energy spewing from the portal never made you nervous before and yet your hair was standing on end. Your tolerance for fearful situations had decreased significantly as you got to know the Zoldyck family but it never completely went away. You weren’t an idiot. 

They were a family of assassins. 

It’s foolish not to expect threats on your life at every other turn. But this had an effect on you on a deeper level than that. This was more unsettling. 

Was it the amount of place-holding spirits killed during their stay? Or the physical planet of this dimension lurching as it coughed up one of the most murderous families to stay here? Or was there something wrong with the integrity of the dimension itself?

You were tethered to the realm and it was tethered to you. For the most part, it only means you have a loose idea of what’s to come with the weather or an effect on a guest’s actions. But in times of dire situations, you’ve had the world reach out to you. At this point, you were already looking for a sign. 

But that wasn’t your main focus not when the younger ones were keeping you occupied. Hanging on your arms were Alluka and Killua; the latter was playfully mirroring the former. 

“Aw (Y/n)! We’ll miss you so much!”

“Yeah! We’ll miss you soooo much!”

“Ah Killua at least you could pretend to be serious about this.”

Spying Kalluto a ways off clutching the vase you had made him you gave him a small smile. 

“This relocation didn’t turn out to be a complete waste.” 

Milluki spoke up, unabashed as he pulled along a cart of all his anime and gaming memorabilia. You could see the invisible sneers of disgust from majority of the family, Killua didn’t even bother hiding his. 

“For once I’d agree,” Illumi chimed sending a bottomless look in your direction. “There were plenty of…unexpected trades to learn in a world devoid of hunters.”

“Thank you?” You shrugged.

Zeno let out a chuckle putting a thoughtful hand on your back. 

“I think all of us in the Zoldyck family have learned quite a bit.” You had to fight the tears now.

“For that we thank you.”

The entirety of the Zoldyck family bowed to you, leaving you to fight tears at the demonstration of respect and love they had for an average-dimensional host. Fanning at the water building up in your eyes you bowed and thanked them yourselves.

“You guys! Get over here and give me hugs!” 

You made sure to hug every member of the family even if they made unsettling comments as you did Milluki. 

Getting the timing perfectly right the portal opened to its full size, the electric blue illuminating everyone’s faces. You could smell the atmosphere of the Kukuroo mountain and the forest upon it. All that was left to do was for them to enter. 

“Alright now as stated before time has only been an hour in your world. Now you will be coming down from the sky but I’m sure you all will manage.”

“Thank you for everything (Y/n).”

You bowed your head to the patriarch missing the devious glint in his eyes.

“Of course.” 

Starting with Silva they each dove into the portal, leaving you to stand by yourself in the field of sunflowers selected as a gateway. Turning away from the flashing portal you could finally address the world’s message for you. The surrounding grass began to lay down unnaturally, spelling out a word. 

“They–”

You bent to down watching as the green blades folded into more words, filling your heart with trepidation as it spelled slowly.

“--will not–”

The blades continued to fold slowly as the sunflower stems frantically sprouted from the ground. Not bothering to wriggle free from the stems wrapping around your wrists, you tried to hurry the world’s spelling. Why did you feel like you needed to rush?

“-let you go–? Wait what the he-” 

Before you could finish a translucent, glowing, and golden dragon, like one from Japanese folklore came out of the portal. Wrapping around your entire body it skillfully carried you into the shrinking portal. Only stopping for a short time to wriggle free of the sunflowers that were simultaneously pulling at your limbs.

Now on the other side of the portal, you were being pulled backward. Your front looking at the endless sky watching the portal shrink and close, slicing the desperately reaching sunflowers and their stems. 

Something within you seemed to break but before you could dwell on that you finally tried to register what was going on.

“AHHHHH!”

Diving with you in it’s coil the dragon was rocketing in the direction of a mansion. All you could do was hold tight as the dragon slowed to a stop. Gently letting you lie on the floor, taking a moment to ground yourself you barely registered the booming voice.

“Congratulations (Y/n), you’ve been inducted into the Zoldyck Family.”

“W-what?”

“As the adopted of the Zoldyck, you’re duty to the family is to be protected and to participate in the family to the best of your limited abilities.”

“Wait—”

“Per your lack of Zoldyck blood, your title as the adopted is willing to change for the family’s convenience.”

“HOLD ON!” You stood up fully holding your shaking hands out as you began to process what this would mean. Before you can get a word in Kikyo runs up to you, shoving your head into her chest as she rocks your unsteady form. 

“Rejoice my (Y/n)! Now for all the care you’ve given us, we get to take care of you!”

“Mother, you’ll smother them.”

“Ah big brother, don’t need to get jealous I’m sure you’ll get your turn.”

“I know that.” 

Unable to speak or look too far away, you felt Alluka and Kalluto grab at your pant legs. No doubt they glared at one another as they vied for your attention.

“(Y/n)!” ”(Y/n)!”

Being no help at all Killua wasn’t too far behind, ”Oi don’t hog them all.”

Whether it was the exhaustion of dimensional travel or losing air within your mother Kikyo’s breast. Beginning to lose consciousness you could barely make out the ghost of a smile on Silva’s face. Zeno withheld no courtesy, smiling happily as he turned away.

After all, you were home with them. Where you belonged. 

Surely the Zoldyck family could handle the dimensional repercussions of claiming their host.

[theosang3ls]

A second chance

part 1 ; part 2

pairing: Theodore Nott x Muggleborn!Reader

summary: after Theo entered your dorm in a drunken state his words left you thinking that maybe he did in fact love you.

warnings: mentions of weed, crying, mentions of alcohol, mentions of cigarettes, heartbreaking angst, swearing.

All characters are over the age of 18!

author’s note: excuse any grammatical errors English isn’t my first language! Part two is here yay! Hope you’ll enjoy reading this!

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“I will always love you.”

The words echoed mercilessly in your mind, drowning out everything else as if, somehow, they could make sense of this madness. But they couldn’t. Nothing could.

Your thoughts waged war against each other—I don’t love you anymore, one side screamed, desperate to drown out the agony. I will always love you, the other whispered, softer but just as deadly. And the worst thing was the fact that you couldn’t tell which one hurt more.

That night, when he spoke those words, he didn’t just pour salt into the raw, gaping wound he had carved into you—he drove the blade even deeper. He made a mockery of your pain, as if your heart was his to break over and over again. And yet, despite it all, you still couldn’t stop thinking about him. Two weeks now the events of that night in your dorm invaded your every thought, it made you sick to your stomach how they repeated over and over again in a taunting matter.

You hadn’t noticed the pain in his eyes that night, too consumed by your own suffering to see it. But as the days passed and you found yourself reliving that moment against your will, you realized—he was hurting, too. And somehow, that made it all even worse.

“This is a bad idea,” your best friend warned, her voice laced with concern. “After everything he did to you? You actually want to talk to him?” Her brows furrowed as she struggled to understand why you would willingly put yourself through this again. “You shouldn’t even want to look at him, let alone give him the chance to explain himself!” Her voice rose slightly, frustration seeping through. It wasn’t just about Theo—she hated seeing you like this, stuck in a cycle of heartbreak you didn’t deserve. She had never liked him, not as your boyfriend. You were worth so much more than the pain he left you with.

“Maybe talking to him will be better than this mess,” you murmured, shaking your head. Doubt clouded your mind, but something deep inside whispered that this was necessary. Maybe it was that foolish, desperate part of you—the part that still clung to the idea that he had loved you, and maybe, just maybe, he still did.

So that was it. Tonight, at the Slytherin common room party, you would finally face him. It had been over a month since you had even tried to put yourself together, to look in the mirror and see something other than the hollow version of yourself he had left behind. But tonight, you made an effort. The makeup, the outfit—it was armor, a fragile illusion of confidence hiding the storm of insecurity raging beneath.

Stepping into the Slytherin common room, the air was thick with laughter, music, and the suffocating press of bodies. It was overwhelming, the sheer number of people blurring together into a faceless crowd. You barely registered the party itself—none of it mattered. All you cared about was finding him. Your heart pounded as your eyes searched frantically, but he was nowhere in sight. Still, you refused to give up. You needed to hear his voice, to look him in the eyes and finally understand what he meant when he said, I will always love you.

You were able to spot Mattheo standing by the fireplace, his usual air of indifference masked beneath the dim glow of flickering flames. He stood there, one hand wrapped loosely around a plastic cup brimming with some cheap liquor, the other idly holding a cigarette between his fingers. He wasn’t alone—his laughter mixed with Enzo’s, their conversation light, effortless.

Determined, you pushed your way through the throng of bodies, each step fueled by a resolve you weren’t entirely sure you possessed. “Mattheo,” you called out, voice raised above the heavy bass thumping through the speakers. His head snapped in your direction, surprise flashing across his face before his usual composed expression returned. He tilted his head, his tongue briefly pressing against the inside of his cheek. “To what do I owe the honor?” he mused, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I need to talk to Theo,” you said, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

For a fraction of a second, something flickered across Mattheo’s features—something guarded, hesitant. Of course, he knew. Theo had told him everything. How he had shattered you, how he had drunkenly confessed his love only to leave you stranded in the wreckage of his words. And now, here you were, searching for the same boy who had left you drowning in unanswered questions.

Still, Mattheo smirked, covering whatever concern he might have had. He nodded toward the makeshift bar across the room, where bottles lined the table like forgotten promises. “He’s over there.”

You managed a tight smile before slipping past him, weaving through the crowd with your heart hammering against your ribs. Every step forward felt heavier, weighed down by the chaos in your mind. What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if I regret this?

Then, you saw him.

And your world cracked open.

Theo stood with his hands resting on a girl’s waist, his body pressed against hers as if she belonged to him. And then—before you could even take another breath—his lips met hers.

A kiss. But not just any kiss. A kiss full of hunger, of need, of something devastatingly raw. The kind of kiss he never gave you.

Your entire body went cold.

The air in your lungs disappeared, leaving you hollow, weightless, like the moment before a freefall. You blinked once, twice, but the image remained, burned into your vision, branding itself into your chest. The logical part of you screamed—You’re not together anymore. He owes you nothing. But logic had no place in heartbreak. Because the truth was, no matter how many times you told yourself otherwise, you still loved him. And now, standing there, watching him give away what you had once thought was yours, it felt as if he was taking whatever was left of you and grinding it beneath his heel.

Tears blurred your vision, but you couldn’t look away. You wanted to, needed to, but your body refused to move, frozen in place as if forcing you to witness the final, cruel confirmation that there was no going back.

You were nothing to him now.

Without another thought, you turned and pushed through the crowd, desperate to get out, to breathe, to escape the unbearable sight of him loving someone else.

Mattheo had been watching. From the moment you walked away from him, something in his gut twisted with unease. He knew you and most importantly he knew Theo, he knew the weight of what had happened between the two of you, and he didn’t trust for a second that this conversation would end well. His eyes followed you as you disappeared through the door, and he let out a slow, sharp breath, his jaw tightening.

Then, finally, he spotted Theo.

He wasn’t just standing by the bar—he was pressed up against some girl, his hands gripping her waist like she was the only thing keeping him upright. But what made Mattheo’s blood run cold wasn’t the sight of Theo kissing someone else. No, it was how he was kissing her—desperate, reckless, like he was trying to drown himself in the taste of her.

What the fuck?

Just last week, Theo had been a wreck. He had sat in Mattheo’s room, head in his hands, voice thick with regret as he confessed how badly he had fucked things up with you. He had been sobbing, barely coherent between the hollow sound of his own heartbreak. And yet here he was now, lost in someone else’s lips like none of it had ever mattered.

Mattheo didn’t hesitate. His body moved before his mind could catch up, crossing the room in a few long strides before yanking Theo away from the girl with a force that nearly sent him stumbling.

“What the hell?” the girl shrieked, her voice laced with irritation at the sudden loss of contact, but Mattheo didn’t even spare her a glance.

Theo staggered back, dazed, eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to process what had just happened. “What the fuck, man?” he snapped, his voice defensive, laced with the kind of anger that only came from being caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

Mattheo’s gaze narrowed, scanning his best friend’s face. Theo’s pupils were blown wide, his expression sluggish, his movements slightly delayed. His bloodshot eyes were a dead giveaway, practically glowing under the dim lights of the party.

“Dude,” Mattheo’s voice was sharp, cutting through the music. “Are you high?”

Theo wiped at his lips, smearing the remnants of lipstick across the back of his hand before flashing a lazy grin. “Yeah,” he admitted shamelessly. “What? You mad I didn’t tell you to join me?”

The arrogance in his voice made Mattheo’s irritation flare into something dangerously close to anger. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head, struggling to keep himself from grabbing Theo again—this time, to shake some fucking sense into him.

“You officially fucked up, man,” he said, his voice low, edged with disappointment.

Theo scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, please, spare me the lecture—”

“She came to talk to you.”

The words cut through the haze in Theo’s mind like a knife.

Mattheo watched as his best friend’s entire body went still. Theo’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes searching Mattheo’s face, hoping—praying—that he had misheard.

“She what?”

“She came here looking for you,” Mattheo repeated, his voice quieter now, watching the way realization crashed over Theo like a violent wave. “But you were too busy making out with—” he gestured toward the girl, who had distanced herself from the both of you. “Whatever that was.”

Theo’s chest tightened, his stomach twisting so hard he thought he might be sick.

No.

No, no, no.

Mattheo had to be fucking with him. This had to be a joke. There was no way—no way—you had come back, had come looking for him. “Tell me you’re lying,” Theo whispered, shaking his head. His voice was raw, cracking under the weight of the possibility. “Mattheo, tell me you’re fucking joking.” Mattheo only stared at him, lips pressing into a tight line.

No.

Theo felt his chest cave in.

This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. He had already ruined things with you once—he couldn’t have just done it again, couldn’t have shattered even the smallest chance that you might have forgiven him.

His hands went to his hair, fingers threading through the messy strands as he let out a string of frantic curses, his breath coming out in short, uneven gasps. His high was still there, but it was quickly fading—burning away in the face of something stronger.

Panic, regret, grief clawing its way up his throat like he was choking on it.

“Where is she?” he asked, his voice desperate, his head snapping up as his eyes darted wildly around the room, searching for you, needing to see you, to fix this.

“She left,” Mattheo said simply.

And before Mattheo could say anything else, before Theo could think or breathe or do anything but let the horror sink its teeth into him, he was moving—bolting toward the door, shoving past bodies, bursting out of the party and into the night.

Praying he wasn’t too late.

Only a few steps into the dungeons, Theo found you—curled up on the cold stone steps leading to the Great Hall, your arms wrapped tightly around your knees as if holding yourself together was the only thing keeping you from breaking apart completely. The dim torchlight cast long shadows across your face, but it couldn’t hide the devastation written in your features. Your mind was a hurricane of thoughts, each one more unbearable than the last.

You had been right all along.

He never loved you.

The realization was a knife to the gut, twisting deeper with every painful second that passed. It made your stomach churn, your chest constrict so tightly you could barely breathe. You wanted to scream, to sob until your throat was raw, to punch something—preferably Theo himself—until he felt even a fraction of the pain he had inflicted upon you. But instead, you sat there, staring at the ground, your hands shaking as you tried to gather the shattered pieces of yourself that he had left behind.

Theo approached carefully, his steps slow, hesitant. As soon as you noticed his presence, you shot up to your feet, a wave of anger and heartbreak crashing over you all at once.

“No.” The word was sharp, final.

He stilled, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—those damn eyes—betrayed him. They held desperation, longing, the same raw emotion he had when he drunkenly declared his love for you in your dorm. But you couldn’t let that affect you now. Not after what you saw. Not after what he did. “I’m not doing this again,” you choked out, your voice trembling under the weight of everything you refused to feel. The second the image of him kissing that girl resurfaced in your mind, fresh tears burned in your eyes.

“Please, let me explain,” Theo pleaded, stepping forward, but you recoiled, shaking your head violently.

“Why, Theo?” The question fell from your lips before you could stop it, the pain laced in your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. Theo didn’t answer, his jaw clenching, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “You get some kind of sick satisfaction from doing this to me?” Your voice cracked, the accusation hitting him like a physical blow. His entire body tensed, as if you had knocked the air right out of his lungs.

“Don’t say that,” he whispered, his brows pulling together, regret etched into every line of his face. “Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?” You let out a bitter, humorless laugh, though nothing about this was remotely funny. “You like seeing me like this. You enjoy watching me suffer.” Your voice rose with every word until you were practically screaming, all the anger, frustration, and heartbreak spilling out in raw, unfiltered waves. Theo took another step toward you, but you stepped back, your breathing ragged.

“Let me talk, please,” he begged. “Oh, I think you’ve done more than enough talking already.” Your lips curled into a twisted mockery of a smile before it faltered, your body betraying you as the first tear slipped down your cheek, mascara smearing along with it.

“What do you want from me?” Your voice wavered, the walls you had tried so hard to build around yourself crumbling as sobs threatened to spill free. “Haven’t you done enough already?” And then, before you could stop him, Theo closed the distance between you and wrapped his arms around you.

You froze.

For a moment, the warmth of him, the familiarity, was enough to make you forget. But then the anger came roaring back, consuming every other emotion, and you started beating your fists against his chest, your sobs finally breaking free.

“I hate you,” you screamed, your voice raw and desperate, your glossy eyes meeting his in utter devastation. His arms only tightened around you, steady, unwavering, as if he was trying to hold you together when he was the one who broke you in the first place. “I know,” he murmured against your hair, his voice thick, strained, barely holding back his own emotions. “Me too.”

His hands traced soothing circles along your back, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside you. “Why?” you demanded again, fists still weakly pressing against his chest. “Why, Theo?” His face twisted with something unreadable, his brows furrowing, lips pressing into a thin line as he fought against the words threatening to spill from his mouth. “I have no choice, cara,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His words shattered something inside you all over again. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you choked out, your body trembling. “Please, Theo.” You grabbed at his collar, gripping onto him like he was the only thing anchoring you to reality. “For once, let me in. Let me understand. Just tell me what the fuck is going on.” But Theo had made a promise—to himself, to his father. He would never expose you to the darkness that consumed his life.

His silence was your answer.

“I can’t,” he finally whispered, his voice breaking along with the last sliver of hope you had held onto. You saw it in his eyes—the war raging inside him, the agony of wanting you but knowing he had to let you go. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice shaking, his entire body trembling. You watched helplessly as he took a step back, his hands falling away from you, his resolve crumbling before your very eyes.“But I meant what I said.” His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion. “You mean the world to me, amore. I just… I can’t do this.” Your breath hitched. “What do you mean?” Panic clawed at your chest, your hands reaching for him again, but he gently pushed them away. Theo wanted to kiss you. To hold you. To tell you that you were the only thing in his life that ever made sense.

But he knew better.

His father’s voice echoed in his mind, a cruel reminder of the world he was trapped in. You saw the hesitation in his eyes, the way his fingers twitched as if aching to reach for you, the way his entire body screamed stay while his mind forced him to go. “Theo!” Your voice cracked as he took another step back.

You couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t leave me,” you begged, the words barely a whisper, barely holding together the last pieces of yourself.

But he did.

He turned away, his shoulders slouched, his usual confident stride replaced by something broken. Defeated.

He had lost.

To his father. To fate. To himself.

And all you could do was watch.

“I hate you!” you screamed after him, your voice echoing through the empty halls, bouncing off the stone walls like a cruel reminder of everything you had lost.

But the truth was, you didn’t hate him. You couldn’t.

You loved him.

You loved him so much that you knew you would put yourself through this pain over and over again if it meant getting another chance.

And that realization?

That was what truly broke you.

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A/N: I literally cried when a reread this while editing omfg. This was heartbreaking. I honestly sometimes feel as if I’m allergic to happiness lol. There will be no part three, some stories just can’t have happy endings🥲 Hope you liked it!

let me know your thoughts on it 💌

!Reblogs and Likes are highly appreciated¡

masterlist

…until next time lovelies 💋

[limbsmarriott]

Shielded Hearts

~Angst/fluff~

George had always loved the way you were so quietly observant, your eyes catching details that others missed, your presence calm and gentle. But tonight, as the laughter and chatter of his friends filled the air, he noticed something different about you. You weren’t speaking as much, your usual easy smile replaced by a tight-lipped expression. Every time someone raised their voice or made a joke, you flinched slightly. He couldn’t quite figure out what was going on, but it made him uneasy.

He leaned in closer as the evening wore on, his gaze flicking between you and his friends, noticing how your shoulders stiffened whenever the conversation turned louder, or when his friend Harry, with his booming laugh, cracked one of his signature jokes. The change in you was subtle, but George knew you too well. You were starting to withdraw.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked quietly, his hand brushing against yours under the table. 

You gave him a soft smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you murmured, but George could tell there was something more, something you weren’t saying.

Later, as the night wound down and everyone began to leave, George walked you to the door, concern etched on his face. 

“Listen,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I get overwhelmed sometimes, when there’s too much going on, too many voices, too much energy. It’s hard for me to process everything at once.”

George paused, a sudden understanding dawning on him. You were a highly sensitive person. He’d heard of it before, but hearing it from you made it real in a way he hadn’t expected. 

“I didn’t know,” he admitted, his tone soft with regret. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You shook your head, reaching out to touch his arm. “It’s not your fault, George. It’s just how I am. I don’t want you to think that I don’t enjoy being with you or your friends. I just... need some space when it gets too much.”

He looked at you, his heart swelling with a mix of affection and guilt. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise. I’ll make sure to take care of you from now on. If you need a break, just say the word. I don’t want you to feel this way, ever.”

The tenderness in his voice, the way his gaze softened with concern, made you feel understood in a way you hadn’t anticipated. But George wasn’t done yet. He took a step closer, his hands gently cupping your face as if to assure himself that you were really there, really okay. “If anyone makes you feel uncomfortable again, I’ll make sure they know not to. No one messes with you, not on my watch.”

You blinked, surprised at the sudden intensity of his protectiveness, but the warmth in his touch made you feel safer than you had in a long time. Maybe it wasn’t just about explaining yourself. Maybe, for the first time, you were truly seen.

The night air outside was cool, a soft breeze rustling the leaves overhead as George held you close, his arms a comforting weight around your shoulders. The warmth of his embrace felt like a shield against the overwhelming chaos that had surrounded you only moments before. You could feel the steadiness in him, a quiet strength that helped ground you. 

“I’ve always loved how much you care about your friends,” you said, your voice steady but still carrying a hint of vulnerability. “It’s just… sometimes I get lost in the noise of it all. And I don’t always know how to get out of it without feeling like I’m letting everyone down.”

George’s fingers gently traced along your arm, a simple gesture that was more soothing than words could express. “You never have to worry about that with me,” he said softly, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re never a burden. I’ll always take care of you, okay? No matter what.” He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. When he found none, his face softened, and a tender smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 

"I want to be the one who makes you feel safe, especially when you’re feeling like this," he continued, his tone low and earnest. "If we ever go to something like that again, we’ll leave whenever you want. Or we won’t even go in the first place. It’s all about you, baby. What makes you comfortable."

You felt your heart swell, not just with affection, but with a deep sense of gratitude. It wasn’t just the reassurance, or the way his voice had grown more protective with each word—it was the sincerity in his eyes. George wasn’t just trying to fix the situation, he was trying to understand it. For the first time, you didn’t feel like you were asking too much. He truly wanted to be there for you, no matter what.

“I don’t want to ruin your nights with your friends,” you said, biting your lip nervously. “You enjoy those hangouts so much. I don’t want to be the reason you miss out on anything.”

“Hey.” George’s hands cupped your face again, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “It’s never a ruin when I’m with you. And trust me, my friends will understand. They want you to feel comfortable, too. If anything, I think they’ll respect that you told me how you feel.” He paused, his gaze softening. “You’re my priority. You come first.”

The sincerity in his words made your chest tighten with emotion. The weight of the evening, the pressure you’d been carrying around for so long, seemed to lift with every passing second as George held you. You wanted to say something, something that would fully express how much his understanding meant to you, but words seemed too small in that moment. Instead, you leaned in, your forehead resting against his, and closed your eyes, letting the silence between you speak louder than anything else.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was the gentle rhythm of your breaths, the quiet night around you, and the reassuring presence of someone who truly saw you—someone who cared more about your peace of mind than anything else. 

“I’m really lucky to have you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

George chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “No, I’m the lucky one,” he replied, pulling you closer. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re too much. You’re perfect exactly the way you are. I’ll always be here for you—quiet, loud, overwhelmed, or calm. No matter what.” 

You smiled against him, feeling the truth in his words settle deep inside you. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you could truly breathe, like there was nothing to hide, and everything to be shared. You knew that whatever came next, you and George would face it together.

The quiet between you lingered, a peaceful comfort settling over you both. George held you a little tighter, as if he never wanted to let go. The warmth of his embrace wrapped around you like a safe cocoon, and for once, the weight of the world outside seemed so far away. 

After a few moments, George gently pulled back, his hands still resting on your shoulders, his expression soft but searching. “So, how about we get out of here for a bit? Take a walk? Or… if you’re up for it, we can just head home. I know it’s been a lot.”

You smiled, grateful for his sensitivity, and nodded. “A walk sounds nice. Maybe we can just… talk? No loud voices, no jokes, just the two of us.”

“Just us,” George agreed, his eyes lighting up at the idea. He took your hand, his fingers weaving between yours, and led you down the steps of his apartment building and out into the cool night air. 

The streets were quiet, the usual hum of traffic muted by the late hour. You walked side by side in a comfortable silence, only the occasional soft murmur of your footsteps breaking the stillness. George kept his pace steady, making sure to stay close, his body turned toward you in a way that said he was fully present, fully there for you.

You couldn’t help but steal glances at him as you walked, noticing how his expression had softened. There was something different about him now—something protective, but also understanding in the gentlest way. It was like he’d unlocked a new level of care for you, one that wasn’t about trying to fix or change anything, but simply accepting and supporting.

“How are you feeling now?” George asked after a few minutes, his voice gentle but filled with concern. “Are you still overwhelmed, or… are you okay?”

You took a deep breath, appreciating how he didn’t rush you for an answer, how he gave you the space to feel whatever you needed to feel. “Better,” you said with a soft smile, your fingers squeezing his. “I think it just helps being away from all the noise. I can focus on you. And right now, that’s enough.”

George smiled too, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he glanced down at you. “Good,” he murmured. “I’m glad. You deserve peace. You deserve to be heard.”

There was a pause, and then you spoke again, your voice small but steady. “I’ve never really been able to talk about this before. About how things overwhelm me so easily. It’s hard to explain to people, because it feels like they don’t always get it. But with you… I don’t have to hide it.”

George’s expression softened even more, his hand brushing the back of your arm in a tender, reassuring gesture. “You don’t ever have to hide anything with me. I’m not going anywhere. You can tell me everything, and I’ll be here, no matter what.” 

You felt your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, the world felt impossibly small—just the two of you, walking through the streets, talking about things you’d never thought you’d be able to share. 

George stopped walking then, turning to face you, his gaze serious and full of love. “If you ever need more space—whether it’s from me, or my friends, or anything else—I want you to feel safe enough to ask. I know it’s hard for you to say sometimes, but I’ll always listen. You’re not a burden. You never will be.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you blinked them away quickly, not wanting to start crying in the middle of the street, but the emotion surged within you anyway. For so long, you had carried this weight alone—trying to manage your sensitivity, your need for quiet, without ever truly explaining it to anyone. But with George, everything felt different. He didn’t just accept you; he cherished the parts of you that you thought were too much, too complicated.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

George stepped closer, his hand gently cupping your face. “You didn’t have to do anything. I just love you. All of you. Even the parts that feel too much sometimes.” His thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped. “And I’m so glad you trust me enough to share this with me. That means everything.”

A quiet, heartfelt smile spread across your face. And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly seen—not just for your strengths, but for your vulnerabilities. You weren’t just loved despite your sensitivities—you were loved because of them. And in George’s arms, you knew that you could be exactly who you were, and that would always be enough. 

With a final squeeze of your hand, George leaned in and kissed you softly, as if to seal the promise. “Let’s just take it one step at a time. No rush. I’m right here.”

You nodded, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace. No matter what happened next, you knew you weren’t alone anymore.

A few weeks later, George invited you out again with his friends. This time, you were feeling more prepared. You had talked to George a few times since that night, and he had reassured you that he would make sure you felt comfortable. But as the evening drew closer, you felt the familiar twinge of anxiety creeping in. 

When the two of you arrived at the restaurant, the buzz of conversation, laughter, and clinking glasses instantly overwhelmed you. It wasn’t just the noise; it was the energy in the room—the people, the jokes, the quick-paced exchanges. You could already feel your body tightening, your mind racing to process it all. 

George immediately noticed the shift in you. His hand found yours as soon as you stepped inside, his fingers wrapping around yours in a gentle, possessive grip. You gave him a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice low and soft, barely audible over the chatter. “If it gets to be too much, just tell me, alright? We can leave whenever you need.”

You nodded, grateful for his words but already feeling the weight of the room pressing on you. He led you to the table, his presence close beside you as you made your way through the crowd. His friends greeted you warmly, but you couldn’t help feeling the pressure of being in a space that felt too big, too loud, too everything.

George settled next to you, his chair slightly angled toward yours, as though he was positioning himself to block out the world around you. His hand never left yours, his thumb tracing soft patterns on your palm, grounding you in the chaos.

As the evening went on, his friends grew more lively, drinks flowing and laughter echoing through the room. You could feel your anxiety building—your breath quickening with each burst of laughter, every conversation getting louder. The voices seemed to overlap, the jokes becoming faster and more intense. It was all too much. 

George, ever attuned to you, was watching closely. His gaze was unwavering as he noticed the way your shoulders stiffened, the way you tried to mask your discomfort with tight-lipped smiles. Without a word, he shifted in his seat, leaning in just a little closer, his presence like a shield between you and the rest of the world. 

One of his friends, Arthur, a bit too loud after a few drinks, raised his voice to tell a joke. The sound pierced through your mind like a hammer. You flinched, and George immediately noticed. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, his jaw tightening slightly as his protective instincts kicked in.

“Arthur, can you—?” George started, his voice firm but calm. His eyes never left yours, but he turned to his friend. “Could you maybe tone it down a little? She’s not feeling great tonight.” 

Arthur, who had always been a bit oblivious to anyone else’s discomfort, blinked in surprise. “Oh, sorry, man. Didn’t realise—”

“It’s fine,” George interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. His attention was fully on you now. “I’m just saying… we need to keep it quieter for a bit, alright?”

The shift in George’s demeanour didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the group. They all fell into a quieter rhythm, clearly picking up on his protective energy. Arthur quickly apologised again, and the group settled into a more subdued conversation.

You leaned into George slightly, grateful for his intervention but also feeling a bit embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words escaping before you could stop them.

“No,” George’s voice was gentle but firm, his hand lifting to your cheek to brush away a stray lock of hair. “Don’t apologise. You have nothing to be sorry for. I want to protect you. You’re my priority.” He held your gaze for a moment, his eyes filled with such warmth that it melted away the tension inside you. “I can’t stand seeing you uncomfortable. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you feel safe.”

You felt your heart swell, not just with love but with a deep sense of relief. You didn’t have to hide how you felt, not with George. And in that moment, you realised that his protectiveness wasn’t about being controlling—it was about caring. About caring in the deepest way possible. He wanted you to feel at ease, to be comfortable in your own skin, even in places that made you feel like an outsider.

The night continued, but the energy shifted. George stayed close to you, never letting you slip into the background. When the group’s volume picked up again, he would lean in to make sure you were okay, his body language quietly commanding attention when necessary. The protective side of him—so tender, so fierce—was in full force.

At one point, as the conversation grew louder again, you felt your heart racing, and before you could even think about it, you were standing up. George immediately followed, his hand landing on your shoulder. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft but with a certain weight behind it, like he was prepared to pull you away from it all if you needed him to.

You took a deep breath, giving him a small nod. “I think… I just need a minute. Sorry, I didn’t want to make a scene.”

George’s eyes softened. “You’re not making a scene, baby. You’re taking care of yourself. If you need a break, we can step outside. Or we can leave. Whatever you need.” His protective streak was clear, his concern for you outweighing anything else. “You’re not going through this alone.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling the weight of his love settle around you like a warm blanket. “Thank you,” you whispered, unable to put into words how much it meant. 

With George by your side, you knew you didn’t have to navigate this on your own. He would always be there, protecting you, supporting you, and loving you in the way you deserved. And somehow, that made the noise of the world outside seem just a little more bearable.

The night was starting to wind down, and George was still by your side, never letting go of your hand. You had stepped outside for a few minutes, taking in the cool night air, trying to clear your mind after the overwhelming intensity of the restaurant. With George's calming presence beside you, the noise of the world seemed to fade, and your racing thoughts began to settle.

“I’m sorry if I made tonight weird,” you said quietly, your voice soft in the stillness of the evening. “I just... get so overwhelmed sometimes.”

George shook his head, pulling you closer. “You never have to apologise. I just want you to feel okay. If that means we leave early, or if you need to step outside for a breather, I’m here for it. I’ll always put you first.”

His words wrapped around you like a comforting hug, making you feel safe, understood, and so incredibly cared for. You rested your head against his shoulder as you both stood on the quiet street, the hum of the city seeming far away now. 

After a few moments, you turned toward him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “I think I’m ready to go home now.”

George smiled back, nodding. ��Let’s get out of here, then.”

The Uber back to his apartment was peaceful, the car filled with nothing but the soft sound of the engine and the quiet rhythm of your breathing. You sat close to George, his hand resting on your thigh, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your skin, a silent promise that he was there with you every step of the way.

When you arrived at his place, the lights were dim, the apartment quiet and inviting. It felt like the perfect sanctuary after a night of noise and overstimulation. George closed the door behind you both and pulled you into his arms, a soft sigh escaping from his lips as he kissed your forehead.

"Let's just take it easy," he said quietly, his voice filled with tenderness. "No crowds, no loud conversations. Just you and me."

You smiled and nodded, feeling a deep sense of peace in his embrace. It was like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders, and all that mattered now was the gentle, reassuring presence of George beside you.

You both headed to the bedroom, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm, calming light. George pulled back the covers and climbed into bed first, making space for you beside him. You slipped under the blankets, settling into his arms without hesitation. His warmth surrounded you, and you relaxed into him, feeling safe and protected in a way you hadn't known you needed until now.

You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, his fingers gently stroking your hair. You could feel the softness of his touch, the love in every movement, and the steady assurance that you were exactly where you belonged.

"Thank you for tonight," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "For being so understanding... and for always being there for me."

George's breath was slow and even as he kissed the top of your head. "You don’t need to thank me, baby," he murmured. "You never have to apologise for how you feel. I’m here. Always."

You closed your eyes, content in the silence that enveloped the two of you. The world outside might have been chaotic, but here, in George's arms, there was only peace, only love. You felt the heaviness of the night melt away, replaced by the warmth of his embrace. 

As the minutes passed, the rhythm of his breathing began to lull you into a peaceful sleep, his presence a constant reassurance. You were home now, not just in the physical space, but in the arms of someone who truly saw you, understood you, and loved you for exactly who you were.

And in that moment, everything felt perfect.

——————————————————————————————————Finally got round to doing a request from ages ago! I’m hoping to get another George or Chris one out next week!

Tags-

@themdera

@tyna-19

[ijenoyou]

A new day to love.

Joaquín Torres x StarkF!Reader

warnings: not really i think ? lol just fluff and a bit of angst

note: yay another follow up of Ojos lindos !! i’m glad yall like it :3 if anyone has a suggestion for this storyline or if it’s a suggestions for another quino work im all earsssaa!!, remember english isn’t my first language so yeah if there’s any mistakes plz don’t mind them hahaha

It’s been a few weeks since you’ve seen Joaquín. His mother and grandmother took him away on a short vacation after he was discharged from the hospital. But it’s also been a while since the two of you have had a chat. You couldn’t face him, a part of you still angry at yourself for not being in full control of your own powers.

It felt all too overwhelming.

You lost sleep over it, training hard late at night until your body gave up.

“Why so quiet, uh?” Sam’s voice full with curiosity brought you back to reality.

You shifted on your seat at the kitchen aisle and sighed. You tried to avoid Sam’s eyes that seemed to follow every move you make, feeling your body start to feel physically uncomfortable at the question.

“Oh, it’s nothing really.” You spoke, your voice came out with difficulty. “I was just dissociated, that’s all.” You tried to give him a smile but failed.

Sam lifted one of his eyebrows, giving you a questioning look. You hated when he did that, because at the end of the day, that would make you crack under pressure and tell him everything each time he did that.

“Is it Joaquín?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes found yours.

“No.”

He sighed. His own mind coming to terms about the fact that you were too stubborn to understand none of Joaquín’s accident was your fault. Or anyone’s for that matter.

“The kid’s coming back today. Did you know?”

Your whole body tensed up, your attention directed towards Sam, who was in front of you while holding an iced glass of water.

You nodded. “He texted me.” Your eyes traveled down Sam’s frame, letting them rest on his hands, following the droplets of water on his glass making your throat burn with thirst.

“A little birdie told me you’ve been avoiding him.”

You scoff after hearing him and stood up.

“Is that little birdie Redwing? You know how I feel about that thing.” You heard Sam laugh at your words.

“Joaquín himself told me, he said you’ve been ignoring every text he sends, I just wanted to know why.”

But, did you fully know why? The first thing that made your brain turn into a fuss was the accident but deep down you knew there’s more to it. And at that exact moment it all came crashing down to you.

What if your power got out of control and you ended up hurt them both?

Hurting Joaquín.

The thought sent a chill down your spine, making your skin explode with a coldness sensation all over it. Sam took notice of that, he saw the way your arms filled up with goosebumps.

“I can’t face him.” A second passed.

“Why?”

“W-What if I hurt him? What if I hurt you?” Distress plastered on your face. “I’m weak and to make things worse I can’t fully control what I do— it was me who failed Joaquín!”

He shook his head and stood up from his seat and walked towards you, he held your forearms in his palms and gave you a little squish for reassurance.

“You didn’t fail him— you won’t hurt us, you won’t hurt him.”

“You don’t know that.” You said in a whisper, instant tears filling your eyes up. “I don’t even know why am I so scared of myself. Before meeting him I didn’t even care of what had become of me after Tony’s death.”

Sam couldn’t believe your words, too stunned at them. The only thing he could do was offer you some sense of comfort, so that’s what he did. He gave you the tightness hug you’ve had since meeting him.

You didn’t know how to react.

You were used to people feeling sorry for you, a situation that became a routine after your father’s funeral. So it wasn’t exactly new what was happening but it felt nice. Sam was a new father figure to you, and you were grateful because if it wasn’t for him you would be living a very unhappy life under Pepper’s roof, living a foreign life with her and your half sister.

“Hey guys, I’m back!” Joaquín’s voice appeared from behind you and Sam. “Oh! And my family is here too!” Before you could leave Sam’s hold, two more voices began talking.

“Capitán América! Es un placer volvernos a ver.” An elderly woman spoke up and you finally let go of Sam.

Sam smiled and nodded. “The pleasure is mine, how was Las Vegas?”

“We loved it! isn’t that right mom?” She turned to another woman. After a few seconds they noticed you standing behind Sam, almost as if you were hiding from them— from Joaquín.

“Ms. Stark, right?” You nodded. “Oh! Mi Quino no ha dejado de hablar de ti” She began walking towards you and gave you a very tight hug that caused you to lose air in your chest. Assuming that’s Joaquín’s mother and grandmother, your mind began spiraling. Was he really telling them about you? Did they know you were avoiding him?

“Okay mom, let her go.” Joaquín said while gently taking his mother away from you.

You were about to speak when Sam clapped his hands loudly and smiled.

“Why don’t I take mom and grands on a tour around the base?” He asked them, making the two women smile with joy. Joaquín’s grandmother interlinked her arm with Sam’s and began walking away.

“So…” Joaquín trailed off. “Why are you avoiding me?”

You bit your lip and sighed.

It was sudden, the way you lost the ability to speak what was on your mind, it made you feel crazy. Why did Joaquín made you feel that way? You didn’t like him like that.

Right?

You felt him shift next to you. You ran your fingers through your hair to try grounding yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You finally dared to look at him in the eyes. “I’ve been overthinking a lot of things these days you were gone.” He softly nodded and you continued. “You make me feel a lot of new things and it scares me.”

He dared to step closer to you.

You could feel his warmth the way you did when you first met him.

“Why?”

“What I hurt you? What if one day my powers overtake me? Quino I’ve grown used to this, to us but I don’t what you to end up getting hurt because of me.”

He let a tiny gasp out of lips and got even closer to you. Joaquín thought he was turning crazy, because in what universe would Y/N Stark be confessing she cared about him— the way he cares about her.

“I don’t believe for any second that you would hurt anyone, or me.” He softly spoke as he reached for your hands. “You have the most beautiful soul anyone has, don’t even doubt it for a moment.”

His hands traveled up your arms just for them to rest at your jawline, he was holding your face in place with a steady grip. That action made your cheeks start filling up with color.

“I know what I’m getting into if that’s what you’re worried about.” He spoke while getting even closer to you, to your face. “Desde la primera vez que te ví, supe que yo sería para ti y tú para mí.” You laugh at his words and nod.

Because it was true.

When you saw him for the first time, you could already tell you would become very fond of him really fast. And that thought became even stronger when he was at the hospital with you taking care of him. You wouldn’t trust another person to help him heal. Even the doctor thought the same, he surprisingly gained his strength back in an incredible speed.

It was quiet for a few moments.

If you focused enough, you could feel his heart beating right through his palm, letting the beat sting your skin. As if that was your way of know he was alive.

With pleading eyes, his own face began reaching for yours.

“Stop me if you don’t—“

Right as you were on verge of kissing him, his mother’s voice appeared again.

“Mijo! Mira la foto que le tomé a tu abuela.” She said excitedly while looking down at her phone.

She then lifted her gaze from the device and saw the way Joaquín held your face with gentle hands.

“Mom!” He separated from you with a huff. “We were in the middle of a conversation.”

She laughed at his son and shook her head. “Right. What a lovely conversation.”

[ ]

You were now walking towards the exit next to the Torres’s family and Sam after you offered to make dinner for all of them. Sam was chatting with both women behind you and Joaquín while he stood at your side, leading the way.

His grandmother took notice of the way his hand would brush yours while walking, too shy to fully hold it. She smiled and prayed for his grandson to have the courage to do it and when he finally did take your hand in his she celebrated inside her own mind.

When all of you reached the Torres’s car, Joaquín turned around still holding your hand.

“Quino, please call if anything happens.” His grandmother took a step forward and smiled, he nodded his head while letting go of you for a brief moment to give her a very tight hug.

“And you, Mija, take care.” She gently said while tucking a strand of hair away from your face. “Mi Quino nunca dejo de hablar de ti, y espero que siga así por un buen rato.” A smile appeared on your face, Joaquín’s grandmother gave you a wink and hugged you.

After you and Sam said your goodbye’s to them, the both of you decided to step away from the Torres family for a moment to let them have a chat before they leave back home.

“I assume you and pretty boy are okay now, uhm?” Sam said with that cheeky smile of his.

You blushed at the same time your head turned towards him and laughed.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

He tilted his head to the side and pushed you with his shoulder.

“I heard his grandma gave you the bendición.”

Now your face felt hotter.

“Stop it.”

“I’m just pointing out the obvious.”

“Alright Captain obvious, stop that or I’ll paint Redwing pink.” You said while fixing your gaze on Joaquín.

“Do it.” Sam simply said and shrugs. “Ladies like pink, you’ll be doing me a favor.” Now it was your turn to push Sam, but you did it with too much force you didn’t know you had, causing him to loose his balance and land on a bush that was next to him.

“Torres get your girl!” He shouted from the bushes.

But Joaquín, instead of helping him, only took out his phone and captured a picture of the way Sam’s feet could be the only thing seen in the bushes. You were captured laughing on the ground, noticing the struggle Sam had while trying to get up.

—

Es un placer volvernos a ver - It’s a pleasure to see you again.

Mi Quino no ha dejado de hablar de ti - My Quino wouldn’t stop talking about you.

Desde la primera vez que te ví, supe que yo sería para ti y tú para mí. - Since the first time I saw you, I knew you were made for me and I was made for you.

Mira la foto que le tomé a tu abuela - Look at the picture I took of your grandma.

Mi Quino nunca dejo de hablar de ti, y espero que siga así por un buen rato - My Quino never stoped talking about you, and I hope it stays that way for a long time.

[cherryxbooo]

We are a team

Summary: Y/N and Jungkook’s secret three-year relationship is exposed by Dispatch, leading to a wave of hate toward Y/N. Overwhelmed, she distances herself and spirals into self-doubt, but Jungkook’s unwavering love and public defense bring her back.

Note: First time writing for Jungkook even though I've been in the fandom for ages (ikr it's a shame). I tried giving it my own spin, so let me know what you think! Have a nice reading time cherries!

Reader x Jeon Jungkook

Genre: fluff/angst

I always knew my life was different, but I never really understood the full extent of how different it was until I started dating Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook wasn’t just any person; he was an idol, an icon. One of the seven members of BTS, the global sensation that had taken the world by storm.

He was everything anyone could dream of. Beautiful, talented, and charismatic beyond measure. And somehow, against all odds, I ended up with him. The truth is, it still doesn’t feel real sometimes.

But before all of the glitz and glamour, before the screaming fans and flashing cameras, there was just him and me.

It started like any other relationship, but it quickly turned into something that felt different from all the others.

The quiet dinners, the stolen moments at his apartment or mine, long talks about our dreams, our fears, and everything in between. We shared the same kind of energy, an unspoken understanding that didn’t need to be explained.

He could say so much with just one look, and I could do the same. It was a beautiful dance of balance, where I didn’t need the world to know us, where our love didn’t need to be validated by anyone.

For the first year, it was perfect. We kept our relationship private, just the way we wanted it.

His fame was an overwhelming beast, and my life, simple as it was, didn’t need the attention of the public.

Our love existed in these hidden pockets of time, these quiet, beautiful moments where only we mattered.

We could escape from the world and just be. And I loved it.

I had never expected to fall in love with someone like Jungkook. He wasn’t just a celebrity; he was kind, grounded, and so incredibly caring.

He was the type of person who would send me a message in the middle of a busy day just to ask how I was.

Or send me a random picture of something he thought I’d like, just because he knew it would make me smile.

I remember the first time he told me he loved me. It wasn’t a grand gesture or an elaborate confession.

It was on a rainy evening, curled up on the couch after a long day of practice. He looked at me with those deep, dark eyes, and said softly, “I love you, you know.”

I smiled, squeezing his hand in mine. “I know. I love you, too.”

It felt so simple, yet in that moment, it felt like the most important thing in the world. And that’s how it always was with him. Everything was simple, but it was everything.

But things change, even in the quietest of lives. The world has a funny way of pushing itself into places where it doesn’t belong.

It was the end of the year, a time when the media and Dispatch were notorious for revealing celebrity relationships.

Every year, they’d release the identities of new couples, always making headlines. I knew it was coming.

The pressure was mounting. People were starting to whisper. I had seen articles, blogs, and even fan accounts speculating about my relationship with Jungkook.

But none of it felt real. They didn’t know. No one did.

Then came that one fateful day. It was just like any other morning until I got the message.

I had just finished breakfast, my phone buzzing on the kitchen counter. I reached for it, not expecting anything out of the ordinary.

But there it was.

A picture of Jungkook and me, a candid shot from one of our rare outings in public. We had gone to a quiet café to grab some coffee, and somehow, someone had managed to snap the photo.

And just like that, Dispatch had their story. They had their moment.

It was one of those things that hit me like a freight train, a hard, cold reality. As soon as I saw the post, I felt the room spin. The caption was simple, yet it felt like a wrecking ball:

BTS’s Jeon Jungkook and his mystery girlfriend revealed!

dispatch

Liked by kpopteagiver, jungkookupdates, and 1,232,458 others

dispatch BTS’s Jeon Jungkook and his mystery girlfriend, revealed! Here's what we know: Jeon Jungkook member of BTS has been spotted several times with the same girl. Our sources confirmed the two to be a couple. The girls identity is also revealed, she's a normal university student that goes by the name of Y/N. The pair has been together for 3 years apparently. Why Jungkook chose a regular girl instead of an idol is still a big mystery.

View all comments

jjk97lvrrr Ew what the hell?! Who is that. 🤢

bangtan4rver Jungkook can do so much better 🙄

boraaajk1 💔🤮

btsmylovly7 I can't believe this my babyyy jk 😭😢

jkfancam2019 Yesss fandom cleanse 🤭

hobixtaetae7 Some of you need to grow up smh he isn’t going to notice you so sit down damn 💀

chimschubbycheeks1 Nah fr, I mean we all saw it coming these fine men can't be single forever besides she seems nice

jinnymytime77 I agree, the ones that act like that are such a shame to our fandom.

The comments flooded in almost immediately.

“She’s so basic, why is he with her?”

“Doesn’t she know she’s just using him for fame?”

“I’m so disappointed in him. He deserves better.”

I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t even notice the tears that had started streaming down my face until I felt them drop onto my phone screen. It was like the world was collapsing around me.

I threw my phone onto the couch and buried my face in my hands. It wasn’t just the hate; it was the fact that the world now knew.

My private, peaceful life with Jungkook was no longer private.

The silence that had once surrounded us had been shattered.

The days that followed were a blur. Jungkook tried reaching out to me, sending me texts, calling me, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer him. I couldn’t find the words to tell him how broken I was.

I tried to ignore it. I tried to push it all down. But it was hard, so hard to ignore the flood of comments, the constant reminders of the hate and judgment that had suddenly filled my world.

I didn’t leave my apartment much. I spent most of my time locked in my room, scrolling through the endless comments that tore at me piece by piece.

It wasn’t just the hate from strangers, though. It was the pressure, the weight of it all. Jungkook had always been in the public eye.

He was used to it. But me? I was just a regular person, living a normal life. The spotlight that had never once been on me now seemed like a blinding floodlight, burning away every bit of my peace.

I distanced myself from everyone, even from Jungkook. I didn’t want him to see how weak I had become, how much the hate was getting to me.

I didn’t want him to feel guilty. I didn’t want to burden him with my pain.

But Jungkook wasn’t about to let me do that.

I was lying in bed one evening when I heard a soft knock on the door. I didn’t even have to guess who it was.

“Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “Can we talk?”

I wanted to say no. I wanted to lock myself away and pretend everything was fine. But I couldn’t do that anymore. Not with him.

I stood up slowly and opened the door, and there he was, his face drawn, worried, but still, unmistakably, the same Jungkook. My Jungkook.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his gaze never leaving me. I could see the worry in his eyes.

“Y/N, why are you doing this? I’ve been trying to reach you. You can’t just shut me out like this.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“I just... I can’t handle it, Jungkook. I can’t handle the hate, the comments, the constant pressure. I feel like I’m suffocating. I’m not strong enough for this. I don’t know how to handle the spotlight. It’s too much.”

Jungkook’s eyes softened, and he reached out to gently cup my face. “You don’t have to handle it alone. I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

“But it’s not just about us,” I said, looking away. “It’s about you too. You’ve worked so hard for everything, and I’m just... messing it all up.”

He shook his head, his fingers brushing away the tears from my cheek.

“No, you’re not. Don’t you ever think that. You mean the world to me. The hate... It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re together. That’s all that matters.”

I felt the weight of his words in my chest, and slowly, I let myself lean into him, resting my head on his chest.

“I’m so scared, Kook. I’m scared of losing you, of ruining everything for you.”

Jungkook held me tighter, his voice soft but firm. “You won’t lose me. Never. I won’t let the media or anyone else get between us.”

I looked up at him, the tears still falling. “But what if it’s too much? What if I can’t do this?”

“You can,” he whispered, his hand gently stroking my hair.

“You can, because we’re a team. And I’ll be right here beside you, every step of the way.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to believe that everything would be okay.

That maybe, just maybe, we could get through this together.

Jungkook and I spent the next few hours sitting together, his presence a balm to the sharp pain in my chest.

He didn’t try to force words out of me or ask for any promises. Instead, he sat beside me, patiently waiting, letting me gather the strength to speak.

We didn’t need words to communicate. It was as if he knew exactly what I was feeling.

His hand, warm and reassuring, held mine, grounding me in the chaos of my emotions.

But even though he was here, with me, I still felt the weight of the world pressing down.

The constant barrage of notifications, the insults, the assumptions. All of it was suffocating.

I had always tried to live a quiet, unassuming life, away from the public eye.

I hadn’t signed up for this level of scrutiny. Yet here I was, caught in a storm I had no control over.

The following days were no easier. Despite Jungkook’s gentle reassurances and attempts to keep me grounded, I felt more alone than ever.

He would send me messages, voice notes, and even pop by my apartment when he could, but the pressure of it all was too much.

I couldn’t bring myself to face the outside world.

One day, I woke up to an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. The weight of the previous weeks had drained me, physically and emotionally.

The constant tension in my body had made it hard to sleep, and my mind felt like it was on a never-ending loop of worst-case scenarios.

I could hear the voices in my head telling me that maybe I wasn’t cut out for this life, that I was never meant to be a part of his world.

I looked at my phone. The notifications were still there, more comments, more articles, more people voicing their opinions. Some were kind, but many were filled with venom.

I read one comment that stood out:

“She doesn’t deserve him. She’s just another girl trying to ride his coattails. When is she going to leave him?”

I wanted to throw my phone across the room. The hurt was unbearable, and no matter how many times Jungkook reassured me, I couldn’t escape it.

The world was so quick to judge me, and I felt as if every part of my life was under a microscope. Every action, every word, every gesture was scrutinized.

I felt like I was drowning, and the shore was so far away.

But then, Jungkook did something unexpected. Something that, in that moment, I never knew I needed.

It was late in the evening, and I was once again buried under a mountain of blankets on the couch, staring at my phone.

The silence in my apartment felt suffocating, the glow of the screen the only thing that kept me company.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed. I saw Jungkook’s name on the screen.

“I’m coming over. We need to talk.”

I knew he could sense my distance. He had been trying so hard to break through my walls, and for the most part, I had been shutting him out.

But this time, I couldn’t ignore him. My heart ached just at the thought of his face. I needed to see him.

I threw the blankets aside, quickly running my fingers through my hair, trying to make myself presentable.

By the time the doorbell rang, I was standing in the entryway, a mixture of relief and dread swirling inside me.

“Jungkook,” I whispered as I opened the door. He stood there, looking at me with a mixture of worry and determination.

His expression softened as soon as he saw me, and he immediately pulled me into a hug. His arms enveloped me, warm and familiar.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I should’ve noticed sooner. I never should have let you go through this alone.”

I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, and in that moment, I knew he was just as scared as I was. We were in this together.

No matter what the world said, we were a team, we are a team.

“Jungkook, I-” I started to speak, but my voice caught in my throat. The tears I had been holding back for days finally began to spill over.

My body shook with the force of my sobs, and I clung to him like he was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.

“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to handle all this hate. It feels like I’m losing myself.”

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. His fingers gently wiped away my tears.

“You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. Always.”

His words didn’t magically make the pain go away, but they made me feel something I hadn’t in days: hope.

A small glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could get through this with him by my side.

“I don’t want to lose you, Kook,” I whispered.

“I don’t want to be the one who drags you down. You’ve worked so hard for everything. I don’t want to be the reason your career is affected.”

Jungkook’s expression darkened, a fierce protectiveness overtaking him.

“Don’t you dare say that. We talked about this already. I don’t care about any of that. You are my priority, Y/N. Always. What they say... what they think... it doesn’t matter to me. What matters is that we’re okay. That you’re okay.”

His voice was firm, unwavering, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a sense of calm wash over me.

He was right. The world could say whatever they wanted, but as long as we were in this together, nothing else mattered.

The following weeks were a battle. I tried to keep a low profile, but the world seemed determined to keep me in the spotlight.

The media, the fans, everyone had an opinion. The comments never stopped, and the hate continued to pour in.

But Jungkook refused to let me face it alone. He was by my side every step of the way.

He would show up at my apartment, bring me food, hold me when the weight of it all became too much. He knew when I needed comfort, and he never hesitated to offer it.

There were nights when we would just lay together, talking about everything and nothing, trying to distract ourselves from the world outside.

He kept reassuring me, telling me that this was just a phase.

“People will come around,” he would say, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“They’ll see the real you, Y/N. And when they do, they’ll love you as much as I do.”

And slowly, over time, I began to believe him.

A turning point came when I received a message from one of my close friends, who had been keeping an eye on my social media accounts.

She told me that there was a shift happening. People were starting to see me for who I was, not just as Jungkook’s girlfriend, but as a person.

The comments started to change. There was more positivity, more support.

“I don’t know how this happened, Y/N,” she said, “but you’ve become something of an icon. People are really starting to love you. Your personality shines through. Keep being yourself. That’s all you need to do.”

It was a revelation that hit me like a ton of bricks. In the midst of all the hate, there was love.

There were people who saw beyond the headlines, beyond the rumors. They saw me. And that made all the difference.

As time went on, the media’s obsession with me began to fade. People who once tore me apart started to support me, praising my strength, my resilience.

The negativity was still there, but it no longer consumed me.

Jungkook, too, seemed to find peace in the shift. As he saw the public warming to me, he grew more relaxed, even a little playful.

He would tease me, jokingly asking if I had become the “queen of social media” now that everyone loved me.

“Don’t get too big-headed now,” he would say with a grin, pretending to be jealous of all the attention I was getting.

I would laugh, playfully nudging him. “Maybe I should start charging for autographs.”

“You’re already stealing the spotlight from me,” he would joke, but there was always a warmth in his eyes. “I’m the jealous one now.”

And in those moments, everything felt right again. I knew we had weathered the storm, and no matter what the world threw our way, we would face it together.

The day finally came when I stood in front of the mirror, ready to face the world again.

The pain, the heartbreak, the endless nights of crying, everything felt like it had been worth it.

I had fought, and I had come out stronger. The world had tried to break me, but I wasn’t going anywhere.

And Jungkook? He was right beside me, as always. Together, we had survived.

Months passed, and life seemed to return to some semblance of normalcy.

The media had moved on to other scandals, other stories to report. The spotlight on Jungkook and me had dimmed, but the consequences of the past still lingered like a shadow that refused to fade completely.

Jungkook and I had become experts at navigating the delicate balance between public attention and private moments. We’d learned to take the good with the bad.

On days when the media tried to spin stories that were less than flattering, we laughed it off, knowing we had each other.

On days when the weight of the world felt unbearable, we leaned on one another and found comfort in our shared silence.

It wasn’t always easy. There were still days when I would scroll through my social media and see a comment that hurt, something cruel, something unnecessary.

The pain would flare up, and the temptation to retreat back into myself would always be there.

But Jungkook’s words echoed in my mind: “We’re a team. Together, we can handle anything.” And with him by my side, I slowly began to believe it.

One afternoon, we sat together in our favorite café, a quiet little spot hidden in the heart of Seoul.

The world outside was bustling, but inside, it felt like we were in our own little bubble, away from the chaos.

Jungkook leaned over the table, his gaze soft and tender as he reached for my hand.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice serious yet filled with a hint of playfulness.

“We should go somewhere. Just the two of us. No cameras, no distractions. Somewhere where we can be ourselves, without all the noise.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Where?”

He smiled, that mischievous smile that always made my heart flutter. “It’s a surprise. But I promise it’ll be perfect.”

I didn’t need to ask any more questions. I trusted him completely. Jungkook had always been someone who knew how to make me feel special, even in the most ordinary moments.

It was one of the reasons I fell for him in the first place. His ability to turn every moment into something meaningful.

Days later, we found ourselves on a private jet, heading to a secluded beach on a small island far from the hustle and bustle of the city.

It was just the two of us, free to be whoever we wanted to be without the weight of public expectations hanging over us.

The air was warm, the sky a perfect shade of blue, and the ocean stretched out before us in a shimmering expanse.

It felt like we were the only two people in the world.

Jungkook took my hand as we walked along the shoreline, the sound of the waves crashing against the sand filling the air.

“This is it,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “Just us. No one else.”

I looked at him, a sense of peace washing over me. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe freely again.

The media, the hate, the drama, none of it mattered in this moment. All that mattered was that we were together.

“You’re right,” I said softly. “This is perfect.”

Jungkook stopped walking and turned to face me, his expression soft and earnest.

“I know it’s been hard, Y/N. I know I can’t take away all the pain you’ve been feeling, but I hope you know that I’m always here for you. Through everything.”

My heart swelled with emotion as I looked into his eyes.

“I know, Kook. And I’ll never take that for granted. You’ve been my rock, even when everything seemed impossible.”

He smiled, pulling me into a tight hug. “You’re stronger than you think. And you don’t have to face anything alone. I’ve got you, always.”

We stood there for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other’s arms, surrounded only by the sound of the waves and the soft rustling of the breeze.

It was a moment of pure tranquility, a brief respite from the chaos that had ruled our lives for so long.

The following days were filled with laughter, adventure, and a sense of freedom I hadn’t felt in months.

We explored the island, tried new foods, and spent hours simply enjoying each other’s company.

There were no cameras, no headlines, just us, living in the moment.

On the last night of our trip, we sat on the beach, watching the sun set over the horizon.

The sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, and the air was thick with the scent of saltwater and sand.

“I wish we could stay here forever,” I murmured, leaning my head on Jungkook’s shoulder.

He chuckled softly, wrapping his arm around me. “Maybe not forever. But I’d like to come back here with you someday. Just the two of us.”

I smiled, the warmth of his words filling me with happiness. “I’d like that too.”

We sat in comfortable silence, watching as the stars began to twinkle in the night sky. For once, the weight of the world felt light. It was just us, and that was enough.

When we returned to Seoul, the world seemed to have shifted. The media had, for the most part, stopped hounding me.

I was no longer just Jungkook’s girlfriend. Slowly but surely, I had carved out my own space in the public eye, not as a reflection of him, but as my own person.

People began to recognize me not just as an idol’s partner, but as someone who had her own strengths, her own dreams, and her own voice.

It wasn’t easy. There were still days when the negativity would creep in. But now, I was able to handle it with more confidence.

I had Jungkook to thank for that. His unwavering support, his belief in me, and his constant encouragement had helped me rediscover myself.

One day, as we were walking down the street, hand in hand, a group of fans approached us.

They were excited, but this time, instead of shying away, I smiled and waved. They returned the gesture, some of them even shouting how much they loved me.

It was a surreal feeling, a far cry from the hate and venom I had experienced not long ago.

Jungkook squeezed my hand, his grin wide. “Look at you. You’re practically a star now.”

I rolled my eyes, playfully shoving him. “Stop being dramatic. I’m just me.”

But in that moment, I realized something. I had become more than just “Jungkook’s girlfriend.”

I had become my own person, someone people admired, someone they saw for who I truly was.

Jungkook chuckled, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Well, I’ll admit it. I’m a little jealous of how many people adore you now.”

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Jealous? You? The Jeon Jungkook is jealous?”

He smirked. “What can I say? You’re a hot treasure.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re the only one who matters, Kook. Don’t forget that.”

As time passed, our relationship continued to thrive. The media, while still watching us closely, began to accept us.

People no longer saw me as an outsider, but as a part of Jungkook’s world, and in many ways, a part of the K-pop community.

I wasn’t just his girlfriend, I was Y/N. A woman who had fought through adversity and come out stronger on the other side.

And through it all, Jungkook remained my rock. He never wavered in his love for me, and I never wavered in mine for him.

We had weathered the storm together, and we knew that, no matter what came next, we would face it hand in hand.

One evening, as we sat together, watching the sunset from our apartment, Jungkook turned to me with a thoughtful expression.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft,

“I don’t think I could’ve made it through all of this without you. You’ve taught me a lot. You’ve shown me that love isn’t just about the good times. It’s about sticking together when things get tough.”

I smiled, resting my head on his shoulder. “I think we’ve both learned that. And we’ll keep learning, together.”

He kissed the top of my head, his lips lingering for a moment. “I love you, Y/N. More than you’ll ever know.”

“I love you too, Kook,” I whispered back. “And I always will.”

"You're such a sap when being emotional."

"Shut up Y/N, you love it."

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yourusername Little last months photo dumb 🫶

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jjk97 🩷 Liked by author

j.m Did my invite get lost in the mail?

thv Seems like mine got lost too

jjk97 As if 😬

j.m @jjk97 🤨

jimjimtae_1 She's so prettyyy

euphoriajk7 She's living the life purr 💅

jungkookstan_0ne Ew disgusting 🤢

stan4frv Jealous much 🙄

minyyoongs You wish that was you huh 🤪

joonieslicenses12 Get your negativity out of here 🤦‍♀️Jungkook isn't going to pick you 💀

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jjk97 Work & relaxation

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jin Relaxation 🤨? Get back to work.

jjk97 Hyunggggg 🥲

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j.m Jkkkkkkkk

uarmyhope Hard working jungkookieee

The end