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thoughtfulfiction · 5 months ago

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While We’re Young

Author’s note: Anon requested, Hope you all enjoy!

“Wait,” you said, your voice breaking the comfortable silence in the car. You twisted one of your hoodie strings around your finger, tightening your grip on it and staring at Justin as if the realization had just crashed into you. “What if they don’t like me?”

Justin glanced over, his brows furrowing before his expression softened. His hand found its place on your thigh, his thumb tracing a lazy pattern through the fabric of your leggings. You were convinced that his soothing touch could change lives. “They’re going to love you,” he said simply, as though it wasn’t even a question. “My mom’s already planning to interrogate you about your favorite foods so she can cook for you. That’s her love language.”

You wanted to believe him, but your mind was already racing. “I mean, what if they think I’m not good enough for you? Or—oh god—what if I say something stupid and embarrass myself? Bad first impressions are impossible to recover from, and if this doesn't go the way we hope…” You trailed off, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

At the next stoplight, Justin leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “First of all, you couldn’t embarrass yourself even if you tried. And second, I’ve seen you charm complete strangers. My family doesn’t stand a chance.”

Despite his confidence, your nerves didn’t fully settle. “Thanks, babe,” you murmured, managing a small smile. “But what am I supposed to do with the next thirteen hours? That’s so much time for me to go through worse case scenarios.”

“And to make me listen to your Sad Girl playlist,” Justin switched gears to remind you, his lips twitching into a grin.

“Oh, absolutely.” You laughed, connecting your phone to his car’s Bluetooth, taking a break from your negative self-talk. The opening chords of your favorite melancholic ballad filled the car as you leaned back in your seat.

Justin groaned dramatically but didn’t complain. Instead, he reached over to squeeze your hand, the warmth of his skin a quiet and comforting reassurance that you’d carry with you all the way to Eugene.

The fact that he was bringing you was a big deal already but to know that he’d only really done this a couple times made you feel special. Even if he didn’t really say it, he was falling for you just as much as you were falling for him.

Justin pulled you out of your thoughts when he asked, “are you hungry at all? Because I’m thinking about stopping somewhere. I’m starving.”

“Oh yeah, lunch sounds good. I think I saw a Wingstop sign towards this next exit but I can look it up.”

You opted to sit in the car and eat, giving him a long winded breakdown of what you wanted to do and see in Eugene.

“I want the works. Walk me down memory lane. And definitely take me to Nike. It honestly feels illegal not to go to a Nike store where it all started. I’m sure you’re looking to add to your endless collection anyway.” You note with a laugh. If Nike made suits, he'd definitely be first in line.

He gave you a pointed look. “It was an endless collection until I met and started dating a thief. Do you know how many of my sweatshirts I found in your closet this morning while helping you pack? I was looking for the purple one for weeks.”

You laughed so hard you nearly choked on your fries, swapping spots with him after lunch so he could take a break from driving. “Well I’m sorry! It’s not my fault your clothes are so big and they smell like you. Anytime you’re gone I just throw one on and it’s like you’re always with me.”

“Nice save…Catwoman.”

You scoff. “I prefer Robin Hood, actually. Take from the rich and give to the poor. You’re rich, so I take from you and...give to me. The poor.”

“That would work better if I didn’t get most of that stuff for free, but that is a pretty solid comparison.”

After about 8 hours of you being on aux, you decided to cut him so slack and let him take over on music as you continued to drive, mouthing the lyrics of the latest song that was playing from his phone, quickly getting lost in the rhythm.

He glanced over at you, chuckling softly, nodding his head along to the beat. “I didn’t know you were an 80s rock fan.”

“I didn’t either but you played this a few weeks ago while we were making dinner and I’ve been listening to it ever since. Hate to admit it but this is kind of a banger." You smirked, tilting your head toward him. "You know…I won’t tell anyone if you sing.”

Justin immediately starts shaking his head. “No shot. You’re not doing this to me.”

You turned up the music, singing loudly and deliberately off-key as he sighed deeply, his head dropping back against the headrest. But to your surprise, he joined in during the chorus. Both of you were screaming the lyrics to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard, the car practically vibrating with your energy.

“What happens on the road trip stays on the road trip,” he said, holding out his pinky.

“Deal,” you laughed, locking your pinky with his before refocusing on the road.

A few hours later, Justin motioned for you to take the next exit. “Let’s hop out right here. I want to show you something,” he said cryptically.

The stop turned out to be a scenic lookout, the perfect place to watch the sunset with Mt. Shasta looming majestically in the distance. Justin laced his fingers with yours as the two of you walked toward the edge, stretching your legs after hours in the car.

“This is the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen,” you whispered, mesmerized by the golden and pink hues painting the sky.

Justin turned to you with a warm smile, his eyes full of something that made your stomach flutter. “Yeah… me too.”

You smacked his arm, keeping your gaze on the horizon. “Justin, focus. You’re not even looking at the scenery right now.”

“Sorry, I just got really distracted by the view in front of me. It’s kind of become my favorite.” He stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on the top of your head. His beard—something that came and went whenever he felt like it—tickled your temple, making you smile.

Turning around in his arms, you finally look up at him, the sight still stealing your breath even after all this time. His green eyes were softer in the glow of the setting sun, flickering between your eyes and lips as if he couldn’t decide where to focus.

“You’re my favorite view too,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Wouldn’t mind waking up to you for a while...the rest of my life even.”

The words hung in the air, fragile yet heavy with meaning. His brows lifted slightly, and for a moment, you worried you’d said too much. You hadn't even meant to say that last part out loud and you almost backtracked. But then, his lips curled into a small, hesitant smile, like he was processing the weight of your words.

“Really?” he asked, his voice low and steady. His hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “You—you see us doing this? Getting married, spending our lives together?”

The vulnerability in his tone made your heart ache in the best way. “Yeah, I do. Which is funny because I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with.”

Justin didn’t respond immediately, but his actions spoke louder than any words ever could. His hands slid to frame your face fully, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as if memorizing every detail. He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to—but you didn’t.

When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and deliberate, like he was pouring everything he felt but couldn’t say into that one kiss. It wasn’t hurried or frantic; it was the kind of kiss that made the world fade away until it was just the two of you.

His hand gently cradled your head, holding you in place as if he was afraid you might slip away. You gripped the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer, your heart racing as the kiss deepened. There was something so raw, so unspoken in the way his lips moved against yours—it wasn’t just passion; it was promise. Everything you saw, this bright beautiful future together? He saw it too.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting together. He let out a shaky laugh, his hands still cradling your face. “I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with either,” he admitted, his voice hoarse but filled with a quiet certainty. “Until now.”

The kiss lingered for just a moment longer, both of you savoring the connection, the sound of your heartbeat matching the rhythm of your breath. When Justin finally pulled back, there was a brief moment of silence, a quiet understanding between you. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, giving you a small smile before pulling away completely to open the door of the car.

“I think we’ve stalled long enough,” he said, his voice a bit rougher than usual but still carrying that calm confidence you admired. “Let’s get this over with.”

You both shared a laugh, though it felt a bit nervous on your part as the reality of the day hit. You had no idea what to expect, but you knew this was a big moment for Justin—and for you.

Justin took the keys from your hand, giving you one last reassuring squeeze before getting in the driver's seat. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the jittery nerves you hadn’t even realized you were holding onto.

The final leg of the drive felt like it stretched on forever, even though only a few hours had passed since you were on the mountain. There was something different in the air now. The soft, quiet hum of the road felt more like a countdown to something important.

Every few minutes, Justin would glance over at you, a soft smile curling at his lips as if trying to reassure himself just as much as you. His hand eventually found itself encasing yours, his thumb making lazy circles over your skin. He wasn’t saying much, but his presence, calm and unwavering, was more than enough.

When the exit for Eugene finally appeared, you felt your pulse quicken. This was it. This was the moment.

“Here we go,” Justin murmured, his voice somehow more steady than his movements, as he guided the car off the highway and toward the familiar road leading to his childhood home.

The transition felt sudden, but not uncomfortable. It was a quiet moment of realization that everything you’d shared so far had been leading to this point. He was letting you in. You were meeting the people who mattered most to him, the ones who had shaped him into the man he was today.

As you approached the house, you could see the familiar outline of the porch, a few trees swaying in the breeze, and a small garage you guessed held memories of Justin’s childhood. The house was modest, but there was a sense of warmth and familiarity that seemed to radiate from the front door, even from the car.

Justin slowed as he approached, his hand reaching over to squeeze yours one last time before he parked the car. He looked over at you, eyes soft but serious, like he was searching for your reassurance.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with both excitement and nerves.

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah. Ready.”

And with that, the two of you got out of the car and walked toward the front door of his family’s home, the journey that had brought you here feeling like both an ending and a beginning.

The door swung open before you even knocked, and there stood his mom, her arms outstretched.

She was gorgeous, her dark hair a stark contrast to Justin's much lighter features. But she wasn't interested in him at all, making a beeline for you straight away. “Oh, you’re even more beautiful than he said! I’m Holly—come in, come in!"

You barely had time to process her words before you were enveloped in a warm hug, her energy immediately putting you at ease. Over her shoulder, you spot Justin’s dad, Mark, standing on the porch with a reserved smile, and Justin’s brothers are leaning against the doorway, smirking. Justin laughed softly behind you, side stepping you and his mom. "Alright, let her breathe please? It'd be helpful if she made it through this entire night without suffocating," he jokes as his mom pulls away, rolling her eyes as she gives him a hug.

A younger guy who looks almost exactly like a mustached version of your boyfriend greets you next. "Hi, I'm Patrick. Glad Mitch wasn't lying and you are a real person, but pro tip? You're way out of this dork's league," he says with a serious face, nodding his head towards his older brother.

Justin glares at him and doesn't respond, muttering something under his breath that only Patrick catches as he bursts into a fit of laughter. You give Mitch a hug—the familiar face of Justin's older brother a welcome sight. He was a first-year orthopedic surgery resident at UCLA, the perfect situation for him and Justin to live together again. You'd been able to meet him on several occasions which proved useful in easing your nerves about meeting everyone else. “How was the drive? Are you guys staying at the ranch tonight?”

“We are,” you replied with a smile. “I’m really excited to finally see this infamous place.”

Justin’s dad steps forward, his handshake firm but warm, his eyes studying you with quiet curiosity before his face softens into a welcoming smile. “Don’t let these two scare you off. We’re happy to finally meet you. Let's head inside, I think Holly already has the baby pictures set out and ready for you to go through," he smiles, patting Justin on the back as his son shakes his head.

"You're lucky your dad talked me out of making a PowerPoint Presentation because we were seconds away from watching a pre dinner slideshow." Holly says to him with a small smile as everyone steps inside.

Patrick's voice cuts through everyone's laughter, "she's not even kidding, it was about to have music included and everything but dad saved you. I was about to give her some of the best material." He looks over at you, overenunciating for emphasis. "Two words: bowl. Cut."

"See what I have to deal with?" Justin whispers, gently pulling you into his side. Mark and Holly exchange knowing looks but don't say anything.

The house smelled of cinnamon and fresh bread, like warmth itself had settled into the walls. Framed pictures lined the hallways—some faded with time, others vibrant and new—each capturing a story of childhood adventures and hard-won victories. The fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the cozy living room. This wasn’t just a house; it was a sanctuary, a place where love was stitched into the very fabric of its foundation.

On the table in the living room is a stack of photo albums from when Justin was a newborn all the way up until his senior year of college. Countless memories were shared in these frames, a clearly busy but joyful childhood filled with love, laughter and lots of sporting events of all kinds. You could see that this family valued quality time with each other and the home you were in radiated warmth and love.

You ran your fingers lightly over the plastic covering of one album, tracing the faded marker label: Justin – Year 3. Inside, a chubby-cheeked toddler grinned back at you, his tiny facial features stretched in a mischievous but slightly forced smile.

“He never changed,” Patrick teased. “Still hates cameras.”

His words made you laugh a little because it was true, but you also saw something deeper. A boy who had grown up in a home where love wasn’t measured in trophies or contracts but in moments. The same boy who had fought to protect his private life in the face of stadium lights and national attention. You understood now—it wasn’t about secrecy. It was about keeping his people, the most important part of him, safe.

Your gaze flickered to Justin, his fingers tapping against his thigh—a telltale sign of deep thought. He wasn’t just reminiscing. He was remembering what it felt like to carry all of this, to be seen as something larger than life before he even had a chance to grow into it. And yet, here, he wasn’t the NFL quarterback. He was just...Justin.

"He was the starter by the end of that season, kind of became the hometown hero from then," Mitch sighs, sifting through some of the photos. "Things kind of got chaotic after that, with comparisons and people talking on social media."

"It was annoying," Justin cuts in, "deleted my Instagram after that. Only got it back around the draft for endorsement purposes." His words are dry, like it was painful or embarrassing thinking back to that time.

You had always respected, even admired, Justin’s need for privacy. But sitting here, surrounded by the people who had shaped him, you understood where it all came from: it wasn’t just about keeping the world out—it was about keeping his world safe. The weight of expectations, the relentless scrutiny, the unspoken pressure to be perfect—it had started young. He hadn’t chosen to be private. He had been forced to learn how to protect the things that mattered most.

And that’s what this house and his family was.

His one refuge from a world that always wanted more.

"Alright," Holly says, breaking you out of your epiphany, "who's ready to eat?"

This was a family you could definitely see yourself being a part of. Justin seemed so much more relaxed and at ease here which was a stark contrast to what you'd seen from him recently. His job was unforgiving, unrelenting. And the fans? You thanked your lucky stars daily for the fact that Justin wasn't on Twitter, especially after the Houston loss. This is where he belonged, these were his people. They didn't care about the stats or the money or everything that came with it and that's exactly how he wanted to be treated. He had a home in these people. He'd only found that comfort and peace one other time since he left Eugene.

And that was when he met you.

Dinner went on seamlessly, Mark joking asked if you two had a wedding date set after watching his son not-so-subtly check in on you throughout your stay. There were inside jokes, little moments of laughter from your relationship with Justin like how you had to adjust to his crazy hours in the facility from Monday-Wednesday but Thursdays were the days that really mattered, it was just the two of you. And sometimes Mitch and Isabella. But those were the days that brought you even closer, those little moments, just like this one that brought you so much joy it felt like you'd explode. There was easy laughter, Patrick telling some story about Justin being so private and how much he likes to keep to himself that he never thought he'd see this day. You spoke up and reassured him that you think you've successfully peeled back some layers and found your best friend in the process. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Mitch giving Patrick a nudge. Even Mark cracked a little smile, but all you could focus on was Justin's subtle smile that spoke volumes, in his own unique way. After everyone was finished with their meal, you found yourself in the kitchen with Holly, helping her plate dessert while the guys debated football in the other room.

“He’s different with you, you know.” She nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel before leaning against the counter.

Your hands froze mid-reach. A small knot of nerves twisted in your stomach. “Different good or…?”

She smiled, her eyes soft with something unreadable. “Good. Really good.” There was a wistfulness in her expression, something unspoken lingering in the air. “You remind me of someone.”

You tilted your head, curiosity sparking. “Oh?”

“His grandma. My mom,” she said, voice quieter now, like the weight of memory had settled over her. “She was the only one who could ever get my dad to slow down. He was always moving—always thinking about the next challenge, the next goal. But with her, it was…different. She had this way of pulling him back to the present, reminding him that love isn’t measured in achievements. That life isn’t just about what you do—it’s about who you share it with.”

Her eyes met yours then, her meaning unmistakable. “Seeing you and Justin felt very similar to seeing them together again. It’s really nice to see him be with someone who helps him to reel it in a little.”

Your heart clenched, warmth blooming in your chest. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, forcing out a small laugh. “Well, he’s still a workaholic, so I might not be that good at it.”

Holly chuckled. “That’s just who he is. But I see the way he looks at you. The way he’s always checking in. You’re his home. His safe space.” She paused, and added softly, “And that’s all a mother could ever want for her son.”

You blinked back the unexpected sting of tears and watched as Holly swiped at her eyes. Before you could really process what you were doing, you were hugging her again. All the nerves and tension from earlier have completely vanished. Justin might not say much, but his actions had always spoken volumes. And now, hearing it from his mom—knowing that she saw it too—meant more than you could put into words.

The two of you walked back in with trays holding little bowls filled with apple crisp and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top with caramel drizzle.

As Justin watched you, something settled in his chest—a feeling he hadn’t even known he was searching for. His mom was smiling at you in that way she only did when she had already decided someone was family. His dad—usually quiet, reserved—nodded along to your words like he genuinely enjoyed the conversation. His brothers, relentless as ever, had already started pulling you into their teasing.

And there you were. Sitting beside him, laughing like you belonged here. Because you did.

An hour later, after lingering goodbyes and a few last jokes, you walked side by side to his car. As Justin slid into the driver’s seat, he exhaled slow and deep. A weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying finally lifted. Maybe it was the fear of his two worlds colliding. Maybe it was the quiet, unspoken worry that you wouldn’t fit into this part of his life.

But you did. Seamlessly. Effortlessly. Like you were always meant to.

“Well,” you said, patting his thigh with a teasing grin, “that went great. Can’t believe you were so freaked out.”

He turned to you, feigning offense before shaking his head with a laugh. The sound of it filled the car, warm and easy. You joined in, your laughter melting into his as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

This. This is what home should feel like.

Justin leaned over, pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “Told you they’d love you,” he murmured.

But as he pulled back, hand still wrapped around yours, the thought hit him like a slow-burning realization.

I think I might love you too.

#justin herbert #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert x reader #justin herbert fic

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gojossocks · 2 years ago

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Pathetic

Pairing: AU!Sukuna x reader Genre: angst Content: the title says it all, pathetic ‘kuna core. Sukuna cockblocked himself because he's afraid of commitment :DD a bit of gojo x reader at the end bc y/n deserves love. Wc: 1.2k

“Stop being so pathetic.” He had declared, his words cutting through the air like shards of ice.

But you, ever resolute, had refused to let his harshness deter you. Sukuna knows how much his sentence has hurt you. Your hands were trembling as you reached his, desperately seeking connection. Tears glistened in your eyes, your voice was quivering but you smiled at him through your blurred vision.

“We could work it out right, ‘Kuna?” you implored, your voice soft yet it held so much weight. “Please talk to me. I don’t need anything else! I just need you. We don’t have to get married or anything. I am content just being with you. I love you.”

Sukuna’s gaze remains distant, his eyes fixed on the table behind you. He isn’t looking at you anymore. His response was dispassionate and void of the warmth he used to give you. “It’s not that. I just don’t love you anymore, Y/N.”

He watched you break and he watched you swallow your sobs as you clutched his hand tighter. “That’s okay,” you whispered, your voice desperate, barely more than a breath. “You loved me once, I could make you do it again. Tell me what to change and I’ll change for you, love.”

“I don’t care. I’m leaving.” He pulled his hand away, leaving you alone in your once shared bedroom. He still remembered the sounds of your sobs down the hallway as he walked out of your life.

Sukuna was always sure of himself that day he left you. He had said it so indifferently, so carelessly, as if he didn’t spend years being loved by you. He thought he moved on quite easily— bouncing from one woman to another, getting drunk on his own success, and wasting the rest of his twenties on meaningless connections. The hollowness of it all continued to haunt him.

It’s been half a decade trying to ignore the ache that has been gnawing at his heart. And it wasn’t until he saw you again did the gravity of his actions finally catched up to him.

It was supposed to be your anniversary and Sukuna finds himself pathetically walking into the places you once walked with him. He claimed he forgot about you but his feet always drag him to the remnants of you every year, without fail. He convinced himself it was just a mere coincidence that he walked to the same park where he first hugged you, how you fit right into his arms like you were made exactly for him. He finds himself dining in the restaurant you love so much, and he wonders if you still go there to order your favorite food.

He didn’t want to lay on his bed because he would think about how you used to run your hands through his hair when he’s upset or stressed. He would think about the warmth and comfort radiating out of you when he pulls you closer to him.

He told himself he had forgotten about you when he still hadn't thrown away the polaroid of the two of you, smiling softly as you kissed his cheeks. It was still in his wallet and he never bothered to change the photo. He remembers the way you clung to his arm, excitedly pointing out the changing leaves as autumn envelops the weather. He called you an idiot but you scrunch your nose at him and pulled him to a kiss. He remembers you dragging him into a movie theater to watch a cheesy romantic comedy. He got bored midway but he stayed anyway because he didn’t like seeing the pout on your face.

And he couldn’t rid what you had left him despite not taking any of your belongings when he left. He finds you in his morning coffee, how he drinks it with creamer and sugar because you told him it tasted better. He still gets your favorite laundry detergent every time he shops and he still folds his shirts the way you taught him to.

He thinks of you every sunrise, you once told him it’s a privilege to see the sun come alive right before your eyes and he stays up until morning just so he could pretend he’s seeing it with you.

Why is he mourning over a person who is very much alive?

He lets himself wonder if you think about him too, if you’ve forgiven him. His hands itch to call you to apologize or to ask to see you. He stops himself every time.

In the first year of your break up, he scrolled through your social media accounts to catch a glimpse of your life. You blocked him on everything the following year.

He drowned himself in his vices once more to numb that void you left. And once the party’s over, he would return to his empty mansion, clutching the only relic he has of you— the sweater you left at his place. It didn’t have any traces of your favorite perfume anymore yet he still hung on to it. In those moments, he allowed himself to regret his decision.

What would his life turn out if he told you what was on his mind?

It finally dawned on him when he saw you that day. You were still as radiant and you were smiling just as bright. You still looked like the same woman he walked away from years ago. The same woman he still loves. Only, you looked happier, your joy evident in every step you took. Sukuna watched you emerge from your favorite cafe, holding your coffee in one hand, a ring on your finger. The sight sent a shiver down his spine.

In your arms, cradled tenderly, was a child. Sukuna knew without a doubt that he was yours, the same eyes that had once held his heart were now reflected in your son’s eyes. White strands adorned your son’s hair, and Sukuna suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe.

He had never entertained the thought that he would ever see you with someone who wasn’t him. But now, as he stood there, he couldn’t deny the fact that he had no place in your life anymore.

You had settled down and gotten married to none other than Gojo Satoru.

He watched as your husband approached you, whispering something in your ear that made you giggle and smile harder. He watched as Gojo brushes your hair out of your face, taking your son from your arms so he could hold your hand.

Sukuna watched as Gojo Satoru gave you everything he couldn’t.

It felt like the gods were mocking him. And oh how Sukuna knew he messed up when he saw how you looked at Gojo the way you used to look at him.

It was supposed to be him.

He turned and walked away again before you could see him, paying his last respect to your own peace and happiness. Every step he took felt like daggers into his heart.

It’s pathetic, isn’t it?

wanna read more?

#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x reader angst #sukuna x reader angst #sukuna x reader oneshot #sukuna x you oneshot #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna fic #jujutsu kaisen x reader angst #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #sukuna angst

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sasheemo · 7 months ago

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Friday Thoughts

Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Sunday morning’s spicy haze gives way to a heartfelt conversation about your future together. But with Agatha’s signature flair, it’s anything but ordinary.

Chapter Tags: Jealous Reader, Domestic Bliss, Nicky is Basically a Tiny Wingman, Happy Ending, Fluff Ending, Slow(ish) Burn Payoff, Smut

Word Count: 8.9k

A/N: Chapter 4 dropped on Christmas Eve, and now Chapter 5 is here New Year's Eve—what can I say, I aim for festive timing! 😬

I know I’m not the fastest writer, and I’m sooo sorry about that, but this final chapter had me second-guessing everything right up until the very end.

It was supposed to be short and sweet. No smut. No Rio cameos. Just a heartfelt conversation to wrap everything up neatly. But… well, apparently I can’t resist a little extra spice and some fluff. So instead of “short and sweet,” you’re getting “long and indulgent.” You’re welcome.

Oh, and fair warning—this chapter has a lot of dialogue. But I promise I did my best to make it… engaging wink wink 😏

This is my first-ever completed multi-chapter fic, and honestly? I’m a mix of proud and devastated to be saying goodbye to it. These two have been living rent-free in my head for a while now, and I really hope this ending does them justice.

Thank you to everyone who’s been along for this wild ride—it’s been a joy writing this story, and your support has meant everything. As always, I can’t wait to hear what you think! Here’s to the happy ending these two (and you, let’s be real) deserve. Enjoy and Happy New Year! 💜🥳

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

All you can hear is the relentless pounding of your own heartbeat, each thud drowning out your thoughts as you search for the words.

Agatha’s watching you, her gaze sharp but not unkind. Her hand rests lightly on your arm—a simple, grounding touch—but it might as well be a flame branding your skin, its warmth sending waves of tension rippling through you.

The weight of her presence, the intensity of her eyes, the way her touch seems to anchor you in place, it all builds to a point where you feel like you might snap. You take a step back, breaking the connection, though the movement is hesitant, almost reluctant.

Agatha lets her hand fall without protest, her brow lifting slightly in curiosity as she watches you retreat.

Your feet begin to move instinctively, pacing back and forth across the room as you try to untangle the storm of thoughts in your head. The soft sounds of your bare feet against the hardwood floor create a rhythm, something tangible to focus on as you walk a short line, turn, and walk it again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Agatha shifting her stance. She takes a couple of steps back and leans casually against the dresser, crossing her arms over her chest with an ease that contrasts maddeningly with your spiraling.

Her hair falls loosely over her shoulders, the soft light catching on its dark waves. Her expression is calm, almost amused, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips as she tracks your movements.

After a couple of minutes of incessant pacing, you don’t even need to look at her to know she’s probably fighting the urge to laugh. She sighs, low and exasperated, though there’s no real annoyance in it.

“Come here, hon.” her voice cuts through the fog in your mind like a blade, steady and commanding.

You freeze mid-step, glancing toward her, your pulse quickening at the simple authority in her tone.

Slowly, you approach, hesitant but unable to resist the pull of her presence. You stop just short of closing the distance, leaving a fragile sliver of space between you—a barrier you cling to, as much for your own composure as for a chance to steady the storm inside.

Every part of you aches to close the gap, but you hold back, convincing yourself that this small distance is the only way to face her with a clear mind.

Agatha doesn’t push, doesn’t reach for you. Instead, she stays where she is, leaning against the dresser, her eyes fixed on yours with piercing intensity. Her stillness feels intentional, as though she’s giving you space to breathe, to think, while still holding you firmly in her orbit.

“Well?” she prompts, her voice a velvety blend of calm and command. “Whatever’s got you pacing like a caged animal, it’s time to spit it out.”

You let out a sharp breath, your shoulders slumping slightly as the tension inside you finally breaks.

“Doesn’t this worry you?” you ask, your voice tight with nervous energy.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific, hon.” she replies smoothly, her tone effortlessly confident. “What part of this is supposed to worry me?”

You gesture vaguely with your hands, the words tumbling out clumsily as you try to give shape to your thoughts. “I mean… all of it? Us. Nicholas. What if—what if this gets messy?”

Her smirk deepens, and she tilts her head, studying you with that maddening, amused expression, like she’s already figured you out and is just waiting for you to catch up.

“Messy?” she repeats, the word rolling off her tongue with a teasing lilt. “Sweetheart, the only thing messy about this is how you’re tying yourself into knots over it.”

“I’m serious, Agatha.” you scoff defensively, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So am I, hon.” her voice sharpens slightly, firm but not harsh. “Look, I’m not saying there won’t be challenges. But whatever they are, they’re not anything two grown women can’t handle.”

“So… what exactly is it that’s worrying you?” she presses, her tone softening just a fraction.

Her question hangs in the air, and the weight of her gaze settles over you like a warm, steady pressure. You glance away, trying to collect yourself, before meeting her eyes again.

“It’s everything.” you admit, your voice quieter now. “I just… I don’t know how this works. How we work.”

Agatha doesn’t respond. She just watches you, but there’s no rush in her gaze, no impatience—just a quiet expectation, as if she knows the words are there and trusts you to find them on your own.

Her unexpected steadiness makes something inside you loosen. For some reason, you thought Agatha might struggle with conversations like this—emotional topics, deep and vulnerable. It never seemed like her thing, at least in your mind.

But now, seeing her so composed, so unshaken by the storm you’ve brought to her, you realize that maybe she was expecting this, maybe she’s known this conversation was inevitable long before you did.

And somehow, her calm confidence makes it easier to breathe.

“I just…” you trail off, running a hand through your hair. “I need to know. When did this start? When did you start… feeling like this about me?”

Her brows lift slightly, and for a moment, genuine surprise flickers across her face. It vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by that familiar smirk curling at the corner of her lips.

“That’s a tough one to answer.” she begins, her voice carrying a thoughtful edge. “It wasn’t some grand epiphany. More like… a collection of little moments, each one adding up until I couldn’t ignore them anymore.”

There’s a faint trace of annoyance in her tone, not aimed at you but at the sheer audacity of the realization itself. Like the idea that you’ve been occupying so much space in her mind is a personal affront she’s still coming to terms with—and even now, it seems to bruise her pride just a little.

“Like what?” you press with quiet insistence, a thread of determination woven through the words.

Agatha tilts her head, her smirk softening as her gaze narrows, calculating. For a moment, she looks almost reluctant to speak, as if she’s weighing how much to tell you.

“You remember that afternoon a couple of months ago,” she starts, her tone deceptively casual. “when you showed up drenched from head to toe? It was pouring outside, and you still walked in here grinning like an idiot, dripping all over my floors.”

You blink, caught off guard by the memory. “Yeah, what about it?”

“I thought to myself,” she murmurs, her eyes drifting as if replaying the scene, “how does someone look that damn happy while freezing and soaking wet? And why the hell can’t I stop staring at her?”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, your cheeks heating as your gaze darts away from hers. Instinctively, you feel the urge to take a step back, a reflexive retreat from the intensity of the moment.

But this time, Agatha reaches out, moving as though she’s read your mind.

She leans forward slightly, her hand grazing your wrist as her fingers curl lightly around it, tugging with just enough firmness to pull you a fraction closer to her.

“And then…” she continues, her voice gaining that teasing edge that always leaves you off-balance, “You’d leave those little treats from the café on the kitchen table. Like some saintly delivery girl, making sure Nicholas had something sweet after school and I had something waiting for me after work. You didn’t think I noticed, did you?”

“I just thought—” you begin, stammering slightly, but she cuts you off with a wave of her hand.

“You thought I was too busy to notice, or that I didn’t care.” she says, her tone mockingly serious now, though her smirk never wavers.

Her fingers trail from your wrist to your hip as she speaks, and it takes a moment for you to realize you’ve unconsciously taken a step closer, the space between you narrowing with each passing second.

“And you,” she continues, her voice dipping lower, “always smelled like coffee after your morning shifts. That scent… it stuck with me. Sometimes I’d walk into the kitchen at night, hours after you left, and I could still smell it. God, I started to notice it everywhere. It drove me insane.”

Your breath catches at her words, and again as her other hand joins the first, both settling firmly on your hips. With a final, deliberate tug, she guides you into the space between her legs, her warmth radiating against you, drawing you into her orbit completely.

“And then there was last Friday night.” she breathes, her voice steeped in an intimacy that makes every word feel like a secret. “I came home and found you on the couch with Nicky curled up next to you. I stood there just staring at you both. I couldn’t stop thinking about how… safe he looked with you. How much he trusts you. How cute the two of you looked together like that.”

The weight of her words leaves you momentarily stunned, but before you can process them fully, a darker thought claws its way to the forefront of your mind.

“And the other Fridays?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

Her brow arches, and the sharpness in her expression returns, a glint of mischief sparking in her eyes. “What about them?”

“You know what I mean.” you say, crossing your arms tightly, trying to shield yourself from the sudden vulnerability you feel. “All those nights you came home late, looking… like that.”

Agatha sighs, the sound low and laced with mock boredom, yet the gentle squeeze of her hands on your hips betrays her true feelings—anything but indifferent. It’s not real annoyance, more a carefully crafted exasperation tinged with amusement, as if, deep down, she’s savoring how your relentless, probing questions are playing perfectly into her hands.

“Most of them were business dinners.” she says, her voice firm and matter-of-fact. “Clients, potential partners. Necessary evils, nothing exciting.”

“But not all of them.” you press, your voice sharper now, frustration lacing your words.

“No.” she remarks dryly. “Not all of them.”

“How many were dates?” you demand, the jealousy you’ve been trying to suppress bubbling to the surface hot and fast despite your best efforts to tamp it down.

“Does it matter?” she counters smoothly, her tone cool but not dismissive.

“It does to me.” you snap before you can stop yourself.

“Fine, a few. But none of them were serious, hon.” she says, and you could swear her voice is playful, almost teasing, as if she can sense the jealousy burning you alive and is enjoying every second of it.

“Define ‘serious.’” you scoff, your hands coming up to push lightly against her shoulders, but she doesn’t budge an inch.

“One dinner.” she states with a shrug, her tone infuriatingly calm and offhand. “Maybe some fun at their place afterwards, but that’s it. It was never anything more.”

Her honesty stings, even if it’s what you wanted, what you asked for. You look away, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the jealousy from overtaking you.

“And last Friday night?” you press, your voice barely above a whisper. The words feel heavy as they leave your lips, your pulse quickening with a mix of apprehension and the need to know. “What happened before you came home and found me and Nicky on the couch?”

Her grin turns inexplicably wicked as her hands slide lower to firmly your ass. With a deliberate tug, she pulls you flush against her, your hips colliding in a way that sends heat racing up your spine.

“Last Friday night was a date, sweetheart.” she begins, her tone maddeningly casual, like she’s recounting a a dull anecdote rather than making your blood boil. “She tried to kiss me outside the restaurant and invited me to her place.”

She pauses just long enough for the words to sink in, her eyes glinting with amusement as she gauges your reaction.

The words hit you like a cold gust of wind, and your chest tightens, jealousy fizzling hot and insistent in your stomach. Her nonchalance feels like a knife twisting, and you’re sure she can sense it, her smirk widening ever so slightly as her eyes lock onto yours.

You force yourself to hold her gaze, but the casual edge of her tone, the way she seems so unaffected, is almost too much to bear. A hundred thoughts race through your mind, each one more unbearable than the last. You’re not sure whether to scoff, snap, or step away, but before you can decide, Agatha’s voice cuts through the tension again.

“But…”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, and her expression shifts, the confidence that usually cloaks her like armor faltering ever so slightly. It’s subtle, but enough to make you feel the weight of whatever she’s about to say.

She exhales through her nose, the hesitation palpable as though she’s debating whether to say the words out loud.

When she finally does, her voice is lower, dipping into a gentleness that catches you completely off guard, each word laced with a quiet vulnerability that makes your heart stutter.

“When I politely declined her offer… I called her by your name.”

You blink. Once. Twice. your brain firing on all cylinders yet somehow managing to stall completely. Surely, you must have misheard her.

And then she winks. And it’s game over.

Your eyes widen to comical proportions, your jaw drops like it’s auditioning for a slapstick comedy, and you’re pretty sure your entire face is now brighter than a chili pepper under a spotlight.

At your reaction, Agatha’s smirk blossoms into its full, mischievous glory, positively dripping with wicked delight—a clear indicator that she’s savoring every second of your mental implosion.

“You what?!” you practically squawk, the words bursting out louder and more incredulous than you thought humanly possible.

Agatha chuckles, low and rich, the sound rolling over you like a warm wave. The sheer satisfaction glinting in her eyes is almost maddening, and her hands, still resting on your ass, shift slightly—her fingers brushing against the loose fabric of your shorts in a way that feels far too casual given the bombshell she just dropped.

“No, no, wait.” you stammer, still trying to process. “You’re telling me you, Agatha Harkness—confident, poised, never-misses-a-beat Agatha Harkness—actually called someone by the wrong name? My name? On a date? I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t exactly strike me as the type to… you know… trip over your own rizz like that.”

She tilts her head, one brow arching in mock warning as her eyes lock onto yours, a look that clearly says, Careful, hon, don’t push your luck. It’s playful, yes, but there’s just enough edge in her gaze to make your breath hitch, like she’s daring you to test her patience.

“Trust me, sweetheart, no one was more surprised than me.” she admits with dry amusement as the faintest shrug rolls off her shoulders.

But there’s a betraying flicker in her eyes, a glimmer of self-deprecation, and you can tell she’s trying very hard to hold back laughter herself at this point.

“So, you’re standing there, at the end of your very hot date or whatever, and just—what? Randomly blurt out my name?” you ask, the teasing edge in your voice growing sharper as you fight the urge to giggle.

“It wasn’t quite like that.” she corrects, “We were outside the restaurant, and she leaned in—clearly angling for a kiss. I… stopped her before it went that far.” she continues as her smirk deepens. “But then she still invited me back to her place, and… well, that’s when it happened. Your name name came out instead of whatever hers was. Clear as day.”

The image plays out in your head: Agatha standing there with some impossibly glamorous woman, utterly composed until… she isn’t. The thought sends a strange mix of emotions swirling through you—jealousy, disbelief, and something dangerously close to triumph.

“Why didn’t you…?” you hesitate, your voice faltering as the question comes out before you can stop yourself. “Why didn’t you just go home with her?”

“It wouldn’t have made much sense, would it?” she replies with a shrug, as if you’ve just asked the most obvious question in the world.

“Why not?” you push, your heart pounding now.

“Because it wouldn’t have mattered. The whole date was a lousy attempt to stop thinking about the fact that I wanted my hot, younger babysitter.”

Your breath hitches, heat rushing to your face at her words. They land between you, heavy and electric, making it impossible to look away.

“And I knew,” she continues, her voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial, “that if I’d gone home with her, it wouldn’t have changed anything. I’d have spent the whole night imagining it was you. Hell, I spent the entire dinner doing that.”

The honesty in her words steals the breath from your lungs, leaving you momentarily stunned. Her confession is playful and teasing, but it’s also raw, stripped of any pretense, leaving no room for doubt.

“You’ve been in my head, sweetheart, for longer than you realize. Last Friday night just made it impossible to keep pretending otherwise.”, her words come out almost in a sigh, laced with exasperation, like this whole ordeal has been just as maddening for her as it has been for you.

Your thoughts are spinning, a chaotic swirl of emotions you can’t quite untangle, but the way she’s looking at you—steady, unshaken, and utterly sure—anchors you in place. Her gaze is magnetic, pulling you toward a singular truth that feels impossible to ignore, and there’s only one thing your mind is screaming at you to do.

Your hands fly to her neck, fingers tangling in the soft waves of her hair as your lips crash into hers. The kiss is anything but gentle—urgent, unrestrained, a collision of pent-up tension, jealousy and raw need.

Agatha stiffens for a second, caught off guard, but the hesitation melts as quickly as it came.

She responds with equal fervor, her lips moving against yours with a commanding urgency that steals the breath from your lungs. When she finally breaks away, it’s not in retreat but with a low, surprised laugh that vibrates against your lips.

“Well.” she drawls, her voice roughened with amusement and provocation, her lips still brushing yours, “If jealousy makes you this needy, I might just make it a habit to mention my Friday nights more often.”

Your face burns as you glare at her, though the heat in your chest only intensifies.

“Don’t even try it.” you snap, tugging slightly at her bottom lip with your teeth as your voice drops to a playful warning. “I mean it, Agatha.”

Agatha chuckles, the sound rumbling through her chest as one of her hands drifts from your hips to the front of your shorts, her fingers toying lazily with the waistband.

The casual, almost absent motion ignites a wildfire beneath your skin, leaving every nerve alight and your body coiled tight with anticipation.

She slips one thigh between yours, nudging gently to widen your stance, and your hands instinctively clutch her shoulders for balance. Before you can steady yourself, her fingers dip beneath the fabric, brushing the edge of your panties.

Her smirk deepens, her eyes gleaming with sinful intent that sends a tremor through your knees, as if she’s already savoring the exact moment she’ll make you fall apart.

“But baby…” she murmurs, leaning in until her lips brush the shell of your ear, her voice dropping into something dark and honey-sweet. “Needy looks sooo good on you”

Her voice alone sends a pulse straight to your core, and when her fingers dip lower, slipping past the edge of your panties to press against your soaked folds, the moan that rips from your throat is nothing short of pornographic.

You’re drenched, embarrassingly so, and the slick sound of her fingers gliding through your arousal only makes it worse.

She doesn’t even try to conceal her delight, letting out a throaty, satisfied hum that vibrates against your skin. It’s a sound of pure indulgence, as though she’s reveling in the way your body responds so eagerly, so quickly, to her words, to her touches.

“Agatha—fuck!” you gasp, your voice trembling with a mix of need and protest as your hips buck involuntarily against her hand. “We’re not… we’re not done talking.”

Her lips curl into a grin as she pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes gleaming with a challenge as her fingers slide deeper, spreading your wetness with excruciatingly languid strokes.

“Oh, I know.” she purrs, her tone dripping with faux innocence as her fingers tease your entrance. “Go on, baby. Keep talking.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to—”

The sentence dies in your throat, replaced by a strangled moan as two fingers slide into you effortlessly. The sound of your wetness fills the room, obscene and loud, and you can’t stop the strangled cry that escapes when she curls her fingers just right.

“I’ve been patient, haven’t I?” she asks smoothly, her smirk widening as her thumb brushes a lazy, maddeningly light circle over your clit. “I’ve let you ask all your questions, answered them, and I’m still here for the rest. But…”. She punctuates her next words with a deep thrust, her palm grinding against your clit in a way that makes your breath hitch. “It’s time you start giving me something back, don’t you think?”

“Oh my God—fuck!” you groan, your head dropping to her shoulder as your hips grind against her hand, chasing the pleasure she’s so expertly coaxing from you.

Your legs tremble, barely holding you up, and the wet, filthy sound of her fingers moving inside you makes your face burn with humiliation and need.

“That’s it.” she hums, her voice low and approving as her free hand moves to tangle in your hair, tilting your head so her lips graze your ear. “Be a good girl and try for me, mmh?”

“Agatha, please.” you whimper, your nails digging into her shoulders as your walls clench around her fingers. “I can’t—I can’t focus when you’re—mmh—when you’re doing that.”

“Sure, you can. And you will.” she murmurs, her thumb pressing harder against your clit in rhythm with her thrusts. “You’ll think, talk, listen, and take everything I’m giving you, just like the clever girl I know you are.”

Her praise is a double-edged sword, both a balm and a brand, sending warmth flooding through you while also igniting a stubborn need to meet her challenge. Gritting your teeth, you force your voice to form a single, coherent thought.

“N-nicholas.” you stammer, your voice barely intelligible as pleasure and worry collide in your chest. “What about—oh, fuck—what about Nicholas? What if— what if this messes everything up for him?”

Agatha’s smirk softens just slightly, though her fingers don’t falter, their pace steady and relentless.

“Nicholas is smarter than most adults, baby.” she murmurs, her voice impossibly calm and confident even as you whimper against her shoulder. “He’s practically a human lie detector. Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already picked up on something.”

“Besides, he adores you.” she continues casually, as if you aren’t completely falling apart in her arms. “As long as we handle this carefully—and don’t, you know, start fucking in the living room while he’s watching cartoons—he’ll be fine.”

You let out a strangled laugh, though it quickly dissolves into a moan as her fingers curl deeper, hitting a spot that makes your entire body tense.

“But—but what if he—oh my God—doesn’t take it well?”

“Sweetheart.” she murmurs, her free hand tilting your chin up to meet her gaze, her eyes impossibly tender yet razor-sharp. “Stop overthinking. We’ll handle it. Together.”

You nod weakly, unable to form a rational response as she quickens her pace, driving you closer to the edge with every thrust.

But before you can let yourself fall completely into the haze of pleasure, another thought claws its way to the surface.

“And Rio?” you choke out, though your voice is barely a whisper now, trembling with the effort of holding on. “What happens when she—fuck—when she finds out?”

“Rio doesn’t have a say in my life anymore.” she drawls, her smirk widening into something downright predatory as her fingers thrust deeper, harder, drawing a strangled cry from your throat. “Sure, we keep things civil for Nicholas’s sake, but beyond that? She can think whatever she wants. It won’t change a damn thing.”

“But—but what if—mmh yes—what if she makes it hard for us?”

“What’s she gonna do, huh?” Agatha arches a brow, her free hand gripping your waist to steady you as your legs start to tremble. “Get all huffy and judgmental? Let her.”

Her confidence ripples through you, grounding and infuriating all at once, even as her pace grows brutal. Your walls clench tighter around her, the pressure in your belly building to an unbearable height. Yet one last question remains lodged in the back of your throat.

When it finally tumbles out, your voice cracks under the weight of it. “And what if you… what if you get tired of me?”

Agatha freezes for a heartbeat, her gaze pinning yours in place with a fierce, almost dangerous intensity that takes your breath away.

“I won’t.” she snaps, her tone so firm, so unshakable, it’s as if the very idea is offensive.

Her gaze drops pointedly to where her fingers disappear into you, sliding out glistening before thrusting back in with a wet, filthy sound, over and over again.

“If you could see yourself right now—falling apart on my fingers, so perfect, so mine—you’d know just how impossible that question is.”

Her words land like a thunderclap and your body shudders violently, your legs trembling so hard you’re certain you’d collapse if it weren’t for the firm, possessive grip she keeps on your waist.

And then, as if to punish you for your suggestion, or perhaps to drive her point home with devastating clarity, she slides a third finger into you without warning. The stretch is intense, toeing the line between pleasure and overwhelming, and you let out a strangled cry that tears through the room.

Her thumb presses harder, faster, against your clit as her fingers work you open. It’s deliberate, merciless, as though she’s staking her claim in every possible way, daring you to question her devotion again.

“That’s it, baby.” she hums, her voice dark and velvety, her satisfaction palpable in the way her lips curl into a smirk against your temple. “Taking me so well… so fucking perfect.”

Her words only add fuel to the fire blazing inside you, and you’re helpless to stop the wrecked, broken moans spilling from your lips as her pace quickens.

Your body arches involuntarily, seeking more, needing more, as the pressure builds impossibly higher, threatening to snap with every flick of her thumb and thrust of her fingers.

You silently call on every divine entity, ancient force, or cosmic fluke you can think of, just to ensure she’ll grant the desperate plea teetering on the edge of your lips.

“Please!” the word escapes you as a desperate sob, raw and aching as your hands clutch her shoulders. “Please, Agatha—fuck, I need to—”

“Come for me, baby.” her command cuts you off, slicing through the haze like a blade and shattering you completely.

Your body seizes, the coil in your belly snapping violently as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, relentless and all-consuming.

Wetness gushes from you, coating her hand and soaking the fabric of your shorts as she continues to work you through it, her fingers dragging unrelentingly along your walls, sending shivers through every nerve.

“Fuck, look at you.” she breathes, her tone edged with awe and sinful pride as your walls spasm around her fingers, gripping her so tightly it’s a wonder she can still move. “So messy for me.”

The intensity is almost unbearable, your cries escalating into a scream that rips from your throat as the pleasure crests in waves, each more powerful than the last.

Agatha doesn’t let up, her movements steady and calculated, prolonging your pleasure until the last waves finally begin to ebb.

Her hand on your waist tightens, grounding you as her lips press soft, soothing kisses along your jaw, a stark contrast to the raw intensity of what she’s just done to you.

As you collapse against her, your breathing ragged and uneven, she slows her fingers, her touch gentler now as she carefully withdraws, her hand glistening with your release.

She presses a lingering kiss to your temple, her voice impossibly tender despite the smug satisfaction lacing it.

“See? I knew you could do it. Such a good girl for me.” she murmurs, her words a caress that feels like velvet against your frayed senses.

Her free hand strokes slow, appeasing circles against your lower back, grounding you as the tremors in your body begin to ebb.

The room feels impossibly quiet now, the only sounds your labored breathing and the warm, satisfied chuckle that hums through Agatha’s chest.

“You’re insufferable.” you mumble weakly against her neck, your voice hoarse and cracked, though there’s a stifled laugh buried beneath the exhaustion.

“And yet….” she purrs, lifting your chin with a single, deft finger until your gaze meets hers. Her piercing eyes hold yours captive, but there’s a glimmer of something softer beneath the smirk curling at her lips—something achingly tender, almost reverent. “Here we are.”

Her thumb brushes over your cheek, the simple, affectionate gesture robbing you of what little breath you’ve managed to reclaim.

You blink up at her, still dazed, a faint, incredulous smile pulling at your lips.

“Here we are,” you echo, your voice trembling but steady enough to carry the weight of a moment that feels suspended in time.

It’s a connection that needs no embellishment, one that feels intimate and inevitable, like it had been quietly waiting for the two of you all along.

The rest of Sunday unfolds in a blissful, lazy haze.

After the emotionally charged conversation in the morning, the day slows to a gentle rhythm. Agatha suggests a walk to clear your heads, and the two of you meander through a nearby park.

The air is crisp, the sun peeking through the clouds as you stroll side by side, talking about nothing in particular—favorite seasons, forgotten childhood stories, ridiculous hypotheticals.

It feels easy, natural, like you’ve been doing this forever.

Back at home, the afternoon fades into evening. You help Agatha prepare a simple dinner, and she insists on pouring you a glass of wine while you work.

Later, the two of you curl up on the couch, a movie playing on the screen, your head resting on her shoulder. The sound of her quiet laughter at the film’s witty dialogue makes your heart ache with something sweet and new.

But the serenity is interrupted by the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. Nicholas bursts in, his bag slung over his shoulder, his cheeks flushed from the cool evening air.

Rio follows, her gaze sweeping briefly between you and Agatha, lingering just long enough to convey a subtle curiosity, before she offers a polite nod. Bending slightly, she presses a kiss to Nicholas’s cheek, her voice soft as she wishes him goodnight.

Without another word, she straightens, casting one final glance in your direction, then strides out the door with the same poised elegance she carried in.

“Hey, kiddo!” Agatha calls out, sitting up slightly but keeping her arm draped over the back of the couch, her fingers brushing your shoulder.

Nicholas closes the door and freezes the second he turns, his eyes darting between the two of you.

His brow furrows, and then, with his hereditary dramatic flair, he lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh.

“Finally!” he groans, dropping his bag on the floor with a thud. “I was wondering when you two were gonna figure it out.”

You blink, startled. “Wait—what?”

Agatha’s smirk is instant, her lips curling as she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “What do you mean, ‘figure it out,’ Nicky?”

He rolls his eyes with as if the answer is painfully obvious.

“I mean the two of you! You’re always talking about each other and asking me stuff.” he quips, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “You’re like, ‘What’s your mom’s favorite breakfast?’, and Mom’s like, ‘Do you think she likes scary movies?’. Ugh, it was soooo annoying.”

Nicholas shakes his head, letting out another dramatic sigh as if he’s been a long-suffering martyr to your mutual pining.

From beside you, you hear the unmistakable sound of a small snort escaping Agatha.

Heat floods your cheeks as you glance at her, but it only makes her grin widen. She arches a single, perfectly smug eyebrow at you, her expression dripping with satisfaction.

“Told you.” she says simply, giving an exaggerated shrug.

You cover your face with your hands, groaning. “This is mortifying.”

Agatha’s laughter fills the room, warm and unrestrained. She reaches out to tug one of your hands away from your face, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture so casual yet affectionate it leaves you breathless.

After that day, You and Agatha decide to take things slow, despite the months you’ve already spent orbiting each other. You want to step out of the roles you’ve occupied—Nicholas’s babysitter, his mom—and discover who you are to each other beyond that.

At first, you were almost afraid. Afraid that someone like Agatha, who seemed so independent and unapologetically confident, might be all fire and intensity, with little space for tenderness beyond fleeting moments.

But slowly, carefully, she proves you wrong.

When Agatha loves, you realize, she doesn’t hold back. She loves with her entire being, fiercely yet gently, as though nothing outside the world she’s built around you truly matters.

Sure, the sex is breathtaking—raw, unrestrained, and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. But with Agatha, it’s so much more than that.

She doesn’t just make you feel wanted, she makes you feel profoundly seen, utterly cherished. Every touch carries intention, every kiss a pledge of devotion.

She quickly learns your body like a map, her fingers and lips tracing each curve with reverence, savoring every discovery as though unveiling a hidden treasure meant only for her.

But beyond the fiery passion, there’s an unexpected warmth, a softness that takes you by surprise.

Her teasing sarcasm and sharp wit—cornerstones of who she is—remain ever-present, capable of making you groan in exasperation one moment and laugh until your sides ache the next.

And yet, as new facets of her emerge, they gradually begin to share space with so much more.

At night, when the world is quiet, Agatha reveals a rare, thoughtful vulnerability, speaking of the things that scare her or the mistakes she’s afraid of repeating.

In the evenings, she pulls you onto the couch, wrapping you in her arms as she teases you about your movie choices, only to stay glued to the screen the entire time.

In the middle of an argument, even when her irritation is clear and the sharpness in her tone feels like a shield she’s reluctant to lower, her gaze softens. Against her own nature, she takes a breath, letting the frustration ebb just enough to say, “I’m listening, go on.” It’s not easy for her, you can see that—but she tries. She chooses to stay, to listen, to understand, even when every instinct might tell her to close off.

Each moment is a small glimpse into a side of her that feels like a gift, a quiet affirmation that she is so much more than you ever imagined.

You also come to realize, that Agatha, for all her snarky remarks and commanding presence, craves affection too.

She’ll never say it outright, of course, but the way she seeks those little moments of closeness gives her away every time.

The way she tucks you closer to her chest in the morning, long before the rest of the world is awake. The way her hand brushes your hair back as you lean over a book, a casual touch that lingers just a second too long. The way she kisses your temple absentmindedly as she passes you in the kitchen. The way her fingers trail down your arm before settling on your waist as you both stand in the backyard at night, watching Nicholas excitedly point out constellations while Agatha murmurs their names with a quiet smile. The way her fingers softly brush against yours when she hands you a cup of coffee.

These aren’t grand gestures—they’re quiet, unspoken reminders of how deeply she cares. They’re Agatha’s way of saying what she can’t always put into words, of reaching for connection in ways that feel achingly sincere.

Agatha surprises you constantly.

She starts showing up at the café during your morning shifts, always impeccably dressed, her heels clicking against the tile floor as she strides in like she owns the place.

“I’m between meetings” she claims casually, though you notice she always stays just long enough to leave your coworkers flustered and whispering about ‘the gorgeous older woman’ who sits at the corner table, sipping her black coffee and glancing at her phone like she has nowhere better to be.

When she catches you watching her from behind the counter, her smirk is instant, as if to say, Yes, hon, I know I’m distracting you. And it never fails to make your pulse race.

She spoils you shamelessly, too. Thoughtful gifts appear with alarming regularity—books she’s noticed you eyeing, a beautiful scarf she swears “just screamed your name,” or your favorite pastries from a bakery across town.

“Stop fussing.” she says one evening as you eye the expensive wine she’s ordered at a rooftop restaurant. The city lights glitter around you, and the cool night air brushes your cheeks. “You deserve it.”

You roll your eyes but lean in to kiss her anyway, her hand slipping up to cup your cheek. Her smile softens, that guarded edge melting just enough to reveal the depth of her affection, and your heart aches in the best way.

For Agatha, you could have stopped working altogether if you wanted to. She made it clear from the beginning that money would never be an issue, brushing off the idea as though it was laughable.

Still, you hold onto your job at the café. It keeps you busy in the mornings, gives you a sense of independence, and lets you stash away some savings of your own. Besides, you’ve worked there so long it feels strange to think about leaving.

At the same time, you insist on keeping your part-time babysitting job, though you flat-out refuse to let her pay you anymore.

That particular conversation becomes a recurring battle. One day, however, you reach your limit.

It’s the umpteenth time Agatha offers to pay you for the hours you spend with Nicky. She leans casually against the doorframe as you fold Nicholas’s laundry, her voice calm but insistent, a mix of exasperation and charm she wields far too well.

You freeze mid-fold, the heat of your frustration bubbling over.

“Agatha, I swear to God, if you bring this up one more time…” you snap, throwing a pair of socks straight at her chest with uncharacteristic force.

Her smirk falters as she catches them, her eyes widening at the sharpness in your voice.

“You’re seriously yelling at me over socks?” she quips, clearly thrown off but still managing to sound incredulous.

“I’m yelling because I’m done with this conversation.” you fire back, your voice louder than you intended. “I’m not taking your money for this anymore. Period. End of story. Got it?”

Agatha blinks, stunned into silence. It’s not often you raise your voice, and judging by her expression, she doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

After a long, weighted pause, she finally lets out an exaggerated sigh, her shoulders slumping dramatically as she tosses the socks back at you.

“Well, you’re impossible.” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans back against the doorframe with a look of mock irritation. “I can’t win with you.”

You narrow your eyes at her, still fuming, but the hint of a grin tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“You already have.” you mutter, chucking another pair of socks her way.

This time, her smirk returns in its full glory. She catches the socks with ease, her expression relaxing as she throws them back with a playful flick of her wrist. “Flatterer.”

After that conversation, the balance you strike feels so natural, so effortlessly right, that it’s hard to remember a time when things were any different.

You spend your mornings at the café, while most of your afternoons are dedicated to Nicholas. Over time, Agatha begins working from home more often, and those afternoons blend seamlessly into dinners shared around the table, followed by evenings that melt into cozy, lazy hours on the couch.

Even if you don’t see her much while she works—her door often closed as she immerses herself in work—there’s something undeniably comforting about knowing she’s just upstairs.

It’s in the faint hum of her voice during a call, the creak of floorboards as she shifts her chair, or the brief moments when she steps out to grab coffee, check on Nicholas, or steal a quick kiss from you in the kitchen.

Her presence lingers throughout the house, steady and grounding, offering a quiet reassurance you hadn’t realized you craved.

The roles you once played haven’t disappeared, but they’ve shifted, harmonizing gracefully into this new dynamic that feels equal parts exciting and comforting.

Agatha doesn’t push you to redefine everything overnight, doesn’t demand more than you’re ready to give. Instead, she meets you where you are, and together, you explore the space between who you were before and who you’re becoming now.

Five months in, Agatha brings it up over breakfast.

“You know…” she begins casually, buttering her toast with the kind of ease that suggests she isn’t about to change your life forever, “it’d make a lot more sense if you just lived here.”

You nearly choke on your coffee, coughing and setting the mug down with a sharp clink. “Are you—are you serious?”

She looks up from her plate, her expression calm but her eyes warm, filled with a certainty that grounds you even as your heart races. “Of course. It feels right, doesn’t it?”

It does. Deep down, you’d known for a while now that this was where you belonged. Still, hearing it aloud, from her, catches you off guard. But there’s no hesitation when you answer.

“Yes.” you say, the word coming out soft but steady. “It does.”

Everything falls into place with an almost disarming simplicity and, by the end of the weekend, your things are integrated seamlessly into her home.

Your favorite mug finds a spot on her kitchen shelf, your books line the living room walls alongside hers, and the faint scent of your perfume lingers in her bedroom.

Nicholas adjusts effortlessly, almost as if he’d been waiting for this to happen all along. The three of you settle into a domesticity that feels natural, filled with laughter, shared meals, and quiet moments.

Even Rio seems unbothered when she comes to pick Nicholas up on the weekends. She exchanges polite words with you, her demeanor perfectly cordial, before whisking him away for their outings.

Whatever tension you’d feared never materializes, leaving you to wonder if Agatha had talked to her privately or if Nicholas, in his own way, had smoothed the path between you.

On Saturday mornings, Nicholas claims the kitchen as his domain, declaring himself “Head Pancake Chef” as you and Agatha lounge at the table, sipping coffee and exchanging amused glances while he works.

In the evenings, after Nicholas has gone to bed, the two of you often find yourselves curled up together on the couch, her arm draped lazily over your shoulders as you share quiet conversation, watch a movie or simply sit in comfortable silence.

Every day, every moment, strengthens the sense that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

Yet, for months, you’ve held onto your old apartment, keeping it as a safety net—a place to retreat to if things fell apart, if Agatha ever grew tired of you, if it all turned out to be too good to be true.

You’d told yourself it was practical, that it didn’t mean anything. But deep down, you’d known it was fear keeping you tethered to the space.

One random evening, everything changes.

It’s late, and the house is quiet. You and Agatha are curled up on the couch, one arm draped around your shoulders as you trace lazy circles on the back of her hand. There’s an ease between you, the kind that has grown naturally over the months.

Out of nowhere, she murmurs, “I love you.”

The words land softly but powerfully, knocking the air from your lungs.

You freeze, your hand stilling on hers as your mind races. For a brief moment, you think you’ve imagined it, your own thoughts playing tricks on you.

But then you glance up, and she’s watching you. Her expression is open yet achingly vulnerable, her lips slightly parted as if she’s bracing herself for your reaction, the faintest flush coloring her cheeks.

Agatha Harkness, who exudes confidence and poise in every other moment, suddenly looks almost shy.

Your heart swells, the response spilling out without hesitation. “I love you too, Agatha. So much.”

Her eyes widen briefly before a slow, radiant smile spreads across her face, lighting her up in a way you’ve never seen before.

She leans in, her movements deliberate yet tender, and when her lips meet yours, it’s as if the world tilts on its axis.

The kiss starts soft, her lips warm and gentle against yours. But it deepens quickly, her hand coming up to cradle the side of your face, her thumb brushing your cheek.

You feel her smile against your lips, a small, unguarded curve that sends warmth flooding through you. When she finally pulls back, her forehead rests lightly against yours, her hand lingering on your cheek as if she’s reluctant to let go.

Her eyes search yours, glowing with a mix of joy and relief, and you realize that this moment, this love, is as real as it gets.

The next morning, you list your apartment for sale.

Weeks later, it sells, and it’s time to clear it out for good. Agatha insists on coming with you to help despite your protests that there isn’t much left to do, since most of your things had already made their way to her house when you moved in.

Together, you sift through the last remnants of your belongings—forgotten trinkets in the back of drawers, mismatched furniture that doesn’t fit anywhere anymore, and boxes filled with things you can’t remember why you kept.

As you bend down to pick up one of the boxes, you feel the weight of her gaze on you. By the time you straighten, she’s right there—closer than she was a moment ago—her hand curling possessively around your waist, her presence electric.

“What if…” she murmurs, her lips grazing your ear as her fingers slide to the small of your back, “We give this place a proper send-off.”

Before you can respond, her mouth is on yours, claiming and insistent. The kiss is searing, a collision of teeth and tongues that leaves you breathless as she presses you back against the nearest wall.

“Agatha—fuck!” you gasp as her hands wander, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against her. “We’re supposed to be clearing out, not—” your voice falters as her lips graze your neck, stealing your train of thought entirely.

“Oh, we will.” she purrs, her voice dripping with wicked intent. “After.”

What follows is nothing short of ruinous. She doesn’t just touch you—she consumes you, her hands, mouth, and body working in perfect, devastating harmony to claim every inch of you.

She starts in the kitchen, bending you over the counter with a commanding ease that makes your breath hitch. Her nails dig into your hips as her fingers slide into you, relentless and thorough, her mouth hot and demanding against your neck. The slick sound of her movements mixes with the sharpness of your cries, echoing off the bare walls as her pace quickens, leaving you breathless and clawing for the edge.

In the living room, she pushes you down onto the couch—the same one where you once sat alone, overthinking everything. Now, it’s where she strips you bare and buries her head between your thighs, her tongue working with maddening precision. She doesn’t stop, even as your hips buck against her mouth, her grip on your thighs unrelenting. When you fall apart, her name breaking from your lips, she takes it all, her smirk sinful as she looks up, licking her lips like she’s savoring every second.

Even the bedroom—now a sparse, nearly empty space that offers no distractions—doesn’t escape her attention. She pins you to the mattress with a ferocity that leaves no doubt as to who you belong to, her name a broken mantra on your lips as her pace builds, her body pressing against yours in a way that demands surrender. Her fingers push you over the edge again and again, each climax leaving you trembling and weak, her breath hot on your skin as she praises you through the haze of pleasure.

By the time she’s done with you, every surface bears the evidence of her passion, and you’re left spent, boneless, and utterly wrecked in her arms.

Later, as you sit on the floor together eating takeout amidst the remaining boxes, she looks over at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So…” she says, her voice a lazy drawl. “Think you’ll miss this place?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you lean into her side. “Not even a little.”

Because your home isn’t a space anymore—it’s her.

Exactly one year after that Sunday morning when everything changed, you find yourself reflecting on how far you’ve come.

It’s Friday night and you’re sitting at a cozy restaurant, the golden glow of candlelight reflecting off Agatha’s beautiful features. Her hand brushes against yours on the table, her touch as natural and grounding as the rhythm of your breaths.

Fridays used to be a minefield, an endless loop of questions you were too afraid to ask, feelings you didn’t dare name. You remember those nights vividly, steeped in quiet agony, where every thought, every fleeting moment tied to Agatha—her voice, her gaze, her very presence—was laced with an ache so consuming it felt impossible to escape.

At times, you can still taste the bitter certainty that nothing you longed for could ever be within reach. Looking back, though, you almost laugh.

Agatha had nearly driven you insane with her looks, her touches, her maddeningly unreadable smirks. You’d been so sure you were imagining it all, you’d almost lost your mind trying to figure her out.

But now, Fridays have transformed into something else entirely. They’ve become a ritual of joy and love.

They’re your nights. Date nights. Moments stolen just for the two of you while Nicholas stays with Rio or a babysitter. Whether it’s a fancy dinner in the city or a quiet evening at home, these Fridays are sacred.

You glance across the table at Agatha, who’s sipping her wine, her eyes flicking up to meet yours.

Her smirk curls in that way you know will always make your stomach flip, no matter how many times you see it. But there’s a softness behind it now, a tenderness she doesn’t bother hiding anymore.

“What’s that look for?” she asks, her voice low and familiar, the sound of it wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

You smile, bliss flooding your chest. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes in mock disbelief, but the way her thumb strokes the back of your hand betrays her.

“You’re insufferable.” she mutters, though her tone holds no bite.

“And yet…” you tease, leaning forward slightly, your voice dipping conspiratorially, “Here we are.”

Her lips twitch as though she’s fighting a full smile, and for a moment, you both laugh, the kind of easy, unguarded laughter that fills every quiet corner of your heart.

And as you sit there, her hand in yours and the echoes of your journey fading into the warmth of the present, a quiet certainty blooms within you: you can’t wait to see where this love leads.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness fanfic #aaa fanfic #agatha all along fanfic #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha x y/n #agatha all along au

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writtenbyan-aries · 9 months ago

Text

Warnings: SMUT18+, Ghostface!Chris, mentions of murder/killing, death, blood, kissing, hair pulling, choking, biting, knife play, scratching, unprotected sex, creampie, filth - italics are ghostface mode. Enjoy

Word Count: 8.5k | unedited

My Sam and Colby Ghostface fic is right here 🖤

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It was a small town, everyone has potentially heard of someone at some point, so the three bodies that have been discovered, so far, you had a connection to in some sort of way. But, so did everyone else, so you didn’t think much of it.

“Did you see they found another one?” Nick asks as he looks up from his phone.

You shake your head, “No, who was it this time?”

Chris chuckles a little bit, “Who wasn’t it, would be an easier question.” He stands up and you look up at him, “Where are you going?”

“To get a drink, you want one?” He looks down at you and you nod, “Yes, please.”

You watch as he walks away and you lean in, your voice low as you speak to Nick, “What’s going on with him?”

“What do you mean?” Nick whispers back and you glance at the door, “He’s been acting weird..” Nick furrows his brows, “I think you’re overreacting. He’s been up gaming with Matt on stream almost every night after you go to sleep.”

“So, he’s probably just tired.” You tilt your head, “Makes sense.” You lean back on the couch and Nick leans over, “Trust me, y/n. You don’t have to worry about anything. Chris would do anything for you.”

You nod, “I know. Sorry, I just-“

Chris walks back out and you stop talking, you look at the tv and rest your arm on the arm rest, your knuckles resting against your head.

“Here, ma.” Chris hands you a drink and you reach up and take it, “Thanks, babe.”

He sits back down next to you, his arm moving around your shoulder to pull you into him. He kisses your head and you can’t help but notice the slight smirk on Nick’s lips.

The first time Chris killed for you, it was like he’s been waiting his whole life to do something like this.

His first victim was a guy named Lewis. He got a little handsy with you at a party, and even though you kept telling him no, Chris couldn’t contain his jealous anger.

Once you got a little too drunk, he had Matt and Nick take you home while he proceeded to follow Lewis home. He walked down the streets, while Chris cut through allies, finally catching him enter one. He pulled the ghost mask out from under his shirt and slipped it on before running up behind him. He slashed him in the back and pushed him down to the ground.

Chris rolled him over and covered his mouth with his gloved hand and drug the knife down the side of his face before stabbing him repeatedly in the chest and neck before leaving the scene.

Lewis’ death was ruled out as him oweing someone money for drugs, lots of drugs.

As you went upstairs to bed, you stopped him before he walked over and laid down, “Can I ask you something?”

Chris looks up at you and he nods, “Yeah, babe. What’s up?”

“Do you.. game, after I go to sleep?”

He furrows his brows and he tilts his head, “Is that.. a problem?”

You shake your head, “No, no. The reason I’m asking is because.. I don’t know, I’ve been in my head lately and you just seem different.. I said something to Nick and-“

“You said something to Nick?” Chris steps towards you, “What did he say?”

You pause for a second, “That, you.. um, game after I go to sleep, with Matt? Was he not supposed to say anything because I’m not mad if that’s what you think.”

“No, I’m not.. mad, I just.. you can come to me about anything, y/n. I promise. No matter what it is.. I’ll always do what I can.” Chris takes your hands into his and you look down, gasping slightly as you see his bruised knuckles, “Chris what-“

“I rage quit last night and punched the desk. I’m shocked you didn’t wake up.” He laughs and you raise your brows, “You punched it that hard?”

He nods, “I couldn’t yell like I normally do because that definitely would have woken you up.” He chuckles and pulls you in, “If you don’t want me to game anymore, I-“

“No, you do what you want. Okay. Just, stay with me until I fall asleep?” You look up at him and he smiles, “That’s what I normally do.”

“Oh, so you’ve thought of everything.” You tease as you walk over to change into your pajamas and Chris slips off his shirt, “Yeah, kind of.” He smirks, walking over to fall onto his bed.

You walk around, climbing up onto your side and you move into lay your head on his chest, “Just.. don’t, punch the desk anymore. I don’t need you breaking your hand.”

“Okay.” He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead, “I won’t.”

His second victim, was Brina. She was a demon to work with. You felt like she hated you for no reason, laughing at you, making snide comments, and even whispering to the girls that worshipped the ground she walked on about you as you walked by.

She would change the dates on stuff, making you late for meetings or just not show up in general. One day, she even went as far as telling your boss, who she was clearly sleeping with, that you fucked up a big order when you knew, damn well it was her. The boss was screaming at you to the point of tears, and you almost lost your job.

The day you came home crying about it, Chris went into action and as soon as you fell asleep, he had Matt on watch for you, ready to give you an excuse as to why he wasn’t there.

Chris was dressed in black from head to toe, the only thing that wasn’t black was the white of his mask and the silver of the blade attached to his knife.

He upped his game, sneaking inside of her house after he made sure she was the only one there, using a voice changer to disguise his voice as he tormented her.

“Hello?” Brina answers as she pauses her music, sighing when he doesn’t say anything right away, “Listen, if this is a spam call, don’t call back.”

“Don’t hang up.” Chris speaks, “I want to talk to you.”

“Tell me who this is, and maybe I’ll consider.” She rolls her eyes as she stands up, “Is this.. someone from work?”

“Haven’t you fucked enough people from there?” Chris responded and she scoffs, “I don’t have to deal with th-“

“Hang up on me and I swear to god I’ll make it slow.” Chris snaps and she swallows, “Who the fuck is this?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Chris opens a door and it catches her attention, “Are you.. are you in my house?” She stands up from her bed and stares at her door, “I’m calling the police.”

“Bad idea.” Chris hangs up, kicking her bedroom door open before lunging at her and slicing her throat. She drops to the floor and he stares at her, listening to her choke on her own blood before he leaves without a trace.

Her death was ruled as home robbery gone wrong, they nabbed someone else for robbery a few days later, pinned the death on him.

The next morning, you wake up and Chris isn’t there.

You let out a slight sigh as you get out of bed and walk downstairs to see him sitting with Matt and Nick on the couch.

“Morning.” Nick gives you a smile and you nod, “Morning.”

“Hey, babe.” Chris holds his hand out and you take it, allowing him to guide you around the couch to the spot next to him on the couch, “Didn’t want to wake you.”

You nod, “It’s fine.” You give him a kiss and look at the tv, “Another one?”

“Yeah, we went to high school with him.” Matt mumbles and you lean forward, “I dated that asshole for a few weeks.” You shake your head, “I guess he got what was coming to him.”

Chris’ grip tightens on your waist and he rests his head against your chest, “Sorry you went through that.”

You shrug, “I survived.”

“You guys wanna go out for breakfast or something?” Nick looks at everyone you nod, “Yeah I don’t feel like cooking anything.”

“Go get dressed.” Chris looks up at you, pursing his lips. You smile and press your lips to his, “Okay.”

You scurry up the steps to get dressed, and you meet them back downstairs to head out to Matt’s car.

Another thing you’ve noticed lately is how much Chris has been zoning out, but little do you know, he’s thinking back on each person he’s killed to protect you.

And thinking of the next.

His third victim, was your boss, Archie.. shocking, right?

He gave it a little bit of time after Brina, even though he was already planning on going for him right after he left her body on her bedroom floor.

Chris waited in the back of Archie’s unlocked car, it was dark. Not many street lights outback, and one camera that pointed towards the back door.

Archie was on his phone, texting as he made his way to his vehicle. He swung open the door, and got in. Chris reached forward, covering his mouth and stabbing him in the chest, right over his heart.

His voice was disguised as he spoke, “Rot in hell, asshole.” Then he delivered a few more stabs before getting out and opening his car door.

His death was ruled a car jacking gone wrong, they arrested yet another guy who was caught trying to steal a woman’s car a day later.

You see, Chris was a lot smart than anyone ever thought.

Every time news of a another murder came to light, Chris was right there, comforting you through every emotion you had at the time. He wouldn’t let you go anywhere alone, and you sure as hell didn’t feel like you were alone, even at home.

You felt so safe with him, safer than you’ve ever felt with anyone in your life.

“Hey.” You reach over, pinching his chin gently, “You okay?” He nods, tilting his head down to kiss your hand, “I have a headache that I cannot get rid of today.”

“We didn’t have to-“

“It’s okay, ma.” He smiles, “I promise.”

You smile at him, giving him a nod before you slide your hand down into his and continue your conversation with Nick.

Last night, after you fell asleep, Chris went to Matt’s room and he’s been stuck on the conversation and what followed after, ever since.

“You’re starting to crash out, Chris. You can’t keep going out every night like this. What if she finds out?”

Chris scoffs, rolling his eyes, “She’s a heavy sleeper, and plus, if she wakes up, I’m never gone long enough for the he walked down the street to the store to get you some stuff to not work.”

Matt shakes his head, “You need to tell her, before she finds out the wrong way.”

“Are you saying you’ll tell her that all of this was me?” Chris raises his brows and Matt shrugs, “I don’t know, Chris. But you need to either come up with better plans, or you need to get her on board with your shit so you don’t wig the fuck out on us from lack of sleep.”

Chris shakes his head and stands up.

“Where are you going?” Matt asks in a loud whisper and Chris glances back at him, “to the store to get her some stuff.”

But that wasn’t where he went, and Matt knew that. He went to find the asshole of an ex that you seen was dead on the news the next morning.

He found where he was, which wasn’t hard. He posts everything and anything. He was at a house party two blocks over.

He was standing out back, screaming at someone on the other end of his phone. With a huff, he threw his phone to the ground, shattering it as it hit the concrete. He turns around, stopping when he sees Chris standing there in his ghostface attire.

“Aye, buddy.” Steven laughs, “Halloween ain’t for a couple weeks.” He walks towards Chris, getting further away from the house, “The fuck are you doin’ huh?”

Chris pulls out his knife and walks towards him, and Steven laughs, “You’re not funny, pal.” He steps but Chris walks up to him, quickly throwing a punch that caused Steven to stumble back.

“You think it’s funny to beat on women?” Chris asks in his disguised voice, “There’s a special place in hell for people like you. And tonight, I’m punching your ticket to go there.”

“The fuck? I don’t hit women, okay? What is that bitch of an ex, y/n sayin’ shit again. I’m gonna fuckin’ kill her.”

Chris runs towards him, pushing him backwards and Steven flips over the guard rail and falls down the embankment to the stream of water.

Chris makes his way down there and stands over him. Steven groans, his head gushing blood from smacking a few rocks on the way down.

“H-help me.. don’t.. don’t do this, man..”

Chris tilts his head, bending down to hold his face under the water until he stops flailing around.

“Oh look.” You raise your brows as you click on the news article that popped up on your phone screen, “An update on the death of Steven Myers.” You read down over the article, reading aloud important pieces of it to the rest of the table, “Toxicology report said he was super drunk basically.. dah dah, dah.. he must have tripped and fell over the guard rail, not seeing it, I guess.. and he drowned. No sign.. of foul play.”

You shake your head as you set your phone back down on the table, “I mean, it was only a matter of time. His drinking was a big issue.”

“Like you said, he got what he deserved.” Nick raises his brows, “He was such an asshole.”

“Yeah.” You nod, “A major asshole.”

“Chris.” Nick points, “What the fuck happened to your hand?”

“Didn’t Matt tell you? I punched the desk because the game pissed me off.” Chris runs his fingers over the faded bruises and Matt laughs, “No fuck, I forgot to tell him. We were gaming and Chris was literally the last man standing and died right at the last fucking second.”

“I’m still pissed about that, actually.” Chris laughs, moving his hands under the table to grab your hand again.

Nick raises his brows, “And that didn’t wake you up?” He points to you and you shrug, shaking your head with a light laugh, “I guess I’m that good of a sleeper.”

“Yeah, I’d say.” Matt shakes his head, “That’s crazy.”

“Can we go home now? The feeling of being out with cops patrolling is giving me anxiety like I did something, you know?”

You nod, “I totally get what you mean. It’s kinda weird.”

“Well I mean, bodies have been found, you can’t just expect them not to do anything.” Matt looks at Chris and Chris sighs, “I didn’t say they shouldn’t, did I?”

“Okay. Okay.” Nick lowers his hands to the table, “Let’s go before you two start cat fighting.”

You laugh slightly at Nick’s words and follow Chris out of the booth. You make your way to Matt’s car when an officer walks up, “Gentleman. Lady.” He give you a nod, “Are you, y/n y/l/n?”

“Um, yeah. I am?” You nod, “Can I.. help you?”

He nods, “I just have a question, I was going to give you a call later but I seen you were here so figured I’d just get it out of the way now.”

Chris’ grip tightens on your hand and you take a deep breath, “What’s the question?”

“Were you with Steven Myers in any sort of way?” The officer brings out his note pad and you nod, “I dated him for a few weeks, but he was.. it was a rocky few weeks.”

“Can you elaborate more on that for me?”

“He was a drunk. Couldn’t handle his alcohol.” You shrug, “He got belligerent at times when I tried to help him.. it was just.. bad.”

“And.. you broke up with him.. when?” The officer tilts his head and you sigh, giving Chris’ hand a squeeze, “it’s been over two years now, but he still tried to contact me every so often.”

“Any contact with him last night?”

You shake your head, “No, I was at home. We all stayed in, watched a few movies and then went to bed.”

“And you were all there?” The officer looks at the guys and they all nod, giving him “yes” and “yeah” answers.

The officer nods, “Okay. Just wanted to double check.”

“Are we free to go now?” Chris sighs and the officer stares at him, “You in a hurry or something, mister?”

Chris shakes his head, “No, I just don’t like the crowd that’s forming around us.”

The officer looks around and sighs, “Alright, yeah. You’re free to go. Just, y/n, if I can have a number to make sure it’s the correct one on file.”

“Why would her number already be on file?” Nick asks and the officer points to you, “That’s on her to explain.”

You glance at Nick, ��I filed reports on Steven before. Harassment and.. what not..”

Chris wraps his arm around your waist as you give the officer your number and then he quickly gets you in the car, sliding in next to you.

Matt and Nick follow and Matt starts to drive off, “Why the fuck did he act like you did it, y/n?” Nick looks back, “I mean, you get her pissed off enough, I could see going all..” he makes a creeking sound as he pretends to wield a knife, “You know what I mean?”

You laugh, giving him a shrug, “I was at home last night, so the only person who could have caused his death, was Steven himself. They already said there was no foul play, so.”

You sigh, “I just.. do you even think it’s smart to go to this fuckin Halloween party next week? Like think about it, all of the murders have been almost the same cause of death, like what if that person is still out there just living in the shadows until the right time?”

“Okay.” Nick laughs, “Now I really think you’re overthinking it.”

“If there was a crazy person carrying around a knife, don’t you think there would be more bodies being found?” Chris asks and you sigh, thinking for a second, “Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right. I’m just.. scared I guess? I don’t know.”

“That officer just stirred up a lot of bad emotion asking about ex fuckface, alright?” Matt glances back at you in the rearview mirror and you nod, “Yeah, that’s probably what’s happening.”

You look over at Chris and he takes your hand, giving your knuckles a kiss, “You’re good, okay. You’re safe.”

He tucks hair behind your ear and caresses your cheek, “I got you.”

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

“So, who is who again?” You ask looking over the colored masks and fake weapons.

“I think I should be Leonardo, because.. you know, he’s the leader.” Nick laughs and points to Matt, “He’s definitely Rafael because of his attitude.”

“His mattitude.” You laugh and Matt nods, “Yeah that’s right.” He laughs and points to Chris, “ Michelangelo, hands fucking down.”

“Oh I already knew he’d be Mikey as soon as we decided to go as the ninja turtles.” You laugh and slide the orange mask and nunchucks and you grab the purple mask, “Guess I’m Donnie?”

“Purple looks good on you.” Chris smirks, “I like it.”

You smile and lay it down with your fake Bo staff.

“Here, Nick.” You slide over the plastic katanas, “You get these and Matt.” You slide over the plastic town said, “You get these.”

“Imagine if these were real.” Chris flips around the nunchucks and Nick instantly shuts him down, “No.”

Matt laughs and grabs his red mask, “I’m gonna go change, then once we’re ready we can head over.”

“Sounds good.” You turn to Chris, “Come on. Let’s go get ready.” He follows you upstairs with his costume and you walk into his room. You sit down to do you makeup first which doesn’t take long, and then you slip on your costume.

The guys have body suites with the design printed on them, you have a green dress with the design printed on them.

Nick convinced everyone that you all needed the turtle shells, so now you all have turtle shell backpacks basically.

You sit down on the bed, leaning down to put on your green boots to match the dress and you glance up at Chris, “Are you excited?”

He nods, fixing his hair to lay over the mask, “Yeah, I think we’re going to look pretty cool.” He smiles as he walks over to you, “Here.” He picks up your mask and spins you around, “Lay it where you want, I’ll tie it.”

“You know what I just remembered?” You turn your head slightly as Chris ties your mask, “What’s that, babe?”

You spin around, “the first guy they found? He was at that party we were at.”

Chris furrows his brows, “Was he?”

You nod, sitting back down on the bed, “It’s actually crazy, because he kept trying to talk to me and he kept grabbing me and even Kat was telling him to back off.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Chris asks, knowing he already knew, “I would have beat the fuck out of him.”

You laugh slightly, “I know, that’s partially why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want a scene being made because we all were just having such a good time, he left after a while, and he obviously got his karma, so.” You shrug, turning towards him, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it sooner.”

He shakes his head, pulling you into a hug, “It’s okay.” He presses a kiss to your head, “But tonight, anyone fucking lays a finger on you, they’re getting smacked. I don’t care. You’re my girl.”

You bite your lip, tilting your head back to look up at him, “I like this.. protector vibe you got goin’ on.”

He smirks, “Yeah?”

You nod, “oh yeah.” You pull him in for a kiss, which quickly turns into a heated make out.

“Guys!” Nick bangs on the door, “Come on!”

You pull away, letting out a sigh, “Well finish this later.”

Chris smirks, giving you a nod, “Oh yeah.”

You walk over opening the door to see Nick and Matt standing there ready. You laugh, reaching back to grab Chris’ hand, “Alright. Let’s go.”

At the party, you were having a great time. Chris was glued to your hip, and you kind of figured it’s because of what you told him prior to coming, but either way, you didn’t mind.

“Do you need another drink?” Chris looks at you and you look into your cup, holding up your pointer finger. You finish the rest and nod, “Now I do.”

He smirks and nods, “Alright. I’ll be right back.” He takes your cup and walks away as you turn to Matt, “How ya doin’ Matt?”

He looks around, nodding his head, “I’m alright.”

You look at Nick, “And you?”

Nick laughs, giving you a nod, “I’m good, how are you?”

You sigh, “I’m actually having a lot of fun.” You look around, furrowing your brows when you don’t see Chris at the drink table, “Chris was supposed to be getting me a drink, but he’s no-“

“I’m right here.” Chris pops up behind you and you spin, “There you are!”

“Here I am.” He laughs as he hands you your cup, “Worried?” You shrug as you take a sip, “Not anymore.” You grab him by the wrist, “Come dance with me.”

“Alright.” He wraps his arm around your waist, following you down to the dance floor. You move your hips and rest your head back on his shoulder as you sing, laughing as you spill a little bit from your cup, “Oops.”

“You’re fine.” Chris smirks, his eyes moving across the crowd before he looks down at you, “I’m just glad you’re having fun.”

You nod, “I am. But don’t you think it’s kind of weird that Donnie and Mikey are dating?”

He laughs and shakes his head, “It’s only weird if you make it weird.” He pulls you in for a kiss and suddenly you’re elbowed in the back, letting out a groan against his lips, “What the fuck.”

“Yo, my bad.” This guy laughs, “I didn’t see you standing there.”

“Well maybe look a little harder next time, asshole.” Chris pulls you next to him as you rub the spot on your back with your hand.

“The fuck did you just call me?” The guy steps closer and Chris stares at him, “You fuckin’ heard me.”

“Nah, nah. I don’t think I did.” The guy chuckles and shakes his head, “It was an accident, bro. Seriously. Shes fine.” He looks at you, “Right?”

“Don’t fuckin’ talk to her.” Chris puts his arm out in front of you and you lean back, looking for Matt and Nick.

You try to wave at them chalantly, getting their attention to come over.

“Ah, I see. You’re one of them stupid controlling fucks.” The guys raises his brows and you step in, “He’s not.”

“Y/n, don’t.” Chris snaps and you press your lips together, looking back for Matt and Nick. They’re trying to make their way through the crowd, but people keep blocking them.

“Listen, I’m going to walk away now, before there’s actually a real issue.” The guy stares at Chris for a few seconds before stepping back.

“fucking finally.” You huff as Matt and Nick walk up.

“What the fuck is going on?” Matt looks between you and Chris and Chris shakes his head, “Elbowed y/n right in the back, laughed it off like it was a fucking joke.”

Nick and Matt share a glance and Nick sighs, “Come on.”

“Where? Why? What?” You look around as Nick pulls you with him. Matt gets behind Chris and pushes his forward, following you and Nick out of the crowd.

You make your way back up to where you were prior and Chris shakes his head, “Fuck this.” He walks towards the door to go outside and Nick stops you from following, “He’s pissed at us, not you. Just let him cool off.”

Chris walked down off the porch, around to the shadow side of the house and climbed up the lattice attached to it. He pushed the window up and slid in, closing it quietly.

“Why is he mad at you? For stopping a fight?” You raise your brows, shaking your head, “There’s something else going on, isn’t there?”

“No, y/n. Chris would have beat that guy, we didn’t want anyone getting hurt, okay?” Nick assures but you don’t buy it, “No, Chris has been acting off for weeks. You both know I, I know it, now what the fuck is going on?”

Chris slides his backpack off of his shoulders, taking out and putting on the mask and gloves before grabbing the knife, and waiting behind the door.

They look at each other and Matt shakes his head, “Chris will have to tell you.”

“Tell me-“ you scoff, “Tell me what?”

“Let’s just.. go find Chris and then we’ll go home.” Nick stands up and you push him away, “No. no.” You huff, bolting for the door before they can chase after you.

You go out into the porch, looking around for Chris, but you don’t see him.

You walk between the cars and around the house. You even go to Matt’s car, and Chris isn’t there.

You pull your phone out to call him, but it goes straight to voicemail, “Fuck.” You look around, “What the fuck.”

You watch as Nick and Matt come out of the door and you duck down, watching them as they walk off the porch.

You snuck back into the house, asking the nearest person where the bathroom was.

“Upstairs.”

You nod, glancing behind you before making your way up the steps. You bite your lip as you opened each door that was closed, peaking your head in before moving onto the next.

Chris slowly reaches into his bag as the footsteps grew closer, the anticipation growing stronger as his grip tightened on the knife.

You let out a sigh, ripping off your purple mask.

Chris isn’t anywhere to be found so far. You check the bathroom, knocking on it before pushing the door open and you spin around.

His breathing was heavy behind the black and white mask that hid his face, and it stopped once the footsteps stopped right outside the door he was behind.

You walk up to the final door on the right side of the hall, your hand reaching out to twist the knob before you push it open.

You let out a struggled yelp as a leather glove cladded hand meets your throat and pulls you into the dark room.

“Y-y/n?” Chris gasps, ripping off the mask, “What are you doing?”

You sit down on the ground, your eyes moving to the knife shaped silhouette in his hand and you push yourself backwards, “I-I, w-what..” your breathing was fast, your heart felt like it was going to beat straight out of your chest.

Chris looks down at his hand and shakes his head, “This isn’t for you, baby. Please just listen to me, please.”

“Who.. who’s it for? What-“ you felt like your head was spinning, almost like you were hallucinating, “Chris?”

He kneels down in front of you and you shake your head, “It-it was you?” Your eyes move from his face to the mask that’s in his hand.

It was like your hands had a mind of their own as they move to take it from his grasp. From the small sliver of light coming from the hall, your thumb rubs over the dry blood splatter on the white part, “Who’s is this?”

Your voice was barely there, you weren’t sure if it was from fear, or just being in plain shock.

“Can we-“ Chris stops talking as soon as your head snaps up to look at him, and he clears his throat, “Let me.. just.. pack up all of this and we can go home? Talk about this?”

All you can do is nod.

He pries the mask from your fingertips, shoving it back into his bag along with the knife and gloves. He zips the bag shut, throwing it back onto his back and stands up, “You can trust me.”

You don’t look up at him. You just stand up on your own and walk past him.

He quickly follows you out of the room and down the steps.

You push through the people, Chris calling your name as you choose to ignore him as you finally make it to the porch.

You walk over to the banister, staring down at the grass and you talk yourself out of puking.

Chris is standing a little away from you and you glance over, seeing Nick and Matt standing there staring up at you through the fake cob webs that surround the porch.

You push yourself off, walking past Chris and going straight for the car.

“I take it.. we’re going home?” Nick asks and Chris nods as his eyes stay on you, but you avoid looking at him.

As soon as Matt unlocked the door, you get into the front passenger seat, leaving Chris to sit in the back with Nick.

The drive home was absolutely silent. No one dared to even make a peep.

Before Matt could even put the car in park, you were unbuckled and opening the door to get out. Chris gets out quickly, following you up to the door.

You push it open, ignoring his pleas as you go towards the steps.

“Chris.” Matt calls for him and his steps behind you stop. He watches you go into his room and you slam the door.

You were sure what you wanted to do.

Your mind was absolutely racing.

Did you want to leave? No.

Were you scared? No, but should you be? Oh definitely, but it’s weird that you weren’t.

You didn’t know what you felt. You just sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the same spot on the floor trying to figure it out.

A soft knock on the door causes you to jump, “Who is it?”

“It’s Nick.”

You walk over, stopping as you reach for the door handle, “Are you alone?”

“Yes. It’s just me.” He answers, and you slowly open the door, peaking out around at him. He raises his brows, “Can I come in?”

You step out of the way and open the door just enough for him to get through and you close it right after he enters.

He walks over, turning around and just looks at you.

You slowly turn around, your back pressed against the door and you open your mouth to say something but no words come out.

“Before you say anything, just know that I’ve wanted to tell you. Both Matt and I did, but…” Nick pauses, “I honestly don’t know what else to say.”

“How about..” you clear your throat, your voice still quiet, “Telling me when, and how, and most importantly.. why.”

“Because.. Chris is a little..” he tilts his head and you squint, “A little what? Crazy? Psycho?”

“I was going to say crazy in love, with you, but those are also fitting.” He sits down on the bed and nods for you to come over and sit next to him, “I’m here to make sure you aren’t going to snap on him when he comes up.”

You walk over, sitting down next to him, “I don’t know what I feel, but scared isn’t one of them.” You look over at him, “Any normal person would run, try their damndest to get away, but I just.. don’t feel like running.”

“Chris.. wanted you safe. He hated seeing you hurt.” Nick runs a hand through his hair, “That’s why we pushed him away from the dance floor tonight because if we didn’t. He was going to snap on that guy who elbowed you.”

“He was upstairs.” You look back down at the floor, “after I ran out looking for him.. I hid by the cars and went back in when you and Matt went around the house. I asked where the bathroom was and went upstairs. I checked each room, until finally I went to the last room on the right hand side and..” you take a deep breath and Nick turns his body towards you, “Y/n. What happened?”

You look back over at Nick, but you look past him, “Chris.. he grabbed me by the throat and pulled me into the room.. I-I.. dropped down to the ground as soon as he said my name and took his white, blood stained mask off.”

“I don’t think he was waiting for you.” Nick shakes his head and you look directly at him, “That’s the thing, I knew he wasn’t.”

“It’s just a shock.” Nick raised his brows and nods, “I remember when Chris came home and told us what he did.. the look on his face..” he sucks in a breath, “It’s like it was any other night for him. He was so normal about it..”

“Who was it?” You take a shaky breath, “Actually.. I want to talk to Chris.”

“Will you be okay?” Nick asks as he stands up and you nod, “I need to know everything and who’s better to tell me than the man who-“ you sigh, “Just get him for me.”

“I’ll give you a few minutes then I’ll send him up.” Nick squeezes your shoulder and before he walks away, you stand up and hug him.

“What’s this for?” He asks as he wraps his arms around you, and you sigh, “Keeping him safe. I know he couldn’t have done this without you or Matt.”

Nick nods and squeezes you tighter before you let go.

You watch as he walks back over to the door and opens it to leave. You hear the click of it shutting and you lay back, your eyes glued to the ceiling.

After a few minutes, another knock is heard on the door and you sit up, watching as it slowly opens.

You swallow as you see Chris walk in and close the door behind him, “Nick told me to just let you talk, so..”

You point to the bed next to you, “Sit.”

He nods, walking over to sit next to you. You slowly turn your head, “Start from the beginning.” You look at him, “I want to know everything, every reason.”

He takes a deep breath, “Can I ask something first?”

“I’m not leaving, Chris.”

You see a slight relieved look wash over his face and he nods, “Lewis Youins. He’s the guy that got handsy with you at the party. I watched as you kept telling him no, but I got so filled with anger and jealousy that something in me just.. snapped.”

“Where’d you get the mask and stuff?”

“The mask was an old Halloween mask that Matt bought a while ago to try and scare Nick and I with.. the gloves I bought and the knife I got for quote on quote, camping.”

You nod, listening to him continue, “But, um.. Lewis.. I waited for a while, trying to talk myself out of doing it, but it just didn’t work. I just had this overwhelming urge to get rid of him because he was disrespecting you.”

A small smile appears on your lips, and you nod, “Continue.”

“I cut through alley ways, waiting for him to just cross into one, and when he finally did, I put the gloves on, pulled the mask out, and ran up to him.” He mimics what he did with his hand, “Slashed him in the back and got him to the ground. I covered his mouth and stabbed him.”

You sit up a little straighter, the image he splayed out for you popping into your head, “And then.. you what? Just came home and got into bed with me?”

He nods, “Well.. yeah, but after I cleaned up and showered and told Nick and Matt.”

You nod, “And the next?”

“Brina.” He sighs quietly, “The day you came home crying because of her and your boss, who I also took out..” he laughs slightly and you look at him, “You did that for me?”

He nods, “everything I do is for you, baby.”

You nod, kicking off your shoes before moving to your knees on the bed, “How’d you.. kill Brina?” You shrug, “And can you do it while you take this stupid costume off?”

“Uh, yeah.” He nods while standing up, “yeah.. I um..” he pulls the costume down over his shoulders and you bite your lip as his bare chest is revealed, “I got a voice changer, disguise thing.. put it on the inside of the mask, and I..”

You raise your brows as he strips down to his boxers, “Snuck into her house.. hid in a closet and called her.”

He stands there and you move your hand to where he was sitting, “Bring your bag over here.”

He furrow his brows and turns to go grab the shell backpack and he hands it to you as he continues, “I asked her if she’s fucked enough people from work and she threatens to call the police so I hung up.. kicked down the door and slashed her throat.”

You unzip the bag, “Should have made it slow and painful. She was a bitch.”

Chris raises his brows, “I didn’t.. know how you would- wait..”

“Save all the questions until the end please..” you pull the mask out, “Who’s blood does this belong to?”

He tilts his head, “Probably Archie or maybe Lewis? I don’t know. I drowned Steven.”

His words set a fire inside of you.

“You.. did that?” You raise your brows and he nods, “After you fell asleep, I went over to Matt’s room to talk to him. We had a conversation that I kept thinking about all throughout breakfast, mainly about telling you. It pissed me off so I went out, found him at apart two blocks from here and..”

He trails off as you pull the knife from the bag, “were you waiting for that asshole that elbowed me?”

He nods, moving to lean up against the headboard, “I was. I’m sorry about grabbing you the way I did.”

You shake your head, “You don’t have to be sorry.” You stand up, taking off your costume dress and you walk back over to the bed, picking up the knife, “I was scared.. at first..”

You look up at him, his eyes meeting yours as you move up the bed to straddle him. His hands fall into your waist, your bare chest on display for him, “Am I the only person you ever killed for?”

He nods once, leaning forward to press slow kissing up your chest. He tilts his head back to look up at you as he whispers, “The one and only.”

A smirk slowly spreads across your painted red lips and you lean down to press them to his.

A heated make out ensues, practically picking up where you left off earlier in the day.

You kiss back his jaw, stopping at his ear with your voice low, “I want you to bury yourself in me as you tell me why you’ve killed for me.”

Chris groans at your words, flipping you over onto your back as his lips attack your neck. You press your hands into his shoulders and look up at him, “I want you to do it while you have the mask on.”

Chris bites his lip and immediately reaches over to grab it and slip it on.

Your brows furrow and your back arches as he grinds against you.

You pull him down, pressing kisses along the white of the mask, leaving a faint lip print trail, “No one has ever killed for me before.”

Chris leans down, his voice low behind the plastic, “That’s because no one has ever loved you like I do.”

He slides his hand down your body, slipping it in between the band of your panties and the skin on your body. His fingers press harsh circles to your clit, earning moans from your parted lips.

“You drive me fucking crazy, but in the best way possible, baby.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as your moans grow louder with the intention of his fingers into your achy cunt, “A lot of people look at you. A lot of people want to fuck you. I just wanted to make sure that I was the only one who would ever get to do that. I don’t like sharing.”

“Only you, baby.” You whimper out as your back leaves the bed, “I promise.”

“I just couldn’t take seeing people hurt you.” He shakes his head as his fingers thrusts into you a little bit faster, “There’s no need for a pretty girl like you to be crying, baby.”

You moan, your thighs quivering, “F-fuck.”

“So I stayed.. I listened to her choke on her own blood, and then I left. Came home to my favorite person asleep in my bed.”

You reach up, your hand laying on the side of his head, your thumb curving around to hook onto the raised part of the mask, “I’m always going to be here, Chris.”

“God I love hearing that.” He groans, “I’m literally obsessed with you.”

You bite your lip, your eyes rolling back, “K-keep talking, baby. I’m so close.”

“You’re so pretty. Literally the best person anyone could ever be with. I love your voice, your eyes, your lips, your hair. Everything about you is just so fucking perfect, I just want to keep you happy.”

Your body tenses and twitches as you come undone under his tough, your walls rapidly squeezing his fingers as he guides you through your high.

“You were literally made for me, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone try and take that away from me, or hurt what’s mine.”

He removes his hand from between your thighs and sits up. He reaches up, taking the knife that’s laying beside you and he slowly drags it down your torso.

A shuddered breath leaves your lips as you watch him stop it at your hip. He slides it under the silk fabric of your panties and slices it open.

He drags the top of the knife gently across your pelvis and doesn’t same to the other side, pulling them out from under you.

He drops the knife next to him and lifts your legs up to rest on his chest while he pushes his boxers down, “Like I said before baby..” a low groan escapes his lips as the tip of his cock rubs against you, “I’d do anything.. for you.”

He thrusts into you, your moans mixing together as you grip the sheets below you. Your hips roll slightly forward as your back arches, “F-fuck, baby.” You look up at him, his head in between your ankles, “Keep telling me how you did it.”

He drops your legs next to him and you wrap them around his waist as he bends down, “Archie was just plain fuckin’ dumb.”

Chris slides into you slow and deep, repeating his actions as he speaks, “He left his car unlocked, so I slid into the backseat.. waited for him, then when he finally came out, I stabbed him in the chest..” he groans, “Right over his heart.”

“Fuck.” You whine, “Did you say anything to him?”

“I told him to rot in hell.”

You moan at his words, tightening your legs, “F-fuck.”

Chris slides his hand up, laying it around your throat, “You know I’d never hurt you.. I could never hurt my girl.”

You lay your hand on his, encouraging him to squeeze harder, “I know.” You whisper out, a squeaked moan escaping your lips as his grip tightens.

“And then, Steven..” Chris lets out a chuckle, “That asshole basically did all the work for me.”

You focus on the mask above you, your lips parted as his thrust grow faster, “Caught him outside, yelling at someone on the phone.”

His thrusts slow down again, “He say me, thought I was playin’ around, so he came at me. I threw a punch, knocking him back. I asked him if he liked hitting women and the..”

His grip loosens from your throat and you gasp, “what?”

“He said he was going to kill you, so I knew I had no other choice but to take him out first..”

You reach up, pulling the mask off his face and tossing it to the ground, “Yeah, you did.” You pull him in for a heated kiss and his thrusts pick up.

“I ran.. towards him..” Chris explained while continuing to kiss you, “Knocked.. him over.. the guard.. rail.”

You nod, your arms wrapping around his neck as you moan, “Fuck, baby.”

“He smacked his head off a rock on the way down. He laid there pleading..” he chuckles, “Begging for me to help him, but I didn’t.”

“Tell me what you did, baby.” You look up at him, whimpers and quiet moans leaving your lips as he kisses up your neck to your ear, “I held his head under the water until he stopped moving.”

You drag your nails up and down his back, “So that’s why you were so weird about the cops earlier.”

He nods, “Yeah, I can’t get taken away from you. I’d go fucking crazy.”

“As if you already haven’t.” You smirk as he sits up and he tilts his head, “If loving you so much to the point of killing someone who touches you is crazy..” he smirks, “Then consider me fucking psycho, baby.”

His lips connect with yours before he pulls out, “Roll over for me.” He bites his lip as he watches you roll over onto your stomach.

He grips your hips, pulling them upward and he slides back into you. You moan into the pillow and Chris reaches down to pull it away, “Uh uh, I wanna hear how good I make you feel, baby.”

You let out a loud moan, pushing your hips back as he thrusts into you, “F-fuck, Chris.. baby.” You gasp, “I-I-“

You arch your back down, letting out a whine as you feel the cool metal of his blade drag down the line of your spine.

“You are so fucking beautiful.”

“So incredibly mine.”

“Yes, yes.” You pant out, “Y-Yours.. yours, all yours.”

He drops the knife and grips your hips, “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.” His trusts pick up before he falls forward, his one hand resting by your head while his other arm wraps around you waist, “one more time, can you cum one more time for me, baby?”

“Y-yes.” You whimper out, attempting to turn your head to see him, “Yes, baby.”

He kisses over your shoulder, “I love you, so much, y/n.”

“I-I.. I love you, Chris.” You moan as you squeeze his cock, moaning out as he guides you through another high while listening to the moans he’s constantly pulling from you.

“That’s it, baby. That’s my girl.”

He rests his forward against hours as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, his groans low in your ear as his thrusts slow down.

He grabs the knife that’s next you, tossing it to the floor before he collapses onto the bed beside you.

He turns his head, giving you a slight smirk, “So.. I take it you’re not mad?”

You shake your head, moving up to lay your head on his chest, “In a sick, and twisted way.. I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead and you let out a sigh, “Are you still going to get the asshole who elbowed me?”

Chris nods, “Yes I am.”

“Good.” You lay your arm over his waist, “I wanna help.”

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Hi hello, thank you so much for reading! If you would like a Matt one, you know what to do ;) I love you so much, I will catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

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itsalliny0urhead · 4 months ago

Text

After Hours (sirius black x slytherin!femreader)

You and Sirius Black have hated each other for years — or at least, that’s what everyone thinks. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor, a pureblood and a blood traitor — you were supposed to hate him. And for years, you played the part perfectly. The insults, the hexes, the glares across the Great Hall — it was all easy.

But it wasn’t real.

Because before Hogwarts, before sides, you and Sirius were close. Best friends. And somewhere along the way — between late-night detentions, stolen glances, and quiet confessions beneath the Quidditch stands — things changed.

sirius black x slytherin!femreader

The corridor was dark, the only light coming from the faint flicker of the torches along the cold stone walls. The chill of the night pressed against your skin, seeping through the thin fabric of your uniform. Your footsteps were nearly soundless on the worn stone floor — years of sneaking through Hogwarts had made you an expert at moving unnoticed.

You slipped around the corner of the one-eyed witch statue, heart thudding painfully in your chest as you approached the alcove near the edge of the Gryffindor tower. The sound of your pulse roared in your ears — but beneath it, you felt it. That pull in your chest, low and familiar. Like your body knew exactly where he would be.

He was already there, of course.

Sirius Black was leaning casually against the wall, his long legs crossed at the ankles. His black hair fell carelessly over his grey eyes as he rolled a cigarette between his fingers. The soft glow of the torchlight sharpened the cut of his cheekbones and cast shadows across his jaw. He was still wearing his uniform trousers and the white button-down — tie hanging loose around his neck, shirt untucked. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the sharp cut of his forearms.

"You’re late," Sirius murmured, his mouth curling at the corner as his eyes swept lazily over you.

"You’re lucky I showed up at all," you shot back, stepping toward him. "Flint nearly caught me sneaking out."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "So what you’re saying is… you’d risk getting caught for me?"

You narrowed your eyes. "Don’t let it go to your head."

His eyes darkened as you stopped in front of him. He reached out, his hand curling around your wrist. His thumb brushed over your pulse point — and he smiled faintly when he felt the way your heartbeat spiked beneath his touch.

"You always say that," Sirius murmured, his voice low and edged with quiet amusement. His hand slid up your arm, his touch feather-light. "And yet…"

Your heart hammered in your chest as he leaned in. His mouth ghosted over the shell of your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The scent of him — smoke and soap and something dark — curled through your senses. You hated how easily it made you shiver.

"Sirius," you warned.

"What?" He smiled — that lazy, dangerous smile that made your stomach twist painfully. His hand slid down your side, fingertips brushing beneath the hem of your sweater. "Afraid someone might see?"

Yes. Of course you were.

You and Sirius had hated each other for years — or at least, that’s what everyone thought. You were a Slytherin, a pureblood from one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Your family had expected you to stick close to your own kind. And Sirius…

Sirius had left his family behind. He had thrown away his last name and everything it stood for — and you were supposed to hate him for that. And you had. For years, you’d thrown insults back and forth, sneered at each other in the Great Hall, hexed each other in the corridors — but it had always been a front.

Because once — before Hogwarts, before houses, before sides — you had been close. Best friends. He’d been the only person who could make you laugh until you cried, and you’d been the only one who could quiet the storm behind his eyes. And maybe that connection had never really gone away — not fully.

It had been easy to pretend to hate him at first. You were supposed to. You were a Slytherin, and he was a blood traitor — a Gryffindor. But then, sixth year happened. A late-night detention, a shared moment beneath the Quidditch stands — Sirius pressing his hand against your cheek and looking at you like you were something worth breaking rules for. And you had never recovered from it.

Now it was seventh year, and sneaking out to meet Sirius after curfew had become dangerously routine.

"You shouldn’t be here," you whispered.

Sirius’s hand slid up your side, his fingers trailing beneath the hem of your sweater. His palm rested against the curve of your waist, just beneath your ribs.

"And yet…" He tilted his head, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw. "Here you are."

Your stomach flipped violently. "If someone sees—"

"Then I’ll tell them you attacked me." His lips curled against your skin. "Hexed me into submission. Forced me to kiss you."

"And if I told them you begged me?"

Sirius laughed — low and dark. His hand slid up to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin behind your ear. You hated the way your body responded to him so easily — hated how fast your pulse was pounding beneath your skin.

"Begged?" Sirius repeated, his voice rough. "Do you want me to beg, love?"

You opened your mouth to snap back — but Sirius kissed you before you could.

It hit you like a hex to the chest.

His mouth was warm and demanding, his hand sliding beneath your sweater as he pulled you against him. His other hand threaded into your hair, tilting your head back as his lips moved over yours with quiet desperation. Sirius groaned softly when you curled your hands into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you.

You gasped when his tongue slid across your bottom lip, and Sirius took advantage of the opening. He kissed you deeper — slow and deliberate — tasting you like he’d been thinking about it all day. His hand slid beneath the hem of your skirt, his thumb brushing against your bare thigh.

Sirius smiled against your mouth when you made a quiet, breathless noise. He pressed you back against the wall, his thigh sliding between yours as his hand curled around your waist. His lips moved down the curve of your jaw, pressing slow kisses to the hollow of your throat.

You were spiraling — completely undone by the way he was touching you, by the way he was holding you like you were fragile and precious and dangerous all at once. His mouth pressed beneath your ear, and you shivered.

"This is stupid," you whispered.

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. His hand slid up your thigh, pushing the edge of your skirt higher. His mouth ghosted over your pulse point. "But it feels good, doesn’t it?"

You didn’t answer — you couldn’t.

Sirius kissed you again — harder this time — his hand curling beneath your jaw. His lips parted against yours, and you let him deepen the kiss. You tasted smoke and warmth and something sharp beneath it. His hand slid up your side, beneath your sweater, fingers tracing the line of your ribs.

When you finally pulled back, you were breathless. Sirius’s eyes were dark, his lips flushed. His thumb brushed over the corner of your mouth.

"Don’t look so smug," you breathed.

"Can’t help it." Sirius grinned. "You always taste so sweet."

Your breath hitched. But before you could say anything, footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Sirius’s expression sharpened instantly. He took a step back, his hand sliding away from your waist. You hated the loss of contact — hated how easily he slipped back into that untouchable expression.

"Guess you’d better hex me now," he teased, his mouth curling at the corner. "Sell it."

You flicked your wand toward him — a harmless jinx that knocked him backward just as the prefects rounded the corner. Sirius hit the ground with a loud thump, groaning dramatically as he sprawled across the floor.

"Traitor," he mouthed.

You fought back a smile as the prefects helped him to his feet.

This was dangerous. This was stupid. This was Sirius Black.

And you weren’t stopping anytime soon.

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haechvn · 9 months ago

Text

Too Intense

Pairing: Shuri Udaku x F!Reader

Warning: Y'all gone hate me cause Shuri rude asf. You have been warned. I'm actually tryna hurt yall feelins. Angst.

Word Count: 1.1k+

Summary/Request: Toxic!Shuri. That's it.

Author’s Note: I wrote this a while ago but I wasn't too sure about it. I tweaked it a bit and now i'm in love. Lmk if yall wanna be on my taglist. Love yall

Taglist: @blkgworlamplified @wakanda-forever-andotherfandoms @theblacksuccubus

The cold, sterile smell of the hospital was almost too familiar by now, a stark reminder of the pain and confusion that had become a constant in your life. Shuri had been rough with you during a training session. Her strength, normally a reassuring presence, had become uncomfortably overbearing, and you found yourself sidelined in the hospital for a few nights on many different occasions. The bruises and aches were secondary to the emotional turmoil of being so close to her yet so far away.

When you were finally released, the confrontation you dreaded sought you out. Shuri had locked herself in her room, unable—or rather unwilling—to face you. Her absence was a silent scream of regret and discomfort, and you could feel the coldness of her avoidance cutting through the air. Her usual self-assured demeanor had cracked, revealing a vulnerability she refused to acknowledge.

Her newfound lack of empathy was one of the hardest things to endure. Shuri often acted as if her own hardships were so monumental that nothing could compare. It became a habit for her to dismiss your struggles with an almost casual cruelty. “Wow. It’s so sad you argue with your mom every day. Where’s mine? Oh, right. I’m done listening,” she would say, brushing off your pain with a shrug. It was as if your problems were trivial compared to the grand scale of her own trials.

This lack of empathy extended to how she handled your relationship, particularly when it came to her interactions with RiRi. Shuri was constantly talking about how beautiful RiRi was, her voice dripping with deliberate poison, meant to provoke jealousy and rage. Despite her attempts to downplay it, her actions spoke volumes. The tension built until it reached a breaking point. One night, the emotional strain pushed you too far and you lashed out at her with every fiber of your being. It was a desperate act of frustration and pain, the culmination of feeling constantly belittled and manipulated.

Shuri looked you dead in the eyes after that you spoke out against her behavior, her gaze cold and unwavering. “You aren’t more important than my work or anyone else in my life,” she said with an icy calm tone. “If you can’t handle that, then you should just leave me alone. Spend the money I give you and keep quiet.” The words cut deep, and the gesture that followed—a transfer of two million dollars to your account—was a bitter reminder of her ability to detach from you emotionally while trying to compensate with financial means. The way she used money as a substitute for emotional connection only deepened the rift between the two of you. Her financial generosity was supposed to be a balm for the wounds she inflicted, but it only served as a stark reminder of how transactional your relationship had become. The many millions of dollars she has transferred to you over the years were a testament to her belief that money could mend what her words and actions had shattered.

Her refusal to even be intimate with you became a weapon she wielded with precision. One morning, you had simply greeted the Dora Milaje with a soft “hi,” and Shuri’s reaction was swift and harsh. “I didn’t like the way you spoke to them,” she declared, her tone final. “No sex tonight. Matter fact, don't touch me for a week.” The punishment felt petty and unjust, a way for her to reassert her control and punish you for perceived slights.

The physical and emotional barriers she built were sometimes more painful than the wounds from training sessions. Her constant criticism, whether it was about your strength or my interactions with others, was a manifestation of her own insecurities. She projected her frustrations onto you, making every exchange feel like a test of endurance rather than a moment of genuine connection.

The dynamic between you often felt like a constant struggle for validation. Shuri’s embarrassment over your perceived lack of strength was another cruel twist in the relationship. “Tighten up, what is the hell is the matter with you,” she’d scold, her impatience palpable. It was as if your struggles were a reflection of her own inadequacies and oh did she despised seeing you falter.

Shuri’s refusal to acknowledge her role in your issues, combined with her tendency to gaslight and dismiss every feeling you expressed, left you reeling. Her actions, from the callous remarks about any family issues to the cruel mind games she played with RiRi, spoke of someone who was deeply conflicted but unwilling to confront her own shortcomings.

Each time you thought you'd find a moment of understanding or solace in one another, Shuri would retreat back into her fortress of self-righteousness and emotional detachment. It was as if she viewed the relationship as a battleground, where the stakes were high and the only victory was maintaining control. Any attempts to address these issues were met with her trademark dismissal or cold logic.

In moments of clarity, you could see the cracks in her armor—the fleeting glimpses of vulnerability and the rare admissions of her own struggles. Yet, these moments were always fleeting, quickly buried under layers of her self-imposed duty and mental barricades. It was a dance between pain and disillusion, where love was twisted into a weapon rather than a source of comfort.

As you navigated the choppy waters of your relationship, it became clear that Shuri was trapped in her own cycle of paranoia and denial. Her inability to balance her personal and professional lives, combined with her tendency to prioritize her work over the connection you two once nurtured, created a volatile environment where genuine affection was often overshadowed by power struggles and emotional manipulation.

The realization of how deeply she was embedded in her own worldview left you grappling with your own emotions. You had to come to terms with the fact that your attempts to reach her or change the situation was no longer necessary. The love you once shared had become a thorn in your side. The high stakes were not just your feelings but your very sense of self-worth and emotional stability.

In the end, you were left to decipher the complexity of your union, trying to find a way to either bridge the gap or finally accept that this cycle of emotional manipulation and control was unsustainable. The journey was marked by moments of intense passion and deep pain, a testament to the intricate and often destructive nature of your once sacred connection. The combination of emotional distance, scheming, and outright cruelty created a relationship that was as painful as it was complex.

#omg #shuri angst #shuri is a eater #shuri x reader #black panther x reader #black panther imagine #shuri smut #shuri udaku x reader #shuri udaku #black!reader #black!y/n #marvel imagine #black panther #black panther smut #black panther angst #shuri black panther

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fwol-jintu · 3 months ago

Text

Putting more stuff for the split screen/beast bunny au

To be clear, Shen yuan sees himself as Normal Guy TM no matter where it is, be it lake or mirrors or basically anything that reveals himself. Its rly his vision that got fucked by the system lmao

He does unlock "dual maining" eventually, as in his 2nd arm. Its a bit cursed, since the second arm is made from a dead arm actually but was manipulated and revived by some dark art. Or well, it was made by a "carrot."

Basically, system made him find a very very specific "carrot" and made him kill it. He used the flesh and roughly formed it into the shape of an arm, a sharp blade on the end of the made arm. He lodged that blade into his own, connecting his flesh and the demon flesh. The demon flesh of the "carrot" started to regenerate due to the blade drawing shen yuan's unknown blood and merging with the demon flesh's own.

In shen yuan's pov, an arm magically appeared after he "chopped up some carrots for the materials" to make said arm. It looks great to him, but anyone else witnessing that scene would've been HORRIFIED.

Oh yeah the demon arm is blackened and charred, as well as having sharp bloody claws. So basically, he became even more of a monster !! But hey, he has two arms now. Yay!

Does shen yuan ever find out he sees things differently compared to others? Haha, no idea. Maybe he will, maybe he won't!

The system decides, afterall.

Will shen yuan ever be able to communicate with the "bunnies"? Yeah he loves his babies very much.

Yes he still gushes about other monsters and yes other monsters exists, the "carrots" only appear when the system deems them an "enemy"

but... how would that work?

A flickering figure, tripping between orange and gray.

"Baba?.."

the blur spoke, a reaching hand towards Shen Yuan. What?

They continued to flicker, the system undecided and unresponsive. Was this an illusion? A new devourer type?

He wasn't gonna take any risks, so he assumed so and tried to attack.

The devourer dodged it, albeit sloppily, barely making it.

I won't miss the next time.

He swung his butcher's knife, though the devourer kept dodging and even got a hit on him. He was getting kinda frustrated, until he remembered he has a new arm now!

With his realization, he quickly grabbed the devourer using his new arm and pinned it down, the knife to its barely seen panicking face.

before he could cut the carrot though, his system blaired at him.

[ERROR!] [ERROR!] [ERROR!]

What?

"-BA"

"-BABA!"

An unclear voice like a dream snapped him out of it, and when he looked down; his bunny? Oh fuck.

He quickly let go and saw how scared his green bunny was. Guilty, shen yuan scooped up the teary-eyed bunny and gently cradled it, muttering apologies.

Eh, but wait.. did it just call him "baba"?!

And suddenly he was convinced they have a special connection.

The system rung up,

[host has prevented the illusion 'Unseen' from making you hurt your bunnies.]

[10 d-points has been given.]

Hm, well shen yuan supposes it was easy enough to figure out, but did he seriously need to traumatize his baby? But then again thats the illusion's fault, he has nothing to do with it except being another victim. Sigh~

Now that he thinks about it, why did the figure look faintly human?

Eh, well it was an illusion, so who cares?

And then in sj's pov its like, his baba cuts up another demon. But then, he started cutting it up into mesh, and was forming it into something, something that looked eerily like an arm.

He stuck his extra blade into it and holy fuck did he just stabbed himself?!-

And then the arm made by the flesh of a demon suddenly regenerated into his baba's arm and the next thing he knows is that his adoptive dad struggled to stand and breathe.

He was worried only for a bit because the next, his baba looked at him, and fucking tried to kill him.

Atleast shen jiu managed to snap him out of it, so now his worrisome and scary monster was hugging him and muttering unintelligibles that felt like apologies.

No amount of apologies can make up for that jumpscare but thanks dad.

oh also, the bunnies could be either beasts or human. The rarer ones were always human though, or atleast human kids.

To seperate the 2 so that either the humans wont kill the demon beasts or the demons wont kill the humans, the system seperated it into 3 using traits.

Humans were always "haze", smth smth haze. Like shen jiu's being "haze-coated dreams." But that ones obvious, for a non obvious one lets use lqg as an example. Liu Qingge's could be "burning iron spirit" or smth and in the status lqg's bunny would have the trait "haze" alongside other traits.

Meanwhile, demons or specifically monsters that the system can consider friendly enough to be made bunnies would have the trait "beast", while demons as in ppl like mobei-jun would have the trait "demonic"

And the system would tell him that he needs to seperate them so their traits dont clash and make their life uncomfy

And who was shen yuan to allow his babies to suffer?!

___________________

System: kill this devourer to get its materials to make your arm

Sy: ayyy finally!

(Few minutes later)

Sj: wtf wtf wtf wtf

Sy: oops

System:

System: seems we encountered another monster (" > .>) —> (looks away)

Sy: damn that monster, made my poor baby scared :(

System, sweating: yeaaahhhh.... heres some d-points.

_________________

Shen yuan eats human food. He discovered demonic and haze bunnies only until later, shen jiu was his first haze bunny. The system tells him that haze bunnies have the same diet as humans because when they grow up they eventually take on a humanoid form, or well.. learn. The system needs an excuse to further reason why sj cant communicate afterall.

Haze coated dreams aka sj randomly transforming back into a bunny

Sy: ???

System who was trying to keep sj from spilling the beans: haze bunnies learn to maintain their humanoid form, but it doesnt last very long as their control is weak.

Sy: ah that makes sense.

Yes, shen jiu will be able to communicate with shen yuan eventually, but only when the system knows that sj is already used to sy's monster-esque appearance and wont infact snitch. (Or cant)

If needed, the system will js "haze" (censor) the revealing words in the form of sj speaking unintelligebles and convince shen yuan that his haze bunny was still learning how to speak.

Well, by the time the system cant use that excuse, it would've already fulfilled its goal anyway.

Anywayyyss yeah just some stuff in my head

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slxttyria · 2 months ago

Text

Geum Seong Je x f! reader

Part1. Part2.

Warnings: violence, mentions of s@ and abuse

You just got released from school walking with this girl that annoyed you the entire day, she desperately wanted to be your friend just to get close to Seong Je.

You knew because she kept asking about him and kept asking to meet him, apparently she sees you two after school in the afternoons so she decided to walk with you.

You reached the gate and noticed Seong Je wasn't there, you thanked God silently hoping he might be at that corner again.

"Uhm why is Seong Je not here...?" The girl perked up and asked.

You shrugged your shoulders and started to walk not replying to the girls farewell.

You reached the corner and saw that Seong Je wasn't there either.

Why am I worried? I don't like him. I'm not supposed to.

You reminded yourself but still ended up sending him a text asking where he was. You started walking again until you heard footsteps running behind you, you moved to turn around thinking it was Seong Je.

Instead your hair got pulled slamming into the nearby wall, you slid to the ground grunting, holding your head hands slightly bloody.

Your hair blocked your vision and then you felt a hand wrap around your neck squeezing it, your air supply cutting off as the guy squeezed more lifting you off the ground.

"Bitch." He slapped you across your face, cheek stinging now turning pink.

"Stay away from Seong Je or you'll get his punishment instead." He spoke.

You had no idea who this guy was your heart was racing, you felt light headed, tears threatening to fall.

"Alright stop dude." One of the other guy steps up and hits his arm, you fell to the ground gasping for air, trembling.

They ran off, this whole situation felt overwhelming for you and you started panicking and ended up fainting.

Seong Je was ringing and texting your phone off while walking through that same path to your house.

Dialing your number once again turning that corner to see a girl on the ground, your face was covered by your hair but he instantly knew it was you and rushed over there.

"Hey hey.... Wake up...!" He moved the hair out of your face patting your cheek he noticed red faint marks on your neck. "Fuck..." He traced them with his finger tips. He knew exactly who did this and he was going to kill them.

He took you into his arms, cradling you against your chest heading to your house.

Arriving there he took your keys from your uniform pocket unlocking the door, the house was empty you always complained to him about it causing him to come over often without your parents knowing.

Eventually you woke up in his arms? In your room? He looked down at your face and spoke "Who did it?" He demanded.

You didn't answer tears swelling your eyes threatening to fall.

"Now is not the time to be silent. Who did it." He spoke again

"I don't know who it is..." You spoke softly, your voice cracking slightly.

He sighed clenching and unclenching his jaw, he was visibly upset they touched what was his and his only, especially after he warned them.

He helped you get cleaned up and helped with your wounds, stayed with you until you fell asleep and he ended up dozing off too.

The next day he took you to this bowling alley and had everyone lined up in front of you and him.

"Point out who it is." He pushed you slightly towards them

You looked among the men and found the guy instantly, he pleaded his his eyes to not say anything but you still pointed to him.

Seong Je immediately ran up and kicked him in his shin the guy fell to his knees and another kick connected to his jaw knocking him to the floor.

He stepped back and spoke to the others "Beat him, stop and you'll get the same treatment he gets."

They all immediately started to hit and kick the guy on the ground repeatedly while he grunts and cries out.

He turned to you, cupping your cheek "They aren't hurting you ever again, your mine and they don't deserve to be anywhere near you."

He knows he looked insane saying that but he didn't care he was serious, you believed him and nodded.

Footsteps where heard coming down the steps and there he was Baekjin.

Seong Je turned to look at him "You gave orders for this didn't you?" He stepped closer to him standing face to face with his so called boss.

He didn't answer.

"I warned you guys not to touch her, if you can't comply by the one thing I asked you to do in return for me doing all that shit you asked then I'm not working with you."

Baekjin sighed, clenching his fists keeping his calm demeanour "Can't you see shes a distraction? You've been doing less shit ever since you met her."

"oh so I cant live my normal life? I cant keep my head in this Union shit forever you know that right?" Seong Je spoke sternly

He took your hand and walked out with you, you both walked far enough for you to stop making him stop too.

"I'm sorry...this is all my fault." You spoke softly staring into his eyes

"Darling it's not your fault, it's never you fault don't say that..." He cupped your face with his large hands placing a kiss on your lips.

He pulled back resting his forehead against yours "I'm not leaving you ever. And your not leaving me, your mine okay?"

You nodded and he leaned down to kiss you again tilting his head to deepen the kiss, moving his hand to your hair careful not to irritate the wound on your head.

He walked you home, watching as you went in closing the door, taking you shoes off, you smelt the scent of alcohol and instantly knew it was your step father.

"Oh hey hunny" he waved from the couch and hiccuped. "Come here..." He patted his lap.

You paused, not wanting to to you went for the stairs in a hurry, when he realized you weren't coming he saw you go up the stairs and ran after you.

"You fucking stubborn bitch." He pulled your hair mid step causing you to fall backwards rolling down the stairs, you let out a scream as you hit your head where the injury was.

"Shut the fuck up." He kicked you, he pulled your hair again and you screamed "What the fuck did I just say!?" He slapped you across the face.

Seong Je who was about to walk off heard your screams and did not hesitate to run into the house.

You and your father both looked up at the door that swung open

"Get the fuck out of my-" your father testified but he was met with a punch in his jaw from Seong Je, he fell and he kept beating him and beating him until his whole face was bloody.

You were sitting on the ground holding on to your head "Seong Je..." You called out softly he didn't answer and continued "Seong Je!" He paused mid hit and looked at you.

He looked at your eyes like a plead for him to stop, he sighed and stood straight walking over to you pulling you into his arms.

"Why didn't you tell me...?" He whispered in your hair. As soon as he said those words it was like something in you broke and you just cried in his arms while he hushed you softly, whispering words of reassurance in your ears.

You calmed after a while and explained everything to him having break downs in between but he was there for you.

He definitely stayed with you that night, while you were asleep he took a picture of your unconscious father sending it into a group chat with a caption saying 'Anywhere you see this shit face, beat the crap out of him.'

That basically sums up how seriously Seong Je takes his girl and treats her like she's a pretty princess. He swore to protect you and never leave you and somewhat got his Union members to know you even Baekjin took a liking to you as to where when Seong Je brings you in his office you'd both do homework or school shit, Seong Je calls you bothe nerds for it but deep down he's happy that you both got along well.

The End!!!

Or should I post a lil smth bout him meeting your mom?

#geum seongje x reader #geum seong je #weak hero class 1 #weak hero class two #weak hero x reader #geum seongje scenario #whc1 x reader

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mythicmanuscripts · 11 months ago

Note

‘cockwarming, how the flying fuck have we never discussed it?’ I was just thinking about this the other day because cockwarming was made for sub!aemond! The closeness and the safety and also the challenge of controlling his orgasm and staying still

you're so right!! It was absolutely made for aemond I couldn't agree more

NSFW sub!aemond below the cut :))

I said this in the first sidetone I did about pegging Aemond and I'll say it again: the first time you properly have sex with Aemond, he stops once he's fully inside you and he just... he's completely blown away by how good it feels? He knew it would be better with you than it was with the brothel worker, but this is another level.

He feels so safe and warm? There's absolutely no fear or vulnerability, and he doesn't even feel exposed? He's completely naked and yet he doesn't feel vulnerable or exposed at all.

You just breathe at first, getting used to the feeling of him and then when you're ready you tell him he can move. Except he doesn't move? You start to worry, and you ask him if he's alright. That's when he looks at you properly and whines, nodding and then collapsing into you. You wrap your arms around him and tell him you can stop right there, he doesn't have to carry on if he doesn't want.

But that only makes him whine again. Eventually he just says, "Can we stay like this? For now? Feels nice..." and so what was supposed to be your first time having proper sex with him becomes your first time cockwarming with him. You don't mind this one bit, firstly because it feels nice but secondly because you can see how much he loves it.

He tells you afterwards that he had never felt so safe than he did right then. Aemond absolutely adores intimacy with you? Once you form a proper connection with him, he just wants so badly to be close to you. He's touch starved and intimacy starved and he will never ever get enough of being able to lay with you. Sure the sex is certainly great, but it's SO much more than that.

He's overjoyed when you tell him that you also enjoyed just letting him stay inside you without moving. You tell him you'd love to do that again, and he's so so thankful.

Cockwarming definitely becomes something you do regularly with him. I think sometimes he doesn't even want to cum? He doesn't need to, not when he can't seem to settle. When he gets like that, you let him eat you out and then let him cockwarm with you and it's everything to him.

I also like the idea of it sometimes being a challenge not to move, because Aemond loves to feel like he's worked for whatever reward you've offered him. When it's done as a challenge, it tends to come about impromptu and not planned?

Sometimes you and aemond will talk while he's inside you. Your favourite position for this is just to straddling him, sitting on his cock with his arms wrapped around your waist. He's at the perfect height to rest his head against your chest and feel you kiss this head and it's incredible. So you'll sit like that and talk about your days.

Of course aemond complains about the more boring parts of his day, and you roll your eyes with him and make some jokes about it. He just loves this easy going, almost teasing tone you two can have with each other as you trade stories of your days.

He'll always start to get a bit hornier there, especially if you praise him for something he did during the day. You see this immediately of course, and that's when you'll tell hm to stay still you give him permission to move.

From there, you keep on teasing him while you chat, and it's just such a nice combination. He keeps on trying to answer your questions but you feel so good and he's getting so desperate. He never thought he'd ever reach a point where he felt comfortable enough to be giggling during sex while he's being teased.

So yeah, big fan of cockwarming.

#sub!aemond #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #house of the dragon imagine

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i-like-forcefem · 3 months ago

Text

Honestly I'm genuinely really interested in how to be entertaining to doms

If anyone has any thoughts please say so!!!

(LONG) Musings below the cut:

Since at the end of the day they do all of the amazing work of making cuties feel good, shaping them to be who they always really wanted to be

So I'd want to replicate their effort

Of course the obvious thing is to be completely obedient at all times, and further be considerate to her needs and communicate all of yours

Be a sub she can trust

Which I believe is a nice start! And where I believe Im at

But that's boring

Or at least I imagine it to be!

Since I'm honest about wanting my desires, open to someone forcing me into them and will be completely obedient to them no questions asked (assuming no boundaries are crossed)

There's no challenge here?

The dom is more of a guide then an owner, a mommy in a fairly literal sense

And if any doms enjoy that, first off um DMs open, more importantly that's incredible for you!!! I'm glad <3

But still I do wonder what would make one more entertaining to doms?

A friend of mine said in a server that fae only ever feels the desire to dom those that temp fae

Subs that manipulate the dom to put her in her place

And knowing fae that makes a lot of sense! And I also agree that it does sound hot to be playing right into her hand, and even if you're the one on top, she's in charge

But also that feels potentially really icky, manipulation is a slippery slope

Hmm, further there's the idea of bratting more, but then you run into the issue with me as a person being incredibly open about everything

Hell I even act it up a bit! (Or at least do my best to allow any emotions to run it's full course- which is um, yeah why those reactions have been so "flaunting" as the nice anon put it)

And there'd be a disparity between my personality outside kink and my role as a sub

That said I do love the idea of being a Tsundere a lot

But then I'd need to shut out any worries trying to take care of the dom within the scene

Hmmm

At the end of the day it also depends a lot on the specific dom

I want to make her feel good after all, and each dom has her own preferences and kinks, and only by communicating with her can we figure those out and I can play into those angles

Not knowing the intended audience outside "dom" is so broad, hard to boil down any actionable points

That said- I could hone in "forcefem dom"

But hmm, the issue to that is it's focused on changing the sub, and has a lot of physical elements that kinda need to be done irl

(I could challenge a dom by forcefemming me through text ;3 (but that too is bland tbf, since it boils down to "force me to act and dress cuter"- I'm already doing what I can for hrt and what not!))

Hmm, another friend of mine defined kinks as fufilling up to 3 desires: not wanting to think, a feeling of control, and breaking taboos (unsure about the last one)

But if we define domming as an act of complete control over someone, how do we make it more interesting for those purposes?

Well you could add difficulty, challenge makes anything more engaging! But in my case that'd feel dissengenuiess, so I'm not sure if bratting is the route to go

Hmm, but I do feel the complete lack of difficulty might be what makes it so unengaging, suppose there's some novelty in saying the flailing, but I highly doubt that'd be engaging over a long period of time

There's an argument to be made that doms looking for connection might be satisfied? But that can also be reached without kink- and it'd also be a lot easier to make that loving feeling stick without teasing

Yeah thinking on it, a feeling of control is fun but the main thing you want to do is push it's edges, and then you start running into either issues with a complete lack of resistance or hard boundaries -the struggle for control would very much be over in a single session, with not much more id resist on outside boundaries (if I'd even resist in the first place since let's be honest here)

Hmmm, gosh I'd love to hear Dom's thoughts on what they like in their subs so so so much

But back to the point: what iterations CNA be made to how I play to make it more engaging?

Hmm, maybe stopping analysing why a dom is so amazing? Might be a bit stressful even if I do want to give feedback on any art I experience and I want to be genuinely incredibly excited when giving it

Yeah gosh hitting a smidge of a wall

Being more of a Tsundere or incredibly cocky in my non-existent domming skills "Just enter my DMs and you'll end up in a maid outfit before the conversation is done >:3"

Could be interesting? I do think that being subtle is for cowards so it'd be played up to almost comedic levels (since that's fun! I like being over the top) but I suppose that'd also be uninteresting to play with?

Hmmm goshgoshgosh

Never really stood still to use game design lenses on myself as a sub and it's so fun? Really captured my imagination- I do lack information about what types of subs are out there (I mainly see one specific type) so if anyone wants to share experiences PLEASE DO

I am- so so so interested in this topic right now

Thanks a bunch for reading (gosh this got long)

I hope you have a nice day

#THIS IS A LONG AND NOT GOOD POST #but if youre in the mood for a ramble #it might be a fun read!!!#also if you tell me about your experiences as a dom ill love you forever (/silly)#thats all for now bye!!!

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andy-15-07 · 4 months ago

Note

Hey, loving your work!!!

Could you please write dbf Joel (I’m obsessed with this trope)? Something where reader’s dad finds out and looses his shit…

Off-Limits

PAIRING: Joel Miller x reader

WORD COUNT: 1753 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

A/n:I'm sorry I haven't been active in the last week, school kept me busy, now I have more free time and I will respond to all your requests.

It was a warm, humid evening when I realized that nothing in my life would ever be the same. I’d always known that my dad and Joel Miller had been inseparable for as long as I could remember—a bond forged over years of shared laughter, heartbreak, and unspoken promises. But I never expected that their history would someday become the backdrop to my own secret, dangerous love.

I’d spent most of my life sneaking little moments with Joel. I’d lie awake at night imagining his gruff voice softened just for me, his eyes—those deep, haunted eyes—saying everything that words never could. I was painfully aware that our connection defied every rule I’d been raised to follow. Yet every stolen glance and whispered word between us only deepened the forbidden thrill.

That fateful evening, Dad had decided to host a family dinner—a chance to recapture the old days when our home rang with laughter and familiarity. Joel was, of course, there. He’d come as always, a quiet smile on his face and his worn leather jacket draped over his broad shoulders. I knew every fiber of my being was on high alert. I’d been careful, sneaking away into the quiet recesses of the house whenever our eyes met. But tonight, as the rain pattered softly against the windows, fate had other plans.

Dinner was a lively affair. Dad regaled everyone with tales from his youth, punctuating his stories with hearty laughs. At one point, he turned to Joel and said, “You know, Joel, you were the only one who could ever keep me in line when I was a stubborn fool. I’d never have made it through some of those messes without you.” Joel’s low chuckle and the nostalgic glint in his eye only stoked the embers of a secret that had long been burning between us.

Later, as the night wore on and the party’s noise receded into a gentle murmur, I found myself in the hallway with Joel. The corridors of the house were quiet and dimly lit, offering us the privacy we so desperately craved. “I can’t do this anymore, Joel,” I whispered, barely able to contain the tremor in my voice. “Every time we’re together, I’m terrified… terrified of what might happen if someone finds out.”

Joel’s hand reached out, hesitating before gently brushing a tear away from my cheek. “I know,” he said, his voice soft but laden with regret. “But I can’t imagine a world without you. Every moment away from you feels like I’m losing part of myself.” His words sent a shiver down my spine, and for a heartbeat I allowed myself to believe that everything might be alright if we could just hold on a little longer.

We stood there, lost in our desperate confessions, when the sound of footsteps made us freeze. I barely had time to register the dreadful word forming on my lips—Dad. I turned slowly, heart pounding, to see him standing at the far end of the hallway, his eyes wide with disbelief and betrayal.

“Dad…” I managed, voice cracking with a mixture of guilt and fear.

His face, usually so composed and kind, contorted with a fury I’d never seen before. “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded, his tone cutting through the silence like shattered glass.

Joel stepped back instinctively, his eyes pleading for understanding. “Sir, I—” he began, but my dad’s voice was already rising, thick with anger.

“You!” Dad thundered, pointing a trembling finger directly at Joel. “You’re supposed to be my best friend—my confidant! How could you do this?” His voice wavered between indignation and profound hurt. “I trusted you with my daughter, with our family’s heart, and now I see you’ve been playing with fire!”

I tried to speak, to explain that nothing had been planned, that our feelings had blossomed in the shadows of loneliness and misunderstanding, but the words caught in my throat. Dad’s eyes bore into mine, searching for a hint of deceit.

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he spat, pacing in front of us as the tension became almost unbearable. “I know what I heard in that hallway. I know what I saw. How long has this been going on?”

Joel’s voice, rough with emotion, broke through the heavy silence. “I’m sorry. I never meant for any of this to hurt you—or her.” He glanced at me, his eyes moist with remorse. “I never wanted to be the cause of any pain in this family. I care for her more than I ever thought possible.”

Dad’s eyes flashed with anger. “Care for her? You call this caring? This is betrayal! You were like a son to me, Joel. I looked up to you, trusted you implicitly. And now… now I see you’ve been taking advantage of that trust.” His words stung, each syllable laced with a sorrow that nearly broke him.

“Dad, please,” I pleaded, stepping forward with desperate urgency. “I love him. I know it’s complicated and I know it’s wrong in your eyes, but—”

“Wrong?” Dad interrupted bitterly, his voice rising again. “You think this is some trivial mistake? It’s not just about you and him—it’s about the sanctity of our family. I’ve always believed that some lines should never be crossed. And you, Joel, have crossed them in the worst possible way.”

Joel’s gaze fell, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he repeated softly. “Every day, I’ve regretted every moment that led to this. But my feelings for her… they’re real. I can’t turn them off like a switch.”

Dad’s face hardened as he took a step closer, his voice now a low, dangerous growl. “Real or not, you’re playing with fire. You’re not just risking your own reputation—you’re endangering her future, our family’s reputation.” His eyes softened for a split second with pained disappointment. “I thought you were better than this.”

I could feel the weight of every word pressing down on me, the room suddenly shrinking until there was no space left for forgiveness. “Dad,” I said, my voice barely audible, “I know you’re angry, and I know this is a shock. But I promise you, my love for Joel doesn’t change who I am. It doesn’t mean I don’t respect everything you’ve taught me.”

“Respect?” Dad scoffed, running a hand through his hair as if trying to erase the scene before him. “How do you expect me to respect this—this mess of emotions and betrayal? I’ve spent my entire life protecting you, trying to guide you on the right path. And now I find out that you’ve been hiding this from me, hiding everything.”

The silence that followed was deafening, punctuated only by the sound of distant rain and the throb of our hearts. Joel cleared his throat, his voice tentative. “I’m willing to accept whatever consequences come my way,” he said. “I know I’ve damaged what we had, but I’m asking you—please, just give us a chance. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

Dad’s gaze drifted from Joel to me, torn between paternal love and a deep sense of betrayal. “A chance?” he repeated slowly. “How can I trust that you won’t just hurt her again? How can I be sure that this isn’t just another fleeting infatuation that’ll leave her heart in ruins?”

I swallowed hard, tears welling in my eyes. “Because… because I’ve never felt this way before,” I whispered. “I know it’s scary and it’s messy, but I know who I am—and I know that I want to be with him. I’m not asking for your approval, Dad. I’m just asking for your understanding.”

For a long moment, Dad stood silent, his eyes brimming with a painful mixture of love and disbelief. Finally, his voice broke the spell, raw and trembling. “I need time… time to process this,” he said, each word heavy with regret. “Right now, I can’t… I can’t look at either of you the same way again.”

Before either of us could protest, he turned and strode out of the hallway, leaving the echoes of his footsteps behind him like a final, resounding verdict. The room felt colder, the silence more oppressive than before.

Joel’s hand found mine, his fingers interlacing with mine in a gesture both tender and apologetic. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I never meant for things to go like this. I only ever wanted to be honest with you, even if it meant breaking every rule in the book.”

I squeezed his hand tightly, fighting back my own tears. “I know,” I whispered. “I wish things were different. I wish Dad could see that what we have isn’t just some careless mistake—it’s something real, something that means everything to me.”

The rain continued to drum against the windows as we stood there in the aftermath of our shattered secret, a storm both outside and within mirroring our turmoil. In that fragile moment, I resolved that no matter how painful the road ahead, I wouldn’t give up on us. Even if it meant facing a future filled with anger, disappointment, and heartache, I was determined to fight for the love that had unexpectedly bloomed between us.

“Joel,” I said softly, “we’ll figure this out. I don’t know how, and I don’t know if Dad will ever understand, but I can’t lose you. Not now, not ever.”

Joel’s eyes shone with a mixture of sorrow and fierce determination. “I promise,” he replied, his voice low and steady despite the chaos around us. “We’ll weather this storm together. And if it means standing up to everything we’ve known, then so be it.”

In that quiet hallway, with the distant sound of thunder blending with our whispered vows, I clung to the hope that maybe—just maybe—we could mend the fractures of a family torn apart by secrets. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with painful confrontations and hard truths. But I knew in my heart that love, as messy and unpredictable as it was, was worth every risk.

As the night deepened and the storm raged on outside, I held onto Joel a little tighter, silently vowing that our love would someday prove stronger than even the deepest wounds. And though I didn’t know if Dad’s anger would ever subside or if our family could ever be whole again, I understood one undeniable truth: in that moment, our love was the only certainty we had—and it was worth fighting for, no matter the cost.

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