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go-fornicate-yourself · 2 days ago

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Every day I am in the trenches fighting for my life defending this poor man. He was going through so much and people online demonize him and say he's as bad as his abuser

(I've got a lot of thoughts about this so I'll make sure to separate things to make it easier to look at lol)

Curly is a victim of abuse. Jimmy is his abuser. This is something that I feel a lot of people tend to brush over or don't acknowledge it often.

And I'm not just talking about post-crash. Jimmy's abuse of Curly is there pre-crash too. The party scene where the crew learns about the company going under is a huge example of this. Jimmy verbally abuses him, he gaslights him, he blames him for their (his) misfortune. Jimmy accuses Curly of thinking he's better than everyone (better than him), that he doesn't care about them (about him). That he's going leave them (leave him). Which is not true. Curly tries to explain himself but Jimmy shuts him down and he just takes it.

The fact that he just allows this to happen makes it seem like he's used to this... That this kind of behavior is a recurring thing with Jimmy. And the fact that nobody else tries to defend him or stands up to Jimmy just normalizes it for him. When Anya tells Curly what Jimmy did it catches him off guard. Bc he genuinely didn't think that his friend was capable of that. It wasn't something that was obvious to him. There were absolutely many red flags in the past but they were subtle enough for him to not see them bc he cares for Jimmy, he trusts him. Jimmy's the only one he feels he can open up to, who he can let his guard down with. Jimmy's his home. That's how close they are.

Because of this deep love for his friend and the subtlety of Jimmy's cruelty, he doesn't see the constant verbal and emotional abuse as what it is: abuse. Which is why he finds Jimmy's abuse towards Anya so shocking and jarring.

He isn't a man covering for his rapist friend bc of the 'bro code'. It does look like that from a certain angle and it's understandable why people see it that way but that's not what his character is really about as much as it makes sense otherwise.

He's essentially a battered housewife who's still in love with her husband but is realizing for the first time that the man she loves is a monster. That the man she loves and devoted her life to has been hurting her this whole time and she didn't even realize it. That the man she loves and spent so much of her life caring for has gone and hurt someone else. That he's most likely hurt others before and she's been utterly unaware of it the entire time she defended him and made excuses for him when he wasn't the best or the fairest or the most responsible or when he screwed up yet again solely bc of how much she loved and cared for him.

And Curly barely had any time to process ANY of that before Jimmy decided to try and kill them all to avoid the consequences of his actions. It was ultimately a selfish act even if he thought he wasn't just doing it for himself. Jimmy is selfish and needs to be in control or he loses it. He cares for Curly. He loves him. Curly's done so much for him. Curly's the only one who understands him, who doesn't hate him. Curly's his home. He resents how 'successful' he is but that's only bc he thinks so highly of him. He constantly puts himself down and put Curly on a pedestal and worships him while simultaneously mistreating him.

He treats his best friend like shit, he's awful to him. But he's not aware that this is the case or maybe he's in denial about it. He can't or just refuses to see how he's doing all of what he does for himself in the end. He justifies his attempt to kill them all (to himself and to Curly) by claiming he's doing this for them both. That if they were to get back to earth it would all be Curly's fault, that it'll ruin his life and career... despite the fact he had basically nothing to do with Anya's abuse. Jimmy's shifting the blame on him while acting like he cares for him. Well, he does genuinely care for him but clearly not nearly enough to not mistreat him or use him as a scapegoat for his own guilt.

Jimmy is the rapist, Jimmy is the one who does all of these horrible things. And yet it's highly likely that Curly would just blame all of it on himself bc that's exactly what Jimmy did to him. He's in so deep he can't see the facts of the situation.

It takes abuse victims so long to come to terms with their abuse. It takes time and reflection to see things with an unbiased and healthy perspective. Abuse (especially years of it) isn't just something you can just escape. It consumes you and can twist your reality. Curly had about a week or less to process all of it and then take action in a way that protected his crew and abided by Pony Express' guidelines. Dealing with something this serious in a setting that makes resolving it extremely difficult in a practical sense is already hard.

There were no locks on any of the doors except for medical and the cockpit. They couldn't just kill him. There was nowhere they could detain Jimmy that wouldn't involve corporate potentially penalizing the entire group. They could have used the cryopods but then there'd only be three available for any actual emergency and there were already five crew members and four pods in total. Also, I doubt corporate would be 'okay' with them using the cryopods for anything other than their intended purpose. Hell, even if they were able to make it back to earth without any incidents there's a good chance that corporate would consider the situation 'poor team synergy' and collectively punish the entire crew for Jimmy's actions.

So on top of having to deal with an already difficult situation, Curly has to grapple with the realization that Jimmy a: abused Anya, b: has been abusing him as well (for a very long time too), and c: has probably abused others before Anya and he had no idea about it. He needed to act but he didn't and it doomed all of them.

But it's so unrealistic (maybe even cruel) to put that much pressure on someone, force them through an utterly earth-shattering realization, and then expect them to do the correct/right/responsible thing in that moment. It's a little ironic how people vilify him for that when other characters do the same thing that nobody blames for it.

Anya is the ship's nurse. Curly is the ship's captain. They both have duties and responsibilities on board the Tulpar. She has to keep the crew healthy and safe and is the only one with enough medical knowledge to do so. He has to make sure that everything goes well and goes according to procedure. He's responsible for the crew, the cargo, and even the ship itself. Both positions are integral and require a lot of responsibility to do properly

They're both put through distressing and traumatic situations where due to them being human people with emotions and fears that make them essentially avoid their responsibility/doing what's required of them.

Curly has a freeze response and doesn't act when he should have when it was crucial to have done so. Anya has a fawn response and essentially puts her patient in danger and harm's way. She knew full well what Jimmy was capable of. She experienced it herself and she witnessed it happening to Curly as well. And yet she allows Jimmy to be alone with Curly while being fully aware of how dangerous he is. Which she shouldn't have, that wasn't the 'right' thing to do. Keeping him safe was her responsibility.

But Anya's human. She's going through a lot at the moment. She's terrified of Jimmy and she's trying to appease him so he doesn't hurt her again. It's a natural very understandable thing to do even if it's not the 'right' or 'responsible' thing. They failed each other when they needed each other most and I think that's the most tragic part of it. If anything, all of them failed each other in some way, shape, or form.

So it's incredibly frustrating to see people give Anya so much sympathy and grace for doing something so human yet still 'wrong' but then turn around and give Curly none of that for doing essentially the same thing she does.

I don't know for sure if it's actually because Curly is a man or if it's only part of it or maybe some people just lack that sense of awareness but it's depressing and frustrating as fuck as a male victim of sexual violence and abuse to see this kind of behavior and this much victim blaming towards a character who is undeniably a victim of abuse like I am.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #curly mouthwashing #captain curly #jimmy mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #jimcurly #jimcurl #jimmy x curly #curly x jimmy #tagging it as a ship bc I imply they have less than platonic feelings toward each other #No guy implies that his boy best friend is his home and he's his unless the two are in love #They love each other #it's an abusive and toxic codependent relationship #but what they feel for each other is genuine #anyway #Typical Mouthwashing trigger/content warnings obviously

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hoe4hotchner · 22 hours ago

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Hi!! If you still take requests could I request Hotch helping a fellow bau member after she tried to hide her ocd from him (like intrusive thoughts, counting and blinking hard etc not cleaning or contamination ocd)

Thanks! xoxo 🧡🧡

Blink twice, tap four times, hold your breath and count to six | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau!gn!Reader | WC: 0.5k | CW: OCD | Summary: Hotch reasures reader when he notices their OCD being a little more frequent than usual |

You were certain you’d been subtle about it, always careful to keep your mind’s demands invisible. Blinking patterns, counting in repetitive loops, moving your fingers until they felt “right” — these things were all in the quiet spaces, hidden behind closed doors and the shuffle of paperwork. Or so you thought.

But Hotch was observant, maybe too observant for your own good. It started with small things: his brow creasing when you tapped your fingers on the table during briefings, his quiet gaze following when you seemed lost in thought, counting silently to bring calm. You brushed it off, certain he was just being his usual analytical self, until the day his concern broke through the usual boundaries he had set for himself.

It was late, everyone else had gone home for the night. You’d been poring over files, a trail of cold coffee cups beside you, trying to distract yourself from the prickling anxiety that had settled in your mind since a particularly tough case. Then it happened again — blink twice, tap four times, hold your breath and count to six, over and over. You weren’t sure how long you’d been repeating it, but when you looked up, Hotch was standing in the doorway to the conference room — You sometimes worked on your files in there to keep your mind on track.

“Can I come in?” he asked gently.

You cleared your throat, swallowing the reflexive answer to brush him off. “Of course.”

He entered, closing the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the quiet room. You half-expected a reprimand, a reminder to go home and rest, but his gaze was unusually soft, something between empathy and understanding.

“I noticed you’ve been… distracted lately,” he began, his words careful. “More than usual.”

The confession sat on the edge of your tongue, bitter and unwelcome. “It’s nothing. I just get… caught up sometimes.”

He nodded slowly as if weighing your answer. “We all have our patterns,” he said, his voice low and calm. “But if they’re weighing on you, you don’t have to hide them. Not from me.”

The words caught you off-guard. Your heart pounded, the intrusive thoughts flaring up in response to his kindness, an immediate discomfort in your chest at the vulnerability.

“Hotch, I don’t want anyone to think… that I can’t handle this.” The admission tumbled out, quieter than you’d intended. “Sometimes, my brain… it gets stuck in loops. It makes me repeat things to feel okay.”

He nodded as though he’d known it all along. “You’re one of the most resilient agents I know. But you don’t have to manage all of this alone.” He took a seat beside you, close enough that you could feel his presence. “If something is weighing on you, I want you to tell me. I can help.”

There was a soothing rhythm to his words, one that almost matched the way you counted, but softer and kinder. You swallowed, fighting the wave of embarrassment that rose at the idea of admitting everything. But his hand, warm and steady, rested on yours.

“I don’t think less of you,” he continued his voice barely a murmur. “In fact, I have more respect for you than you realize. What you’re dealing with doesn’t make you weak — it shows your strength.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words settle in your mind like stones sinking to the bottom of a pond.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the words carrying all the gratitude you hadn’t known you were holding.

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ceaselesswatchersspecialboy · 1 day ago

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Do the twins ever get attached to stanfraud? Does bill get attached to them too? what is their relationship like? and what is their immediate reaction to finding out everything was a lie -- first impressions? GAAHH I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS i'm ur biggest fan bro

Thank you so much!! It really means a lot that people are enjoying my madness this much!

It’s funny because earlier I was actually doodling him and the twins!

He absolutely gets attached and they get attached in return. While their initial introduction to him is very rocky, they come to enjoy his quirks and unusual interests, especially once Dipper puts together he was the author, and he regularly supervises them on adventures, mainly because Stan asked him too, but also because it’s strangely fun. He will repeatedly claim he hasn’t gone soft to Stan, but then Stan will find him fast asleep with the twins curled up against him, or he’ll catch him helping the twins in their respective Dipper and Mabel’s guide videos. He also likes Mabel Juice! Mabel won’t take his suggestion of adding eyeballs though. Alas.

His feelings towards them are made complicated by his own denial. He doesn’t like the idea that he’s changed much at all, and these new doubts he’s experiencing about his original plans are not thoughts he’s willing to entertain for long. He gets snappy when Stan tries to reassure him it’s okay that he cares, because he doesn’t care, he’s just… playing a role. That’s all. It’s all one big lie. He can do lies. But that doesn’t really explain the genuine panic he experiences when Dipper and Mabel are in danger, and how quickly he jumps in to protect them nor does it explain the fuzzy feeling in his chest when Mabel knits him a sweater.

He’s not the same as he was thirty years ago. That’s a fact. And thirty years was once just a blip for him, but this has felt like he’s lived a whole new life.

And on the flip side, Dipper and Mabel care a lot too. He’s off-putting and he’s strange and he says some things that imply he may have committed murder and gotten away with it, but they like being around him. It isn’t always perfect, same as it is with Stan, but the rougher patches don’t tend to last, and they reconcile by the end of the day (although, Bill is usually incapable of saying sorry verbally and shows his apology through actions instead).

Dipper for one hasn’t really had anyone he can just ramble about nerd stuff with. Bill can actually keep up with Dipper, and they both find themselves enjoying the debate they have about inter dimensional travel, or what sort of haunting would be the most annoying to deal with. Dipper does sometimes catch his uncle looking at him strangely though, almost as though he’s seeing right through Dipper and looking at someone else, but he blinks and the odd look is gone, so he must have imagined it.

Bill does sometimes push Dipper’s buttons, of course, and never gives him direct answers, usually making him look for the answer himself, or read between the lines, which Dipper comes to appreciate as it, so he claims, trains his mind for mysteries. They have a very fun back and forth, honestly. Dipper thinks Stanfraud is the coolest despite all the annoyances, and he really does try his best to impress him.

Mabel meanwhile is just her usual bundle of energy, and charms her great uncle by involving him in her unhinged hijinks, and showing him the art of glitter bombing. She meets him where he’s at! Even though he can sometimes be a little extreme, even for her, she pushes herself out of her comfort zone, mainly because of what Stan told her, about how Ford lost his mind while alone. Well, she can’t have that! She makes a real effort trying to understand him, and why he thinks the way he does.

He also weirdly gives her some good advice whenever Pacifica tries to bring her down, and Mabel is both comforted and inspired by how weird he is, even in his old age. He never lets anyone shame him out of it, and he encourages Mabel to just “Be weird! Your fleshbag life is short! Why waste it caring what lesser skin puppets think?”

Bill unknowingly allows both Dipper and Mabel to feel more comfortable in themselves because of how unapologetically ‘him’ he is.

Sorry if this is messy, by the way, I’m just writing my thoughts as I go along.

Anywho, I think all of this makes finding out everything was a lie very hard hitting for them. Mabel tries to rationalise it, that sure, maybe he wasn’t really their Grunkle, but he still loved them like he was, and they loved him like a Grunkle, meanwhile Dipper reacts very negatively, because he really thought he had found someone like him, someone he confided a lot in, and now he thinks he made the wrong choice, that he was an idiot.

And Stan lied too. He admits the biggest mistake he made was not telling them, but it’s too late for that now.

The one bright side, if you can call it that, is Stan and Bill do tell them before they get Ford back. They think they’ve finally found the way to do it, and Stan wants the kids to know before they try it, give them time to process.

Okay I’ll end there for now! Thank you so much again!

#asks #gravity falls #gravity falls au #not who he seems au #bill cipher #stanley pines #dipper pines #mason pines #mabel pines

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fireya-x · 19 hours ago

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hey! i just wanted to say that i love your writing. you have the most amazing style and idk if youre accepting asks rn but pls ignore if not.

would you ever consider writing a fic about john price/reader where reader is like sick for a couple days or maybe gone for a while and hes been totally deprived and all when you finally are feeling better/home, then he just absolutely loses all of his gentlemanly ways and jumps you the moment he can get it again??

maybe a little inspired by this gif -- https://www.tumblr.com/posseydonn/765988062279909376/lets-not-sleep-without-making-love?source=share

Thank you! That means so much 🥰

And of course! I was so excited when I saw this. You're the first to request, and it made me so happy. I hope this is okay, and again, thanks so much for the ask!

coming home

AO3 Link (full tag list) || masterlist

John Price x Reader

Three weeks apart is three weeks too long for John.

[3,5k words]

cw: smut, piv sex, oral sex, cunnilingus, blow job, come swallowing, smoking

You entered the meeting room, a soft “Sorry I’m late” escaping your lips, breathless as your eyes met Kate’s. She smiled, and the room, thankfully, seemed less concerned with your tardiness and more captivated by your return.

“There she is!” Gaz called out, a grin splitting his face.

“Don’t worry about it.” Kate said at the same time and gestured for you to sit down.

“Lassie! Good to see ye again!” Soap exclaimed, a gentle slap on your shoulder accompanying his greeting as you sat beside him.

Ghost’s masked face gave nothing away, but you could have sworn you saw a slight nod in your direction when your eyes met. Several other soldiers offered their greetings, but your attention was drawn to the man standing next to Kate. Their voices, addressing the room, held the familiar cadence of teachers instructing a class. His features, however, softened noticeably the moment you entered, and you suspected the newer recruits could thank you for the subtle shift in John's demeanour. Tasks were assigned and mission preparations discussed, a mission you’d been desperately wanted to be back in the field for.

You'd been confined to your home for the past three weeks, battling a nasty flu. Fever, headaches, an upset stomach – the whole miserable package. You'd warned everyone to steer clear, not wanting to share the misery. John, though you suspected he wanted to argue, had obeyed. You knew he was itching to fuss over you, to bring you tea and take your temperature like he’d done countless times before. But his care manifested in other ways. Canned soup and chocolate – clearly a Price-approved selection – appeared mysteriously on your doorstep. A week's worth of groceries materialized thanks to Soap and Ghost. And Gaz's mum, bless her, managed to stock your medicine cabinet better than a pharmacy.

As the meeting for the day was concluded and everyone slowly left the room, Price stopped you in your tracks with a raised hand. “Stay behind a moment, love.”

When the room was empty, he closed the distance between you, his hands settling on your shoulders. “Why didn’t you call? I would have picked you up.”

You shuffled your feet, avoiding his gaze, suddenly shy under his intense scrutiny. “Doctor cleared me, and I came straight here,” you explained, gesturing vaguely towards the front of the room, where he had been standing moments ago. “Didn’t want to bother you. You were clearly busy.”

“Never a bother,” he murmured, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin. “Next time, call me. Okay?”

You leaned into his touch, a wave of relief washing over you. The simple contact made you acutely aware of how much you’d missed him. “Yes, sir,” you whispered, a small smile playing on your lips as you met his gaze. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a gesture that sent a wave of comforting warmth through you.

“It’s good to have you back.” He exhaled heavily, tension easing from his shoulders. “The boys were driving me insane.”

You chuckled. “You love them.”

“I do. Not as much as you, though.”

You rolled your eyes at the cheesy line, but a warmth bloomed in your chest. He lifted your chin with a gentle finger. “Promise me if you’re not feeling well, you won’t play tough and tell me immediately, yeah?”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good.”

“Gotta go train the new kids, I suppose,” you sighed theatrically.

“I don’t envy you.” He grimaced.

“I’ll have to put my Price voice on.” You grinned, anticipating his reaction.

He raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Price voice?”

You cleared your throat, mimicking his gruff tone. “You muppets! Twenty pushups, now!”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “I do not sound like that.”

“You wish you’d sound as sweet as I do.” You winked, and he chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist as you walked together down the corridor. He paused at his office door, leaning in for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yes, Captain.” You smiled, saluting playfully, which earned you another eye roll as he disappeared inside.

The day wore on, the relentless rain and wind a constant, chilling presence on the training grounds. You watched the new recruits struggle through the obstacle course, their movements hampered by the slick mud and the biting wind. You, at least, had the small comforts of proper gear. These poor souls, battling the weather in addition to the gruelling physical demands – it brought back memories of your own training. The endless drills, Price’s watchful gaze, his voice a constant bark of commands, pushing you, testing your limits. No trace of the tenderness he showed you now. Back then, it had been all business, grit, and determination.

But it earned you a place on the 141, and you didn't regret a single moment.

As the last recruit, mud-caked and drenched, stumbled across the finish line, you offered a nod of acknowledgement. “Passable time, soldier,” you stated, pointing towards the last stretch of obstacles, “but that last part needs to be faster. Work on your agility in these conditions. Life or death out in the field.” The recruit saluted, exhaustion etched on their pale face, before joining the rest of the group.

Dismissing them with a sweep of your hand, you advised, “Get yourselves dried off and warmed up.” You could practically feel the welcome relief of hot showers and a decent meal yourself as you watched them disperse, shivering. Heading for the nearest entrance, you discarded your heavy weather gear with a sigh of relief.

A voice called out, “Sergeant?” Turning, you recognized the young recruit from the cafeteria, his waterproof jacket plastered to his thin frame as he hurried towards you. He pointed a finger down the hall. “Captain Price wants to talk to you.”

Your heart quickened, a nervous flutter in your stomach. Smoothing down your damp uniform and clutching the training reports, you made your way toward Price’s office, that nervous flutter intensifying with each step. You knocked lightly, the sound muffled by the heavy door.

“You wanted to talk to me?” you began, pushing it open. “Oh, I already have the reports here –”

“Lock the door.�� Price’s command cut you short, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. A freshly lit cigar was clenched between his teeth, a plume of smoke curling upwards.

Your breath hitched, momentarily stunned by his command. The facade of your professionalism crumbled under the weight of his gaze. “What?”

His eyes bored into you. He jerked his chin towards the door, the unspoken command crystal clear. “Do it, and get over here.” A blush warmed your cheeks as you obeyed, the click of the lock echoing in the sudden silence.

You crossed the room, dropping the reports on his desk as you rounded it, coming to a stop before him. His hand shot out, gripping your wrist, pulling you towards him with a force that made you gasp. The movement was almost violent, and he didn’t even waste a breath before your training briefs were bunching around your ankles as he shoved them down. His touch was rough, brutal and yet undeniably possessive.

The heat of him against your sudden bare skin was like an electric shock, making the hairs on your skin stand up, igniting a fire that had been smouldering for past weeks. His mouth was suddenly between your thighs, biting your sensitive flesh through the fabric of your panties, eliciting a moan from your lips.

“Christ, John, what –” you breathed, the words lost against another nip of his teeth. He forced his tongue against the damp fabric and his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your backside as he growled against your skin. “Fuck, I've missed you.”

“We’re at work,” you protested weakly, even as your hands found their way into his hair, desperate for something to hold on to.

He pulled back slightly and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Has that ever stopped us before?”

You shook your head, a breathless laugh escaping you. “I guess not.”

With a quick, almost savage tear, your panties were gone. The cool air against your heated skin made you shiver. He murmured against your skin, his voice low and husky, “I’m not going to fire you for fucking your boss, sweetheart.” A trail of scorching kisses followed his words, his lips branding your inner thighs.

“Very funny,” you chuckled, hands finding their way back into his hair, and without a warning, his tongue parted your folds. The contact with your clit was an unexpected intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. He pushed you back against the desk, your legs parting instinctively as his fingers joined the fray. He lapped at your slickness, his tongue swirling and circling, his beard scratching the skin, while his fingers teased the entrance of your hole.

He devoured you, his hunger insatiable, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony to bring you to the brink. You could feel the pressure building, coiling tight in your belly, the pleasure intensifying with each lick, each touch, each stolen breath. “John,” you gasped, and he groaned in response, the sound thick with desire, but then, his own need overriding yours, he pulled back abruptly. The sight, the taste, the feel of you was too much. He needed to be inside you. With a low growl, he lifted you onto the cool surface of the desk, scattering the forgotten reports beneath you like fallen leaves.

“Shouldn’t you be looking at those reports?” you managed, a weak attempt at humour.

He shook his head, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips. “The only thing I should be doing is you.”

As he moved above you, your gaze traced the familiar lines of his body. The faint, silvery scars that crisscrossed his skin, a roadmap of his life, each one an etched memory of battles fought and won. The dark hair dusting his chest and narrowing down to the meticulously trimmed line of his pubic hair – a detail that sent a wave of heat through you, the knowledge that he’d been ready for you, waiting for this moment, just as you had been.

His cock, thick and veined, throbbed before you. The tip, a darker shade of pink, almost crimson with arousal, glistened in the dim light of the office, the precum already beading there like glistening dew. The velvety texture, the subtle ridges and curves of its form – it was a thing of beauty, of raw power. And it belonged to him, to the man who made you feel things no one else could. Safe. Cherished. Desired.

It had been weeks – an eternity – since you’d felt this way. The way he looked at you, his eyes dark and intense, focused solely on you, made you feel seen, loved, like you were the only person in the world.

The initial slow burn of his entry ignited a fire within you, a slow, steady warmth that spread through your body. As he settled fully inside you, a sigh escaped your lips. It was a feeling of homecoming, of finally returning from a long and arduous journey, of finding your way back to the place where you belonged. It was more than just pleasure; it was a sense of rightness, of two halves becoming whole. You revelled in the feeling of fullness, of completion, of finally having him back where he belonged.

You could feel every inch of him, the subtle ridges and curves of his length pressing against your inner walls, the velvety head brushing against your most sensitive point, sending shivers of anticipation radiating outwards. He leaned down, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss, and the taste of him, of cigar smoke and desire and longing, filled your senses.

As the kiss deepened, his rhythm intensified, the slow burn giving way to a wildfire. The languid thrusts became more insistent, more demanding. The rhythmic slap of skin against skin echoed in the quiet office, punctuated by the creak of the desk beneath you. His mouth moved to nip and suck at your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through your already sensitized nerves. His touch was a brand that marked you as his, a delicious reminder of his possession. His fingers found your clit, rubbing, circling, adding yet another layer of exquisite torture to the inferno already burning within you.

The pressure built, the pleasure intensifying with each thrust, each touch, each stolen breath. And then, it hit you – an explosion of pure, unadulterated bliss, a blinding white light that obliterated all thought. You threw your arms around his back, your nails digging into his skin. Your body convulsed, pressing against him, clamping down on his cock as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, each one more intense than the last. He held you steady, his strong arms a comforting anchor and his voice a low murmur against your ear. “That's my girl,” he whispered, the words a balm to your soul as the tremors subsided, leaving you spent and sated in his embrace.

Still pleasure-drunk, your mind hazy with the afterglow of your climax, you pushed him off you and breaking the connection. He stumbled back, a flicker of confusion in his eyes, but he didn’t intervene, his gaze following your every move as you slid off the desk. He let himself be pushed back into his chair, his chest heaving, his cock still slick and hard.

Reaching for the earlier discarded cigar in the ashtray, you brought it to your lips, inhaling deeply, the familiar taste making your head spin. As you exhaled, your gaze locked with his, a predatory glint in your eyes. With slow, deliberate movements, you began to play with the cigar, rolling it between your fingers, letting it linger at the corner of your mouth, dragging it across your lips as if savouring the taste, the tip tracing the same path his tongue had taken only moments before. The act, a shameless innuendo, was a way of reclaiming your power, of teasing him, of showing him that you weren't done with him yet. You ran your tongue along the length of it, the tip glistening in the dim light of the office.

He watched, transfixed, his breath hitching in his throat, every muscle in his body coiled tight with a tension that bordered on painful. You were putting on a show, a performance designed solely for him, and it was driving him absolutely insane. The way you practically fucked the cigar, deep throating it with a practised ease that made his blood run hot, was both absurd and incredibly erotic.

His gaze was riveted on your lips, the way they stretched and pulsed around the cigar, the tip disappearing into the depths of your mouth, then reappearing, slick and glistening. Your tongue, darting out to lick the tip, to swirl around the base, made him growl involuntarily.

Your cheeks hollowed with each deep drag, the sight making his own breath come in short, ragged gasps. It was blatant, mimicking a far more intimate act, a performance designed to tease and torment, and it was working perfectly. He could practically feel your mouth on him, the heat, the pressure, the rhythmic pull – it had been weeks of forced abstinence, and he knew that no one else could make him feel this way; this desperate, this utterly and completely out of control.

His cock, still red and swollen, throbbed and twitched in agonizing response and the pre-come slowly leaked onto his skin. His balls ached with a desperate need for release, a pressure that built with each drag you took on the cigar, each moan that escaped your lips, each flick of your tongue. The need to touch himself, to find some small measure of relief, was almost overwhelming.

Not being able to bear it any longer, his hand instinctively moved towards his aching hardness, but you stopped him, your fingers gently but firmly closing around his wrist.

“Not yet, Captain,” you purred, your voice husky with amusement. You held his gaze, your eyes sparkling with mischief, and brought the cigar back to your lips, taking one last, long drag. Letting he smoke fill your lungs before you leaned in, your lips brushing against his. You exhaled slowly, deliberately, the plume of smoke swirling into his mouth, teasing his tongue with the lingering taste of the tobacco, the heat of your breath, and the promise of more.

He groaned, a low rumble in his chest, and his tongue darted out, attacking your mouth, desperate to taste you, to reclaim the connection that had been broken only moments before. The kiss was fierce, hungry, his tongue probing deep, seeking out yours, tangling with it in a desperate dance of need. He wanted you, all of you, right there, right then, but you pulled back, a teasing smile playing on your lips. With a slow, deliberate movement, you placed the cigar between his lips.

Then, trailing a line of kisses down his chest, across the hard planes of his stomach, each touch sending shivers through his already aroused body, you reached your destination. He groaned, his hands finding their way to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as you knelt before him, his hardness pressing against your cheek.

You took him in your mouth, the taste of him – salty and musky – mingling with the lingering flavour of the cigar and the faint, sweet taste of yourself. You swirled your tongue around him, appreciating the feel of him against your lips, the heat of him radiating against your skin. You sucked hard, the pull creating a friction that made him groan, his hips bucking involuntarily against your mouth. You bobbed your head, setting a slow, steady rhythm, your eyes never leaving his, watching as his expression shifted from desire to pure pleasure. You increased the pressure, the pace, drawing him deeper into your mouth, feeling the throb of his pulse against your tongue and the way his cock pulsed and twitched with each pull of your lips.

You ran your tongue along the underside of his length, before playing a soft kiss to the tip, teasing him, driving him closer to the edge. He groaned again, the sound barely audible, a strangled whimper of pleasure lost somewhere between a sob and a curse.

You continued, relentless, taking him fully into your mouth again with a passion fuelled by the weeks of pent-up longing. You felt him tense, the muscles in his thighs clenching as he reached his peak. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and a shudder ran through his entire body. His grip on your hair tightened, his knuckles white against your scalp. “Fuck… yes,” he groaned, the words barely audible. “So good... love... bloody hell…”

His voice trailed off into a series of incoherent moans and gasps as he spilled into your mouth, the hot rush of his release coating your throat. You moaned when the taste hit you, salty and musky, and so intoxicatingly him. You could feel the heat, the force of it, as he emptied himself into you – the rhythmic contractions of his cock, the feeling of him throbbing within your mouth, how the ridge of his length pulsated against your tongue with each spurt – it sent shivers down your spine. You continued to suckle gently, even after the initial rush subsided, your tongue swirling around him, cleaning him, wanting to draw every last drop of him, to cherish the intimacy of the moment, to prolong the connection for as long as possible. With a final, loving kiss against the tip, you pulled back, leaving him breathless.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes still dark with desire, but now softened with a tenderness reserved only for you. He reached down, his hand gently cupping your chin, tilting your face up to his. He brushed a stray strand of hair away from your forehead, his touch feather-light. “I missed you,” he murmured. “I was worried sick. So glad you’re alright.”

You smiled, a playful glint in your eyes. “Couldn't even wait until we got home?” You teased, still settled between his thighs, reaching up to run a finger along his jawline, feeling the familiar prickle of his beard. He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. “No chance, love. Not a bloody chance.” You leaned forward, resting your head against the hard muscles of his thigh, your fingertips dancing lightly along his skin. “Want to grab some dinner and stay with me tonight?” you asked, almost hesitant.

He met your gaze, a warmth spreading through his eyes that made your heart skip a beat. He reached forward then, lifting you up into his lap effortlessly. "Like you even have to ask," he murmured, his hands gently caressing your back, drawing soft circles.

“Let's go then?” he asked softly after a while.

You sighed, closing your eyes, letting the peace of the moment wash over you. “Just a minute.” He didn't reply, but his arms tightened around you, holding you close, and in that silent embrace, you found everything you had been missing in the last weeks: the comfort of his presence, the security of his touch, the certainty of his love. You were home.

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hellfirenacht · 2 days ago

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Anomaly Part 4

Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.

Tags: Anxious-ish!Reader but not shy, one sided pining, no use of y/n, fem!reader, one sided enemies to lovers, fem!reader

Word Count: 2.2k words

Master List

“The only reason she didn’t smack you was because she broke her arm.” Gareth said before downing the rest of his soda and crunching it on the table.

“I didn’t do anything to warrant a smacking.” Eddie said, crossing his arms. This had gone on for the past few minutes, where the guys had been hounding him about being seen with you and an ex-cheerleader. “I was a gentleman and carried her books to the cafeteria.”

“She looked terrified to be seen with you.” Gareth was reaching for one of Jeff’s tater tots and yelped as his hand was smacked away.

“So what else is new? Everyone’s afraid of Eddie except us.” Grant shrugged which caused the rest of the table to laugh before Eddie shot them a look that made them all shut up.

It was a blessing and a curse being the Freak of Hawkins High. Eddie knew that most people were afraid of him here, and that’s what he liked. Having people scared of him, or at least apprehensive of him, made it easier to keep an eye on his club. People moved out of the way when he moved through the hallways now, unlike his first four years of high school when he was pushed around.

Maybe it was because after that first senior year, Eddie had hit another growth spurt and looked more adult than most of the students. Wayne had once made a dry joke that if he cut his hair and wore a nice shirt for once he’d be mistaken for a teacher. Eddie had taken that personally and had spent his last few dollars on a metal WASP pin that weekend.

Eddie knew he looked dangerous to the average student, and a criminal to the average teacher. When Eddie looked in the mirror, he just saw himself.

“Did she say why she saved your ass from being expelled?” Dustin piped in, stealing one of Gareth’s tater tots while he was still trying to take Jeff’s.

“No, but she said she fell to distract everyone over the fact that Miles shit himself during the pep rally.” Eddie deadpanned.

“That’s the closest you’ll ever get to talking to a cheerleader, congratulations, Eddie.” Jeff said, with a mouth full of tater tots, finding it easier to shove them all in his mouth at once rather than spend the rest of lunch fending off Gareth.

“Ex-cheerleader.” Eddie said without thinking. He wondered if Stacy blamed him for what happened. She didn’t seem pissed at him though, then again you seemed to dislike him enough for the both of you.

“Exactly.”

Quickly losing interest in this whole topic, Eddie pulled out his cassette player, removed the batteries, gave them a good shake and put them back in before pushing play. The rest of the club went back to talking about other things. As for Eddie, he had been listening to the same damn song for a week to get the riff right. With the rest of the club growing sick of the song, it gave Eddie an excuse to bow out of the conversation for a moment.

He glanced back over at the table you were at for just long enough to see you and Stacy having a heated debate about something. What was it that got you so passionate right now?

You looked frustrated, but you usually did when he was around.

The rest of the day passed by at a snail's pace, with the days getting longer outside now and with how close he was to the end of the school year it was hard to keep momentum up. Eddie had come into this school year swinging, determined to pass those last few classes and get the hell out of here. But like anything that wasn’t D&D or music, the longer things went the harder it became.

Senioritis was already bad, but for a 3rd year in a row? This was getting ridiculous.

He thought back to this past summer where he sucked it up and signed up for summer school. Two classes over two months to show that he could count to twenty without taking his shoes off and say that Hitler was the one who killed Hitler and that gave him two shiny credits under his belt so that this year he only had to worry about Science and the PE class he had been skipping since middle school.

As much as it sucked, it was quick and easy and Eddie really just wished that regular school was as easy as summer school was. At least in summer school he was with the rest of the burnouts and future flunkies. No one there gave two shits about popularity.

The final bell rang and he made his way to the parking lot towards his van. If there was one thing that his dad did right by him, it was leaving Eddie his van. His band and this piece of junk was his ticket out of Hawkins as soon as he had that diploma.

Eddie passed the buses, taking the long way around as it was a surprisingly warm day for early Spring.

His mind was distracted, wandering to the next time Corroded Coffin would practice- he needed to tune his guitar first, and check to make sure the amp was going to live to see another show, call Ronnie and-

THUMP

“Watch it!” Eddie turned and snapped as someone shoulder checked him as they rushed to the bus behind them. It was reflex, the past two years he’d dealt with this bullshit less and less and he wasn’t about to let it go now.

Eddie stopped as he made eye contact with you. You were gripping your arm and staring him down, caught between a snarl and a deer in the headlights. He met your gaze unflinching, until you blinked first and looked away.

“Sorry.” you said before running onto the nearest bus.

Shit. You probably hadn’t meant to actually shoulder check him. You had apologized, albeit reluctantly. If there was one thing he could give you credit for, you never went out of your way to be outright cruel to him. You just... didn’t like him. He could live with that for the next few months.

Still, the sight of you running onto the bus stirred up the memory of the first time he remembered seeing you this past summer. You were always the first person on the bus in summer school. Guess that hadn’t changed.

---

As long as you kept your headphones on and had a window seat, the bus wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You missed the freedom of being able to drive to and from school, stopping at gas stations for snacks or going to downtown Hawkins just to loiter around the shops.

The first day on the bus was as peaceful as one could hope. Your personal mixtape was buzzing in your ear, you stared out the window as your peers were dropped off groups at a time at different stops. Some had parents waiting for them, some didn’t. You knew yours wouldn’t be. As soon as you hit freshman year, they swapped to the night shift deeming you old enough to take care of your own dinner, on your second round of summer school you saw them even less.

Eddie was also held back, that wasn’t exactly a secret in the school and he could hardly pass as a pimple ridden teen anyway. That was also one of the reasons you seemed to gravitate to him. But while everyone knew about Eddie’s schooling history, having come to Hawkins late in your high school career, it allowed you a bit of extra discretion. Stacy was the only one who knew this was your second round of senior year.

Your arm throbbed under your cast on the way home today, your face burning from embarrassment that you had almost had a nice conversation with Eddie earlier, but now he thought you shoulder checked him. You thunked your forehead against the window with a sigh.

Eddie didn’t talk to you until the following Wednesday when the two of you were cornered by your teacher after the bell rang. You could see the look in Ms. Benson’s eyes what she wanted to talk about, but why was Eddie involved?

Ms. Benson handed Eddie his last paper, a C- scribbled at the top. Passing, but barely. Salt in the wound to you, and you looked down at your cast, picking at it.

“You’re phoning it in, Mr. Munson.” she said. “I know that you don’t need this class to finally graduate but I don’t like mediocre work.”

You didn’t like that he was getting lectured when you were right there. Where was the decorum? The dignity? You wanted to crawl into the linoleum.

Ms. Benson turned to you before Eddie could say anything. “You didn’t turn your paper in.” she said blatantly. She might as well have turned to Eddie and told him directly that you were a lazy dumbass.

“I broke my wrist.” you said, more to the signature of Allie from gym class than to your teacher. If you had done literally anything else in class this year, then maybe that excuse could have worked, but you hadn’t and it didn’t.

Ms. Benson took a look at you both and let out a long sigh. “I’m giving you both a chance to fix this.” she said. “I’m willing to offer you both extra credit to give you either a bonus on your final papers or replace a missing one.”

It was a good deal, a very very generous offer. Too generous-

“And what’s the catch, Ms, B?” Eddie asked skeptically.

“I need volunteers for Spring Day.” she said. “You help with that, and I’ll give you the extra credit.”

Spring Day was basically a free day where kids could either skip school or come for a slack off day. There were games, events happening at the gym, fields, and library, catered lunches, and plenty of ways to sneak off.

“Sorry, no can do.” Eddie said. “I was banned from Spring Day. I have a hot date with in school suspension and you know how Higgins hates it when I cancel on him like that.”

“I already cleared it with him.” Ms. Benson said, shocking Eddie. “As long as you stay away from the balloon pop booth.”

You saw Eddie smirk out of the corner of your eye. “I was framed, I swear.”

“Of course you were.” She said dismissively. “So,I expect both of you to show up after school on Mondays and Wednesdays to meet me to help set this up. We only have a few weeks, and the budget is tight.”

Well, there was clearly no choice now. Just like that, you were now being volun-told to help with the one day a year you didn’t feel guilty about doing jack shit.

“...Go away now.” Ms. Benson said, and you and Eddie didn’t need to be told twice. You turned tail and damn near ran out of the room.

You were at your locked, struggling with the damn lock when you heard a voice next to you. “Do you think humiliation was also part of the extra credit, or are we just lucky?”

Eddie had followed you to your locker, he was the last person you wanted to see after that. “I guess.” you mumbled, awkwardly shoving books in as you grabbed your lunch.

You could handle feeling judged by teachers and your fellow students. That was the norm since you were a kid. God, Eddie was on his sixth year! Why did you care what he thought about you? Wouldn’t he understand better than anyone at this school what you were dealing with?

You closed the locker harder than you meant to and Eddie winced. Shit. You had to say something to ease the tension.

“...What did you do to the water balloons?” You asked, looking at him. Eddie smiled wide at you.

“Allegedly I added some fun food coloring to the water.” he shrugged. “I didn’t think this school hated red and black so much.”

You cracked a smile despite yourself. “It’s not exactly school colors.”

“It’s not.” Eddie agreed, messing with one of his rings. His eyes darted past you, and you looked over to see Stacy walking over.

“Eddie.” she nodded with a pleasant smile. Maybe too pleasant? No, that’s weird to think about your best friend.

“Stacy.” Eddie nodded back.

You had a weird feeling that there was a conversation going on, that you were in the middle of. You tried to shake off the thought, Stacy knew everyone. Stacy had a way of making everyone feel important, plus she was super pretty. You couldn’t blame Eddie for looking at her, and you tried to squash that glob of jealousy. Stacy was your best friend, she wouldn’t make a move on the guy you’ve been pining over.

Stacy turned to you. “We’re sitting outside today with Nancy. She wants to interview me for the school paper.”

“Wheeler?” you asked. “Uh, sure.” Stacy had so many damn accolades you didn’t bother asking which one she was being interviewed for. You’d read about it later. “Uh, see you on Wednesday, I guess, Eddie.”

“Yeah, see ya.” Eddie agreed as Stacy lead you away.

“Wednesday?” she whispered with a glint in her eyes. “The second we turn the corner you’re talking.”

----

2 posts in one day?! Yeah lol. This fic is pure stream of consciousness so even I barely know what's happening. I have a vague idea of story beats bot otherwise this fic is always hot off the press lol.

Tag List: @eddiemunsonfuxks @kirsteng42 @strangereads @pedroschka @generoustrashpeach

@sheneedsrocknroll92 @cyanfairywren��@crocworkships @tomtomslongdong @aphrogeneias

@ghcstpyre @totheforestandtheocean @stevekeeryswife @dreamyyy222222 @ajnerdess

@sp1dyb0y1008 @projectcampbell @emxxblog @thebadbatchfan

@transparentenemypenguin @ghoulsgraveyard @spread-the-hope @exploding-bonbon @paleidiot

@2spock @c14r3v1b3srs @yujyujj @saramelaniemoon @morganlolitta

@veemoon @mrsrdlw @eddieheart @bambibiest @mylovelycrazyworld

@sassidykassidy @cultish-corner @thedoubleexposurephotography @bambibiest @wheels-of-despair

@amieinghigh

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you

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lvnleah · 1 day ago

Text

Finley’s first birthday

word count: 4.2k

the very last chapter in Finley’s last year! I do have other bits written for the williamson’s for when he’s older with siblings but I’m not sure if I’ll post them <33

find the masterlist here!

March 29th 2025 | 1 year old.

You stirred as the sun peeked through the curtains and shined on your face, instinctively turning toward Leah beside you. The peaceful rise and fall of her chest was a sight you had always cherished, but today, on her 28th birthday, it felt even more special.

March 29th had always been a favourite day for you because it was a day dedicated to the woman you loved the most. It was a whole day where you got to celebrate her and she couldn’t say a word.

Last year the day got even more special. You gave birth to your baby boy and now you get to celebrate your two favourite people in one day.

A smile tugged at your lips as you lay there for a moment, simply watching her, memorising the way her blonde hair fanned out across the pillow, the gentle curve of her lips, and the way she looked so peaceful as she slept.

It was a rare luxury to have these quiet moments in the morning before Finley woke up, and you weren’t about to waste it. You leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, your lips lingering there for a second before moving to her temple, then to the bridge of her nose. Leah stirred slightly, her brow furrowing in that adorable way she did when she was waking up.

You continued your gentle assault of kisses, letting your lips brush over her closed eyelids, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth and finally her lips. Leah’s eyes fluttered open, and a sleepy smile graced her face as she blinked up at you.

“Good morning, birthday girl,” you whispered as you sat up in bed, “Happy 28th.”

“Mmm, morning,” Leah murmured, her voice laced with sleep. She reached up, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you closer, her eyes still heavy with sleep. “That’s a nice way to wake up.”

You chuckled softly as she rolled onto her back. You straddled her hips. “I thought you deserved a special wake-up today. It’s not every day my beautiful wife turns 28.”

Leah’s smile widened, her hands rubbing at your hips. “Thank you, love. And it’s not every day our little boy turns one either.”

The year had flown by, filled with so many firsts, and you couldn’t help but feel a little emotional as you thought about how much had changed since Finley had come into your lives.

“Please don’t remind me,” you sighed, tipping your head back dramatically, “I can’t believe our baby boy is one. Where has it gone?”

Leah nodded, “I know, he’s gotten so big. He’s a proper little human now!” Leah’s fingers gently traced patterns on your hips as she looked up at you, her expression softening. “How did I get so lucky?”

You leaned down to kiss her once more, this time it was a slow, lingering kiss, one that spoke of all the love and gratitude you felt for her. When you finally pulled back, you smiled down at her, your fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

“I’m the lucky one,” you whispered. “A perfect wife and a perfect baby boy.”

You laid down on Leah’s chest, resting your head on her shoulder as she rubbed patterns on your back underneath your (her) shirt.

The peace didn’t last long. Just as you were beginning to lose yourself in Leah’s touch, you heard soft, familiar babbles coming from the baby monitor on the nightstand. Finley’s little babbles, sleepy and full of curiosity, drifted through the speaker, signalling that your little boy was awake and ready to start his day.

Leah chuckled, “Looks like the birthday boy is up.”

“I’ll go get him,” you offered, but Leah shook her head, already swinging her legs over the side of the bed as you rolled off of her.

“No, let’s get him together,” she said with a smile. “I want to see his little face.”

You smiled and nodded as Leah slipped on a hoodie. You followed her, pulling one of Leah’s old hoodies over your head as the two of you made your way to Finley’s nursery.

As you reached the nursery door, Leah paused, turning back to you with a soft smile before quietly pushing it open. Inside, Finley was standing in his crib, gripping the bars with his tiny hands, his wide blue eyes blinking up at you both. His blonde curls were slightly crazy from sleep, and his cheeks were rosy with the warmth of the room.

The moment he saw the two of you, his face broke into a wide, toothy grin, and he let out an excited squeal, bouncing on his little legs. Leah couldn’t help but laugh, the sound filling the small room as she leaned over to scoop him up into her arms.

"Happy birthday, Bubba," she cooed, pressing a kiss to his forehead as she held him close. You stood beside her, reaching out to run your fingers gently through his curls.

“Look at you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “One-year-old today. How did we get here so fast?” you cooed as you placed a kiss on his cheek.

Finley giggled in response, his tiny hands reaching out to grab and pat Leah’s cheeks before turning his attention to you, his little fingers stretching towards your nose before grabbing it. You leaned in, pressing another kiss to his chubby cheek before taking him from Leah’s arms and cradling him against your chest.

Leah stood beside you, her arm wrapping around your waist as the three of you swayed gently, a little family moment that felt perfect in its simplicity. You breathed in the familiar scent of your baby, feeling his warmth against you as Leah pressed a kiss to your temple.

“What do you think, birthday boy?” Leah asked softly. “Ready for some cake later?”

Finley babbled in response, clearly unaware of the significance of the day but happy to be wrapped in the love of his two moms like usual. His little hands patted your chest, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound catching in your throat as emotion welled up inside you.

“I can’t wait to celebrate him and you,” you smiled.

“It’s going to be fun,” Leah smiled, “Shall we head back to our bed and get our presents, Bubba?” Leah cooed, tickling Finley’s stomach.

Finley let out a delighted squeal at Leah’s tickling, his tiny legs kicking excitedly as you both laughed at his joy. His laughter was infectious.

"Let's go, birthday boy," you said, bouncing him gently in your arms as the three of you made your way back to your bedroom.

As you stepped back into the bedroom, you placed Finley down in the middle of the bed, watching as he wobbled slightly on his legs before plopping down on his bum with a giggle. His wide blue eyes darted around the room with curiosity, his hands grabbing at the soft duvet as he babbled happily.

Leah climbed onto the bed beside him, pulling out two bags full of gifts for Finley. "Look what we’ve got for you, Bubba," she said in a sing-song voice, holding a small gift just out of his reach, playfully teasing him. His eyes locked onto the colourful package, his tiny hands immediately reaching for it with excitement.

You sat down beside them, watching as Leah handed the present over to him. His chubby fingers fumbled with the wrapping paper, tearing at it slowly, completely absorbed in the process. You and Leah exchanged amused glances, laughing softly as you watched him try to figure it out.

“Need some help, buddy?” Leah asked, leaning in to give him a hand. Together, you helped him pull the paper away, revealing a small, plush toy in the shape of a baby elephant. Finley's face lit up, and he immediately grabbed the toy, squealing.

"Looks like it’s a hit," you grinned, watching him chew the elephant’s ear.

Leah reached over to brush her fingers through his messy curls. "I think he likes it," she said softly, her voice full of affection.

You leaned against Leah’s shoulder, watching your son play with his new toy. Leah quickly pulled away as he tried to crawl toward the edge of the bed. She quickly scooped him up before he could make it too far.

“Not so fast, buddy!” Leah smiled, setting him back down on the bed, “You’ve still got a few more presents.”

Finley sat back down on the bed, his little legs bouncing with excitement as Leah handed him another brightly wrapped gift. His tiny hands eagerly grabbed at the paper, babbling to himself as he tore at the edges with a bit more help from Leah. You watched as she ripped the wrapping away to reveal a wooden stacking toy, the colourful rings immediately catching his attention.

“Oh, look at that, Finley,” you said, your voice filled with excitement to match his, “You can stack all the rings!”

Leah laughed softly, as you both watched Finley pick up one of the rings and attempt to fit it onto the post. His concentration was fierce, his brow furrowed in the same adorable way Leah’s did when she was focused. It made you smile even more, seeing these little traits of hers in him.

“I think we might have a little genius on our hands,” Leah teased, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“He gets that from me, obviously,” you joked, nudging her playfully as you rolled your eyes.

Finley managed to get one of the rings on the post, letting out a delighted squeal that made both you and Leah cheer softly for him. His grin was infectious, his wide eyes looking back and forth between the two of you as if he knew he had accomplished something big.

You handed him the next ring, and he clumsily placed it on the post, Leah clapped for him, her face lighting up with pride. “Good job, Finley! You’re doing so great.”

After opening the rest of Finley’s presents you got up off the bed and grabbed Leah’s out of the bottom of your wardrobe. You gasped as Finley’s face lit up, “Shall we give Mumma her presents, bubs?”

You placed the presents on the bed beside Leah, who had now settled comfortably with Finley on her lap. “Are you ready for your presents, love?” you asked Leah.

“Yeah, I am!” Leah replied, her voice filled with enthusiasm.

You handed Leah the bag of gifts, she picked out a box and carefully tore away the wrapping paper with Finley’s tiny hands gripping at the edges, helping to reveal the gift inside. It was a delicate silver necklace with a small heart-shaped locket—a piece you knew Leah had admired for a while.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” Leah breathed, her eyes misting with tears as she opened the locket to reveal tiny photos of Finley and you inside. She looked up at you, her voice catching. “Thank you so much. It’s perfect.”

You smiled, reaching out to wipe away a tear from her cheek. “I’m glad you love it. You deserve something special.”

Leah gave you a warm smile, her heart full as she leaned in to give you a heartfelt kiss. Finley, sensing the affection, wiggled excitedly in Leah’s lap, reaching out to touch the necklace with curious fingers.

“Let’s see what else is in the bag,” Leah said, gently pulling out another gift.

The next gift was a beautiful photo book filled with pictures of the past year. Each page was a snapshot of your family’s milestones and everyday moments, capturing the joy and love that had filled the past year.

Leah’s eyes widened as she flipped through the pages, a smile spreading across her face. “Oh my god, this is amazing,” she said softly. “I can’t believe you put this together.”

“I wanted to make sure we had a special keepsake of all our memories,” you explained, leaning closer.

Leah looked at you with deep affection, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you. This means more to me than you know.”

Finley, now reaching for the book, babbled happily, clearly intrigued by the colourful photos. Leah let him explore, his little fingers touching the pages as he giggled.

You spent a little while longer in bed, opening Leah’s presents, before making your way into the kitchen. You set Finley down in his highchair and gave him one of his tether toys to keep him entertained.

Leah’s hand slipped under your shirt as you cut up some fruit for Finley, she placed soft kisses on your shoulder before following you around the kitchen as you made some pancakes.

The smell of pancakes soon filled the kitchen. As you flipped the pancakes, Leah busied herself setting the table and preparing a few toppings—fresh fruit, maple syrup, and a sprinkle of powdered sugar. Finley watched intently from his highchair, his curious eyes tracking every movement you made.

Leah glanced over at you, her expression one of contentment. “These look amazing,” she said, placing a small bowl of berries in front of Finley.

Once the pancakes were ready, you served a stack onto each plate, setting them down at the table. Leah moved Finley and his highchair over to the table while you cut his pancakes into small, manageable pieces. He eagerly grabbed at the food, his tiny fingers smeared with syrup and fruit.

As the morning continued, the three of you enjoyed your breakfast together, the conversation flowing easily between bites of food and laughter. Finley’s giggles and cheerful squeals added to the mix.

After breakfast and a bit of playtime, it was time for Finley's first nap of the day. You and Leah carefully cleaned up, making sure the kitchen was tidy before heading to the nursery. His little eyes were already drooping as you balanced him on your hip.

You sat down in the rocking chair, Leah crouched beside you as she read him a book, and before you knew it he was fast asleep in your arms.

You gently placed him into his crib, Leah adjusting his blanket as you turned his sound machine on. Finley’s soft breaths soon filled the room, you and Leah quietly stood by, watching him drift off to sleep.

With Finley asleep and the morning behind you, you and Leah had some time to yourselves. You worked together to set up the final decorations and get the cake ready for Finley and Leah’s party. Once everything was prepared and ready you and Leah started to get dressed for the day.

It wasn’t long before you were both ready for the day and Leah’s family soon arrived. You opened the door to see Amanda with her arms already outstretched, ready to greet you both. David, Leah’s dad, followed closely behind with a warm smile, and Jacob was carrying all the presents.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Amanda beamed, immediately pulling Leah into a hug. “How are you both?”

“Thanks, Mum,” Leah smiled as she took her bag of presents from her Mum. “Just can’t believe he’s one already.”

“We’re both emotional but we’re good,” you smiled. “Come in! We’ve got everything set up.”

“Where’s Finley?” Jacob asked, glancing around as he set the presents down.

“Oh well hello to you too Jacob, thank you, Jacob,” Leah sarcastically said.

You laughed at the sibling banter, shaking your head, “He’s napping, he should be awake soon though.”

Just as you finished your sentence tiny babbles came through the baby monitor, “That’s him awake, I’ll go get him.” You told Leah.

“Good timing,” Amanda grinned, “The birthday boy knows he’s going to get spoilt like usual!”

You slipped away to grab Finley from his crib, leaving Leah to chat with her parents. Moments later, you reappeared, holding a sleepy but smiling Finley, his blonde curls slightly flattened from his nap. The second he spotted Amanda and David, his face lit up in recognition, his little arms waving excitedly.

“Oh, there’s our birthday boy!” Amanda cooed, stepping forward to take him into her arms. Finley giggled, his tiny hands grabbing at her necklace. “You’ve gotten so big, haven’t you?”

David leaned over to give Finley’s hand a soft squeeze. “Look at this guy, already a year old. Time flies,” he said.

Amanda set Finley down on the floor who immediately crawled over to the stack of presents and sat on the floor beside Jacob.

Jacob chuckled as Finley grabbed at the brightly wrapped gifts, his chubby hands tugging at the paper with enthusiasm. "Looks like someone knows what's coming," Jacob said, giving Leah a wink.

Leah sat beside Jacob on the floor who was helping Finley tear into the paper as he sat on his lap. He squealed when he finally unwrapped the gift—a soft, plush lion with a crinkly mane and ears. Finley immediately grabbed it, squeezing it in his tiny hands as it made a satisfying crinkle sound, another squeal leaving his body.

“He loves it!” you laughed, watching the way Finley stared at his new toy.

With Finley happily occupied with his new toy, the rest of the presents were quickly unwrapped by Leah and Jacob. There were clothes, books, and toys, each one met with a tiny bit of interest before Finley went back to his lion. Once Finley had opened his present, Leah opened her before the chaos of the party began.

Just as you were clearing up the wrapping paper with Amanda, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” Leah shouted from the hallway before opening the door.

A few moments later, Leah walked into the living room with Beth, Viv, Kim and Vic following close behind her. Each of them held a tiny bag that contained their gift.

“Happy birthday, Le.” Beth smiled as she hugged Leah, “I can’t believe Finn’s already one!”

Leah grinned as she hugged Beth back. "I know, right? It feels like just yesterday he was a newborn."

Beth, Viv, Kim, and Vic greeted you and Finley, who was now happily playing on the floor with his new lion. Each of them knelt down, taking turns cooing over the birthday boy. Finley’s eyes lit up with excitement, his tiny fingers tugging at the clothes and toys they brought.

“Happy birthday to the little man,” Kim said with a warm smile, handing over her gift. “And happy birthday to you too, Leah.”

Leah laughed as she accepted the gift bags. “Thank you! I’m feeling the love today.”

As the party began to pick up, Leah’s teammates mingled with her family, all of them taking turns playing with Finley and catching up with you both. The garden was decorated with bunting, balloons, and a special banner that read, “Happy 1st Birthday, Finley!” The sun was shining, and it felt like the perfect spring day.

Leah’s dad and Jacob were busy setting up the barbecue while Amanda helped you arrange the food on a long picnic table. As you placed down platters of snacks, Leah came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Everything looks amazing,” she whispered.

You turned to face her, a soft smile on your lips. “Only the best for my two favourite people.

Leah kissed you gently before Beth came over, holding Finley, who was now wearing a tiny party hat. "Look at this little guy!" Beth laughed, holding him up for Leah to see.

Leah grinned and reached out to take Finley, balancing him on her hip. "He’s ready for his party, aren’t you, Bubba?"

Finley babbled in response, grabbing at Leah’s hat, and making everyone laugh.

The afternoon was filled with laughter, food, and playful banter. Leah's teammates took turns kicking a ball around the garden, playfully showing off for Finley, who watched them with wide eyes. Leah’s family chatted with everyone, creating an atmosphere of warmth and joy that made the day feel extra special.

As the sun began to lower in the sky, it was time for the cake. You brought out a small cake just for Finley—a simple vanilla sponge with a tiny candle. The main cake for Leah and the guests was a larger, elaborate one, decorated in her favourite colours with a hint of Arsenal’s red and white.

Leah sat down with Finley in her lap as everyone gathered around, singing “Happy Birthday” to the two of them. Finley’s wide eyes locked onto the flickering candle as everyone finished singing, and with Leah’s help, he blew it out, earning a round of applause.

“Happy birthday, my loves,” you said softly, smiling at the sight of Leah and Finley together.

Leah kissed Finley’s cheek, then looked up at you with a loving smile. “I couldn’t ask for a better birthday.”

Finley giggled as Leah helped him stick his fingers into his cake, his chubby hands quickly covered in frosting as everyone laughed and cheered him on. The day was filled with love, and as the party continued into the evening, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the beautiful family and life you had built together.

Leah grinned, shaking her head in disbelief as she hugged Beth back. “I know, it’s crazy! Feels like just yesterday he was born and you were visiting us in the hospital while Y/N was in labour.”

Kim stepped forward next, giving Leah a gentle hug and handing her a small gift bag. “Happy birthday! Can’t wait to spoil the little man today too.”

“Thanks, Kimmy,” Leah smiled, taking the gift and placing it on the side table with the others.

Viv and Vic joined in the hugs, each of them cooing over Finley, who was still thoroughly engrossed in his new lion toy. Viv leaned down, gently ruffling his blonde curls, “Happy birthday, little man. Look at you, so big now!”

“He’s definitely growing up fast,” you chimed in, walking over to join them. “We barely blinked, and here we are, celebrating his first birthday.”

Leah’s other teammates—Steph, Lia, Lotte, Kyra, Katie, and Caitlin—arrived shortly after, all bringing smiles, laughter, and gifts with them. Each of them greeted Leah with a hug and fussed over Finley. It wasn’t long before the living room was buzzing with energy, Leah’s cousins Holly and Jordan arrived with Henry and Leah’s grandma, Berny.

Leah wrapped her arms around you from behind as you set up the sandwiches with Amanda, “This is perfect, I’m so proud of you for setting this all up.”

You turned your head to place a kiss on her cheek, “Anything for my favourite people.”

As the party moved into the garden, where the sun was shining brightly, the decorations you and Leah had set up earlier shimmered in the light. A large banner that read “Happy Birthday, Leah and Finley!" hung proudly across the patio, with balloons, and a beautifully decorated cake sitting on the table.

“Sorry I’m late, blame London traffic.” Keira said as she entered the garden, “But I come bearing gifts!”

Leah laughed, “You’re always late, but I’ll forgive you since you brought presents.”

Keira shook her head as she rolled her eyes playfully, walking over to set the gifts down on the table. “Happy birthday to the best boy,” she cooed, tickling Finley’s stomach who was now resting on Amanda’s hip. “And happy birthday to my best mate too, I guess.”

With everyone settled in the garden, drinks were poured, snacks were passed around, and the laughter flowed freely. As the day rolled on, the time for cake finally arrived.

“Alright time for the cake, gather round!” Leah announced to everyone as you set Finley down in his highchair.

Once everyone was gathered around Finley and Leah, Amanda came out carrying a cake with the candles lit. Finley’s eyes widened at the sight of the flickering candle, his hands reaching out toward it which Leah quickly pulled back.

Happy Birthday rang out around the garden, everyone smiling as Finley looked around in confusion. He looked at you and Leah with a confused look before looking back at the cake.

“Blow the candles out, Finn!” You encouraged him as everyone finished singing.

Leah gently blew the candles out, smiling as she clapped her hands. “Happy birthday, Bubba,” Leah whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek as the room erupted into applause. “No one else I’d rather share the day with”

You cut Finley a small piece of cake, watching as his tiny fingers grabbed at it hesitantly before shoving it into his mouth. The room was filled with laughter as he smeared frosting across his face, clearly enjoying his first taste of birthday cake.

As the evening drew to a close, the guests slowly started to leave, offering their goodbyes and final birthday wishes to Leah and Finley. The house became quiet once more, and you and Leah, both tired but happy, tucked Finley into bed. You stood by the crib, watching as his little chest rose and fell with each peaceful breath, your heart full.

Back in the bedroom, Leah pulled you into a hug, holding you close. "Thank you for today," she whispered. "It was perfect."

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "It's all for you, birthday girl. I love you."

"I love you more," Leah murmured against your lips, her hands resting on your hips. “More than you’ll ever know, pretty girl.”

liked by bethmead_ and others

leahwilliamsonn bubba’s first birthday, no one else I’d rather share my birthday with x

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#lvnleah #awfc #leah williamson #the williamson’s #finley williamson

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anadiasmount · 1 day ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/anadiasmount/766146994146295808/could-you-write-something-about-jude-realising

I loved the only jude pov idea so could you write something about jude telling his (and/or your) parents that he wants to marry you and he’s been thinking about it for a while and that he’s convinced you’re the love of his life and he will do anything he can to prove it to you every single day

this might be a little rough but hubby jude has my heart… 😕😕

“here’s your morning juice and vitamins, don’t forget we have a dinner tonight,” you half understood jude as he spoke quickly, he was late for training like usual, but he never left without saying goodbye. whether you were awake or not, a kiss on your cheek and he was gone for the day. though today seemed different, felt different but you brushed it off.

jude was running late to his appointment, he had no training today but you didn’t have to know that. he went to a small yet very popular jewelry store in downtown madrid, where he had picked out your dream engagement ring. he needed your friends help and they were more than willing to make that trip and helping out a nervous jude.

the ring was set to pick up, and he would ask for your parents blessing tonight when you visited them. you were oblivious, they were oblivious. only your friends and him knew about this. yet all he wanted was the scream that he was closer to marrying you. he had no doubt that you’d say yes. jude knew you wanted to get married, with him. you had drunkenly confessed after a night out and reminded him weeks later when you said your first “i love you’s”.

so jude was ready. you were ready.

you had graduated and landed your dream job. he considered you as his wife already. you knew him from the back of your hand but with jude, he wouldn’t fail to answer any questions related to you. whether it was from your favorite foods, to a movie, to a makeup product, to a favorite memory, he knew all of you. inside and out.

your friends had gasped and covered their mouth, eyes tearing up when jude showed them the ring. they all were in awe, jude especially since it was getting real for him. he couldn’t deny that feeling in his chest, getting choked up with his own emotions, knowing you were his forever home. the only home he wanted to be in, in this life and the other. “it’s absolutely gorgeous jude!” one of you friends reclaimed.

“our y/n is going to love it!” replied your other friend to while jude let out a breath of fresh air. “when do you plan to pop the question?” they asked, “after international break, we have a couple days together and i want to take her on a small getaway. but i want to get her parents blessings first, which we’re doing today because we’re going over,” jude nodded, hearing them let out a small squeal of excitement.

“look mom…” jude whispered, his dad sitting down next to her as jude pulled out the red velvet box from his back pocket. “is this what i think it is?” she gushed, opening the box gently, her hand resting against her chest as she admired the ring. “having this around me is so tempting you don’t understand. all i want is to ask her to marry me,” jude smiled, immediately thinking of you.

“i don’t even have to ask if you’re sure, your eyes and smile say it all,” his dad said making jude look at them. “we’re happy for you both. there’s no doubt in my mind that the two of you are made for each other. while marriage can be hard, it’s also the most beautiful thing that’s ever been created. she’s your soulmate, protect that forever,” his dad continued, standing up to give jude a hug. where he couldn’t contain his emotions.

“thank you guys for everything…”

on the way back, jude had picked up a few groceries and snacks for you. along with his bouquet of flowers since it was time to get a refresh. making sure to stock up on waters and different beverages as well.

after a while jude had returned back to your house, immediately looking to see where you were. “y/n? darling?” he asked, “in here! i’m in the study!” you yelled, meeting jude by the doorway where he engulfed you into his arms. “god i missed you so so much,” he murmured, smelling the sweet scent of your hair. you tippy toed and pressed a small kiss on his lips.

jude laughed at the small state you were in, hair in rollers, and he was guessing setting powder beneath your eyes and nose. “i’m almost done getting ready, i just had to quickly take a call because they needed me to give authorization for something. do you know what you’ll wear?” you say as you walked into the kitchen and drank water.

“yes i do…” jude couldn’t stop staring at you, that look he gave you full of love and respect. “i know i look funny but it’s just the powder,” you laughed, “stop! why are you looking at me like that!” you exclaimed walking over to where he sat. “because i love you, but you do look a little goofy with this on,” he joked feeling the playful slap on his shoulder. “go get ready! now before we catch traffic!” you said seriously while jude just nodded.

while jude anticipated to be nervous, he wasn’t. the sense of comfort yet worth filling his head. this was a huge deal, asking your parents for their blessing. but jude could radiate the answer from a mile away. the love you had together was so traditional and old school, the two of you loved that. it didn’t exist much these days, but the love you and jude had made everyone around you feel alive and happy.

as the night filled with laughs and talks of the past, you had taken over and helped your sister in law with the babies. jude knew this was his chance so he booked it, watching as you disappeared and went upstairs. “could i talk to you both?” he whispered seeing how their faces pulled into confusion but followed him either way. the three of them sat in the living room, jude pulling the ring back out from his back pocket.

“i’ve never in my life been so tempted to risk it all for a person. y/n is my person. my happiness. my home. my all in this world. i never knew if i’d find that. but with y/n it was a quick and undeniable feeling. i feel like i’ve known her my whole life. she knows me more than i know myself, and i knew she’s the one for me since she’s stood and sacrificed for our love…” jude said, your mother letting out a few tears as she looked at the ring.

“it would be an honor if i could have your blessing to marry your daughter. i promise you now i will take care of her forever. not just for marriage, but it’s because im giving you my word. because i love her with my entire heart…” jude asked shakily, knowing how much this meant to you and him. knowing this is just a step closer to finally having your happy ever after.

“you have my blessing jude,” your dad said, standing up and hugging him deeply, knowing there’s no hesitation because jude has never given them the reason. that he knows jude isn’t lying and will stick to his word. “yes you can marry my little girl,” your mother gushed going to jude and hugging him tighter, the two men laughing. “you did an amazing selection with the ring… she will love it,” she said.

“i’m willing to prove whatever it takes to show her how much i love her…” jude sealed. “what are you all doing without me,” you came back with a huge smile, joining your parents and boyfriend.

“i want in on whatever it is…”

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader

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sunsets-and-crows · 3 days ago

Text

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 3

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 5.1K

- - -

Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut: mutual masturbation. Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind. Sylus being hot and a menace. TRIGGER WARNING: stalking and dubious consent (Reader doesn't know Sylus is also watching her and gets a little handsy with hersef)

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

You lay frozen in bed, breaths shallow, the silence pressing in, turning your own apartment into something like a cage. Outside, the city’s hum felt distant, indifferent. You stared at the ceiling, your phone still clutched in your hand from when you’d called in sick that morning, informing Captain Jenna that you would stay in Linkon until you felt better. Your usual weekly report would have to wait too.

The call had been brief, your voice cold and controlled, but brittle at the edges. “I’m not well,” you’d said.

You hadn’t offered an explanation beyond that, and Captain Jenna, perceptive as she was, hadn’t pressed. “Take a few days, then. No one’s else can cover for you so the mission has to be paused until you’re better. Just… rest.”

Rest. As if that was possible.

Every corner of your apartment felt claustrophobic, the sharp lines and muted lights closing in, mocking you. The stillness, almost unbearable. The shadows cast by the dim lighting stretched too far, crowding the corners of the room, while outside the city pulsed with its usual dispassionate hum.

You’d killed a man - for him. Pulled the trigger, watched his body collapse in the darkness, the knife still inches from Sylus. The memory looped in your mind, every instant replaying in agonising detail. Your hand had moved on instinct, your shot trained with precision you couldn’t remember planning. The whole scene burned behind your eyes, refusing to fade.

And still, even as you felt the weight of guilt twist in your stomach, you couldn’t stop the darker thoughts clawing up through the silence. The way he looked that night, standing so close to danger, his strength an unbreakable presence. No one else could pull you into madness like he did.

You couldn’t deny it any longer: it wasn’t instinct. It was him.

That damned pinboard drew your eyes like a magnet. His face stared back at you from every angle: the piercing red eyes, the sharp, almost predatory jawline, the messy silver hair that looked too perfect in its disarray. And that body - muscular and powerful. A god of chaos and control wrapped in one dangerous package.

As the hours passed, you began to try and justify it to yourself. But no amount of rationalising could erase the truth: you’d killed for him. Your mind circled back to the moment, instinct gone wild, your gun trained on someone whose life ended at your hands, all for Sylus.

You told yourself. If you hadn’t acted, he would have killed him. And Sylus… well the Hunter’s Association wanted him alive, didn't they? You tried to believe it - tried to tell yourself that saving him would count as part of the mission, that it was the right thing to do. But even as you repeated the word, you knew there was more to it.

The thought twisted in your mind, seeping into something darker. You’d killed someone for him. It had been quick, instinctual - your gun aimed and fired before you could think. And the traitor had collapsed in a heap, his life snuffed out in an instant. You hadn’t even thought about it at the time.

But now, in the silence of your apartment, the weight of what you’d done crashed down on you like a suffocating wave. You’d murdered someone. You, the hunter. The enforcer of justice. How could you justify that? How could you look at yourself and think it was acceptable, even for a second?

Your heart began to race, your breath growing shallow as the image of the dead man replayed in your mind. His body crumpling, the blood pooling beneath him. It was like a scar that wouldn’t fade, burned into the back of your eyelids whenever you closed them. What kind of person did that make you?

But you couldn’t sit with that thought for too long. Taking a deep breath, you calmed your racing thoughts and justified yourself.

No. You’d saved him. You would have done it for anyone, wouldn’t you? If anyone had been in Sylus’ position - if they’d been about to be stabbed in the back - you would have acted the same way. You would have saved anyone.

Liar.

The word echoed in your mind, taunting you, but you pushed it down, suppressing it until it was nothing but a whisper. You had to believe it wasn’t just about him. It couldn’t be.

But the truth gnawed at the edges of your thoughts, and you knew, deep down, that you were lying to yourself. You’d done it because it was him. Because the idea of Sylus being hurt - of him being vulnerable - made your chest tighten in ways you couldn’t control.

You stared at his image on the pin board. Him walking in the N109 zone, him in business meetings, him in his office, him, him, Sylus. Each picture seemed to distort under your gaze, his eyes drawing you in, his presence - his power - taking up more space in your mind until nothing else mattered.

You dropped your head into your hands, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to chase the thought away. He’s dangerous. I shouldn’t be feeling like this. But the more you tried to push it down, the more it bubbled to the surface, the more it consumed you.

You sighed, it was getting harder and harder to fight your feelings. You rubbed your hand over the crease in your brows, trying to soothe away the headache that had formed there. This time, it was clear that you were obsessed with him - every inch of him, it couldn’t be mistaken for young love and infatuation. Would it be so bad to just give into it?

The clock ticked steadily in the background, marking the slow passage of time, but you remained frozen, trapped in the tug-of-war between your obsession and your guilt. Just the thought of turning him in filled you with a visceral unease, a sick twist in your gut. How could you betray him? And yet, how could you justify not doing it?

You stabbed your fork into the cold dinner on your plate and forced yourself to look away from the pinboard, How could you betray him? How could you hand him over, not knowing what his fate would be? The idea filled you with dread, your stomach twisting at the thought.

The truth settled like a weight in your chest. It wasn’t a decision you’d made in a moment - it had been building, creeping into your mind, just like your infatuation with him. You weren’t just following orders anymore. The mission had become something else, something darker and more twisted.

You told yourself to let it go, that you would stop watching so closely. You wouldn’t interfere again. If Sylus got hurt - if he made a mistake - it would be on him.

But even as you made that vow, you felt the tug, dark and undeniable, pulling you under. The truth was as unyielding as it was terrifying: you’d fallen too deep, and there was no climbing out.

The second day of your sick leave dragged by in slow motion, every tick of the clock scraping against your already frayed nerves. Each passing minute felt heavier than the last, your apartment a quiet reminder of everything you couldn’t escape. Your usual clean standards were nowhere to be seen, the fork in your dinner from last night still resting on the plate you hadn’t bothered to clean, almost mocking you.

A soft buzz from your phone jolted you from your spiralling thoughts.

10:32: Tara: Hey! Miss you! How’s it going? Feel up to grabbing a coffee later? We can catch up! :)

Your thumb hovered over the reply button. A part of you baulked at the idea of stepping back into normalcy, as if facing Tara and pretending everything was fine would unravel the fragile grip you still had on yourself. But Tara was your friend, and she hadn’t pressed for any details when you called in sick. You owed her this.

10:47 Me: Sure, let’s meet at Café Preston in an hour?

10:48 Tara: Perfect! See you there! :D

You sighed, tossing your phone onto the couch before heading to get ready.

The bell above the café door chimed softly as you stepped inside, the warmth of the place wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled the air, mixing with the subtle crackle of a fireplace in the corner. Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling, giving the place a rustic, homely feel, and soft jazz music played in the background, adding to the cosy atmosphere.

Tara waved excitedly from a table near the large window that overlooked the river outside. The sunlight filtered through the leaves of the autumn trees, casting golden patterns onto the wooden floor. For a moment, you almost forgot how heavy the weight in your chest felt. Almost.

As you moved closer, the slight happiness you felt began to dissipate. Sitting across from Tara was Xavier. The air seemed to thicken in your lungs. You swallowed the unease that rose in your throat, plastering a smile on your face as you made your way over to them.

You hadn’t expected him to be here. You didn’t dislike Xavier - he’d been your partner before this assignment - but his presence always carried a weight, one you weren’t prepared to shoulder right now. Especially not with the things you couldn’t say.

"Y/N!" Tara greeted, her voice bright and full of cheer. She jumped up to give you a quick hug before pulling you into a seat next to her. Tara beamed, her enthusiasm infectious as she pushed a cup of coffee toward you. “I thought you were dying or something. But then again, I knew you couldn’t stay away from me for too long.” She winked, nudging you playfully. It was so typical of her—sweet, worry mixed with teasing, always trying to lift your spirits.

You laughed, though it felt a bit forced. "I guess I just needed some rest. I’m fine now."

You avoided glancing at Xavier, focusing instead on the warm wooden table in front of you, the gentle flicker of a candle casting soft light across the surface. But he made his presence known anyway. “How have you been?” He asked. “Captain Jenna said you were sick, do you need to visit the doctor?”

You forced a smile, "I’m okay. I think I just needed a few days off. Some time to relax and recuperate."

Tara, always the bubbly one, didn’t waste any time. She immediately launched into talking about work, asking you if you’d managed to see anything interesting on your mission so far. She kept things light, but you knew her well enough to catch the undercurrent of concern in her voice. Xavier, on the other hand, sat quietly, giving you the occasional glance that made you shift in your seat.

Tara smirked. “You’ve been off the grid for a couple of weeks. There must be some big developments.” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, but you knew better than to indulge it. You shrugged, taking a sip of your coffee to buy yourself a moment.

“Nothing I can really talk about Tara, unfortunately all of those juicy details are confidential” you said, giving her a little bop on the nose with your finger and grinning at her.

Xavier, who had been quietly watching you with that ever-present air of concern, spoke up again. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You’re looking…tired.”

Tired. If only he knew. But you brushed off the comment, giving a dismissive wave. “Good to know I look as good as I feel,” You joked, but you could see how he winced, like he knew that his comment was out of line. You took pity on him, “Just a lot of paperwork. The usual boring stuff.” You lied.

Tara pouted playfully. "Confidential, schmofidential. I just want to know one thing-" She leaned in closer, her grin turning mischievous. "Is Sylus as good looking as they say? Because if he is, I might have to request to take your place!"

For a split second, the café around you seemed to blur, and all you could see was Tara. The irrational surge of anger that welled up inside of you caught you off guard, your hand twitching as though ready to strike her. You could see it in your mind- her cheek reddening from the force of the slap. But then you blinked, and the image vanished. Your hand remained still on the table, and Tara was there, smiling, oblivious to the storm brewing inside of you. You shook your head, trying to dispel the irrational thought.

You forced a casual shrug, your voice steady even as your mind buzzed. “He’s fine, Tara. I think people just like to exaggerate for drama. Nothing special.” The words came easily, but your chest tightened with the effort of pretending.

“Oh please.” Tara waved you off with a laugh. “You expect me to believe that? Come on, Y/N. I’ve heard the rumours. The man’s practically a god in that zone. Dangerous, sure, but also… Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t mind seeing what all the fuss is about.”

You bristled, letting out a laugh that sounded more strained than you intended. “I guess your informants are liars, Tara. He’s really not all that. Trust me, you’re not missing anything," you said, though your mind was already flooded with images of Sylus and his unfair good looks. She was actually missing a lot and you’d like to keep it that way.

But Tara wasn’t buying it. She gave you a knowing smirk, leaning back in her chair. “You say that, but I can tell when someone’s hiding something.”

Your jaw clenched, “Let’s talk about something else,” you said sharply, and Tara, sensing the change in your mood, raised her hands in mock surrender.

The conversation shifted after that, with Tara steering it towards lighter topics - missions, work, and just catching up. You were grateful for it. You nodded and smiled at the appropriate moments, but your thoughts were miles away.

The café’s atmosphere continued to hum softly around you - quiet chatter from other patrons, the occasional clink of coffee cups and plates, the gentle rustling of leaves outside. It felt far too peaceful for what was happening inside your head.

Xavier, sitting across from you, seemed to be biding his time. Every once in a while, you caught him glancing your way, his lips pressed into a tight line. It was more like staring honestly. Eventually, Tara excused herself to grab another round of coffee, leaving you alone with Xavier. The comfortable hum of the café only served to heighten the awkward silence that stretched between you.

"So, Y/N," he began, voice low. "Are you sure you’re okay? I haven’t seen you in a long time. I missed you"

You shot him a glance, keeping your expression neutral. "I’m fine, Xav really.” You reached across the table and patted his hand which caused a blush to break out across his face. You quickly retracted it. “Just tired, I promise." You sighed before saying “I missed you too,” It wasn’t a complete lie at least.

He paused, clearly debating something, before leaning forward slightly. He smiled sheepishly before saying, "I’ve been meaning to ask… I was wondering if you’d… want to grab dinner sometime?” he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty. “Just us. I- I’ve liked you for a while and I would like to see if there’s a chance that we could move our relationship from friendship to something more ”

His rushed and inelegant confession hit like ice water, sending a cold jolt through your chest. You should have seen this coming - the quiet concern, the lingering glances - but your mind had been too preoccupied to notice. Your stomach twisted, and you couldn’t bear the thought of sitting across from him, pretending that your thoughts weren’t consumed by someone else. You couldn’t do it. You wouldn’t.

"I-" You hesitated, trying to find a kind way to turn him down. "I don’t think that’s a good idea, Xavier. I’m… I’ve got a lot on my plate right now." You forced a smile trying to show him that you didn’t mean to upset him.

His smile faltered, a flicker of disappointment passing across his face. He nodded stiffly, his forced smile not reaching his eyes. 'Yeah, I figured. It’s fine.' The words were casual, but the silence that followed felt like a weight pressing down on both of you.

Just as the conversation threatened to fall into an even deeper awkwardness, Tara returned, oblivious to the tension between you and Xavier. She sat down with the coffees, flashing you both her usual bright smile. "Alright, let’s change the subject! No more mission talk. How about we discuss literally anything else?"

You smiled, but it felt like a mask - one Tara didn’t seem to notice, though Xavier might have. The warmth of the café felt alien compared to the storm inside you, a reminder of how far removed you were from this comfortable, ordinary world. How long could you keep pretending everything was normal?

The rustic charm of the café, the flickering candlelight, the soft jazz—everything felt jarringly out of sync with the churning inside of you. As if the world was moving on, oblivious, while you were sinking deeper into something you couldn’t explain or stop.

Sylus felt the absence of your usual shadow almost instantly. That persistent presence - always there, watching, hovering just at the edge of his awareness - had become almost... expected. For a hunter you sure were interesting. There was something about the way you moved, the way your gaze seemed to linger just a little too long, that had started to... interest him.

He found the empty space you’d left behind strangely grating. He told himself it was only curiosity - a predator missing familiar prey. And yet, the thought of your absence itched at him, unsettling in ways he hadn’t expected.

He found himself restless, a slow irritation building within him as he moved through his daily routine. Where were you?

“Boss, there’s been no sighting of the Miss Hunter for two days in the N109 zone,” Luke said, his voice breaking through the silence. The twins hung in the doorway of Sylus’ office, far too nervous to go inside. He’d been more volatile than usual with your sudden disappearance. “Shall we keep looking or…”

Sylus leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him as he contemplated your absence. For a moment, he considered simply letting it go. You were just another hunter, after all. But something about this situation gnawed at him. The last time he’d seen you, you’d killed a man to protect him and then seemingly horrified by your own actions, spiralled. He knew you were alive, of course, Mephisto’s only job recently was keeping track of you and relaying the footage to his master. But why had you abruptly left the N109 zone? Why had you abandoned your mission, him? It was puzzling.

“Keep watch,” Sylus murmured, his gaze sliding to the surveillance feed on the screen before him. He watched the live footage of your apartment with rapt attention, trying to figure out the mystery that was you.

It was on the first evening that his attention became firmly fixed on you, his business meetings all but forgotten. There you were, sitting at your small dining table, a single plate of food untouched in front of you, your gaze fixed on something across the room. Sylus leaned closer to the screen, eyes narrowing as he followed the direction of your stare.

The pinboard. His face, his movements, his operations - everything you had gathered about him was pinned up in meticulous detail. But it wasn’t the board itself that drew Sylus’ attention. No, it was the way you stared at it, like you were seeing something more, something deeper than just the details of a mission. The way your fingers traced over one of his photographs, lingering on the lines of his jaw, the shape of his lips.

He watched as you lifted your glass, sipping at the wine while your eyes never left his picture.

“Interesting,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes glinting with amusement.

He’d watched as you paced back and forth, clearly torn between your loyalty to the Hunter’s Association and something else that gnawed at your mind. His lips quirked into a small smirk when you grew frustrated and stabbed your fork into your dinner, then abandoned it.

Watching you slump against the wall, arms wrapped around yourself as if you were holding back something darker, sent a strange thrill through him. There was a breaking point coming, and he found himself leaning closer, caught by the intensity of it.

He’d seen the same look in others before, but there was something about watching you go through it that tugged at him, a pull he couldn’t explain. He knew you were battling more than just the mission - there was something else, something darker simmering under the surface. It made his pulse race in anticipation.

You were strong though, that much was clear and Sylus could almost hear the cogs turning in your brain. You’d seemed to have made a decision of a kind, nodding firmly and then retiring to your bedroom.

By the next day, his irritation had settled into anticipation, curiosity pulling him back to the feed as if by instinct.

Things had been different. He watched you through Mephisto’s eyes as you met with your friends - Tara and that man, Xavier. Sylus was fine at first but the more he watched the more he grew to dislike the blonde boy sitting across from you. How he stared intently at you and acted like he knew you so well. Sylus mused to himself ‘if only Xavier knew what was really on your mind’. He grew to hate the way Xavier looked at you, that sense of familiarity.

Eventually, it became all to clear that Xavier had feelings for you, the poor fool had an unsettlingly easy to read face. That, coupled with the way he got too close to you, pissed Sylus off. An unexpected possessiveness twisted low in his gut as he watched Xavier lean closer, speaking to you with a familiarity Sylus found grating. And when he saw that telltale smirk on Xavier’s face - the one that told him exactly what was coming - his fingers had drummed a rhythm of irritation against the desk.

Xavier had asked you on a solo dinner. Just the two of you? A date?

The audacity. Sylus' teeth had clenched, anger pulsing just beneath the surface. How dare he? Xavier, with his hopeful smile and thinly-veiled intentions, dared to make a move on you. For a split second, Sylus’ mind wandered to thoughts of teaching Xavier a lesson - a harsh reminder of who was in control. Perhaps he could meet him in a dark alley, where no one would hear the crack of bones or the gasps of pain. Sylus pulled himself back, clearing his thoughts. No, that was irrational.

But still... when you turned Xavier down, a wave of satisfaction had rolled over him. Sylus’ lips had curled into a smirk as he watched the way you dismissed the offer with an air of indifference, your voice calm and uninterested. You had just rejected Xavier - but he wished that you had crushed any hope he had in a single breath instead. Still, he was almost proud of you in that moment. And yet, what pleased Sylus most was the flicker of something else in your eyes. It wasn’t just disinterest - it was disgust. You hadn’t wanted Xavier at all.

By the time the third evening had rolled around, Sylus had nearly decided to call off Mephisto's surveillance. You were no longer a threat, he reasoned. The intensity from your first day off had dulled, and you had seemingly returned to your usual routine. You’d seemed to have no intention of returning to the N109 zone. He was about to turn away from the feed, his fingers hovering over the button to recall Mephisto, when something unexpected caught his eye.

He leaned forward, narrowing his gaze as the screen displayed a familiar sight - you, sitting in your apartment, your eyes locked on the TV. The candle light bathed your body in a warm glow and Sylus would admit that these were his favourite moments of the surveillance on you. The way you relaxed in your own home, wearing your everyday clothing or even better, like tonight, your pyjamas. Shorts that were so short he could see the way your ass hung out of them. A little silky strappy top that did nothing to hide your breasts, or the way your nipples pebbled in the night's chilly air. He felt his trousers grow tighter at the image of you.

But tonight, he noticed something different, something that sent a thrill through him - you were watching him. Not his movements, not his tactics, just him. The screen displayed an image he knew well - himself, seated at his desk from weeks ago, pouring over a pile of documents. The footage was mundane, unremarkable. Yet, you seemed transfixed, the look in your eyes more private than anything he’d seen before.

He leaned in closer to the screen as he watched, riveted, as your expression softened, your lips parting ever so slightly, gaze lingering on his image as though he were something more than prey to you. The realisation sent a surge of satisfaction through him.

Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, your hand began to move, dragging down your body and toying with the waistband of your underwear.

His breath caught as he saw your hand drift to the hem of your shorts, fingers tracing idly, your gaze never leaving the screen. Interesting, he thought, his eyes darkening as he leaned forward. What began as an absent touch turned intentional, your hand slipping beneath the waistband, a small, almost imperceptible sigh escaping your parted lips. Sylus felt a spark of heat surge through him, more intense than he’d expected.

You shifted on the couch, shorts sliding lower, exposing the soft curve of your hips in the candlelight. He watched, captivated, as you gave yourself over to the moment, oblivious to the world beyond that screen. Your fingers teased along the edges of your underwear, movements delicate, almost tentative - until your resolve broke.

Heat flushed through him and his cock grew hard at the sight of you. Sylus' breath hitched, eyes darkening as he watched you succumb to your desires, fingers moving in sync with the rhythm of the footage on screen. The way you were completely lost in the moment, oblivious to everything else, sent a thrill racing down his spine. You wanted him and that thought drove him crazy.

He watched as your movements became more intense and then with a practised ease you pulled down your shorts. He could see the way your pussy glistened in the candle light. You were wet. Wet for him.

He could see your gasp as you played with your clit. It was mesmerising to see how you toyed with your own body, clearly well experienced with bringing yourself pleasure.

Sylus used his Evol to close and lock his office door ensuring his and your privacy in this intimate moment. He didn’t want anyone else to see the way you bared yourself for him.

His jaw tightened as he took in the scene, the heat in his own body mirroring yours. Without breaking his stare, he reached down, freeing himself from the confines of his trousers, his breath steady but deep as he matched his movements to yours, never taking his eyes from the screen.

Your head fell back against the cushions, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in an unguarded gasp. The candlelight traced over your exposed skin. His grip tightened, the intensity in his gaze growing sharper as he watched you, imagining your hands replaced by his own, feeling your skin, your heat, your desperation.

Legs spread wide on the couch, your wet pussy was completely at the mercy of his hungry gaze. Your fingers rubbing your clit torturously slowly. He groaned as he thumbed at the top of his cock, smearing his precum over the head and down the shaft to ease his strokes.

His eyes had drifted closed for barely a moment before snapping open, irritated with himself. He didn’t want to miss a single detail, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that left him as exposed as you were. The sight that greeted him made him nearly lose control. Your fingers were stuffed inside your pussy, thrusting in and out as your thumb stayed firmly against your clit. You looked tight and he felt his dick twitch in his hand and groaned loudly. Your strappy top had fallen down, becoming almost useless and your breasts completely visible. God, you looked perfect for him, like a sin.

He picked up the pace on his cock in time with the thrusting of your fingers, imagining it was him stuffing your pretty pussy with his cock instead. Fuck! Your face, your figure, your tits and of course that pussy. He desperately wanted a taste, you’d be sweet he just knew it.

A low, primal sound escaped his throat as you pushed your fingers deeper, your thumb grazing along your skin with a rhythm that matched his own pace. He could nearly feel your movements, the way your body would tense beneath his touch. He matched each of your breaths, the controlled rhythm dissolving as his grip tightened, his eyes tracing the way your body arched. God he wished he could hear you.

His cock was painfully ready for release but he held back, he wanted to cum at the same time as you. No, he needed to. To see the way your face would flush and your expression would shift.

You were close, he could tell that much, your movements focused entirely on your pleasure, no longer teasing at all. You bit your lip hard and Sylus wished that he could take its place. That you would bite his lip so viciously. Just a few more thrusts of your fingers inside you and your thumb moving over your clit and that was it. You were cumming. Your hips moving uncontrollably and your pussy clenching around your fingers. You threw your head back and he wished he could hear the way you moans pounded. Maybe he would have to plant a bug in your apartment for next time.

He fought to keep his composure as you came undone, your body arching, but the sight of you, looking so beautiful as you came, was his undoing. He moved faster, his hand tracing the length of himself as he watched you unravel, imagining the heat of your skin, the sound of your voice, and the feel of you clenching around him.

As you finally stilled, your breaths slowing, he let himself fall over the edge, his own release spilling over his hand. He bit back the groan that rose in his throat, a deep satisfaction flooding through him as he watched you sink back against the cushions, unaware of how intimately he’d shared this moment with you.

He looked at you on the screen and nearly lost his control at the sight of you sucking on your fingers. It was so unexpected and dangerously erotic. He watched as you stood up on shaky legs and headed into the bathroom before cleaning himself up and stuffing him back into his trousers. The shirt would have to be dry cleaned.

A deep, satisfied chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned back, a dark resolve settling over him. This, he realised, was only the beginning. He would give you exactly what you wanted - and more. Even if you didn't know what that meant for yourself.

➽──────────────────────────────────❥

Chapter 3 is here! Please let me know what you think ❥ Like, reblog, comment, message me, ask me something, literally anything - I live for your feedback on this ❥

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freshbakedbreadstick · 15 hours ago

Text

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

Season 2 Arcane Viktor x F!Reader

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

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

Word Count: 3.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But his words… his words hurt the most.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until his voice brought you back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jayce gasped softly, head jerking back.

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

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

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

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

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

Back home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But when you finally woke, it was dark again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Fine,’ you told yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” he said, brows creasing.

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

“They accept me,” he breathed.

“That’s because you are a scientist.”

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

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

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

Your breath hitched.

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

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

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

You panted, chest rising and falling.

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

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

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

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

You gasped, chest tightening.

“No,” you whispered into the fabric.

Burnt toast, coffee, metal.

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

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

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

“C-can’t…” you just couldn’t bear it.

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

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

“Yes Viktor, I swear!”

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

Your knees and mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut.

Burnt toast, coffee, metal.

Heavy pants filled the silence of the room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Burnt toast, coffee, metal.

“S-so… close…” you whispered.

Then you heard it.

A whisper.

You stilled, eyes snapping open and wide in terror.

You didn’t breathe, you didn’t move.

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

But you could hear staggered steps, moving.

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

You were frozen in place.

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

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

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

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

But right before you looked away, you saw it.

You saw the glow.

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

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

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

Then you smelled it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here… let me show you.”

Burnt toast, coffee, metal, and something indescribable.

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

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

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

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

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

“V-Viktor i…” you breathed, “You… d-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More?” He murmured, voice soft.

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

“Like I always needed you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#arcane #viktor x reader arcane #viktor x reader #arcane season 2 #arcane league of legends #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #arcane viktor #arcane s2 #arcane season two

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cassiewritessalot · 3 days ago

Text

no one noticed

pairing: jj maybank x kook!reader

summary: jj met reader at a bonfire at the start of the summer, as they got closer over the past few weeks, reader invites jj to midsummers excited to see where the night would take them, or if they could survive the night.

warnings: vulgar language, underage drinking and smoking, i think that's all, lmk if i missed anything!

cassie’s note: first jj post, and hopefully there will be many more in the future!! tysm for all the love & appreciation so far, i adore all of you seeing this. with love always, cassie <3.

you met jj at a boneyard party 3 weeks ago, you remember that night as if it were yesterday,

you were walking with your friend around the boneyard trying to get her away from drinks that would intoxicate her more than she already was. as you were walking she stumbled into a gorgeous blonde boy.

"i'm so sorry about her, she's fucking wasted.. are you good?" you ask the mystery boy. he shakes his head, a giggle leaving his mouth, "no worries, i'm good cutie." he gives you a smile before asking, "but for real, you're gorgeous, would you want to hangout when you're friend isn't bumping into me?" making you two laugh at your friend who stumbled away, finding more liquor along the way. "that would be amazing, i'm y/n by the way." you extend your hand out the shake jj's slightly sweaty ones. "y/n.. beautiful, just like you. i'm jj!" he says excitedly. you and jj continue to talk and walk together for most of the night and exchange numbers.

as the weeks passed by you and jj got extremely close, he didn't mind the fact that you're a kook and you didn't mind the fact that he was a pogue. as the hangouts increased, you felt you're feelings for jj increase as well. the fact that he flirted absentmindedly didn't help at all, he was always calling you 'mama', 'princess, 'baby' or anything that came to his mind, anything besides your name. as time passed by, your parents were pressuring you into finding a date for the midsummers, they also knew about jj and thought it would be a good idea if he came along with you guys, as you had your parents permission you decided to text jj, waiting anxiously for his response.

when jj saw your message appear on his screen, he felt a grin spread across his face.

hey jay, hope ur good :) i was wondering if you wanted to come with me to the midsummers this year? lmk!

as soon as he read your message, he immediately made up his mind. jj would go anywhere you go, he always wanted to be with you and would start missing you the second he drops you home and you wish him goodnight. however, jj had his doubts, making the grin on his face falter. what would the other kooks think about you for bringing jj to an event like that. it might not mean much to you but it means a lot to jj to make a good impression.

hey princess, 'course i'll go with you. but are you sure you want a pogue at a kook event? i don't think i have anything to wear to something like that

jj was surprised to see you tyoing away as soon as he sent the message.

don't worry about any of that, i got you a suit and shoes, just bring your cute self along, thank you jay really. it means a lot to me.

jj felt his faltered smile return back to the grin it had before, feeling giddy inside at your message. knowing that you want him to be there with you makes him feel a certain way.

anything for you princess, and thx for the suit ;)

after jj sends the last text, he all of a sudden, cannot stop thinking about the midsummers, he feels excited. excited to see you, how you’d look, what you’d be wearing, how you would act with him there. you were the only thing running through his thoughts at the moment.. but that has been a daily thing since he met you at the boneyard a couple of weeks ago.

- timeskip to the day of the midsummer -

as the day of the midsummer has arrived, jj had gone to your house early in the morning to get ready. your mom was especially excited about jj attending with you all, as this is the first year that you’ll have a date to the midsummer. while jj and your dad got ready together, which was a bonding moment that jj very much needed, you and you your mother did your makeup together.

“so.. you excited to go with jj?”, your mother asked as she brushed out her h/c hair. “definitely, i feel really good about him.”, you reply as you apply concealer to your face, maroon seeping into your cheeks with a knowing smile spreads across your face.

your mother notices the look on your face and smiles sweetly at you, “i have a good feeling about him too honey, so does your dad. but if this ends like how the whole-“ you cut your mom off before she could finish the sentence. “stop it mom, jj isn’t like that at all.” you say as you finish blending out your concealer. “i know, just please be careful cookie.”, your mom gives you a look, a look of care, a look you know all too well. you smile and hold out your pinky and she smiles and interlaces hers with yours. as you two got finished with hair and makeup, you slip into your dresses.

you’re wearing a satin baby blue dress, with nude heels, a pearl necklace and flower crown. as you got jj’s suit, you got him a suit in the exact same shade as your dress so everyone knows that you’re matching. your mother and yourself make your way downstairs to find your boys all dolled up and waiting for you.

as you make your way towards jj, his hands interlace with yours. “well don’t you look handsome,” you say as you spin the boy around, making the two of let out a laugh. “you look absolutely breathtaking, mama.” he said, making you flushed with the nickname, but also making you confused as now you have no idea where you and jj stand. as the two of you converse more, your parents let you know it’s time to leave and the two of you follow them to the car.

once you arrived at the cameron’s summer home for the midsummer event, your parents leave the car and you turn to jj who is noticeably strained with nervousness, you tap his shoulder and he turns to look at you. his tense eyes now soft as they fall onto your e/c one’s.

“you okay jay?”, you ask the blonde haired boy, “yeah i- i just don’t know what to expect.”, he replies as his eyes fall down to his hands and he starts picking at his nails. you place your hand on his hands to stop him from fidgeting. “you’ll be with me the entire time i promise, don’t worry.”, you tell the boy with a smile on your face, seeing you smile instantly makes jj smile. the two of you exit the vehicle and walk into the party, you see a few familiar faces and greet them. as you’re walking around, jj spots kiara and pope, he turns to you silently asking if you can go to them and you nod your head with a laugh and watch jj leave to talk to his friends. once jj leaves you turn in your spot to find a drink.

as jj, pope and kie are talking, they notice rafe, topper and kelce coming towards them. “what’s a bitch-ass pogue like you doing here huh, jj?” topper laughs with rafe and kelce while pointing at jj. “y/n invited him for you information.” kiara defended jj knowing that his patience was low. “wow look at you kiara defending this wanna-be.” kelce laughs while putting his arm around jj who quickly shakes it off. “i’m sorry- did you say y/n?” rafe asks kiara who nods her head in response. “wow didn’t know that slut had it in her.” rafe hummed as he turned to look back at where you were, the comment making jj’s patience go down the drain, he walks up to rafe and roughly grabs him by the collar of his shirt. “the fuck did you just call her?” jj asks in a rough voice, anger laced in his eyes. “jj stop!” kiara and pope try to intervene but jj wasn’t having it, he wasn’t going to let someone like rafe disrespect you like that. “let me go, you fucker!”, rafe screams at jj, jj then removes his hands roughly and wants to walk away before kelce makes the first move and punches jj in the jaw, making him lose his balance a bit.

“stay in your lane bro!” kelce screamed before jj punches him in the gut making him fall and jj gets ontop of him, punching the kid everywhere. the 2 pogues and 2 kooks start yelling at the two, gaining attention of the other party attendees. as you looked up at the scene you could see jj on the floor and immediately made your way over to the group, pope and rafe managed to separate kelce and jj from one another, “jj! what the hell happened.” you ask the boy who was still keeping his eye on kelce and rafe. “i’ll tell you what happened, that bitch thinks it’s okay to call you names!”, jj screams, but not at you, at rafe. you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and wanted to ask more until you noriced jj’s bleeding jaw. you eyes widened at the sight and before you could ask anything kiara and pope were following jj away from the midsummer. you started to follow them aswell, not knowing where they were going, but you wouldn’t leave them alone until you spoke to jj, you look back at the midsummer one last time for you parents. when you find them they do nothing but smile and mouth the word, ‘go.’

you returned their smile before following jj, kiara and pope to who knows where.

#jj maybank #jj mayback x reader #jj mayback imagine #obx #when you know you know #cassiewritessalot #rafe obx #rafe imagine #drew starkey #rudy pankow

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